#I really don’t want to dip into my moving out saving

[waywardxwords]

Chapter 8 - Save Me

Summary: After a random encounter introduces you to Dean Winchester, you can't shake the magnetic pull you feel towards him. For years, you've felt like everything in your life is under control--a promising career, financial stability and no real responsibilities. Dean's a hunter; it's his life and job. But somehow when you meet, your worlds are flipped upside down and you have to decide if it's a chance worth taking.

Chapter Warnings: Slight language; there's a ton of dialogue in this one but I feel like it's necessary to prep for the chapters ahead

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female!reader

Word Count: ~3k

[1][2][3][4][5][6][7]

If you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t know how you felt about going to Kansas for the unforeseeable future. While it wasn’t like you went into an office everyday and you could really work from anywhere within the United States, you had still built your life in Virginia. You had friends—especially Jen—and it felt weird leaving her here, unable to defend herself. But Dean had assured you she would be taken care of, and you knew that you were unable to defend yourself against these monsters Dean and Sam knew how to fight. 

“You about ready?” Dean asked as he tapped softly on your opened bedroom door. 

A heavy sigh fell from your lips as you looked at your packed-to-the-brim duffel bag and backpack. Dean said it was important to pack as light as possible, but without knowing when you’d be back, it was hard to be selective in what you brought. 

“I think so,” you mumbled, your lip caught between your teeth yet again. You released it as Dean stepped into the room. 

“Hey, I know this is a lot to take in,” Dean started slowly. Both of the boys kept treating you like you were made of glass, which was a little bit annoying but also made sense. It felt like you were all waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“I’m okay,” you said out loud for him, but also for yourself. “I’m not really a big fan of the unknown…I’m a planner.” You mumbled as you looked around at your things.

“Not big on taking chances, huh?” Dean chuckled softly as his eyes watched you move. Again, it was like he was waiting for it all to set in and for you to crumble.

“Nope,” you sighed as you finally looked back at him. “Rule follower, remember?” You managed a half-smile as you remembered the first time you met in Atlanta.

“Oh, I remember,” Dean smirked back. He took a few steps towards you and you both sat on the edge of your bed. “Just keep in mind–this doesn’t have to be forever.” Your head had dipped a bit, so he moved his to find your gaze. 

“I get that,” you nodded. You didn’t want to offend him; this was his life. He was used to packing an ‘oh shit’ bag and getting out of town. He was used to all of the things that went bump in the night. You, on the other hand, were still trying to wrap your mind around it all. “I just wish I could circle a date on the calendar and know when I could come home.”

Dean nodded as he processed your words. “Tell ya what,” he started. “How about we take it one day at a time, for now,” he paused but you waited for the ‘and then’ part. “Once we get back to Kansas, we can sit down and come up with a plan. Figure out what it looks like so we can get you back home.” 

You didn’t want to be presumptuous, but there was a tone in his voice that almost sounded like he wasn’t looking forward to that. But since everything had happened, you really hadn’t been given a moment to figure out what this was between you and Dean.

“That sounds fair,” you answered honestly. Dean smiled and seemed hesitant, but leaned over and kissed the side of your head anyway.

“Good,” he seemed okay with your answer. He sighed and looked around at the rest of your room. “Anything I can do to help?”

You pushed your hair behind your ears and followed his gaze as you, too, looked around. “I don’t think so,” you said softly. “I’ve packed just about everything that will fit into my bags. I’m just worried I’m forgetting something.” 

“We do have stores in Kansas, ya know,” Dean winked as he stood and reached for your duffel. “Jesus, woman.” He muttered as he slung it over his shoulder. “You got a dead body in here, or what?”

You managed a laugh as you stood to follow him and slung your backpack up on your shoulders. “No, Dean, I think I’ll leave the dead bodies to you.” You patted him on the shoulder and walked just beyond him, but you heard him laugh as you rounded the corner into the hallway.

“Everything locked up?” Sam asked as you closed up the front door and headed to meet the boys in the driveway.

“Yep,” you sighed and readjusted your backpack a bit. “I mean, it probably doesn’t matter when it comes to demons, right? They can get through locked doors, I’m guessing.”

They didn’t answer you directly but nodded slightly. “I’m guessing you want to bring your car to Kansas?” Dean asked as he eyed your garage door.

“Oh, absolutely,” you answered quickly. “I just figured I would follow behind you guys, if that’s okay.” You said as you used the keypad on the side of the garage to type in your PIN number that opened the door. 

Sam and Dean stared at you, confused for a minute. “Sam’s flying back to Kansas,” Dean said. “This is a rental so I figured I’d drop it off on the way and hitch a ride with you, if that’s alright.” His words made you turn around slowly and your brows pulled together in confusion. 

“Wait,” you started carefully. “You flew here?” 

Dean caught why you were so surprised and flashed his white teeth in a small smile. He pulled at the back of his neck as Sam watched you both look at each other. “Sweetheart, I don’t own European cars. Don’t drive ‘em either, if I can help it.” He shrugged as he thumbed to the Volkswagen Jetta in your driveway. 

“Okay,” there was more you wanted to say but you decided not to rub in how much Dean hated flying in front of Sam. You weren’t familiar with their dynamic at all, but Dean had told you that he didn’t like being afraid, and that he always tried to be strong for his brother. You didn’t want to embarrass him or say something you shouldn’t in front of Sam. “Do I wanna know why you have to get back to Kansas quickly?” You turned your gaze to the younger Winchester. 

Sam chuckled softly and shook his head. “Work…related,” he mumbled. “So probably not.”

You nodded once and turned back to your car. “Okay, then,” you breathed. “I’ll follow you to the airport and wait for you to drop off the rental.” 

You loaded up your backpack and Dean tossed your duffel bag in the car.  As you both turned away, you faced each other, maybe a foot apart. 

“I’ll see you at the airport,” he said softly. 

“Be safe,” you said back as you studied his features and tried to read what he was thinking. He nodded, and after one more look, he went to walk back to the rental car. 

Before he could step away, you took a chance. You reached for his jacket and tugged so he turned back to you. With his jacket still between your fingers, you pressed your lips to his in a rather quick, but hard kiss. For a moment, he paused but then his hands cupped your face as he kissed you back. 

As the pop echoed around you, you didn’t notice how Sam had turned to give you some privacy and scratched awkwardly at the back of his head. “What was that for?” Dean asked as his eyes looked between yours. 

“To say I’m sorry, again, for not believing you,” you started softly but continued before he could say anything. “And for saving my life.” A small smile tugged up the corner of his lip just enough for his dimple to appear. 

“I don’t want you to apologize to me again, got it?” His thumb caressed your cheek gently. 

“No more apologizing from either of us,” you stared into his eyes until he nodded. 

“Deal,” he agreed, though somewhat hesitantly. 

“Okay,” you pulled back and waved at Sam. “Thanks to you too, Sam.” You called after him. He turned back around and nodded. “And I guess I’ll be seeing you in Kansas.”

“I’ll see you there,” he nodded as he waved. “Drive safe.”

You nodded and watched Dean walk back to the car. Just before he climbed into the driver’s seat, he called out after you. “And I’ll be seeing you soon.”

Even after everything, you couldn’t help the heat that radiated in your cheeks or the way a smile pulled across your lips. 

Dean had dropped Sam off at the drop off area at the airport. Once he had gathered his backpack, you followed Dean to the rental car return. It only took a few minutes before you popped the trunk to your Toyota Camry and waited for Dean to toss in his duffel bag. 

He pulled open the passenger door and leaned down. “You want me to drive?” He asked carefully. Dean seemed like the kind of guy who preferred driving, but you smiled and shook your head ‘no’ anyway. 

“How about I take the first shift? And then we can switch,” you suggested. He seemed content enough with that response and climbed in. “Sorry it’s not the Impala.” You offered with a small smile. 

“Ah, it’s alright,” he sighed as he pulled on his seatbelt. “I’ll get you in a Chevy or Ford, eventually.” He smiled back. You chuckled softly and shook your head as you pulled away from the airport. 

“What’s the address?” You asked as you toyed with the navigation on the dash. 

Dean grumbled, something about fancy cars and shitty navigation systems but you just rolled your eyes. He plugged in an address for Lebanon, Kansas. 

“Jesus,” you mumbled, as the screen totaled your drive time at 20 hours and 32 minutes. 

“Buckle up, sweetheart. Hope you’re ready for a long drive,” Dean chuckled. It was already late into the evening, pushing midnight by now. 

“It’s weird, I feel like I’ve been up for days at this point,” you muttered as you adjusted the air and your seatbelt. 

“You sure you don’t want me to drive?” He eyed you carefully. That was the thing about Dean’s gaze: you could feel it even when you didn’t see it. 

“I’m alright. We can switch when we stop,” you shifted the car into drive and eased on the gas. Dean unbuckled his seat belt to pull off his jacket before he buckled it again. “I’m supposed to call Jen tomorrow. I’m not even sure what to say to her, she recognized you from the photos we found online.” The sound of your voice was anything but strong as your stomach flip-flopped. 

“I’m guessin’ the truth isn’t an option?” Dean asked. 

You shook your head no. “And say what? She got possessed by a demon named Meg, her eyes turned black and she flung me against the wall a few times? Yeah, I’m pretty sure she’d have me committed,” you fell into a comfortable speed as you got on the interstate and hit cruise control. 

Dean half chuckled and shook his head as he glanced out the passenger window and then back to the windshield, his features illuminated by the headlights of drivers coming down the other side of the highway. “That probably wouldn’t go over too well. It’s a lot for anybody to take in.”

You muddled over a thought before you said it out loud. “How did you take it when you first found out?” You asked him as you glanced between him and the road ahead of you. 

His brows kind of pulled together and you took that as his thinking face. “I don’t really know how to explain that,” he started softly. “It’s all I’ve ever known, really.”

Shock had to have graced your features but you tried to calm your expression. While you recognized this was all new to you, it wasn’t to Dean. And you certainly didn’t want to offend him. 

“When did you find out about the things that go bump in the night?” You asked him carefully. 

“When I was four,” he didn’t look at you when he answered. Instead, his gaze went out the passenger window again as he watched the trees pass by in darkness. 

“Four?! Dean, you were a baby,” you breathed. And then you remembered. “You were four when your mom died…”

There was a moment of silence that you took as his acknowledgment that you had the right idea. But then, he continued. 

“My Dad kind of went into overdrive at that point. Trying to find what killed her,” he explained. You nodded as you tried to absorb it. When he didn’t offer up anything additional, you broke the silence. 

“You were just a kid, Dean…” you felt a pang of sadness for the man next to you. It made you angry, even. “No kid should ever have to go through that.”

“No kid should have to lose their parent to some supernatural asshole, either,” he said back firmly. You somehow knew he wasn’t upset with you by the comment, just trying to make you understand. “Seeing my Dad go through that, and having to make sure Sammy was okay…” he shook his head as he trailed off. 

The dots started to connect for you. Dad was busy fighting the monsters, Dean had to take care of his brother, you kept your thoughts to yourself but made a mental note. He had to be strong—couldn’t be afraid. 

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat and resituated himself in his seat. “All that to say, I don’t know what it’s like, really, to be thrown into this world that I live in. But I know it can’t be easy.”

“I don’t want you to worry about me, Dean,” you answered quickly, and you meant it. It seemed as though Dean was worried about protecting everyone in his life and being strong through it. “I don’t want to burden you with that.”

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna worry about you whether you’re sitting right here next to me, or you’re thousands of miles away in another state,” he looked at you when he spoke. “And it’s not a burden.”

“Can I ask you something?” Your bravery to ask the hard questions surprised you. Something about being in the car with him for almost a full day made your usual resolve soften. 

“Shoot,” he stole another glance at you. 

“Do you like it? Fighting…monsters?” You asked, for lack of a better word. 

Dean mulled it over before he answered right away. “I like helping people,” he said simply. “I like being able to save people so they won’t have to go through the same thing we did.”

“But who saves Dean Winchester?” Your eyes found him in the dark car once again.

“I don’t need saving, sweetheart,” he smirked again, a hint of confidence to his tone.

“Everybody needs saving sometimes, Dean,” you answered softly.

The only noise around you came from the hum of the engine.

“I guess Sammy does,” Dean looked out the window. You could tell he didn’t want the conversation to continue at that point, so you switched gears slightly.

“Does it ever scare you?” The idea of fighting monsters terrified you, but you were curious if Dean was ever afraid. 

He seemed to process the question like it was something he had never been asked, which shocked you considering the line of work. “I mean, I guess sometimes. Usually when one of us is in trouble.” You nodded, but he continued. “When one of us is knockin’ on death’s door, I guess that scares me.”

Each new fact you found out about this life Dean lived in brought on a new wave of shock. “Death?” You asked him as you looked between him and the road. 

Dean chuckled, but you could tell it was from him being a bit uncomfortable. “Let’s save that one for another day,” he shifted in his seat. 

Maybe that was a good idea. You redirected the conversation slightly. “Where does your fear of flying fall on the scale of being scared?” You smirked. 

“Oh, that one’s still at the top of the list,” he winked with a wide smile that reflected the light from the streetlights as you drove, welcoming a lighter conversation.

“But you got on a plane anyway. To get to me,” you stole another glance in his direction. 

“Well, yeah,” he said simply. “Sam said I should let it go, that something must have made you change your mind. But when I couldn’t reach you…” he shook his head. “I just had to be sure you were alright.” His words caused a flutter to form in your stomach, and you smiled, but that was shortly followed by a yawn that tugged at your jawline. “Getting tired?” Dean asked.

You shrugged a bit but couldn’t help the nod that followed. “It’s been a really long day,” you sighed. “I guess I was more tired than I thought.”

“That’s what happens when shock starts wearing off,” he reached to place his hand just above your knee over your denim jeans. It was obvious it was meant as something comforting as his thumb traced small circles on the fabric there. “Why don’t we pull off? I can switch with you.”

“Dean, you need sleep, too,” you argued.

“We can stop eventually if I get tired, too. But I’m alright, sweetheart,” his voice was gruff and raspy–you could sense the exhaustion there, but you obliged.

There was a rest stop up ahead and you took the exit slowly. Once the car was in park, you opened the driver’s door to switch with Dean. As you both got settled in your new seats, Dean pressed a quick kiss to your temple before he adjusted the mirrors. 

“You just get some rest,” he said gently. 

You nodded against the headrest of the seat and closed your eyes. “Night, Dean.” It wouldn’t take long for sleep to find you.

A/N: Happy Thursday, friends! I know this chapter probably felt a bit "filler" with the dialogue, but it was important for the development of future chapters. I promise things will get more interesting in the next chapter!

Let me know what you think! I appreciate all the likes, comments & reblogs more than you know!

Chapter 9 will be posted on (or maybe before, TBD) Thursday, 4/25!

Chapter 9 Preview:

One blink, then two. The hum of the engine and vibration in the seat of the car reminded you where you were. There were so many emotions that coursed through you as you remembered: demons, monsters, Dean. 

Your nose twitched as you smelled the air and your eyes were drawn over to Dean. The sun was out now–high in the sky.

“Dean?” You cleared your throat as you shifted in the passenger seat to sit up fully. He did a double take and you saw the smile spread across his lips.

“Morning, sunshine,” the gruffness to his words and the look on his face made your stomach flip–or was that hunger? You settled on a mixture of both. 

“What time is it? Where are we?” You asked as blinked a few more times to try to take in your surroundings. 

“It’s about 8:30,” Dean answered as he glanced at the clock. “And we’re about an hour outside of Louisville, Kentucky.” 

“Jesus, I slept for eight hours, Dean! You should’ve woken me up,” you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and felt around your hair inconspicuously. You didn’t want to give away that you were slightly concerned with what you looked like after passing out in the passenger seat. God, what if you drooled?! You swiped your fingers across your mouth quickly. 

“Nah, you needed the sleep,” he answered simply. “You had a rough few days there.”

“Thanks,” you breathed. Suddenly your stomach groaned and you hoped he couldn’t hear it. “I’m starving. How about we stop and switch off again?”

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

Tag List: @jackles010378 @ladysparkles78 @hallecarey1 @zepskies @lacilou @lyarr24 @roseblue373 @deans-spinster-witch @stillhere197 @deans-baby-momma @nix-rose @djs8891 @globetrotter28 @k-slla @agentorange9595 @dragonfly92 @nancymcl @springsteeen @perpetualabsurdity @deanwinchestersgirl87 @mimi-luvzyu @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @ultimatecin73 @impalaspixie @daughterofcain-67 @jasminewinter140 @yvonneeeee @stoneyggirl2 @rizlowwritessortof @marimarvelfan @jc-winchester @taylortot @siampie1990 @thewritersaddictions @raisinggray @tabsluvsu @rachiem4-blog @leigh70 @nyotamalfoy @ades106 @akshi8278 @fanfic-n-tabulous @officialnighttime @so-get-this-sammy @malindacath @mrlonelycat @madomens @importantnightmarebird @just-levyy @foxyjwls007 @respectfulrebel @onlyangel-444 @brightlilith @cutiesarah @alexislsanchez @adeptusxia0 @frettaganvleet @nerdymuffinbonkcloud @hobby27

Want to join the Tag List? Click here!

#supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fan fiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fan fic #supernatural ff #spn fanfiction #spn fan fiction #spn fanfic #spn fan fic #spn ff #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester ff #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x ofc #dean winchester reader insert #taking chances

[meowthiroth]

been feeling a little bad about my lack of drawing/making anything lately, but like… tbh I probably shouldn’t be so worried because it definitely hasn’t been without reason.

the main issue’s been my living situation. since the pandemic kind of killed my ability to go back to art school (well, that and I was constantly under so much stress/so much horrible shit kept happening while I was a student there that I seriously think i might’ve developed some ptsd from it >_> but that’s a LONG-ass story so I won’t be unpacking all of that here), i’ve been going back and forth between staying at both of my parents’ places.

Dad’s I don’t mind as much since I get along with him and my grandma a lot better, but it’s also basically impossible for me to focus on my artwork there. The whole house is like open concept and I don’t have my own room— I sleep out in this open extension by the dining room where there’s a foldout bed on the wall. So yeah, too much noise and not enough privacy. So I pretty much just go over there during the weekends so I won’t have to drive like 40 minutes just to get to my workplace.

The rest of the week I’m at my mom’s house, since it’s usually quiet there and I have my own room, so in theory I should be able to focus on my art better. But aside from the perk of extra privacy, living there for the past couple years has been a fucking nightmare.

I’ve never really gotten along that well with my mom, even when I was a kid, because she was always super distant with me & treated me more like a personal assistant or a showpiece than her own kid. I was basically only there to either do work for her (including jobs SHE was hired to do but I was usually unpaid for my help, until I got older and kinda put my foot down about it because like… hey yknow I DO need to save for college and stuff…), or so she could show me off and parade me around to make herself look good. Aside from those things, she RARELY ever made an effort to connect with me or even show that she cared about me on an emotional level. She acted like she knew everything and I knew nothing, like I didn’t deserve privacy or autonomy, like I couldn’t be trusted to take care of myself or make my own decisions or even do basic household chores without instructions, even when I was CONSTANTLY proving otherwise. Even when the decisions she made on my behalf & forced me to go along with were actively harmful to me. I’d get ignored or snapped at whenever I tried to ask a question, brushed off & talked over whenever I tried to raise my own concerns about something, and belittled, guilt-tripped and gaslit into submission whenever I tried to stand my ground against her or call her out on her shit. I felt like I had no control over my own life, no autonomy. I was stuck marching by the tick of her clock. And it drove me fucking nuts.

And surprise-surprise, all of that never really went away, not even after I got back from college. If anything, it’s been getting progressively WORSE since I got back from college. Like, it’s actually been kind of ridiculous lately because she just. does all this bullshit CONSTANTLY and then tries to act like I’M the asshole when I even get so much as mildly annoyed by it. She’s fully aware that I’m creative, driven, and talented as hell, and that I could EASILY strike it out on my own if given the opportunity. She’s seen numerous examples of my skill, she hears from everyone else all the time how talented and hardworking I am. She’s seen me literally wearing costume pieces and official merch I designed around the house, and she asked to take pictures of it to send to her friends.

And yet she barely even treats me like a human being. She pulls the “you don’t pay rent or any bills around here, I do” card to guilt-trip me a lot, as if I should have to PAY her to get her to stop making me feel guilty just for existing. And yet she’s never actually ASKED me to pay rent or given me a bill to pay, even though I’ve literally OFFERED to pay for stuff and she just ignores it. I guess she just likes being able to hold it over my head and keep acting like her basically keeping me trapped out here in the middle of bumfuck nowhere so she can use me as her personal housekeeper/employee is somehow an act of charity.

So yeah, all that shit considered, home’s been a super toxic environment for me for a LONG time now, and I’m done putting up with it. I’m moving out. Wanted to wait on it until after I got my driver’s license, but i realized it’s gonna be REALLY tough to make that happen since we’re so far away from the closest DMV, and quite frankly, I don’t think I can wait any longer. I’ve had a place lined up for a while now, a house closer to town with a few of my close friends. I’ll be sharing a room, but the rent’s fairly cheap and I already get along great with everyone there, so that ain’t a big deal to me.

But yeah I dunno, sorry about the ramble. I kind of just wanted to dump what was on my mind, sorry if any of this hit anyone too close to home. It’s been going smoothly so far, I’m almost done getting all my stuff over to my friends’ place, and once that’s done with I’ll just have to pick up whatever essentials I’m still missing, plus some furniture/storage type stuff. I’m excited about this! It’s gonna be a lot better for me in the long run, and hopefully I’ll start to get my art motivation back once I’m all settled in there!

#i don’t think I’m really gonna NEED money since I could just dip into my savings a little #but I guess if anyone feels like throwin a few bucks my way for some reason dm me and i can send you my cshap #normally i would only use my savings for like. a medical emergency or something #because my body fuckin hates me & I do NOT need any more medical debt hhh #but considering the fucking AWFUL headspace ive been in lately because of her i think this qualifies #at first I was nervous about moving out before I was ready but like. mom broke me. idc anymore I want OUT #ace screams into the void #vent// #long post under cut #vent under cut

[multific]

More Than

Deckard Shaw x Reader

Warning: PinV sex

Summary: You had a tendency of avoiding your problems, but what if the problems come after you?

Deckard and you had good chemistry. 

Both on and off missions.

But you didn't let yourself fall into the delusion that he would possibly want more from you than sex.

Deckard after all was a handsome man, rich and good at his job, he could get anyone, so why would he want you?

You were sent on the same mission as him and Hobbs.

Needing to go undercover, Shaw and you decided to play the part of the rich couple.

You desperately needed info from a computer which was of course in an office where they are holding a gala tonight. 

What a coincidence!

So you had to play dress up with Shaw and play the part of the wife.

Of course, this was all Luke's idea because why wouldn't it be.

But you weren't going to lie, the dress that hugged your curves, the high slit which showed off your leg, it all felt a bit too much.

"Stunning." was all Shaw said when he saw you which did give you a little boost of confidence.

The way his arm held you close to his side, the way he smirked at everyone who asked about you, he looked like a proud husband.

"I got the USB let's go." you said as you were ready to dip, but then a man made a comment. The man clearly had enough champagne for that night.

Deckard immediately turned around after hearing the comment.

"What did you just say?" he let go of you as he walked towards the man.

"I said, your wife is nothing but a gold digger. A whore." the man said with probably way too much confidence.

"That's my fucking wife, no one will disrespect her!" Deckard looked mad. As if he really was your husband.

When he threw the first punch you let out a sigh. You just leaned back and waited until you heard the man's jaw and nose break and the security threw both of you out.

"Dickhead." said Deckard as he walked to his car opening the door for you.

"He was drunk." you said as you both got into the car and he started to drive.

"Yeah, now he had a broken jaw and nose on top of that."

"You know I don't care what he said right? I'm not a gold digger or a whore so..."

"He still had no right to say those things."

"Thank you for standing up for me though." you placed your hand on his shoulder as you saw him get calmer.

Mission accomplished. 

The World was saved yet again.

Deckard offered to drive you home, which you agreed to.

"Thank you for driving me." you said as you turned to get out of the car but his hand on your forearm stopped you.

"Y/N... I am not good with words," he let out a groan.

"Don't do this please, we both know you don't want anything from me but sex. I feel the tension, yes, but I told you before, I'm done fooling around." his eyes locked with yours as you finally looked at him.

"I'm not-That't not-I don't just want sex from you, Y/N. I want more so much more." you looked at him but didn't say a word. "You don't believe me do you?"

"I'm sorry, Shaw." 

"You have no clue how much I need you. Please just give me one chance. I can't keep going on like this. All I can see is you. Whenever I'm with someone, all I can think about is you, Y/N."

"Deckard..."

"I'm serious, I'm not saying this so I could get into your bed." you opened the door as he let go of your arm.

"I-I don't know." you said honestly before getting out of the car and you ran to your home.

You honestly didn't know what to say. He looked sincere, but you had your doubts. 

No matter how you felt towards him, no matter how much you liked him, you knew his kind. You ran into this many times in your life before.

You fell for a man who never wanted you as a whole. They just wanted you for one thing and once they had enough of that, they moved on. 

And you were done with that.

But if he was like your exes, why did he look so sincere?

---

Deckard punched the wheel, watching the door close behind you, he knew he fucked it up.

He should have been more honest with you. Why was he so bad with words?! 

All he could do is curse himself, now he made things awkward on top of the tension. 

Great. 

