#dead then that's a one-way ticket to getting yourself or someone else fucking killed.
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in my free time i'm typing out a little post-adventure of link story from loz 1 zelda's perspective on link bringing this OTHER princess zelda who was apparently asleep for centuries (and thank you SO much for the WARNING that he was going to be DOING this, IMPA [<-entirely sarcastic]) back to the castle and the acclimatization of everyone to the whole situation and it's genuinely so fun. loz 1 zelda's standing there like alright how do i gently break it to my relative from the distant peaceful past that she has to learn how to fight in this time period or she's going to get ripped to shreds by monsters. and then she says exactly that and when aol zelda predictably looks mildly freaked out about the subject and is just standing there internally screaming like yep! okay! sure! death and destruction is rampant in this world and it kind of makes me wish i'd never woken up at all! when do fighting lessons start! loz 1 zelda is just standing there like. hm. was that not gentle enough. i feel like that wasn't gentle enough.
#it's about the severe disparity between their times.#when you grow up in a golden era of peace and you are a literal princess and your father is. iirc the correct wording used in the manual.#a child of a man. you are not going to learn how to fight. ESPECIALLY when you have an older brother who'll be the successor to the throne#when you are the princess in a time of peace then everything is going to be about image. about perfection. about being everything#the people expect from a daughter of royalty. a status symbol of ultimate proportions. so it goes#but when you are a princess in a time of complete and utter destruction. when you are a princess in a time where it is a miracle to even#survive the day sometimes. what good is image? what good are expectations?#the people of your land are survivors. they survived for a reason. lord yourself above them and there is every chance they could#destroy the last drop of royalty they have left. there is no manpower in the form of an army of knights.#and you are a survivor too. you shattered your birthright and fought your way across the land and through dungeons#to hide the pieces and you were captured and held within a cage of flames for god knows how long#and still you survived. so even though your people bite and rage you love them because you did the same.#there is never anmention of her parents. as far as we know they're dead and she was simply waiting until she was of age to be crowned queen#(<-a mention*)#so she is no status symbol. there is no perfection with her. the people begrudgingly look to her to lead them out of the hell#that has become their world and by god is she going to do it. and there is nothing left she can offer these people but brutal honesty#which is the only honesty this world has to offer anyway. it's only honesty everyone knows.#no pussyfooting around like rich people do with their speech where they say one thing and mean another. a habit i'm sure#would only flourish in peacetime. none of that. if you are not clear with your words and intentions in a land where everything wants you#dead then that's a one-way ticket to getting yourself or someone else fucking killed.#so it's like. the two main aspects of how they were raised kind of clashing full force with each other#you can only be so gentle when you grew up in a land devoid of it. you can only shape yourself into a fighter so much#when you grew up with the concept of it being foreign to you. yknow#gestures incoherently at them. blorbos truly.......#txt
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Hello there! could I possibly request the reader reacting to Chuuya,Kunikida and Akutagawa getting into a fight for them? the other person might have badmouthed the reader and that caused the character to get mad and get into a fight with the person. Thank you!! <33
Haha, your choices for this request are perfect. 😂
Characters: Nakahara Chuuya, Kunikida Doppo, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke
Warnings: violence, murder, awful puns
Nakahara Chuuya
Our darling short king already has anger problems and a hair-trigger temper when it comes to people insulting him. Can you imagine how fast he gets pissed off if someone insults his precious s/o? I'm talking the speed of sound here.
As in, the leg will be flying before the big-mouthed idiot hears their doom whooshing towards them.
Chuuya will honestly beat the crap out of them. The only person he has to take shit from is Mori, and anyone else is fair fucking game, baby. If you're not part of the Port Mafia then he won't even tolerate your name being spoken by the mafiosi. You are absolutely none of their business and talking about you is a one-way ticket to getting their ass floated off the top of Mukurotoride until they beg for mercy.
"What the hell did you just say, you piece of shit?!"
He's not as homicidal as some members of the Port Mafia (Akutagawa) but his temper is as short as he is.
If you wanna handle your own shit, he'll let you, but the second someone makes you uncomfortable he's stepping in. And if they make you cry, wellllll, then he knows a bunch of good places to dig a shallow grave.
And if someone talks shit about you behind your back, well, you're not there to defend yourself or tell him off for starting (another) bar brawl, are you?
Just picture him using the crushing weight of gravity to make someone kneel face-down in the dirt and beg for your forgiveness. Satisfying, isn't it?
Kunikida Doppo
Now, Kunikida's much less likely to actually get into a physical fight than the other two (and 100% less likely to get homicidal), but that certainly doesn't mean he'll tolerate any kind of slander on your name or reputation. That wouldn't suit his ideals, at all.
Unless it's Dazai. If Dazai says something lewd about you or insults you in any way, it's ON.
Anyway, Kunikida will happily deliver a verbal smackdown on your behalf if you aren't inclined to do so yourself.
"I see. Could you repeat that? I want to make sure I have it written down properly in my notebook. For my records."
I don't know how he makes that sound threatening, but he does.
This man used to moonlight as an algebra teacher, so he can literally lecture someone into regretting they were ever born.
Once he's done slicing and dicing them with his razor-sharp tongue, he'll either drown them in paperwork if they're part of the ADA, or gleefully inconvenience them to the point of madness.
If it's some chucklefuck on the street, he'll "Doppo Poetry!" up some handcuffs and march their ass down to the police station to report them for harassment or slander. He'll fill out the paperwork joyfully.
Again, if it's Dazai, he'll just strangle him.
Akutagawa Ryuunosuke
I don't know who was stupid enough to insult you in front of Akutagawa, but that was a real dumb fucking move. To an extent, Akutagawa expects you to be able to hold your own in a verbal dispute, because he doesn't think of you as a baby or a child. You're an adult, and I think he would actually enjoy it if you had a sharp tongue, but if the insult is unprovoked, crosses a certain line, or edges into a threat, that's it.
Game over.
"What did you say, cur? Do you value the use of your tongue? Perhaps I should cut it out."
Akutagawa's response will always be swift and violent.
Unless it's someone whose authority he can't refute, like Mori or Dazai, then Akutagawa is likely to kill them. It doesn't matter if it's one of his subordinates in the Port Mafia or just some dipshit in the street with a smart mouth.
Rashomon is hungry.
If you don't want that person dead then you better start talking fast and either a) distract Akutagawa or b) insult the person back so hard their ancestors need the aloe vera cream. If it's the first, he'll be pissy but will possibly allow you to pull him back from the brink of murder. If it's the second one, then he's amused enough to let it go. For now.
I'm not saying he won't go back later and turn them into a reverse-cactus when you're not around, because that would probably be a lie.
#Yokohama Pound#bungou stray dogs#bsd headcanons#bsd imagines#Nakahara Chuuya#Kunikida Doppo#Akutagawa Ryuunosuke#Chuuya x Reader#Kunikida x Reader#Akutagawa x Reader#tw: violence
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NICE.
+ pairings: eren yeager + (fem) reader
+ genres: rich kid au, college au, friends to lovers au, fluff, light-ish angst, smut/nsfw content (everybody gets a piece)!
+ warnings: mentions of depression/anxiety, mentions and use of drugs and alcohol, some of the smut happens under the influence so be cautious if that’s something you don’t like, i swear this is all more idiots in love than angst tho i just wanna disclose everything fairly
+ notes: this is alternatively titled super rich kids and you can probably figure out why. some of this is based off of real life, some of it is straight out of gossip girl and i challenge you to separate the facts from the fiction :’) anyways, i hope we all remember the lyrics to in my feelings
+ more notes: one quick reference for ages in this fic—all the vets are older but not by that much, think various stages of grad school. armin, connie, sasha, annie, and bertholdt are all college sophomores. eren, the reader, and pretty much everybody else are college seniors, so they’re about a year or two older. also here is a playlist for your reading pleasures, shoutout to ryn for letting me mooch of their spotify account :’)
+ word count: 19k. i’m sorry.
+ summary: fuck you, fuck you, you’re cool, fuck you.; or the story of notorious rich kid and self-proclaimed bad boy eren yeager, and his not so goody two-shoes best friend.
“So you’re saying that you don’t love me? That you’re not riding? That you’ll actually leave from beside me?”
“I’m saying that it’s ass o’clock in the morning and I’m not driving in the rain to Brooklyn to pick your sorry ass up.”
“But… but I want you, and I need you, and I’m down for you.”
You check the time on your phone screen and groan. 3:57am. Far too early to be dealing with the likes of Eren Jaeger. “Just get an Uber or something. I don’t know what you and your idiot friends were up to this time, but I don’t want any part of it.”
“First, they’re our idiot friends. Second, I don’t think they let you take Ubers from jail, and even if they did, it’s, like, four in the morning, so I don’t think there are any Ubers driving around, so could you pretty please come pick me up? I promise I’ll make it up to—”
“From where?” you cut him off, slowly sitting upright in your bed. You hold your phone closer to your ear, ready to listen again; because, certainly, you must have misheard him the first time. You wait, but the line is silent, save for Eren’s awkward chuckling. “Eren Asher Jaeger, tell me that that was another stupid lyric from that stupid song, and that you are not in prison right now.”
Eren makes a sad attempt at laughing. “Technically, it’s a holding cell, not really prison… and I would leave, but they suspended my license for a month, and Min can’t drive yet, so we kind of need you,” he explains, “Uh, no pun intended.”
“Min?” you pull your eyebrows together at the mention of the younger’s name, “Is Armin with you?”
“Uh, yeah.”
With a frown and a heavy sigh, you push yourself out of bed, wedging your phone between your shoulder and your ear as you grab the nearest pair of sweatpants.
“Why did you get him caught up in whatever stupid shit you were doing tonight?” you complain, scanning your dark bedroom for a shirt to wear, “Erwin’s going to castrate you when he finds out.”
You curse as you stub your toe against the edge of your bed on your way out of the room. Given the time, weather, and the fact that you have several exams to start studying for, hanging up and leaving Eren in the middle of god knows where Brooklyn doesn’t seem like such a bad idea, but you couldn’t go back to sleep knowing that Armin would have to suffer with him.
“Relax,” Eren breathes in a tone all too nonchalant for the situation at hand, “He didn’t get charged with anything, and nothing’s going on his record.”
“You don’t know that,” you retort, sliding your raincoat over your free arm, as you paddle down the stairs of your apartment, “The NYPD suck.”
“True,” he hums, “But I paid off the cop, so it’ll be fine.”
You pause in your steps, but really, you shouldn’t be surprised. “Of course you did,” you mumble, moving again and grabbing your car keys off of the kitchen island.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he questions. His tone is actually genuine and it tempts you to roll your eyes.
“What it always means, Eren,” you sigh, stepping into the elevator, “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
“Thank you, baby. I love you.”
“Eren?”
“Yeah?”
“Get off my line.”
He doesn’t have time to throw in another pitiful “I love you” before the line goes dead and he’s met with static silence. He hangs up the station telephone with a silent chuckle, turning around to face Armin and Officer Hannes.
“Someone’s coming to pick us up,” he says, trying to focus on Armin’s sigh of relief and not the warmth creeping up his neck and into his cheeks, “I’ll, uh, call a tow for the car in the morning.”
The cop, too tired to care, only shrugs, and pays them no further attention. He hands Eren a plastic bag with his car keys and newly suspended license, escorts him back into the cell, and returns to his desk. Eren gives Hannes the finger while his back is turned.
Beside him, Armin is still quivering; bouncing his leg up and down, fiddling with his fingers, gnawing on his bottom lip. Eren frowns, a heavy wave of guilt washing over him as he takes in the younger’s anxiety ridden state. It wasn’t fair that Armin could have potentially suffered legal consequences because of his stupidity.
Eren’s lucky that Hannes was sleazy enough to accept his bribe and let him off with minimal punishment. With that they were doing, things could have ended up far worse for the both of them tonight.
“I’m sorry, man,” he apologizes, hands stuffed in his front pockets, “About tonight, I mean. We—I shouldn’t have done that, not with you there.”
Armin looks up at him with sparkling, doe eyes and Eren wants to punch himself in the gut for making him go through all of this, even if it didn’t amount to an actual arrest. “You couldn’t have known this was going to happen.”
“I could have prevented it,” he says. Because it’s what you would have said, too.
“It’s not your fault, I wanted to come, remember?” Armin tells him, redirecting his gaze to the grey floor of the precinct cell. He takes a deep breath, almost calming down completely when a sudden thought reignites his nervous ticks, “You… they’re not gonna tell my parents, right?”
“No, no—of course not.”
Armin was legally an adult; he, nor Eren, nor the police had to tell his parents anything. Sure, Hannes could rat them out, but honestly that sounded like way more work than he was cut out for; not to mention he’d be bound to reveal that he let them off easy for a couple thousand bucks.
Armin nods, “And… that wasn’t Erwin on the phone, right?”
“Are you kidding me? He’d murder me on the spot,” Eren says. He pauses before tacking on, “I, uh… I called (_____).”
“Oh,” the younger gapes, “She’ll kill you, too.”
“Yeah,” Eren sighs, scratching the back of his neck in nervous anticipation, “Trust me, I know.”
“You have your access card on you, right, Armin?” you ask. He nods sheepishly, hand on the car door handle.
“Thanks again for coming to get us,” he says meekly, “I’m sorry about waking you up and everything.”
You offer him a warm smile through the rear view mirror, “Don’t worry about it, I’m just glad you’re safe. Text me when you get up tomorrow, okay? We can get brunch, my treat.”
His face lights up at the prospect of free food, and he nods once more, enthusiastically, but his expression falls again when he speaks, “Okay, and I’ll, um, pay you back for the tickets and stuff as soon as I can—”
“It’s fine, really, don’t worry about it,” you repeat.
“It was almost three thou—”
“You forget who you’re friends with,” you cut him off with a smile, “Don’t worry about it, okay? It wasn’t your fault.”
Armin’s eyes dart to Eren quickly, before clearing his throat, a light pink tint to his cheeks. You know that the prospect of money can be a sensitive subject for Armin, one easily triggered by his very environment, but this wasn’t negotiable on your end. You know that Armin doesn’t like the feeling of owing anyone anything, but he knows he won’t get you to budge; so, he quietly nods, appreciative of your generosity, before bidding you and Eren a final goodnight and sprinting towards the dorm. Once you see that he’s safely inside, you wave one last time, and wait for the door to shut behind him.
Slowly, Eren turns to the driver’s seat to look at you. You were eerily calm when you came to pick him and Armin up from the station. You didn’t yell, cuss, or punch him in the face like he expected. You politely talked to the officer, thanked him for his service, paid their fees, and up until now, you’ve shown no signs of being angry with him at all.
The two of you drive back to your shared apartment in complete silence, Eren too confused, and borderline scared, of initiating a conversation. He wonders if you’re too tired, or if you really don’t give a damn anymore, but when you pull into the underground lot of your building and put the car in park, he finds out the silence was simply the calm before the storm.
You take your hand off of the gear shift and turn towards him. It’s a quiet stare down for nearly a full minute before you break the mime act with a slap to his thigh.
“Drag racing? Are you out of your fucking mind? Of all the stupid shit you’ve done—and you’ve done a lot of stupid shit—this has got to take the cake. Just what the actual fuck were you thinking?”
“Ouch!” he inhales sharply, rubbing over where you’d hit him, “We were just having fun! Then these other guys showed up and started talking shit so—”
“Having fun?” you echo, “You couldn’t think of anything fun to do that’s not illegal in every borough of New York City?”
Eren feels his cheek flush, but he only huffs with the illusion of disinterest, “I don’t know why you’re freaking out so bad. I’m a good driver, it was those other squids that got us into shit, I’m telling you. They showed up looking for a fight, then ran like a bunch of pussies when the cops came.”
You exhale slowly, shaking your head in disbelief. You seem to have no other words to say to him, choosing to step out of the car and slam the door behind you. Eren quickly follows, slamming his door equally as hard, and hot on your trail as you march towards the elevator.
“(_____), come on, enough with the silent treatment,” he whines when you stick yourself in a corner of the elevator after pushing the button to the penthouse, “I told you I didn’t start shit, Armin and I got ratted on.”
“I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about whether or not they started it, Eren. You’re still the problem here.”
“Me? How am I the problem?” he pulls back, eyebrows drawn together in genuine confusion, “I just told you I didn’t do shit.”
You scoff, crossing your arms and shifting your left leg, “I’m not doing this with you right now.”
“Doing what with me?” he presses, tone growing icy.
“This, Eren!” you reiterate, “I’m too tired to hear your bullshit right now.”
The elevator dings and opens into your apartment. You push past him, continuing your deliberate strides through the living area, and to the stairs, but Eren catches you with a hand on your wrist before you can go any further.
“Will you fucking stop that,” he growls, “If you’ve got something to say, then stop running away from me, and just say it.”
“Funny,” you sneer, pulling your wrist away from him and settling both your feet on the bottom step, “You’re one to talk about running away from things.”
He takes a step back, standing just a notch below you, perfectly frozen in place. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means your little drag racing episode was not only dangerous and immature, it was you running away from your problems like a spoiled child, yet again.”
Eren’s features narrow at your accusations; eyes fading into hooded slits, lips curving downwards, and voice bobbing low, “I’m not running away from anything.”
“Oh, please, Eren,” you roll your eyes, arms retreating to their crossed position in front of your chest, “Cut the bullshit.”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” But he bets that even in the dim lighting of the apartment, you can see the tips of his ears growing red, just like they always do when he’s lying.
“Oh, really?” you ask, eyes widening in mock surprise, “You don’t think I don’t know this whole thing has something to do with the fact that your mom came home on Friday?”
Another pause. “Who told you that?” He asks, but it comes out more like a statement.
“Nobody had to,” you snap, “Jean said he caught you with a sack of coke over the weekend, and I knew something was up.”
“It wasn’t mine, I was—”
“I said cut the shit, Eren. If I went up into your room right now I bet your ass I’d find more than enough of it in a shoebox somewhere.”
He retreats, almost bashful, but unapologetic all the same. “Fine, whatever, I did a few lines. Big deal.”
“The big deal is that you think this is fucking normal, and now you’ve upgraded from coke to getting yourself arrested! It’d be one thing if you were acting like a misfit on your own, but to drag Armin into it because you—”
“Drag him into it?” he echoes with the snare of sarcasm dripping from each syllable, “You talk about Armin like he’s six. I don’t know why you think he’s some helpless little baby, but you have no goddamn responsibility over him. He’s not your fucking charity case.”
“I never fucking said he’s my charity case—don’t you ever fucking say that,” you say, “Having some basic respect and concern for my friends isn’t charity.”
“Wake the fuck up! You baby Armin when he’s a grown ass man. I didn’t force him into the fucking car to get sympathy points from you.”
“Grown? Armin is barely nineteen, disowned by his parents, is on a full fucking ride to an insanely expensive university, and you got him arrested tonight! Do you know what could happen if NYU found out? They could fucking kick him out, take his scholarship away—and then what, huh? Or were you just gonna buy off the headmaster, too?”
“You’re acting like I fucking planned for it!”
He’s screaming now, voice bellowing throughout the apartment, face red—and he doesn’t mean to, he doesn’t mean it at all; but it’s late, and he’s tired, and those shouldn’t be excuses, but he’s too prideful to back down.
“Of course you didn’t! You didn’t plan for anything, you were just being a reckless, irresponsible asshole like always,” you tell him, too blind-sighted by anger and the need to chide him that you miss the teary undertones in his words.
“And what’s it matter to you?”
“It fucking matters to me when you call at some godforsaken hour asking me to pick you up from prison!”
He takes a step forward, right leg elevated by the same step that both your feet rest on. “Well, what else am I supposed to fucking do!” He shouts even though he’s mere inches from your face, “Tell me just what the fuck I’m supposed to do instead!”
“You’re supposed to act like an adult and fucking talk to someone!”
“Who the hell am I supposed to talk to, huh?” he presses, taking a step forward and forcing you to retreat backwards, and up a step, “My mother who’s never home or her bastard boyfriend?”—another step forward for him, another step backwards for you—“The step-brother I can’t get in contact with?”—one step forward; one step backwards—“Or maybe the dad I never had, right?”
“Me, Eren!” you yell back with equal vigor, throwing your hands up at your sides, and planting your feet firmly. “Armin, Mikasa, Jean—anyone! You have people who fucking care about you! Stop treating us like correction officers, we’re your fucking friends!”
There’s silence for a while, just you and Eren staring at each other, heavy breathing, waiting for the other to make the next move. He opens his mouth, but when he tries to speak, his resolve washes away, his throat tightens and the words get sucked back in.
It would be easy to keep yelling, screaming, blaming you for blowing up on him. He used to think the scolding he got from you after pulling some stupid stunt was the worst part; but now, he thinks it might be his favorite part. He hates to hear you scream, and it hurts to see you cry, but if you’re yelling, you’re angry that he hurt himself; you care that he’s okay.
“I—” he stutters, words quiet and broken, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to get like this tonight, it was an accident I—”
“You never mean for any of it to happen, yet it always does,” you interrupt, voice soft yet strained, “I know you have your own shit to deal with, but so does everybody else.”
“(_____), please, you’re right, okay? I should have said something before,” he admits, mouth small as he voices his confessions, “I should have talked to you or one of the boys, but I—I don’t know what else you want me to say.”
He’s groveling now. Mouth in pout, eyes wide, voice small, and honestly, he thinks he might cry. At this point he doesn’t care if he does.
“I want you to mean it,” you finally say, and when he looks up, he hates the look he sees in your eyes. It’s something between sad and hurt and empty and it’s awful. Someone like you shouldn’t feel that way. He shouldn’t make you feel that way.
“I—”
“When you’re ready to tell me exactly what’s going on with you—what’s happening that made you think going to jail would be better than facing your issues—I’ll be here to talk,” you continue, eyes watering, “But until then, goodnight, Eren.”
Eren winces when you turn around and ascend up the remaining stairs. He flirts with the idea of following you, going to your room to finish talking, but you’re probably angry enough to have it locked. His room is up there, too, but he opts for part of the sectional, laying down with the palms of his hands kneading against his closed eyelids.
For as long as he can remember, you’ve been there for him. Your friendship, at times, was like a game of tag—Eren always on the run with you loyally chasing after him; he’d always run amuck, and you’d always be there to catch him in the act. Now, it’s five in the morning, there’s no more yelling, no more chasing, no more racing, but he’s still running.
The following morning, you take Armin out to brunch, as promised. Jean tags along too, something about hanging out with the two of you being infinitely more entertaining than his genetics lecture. It doesn’t seem like Jean knows anything about Armin and Eren’s late night antics, so you don’t bring it up yourself.
Oblivious, Jean chats your ears off as if nothing is awry. Whether he knows it or not, he does a great job of distracting Armin from his own thoughts. They both eat to their heart’s content when you remind them you’ll foot the bill; and you don’t bat an eye when Jean convinces Armin to order his third round of pancakes. He deserves it.
Afterwards, Jean convinces the three of you to go window shopping with him in SoHo, claiming that he needed inspiration for his latest fashion assignment (you don’t question why he’s taking a fashion class as a biology major, but you suspect it has something to do with Mikasa). Window shopping soon turns into actual shopping, so almost completely unprompted, and with little effort on his part, Armin gets a few pieces of clothing on your behalf, while you try to ignore Eren’s words itching at the back of your mind.
Armin’s not a baby, but he certainly is a kid with a rough past and rough relationship with his parents at a time in his life where he arguably needs them the most. A little extra support from his friends wouldn’t harm him.
It’s nearing six when the three of you are wedged in a small booth inside a café, indulging in overpriced hot chocolate. Three sips into his second cup, Jean excuses himself to the bathroom, leaving you sitting across from Armin.
“You know, you don’t have to keep buying me stuff to make up for Eren,” Armin says, a small smile playing on his lips.
“I’m not trying to make up for him,” you sputter, careful not to spill your drink over your lap, “You had a rough night. Just accept my gifts, don’t be a brat.”
“I do accept them. Erwin’s been eyeing that Off White sweater for, like, three weeks now. He’s gonna have a hissy fit when he sees me wearing it.” You chuckle, and he continues, “But you know, as much I love spending time with you, you can’t use me to avoid Eren forever.”
“I’m not avoiding him,” you frown.
“You said you were going to take us to brunch, and then spent the whole day with us.”
“Funny, I recall you saying something about how much you love my company about thirty seconds ago.”
“He’s called you at least ten times today.”
“I was spending the day with my favorite NYU student… and Jean,” you bat your lashes, “I see you maybe once a week. I live with Eren, I have to see him every day.”
Armin calls your name with a pout, “He’s sorry, you know.”
“Not sorry enough,” you mumble. Armin opens his mouth to say something again, but then Jean’s sliding back into the booth, chatting about how he’s finally come up with the perfect anniversary date for Mikasa.
Armin doesn’t notice your sigh of relief, but he does take note of the way you wipe away your notifications when a text rings through. If Eren could spend his days running away from his problems, then you could, too.
Despite being arguably the greediest of you all, Jean loves company, so he doesn’t hesitate to say yes when you ask to crash at his place after your shopping escapades. You expect to be welcomed with sounds of screaming, laughter, and loud music, but to your surprise his apartment is completely silent upon your entering.
“Bertholdt has class and Marco has a meeting,” he prompts, as if he could read your thoughts. He shimmies his coat off his shoulders and tosses it over the bar in the foyer.
Their apartment has the same amount of rooms as yours and Eren’s, but is all stretched along a single floor. It’s more of a maze, really, with intricate turns, and hallways, that all more or less open up into the expanse of the foyer and bar. Their living room is your favorite part. A dark, brown leather sectional wraps around the back three walls and an oversized flatscreen encased in an ebony frame takes center stage. A collection of vinyl records litters the walls above the couch; each of the boys contributing their favorite discs as décor.
“If he has class, shouldn’t you have class?” you question, fingers dragging over the ridges of the closest record.
“I’ve had class all day, but that doesn’t mean I go,” Jean shrugs, walking up behind you and taking your jacket off your shoulders and your bag from your hand, “Besides, Bertholdt will probably cut half-way to go see Reiner, if he can even stay awake that long. Going with him is just as productive as staying home.”
“You’re all a mess,” you scoff, turning around as a cheesy grin grows on Jean’s lips. His smile is infectious, and soon you catch yourself grinning just because.
“You want something to drink?” he offers, throwing your coat over his elbow and tilting his head in the direction of the bar.
“You’re bad at mixing drinks,” you remind him, but follow him anyway.
Jean laughs, not bothering to deny the jab. He doesn’t try his hand at anything mixed or complicated this time; simply offering you a glass of your favorite red, and pouring himself a smaller amount.
He puts the album you were gawking at earlier on the record player, the two of you sinking into the couch as lovely melodies radiate throughout the apartment.
He spends the first hour bitching about how Marco’s supposed to become a CEO in less than a year, yet has the attention span of a squirrel; but the playful lilt in the brunette’s voice, and the begrudging smile on his face lets you know that it’s all love. He gushes about Mikasa for a good half hour, cramming you with stories about his girlfriend’s talent for sewing and fashion. You also learn that Bertholdt’s been busier than usual these days, and Jean suspects it has something to do with a secret lover.
You pinch your eyebrows at his hunch. Bertholdt’s never been one for dating. He’s had many friends with benefits in the past, but they weren’t relationships, nor were they secrets. In fact, you don’t think that he could keep a secret to save his life.
“Why would he be hiding it if he were seeing someone?” you question, swirling your newly refilled glass.
“Dunno,” Jean shrugs, “But it’s sus, I’m telling you. He’s been oddly busy for someone with a 2.3 GPA. Either way, I’ll pry it out of him eventually.”
“You’re so fucking nosey,” you chuckle, watching the mischievous, satisfied grin settle onto his features.
“I kinda think it’s Armin,” Jean says after a while, downing the remaining wine in his cup, while you choke on your own drink.
“Why on Earth do you think if Bertholdt had a secret lover that it’d be Armin?”
“Because he was in love with him for, like, two years in high school,” Jean says, as if the information should be painfully obvious.
“Yeah, and Bert also hooked up with a million different people in high school.”
“That doesn’t mean he wasn’t still in love with Armin.”
“I don’t think Armin’s kissed another human, let alone is in a secret relationship with one.”
“Hm, true. I forget he’s still a virgin.”
“Hey—there’s nothing wrong with Armin being a virgin, leave him be.”
“I know there’s nothing wrong with it,” Jean whines, “But it’s so—he doesn’t have to be. Armin’s cute! And very attractive—dare I even say sexy. He could go outside and get laid right now if he just tried.”
“Stay humble, Jean boy. If I remember correctly, you only started breaking hearts a year ago,” you tut. Jean’s nose goes pink as he shoves you away when you continue, “But, if you’re so concerned with Armin’s virginity, why don’t you go help him out with it.”
“Actually, if I remember correctly, I think that’s more your gig,” he shoots back, a smug smile tugging on his lips. “Not to mention, I’m not trying to get beat up by Annie. Though, I wonder how much longer it’ll take before she finally snaps. Hey, maybe the both of you can tag team him, I’m sure Annie wouldn’t mind, and it might even make Armin less nervous to have you—”
It’s your turn to shove him now, throwing in an extra punch when his head bobs back with laughter. You’re very certain Annie would mind; you would mind if someone inserted themself in your kind of, sort of, not really relationship, and ruined your four years of pining.
“Speaking of lovers,” Jean prompts, once his laughter dies down, bending his knee and turning closer to you. “Why are you and lover boy fighting? Trouble in paradise?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you hum, sipping your drink in between words. Jean’s eyes pinch together. “Marco and I would never fight.”
“My god, will you let your Marco fantasies go already? You’ve already caused him one sexuality crisis,” Jean groans, “You know I mean Eren.”
You sigh, lowering your glass and reaching forward to pinch his cheek. “It’s nothing you have to worry your pretty little head over.”
“Please,” he scoffs, flicking your offending hand back, “He’s been texting us nonstop since this morning at, like, nine. I didn’t even know he was capable of waking up before noon.”
It’s your turn to roll your eyes, but Jean continues, “Why he would ask us for advice on you is beyond me. He knows you better than all of us combined.”
“And why you’re saying all of this is beyond me.”
“Oh, come on, what’d he do,” Jean pushes, borderline whines, as he puts his empty glass down in a cup holder embedded in the couch. He’s always been the most prone to gossip, but you forget that wine makes him even more of a nosey prick. “Must have been pretty bad. Or stupid.”
“Try both,” you mumble, “Well—I don’t know, it wasn’t… the worst thing anyone could do, but it was really fucking reckless—and why he did it, I couldn’t even tell you. I don’t know what goes through his mind half the time, but I swear he must have been on crack last night.”
“He probably was. On crack, I mean. I told you, I took an ounce from him over the weekend, but that was after Eren and Ymir did, like, five lines.”
“Do they really do that regularly?” you nearly cry, a hand massaging your temple, “Fucking Christ, if he really was high while driving, I’ll kill him myself.”
“Well, I don’t know if regular is the right word,” Jean ponders, “Maybe for Ymir, but god knows what she’s on half the time, anyways. Besides, coke isn’t the worst thing they could do.”
“You sound like you speak from personal experience.”
“Maybe,” he shrugs, pausing when you shoot him a disapproving look, “Oh, come on! You’re no angel, either—if memory serves, you were high as shit at Moblit’s birthday party, and kept singing the star spangled banner all night.”
“Yeah, on weed! One time! It was on a rooftop and the stars were out and it has the same rhythm as the happy birthday song, cut me some slack!”
He finds laughing at your expense to be much more fun, however, as he continues to chuckle while you throw a fit. He’s also not one to let a topic of gossip go undiscussed, and has no problem bringing the conversation back to Eren.
“It’s because you two don’t talk, you know,” Jean tuts, “That’s why you fight like this.”
For the second time, the younger’s words have your eyebrows growing close together. “I mean, I guess—but it’s more than that. Eren and I live together, we obviously talk, but—”
“I know, I know, but just hear me out, okay? You and Eren talk about a lot of things, yeah, but you also… don’t. And sometimes you don’t have to, because you guys, like… get each other.”
“Wow. What a way with words you have, Jean Kirstein. You should write a self-help book.”
“What I mean,” he sneers, unhappy with the sarcasm being thrown his way, “Is that you guys understand each other in weird ways. It’s actually kind of cute—sometimes a little freaky, in all honesty. It’s why you don’t always have to talk about serious things. But you take it for granted and let shit bottle up, and then get in denial about it until you blow up in each other’s faces.”
“Please, you barely passed one philosophy class and now you think you’re Plato.”
“You’re doing the in denial thing right now!” he taunts, “Come one, when you two fight like this, what’s it usually about?”
You sigh, sinking back into the plush leather of the couch, and wrapping your hands around a fluffy throw pillow. Thinking about arguing with Eren isn’t particularly something you like to do, and truthfully, you don’t really get pissed at each other that often. Not to the point of ignoring each other, at least.
“I don’t know,” you drawl, “Drugs, me forgetting things, him doing stupid shit, him thinking Mikasa could do better than you, school, drinking, the fact that he leaves his big ass shoes at the top of the stairs for me to trip over and fall to my death every morning, when—”
“His parents?” Jean cuts you off.
“I—we don’t really… it’s not so much fighting over his parents, it’s all the stuff he does to deal with his parents. He never gives his mom’s boyfriends a chance, and he never really talks about why, either. I know he’s secretly just angry and insecure about his dad, but… I don’t know. That doesn’t really make it better.”
“True,” he nods, “See—he doesn’t talk about it.”
“I know, and I told him that last night, too, but… it’s a sensitive subject for him—his dad, I mean,” you sigh, “And you’re right, he shouldn’t bottle his feelings up, but, on the other hand he’s watched his mom get married five times. I don’t always blame him for not wanting to talk about it.”
“Yeah, but just because it’s hard to talk about doesn’t mean he shouldn’t,” Jean lolls, “Wouldn’t you have rather he said something than have done whatever stupid shit he did to make you want to sleep here tonight?”
“Okay, Socrates, I get it,” you lighten up, “I’ll talk to him—or get him to talk to me. Are you happy?”
“Quite,” he says, annoyingly chipper as he rises from the couch. “I hate seeing my favorite power couple fighting.”
Jean knows his words would elicit a slap to his arm, so he takes off just before you can reach him, prompting you to chase him out of the living room and down the hall. The brunette cackles ridiculously loudly as you scream his name with profanities sprinkled in-between. You catch a hold of the bottom of his shirt and pull him back, finally flicking him on the forehead.
He accepts his punishment with pride, offering you a signature smile in return while you both catch your breaths. It’s a sweet moment, the two of you looking at each other with stupid smiles on your face, exhalations tickling your cheeks.
Jean’s eyes break the gaze first, as he looks down the remainder of your face, and back up to your eyes again. His words could get caught in his throat, but he doesn’t let them—he shakes his head, and swiftly turns around, beckoning for you to follow him.
“Come on, we can steal Marco’s clothes for your pajamas this time.”
Jean spends all of three minutes pulling apart Marco’s dresser before swiping a t-shirt and Christmas themed pajama bottoms from his room. He tosses them in your direction before leading you back down the hall and to the left, opening the door to the guest bedroom for you, before leaving you to change.
They have more than one guest bedroom, but this one is unofficially yours. Little pieces of you can be found littered throughout the room, from spare jewelry to mismatched makeup. You spot a single, gold, teardrop shaped earring on the vanity and sigh as you run your fingers over it.
You swear you’d lost it a few months ago. Trust Jean to put it away for safekeeping without telling you he’d found it. The boy in question returns moments later, knocking while walking through the door with your purse in hand.
“How’d you know I was about to ask you to get that?” you question, a smile on your face as you retrieve the small bag from his hands.
Jean offers you a cocky grin, “Cause I’m the best.”
“Don’t go getting a big head, now,” you tease, “Or, well, an even bigger head.”
Jean ignores your insult, as you take a seat at the edge of the bed, fishing through your bag for your phone to plug it in for the night. He’s about to turn around and bid you goodnight, when the flash of something orange peeping out of your purse prompts his next thought.
“Hey, you picked up your refill, right?” he asks innocently, “It should have been ready last Thursday.”
You sigh, head falling slightly when you close your bag and place it on the vanity. “Uh… no.”
Jean’s mouth is already open, ready with equally friendly and scolding words, but you cut him off before he can talk. “I was going to on Thursday, but I had class late, and then I forgot on Friday and I haven’t really had time since then. But I have a few left-overs from the last two months, so I’ve been taking those!”
Jean’s mouth closes, but his eyes narrow as he begins to walk towards you. You know he’s putting two and two together, so you speak ahead of him again.
“I know, I know, I shouldn’t have any left over, but it’s only five, I promise! I’ve been really good, lately.”
Jean’s eyes remain in concentrated slits, but his resolve is waning when he reads over your expression. His facade fades as he takes the final steps towards you to stand directly in front of your body.
“Okay,” he says, voice soft through his smile, “I’ll go with you to pick them up tomorrow before I drop you home, yeah?”
It elates him more than it should to see the smile you flash his way. Unfortunately, it’s short-lived, as his next question leaves your face twisted with guilt.
“Have you… told Eren yet?”
You consider lying and saying yes, but something tells you Jean won’t buy it. Your silence seems to speak loud enough, as his shoulders drop with a quiet sigh.
“I want to, I just… well I’m mad at him right now, and even when I’m not… I don’t know why it’s so hard,” you confess.