---

Later that night, you were on your couch, thinking. Still, trying to figure out whether you should believe Deckard and jump into something that you might get hurt from?

Strangely enough, you could see yourself and Deckard having a happy life. 

A knock came from your door and you stood up, finally, your food was here.

Nope.

Of course, it was Deckard.

"Look, I just-"

"Order for Y/N Y/L/N?" both of you turned and saw the guy with pizza in his hand. 

"Yes. Thank you. Keep the change." you said as you got the pizza and headed inside. "Come in," you said, turning to Deckard who headed into your home.

He looked around as you went to the kitchen. Your home was very you, with a bunch of collectables on your shelves. He leaned against your doorframe as he watched you prepare your pizza.

"I didn't lie. I have feelings for you that I cannot describe. But I know they are real." you tried to decide what to do. Should you reject him? Or accept his confession and risk getting hurt again? Your eyes looked everywhere but him.

"I don't want to get hurt. I have been, way too many times in the past."

"I know that. And I can't promise that I will never but I can promise you that I won't give up on you. I would burn the world for you."

"The fact that I find your accent extremely sexy doesn't help my situation. The way you protected me when that asshole called me all those names... You make me believe in more than you should."

"You don't believe that I would burn the world for you?" he took a step towards you.

"You don't want you to. I just want you to be by my side. To help me and to be there for me."

"I can do that too. I can watch sappy movies and cuddle on the couch." 

"But do you want to? I don't want you to change for me. I don't want you to realize you became someone you didn't want to be because I forced you to."

"You didn't force me. I wouldn't offer if I wasn't sure about it. Sure watching some Disney wouldn't be my first choice but it would do me good to take a step back from action." he watched as you took small steps towards him, you were still unsure but he was confident in what he wanted.

He wanted you.

In more ways than one.

So, when you finally arrived in front of him, his arms moved around you as he pulled you into a kiss, something both of you craved for a long time now.

---

Maybe, possibly, having sex as the first thing you do wasn't the best way for him to prove it to you that he was serious.

But you weren't complaining and neither was he.

You tasted so sweet on his tongue and you kept moaning as his mouth worked his magic on you.

And the fact that he had no hair which you could pull on didn't help. One of his hands was holding your thigh while the other had two fingers moving in and out of you, spreading your wetness as he now focused on your clit.

Your hand found his as you squeezed his fingers.

His name fell from your lips like a mantra. 

"I'm going to make you cum with my mouth, twice, then I will pound you into your bed and after I will slowly fuck you like you deserve." his voice and promise rang in your head over and over as you kept inching closer to yet another orgasm.

Your legs shook a little as you came, he guided you through it nicely.

"Up on your knees." he said as if it was soo easy. You just had an orgasm you could barely breathe.

So, he helped you up, ass in the air, head in your pillow as his cock soon found his way into your tight hole.

"Fuck, how are you this tight?!" you heard him behind you but you were far too gone. When he started to move his hips your eyes rolled to the back and you just kept moaning.

You heard how wet you were, you heard how the bedframe kept banging against the wall and you heard his soft moans and groans as he sped up.

You felt like some kind of doll which he was using for his pleasure and you loved it. He grabbed your hair and pulled on it slightly as he moved his lips down your spine, sometimes stopping to bite on your skin.

His pace never once changed or slowed down. He kept on going and he knew exactly what he was doing. 

"You good, Doll?" he asked and you could only nod. "Look at you, being so afraid I would use you for sex and now... you can't even speak. Does it feel good?" you nodded again and he smirked snapping his hips and making you gasp. "Good Girl, you feel so fucking good." at his praise you started to move back to meet his thrust. "Good girl." he growled into your hear and you felt another orgasm coming. "You are getting tighter, are you gonna come?" 

"Yes." you breathed out and so he leaned back again, moving, watching his cock disappear in you.

With a loud cry, you came as he slowly fucked you through it, praising you the entire time. 

At that time, all you could think about is that if he is giving it to you this good, you were okay with being used by him all the time.

"I'm still not done." he said and you nearly forgot.

He moved you to lay on your side as he moved behind you, his cock never left you as he started to move again, holding your leg up a little for better access. He really kept his promise as he was now a lot slower and softer than before.

"You feel so fucking good." he said as he sucked the tenth hickey into your neck. 

"Can you come in me?" you asked in your daze, forgetting completely about the condom he put on earlier. But he decided to play along.

"You want me to breed you, Baby? Come deep inside and watch it ooze out of your fucked little hole?"

"Yes." you said and it was as if a switch got turned on in him.

He let go, his composure changed drastically as he now let himself get lost in the feeling. Moving so deliciously in and out of you he kept moaning and groaning, biting and kissing your skin.

He felt like he was melting, as if you two became one and he fucking loved this feeling.

"I'm close." he whispered and you grabbed his hand, giving him some form of leverage as he kept fucking you slowly and deep.  

"Deckard, please, I'm close."

And so, both of you came at the same time. Everything slowed down for just a second.

But soon, both of you were taking deep breaths as you tried to calm yourselves.

You could barely stand but he carried you to the tub and let it be filled with nice warm water.

"Maybe, tomorrow we could go for dinner." he said as you run your fingers over his chest, he had you close to his body as the warm water surrounded you two. 

"I'd like that. You think my pizza is cold now?"

"Definitely, are you hungry? Or would you rather sleep?"

"Eat, then sleep. We can reheat the pizza and eat it." he nodded.

He held you closer to his chest as he let out a sigh of relief. He certainly didn't expect for this night to end like this.

This was all he ever wanted.

Taglist: @fleursirvart​ @greenarrowhead​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan​ @theoneanna​ @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06​ @castellandiangelo​ @destynelseclipsa​ @spilledinkindumpster​ @capsiclesdoll​ @puknow​ @alwayshave-faith​ @alex12948​ @lxdyred​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​ @praline357​ @trshngyn​ @avengers-r-us​ @violet-19999​ @top1bbgloak​   @manduse​   @jacalineiscomingforyou​  @mandoloriancookie​

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

#deckard shaw #deckard shaw x reader #deckard shaw x you #deckard shaw x female reader #deckard shaw imagine #deckard shaw imagines #Fast and Furious #fast and furious imagine #fast and furious imagines #fast and furious hobbs and shaw #jason statham character #the fast and furious #the fast and the furious #the fast and the furious imagine #the fast and the furious imagines #fast and furious x reader #fast and furious fanfic #fast and furious fanfiction #deckard shaw smut #smut #smut fanfiction

[ellecdc]

Come Back, Be Here (part 5)

Sirius Black x fem!reader - First Wizarding War Order of the Phoenix - 3.5k p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7 // p8

⚠️CW: graphic descriptions of injury, blood & gore, combat (people die), painful goodbyes, swearing (I wrote it so there's swearing, but I think you all know that by now)

Synopsis: The story of how you sacrificed yourself to save your friend and Order partner James months before. And what the fuck is Kreacher up to?

👋AN: I have never written (well anything TBF) combat/action before and I was very uncomfortable the entire time so I'm 1) glad it's over (for now) and 2) very sorry if it's awkward or painful to read. I'd love feedback or suggestions as I believe this story may involve more. xx

The spring-time sun meant you had an easier time staying comfortable during the day, but as the sun dipped below the top of the building across from you, it was becoming increasingly harder to stay warm. You sat on an overturned crate in an abandoned building watching the alleyway below you as you nibbled on a granola bar. It tasted like ash.

“Should we check in again?” James asked, leaning in front of you to peek out the partially broken window.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “We checked in only minutes ago, Prongs.”

He hummed in disgruntled acknowledgment. 

“Do you ever think about just like jumping when you look out a window?” James asked as he leaned a little too close to the jagged edge of the window for your liking.

“Pardon me?”

“You know, like when you’re on a bridge and you think ‘I could totally just launch myself off of this right now’, or when you’re holding something really expensive or delicate and you just want to throw it at a wall.”

You stared at your friend for a moment.

“Those are called intrusive thoughts, Jamie.”

“Are they bad?”

“Only when they stop being thoughts and turn into actions.”

“Got it.” He said with a nod.

“Hey, James?”

“Yeah.”

“Step away from the window please.”

He sighed and plopped down unceremoniously beside you. You offered him the rest of your granola bar which he only accepted once you assured him you were finished. 

You moved to sit on the floor so the two of you could play tic-tac-toe in the dust. James complained about breaking a nail and you agreed to check in with Emmeline and Benjy twice more over the following few hours.

“Okay; fuck, marry, avada: Helga Hufflepuff, the Minister of Magic, Merlin.” James asked.

You blew out a breath and leaned back onto your hands. “Hmmmm, how many times do I have to fuck them?”

“Just once.”

“Okay, and do I have to stay married forever and ever?”

“Uh, duh. Till death do you part.” He answered incredulously. 

“Will I die soon?”

James gave you an unimpressed look.

“Okay, uhm, ugh, I hate politicians, James.”

“I don’t want your life story, just answer the question.” 

“Fine. Fuck Merlin, marry Helga, avada the Minister.” You said, though you couldn’t help but cautiously look over your shoulder lest the Minister himself hear your treasonous answer. 

“Explain.”

“I just think Helga would treat me right.”

James nodded solemnly. “And the others?”

“You just said you didn’t want my life story.” 

“You’re right. Do me next.”

“In your dreams, Potter.”

James rolled his eyes. “Get your mind out of the gutter.” 

You chuckled and looked down at the street again.

“I don’t know James; it’s been pretty quiet. How long have we been here?” 

James shifted his weight to one hand in order to check his watch. “Well, we got here at, what, eight this morning? It’s been about twelve hours of nothing.”

You hummed in acknowledgement. “What do you think? Do you want to get home to Lily and Haz, or keep watch?” 

James groaned. “I always want to go home to Lily and Haz, but Benjy and Em were on this stake out yesterday too.”

You nodded and stood. You conjured your patronus and told Benjy and Emmeline that it was quiet enough for them to leave, and that James and you would stay for a little bit longer just in case. The silvery fox jumped once before it disappeared through the walls of the building, sending your message to the other team.

James chuckled. “Do you remember how pissed off Sirius was when he found out you had become an animagus?”

You smirked at the memory. “That was back when he hated me.”

James guffawed. “He never hated you.”

“Yes, he did!”

“Nuh uh, he thought he was playing it cool, but he fell just as hard for you as I did with my Lily flower.”

You shook your head. “No one fell as hard as you did, Jamie.”

“Too true.” He agreed. “I’m the best at everything I do.”

“I think he was mostly mad that I’d managed to do it by myself, whilst the three of you bumbled your way through it together.”

“Yeah. You started after us and managed to finish before Pete did.”

You chuckled at the memory.

(Hogwarts boat-house, 4th year)

“I don’t understand why you’re getting so worked up about this.”

Sirius looked at you incredulously. “Uhm, how about because it’s dangerous? What even compelled you to do something like this?”

“Uhm, you guys were doing it?”

“So?”

“So? If you can do it, why can’t I?” 

“Do you know how much trouble you could get into for this?” He asked while pinching the space between his brows.

“Why? Are you going to rat me out?”

Sirius guffawed. “I’m not a snitch, Dollface.”

You smiled wickedly at him. “Good, then shut up about it.”

You stood and stretched your limbs, stiff from the day of waiting for nothing to happen.

“I’m confused, James.” You said, poking your head into the window again. “Didn’t the tip suggest that this was a major meeting spot for Death Eaters and allies?”

James hummed in acknowledgement. 

“Then why haven’t we seen anything all day?”

He looked at you curiously. “I don’t know...isn’t no news good news?”

You groaned. “I don’t know. Not if we’re to believe the tip.”

“You think it was false?” 

You made a non-committal sound as you started to pace the room. 

“I mean, I guess it is weird for nothing to happen two days in a row.”

You stopped dead in your tracks. “Two days?”

James nodded at you. “Yeah, Emmeline and Benjy were here yesterday.”

“They were here yesterday?”

“Are you feeling okay? I literally just said that.” 

“Fuck, James, where did this tip come from?”

James scrunched his eyebrows. “I don’t know, Vix.”

You both stared at each other for a few moments. “I think we should leave.” You said.

“Apparate to location seven?” James asked as you helped him stand.

“Yep.”

You both pulled your wands and spun to apparate.

You looked at each other in confusion. 

After a quick nod, you both spun again.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You muttered before moving back to the window; neither teams had any problems apparating in or out earlier today.

“Vix, this isn’t good.” 

“Alright,” you breathed out, squaring your shoulders, “alright. Let’s scout the area. We’ll find out where this anti-apparition ward ends and get the hell out of here.”

James, looking far paler than he had moments ago, offered you one nod before getting into stance and following you to the door. 

You grabbed the handle and heard an awful searing sound before you realized it was the sound of your hand against the metal doorknob. 

“FUCK!” You shouted as you pulled your hand away, blisters already littering the palm of your hand. James quickly cast an auguamenti over your hand followed by a glacius. The stinging slowly subsided but you could still feel your heartbeat in your palm, and tears threatened to spill from your eyes. 

James leaned his ear closer to the door. “I...I feel like I hear a dragon?”

You paled. 

“Fiendfyre.”

You moved over to the window and cast a despulso, shattering the remaining glass and leaning out of it. 

“This way.” You said to James over your shoulder before changing into Vixen and jumping down two storeys. Your paws stumbled beneath you as you landed awkwardly, but you fared better than you would have in your human form.

James looked down at you from the window as you changed back to your human form before giving him a quick nod. He jumped and you cast an arresto momentum, slowly lowering him to the ground. 

You both tried to apparate again to no prevail. James cast a revelio which illuminated the shimmery grid lock of the ward around you. 

“It doesn’t look like it goes far. We just need to make it to the street.” James said as he nodded his head down the alleyway. 

You began in that direction when two shadowy, masked figures stepped into the alley from the street. You huffed and figured you’d fare better on the other end, save having to climb over the barbed wire. When you turned again to run, another set of masked figures stepped out on that end too.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.” One of them sing-songed. 

“Through the building.” James commanded and the two of you moved to the door of the building across the alleyway.

James cast a despulso to open the door as you threw a bombarda at the second set of Death Eaters. You narrowly dodged a confringo as more bolts of light shot your way.

You ran down the hall, looking around corners for signs of an exit. You passed a hallway and felt a hand grab your arm before you were slammed into the wall.

A wand was pressed to your throat when you heard James cast a flipendo. The wizard pinning you was sent flying, so you righted yourself and grabbed James’s hand before sprinting down the hallway again. 

You shot a hex at a fire extinguisher as you passed it which fogged up the hallway behind you. 

“Confringo!” A voice suddenly shouted from ahead. A ball of fire hit James’s square in the chest as he moved to block you from it. He fell to the ground with a thud as you cast a protego around the two of you. 

Three more casts bounced off of your shield before you shot an incendio at them, watching the robes and masks melt away before the wizards turned to ash. 

“You idiot!” You gritted through your teeth as you cast healing charms over James’ burn. 

“Wake up James, get your arse up.” You insisted, gripping his chin and shaking his head back and forth. 

You looked up at the sound of running and shot another bombarda behind you. The sickening sound of a body hitting a wall and sliding to the ground let you know you hit your mark as you continued to rouse James.

“You need to get up James. Come on, let’s go.” You said as you hauled him into a sitting position. You mentally cursed him and his dedication to the gym as you tried to manhandle his 183cm (six-foot) pure muscle figure. The movement caused him to groan.

“Yes, come on Prongs, get up, we need to go.” You insisted, giving him another shake. The burning in your hand was starting to return and you felt the beginnings of a wicked headache coming on. You could hear shouting from the floor above you – you had company. 

The wall behind you exploded suddenly and threw you both across the hall. Your head made a sickening crack as it met the brick wall and James was covered with rubble.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You moaned as you felt heat spread down your neck. You ripped a large piece of glass from your right thigh as you stood, which began to bleed far too quickly for your liking. Wobbly as all hell, you moved over to James and pulled the cinderblocks from his body.

“Come on Potter,” you muttered. “You’ve got a wife and kid at home.”

He groaned in agony as you pulled him into a crouch.

“And you’ve got a Sirius.” He slurred.

“Exactly,” you grunted as you used your wand to throw a piece of wall at some assailants to your left. “And if I go home to my boyfriend without his boyfriend, he will have my head.”

Both of you hissed in pain as you stood, but you trudged through the rubble and moved to the end of the hall. You pushed through a door which brought you out into an alleyway parallel to the one you guys had just been in. You cast a revelioand saw that the anti-apparition ward ended at the sidewalk about ten yards away. 

The sound of an explosion followed by screaming made you turn. The building you and James had been in for your stake out had been completely consumed by the fiendfyre and was spreading to the building you just exited. 

“The fiendfyre caused friendly fire.” James muttered. 

You pushed at his shoulder and directed him toward the street. “James, this way, we’re almost-” 

“BOMBARDA.”

“No!”

The wind was knocked clean out of you and your senses vanished. You saw bright white and couldn’t hear anything past the ringing in your ears. You tried to stay calm as you willed your lungs to take in more air. 

You were aware of someone standing above you, or in front of you, but you couldn’t see or hear them. There were hands, warm hands, you were being shaken. 

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no.” 

Choking.

You could hear choking.

You could hear!

You hear yourself choking. 

You sucked in a deep breath that caused an unbelievable amount of pain in your stomach; the breath shuddered as it left your body. 

“No, no, no. Vix please.”

You opened your eyes. Though your eyesight was still white around the edges you could see James’ face in front of yours.

“Y/N, we’re almost there.” James whimpered, tilting his head toward the sidewalk where the ward line ended. You lifted your hand to your head even though it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds and when you pulled your hand back it was red. 

“James.” You choked out. “Go, I’ll find you.”

“Y/N.”

You attempted to sit up straighter, but it elicited a strangled sob from you. You felt a strange pressure in the left of your stomach, and when you looked down you could see why.

Your head, also feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds, lolled as you lifted your shirt to expose a metal rod that had impaled you from behind. Your view of the injury quickly became obscured as blood flowed from the wound. Between the wound to your thigh, and now your stomach, the gravel below you was quickly becoming drenched in your blood. You knew then. This injury was well beyond either of your wheelhouse.

“Jamie.”

“No.”

“James.” You whined quietly, lolling your head back against the fence behind you. “You have to go.” 

“Y/N, I won’t. I cannot leave without you.” 

“You have to.” 

“No.” He cried miserably. 

You took a few breaths, heart hurting both from blood loss and for your partner.

“What about Sirius? Hm?” He shot at you.

You smiled at the thought of your sweet boy. You felt like you could smell him now; worn leather, caramel, and his cigarettes. You knew he tried to spell the smell away, but it never really worked; you’d learned to associate the scent with him though, so you mostly didn’t mind. 

“You’ll take care of him for me, won’t you?” You asked your friend, offering him a tired smile. Tears fell from his eyes; he was too pretty to cry, you thought. 

“Vix, please, he needs you.”

“Thank him for me?”

James sobbed.

“I’m so-” you grunted and fought the urge to gag. “I’m so thankful for him. For all of you.”

“Y/N.”

“Tell him I’d do it all again. Every moment of it. If it meant I got to love him.” You breathed in deeply. “It was worth every minute of it.” 

A portion of the building behind James collapsed in on itself under the flames, but neither of you moved your gaze from the other. 

“Tell him for me?” You asked again.

James’s face was scrunched in pain as he nodded.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He cried.

“I’m not.” You said as you shook your head. “I don’t re-I don’t-” You tried to take a deep breath but found yourself unable to.

“I don’t regret anything.” You finished on an exhale. 

The building behind James continued to fall as smoke and debris fell around the two of you. You shakily lifted one of your hands to his face and wiped at the tear tracks lining his cheeks. You lifted your wand in the other and cast a diffindo at the death eaters approaching behind him. You were thankful your vision was going, knowing the sight behind James would be unbelievably gruesome. 

“I-” you started, your breathing becoming erratic. “I love you. All of you.”

James nodded as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. 

“I am so lucky to have known you, Vix.”

“Go now.” You said quietly.

James held your head to his shoulder.

“You - you have to go.” 

James kissed your head again.

“Go.”

You rested your head against your own shoulder as you watched James hobble to the end of the alleyway. You did it, you thought to yourself, you saved him.

James made it to the sidewalk when he turned to face you. You tried to offer him one last smile as he spun and apparated away.

A sob tore through you, and it felt as though it emptied your lungs of any remaining air. 

No matter, you wouldn’t need air anymore anyway.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it home, Siri.” You thought. “I’ll find you in our next life, and I’ll love you there too.” 

With a shuddering sigh, you fell asleep. 

It was dark. It made sense. Death would be dark. Should it be cold? Perhaps. You only wished it wasn’t also painful. It was quiet, but you could hear.

“Why waste your energy on a pathetic mudblood?”

“Information. Knowledge is power, after all.”

“Couldn’t you have found a mudblood that wasn’t so close to death then?”

“We would’ve had more to choose from had someone not thought to fight with fiendfyre instead of a good old incendio.”

“Incendio was boring, I wanted to spice things up a little.”

“Your penchant for spice lost us numbers, Junior. The Dark Lord will not be pleased.”

“Then we’ll get the mudblood talking. Once we get information, the numbers won’t matter.” 

“You ignorant-”

“Enough! What’s done is done. Someone will have to take responsibility for the repercussions when the time comes.”

“Severus is right. For now, the mudblood comes with me.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The last prisoner did not even survive the night under your watch.”

“Pfft. You should have heard the mouth on that nasty witch. I did the world a favour.”

“Foulness tends to be a common trait of the Order. Please do keep up, Goyle.”

“I do not see how you are in any position to be barking orders around here. You are barely out of Hogwarts yourself, child.”

“Yes, and this child received their dark mark before they even graduated. In fact, Mulciber, I have had my mark longer than you.”

“What do you even want with the mudblood anyway?”

“Trying to keep it in the family, baby Black?”

“Yes, Purebloods tend to do that. I can see that your ancestors kept it a little too close to home, however.”

“You don’t know what to do with a prisoner; let the rest of us enjoy her a little.”

“I am not concerned about enjoying, you imbecile. I work for the Dark Lord, that is my only concern. I am one of the most skilled legillimens and occlumens here, I will not let my dick get in the way of getting information for the Dark Lord, unlike the rest of you, so I will take the mudblood.” 

“Hmph, well, we’ll see how long this lasts.”

You listen: Doors. Floorboards. Parchment. Fireplace.

...

...

“You’re awake.”

...

...

...

“Squeezing your eyes shut will not change the fact that I know you are awake.”

Are they talking to me?

“Yes, I am talking to you.”

Shit.

“Very elegant.”

I’m fucking alive?!

“Indeed, you are.”

You peeled your eyes open and blinked against the light above you. The room was dark, with dark-grained wood on the ceiling and walls, and little light save from the gaudy chandelier above you and a tiny window letting in a minuscule amount of light which seemed to dissipate by the time it reached one foot from the source.  

Your neck cracked loudly as you turned your head to the voice, and you swore you felt your heart fall out of your feet.

“You can’t be serious?” You rasped disbelievingly. 

“Close, but no.” The man smirked as he stood and moved toward the table you were lying on. “The name is Regulus. Regulus Arcturus Black.”

You felt your heart rate pick up as you stared at the face of a man who held an uncanny similarity to your boyfriend. 

“I don’t suppose you happen to know occlumency, do you?”

You shook your head; unsure you could voice anything more than a horrified whimper.

“Shame. Well, for your sake, I hope you are a quick learner.” 

And he stupefied you. 

(Present)

“Kreacher, what have you done?” You spat angrily, twisting your arm in his grasp. He appeared wholly unimpressed with the situation and less than inclined to respond to you.

“Let go.” You muttered as you tried to tear your arm from the house-elf. For looking so small, thin, and well, decrepit, he was surprisingly strong. You considered pulling your wand when someone spoke.

“Release her.”

Your head shot up at the sound. You were met with a scarily familiar smirk that left you feeling weightless.

The elf obeyed, though you wish he hadn’t as you suddenly felt weak in the knees. 

“Welcome back, Y/N.” He smirked as he stood from his perch on the edge of an ornate desk. “Ready to finish this?” 

Continue to part six here.

#marauders era #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #marauders x reader #first wizarding war #first wizarding war fanfic #reader insert #escapism #self insert #canon divergence #hurt/comfort #sirius black hurt/comfort #sirius black fic #sirius black one shot #sirius black blurb #sirius black ficlet

[seraphinitegames]

The Wayhaven Chronicles—Update 29/March/2024

Very much a same-thing kind-of week! Writing and getting prepped towards the demo.

I mentioned before about having a different system in place for Book Four when it comes to editing and testing. The plan is to write one chapter, completely do all my own editing and testing on it, then move onto writing the next chapter. Whilst I then write the next chapter, the previous one can go to the editor before then going to the readers and testers.

Hopefully completely finishing up one chapter at a time will make things much easier than overwhelming my poor editor and readers with lots of chapters in one go, especially with there being so many more branches and variations that all weave in and out and together at this point in the series! It wasn’t as necessary for Book One and Two, but I definitely came to realise that things needed a more thorough go over by Book Three when it was all more intricate to work all the scenes and branches around each other!

But you know I LOVE my variations and branching, so I don’t want to compromise on writing those, it just meant a different process was needed.

It does mean I have to take more time between chapters, but in the end it should save time towards the end parts of the book when I usually save up a lot of my testing for then.

It’s all kind of an experiment, but I really think it will take the pressure off for a lot of the process!