“He’d wanna know, you know,” Jean says, and it’s not the first time he’s said it to you, either. “You know he wouldn’t judge you or anything.”
“I know that. But, truthfully, if I had things my way, not even you would know, Jean.”
It was an accident that Jean found out that you’d been taking anxiety medication.
It was at somebody’s house party where the majority of your friends and their guests had gotten piss drunk. Reiner’s date had suggested mixing their alcohol with molly she’d supposedly had in her bag. In her drunken stupor, she’d mistaken your purse for her own, but luckily, a not so drunk Jean had noticed the label didn’t match her name, and snagged the bottle before the worst could happen.
They ended up not finding her molly, anyway, but it’s a moot point. Jean had cornered you about the bottle later in the week with honest intentions; he’d been concerned that might be another kind of drug disguised by a prescription veil. However, you’d assured him that it was indeed your prescribed Lexapro, and not a shady mixture of black market substances.
And, he’d been more than understanding in the aftermath. Quite frankly, he had somewhat made it his business to ensure that you got and took your medication on time and felt comfortable getting to and from your therapy appointments.
It’s endearing in a way that made you pause and count your blessings sometimes. Jean had been nothing but unequivocally supportive in his understanding about anxiety and had gone the extra mile to comfort you where need be. It made you wonder why you hesitated to tell Eren on several occasions.
It was probably the very nature of anxiety itself that had you doubting your trust in Eren. You wanted to tell him—of course you did—but, you couldn’t. You know that Eren would do everything in his power to make it better, even if that was just being. You know that he’d want to know and he’d kill to understand. But you couldn’t possibly burden him with your problems, not when he has a million of his own.
The one person in the world you wanted to tell, you were terrified of talking to. And you know it’s irrational to be afraid of him, but you can’t seem to control those thoughts. It’s a tiring, consuming, endless cycle.
Jean watches the way your gaze lowers to the floor. He knows exactly what you’re thinking, and, god, he swears if he could take that train of thought away from you, he’d do it in a heartbeat.
With a heavy heart and tired eyes, he takes a final step forward and wraps his arms around your body. He counts three, four seconds before you hug him back. He raises a hand to the back to your head, cradling your face into his shoulder and squeezing you tightly.
“Hey, I’m proud of you, you know that,” he speaks, just a notch above a whisper, “I know you’ll tell him when you’re ready.”
“I will,” you murmur into the fabric of his shirt. You hug him back a little tighter and close your eyes, “Thank you, Jean.”
And Jean holds on, and hopes you know that he wouldn’t let you go, “You’re welcome, (_____).”
You come home to find your entire apartment littered with flowers; in the hallway, on the sectional, atop the counter, up the stairs.
There are several boxes of your favorite macarons stacked in a small pyramid on the kitchen island, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you checked the labels to find that they were shipped straight from the south of France this morning. There’s too many bottles of Ace on the coffee table, sparkling next to a basket of what looks like your regular skincare products. A pretty, gold bow rests atop an even prettier pair of red-bottomed heels, and if you’re not mistaken, that’s a limited edition, vintage YSL clutch on the sectional, resting against your favorite throw pillow.
You sigh, making your way to the couch to pick up the orange envelope sticking out of the handbag. Just as you’re about to open it, you hear footsteps, and a voice that follows.
“You’re back,” Eren chirps from mid-way on the staircase, “I, uh, there’s catering coming from Butter coming soon. I know it’s your favorite,” he continues as he descends the stairs.
He has his hand on the back of his neck and there’s a faint, pink tint to his cheeks as he slowly makes his way towards you. You cross your arms, looking him up and down when he stands in front of you.
He’s wearing dark jeans and a tweed sweater with patches at the elbow. His hair is split down the middle, longer than usual, so the ends of sweep over his eyelashes; and there are telltale signs that he’d been toying with it.
“Eren, what is all of this?” you finally ask, shifting your weight to your right leg.
“Part one of my apology and explanation,” he replies, a hopeful timbre to his voice. You roll your eyes, but he continues anyway, “Actually, part two is in that envelope.”
Skeptical, you unfold your arms and open the envelope. You don’t know what you were expecting—a card, maybe tickets to a musical or something; but what you definitely weren’t expecting were two tickets to Paris.
“France?” you look up, tickets in hand, “You don’t get it do you? You can’t just buy all of this shit, jet us off to Europe and expect everything to be okay.”
“No, no it’s not like that—I swear!” he interjects, hands moving sporadically, “It’s just, well… Can we sit? Then I can explain everything.”
Eren looks at you with those big green eyes and that sad pout to his lips, and you find yourself sighing and taking a seat on the couch against your better judgement. There’s a small smile to his lips when you do—a little victory—and he sits next to you, your knees resting against each other as you face him.
He’s shaking, and your resolve to punish him with whatever solid exterior and half-assed silent treatment dissolves as you take his left hand in your right, and recall your conversation with Jean. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s me, Eren. You can talk to me.”
When he feels your smaller hand envelop his, the shaking stops, and for a moment, it feels like he can do this, like everything is okay. He smiles, and takes a deep breath.
“The other night, you were right, about my mom and her boyfriend coming home,” he starts, words slow and heavy, “I didn’t even know she was coming—I knew she was visiting this month, but she didn’t tell me when, and I thought it was going to be just her, you know? But then she showed up with him, and, well, I don’t know. I was upset. She’s been home for a week now, and we haven’t even gone to dinner or anything.”
He pauses, and you squeeze his hand for reassurance, “We were supposed to get lunch on Thursday, but she cancelled. Had some meeting or something, I don’t know, I don’t care. Friday comes and she says she wants to have dinner, right?”
You nod, he continues. “I thought it was just going to be us, but he was there. That’s when she told me that… that they’re…” he squeezes his eyes shut, “They’re engaged.”
Your mouth falls into a small o-shape. Everything made perfect sense now.
It’s not that Eren didn’t love his mother, quite the opposite actually. He’s a mama’s boy through and through; she’s his role model, his everything, he adores her. Her career as a designer often takes her on long business trips, most frequently as prolonged stays in Paris, so much so that she relocated her primary office there shortly after Eren graduated high school.
Now, she only visits home for one or two weeks at a time, sometimes only for the weekend. Upon her decision to permanently relocate, she planned to leave Eren under the unofficial supervision of Mikasa. Instead, Eren bought Mikasa her own three-bedroom apartment in Midtown (according to his logic, it was better for her to have her own place than to move in with Jean), and a shared two-story penthouse for the both of you that overlooks Central Park.
Eren misses her more than he cares to admit, but he puts on the same facade every time she comes home because he hates the company she brings.
Paris is where she met her newest boyfriend, Mitchell, and Eren swears he hates that man with every fiber of his being. It’s not saying much, though, not when Eren’s hated every single one of his mother’s past romantic partners, right down to his own father.
“Is… is that why you—”
“Rented a brand new Corvette and went drag racing at one in the morning?” he chuckles, “Yeah. It was stupid, I know, but I was just angry, I guess. I dunno what I was feeling, but it wasn’t good.”
You nod, wrapping both of your hands around his now and offering him a warm smile. He smiles back, just for a moment. “That’s what the tickets are for, actually. The wedding.”
“They’re getting married in France?” you question, to which he nods, “On the first? Isn’t that a little short notice to plan a wedding?”
“I think you’re underestimating the power of Carla Jaeger,” he chuckles, “Apparently, it’s been in the works for a few months now. He proposed with fireworks or some shit. Said she wanted to tell me in person, though.”
“This ticket is for next week,” you say, rereading the dates on the papers. “The wedding is three weeks from now.”
“Well, I kind of figured we could take a little vacation before then,” he grins, “I texted most of the boys earlier, and they can probably come to the wedding, but I want to spend some time with you before it gets hectic, you know? Consider it an end of the semester present.”
Your eyes flicker down to your hand, still wrapped around Eren’s, when he starts to trace circles into your skin, “I thought I just told you, you can’t jet us off to Europe to fix things.”
“You did,” he hums, “And I know I can’t—I’m not trying to, I just… Truthfully, I reserved the plane and the hotel a few weeks back and it really was just going to be a surprise for us—well, more like a gift for you because I know you’ve been busting your ass in chem—but then… everything else happened, and I think a break sounds perfect before I watch my mom get married for the sixth time.”
You watch him continue to toy with your hands for a while, processing your conversation. It was typical of Eren to surprise you like this, so you can’t figure out why this particular present leaves you feeling warmer than usual.
“You sure you don’t need a break from me?”
Eren beams and takes the opportunity to lace your fingers together. “Nah, you’re annoying, but not Jean level annoying.”
You scoff, “I’m telling him you said that.”
“It’ll sound better coming from you, anyway,” he shrugs, “Besides, I might just murder Mitchell if you’re not there with me.”
You chuckle, on the verge of accepting his proposal, but the mention of Jean prompts another thought to cross through your mind. “I’d love to, but I… I don’t know. I don’t want Armin to spend the first few weeks of winter break here all alone.”
This Christmas would mark one year since Armin had seen, or even talked to, any of his immediate family members, with the exception of Erwin.
Last year, you all tried to salvage the damage by sticking around so, at the very least, he didn’t have to feel alone. You and your friends decided that Armin ought to be celebrated, not ostracized for any aspect of himself, so you all chipped in for a cute, impromptu trip to the Catskills so that everyone could be together and close to home.
This year, however, there seemed to be quite a few conflicts of interest. Even if Armin was one of the boys who was planning on attending the wedding, you doubt he had plans leading up to it. You know that Marco, Bertholdt, Mikasa, and Jean had invited him to go to Aspen with them, but Armin declined the offer. Similarly, Connie, Sasha, Annie, Reiner, and Ymir would be off to Dubai as soon as classes ended; an invitation Armin had also turned down.
You weren’t sure what Erwin’s plans were, though you’re certain they involved his own friends in some way or another. At the very least, it was unlikely that he would leave his younger brother completely stranded over the break; but you didn’t want to make plans without knowing Armin wouldn’t be alone.
“He won’t, actually he’ll be closer than you think,” Eren reassures you, “Hange and Moblit wanted to go skiing anyways, so Erwin is taking all of them to the Alps instead of Aspen. Armin doesn’t know yet, but he’s going with them.”
“Shouldn’t Erwin spend his break campaigning, and not skiing? Last I checked, he wasn’t too popular in Queens”
“Ah, you know Erwin,” Eren shrugs, “He has a way of making people devote themselves to him. He’ll win the election with or without campaigning, trust me—the point is, that little baby Armin will be safe and sound under Erwin’s protection, and you don’t have to worry about him.”
“How come you get to call him a baby?”
“Because I’m a hypocritical asshole who doesn’t deserve you, but is hoping you’ll come with me anyway.”
Eren smirks, but there’s a genuine undertone to his words as he moves his fingers to toy with the ring around your pointer finger. The same one he gave to you two Christmases ago. Well, kind of.
The ring he originally gifted you was a Harry Winston piece, with an encrusted band that wrapped into two sunflowers, both made of classic, white diamonds with emeralds sparkling in the center. After seeing the design, and the price tag, you demanded that he take it back, or at the very least, get it sized to fit on your index finger or thumb so that people didn’t get the wrong idea.
Instead, he came back with a simple, silver chain for the original ring to hang from, and the current ring on your finger; a rose gold band with tiny diamonds studded around it. Likely equally as expensive, but more appropriate according to you.
“Fine. But you have to be on your best behavior,” you agree, paying no mind to Eren’s thumb twirling your jewelry, “Do you promise me no drag racing or antics of any sort while we’re there?”
Eren shakes his head at the memory, eyeing the first ring that sits against your chest.
He smiles. “I do.”
The afternoon after your last exam, you bid the remainder of your friends goodbye, grab your bags, and hop on a plane with Eren. It arrives in Paris, but you’re rerouted off to Nice before you can so much as blink at the Eiffel tower; you’d be staying there for the two and half weeks leading up to the wedding, in a small villa.
You had to hand it to him, Eren really outdid himself. It’s dark and nearing three in the morning when you arrive, but even in your sleepy stupor you can admire your accommodations. The villa is secluded, the perfect distance from the water, and decorated lavishly almost to your exact liking. You wouldn’t be surprised if Eren sprung it on you that he’d bought the place, and wasn’t merely renting it for this vacation.
Every day after that, Eren proves he was honest in his intentions of this being a getaway gift to you. He’s planned every activity under the sun—from hot air balloon rides, to helicopter tours, to jet-skiing. The days are certainly fun and filled with beautiful memories, but there’s something special about Nice at sunset; something about the sound of gentle waves brushing up against the beach, and the spotlights carved from sun-cast shadows on the buildings.
It’s just after dinner time, bordering on your eighth night here, when you and Eren are walking along the cobblestone streets that border the beach, the length of your sundress flowing every which way with the breeze, and the tail of Eren’s blazer flailing like a cape behind him.
He looks nice tonight, but, truthfully, he always does. He claimed he hadn’t put on the casual green suit because of your outfit, but you swear he was wearing khakis before he saw your dress. The tips of his ears go red when you tease him about it at dinner, but it doesn’t really matter to you; he would have looked good, regardless. Those suits are made for him, after all; tailored to fit perfectly, and designed by his own mother.
The streets tend to settle down after six, locals and tourists retreating indoors or heading to the beach to relax and draw in the evening. Tonight, however, there’s much more commotion than usual on your route.
“Maybe we should take the long way,” you suggest. On the tips of your toes, you realize that there’s some kind of special event happening in the square, filled with lights and music that grows louder with every step you take.
But the crowd and the lights and the smell of food only piques Eren’s interest. “No way—let’s check it out!”
You don’t have the time to refute before his long legs surpass your own stride, headfirst into the sea of people. You can only follow with a smile and a shake of your head. The soft green of his suit jacket serves as your guide as he navigates through the crowd, but the closer you get to the center, the more people there are.
You can feel palms of your hands growing uncomfortably warm as you become hyperaware of just how many people there are. You clutch the end of your dress in your hand, for both practicality and as a sort of comfort mechanism, as you try your best to calm the anxious wave threatening to crash against you.
With a deep breath, you begin to walk again, unaware of Eren’s actions until you physically walk into his hand, long fingers poking at your belly. You hadn’t realized he stopped walking, or that you’d caught up with him, and your eyebrows crinkle when you look down to see Eren’s left hand extended behind him and towards you, palm facing upwards.
He doesn’t say anything, or look back at you at all. Only wraps his larger fingers around yours when he feels the weight of your hand in his, and continues to guide you through the crowd, his pace slower, and hand firm around yours.
The mass of people becomes more spread out when you approach what appears to be the center of the event; and it looks like a party, maybe a wedding of some sort. There’s food and champagne galore, and more than enough happy guests dancing along to upbeat music in the streets.
Eren’s eyes light up as he takes in the scene, “You wanna dance?”
“What—Eren, no!” you refuse, “We cannot crash these people’s party!”
“Why not?” he counters, without a care in the world, “Seems like an open invitation to me! Come on!”
And for the second time that evening, you find yourself being pulled into his schemes; this time in the direction of the open space dubbed dance floor.
You’re both terrible and ostentatious and people start to watch, but it doesn’t matter because you’re smiling too wide and laughing too hard to care. Eren has a way of moving both with and against the music, forcing your body to follow his lead.
He shouts something over the noise, but you don’t have time to register his words before he laces your right hand with his left, and places his right hand on your waist. There’s a blink of confusion for a moment before you’re being swept off your feet and into a dramatic dip. You don’t have time to secure yourself against his shoulders, but Eren does a fine job of supporting you with a single arm against your back.
From what you can tell the song is far from over and the dramatic pose is completely unwarranted, but you and the crowd alike are victim to his charm. You indulge yourself, looking up at him with eyes too fond to memorize every feature of his face in this moment; the way he’s laughing with that big, dumb, wide smile of his that makes his nose crinkle and his eyes light up.
You’re too busy looking at him to hear Eren’s voice calling out to you, or even realize that he’s moved you from your pose to standing back upright. He’s equal parts amused and concerned at the glazed over look in your eyes.
“Hello? Anybody home up there?” he teases, elongating the vowels and squeezing your waist to alert you.
The reminder of his hands on your hips pulls you back to reality, your eyes fluttering down to his arms, then back to his face. It feels stuffy suddenly, too close to function.
“Yea—yeah! Do you wanna get a drink? Yeah, let’s get a drink!” you exclaim, haphazardly pointing and walking towards the food.
You don’t see it, but Eren looks on with glittering eyes, his verbal agreement heard only by himself as you veer towards the buffet. He can still feel your body in his grip, still see the specks of gold in your pupils as he lingers on the back of your silhouette lovingly. And before you can realize, he snaps himself out of it—an out of body experience similar to yours a few moments ago—before catching up with you.
You end up socializing for much longer than intended. Eren makes friends with everyone, to no surprise, and, uncharacteristically, you feel influenced by his actions, and converse with a few people yourself. You let him take the lead, though. Partially because he’s better at it, and partially because you just like listening to him speak French.
“Hey, we should probably get out of here,” he whispers into your ear after waving goodbye to a lovely couple you’d just met, “Before the host of this party realizes we’re miles better than his actual guests.”
You nod with a smile, more than happy to play by his rules for the evening. He offers you his hand again, that same, dopey smile on his face when you take it.
He leads you out of the crowd and back on to the path to your villa, the smell of warm food and sounds of vibrant music growing dull as you venture further from the celebration. It’s much darker than it was when you began your trek back from the restaurant, but beautiful all the same.
Your sandals pad against the wooden dock that leads up the villa, and Eren unlocks the door silently, ushering you inside before entering behind you.
“I know I said I wanted to leave, but I’m not really tired yet,” Eren confesses, pulling his blazer off of his shoulders.
“Me neither,” you say, placing your small wristlet on the table with a shrug, “What do you wanna do though, I’m not—”
“Great!” he cuts you off, smile too big. You narrow your own in suspicion. That tone of voice with that look on his face usually meant something mischievous, at best. “Remember when you said the first time you’d smoke would be with me, and then pranced away and took a bowl from Hange and got high as shit at Moblit’s party?”
“Why does everyone remember Moblit’s party but me!”
“Don’t worry about it,” he chuckles, waving the topic away, “Anyway… Do you wanna smoke now?”
You blink. “I… did you… smuggle weed all the way to France?”
“No, of course not!” he refutes, “…I got it here.”
You scoff, but don’t have the time to question him further before Eren’s tugging on your wrist and pulling you into the bedroom. You take to sitting on your bed while he rummages through his suitcase to retrieve a small, clear jar with several rolled joints inside and a lighter to match.
He shuffles next to you in the bed, mindlessly handing you the lighter while he unscrews the top off the jar. He takes out two of the joints, places one next to the jar on the nightstand, and tucks the other between his teeth. He asks you to hand him the lighter, and you do so wordlessly, distracted by the sight of Eren’s gaze and the blunt poking out his mouth.
“This’ll be fun, yeah?” He reassures you, “Technically, you let Hange take your weed virginity, but I’ll be better.”
“Can you not phrase it like that,” you roll your eyes, “You already took my virginity virginity, don’t be bitter.”
An all too smug grin settles on his features as he recounts the fact. “Besides,” you tack on, “I’ve never done it like this before. So, it’s still a first, kind of.”
Eren cups one hand around the joint, sparking the lighter with the other until it catches fire. He inhales, slow and deliberate, as if he were putting on a show, or a lesson, of sorts, taking the smoke into his lungs and out through his mouth.
You’d gravely miscalculated how attractive Eren would look doing this. Sure, he’s hot, you knew that, but the pronunciation of his jawline when he exhales, and the confidence with which he drags on the blunt is a stark reminder to you. He takes a few more hits, just as slow and sensual as the first, and the room begins to feel warmer.
“Come closer,” be beckons, smoke rolling off of his tongue with every syllable.
You snap yourself out of the haze of your imagination and scoot closer to him. He silently hands you the joint, and it feels heavy between your fingers. At the distance, you take in the smell—pungent and off-putting, but too familiar.
Eventually, you bring it to your lips, careful not to let your tongue press against the tip, and inhale slowly, like you’d seen Eren do before. You do your best to hold the smoke in your lungs for a bit, but seeing as the last time you did this you were amped up on adrenaline and drunk off your ass, the task proves to be much more difficult. It tickles before becoming uncomfortable and you exhale ungracefully, puffs of smoke punctuating your coughs.
Eren watches with a grin, amused at the sight of you fanning the excess smoke away with your nose scrunched in distaste. “You should have warned me you were gonna cough like a bitch.”
“Oh, fuck off,” you whine, trying to hide the hint of a smile creeping onto your face. You hand the blunt back to him, “You’re supposed to teach me, not tease me, asshole.”
Eren pauses his laughter, unsure of what to make of your tone; rushed, a bit embarrassed, but testy. It’s quiet while he stares at you, trying not to let the implication of your words run wild in his mind; but it’s futile when you’re pouting like that, the room is growing foggier, and he’s been semi-hard since you accepted his offer.
“Fine. Watch and learn,” he breathes, words coming out more jagged than he’d intended.
This time, he completely exaggerates every motion; he inhales at a tantalizing pace and flutters his eyes closed while he lets the smoke swish in his mouth, down his throat, and expand into his lungs. He cranes his neck upwards, and purses his lips to let the clouds exit in the streamline that follows the slope of his jaw.
Maybe it’s the drugs getting to you, but your mind is filled with nothing but sheer clouds that aren’t thick enough to block out thoughts of Eren. The weed is unattractive, potent in smell, and all kinds of wrong; yet, everything about him is soft, sultry, and pulls you in.
“Wanna try again, or do you need another lesson?”
You faintly mutter a profanity under your breath. His words end with giggles, a sign the drugs have already begun to take their effect on him, his expression is still smug. You forget Eren knows just how attractive he is. Motherfucker.
“Actually,” he cuts your train of thought, “I have a better idea, come ‘ere.”
Eren beckons you forward again, closing the gap between your legs so that your knees graze each other under the fabric of your clothing while you’re sat next to each other. He leans over, far too close into your personal space, as if to test something; he freezes when his nose is mere inches from your face, a dissatisfied scrunch taking over his features.
He reinstates his hold on your wrist, motioning your body backwards until your back is against the frame of the bed. He hums in approval, positioning himself next to you again, equally as close, but far more comfortable for what he has planned next.
“I’m—I’m gonna try somethin’, okay?” he stutters, the first word mistakenly coming out in broken German, “Just, don’t freak out on me. It’ll be good, promise.”
You nod, unsure of what you’ve just signed off on, but you don’t have time to ask questions. Eren takes another hit, then passes the blunt to his non-dominant hand. He turns to face you, leans forward, and places his free hand on the back of your neck to pull you closer; the expanse of his palm leaving room for his thumb to venture over the bottom half of your cheek.
Eren pulls you in until your lips are millimeters apart, and he can see the pattern of your eyes in beautiful detail. He shifts his hand now so that the majority of it covers your face, the pad of his thumb running across your bottom lip. He applies the perfect amount of pressure to pry your willing mouth open, and then, finally, exhales.
This time, you can taste it. It’s woodsy, and bitter, but the sweet undertones dance on your tongue. This time, there’s more to think about than just the smoke in your lungs; like the burn of Eren’s hand on your neck; the pressure of his thumb against your bottom lip; the proximity of his lips to yours; the look in his eyes.
“Feel good?” he doesn’t bother to pull away before asking, and the words ghost over your lips with the remaining smoke. You nod; he smiles. “Wanna try again?”
You let out a breathy note of affirmation, and then he’s inhaling and exhaling into you, and you welcome him with pried lips and a heavy thumping in your chest. The confidence with which he maneuvers his body and the drugs is nerve-wracking, yet comforting at the same time; he has an expertise and power that intimidates, but compels you to follow.
Together, you finish the first blunt, and Eren lights the second without missing a beat. His hands are more demanding this around; they guide you into submission, and he’s pleased to find that you’re willing to listen.
After the third exhale, you stop focusing on his hands, and more on his lips. After the fourth, you think you might be high—not to the stars as you infamously were during Moblit’s party—but with a comfortable, dull buzz in your head. Everything feels a little fuzzy, out of touch, but you host a burning want for something more, something tangible.
You don’t know it, but Eren feels the same.
After the fifth exhale, Eren pulls away, the blunt a simple stub as he flicks it away onto the night stand, and you miss him being too close. You miss his hands, you miss his warmth, you crave his touch.
“Eren,” you call, unable to think of or see anything but him in the haze. He answers with a strained, “Yeah?” keening towards the sound of your voice, wide eyes flitting all over your face.
It’s too much, too close, too hot. That’s when you cup his jaw, pull him forward, and meld your lips together.
Kissing Eren is painfully familiar, and unnervingly satisfying. It’s certainly not your first kiss with him; and, yet he has a way of making you feel like it is while reminding you of your history. His lips are soft, and they taste like smoke and the chapstick you swear by because he refuses to buy or test out his own.
You pull away too soon, gauging his reaction with blown-out eyes, before dipping forward to have him against you again. Then again, and again, and again, until Eren is tired of your leaving, and his hands are back on your neck.
This kiss is deeper, Eren searching to satisfy the hunger aching inside of him, and you’re happy to comply when his thumb is pressing at your lower lip again. You open your mouth for him and he doesn’t waste a moment, brushing his tongue against yours experimentally, and then flush into your mouth.
He groans when you rake your fingers into his hair, and pulls back with a hissing noise when you scratch at his nape. Large hands move to grip at your waist, and he pulls you into his lap with a concentrated gaze—a brief second for him to admire the sight of you on top of him, before he resumes kissing you. He sucks on your tongue, rolls his past your teeth, and bites on your bottom lip.
You know he relishes in the sounds he elicits from you, and under any normal circumstance, you’re willing to put up a fight with him, but not now. Now, you let him unzip the back of your dress and snake his hands beneath the fabric. The rubbing motions of his hands turn into gripping, gripping into grinding, and eventually, an unfiltered moan slips past your lips when you feel Eren’s erection roll against you.
“Fuck,” he pulls back with a suck of your swollen lip, “You’re so hot.”
Eren quickly switches your positions so that he’s hovering over you. You chuckle lightly underneath him, taking the opportunity to run both your hands through his hair and cradle his head in your hold, “Haven’t done anything yet.”
“I know,” Eren murmurs, dipping his head down to press kisses into your neck, “Still so sexy. So pretty, always.”
Eren bites a hickey into your collar bone, and everywhere he can touch; your neck, your ears, your cheeks, your lips. Your moaning serves as the spark to keep him going, but he’s barely coherent himself the way you keep pulling at his hair and grinding yourself against him. Even through his clothes, you can feel how painfully hard he is.
He barely catches your tongue between his lips when you moan again, sucking harshly before bruising his lips over yours again. His hands are grabby again, finally pulling your dress completely off of your body, leaving it to form a puddle on the ground. They’re back on your as soon as possible, massaging over your tits, and running his index finger over your nipples.
“Eren... Eren, please,” you whimper, chest heaving as you look down at him. He rolls his index finger over your right nipple, with his left hand teasing the other with his thumb. You can’t tell if the look in his eyes is a product of the weed, or just his glassy, borderline predatory stare, but it makes you shiver with pleasure when he wraps his mouth around your nipple and sucks.
“I want you.”
“Want you, too,” Eren hums, pulling back with a thin trail of spit from your breast, before moving to give your left nipple the same treatment, “More than you know.”
You keen to him when he teases his teeth against you, finally having had enough you force him off of you with a tug of his hair. “Then take off your clothes.”
Eren blinks, wide-eyed but glazed all the same. He chuckles lightly, a blush spreading over his cheeks as he nods. He sits back on his knees, pulling his shirt over his head, forgoing undoing the buttons, and pauses briefly with his hands over the zipper of his pants.
“Please tell me you’re not that gone that you forgot how to undo your zipper,” you tease him, chest still heaving from his previous ministrations. Eren smiles, doe-eyed and hazy, and shakes his head.
“No,” he reassures you, finally undoing his zipper and shimmying his pants off his legs, “Was trying to remember what underwear I was wearing. Didn't want it to be embarrassing.”
His honesty makes you laugh, and Eren pauses for a moment to soak it in. Even like this, even with him stumbling over the steps to undress himself, and you almost completely naked in front of him, he can make you smile. There’s something equally sexy and endearing about your giggles; a juxtaposition that makes him want to hug you or kiss you or something in between. And you—you like the look in his eyes even through your giggling; the way he smiles back and blushes and tells you exactly what he’s thinking.
“It’s okay,” you tell him, “Don’t think mine are particularly sexy either.”
Eren hums, shuffling back on to the bed so that he’s between your legs, and leans forward to kiss you again. He still can’t seem to keep his hands off of you, his fingers immediately flying to your underwear and peeling them off your legs, pulling you closer despite the lack of space between your bodies.
“Yeah, doesn’t matter,” Eren echos, tossing the offending item to the side, before cupping your face in his hands, “I’d still wanna fuck you in your granny panties.”
“You wanna fuck me?” you question, eyes sparkling and hopeful.
“Yeah, I do,” Eren can’t help but to smile again, happy and high and drunk on you, too, “Will you let me?”
Your feverish nodding is all it takes for Eren’s mind to go hazy again; clouded with you, you, you. You pull him into a kiss, arching your body into his, and running your hands down the sides of his back. He moans at the feeling, punishing you by nipping at your lower lip and pressing your stomach back to the mattress with his palm.
Your eyes meet his as Eren lines himself up with your cunt, teasing your folds with the head; but it doesn’t take long before he finally pushes in, sheathing himself inside you completely without movement. He waits a minute, whether it’s to make you comfortable, or to gather his own bearings, you’re not sure; but when he’s ready, he flashes you a smile and waits for one in return, before he starts thrusting.
You know Eren’s not gentle; rough whether or not he intends to be by virtue of his size in comparison to you, but you seem to have forgotten just how capable he is of making you lose your senses. He has you gasping, grasping at him at him unintelligibly, feeling full with his cock inside of you.
Eren groans, borderline growls, when he feels you clench around him, when he sees you shaking beneath him. He could do this all; could watch you all day.
“So pretty, the prettiest. Prettiest girl, my favorite girl,” Eren praises, eyes raking up and down your thrashing body, “My favorite fucking girl.”
“You—you, too.”
“Yeah? I’m your favorite, too?” Eren coos, reaching out to guide your arms over your head, the force of his body pinning your hands down; you can hardly gasp before he lacess your fingers together, and gives you a reassuring squeeze.
“Promised you, didn’t I? That I’d be good to you, be on my best behavior,” Eren reminds you, leaning forward.
He eyes your necklace—eyes glued to ring around it—bouncing with your body. He bends his head down to kiss it, bites at the skin near it; a possessive streak overcoming him as the diamonds shine against you. “I said I’d treat you good, always. Meant it.”
He stutters, when you squeeze him back; fingers tightening around his hold, your pussy clenching around his cock. Your whining is insistent, and mixes with Eren’s low moans and guttural noises. Eren doesn’t let up his pace, fucking you fast and deep, and it’s only a matter of time before you feel a knot twisting in your belly.
You attempt to move your arms, searching for a release of the feeling building up inside of you but Eren is strong; stronger than you, and he keeps you in your place. Keeps your arms pinned above you, keeps his palms pressed into yours, keeps his lips hovering above yours, just out of reach.
“Eren,” you call his name through shaky moans.
“Yeah? What, baby?”
“Kiss me.”
And so he does, his lips needy and hungry over yours. Eren fucks you and kisses you through your orgasm, tasting your moans on his tongue in timing with him cumming inside of you. You don’t let up; kissing him lewdly while you both come down from your highs.
“So good,” Eren croons against your lips, down your jaw, into your skin, “So good for me.”
You both moan in chorus when he finally pulls out, Eren’s head laying on your collar, nose nuzzling into your neck. He lets your hands free, and immediately you wrap them around his back, holding him close as you both attempt to catch your breaths.
You don’t know how long you lay there like that, with Eren on top of you, and your thumb rubbing circles into his cheek while he sleeps soundly. Maybe an hour, maybe more, maybe less; but the euphoria of your sex doesn’t quiet seem to fade.
It might last all night, maybe even for the rest of your trip but you don’t mind. You think back to earlier in the evening, when you’d caught his gaze after your dance. The feeling isn’t all that different; warm, and fuzzy, and too much and not enough all at once. It feels good, it feels like Eren.
You hum softly to yourself, careful not to wake up the sleeping boy on your chest, when you realize exactly what these two moments have in common: a rare event in which Eren is still in front of you, steady and stagnant, no running or chasing; and you don’t want to let him go.
Sometimes Eren thinks you act oblivious on purpose just to fuck with him, because there’s absolutely no way you—or any human with a functioning nervous system and social cues—can’t tell that he’s completely, stupidly, and embarrassingly in love with you.
Long gone are his days of trying to deny it or get over it. He realized that sophomore year of high school—almost eight years ago—that no matter where he went, what kind of drug he inhaled, or how hard he tried, you’d be permanently etched into his heart. That doesn’t make it any less exhausting, and, in fact, only makes it more astounding that you haven’t caught on yet. Honestly, Eren’s considered hiring a private psychiatrist just to make nothing’s wrong with you.
Amazingly, the remainder of your vacation continues just like the former half. The only exception being that now you’re in Paris. And that he’s shamelessly coerced you into letting him fuck your brains out on several occasions. But besides that, everything’s chill.
Just two best friends traveling through France together and stopping to fuck in any semi-private location they can find. Just two peas in a pod walking along the Champs Elysées at damn near midnight. Just two best buds with linked arms tasting (see: feeding each other) every macaron flavor they come across while violinists play stupidly romantic, classical music in the background.
He knows he should probably talk to you about it, but for some reason he can’t. Like telling you would make it all too real, and give it a meaning that could so easily be taken away from him; give you a reason to want to leave him. Right now, it’s just a fantasy, and he’s free to keep dreaming, believing that he’s special and worth enough for the affection you’ve shown him.
He doesn’t want to be one in a list of your boyfriends, or fiances, or husbands; he wants to be your only one, and if he can’t be, then he’d rather be stuck to your side as your best friend. At least that way, in someway, he could remain special to you; not a forgotten, ordinary ex of your past.
Though, a best friend who he’s sleeping with regularly and he’s in love with and will always be in love with is starting to sound a lot like a husband to him. At least, the kind of husband he would like to be to you.
You call his name, asking him if he wants to try another sweet. Eren rolls his eyes. What he wants is to fuck you, and marry you, and have you bless his stupid little existence with two runts for kids that look like him but act like you so his life savings don’t run out by the time they’re twelve. But sure, he’ll settle for having you feed him another macaron in the meantime.
“This one tastes just like the coconut one,” he mumbles, chewing his way through the pastry you’d stuffed into his mouth whole.
It’s the seventh bakery you’ve stopped at tonight, and even though Eren’s growing pretty sick of the sugary treats, he’ll walk with you to every damn bakery in Paris tonight if that’s what you want.
He blinks at the thought. He’s so lovesick it’s disgusting. And he wouldn’t do a damn thing to change it.
“That’s probably because it’s almond and coconut flavored,” you say, wiping the stickiness from your fingers onto a napkin.
“I didn’t taste any almonds.”
“I don’t even think you could spell almond, much less tell me what they taste like.”
Eren simply pouts in refute, leaving you giggling at his expression. He doesn’t know if it’s possible, but you seem even prettier in Paris than in Nice. But, that’s probably his rose-colored glasses speaking.
“You think there’ll be macarons at the reception?” you question, biting into yet another pistachio flavored treat, “And if not, would it be rude to bring my own?”
He chuckles. “Yes, babe, I’m sure there will be macarons there.”
He’s always loved Paris, even when his mom moved away here and left him in New York, and he’d always loved it more when you’re with him. He feared that having to attend another, what he considered to be wasteful, wedding in arguably one of his favorite places in the world would leave a bitter taste in his mouth; but, thankfully, he’s only fallen deeper in love since being here.
“You sure you won’t be sick of them by tomorrow?” he asks, watching you debate between taste testing another variation of vanilla bean or rosé.
“How could I get sick of them?” you answer offhandedly, not sparing him a glance away as you choose the pink snack. How could he get sick of you.
“By the time we get back to New York you’ll have forgotten all about them,” he scoffs.
“Don’t worry I’ll quit it soon. I’ll have to eat something solid if I wanna take my meds and go to bed,” you spew with a smile, unaware of what you’ve actually just said, “But they are delicious and I have no regrets.”
Eren pauses. Then so do you, mouth stuffed with sickly sweet.
“I mean—”
“I know, you know,” he cuts you off, “About the meds and stuff.”
You look like you could pass out, or scream, or cry, or everything in between. Eren figures saying more is better than saying less, so he continues.
“I saw a bottle in the bathroom a few months ago,” he admits shyly, but careful about his tone, “Didn’t understand half the words on the label, but it had your name on it so I just, uh… Googled it.”
Of course he knows. Eren’s always kind of known, just never had the words to express it. He imagines that’s what you’re feeling right now.
“Oh,” you finally gape, “Why didn’t you, um… you know, like, say… anything?”
“It seemed like your secret to tell,” Eren shrugs, features softening out, “Besides, I figured you’d tell me when you wanted to.”
Eren’s always been better at showing than saying, anyway. He hopes that his actions, small as they may seem, might have provided you with any sort of comfort in the past few months. Maybe even before that, too.
“Oh,” you repeat, continually blinking at him, “That’s… that’s it? You’re cool with it?”
Now it’s Eren’s turn to blink. “What do you mean am I cool with it? They’re your meds.”