Saying that, I already kind of got off plan because I started writing on Chapter Two because I hadn’t decided where Chapter One was ending, lol! :D

But I’m back to Chapter One and working my way through that, as well as dipping back into the character creator when needed as I go through it.

It’s a Bank Holiday weekend here in the UK, so we'll be back to it on Tuesday instead of Monday! (I do realise today is a bank holiday as well, but I really wanted to get just a bit more done on the editing!).

Hope you all have the most wonderful weekend! I’ll update you all again next Friday <3

#the wayhaven chronicles #update #twc book 4 #the wayhaven chronicles book 4 #progress report #hosted games #choice of games #choicescript #vampire #vampire game #romance game #interactive fiction

[blackleatherjacketz]

John

Homelander x Female Reader

Summary: Homelander gets jealous when you take a new lover with the same name as him, and makes sure you remember who you belong to.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only! Mature/Explicit Content, Dark Themes, Homelander Should Be His Own Warning! Graphic Depictions of Violence, Murder, Stalking, Obsessive Homelander, Jealousy, Threatening, Choking, Intimidation, Dubious Consent, Fear Kink, Breaking and Entering, Kissing, Possessive Homelander Ripping Your Clothes Off, Vaginal Sex, Hate Fucking

Word Count: 2k+

Read more HOMELANDER

A cool and sudden breeze blows in from the hallway as you finish brushing your teeth, telling that you somehow forgot to close a window even though you distinctly remember checking each and every one. You wipe your mouth and grab the heaviest item closest to you, a large cylindrical Virgin Mary candle as you reluctantly venture out into your bedroom, scanning it for intruders before padding out into your dimly lit living room.

“I hope you don’t plan on hitting me over the head with that thing.” His familiar voice booms in your chest as he closes your balcony door very slowly before confidently stepping toward you. “Because that really wouldn’t work out well for you.”

“Homelander,” you greet him shakily, his tone making you unsure if him being here is better or worse than having a robber break into your apartment. “What are you…” you swallow hard as you still grip onto the candle. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” He smiles at you with malicious intent, the rage in his eyes barely contained by the false upturn of his lips. “Can’t I visit my best girl whenever I want?”

“Whenever you want?” You whisper back to him, still in shock that he’s come to visit you after all this time. It had almost been a year since he first saved you from that falling car, since he found out where you lived just to ‘check up on his favorite citizen’ in the middle of the night. It seemed like forever since he last soaked your sheets with his sweat, thrusting the gratitude right out of your body through sordid moans and needy gasps night after night for weeks on end.

But you were always ready to accept the fact that each deliciously torrid encounter you had with him could very well be your last, that someone like him could easily grow tired of someone like you… until that possibility finally became a reality. You figured that another woman had simply taken your place as his visits began to wax and wane, that someone younger or thinner had occupied his time and satisfied his needs better than you ever could. So when weeks had gone by without a sign or whisper of his presence, you decided that it was time to move on.

“Homelander, this is… you haven’t been here in ages. I thought that you…” You barely manage to stammer in your stunned state, his presence alone forcing your hormones to start coursing through your bloodstream.

“You thought, what, exactly? Hmm? That you could just move on with someone else because I was busy keeping you and the American people safe?” He bites his bottom lip and shakes his head as a disappointed sigh brews in his chest, morphing into a desperate laugh. “That you could just forget about me?”

Uh-oh.

The skin on your face and neck starts to warm up with that exquisite concoction of fear and arousal he always seems to draw out of you. You wish you could control how he made you feel, that there was some version of you, somewhere, that could resist him, but that was all part of his charm, now wasn’t it?

“Lose the candle, princess.” His tone is more serious than it’s ever been with you before, dipping down to a dark timbre you’ve only ever heard him use with his enemies.

“Yup.” You do as you’re told and loosen your grip on the candle without another thought, nearly dropping it onto one of your toes as it hits the floor with a dull thud.

“And you with a fucking investment banker of all people? I mean, really?” He scoffs, taking his time walking around your living room as he puffs up his chest. “I would have thought that you were better than that.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you watch his boots bend the hard wood of your floors, hammering home the heavy weight of the situation that you weren’t nearly as awake for as you needed to be.

“John,” you try to console him, taking a few cautious steps forward with an outstretched arm.

“John,” he repeats in a mocking tone, raising his eyebrows. He chuckles to himself again, picking up one of the pillows on your couch before running his gloved hand over the crushed velvet. “The fact that you chose someone with the same first name as me is really fucking telling, you know that? If you missed me that much, you could have just called.”

“And just how am I supposed to do that? Huh? You made sure I couldn’t call you when you left here without a trace.” You cross your arms over your chest as he puts the pillow back down, reminding him of how he left things.

��Don’t you put this on me!” He bares his teeth as his eyes glow red, pointing a finger at you before that warm hue quickly subsides.

Holy shit, you’re in trouble.

“I’m sorry,” you try.

“You’re sorry?” He smiles as if to shake off any real emotions he may have about the situation, tying your stomach into knots in the process as you try to keep up with his ever changing moods. “Do you have any idea how fucked up it was for me to hear you screaming that name when I wasn’t the one inside you?”

Your heart falls out of your chest, sinking down to the very pit of your stomach as his words hit your ears, weighing you down so that you can barely move. You had no idea that he cared that much about you, that he would even think to drop by after being away for so long. But why did he have to wait? Why did he have to hear…?

“I was going to visit you that night, but he was already here.” He spits, pointing to the doorway behind you. “In your bedroom of all places!” He takes a few more careful steps toward you, his eyes now burning his usual fiery blue. “It took everything I had not to destroy the both of you right then and there, but lucky for you, I’ve been working on my impulse control.”

All you can do is stare at him, lips trembling, unable to think of anything to say that won’t make him more angry than he already is. You swallow hard, quaking in silence as he advances on you, his jaw clenching in anger before he dared to speak again.

“You know, you really should have heard him beg for his life when I dangled him from the top of the Empire State Building.” He smiles so wide that the skin around his eyes begins to wrinkle, his canines appearing as fangs against his lips. “He even pissed himself before I dropped him from that high up. Pathetic, really. Load of good that big dick is now, huh?”

FUCK! What did he just say?

So that’s why the other John hasn’t called you in a few weeks; he wasn’t ignoring you at all, he was just… he was gone. You can only imagine how scared and confused he must have been as Homelander flew him up into the night sky one last time, the cool December wind biting at his cheeks. That is until he undoubtedly told him why he was doing it, because if you know anything about Homelander, you know that he made damn sure your former lover knew exactly why he was sending him to his death.

Homelander stops just short of your bare feet, towering over you as he places his gloved hand on your shoulder, squeezing hard before smoothing it up to your neck. He grins as he tightens his grip, leaning in close enough to whisper into your ear as he lets you think through the worst case scenario. “Now I don’t have to share you with anyone else anymore.”

You know that you should be appalled at what he’s telling you, that you should be absolutely sick to your stomach with fear and disgust, but fight and flight won’t do you any good against the most powerful man in the entire world. You’ve heard horror stories of those who have tried before you and failed, deciding in a split second to lean on your most trusted coping mechanism: fawn.

“You killed him… for me?” You lean into the idea of him being so obsessed with you that he couldn’t stand to have another man touch you in his absence; that you’ve haunted him well past the time since he left.

He pulls back to glare at you, surprised that you’re not more shocked about the news as his features shift from menacing to intrigue. For the first time since you’ve known him, The Homelander is speechless. You try to focus on the scent of his cologne as it swims through your nostrils, exciting every nerve in your body just like it used to as his thumb grazes over your windpipe, subtly threatening to end you right here and now as his eyes dart over your face.

“You sick fuck!” He whispers adoringly, grinning from ear to ear as he scans your vital signs for any biological tell of deceit. Unable to decipher the difference between the intertwined terror and excitement coursing its way through your body, he takes the hem of your t-shirt between his fingers, gathering the fabric together in his palm before quickly ripping it off your torso. “I knew you were just like me from the very first second I saw you. I could tell that you were different from everyone else, that you were special.”

He brushes his palm over your breasts, intently watching your nipples harden against the leather of his glove as he hungrily surveys every curve of your body. A look you know all too well paints his features with desire as he pushes you backward against the wall, the exposed brick cutting into the bare skin of your shoulder blades as you let out a surprised grunt. He chuckles before kissing your lips with a newfound intensity, his breath hitching into a needy moan as he tugs your underwear down your thighs, nipping at your bottom lip before ripping your panties off just as easily as he had your shirt.

All that anger and jealousy makes him take you that much quicker and harder than he ever had before, his superhuman girth stretching you to capacity before you can even blink. He glides inside your soaking wet walls in one fluid motion, making you forget about the other John entirely as he thrusts up into you with unmatched desperation.

“You’re mine,” he whispers before grasping onto your thighs, lifting them up around his waist so he can push even deeper inside. “From now on, you only fuck me! Got it?”

“Got it!” You cross your legs around his back, your feet getting caught in his cape as he bites his words into your neck, sucking your skin into his mouth until it nearly breaks against his tongue. You groan in ecstasy and run your fingers through his hair, holding him close as he latches onto you like a vampire, draining you of your very life force all while driving waves of delight through your viscera.

He continues sucking as many bruises onto your throat as possible, marking you as his for everyone else to see as he hits that precious bundle of nerves tucked away up inside you. His moans become more frequent as his needy, throbbing member brushes against your cervix with each tantalizing pass, shooting an electric tingling sensation up your spine and into the rest of your body. Every single thrust up into you seems to be fueled by his hatred for you and this situation; that palpable ferocity tainting your carnal reunion with just enough force to send you shaking and shivering over the edge just a little earlier than you expected.

“John!” You whimper as he drills each vengeful burst of pleasure up into your core, setting your skin on fire as you violently convulse around him.

“No,” he wraps his hand around your throat again, pressing his thumb into your deepest bruise as he glares at you with sweat dripping down his forehead. “You call me Homelander from now on.”

#homelander #the homelander #homelander x reader #antony starr #homelander x female reader #the boys #the boyz tv #homelander fanfiction

[un-lawliet]

hii! how about care of gojo while he’s sick? he’s stubborn, believing he’s alright but he desperately wants your help. or maybe just taking care of gojo in general. cleaning him up after mission, making sure he gets his daily water, etc. thank you for reading!

( HIIII THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REQUEST SATORUSTAR <333 id be so happy to write this bc sick Gojo is my absolute fave troupe ever - thank u again :))) )

“Taking Turns”

— i n which Gojo is sick, and you’re fed up.

(or my love language is acts of service and this scratches my brain)

Gojo Satoru was ridiculous.

Childish, frustrating and stubborn.

And very, undoubtedly sick.

His nose slightly red from rubbing it, and his eyes watery with exhaustion, and yet, he was adamant that he was fine.

A slurred out, “I can’t get sick baby! I’m the strongest.” Made you glare at him, an exaggerated dip in your eyebrows.

He smiled, lopsided and stupid, before stumbling walking over to you, to place a delicate kiss on your cheek before he left for work, blindfold in hand, like he did, every morning before he left.

A ritual that use to make you swoon, but now only left you frustrated, as you swerved his advance.

He let out a dramatic gasp, standing up to his full height, horrified of your rejection, and ready to protest against your cruelty, before he began to cough, and cough, and oh my god was it possible to die from coughing?

“Satoru, you’re sick, go back to bed.” You deadpanned, cocking your head to stare him down, and he only whined in response.

“Don’t-’ He spluttered through coughs, “Don’t look at me baby, advert your eyes!” And you only rolled them in response, placing a hand on his chest, as the coughing finally finished, your eyes laced with concern because yes, he was unforgivingly stubborn when ill, but you loved him, and you were going to take of him, no matter what excuses he threw your way.

“Come on Toru, let’s get you back in bed ok?”

And maybe it was because he finally felt his exhaustion hit him; or maybe it was because the way you looked at him, with such selfless concern, made his chest feel fuzzy, but he eventually took your hand off of his chest and clutched it tightly, letting you lead him back to your bedroom quietly.

He was silent as you pulled the covers over him and placed a kiss on his head, your hand moving to gently scratch the back of his head, choosing not to mention how he leaned into your touch.

“Drink your tea ok? I’ll call Yaga.” You all but whispered, “If you can’t finish it, that’s ok, just take your time.”

And Gojo nodded, smiling at you as you placed the cup into his hands, leaving to grab your phone.

It was strange to be taken care of.

It aroused something in Gojo, a feeling he chose to blame on the dizziness in his head and the sickly fever that incased his being.

And so when you returned, holding a cupcake you had saved just for him he had to physically restrain himself from cooing at your affections, instead settling on teasing you for "Constantly thinking about him."

"Must be obsessed with me, sweets." He winked, and grinned like a fool when you huffed, rolling your eyes, again.

"Just eat it or I swear to God, I will shove it down your throat myself, sick or not."

And he pouted, "So mean to me baby, and when I'm so unwell too."

"I thought were too strong to get sick huh." You smugly said, pushing your hand through his hair gently, and he almost melted at your touch.

His lack of answer made you giggle, and he groaned in defeat, settling on pulling you down beside him, needily searching for your warmth.

And you gave it to him, moving him to rest his head on your lap and you pressed a kiss to his forehead, frowning at his temperature.

“You're really warm Toru' You say, using a finger to trace the features on his face, his eyes closing in bliss.

"I'm gonna get you a towel, hold on-" You were cut off by Gojo grasping your wrist, his eyes opening to look at you.

"No, stay, just for a moment." He all but pleaded, a tiny kink in his voice daring you to try reject him.

“I don’t want you to get worse Toru.’” You replied, looking down at him.

A small tug on your wrist was your only response, the only confirmation that he heard you.

And you sighed.

And returned to your shared serenity.

Because of course you did.

It was hard to say no to Satoru Gojo, and so you stayed, giving him tiny kisses as he began to doze off.

Kisses that promised him that you were there. And reassured him that he could rely on you, even for just a little bit, just like how you let him take care of you.

And right as he fell asleep, he whispered a soft, “Love you.” As an acknowledgment to your oath of care.

the end.

masterlist here <3

(A/N THIS FIC DIDNT SAVE AND OHMYGOD IVE NEVER BEEN SO FRUSTRATED anyway THANK U SO SO SO MUCH FOR ANOTHER REQUEST I LOVE U THANK U I HOPE THIS IS OK !!!!!! - also am i supposed to tag the person who requests ?? i’m so unsure i’m sorry)

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #jjk leaks #jjk manga spoilers

[moonstruckme]

hi! i have a request, but not for a specific character, you can pick who you want to write about i just ask that it’s not about any of the stranger things characters😅 but could you write something just pure and fluffy and sweet with a plus size!reader please? there is a serious lack of just pure plus size!reader fanfics, almost all of the ones i find are smut and it makes me quite sad because i’m currently not able to read smut because of mental health reasons🥹 i just want to read something so sweet and pure and loving with a plus size!reader and her man just loving her softness and curves.

Hi sweetheart! I hope this is alright <3

Sirius Black x plus size!reader ♡ 822 words

You’re innocently reading when cold fingers try to jimmy into the crease between your thighs. You squeal. “Sirius, don’t! Shit, your fingers are freezing.” 

He pouts. Even with his pretty lips and freakishly long lashes, the expression doesn’t work on you like it used to. Sirius has worn it out. “Exactly,” he whines. “They’re cold, and you’re so warm. Quit being selfish.” 

“So get a blanket like a normal person,” you chide. “Don’t make your cold fingers my problem.” 

Sirius scowls. “I thought my problems were your problems. Isn’t that, like, the point of a relationship?” 

You lower your book to give him a look. “That’s an awfully self-serving idea of what a relationship is supposed to be, Siri.” 

He huffs, reaching the whole two feet to grab the blanket you’ve strewn over the armchair. “Fine. You must have me in your thrall or something, you know that? I used to get whatever I wanted. Where did it all go so wrong?” 

“Not sure.” You flip your page idly, though you’re not really reading anymore. Just baiting your boyfriend, as you are wont to do. “Maybe when you stopped trying to woo me.” 

Sirius gasps, and your book is torn from your hands. He sets it on the table, and you both pretend he hasn’t done it with care, saving your page. “How dare you! I woo you every day of the week.” 

“Mmm.” You try to look unimpressed, but you know he can see the smile you’re fighting. “I don’t feel very wooed when you try to use me as a human heating pad.” 

SIrius’ grin comes out to play. You take that as permission to release your own. “Aw, m’sorry, lovely girl,” he croons, bending to brush his lips over the place on your thigh where his fingers had clawed for entry a minute before. “Have I not been telling you how wonderful you are often enough?” 

You bite your lip against the giggle bubbling up your throat. “You could stand to do it more.” 

“My pretty baby.” Sirius grips the fat of your hips, pulling himself upward to kiss you on the lips. “My sweet, darling angel, do you know how much I love you?” He moves to the corner of your mouth, your cheek, just under your eye, kiss-kiss-kissing all up and down your face. 

Your giggles escape, and you break, hands touching his waist to keep him close. “I do,” you admit happily. “I love you too.” 

“No, but not nearly as much as I love you.” His voice wilts with a dejection that’s entirely for show, leaning back to bat his too-long eyelashes at you pitifully. “You really have no idea, do you? You silly thing. I think I need to show you more often.” 

You’re quiet, shaking with silent laughter Sirius pretends not to notice. 

“I love you here,” he says, palms rubbing soothingly up and down your thighs, “but for more than just because they’re so warm. And I love you here” —his hands slide over the material of your shirt, up your waist, dipping lovingly into each rolling curve— “and here” —he follows the path to your broad shoulders, squeezing lightly before continuing upwards to cup your face— “and I love—baby, are you paying attention? This is important—I love you here.” He pecks you on the lips. “Love love love you, gorgeous. I love you here, too.” He kisses your nose, then presses his lips to your forehead. “I love you here most of all,” he says, words all mushed up against your skin. “Do you believe me now?” 

“Sirius,” you say softly, face now infinitely warmer than it had been a minute ago, back when you’d been under the impression that you were the one teasing him. “Of course I believe you.” 

“Good.” He gives your head one more firm kiss before backing off, giving you one of those sweetheart, earnest smiles he keeps locked away for special occasions. “It’s important that you know, you know?”

“Mhm,” you say, and his grin widens at your shyness. It takes a lot for him to make you this bashful these days, so your flush is a victory for him. “This was all a part of your grand scheme, wasn’t it?” 

Sirius blinks at you. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” 

You stare him down for a few seconds before sighing. “Fine, you can use my legs to warm your hands.” 

“Yes!” He wastes no time, worming his fingers into the soft inner part of your thighs. You tense at the cold. “I prefer not to think of it as using you. More like affection that also happens to have utility, yeah?” 

“Sure.” You roll your eyes, fighting a shiver as you pick your book up from the coffee table. “It’s like you said, you get whatever you want.” 

Sirius leans forward, pecking you sweetly on the lips. “You know it, babe.”

#do you think i could get some kind of award for most em-dashes in one fic #that's all my fics though tbh #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x plus size!reader #plus size!reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x self insert #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #sirius black imagine #sirius black drabble #sirius black oneshot #sirius black one shot #sirius black scenario #sirius black fluff #marauders fanfiction #the marauders #marauders #marauders era #marauders fanfic #the marauders era #marauders fic #marauders fandom #hp marauders

[seeingivy]

new year's day

actor eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting fic, masterlist here

content: reader mentions insecurity, connie and reiner teasing you, smooching, levi being a dad for ten minutes straight, sukuna cameo

an: I MISSED YOU POOKIES SO MUCH. SO SO MUCH. war (my 9-5) is over. this ended up at 9k, I hope it can compensate for the wait. ALSO VERY IMPORTANT WE'VE REACHED OUR FIRST TAYLOR SONG OF THE FIC. you can listen to new year's day from reputation before reading - it'll make the end part make more sense <3 (me furthering my turning people into swifties agenda, I saw her last night and my brain chemistry changed)

previous part linked here

--

“Go outside and look at the moon.” 

“No. I’m really comfortable in my bed.” 

“Oh, come on Y/N. Just go outside.”

You grumble some nice profanities at Eren over the phone as you shuffle out of your sheets, pushing open your window to stick your head out. The breeze in the air is cold, the frigid atmosphere invading your already freezing room.

Erwin won’t justify turning on the heater. There are only four people in the townhouse right now - you, Levi, Hange, and Erwin (which is totally not your worst nightmare) - and apparently, that doesn’t justify heater use at all. Luckily enough, Eren and his very convincing angry face will arrive tomorrow to save you from your eternal winter. 

“S’cold, Jaeger.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Do you see the moon?” 

You crane your head up, twisting back in the window to look at it. A small crescent pressed against the sky, just slightly hidden beneath the clouds. 

“Yes, Eren. I see the moon.” 

“Okay. Now look to your right.” 

“Are we playing Simon Says?” 

“STOP SASSING ME AND JUST DO IT.” 

You’re thrown off by the irritation in his voice, and you turn over, peeking your head entirely out to look to the right. 

“Very exciting views, Eren. It’s literally pitch black.” 

You don’t see much, just the tandem bike you set out for tomorrow - when Eren would be here and not berating you through the phone - and the small patch of flowers that are by the front door. 

“I meant your other right, Y/N.” 

You shift your head to the left and see Eren standing there, his green hoodie pulled over his head and a cheeky smile pressed into his face. 

You drop your phone flat on the floor, running (falling) down the steps out into the cold air, your socks against the cold pavement as you run out to greet him. 

He’s already holding his arms open, which you run into, as you burrow your face into his shoulder, his warm arms squeezing around your frame and his laugh in your ears. 

“You were supposed to come tomorrow, Eren.” 

“And yet I’m here today, Y/N.” 

“Shut up. You know what I meant.” 

“Flight got moved up. And maybe I just wanted some time in the house where it’s just you and me - you know, without Mikasa interrupting us every two seconds.” 

You laugh as you and Eren sling your arms around each other’s shoulders, trudging out of the cold and into the kitchen. 

Before you can even mention it, Eren’s pulling out two bowls, and you’re grabbing the ramen packets, the two of you leaning against the counter as you watch the water boil. As excited as you are to see him and actually to be near him, there isn’t really much to talk about. 

You guys literally talk every single day. 

“How’s the song coming?” 

You groan, leaning into his shoulder as he laughs, his hand coming around your shoulder to rest in your hair. But it’s better. Because you can see him with your own eyes, hear him with your own ears, feel him with your own hands. 

“Bad. I’m never going to finish it.” 

“You’ll finish it. Plus, Armin’s coming soon, and he knows how to rhyme and stuff.” 

“That’s not the problem. I feel like the lyrics work when I can figure out the backing tracks and the music. But I keep getting tangled up because I can’t figure out the piano.” 

He reaches forward, opening the packets of noodles and dipping them into the water as you start chopping up the vegetables on the side. 

“I play piano, Y/N. I can help you if you want.” 

“No. That would just be more embarrassing. I get super frustrated when I’m writing. It would be infinitely worse if you were there watching me fail.” 

He rolls his eyes as he takes the knife from your hand, lightly pushing you to the side to watch the noodles. 

“You’re not going to fail. Let me help you. No one gets a hit on the first try, stupid.” 

“Don’t call me stupid, idiot.” 

“My bad, dumbass.” 

“Language, Eren,” Levi says from behind you two. 

You watch a smile spread across Eren’s face as he moves, running past the side of the counter to give Erwin, Hange, and a now-annoyed Levi a hug. Hange and Erwin are ruffling his hair, Hange cooing about how their little stars are back together again. 

Eren joins you again at your side as you're dishing out the food, Erwin pulling out a stack of papers as you and Eren start eating at the counter. 

“Business.” 

“Go ahead, Erwin.” Eren says, handing you the hot sauce before you can even reach for it. 

“So. Final scripts. As you’ll see, there aren't too many big scenes for you this season. It’s mostly focusing on this whole Utgard Castle arc, which you’re both not in.” Erwin explains. 

“Okay, that’s-” you say. 

“That doesn’t mean you both can slack off. There are more scenes for the rest of them because we need you two to nail the scenes you are in. Eren - this whole Colossal Titan reveal, you need to put everything you’ve got into it. If you think I’ve pushed you hard before, you’re in for a whole different playing field this season.” Levi says, glaring at Eren. 

You watch Eren roll his eyes, grumbling under his breath as he agrees and starts flipping through the script. 

“And you too, Y/N. This whole “Thank You” scene at the end - the majority of the dialogue falls on you. But you need to deliver in all ways. You better be acting with your eyes, your mind, your entire being. This is the type of scene you both could get nominated for as awards that’ll get you more roles. Take it seriously.” Levi continues. 

At the mention of awards, you and Eren both perk your ears up, flipping to the end of the script to the scenes tabbed at the ends with your name on it. You quickly run your eyes through the scene and the staging and feel your throat constrict at the staging lines right in the middle, bolded. 

Y/N leans forward, grabs Eren by the collar, and presses the softest kiss to his lips. It’s not overly passionate or sensational, but to the two of them, it’s a simple message. One they’ve known all along, maybe since they first met - in that cabin all those years ago.

I know how you feel. You don’t have to say it. 

You feel your eyes widen as you look up at Hange and Levi, the words spilling out of your mouth. 

“You want us to kiss?” 

“Huh?” 

At your words, Eren’s leaning over into your space, reading the line marked, and suddenly your cheeks are both burning pink. You both give each other a glance, which only makes it more awkward, as you shuffle as far away from each other as possible. 

“Yeah. It’ll fit the scene. It’s just one kiss, maybe two if we don’t get it on the first take.” Hange says nonchalantly as they start flipping through the rest of the highlighted script. 

As Erwin, Hange, and Levi start milling through their own conversations - discussing sets, costumes, that scene - you squeak out something that stops them in their tracks. 

“I’ve never kissed anyone before.” 

Hange’s eyes light up as they nearly jump to your side, taking your cheeks into their hands and teasing you. They flip you around so you’re facing Eren, which you’ve been avoiding this entire time, and start whispering into your ear. 

“Aw, isn’t he so sweet? It’ll be so nice to have your first kiss with your best friend, someone you trust.” 

“Uh, I-” 

“Cmon. Eren won’t bite now, will he?” 

Eren awkwardly pads to the other side of the room, shoving his face into his script, as Levi comes over and yanks Hange by the hair, muttering something about how they need to stop teasing you. 

“Another thing. While they’re filming the Utgard Castle scenes, you’re both not really in, you’re both going on a press junket. We’ll all be there as well.” 

“The rest of the cast too?” 

“No, just you two, Eren. They’re all going to finish filming so we can maximize time and all that. You’ll return on New Year’s Day to film that last scene.” 

“Can we come back earlier? Y/N’s birthday is on New Year’s Eve. She should be here to celebrate with everyone and not on a stuffy plane.” 

“Fine. You’ll come back that day. And then the scene is the day after.” 

Hange, Erwin, and Levi give the two of you a curt nod as they pad back upstairs, leaving you, Eren, and your two bowls of ramen in the kitchen. You and Eren take the bowls and place them on the table, eating silently. 

It’s still hanging in your mind. In a little less than a month, you’re going to be kissing Eren. 

“Y/N.” 

“Yeah, Eren?” 

“I haven’t kissed anyone either.” 

“Oh. Okay.” 

“I just mean, it doesn’t have to be awkward. We’ll just…figure it out together. And it’s you and me, so it won’t be weird.” 

You smile, watching the last of your noodles swirl around the bowl as his words seep into your head. Right. It is just you and Eren. You’re best friends. It’s just one kiss. Or maybe two. It’s not a big deal. 

“Yeah. You and me, Eren.” 

He smiles in response, the awkwardness lifting off of you as you both finish eating. 

- 

The second Connie, Reiner, and Ymir make it back on set, their incessant teasing starts. They read the scripts. Kissy faces, smooching sounds, purposely pushing you and Eren into corners together just so they can tease you. 

“Eren. Are you excited to kiss, Y/N?” 

“Shut up, Connie.” 

“Is this your first kiss together? You must be sooo excited, Y/N.” 

“Okay, Reiner. Are you excited for your weird pervert lines about Historia?” 

The entire room laughs, Historia and Mikasa coming over to yank you out of the corner and sit at the table with them as you all catch up. Armin’s going around - taking pictures of everyone for our first day of filming with his Polaroid - as he starts labeling them all. 

There’s one of Reiner and Bertholdt - in their iconic fists to each other’s back poses - labeled “pervert and giraffe” by Connie. 

Another one of Sasha sleeping face first on the table from her jet lag while Connie and Jean are spraying whipped cream into her hair, labeled “connie springer, ultimate menace” 

And another one of you and Eren, fist-bumping each other, labeled “l/n-jaegers, season two” 

Connie films his first incriminating video ten minutes after that. It's Eren tucking your hair behind your ear. 

- 

You yank your earphones out as you crunch the pebbles under your feet, rubbing the sleepiness from your eyes. When Armin walks up next to you, he’s immediately leaning his head on your shoulder, his eyes sleepily shut as you wait for everyone else to join. 

It’s five in the morning. And you really, really hate Hange for this. 

You’re all supposed to be filming a scene two hours away, in the snowcaps. It’s meant to be a flashback scene, primarily for Ymir and Historia, which is why you’re pissed that you had to wake up this early anyways. The light is barely peeking into the sky, the hues still a dark navy as everyone strolls out of the townhouse. 

Jean’s grumbling profanities, Mikasa’s dragging Connie out, and Sasha's the only one who’s really awake. Erwin slides open the bus door, and you trudge in, sliding into the first seat. 

You're leaning your head against the glass, ice cold, as you try to flutter your eyes closed again to rest a little bit on the drive over. You feel a shifting in the seat next to you and two hands on your head, moving you through space. 

You peek your eyes open to find Eren, placing your forehead against his shoulder instead of the glass. 

“Huh, what-” 

“Sorry, Y/N. Didn’t mean to wake you. Just figured it would be more comfortable this way.” he whispers, lightly pulling the hood of your jacket back over your head. 

You nestle more into his shoulder, letting the weight of your head fall entirely onto his shoulder as he readjusts under you, his arm splayed across your back. You feel his head resting on top of yours, your breaths in tandem as you both shut your eyes and drift off to a very unrestful and bumpy sleep. 

You wake up two hours later to the flash of a camera. And when you open your eyes, Armin and Connie are smirking at you, holding up the Polaroid of you and Eren sleeping in front of your face and then running out the bus. 

You frown as you rub your eye sockets with your knuckles, readjusting your hair and cracking out your neck. 

"Fuck Erwin for getting Armin that camera." 

“I really hope they’re not there when we have to kiss each other, Eren. They’re never going to let us hear the end of it.” 

“You and me both.” 

He holds his hand out, helping you up from the chair as you both pull on your jackets and join everyone else in the snow. 

“Sleep well?” 

You and Eren turn your heads to find Marco standing beside you, a shy smile on his face. You and Eren both reach forward, pulling your arms around him as you start talking at the same time, shocked at his presence. 

“Marco. What the fuck? What are you doing-” 

“You didn’t even tell us you were coming! That’s so messed up. You bitch.”  

He pulls back, a hand resting on both of your shoulders as he smiles, the look soft. 

“Sorry, guys. I wanted it to be a surprise. I’ll be here after you’re back from the press junket, too, Y/N. For your birthday.” 

You smile at him, giving him one more hug as he ruffles your hair, the two of you linking arms as you wait to film the scene at hand. After you film the aforementioned extremely short scene - which just makes you more aggravated at Levi and Hange because why the hell did you have to come out here for that - the lot of you head into the cabin, peeling off your snow coats and settling into the seats. 

Armin and Eren settle at the window, the two of them teaching each other card tricks while Bertholdt follows Sasha to rummage for snacks. Mikasa and Reiner run off to explore the upper level of the cabin as you and Marco sit flat against the wall, watching everyone walk around. 

“How are you, Y/N?” 

“Okay, Marco. How are you?” 

“I meant. Regarding everything we talked about last time and all that.” 

“Oh. Right.” 

The last time you saw Marco was when he came to visit you and stay with your family for a week. It was an impromptu trip after you mentioned to him that things weren’t going so great. Granted, he was only an hour away from filming a short film and had the time to spare, but it still meant the world. 

He places a hand on the top of your knee as you look over at Eren, his eyebrows scrunched in concentration as he starts talking. 

“You doing okay? Seriously?” he asks. 

“It feels better when I’m here. With you guys. Especially you, now that you’re here. I feel most normal here and wildly out of place when I’m home.” 

He sighs, squeezing your knee as you watch Eren place his card down, a victorious screech leaving his mouth as Armin rolls his eyes. 

“I can’t say I understand. We all went to the SHWA when we were so little, and I guess there was always some understanding that we’d be…in the spotlight. Scrutinized. No grocery stores or going to the beach, or any of that. Those things wouldn’t be normal. There was really no…normal to go back to.” 

You reach down, holding his hand, as you tilt your head back on the wall. 

“I don’t know. It’s weird. Sometimes it feels like I can’t even be normal without people picking apart everything I do. I knew this was something I wanted badly but never figured it would be like this.” 

“Yeah. I know the feeling.” he responds. 

Eren looks over from his spot on the windowsill, eyebrows scrunched together in frustration now as he mouths the words. 

You okay?

You nod, albeit halfheartedly, as Marco pulls you up, the two of you scooting into the kitchen. 

“Did you tell him about any of this?” 

“No.” “Don’t be silly, Y/N. The first thing they say at the SHWA is to rely on the people around you. The ones who understand.” 

“I do rely on the people around me. I’m talking to you right now.” 

He reaches forward to flick your forehead, the spot stinging.

“Ouch, asshole.” 

“I’m not a series regular anymore. And he’s the person you should tell. He’d want to know.” 

You roll your eyes at him as Sasha comes up, splitting half of her chocolate bar with you. Armin and Eren amble in a little while later, the lot of you all standing in the kitchen, watching Connie shove as many marshmallows as he can into Reiner’s mouth. 

Armin takes a picture. Labels it “chubby bunny gone wrong” when Reiner’s choking over the sink.

- 

The press junket is insane. You and Eren are spending three days, all at the same convention, doing panels together. All while trying to memorize the lines for your kiss scene. Levi and Erwin said to meet as many people as the two of you could socialize as much as you can. Answer questions about the show for fans without letting Eren spoil the show. 

The first interview was a get-to-know-the-actors test. You and Eren are tasked with asking each other simple questions and talking about them. It should be easy. As the camera beeps red for recording, Eren turns to the side and starts. 

“My name is Eren Jaeger, and I’m one of the cast members of Attack on Titan.” 

“And I’m Y/N L/N, and I’m also from the cast of Attack on Titan. We’re going to be doing an interview today for you to get to know us better!” 

Eren leans forward, giving you a warm smile as you talk. He reaches forward, reading off the question on the first card. 

“Y/N. Did you take anything home from the set?” 

You turn to the side, making a fake warning face into the camera. 

“Levi, if you’re watching, stop.” 

Eren laughs as you turn back to him, trying to ignore the lights blaring in your eyes. 

“Um. I totally accidentally took one of the scarves home. But that was an accident. Did you take anything?” 

“I stole one of Armin’s polaroids from the wall. I keep it in my wallet. And I totally stole one of the ODM gear swords.” 

“Huh? What do you even do with that?” 

“Threaten my brother.” 

“Oh my god, Eren. Jesus. Which polaroid did you take?” 

“I have it, actually.” 

Eren smiles at you as he yanks his wallet out of his pocket, handing the shiny white Polaroid over. You smile as you remember the day, the picture being of you and Eren with your ramen bowls. Armin’s inscription says, “sosuke and ponyo.” You hold it up to the camera before handing it back to Eren, making a mental note to steal one of Armin’s Polaroids too. 

“Okay, Eren. Your question is…who is the first person you call when you get good news?” 

His cheeks turn pink as he pinches the bridge of his nose, rolling his eyes at the camera. 

“This is kind of cheesy.” 

“Huh, Eren?” 

“The person I call is you.” 

You smile, twiddling with the end of your braids as you respond. 

“My answer is you too.” 

He smiles back, the two of you getting through the rest of the questions and thanking the crew team in the filming room. As you and Eren swing out of the door, he pulls the tiny little sheet Levi had made for the two of you out of his pocket, looking where to go next. You’re leaning so close into his space to read the little sheet that you can smell his minty gum, the smell filling your nose. 

You’re going to the networking event. 

You and Eren slide into the hallway, a big expensive conference room filled with people milling around. Almost everyone is nursing a glass of red wine in their hands, all adults talking over and around you as you both awkwardly stand at the front. You instinctively reach down for Eren’s hand, the two of you locking fingers as you move forward. 

You both naturally lean against the wall, watching everyone walk around as you enter the room. All men. Well, almost all men. But from what you can tell, the only other women in the room are actresses - the producers, directors, screenwriters - they’re all men. 

“Does it feel weird to you here, Eren?” 

“Kind of. I can’t really place what it is, but it doesn’t really feel like we’re allowed to be here.” 

You’re both significantly younger than almost everyone in this room. And they’re all drinking. Talking about god knows what. You try to scan the room - looking for Erwin, Hange, or Levi but come out dry from your search. Eren must be sensing your unease because he’s leading you toward the doors, ready to yank the two of you out of the situation. 

But before he can, a man stops him, tapping him on the shoulder to talk to him. You both stop in your tracks, half turning around to look at him. He’s extremely tall, looming over the two of you, and you feel infinitely small in front of him. He looks at Eren, a self-assured smile pressed on his face as he introduces himself. 

“Scott Clarkson. I’m a producer for Stone Studios.” 

“I’m Eren Jaeger. This is-” 

“I know who you are, Eren. I was invited to see one of the first cuts of the latest movie you just filmed and-” 

Before you can even understand what’s happening, he has his hand on Eren’s shoulder, and they’re walking down the length of the hall, the end of their conversation lost to you. Eren looks back, and you give him a halfhearted smile as he tries to turn back before getting stuck in a larger group of people. 

You make your way back against the wall, sliding into one of the farthest chairs and swirling a cup of lemonade in your hands. You watch the pulp of the lemon dissolve into your cup as you aggressively swirl, the drops landing on the black of your skirt. 

It’s moments like this where you feel like you don’t belong. Marco’s words swirl through your mind, that this type of stuff is normal for them because they have no normal to return to, but you can’t help but feel other to them even if they are where you feel most comfortable.

Eren’s on the other side of the room, now stuck in a big group and laughing with producers and casting directors and talking about movies he’s filming and what he has lined up next. You’re on the other side of the room, sulking against the wall - you’d be shocked if they even knew who you were. 

You’re not jealous of him. If anything, it’s everything Eren deserves and more. He’s always been phenomenal. But that’s just the thing, he’s everything and you’re not even on the same playing field. 

Sometimes, it feels like Eren’s too good to be your friend. Your co-star. Someone you’re around. You can feel your knuckles turning white against the plastic of the cup, crushing against your hand. 

“You know, if you do that any harder, you’re going to spill it all over yourself. Then I’ll have to take my pants off so you don’t look like an idiot.”  

You look up to find Sukuna smiling at you, with Nobara and Maki rolling their eyes at him. You hop up, crushing Nobara and him in a hug and physically feeling the unease untangle in your chest. 

“Hi. I’m really glad you’re here I-” 

“This shit always sucks. I have no idea why we’re forced to come to these things.” Maki says, sliding into the seat on your left. Sukuna sits to your right, his arm resting across the back of your chair as the four of you whisper, well, more like the three of them explaining who all the producers in the room are, as you sit there. 

“Hey Sukuna.” 

“Hm, doll?” 

“That guy. The one talking to Eren. Who is he?” 

He squints his eyes as he cranes around the room, trying to find where you’re pointing at Eren. And when he does, you watch his eyes widen before he talks again. 

“Ah. That’s Clarkson. He’s kind of an asshat.” 

“What? Why?” 

“No, he’s just a dick. A really great producer makes super cool movies, but he’s…not the best. All that shit you hear about the industry running people dry, taking advantage of people. They’re talking about him. And his lot.” Nobara explains, glaring daggers at him. 

“Not his entire lot, Nobara. His daughter is fine.” Sukuna says, reaching over to you and Maki to flick her cheek. 

“She’s a bitch. You’re just saying that because you’re dating her.” Nobara responds, flicking him back. 

“Who's a bitch?” 

The four of you break apart, still leaning over each other, to find Eren, Levi, and a short girl with brown hair staring at you. 

“No one, Hyla.” Nobara says, grumbling as she and Maki stand up. Levi gets side-swiped into a conversation. He looks like he’d rather be five feet under than whatever he was talking about as the six of you stand up. You hold your hand out, introducing yourself to Hyla. 

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.” 

“Hyla Clarkson. Your dad was the one who acted in Interstellar, right?” 

“No. That’s Historia’s dad, but I get the confusion. We’re just from the same show.” 

You watch her eyebrows pinch up in confusion as she crosses her hands around her chest. 

“Oh! Was your mom the one in Moonrise Kingdom?” she asks. 

“Nope. I-” 

“So what film were they-” 

“My parents are dentists. They’re not really in the industry like that.” you ramble out, trying to spare yourself from any more embarrassment. 

She smiles, the expression not meeting her eyes, as she reaches down and links her hand with Sukunas. 

“That’s really sweet, actually. Humble beginnings and all that,” she says. 

“I think it’s pretty cool. Like yeah, we all land roles because our parents kind of help us get them in some way. But, Y/N worked her way to the lead of the show, sans famous parents. It’s a testament to true talent. ” Eren says, his voice firm.

“I agree. L/N has always been badass, especially on the screen.” Maki says, glaring at Hyla altogether. 

She rolls her eyes as she reaches into the pocket of her dress, taking out a shiny silver card and handing it to Eren. 

“Eren. This is my dad’s card. He wanted me to give you another one unless you lost it.” Hyla says, giving Eren a hug before she walks away. 

You both wait outside for Levi to join you, quietly standing against the wall. You watch Eren turn over the card in his hands before ripping it up, slashing right through Scott Clarkson’s shiny name in the middle. 

“That’s a bit harsh, Eren. He’s a really good producer from what I’ve heard,” you say. 

“Don’t care. We’ll get there on our own - we don’t need leg-ups from guys like that.” 

You smile as you lean your head on Eren’s shoulder, the anxious feeling still tingling in your chest. Levi makes his way out, giving you two a smile as you both get dragged to your next panel, individual interviews. 

You go first. The interviewer is a pale blonde girl with a stack of cards in her hand. 

“Y/N. Who's your favorite male co-star on set?” 

“Oh, um. That’s a hard question to ask, we’re all friends.” 

You can tell she’s not satisfied with your answer by her uptight posture, the irritation rolling out of her mouth. 

“Oh, don’t pick a cop-out answer. Who's your favorite male co-star? Is it Eren?” 

“Um, sure? He’s my best friend on set. But I like everyone.” 

She smiles, switching to her next card. 

“Fans have picked up on matching bracelets you and Eren have been wearing during this press tour. Can you comment on the story behind them?” 

“Oh, sure! It was last year, at the Savant Awards TV show awards. A pair of sweet fans gifted them to us.” 

She doesn’t comment any further on the story, switching to the next card as you swirl the bracelet around on your wrist, concealing Eren’s name on the beads against the inner part of your wrist. You have a feeling that what you just said will already get twisted into something it’s not, which in the worst way, distorts the entire thing for you together. 

“Okay, well, that’s all I have for you.” 

You give her a smile as you switch seats, taking Eren’s previous seat. Hange places a hand on your head, and you watch them share a look with Levi as Eren takes the seat.  

“You’re a phenomenal actor, Eren. What gets you in the zone on set?” 

“Thank you so much! I usually have to take a second before I start filming a scene just to get in the right headspace. Especially for scenes that I film with Y/N, I usually need her to be right there next to me just so I can…feel the scene before we film it.” 

The interviewer smiles, sliding to the next card as she asks Eren the questions. She couldn’t be this cheery and enthusiastic for you?

“Do you have any pre-filming rituals before you get on set and start filming?” she asks.

“I need to eat a bowl of ramen with Y/N before we start. It’s not like a good luck thing or anything, but we’ve just always started our day like that and now we just have to do it before we go on and film.” Eren responds, looking over to give you a smile. 

You give him a thumbs up as he keeps going, trying not to pay too much attention to the fact that all of Eren’s questions are about his upcoming roles, his acting techniques, his favorite parts of acting, and how yours were all about him. Granted, Eren somehow brings you up in almost every question he answers - even if it’s not explicitly related to you - which only makes the entire thing fester in your mind more. 

What are people going to say about it? This would just make what everyone says about you guys worse. 

Not that it’s bad, but they just…say things. Granted, everyone had been saying things since the start, but you’ve always chalked that up to the fact that you and Eren are closer than everyone else is. And you know how the two of you are, but everyone else seems to have their own opinions about it. And maybe you should try to stop it? But if that’s how you are, who are you to change and-

“You okay?” 

Eren’s taken the seat next to you, leaving Erwin to get interviewed next. You’re both slumped into the chairs at the back, Levi and Hange whispering in hushed voices in front of you. You can’t help but wonder if they felt this way when they were filming La La Land, but then again, they had no reason to deny anything that anyone said. They were actually together. 

“Yeah. Just want to go home.” 

He frowns as he brings a hand to the top of your head, leaning it to rest on his shoulder again. His cold fingers are in your scalp, pressing against the pulsating headache you’d been ignoring for the past hour, soothing the feeling. 

Should you guys really be sitting like this if there are cameras five feet away? And what if-

“Do you want to take a walk? We can go look for lemonade or something.” 

You nod as you both stand up, giving Hange and Levi a wave as you walk off. You’re slowly ambling behind Eren as he looks around for the drinks, the entire day replaying in your mind. 

You just want to go back to set. Have Mikasa tell you goodnight, eat breakfast with Sasha, play cards with Armin. None of this press junket, stupid interviewers, uncomfortable producers business. 

You feel a tugging on your arm, and you look back to find two girls looking at you. They can’t be much older than you, maybe eighteen or nineteen, with matching Attack on Titan shirts. With your face on it. 

“Hi. We’re Sarah and Sofia. We’re really, really big fans of the show. We were wondering if we could get a picture with you?” 

“Oh! Yeah, of course. I’d love to.” you respond. 

You take a few pictures with them before handing them their phones back. 

“Are you guys enjoying the panels?” 

“Yes! We’ve gone to every single one of yours, you’ve been doing really well.” 

You can feel your cheeks burning at their praise, reaching forward to hold both of their hands as you talk. 

“You guys are too kind. And I really, really love the shirts. Did you make them yourselves?” 

“Yeah! We also drove down two hours just to come watch, it’s been such a good weekend. We really, really admire you for what you’ve done. It seems like we hardly ever see “normal” people in the media. But every time we watch you do an interview, you always bring up our favorite songs and slang that we use, it just…makes it feel like there’s someone like us on the screen.” 

You squeeze their hands, the tears welling in your eyes as you fight them down while responding. 

“I promise, I’m a thousand times more like you than any of them, in more ways than you’d think. And…you could do it too. It’s like you said, we’re one and the same.” 

They’re smiling so brightly at you that it’s making your heart squish in your chest, the feeling all warm and gooey and self-soothing. Right. You can do it. Who gives a fuck if a stupid reporter or these people think you’re lame - the people who watch your show are the ones that matter. 

“We love you so much. You’re so, so sweet. You’re literally the nicest celebrity we’ve ever met. I’m sure you have to run soon - I can see Eren back there staring bullets at us - but we hope you have a really good birthday tomorrow, and we can’t wait to meet you again.” they say. 

You wrap your arms around both of them as they both run off, excitedly talking, as you see Eren coming up to join you. He has a cup of lemonade in his right hand, the left hand reaching forward to wipe away the one tear that escaped your eyes. 

“Sure you’re okay?” 

You look over at him, green eyes looking into yours, and reach down to take his hand. 

“Yeah. I’m okay.” 

“Let’s go home, yeah?” 

You nod, the two of you shuffling off to where you came from. 

- 

When you get on the plane, your impending panic of the “Thank You” scene comes back. You’re both landing on set on New Year’s Day - which is your birthday, so you won’t be filming. Levi and Hange granted you the night off, and Eren says the two of you can go get slushies when you land. But then you’re filming the scene the next morning. You’re both still stuck on the plane for another seven hours running through the lines. 

“Listen, you’ve always been at my side...thank you.”

You drop the script onto the table and groan loudly, to which Eren laughs in response. 

“It-it’s falling flat. This scene is too serious, I-we’re going to have to do a million takes.”

“It’s fine- we’ll just practice a lot.” 

You switch seats so you’re right next to Eren, the two of you looking down at your scripts and switching. You read each other’s stage notes - you both have a habit of writing notes to help remember lines and blocking - which you’ve found helps reading each other's notes helps you stay in line. Like you’re in each other’s head. 

You read through his little scribbles - keep eye contact, start crying here, practice this. 

“Eren.” 

“Hm?” 

“When you say practice this, you mean…” 

He leans over, eyes going wide as he snatches his own script back, face burning. The arrow saying “practice this” was pointing to the line referring to the two of you kissing.

“Were you going to practice kissing in the mirror?”

“Shut up.” 

“I think a pillow would be more sanitary. Maybe you could find a video of it on the internet or-” 

“I was going to ask if you wanted to practice with me,” Eren responds angrily. 

You can feel your throat drying, eyes met with Eren’s burning stare. 

“Um.” 

“I just thought it-it would be worse if we did it wrong. And had to keep trying, and you know that everyone’s going to come to watch us and-” 

“I guess, but-”

“You don’t have to, Y/N. I was just thinking about it, and I was going to ask. Just so we don’t…have to do it for the first time in front of cameras.” he mumbles, turning his head away to look out the window. 

You sit there for a second and think about it. Eren does have a point. Having Ymir and Reiner stand there while you kiss Eren, or anyone, for the first time would be horribly embarrassing if they were actually standing there. And it would be weird to have your first kiss for the first time in front of someone, maybe it would be a better memory if it was more isolated and someone else. 

“Okay, Eren. That actually makes sense.”

He turns back, a shocked expression spreading across his face. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, just…don’t be weird or something if it’s bad. I’ve like never really done this before, Eren and-”

“It’ll be fine. We can figure it out together. It’s just…kissing. Can’t be rocket science.” 

You nod, albeit apprehensively, as Levi and Hange join you and Eren in the seats across from you. 

“You guys doing okay?” Levi asks, pushing bottles of water toward the two of you. 

You both nod as you take in their expressions, the two of them more stern or serious than normal. Well, Hange being more stern - Levi has resting serious face. 

“We wanted to talk to you about something,” Hange says. 

“Okay. Is everything okay?” you ask. 

“The press junket. You both were exposed to many different things you really haven’t been to before and we just…want to give you our own advice before we let you go on and about in your careers.” Hange says.