“Yeah, but like… you’re not mad I didn’t tell—”
“Of course I’m not mad,” he cuts you off with a soft smile, “It’s not really my business. I mean, like, you’re my business because I care about you, but you have your own private stuff, too, which is cool. Besides, when I was, uh, researching it, I learned that it can be hard to tell people stuff like that even if—”
Eren shuts up when he feels your weight against him and your arms wrapped around him. Shell shocked, he takes a moment to hug you back, and slowly comes to rest his chin atop your head after leaving a flurry of kisses.
“You didn’t have to look it up or do any kind of research, you know,” you mumble softly into his jacket. Eren borderline chortles, but only hugs you more tightly.
“Of course I did. If not for you, then for myself, because I meant it when I said I’d never seen half the words on the prescription before in my life,” he replies, heart glowing at the sound of your small chuckles.
He’s expecting an equally witty response, but you surprise him when you pull back just enough to face him, a hazy smile on your face. “You’re amazing, Eren.”
Don’t blush, fool. Don’t blush, fool. Don’t blush—fucking idiot.
“Yeah, I’m pretty great,” he boasts, leaning back into the coolest pose he could muster up while ignoring the growing heat creeping up his neck. It’s all in vain as you reach over to playfully tug at one of his ears.
He thinks you’re pretty like this. All the time, but most notably when he has you in his arms. So pretty, that he has to lean forward to kiss you; you don’t seem to mind, if the way you smile into the kiss is any indication of your feelings. Eren finds himself mirroring your grin; moving his arms from around your waist to the sides of your face.
The workers in this poor little café probably hate the two of you, but he doesn’t fucking care. He’s got his favorite girl in his arms right now, and you taste like almonds and coconuts and like the love of his life.
And he should tell you. Eren wants to tell you, and he finds himself wondering if those same intrusive, fearful thoughts were part of the driving force behind your own reason to keep your secrets from him.
You pull away from him, hands lightly draped around his neck, and you smile like you’re shy—like he hasn’t known you your whole life. Still, Eren finds himself smiling back; and thinks that if you were brave enough to tell him how you were feeling, then he should do the same.
“(_____), I… I gotta tell you something,” he starts, voice soft as his fingers curl around your waist a little more tightly, “Though, I’m kind of hoping you already know.”
You blink at him, almost innocently. Eren bites the inside of his jaw; you’re going to have to stop doing that before he jumps you again.
Better now than never, he supposes. He tries to shake his nerves when he takes your hands in his, completely covering them with his palms, and closes his eyes. Despite that, you try to offer him comfort, squeezing his fingers as best you can; and Eren takes that moment to thank his lucky stars for whoever decided to put you in his life. Because he knows that no matter what, even if he royally fucks this up, you’ll find some way to be there for him.
He slowly blinks his eyes open again, gaze resting on the ring around your neck. A faded chuckle escapes his lips when looks at it. The only one who got the wrong idea about his gift was you. But, he supposes that’s his fault; he never did explain it, after all.
“It’s nothing… It’s just that, I’m in—”
But Eren’s startled by a voice that makes him freeze. He almost wants to believe he misheard it, but he can hear the telltale clacking of vintage heels on the floor of the bakery and he knows that he didn’t mishear a thing.
Eren turns his head, and sure enough, there is his mother, in all her five foot glory, adorned in designer clothing from her beret to her shoes. With a fucking street urchin on her arm.
“Well, well, well, what a lovely surprise,” Carla beams, red lipstick perfectly in place even after a long day of wear.
Eren’s eyebrows draw together, as he takes in his mother and her fiancé standing in front of him. He can just barely register you calling out towards her, carefully maneuvering yourself off of his lap, and into the neighboring chair; but still keeping your right hand wrapped around his left. He can feel you squeeze it—whether to give him comfort, or warning, he’s not sure yet; probably both.
“It’s so good to see you!” you beam, excitedly offering her and Mitchell a seat across from the two of you at the table. Eren opens his mouth to refute, but you squeeze his hand again; a warning.
Carla leans forward to encase you in a hug, exchanging cheek kisses, and leaving Eren to stare at the street rat across from him. Mitchell seems to know better than to make eye contact with him, irises scattering from Carla’s back to the décor of the bakery while the two girls catch up.
“We missed you at the rehearsal dinner on Sunday,” Carla recounts, eyes fluttering to Eren’s briefly. One look into her son’s eyes, and she understands why; one look into his mother’s eyes, and Eren knows she has him all figured out. “I was worried you might not show at all.”
Eren strategically averts your gaze when you turn your head towards him, choosing to look at his mother instead.
“I didn’t even know there was a rehearsal dinner,” you tell her, tone polite, but Eren can hear the clear jab directed towards him, “I’m sorry, I—we would have gone, otherwise.”
“No need to apologize, darling,” Carla smiles, “I’m sure you two were very busy.”
“We were,” Eren cuts in, words definite. He sees a hint of surprise flash in his mother’s eyes briefly, expertly covered up with her sweet demeanor. She only nods in understanding, sitting back a bit to wrap her arm around Mitchell’s.
“What are you even doing here, Ma?” Eren questions, even as you do the same with his hands under the table, “Isn’t it bad luck to see the groom before the wedding.”
“After the third or fourth wedding, you grow tired of pleasantries and superstitions, my love,” she replies, “This place makes Mitchell’s favorite macarons, we thought we’d share a few before the big day. Maybe get some tea as a pre-celebration.”
The topic of sweets has you speaking up once again, engaging both his mother and Mitchell in a discussion about them, and your other findings from bakery hopping earlier. If Eren didn’t love you to pieces, he would have left the table a long time ago.
It carries on much longer than he can bear to endure; almost an hour of you, and his mother, and Mitchell making pleasant conversation while he tries his best not to brood beside you, but it’s futile. He feels like a little kid again. Stuck at the dinner table with his mother and a man he was being forced to get to know, only for him to become a stranger to him in a matter of months.
Eren grinds his teeth into each other when you laugh at something Mitchell says. He’s not going to sit through his any longer; or ever again.
“Well, this has been fun,” Eren says, voice blatantly monotonous as his cuts through the conversation, “But we should all probably head back go to bed. Big day tomorrow.”
“Eren, we should—” but, he stands up quickly, hand wrapping around yours to force you upwards too.
He doesn’t care to look at you, knowing the dissatisfied expression he’ll be met with. He fishes for his wallet and pulls out too many Euros, neatly tucking them under an unused knife to pay for the meal.
Eren’s steps out from between his chair and the table. “We’ll see you guys tomorr—” But is stopped before he can take three steps away.
His mother’s hand wrapped around his wrist. She stands, significantly shorter than Eren’s full height. “Actually, Eren, could I borrow you for a bit?”
And he doesn’t want to, because he knows exactly the conversation waiting for him. But he looks down at her, lets his eyes flicker to you, and back to her, and he knows he doesn’t have the heart to walk away. Not even if he tried.
He sighs with a shallow nod. He can feel your hand on his shoulder, the proud smile on your lips when you tell him that you’ll meet him back at your hotel. Mitchell ensures him and Carla that he’ll make sure you get back safely, and Eren still can’t stand the guy, but he’s grateful that he can at least be of use for something.
Eren kisses you on the forehead briefly, a promise to you and himself that he’ll finish his confession later. After all, he probably should come to terms with the woman who taught him what love is before he vowed to love you for the rest of his life.
The walk to his mother’s hotel is silent, Eren choosing to keep to himself, hands stuffed in his pockets to prevent his mom from holding them. He’s probably acting like a child, but isn’t that what he is to her; isn’t that she treats him as.
“Look, Ma, you don’t need my approval to marry him,” Eren grumbles, when they finally exit the elevator into the hotel room, “It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Of course I don’t,” Carla offers him a small grin, even if he won’t look at her directly, “But it matters to me.”
“Why does it matter now? It didn’t matter with Keith, or Henry, or Henri with an I, or any of the others,” Eren mumbles, reluctantly taking a seat on the stool opposite the vanity.
His mother tracks his movements with soft eyes and an amused grin as Eren absentmindedly bends a knee and begins to fiddle with the hem of his pants. Just like he used to when he was upset as a child.
“It mattered then, too, Eren,” she tells him, sitting on the stool and facing him.
He’s surprised by her words, his wide eyes giving him away even if he attempts to act unfazed. “It didn’t seem like it.”
Carla opens her mouth to speak, but closes it, words stuck in her throat. She watches Eren’s hunched figure, her tall son not even bothering to look her in the eyes. She exhales slowly; if he were five feet smaller, he’d have tucked himself under her arm, still refusing to look at her, but he’d have snuggled his head into her side while he pouted anyway.
“I suppose it didn’t,” she admits, “In the end, the love wasn’t enough to make it last, then.”
Eren is quiet for a bit at that, pulling at his pants leg. “And… and you love him enough, now?”
“It’s more than love, Eren. It’s... happiness—for yourself and another person—it’s being okay with somebody knowing you now, and forever. Whichever version of you that is.”
“Then why did you marry them before?” Eren asks, “If you knew it wasn’t enough, if you knew it was just going to end up as another big mistake.”
“Maybe the marriages were a mistake, and some of what came with them, but I don’t think the feelings were,” Carla muses, “Love is never wasted.”
“How can you say that?” Eren questions, disbelief and exasperation painted on his face, “Of course it is—you wasted your time, and your money, and your—your everything on those people who couldn’t care less about you now!”
“Eren—”
“You let them into our house,” Eren speaks over her, “You let them into your life, and they left. They always left—”
“Eren—”
“—And you even let some of them come back! Everyone, you let everyone have another chance, another anniversary, another wedding,” He’s ranting, crying, hot, irrational tears streaming down his face; hiccups interrupting his speech, “So—so, so if it’s not wasted and everyone gets another chance and another chance and another chance—why didn’t he come back, huh? For his?”
Eren’s standing now, arms flailing every which way during his breakdown, but his mother doesn’t try to stop him. She lets him continue, hears him out.
“If it’s love—if it’s not wasted, and it’s real—then why didn’t he come back? Why didn’t he want to? Why—why didn’t he want me? Why did I end up the bastard?”
Eren looks his mother in the eyes for the first time in the duration of their conversation with that final question; with his vision blurry, and chest heaving, and cheeks wet. Carla has no words to say; can only carefully open her arms, and wait for her son to come crashing into them. And he does; and it rains and pours, and Eren holds onto his mother for dear life, and onto the pieces of her breaking heart.
“Am I not good enough to have that kind of love?” Eren asks through tears, “Am I not special enough to want to know?”
“Eren,” she finally speaks, moving to cradle his head in her hands, “You don’t have to be special or good, to be known or loved. It’s enough that you were born. That’s enough to make you deserving of love.”
She doesn’t mind the tears against her palms or the hiccups of Eren’s breathing, “And you already have it.”
And Eren looks at her with eyes wide and wild like a child, staring at the first person to have ever loved someone as messed up, and plain, and ordinary as him; and he can feel more tears bubbling at his eyes.
“Ma, I’m—I’m so sorry,” he chokes out, wrapping his arms around her even tighter, chin resting on her shoulder while his shake through his tears, “I’m so fucking sorry.”
Carla hugs her son as close as she can, like he’s five years old and the apple of her eye and she can take all his pain away. “You don’t have to be. You’re my son, and I’ll love you always.”
It feels like they have all the time in the world like that, to hug and cry and apologize; but Carla hopes Eren knows that he was always forgiven; that he never had anything to apologize for in the first place.
“She loves you, too, baby,” she coos, holding Eren as tight as possible, “But you have to let her know that. That you accept it.”
“Do you think she knows?” Eren asks, words muffled into the fabric of her clothing, “That I love her, too?”
“I do,” Carla confirms, pulling away to look at Eren in the eyes; his beautiful, shining, green eyes, “But I don’t think that either of you really realized it. I mean, you did give her an engagement ring, darling.”
Eren huffs at the memory, “She thought it was a gift.”
“Because you gave it to her as a gift.”
“I thought it was pretty obvious.”
“Love has a way of making people blind,” Carla muses, “Especially two lovesick semi-adults with too much money on their hands.”
Eren’s cheeks grow pink at the accusation, “It’s your money!”
“Yes, and I’m very happy to have it,” Carla chuckles, motioning for Eren to stand up. He does, and she looks up at him with glimmering, proud eyes. “Now, go, shoo. You have a girl to propose to, don’t you? There might be two Jaeger weddings this weekend.”
Eren nods, certain of himself for the first time in a while. He turns on his heel with a vigor igniting his footsteps, but pauses when he reaches the elevator. He makes a sharp turn, running back to his mom one last time, and squeezing her suddenly, and tightly against him.
“I love you, mom,” he says; the words too foreign on his tongue, and he vows to not let them be a stranger to his vocabulary from here on out.
“I love, you, too, Eren,” Carla calmly wraps her arms around her son one last time, “And I always will.”
You half-expected your walk back to your hotel with Mitchell to be painfully awkward, but he proves to be a pleasant conversationalist, even in Carla’s absence.
You know that Eren isn’t fond of him, but you wish that he would at least give him a chance. There’s no way to know if a marriage—if any relationship—will last forever, but, sometimes, you think it’s not about knowing about forever; but, rather about wanting it to make it there; about willing to go the distance with that person.
You can see that want, that willingness that works alongside love in Mitchell and Carla’s relationship, that stands out from her past marriages. You get the feeling they’re going to last; and that, most importantly, they both want it to, too.
It’s quiet out as you both walk the streets of Paris, Mitchell taking the time to point out small notes in architecture that interest you. You readjust your jacket as a gust of wind washes over you, careful to make sure your necklace doesn’t snag against your clothing.
“That’s a beautiful ring,” he calls to you gently.
“Thank you,” Surprised, you quickly let out an embarrassed cough, looking down to your left hand resting atop the uppermost button on your coat. “It was a gift.”
“I meant that one,” Mitchell corrects, carefully gesturing to his own neck to indicate that he was talking about the ring on your necklace, and not the one on your finger.
“Oh, thank you,” you repeat, “That one was actually a gift, too.”
The older man hums, continuing your walk to your hotel. “Must have been one hell of a gift. I don’t know many people who give out engagement rings as presents.”
“Oh, no, no, no, it wasn’t—it’s not an engagement ring,” you tell him, feeling a warmth creep up your cheeks even in the chilly atmosphere of the night, “Eren gave it to me, actually, a few years ago—it was a Christmas gift.”
“Eren, huh?” Mitchell smiles fondly, “That makes sense. Carla tells me how much he cares about you.”
“You—she does?” you stutter. Mitchell nods. “I—I mean, I care about him, too.”
“Enough to accept an engagement ring from him, it seems,” Mitchell taunts, “I’m no specialist, but I know a Harry Winston piece when I see it. They’re not cheap.”
“Trust me, I know,” you scoff, “I almost killed him when I saw how much he spent on it.”
“And you took it, anyway?”
“Well, he—he was supposed to return it,” you defend yourself, “Because I didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea! But he just, well, he gave me the other one instead, so I wear that one on my hand.”
Mitchell pauses, just as you both stand to the entrance of your hotel. “And what was the wrong idea you didn’t want people getting.”
“That... that...,” you pause, thinking back to that Christmas day.
Even though Eren is known for spending ludacris amounts of money, the ring came as a genuine surprise to you. A couple thousand on shoes, sure—you’re victim to that yourself; a couple hundred thousand on a lavish vacation wasn’t out of the ordinary, either; but a million, maybe even more, on a ring that you could have only ever asked of him in your dreams was another thing completely.
And, sure, even a few million didn’t mean much to you or Eren at the end of the day, but it wasn’t just the price; it was the object of the money, too. To accept a house, or a car, or a jet for that amount is something you could rationalize; but a ring seemed foreign, and far out of your league.
Then there was the display and value it held beyond money. It’s beautiful, gorgeous, but more than that, it’s tailored to your exact liking. The synthesis of your aesthetic and everything you could ask for, garnished with the memory of Eren in the very design; the diamonds you love, the flowers that remind him of you, and the way they stems wrap around each other and the petals meet in the middle.
A small gasp leaves your lips and instinctively, you reach to clutch the ring in your hold. There was no way this was an engagement ring... Eren hadn’t proposed to you when he gave it to you—in fact, he was so casual about it, that it had you stunned that he hadn’t thought to consider that other people might think it meant something more than what he intended it to be.
But, looking back, it seems like you’re the only one who didn’t understand what was going on. Because Eren told you, even then, that he’d wanted you forever; you didn’t know how to hear him. It was all right there—not just in the ring, but in all his gifts, in the entirety of your friendship.
Eren loves you, more than you could ever know.
“It’s an engagement ring,” you say aloud, but more to yourself than to Mitchell, “Oh my god, it’s an engagement ring.”
Mitchell can’t do anything but smile at your revelation. You’re practically bouncing off the walls, connecting the puzzle pieces of your relationship in the middle of the street at damn near midnight, but you don’t care; because it finally feels right, and it finally, finally all makes sense.
“He, but he never pro—oh my fucking god, I’m going to kill him.”
You feel elated and confused and happy and murderous all at once. Eren wanted to marry you; Eren loved you. He wants you for the rest of his life, and you’ve been too blind to see it this entire time.
Still, you think that maybe a verbal proposal might have helped to open your eyes a bit.
“Mitchell, I have to—”
You’re cut off by the echo of your name coming from the opposite end of the street, and you can just barely make out of Eren’s figure in the faded lights of the street lamps. His name falls from your lips like a whisper, and you hardly register Mitchell’s amused, soft laughter from beside you.
“I think that’s my cue,” he says, patting you on the shoulder, “I better get back to Carla. Something tells me you two have a bit to talk about.”
You can barely nod at him, eye still wide and stunned, but a smile on your face even in your fearful anticipation. You don’t have time to thank him before he turns away, bidding you goodnight; and then you have something else to focus on, as Eren’s footsteps grow louder, and his silhouette grows sharper the closer he gets to you.
He practically crashes into you, chest heaving, hair wind-swept and wild from his running. He puts his hands on your shoulders, to steady himself physically and mentally, labored breaths ghosting over the top of your head.
“Hi,” he finally squeaks; and that stupid, big, dopey grin is on his face.
It’s ridiculous, so utterly ridiculous that you can’t help but greet him back. The two of you stand there, smiling like fools for god knows how long, before the realization strikes you for a second time.
Eren opens his mouth to finally speak, but a pained squeal leaves his lips instead as he feels the back of your hand slap his chest. “Ouch—hey, what was that for!”
“What the hell do you think you were doing proposing to me without telling me?” you screech, packing another punch to his chest for good measure, but it’s a poor barrier and does nothing to stop your tears from falling, “You’re an idiot, I should kill you for this, you know that, Eren Jaeger?”
Eren laughs softly, only to be heard by you in close proximity. He takes your offending hand in his, and reaches for your other, pulling both of them between your bodies. He can feel tears welling in his own eyes, as he looks down at the necklace, glimmering perfectly under the moonlight.
“In my defense, the first thing you told me to do when I gave it to you was to return it.”
“I might not have said that if you told me what it meant,” you can hardly choke out a laugh through your tears; and Eren can’t stop his from falling either, “It’s insane, you know. This whole thing—to ask me to marry you at 19. For me to not realize until we’re 21.”
“I know,” Eren agrees, inching closer even though there’s barely any room between you, “I know. But I know I love you, every version of you. I always have, I always will.”
You close your eyes as Eren’s hands move to your face, gingerly sweeping your tears away from your cheeks. He feels too close, it feels like too much; but you don’t want him to move.
“You know... if you had asked me, then,” you start, blinking your eyes open with a sniffle; you’re met with Eren’s emerald greens one with far too much hope and love glimmering in them, “I—I don’t even know what I would have said.”
“And if I asked you now?”
You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, slowly raising your hands to wrap around Eren’s wrist, and lower them to your neck, before looking at him again, “Ask me.”
Eren blinks, carefully trailing his hands up and around your neck, nimble fingers undoing the clasp of your necklace. He hardly lets the chain pool into his hand before it’s tossed aside, and the ring is still between his thumbs and index fingers as he lowers himself on to one knee.
“You are the love of my life, and there’s not a single version of life—a single version of you, or me—where I don’t want to be with you forever,” Eren says, “And you know how shit I am with my words, but I fucking mean it. I swear to you, that I’ll do my best every day to show you how much you mean to me; marry me, and I’ll prove it to you, I swear, I will.”
Your lips are wobbling at Eren’s confession below you, and you can just barely beckon him upwards in your state. He’s hardly back on two feet before you’re pulling him against you, ghosting the word “yes” on his lips before you kiss him.
You both melt into the kiss, Eren’s hands skillfully cupping your cheeks, while he keeps the ring in his hold and bruises your lips together.
“You don’t have to prove it to me, Eren,” you assure him, hand shaking when you pull apart and let him slip the ring onto your finger—where it belongs, “You already have.”
For his first birthday as a married man, Eren requested something intimate. He wanted just a small celebration with all of your mutual friends, some good food, alcohol, and lots of fun.
Supposedly simple and intimate for him entailed renting out the top floor of the Whitney, which was currently encasing an exhibit portraying some kind of abstract modern art that allowed for a very drunk Eren and Armin have to entertain themselves by trying their best to recreate the paintings using very flawed couples aerial yoga.
The art, paired with the dimmed lighting, Jean’s choice selection of overtly sexual music, and Eren’s pick of overpriced champagne also meant that Marco, Bertholdt, Connie, and Sasha found everything ten times funnier than they were—which meant they were a million times louder than usual.
Jean stands next to you by the bar, watching as Eren attempts to hold Armin above his head by holding on to just his waist. They’re unsuccessful, of course, resulting in both boys toppling onto the ground as the majority of their older friends laugh along.
“Lucky me, I get to take him home at the end of the night,” you drawl, turning to the bartender to order another drink.
She smiles, easily preparing your martini and sliding it you with an inquiry. “That’s your boyfriend? The tall one with the brown hair?”
“No,” you sigh, eyes closed for a moment before taking the glass between your fingers. “That’s my husband, unfortunately.”
× even more notes: this fic. is my baby. it’s been a draft of mine for over two years at this point. it’s gone through various fandoms but i’ve never quite been able to complete and post it, so i’m very happy that it’s finally here! i hope you all enjoyed, and i just wanted to say that i’m glad to finally have been able to share this with you all!
#attack on titan#aot x reader#snk x reader#eren x reader#aot imagines#snk imagines#eren smut#eren fluff#levi x reader#I DONT WANNA TALK ABOUT IT
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Hello! Can I request an hc about a shady MC who's not phase by anything in Devildom with the brothers (and Diavolo?? he deserves love!!!)? Like, when Luci's like "i CaN KiLL yOu hUmAN", MC's reaction was like "Oh... congratulations then." i need more shady mc who may or may not be planning to ruin your life😂😂 Thanks and take care!!❤❤
The Brothers + Diavolo with an MC that is not phased by DevilDom
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Pls I need more shady MC, they would not take any shit from the brothers. Put any Gen Z-er with these guys and you’ve got yourself a suicidal and reckless human exchange student.
They wouldn’t know what to do with one of those ahaksbakanhaka you’re right, Diavolo deserves all the love >:(((((((
You better take care too >:( thanks for sending me this big brain request. I’ve been preoccupied with other projects so I took a while to get to this ask. Hope you’re doing OK💙
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Lucifer:
-He thought having a human exchange student was going to be bad enough as it is but this…..this was so much worse than he could have ever imagined
-The moment you arrived, he already knew you were going to be a problem child and a persistent one at that
-Literally the first thing you asked him was : “Why do you look like an off-brand Levi Ackerman?”
-And he was left there, astounded, confused and offended because he had no idea who you were talking about (cuz at that point you hadn’t met the third eldest) and the tone you had was, frankly, pissing him off
-You kept wondering off on your own????? Without looking like you gave a shit even though you almost walked into a butcher’s shop that specialises in human meat???? Tf MC?
-Also really irritated that you couldn’t be intimidated and that DevilDom was like a playground to you, for some reason? Like, MC get out of the fiery pits of eternally tormented souls- this is Hell, not the McDonald’s ball pit ffs
-Things did not improve for him lmao, by the end of the first week he had already ripped out a good chunk of his hair because of you
-“MC, you should know by now provoking demons like this for no good reason is only going to make life harder for you. Keep this up and you’ll get killed in no time because of your behaviour.”
-“Great, can we have a hip-hip and a hurray?”
-In the span of one day, he’s had to come to your rescue six times (approximately) because you’re too nonchalant about your surroundings around literal creatures of hell
-He doesn’t have enough coffee or will to live for this bs
-“Lucifer, I found this dead plant and brought it here because it reminded me of you.”
-“…..sigh. Why? Why does it remind you of me?”
-“Because it’s cold and unresponsive.”
-He made the consecutive decision to ignore you
-(low-key kept the plant tho)
-Honestly, you get on his nerves a lot and he has definitely contemplated killing you in the past but at the end of the day he really can’t bring himself to do it
-We both know he tried a few times lmfao
-“I will tear you limb from limb, human-“
-“Can I finish my tea first.”
-“You…wait, what?”
-“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting this tea get cold. Try to kill time before I’m done and I’ll smash this cup against your head.”
-If you try hard enough, you might even elicit a laugh out of him, especially if your shadiness is directed at any of his brother which results in him patting your head affectionately
-Nowadays he’s just concerned because you seemed to have made an alliance of sorts with Belphagour and Satan and that’s not a good sign
-For his sake, if not yours, at least try to survive the year without getting chomped on by a random demon please
-He’s too stubborn to let you die just because you’re unbothered by everything so cut him some slack and help out damn it
Mammon:
-“Oi Lucifer, how come I’m stuck babysittin’ this stupid human?”
-“And how come I’m stuck with this asshole for a tour guide, with his fake ass designer shoes and no brand sunglasses. That’s a lot of smack talk from someone with crow shit stains covering the back of his jacket. Also, did you stick your hair in a bucket of mayonnaise?”
-……..
-He was so offended lol
-Normally, humans like you cower in fear whenever demons are as much as mentioned because of the whole “I can eat you whole” thing
-And here you are; insulting the Avatar of Greed and one of the princes of Hell himself just because you didn’t like his attitude
-Don’t worry tho, he warms up to you in less than a fucking month simply because you still come to his rescue whenever his brothers start insulting him and wow, look at that, his heart is now combusting on the floor
-“Y’all have no right to criticise Mammon when he has the most self control out of all of you.”
-“Since when does Mammon have any self control? He can’t keep himself from nicking anything that looks shiny.”
-“Motherfucker, I don’t see him trying to choke me to death, respectfully pls shut the fuck up. I don’t want to say I have favourites but if I do, it’s definitely him.”
-While Mammon’s in the background, with hearts instead of pupils in his eyes like ❤️👄❤️
-He doesn’t even mind running around after you anymore (will still complain about it though because your ass is in constant danger and he’s had enough)
-Honestly, you keep starting shit with random demons, some of which are quite powerful mind you, and you don’t back down even when he’s there to step in
-Would low key love to watch you fight one of your classmates at RAD and organise a ticket selling booth for the event but Lucifer will hang him a new one if he does
-So for now, he sticks to baring his teeth at the aggravator in question and you’re there, giving the same demon the middle finger
-The way you sometimes match his energy gets him so hyped up lmao
-“Mammon, did you steal Levi’s money again?”
-“T’s none of her business human. Now go away, shoo!”
-“Bitch, don’t ‘shoo’ me, I ain’t a bird. Now tell me, did you?”
-“…..Why do you ask?”
-“Because a new flavour of instant noodles just got announced, called ‘Super Hell-Sauce Flavour’ and I thought you might be more interested in that than wasting the money on gambling.”
-“….ok but only if you come with me to buy some.”
-This…this is true love right here
Levi:
-Oh no, now there’s two of you
-Why do I feel like his energy would match MC’s almost immediately? Maybe it’s because he spends too much time in his room on the internet like the rest of us do
-“What do you want, you stupid normie?”
-“300…..”
-“….300 what?”
-“300 mangas collected, thousands of episodes of anime watched, over 60 character figurines, plushies, body pillows, merchandise and several posters only to be called a fucking normie by a demon weeb that’s only known me for 10 minutes.”
-Boom, instant friendship
-He becomes attached to you almost immediately and now that he knows how unphased you are by DevilDom, he is seriously worried
-Hell, you’re making him consider going outside his room just to make sure you’re alive and not dead in a ditch somewhere because you decided to get on someone’s nerves that particular day
-Even during the quiz thing, when he almost kills you, you’re just sitting on the floor and awkwardly watching him as he throws a sissy fit
-Levi feels sort of conflicted with you because one one hand you’re good company and he loves having you around, you’re his Henry after all
-But on the other hand, you put yourself in so much danger it makes him paranoid so often to the point where he wants to keep you locked in his room and wrapped in bubble wrap
-Nearly had a heart attack when you almost walked right into a pit of lava like MC???? This isn’t one of his video games???? You’re not gonna respawn if you die????
-Besides all that, he gets a bit jealous of you confidence and your ability to just do whatever without fearing death or consequence
-“MC, how do you do it?”
-“Do what?”
-“How do you go about your life without a care in the world?”
-“I guess I’ll tell you my secret Levi. I’m not like other humans that’s why, I’m just so unique I do things differently.”
-“You sound like a pick me-“
-As long as you’re OK and not injured because of your carelessness, he’s indifferent about your behaviour and will even applaud you for your bravery when it comes to this sort of thing
-“lmao the human exchange student just dumped Solomon’s cooking in the trash while looking him dead in the eye 💀💀💀”
Satan:
-Your attitude towards DevilDom and demons in general kept him entertained, if nothing else
-You rarely seemed to consider how much of a threat that place really is and usually you were just running around, completely ignoring Lucifer’s rules and doing your own thing
-Which, you know, he’s all about
-I can’t say there were no incidents between the two of you
-With his short temper and your tendency to say things without caring about the consequences, there were definitely moments when he might’ve snapped on you
-“MC for goodness sake, what happened to my room?”
-“What do you mean?”
-“It’s an absolute mess! I just told you to bring me my spells and curses book, not mow through everything!”
-“It’s not my fault this place is built like a fucking labyrinth. You should be grateful I went to get it for you at all, I almost tripped and died several times on my way back. Also, you should get a new ladder for your shelves. It did the broken.”
-“MC….”
-“Yes?”
-“You are so lucky I love you.”
-Other than the fact his anger takes over him when things like these happen, he not so subtly encourages you to keep going because seeing Lucifer scowl at your antics gets him wheezing his lungs out
-I like to think Satan would be very impressed, even in the beginning, at the amount of nonchalance you can radiate at times
-I mean, you sure as hell don’t see it often and he loves how unpredictable you are more often than not
-If anything, he should probably thank you-idk how, but his patience has increased significantly every since you got here and he appreciates having some more control of his emotions
-“I’m gonna go put oil in Lucifer’s shoes.”
-“Do you have a death wish?”
-“Satan, I am old enough to make my own decisions and I concluded that this action is necessary.”
-“Necessary for what?”
-“Raising everyone’s morale! All of you seemed to feel down lately so I thought this would be fun for everybody!”
-“Except Lucifer, right?”
-“Except Lucifer. He grounded me from my D.D.D like I’m a fucking teenager who needs to be supervised-pssshht, I’m the most responsible one here.”
-“Yes clearly.”
-“Goodbye dear Satan, I may die today. But it’s for the greater good! (Dramatic exit with sound effects)”
-“WAIT MC!”
-“(pops head back in) yes?”
-“May I offer you my assistance?”
-You’re basically taking turns pranking his brothers and it’s hilarious
-Satan is not too worried about your well being simply because he knows his siblings and him are always going to be nearby to save you if you pull something stupid again
-Even so, he checks up on you throughout the day; just to make sure
-“Where were you?”
-“Running from a bunch of demons. Who wanted to go munchy crunchy on me, I assume.”
-“……”
-“Either that or people here are a lot friendlier than originally expected.”
-You can be such a handful and it really tests him, especially when he’s angry enough to begin with
-But despite your amazing talent at either getting completely lost around Hell, purposely walking into a prohibited place just because you felt like it or riling up others with how blunt you are, he still cares about you deeply
-You may be a pain the ass, but you’re his pain in the ass <3
Asmo:
-He should’ve known something was up with this particular human when you stood there, completely calm and collected, while Beel salivated at the thought of eating you on your first day
-Asmo just brushed it off for a while but it kept happening???
-The first time Lucifer ever told you off, you really went and said “Or what? Are you going to eat me? If so, you can go ahead and start with-“
-He came to your rescue and covered your mouth before you got to finish and before Lucifer unleashed his wrath on to everyone in that house
-“OOPSIE! I think MC has been spending too much time with me. Sorry Lucifer, we gotta run now! We have a party to attend, don’t we MC darling?”
-“You mean the one hosted by the guy that tried to kill me because I shoved into him on the hallway at school and then proceeded to tell him to go fuck himself right back into whatever hell hole he was born in before you came and charmed our way out of it?”
-“Yes.”
-“Ah OK. “
-You’re tiring for sure but you’re not exactly unlikeable
-You have a certain charm hanging about you that Asmo loves
-“I almost died like…30 minutes ago.”
-“WAIT WHAT?? WHY?? WHAT HAPPENED-MC ARE YOU OK???”
-“Yeah, I almost drank some poison today because someone told me it was water. It smelt off though so I didn’t.”
-“….”
-“Anyway, I got you this bracelet on my way home.”
-He really does wish you would take things a bit more seriously
-This is your life on the line, you know? What would he do if you died?
-“MC, you’re not immortal, you can die so much more easily than I can, you know that right???”
-“I don’t care.”
-“Well I do! And you should too….”
-A lot of people don’t see past his vanity tbh, because he can be such a caring person towards the people he loves
-The amount of videos he has of you appearing to be completely calm while pure chaos is descending in the background is pretty impressive
-Every time he uses his charm on you to try and get you to commit his sin, it just doesn’t work???? For some reason???? And even if it’s just with simple, innocent affection for now, he is determined to tempt you into it
-“MC~gimme a hug!”
-“But that’s social interaction and I don’t support it- do you have a charger for my D.D.D by any chance?
-Or at least die trying to ig
-Asmo loves having you around but you’re giving him wrinkles and that’s not okay >:(
Beel:
-The moment he realised how carefree you actually were, he sort of started checking up with you quite frequently throughout the day
-It’s his way of protecting you but if he could, he would follow you around all the time
-Becomes your body guard because you may not care enough about your safety but he certainly does so get ready to be carried everywhere
-You will not get hurt nor will anyone mess with you if he has a say in it and let me tell you, he does
-Thing is, his brothers mostly know him for being slightly dense in some aspects of day to day life
-He’s not perceptive of things that don’t involve food or his loved ones
-And because you most definitely are a loved one of his, he does notice how careless you are really often
-And it scares, rather worries, him because DevilDom is an incredibly dangerous place-even with all the precautions they had taken when you came
-“MC get down, you could fall.”
-“But Beel, look-I’m finally taller than everyone else! Taller than you even! Hey, should I do a backflip?”
-He has no idea why you thought jumping from 60 meter high cliff into a small river of squashed demon blood was a good idea but he wasn’t going to risk anything just because you felt like showing off your diving skills
-Proceeds to carry you away, completely unfazed
-In this case, I feel like Beel is not someone who gets bothered by the horrible things happening around there either
-As long as he has food and his family is safe and happy then he’s also happy, as mentioned above
-But he knows he’s alright with DevilDom because he’s been living here for centuries now
-A bit curious as to why you’re so unbothered
-And even more curious as to why you weren’t terrified of him transforming in his demon form after he lost control when he found out you ate his pudding
-Or more like Mammon did and pushed the blame on you
-“YOU. ATE. MY. PUDDING!”
-“Beel I love you but if you did not just see Mammon shoving the damn container in my mouth two seconds prior to this, then you might need glasses.”
-He apologised to you later for it but even so, you didn’t seem to mind like at all and he didn’t really understand why
-Unless you end up explaining why exactly you feel so indifferent about your life being in potential danger, he won’t really pry
-But now he has even more reason to follow you around like a lost puppy
-Since it’s clear you don’t really care about protecting yourself
-So now it’s his job to do it
-MC protection squad? Mostly Beel and Mammon
-ahhh he cute
Belphie:
-Oh
-You piss him off so much
-He’s trying to have his moment, you know?
-Finally getting that glimmer of satisfaction after killing a human as a way to avenge his sister’s death
-Trying his hardest to make it as miserable as possible because he has so much rage in him, he needs you to suffer
-“Harder Daddy-“
-“Oh fuck off.”
-Nah but for real, what the fuck MC
-Why does he even bother, he feels like he should be sleeping instead of dealing with your bullshit
-Even afterwards, when your future self shows up and he tries to kill you again, you look more thoughtful than irritated???
-Lucifer and Beel are literally holding him back from doing another Chocky on you and you’re standing there, looking at him with your eyebrows raised
-“Hey Belphie, I have a quick question. I know you’re trying to kill me and everything but do you like the colour blue?”
-“HUH??!?!”
-“It’s a simple yes or no question Belphie. Do. You. Like. Blue?”
-“WHAT DOES IT MATTER???!!!”
-“BELPHAGOUR, AVATAR OF SLOTH-YES OR NO, JUST FUCKING ANSWER!”
-“YES! FUCK YOU!”
-“Ah ok thanks. I like blue too :)”
-????????????