“We care about you both, and there are just some things you should know. We don’t care what you do because you’re your own people, but we just want you to be warned about things you…might see.” Levi continues. 

You and Eren give each other a weary look, halfheartedly nodding at the two of them. 

“There are some producers in the industry that don’t have your best interest. I’m sure you guys have heard rumors before of what the industry is really like and what it can do to someone - we’re trusting you both to keep your heads when dealing with situations like that.” Hange says. 

“I don’t give a shit if it ruins your reputation. You don’t let them ruin you, control you, whatever. Your safety and what you’re comfortable with comes first.” Levi says. 

“Have you guys ever been....near stuff like that?” Eren asks

Levi and Hange give each other a weary look before nodding. 

“Yes. That’s why we’re telling you because no one ever told us. They’ll make you do things you don’t want to, make it feel like they control you, and take away the things important to you so they’ll know you’ll stay. Some of them are also very deep in some very, very illegal shit, so again. If you value where you are, you won’t interact with them.” Levi says. 

You both nod, reaching for each other's hands as Levi and Hange study you with their eyes.

“Eren. Y/N. Did you notice anything weird about the press junkets we did today? Or what the media says?” 

“Not really,” Eren responds. 

You look down at your hands, focusing on the way your knuckles look when they’re flexed, from clenching so hard, as they all wait for your response. But you guess your silence is enough of an answer because Hange takes that as their sign to start talking. 

“I had a feeling. What have you been thinking?” Hange asks. 

You can feel your voice getting tangled in your throat and the tears coming to fill your eyes when it comes time to explain, to tell the three of them something they might entirely reject. Or just not understand. 

“I just-the press junket was weird. It seemed like the interviewers were all asking me questions about Eren or Connie, or my other co-stars while they were asking Eren questions about his acting and what he does to get ready on set. It just feels like-that’s the only thing they care about when it comes to me. How I interact with other people.” 

Eren’s squeezing your hand - three times - as the tears are freely spilling out of your eyes. Right with the words because now that you’ve opened this can of worms, it seems like you won’t stop until they’re all out on the floor. 

“And. At the networking event, everyone wanted to talk to Eren and not to me. And it’s not that I’m jealous of him because I want Eren’s dreams to come true just as much as mine, but it…just feels like I’m less than. Like I’m stupid for even trying because my parents are just dentists in a small town, and the only acting I’ve done before this was in a very shitty small-scale production of Hamilton at my middle school.” 

Hange and Levi scoot into the seats at your sides, Hange’s arms around you on your left and Eren’s around you on your right. Hange and Eren are squeezing your hands, Levi’s hand softly running through the strands of your hair as you sniffle through all the tears. 

“I’m sorry, kid, but this part doesn’t go away. Especially because you’re a girl, something about that makes people think they have the right to the most heinous things about you. They’ll criticize anything and everything you do. You’ll learn to roll with the punches because, at the end of the day, you’re here to make art. Let that do the talking for you.” Hange says. 

“I know. I just have to ignore them. Plus, there are nice people out there who really care about the show and what I do so-” you respond.

“More than just care about it, Y/N. People love you. The ones around you and people out there.” Eren says. 

“Another thing. Eren, the type of scrutiny you’ll face is nothing compared to what she’s going to face, just on principle. It’s your job to not be the asshole who turns a blind eye to that and it’s your job to defend her if it calls for it. And if anything, it should infuriate you enough anyways that-” Levi mentions, looking over the tops of your heads to look at Eren. 

“It already does infuriate me. Who gives the people the right to say anything about her when she’s one of the best ones on the show?” Eren responds, the anger spilling out of his mouth.

Levi and Hange give your hands one last squeeze before walking away, muttering something about how you should just focus on enjoying your birthday tomorrow and the scenes, leaving you and Eren in the seats again. 

“What were we talking about before?” you ask. 

“Everyone is stupid. You know that, right?” 

You sigh, leaning against the chair so you’re looking up at the top of the airplane, the white lights shining on the two of you. 

“I know that logically. But sometimes, it just kind of sits in my head. Repeating, and I try to convince myself it’s not true, but-”

“I’ll convince you.” 

“What?” 

“Just tell me. I’ll convince you. You could have told me before too and whenever you want. I’ll drop whatever it is I’m doing for you if this is what you need me to do.” 

You nod, thinking of the best response. Because how do you tell him that he’s the best person you’ve ever met, and this only furthers the fact that he’s just too good for you. Because you’ve never had someone defend you or be so ready to come to your aid before that you don’t know what to do with it? 

“I know how you feel. You don’t have to say it, Y/N.” 

You laugh, rolling your eyes at him. 

“Are you quoting the stage directions from our kiss scene?” 

“Maybe. But it’s true. And also, that’s what we were talking about before. Practicing kissing.” 

“Maybe after we go to get slushies for my birthday later?” 

“Yeah.” 

You both smile as you dig your noses back into your scripts, waiting for the plane to reach back to set. 

- 

You guys land on set the next day, around three pm. Eren and Levi woke you up on the plane with a little mini-cupcake and a candle to surprise you. Hange then smashed almost all of the frosting onto your face, which just earned them a good amount of scolding from both Eren and Hange. When you land, you and Eren head to the townhouse together, to change before getting slushies. 

“Why do you have your phone out, Eren?” 

“What? I always have my phone out.” 

“Not when you’re like…walking somewhere. And there isn’t even any wifi outside the townhouse, so I don’t even know what you’re doing on that.” 

“Can you just walk into the house, please? Do you have to question everything I do?” 

You pretend to scratch your temples, like you’re pondering his questions, as Eren rolls his eyes and lightly pushes your head, gesturing you into the house. And when you walk inside, they’re all waiting for you - the foyer of the townhouse decorated for your birthday and little party hats on all of their stupid little heads. 

They’re all singing Happy Birthday off cue - Reiner singing opera again, Connie screaming cha-cha-cha off cue, and Historia singing like she’s the next contestant of America’s Got Talent. Mikasa and Sasha bring over a cake with seventeen green candles, each of them giving you a tight hug as you blow out the candles. 

“Surprise!” Armin says, flashing the camera in your face. 

“This is so sweet, you guys. Thank you,” you say. 

“We have gifts. Come on, let’s open them.” Jean says, grabbing you by the hand and leading you to the center room. 

They each hand you their gifts, excitedly watching you rip off the wrapping paper. And you get why because it seems like everyone put so much thought into their gifts that it makes your heart squeeze. Mikasa gives you a nice, leatherbound notebook so you can stop writing song lyrics on napkins, and Armin compliments her gift by buying you a nice set of green guitar picks. 

You take the time to squeeze everyone in a hug and press a kiss to Ymir’s cheek, much to her dismay, because she writes you the sweetest little birthday note that makes you cry, and Reiner buys you a vinyl player to use for when you make your own record. And when you go all around the circle, you end up back at Eren, who is seemingly empty-handed. 

“Did you get me something? You don’t have to, I just-”

“Shut up. Of course, I had to. I just can’t really wrap my gift.” Eren responds, grabbing you by the hand and leading you to the closet near the front door. 

The rest of them all follow suit, watching you guys from a little distance. 

“Wow, Eren. I love it. I’ve always wanted my own closet.” 

“Shut up and open it.” 

You reach forward for the handle and swing it open, only to be met with your brothers - Colt and Falco - springing out of the closet and wrapping their arms around you. You’re squeezing the both of them so hard, so excited you’re crying because it’s literally been months on end since you’ve seen them, and you never dreamed they could even be here. 

“What are you doing here? Coco, you literally have class in like two days, and Colt so do you and-” 

“Eren flew us out for your birthday.  We’re leaving at the end of the day tomorrow.” 

You turn around, and you know you’re all teary-eyed and pink in the face, but you reach forward and squish Eren into the tightest hug known to man, eliciting cheering from the rest of them still watching you - that you entirely forgot about. 

“Eren. I love you so much. Thank you. I’ll pay you back for the plane tickets, but this really means the world to me, and I-” 

“You don’t have to pay me back. This was a gift for you, birthday girl,” he says, pinching the side of your cheek. 

- 

Nine hours later and the whole new year in the flesh, you’re scribbling lyrics into the little book Mikasa bought you. The party they threw you - fully set with games, karaoke, and a pinata that Bertholdt procured out of thin air - turned out to be so tiring that they all passed out in the foyer, sleeping on top of each other on the couch and the floor. 

“Writing a song?” 

“Yeah. I think it’s done, actually, I just need to go play it now,” you say. 

“Want me to come? I can help with the piano.” Eren asks. 

“It’s three in the morning. Aren’t you tired? And I don’t even know where the key to set is where we can access the piano.” 

Eren reaches for the closest drawer, pulling out a shiny black key and dragging you out by the hand. You both pull on jackets and run out into the dark to the tandem bike, pushing towards set while shivering in the cold air. 

And when Eren opens the set door and turns on the lights, you immediately scream and duck behind him. 

“What the fuck is that?”

“Ymir’s prosthetic titan.”

“God. Do they need to leave it at the front door? That literally scared the shit out of me.” 

He laughs, locking his hand in yours as he drags you to the piano near the back of the set. You yank your hoodie off your head, placing the lyrics on the front of the piano. 

“Okay, so. Sing it. I’ll see what chords make the most sense after.” 

You nod, going through the first verse. 

There’s glitter on the floor after the party�� Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby  Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor You and me from the night before, but

Eren starts playing the piano around the chorus, a light piano tune filling the air. And he’s watching you so intently as you sing the lyrics, change words around with your messy handwriting, and he thinks at this moment, with your forehead all scrunched up in concentration and your sweet voice in the air that you might be his favorite person to be around. 

Don’t read the last page But I stay, when it’s hard, or it’s wrong, or we’re making mistakes I want your midnights But I’ll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year’s Day

And when you finish, he’s wrapping his arms around you, his voice so soft when he whispers in your ear that it makes the hair on your skin stand up. 

“You are…amazing. You know that?” 

“Eren. You’re so-” 

He cups your cheek in his hand, his thumb rubbing back and forth as he looks into your eyes, the look so warm, so sincere that it makes your chest tingle and your heart pound. Any denial of the fact will be met with pushback, so you drop it. 

“Thank you, Eren.” 

He smiles, dropping his hand to play the chords again and write them in the book. 

“Hey.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Is this song about me, Y/N?” 

“What?” 

“Well, the line. You squeeze my hand three times in the back of a taxi? Isn’t that kind of our thing? Squeezing hands three times.” 

You can feel your cheeks burning as you focus on the lyrics. And god, maybe the song is about Eren. You didn’t intend to write it that way, but he’s right. The candle wax, and the polaroids are mentioned in the song.

Those are all things you associate with him. 

“I guess so. I mean, I didn’t mean to really write it that way, but I guess that’s how it came out.” 

He smiles, a smirk on his face as he starts teasing you. 

“Am I your muse?” 

“Shut up. You’re so fucking stupid, Eren.” 

“You and me, forevermore huh?”

“Eren. Stop.”

“I’m teasing, Y/N. I like the sound of that. And the entire song, it’s really good. You should submit it to perform for the Savants.” 

“No. I could never do that.” 

He rolls his eyes as he shuts the book, swinging on the other side of the piano bench to lean against the now-closed piano. You’re both sitting silently, taking in the set when it’s so empty. Everyone’s ODM gear is labeled in the closet with their names, Eren’s prosthetic titan arms lying nearby, and Levi’s cleaning supplies. 

Eren clears his throat, breaking the silence. 

“We-um. Were supposed to get slushies yesterday.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry, I just got so distracted.” 

“Yeah. And.” 

“And?” 

“Weweresupposedtopracticethekiss.” he mumbles out, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck. 

You feel your eyes widen as the recognition hits you. You’re supposed to kiss Eren tomorrow morning. 

“Oh, shit. That’s literally tomorrow.” 

“Yeah.” 

The silence hangs between the two of you as the pit in your stomach starts burning. 

“Do you want to practice now? Just so we’re good for tomorrow morning?” 

“Oh. Yeah, I guess.” 

You both awkwardly shuffle on the piano bench facing, splitting your legs between each side so you can both scoot closer to each other. And you can feel your heart beating really fast at being this close to him, all alone. 

He must sense it, because he puts his hand in yours, squeezing three times, before talking. 

“You okay? We don’t have to.”

“No. We should. I-I want to.” 

He nods, lifting his hands in the air as confusion spreads across his face. 

“You can put your hands wherever. It’s okay.” you say

“O-okay. Right, Y/N. Sorry I-” 

“Don’t worry. I’ve never done this before either.” 

He settles for cupping the side of your face with his right hand and leaving his left hand resting against the side of your waist. You place your hands against his hoodie, crumpling the fabric in your hands as you try to limit the sweat gathering on your palms. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay, Y/N. You ready?” 

“Yeah.” 

He leans forward and presses his lips to yours, the sensation so strange that you forget to move your lips and freeze up against your face. You both stay there for three seconds - but it feels like an eternity. And when he pulls away, you can feel the embarrassment rushing to your face when you realize what just happened. 

You just kissed him wrong. You forgot to kiss him back. 

“Oh my god, Eren. Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I was so thrown off by it, and I just made your first kiss wrong, and I-” 

“Y/N.” 

“Oh god. We’re going to fuck this up so badly tomorrow. I’m going to fuck this up so badly tomorrow. And we’re going to-” 

“Y/N.” 

“Ymir is never going to stop making fun of me. And then I’ll probably-” 

He drops his hands and reaches for your wrists, squeezing hard as he talks. 

“Y/N. Stop.” he says, his voice so soft, so earnest that it stops you in your tracks. 

“It’s okay. You didn’t mess anything up. I think you’re just…thinking about it too hard. This isn’t the kiss we’re doing for tomorrow or the show. This is just you and me, kissing here and now. So just…relax. It’s just us.”

You groan as you put your hands on your face, murmuring through your fingers. 

“How do you always say the right thing like that? It pisses me off.” 

He laughs, grabbing your wrists and placing them back on his shoulders where they were before. And when he secures his hand around your cheek and your waist again, his green eyes are shining in the set light and you think he might be your favorite person to be around. 

“Ready, Y/N?” 

“Ready.” 

And when he leans forward this time, you move your lips too, taking notice of how soft, how warm his lips feel against yours. How the sensation tingles all the way down to your stomach, makes your cheeks burn and your brain prickle. You instinctively lift your hands off his shoulders, feeling the softness of his hair between your fingertips and how his hand is only guiding your mouth closer to his like he’s pushing your lips together more than they already are. 

And when you both pull away, you’re both staring at each other - dilated eyes and swollen, pink lips. Your hands in his hair and his hands around your waist, breathless. 

When he cracks a smile, you can feel your entire resolve shattering. You make no effort to stop beaming at him the way you are, because you know you couldn’t even if you tried. 

“Hi Y/N.” he whispers.

“Hi Eren.” you whisper back. 

And you both laugh so hard that it makes your chest hurt. 

“Listen, Y/N.”

“Yeah?” 

“You know. We’re practicing. And doing it one time doesn’t mean it’s perfect, so-so we should try again. You know, for method acting purposes and-and.” 

You smirk, reaching forward to pinch his cheek.

“You want to kiss me so bad.” 

“Shut up. We don’t have to, I just want to make-” 

“We can.” 

He smiles, leaning forward to press his lips against yours again, his breath tickling the tip of your nose and his lips pressing against yours again, this kiss better than the last. You’ve committed it to memory - how his lips fit perfectly against yours, where his hands feel the best. 

For acting purposes, of course. 

- 

You and Eren are ready bright and early to film the scene. Seconds before you start, Levi comes over and drops a key piece of information that leaves you and Eren pink in the face.

They’re cutting the kiss from the script.

--

--

next part linked here

taglist: @platrom @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha  @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @squirrelspoetry @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone

pls comment on this post or any of the chapters if you want to be added to the taglist <3

#seeingivywrites! #method acting #actor eren #actor eren x you #actor eren x reader #actor eren x y/n #eren #eren x you #eren x reader #eren x y/n #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x y/n #eren fluff #aot #attack on titan #aot x you #aot x reader #aot x y/n #shingeki no kyojin #snk x you #snk x reader #snk x y/n #eren yeager #eren yeager x you #eren yeager x y/n #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager fluff #eren jaeger fluff

[harlowcomehome]

The Best One:

Series link!

Jack had consciously woken up before you, quickly turning off his alarm before he snuck out of the shared hotel room. He wore a new balance sweatsuit, the hood covering his messy curls as best as possible.

He ordered food delivery to the hotel, making sure to leave a generous tip noting that the sun was also still emerging from its slumber. He used a fake name but he could always tell when someone recognized him, flashing a gentle smile as he made his way back to the elevator with the bag of food.

He balanced your warm drink carefully as he opened the hotel door, met with your sleepy gaze as you sat up in bed waiting for him.

“I was wondering where you went” Your voice was raspy, your face still wearing the exhaustion from the night before.

“Was I too loud?”

“No, I just knew you weren’t next to me anymore” you yawned as you stretched your arms toward him.

“I wanted to make sure we ate together before your long day” he smiled, setting your warm chai tea beside the bed.

“You didn’t have to do this” you hummed, knowing he rarely ate breakfast these days.

“I wanted to” he handed you a breakfast sandwich, as he grabbed his and sat with you, the bed dipping as he crawled beside you.

“I already miss you. Can’t you just come home with me now?” you sighed, leaning your head against his.

“Pretty soon you won’t have to miss me that much. Just a few more weeks and things will be how they should be” he smiled, playing with the ring on your hand. You rarely took off the ring he had bought you, sleeping in it most nights.

“How is Urban going to take it?” You had been thinking about his reaction along with Laylas.

“He already knows, we’ve talked about it over the last few months” he continued to mindlessly spin your ring around your finger, taking another bite of his breakfast.

“I think Layla will be sad, but maybe her and Urban will end up living together too” you giggled, met with silence on Jack's end.

You turned to look at him, and he immediately pretended to be intrigued by the hotel art on the walls. “They did a good job painting that.”

“Jack, babe don’t deflect” you warned, turning to him completely to get his full attention.

He continued to look away from you, holding a smirk to keep from laughing. Until you poked at his extremely ticklish sides, making him jump.

“Okay! Okay! I don’t know what happened. Urb told me that she’s not speaking to him as of last night and that’s all I know” he held his arms up in defense.

“Swear?”

“Promise!” He instinctively covered his hips knowing that’s where you’d poke at next.

You narrowed your eyes at him, making him laugh at your fake intimidation tactics.

“Want to save water and shower with me before my flight?” You cheekily teased as you stood up from the hotel bed.

“Obviously” he rolled his eyes, practically jumping out of his clothes.

••••••

Layla picked you up from the airport, she wasn’t her usual peppy and over-the-top self, but you weren’t sure if you should bring it up or not knowing the news you were inevitably going to break to her.

When you got to the parking garage and put your luggage in the trunk of her car she burst into tears, grabbing hold of you and hugging you tightly.

She wasn’t usually an affectionate person, so you knew something was terribly wrong.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You mumbled into her chest.

“Not really” she sniffled, her nose whistling in your ear. She pulled back to look at you, her mascara staining her cheeks.

“Are you moving in with Jack?”

You were frozen still, not expecting her to know that piece of information just yet.

“That's not what this is about” she laughed, a snot bubble escaping her nostril as she gestured to her face.

“I assumed it was Urban” You gave her a sympathetic look, tucking a stray piece of her hair behind her ear.

“I just wish we were progressing the way you and Jack are” she shrugged, realizing the two of you were still standing in the half-empty parking structure. “Let’s get in the car where it’s warm.”

You sat in the driver's seat of her car, giving her the passenger seat to vent to you. You turned the heater on before backing out and starting your drive home.

“Did something happen?” You kept your eyes on the road, glancing at her every so often.

“I told him I love him” Layla sighed, feeling a sense of embarrassment wave over her. For as long as you had known Layla you had never known her to love anyone, at least not romantically.

“And what did he say?” You felt a sense of regret asking that, but you had to know.

“He-“ her voice cracked, she looked out the window watching as the cars beside you zoomed by.

“Do you want me to drive? You’re driving like a grandma” she laughed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“What did he say?” You repeated yourself knowing you were going to be upset at the answer if Layla was this emotional.

“He told me he appreciated hearing that” She forced a laugh, feeling idiotic. Her eyes filled with tears, that she struggled to fight off.

The silence was defeating for a moment, as you tried to wrap your head around what you had just heard. Urban was Jack's best friend, which meant you were going to have to be around him, but knowing that he had hurt your best friend didn’t sit right with you.

“Don’t” Layla warned.

“Don’t? Don’t what?”

“Don’t self-destruct. I’m fine. Things will be okay” she reassured you, noticing your breathing pattern had changed. “Don’t make this a thing. I just have to distance myself, that’s all.”

“If I move in with Jack. Where are you going to live?”

“When you move in with Jack” she gave you a teasing look, “I’m going to renew the lease at our place” she smirked, knowing what your follow-up question would be.

“Lay-How are you going to afford that?”

“There is this guy I know, he’s working on his next album and he said he has a few tracks that need backup vocals. His name is Jack Harlow, do you know him?” she giggled at your wide-eyed reaction.

“What the hell?” You giggled as you pulled into your apartment complex, putting the car in park immediately.

“LAYLA!” You lightly pushed her arm making her sway in her seat a little.

“He called me this morning when you were on your flight home and told me about you moving out, and assured me that he had planned on asking me this months ago but he figured the timing was better late than never” she shrugged, holding back more tears but this time happy ones.

You reached for her, hugging her over the middle console of the car.

“You got yourself a good one y/n” she nodded.

“I do, don’t I?” You agreed, before the two of you got your luggage and went inside of your apartment.

The door unlocked but with a bit of a struggle.

“I need to get that lock changed when you leave me” Layla teased.

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad? You’re with a great guy, who loves you. There’s nothing for me to be mad about” Layla reassured you.

“What about Urban?”

“I’ll get over it eventually” she shrugged, but you knew that likely wasn’t true. Layla was just being a good friend, and putting her feelings aside, which was something she’d be honored to do as long as you were happy with Jack.

“Since Jack told you just about everything….” you playfully rolled your eyes, slightly bothered that you didn’t get to break the news of moving out.

Layla followed you to your bedroom, “Here she goes” she laughed as she started to help you get unpacked.

“Did he also tell you that Urban caught us trying to leak our relationship to the public?”

Layla paused before throwing an article of clothing she had just taken out of your suitcase at you.

“Are you two crazy?”

“Crazy, in love” you giggled, beginning to fold the shirt she had previously thrown at you.

••••••

Your night had only begun to wind down when your phone rang, Neelam's name coming across it. You usually didn’t talk to her unless it was important so your heart started to beat intensely as you quickly answered the phone.

“Is Jack okay?” Your panicked nature caught Neelam off guard, making her laugh a bit.

Neelam in hindsight wasn’t that much older than you, but she still looked at you with maternal instincts, it was somewhat in her nature with her job title.

“Well hello to you too” she hummed.

“Sorry Hi! Is Jack okay?”

“He’s fine, do you have a moment to talk privately?” She specified that knowing Layla was likely beside you.

You stood up from the couch, excusing yourself to the bedroom and closing the door. Neelam sounded serious, a tone she had never used with you before.

“I’m alone.”

“I want to make myself abundantly clear when I say everything I’m about to say, okay?”

“Yeah?” You could feel the panic setting in, wondering where this conversation was going. Your mind was racing, and the lump in your throat was growing more prominent by the second.

“Jack called a meeting today, did you know about that?”

“No?” He hadn’t told you about any of this and you had been in constant communication since you got home.

“In the meeting, he sat me down and conferenced in Chris and the executives at Atlanta Records.“

Your heart sank, unable to tell by her tone what was going on. You had wondered why Jack hadn’t told you any of this, his last text to you being just thirty minutes ago.

You were worried she was going to tell you to leave him alone, that you were standing in the way of his success and to step aside. You felt heavy and immediately achy.

“He wants your relationship to go public, but that’s not only up to him. This changes a lot for you too, do you realize that?”

You were silent for only a second before responding, “I do. I’m willing to quit my job, we already discussed that.”

“It’s more than that. It’s not just a new job and a new place to live. It’s magazine spreads, radio interviews, it’s an overabundance of security and your family's address getting leaked. It’s a big deal, Jack is a big deal.”

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, Neelam wasn’t intentionally trying to intimidate or deter you, but she wanted you to have all of the facts. Your chest tightened as you sat down on your bed, the urge to scream was almost instinct.

Neelam had put you on speaker for the first time during this call, something you weren’t aware of in the moment.

“I’m not going to change my mind about this and neither will Jack” you managed to speak somehow. “I’m one hundred percent sure, I’m all in.”

Jack wasn’t able to hear most of your side of the conversation, but unbeknown to you, he was in the room with Neelam the entire time. His knees were up to his chest as he sat in the chair across from her. He didn’t want to admit that he was nervous about your reaction to everything, but deep down he was.

Once the phone call with Neelam ended and technicalities were explained along with timelines you set your phone beside you on the bed, and a wave of numbness came over you.

Things were going to change and you had to be mentally prepared.

“She's not only in, she’s one hundred percent in!” Neelam playfully mocked your voice as she threw her arms up to celebrate as Jack's entire face turned bright red.

“You’ve got a good one, I’ll admit that” Neelam smiled.

“I do, the best one” Jack replied with a twinkle in his eyes.

#Jack Harlow #Jack Harlow x reader #Jack Harlow fanfic #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagines

[guilty-pleasures21]

One idea for part 2 is for Jason to show the reader what a Interrogation really is.

He ties her to the bed and interrogates her to find out why she deceived him. Force her to confess 🗣

Hey, hey! I deviated a little from the suggestion just because I think Jason's more of a 'long, drawn-out, elaborate revenge plan that you never saw coming' type of guy 😏. If you don't like it though, just let me know and I can try another version with the bed instead!

Interrogation practise

I feel like this is now going to turn into a part 3 based on everyone's responses to that little surprise at the end 😬😅. Please enjoy!

Part 1 - the interrogation

Part 2 - the revenge

Part 3 - the roleplay

Warnings: bondage, explicit descriptions of sex including fingering (f receiving), blowjob (f receiving) and penetration (p in v).

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

She swung across the rooftops, eager to get home and take a shower before cuddling up on the sofa to watch a movie with her boyfriend. Jason had started running a little cold after, well, literally dying, so she always used that as an excuse to curl up with him under the blankets. She rubbed her arm as she landed on top of GCPD, the appendage still sore from where she’d gotten hit earlier.

“Slow down, sweetheart,” Jason called out to her, his voice low and thick as he landed beside her. “We’re not being chased by anyone.” She sighed, trying to relax, and turned to face him, sliding her hands along his chest appreciatively.

“I know, I just …” Her eyes flickered up to his and she grinned before wrapping him up in a hug. “I just want to go home and cuddle up with you! My cute little boyfriend!”

“What the hell?” Jason chuckled, his hands coming around her waist to gently pry her off of him. He wasn’t ‘cute’ - and most definitely not ‘little’. She shot him a mischievous smile - the one that made his heart start thudding in his chest - and he rolled his eyes before turning her around.

“Why don’t we just … take a moment to enjoy the view?” he suggested, guiding her over to the railing surrounding the rooftop. “It’s such a beautiful night.” He stood behind her as she gazed up at the night sky, his hard chest pressing into her back as she admired the way the stars twinkled in the dark. He was right: it was a beautiful night, with her super hot boyfriend - she should take advantage of the brief respite. She turned back around to face him, to slide her hands up his hard muscles and- She couldn’t move. Why couldn’t she move? Oh. Because he’d frickin’ handcuffed her to the rooftop of the effing GCPD building! What the hell?!

“Jason,” she began slowly, trying to keep her voice steady as she tugged on the handcuffs. What the hell was he trying to accomplish?! “What are you doing?” Jason grinned as he took off his helmet and set it aside.

“I am showing you …” He straightened to remove his jacket, shrugging the sleeves off and draping it over his helmet, “... how a real interrogation works.”

Shit! He couldn’t be serious! Could he? Then again, this was the same guy who’d come up with a whole elaborate revenge plan to get back at the Batman after he’d failed to save him from The Joker. So maybe he really wasn’t joking.

“Jason, this isn’t funny,” she insisted, her heart picking up speed in her chest. “Can’t we just do this at home?” He chuckled at her suggestion.

“You don't usually get to interrogate criminals in a comfortable environment, sweetheart,” he informed her casually. His pupils dilated as he watched himself trace his knife over the smooth dips and curves of her body and he licked his lips hungrily.

“Jason, we’re on a f*cking rooftop!” she hissed at him, trying to keep her voice low enough that no one in their vicinity would come to investigate and find them in such a compromising situation. “In the middle of Gotham frickin’ City! What the hell?!”

She didn’t swear much, his sweet girlfriend, so it was always a bit of a shock to hear the vulgarities drip out of her mouth. It was funny, he thought to himself as he appraised her beautiful little body, how badly he’d fallen in love with her when they were so different from one another. Well, that was probably why he’d fallen in love with her in the first place, he supposed, trying to figure out where he wanted to start tonight. He tucked his knife back into his pocket and began unbuckling her belt, ignoring her frustrated protests as he set it aside. She was just so sweet and innocent and it thrilled him whenever he managed to bring out her naughty side. He gripped her chin in his hand, bringing his mouth close to hers. Then he smirked at her. “I’m just trying to help you, sweetheart. Right?”

She glared up at him, her almond-shaped eyes wide and pretty as her rosy lips twisted into a pout. F*ck, she was beautiful, all spread out for him just like this. He couldn’t wait to torture her.

X fiddled with her handcuffs again, trying to come up with a way to get herself out of this situation - they were on the f*cking rooftop of the f*cking Gotham police station, for f*ck’s sake! What if Gordon walked in on them?! Or worse yet - Bruce?! She bent and rotated her wrists, trying to reach up one of her sleeves to pull out the lock picks she kept stashed there for situations just like this. It was too bad he hadn’t cuffed her hands together - it would have been so much easier for her otherwise. But he probably knew that, given the hundreds of times he’d found her chained up in some uncomfortable position, Damian chasing away anyone who tried to help her until she could pick a lock in her sleep. Jason let her go and pulled his knife back out again, tracing the tip of the blade over the seams in her suit.

“So tell me, darlin’,” he finished, his voice a lazy drawl as he admired her body, so perfectly outlined by her tight little suit, “how long were you planning that little stunt you pulled the other night?” X furrowed her brows, pretending to act confused - even as her lips started to curl at the ends.

“What stunt?” Jason shook his head at the fake note of naivete in her voice. But he had to admit that she was cute when she looked at him like that, curly eyelashes fluttering up at him, pretty lips rounded in confusion.

“Don't play dumb with me, sweetheart,” he warned her, twisting the tip of his knife in the collar of her shirt. “I know you too well for that.” He bent over to press a kiss to her cheek, his knife threatening her against moving as he brushed his lips down her neck.

“I'm not lying, Jace!” she insisted, her voice going up a pitch as she started to get more alarmed. “I just got carried away, that's all!” Maybe if she made herself seem really helpless, he'd feel bad and let her go. And then try to make up for it after. How long would she be able to hold this over his head?

Jason laughed, his breath blowing away the loose strands of hair around her face.

“‘Carried away’?” he repeated incredulously, pressing the tip of his knife harder against the fabric at her collarbone. “Somehow, I'm just not buying that, sweetheart.” He straightened, pulling back from her slightly, a knowing look on his face.

“You may have everyone else fooled, but I know you better than that,” he continued, bending over her again to murmur in her ear. “And you know me. So you know how far I'm ready to take this, sweetheart.” And then he dragged his knife down the centre of her suit, ripping it in half. She gasped, horrified: how the hell was she supposed to get home now? With her breasts flying all over the place?! Ugh! He was so infuriating! She definitely wasn't going to give into him now.

“Jason!” she hissed, curling into herself to try to shield some of her exposed chest. “What the freakin’ hell?! I only thought of the damn idea the day before! When I asked you to help me!”

He pulled his eyes up from where they had been running all over her breasts, her perky little tits so round and soft in front of him. “The day before was just a reminder, sweetheart: you'd already asked me a few days before that.”

He leaned over her, grabbing her wrists and holding them in place by her sides, his hard chest pressing against her soft flesh. His lips were so close to hers, his sparkling green eyes darkening with desire as they trailed over her face. “So you must have been planning it for at least as long.”

His voice was low when he spoke, gruff and throaty, and she felt a shiver run down her spine at the feeling, her body shaking against his as he continued to hold her down. He smirked at her, pleased.

“You're right,” she agreed, making herself look as guilty as possible. “It was when I first asked you, the week before. I just … got so carried away that I forgot. That's all.” Liar. Of course he'd hacked into her social media accounts and found all those salacious fanfiction stories she’d been reading - and about him, no less! Tying up the Red Hood and teasing him until he was begging for you, pleading with you to let him touch and taste you. He'd felt his body heat up as he'd skimmed through the words, his core tightening at the thought of his sweet little girlfriend indulging in such naughty fantasies. About him! But she knew he'd never have agreed to letting her tie him up and torture him like that, so she must have come up with some sort of plan to trick him into giving himself over to her. He huffed at the memory of him pleading with her, his words becoming slurred as she pushed him to the edge of his pleasure and then left him hanging. He was going to get his revenge tonight and, oh, would it be sweet.

“Baby,” he began gently, brushing his lips softly against hers. She sighed at the feeling and tilted her head back, her eyelids fluttering shut as she waited for him to kiss her. “How dumb do you think I am?”

Her eyes flew open again as he straightened and shoved his knife back in his pocket. He sighed as he looked back up at her again, shaking his head with disappointment.

“Has no one ever told you how obvious your tells are?” he informed her, leaning over her again, one hand reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Honestly, I'm surprised you've managed to keep your identity a secret for this long.”

He flashed her a crooked grin, the one that made her stomach start flipping over and her heart start fluttering like crazy. “Good thing you've got your big, strong boyfriend to protect you, hmm?”

He bent over to brush his lips along her cheek, then nipped at her ear before trailing his mouth down her neck. He was insane, her boyfriend was actually insane. She pulled at her restraints, the metal rattling with her desperate attempts to break free.

“Jason! What the hell!” she scolded him, furious now. She'd probably need someone else to protect her from her big, strong boyfriend at this rate! He nibbled on the soft spot between her neck and her shoulder, then pulled back to admire her, his tongue running across his lips at the sight of her exposed breasts. He bent over to press his lips to them, licking and sucking on them gently, soft moans escaping from his mouth as he played with each of her breasts in turn. Shit, he was good.

“Tell me how long you were planning it,” he mumbled, pulling one of her nipples into his mouth and sucking on it hard before letting it go. She shuddered at the feeling and he straightened to grin at her, his fingers replacing his mouth to continue teasing her already stiff peaks. She bit down on her lip and shook her head, not wanting to reward him for his audacity. He shrugged at her lack of response and lowered his mouth back to her breasts, his tongue circling her nipple slowly before he pulled on it again.

“If that's how you want to play.” She felt his teeth graze her skin as he repeated the words she'd used on him, his lips twisting into a grin at his cleverness. Then he moved his mouth to her neck, his fingers drifting dangerously low down her torso.

“J-Jason …” she breathed, wriggling around and curling her back to stop him from plunging his fingers into her underwear and- Shiiiiiiiiiit. She whimpered as he dragged his long fingers through her folds, stroking and scissoring her in just the way he knew she liked. “Shit, Jay.”

He smirked at her sudden helplessness, her head flopping over as he continued to play with her. She sucked a breath as he circled his fingers around her entrance, coating them in the c*m already dripping out of her, then let out a sigh of relief when he plunged them into her, poking and prodding at her favourite spot.

“Jay,” she whined, looking up at him with her pretty eyes and her lush lips. “Please, baby? I'll do whatever you want. I'll give you … I'll give you everything … you need from me …” Jason gripped her chin in hand, smirking at the glazed look in her eyes as he continued pumping his fingers in and out of her.

“Already? I thought I taught you better than that,” he chastised her softly, brushing his thumb along her lips. He curled his fingers against her walls, then pulled them out of her entirely, bringing them to his mouth to lick them clean. X let out a frustrated squeak of disappointment at the sudden absence of him, then stomped her foot on the ground as she huffed in irritation.

“Jason Peter Todd!” she exclaimed, glaring at him in a way that was too adorable for him to take seriously. “You … I'm gonna kill you. I'm gonna kill you, Jason. I'm gonna …” Her eyes fell to his centre, to the part of him that she wa so desperately craving for right now, her poor little p*ssy throbbing with desire for him.

“I'm gonna f*ck you,” she continued, her body heating up again at the thought. “I'm gonna pin you down and cuff you to your bed and then have sex with you over and over again until I say we're done.” The railing rattled again as she pulled against her handcuffs and Jason grinned at the very thought. He grabbed her chin again and stepped all the way up to her so that she was forced to tilt her head back to look up at him. Then he raised an eyebrow at her.

“I’d like to see you try, princess.” He flicked her chin and she gritted her teeth as her head fell forward, her stomach flipping over at the look he’d given her. Ugh! Why did he have to be so unfairly hot?! She twisted her body around, struggling to hide her exposed chest from him, but he grabbed onto her hips and held her in position. He brought his mouth to her neck and nudged her head back so he had more room to brush his lips down her throat. He groaned against her skin and nipped at her collarbone, then got down on his knees before her. She yelped as he pulled her pants down to her ankles. He grinned up at her naughtily and held her gaze as he spread her legs apart. She widened her eyes and shook her head at him, pressing her lips together to muffle the groan that fell from them when he pressed his lips to her folds and licked a line up her centre.

“Hmm,” she whined, keeping her jaw screwed shut as he pressed soft kisses to her folds. Shiiiiit, he was good. He chuckled against her as he pulled her folds into his mouth and dribbled his tongue along her length, and she felt her brain go numb at the feeling.

“... how long you were planning it. What else do you have planned for me?” She barely heard him speak through the haze of pleasure he was drowning her in, his lips and teeth grazing against her clit, his tongue flicking out occasionally to dip into her entrance.

“Huh? What?” she mumbled, hissing at the feeling of his tongue plunging into her and brushing against her walls. He groaned against her, delighting in the taste of her, and she shuddered at the vibrations running through her core. “Shit.” He continued rolling his tongue against her, pushing and stroking her until she was right at the edge, waiting to fall … Then he pulled out of her, snatching her orgasm away from her.

“Ah! Jay!” she whined, the tears starting to build behind her eyes as her body begged her for relief. He stood up and cupped her cheeks in his hands, pouting at her in amusement.

“Aww! Is my little Nightingale upset?” he teased her, using her vigilante name. “You wanted me to make you come, baby? Hmm?” She nodded pleadingly, a desperate look on her face, and he pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “Then tell me what else you’ve been planning, sweetheart: I know all about your little pastime you’ve been hiding.”

Her eyes widened in alarm at his revelation, her lips parting with a gasp. “W-What … What are you talking about, Jay?”

“Your fanfics, sweetheart,” he elaborated, starting to undo his belt and pants. “What other ideas have they given you?” She gulped, her stomach roiling with nerves at how many of her dirty little secrets he’d discovered: sure, he was her boyfriend, but there were still some things she was entitled to her privacy about.

“Um, I … I …” she trailed off as he pulled his c*ck out of his pants, the tip red and swollen for her already. He tipped her chin up to his, bringing her attention back to his face.

“Eyes up here, princess,” he chuckled, bringing his c*ck to her p*ssy and dragging it along her soaked folds. She let out an extended whimper, her body shaking at the feeling of his tip tracing her clit. He grinned and slipped himself inside of her, then began thrusting himself into her nice and slow, his arms coming around her waist as his head fell against her shoulder. He groaned as he pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, his tongue licking a path up her neck until he reached her ear and bit on it. He snickered as she let out another yelp, then moaned against her, his nails dragging along her back as he continued moving his hips against hers. “Mmm, shit, baby.”

She felt so good, her warm and wet walls pulling him in and squeezing him tight. And her breasts? Her soft breasts bouncing against his chest as he pumped himself in and out of her? He pulled back from her slightly so he could see her lovely, round tits, then he bent over to pull them into his mouth, a satisfied moan escaping his throat as he licked and sucked on her.

Oh, god. She couldn’t decide whether to focus on the feeling of his c*ck sliding in and out of her, or his balls pressing up against her ass as he lifted one of her legs to wrap it around his waist, or the way he arched her lower back so he could keep nibbling and sucking on her breasts like he was trying to eat her up. The metal rattled behind her as she writhed and squirmed against him, her bare ass pressing into the railing as he sped up his movements.

“Mmm, X,” he murmured, his teeth grazing her nipple as he grinned around her breast. He gave her a last hard suck, then straightened to look at her, his hips ceasing their thrusts unexpectedly. She panted heavily as she waited for his next question, her p*ssy dripping and pulsing around his c*ck desperately.

He gripped onto the railings, trying to focus his thoughts on anything other than the way her p*ssy was begging for him so sweetly. F*ck, he had to get this over with - he didn’t think he’d be able to hold on any longer, despite all of his bravado and swagger. “Tell me … what other ideas … you picked up from your stories.”

She inhaled a shaky breath, the feeling of his thick c*ck nestled inside of her distracting her from everything else. “Uh, um … There was … this one … roleplay thing … I wanted to try.”

She hung her head as she said it, her pretty eyes peeking up at him nervously from beneath her eyelashes as she waited for his response. F*ck, she was cute. But roleplay?! Shit.

“What kind of roleplay?” he asked her, intrigued. She bit her lip, her fingers curling around the railing as her p*ssy clenched around his c*ck again.

“Um, a Red Hood one?” she replied, her tone uncertain. “Where you … Where you kind of trick me? Into having sex with you while you’re still in your costume?” F*************ck. He had to stop her from reading those filthy stories, his sweet little girlfriend. He didn’t want her to get corrupted like that - that was his job. But shit. A roleplay? Where he took advantage of her while in his costume? F*ck - he wished he’d thought of that.

“You want me to trick you?” he asked her, brushing his lips and tongue along her neck. “You want me to f*ck you in my Red Hood costume? Is that what you want, princess?” He pulled her hips against his and began thrusting himself into her again, faster this time. She nodded dazedly, her head flopping over as the pleasure overwhelmed her.

“B-But … I want … to see your face … Jace,” she forced out, her stomach tightening in preparation for the contractions about to wrack it. “I want to kiss you.” He bit his lip at that, at how much she loved him, his lovely little girlfriend. Then he pressed his lips to hers, sliding his tongue in between them and kissing her hard as she pumped himself in and out of her.

“I’ll kiss you,” he growled in between kisses, holding her tight against him as she shuddered and shook in his arms. “I’ll kiss you … as much as you want me to … princess.” He bit her lip as she came, then lowered his head to her shoulder, groaning at the feeling of her clenching his d*ck. He held on a little longer, just until she was almost done having her pleasure, then he let himself go, releasing his load into her, his warm c*m dripping out of him and coating her walls. He stayed inside of her for a bit, letting her p*ssy keep him warm while he finally uncuffed her so she could wrap her arms around his neck and cling onto him. Then he slid himself out of her and picked up his jacket, wrapping her up in it and pulling her pants back up along the way.

“Now we can go home, sweetheart.” He grinned and lifted her up onto his hips, calling for his bike so he could just drive the both of them home.

“J-Jason …” X called to him softly, her chest still heaving with shallow breaths.

“Yes, princess?” he asked her, pulling out his grappling hook.

“Don't ever do that again,” she mumbled into his neck, thoroughly exhausted. “Or I'll steal all your clothes and make you run around Wayne Manor butt naked.”

He laughed at the thought, but knew she'd hold him to it if she really had to. It was one of the many reasons he'd fallen in love with her, after all.

“Whatever you say, princess.”

#jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood smut #red hood fanfiction #red hood #dc x y/n #dc x you #dc x fem #dc x reader #dc fanfic

[janitorhutcherson]

hi! can you do a fluff piece with Mike where he expresses his love to the reader through the different love languages? (like words of affirmation, gift giving, physical touch, acts of kindness, and quality time?) I feel like he would be especially great at acts of kindness with cooking :) thanks!

hii omg this is such a cute idea. this is gonna be quickish i’m sorry, i’ll totally do a longer one later. if y’all like it i’ll maybe make a series?!? but for now just a silly little blurb.

i feel like mike would be very loving and showing his love to you would be extremely important. like, extremely important. so he’d def be the kind of guy to take all of these seriously, even if they weren’t… easy… for him since expressing emotions doesn’t come as natural.

words of affirmation: words of affirmation is one of my favorite love languages. this is one that doesn’t come easy for mike — and not because he doesn’t love you, but just because he can’t really express himself well. if you’re like me, being reassured, told you’re doing great, etc, is important to you. mike would do his very best to remind you every day how important you are to him, leaving the occasional note in the morning before you head to work. it may say something like, “Reminder I am so proud of you for everything you do. I love you, baby!” he’s also ramble to you at night sometimes, just telling you how much he loves you. if you were ever down, he’d make sure to sit you down and point out all of the things he loves about you, physically and mentally.

gift giving: okay i feel like this is a big one. money doesn’t come very easily for mike. after he got “fired” (that’s what he pretends happened!😜), he had to find another job that still had shitty pay. his resume didn’t make him a great candidate for anything high quality. with that being said, every month he attempts to scrape up enough money to make you a little gift basket. it varies from month to month, depending on how much he was able to save. sometimes they’d be big baskets he’d have abby help him pick stuff out for. there may be a fuzzy blanket, some candies, face masks, maybe a candle. sometimes they’d be smaller, just a little note and some candy, maybe a stuffed animal from the dollar store. regardless of how big or small, you always appreciated it when you’d walk into your shared home and see it sitting on the table.

physical touch: oh my god i think this one is a huge one for mike. given his past, he is so touch starved. every second he gets, his hands are on you. of course, at night he loves to curl up with you in bed. he’ll have his arms tightly wrapped around you, playing with your hair or maybe rubbing your back. even when he dips down on the bed to tie his shoes in the morning, he keeps his hand on your sleeping shoulder until he absolutely has to move it. he’s the same way out in public. at the supermarket, he’ll hold your hand, he’ll wrap his arm around your waist when you’re standing in line for something. when you’re out to eat, his hand will be on your knee underneath the table. when you’re cooking at home, he will always come and wrap himself up behind you, moving with you to the point that it’s slightly obnoxious, but you don’t mind. as long as he’s with you.

acts of kindness: i so agree that this would be a big one for him that he’d be good at. before you, mike was a one trick pony when it came to cooking, and for that, he could barely do it. he could make something that was edible enough to be spaghetti. once you two started dating, he learned for you. he wanted to be able to make your favorite dishes and desserts. he surprises you all the time when he’s off of work or if he gets off before you, making your favorite dish and having it served up on the table with candles when you walk in the door after work. he’s also big on doing things like running you baths, putting the bubbles in and the epsom salts in. sometimes he’d get into it with you, holding you. i also think he’d like to take showers with you. if you struggle with mental health at all, i think he’d be the type of partner to help you wash your hair. of course he’d do chores for you sometimes, knocking out necessary errands. overall he’s a very loving partner who will do anything to make you smile.

quality time: quality time is something that isn’t easy to get. as much as you love abby, alone time is especially hard to come by. since mike is working day shifts now, you two will do your best to have a late night together at least once a week. you’re both usually pretty exhausted, taking care of abby, working, running errands. but once a week, usually on a friday night, you both stay up until 3am/4am, just talking, snacking, maybe watching a movie. otherwise, for quality time, he makes sure to sneak some time in with you here in there. he’d make sure to run simple errands with you, maybe even to sit with you at the nail salon. i also think he’d love to help you cook, go shopping. any chance he’d get to spend time with you, he’d take it.

#mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson fluff #josh hutcherson imagine #josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson #michael schmidt x reader #michael afton

[oreosmama]

What's in a Virtue (Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader)---Part 3

*GIF not mine*

Summary:

Gaz wants you, but the hotel bar you work at has rules; when a bartender calls dibs, all others have to back off. It’s how the peace is kept, and as the new girl just trying to rack up some savings, you’re not willing to rock the boat.

But Gaz doesn’t take kindly to you avoiding him, and he’s never been one to beat around the bush. From confessing his love on the first night you met to shouting your name seven times from across the bar, he’s not letting you off the hook that easy. Not when he’s seen the proof that you’ve fallen just as hard for him.

A/N: mwahaha, and they said it couldn't be done. those who doubted me shall gaze upon my very first (and perhaps last) complete series! Victoryyyyy! I hope you enjoy!

Word count: 8374

Part 1 Part 2

   You’re pretty sure you didn’t hear him right. 

You’ve got morning-after brain, and his chest is so hot and adamant behind you, and his breath is right next to your ear. Plus, your stomach is growling with a pit only chocolate-chip pancakes and white peach oolong can fill. 

And he’s doing that tracing thingy again. G. A. Then what?

R. Maybe.

And that leads you to think you might’ve just maybe heard him correctly, because why the hell is he drawing his last name on your hip so brutishly that it twinges? 

“Um.” You stiffen. “What.” 

Not really a question. The way you say it, it comes out more like you don’t want to know the answer even if you really did ask. 

Kyle groans that long, gruff way, husked past his vocal cords and throbbing a path through your entire body. “Look, I get it.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“Just let me… ah, fuck, I know it sounds ridiculous, love, but hear me out.” He moves away, giving you space to think while he leans against the counter and grips the edge, tight. 

“Wait,” you hold up a hand before he can start talking again, because you need a minute. Several minutes, actually. A whole assload of minutes to comprehend the suggestion he’s just thrown at you. “Wait, wait, wait. Are you serious?”

This is probably just what Kyle’s morning-after brain is like. It makes stupid, sudden suggestions that he just blurts out on a whim with no regard for how it’ll land. In all fairness, you doubt it’s ever done him wrong before. Even in a regular headspace it’d be hard to tell him no. 

Never mind that he’s shirtless, and that his broad shoulders eat up the space of three cupboards, and that his gaze is doing that thing again—that unfair thing where he towers over you but can still make you feel like he’s kneeling, dips his head so those pleading irises look up at you. 

“Dead serious, love.”

There’s an air about him that’s resolute, despite it all. He’s tender but stern, decided and confident in his conclusion. He’s shedding his clothes and skin, leaving himself belly-up for you to bite. 

“Kyle…”

“Too soon?” He doesn’t even look hurt. Just expectant. 

You shrug helplessly. “Yes? Very too soon, don’t you think?” You spin around, fiddle with the pancake mix but don’t open it. The mug you’ve microwaved for your tea is probably cool at this point, and you try to turn that into your biggest problem of this morning. 