-Pls he felt like sticking his foot down your throat
-As of late, he’s kind of glad he didn’t manage to scare you away that day and that he didn’t traumatise you or something
-At the time, he was mad because he didn’t understand why you weren’t scared but now he just wants to make it up to you
-“You didn’t deserve any of that. I’m sorry MC, I won’t blame you if you decide to stay away from me now.”
-“Stfu dipshit, what’s gotten you so depressed? Did you have another fight with Beel? I told you not to eat the last slice of cake.”
-“Rude ass, I was trying to apologise for my past mistakes-let me repent will you?”
-“Said no demon ever. Now let’s go hang out you emo bitch.”
-Y’all vibe together on a spiritual level once that shit gets sorted out
-But he’s kinda scared you might pull out a knife on him ngl
-Obviously, you’re still annoying as fuck with that indifferent attitude of yours but he can live with it
-He appreciates the fact that you’re not scared of him, even after what he’s done
Diavolo:
-Ah yes, the future King of DevilDom himself
-He’s very enthusiastic about the idea of you having fun this year…..and to keep you alive….
-He, of course, expected a range of reactions from you when he first summoned you here
-None of which were “Ok but could you not have given me a heads up? Before the whole teleportation thing? I face-planted your onto marvellously polished the floor and now I think I lost even more brain cells than before.”
-He felt so bad gagajajahahwgehhsb
-He apologised for bringing you out here without any warning like that and then proceeded to introduce you to everyone
-Diavolo is actually kind of relieved to see you’re handling everything pretty well
-He thought that maybe DevilDom was too much for a human to deal with
-Meeting Barbatos also went incredibly smooth
-“Barbatos? The one that cleans the floors right? Big fan of your work, I could eat off the floor of the main hall.”
-He’s so glad to see you getting along with everyone and not getting intimidated by the brothers
-It gets him excited thinking about how the exchange program is gonna work and all three realms will be united
-But he’s not stupid so don’t think he’ll allow you to stumble around, getting up to all sorts of mischief
-He always has someone watching you because he would hate to see you die, despite being pretty fond of your carefree attitude
-“MC, please be careful. Most demons here aren’t all that nice.”
-“Aye aye Captain.”
-He fears that many demons would take your indifference as a challenge and try to assert dominance or something by kidnapping you
-As far as creatures of hell go, they love installing fear in people
-So he always keeps an extra eye open for you
-And he’ll be there to help you if something goes wrong
-But other than that, he’s pretty chill as well and he finds you so hilarious, it’s been a while since he’s seen someone as eccentric and dramatic as Mammon and Asmo
-Idk what else to add here, Diavolo is very accepting and as long as you don’t get hurt, he’s glad you can get used to your new surroundings so easily
———————————-
Al~
#obey me#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me leviathan#obey me imagines#obey me belphegor#obey me mammon#obey me lucifer#obey me satan#obey me diavolo#🦚 lucifer supremacy#💳 mammon supremacy#⭐️ requests#☂️ demon brothers#🕯 general#📚 satan supremacy#🐡 levi supremacy#🪞asmo supremacy#💫 belphie supremacy#🍔 beel supremacy#👑 diavolo supremacy
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Nalu Yakuza Au *cover art by @jmoart214 💜
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The tit for tat game was well known to both of their top confidants and lieutenants because it had been going on ever since Natsu and Lucy broke up. Plus, it was hard to get around such knowledge considering most of them came from the same neighborhoods. These intrigues ebbed and flowed like waves. Months could pass by without any interactions between the two, at other times they’d go back and forth continuously until one of them finally gave up, and on the odd occasion ended in a huge fight that led to another round of ignoring each other. Up until now, it had been kind of amusing to watch them torture each other because it was better than a drama shows on television. But that didn’t mean Natsu, and Lucy’s friends didn’t worry about one or both being truly hurt one day because of it.
“It’s fine,” Natsu rolled his eyes as Gray chastised him after the soapland incident. The two men were at Natsu’s home after work hours and supposed to be relaxing. But clearly his friend didn’t want to drop the subject. “What’s the big deal?”
“Dude, you let yourself be blindfolded in a public space! Have you forgotten what kind of business we’re in? What if it had been an assassin instead?”
“Oh, that’s just ridiculous. We’re talking about Lucy’s company, and I trust their security measures because she has just as much to lose if a hit took place there.”
“Still, you should be more careful, at least take a bodyguard with you…”
Natsu’s eyebrow twitched in irritation. “And what, so they can watch the show? We got any voyeurs on the payroll? Cause I can’t think of anyone here who’d wanna see another guy getting his balls fondled!”
Gray ran a hand down his face. “So not the mental image I wanted. You’re missing the point.” He sighed. “Natsu you are the head of this clan, and your safety is my top priority.”
“I get it, I get it,” Natsu drawled.
“And frankly,” Gray continued, “you’ve become distracted by her lately.”
“Tch! No, I haven’t!”
“Yeah, you are. You think I haven’t noticed? I know you drive by her place sometimes. I know you’ve followed her to that coffee shop she likes to frequent. But ever since her employee was robbed, things have escalated again.”
“You’re imagining things and apparently spying on me. I’m just keeping an eye on the competition.”
“Watching over you is my job! That’s not spying.” Gray crossed his arms. “And oh, it’s no doubt that you’re keeping an eye on her. That’s why you went to Katsunuma’s party and to soapland too. The problem is you’re getting sloppy and sloppy gets people killed.”
Natsu groaned. “Are you done yet? We’re supposed to be enjoying the baseball game, not psychoanalyzing my life.”
“Almost.” Gray placed a hand on his friends’ knee and leaned in. “Natsu, you’ve been chasing that tail since high school, just lock her down and convince her to work together already.”
Natsu snorted a laugh. “Gray we all grew up together, so what in all these years makes you think that’s a possibility? You know damn well Lucy’s not a woman you can control without her consent.” Natsu knew that, and frankly he loved that part of her. In fact, it made him even more fired up whenever he thought about it, just like a treasure you don’t just find but must win at the end of a game. “I’ll find a way, some day.”
“Well until that day arrives, could you promise me you’ll be more cautious?”
“Fine, fine,” Natsu waved his hand. “I’ll back off of Lucy for now.”
“Good.” Gray relaxed back onto his recliner thinking the drama was over.
“However, there is a new guy I want surveillance placed on.”
“Who?”
“The bartender from the party.”
Gray groaned. “Seriously? Why? He’s just a bartender!”
“I don’t trust him.”
“Was he spiking the drinks or something? Dealing drugs at the party?”
“Maybe.”
Gray huffed. “You really gonna try that? Do I look like an idiot? This is just straight jealousy talking.”
“I don’t care! I want someone to dig up what they can on the guy!”
“No, what you wanna know is if he fucked Lucy that night!”
Natsu jumped up with his fists clenched. “Fuck you!”
“Fuck you too!” Gray stood up and matched his boss’s energy. “Unless you give me a damn good reason to check into him, I’m not wasting my guy’s time! You might be the boss, but don’t you fucking forget who you’re talking to! I’m not some punk off the streets!”
Realizing he was taking things too far, Natsu sat back down. “Sorry.”
Gray sighed and plopped back down too. “I only joined because you asked me to and you’re my best friend, then I helped you build this new empire, so I’m just as invested in protecting it as you are. But Natsu, personal emotions have led to the downfall of many in this business, and as a friend, I’ll check you any time I think you’re going to far.”
“You’re right…” Natsu sighed too. “She just gets me so worked up.”
“Don’t I know it,” Gray laughed, but stopped when Natsu glared at him. “Sorry, it slipped out.”
“But I swear, there’s something suspicious about him. When he saw me, I thought he just reacted because he thought I was Lucy’s boyfriend or something, but the more I think about it, he might have recognized me.”
“Well, that wouldn’t necessarily be suspicious either.”
“True. But the look in his eyes just made me wonder.”
“Alright…” Gray groaned, “if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll have someone do some digging. So, you said he has orange hair and glasses, and the name on his tag was Loke?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s an unusual name, shouldn’t be too hard to check on.”
Over the course of a couple of weeks, Gray sent out feelers for any information on this Loke guy. Katsunuma junior gave them their first small lead that the bartender had worked the party through a local food catering company. That catering company was a legitimate business who had both full-time staff as well as independent contractors brought in per event as needed. Loke had been one of the latter. From there Gray obtained a last name, de Lioncourt.
According to his sources at the local precinct, Loke de Lioncourt had no rap sheet, no prior dealings with police, and for all they knew was an average citizen. The man’s Line blog profile listed him as a 28-year-old, Japanese/French American, model and bartender, and it was filled with pictures from events, parties, as well as many gorgeous women— none of which contained Lucy. But as Gray trolled through the man’s feed, he did come across one person he recognized and passed the information along to Natsu.
“Wow, she’s in a bunch of photos,” Natsu mumbled as he scrolled through the blog.
“Well, considering Cana’s reputation are you surprised. Parties and alcohol are the two things that woman lives for.” Gray laughed. “Now see, this makes sense to me. Lucy and him, not so much.”
“Tch… still pisses me off he even tried.”
“Lucy’s a free woman, she can go out with whoever she wants to.”
“We’ll see about that,” Natsu mumbled low.
“What was that?” Gray asked with a raised brow.
“Nothing.”
“Better be nothing, cause this is a dead end. He’s just a flirty bartender. It’s how they make tips.”
“Yeah, yeah, fine.” Natsu sat back in his chair. “So, back to business. What this I heard about some missing stock?”
“Oh, right. One of the warehouse clerks noticed a shortage, but when I checked with Yura, he said the books were fine. I had him show it to me, and it appears the numbers were just inverted by accident. So, instead of 185 kilos, it’s supposed to be 158 kilos.”
“Did you talk to the clerk again? Does he have any history of messing up like this?”
“Nah, he’s one of our better clerks.”
“Just keep an eye on it.”
“Sure thing, boss. By the way, have you seen Gajeel today?” Gray questioned. “I haven’t seen him.”
“He called me this morning said he wasn’t feeling well, thinks he ate something bad for dinner last night.”
“Tch, seriously? Thought he had an iron stomach?”
Natsu shrugged. “Must’a been some bad sushi or something. We ain’t got much happening today, so it’s fine. Anything else? I got some stuff I need to finish.”
Gray tapped his chin. “Just a reminder you have an appointment with our tech guy dropping by later this week to go over some upgrades on the system.”
“Like I’m supposed to know anything about that stuff, it’s what I pay him for.”
“You still gotta approve it,” Gray shrugged and took his leave.
Once the man was completely out of the office, Natsu opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a nondescript box he’d hidden inside. He grinned to himself. It was time to make another special delivery. Even though he’d told Gray he was backing off the whole Lucy and Loke subject, there was no way he was gonna let it slide. Natsu didn’t care if the man seemed legit, and he wasn’t the first nor would probably be the last that he’d eventually scared away. And besides, being a Yakuza boss had a lot of down times too, easily filled with having a little fun.
Today’s little care package was being sent to Lucy by a courier service and Natsu just had to drop it off to the delivery company. Just a normal company like Kuroneko Yamato so it wouldn’t rouse too many suspicions. It was turning into a fun game for him just coming up with ideas of what he could do to rile Lucy up or irritate this Loke guy. Natsu chuckled to himself. So far, his favorite prank was a box of small sized condoms and a bottle of enhancement pills that he’d had delivered to Loke while on the job at another party. He’d even snuck in to watch it delivered, gaining a good laugh when the man took a peek in the box and frowned at its contents.
It was childish, but Natsu didn’t care. Every day for two weeks now, something new was sent to Loke. Random gifts like children’s candy to a toy gun, a big bottle of lubricant wrapped in a bow, a week’s worth of meals sent for lunch one day, even an empty box with rocks inside it just to drive the man crazy wondering who in the world was sending them. Lucy too wasn’t immune to his pranks, though hers had a different feel to them. Flowers with no note attached. Tickets to a canceled show he made up. A supposed dinner invite from Loke that wasn’t real— okay that was to test her, but she didn’t fall for it. And today’s little care package fit right into his prank scheme.
Natsu dropped off the package at a Kuroneko Yamato office with the address instructions already filled out and paid the company’s employee extra to keep their mouths shut. ‘She’s gonna kill me one day,’ he laughed to himself as he rode back to his office. ‘If it’s suffocation by her boobs it wouldn’t be a bad way to go!’
“Anymore stops sir?” The driver asked Natsu.
“Nope. Back to the office.”
He looked at his watch. The package should be arriving at Lucy’s office within the hour. Give or take another to open it, and by 4pm he would be receiving another phone call. Maybe he won’t answer it. Oh, that would piss her off even more! ‘Well, if she’d just take the hint...’
The afternoon was supposed to be mellow at headquarters that day. No shipments, and no appointments. But when Natsu got back, another general in the organization named Jellal Fernandez came to his office to inform him of a problem. One of the new local restaurants in their territory was refusing to cooperate and he wanted to know how Natsu wanted it handled. They were right in the middle of discussing it, when Natsu’s office door flew open with a loud bang!
In stomped Lucy who immediately threw a box at his head, causing Natsu to duck and Jellal to pull his gun.
“Don’t!” Natsu screamed at his general and motioned for him to stand down, to which the man complied. “Do you have a death wish Lucy!”
“Get. Out.” She snapped at the general. “Get out! This is between me and your boss!”
Jellal looked to Natsu, who nodded his head to scram. “I got this, don’t worry.” The man holstered his gun and left, but Natsu could see he’d stayed right outside of the now closed door.
“I take it you didn’t like the gift,” Natsu pretended to stay calm.
“Gee, me throwing it at you give you that impression? I know it’s you sending all these damn deliveries to me and Loke. That needs to stop now!”
He crossed his arms and scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Play dumb all you want. Just stop! Why are you even doing this?!”
“Take a guess,” he sneered back.
“I could’ve sworn we were adults now, but apparently I’m the only one who grew up. Stay out of my love life Natsu!”
“So, you admit you’re sleeping with the guy!”
“That’s none of your damn business! I can fuck whoever I want!”
“Not as long as I’m alive,” Natsu growled back.
Lucy crossed her arms. “That could be arranged.”
“Is that a threat?!”
“Yes! If you don’t stay out of my love life!”
“A woman shouldn’t be sleepi—”
“Don’t you finish that sentence!” Lucy grabbed a stapler that was within reach and chucked it at Natsu’s head. “Stop trying to control me!”
“Are you crazy?!”
At that moment, Gray barged into the room. He’d heard the screaming from the other side of the office, and when he got close enough to see Jellal standing outside the door, he became alarmed. Why would a general leave Natsu vulnerable! The man told him their boss told him to leave, but as the sounds inside escalated, Gray couldn’t wait anymore.
“Stop it!!” Gray got between them. “What are you two doing! Lucy you shouldn’t be here!”
“Then tell your damn boss to leave me the fuck alone!” Lucy spat back. “Ask him how he’s been harassing Loke and me!”
Gray turned to his boss with a groan. “Natsu, we talked about this!”
“Tell Gray what you been doing!” Lucy pressed. “Show him the stupid packages you send!”
“What packages?” Gray looked to Lucy, then repeated the question as he stared at his boss. “What packages?”
“Tch,” Natsu crossed his arms, “it’s not even that bad.”
Lucy stomped over to where the box fell and picked it up, pulling the contents out. “Bullshit!” She snapped as she held up a very racy, red nightie with flame prints, a pair of fluffy handcuffs, and a large dildo. “See this shit?!” Lucy shook the floppy latex toy at Gray before chucking it to the ground again. “He includes messages too,” then handed the man a folded piece of paper.
Gray read it aloud, “to make up for what playboy lacks. Had it custom made to my size wink wink. Ugh, seriously man,” he tossed the letter.
Natsu shrugged. “I was just having fun.”
“This is the yakuza, not a daycare!” Gray snaps. “I’m not here to babysit the boss so he stops harassing the competition! There’s more important business to worry about!”
“That’s right listen to Gray,” Lucy sneered.
Gray turned to her. “Oh, you ain’t innocent either, so don’t even try it. You both do things to purposely rile the other up and get mad when there’s consequences. Stop it!” He looked back and forth between the two. “Just stop it already!”
Natsu and Lucy looked away from the man with scowls on their faces. Neither wanted to admit he was right.
“Jellal,” Gray called out. When the man entered, he instructed him to escort Lucy out of there. “Next time, just call me instead. It’s best you two just stay away from each other. Got it?!”
“Yeah,” Lucy grumped.
“Got it?!” Gray questioned his boss.
“Yeah,” Natsu mumbled.
“Fucking like high school,” Gray ran a hand down his face in irritation. “You two need therapy.”
#nalu#nalu au#nalu fan fic#nalu fan fiction#natsu dragneel#lucy heartfilia#ch 6#we'll take back heaven#petri808
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Canary, Part 4
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Previous
Okay. Fine. She’ll stop stalling.
She grabbed everything she’d need: water, snacks, her phone, Tikki, headphones, and a cheat sheet she’d written for herself… and then sat herself down on the floor, laptop in her lap.
Truly interesting stuff.
But it was about to get even more boring for her. She needed to do some hacking.
There’s three main ways to get information.
Most people master one and then team up with others. It was why a lot of groups in books are groups of three (or five, if you want to add a distinct brain and brawn).
Marinette didn’t do partners.
So, she had to do it all herself.
Grifting is the kind of thing people expect from conmen. Straight manipulation. This was her specialty. She’d learn about her marks, devise a plan, and get close enough to them to get whatever she needed -- blackmail, talking someone into something, talking someone out of something, checking to see if someone was cheating… that was what she was good at. Sometimes, when it was late at night and she was all alone, she felt bad about it. Most of the time she decided that it was their fault for letting her get that close to them -- Gothamites should know by now to be wary of short Asian women.
Thievery is almost what it sounds like. She often did straight up steal objects, from money to keycards to prototypes to files out of desks… but it also meant stealing information. She’d hide herself in vents or carve out a place in the walls and listen in on conversations. She wasn’t bad at it, but people were actually growing wise to this one. She found that many of the vents she wanted to use had cameras or motion detectors of some sort. But, a few jobs ago, she’d been given an EMP pulse gun as payment so that wasn’t as much of a problem anymore.
Hacking was… well, hacking. She… wasn’t too good at it. She’d never seen the point. Red Robin and Oracle were so good that anything she’d do would never hold up. So, she’d left that skill alone. All she ever needed was to know how to make semi-decent false identities, anyways.
… but now she needed an identity that would fool even them. Which meant that it was best to use one that actually existed.
She bit her lip and turned on the first Harry Potter book as audio while she booted up her computer.
Alright, so… she needed a paper trail that would keep her in Paris for the past nine years. The camera footage of cities often didn’t keep for that long, so she only needed to have a few clips of her heading to and being in the airport.
She pulled up Gotham security cameras. She grabbed footage from the subway specifically, it had the most things she needed: leaning against walls while she waited for things, scanning tickets, setting things in bins while they checked her over for bombs…
Okay... all she needed now was to change the face on the footage to make sure that their facial recognition systems picked up that it was her. She moved over to her greenscreen and got footage of her face as she continued working.
Next, she needed to -- um? -- PAPERS. She needed to forge papers.
Well, she could claim that she had been working under her parents in exchange for food and rent… which meant dentist and doctor appointments were really all she needed.
She found older papers and used that to forge her doctor’s handwriting. She had no clue what medicines she was supposed to be taking but that’s fine. The stuff doctors prescribed were pretty much just suggestions in her eyes, anyways.
Was that all?
… she was pretty sure she was done.
She took the footage from her camera and superimposed it on the makeup-covered face she used for Gotham pixel by pixel.
By the time she had finished her audiobook had long-since ended and she had gotten pretty far into the second book. She liked the second book more than the first so far. Maybe it’s because Rowling hadn’t given away the ending in a dream sequence like she did in the first one.
She forced herself to sit up. Her bones creaked. How long had…?
Eleven hours. She’d been sitting there for eleven hours with only tiny breaks to go to the bathroom. No wonder she felt so awful.
She rubbed her eyes and walked over to the window. It was getting early. Dim light filtered through the one-way window and she looked out over the city. She had set up base on the thirteenth floor of a building. Gotham had a weird superstition about thirteenth floors -- if they had to make a building any higher than that, they would put a ‘fake floor’ in to trick… the gods? The bad luck? Something. Whatever the reason, it was good for her. It was safer than any of her other safehouses. Even if someone knew that someone lived there they would steer clear, assuming it belonged to The Court.
So, she was safe. She trudged to her fridge and listened to the audiobook speaker talk about how someone else had gotten petrified -- the name had already slipped away from her, all the names in these books were so fucking weird -- as she picked out an energy drink. She cracked it open and then took tiny sips from it as her brain tried and failed to wake up some.
She felt a tiny paw rub her head and blinked a few times to get her out of The Long Stare that she had been doing for the past… yikes, twenty minutes.
She shook her head a few times to wake herself up and then sent Tikki a tiny smile. “Thanks.”
“You’re overworking yourself.”
“I’ll only be doing this for a year,” she said. “Then, no matter what, it’s over.”
“... see, that -- that doesn’t exactly encourage me…”
Marinette giggled and pressed a kiss to the kwami’s way-too-big head. “I’ll sleep later.”
The kwami didn’t believe her.
Fair enough. She was lying.
But it wasn’t like Tikki could really stop her so… she started gathering things into a backpack. A few pairs of nondescript clothes, snacks, a bit of cash -- she’d come back for more later -- and looked around.
She couldn’t take any of her favorite knives, unfortunately, she’d have to settle for a plain old dagger and leave everything else behind. She’d kiss them goodbye but most of them were laced with either paralytics or straight up poison so that would have been a Bad Idea.
… she was missing something...
Ah. She swapped out her work phone for a burner, added a black case, and then added a phone charm. It was a tiny Robin, it would add to her credibility.
Yeah. That was probably it.
Then, she fell out of the thirteenth-story window.
(It’s fine. She lived. Obviously.)
She headed to the nearest hotel. It was a front for the mob but, really, was there any places that weren’t? She checked in, dropped her things off, and started out the door.
Where to first? It was getting time for most of the bats to stop patrolling but she supposed she could follow after Signal first.
~
… well, this sucked.
Messing up while jumping from building to building, even on purpose, was so embarrassing. She was Canary for fuck’s sake, she didn’t mess up.
But it would be kind of weird if she was too good so… she allowed herself to yelp, to fall, to curse, to scrape her knees...
God, this entire job was just so embarrassing. She was getting blackmailed by Penguin, she’d had to ask her ‘parents’ for money, and now she was falling all over the place. This was stupid. Someone kill her, please. (Or, at least, make this job end quickly.)
But this was necessary. She’d be stupid not to follow them around. They could slip up, either by saying their real names on accident or by getting hurt enough for her to sneak down and take off their masks.
(She had no delusions that they were famous, of course. They’d be stupid to be public figures. Still, a face or a name was better than nothing.)
So, she followed them. Three days went by without any of them acknowledging her existence.
Right now, she was following after Red Robin. She could tell he knew she was there, he was going slightly slower than normal, and she appreciated it -- or… fake her appreciated it? She didn’t know. This was all so weird.
Want to know what else was weird? Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. It was the first one that she’d truly enjoyed as more than something to pass time with. She liked Cedric. All these death flags better be red herrings. She could -- and would -- cry if he died.
That would be embarrassing… which was kind of par for the course right now. She hated that she had thought that. She’d definitely jinxed it.
She stopped a few buildings down from where Red Robin was getting coffee and then smiled as he continued on the ground. Thank god. Rooftops suck.
She bit her lip nervously as she listened to Harry talk about how he was doing in the maze. The distinct lack of Cedric was worrying her.
She was so distracted that, when she followed Red Robin into an alley, it took her a few seconds to realize that he had disappeared. She stood in the middle of the alley, the hair on the back of her neck prickling as she looked up at the dead end she had been led to.
There was a crunch of gravel behind her and she allowed herself to flinch.
She turned around with a weak smile. Red Robin returned it, but the lenses of his domino were narrowed like they usually were when he was annoyed about something.
This was an expression that Canary was used to. But he shouldn’t have known she was Canary. So...
Shit.
~~~
TheBetterCanary: tim drake 🤝 red robin
throwing coffee cups in random trash cans so their families don't know how much they’re drinking
Yummmmmm: Snitch
~~~~~
Next
Perma taglist: @nathleigh @peachmuses
Canary taglist: @jayjayspixiepop @unoriginalmess @miraculousfanfic127 @probably-a-hologram
#few things have broken me in the way that learning i have extra teeth has#like i legitimately cried#apparently i have just four extra teeth and that's why i bite my cheek a lot#it fucking hurts i dont want them#at least its not anxiety thing??#canary#maribat#timinette#timari#timmari#shutterbug#ladybug#marinette dupain cheng#red robin#tim drake
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Thomas Hewitt x Reader (Part 1)
a/n: thank you so much for your support <3 you make me motivated to continue, parts 2/3 and 4 are already on my profile <3
You were traveling with a group of friends across Texas. You were all from a big city, so they decided to go on a road trip. There were five of you in total, two girls, two guys, and you. At first, you refused to go and wondered why they even bothered taking you because they were two couples and you were just the fifth wheel. Well, you weren’t very familiar with one of the couples, but you knew the other one. At least you knew the girl, cause she was the one to invite you to this trip. It was known that you were well off and they desperately needed more money for gas and food on this trip. You weren’t dumb and it was very clear soon enough that the sum of money you were required to bring was much higher than the one of your so-called friends.
So why you decided to go? You thought some adventure in your life wouldn’t hurt and you were yearning for some fresh air outside of the city. And it wouldn’t be bad to make some friends along the way, you thought. But soon you realized that wasn’t going to happen. The boys were eyeing you up and down and the girls weren’t happy about you. You would like to think that you were fairly pretty with an attractive face and a nice body. And since Texas is hot you were simply wearing a tank top and shorts.
You were sitting in the back seat, buckled up, and looking out of the window as your companions didn’t seem keen on talking with you. “Hey, Emma, can we stop for a while, I need to go… you know,” said Chloe who was sitting next to you in the back seat with her boyfriend Matt to the driver, Emma. “Sure,” Emma responded slightly annoyed. You stopped in a remote town in the middle of nowhere. It didn’t seem that many people were still living there. Emma drove to the nearest shop and parked. The place was swarming with bikers and as soon as Chloe stepped out of the vehicle they whistled at her. “Wait babe, I am coming too,” Matt said as he spotted their sly smirks and how they hungrily looked at his girlfriend. “Y/n? Are you coming too?” Emma scoffed, “I am definitely not stopping again just because of you.” And she vanished in the shop as her boyfriend Chris followed right after her.
Someone should stay in the car and guard our stuff, you thought for yourself. But you really needed to drink something, so in the end, you grabbed your purse and walked in the store as the bikers kept catcalling you on your way. On your way there you saw Chloe and Matt whispering to each other, well if it could be considered whispering, cause you heard them. “Look at that old hag! Bet she never stepped out of this hell hole. Jeez, this town smells bad.” Chloe laughed and Matt added “Yeah, disgusting, now imagine living here babe, I bet they are all diseased.” You turned to the elderly woman behind the counter, you intuitively knew she could hear everything. You grabbed a soda and went to the counter, “I am very sorry.” You said with your head down as you didn’t dare to look her in the eyes. “Don’t worry ‘bout that darlin’, my family is used to this.” When you finally dared to look at her, you could see that her eyes were traveling up and down, scanning your body. Oh well, your clothes weren’t the most appropriate for this traditional part of Texas. “My name is y/n…” you said giving her the money for your soda. “Please keep the change.” You added as you wanted to vanish into thin air from embarrassment. The change you were talking about was like triple the price of soda. “Oh no, m’dear, I can’t accept that.” She finally smiled at your generosity and politeness. “Please, I insist… Mrs.?” You stuttered. “Luda Mae,” she helped you out. “Mrs. Luda Mae”, you repeated, smiling back at her. “Come already, we don’t have the whole day to wait… or we will leave you here!” Chloe shouted from the car and Emma honked. You jumped up and rushed to them while waving at Luda Mae, cause who knows, they might actually leave you there.
Emma was driving and chatting with her friends, not paying attention to you, even though it was she who invited you on this trip. And not only she wasn’t paying attention to you, but to the road as well, because she didn’t notice the spike strips across the road. Everyone yelped and held their breath when the van slid across the road and fell to the pit on its side… on your side. In the brief moment of despair, you regretted not being buckled up for the first few minutes of the trip. Your cheek smashed on the window that broke into shards, cutting up your skin. The worst part was that both Chloe and Matt fell on top of you as well. You squirmed under their weight but to no avail. “Shit, shit, shit, shit,” Emma screamed as she lost control of the vehicle and saw her boyfriend falling head forward on a sharp shard of glass, piercing his flesh. After a few minutes of shock, Emma got out of the car, seemingly okay, and helped Chloe and Matt. After that, they all hurried to help Chris. Nobody cared about you. You could feel the blood gushing out of your wounds on your arm and cheek. In the end, you managed to scramble the last bits of your strength and got out of the car without any help… Emma was in utter shock as she felt that her boyfriend didn’t show any signs of life. You didn’t know how to react, because you didn’t feel any pity. They didn’t help you and wouldn’t mind letting you die there on that backseat. You just shook your head and turned away, confused at what’s about to happen. “What’s wrong with you y/n! You look completely unphase by all this, explain yourself!” Emma screamed at you suddenly, letting out all of her anger on you.
Before she could insult you any further you heard police sirens. “Thank god,” she calmed down a bit. Chloe was just shaking in Matt’s arms. The hope you all felt as the police car made its way towards you was slowly exchanged with fear. An older man with a sheriff’s uniform stepped out of the car with a shotgun. “So what do we have here… a bunch of lowly cowards it seems.” He spat on the ground and aimed the gun at you. “Get into the car, now!” he pointed at the police car, “The big guy in the back with two girls and this sexy babe in the passenger seat.” He aimed the shotgun at your head. “Wait, mister Hoyt, there’s my boyfriend still in the van!” Emma walked up to him trembling, apparently not grasping that this man isn’t here to help you. “My, my, do you think I care about your fucking boyfriend, bitch?” he turned down her request and took her by the wrist, “Maybe I will just take you next to me since you are so dumb, you need a lesson.” He tightened his grip on her wrist. “W-wait m-mister.” She stuttered, fear enveloping her. “T-take her instead… I swear we won’t tell anyone; you can do anything you want with her, even kill her, we will make something up, please just don’t hurt us.” She pointed her dirty finger at you and looked at Chloe and Matt, still in a tight embrace. “R-right guys? We won’t tell…” she desperately looked for a sign of approval from them. “Y-yes! We definitely won’t tell! I mean look, she’s way prettier for you sir!” Chloe added, throwing her pride behind her, Matt followed with a quick nod.
“My, my what a friend you have,” Hoyt nearly died from laughter. He threw her aside on the hot ground. She slowly exhaled as she thought this was his way of saying yes. “I don’t like these types of bitches.” Without any hesitation, he shot Emma in the leg. She squealed and held her leg close to her, “You old bastard! We had a deal!” He only laughed a bit more before turning to the rest of you. “Now get in the car if you want to live. NOW!” he shouted and aimed the gun at Chloe and Matt who protectively stood in front of Chloe. “We have another hero here it seems.” Another shot followed, straight into Matt’s shoulder. He dropped to his knees in pain. “Who else?” he looked at you. After thinking for a few seconds, you dropped your eyes to the ground and went to the passenger’s seat of Hoyt’s police car. You decided to be smart about it. You didn’t dare to look back at him, all you heard were screams until everything was quiet again. Hoyt dragged your so-called friends’ bodies to the backseat. They were all breathing, just unconscious, their heads bloody. He probably hit them to make them easier to transport. He dragged Chris’s dead body out of the van as well, putting him into the trunk. After that, he sat in the driver’s seat next to you. “Come on, look at me. I don’ bite.” He licked his lips as you turned to face him. “Good girlie.” He said as he pressed some cloth over your nose and lips. You struggled for air, but then finally gave up and passed out as well.
You open your eyes to an unbearable headache which made you wish to never wake up at all. Where am I… shot through your mind as you tried to recall what led to your current situation. Right, your so-called friends tried to use you as their ticket out of this, as a bribe, as if you were a piece of meat. Your eyes were swollen and weak, so it was awfully hard to keep them open. You tried your best to inspect your situation a bit more. You couldn’t move your limbs, that’s for sure. So, you looked around again, adjusting your eyes to the dark atmosphere. It must’ve been a basement of some kind as there were no windows. You could see other metal tables except for the one you were tied to. There were various shiny metal tools around you consisting of cleavers, knives, and other stuff. Then you glanced above you to the ceiling. What you saw made you gag in disgust. Meat hooks, and on them two bodies hanging… Matt and Chloe. Then it hit you… out of confusion and tiredness, you didn’t pay attention to it before, but the whole basement smelled like death, rotting flesh, vomit, blood… everything mixed. Matt was missing half of his body and under him was a pool of blood, he was already dead. Chloe was missing one leg and one arm, seemingly still breathing, but not for long you thought for yourself. Sure, you were scared, because the same thing was going to happen to you, but you felt slight happiness in the back of your mind, no pity to be found. They abandoned you, they emotionally abused you, they used you for money, they would let you be raped and killed in exchange for their pathetic lives. They didn’t care about you. And now, despite their best efforts, you were here, alive, with all of your limbs, breathing while they were all almost dead. You couldn’t help to wonder why you were the last one to be butchered. You smiled for yourself “That’s what you get… even though I am going to be next, I still outlived you for long enough to laugh last.” And also, you didn’t know them before this trip except for Emma who wasn’t there right now. After these thoughts dispersed in your mind, you realized you could hear voices from above you. When you woke up, you were a bit groggy and didn’t pay attention to all of your senses right away. You recognized the female voice; without a doubt, it was Emma squealing in pain and disgust. “Let me go, let me go you ugly old bastard!” she screamed so loud it was piercing your ears. Instead of pitying her, it was more annoying to you, because you wanted the last minutes of your life to be as peaceful as possible. “Shut up, stupid bitch, or I will make you!” a familiar voice shouted back. Hoyt. Yeah, it must’ve been that guy, Sheriff Hoyt. Even though you assumed he wasn’t the real sheriff. You figured out what was happening upstairs. From the moment you met this Hoyt guy, you knew he was a pervert and a violent one. Even though he spared you in a way when he didn’t shoot you, well, you complied so he had no reason to. Then you realized that you checked your surroundings to the best of your ability while you didn’t even look at the state you were in. Your wrists and ankles hurt real bad. The leather cuffs were rubbing tightly against your sensitive red skin. Your cheek hurt as well as your arm. You weren’t sure if the glass shards were still in your arm or if someone took them out. You tried to position yourself in a way you could see the cut. It was deep and your skin was all bruised. Your whole body felt squished and sore, because of how Matt and Chloe fell on you during the accident. You were so tired… the screams above you got quieter and quieter each second as you fell into sleep again.
Loud footsteps in the basement woke you up and when you managed to lift your eyelids a huge man was towering over your lying body. He was wearing a bloody apron, shirt, and tie… very neat you thought for yourself. He smelled bad and there was a human-like mask on his face. He had greasy black hair that reached to his shoulders and partially hid his face. What captured your attention were his piercing blue eyes. He was scanning you, but you did the same as you stared deep into his eyes. He expected you to try to jump up, squirm, or make disgusted faces. He was used to it. All his life people called him names and bullied him, from his childhood to his teen years, and while he worked in the factory as an adult. He was always a monster, animal, disgusting freak in their eyes. Women made gagging noises when they saw him and then laughed in his face. Men picked on him, tried to fight him to get him in trouble. He suffered through it all until he finally unleashed all the pain and anger. Since then he saw people as either family or food, there was nothing in-between. You could see it in his eyes, the awaiting of your scream. But it never came, even after you noticed the cleaver in his hand. You had a neutral expression on your face while watching him. The pain was undeniable in his eyes. He wanted you to scream as it made it easier, so much easier… if you just called him a freak, if you tried to spit in his face… too easy. Finally, your lips parted, air leaving your mouth as you exhaled. He hated it, everything you did, he hated it because you made it hard. You had a beautiful face, perfect skin, attractive body, silky h/c hair, and shiny e/c eyes. You looked like one of the girls that would make fun of him and kick him again when he was already down. All the memories kept flooding into his mind as he raised the cleaver and prepared to swing. Now he expected you to squirm, shout and plead for your life, to at least cry or call him something nasty. But you peacefully smiled at him. “This is my end isn’t it?” you accepted your fate from the moment you woke up for the first time in this basement. You closed your eyes and prepared for the pain that would inevitably come with the blow. The man was confused like never in his life. Your sweet smile towards him melted his resolve. Here he was standing, all bloody with a cleaver ready to end your life and your perfect form was just lying under him in a dignified position without regrets. His eyes were full of sorrow. Nobody smiled at him before, laughed yes, mocked him too, but he never got that smile, smile without any prejudice in your then open eyes.
There was no pain, just a wet feeling on your hurt cheek. For the first time, you yelped at the sudden touch and shot your eyes open again. There he was, standing over you, wiping the dry blood off your face with a wet rug. He stepped back, startled by your reaction. You could see how hurt he was… you couldn’t believe yourself. In this situation, with a murderer in a room with you, your instinct was telling you to pity him more than the couple hanging from the meat hooks. ”Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that; I just didn’t expect it… thank you.” You murmured under your breath.