Not the special forces sergeant who lives life at three-hundred miles an hour, exuding such a new energy in here that you can’t remember the basics. It’s the morning after, and as beautifully new as Kyle is, like the stretch of new blue jeans, he’s not threadbare enough in here yet. Too tight, sucking the air out of your own home and leaving you all prickly and sweaty and nervous. 

And he wants you to move in with him? Right now? This soon?

It’s easy, when you turn your back to him and lob your hand towards the microwave handle, to pretend that your biggest problem can be amended in minutes. 

Because now, despite that itchiness of Kyle’s gaze on your face, your biggest problem is that you haven’t even begun to steep your tea. That’s a huge deal. You’re supposed to do it seconds after the microwave beeps, pull the mug out and let the steam soak into the tea bag that you swing for a bit, always have to watch the foggy-air disruptions back and forth. Then you steep it, let the water grow murky for ten minutes as you cook the rest of the meal. Add sugar, an ice cube because you’re scared it’ll burn your tongue like the first time, and stir while you pour syrup on your plate. 

You’re horribly set in your ways, so much so that you hate—actually hate—the newness Kyle’s thrust upon you. It took him twenty-four hours to upset everything. 

Well, not everything. Just you. While you feel fresh out of the box, everything around you has been preserved in mundanity. 

If you took two rights and a left from this building, you’d find a sandwich shop owned by a short man with an orange cat. If you went two floors up, you’d find a pack of graduate students; one more floor, and you’d see Mrs. Beverly and her purse dog. If you went into your living room, finagled with your window a bit, the shutters would close in a perfect angle so that the sun falls on your couch but doesn’t glare on your TV. 

You know it takes you twenty-seven minutes to get to work in the morning right after you brush your teeth. It takes you fourteen minutes to walk home after you clock off. Thirty more minutes to order food and settle in, Netflix the pinnacle of your night before you nod off in a tank top with exactly three holes and short shorts you’d bought under the duress of a busted AC.

You have milk and eggs both two days away from expiration in your fridge, along with old Chinese takeout. You have books with crackled spines and ruffled pages on your bookshelf, and a muddy stain on your entryway carpet from two days after you’d bought it. A bedroom unruly and unbidden, clothes strewn everywhere.

You could envision it all, see it all because you knew it all. Have known it all for the months that this place has been your home and you’d begun working at the hotel bar. You could have the rest of your life mapped out by tomorrow if you really wanted to. It’d be safe. Predictable. Boring, in that average way you’ve always known. None of it would be moving by so fast that you wouldn’t get a break to think of the consequences. 

None of it would make you feel like you’re reaching new heights by jumping off cliffs, taking big, stupid risks that wind up working all the damn time—and solely because Kyle makes them work. Because he runs seven steps ahead of you and lays out the golden carpet for you to step on, telling you it’s okay to keep pushing forward.

The phone calls, the talks, his touch and voice. All of it closing in on you, molding you into something fresh and unseen. 

But that’s just it. It’s still just you who’s changed. 

Not Kyle, who’s certainly been like this his whole life. Who’s used to making snap decisions that have an impact, gotten so damn used to doing that that he carries it with him now. 

And it’s not Mariano or his cat Garfield, or the ham and swiss you get on Fridays. It’s not Jared and Samantha, both of whom play Mario Kart after writing another page in their theses. It’s not Mrs. Beverly and Chloe, or Jeanne, or your family or friends you haven’t texted in a while. 

Only you. 

You’re stripped to your marrow, neurons and fibers spilling all over the place because—oh hell—you’ve grown too big for all this. Kyle’s had you melting and flowing fast and sharp since he first showed up in your life, and you’re moving too fast to feel out that old stagnancy. 

But there’s an ugliness that lives inside of you too, that hates how uncomfortable every little step forward is, even if you can’t stop taking them. 

It’s exposing. You feel naked, but not in the new, comfortable way Kyle’s helped you discover by virtue of his longing. More naked like school nightmares and too-small bath towels. Naked like someone’s going to douse you in lemon juice and salt any second to watch you writhe. 

“Kyle.” Your hand’s still propped on the handle. The microwave beeps again, impatient. “Last night was—God, it was amazing.” You open the door, pull out the mug despite how lukewarm it’s grown. “Best I’ve ever had, by a long shot. But…”

“But what, love? You’re scared?” His voice is barely above a whisper, and you’ve no doubt he’d watched your mind run and run circles around itself, and had had enough time to form an argument of his own. “It’s too much? A lot to ask? I think that too, love, but we’re running out of time.” He rises to his full height, and you try not to shy away at how much space he takes up when he’s grim and serious. 

He’s massive, bigger when he’s panting over you, sleek hips pressing down, suppressing your twists and jolts. He’s gotten better at trapping you, too. It’s intimidating. Thrilling, in better circumstances.

You can’t think straight anymore. He smells like pine all over again, and looks it too. 

“Come back with me to England. We’ve got bars—bars I can bother you at. We’ve got universities for second chances. I’ve got a flat with plenty of room, plenty of money to—”

“Kyle, please.” The whine rips from your throat, and you drag two hands over your face. 

In the corner of your vision, you don’t miss the way he stiffens and swallows a bit. But then he says your name through choked sigh, and rasps, “I know it sounds fuckin’ crazy—I feel like a bloody fool saying it out loud. But I don’t want to lose this, and I can’t keep comin’ back here to start us from scratch every few months.”

You don’t know what to say to that, can’t stop bobbing your mouth open and closed, trying to find those useless words that might explain what’s holding you back.

Something like, It’s only been three months.

Yes, but Kyle knows that too. And he still wants you. 

You don’t even really know him.

Sure. But what was there to learn that he wouldn’t offer you on a silver platter?

It’s going to fall apart. It always does for you. Months will pass, and he’ll realize he made a mistake. He’ll kick you to the curb, and you’ll be back to square one. 

A coaxing palm cradles your cheek, and a warm thumb prods over your lower lip, both of which make you flinch out of your thoughts. Kyle tips your head up, up, up until you’re looking at him, brown irises gentle and luring.

“I can see it, you know. That cruel little brain of yours is whirring so loud it’s makin’ me nauseous.”

Your eyes fall closed, and you reach up, grapple at Kyle’s wrist, massage the tender spot at its center. “I’m sorry.”

He inhales, ragged and slow. Exhales, blowing past your flyaways. “For what, bunny?”

You continue to caress the baby-soft skin of his wrist, marveling a bit at how different it feels from his rough fingertips, from his scarred thighs, his bruised back. “I need… time. A little bit to think. Consider things.”

The last thing you wanted to do was tell him to leave. You felt like an idiot for even implying that space from him was the something you needed right now. You know the silence will swallow you whole when he’s gone. 

“You want me to go?” he breathes out, and his face crumbles. Likely, he didn’t want to leave. He could barely be goaded out of your bed, and now this? 

Kyle looks like he wished he hadn’t asked, hadn’t said anything. Those mournful brown eyes slip to the counter, where your mug and pancake box sit, then back to you, to your eyes and nose and lips. 

Your lips. He prods at the bottom one, like he can’t help it. The caress slows to a stop when he pinches his eyes closed and tips forward, dropping his forehead to yours. “But I don’t wanna leave, love,” he mumbles. “Scared if I do, you won’t let me back.”

You don’t think you could ever keep him out. Not out of your house, and not out of your head. But your brain feels unspooled and uncollected, and all that’s left are too-sweet cotton-candy wisps that can’t quite latch onto anything. 

“I…”

Don’t want you to leave either.

I want you to stay. I want to move in with you. I want every night to be like last night, and every morning to begin like ours did.

I want it all to be ours.

Your hands rise up and brush against the dips and swells of his chest. Goosebumps blossom under your touch. 

“Kyle, you know this isn’t goodbye. It can’t be. I need you to tell me you understand that.”

He sighs again.

“I know, love. I know that.” His thumb wanders over the arch of your cheek. “I’m used to all this, with you. All the pullin’ away and coming back.” He chuckles bitterly, a bit breathy. “It’s just so fuckin’ hard this time ’round.”

Your chest feels like it’s split open, gaping and pouring out. But your mind, or what’s left of it, knows you need this. You need the separation from him, deserve time to think through all he’s offering, all you could barely repay him for in return. 

The debt between the two of you is yawning. But if you gave in and told him yes, all you’d be left with is uncertainty. 

Not even a man as perfect as Kyle can make up your mind for you. 

“One more kiss before you go?”

He takes you up on it before you can say any more. 

His lips are a harsh press against yours, bruising enough to leave them puffy for hours. He kisses to consume, to swallow you up and spit you out wanting more. 

Gentlemanly as Kyle can be, there’s not a glimpse of it to be seen now. He’s not playing fair, at the moment. 

He hooks a finger under your chin and holds you steady, keeps you close and running out of air as he slips past your defenses, the hot, wet press of his tongue on top of yours. It’s instantly dominating before you have a chance to fight.

And then he’s toying with you, kneading you back into the fray with long prods and swipes, his stubble from the morning a heady friction on your skin. He’s playing and caressing and devilishly stroking needy whimpers from you, fingers dancing along your skin, drawing circles on your skin and whines from your throat. That dangerous tongue of his performs another sweep about your mouth, then slips back. Kyle begins worrying at your bottom lip, teeth digging in so harsh and quick —

—and he tears away from you so abruptly that you gasp, can’t even see straight. Suddenly you’re cold and alone, panting and losing your balance without Kyle’s sturdy form keeping you upright. 

You only realize what had happened when you hear a rustling from your bedroom. Kyle reappears seconds later, avoiding your gaze as he zips his jacket up over his bare chest, legs and hips clad in last night’s jeans. 

Subconsciously, you pick at the neckline of the black cotton tee you’re wearing—his shirt, one you guess he doesn’t want back before he leaves. “You don’t want your—”

“Don’t take it off—not yet, yeah?” He meets your eyes for the first time in two minutes, and there’s little brown left to them, all dilated pupils and a consternated furrow. Even his lips, wonderfully swelled, are tugged into a small frown. “Keep it on f’me. I’ll come back for it when you’re ready.”

But you don’t know when that’ll be. How could you possibly make an unbiased decision when the damn thing still smells like him and you can’t forget that ravenous look in his eyes when he’d first found you in it?

Kyle’s hovers near the door, hand tight around the knob like he can’t quite figure out how to open it again. He glances back at you over his shoulder, lets himself take you in, take the entire scene in. He even looks back at your bedroom, where the sheets are rumpled and need to be washed. Then he settles on you one last time, jaw set, muscle feathering a bit.

“Call me. Text me. Anything, darling. But don’t you dare forget about me.”

The door closes with a slam.  

~~~~~~

The first day, Gaz is sure it’s fine. You need time to think, and that’s okay. He can handle that. He’s handled it multiple times.

And, yeah, when he’d gotten back to his hotel room, he had to sit for a moment, staring at the wall. Had to replay that whole night all over again. 

Then again. 

He did the same thing with that morning, reimagining licking the sweat off your thighs, sliding up and burying his face into your stomach, pawing at your body wherever you’d get the loudest. Replayed the feeling of your supple palms and soft fingertips—every inch of you was so damn soft, fleshy and yielding in his hands—wandering over his cheeks, his lips, his scalp. 

Fucking beautiful. Every goddamn second of it. 

Gaz, that first day, tries not to linger too long on how it’d ended. 

So stupid of him to bring that up. Suggest for you to move in with him when obviously you both functioned at two vastly different paces. 

Isn’t it ridiculous that he can’t even bring himself to think it’s crazy? He can’t find it in him to say no, that’s bullshit, because who are you and why the hell did he ever think moving with a woman he’d only known for three months was okay—desirable, even?

So bloody desirable it almost crossed that line and became imperative. 

He spends that night checking his phone, wondering if you’ll call him again, borderline tears and needy like yesterday.

That was his favorite aspect of yours so far—when you needed him, you needed him badly. You needed him while you choked back gasps and almost-sobs. You needed him while you breathed a little sigh of relief at the sight of him and jumped into his arms. You needed him with that first kiss, shy and tentative, but trying your best to imitate reckless abandon—until he taught you properly. 

He’d spent that whole night watching you be shocked at yourself for how badly could want him, all confused and flushed when you’d noticed your fingers digging into the buttons of his trousers. A little stunned “o” formed on your lips when you’d dug your nails in, body trembling with exhaustion, and still begged him for more. Kyle, please. More.

Gaz only convinces himself to take a shower for the night when the thoughts become too much. He almost trips over his own feet in a mad scramble when he sees his phone flash, only to find a notification for an update. 

He goes to sleep in a sour mood. 

The second day goes about the same. He wakes up late in the afternoon (because, due to your midnight upset, he was still on his Middle-East sleep schedule), spends way too much time remembering and staring at his phone, waiting for a buzz or a ring. Eats his dinner and drinks in a deathly silence. 

Because silence is unnerving to him now. You’ve changed that much in him. Every second spent in lonely quiet feels like a waste of his time. 

But you don’t call. And you don’t text. 

You don’t do any of it for the next three days. 

Gaz wallows even worse. He gets antsy, goes to the hotel gym and sprints on the treadmill, because he knows if he runs outside he’ll find himself at your place. He goes to stores, buys himself another black t-shirt, same size and brand as the one that you’d worn, that’d cinched in at your waist and flared out to capture your hips and thighs. 

He wanders into the bookstore next door and finds a few of the ones he’d spotted on your bedroom bookshelf whenever you’d tapped out on him. He flits through a few pages, eyes catching on the naughty words, and reads through for… wistful entertainment, at least. 

Research purposes, at most. 

And Gaz chuckles to himself, winking at the girls that try to wander into the section inconspicuously. The same ones who surely have as good a poker face as you, and who immediately vacate the area at the sight of an invader. 

It would be more fun if it was you he was teasing. Same pink ears and face, same eyes avoiding contact at all cost, fingers fidgeting at the hems of your sleeves.

A longing ache floods his chest so directly and intensely that he has to take a second, breathe and set down the book so he can center himself again. That same flood of cognizance about his situation hits him when he’s on missions, when the victims’ sobs finally get to him or he looks too long in the eyes of a dead man. 

Like he’s yanked to the surface after hours underneath the tide, and the sun shines so brightly his eyes burn. But he’s seeing and feeling everything he’d shoved deep down, knows exactly what led him to this moment. 

Gaz doesn’t go out much after that. 

Not the next day, or the day after that. Not even the next two days after those. 

It’s around this point that he wishes you would just put him out of his fucking misery. He’s so tired of thinking of you before he goes to bed, dreaming of you, then waking up to phantom touches all over his body. He’s driving himself up the walls trying not to call you, break into your house and just steal you back to England anyway. 

Patience. Son of a bitch—patience. God, you strung it out so thin with him that it could snap like a rubber band and hurt you both. 

It’s midnight of the tenth day of no contact with you that Gaz’s finally got his sleep schedule under control, and he’s twisted up in the sheets, body caked with sweat. 

Well, actually, he’s in Prague.

He’s rapidly approaching a target in a dusty, dark alleyway. Just before they turn the corner and get into public view—can’t let that happen, have to maintain cover—Gaz wrestles them away from the glow of the streetlamps and back behind a dumpster, kicking away their gun while he wrenches a biceps around their neck—

But it’s your voice ringing through the air. Your pleas and sobs pierce his conscious too late. Your neck snaps so loud he flinches, and all the while his mind is screaming no, no this can’t be right. She’s not the target. She’s never the target. 

Gaz scrambles away, tearing off the sheets and rolling out of bed. 

Jesus Christ.

He has to see you. 

After that, just needs to make sure. Needs to check that you’re still in tact, your sweet neck not cracked and limp, eyes not dim and silenced. 

He rises to his feet and can’t find his Goddamn socks anywhere. A yellow glow from the window lets Gaz catch himself in the mirror at the perfect moment, and he can see the thick sheen of sweat that covers his body head to toe. 

You deserve better than that. Better than a sweaty, desperate man with no patience pushing his way into your house and demanding an answer, a single word, fucking anything from you. 

Even a nod or a shake of your head would settle his poor heart. The damn thing aches in his chest all the time now. 

Gaz slips into the bathroom for a quick, cold shower, stubs his toes against the not-wide-enough walls of the tub several times, and ambles out a bit slower and far more jittery than he’d gone in. 

He’s shifting a pair of pants up his not-yet-dry legs when he spots it. 

A dim flash from the hotel nightstand, where his phone is plugged in. 

Gaz freezes.

Surely it’s not…

Well, it might be…

But he’d been gone for not even five bloody minutes; that’s not even fair!

Suddenly, he’s kicking off the pants and hurdling over the bed, buck-naked and scrambling for his phone.

No, no, no, no, no, no, NO.

But yes. It’s a voicemail from you. Three minutes and forty-seven seconds, and he wasn’t there for any of it. 

He presses it with wide eyes and a heaving chest, and something stabs him, hard, cruel, and swift right in the center of his gut when he hears your voice. 

“Wow, I’m getting deja vu.” You laugh, but it’s empty and short. “I’m really hoping you didn’t sneak off to a mission without telling me. That would, uh…” Your tone grows dreary, even as you huff another laugh. “That would really suck. But I’m sure I deserve it.”

You thought he’d leave you?

You can’t see him, and he knows that, but he still shakes his head, brow furrowed because no, no, no, he would never do that to you. Damn that evil brain of yours. 

“I just… um, I just had a dream, though. Wanted to tell you about it. It wasn’t even bad so, like, I don’t even know why it woke me up.” Some shuffling, and a sniffle. “Well, I mean I do, but… okay, fine, I’ll just tell you. 

“It was pretty lame. Nothing big, but I was hanging out in an apartment—a flat, you might say—which is a stupid name for an apartment, but you Brits don’t even know what chips are, so whatever. I’ll let it go. 

“Anyway, I was sitting on the couch kinda bored, and then you came in. Came back, really. It’s like that background knowledge thing you get in a dream, where you only know exactly what’s going on the moment it happens? But you were back from a mission, and I had dinner and a hot bath ready, and you…”

Another sniffle. Gaz hovers over the phone, waiting for those seconds to dwindle down, needing to know how you felt when the message ended so he could call you and be…well, be whatever the fuck you needed him to be in that moment. 

“I don’t know. We were about to kiss, and then I woke up and you weren’t even there and I just…hated that. The idea of that. Of you not being there when you could’ve been. And knowing that the only reason you weren’t was because I was being so stupidly stubborn.”

You sigh, then, and get too quiet for him to hear without crouching closer. “Kyle, if you still want me even at all after this, I…” You suck in a long breath, and he hears that little hitch at the back of your throat. “I need it to be slow. Slower than what it’s been. Especially if… if it’s gonna be the same apartment. I’ve never had anything like this before. Never felt it. And I’m scared of, well, all of it, honestly.

“But I’m more scared of never taking that chance with you. And you’ve been commuting to my home, my country all this time, so… you know, maybe it’s time I reciprocate. Reciprocate a lot of things.”

Then someone knocks on his door.

~~~~~~

Kyle never directly told you which hotel room he was in. But when he’d kicked his pants off and you’d watched them soar over your bedroom floor that night you’d called him over, you’d laughed into his kiss at the sight of his wallet, his key card, and some loose change rattling across the floor. 

The next morning, you’d picked it all up while he was in the bathroom, where he was hopefully not glaring at the impulsive hickey you’d given him. You’d snagged his t-shirt for yourself, some womanly, possessive part of you wanting to squeeze yourself into his clothes, whether it would fit or not. You’d felt like a damn fool crammed into it—until Kyle saw you for the first time, and the look he gave you made your stomach clench. 

You’d organized the rest of his things onto your dresser, only eyeing the room card, and the number sharpied on the back, passively. 

Room 428. 

You knocked on the door now, pulse thump-thump-thumping against your eardrums. 

An “Oh fuck” was muffled and low through the door. 

It didn’t sound like you’d woken Kyle up, and you admit that you’d been seriously considering the fact that he might’ve left for a mission while you were in AWOL mode. A bit of luck, really, that it was actually him, still here after ten days of radio silence. 

But you’d know that gruff, British grumbling anywhere, and your body began to tremor. Small, at first, in your fingertips and toes. Then your knees felt a little loose as time went on and all you could hear from Kyle’s end was quick footsteps and the snap of fabric. By the time the door whipped open, your every breath came out stumbling, like waves over jagged rocks.

And Kyle…

Oh. 

Oh, Goddamnit. 

Ten days was too long for both of you. 

Because Kyle, for all his effortless handsomeness, was a wreck. Untidy stubble’s laid claim to his jaw and throat, and his lips look bitten raw. Deep-seated crescents curve under each eye, lined and dark and angry. He’s draping himself against the door with the black curls on top of his head in complete disarray, and watching you with a low-lidded gaze. 

Gaunt, worn, weakened. Like the life has been drained out of him. 

But it’s still Kyle. There’s a phantom of his old self in his form now, a tautness to his shoulders and neck, slight bend in his knees, vigilance in his whiskey eyes. You’ll have to reel his spirit to the surface.

Looking at him now, though, it hurts to think you’re the one who’d done it to him. So damn hard to believe that he takes absences of you like shots to the heart. It’s lovely, to be so wanted by Kyle Garrick. 

Harrowing, too. 

There’s a learning curve to holding his tender heart in your hands and trying not to squeeze it too hard, too often, but you get the feeling you’ve been treating it like a stress ball. You forget that he keeps himself at this rough idle for you. That he always carries soft, warm feelings all the time, and lets them fester behind the velvet steel of his abdomen.

“Did you get my voicemail?”

He nods a little. 

“So you heard that I…?”

Another nod. 

The air is thick and straining with his silence. All he is right now is two eyes watching you and ten long fingers flexed against the door, features bordering on unreadable. 

But there’s yearning. There’s always that fierce yearning with Kyle.

You lean a little closer, don’t quite know whether to be disturbed or flattered at how his nostrils flare when he suddenly sniffs. 

Then he hums, low and deep.

“Peaches,” you mumble, recalling months ago, a staunch memory of his words about your perfume. 

“Tha’s right, bunny,” he mutters. His fingers peel off the door before he lurches toward you, a lovely swoop in your gut when he hauls his arms around your waist, tilting his face to yours. He takes another sniff, this one nestled against the top of your scalp. “It’ll smell like peaches.”

When Kyle takes a step backward, his arms remain iron-stiff around your back, dragging you with him. Step for step for step until you’re in his hotel room, kicking his door shut with the heel of your shoe. 

His hand rises and sweeps back the hair stuck to your neck, already slanting his lips over your pulse point, teething at the skin. “My flat,” he whispers. Then he scoops up your jaw, tilts your head to the other side and reattaches his mouth to the next indent in your throat. “My bedroom.” Another readjustment of your head, aligning himself just below your chin, your head tipped all the way back, blurry, blissed-out eyes locked on the ceiling. “My sheets.”

“Kyle.”

His fingertips dig in hard enough to leave purple dots against your lower back. “All of it’ll smell like peaches. Like you.”

You pry him off with a tugging grip at his damp hair, only slightly intrigued by the water droplets that you now notice litter his skin. 

A bit too busy trying to think back to why you’re here, outside of getting his hot mouth all over you again, to try and care about something so minor. 

There’s an indignant huff against your bobbing throat before he draws back. Kyle looks damn near put out by the fact that you hadn’t let him keep sucking distractions into your skin, and his teeth bare slightly when he grumbles, “What is it, love?”

Lest you forget Kyle first and foremost loves to grope at the plush of your thighs, he does so now, mindlessly, detrimentally to your train of thought. “There’s—there’s so much to figure out, Kyle.” Your words are more like a sputter, wild spilling past your teeth. “There’s getting my stuff there, and passports, and visas. Things that take more time than how long we’ve known each other.”

The golden gleam of his smirk almost takes you out of commission. One second he’s bitter about his mouth and the lack of your skin against it, the next he’s pulled back far enough to meet your eyes dead on, confident like he knows you inside out. 

“Bunny, when you first started to walk, did you go ’round asking everyone what running felt like instead of trying it?”

You… don’t know what that means. Like at all. 

And you’re fairly certain you wouldn’t be able to figure it out even if you weren’t exhausted from four-hour sleep and the wandering of calloused fingers. 

“Kyle—what?”

The deep timber of his chuckle floods your ears like spools of silk. It’d almost be mean if it wasn’t the same playful laugh he used to give you from across the counter, one hand on a drink, the other reaching for yours, and if he hadn’t done it with little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. 

“I just mean…” he pauses and strokes at your thighs a little slower, “that all of this has felt so bloody natural. Like I’m made to be doing this. Like I’m learnin’ how to walk all over again. And you…” One hand departs, rises and encompasses your cheek, thumb swiping over its swell. Kyle’s features soften. “Love, you make me want to run so badly.”

Your hands fist against his chest, but you know he can still feel the quivering that’s begun. That slowly showers over your body, tip of your skull down to the bottoms of your feet, electrifying and frightening.

You say his name again, startled at how much you want him. 

He’s not wrong. Not even close. Being with him is like warm sweaters, or old socks, or scuffed shoes. Things that always just fit.

But it’s new, these butterflies frenzied in your stomach, this chain reaction of shivers and sparks of pleasure and licks of sweet heat. 

New, and timeless. Confusing, and so damn easy. 

“I’ve got connections, love. And so much time for you. All the time in the goddamn world.” His hips press into yours, and once more, he begins to sway.

And, once more, you follow suit.

��And there’s bars aplenty in England, love,” Kyle whispers the words against your forehead. “If that kickin’ little mind o’ yours feels like it has to repay me—pain in my arse, but I’d let you do it. Even though I wouldn’t mind it if you could just sit in my apartment and look real pretty. That’s always on the table for you.”