His eyes widened, first that innocent smile, now the honest tone in your voice as you apologized for being held captive. “My name is y/n. But I guess you don’t need to know that as you know…” your eyes pointed to the cleaver that was on the other table now. He didn’t say anything, but he shook his head. You didn’t know if that meant you would be spared or that he was content with knowing your name, you figured it was the latter though. After he calmed down, he stepped up again to clean your face and arm. You hissed a bit, but he knew it wasn’t at him, but at the pain. You didn’t know why he did all that when you are certainly going to be killed, if not by this man then by that Hoyt.
“What’s your name, if you don’t mind?” you broke the awkward silence. He shrugged, not replying. “You can’t speak?” you figure it wouldn’t hurt to ask and you wanted to know if he couldn’t or simply didn’t want to talk. You got a slight nod from him. “I see… But I can try and guess if you help me.” You came up with a solution. “I will say the alphabet and when I will get to the first letter of your name, you should touch the palm of my hand.” He seemed unsure but nodded again in the end. “A, B, C…” you continued until you got to T. He softly put a finger on your palm. “T…” you repeated, “That could be Tim, Tony, Thomas.” You wanted to continue, but he grabbed your finger when you said Thomas. “Thomas… Tommy.” You smiled at him. You didn’t know what got into you, but you were enjoying this sweet, tender moment. He was very gentle with you and didn’t kill you yet. Maybe it was because of how different your behavior was from everyone else.
He didn’t believe it. What was he doing, what were you doing, what were you doing to him? You were supposed to be another meal, just food, a piece of meat. But he couldn’t treat you like that when you were the first person outside of his family who treated him like a human being, without disgust and hate. Even Charlie and Monty sometimes treat him like a dog. He could sense that you were sincere. Some girls tried to seduce him before to save their lives and then stab him in the back. Once he fell for it, only for the first time though, he learned his lesson. But you didn’t try, you accepted that you were going to die here, and he couldn’t bring himself to end your life on his own.
“Damn what’s taking you so long down there, boy?” Hoyt opened the door to the basement and threw something on the stairs. “Don’ tell me you were able to finally man up?” Thomas seemed to be a bit lost, but you knew what he meant by that. “Anyhow, I am finished with it, it’s all yours now.” Hoyt pointed on the floor. You weren’t sure what he threw in the basement until now. It was Emma and she was still alive. Her mouth taped shut and hands tied behind her back. Hoyt descended into the basement and got rid of the tape on her lips. “You liked it bitch, didn’t ya?” he squeezed her cheeks and put a finger into her open mouth. She bit him as soon as she got the chance. A loud slap followed and he walked back up cussing her out. Hoyt was so focused on his finger, that he didn’t seem to care about why you were still alive. “Oh y/n! Help me, help me, please!” she trembled and smiled at you in disbelief. She obviously thought you were dead. Then she looked around to see her dead friends and screamed. Thomas grabbed her with his huge hands ready to hang her on the meat hook next to her friends. “You ugly fat bastard, let me go, stop it, you animal!” she kicked him wherever she could with both of her legs as they were tied together. You couldn’t hold back your laughter. However, your laughter stabbed Thomas in the back. So, you were the same after all. He thought about it and then realized it was for the better. But then you spoke “She looks like a fish out of the water, doesn’t she?” you giggled a bit more and then finally stopped.
Thomas smiled under his mask before he realized what were the consequences. You indirectly stood up to him and it was funny and clever as well. “What… why would you laugh y/n? We are both going to die you dumb slut!” as the last word left her lips a shriek of pain echoed as Thomas stabbed the hook into her back. With the last strength, she spat in his face. “F-filthy animal, m-murderer, you and your damn fucking family can all burn in hell…” she mumbled. “I bet he would be a better friend than you.” Before she could come up with a comeback of any kind, he slit her skull with a cleaver. He grabbed a chainsaw and started dismembering her. You actively watched, fascinated by the situation. You weren’t a sadist, not at all, but it just all seemed like a weird nightmare to you. Maybe you passed out during the car crash and you are still dreaming. However, the smell of blood brought you back into reality. After Thomas was done, he turned back to you, freshly bloodied. He expected to see a disgusted face, tears, fear. He did it on purpose… to make you scream, to make you hate him like everyone else. “To be honest… she deserved it. Imagine, she tried to give me to Hoyt to save herself. She wouldn’t mind killing me.” You shrugged as you were very stiff from holding your head on the side.
No, no, no, no, no… it was all wrong. Thomas’ heart raced as he looked at you in disbelief, your e/c eyes piercing his soul. You saw him kill your friend, well at the very least your companion and then you also witnessed al the gory stuff that came with it, but you looked unphased, maybe a bit satisfied with his work... you didn’t scream, didn’t curse, didn’t hate him. He grabbed the cleaver and held it above you, then swung and…
#thomas hewitt#thomas hewitt x reader#thomas hewitt x oc#thomas hewitt/you#texas chainsaw massacre#slasher x reader#the texas chainsaw massacre#smut#fluff#slashers#slashers x you#leatherface#thomas brown hewitt#x reader#fanfic#i made an attempt#story#roadtrip
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Third gym squad with a theater kid s/o:
Kuroo Tetsurou
Tbh, he knew what he was signing up for when he started dating you.
He’s just not used to it, because he doesn’t have many extroverted friends who aren’t annoying pieces of-
I can envision you both going on the hub to watch pirated musicals. Hamilton, Heathers, Dear Evan Hansen, you name it.
He loooves your singing voice, even if it’s your nervous purposely bad one.
You love the musicals that include allll the good stuff (trauma, death, tragedy, etc.)
Or the iconic ones. You can’t forget about those.
So you’re less-than-thrilled when your school chooses “Honk! The Musical” for this years play.
It’s a spin off of the ugly duckling that no one has heard of.
And when you come up to Kuroo sulking about this boring play you’re emotionally obliged to do, he can’t help but laugh a little.
But his laughter stops when he sees your eyes down at your shoes.
And then he shuts the fuck up because you’re actually upset.
After assuring that you will still be Broadway material even if you’re dressed up as a goose, you feel a little better.
In the two weeks leading up to auditions, Kuroo is starting to get caught humming “A Poultry Tale” at practice.
I mean, his Spotify feed went from Kendrick Lamar to Legally Blonde within one month of dating you, so cut the guy a break.
The day of auditions, you’re a bundle of nerves as you go over the dumb song again and again.
And Kuroo is like “calm down babe you’re gonna do great.”
That sure did a ton.
“Shut up Heather”
...
“Sorry Heather”
He’s also a bundle of nerves at practice, though. He just couldn’t let you see it.
By now, all of the Nekoma team knows you’re auditioning today, and the minute he walks in he just holds up a hand.
“They’re auditioning as we speak”
He’s not surprised when you get the lead.
He looks like the cat who ate the canary he’s a little amused when he figures out the lead is named “Ugly” but by now he has learned to keep it on the inside.
Your schedule is now jam packed, but that’s okay, because Nationals are also coming up for Kuroo and needs to put in some extra hours at the gym anyways.
You better believe two months later Kuroo is making his entire team buy a ticket.
Kuroo didn’t even get to see you on opening night because of dress rehearsals, but that’s okay.
He cleared his entire schedule that day and now has time to wallow in his own excitement and buy you some flowers.
He’s there with the squad team at 6PM sharp, dressed up, and trying to keep his dignity.
When you first walk on stage, the team snickers a little bit at your costume, but Kuroo was completely enraptured by your singing voice, your blocking, your makeup, everything.
This was much better than the demo CD that they had given you.
Afterwards, he gives you your flowers and is glued to your side for the rest of the night, babbling about how proud he was of you, and how talented you are, Nekoma team be damned.
Tsukishima Kei
Tsukki-poo already had a soft spot for the arts before he met you.
Not that he would tell anyone, ever.
When you started dating him though, it gave him an excuse to share his favorite soundtracks.
“you can hit that note, you know.”
*cue the arguing about how you aren’t Barbara Streisand*
When you two are walking through the hallway with him and you see the poster reading “Auditions for Karasuno High School’s ‘The Little Mermaid’ are open!” You start freaking out.
You love that movie! And Kei tolerates it!
Kei honestly thought you would be Ariel/Prince Eric when he first heard you singing “Part of Your World”
Like, you have the voice of a fucking lark. The directors have to be batshit crazy not to cast you.
In his humble opinion.
So he’s a bit taken aback when you get the role of Flounder, but he’s very proud anyways. Especially after you explain that there’s musical numbers that you’re in that aren’t in the movie.
He just hates your director for no reason now.
Practicing your lines with him in your free time becomes almost inevitable because you both have nothing else better to do.
And he can see how into it you are.
And let me just say that you are killing it.
Seriously. You have no problem getting into character, and Kei doesn’t say this much but-
It’s fucking adorable, okay? He has little goth moths in his stomach.
And he can’t wait to see the show, because then he can show you off.
That doesn’t mean he likes the other first years prying at your progress.
Hinata’s incessant questioning about theater anatomy and the memorization of your lines gets really annoying.
Even for someone with a normal temper like you-
“Yes it’s called the right wing. NOT wing spiker. Yes they’re off book. Now will you shut your trap already?”
Dress Rehearsals come, and you’re spinning around his room, face morphing from complete concentration to happy, go-lucky Flounder.
You, Kei, and Yamaguchi (your little third wheel-) all know the soundtrack pretty much up and down, left and right, backwards and inside out.
He still shivers remembering the time you just walked into his house not registering that Flounder’s makeup looks kind of scary up close-
All of his pride was sacrificed that day. All of it.
On the morning of opening night, Kei was walking you to the school, pretending to be bitchy about it being on a Saturday.
“C’mon, what am I supposed to do all day?”
As luck would have it, he’s stuck sitting next to one Hinata Shoyo. Lovely.
So he sat down next to him, and ignored him the whole show. I mean, it worked, he shut up after thirty seconds.
After the show, Kei has to wait a bit for you to take your makeup off, but when you come running out, he can’t hold back a tiny grin.
“That was good. I’m proud of you.”
And then he took you to dinner because singing makes a bad bleep hungry 😌
Bokuto Kotarou
Listen, you’re loud, Bokuto’s loud-
So basically you two are on a mission to not annoy Akaashi for as long as you can before inevitably getting yelled at for your affection and love and shit.
Now, both of you would love for this to be possible.
But the Frozen soundtrack makes it too difficult.
Especially when you can edit the lyrics just to piss off Konoha.
“Turn away and slAm the door *on Konoha”
“The wind is howling like the storm inside *of Konoha”
The possibilities are endless, really.
The game changer is when you two are belting out the song where Elsa and Anna are arguing.
And you accidentally hit the “I-i-I CANNNNT”
Akaashi is like for the love of GOD just audition for the play.
He quickly realizes that his suggestion was not a good idea.
Since guess what the musical is.
You’re auditioning as a joke, okay? You love Frozen, but this is a Fukurōdani Academy level play.
You didn’t expect to land the role of Olaf.
Your director sat you down and bluntly told you that he thought that you had the charisma and energy to be Olaf, but he knew that you were auditioning for a joke.
He needed you to be committed.
And hell yeah, you were gonna be committed.
At first, Bokuto was super proud of you! His s/o as a lead role? So impressive!
You even taught Bokuto your choreography for “In Summer”
He only retained half of it, but eh.
He’s a volleyball player. He tried.
As rehearsal times became longer and longer, Bokuto was a little upset at himself because he didn’t realize how committed you were until it hit him in the face.
Akaashi is there to get him out of his funk when you aren’t, though.
“They feel the same way when you need to be in the gym longer. It’s just a part of having a passion. Just utilize your time with them wisely.”
This bitch knows full well Bokuto doesn’t do ‘wise’ though, so he also sets to him a little more.
Dress rehearsals start, and Bokuto is always waiting for you to come out of the auditorium to ride the bus home.
You’re just bubbling over with stories about the magic of being on stage.
The lights, the microphones, the costumes, just talking about it makes you nostalgic already.
On opening night, Bokuto and Akaashi are there in the front row, going through the program.
“There’s y/n!!!!”
And you can’t see him because of the blinding spotlight, but you can hear Bokuto cheering for you after you finish “In Summer”
Afterwards he gives you a big hug, and you guys go home and watch Frozen.
Akaashi Keiji
When you start dating Akaashi in your second year at Fukurōdani, you’ve been on stage for the last ten years of your life.
Singing, acting, dancing, you love it all.
You’re even considering making it your career.
Akaashi doesn’t know much about theater at all, but he makes sure to do his research since it’s such a big part of your life.
The company you take acting classes with is having their winter show soon, and you couldn’t be happier when you figure out it’s ‘Into the Woods.’
Akaashi makes the mistake of asking the plot of the story.
“So basically there are these two infertile bakers with dead parents and there’s this witch that’s old and wrinkly and she comes to their house because fifty years ago the bakers dad stole her veggies and took the magic beans that made her look old and wrinkly-“
(A/n: this isn’t even half the plot)
He decides he’ll figure it out when he sees the play.
Akaashi knows that it’s a difficult one, though.
Sondheim doesn’t fuck around.
So you shouldn’t be beating yourself up about cracking on some of the high notes and screaming into your pillow.
He feels like an idiot every time you ask him to give you constructive criticism.
He doesn’t know what to say. “That was good” is obviously not what you want to hear.
When the date of your audition rolls around, he has early morning practice.
So he sends you a text saying how far you’ve come already and he’ll be proud even if you end up being a tree and break a leg (he’s very proud of that part. Theater lingo with Akaashi 101)
He’s very pleased to hear through your extremely fast and animated chattering that you killed it.
You were going to be Jack from “Jack and the Beanstalk.”
He’s still not sure how that correlates with infertile bakers, but he’ll go with it.
You also have a notoriously hard solo, “Giants in the sky.”
Akaashi is very impressed.
All you two do is practice that song, until Akaashi is half sure he could sing the song if he really gave an effort.
(He tries seriously one time. He can’t sing. To save his life. Sorry Keiji and RIP y/n’s ears.)
“Maybe you’re just not a soprano?”
“I’ll leave the limelight to you.”
Rehearsals always leave you drained. There are so many dance numbers in the play that you have to go over.
And songs, oh god, the songs are pieces of work.
But you wouldn’t trade it for the world, so Keiji stays close, and is endlessly supportive.
You sent him a picture of your Jack costume, and Keiji is like that is kind of adorable ngl-
He walks into the auditorium you’re performing in, and even he’s nervous to be in there. It’s huge.
But when you walk on the stage, and start belting, all the breath leaves his lungs.
Oh. Ohhhhhhh. He understands the plot now.
#kuroo#haikyuu headcannons#tsukishima#akaashi#bokuto#kuroo x reader#tsukishima x reader#akaashi x reader#bokuto x reader#kuroo headcanons#tsukishima headcanons#akaashi headcanons#bokuto headcannons#haikyuu
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Frozen Within the Night Wind: Jasper Hale x Fleur Swan, Chapter 11.
None of the characters in Twilight belong to me, all rights go to Stephenie Meyer.
Authors note:I was reading up on the Newborn Battle and saw that it took place in June... I get that snow storms can happen on mountains but why is everyone else wearing jackets in the battle haha.
"When the mako flies
Up from the bottom in your eyes
Then I know the twilight skies
Are not so broken hearted."
Stylo by, Gorillaz
Today was the day, they would finally arrive ending the constant tension of the inevitable battle. We all stood tense in the field, the wolves were hiding so they weren't immediately sought after.
"Fleur, do you think you could track Riley? We need to know how close he is." Esme asked.
"On it... They aren't to far from here, it'll take them about... 2 minutes before they find us. They're falling for Bella's blood trap quite easily."
"That's good, we don't need them finding her." Carlisle said.
I felt someone grab my hand I turned and looked at them, Jasper was staring back at me.
"We're gonna be fine." He said. I turned my head due to the sound of rustling coming from the far side of the field. I looked back at him and smiled.
"I know we are."
I then saw the crowd coming toward us, they all were yelling. We then began to run toward them as soon as the got close enough both Jasper and I punched two of the vampires heads off. The rest of us had separated at that point as the new born vampires spread out. Two vampires came toward me both of them trying to take out my head. I dunk under them both easily and took out there legs, leaving them defenseless. I then took off both of there heads, another vampire snuck up behind my and grabbed me by the back of my neck, I grabbed both of there hands and flipped them over, crushing there head into the ground and shattering it.
I looked around me and saw Paul with two vampires on his back, I quickly made it toward him. Kicking two other vampires in the process and flipping over another one that was being chased by a wolf before making it to him. I ripped the first one off his body taking it's head clean off with it. Paul had gotten the other one off of him and looked at me quickly before running off again. I ran toward a tree and rock, suspecting someone to be hiding there. My theory proved to be correct, I saw a girl coming out of the little nook.
She looked about 15 years old and scared out of her mind. I stopped myself from attacking her and saw Carlisle and Esme next to me, we were unsure about her.
"Let's leave her here...I really don't think she'll try anything. She looks absolutely terrified." I said Esme and Carlisle nodded. I then ran back toward the fight. I was in the midst of a power struggle with one vampire, my arms, shoulders, sides of my neck, and cheeks began to crack from the pressure. It was unbearable, it was as if a thousand needles were stabbing each individual nerve rendering it useless. Suddenly the pressure was gone and angry amber eyes looked down at the vampire's dismembered body. I healed quickly thankfully and Jasper and I ran off together to defeat the remaining vampires left. They had all been taken out with ease with the exception of a few. Before we both could react a vampire bite Jasper right on the neck, trying to tear apart his skin. Jasper had let out a yell due to the pain and I quickly pushed him off of Jasper, stomping his head in. Emmett and Paul took out the last vampire. When we all dragged them to the middle of the field to burn them I noticed I never saw Riley.
"Hey... did any of you guys run into Riley?"
I saw uncertain faces on the Cullens, which gave me the answer.
I decided to track him, to see if he was still around. I saw him stalking up a mountain, Bella and Edward suddenly came into view.
"Riley... listen to me. Victoria is just using you to distract me. She knows I’ll kill you. In fact, she’ll be glad she didn’t have to deal with you anymore." Edward stated.
Bella looked terrified behind him. I saw Victoria come down a tree landing on a rock covered in snow.
"Don’t listen, Riley. I told you about their mind tricks." Victoria persuaded.
"I can read her mind. So I know what she thinks of you." Edward interjected.
"He's lying."
"She only created you and this army to avenge her true mate, James. That’s the only thing she cares about. Not you."
Riley turned his head to her, and an unsure look was on his pale, deadly face.
Victoria froze, her eyes slightly widened.
"There's only you, you know that!" She said.
Riley then began to walk toward Edward again, Both he and Bella backed up.
"Think about it. You’re from Forks, you know the area. That’s the only reason she chose you. She doesn’t love you."
"Riley, don’t let him do this to us. You know I love you."
Riley turned his head back to Edward a smirk was on his face.
"You're...dead."
I broke out of trance before a fight could break out.
"Guys...They're both with Edward and Bella..."
All of the Cullens's eyes widened with shock.
"Look I got a plan, Dean, you're the second-fastest in the family so you need to get that girl out of here take her back to the house... I have a feeling the Volturi are going to show up and I don't think they'll spare her. I am going to get as close to the fight as I can from the mountains and try to get Victoria to hallucinate again. We don't have any time to waste, MOVE IT!" I demanded before running toward the fight. I could hear Jasper in the distance as I kept running.
"That's my girl..."
As I ran it felt like I was having deja-vu, it reminded me of the ballet studio situation 2 years ago. That same mantra was going through my head. "Please...let me get there in time." No matter how cruel and unkind Bella could be...I couldn't stand the thought of her getting killed by the cold hands of revenge.
Flashback: 4 years ago.
"THAT'S IT... I CAN'T STAND TO BE AROUND YOU TWO ANYMORE!" I yelled at Bella and Renee.
"OH GET OVER YOURSELF, YOU'RE THE ONE ALWAYS CAUSING TROUBLE AROUND HERE!" Renee yelled back.
"Causing trouble....CAUSING TROUBLE? WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO THIS TIME?"
"YOU WATCH YOUR MOUTH YOUNG LADY! I HAVE RAISED YOU FOR 15 YEARS!"
"THAT DOESN'T MAKE YOU A GOOD MOTHER!"
"How dare you..."
"What did I do.... what do I always do? Want love? Reassurance? Someone I can trust? That's not "causing problems"... that's something a parent should give to their child. Oh sorry... both of their children!"
"Well...it's hard to give that to a child you just can't stand. You act just like your father..."
"You say that like it's an insult... my father is an intelligent, compassionate man, I'm glad you left him... I didn't want to see him get abused like me."
Bella just sat back and smirked, enjoying the chaos that was in front of her.
"If you love him so much why don't you go live with him."
"Fine... I will just buy the damn plane ticket and I swear I will never come back here again!"
"I will... Bella will finally be able to get away from your poisonous mind."
I scoffed and rolled my eyes before speaking again.
"Goodbye Renee, I'll see you at my wedding. I know you won't be able to resist showing up, you'll have so much fun at the open bar being the boozer you were meant to be. Your speech will probably be you upchucking on the stage. It'll be a hit with the guest."
Renee and Bella's eyes widened with shock. Renee decided to speak up.
"Like you'll ever get married... no sane person would want to be with a disgraceful woman such as you."
I ignored her, I stopped at Bella and looked at her.
"Isabella... get away from her, you'll end up just as toxic and abusive as she is." I then ran upstairs and started packing my bags... eager to leave.
Flashback: OVER
I ran up the mountain and saw a glimpse of the fight, Victoria and Riley held Edward by the arms and neck. Bella stood there paralyzed in fear. I prayed that this plan would work, I tried creating that image of James again but instead... my body changed turning into him. I stood there for a second shocked before making my way up to them. Victoria froze in fear, Riley looked at her in confusion, and Bella and Edward didn't know what to think.
"J-james... how... how are you here? She isn't here is she?" Victoria asked.
I prayed my voice would've changed along with my appearance before I spoke.
"Who? Fleur... no no no, she's too busy dealing with the army you created with... this pipsqueak. I said, my voice was not of my own.
She dropped Edward, which in return made Edward throw off Riley who was then dragged away by a wolf... it seemed to be Seth.
"VICTORIA!"
"VICTORIA HELP!"
Seth pulled him down the slope, I could still hear him scream on the way down. Edward just observed us, pulling Bella behind him again.
"James... you have to understand I did this for us, I thought you were dead. Why didn't you come and find me?"
"I did find you...but then I saw what you were doing, whoring yourself out there after you came back from Texas... persuading that man by kissing him the same way you kissed me. You're disgusting!"
"James no... please don't do this."
"You should know...we began this by me hunting you... you've always been my prey. And now..."
My voice switched back to my own.
"I will take you out the same way I intended to from the beginning."
Her eyes widened but before she could escape I snapped her neck, ripping her head off a few seconds later.
"Whoa..." I heard Bella say meekly.
Edward handed me a lighter he was carrying, I lit it and threw it on her body, it busted into flames. I saw Seth carrying Riley back up, he too was dead. I threw him in the fire too, making sure both of them were taken out.
"Fleur... Carlisle said you could make hallucinations... but you completely morphed into James." Edward said in shock.
"T-that's the first time I have ever done that..."
Before either of us could say anything Edward gasped.
"What is it?" Bella asked.
"Alice needs us to go...NOW!"
#jasper whitlock x oc#jasper whitlock#jasper hale x reader#jasper cullen#jasper hale#jasper hale x oc#carlisle cullen#emmett cullen#esme cullen#alice cullen#edward cullen#twilight saga#bella swan#twilight
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BTS Reaction || Pregnancy [MafiaAU]
WARNINGS: Mentions death, murder, mafia tendencies please do not read it if you’re uncomfortable with those
Seokjin:
This couldn't be happening to you, you were almost out of there and ready to leave but no. You had to go and get pregnant with his child, didn't you. You stared down at the pregnancy test in your hand, you'd been feeling sick for weeks but thought nothing of it until you realised that you hadn't come on your period but you decided this wasn't going to stop you escaping. You threw the test into the bin and came out of the bathroom in the service station and finding the guard, Jimin, that was helping you escape from Jin, Jimin promised you he'd get you as far away as possible before the ankle bracelet that was attached to you was going to send a signal to Jin alerting him you were going too far from the boundaries he set. Jin was very protective over you, always wanted to make sure you were safe at all times, but he wasn't always like that. The relationship started out nice and you would have a great time together, always on romantic dates and such but it all changed when he showed you the real him, he was part of some Mafia deal, he was quite high up which meant you were in more danger than you knew and you couldn't trust anyone.
"It's a tracker, so I'll take it off with a knife to make it look like a botched job and drop it in one of my bags and say I had no idea. You have to keep going until you're as far away as possible or with people who will protect you." He said as you walked out of the service station and over to the car he'd been driving you around it. He'd already gotten a get-away car ready at the next station for you and you were nervous about it.
"I don't know how I can ever repay you for this Jimin." You said as he started up the engine to the car and turned to look at you.
"You can pay me back by staying hidden," You nodded in agreement and you began to drive off with him, he pulled out onto the motorway and you stared out of the window, how you were going to bring up your son or daughter and stay on the run.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~4 years later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jimin hadn't called for his monthly check-in and you were starting to panic. He would call once a month from a payphone to check and see how everything was going with you, it started after Jin called off the manhunt for you and Jimin promised he would call once a month to tell you how he was doing and he questioned you too, you didn't tell him about your pregnancy and you didn't tell him when you gave birth to your beautiful daughter either, deciding it was best to keep him in the dark about it, but it had been a week since he was supposed to call and you were starting to worry, normally if he couldn't call it would only be a day or two but it was a week and the worst possible things were coming to your mind. Had Jimin broke down and told Jin he helped you escape, had something happened to Jimin on a mission. You weren't an idiot you knew your ex-boyfriend was involved with some dark shit and on multiple occasions, he'd brought it back into the house you shared, dead bodies around the place, or coming home covered in blood or having a torture chamber set up in your kitchen at 4 am. You shivered at the memories and then took hold of your daughter's hand, you were taking her to a playgroup you'd been going to for the last month, she was excited to see her friends and you were excited to be out of the studio apartment you were renting for however long you were staying in that city for. You never stayed in one place for too long, it was too easy for Jin to find you, even if he said he had called off the search it didn't mean he wasn't still looking for you on the sly.
"You look exhausted." One of the mums said as you sat down next to her on a bench, your daughter ran off to play with one of her friends and you smiled at the new woman.
"I am, she's a full-time job." You joked watching your daughter with a careful eye.
"How old is she?" You looked back at the woman and relaxed a little once you saw your daughter catching up to her friends on the climbing frame.
"Four years and three months." You said with a bright smile, as much as you didn't like Jin you weren't going to say you regretted your daughter because she was the best thing that ever happened to you.
"So sweet, she looks just like you." The woman mentioned as your daughter came rushing over with a scratch on her elbow, you gave it a magical kiss and she was rushing off again.
"She gets her looks from her dad, I think I just provided the brains." You joked trying to make the situation a little lighter.
(X)
You tucked your daughter in once she was asleep and kissed her on top of the head.
"Goodnight beautiful," You whispered to her, leaving the small bedroom and hitting the night light on the way out of the room and quietly shutting the door. You walked into the kitchen and began to make yourself a drink while routinely checking your phone in case Jimin had called and you'd missed it but it was blank. The lights flickered and you groaned, you'd been complaining to the landlord since you moved in and he still hadn't come to fix it.
"Fuck sake." You grumbled as the lights all kicked out, you put your hand along the wall trying to find your way around when you heard something smash against the floor,
"Mum?" You heard your daughter call out
"I'm coming, sweetie." You said to her as you made your way over, trying not to step in whatever it was you'd broken you were about to walk into her bedroom when an arm pulled you away and you screamed out, a hand slapped over your mouth and you felt someone breathing in your ear.
"Shh, you're safe, I won't let you go." You knew the voice instantly that it was Jin, you kicked back against him and sprinted into your daughter's room to see her sitting there with Jimin who had a black eye, the lights came on and Jin clapped his hands behind you.
"Took four years but here we are, happy families." He wrapped his arm around your waist and you swallowed the lump in your throat, you knew this wasn't going to end well and you had no choice but to go back with him.
"I have her room sorted back home, she'll love it." You nodded in agreement, you knew better than to disagree with Jin when he had his mindset on something.
"I'm sure you'll love your room too." He said to you, leaving a kiss on your cheek and going to greet his daughter, Jimin just avoided your gaze, you didn't hold anything against him though. You knew what Jin was like when he wanted to get his way.
Yoongi:
You stared down at your sleeping son and smiled, he looked so peaceful when he slept but rest assured when he was awake he was a trouble maker.
"Tickets?" You handed the train conductor your tickets and then stared out of the window thinking of your life before this before you were on the run from your ex-boyfriend. Min Yoongi, everyone knew that name it was a household name where you came from. One of the biggest Mafia leaders in Seoul, you knew what you were getting into when you first started dating Yoongi, you knew him as everyone else did but he wasn't the cold-blooded killer than everyone made him out to be, sure he'd killed people but only when he couldn't help it. He wouldn't order anyone dead unless it was absolutely necessary and he wasn't that mean man that everyone made him out to be either, they made him sound like a monster. Always saying he was nasty to everyone he met and whoever was dating him must be in the worst relationship but it was far from true. He was the sweetest teddy bear when it came to you, always doing whatever you wanted to do, never bringing home any of the stresses from work and taking care of you. Sure it was strange at first but you got used to it and it was nice having someone look after you, rather than you always looking after someone else. But when you found out you were pregnant everything changed, you didn't tell Yoongi...You didn't know how to tell him, you didn't think he ever wanted kids so you decided it was best to end things. No one would know about the pregnancy, no one could use you or the baby against him if it came down to it. You'd already been threatened by other Mafia parties, it wasn't uncommon for that to happen but you didn't want your child growing up fearing everything you did, so you left. You told Yoongi it was because you'd fallen out of love with him but of course that wasn't true, you loved him more than words could express but you couldn't raise a child like that. Yoongi let you leave, telling you he would leave you alone but he didn't mean it, you didn't know but you were under constant supervision by a guard you'd never met before, your phone was tapped so he could track what you were doing and where you were going. He was going to leave you alone when the guard reported back to him about you going to the hospital all the time and he grew curious as to what was happening, so he ordered the guard stay with you and report back when there was new news for him.
"Ma'am, are you okay?" You turned around to see a man sitting opposite you on the train, you nodded and took the tissue he was handing out for you, you'd been silently crying at the memory of Yoongi. It had been a year since you left Yoongi, making your son three months old and there wasn't a day that went by when you didn't wonder why Yoongi was doing and if he'd found someone else.
"He's adorable, how old is he?" You looked at the man again who was reading a newspaper, you smiled at him and then stared down at your son who was now awake, you picked him up and laid him in your arms.
"Three months." You said back to the man bouncing your son in your arms and giggling as he smiled up at you, you booped his nose.
"What's his name?" You looked up at the man again and then back to your son,
"Yoongi." You whispered running your thumb over his chubby cheek and then gently squeezing it, the train was slowing down to a stop and you knew you had to get off but if you put your son down now he would start screaming.
"This is my stop too, let me help." The man said to you, taking the car seat that was sitting beside you and helping you off the train, you smiled at him as he took the pushchair from the holding rack.
"Thank you," You said to him, laying Yoongi down in his pram and then looking around, you had to catch a cab and go further out of town to get to your apartment. You wanted to stay hidden away in case any of Min Yoongi's enemies decided to follow you out.
"Goodbye Yoongi, goodbye ma'am." The man left and you walked off to find a taxi.
(X)
Your son was finally asleep after screaming for an hour and you thanked the heavens you didn't have a neighbour, they would be complaining about him screaming at his ungodly hour. You shivered as you left the window open, going over to close it you noticed a car parked on the street, maybe the landlord had rented out the house across from yours which was unlikely because no one wanted to live this far out from town because it was too much of a trip to get into town every day. You shut the window and locked it, going over to the living room and starting to clean up the toys that were on the floor.
"Does he sleep through the night?" You screamed dropping the toys you'd collected onto the floor, one of them sending out a blaring siren noise, you looked up to see Yoongi standing in the doorway to your Son's bedroom and your living room, you nodded and walked over towards him, peering in on your son who was still sound asleep.
"Takes after his dad, heavy sleeper." You whispered, shutting the door and walking with Yoongi over to the kitchen, you didn't know how to act around him, he'd clearly known about the pregnancy for a while because he didn't seem shocked about seeing his son.
"Why didn't you tell me?" He questioned as you started making you both a cup of coffee, you shrugged your shoulders.
"I didn't want anyone to use us against you, I wanted to protect you from being worried all the time...You were already worried about me, I didn't want to throw a baby into the mix." You admitted, he leant against the kitchen island and you stared at him, dressed in his usual black suit and white shirt, he looked irresistible.
"I missed you...every day." You whispered to him, he looked up at you and then smirked.
"I missed you too, but I had someone watching over you." You sniggered.
"I figured that's why you didn't freak out about Mini Yoongi." You said sliding him his cup of coffee, not trusting yourself to get too close to him in case you couldn't stop yourself from hugging him.
"Can I convince you to come back?" He questioned, looking up from the liquid in the mug to your face.
"Yoongi...What about everyone after you?" He shook his head, taking your hands in his, the cup of coffee abandoned on the island counter.
"I'll make sure we're all protected, you don't have to protect me...I protect you remember?" You nodded, you did miss having him around all of the time, being able to be with the love of your life and raise your son did sound like the best idea.
"We can try it." You said to him, his hands moved from yours and up to your cheeks, cupping your face and looking into your eyes, they had the usual sparkle behind them and you kissed his lips, feeling relaxed instantaneously.
Hoseok:
Everyone had Jung Hoseok pinned as the sweetest boyfriend there ever could be, there wasn't a thing he could do that would make people think bad of him but that was because they didn't know the real Hoseok, they knew the bright and bubbly Hobi he let the public see, Hobi was in the public eye, owned multiple businesses and ran a lot of them, giving money to charities and giving money to the poor, not the Jung Hoseok who ran a secret underground Mafia business, that stole from banks, ran other businesses into the ground so that his could profit, killing anyone in his way and that robbed people, poor or rich. No, he only showed the sweet side to them, but you knew the real him. You had to know the real him since you were locked away in his mansion 24 hours a day and seven days a week. When you first started dating he wasn't bad, that was until someone in his office building began to flirt with you whenever you came to see him for lunch dates, something inside of him snapped and he killed him for even looking in your direction, so his Mafia side was revealed in the worst way, but he knew he couldn't go without you. So he had you move in with him, no questions asked and if you tried to question it, he would ignore you. That's why you were stuck in this situation, trying to run out on him since you had no choice, you were pregnant with his child and there was no way you were going to bring a baby up in this environment it wasn't healthy for you, never mind an infant, but it wasn't going to be simple. You needed a set plain and someone on the inside to help you which, again, wasn't going to be easy because anyone that worked for Hoseok was either scared of him or his best friend. No one could be trusted easily except for one of the guard, Yoongi. He'd shown kindness to you when you first moved into the mansion, bringing you everything from your home, even the things Hoseok said weren't needed, like your favourite books, favourite clothing items and even a phone...minus the connection to the outside world and just available for games and books, but getting him to trust you enough to just let you go was going to be hard.
(X)
"There's a hut just outside the mansion walls, hide there and I'll be there as soon as I can," Yoongi said. It had been a month since the plain was set into motion. Yoongi gained your trust after he found the pregnancy tests and brought them to you instead of reporting back to his boss and he promised he would get you out of there. Agreeing with you that it was no place to raise a child. He decided you needed to move fast before you started showing signs of your pregnancy, Hoseok wouldn't catch on and you could probably get out of the town before he realised what was going on and Yoongi would take it from there.
"I've put clothes into a bag out there, and there are some new shoes as well...I'll take you as far as I can and then I have someone on the outside that will help you get set up somewhere," Yoongi said as he opened the bedroom window with his key, there was a ledge below you would have to jump onto and then a back gate that Yoongi had given you a key for.
"See you soon." You said to him, he shut and locked the window watching you as you sprinted for the back gate, he didn't move until the gate was shut again and you were in the clear.
Yoongi hadn't shown up and it had been two hours since you got out of the mansion, you were starting to worry when you heard the door creak, you were going to come out and see Yoongi when you noticed the door slam shut and lock. It wasn't Yoongi.
"Princess." You bit down on your lip and came out from the shadows to see Hoseok standing there, he was still dressed in his usual work suit.
"What are you doing out here?" You didn't want to drop Yoongi into any trouble, so you thought on your feet.
"I came for a walk, it's in the Mansion area." You said trying to act as innocent as possible, you knew it wasn't in the area you were allowed in but you had to try and be as nice as possible.
"Is that why your clothes and tracker are in the corner and Yoongi is back in my office telling me the whole plain." You looked over at the window, you could make a run for it.
"You won't get far, I have the place surrounded." He said as if he could read your mind, you looked down at your stomach, laying your hand across it.
"You can't leave me, you couldn't live without me doll," He said coming closer to you and laying his hand over your stomach.
"Our little one needs both of their parents with them." You gulped as you walked out of the hut together and back to the mansion, maybe he was turning over a new leaf. He was never, ever, abusive or mean towards you it was just his lifestyle you didn't agree with, the killing, the torture, it was something you couldn't stand and didn't want to bring a child up around.
"H-Hoseok you have to stop killing." You whispered to him, gaining a little confidence as you walked towards the mansion, it wasn't that you didn't love Hoseok you did, just not his Mafia side of him.
"I do what I want sweetheart and no one can tell me otherwise." You nodded not wanting to push it anymore than you already had. You'd pushed him enough for one night, but you needed to get through to him that you didn't want your child growing up around something like this, and that they needed a stable home environment instead of the one he was providing. You also needed to find a way for him not to hurt Yoongi for helping you to try and escape.
Namjoon:
You knew you were pregnant the moment you woke up and felt sick, your head was spinning and your boobs were sore. Luckily Namjoon was still asleep so you were able to slip out of the house and head to a local pharmacy to get a test for yourself, taking it in the store not wanting to go home and risk one of the guards or Namjoon himself seeing it.
'Pregnant' with a small smiley face staring back at you as if it was a good thing this was happening to you. You shook your head throwing the test into the bin and then looking at yourself in the mirror. You loved Namjoon, you loved him more than you could ever express but you weren't ready for a baby, he wasn't ready for a baby. He was busy running his own Mafia, they were like children to him and it took up a lot of his time. You came out of the bathroom and let the male that was waiting to head inside, you thanked the woman behind the counter and headed out, starting your slow walk back to the apartment you shared with Namjoon. You weren't going to tell him, you didn't know how to and you didn't want to drop something like this on him this early in the morning, and he had a meeting later today to talk about the Mafia stuff and he was always stressed about it. He never brought any of it home with him though, he would keep you out of that side of his life as much as possible but sometimes it couldn't be helped, like the time you were going home after a date and someone took you, claiming if they had you that Namjoon would come running after you to save your life, which happened and they died as a result for touching you, but Namjoon had always been upfront about his life, telling you on the first date what he was involved with and what his lifestyle was like, claiming he didn't want you to be a part of that and that he just wanted to have a happy girlfriend, but after the night you were taken you moved into his apartment without question so that he could look after you and know where you were.
(X)
You'd been cooking dinner for Namjoon all afternoon, you were trying to be sweet to him since you didn't know how the meeting he had went and you wanted him to come back to a nice environment in case it was bad. The front door burst open and you heard cheering which meant it went really well, in walked Namjoon with six of his closest men, all of which you knew by name and got along with.
"Hi, boys, dinner?" You questioned looking through the hatch in the wall to them, they all nodded and headed towards the kitchen. Jin standing in the living room and staring at a photo frame, you walked over to him,
"You hungry?" He nodded picking up the photo of you and Namjoon, you smiled at the memory, it was when you'd just moved in with Namjoon and you'd started decorating the bedroom together, both of you covered in paint and in mid-laughter when Jimin caught the photo.
"Yeah, you look happy here." You smiled taking the frame from him and putting it back onto the fireplace.
"I am happy." You went to turn away when he grabbed your wrist, you turned around and looked down at his hand, he was holding the positive pregnancy test from that morning.
"Please don't tell him." You pleaded, looking up from the test and into Jin's eyes, then to Namjoon who was in the kitchen laughing along with something one of the boys were saying.
"Oh, I'm not going to say a word." He said to you, sliding the test into your hand and tapping it.
"You're going to make me tell him aren't you?" He nodded looking over at his best friend.
"Loud and clear, with every nitty-gritty detail." You frowned, why was Jin so mad about this.
"What do you mean?" He looked down at you and scoffed.
"It's not his clearly, otherwise you would have told him." You raised an eyebrow at him about ready to smack him around the face when Namjoon began calling you over.
"Be right there." You called back your eyes not moving from Jins.
"I'll have you know Kim Seokjin that the baby is Namjoon's and the reason he hasn't been told yet is because it's early days and I want to make sure everything is okay before I drop a bombshell on him." You shoved the test into his chest and walked into the kitchen, standing up on your tip-toes to kiss Namjoon on the cheek.
"Everyone enjoy, I'm going to have a bath and have an early night. I'm not feeling great." You shoved past Jin on the way out and walked up the stairs to your shared bedroom, locking the door and heading to the en-suite to throw up.
Jimin:
The pregnancy test kept flashing the word 'pregnant' right in front of you and you were starting to lose your mind, the longer you stared at it the more you wished it would just magically change to negative, anything but this. You and Jimin were far too young to start a family right now and he was too busy with his Mafia business to deal with a baby. You threw the test into the bin and buried it under everything else so he wouldn't find it accidentally. You had to think of a way to tell him about everything but it was going to be hard, lately, he'd been acting weird towards you, always coming home later than usual. You expected the late nights considering he was a Mafia boss but what you didn't expect was coming in at 5 am and going to bed, only to wake up at 10 am and go back to work, you missed him. It wasn't always like that, in the beginning, he was sweet, would spend every minute he could with you, whenever he wasn't working he was at home with you. You even went to work with him a few times, he wanted to show you off to everyone.
"Jimin?" You questioned when you heard your bedroom door open, you looked over at the digital clock it was 6 am.
"What are you doing?" You groaned sitting up in the bed, he stayed silent so you flicked the lamp on, he was at the bottom of the bed packing up a bag,
"Business out of town?" He continued to keep silent and threw all of the clothes around the room into the bag, you frowned as he did this and then you noticed that the whole wardrobe was empty of his stuff.
"Jimin?" You got out of the bed getting up and looking him in the eyes, he stared down at you emotionless and then over at the door.
"I have a car waiting." You frowned and pulled at his hands, trying to get him to stay where he was.
"You're leaving me?" You were close to tears, he snapped his arm away from your grasp and put the suitcase onto the floor.
"You always said 'you can never trust anyone to stay.'" You shook your head at him, why was he bringing that up. You'd been dating for three years, you said that back when you first started dating and it was different now, you trusted Jimin with your life.
"Yeah? Well, I thought you'd be the exception." But he said nothing, he just walked out of the house, slamming the front door as you came rushing down the stairs, by the time you got the front door open he was in a car that was speeding off down the road.
"Jimin...I'm pregnant." You whispered to nothing but the dust that the car had kicked up from the road, your hand travelled down to your stomach as you rubbed it in small circles.
"Just me and you then buddy." You whispered going back into the apartment and wondering how you were going to be able to afford it now.
(X)
You moved out of the apartment you had shared with Jimin and you were living in your own smaller apartment closer to town, closer to work and closer to the daycare centre you dropped your daughter off at.
"I have to go, Gwen, say hi to David for me." You said to your boss as you left the building, starting your five-minute walk to the daycare to pick up your daughter, it was hard at first without Jimin around but once you got over the initial shock and found a new, cheaper, place to rent you got set up and began working on your new life with your daughter. That was two years ago and your life had been a lot calmer since you hadn't heard from or spoke to Jimin in over two years and you were worried at first, thinking something had happened to him but you began to get over it when you realised he probably never really cared for you.
"Hi Darcey, I'm here for my baby girl." You said to the usual worker but she stared at you with a blank expression.
"Her dad picked her up over three hours ago, said he was going to meet you and surprise you." Dad?! Her dad? You faked a dazed look before putting on one of the biggest fake smiles you could manage.
"Oh yeah, I forgot he was in town." You walked out of the building and took out your phone, ready to dial the number you'd had saved for years when it came up that he was already calling you.
"Where is she Jimin?!" You yelled down the phone searching up and down the roads for any sign of a car but there was nothing, the place was deserted.
"She's safe with me, we're at your apartment. You know you should really get better locks on your door." He murmured to you, you heard your daughter giggling down the other side of the phone and you waved down a cab, giving him the directions.
"I don't need better locks, I need to get rid of physco ex-boyfriends who think they can walk in and out of my life." You ended the call and asked the driver to speed on it, throwing more than enough money at him once you pulled up outside your apartment. You rushed inside to find your daughter sitting on the sofa and playing with a bunch of new toys.
"You think buying her toys gives you the right to come and see her?" You questioned him kneeling in front of her and looking her over, he would never hurt her but you didn't care, you wanted to make sure she was okay.
"She's fine." You ignored him and pushed him into the kitchen, shutting the door and staring at him.
"What?" He questioned staring back at you.
"So you think you can walk out on me and walk back in like nothing happened?" He reached out to take your hand in his and you slapped it away.
"I was hoping so." You scoffed at him and put your hands on your hips.
"No way, you don't get to walk out on me without rhyme or reason and walk back in because you've somehow found out about your daughter." You barked at him but he wasn't listening, he was looking at the way you held yourself. You were more confident than the last time he saw you, you knew how to handle situations for yourself now, you weren't the weak girl he left on the doorstep all those years ago.
"I want to stay this time. I left last time because you were in danger. There's no danger now." You ignored him, looking over your shoulder at your daughter who was playing with the toys he'd gotten her.
"You can stay for her sake. Not mine." You said leaving him in the kitchen and going to greet your daughter with a smile.
"Hi, beautiful." You whispered bending down and tickling her feet, causing a giant giggle to erupt from her, Jimin watched as the love of his life played along with the second love of his life, and he knew he was going to need to win you back somehow.
Taehyung:
Tae was a hacker so everyone was always looking for him, trying to find anyone close to him they could use against him. That's why you were always locked up inside his house, you weren't allowed outside unless it was under careful supervision and God forbid you ever wanted to go out with your old friends, if Taehyung knew their names he would find anything and everything he could about them and use that against you, telling you, you couldn't hang out with them because of their past or because of people they were friends with, everyone was a threat to you and him. You were stopped from seeing friends and family and you were only ever allowed out of the house if it was with him or a guard.
"Tae I feel sick, I think I need to see a doctor." You'd been sick for the last month and he'd been keeping you at home, thinking it was a way to get out but once he saw how serious things were getting he agreed to take you to a doctor.
"Well, I have some good news." The doctor said coming into your hospital room.
"Should I wait for Mr Kim to come back?" You shook your head at the doctor and she read off the charts that you were pregnant.
"Pregnant?" You questioned trying to confirm what she said and she nodded, congratulating you and walking out of the room. You glanced around and then over at the chair, your clothes were there so you grabbed them, rushing out of the room. You didn't know how long you had until Taehyung would come back so you rushed into a nurses station, changing into a nurses uniform, throwing your clothes into a bin and putting on a face mask to use to get out of the hospital. You weren't going to raise a child in that toxic environment.
(X)
It wasn't easy to get away, you couldn't use technology because Taehyung was a hacker, he could find you easily if you logged onto any social media or called someone you knew but you made it work. You were free after 10 months on the run, you gave birth in a hotel room on your own not wanting to get involved with hospitals and then you were on the run for a month. You were sitting in the new hotel room waiting for the room service when there was a knock at the door, you checked your son before going to answer it, you opened the door and Taehyung was standing there and pushed his way inside, going over to the sleeping child and looking at him.
"What are you doing here? How did you find me?" You kicked the door shut and watched him with a careful eye as he walked over to your son, he looked back up at you.
"I never lost you, been tracking you since you left the hospital, wanted to see how far you thought you could get." You hummed and went over to your son, running your hand over his head.
"He's cute," Tae admitted sitting down on the bed and turning his attention back to you.
"Why did you run?" You looked over at your son and then to him,
"I wasn't going to raise a child like that Tae. I made it this far, isn't that proof that I can leave the house on my own without people coming after me." You said to him, you did love him and the love was still there even after all this time.
"No, I've had to kill so many people who were coming after you, you've been in danger so many times and you're just too blind to see it." You sighed, he clearly hadn't changed since you left him.
"You have to come back with me." He said to you, you frowned was he really going to take you back just like that.
"You forgive me for running away?" You looked at your sleeping child while Tae walked over to the door, opening it and bringing in the pushchair he'd purchased on his way over.
"I don't forgive you for you, I forgive you for the sake of our baby." You bit on your lip as he went to pick up your son but you stopped him, bending down and picking him up yourself.
"I'll look after him...You can look after me, if you're going to be overprotective, I will too." You warned him walking your son over to his new pram and laying his sleeping figure down, he was clenching onto a teddy you found at a gas station.
"Like his dad, needs something to hold while he sleeps." You hummed and began pushing the chair out of the hotel, going to take care of the bill but Tae had already done it and ushered you out of the building, walking you over to a waiting black SUV and helping you inside. You had no idea if you could truly believe that people had been after you the entire time but you knew deep down it was better for you son to grow up around his dad than alone with a single struggling mother that was constantly on the run from people.
Jungkook:
You gripped onto the pregnancy test as it read out the word pregnant on the front, all the others sitting in a drawer with the same word or plus sign sitting on the front. It was clear that you were pregnant and that was a problem. Jungkook had made it very clear he didn't want kids yet, you'd had the discussion before and this happening now was going to make it look like you'd been planning to get pregnant when you hadn't.
"Fuck." You mumbled as you heard the front door open and shut, you threw the stick into the drawer and then went downstairs to greet him, he was covered in blood which meant he'd had a bad day at work. Jungkook was one of the torture people in Kim Namjoon's Mafia gang, he was used to torture people for information and he was one of the tougher ones out of the four that worked for him.
"Good day?" You quizzed going to make him a drink but getting ignored, you made him a whiskey and coke bringing it to him and leaving him to sit in silence, that's all he needed when he was in one of his moods so you rushed off, going to run him a bath and get his stuff ready for bed, you just wanted him to have a calm and relaxing night. Especially since you were going to have to ruin it with the talk of babies later on, or later in the week, depending on when you thought the best time would be to do it.
(X)
"You're the best you know that." That was the first thing he'd said to you after a week of painful silence, the house had been awkward for so long but you knew better than to push Jungkook further than he wanted things to go and you stayed in complete silence until he was gone for work then you would blast out music and get the household things done, making sure to clean everything you could you didn't want anything to upset Jungkook.
"No, you are." You whispered to him, getting snuggled under his arms and staring at the TV in front of you. He'd come home from work in a good mood and told you he wanted to cuddle and watch a movie with you, so you agreed seeing no harm in doing that.
"Are you feeling alright?" Jungkook questioned looking at the side of your head, you nodded whilst adding some popcorn into your mouth and not tearing your eyes away from the screen, it was some random horror movie he'd found and decided to put on.
"Yeah, why?" He turned your face to look at him now and he was studying your features.
"I heard you throwing up this morning, and two days ago...I thought you had a sickness bug," You swallowed hard, he either knew or he was starting to catch on that something was going off.
"I just ate something bad but I feel fine now." You lied, putting the popcorn down on the table and staring at the screen.
"That's probably a good idea to loosen up on the food, I didn't want to say anything but you're starting to put on weight." You snapped this time, it was probably the extra hormones making you overreact to the comment but you didn't care.
"How fucking dare you?! I work my ass off around this house and you call me fat?!" You screamed jumping away from his grasp and standing up on your own in front of the TV, he smirked at how cocky you were being.
"Carry on talking to me like that, I dare you." You smirked back at him.
"I very well dare, you won't fucking hurt me. You act like the big bad wolf at work and in front of the guys but around me, you're the softest piece of shit going!" You yelled he was standing up now and in front of you.
"I'm right then, looks like Namjoon owes me some money." You blinked at him.
"You are pregnant aren't you? Or are you going to deny all the pregnancy tests, the morning sickness, the weight gain and the mood swings?" You looked down at the floor, you felt sick again and it wasn't because of the baby, the way Jungkook was wording his words sounded as though he was pissed off at you.
"I told you to take the pill. If you just do what you're fucking told then we wouldn't have a problem, would we?" You nodded in agreement,
"I was taking it Kookie, it's only 98% effective." You tried to reason but he wasn't listening, he started going on the same rant he was having a few weeks ago about being too young for children, and how he didn't want to bring a child up in the work environment he was in but how he was going to have to now, no matter what.
"I'm sure he or she will be fine Kookie...They have a wonderful father." You tried to reason but he grumbled in response and you knew it was going to be another week of uncomfortable silence for you both to endure.
"I'm going to bed...Come up when you've calmed down." You whispered to him, standing up on your toes and kissing his nose, leaving the living room and heading up the stairs for bed.
Tagline:
@yoongisdumplingcheeks @yourguessisasgoodasminemate @snowy-meowl @lynnthevirgo @kpopfanfictionhoes
#bts#bts reaction#bts reactions#bts x reader#bts x you#bts x y/n#kim seokjin#seokjin#bts mafia#bts mafia au#jin#min yoongi#yoongi#suga#jung hoseok#hoseok#jhope#kim namjoon#namjoon#park jimin#jimin#kim taehyung#taehyung#jeon jungkook#jungkook#jungkook x reader#taehyung x reader#namjoon x reader#jimin x reader#yoongi x reader
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ALRIGHT-
SO
I've had this list of headcannons just sitting in my notes app of my phone and I wanna put it somewhere so 👀
(These are heavily inspired by what I could gather from the skele boys in @bonelyheartsclub! I just threw in a few of my own.)
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Sans
- Does a LOT of stargazing and has quite a few space-themed knicknacks and clothes in his room. He's got a telescope too!
- Dad jokes. Any time is prime dad joke time. He's never let an opportunity slip past him.
- He's an absolute prank master. You're considered lucky if you happen to avoid the ones he's planted around the house like bombs waiting to go off.
- He's cryptic as fuck. Always giving half-true answers to every question. Occasionally he may slip up and give you a brutally honest response, but that's only with the people he trusts most, and he finds being open to be very difficult.
- He's constantly referencing memes and vine quotes from days of yore. He practically has a database of every meme ever in his head, and he doesnt let it go to waste.
- Cuddling with him is basically a one way ticket to nap-town, and you constantly find yourself waking up to him smooshed against you on the couch after dozing off. For being a skeleton, he is a surprisingly comfortable snuggler.
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Papyrus
-So much baking and cooking. It's his favorite past time, and the kitchen never smells the same when he's done making whatever he's making in there (it's 12 times out of 10 pasta) And while his cooking may be sub-par, you never say no when he asks you to try his latest dish.
- He's always up to go shopping with you. It never matters where. Malls are his favorite, especially the big grand ones with fountains and huge windows. He makes it a point to bring spare cash because you KNOW he's going to ride the mini marry-go-round even if he can barely fit in the seats.
- You two love to binge watch cooking channels. Always discussing which foods would be the most fun to make, writing down recipies, and having a hell of a time trying to pause the show at the right points to get all the information down.
- Papyrus is notorious for game nights. He's always pulling out boards and cards that you've never heard of before and never starts a game until he's absolutely certain you know the rules. Winning of course, is always his prime goal when it comes to games, but if he senses you're on a particularly rough losing streak, he MAY slip up. Occasionally. Just enough so you can win a game or two. Or five.
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Blue
- Hyper as all hell. You give him a reasonable dose of sugar or caffeine and he could power an entire city for a few hours without breaking a sweat.
- If he had been in high school, Blue would have been a theater kid. He's always humming a tune from a Broadway show or Disney movie, and he's got a pretty good collection of songs on his brother's Spotify playlist.
- This guy will blast Steven Universe music at full volume he has no shame.
- If you are ever driving somewhere with him, an aux cord is a MUST. Singing in the car is a very frequent thing with you two, and you'll only get out after the song is over.
- He likes cryptids! Mothman is his favorite and he firmly believes he exists somewhere.
- He's your workout buddy. If he manages to drag you to the gym with him, that is.
- Blue hates seeing you down in the dumps, and is always trying to cheer you up with his quirky puns and jokes to get you smiling again.
- He'd be the best motivational poster ever. Whenever he picks up that you're going through a rough spot and falling behind on self-care, he knows just what to say to put the spark back in you again.
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Stretch
- Radiates goblin energy.
- A goddamn meme lord.
- He's made two or three widely known viral videos and nobody knows it was him.
- You need someone to go to an anime convention with? Stretch is your guy. He's god awful at planning stuff out, but he'll make sure you both have a good time, no matter what happens.
- He's really big into nerd culture, and he DMs for a dungeons and dragons game every week.
- He'll occasionally smoke, but he doesnt have lungs, so he does it more for shits and giggles than anything else.
- As lazy as he seems, he is very reliable. If he knows it's something important to you, he'll get it done. Chores though, he's a lot more iffy with.
- He really likes bees.
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Red
- Talks big talk, but he's actually a huge softie.
- He's basically a big pillow with sharp teeth that can curse.
- A nervous wreck.
- His brother shops at Hot Topic. He shops at Spencer's. Very convenient.
- He's a pretty big flirt and throws out little compliments and things to butter you up from time to time.
- If you take Red into a Dave and Busters he will win the most expensive prize at the booth in about 2 hours. (He knows how to cheat at every single game)
- He's a competitive gamer, and has a pretty impressive following on Twitch.
- He can go from loud and brash to quiet and insecure in a matter of moments, depending on the situation.
- He loves to bake, although it's something he will never be caught dead doing.
- Comfort is not his strong suit, but he will defend you without a second thought.
- He can be a little clingy and will text you now and again to ask what you're up to, just to ease his mind.
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Boss
- Professionalism is his game.
- The walking embodiment of Hot Topic.
- He loves to listen to rock and screamo music. He's also got a thing for Disney villain songs.
- You need some punk biker or vampiric goth fashion advice? Boss got ya.
- Skellator Man.
- Out of all the skeletons, Boss has the biggest ego.
- He hates admitting he's wrong. He would rather DIE than admit he's fucked up something.
- "I am not nice-"
- He could kill a man with his high heels.
- If it's got spikes he'll probably wear it.
- Tsundere. Tsundere. Tsundere. Tsundere. Tsu
- Did I mention he's a cold blooded tsundere.
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Nox
- Small angery man.
- He listens to a lot of classic and instrumental music. He finds it very sophisticated.
- Wakes up obscenely early in the morning. Always followed by a cup of the most bitter coffee on the planet.
- Comes up with the best insults. He could roast someone so hard that they'd dissolve into a pile of soot. He could glare at you and you'd cease to exist. He's that good.
- WILL step on you without remorse.
- Threatens to kill someone on a daily basis.
- Very rarely has spare time for himself. He's always keeping busy doing something.
- Loves dark, dry humor. A child falling off a swing will have him laughing for a good five minutes.
- Has a stone cold poker face.
- He might have a softer side to him. You may never know because of the walls he's built up around him.
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Rus
- He absolutely adores animals. He volunteers at the local animal shelter and plans on adopting every single dog there.
- Rus has a massive sweet tooth. Donuts are his favorite, and you can easily bribe him with anything sugar coated.
- A road trip master. You put him in a camper and he knows exactly where he's going and what he's doing.
- "Going off grid, fuck yeah- I pull out my credit cards and shred 'em."
- Hiking, camping and geocaching are some of his favorite things to do. He loves to explore the wilderness and it's like he has a built-in compass for finding his way.
- His ideal date is going to a Wal-Mart and causing absolute chaos by riding bikes around and tossing all of the inflatable balls from their displays.
- Cryptidcore energy.
- Rus loves watching Buzzfeed Unsolved and ghost huntings. He's a big fan of Supernatural and Stranger Things, too.
- Stutters and slurs his words a lot. He's got some speech impediments from the gold canines in his mouth.
- A bit lacking when it comes to social skills, but he can be extremely caring and sweet.
-----------*
Ash
- Very soft-spoken and awkward. He doesn't get much social interaction and is still figuring some things out.
- He's very self-aware of the wound in his head. Whenever he has to leave the house he wears some sort of hat to cover it up.
- Practically lives in his garden. He understands plants more than he does human beings, and he spends time daily tending to whatever he's growing.
- Him and his brother are both vegetarians, and the smell or sight of meat makes them both feel sick to themselves.
- Has trouble sleeping due to his reoccurring nightmares. He will often sit in his garden late at night to help calm himself.
- Radiates soft energy. He would absolutely give the best hugs out of all the skeletons.
- Very touch-starved. Physical affection is something he rarely recieves, and he probably lingers with touches a lot longer than he should.
- Unintentionally makes God-teir jokes without realizing it.
----------*
Poplar
- Very well-educated in a lot of things. He really likes stocking up on useless factoids and making up his own just to mess with people.
- He answers Jeopardy questions with concerning accuracy.
- He enjoys going out to eat, and he's always up to try fancy foods.
- He likes photography and reading. He is well into the Harry Potter series.
- Poplar is prepared for anything at any time. A lot of stuff doesnt phase him at all, and it's difficult to catch him off-guard.
- He's willing to try anything new, once.
- Always willing to help out with schoolwork if he thinks you're seriously struggling with it.
- He's always carrying around small planners and notebooks to write in so he can keep track of things.
#long post#headcannons#hc#bhc#bhc headcannons#bonely hearts club#like i said#most of these are from the game#i just have a very specific image of these guys in my head and i wanted to put it down somewhere
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This is my first time writing something like this, so it's a little bit sht, but I'm posting it anyway since I promised it to you guys.
Michael, Trevor, and my rant.
The first thing I want to say about those characters is that I believe they meant to be together, they cannot exist without each other. Yes, I know it sounds like cheesy line from romantic novel. But before you roll your eyes, let me explain.
Let’s remember their signature colors: blue and orange. You see, I think they play a big part in understanding them as individuals and as a relationship and their dynamics. You can read about the color analysis here if you like to.
I personally want to look at it from a little different perspective. To be more precise about elements Fire and Water: Trevor represents fire and Michael is water of course.
Those two men have a different understanding of what life is supposed to be and what it means to be alive. Trevor being a fire element is always trying to rile up Michael, making him angry and emotional like himself.
Michael on the other hand obviously thinks that Trevor is too much, that he needs to calm down and too bright, too hot, that eventually, he will burn not only himself but also everyone else around.
We see examples of that a few times throughout the game. For example when he tried to convince Trevor to change his current lifestyle and “grow up” and it’s not good for him.
“M: Alright man, here we go. Tough love time.
T: I'll take it tough, I'll take it sissy, I'll take it any way you're giving it.
M: When you gonna get it together, bro? Most guys as they get older, they pull their foot off the gas.
T: You always did like to judge people.
M: I ain't judging, I'm trying to help.
T: Help with what? You think I need help 'cause my lifestyle is worse than everyone elses?
M: The speed, the horniness, the killings.
T: You kill, and you satisfy your urges - only you think you're above everything. Tough love time!
M: Fine. Fine! You think what you like. But you know I care, and you know I tried.”
Going back to the whole "They can't exist without each other" thing.
Why?
Too much fire you will burn. Too much cold, you will freeze. This is the exact reason why I think that they need each other. To create a balance. Again, you can clearly see this in the story. Michael is depressed, sad and bored out of his mind by the pool.
Trevor is crazier than ever with no direction and no purpose. Just pure chaos.
“T: Mas o menos. Michael didn’t have a nerve back then. I didn’t have a direction”
It’s obviously not perfect since they both are fucked up people.
You can describe Michael's attitude towards Trevor with the same example. You can love fire for numerous reasons, right? You can look at and feel calm, feel warm or maybe it helps you to reflect on yourself. However, fire is also very dangerous. It can be unpredictable. One spark can light the fire and it may not even possible to stop it.
But Michael is able to.
Throughout the game Michael said and done things that made Trevor very angry. Like, other people would have been dead angry. He can make him change his mind or even stop him from killing someone. Because, as I said, he represents water.
This is why I believe that Michael’s fear of Trevor is not usual. He is afraid of those big sparks that out of his control like when he betrayed him for example. He was afraid Trevor would find him and kill him. Part of him believes he deserves it because of all the guilt. Trevor is the face of karma and he came back to collect the debt.
However, thirty seconds in the car since they left the house he felt that everything is ok and that he is not in any danger so he had no problem with insulting and overall being an asshole to Trevor right away.
Unfortunately things not that easy and simple as always. They can be good for each other just as bad. Fire can be dangerous to water and water can be dangerous to fire. (This is why Trevor doesn’t like to take showers xD) It reminds me of all those scenes when they get angry at each other, but stepping away so they won’t hurt one other.
I am going to leave Fire/Water here, just keep it in mind for the rest of analysis or whatever this is. I’ve never done it :D
Now for the ultimate question. Do I think they love each other or they hate each other?
Well…
Just as their history together it's complicated.
The very moment Trevor pulled the trigger of his flare gun with no hesitation, Michael definitely knew that Trevor is a dangerous person. Then he definitely knew Trevor has serious mental issues.
Why did he stick with Trevor before and even after?
Well, the most obvious answer is that he just cares about him. They instantly clicked together or as Lamar said “Love at first sight”.
The other thing that played a part in Michael’s affection at the start is that Trevor is like a shining loud toy for Michael's brain. I see M as someone who grasps at every opportunity to experience intense emotions. Trevor is like a walking time bomb that won’t explode around you. It also perhaps made Michael feel special. It’s not healthy but happens to people nonetheless.
I believe that Michael does love Trevor, but he also hates the things that he does and Michael hates himself for still loving someone like Trevor.
“Why do I love him why do I care for him, I'm not supposed to. He is a horrible person. He is a monster. What is wrong with me?”
The other thing is very common for people to have desire to help another person who's hurting. No matter how much messed up they are we still can feel sorry and I'm sure Michael felt the same and still feels the same. This also leads to his frustration about Trevor.
“Why can't you be normal? I had a hard childhood but I didn't turn out that bad”
He’s also repressing his feelings because of internalized homophobia. In addition, it's just frustration on top of frustration on and on.
Michael hates himself for many things he's done. When Trevor came back he got so overwhelmed that all of this just start boiling inside of him. And when you can handle it he just surrenders to the common emotion – anger.
(It seems to me that fans expect Michael to figure out why Trevor is doing this, why he says that what real feelings are behind the words and actions. You know, be the wise one. )
At first glance it may seem that Michael does not care about T and I can see why. Since the game does it like we see Trevor as the one who tells the truth and Michael as the one who lies. Especially on the first playthrough you can easily fall for this little manipulation. Because of this we perceive Michael as a liar. I mean, yeah, he uses lies as a defense mechanism. Therefore, it’s natural for us (and Trevor) not to believe him when he said “I care. I missed you”.
Trevor is a liar too. Yes, I know, shocker.
The most common thing I see people say about Trevor is that he is a loyal person. All because of this rule about “brothers”. Nope. Maybe he likes to say that, but in reality he is not.
Take Brad as an example. Bless him.
Trevor talked about how he planned to stop working with Michael, but pushed him away because he thought he would leave him. If you hang out with Lamar, T admits he was literally going to kill Brad. Not like Michael of course. He wasn’t gonna stab him in the back. Just stab him in the face I guess.
Trevor didn't kill Michael, not because of some creed. It’s just because he still loves him and cares about him. In the core of everything it’s just love.
Trevor is obviously a dick to Michael because he's hurt so much. Can you imagine how painful it was, to lose the only person you loved and loved you back? Then to find out they betrayed you. Like, Trevor literally thought, Michael was using him from the start. Though, he doesn't hate M, like he said so many times. Trevor hates himself for being this way, for being not good enough, for Michael to choose him. Again and again.
Betrayal.
“M: I don’t know, man, I’ve made such a mess of things. Constantly…my whole life. Chase things. Get them. Hate them. Chase things, get them, hate them…”
I feel like often people don’t even consider Michael's feelings or mental issues.
Trevor also says very hurtful words to M. Yes, he understands the reason behind Trevor’s anger, but this doesn’t negate the fact those words hurt a lot. I mean, he was even offended by the fact T didn’t hug him. As usual, he cannot cope with feeling of guilt and everything again comes down to aggression.
I also want to remind, that despite the killings, Michael didn’t abandon Trevor. He was even letting him to see his children. Also name Tracey is suspiciously similar to name Trevor. Isn't it a display of love? Can you imagine how many times Michael forgave T for doing something crazy?
Well, Michael was just afraid of Trevor hurting him or his family if he tells T they’re done.
Trust me, if M didn’t give a shit about his best friend, he would’ve just killed him.
However, Michael and Trevor's relationship before Ludendorff wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows.
I personally think there were four main reasons:
1. He was just tired of living the way he did.
2. Safety of his family.
3. The FBI breathed down their backs and suggested him a ticket to freedom.
In fear of losing Michael Trevor pushed him even more. Most likely thought their relationships could only last if they were connected by the partnership.
An example of this is Trevor’s negative reaction to Michael's words that he wants to be done with robberies and make movies.
“T: I could feel like I was losing you, so I pushed you harder. I thought that how to keep you in the game and I didn’t want to lose you. I’ve said it already, haven’t I?”
4. As ironic as it may be, in the desire not to lose Michael, Trevor himself turned out to be the last drop, for his best friend’s decision.
Conclusion: they should stop being dumb-dumbs and be honest about how they really feel.
And therapy. A lot of therapy.
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pragma - part thirteen
Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Female reader
Warnings: canon-typical violence
A/N: I’m not a fan of this chapter at all but I hope someone out there likes it. I wanted to do a chapter from Frankie’s POV and then one from reader’s POV just to touch on how each of them are faring with this whole thing. I glossed over a few things from the movie because I didn’t want this to turn into a full on summary but...yeah. Here it is.
Summary: Frankie hates how quickly everything went downhill but he’s fighting through to get home to you.
pragma masterlist
Frankie was already over this. He couldn’t think of the reason he agreed to do this. His hands shouldn’t be holding a rifle, they should be holding her.
And he wondered what she was doing now. The worst things always came to mind. What if her ex decided to come back? What if he hurt her?
Or what if something bad happened to her all because he was here and not there? She could easily go off and find someone else while he was gone. Would she do that?
His comm crackled to life as he stood hidden in some brush overlooking the place where this money supposedly was, but he could hardly make out what anyone was saying. He just wanted to be home. He wanted to be holding her.
They had made a plan on when and how they would get into the heavily-guarded home then met up again somewhere safe. I mean, if there was a such thing as safe.
It was downtimes like this when he would pull out the picture of her and just stare at it. Her smile. That’s all he ever thought about. Oh, and the way she laughed without holding back around him. Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he could see her standing right in front of him. Sometimes he saw her the way he did as Pope drove away: on her knees and crying into her hands. He had done that. She cried because of him.
“Hey, man, have a drink.” Pope slapped him on the shoulder, shaking him from his thoughts.
“Nah, I’m good.” He looked back down at her picture and ran his finger over it.
“You miss her?” Pope asked.
“What do you think?”
“Right. Dumb question.”
“What are you moping about, Fish?” Ben asked suddenly and now all eyes were on him.
“Nothing.” He shrugged and tried tucking the picture away before anyone saw but it was too late. Ironhead had stood and took the picture from him. “Give it back…”
“Hey, isn’t this-"
Frankie snatched the photo back. “Yeah, it’s her.” He put the picture away and avoided their gazes but that didn’t stop the barrage of questions and comments.
“I thought you two broke it off years ago.”
“Didn’t she, like, run off with another guy?”
“Didn’t she break your heart?”
“She’s hot man. Damn. She always has been.”
Frankie slammed his hand on the table then stood and walked away. Pope walked over a few moments later and tried to smooth things over.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly as Frankie stood on the balcony and looked up at the moon. Is she looking, too? He thought.
“Not as sorry as I am,” Frankie responded and Pope knew he wasn’t talking about what just happened.
“She loves you,” Pope started.
“Yeah, I know…and I fucking left her. Alone.” He kept looking at the moon. “You know, her ex-husband beat her, man? I broke his fucking nose.”
“He deserved it but…why are you telling me this?”
“Because all I can think about is something bad happening to her while I’m not there, because I’m not there. What if that fucker decides he wants to hurt her again? She’s alone, Santiago, and I left her that way.” Frankie had never really liked himself all that much, but now he hated himself.
“Nothing is gonna happen to her, okay? She’s a tough one. We taught her everything we know, remember?” And it was true. They both had taught her how to fight and defend herself.
“Still, I gotta get home to her. I fucking…love her.”
“You’ll get home. This’ll be easy, you’ll see.” Pope clapped him on the shoulder again and walked away.
*
Easy it was not.
First there was the money. Getting into the place went off without a hitch, sort of. But then there was no money. And they had all seen the picture of it. Where the hell would it be?
“What does that smell like to you?” Pope asked, sniffing around the room they stood in.
“Like a serious fuck-up,” Frankie said. He was angry and rightfully so. If all this was for nothing then…
“Paint…”
They broke through the walls and found millions of dollars. Every. Fucking. Wall.
But that’s where the trouble began. The fucking money.
Tom got too greedy and tensions flared. This was not what he signed up for.
*
No one ever told him that this mission would have him flying a helicopter in dangerous conditions. Nor did he think that he would be walking along the side of a mountain with a fucking burro, but wonders never cease.
And late at night as they sat in the rain and freezing cold, he would carefully take her picture out and stare at it then he would look at the moon, if he could see it. He could be at home in bed with you. Warm. Soft. Loved. That was all he wanted right now. The guys would give him shit sometimes but he didn’t care—he wanted his girl.
He was tired of killing and tired of being shot at all for some money that they had lost most of anyway.
And then they lost Tom.
That definitely wasn’t supposed to happen. As selfish as it sounded, Frankie couldn’t stop thinking about what if that had been him. What if he had died and one of the guys had to bring you that news?
“No,” he said out loud, making the other guys look at him.
“What?” Pope asked.
“Uh…nothing.”
“I need you to focus.” Pope was wound up tight and ready to snap but so was Frankie.
“I’m doing the best I fucking can, man! None of this was supposed to happen and now look, we have nothing to show for it! Our friend is dead because of this fucking money!”
“Calm down, Fish,” Ironhead said but Frankie only glared at him and walked away.
*
“Put the fucking picture away, Frankie! We don’t have time for that!” Pope yelled.
“Fuck you!” Frankie was on edge the entire trip but now he was about ready to go over. Everything had gone wrong. It was nearing the end but he had no idea how to deal with everything that had happened. They were speeding through some part of the jungle after a kid tried to kill them. “We should’ve killed that kid.”