“Definitely off the table, Kyle.”

“All right, all right, fine.” He peppers kisses over your face. “So long as you’re there each time I walk through that door, yeah?”

~~~~~~

Gaz can smell it from the hallway. 

The heavy scent of chocolate and those pretty candles you love to light, along with a lingering hint of peach. The door to his flat towers, ominous and contingent, like if he doesn’t open it now, any second it’ll slip away and he’ll be back on the field, gunsmoke thick in his eyes and throat. 

Coming home is always a little hard.

 He’s unwinding vertebra by vertebra, trying to fracture himself into small enough pieces to fit through the door. And there’s the crotchety stiffness of his limbs, too long for these halls, too sturdy for a scene soft as this. 

Gaz shoots for quiet and hits dead silence when he twists the knob. Slips through the doorway and takes in this little fault he’s discovered in reality, phenomenon he’s kept under wraps for the past year or so. 

Because entering the pocket dimension of his flat is nothing short of ascendant. Every damn time. 

The air in here is velvety smooth and warm. Not unbearably, for July—it almost feels like the warmth of a sweaty palm still interlaced with his, making his body all syrupy slow. The lights have been dimmed and everything in view from the doorway is more shadow than actual features. London, like the determined sadist it is, is gray and drizzly outside each of his wide-open windows, helping none with his search.

That is something he’d had to bargain for—open windows. Gaz doesn’t mind the subpar reward any creeper might receive peeking into his home, but you weren’t as convinced. The task to win you over had become almost insurmountable when he’d grown too greedy in the living room and you, with eyes only barely comprehensive over his shoulder, locked gazes with an elderly woman across the way and screeched.

But he’d won, and it seemed you honored your promise now. 

Speaking of you, he doesn’t even spot you the first look-around. Even as his nerves meld into the sleek familiarity, panic splices through his gut when he glances once, twice, then thrice around. You’re not running toward him like he desperately wishes you would. You’re not hovering over the kitchen stove, or digging through the fridge. You’re not even curled up in the window seat, sipping on a steaming mug. 

Gaz knows he was quiet, but he didn’t know he was too quiet. 

It becomes increasingly obvious that you’d had plans to greet him. 

Because not only is his favorite meal still sitting over the burner, and the kitchen’s covered in dirty dishes, but you’re lounging on the couch, plush thighs crossed one over the other with a book in hand, clad in fantastically sparse lingerie of frilly black lace that leaves meager gaps for his memories to fill in.

With a stuttering breath, he fills the gaps in tight. 

Your lazy fingers scrape at the corner of a page, then you flip it with a bored sigh, shifting a little by hooking your heel over the top of a sofa cushion, splitting your legs wide so he can see—

His pack drops to the floor with a thunderclap of noise. 

Your body jerks all at once, a quick shriek splitting the viscid atmosphere in half. 

Your wide, prey eyes latch onto his while you grapple at your chest, book having been launched halfway across the carpet. “Kyle, you son of a—could you have been any quieter? What the hell?!”

He barks out a laugh. The potency of your voice saying his name is already swimming through his mind, and he reaches back and closes the door while you rise to your feet. “Sorry, love. Next time I’ll just crawl through the window, yeah?”

“Fuckin’ may as well have,” you grumble, adjusting the stringy straps of your bra. Your skin is all blank and pale right now from months of his absence, white space where amaranthine marks should be. 

Four months. The longest the two of you have been apart, and every step you come closer that heady scent of your perfume prickles its way up his spine. 

“My sweet little bunny, precious love of my life—what have you been up to, hmm?”

Your hands slot on your hips, and you pout up at him. The build-up of energy crackles all over his skin the longer you stand so far away from him, but you’ve still settled for a lecture instead of a kiss. “Well, I had this whole plan where I’d feed you and bathe you, and then we’d fuck like rabbits, but I guess that’s out of the question now.”

Gaz snickers, the abject disappointment raw on your face. “How is that out of the question?”

“Timing’s off and you ruined the whole sexy vibe I was aiming for.” You fold your arms, and Gaz shamelessly drags his gaze down from your face. “You really suck, you know that?”

His lips part in that effortless grin you so easily drag out of him. “So sorry, love. If you come over here, I’ll be sure to apologize quite thoroughly.” Gaz lifts his arms, holds them out and gestures his fingers enticingly. “I’ll have your forgiveness in a matter of seconds.”

Your expression’s all stubborn and prickly, but you sway forward a little anyway. “I…” You grunt and stomp toward him, let him wind his entire body around you, and relax a little when his palms massage and dig into your shoulder blades. “I really did have everything planned,” you mumble into his chest, fingertips all twisted up in the back of his shirt. 

Gaz is starting to get an idea about what’s going on. 

Only about half the candles are lit throughout the flat, the majority of which are near the bedroom. The bathroom light is still on, door opened a crack, but there’s unpacked bath bombs strewn about like you gave up halfway through. Even the kitchen is more messy than usual after the nights that you cook. Only half the pots and pans look actually used, the rest an anxious jumble of utensils and ingredients he knows you didn’t need to make chocolate-chip pancakes alone. 

It looks like you were distracted. So very terribly disturbed by something that you could only commit half a mind to all your ideas. 

With him, you’re rarely left to your own devices for this long, and it shows. 

Gaz can see it, feel it, and practically smell it all over you. Despite his embrace and what should be relief about his return, the muscle and tissue all over your body are pulled taut, bowstring-tight and ready to pitch forward at any second. 

He hums, feels the tension in your spine only grow as he draws little circles against your skin. “I know, love. I see it. Candles, and the dinner, and the bath.” He kisses your forehead, grins wider when all you do is huff and puff. “Did so well. I know it’s hard.”

It only serves to wind you up more. “I’m supposed to be the one massaging and calming you. Feeding you and taking care of you after your mission. This is…” you hiss a curse, nails scraping at his waist now. 

“S’okay. I’ve been through this hundreds of times.” His fingers dance a little lower, teasing that arch in your back that you curve a little harder against him. “I know exactly what you need, bunny. Sort you out so you can get back to your plan, yeah? Just need you to let me take care of it.”

“I don’t…” you shake your head. “I don’t know why I just—I mean, all of the sudden it’s you, and I can’t—”

You fall silent so fast when he shushes you, presses a too-short kiss to your lips. Already, he can feel the verve traveling through your very bones. He lets his words brush along your lips when he repeats his promise. 

“Know jus’ what you need. Let me handle it.”

~~~~~~

You’re straddling his thighs with a fork in hand, watching in a satisfied stupor as the plate balanced on his chest rises and falls at a rapid pace. 

Sticky, flushed, and sated all over, you saw off another sliver of pancake and hold it up to Kyle’s lips. He accepts it greedily, lets his head knock back against the headboard with a euphoric, close-lipped smile. 

He hadn’t been… wrong. 

Which is to say, you’d somehow managed to get yourself so worked up in his absence that the second he returned, all you’d wanted to do was jump his bones, sans any of the prelude you’d planned.

A warning would have been nice, now that you think about it. Anytime around four months earlier when he’d first begun preparing you for his absence without you even knowing it, would have been superb. 

Instead, he’d let it fester in you, like he’d planted himself a gift, fruit ripe for the plucking at a later date. 

You want to be mad. 

Can’t quite bring yourself to, though. 

A bit too… preoccupied. 

There’s still sweat dripping at Kyle’s temples when he cleans off the plate, hands still squeezing in distracting patterns around the meat of your thighs. 

“Fucking delicious, love.” He laves his tongue at the corner of his lips. “My two favorite meals.”

“You’re horrible.” You scramble off him unsteadily, trying to keep both you and the dishes in your hands balanced. “I should get a bar of soap for that mouth of yours.”

Kyle laughs first, then groans, swiping his hands down his face. “If you’d said that shit in the barracks, love…” he calls after you, tutting in the distance while you deposit the plate in the sink. You almost trip on your skimpy lingerie set from a couple hours ago while stumbling your way back to the bedroom. 

“Am I supposed to know what that means?” You raise a brow at him even as you tug on his arm, drag him out of the bed and down the hall. 

After it all, Kyle had insisted you keep up the plan. Didn’t want that guilty conscience of yours to fester and, even worse, those pancakes to grow cold. He’d poked at your cheek, voice slurring a little from exhaustion as he whispered, “Gotta stay awake, love, or your li’l rabbit heart’ll feel all sad tomorrow.”

So you’d rolled off the mattress and made the trek back through the apartment, and, admittedly, you started to feel guilty about the mess you’d left during your hazy planning earlier. 

You recalled trying to think of ways you could impress Kyle but not being able to think clearly after slipping on the lacy panties; too caught in imagining how he’d tear them off to really notice how half-baked the rest of your plan was. 

And how all you could think about was him serving you, which really wasn’t fair. It’d been over a year since you’d started living together, and when he went off on missions, it was an unspoken promise on your end that you’d welcome him back in calm and comfortable ways. 

His first few missions had been just that—romantic kisses and big, sweeping arcs of hugs; slow dances around the living room and the kitchen, sweet, bubbly champagne with dinner. 

All you’d managed this time around was half-assed pancakes, lacy panties, and a cold bath that you hadn’t been patient enough to finish prepping. 

You remember that you hadn’t even been exhausted today. The opposite, really. You’d been buzzing from head to toe the moment you got his call, mind too frantic to ever really stick to your old habits. 

Kyle kneels down beside you outside of the tub, three bath bombs encompassed in just one of his absurdly large hands. The other is curling your hair around a single index finger. He’s patiently busying himself by touching you, playing with some part of your body or other like he’s always done. 

One morning he’d had an absurd obsession with your left heel, and he’d nipped at the tendon out of sheer curiosity. 

You’d almost kicked him square in the face. 

But he gets new little obsessions with you all the time. Each day, he’s poking and investigating at a different part of your body, and he always—always—has to feel it against his teeth. 

And you let him. Even now, as he hinges his jaw around your shoulder. 

A true adventurer, unafraid to explore with all that he is. Wants to discover every little thing in a million different ways. 

You lean forward and wrench the faucet off, then pat at Kyle’s cheek. “Bath bombs, please.”

When he thunks them in the water, the air in the room floods with lavender and chamomile. The tub’s still fizzing purple when he clambers in and hauls you in after him, slowing your descent into his lap just enough that only a bit of water dumps over the edge. 

A long, drawn out sigh ruffles the loose hairs atop your scalp. Kyle’s hands sweep all the way up to the underside of your breasts, then way back down to the middle of your thighs, back and forth, back and forth. For the most part, you try not to move, try to let the aches melt away with the heat.

You drop your head back into the crook of Kyle’s neck and shoulder, tipping your face a bit to look at him. 

Everything’s fuzzy. Pleasant. Legs and arms weighed down by gratification, gut slick with sated heat. And your heart thumps wild and proud, bum-rushed red and gold. Natural and gleaming. Normal and perfect. 

“Can we stay like this forever?” Kyle asks again, a lifetime later. You’re only one year wiser when you nod yes, of course, how else would we be?

He burrows you deeper against him, trying to meld your skin into his because it’ll never be close enough. Touching and bruising and biting only mollifies it, this wonderful new appetite only Kyle can feed. 

It’s crumbs of food, or the tiniest sips of water. 

Or spare oxygen.

Kyle hunches over you, hard body slipping against yours. Soughs, like you hit just the spot. 

“Can’t believe you kept gettin’ away from me before all this. Tested my patience so bloody much to get here, bunny.”

You smile, tilting your head and pressing a tender kiss to his cheek. “It’s your best virtue, Kyle.”

#kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz #cod gaz #gaz cod #gaz garrick

[prismatic-bell]

You know, I’m 35 and get told on a regular basis that people think I’m in my early 20s. I usually tell them it’s because I hydrate and mind my own business. But the truth is this: I do actually have a whole-body skincare routine, and I’m going to share it because THE COMPANIES ARE LYING TO YOU and I am going to save you so much time, worry, money, and counter space. It’s ten steps and they’re easy:

1) HYDRATE. Hydrate hydrate hydrate. Dehydration is the little death that brings chapped lips, flaking skin, and hangnails. Drink water. Drink fruit juice. Drink coffee, I don’t fucking care. Anything that puts more water into your body than it removes (which translates to “anything nonalcoholic”). Hydrate.

2) take a multivitamin. There are many out there. Do research if you want to. I take Centrum. Keep in mind this is not a replacement for meals and proper nutrition! It’s more like putting a high-quality patch on a hole in your wall. Micronutrients in particular can be hard to get and vitamins are good for those.

3) fuck your fancy facewash. I use a blend of two parts rubbing alcohol to one part each of rosewater and witch hazel—just dump your constituent parts in a mason jar and shake it. The rosewater and alcohol both lift dirt, the alcohol dissolves excess oil but it’s weak compared to specialized chemicals so it’s not stripping your skin, and witch hazel is a mild astringent that kills bacteria and moisturizes at the same time. Just wipe your skin gently once a day using a cotton round. (I actually have reusable ones, they’re great.) if you have super-dry skin you can use a moisturizer at this point, but I have normal-to-oily skin and have never needed one.

4) only wash your hair twice a week, but comb it every day with a fine-toothed wooden comb to prevent dandruff and stimulate blood flow to your scalp.

5) get an Italy cloth. I swear these things are magic. You just sit in the bath until your fingers just barely start to go pruney and then you rub it all over like a washcloth and it lifts off all the dead skin (don’t use it on your face, the skin is more delicate). You can literally see it come off, it’s so gross and so satisfying at the same time. Do it about once a week. Make sure you hang it up to dry after, and wash it regularly. (Also: Italy cloths do not kill bacteria, so you do still need soap. That’s okay, because washing after will also help remove any bits of dead skin that didn’t rinse away.)

6) fuck your fancy shampoo (if you have white-person hair). Mix apple cider vinegar with tea tree conditioner about 1:1 and soak your hair with it. Let it sit while you bathe. Rinse it out. Astonish hairdressers.

7) pick a fruit/veggie-based snack and reach for it when you’re idly hungry. Look, I get it, junk food tastes great and cooking vegetables is hard. (Believe me, I know.) That is why you do this. I go for veggies dipped in ranch or a cream cheese spread, or apples dipped in peanut butter. (You know what’s REALLY good, if you have the time and spoons? Mix the peanut butter with raisins and then slather the apples with it. Yum.) I’m not saying don’t have a piece of cake. I’m saying when you’re what the Brits call “peckish,” you can cheat and get some of your necessary fruit and veggies this way. It’s also super-helpful if you, like me, are neurodivergent and often forget to eat.

8) make cartoon faces. No, really! Your face was made to move. Puff up your cheeks, squeeze your eyes shut tight, move the muscles in any direction you can make work. You’ll find you feel more relaxed after, and when your face is more relaxed it’s not creating stress lines. (Wrinkles are beautiful, but speaking for myself I’d rather have crow’s feet and smile wrinkles than the angry line my mom had down the middle of her forehead.)

9) get a hobby that relaxes you, preferably a tangible one. Stress is bad for every part of you—your brain, your mental state, your heart, your kidneys, your skin. All of it. The skin is an organ. Treat it as such, and manage your stress.

And finally:

10) makeup ages you. MAKEUP AGES YOU. MAKEUP AGES YOU!!! Makeup blocks pores from doing their job; makeup mixes with sebum (your face’s natural and necessary oils) to create blackheads and whiteheads; the aggressive rubbing you may do to remove makeup causes microtears in your skin. MAKEUP IS NOT GOOD FOR YOU. If you want to wear makeup (or it’s required for your job or the world is stupid and racist and is forcing aggressive femininity on you) try to find powders instead of creams, look for the makeups with the fewest possible ingredients, invest in a good makeup remover, and don’t wear it everyday.

That’s it, that’s the ten steps I use to keep my skin healthy. Take care of yourself and mostly leave your body alone. It knows what to do.

[mmelionsblog]

Shh, Shh, I’m right here [Dean Winchester x Reader]

warnings⚠️: panic attack

You smiled brightly at the all too familiar home of your parents. You were what the hunters called, lucky. Your whole family was untouched by the supernatural, excluding you. You got into the business because you and your friends at the age of 14, decided to play the infamous game of ‘Bloody Mary’. Bobby singer and an old friend of his saved you— the last friend standing, from Mary who was out to get you as he used you as bait after explaining everything.

Dean got out of the Impala, closing the loud creaking door. “Let’s go meet your parents,” you haven’t seen your parents in about a year or two (you don’t recall the last time meeting them), due to the important job you had and wanting your family to stay safe away from the monsters that you brought into your life. Of course, Castiel always checked up on them from far away.

You and Dean had gotten an iMessage from your sister, Alessa, saying that she got married and at least wanted to see the two of you in the after party.

So there the two of you were, standing at your aunt’s house where every holiday was spent in your family. Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, Birthdays, you name it.

Your family has never met Dean, except through your iPhone FaceTime calls whenever you got the chance with them. He’d pop in with Sam, saying hello then dipping. Anytime the two brothers did that, questions from your family was always after they left the room.

You knocked on the brown wooden door in front of you. The house looked brand new, even though it’s been in the family for decades.

Looks like they remolded, again. You knocked and knocked again, sighing in annoyance. “It’s open!” You hear your cousin’s voice yell from the other side of the door, and you rolled your eyes. “Of course it’s open,” you mumble. You opened the door, placed a smile on and greeted your family members.

“Congratulations little sister.” You spoke to Alessa, giving her a big gigantic hug and spinning her around. Dean said the same thing. “Oohoho, is this the hunk of a man you’re always with on the phone?” Your grandmother looked at you, then looked at Dean with a look.

“Cougar much?” You laughed, “yes. This is Dean, my boyfriend.” Gasps could be heard through the house. You have never brought a boyfriend home with you in any holiday event, or just in general. “WOW you must be a lucky one,” your uncle spoke.

Your aunt chipped in, “she’s never brought guys over. So Dean, tell us about yourself.” And so Dean spoke about himself, not mentioning what type of job he does, ignoring the comments your family brought up about his parents, and going full detail with his little brother that he’s so proud of. “I’m so telling Sam that you’re gushing about him.” You spoke, he rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t dare,” you shrugged with a smile.

“Where is Sam? By the way.” Your mother asked. “He’s on this job with two of our other friends right now. We would’ve gone, but we needed a break.” You told her. “Two other friends?” Your cousin, Sofia, asked. “Jack and Castiel. Yall would love to meet them. They’re super sweet, but sometimes… they don’t really understand much.” You hummed. Dean chuckled, “we had to teach—” you shook your head at Dean with your eyes wide open.

“Don’t just embarrass Cass like that. So rude,” you playfully slap his shoulder.

Everything was going so fine, until one moment somebody asked a question that made you stop working like clock work. The voices seemed so far away as your eyes teared up, you backed up from the crowded room, unbalanced, as you stumbled out.

. “Oh god. Sorry— uh I should’ve mentioned about that. We don’t ask that question, ever.” You could barely hear what Dean was talking about. “Is there a quiet place somewhere around here?” He asked, holding you close to his chest. Your aunt pointed down the hallway and he nodded, helping you move your feet as he opened a door to one of the rooms and closed it.

“Hey,” Dean’s voice got muffled into your ears. “Hey, hey. You in there?” He brushed your hair with his hands, giving you a kiss on the forehead. “Shh, shh. It’s okay. I’m right here. I got you baby.” He brought you close to his chest, your face getting squished with his gray tshirt he had on.

Dark water spots on the center of his chest just because of your tears falling down onto him. “Sorry,” you hiccuped, wiping off your tears. “It’s okay babe. M so sorry, I should’ve mentioned it before it got to that question.” His hands rested carefully on the side of your cheek, his thumb softly rubbing off the dry tears.

You leaned into his touched, all warmed up by him. “It’s fine, they didn’t know. It.. it just threw me off guard.” You whispered. He kissed your forehead once more, “I know I know. But still I should’ve given them a look or something, could’ve stopped—” 

you place your index finger onto his lips, “all I need right now is you. And you’re doing just that, a great job at that. The past is the past- no matter how painful it is. I have you by my side right now comforting me and that’s all I need.” You spoke.

Dean smiled, hugging you as he brought you up to his chest. “I love you,” he whispered, kissing your cheek. “I love you too.”

“Now let’s go enjoy ourselves okay?”

“Okay.”

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #deancas #dean x castiel #sam and dean #dean x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #dean winchester x you #bobby singer #jack kline #castiel #supernatural fandom #supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you

[mapoeggplant]

skip to loafer chapter 53 // spoilers

the analogy of between a crab and falling in love: what’s hidding in between all the sand that shima hides himself in?

this chapter kinda encapsulates a lot of unresolved plots and bring back things that were discussed before, as a way to, little by little, start to close shima’s arc on understanding his feelings. and, for my happiness (and for a lot of you guys reading me, i supposed), we finally had a confirmation that shima doesn’t quite understand or can’t even separate his feelings inside him, all because of his history with rejection, broken family, and the coldness of the ones around him. the boy, who tries to grasp his sandy feelings, who stubbornly kept slipping between his fingers, is finally dipping his toes in the ocean.

what mukai and shima discussed at the sauna is very important for a lot of things. not only for the present narrative, but for a context in general about how skip to loafer deals with feelings and love. instead of approaching a safe solution and going for the “she was the one who could save him”, takamatsu-senpai chose to go through the more complicated and bumpier road: she started to make her own characters question the idea of romantic love that was shoved down their (and ours) throat since they were born. 

is not that shima doesn’t love mitsumi — he just doesn’t understand the concept of romantic feelings or how everything “ends” with it (it was interesting to me how he said “ends”, the never-ending idea that romantic love is the final goal. it never “starts anything; it’s always “the end” of things). for him, everything falls in the same blurry and messed up category and end as easily as it started. however now, after years and years of being shutten down and used for people’s own selfish desires, shima is finally free to think and act for himself. but we don’t learn to swim at the bottom of the ocean: we need to start at the beach.

mukai telling shima that he’s often shutting people down and pushing people away without noticing was there for two main reasons, in my opinion: one, show a little more about mukai himself and his own feelings in relation to shima, a friend that he holds dear and wants to see opening up a little more, warming himself towards others; and two, to make shima start to question “what am i doing to the people that care about me?”. this is a trigger that sensei used to bring back a lot of important moments between shima and mitsumi and connect the dots inside his head. what i didn’t expect was that she would such beautiful analogy: a crab.

by swimming around their past, shima starts to ask himself: how does mitsumi feels about me. it’s funny how, even after all that conversation with mukai, he didn’t start with the obvious and questioned himself. he was thinking about her — about the other. what brough him back to his own heart was the girl herself, without both even realizing it.

grabbing the crab in the middle of it is the safest option. you’re protecting yourself of a possibility of being hurt and are able to maintain a safe distance from all the dangerous attributes of the crab. by always staying in the middle of his own feelings and never really going for the claws of his own mind, shima maintained his safety and “never got hurt” (and here i strictly mean hurt by his own ghosts, who he tried to deny instead of facing it). i mean, if he doesn’t move, they won’t be able to attack him. if he stays protected, there won’t be a necessity of changing what you know so well.

but…there’s always a first time, right? and i don’t mean this only for the act of holding a crab: this might be shima’s not only first time doing so, but also the first time he ever felt something different for someone — something more. something he never met before. 

and mitsumi, on the other hand, appear serene on his eyes. she did have her first time already — and was bitten by the crab. she was the one who put herself out there and risked being hurt. and, unfortunately, he was the one who made this happen. 

by shima’s reaction (the full-on blush), it’s easy to interpretate that he had some kind of realization and that…well...yeah it involves the crab. and mukai. and mitsumi. and the beach. and the ocean. and the sand, that he could never grasp before. what did he realize? he himself isn’t sure, as he tells mukai (“how was the crab?” “i don’t know). and, well, how can someone who has never seen a crab be so sure that what they are seeing is, in fact, a crab?

sensei made it clear, with all the words, with mukai being a sensei for a day: shima is, for the first time in his life, having to deal with a feeling that’s completely new and scary for him. romantic love isn’t easy. for a kid who grew watching his own understanding of romantic love (his parents) be so broken and twisted, romantic love is something that can only cause harm. so no, it’s not that he doesn’t understand love per se: he just doesn’t know how to approach it within himself. it’s up to him, now, if he's going to sing his hands in the sand and find the answer for all the questions he’s dealing with. 

as for my last words, what i want to remind everyone: no, it won’t be resolved so fast. not next chapter and, maybe, nor the next. i mean, why should it be? love, be it platonic or not, isn’t something to be forced out of someone. it’s something that requires more than a simple “yes or no”, something that doesn’t grow overnight. none of them are wrong. mitsumi never imposed something on him, she only did what her heart told her to do. shima never wanted to hurt her in some way — in fact, this is one of his biggest fears, up to now. they both are trying to understand themselves, the world, and the universe. they are in the apices of their teenage years, in the apices of committing mistakes for dumb reasons and for sealing peace with simplicity. they all have lot of different crabs with lot of different meanings hiding inside their particular beaches. it’s up to them if they are going to start digging it or not. 

and, as always, thank you thank you so much for reading what i have to say and my crazy rambling. i hope that we can now start a great discussion about it 💛 oh and people!! don't be afraid of talking to your crab — sometimes they know more bout us than ourselves 🦀

🌻 this analyze was originally posted on my twitter

#skip to loafer #skip and loafer #skip to loafer chapter 53 #this analyze feels like all my other analyzed compacted in one iofjasifja #i will never stop studying these kids #specially shima #shima I love you sm #as your mother I'm very proud #duckmetas