“We’re not killing anyone else,” Pope said.
“Ben better be there or I’m fucking killing people!” Frankie shouted as he drove. Ironhead was the most level-headed, telling him where to turn and what to do. They spotted Ben with the boat—their ticket out of this mess. Over the dune and straight into the water, they all hopped out, shooting and being shot at as they carried the money they could along with Tom's body. As they sped away, he refused to look back. He couldn’t wait to leave it all behind.
*
Frankie wondered what she would think when she saw him like this—he had his hair cut and was clean-shaven. She was the only thing on his mind even with the stacks of money sitting in the middle of the table.
They had all decided to give their shares to Tom’s family and leave it at that. Even if they hadn’t, Frankie was ready to give it all up just to get home to her. He signed what he needed to sign and walked out into the busy street, breathing in the air and letting out a sigh of relief.
The other guys joined him soon after and they said their goodbyes.
“What are you guys gonna do now?”
“I gotta get home,” Frankie said, waving around the picture of her. “Got someone waiting for me.”
“Go to her, hermano,” Pope said as he hugged him. “I’m sorry for…all of this. For taking you away from her.”
“I get to go back now, don’t I?”
“And in one piece so she can’t kick my ass,” Pope joked.
“If you ever come home, I’m sure she’d have something to say to you,” Frankie said with a sad smile.
“Don’t make that face. You’ll see me again. Besides, I’m sure she’ll keep you so busy you’ll hardly think of me.”
“Take care of yourself,” Frankie told him.
“Claro que sí.” Pope hugged him one more time and Frankie finally turned and walked away. He had just said goodbye to one of his best friends and gave away over a million dollars but he felt nothing but relief and happiness.
Home. He was going home. And the love of his life would be waiting for him. Everything that happened was behind him now and as he put her picture back into his pocket and tapped it, he smiled.
Soon they’d be looking at the moon together again.
[fourteen]
Tags: @cable-kenobi @saltywintersoldat @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @pedrosdoll @psychobillybunny @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @keeper0fthestars @mrsparknuts @thinemineours @huliabitch @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @lavenderl3mons @mrscrain-x7 @fioccodineveautunnale @gooddaykate @themilkface @tiffdawg @ms-dont-care @mus1caln0tes @awesomefandomsunited @seawhisperer @virtualxjournality @badassbaker @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @lokiaddicted @forever-rogue @sloantravels
#Frankie Morales#Frankie Morales x Reader#Francisco 'Catfish' Morales#Triple Frontier#Pedro Pascal#headcanon
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Punishment
Pining for an elusive yet bewitching stranger has its advantages and disadvantages.
Word Count: 10k
Pairing: You x Taehyung
Genre: Smut, Horror, Vampire!Taehyung
There were those eyes again. Those damn eyes that followed you around the room as if you were observing the Mona Lisa. They were the most beautiful you’d seen in a good while, alluring yet mysterious, though you suspected that was attributed to the face holding them. Surely, it too, was out of a Da Vinci painting. Flawless tan skin, pointed nose, ash brown tresses that waved out of his scalp with calculated precision. Was it possible for angels to walk amongst human beings? Surely you were a believer after tonight.
Oh. He’s smiling. Of course, he has a perfect set of pearly whites to boot, why wouldn’t he? You sipped from your glass, refusing to look away as you had previously been doing all night. No, you couldn’t deny your attraction to him anymore. The prolonged eye contact was more intimate than sexual experiences you’d had in the past. They say if someone stares at you for longer than 6 consecutive seconds then they either want to sleep with you or murder you. You wanted to find out so badly which one it was, hoping more so for the former. Either way, you were his prey tonight.
You felt an incessant tapping on your shoulder, causing your eyes to rip away from the tunnel vision you two had built. Eyeing your friend in mild annoyance, she pulled you down to whisper into your ear. “Should I leave with Mike tonight?”
You sighed deeply, a rooted exhaustion you had grown quite familiar with making an appearance as if waiting on queue behind stage curtains. Your best friend and her ex-boyfriend were a five act play of their own, and you were the sole ticket holder forced to sit in an empty theatre and react appropriately.
“Babe, we’ve talked about this. You can’t keep going back to him every time you run into him at a party.” You may as well have been reciting a monologue. That dream-like stare fixated in her gaze was telling, she had already made up her mind.
He’s gone. You did a subtle scan of the room, holding your Tom Collins drink to your lips for dissimulation purposes. The penthouse hosting this party had impressive square footage, he could be anywhere by now. You spared your friend one last glance before setting off to make your move. She was already in the arms of her previously scorned beloved, painful lessons being the only thing that could save her now.
Making your way through each room, your eyes searched frantically amongst the intimate crowds. Your coworkers were littered throughout, sometimes catching your looks in passing and drunkenly beckoning you over. Most of them were people you couldn’t stand to be around, even after a few drinks, so you had perfected the “I can’t hear you” miming down to an exact science.
Could he be in the kitchen, maybe? Your heels clicked against the marble flooring, echoing against the abundant stainless-steel appliances that lined the spotless white walls. You bit the inside of your cheek, considering the possibility that he could’ve left. You plopped yourself down on one of the stools lining the island, ready to sulk with your cocktail in hand.
Work gatherings always bored you half to death. After listening to the same stories for the 10th time, they started to lose their appeal. The only excitement that came was from the random people who’d show up or get invited to dilute the professional crowd. You wondered who had invited that Adonis, you’d be sure to send them a nice memo come Monday.
“May I join you?” A velvety timbre pierced through your reverie. You swished your drink around in your cup, nodding with a smile. There was no need to look up and see who that could be, surely a voice like that could only come from the man who had stolen your attention for the night.
A slight breeze indicated him passing behind you, his thigh slightly brushing against your bare skin as he took a seat next to you. You crossed your legs as you looked over at him for the first time, taking advantage of the close proximity to rake in his appearance in its entirety. Your eyes were drinking from a sacred river, your sexual prowess finding salvation.
Your pupils followed his sinful tongue as it dragged across his bottom lip, wetting everything in its path. Your mouth swallowed involuntarily as your eyes took a road trip down the expanse of his neck and stopped at the fork in the road at his parted button up. Maroon was definitely his color.
“I take it you like what you see?” His chuckle was sinister, each contraction of his diaphragm resonating with the deepest parts of your core.
You smirked and took a sip of your drink. “That’s an understatement.”
The padding of feet running down the hallway towards the kitchen was too distracting to ignore. Suddenly your best friend’s shaking figure approached the entryway, the trauma in her eyes evident. You slid out of your seat and hurried over to her, holding her shoulders firmly as you struggled to get her to look at you.
Her lip quivered, unshed tears threatening to spill. “M-Mike…he…” She broke down into a full sob, embracing your midsection and burying her head in your bosom. A deep sense of dread grew within you. You’d never seen her distressed like this. You glanced behind you, suddenly remembering your elusive guest. He was gone yet again.
“Did he hurt you? I’ll fucking kill him.” She shook her head adamantly, looking up at you with a runny nose and smeared mascara.
“He—He’s dead!” Your lips became pale as all of the color drained from your face. You held her head to your chest, cooing and patting her disheveled hair. It was only then that you began noticing people grabbing their belongings in a hurry. The music had stopped playing after a blood curdling scream reverberated throughout the apartment. You removed your blazer and draped it over the girl, leading her to one of the stools.
“Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back, okay?” She nodded, unable to formulate a coherent sentence as sobs continued to wrack her entire body.
You rubbed the goosebumps on your arms, a sudden chill apparent in every room and corridor you walked through. The penthouse had cleared out quickly, yet a healthy crowd of people remained in the parlor. You squeezed past frantic party goers to get to the balcony. Just as you cleared the onlookers, a meaty hand hovered in front of your chest and halted you in your tracks. You looked up at the gentleman, unable to recognize him but grateful for his concern.
You lowered his hand and smiled weakly. “It’s okay, I can take it. I’m with his girlfriend, I need to see what happened, for her.” The man sighed, contemplating your reasoning before holding his arms out to stop other people from getting past him. You took the opportunity to exit through the glass doors that lead to the balcony. The air was below freezing, but somehow you couldn’t quite feel it, the sensation of weightlessness overpowering everything else. Your breathing became shallow as you placed your hands on the icy railing, leaning just past it to look 42 stories down.
The scene was gruesome, even from the impressive height you were observing it from. To put it simply, Mike was a stain on the pavement, surely unrecognizable if not for his distinct beige sweater vest now stained crimson. You swallowed vile as squad cars blared their horns on the way to the grisly scene splayed on the outside of one of the city’s fanciest hotels.
You hurried to find your best friend in the pandemonium that had transmuted your quaint work party. She wasn’t in the kitchen anymore, but it didn’t take long to find her near the elevator, being questioned by two policemen. She was frantic and her body language was defensive, causing the two gentlemen to exchange looks numerous times. You hurried to her side with your coats and purses in tow.
“Excuse me, I’m her lawyer. My client isn’t in any state to answer questions right now.” You helped her put her coat on as she fell silent, short of sniffling. Before leaving, you handed one of the officers your business card. “I’d be happy to answer any questions you may have. We’ll fully cooperate to any investigations underway in the future. Have a goodnight.” You were used to the exasperated look from law enforcement whenever you halted their invasive questioning.
Your primary concern for the night was tending to your best friend’s shattered state. She had stopped crying by the time you had arrived outside of her house, though you weren’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing. Her hand paused on the door as you reached out and held her forearm.
“Before you go, while it’s just us here, I have to ask. What exactly happened?” Your eyes were flooded with concern. Her nose and her eyes were crimson, her dream-like gaze now replaced with a ghostly stare. She nodded, knowing by now it was your obligation as her attorney.
“We were going to go downstairs and get a room for the night, but he wanted a cigarette first, so he went outside for a quick smoke. When I noticed he was gone a little too long I went out to the balcony to look f-for him.” Her voice began shaking, recalling the horror splayed in front of her disbelieving eyes. “H-He wasn’t drunk I…I don’t know why—"
You shushed her, rubbing her shoulder to halt her from saying any more. “That’s all I needed to hear. I’m so sorry for your loss. I know it’ll be hard but try and get some sleep. I’ll come by tomorrow morning, okay?” Your heart was breaking for her. You idled outside of her house until you saw her enter safely.
A sadness washed over you on the drive home and it didn’t quite leave you for days on end, the eerie feeling of death so close to you putrefying mundane tasks every time you remembered the current state of affairs. You had always wanted your best friend to move on from him, but not like this, not in a way that was so utterly disturbing that it’d affect her future relationships devastatingly so.
Part of you also hated the way people who died young became immortalized as saints. You held back the need to spit into the soft dirt that surrounded the plot. That cheating bastard surely didn’t deserve such a ghastly demise, but he also didn’t deserve to be honored so wholly by his faithful girlfriend. Still, you knew she needed to say goodbye to her greatest love, so you held her hand as she gave her beautifully melancholy speech in front of Mike’s friends and family.
It had only taken a couple of days to make funeral arrangements and plan the ceremony, closed casket of course. You held your umbrella with your free hand as you looked around the funeral attendees behind the privacy of your sunglasses. It seemed the sky was also intent on spitting on his grave, the brooding clouds hovering ominously above the small assembly. Most of the guests were familiar faces, but you had expected as much, the irony of the absence of his long-time frat brothers who’d conceal his disgusting behavior tugging at the corners of your mouth. There was one face you hadn’t expected to come across, however.
After dreaming of those features for nights on end, you’d recognize them anywhere. Much to your surprise, he was already looking at you, though his facial expression wasn’t as inviting as it had been that night. His expression was grave, his eyes empty and his lips set in a hard line. You wondered if he and Mike were close, and if so, you wondered why you’d never seen him until recently. You offered him a small polite smile before turning back to your best friend who was struggling to get through her speech without breaking down. You squeezed her hand, letting her know it was okay to cry, or to just stop talking altogether.
As the ceremony came to a close, and the crowd dissipated into smaller groups of mourners as they hurried to get out of the pouring rain, you couldn’t help gravitating towards your mystery man. Your best friend was busy speaking to Mike’s parents, so you decided it might be okay to leave her side even if only momentarily. You approached him carefully, not wanting to startle him from his reverie. His hands were tucked into his pockets as he stared into the grave.
After a minute, you cleared your throat, looking at the ground as well. “Were you two close?”
The man looked over at you absentmindedly as if noticing your presence for the first time. “Something like that. What about you?”
You held out strong under the immense pressure of his gaze, your knees threatening to buckle. After replaying the events of that night many times, you realized your initial feelings hadn’t been exaggerated after all. It wasn’t just his beauty that had the ability to command a room, but his presence as well. You felt the pressure around you shift, feeling oddly alone with him in the middle of an outdoor gathering.
“Hardly. I’m here for support.” You both looked over at your best friend who was hugging Mike’s mom.
“My condolences.” The man turned to you, looking down as your eyes met back up with his.
You smiled and nodded, thanking him as you turned towards him as well. “Our encounters are always so brief, and I still don’t know your name. Can I at least give you my card this time, before you go? Maybe we can get to know each other properly.” You looked up at him with hopeful eyes, watching as his irises darkened.
He drew his slender hand out of his pocket and tipped your chin up with one of his delicate fingers. “Oh, we will be seeing each other again, much sooner than you think.” An alluring smile parted his lips, showing you those perfect teeth again. You were helpless to his charm, his demeanor baleful yet deliciously inviting. You swallowed thickly, unsure of whether he was rejecting you or asking you out.
“Y/N!” You heard your name being called out in the distance like the incessant ringing of an alarm clock in the background of an intense dream. He dropped your chin as you turned to look over your shoulder. Your best friend and Mike’s parents were waving you over. “We’re leaving now!”
“Okay, be right there!” You shouted back at them, turning back to your enigmatic love interest. He was gone, as much unsurprising to you as it was vexing. You searched among the groups of people dispersing, unable to make him out anywhere. With a sigh, you trudged over to your friend, hoping that his word would come true. You wanted to see him again so, so badly.
And you did see him again, at least in the form of a fever dream later that night when you finally got to bed. The day’s events had been so taxing that you only had enough energy to strip and crawl onto your bed. You laid over the sheets, feeling the satin with your hands as you made something akin to snow angels. You hummed, your eyelids sealing shut as they bared the weight of your best friends world crashing down. The onslaught of tragic events had you so wound up and distracted that you’d forgotten how long it’d been since you felt the lustful touch of a man. Your fingers slid over your breast, tugging on your hardened nipples as they traveled further south.
When did it get so cold? I don’t remember leaving the window open.
Slowly yet steadily, you fingers crept over your stomach, then your pubic bone as they slid under your lace underwear. You hummed again as your cold fingers slid past your folds, a violent shiver wracking through your body as they made contact with the growing slick between your legs.
You thought about past hookups that were now, at best, dull memories of men without faces, indistinguishable bachelor pads setting various scenes. None of them excited you enough to get off on, that is until you thought about him.
His angelic face flashed in your mind, the devilish curl of his lips oh so telling in the things he was imagining he might do to you. You licked your lips, another chill causing goosebumps to break through the surface of your bare skin. You arched your back as you plunged a digit into your core, lapping up the juices to better lubricate your clit. Your eyes refused to open, to investigate why your room was getting so cold, but it’s not like you cared enough, not when there was a fire ablaze in between your legs.
The incessant burning began at the tips of your fingers pumping in and out of you and traveled outwards from your core. Your lower stomach twitched as the feeling of being slowly set on fire spread to your extremities. It’d be so painful if it wasn’t so delicious. You craved to be consumed, engulfed in the feeling of having your mystery man’s undivided attention. The image of his eyes on you continued to replay over and over like a film reel running on repeat. His eyes sweeping over you, blinking seductively as the filthiest fantasies shown unabashedly across his features. You were panting, removing your fingers from inside you in favor of giving in to the unknown pleasure that was taking over. A small voice in the back of your head questioned everything that was going on, but who were you to listen? You had an all-consuming need that was being tended to.
Suddenly his honey brown orbs were darkening to shades blacker than black, colder than the night you two had met. You moaned out, feeling your legs being spread apart. Your knees hit the bed and your arms laid beside your head. Surrendering yourself to the pleasure was easy. You were hot now, so, so hot that it was suffocating. Dimples formed on the inside of your thighs, his grasp staking a claim over your flesh. Your back arched as you felt his tongue licking a stripe up your sex. Sighs of relief slipped past your parted lips rhythmically. More, more, you needed more. Who was he?
Your head tossed and turned, vivid imagery of your firm party in full swing, dancing behind your eyelids. No matter where you turned, looking for your angel, he was nowhere to be found, yet the presence of his ominous eyes followed you to every room. Everywhere you looked, he was always just out of reach, both far and near. You were sick, consumed with the need to get to him, unknowing that he was with you all along. A minacious chuckle reverberated so loudly within your fantasy, you weren’t sure if it came from your mind or from within your bedroom.
His tongue was now circling inside you, making you feel full yet needier still. You couldn’t help fucking yourself against his face, the chuckle now coming clearly from between your legs. The thought of him slipping into your room in the quiet of the night excited you. You chased your high with fervor, wanting – no, needing to find your release. However, part of you knew that it was him who was pulling the strings all along, so you danced like a puppet on strings and prayed for mercy.
He was now leaning over your body, slowly circling his hips in between your legs making sure to rub your clit in the most exquisite way. His hands took hold of yours, keeping them above your head. You felt his cold fingers lace themselves in between yours, sizzling your burning flesh on the surface. His lips were at your ear speaking in that deep sultry voice you’d never be able to forget. Yet the voice came from inside your head, although you were sure you felt his distinct breath tickling your ear.
“Who am I? Darling, I’m the man of your dreams.” You hissed as he chuckled, the sound becoming deeper and deeper as you floated higher and higher into a frenzied state. You wanted to cum so badly, pleas slipping from your mouth incessantly.
“Your name…what’s your name?” You panted out, your words turning into condensation in the stale chill of your bedroom.
He leaned in, and when he spoke, you instantly came undone. You cried out in pleasure and in pain. Jolting upright, your eyes finally burst open and searched the room frantically as you came to. Your body was covered in sweat from head to toe and your fingers were wetter still as you removed them from your core, your juices dripping from your digits. You caught your breath, unable to make anything of the situation. Had you been touching yourself in your sleep? That’d never happened before.
You sighed and began stripping your soiled sheets from the bed, unable to shake the haunting feeling that emanated from within you. And those eyes, they’d kept following you even long after your fever dream had ended so abruptly. As you dowsed your body in cold water from your showerhead that night, you kept looking over your shoulder, convinced you’d see something horrifying staring back at you, the name Taehyung echoing in the depths of your thoughts like the utterances of a poltergeist.
You could no longer find peace in anything you did following that fateful night, the feeling of being incomplete always just under the surface of your psyche. Your only solace was the mountain of paperwork that awaited you at your desk every morning, mountains of mind-numbing tasks that would help you pass the time. You didn’t have to think too much when you were buried under a pile of corporate by-laws and non-disclosure agreements.
You simply loved working at the firm. While some would call you a workaholic, you preferred careerwoman. Your friends and coworkers just couldn’t understand your preference for staying late at the office instead of going out with them for drinks. The truth was that there was no one for you to come home to and therefore no excuse to limit your potential income.
Then there was the more truthful reasoning, that growing up without had turned you into someone who was ruthless. Your earlier work was nothing to brag about, though it got you the stepping-stone you needed to launch your career in corporate law. Your fresh-faced, former self newly graduated from law school would have never guessed that bailing criminals out of serving time was her ticket to accessing the kind of money that would change hers and her family’s life forever. However, you were by no means proud of it, so you tried not to think of the kinds of things all of those guilty scumbags might be up to as they ran rampant on the streets again, thanks to you. Perhaps the only thing that disturbed you more than exactly how many victims never got justice thanks to you, was your skillful knack for doing it. You had garnered a reputation, it seemed, as all kinds of shady individuals threw money at you to make their pesky problems disappear. You grabbed at the cash eagerly for some time, but as soon as a cleaner way to earn income presented itself, you found yourself spending days on end behind your desk away from all the things you were ashamed of, almost as if you could bury your past underneath all of your new accomplishments. An impossible task, you knew, but it didn’t stop you from giving it your all.
As you sat in your office and watched your coworkers leaving together by the handful, a sudden phone call caught your attention. It was your best friend, begging you to attend church with her that evening. Having too much paperwork wasn’t a suitable enough excuse as she knew all about your workaholic tendencies all too well, so you begrudgingly shrugged on your peacoat and headed for the elevators. Organized religion wasn’t your thing, but you’d make anything your thing so long as your best friend could be comforted during these trying times.
You found yourself sitting at the end of an uncomfortable wooden bench just 30 minutes later, many just like it filling the hollow room of the sacred space your best friend frequented weekly. Though the space was filled with warm bodies, there was somehow a coldness in the air that had you draping your coat over your shoulders. Everyone had their eyes closed as they whispered in unison. You took the intimate opportunity to take in the vast room and the artwork that adorned the windows. The walls were lined with mosaics depicting what ancient peoples deemed angels might look like. All kinds of barely clothed, rubenesque women holding children on their laps stared down at the congregation with apathy in their vacant stares. Your eyes swept over the intimidating appearance of the organ that sat at the head of the room, looking out at all of the devoted attendees. Amongst the sea of bowed heads, shiny brown tresses at the forefront caught your eye.
He was seated alone, dressed in a peacoat and sweater of the same black color. Your eyes burned holes into his back, wondering how exactly it was that you kept running into him. Almost as if responding to your internal beckoning, he silently rose to his feet and slowly turned towards you. You gasped, wondering if he had seen you coming in. A wide crooked grin grew lazily on his face, his dark eyes holding you in a trance. You were so laser focused on him that your eyes caught his tongue dancing behind his teeth, even from several rows behind him. He began walking out of the church, but not before stopping at your bench and extending his hand out towards you. Your heart fluttered as you looked around. No one was paying attention to the two of you whatsoever, and your best friend looked awfully busy, so you took the opportunity to steal out of the cathedral, feeling like two kids doing something you shouldn’t be. You smiled down at yourself, feeling elementary as your hand tingled in his delicate grasp.
“Shall we go for a walk?” The tall stranger gazed down at you enticingly, bearing his pearly whites. You bit your lip and nodded as he pulled you along towards a dirt path that lead to the church’s cemetery.
You watched your feet trudge along the path for a while in silence before you finally thought of what to say. “I’m starting to think you’re following me.”
The man chuckled richly, his eyes twinkling as he squeezed your hand. You couldn’t help but smile in return, feeling as if you’ve known him for a long time. “Would it be so bad if I was?” He looked back at you, his eyes lingering on your lips.
“Well, it would explain why you were so certain we’d meet again.” You two continued along the dirt path, passing stragglers in the open field. Most were making their departure in time with the setting sun.
“And here I thought we ran in the same circles.” He smiled, enjoying a private joke.
You shook your head, “I don’t think we do. I would’ve definitely remembered seeing you somewhere.”
He hummed in response. “Is that so?” You bit your lip and nodded, the sultriness in his town making your heart flutter anew. “The feeling is mutual. I actually haven’t been able to get you out of my head.” He smiled shyly as you two came to a halt in front of one of the many plots lining the path.
Your breath stuttered at his small admittance. You couldn’t wrap your head around someone like him possibly reciprocating your feelings. You hummed, wanting to tease him a bit. “Well if that’s even a little true then you have some explaining to do. Leaving a girl guessing won’t get you far, you know.”
He tsked, pulling you to him by the hand then holding you firmly against him by the hips. You gasped, his sweet scent filling your nostrils. Your eyes took their time on their ascent towards his face, drinking in his intoxicating proximity to you. His chest protruded against your palms where they laid, the black turtleneck he was sporting doing wonders for your libido.
As you looked up at him, you were transfixed by his obsidian gaze, his arms around you tightening as if you’d ever dare leave. You swallowed thickly, your clouded thoughts fervently pleading for a taste of his lips.
“What ever happened to the mystery in romance?” He spoke softly as if others were around to hear you. Your lips parted as your glistening tongue laid in wait, your mind barely aware of how you two gravitated towards each other inch by inch.
“Turns out I’m not much of a romantic. I like having what I want, when I want it.” You challenged him, yet your cheekiness only served to urge him on. A low growl rumbled in his chest, a snarl forming on his soft lips.
“Oh, but you have me already.” He grabbed your wrist and brought it up to his nose, running it along the soft skin just past your bracelet. You stared at him in wonder as he panted with desire. You couldn’t be bothered being ashamed of your amorous public display in the middle of the field. You’d had enough of waiting as you resolved in crashing your lips against his, but before you did, you considered asking one last question.
“At least tell me your name.” He smiled wickedly as he leaned in to whisper into your ear, the eerie déjà vu feeling startling you. He squeezed your wrist tightly, almost to the point of pain.
“I’ve already told you my name. Don’t you remember? Or were you too busy fucking your fingers to remember?” He grinned salaciously while releasing your arm. You gasped as you felt your body become weightless in your descent towards the pit that was dug out just for you. You reached out to him for help, but he simply stood there licking his lips. Darkness surrounded you as your back hit the bottom of the plot with a thud. The only source of light was the narrow rectangle of sky above you. The impact had knocked the wind out of your lungs, leaving you gasping desperately for air. Your eyes searched frantically for signs of help, but all they observed was Taehyung squatting and peering into the grave. He tsked with pity as if in mourning.
“T…T—” You wheezed, unable to form his name or cry out for help. You grabbed handfuls of dirt around you, trying to find the leverage you needed to get up and out of the hole you had fallen in, but no matter how much time had passed, you still couldn’t catch your breath. Taehyung began shoveling dirt into the plot until it was completely level with the ground, leaving you burried under seven thousand pounds of dirt.
Clawing at your chest and panting in a sweat, you bolted upright. Your satin sheets slid off of your chest and formed a crumpled heap on your lap. Your hands clawed at your neck; the feeling of dirt lodged in your esophagus still present. You coughed and spluttered, expecting to expel remnants of your grave but coming up short. Your breath shook as tears fell hot and silent down your cheek. You were so shaken that you absolutely couldn’t go back to sleep.
You tried making a hot cup of tea and putting on some mellow tunes, but nothing could qualm the inner panic that bubbled violently beneath your dazed exterior. Your fingers shook as they struggled to find your best friend’s contact on your phone. The phone rang three times before a groggy voice greeted you from the other end.
“Hey,” You breathed the words with relief, willing your beating heart to slow down, “sorry, did I wake you?”
“No, no it’s okay! What’s wrong babe?”
She seemed alarmed, so you tried to speak in a soothing tone so as not to worry her. “Nothing! Just…wanted someone to talk to. I had the worst nightmare and I need to get my mind off of it.” You chuckled lightly but she was unconvinced.
“What was the nightmare about?”
You took a moment to think, not knowing where to start. You weren’t exactly sure what was real and what wasn’t. Had you actually met up with him? Had you even gone to church yesterday?
“Okay, this is going to sound weird…but did I go to church with you yesterday?” There was a long pause before your friend spoke, sounding thoroughly confused.
“…Yesterday? The church doesn’t offer services on Thursdays, you know that.” You swallowed thickly, a fresh wave of sweat beading on the surface of your neck. “But I did invite you last week. You told me you would come but you never showed. Is that what you’re talking about?” You furrowed your brows while searching for the date on your phone. “Was your nightmare about church or something?”
Your bottom lip quivered as you struggled to hold back fresh tears. You were absolutely sure that you had been at work just yesterday when you agreed to go with her, yet somehow an entire week had passed since then and you didn’t remember any of it. Had you been asleep that whole time? That’s impossible.
You scrolled through your messages and saw a couple from your coworkers who had texted you worried throughout the week. You had never missed a day from work before.
“Y/N? Are you there?”
“Y-Yeah! Sorry I—it’s stupid. I’ll call you tomorrow okay?”
She paused before answering, concern evident in her tone. “Well, alright. But don’t disappear like that again! I was worried when I wasn’t hearing from you these past few days. Try and get some sleep. Goodnight.”
After the line went dead, a dreadful silence ensued. You looked around your apartment, the furniture and photographs on the walls suddenly feeling so alien to you. You grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around yourself as you settled on the couch, shivering in deep thought until the sun’s rays began peaking through the cracks of your curtains. You weren’t sure how long you sat there in thought, but it was suddenly time to get ready for work, if you still had a job that was.
The day that followed your resuscitation was strangely normal. Your coworkers greeted you with concern when you got to the office, but you had been equipped with a viable excuse for your absence, conjured in the privacy of your drive to work. Thankfully, none of them decided to pry, since you yourself still had no idea what happened to you.
The first thing you did was close your door and begin googling if it was possible to be unconscious for days after falling asleep, but only studies of narcolepsy appeared in the search results. That also wouldn’t help you, since you don’t even remember going to bed in the first place. You had woken up in the same clothes you had worn to work that day as well. You pondered the possibility of having been roofied sometime after work, but that didn’t hold much merit either.
Much to your displeasure, the workday had ended as fast as it had arrived. You absolutely abhorred the idea of returning to your cold and solitary apartment but being alone at the office afterhours had also lost its appeal. You didn’t want to be alone with your chilling thoughts under any circumstances. So, when your coworkers walked past your office in a hurry to make happy hour at a local bar, you hurried to meet up with them, much to their surprise.
The bar was huge and already crowded by the time you all had arrived. Your coworkers frequented it on Fridays, since the venue turns into a club at night and hosts some of the best DJ’s in the city. You immediately understood the appeal as you all took purchase in a secluded section adorned with red cushioned love seats and a small table front and center. The section was a bit big for your party of four, so one of your coworkers texted an invite to a couple of guys that worked at another firm downtown. While they made their way to this side of town, you all didn’t waste any time getting loose with a few shots.
The warm liquor flowing through your body eased the tension present since you awoke and it didn’t take much at all before you were able to focus on stories being told and laughing along appropriately. You were starting to think you might actually be able to have some fun after all of the weirdness going on in your life as of late.
By the time the boys arrived, the DJ had already begun his set and the music was ten times as loud as it was before, making it increasingly difficult to maintain a conversation. On the bright side, no one was talking anymore as you all had started singing and swaying to the beats in your buzzed states.
It was your loudest coworker who had noticed them shuffling through the packed crowds hoarding the bar. She squealed and stood up, waving them over as you all shuffled closer together to make space for them. A blush joined the liquor glow that was already apparent on your cheeks. They were all extremely handsome, making it hard to maintain eye contact as everyone greeted each other. You took turns smiling at each one as they took seats on either side of the couch. When you reached the last face, your heart nearly stopped. It was your mystery man, adorned in a black suit and tie identical to the ones his apparent coworkers wore. You couldn’t help ogling at him, causing the boy to blush and clear his throat as he took a seat at the end of the couch.
Your friend elbowed you and whispered in your ear, “Oh my god, you’re staring! Do you two know each other or something?”
“Something like that.” You smiled at her widely. The alcohol was already dismantling your inhibitions.
A waitress appeared shortly afterwards to take everyone’s drink orders. You watched as the tanned adonis ordered for the table. The waitress giggled and bit her lip as she nodded to everything he said, hanging on his every word in a fashion that didn’t strike you as professionalism in the slightest. But who were you to blame her? You, too, were transfixed on the way his lips danced with every word that departed. You swallowed absentmindedly every time his tongue jutted out to wet his lip. You weren’t sure if he could feel your eyes on him, so when they both turned towards you, you froze. He looked at you seductively through half lidded eyes, his long fingers rubbing his chin briefly as a look of amusement arranged his facial features. He turned back to the waitress and finished his order while you tried to look anywhere else but at him, feeling slightly embarrassed for getting caught.
You cleared your throat and initiated a conversation with the girl closest to you, hoping that it’d make you seem more aloof than you actually were. However, it seemed you had nothing to worry about since you caught him staring at you a few times, easing your initial fears and serving as an ego boost. You started to wonder how or when you might be able to talk to him, since you were too far from each other to start a conversation.
When your coworker became distracted by the blonde with a dazzling smile sitting next to her, you allowed yourself to watch your angel nonchalantly. You still felt a bit guarded towards him, given the role he played in the nightmare that shook you to your core, but you tried your best to rid yourself of those illogical thoughts. It was silly to feel he was dangerous, especially as you watched him chat and laugh happily amongst his coworkers. You watched the way his eyebrows shot up during a punchline, the way his smile grew horizontally in the most adorable way, and how he’d lean back when something was especially funny. He seemed to be well liked amongst his group, and even amongst your own coworkers, and the staff here for that matter.
From what you had gathered by listening in on the conversations going on within earshot, they were all employed at a marketing firm not too far from here and were all well acquainted with the girl who invited them.
His words from the funeral rang in your ear once more. Oh, we will be seeing each other again, much sooner than you think. A small smile formed on your lips as you watched the waitress approach your section with your drinks. It had never occurred to you that he might’ve already known who you were, which would explain his confidence in meeting you again.
As the waitress placed the drinks on the table, everyone took turns grabbing theirs. You lifted the glass placed in front of you for further inspection. A Tom’s Collins. Looking up again in the direction of your mystery man, you found his attention to be on you once more. You quirked a brow at him and he winked cheekily at you, his suggestive smile refusing to go unnoticed. You grinned and took a sip. He’s got a good memory.
Soon enough, your group split up into smaller sections. Some headed outside for a cigarette while others squeezed their way through drunken professionals to get to the bar. You took the opportunity of space freeing up on the couch to get up and sit by the man who had captivated your interest.
He had taken a minute to check his phone, but instantly smiled up at you and put it away as he watched you approach him. He moved his drink over on the table and scooted down to make room for you as you smoothed your pencil skirt before plopping down. You were instantly pleased with your decision as the smell of his cologne wafted into your personal space. Not only did he look delicious, but he also smelled it too. This man was going to be the death of you.
He turned his attention to you, raking your appearance in dramatically with hungry eyes. They lingered on your legs for a beat too long, observing the hem of your skirt that rode further up along your legs throughout the night. He licked his lip as his head snapped up to meet your inquisitive stare. Suddenly you were reminded of how forward he had been the night you two first met, and it only enabled the growing dampness that soaked your underwear through and through.
“I take it you like what you see.”
“That’s an understatement.” You both chuckled at the callback and sipped on your drinks, instantly being transported to that cold night.
“So, what’s a girl gotta do around here to find a dance partner?” You smiled cheekily at him and he returned the expression.
“Your wish is my command, beautiful.” You blushed at the compliment as he swiftly stood and held his hand out to you. You took it and led him to the center of the dance floor, wrapping your arms around his neck once you found the perfect spot out of sight from ogling eyes. His hands slid around to the small of your back and pressed you up against him as you two swayed to the beat. A chill ran along your spine at the feeling of déjà vu that presented itself. Focusing on swaying your hips in time to the beat, you tried to remind yourself that it really was just a dream.
Your hands shook as they settled on his chest, just as they had before. You looked up at him, feeling the warmth of the alcohol spreading to your extremities. He leaned his forehead on yours with concern in his eyes.
“Everything okay?” You smiled in return, looking into his eyes before finding the resolve to grab onto his tie and pull him into you for a kiss.
His lips overpowered yours ravenously at first, but you soon matched the intensity as your hands held onto the back of his neck for leverage. The kiss was as wet as it was sloppy, both of you clawing onto each other for dear life and gasping for air in intervals. Your tongues tangled themselves in your mouths as his hands slid further down your back to give your ass a healthy squeeze. You broke away, the sinful moment sobering you enough to look around for any spectators.
Before you could do a full sweep, his thumb and forefinger enclosed around your chin and pulled your focus back onto him. You looked up at his blown-out pupils, the look on his face tantalizing and the massive growing bulge pressed up against your pelvis proving the power in its temptation.
You smiled and brought his ear down to your mouth. “Wanna get out of here?” He smiled and nodded in return before you led him outside. Realizing you left your car at work, he held up his own car keys much to your relief.
“Mind if we go to your place?”
“Sure, but only if you stay the night.” You smiled and bit your lip, hoping he’d agree to it so you wouldn’t have to be alone in your apartment.
“Your wish, remember?” He purred in a coquettish manner that had your toes curling prematurely. By now you had already accepted your overpowering attraction to this stranger.
It wasn’t long before you were both crashing into your furniture, a trail of clothing leading to your bedroom. You stood against the wall in nothing but your underwear with your leg hooked over your guest’s shoulder. He knelt before you on the hardwood floors in nothing but his unbuttoned white shirt and his black boxer briefs. Your eyes drank in the expanse of his tanned skin which stretched over his taught pecs and toned stomach. His bulging thighs were spread as he buried his head in between your legs. His teeth pulled on the fabric of your underwear which only served to edge you along further.
Normally, you enjoyed tons of foreplay, but it felt as if you two had began the foreplay weeks ago when you had first laid eyes on each other. Now, you didn’t want to wait any longer. You whimpered as your moistened underwear snapped back to your sex with a crack. He groaned, digging his nose into your clit and repeating the torturous act.
“Fuck, please just take them off already.”
“Feeling needy already?” He teased you further before chuckling profoundly and pulling your underwear to the side. He looked up at you and inhaled deeply, reveling in the way you squirmed and blushed over him. He wet his tongue before licking at your hole and up towards the apex of your lips. You shuttered at the overwhelming feeling of relief. You were finally getting his attention where you needed it the most. Your thighs began closing on instinct as the electric pulses that radiated from him flicking your clit became almost too much to take. He massaged your thigh with his broad hand to get you to relax while the other massaged at your entrance. You jerked your hips, welcoming his fingers inside of you. He held them just at the entrance as he looked up at you from between your legs. When he was satisfied with the view, he plunged two fingers into you and began easing them in and out of you languidly, taking his time to find your g-spot. You couldn’t stop moaning as your arousal leaked out of you endlessly. Once he found the fleshy mound inside of you that instantly made you want to scream, he stopped licking at your clit in favor of watching you fall apart for him. And it didn’t take long at all. You had immediately surrendered to the feeling of the pent-up stimulation threatening to break free. He stood up without letting his fingers cease their motion, milking you for everything you had as you held onto him for support.
He bit his lip with unadulterated lust as he crashed them into you once more. You were limp against his hard body on yours, your head still swimming from your high. In one swift motion, he brought both your legs up to his hips and carried you to your bed. Once his knees met the edge, you both fell back onto the mattress with a bounce earning a fit of chuckles from you both. He got ride of his shirt and your soaked underwear, taking his time to take in your naked body as he palmed his massive erection over the fabric of his underwear.
Your chest heaved with desire, not ready to call it quits even after the amazing orgasm you had just had. He looked like a god standing over you, even with the light sheen of sweat that shown on his chest and the dewy strands of hair that stuck to his forehead. He was absolutely perfect in every way, and the fact that his sole attention was on you had you glowing from the inside out.
He spread your legs wide and gazed at your sex then up at your face, sinking down onto you to give the rest of your body some much needed attention. Goosebumps broke out all over your skin as he trailed sultry kisses from the base of your ear, down your neck, across your collar bones and onto the softness of your breasts. He took his time licking and sucking on the engorged buds before that familiar feeling began resonating deep inside of you and causing the orgasmic sensation to build up again. You breathed shallowly and circled your hips under him, wanting to feel him rocking into you already. He ignored your needy response in favor of continuing the thorough service that your body so readily responded to.
Your stomach heaved as he planted kisses and licked some of your most sensitive spots. You watched him silently, wanting him to fuck you so badly but also wanting to see what he’d do to you next. Your eyes met each time you reacted to his touch, eliciting a smile from him and a blush from you. When he planted a kiss just under your naval, he blew on your core and thoroughly enjoyed the way it made you squirm under him. He came back up and caged your head in with his arms, brushing his lips tenderly on yours before you began kissing him eagerly. You moaned into the kiss as he began rocking his covered erection onto your clit. Your legs quivered involuntarily, welcoming the feeling of slight overstimulation that ensued.
When your walls began clenching, you broke away from the tender kiss, panting. “How long are you going to keep me waiting?” He smiled and brushed his nose along your skin on the way to your ear. When his gravelly voice vibrated on your eardrum, a full body shudder wracked your body.
“Turn around and bend over for me.” You bit your lip and nodded, excitement blooming in your chest. You knew his length was massive from the intimidating silhouette outlined on his briefs.
You obeyed his orders as soon as he got off of you, getting on all fours and perking your ass up for him. You felt his broad hand on the small of your back push you onto the mattress which elicited a carnal groan from him. His hand came down hard onto the skin of your bottom with a loud smack. You whimpered at the stinging feeling as our walls clenched once more. He grabbed at the flesh greedily, a string of curses freeing his bottom lip from his teeth. He took turns smacking and groping your ass, enjoying how the marks that bloomed on your skin became physical proof of his time with you.
When he had his fill, you felt the bed dip and groan as he got on his knees behind you. He grabbed you by the hips and pulled you against him, but this time, you could feel the bear skin of his cock resting along your slit. He moved his hips a bit, and with it, his length along your dripping sex. You moaned softly and wiggled a bit, wanting him to indulge you so badly. His hand returned to your back, but this time, it slid upwards towards the nape of your neck and grabbed all of your hair. Your head was yanked back as his fist acted as a ponytail, the curve of your back bending further at his will. Your fingers grasped at the sheets as you waited impatiently, and thankfully, he seemed to finally be taking mercy on you.
Slowly but steadily, the head of his leaking cock pushed into you, meeting some resistance from the tightness of your walls but was lubricated enough to slide in undeterred. Your answering moan was more of a cry since he instantly began pumping in and out of you with ferocity. Your knees spread to allow him better access to which he took the opportunity to speed up.
“Fuck, yes, just like that,” You sank onto the bed while keeping your ass in place for him, “fuck I’m going to cum again if you keep this up.”
You could hear the smile in his voice as his fingers tightened around your hair. “You’re a needy little slut, aren’t you?” You could only moan in response, his words getting you impossibly wetter. With his free hand, he began smacking your ass again, biting his lip as it jiggled with each thrust of his hips. “Look at you, bent over like this for some guy you barely even know. You get off on that kind of thing? Hm?” He pulled on your strands when you didn’t answer fast enough. You struggled to agree, your eyes crinkling shut at the feeling of your orgasm fast approaching.
When the pitch of your moans grew higher, he quickly pulled out and slapped his blushing shaft against your clit, sending intense pulses to your core. You turned around to face him, realizing exactly what he wanted as he licked his bottom lip and eyed you wickedly. He held his glistening cock straight out and took your chin in his other hand, leading your pretty lips to the head of his dick. Taking hold of your hair again, he watched you open your warm and inviting mouth then slowly led you down his length. With a loud groan, he tossed his head back and began fucking into your mouth, hitting the end of your throat. You moaned around his dick which only served to fluster him more.
“Fuck. You take my dick so well. And you look so pretty doing it too.” He looked down at you as he wiped a stray tear from your cheek. Your hand inched towards your core, rubbing circles on your clit as he continued to use your mouth. He was too hot for words.
When he noticed you fingering yourself, he pulled out and flipped you over on your side. Positioning himself behind you on his side as well, he hooked his arm around your thigh and lifted your leg up as his slippery cock eased into you again. This time, you both groaned in unison.
His lips were at your ear, causing your high to come back much quicker with every guttural sound that left his sinful lips. Your walls clenched around his girth each time his lips were at your ear, uttering the filthiest things imaginable to edge you further. His fingers left dimples on your thighs as his hips refused to falter in their relentless motion, a mission to get you to fall apart all over again. You relished the erotic details of his fucking you as your high picked up where it had left off.
“Mm, you’re good at this.” You closed your eyes as you both chuckled at your appraisal.
“Don’t compliment me just yet, wait until I give you something to scream about.” You moaned loudly as his fingers found your clit and began circling expertly. “Now, be a good little slut and say my name so I can let you cum.”
You quirked your brow and smiled at his cheeky command. “But you never told me your name.” You humored him with feigned innocence in your voice.
His answering laugh was a few octaves lower than you were expecting it to be, causing your eyes to snap open. Just then, the feeling of your orgasm approaching was too much to bear as your thighs threatened to close again, but his hold on you was ironclad. “Oh, but you do know it. You called out to me, don’t you remember?” He hissed as your slick walls made a vice grip on his throbbing member. His hips continued relentlessly while you hovered in a state of pure pleasure and helplessness.
“I—I did?” You panted, feeling yourself on the verge of falling apart.
“Mhm” He cooed into your ear as you recalled your infamous dream.
“Taehyung.” You whispered, faintly noticing the condensation of your breath in the air as you spoke his name. His answering ministrations had you rigorously falling apart on his fingers and his wet cock.
“Good girl.” He purred, sounding impossibly distant. Once your orgasm hit it never left as you laid on the bed in a pile of useless limbs. A feeling of drowsiness washed over you, yet you remained acutely aware of him talking to you, his deep voice sounding inside your own head. You were too lethargic to panic, instead, humming peacefully as he continued speaking. You’d never get enough of that sultry voice you had grown to love so much. ”It’s a shame, truly. I would’ve loved to enjoy this at least a few more times. But alas, I can’t help myself.” You shivered in the cold of the room, finding it odd that him spooning you brought no comfort to you. However, you didn’t have to endure for long. As Taehyung plunged his growing fangs into the crook of your neck, a blazing heat that originated from the puncture spread outwards, engulfing your body in a comforting blanket of warmth. “I have to punish those who’ve done bad things, and as sweet and beautiful as you are, you, unfortunately my dear, are one of them.” Suddenly, an array of criminals you had helped years ago began playing in your mind like a slideshow. “It was a pleasure erasing that wretched boy from this plane of existence, but I can’t help but feel sad at your departure, my dear.” You moaned weakly at the feeling of being drained. Taehyung sucked on your neck one last time before removing his mouth from your skin with a pop. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, his obsidian irises expanding until they covered the entirety of his eyes. “I just want you to know,” He caressed your stiff cheek thoughtfully, “you were my favorite, okay?” You could barely muster an acknowledgement of his adieu, the timbre of his voice lulling you further into a deep sleep from which you’d never awaken from.
#bts fanfiction#bts#bangtan#bangtan boys#bangtan smut#taehyung fic#taehyung smut#vampire au#supernatural au#bts smut#punishment#punishment fanfic#baepop punishment
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monster, monster high - vampire! izuku x reader.
pheww s/o to my nonexistent attention span for making me take at least a month to write this ! i busted out my lovecraft books for inspo, so i hope you enjoy this lil collab @sourbkg , @katskidon , & i put together!
emmie did a vampire shinsou fic, go check it out!
☆ﾐ pairing - vampire! izuku midoriya x reader.
☆ﾐ word count - 3.6k
☆ﾐ warnings - mentions of death, blood, suggestive content, and a feeble attempt at descriptive writing.
✧*̥₊˚‧☆ﾐ ┊ running into your long-lost childhood friend and confronting a highly-marketed cryptid was sadly not in your bucket list for visiting your hometown, but a little thrill never killed anyone, right?
summer nights were always, without fail, crisp and melancholic.
once upon a time you would stroll fearlessly through the woods in pursuit of amusement, arm in arm with your freckled comrade. ironically enough, the creaking of oaks and whistles of the wind lost their unnerving effect whenever you ran through the forest with scaredy-cat izuku. his nervous gulping and wandering eyes fed your adventurous spirit—an insatiable hunger for cracking the boy out of his shell grumbled inside your soul each day you’d spend together.
until he disappeared, victim to the summer lament of the ancient woodland behind your backyards.
wherever he was, you hoped he was okay; you hoped izuku would be well and healthy under the moon-cursed stars.
“i wasn’t expecting you to come back any time soon,” inko laughed, her emerald eyes far from how they used to be before. even when you’d be troublemakers with her son, her face remained free of wrinkles or stress—if anything, all your evil doings brought a smile to her face.
now her eyes, body, and mind seemed to push the boundaries of exhaustion.
you managed to give her a smile, your eyes focused on the trail of steam leaving the cup of tea she had fixed for you. “i would never leave you alone on a day like this, inko-san - you’re not alone.”
inko sipped on her own cup of tea, looking out the window that gave her but a sneak peak of the holt beyond her backyard. “thank you, honey.”
in a silence that spoke for itself, you enjoyed a nice beverage with your late best friend’s mother, even though that same title made you frown. it had been years since izuku vanished into thin air, and yet you couldn’t come to terms with the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he was no longer well and healthy.
“i mean it, thank you for visiting. it’s been… lonely around here,” she chuckled bitterly, standing up from her seat to retrieve something from her crowded kitchen. spices, books, and the same cookie jar izuku would always rob from still rested on the counter. except instead of mouth-watering sweets, a bouquet of gorgeous lilies adorned the jar.
somewhere in your mind you could hear your green-haired dork gushing about the flowers. his passion for nature and everything surrounding him still resided in your heart.
slowly, you finished the last drops of the warm drink, savouring the love behind it before speaking up again. “inko-san, you practically raised me as if i were your own, if anything i owe it all to you!”
at your remark, a heartfelt giggle escaped from inko’s throat. “couldn’t help myself, not when you were such a kind kid! i am very grateful for all the help you gave izuku, you really pitched in with his confidence.” she crouched down to retrieve a tray from the oven, her green oven mitts holding the pastries to the small dinner table. “plus, i knew i had to take good care of you when izuku declared he would marry you when older - i still remember that day.”
although her words pierced through your heart, your smile remained intact. “how could we ever forget? for such a small, shy boy, he sure had some spirit in him, he ran off while we were baking together and came back with bloody hands and a tear-stained face.” you sighed at the memory, reminiscent of the tug your heart felt at the sight. “the roses he brought with him were pretty, but it seems he forgot those have thorns. so much for being a plant nerd.”
“and then as i was cleaning the cuts he stood on the couch and declared he would have your hand and build you a house of flowers in the woods!” inko brought her hands to her face, her hot oven mitts akin to her son’s own warmth.
in spite of the sweet memory, a bitter feeling prodded at your heart. izuku never made promises he couldn’t keep—even as a kid, he took pride in his honesty.
“sheesh, he sure was a bold kid.”
“says you! gosh, you were fiery and unpredictable. can’t say your nature never took me aback, it was like you always knew something no one else did… always plotting ahead of everyone.”
you didn’t have the heart to tell her that was the case right now. “good thing i grew out of it, i am no longer an irrational child - i am a responsible adult who pays taxes.”
inko shook her head, serving you one of her delicious pastries. “one does not grow out of their spirit.”
-
it was hard to convince inko to let you wander through the woods at the peak of dusk.
for some reason, even though you were now all grown up, it felt like she still had a say over what you did. nevertheless, underestimating your sly linguistic abilities was still quite a big mistake to make, and just a few words about nostalgia and bidding goodbyes was enough to put her at ease.
crocodile tears weren’t hard to deploy after years of practice.
what you told inko was partially the truth, following the trails of deer and overgrown flowers did spark a sense of homesickness in your aching heart.
the sun gifting you its last cries of light never failed to make your blood pump faster, knowing soon only your eyes alone would be your guide was thrilling. however, as much as you prided yourself in knowing the woods like the back of your hand, something felt… off and you couldn’t quite place a finger on what it was.
no cicadas sang their perish song, and no howls resonated through the maze of plants. it was definitely odd, but you’d seen uncannier. even as a child, it wasn’t hard to discern between what a normal forest would be like and the one past your backyard.
izuku loved hearing your wild theories and encounters with the paranormal.
you sighed, all the bittersweet memories weighing you down. was it really that stupid to keep brooding about your dead friend? yes, your very much deceased companion—your best friend six feet under.
it was hard to convince yourself that was the truth.
izuku was never the kind of kid to get lost, or even worse, run away. no, something else must have happened. izuku would never just leave you like that.
once again, you sighed. it seemed selfish to imagine all he had in mind at every damn hour was you. assuring yourself izuku only acted upon what would make you happy was far from healthy or realistic. it was virulent.
a venom that only grew with each passing year—each new month without izuku’s dorky remarks, or his flustered laugh turning into a poison you could never cleanse. an aconitum, as izuku would say.
vexed, you kicked a pebble under your feet. screw the jinxed evenfall that took your childhood crush away. all full moons be damned, you wanted your friend back.
“goddamnit,” you scoffed to the darkening trees and yourself.
… and perhaps to another spectator, hiding among the rumbling shrubs.
with widened eyes and a jumping heart, you whipped your head around to the source of the noise. the dark mist did little to aid you in scanning the area for any threats. no footsteps, no growls, no nothing.
you refrained from making your presence known again, instead making the smart choice to retrace your steps back home. nostalgia wasn’t always kind though, and old echoes of encountering arcane, whatever-the-fuck beings in that same forest resurfaced to make your heart beat just a little faster.
to make your blood pump vigorously with panic and adrenaline.
your sweet, sweet blood.
with only a hiss for a warning, you were knocked to the ground by an unknown force. a shadow, if you will.
you cursed, struggling to pry the weight from your back, find an opening to scram, or do anything that would get you out of your current predicament. taking note that lying on your belly wasn’t a position you felt safe in, you kicked and grunted, boiling over the creep holding you down.
fruitless efforts aside, whatever—whoever?—was straddling your waist kept an iron grip on your squirming limbs with an eerie force. In spite of that, your fire to live till the next sunrise was hard to put out, “knock it off, i’ll rock your shit!”
for a moment, the straining clutch on your wrists relented, giving you a one-way ticket to struggle out of your vulnerable posture. you slithered away from your spot, not before having the penumbra meet your elbow with a brutal swing.
the thing had half a mind to groan at your attack, further fueling your instinct to flee rather than fight. almost like a reward for one-upping the oddity, the full moon shone down on the small clearing, dazzling enough to let you analyze what jumped you.
how come someone with a collared shirt and suit pants was wandering and pouncing on strangers at midnight?
“what’s wrong with you?” your own bark made the man before you freeze in his spot, edging him to curl up and hide from your eyes with his arms. the spike of adrenaline gave you more of a bite than you could handle; wrath, genuine panic, and an onslaught or two eager to jump out of your throat.
your eye twitched when instead of seeing red, you saw hints of green before you—mossy, glistening green atop the asshole’s head.
he seemed to notice where your gaze landed, making him flinch and, carefully, step back into the shadows again.
alas, you were determined and stubborn since day one, and you weren’t about to let this lead escape from your grasp. if the cryptid used his abnormal strength to jump you, then you must have used all the aching venom lying in your soul to pull the same stunt on him.
whatever this guy was, monster or genuine pervert, he was quite the newbie.
the man breathed heavily, a set of keen fangs greeting you from inside his mouth. his forest-green curls were sprawled across his forehead and the grass under him—sweaty and disoriented. constellations of freckles painted his face, creating a portrait of an all-too familiar face.
but what caught your utmost attention were his lambent eyes, emerald green, and cursed with a thin slit for a pupil.
breathless, instinctively, and hopeful, you whispered—”izuku?”
the man of the hour gulped, unable to take his eyes off your face.
you should have been relieved—ecstatic, even. your gut was right! izuku was alive; not sure about well and healthy, but at least he was in one piece before you.
still and all, the drool dripping past his lip was concerning, and his still predatory stare was still very much on you.
effortlessly and without a second thought, the shell that once was izuku flipped you over, making you hit the cold dirt once again. the impartial light of the moon made izuku shine above you, and as cynical as it might sound, the thought of dying by his hand didn’t sound half-bad.
except, fuck, you didn’t want to die just yet.
“deku, it’s me!” you writhed, clinging to the sliver of hope that you could turn this around once again. “just what happened to you? i thought you were dead - dead, very much not alive!”
your words failed to reach inside his humanity or common sense, and like parallels, his heavy breathing and your frantic panting synced together.
izuku dived in to press his mouth against your neck, stilling once his puffing could send shivers down your spine.
you waited for a painful bite, to bleed out and become the freckled monster’s feast. but that bite never came. “... izuku?”
for the first time since he could remember clearly, izuku felt truly at ease. your distressed heartbeat was a gorgeous arrangement for his soul and ears, he could feel you through the wild thumping of your ribcage.
instead of sinking his fangs against your pulse, he pressed his lips against your neck, as gently as a starved vampire could manage. in reality, the line between gentle and rough became blurry in his feral mindset; almost nonexistent.
one became two, two turned into five, and soon your neck was smothered with nibbles and gentle bites—intoxicating and fear-inducing.
“izuku, p-please,” you whimpered, unsure of whether your rapid pulse was related to the fright of nearly dying, or embarrassment of having your childhood crush scatter love pecks all over your collarbone.
his name falling from your lips in such a fascinating pitch made his pointy ears perk up, sparing you a single glance. “what’s the matter, clover?”
you could write down a list to respond. first, why the hell would he pull out your old nickname in such a bizarre scenario? second, and considerably less important, could you please get a rundown on why he’s half-alive and rocking vintage clothing?
clover, clover clover. oh my brave clover - was it?
not long after you met each other, izuku started to declare you his lucky friend. thrilling adventures always followed you, and surprisingly, no scratches or bruises ever came to him in your company.
clover, clover clover. awesome four-leaf clover.
it was hard to believe that same adorable kid was now older, alive, and humping your thigh in a subtle manner.
“you’re impossible, get off me!”
as if your skin was laced with garlic—your zany comparisons went a long way after all—izuku backed off hastily, giving you freedom to move once again.
his sharp nails dug into the soil, holding him back from returning to your warm touch. “wh-what’s wrong?”
“what's wrong?” baffled, your hand came up to cover your neck now growing dark in color. “minutes ago i thought you were dead, next thing i know is you’re pinning me down and m-making out with me - i’d say that’s what’s wrong!”
startled, izuku shook his head frantically, “n-no! no, no - that was not my intention.”
while he mumbled apologies over and over again under his breath, you tried your best to find your bearings once again. you were in the forest by your old house, that part was easy to jot down. it was well past midnight and someone tried to suck you dry, that’s when the situation started to get complicated, but you still managed to wrap your head around it.
you had trouble processing the last part though—the one in which that person who tried to eat you alive was none other than izuku midoriya, your late best friend and crush.
“okay, take a deep breath, ‘zuku,” while keeping the established distance, you tried to stop the vampire from spiraling into a panic attack. “let’s start from the beginning - why the fuck did you ambush me like that?”
izuku groaned at your hostile remark, his hands coming up to cradle his face, “i-i’m so so sorry! i was hungry and you were the first thing i found and i didn’t mean to-”
you cut his monologue short, “what are you?”
that last question rendered izuku silent.
a brumal breeze danced between the trees, making the leaves shiver and chant pleads of mercy—to judge or forgive the fiend before you.
although the clearing grew dim as the moon looked past the scene, you trusted izuku enough to hug him in the absence of light. as the darkness engulfed your bodies, your arms held him close to you.
izuku gave no response, not like it was really needed, as he settled his face in the juncture of your neck once again. “it’s been so long since i’ve held you in my arms.”
you held him tighter, “yeah, it’s been a couple years.”
as the sleeping flowers observed the encounter, the unvocal waves of a nearby stream drowning out your fears, izuku loosened up, no longer alert or seeking for something to bite and mark.
“i’ve missed you, dork.”
he sighed, placing a chaste kiss to your jaw. “a day doesn’t go by when i don’t think of y-you.” izuku pulled away from your embrace, split eyes gawking into your own. whatever had happened during those hours of darkness a decade ago had changed him, his memories of that day were nothing but a thick mist of confusion and horror-stricken wails.
funnily enough, izuku remembers convincing himself that you’d go save him that night.
izuku returned his gaze to the ground, “i’m scared, i don’t want to be stuck like this for eternity - i don't want to live a life w-without you! fuck, i wanted to grow old with you, but now i… i can’t.”
perhaps it was selfish and self-indulgent, but his rugged, vulnerable facade sparked a fire inside you. an old flame to protect izuku from all sadness and aching in the world.
a burning hunger to engulf.
pushing all common sense aside, along with sending inko an apology in your head, two desperate steps brought you close to his body again; wandering, bold hands held his pale face closer to yours, only a breath away from freeing those sentiments you harboured years ago.
the choice of whether to push past all boundaries and have his lips on yours or not dangled in your mind—get it together, make your choice. you could satiate your yearning and rather odd, burning desire to connect with izuku in a more intimate manner, or you could have some decency.
shockingly, you weren’t the one who had the final say in the current predicament.
izuku crashed his lips against yours, a fervid ache pumping through his inhuman veins; not for blood, but for you. although rather inexperienced, years and years of unspoken feelings manifested through your lip-locking, saying more than words could ever, and quenching your lonesome souls.
clawed hands desperately rummaged through your waist, catching up with each inch of your body; each curve, dip, and softness he oh-so had missed during his years of solace under the pulsating moonlight of the forest. ages of being apart had taken a toll on his no-longer beating heart, emotions spilling out as gasps and whimpers through the fine art of ardor.
almost as if his lethargic traits melted away at the hand of your scorching love.
sole lust could hardly make up for the essential need for oxygen, forcing you to pull back from the unexpected kiss—your lungs rejoiced, heart whined, and mind spinned in endless loops of need and lack of air. in spite of all, a single word tormented your consciousness in the best way possible, growing into a recurring mantra. “izuku.”
the preying breeze, angry riptides of a faraway stream, and the distant cries of insentient constellations all became nonexistent to you. as gently as izuku could manage in his torrid state of mind, he pressed your back against the nearest tree, never once pulling apart from the fifth kiss of the night.
five became six, then ten, until you rightfully lost count. your hands found their way into his silky hair, tugging at the curls each time izuku pressed his knee against your groin. nothing else mattered, just you, izuku, and the gentle hands of bliss.
izuku cursed under a strangled whisper, fighting the urge to fall prey to your intoxicating devotion once again. a nagging growl in the back of his head kept mauling his passion-induced thoughts.
he remembered why he was on the prowl among the weeping woods.
izuku was starving.
“what’s wrong?” your voice quavered, recovering from the breathless kissing in larghetto.
those honey-laced words died on air, a constant ringing blocking izuku’s hearing. while still relatively in control, he pushed himself away from your warm embrace, groaning at the unbearable sensory overload.
and then the ringing turned into thumping.
a familiar heartbeat reigned his senses, savouring the succulent blood currently dashing and staying warm for him to feast on. he already got a taste of your sweet love, heavenly would come short to describe how scrumptious your swollen lips had been—would your blood eclipse over it?
meanwhile, fear started to settle on your skin once again. strangled movements and rather loud snarls were not the aftercare you were expecting after all. much like how the entire scene had played out, his frantic movements said more than words could ever; you had to remind yourself this was not the izuku you had grown up with.
nonetheless, you had already made the irrational decision to make out with a bloodthirsty creature that night, what would one more baseless choice do anyway?
“hey,” you struggled to stay calm, your hand shaking as it sought his own palm, “‘i’m here, let me help you.” timidly, you pressed his fingers against your neck, a rapid pulse greeting him upon touch. was it foolish to devote yourself in such manner? perhaps, but it was too late to turn back now, not while his slitted orbs gawked at you once again.
not while izuku wasted no time in burying his face against your neck for the second time that night.
izuku mewled, his voice vibrating against your skin, “you’re too good to me, doll.”
the rest was a blur.
between feeling his sharp fangs sink into your skin, leaving a blazing sting in their trail, and rolling your eyes at the sensation of blood loss at the hand of who you once considered to be your soulmate, it was safe to say you were slowly losing grip of reality.
kind as ever, izuku held up your limp body against his, delicately relishing the last few drops of ichor your body could offer him without wilting away.
the two craters laced with velvet-red marked on your skin afterwards sent izuku on an embarrassed fit, almost as if he hadn’t been sucking on your sweet spot seconds before.
and with no moon to feed by, the vampire held you close to his chest, disappearing into the maudlin mist of the forest—never to be seen again.
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Dawn Station - Pilot
Basic summary: Video game developer Jack Mcloughlin is finally releasing a new game after a ten year hiatus.
Content warnings: Murder, dismemberment, body horror
It comes as a shock to everyone, including you, when Jack Mcloughlin announces the release of a new game at the start of the second week of October.
There are several reasons why this is such a big deal. One: Jack Mcloughlin has been making games since he was twenty seven, and has released only five of them in the thirty years he's been doing it. Two: Jack Mcloughlin is world renowned for his fantastic horror games, all done in wildly different styles, but still notably his own. Three: Jack Mcloughlin has not, up til now, so much as mentioned working on a new game. The only social media site he's fully active on is Twitter - which you check regularly for any updates - and before the release of his last game, Ehrmann Lab, he had left a series of cryptic clues for two months leading up to the announcement. Those had been probably the most fun two months you'd ever had in your life, and even helped you make new friends. But this time around, there is no warning. The trailer is dropped at Purina Expo, one of the biggest American gaming conventions of the year. You were incredibly lucky to be able to snag tickets. Usually, this convention is where the hottest games that would be coming out the following year would be announced, trailers would be played, and developers would discuss - so everyone there on October 10th is shocked to not only be the first to see the trailer, but to hear from the man himself. Jack Mcloughlin takes the stage, gleefully announcing the release of Dawn Station on October 31st this year.
Now, the release of a new game from Septic Games - Mcloughlin's own software company, which he founded after his second game's release - is a big enough deal. But this… this is something else. Mcloughlin explains it before the reveal of the trailer, and you listen with great excitement.
"Dawn Station," says the man, practically bouncing across the stage with glee and shouting into his mic with a hoarse Irish accent. "is a feat of modern gaming. Now, I understand that when you play games, it can get boring to replay them later on after you've finished, because - well, you know how it goes! You know all the twists and turns, all the jumpscares, all the fights, all the spooks. But what if I told you that there was a way you could play where things were different each time?"
Behind the man, on a large screen, an image comes up. This is the first promo image for the new game to be shown to the people. The image is of a tilted hallway in what looks like a complex, broken down space station, overgrown with unusual plants that glow and spark. In the centre of the image is an astronaut. His helmet is on the floor, blood soaked. His face is half in shadow. All that can be seen is curly olive hair and neon green eyes - two on his face, and one embedded in his neck. The suit itself is torn, ripped open with a mouth and a dripping tongue where the being's stomach should be. A torch is on the ground behind him, attempting to cast light on the room. The words "Dawn Station" come up in solid, bright green font next to the being's face.
"This is Dawn Station!" cries the developer, over the many excited murmurs of the crowd. "The first ever virtual reality game with a fully developed artificial intelligence antagonist! An antagonist who learns from the players movements and choices, who grows and changes based off of what you do. You control the game, now more than ever! He's clever, he's learning, he knows where you are, and his objective is to kill the player - introducing... Alien X, otherwise known as… the Anti!"
Everyone cheers. Mcloughlin steps aside, a beam splitting his pale face, and allows the room to darken, and the trailer to play.
You're in awe. The trailer shows that you play as a character named Drew Oliver, an astronaut in their mid twenties who's aboard the Dawn Space Station, which has fallen to the planet you seemed to have been monitoring - the Othohiri 5RM. The game seems to revolve around attempting to explore the little bits of the planet that you can while repairing the ship and dealing with your descent into madness, all the while being chased down by the Alien X, a shapeshifting monstrosity who's eager to end your life before you can finish your goals. After watching it… well, everyone is absolutely blown away, especially you. This is unlike anything Mcloughlin had ever produced, especially to this scale. It's no wonder he hadn't produced a game in ten years if this was what he had been working on. You're practically vibrating with excitement at the breathtakingly beautiful scenery and realistic yet perfectly stylistic graphics, and the 8D sound design that seems to echo from all around you. It's incredible. The second you get back to your hotel room that night, you're one of the first to preorder the game.
Your week at the convention ends, and you go back home, counting down the days to the game's release. However, even more exciting things are happening. On Twitter, a few of your favourite youtubers are acting rather cryptic. KrisDoesGAMEZ and rrroadblock, two streamers you like, retweet Mcloughlin's announcement tweet with eye emojis and promises of the game being good. DUSSST, visualthursday and BroAverage make their own posts about it. PeachCheerio and TheSkinnerr upload short update videos promising exciting things to come.
On October 15th, it happens - ten youtubers each upload an early access demo of Dawn Station, having been chosen and given the code to play it by Mcloughlin himself. You don't watch the videos because you want to play the game yourself with no spoilers, but from what you've seen, it's fucking amazing. Critics are already calling it the game of the decade. The internet is thriving, and a few people have already cosplayed Drew, the main character. Your best friend uploads a joking cosplay of the Anti and walks around town with it on. He gets over a thousand likes and teases you about being too good for you now that he's internet famous. You're living for all of this.
On October 16th, youtuber PeachCheerio is murdered in his own home.
Everyone is shocked, rightfully. Here is a man who had streamed just the day before, chatting with his members and looking at Dawn Station memes on Twitch. Today, he was discovered by his girlfriend in his own home. Leaked police reports tell you that the man, whose real name was Ronald Murphy, had been messily dismembered, his organs removed, half of them missing. You're in shock. He was one of your favourite streamers, and maybe it's silly to mourn someone you've never met, but you're deeply, deeply saddened by the news.
However, it doesn't stop there. The very next day, youtuber DUSSST - or Louise Greendale - is found the same way Ronald had been. Louise's girlfriend apparently called the police in hysterics before panic tweeting about the incident. The posts were taken down an hour later. The screenshots of what she'd said trend of Twitter and Tumblr anyway.
This is when the conspiracy theories arrive. Two youtubers dead in two days, both brutally taken apart and missing organs? Some people mock the theorists for it. Who had even said Louise had been killed the same way as Ronald, anyway? That is, until more apparent police reports are leaked revealing the details of Louise's death. The internet goes wild. The Los Angeles police department posts a video begging whoever's causing the leaks to stop, to think about the families of the deceased. All this does is prove that they're true. This video, too, is later taken down.
You log off in disgust. Some people have no fucking shame.
Things heat up the next day, on October 18th, when user rrroadblock, or Aryan Jha, dies as well. The death is covered up for the first few hours afterwards, but eventually is leaked in the same manner as the last two murders. This time, the theorists are no longer labeled as crazy. In fact, everyone's getting in on this mystery now. Three popular youtubers dead now, each found in bloody states in their own homes, three days apart? No one knows what's happening, but that doesn't stop people from guessing. And while you refuse to involve yourself in any of this, you also find yourself wondering who or what - not what, of course it's not a what, that's just ridiculous - who is killing all of these people.
Day four. The internet is silent, waiting. And yes, sure enough, youtuber KrisDoesGAMEZ, or Kris Velvet, is dead.
This time, someone realizes something that makes everyone pause. Each of the dead youtubers are all the ones who were given the free demo of Dawn Station, and are even dying in the order that they played it in. Everyone goes insane. Even you're suspicious - of what, exactly, you don't know, because why would someone murder someone else so brutally over a video game? Despite that, this can't be a coincidence. People place bets on whether youtuber ducksontheroof, or Donna Campbell, is going to be the next one to be found dead. Donna herself makes a statement on her Instagram, expressing disgust at all the people who were spreading such information around. She then deactivated all her socials apart from her YouTube. The people who had been making bets were shamed, and you have to log off yet again. This is getting to be too much.
You stay offline until nearly four pm the next day. Your friend calls you up to give you the news, but you already know what they're going to say. Let me guess, you start, voice flat and tired. Donna Campbell's dead.
They confirm it. You don't know what to say.
Her family put out a statement asking people not to theorize about her death. People do it anyway. Reports state that the remaining five youtubers who had played Dawn Station, along with, surprisingly, Jack Mcloughlin himself, had been taken into police custody. For protection, you assume. Once again, the internet goes insane. This proves their theories about the game connecting all the deaths, and a silent dread and buzz of twisted excitement hangs over everyone. You're just disgusted. People are treating this like some kind of murder mystery game, like this isn't real, actual lives.
Two days pass without news. At the end of the second day, there's yet another leak. Youtubers Doomandgloom - Persephone Henry - and TheSkinnerr - Rodney Pratt - are dead. You're just numb. You're just so fucking numb.
This reveal, of course, inspires yet another debate. If the youtubers had been under police protection, how had they died? Had the police seen anything? Why hadn't the leak said anything about it? Who was killing all these people in so little time, how hadn't they been caught? Had, really, no one seen anything at all?
There are now three youtubers left who'd played the game. Hothothotstanley, or Stanley McIver, visualthursday, or Khia Herrera, and BroAverage, or Chase Brody. You met Stanley McIver, once, at a convention in London three years ago. You have a picture on your memory board of you standing in the convention hall, him with his arm around your shoulder, you with a grin and sparkle in your eye. You can see the picture from your bed. You turn away from it.
However, the next day is a surprise to everyone. A video is uploaded to someone's Twitter - a full, uncensored video of the murder of Stanley McIver inside the government safe house he and the others had seemingly been kept in. The video is immediately taken down and the Twitter deleted, but everyone has seen it. Including you. The video is… horrifying. Of course it is. Why did you watch it? But you do manage to see who it is that killed him. Everyone on the internet does. And this - this video, that's maybe five minutes long - is enough to make everyone go silent.
The killer looks exactly like the Anti from Dawn Station.
No one knows quite what to make of this.
Even less so when Jack Mcloughlin dies the next day.
He's murdered. Same way as all the rest of them, in police custody. Now this is enough to shock everyone into mourning silence. Only a few pricks are left, and their accounts, channels and blogs are swiftly deactivated. Nine deaths in nine days. Nine deaths. Nine. Jack Mcloughlin.
The next day, Khia Herrera - well, you know.
Chase Brody is the last one left alive. You never watched his channel that much - he's really into horror, and is known for his Walking Dead playthrough and his Undertale Genocide run - but you still already feel a strange sense of loss. A sort of emptiness. Something churns in your stomach that you don't understand. There's a lot that you don't understand.
The release of Dawn Station is cancelled.
You spend the night at a friend's house, and just bawl for hours. You shouldn't be so upset, you shouldn't! You never knew any of these people! But fuck, there's something about seeing all these people who you'd been watching online for so long, who have given you so many happy days, so many laughs and inside jokes… just die. How had this happened? Who was it who was doing this?
Your friend sadly suggests it's some sick Jack Mcloughlin hater who decided it'd be fun to cosplay as his newest character and kill people to scare everyone. But while you outwardly agree, you internally know it's not true. Because every time you watch that video, every time you watch Stanley die - and you watch it a lot, just trying to make yourself feel something, even if it's just sick - you can tell the person isn't human. You know that's ridiculous, of course. But there's something about its eyes. Its face. It glances up at the camera and makes eye contact, and grins with too many white, jagged teeth, like an anglerfish. The eye in its throat sees you too. It glows. You shudder every time, watching it shake with glitches and laughter.
You're scared. You feel sick and dizzy and you lock your doors out of fear. You stay inside and open Tumblr, Twitter and Instagram again.
Poor Chase Brody, says the internet. They're already mourning. Already accepted his death. Poor, poor Chase Brody.
You hope he's ok, wherever he is.
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