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romanoffsbish · 2 months

Text

The Understudy

Wanda Maximoff x F!R

“Natasha x F!R”

Natasha Romanoff x Maria Hill

Warnings: Jealousy | Yandere—Attempted Murder (if you squint) | Mutual Pinning (Simping)

Natasha was a charismatic woman—sure, yet you found yourself enraptured by her gorgeous understudy—Wanda. | WC: 6,945

Request: “anything about jealous top!wanda and just having her way with fem reader sounds good to me” | College AU

I am so sorry it took so long @wandagcre 😩

18+ | Minors DNI

Wanda let a harsh breath leave her as she glared up to see as Natasha circled you like a hawk and if not for the sake of her credibility around campus with the faculty she wouldn't have let the other woman grip you by the hips and pull you in. The both of you wore wide grins as Natasha's nose nudged yours, pushing your face to the side as she gently cupped your cheeks, Wanda was rather close to combusting at the intended next move.

——

“Cut!"

The moment your professor called out the command you separated from your cast mate with a softer smile. Yet Wanda's jealousy didn't simmer, relief far away when the redhead still kept your attention on her.

Natasha pulled you back in, but only for a friendly hug.

"I just wanted to say, thanks for trusting me Y/N/N."

"It's easy to do," you giggled and squeezed her tight, then you parted ways and went to collect your bags.

There was a tension in the air as you prepared to leave that you didn't quite understand, so you sought it out. After glancing around the room for a moment you saw the source—Wanda Maximoff, Natasha's understudy with her eyes angrily cast upon the Russian's face.

She's also the unobtainable woman of your dreams, or so you deemed as you'd yet to approach her with more than a bit of shop talk. Normally the brunette would carry the interaction and nine times out of ten it was perfectly pleasant. However, Wanda always seemed standoffish when you weren't alone, which made you think that maybe she didn't want people to see you two as anything more than potential on stage partners.

Oh what a fool you were, because as you hurriedly waltzed out of the auditorium you avoided her stare that had shifted over to you—a longing glance that lingered long after the large oak doors shut behind you.

——

A week had come and gone, the show was not far off and it was coming together nicely. You and Natasha practiced your lines religiously and kept the bond between you both strong for the sake of chemistry and your overall grade as this show would be your final. In return, a beautiful friendship had been forged and you were more than grateful for the expanded circle.

All that stood in your way was the darn kiss, your heart not only yearned for another, but Natasha's had one which only seemed to make you more nervous.

You'd recently met her girlfriend, Maria Hill, when you went to their dorm to go over the script two weeks ago.

It was a bit intimidating, but when she offered you a chocolate chip cookie and help on your homework you knew she was the perfect partner for your new friend.

Natasha dreamed of making it big, and to do that she'd need a partner who understood that intimate scenes were just a part of the job, not a slight against her.

The woman even gave you her blessing last night with a warm smile, "I trust you." That alone had eased most tension you had left for the show; you were ready.

—

Today was the play's opening day, the set pieces were complete and the scenes ran to perfection. Besides the kiss, the both of you only ever got close to sharing a passionate lip-lock for the sake of show business. It was however not too necessary until today to share it.

When you walked onto stage you skipped over to the redhead who was casually reading out of a textbook.

"Hey Tasha," you greeted, the redhead peered up as she mindlessly closed the book to see your smile. It was adorable how nervous you were honestly, the kiss was only a blip in the play—lasting less than ten seconds.

This is a PG-13 university production after all.

"Hey honey," she greeted, tone sweet as can be in an attempt to ease your tense shoulders and it worked.

For the most part anyways. "A-are you ready?"

Natasha smiled, "I am," then sighed, "but, are you?"

You nodded unconvincingly and she stood to her feet so that she could approach you, her hand cupped your cheek as she stared into your eyes. "Follow my lead."

A nervous smile was all you offered the woman who moved in even closer, her warm breath on your cheek felt rather comforting. "We don't even have to kiss, all we have to do is make the audience believe it happens."

"I don't want to disappoint people," you muttered with a nervous conviction and the redhead chuckled softly. "No one will leave knowing, I'm an amazing actress."

You giggled and Natasha beamed knowing that she'd at least calmed a bit of your nerves. To the both of you it was obvious that her touch was meant to make you ease into the concept of the intimacy, but to onlookers it would almost present as an act of personal affection.

The redhead waited for you to make a move, but it was not something you had time for as you quickly realized that the prop above your heads was teetering in the air.

Wanda had been stood behind the red draped curtain fuming, her hand reflexively wrapped around the string that suspended the hefty prop above Nat's head. There was no conscious intent when she yanked down, it was purely reflexive as she watched you two practice.

It was all you could do to yank the woman out of the line of impact before the piece shattered on the stage.

"Holy shit Nat," you squealed, "that was a close call!"

"Yeah," the redhead hardly acknowledged you, eyes too focused in on the blur of familiar black and red hues weaving between the curtains. "Are you okay Nat?"

No, she most definitely was not, but she'd pretend.

The redhead internally rolled her eyes, but pressed on as if the freak accident wasn't premeditated. To your face at least, because not even ten minutes later—after she convinced you all was well did she go find the perp.

"Maximoff," she growled as she found the woman in her usual spot, "I am not an oblivious idiot like Y/N."

Natasha cringed at her own words, it wasn't right to diss you but to be fair, she just nearly lost her head.

"I haven't a clue what you are going on about," she chirped bitterly, not even remotely covering her big feelings. "How unkind you are to poor Y/N though."

"Y/N and I have a fine working relationship," she immediately set the woman straight, "She's a sweet person and if you stopped being so broody maybe you could be the one she hangs out with after practices."

"I'm just the understudy," she reminded Natasha, who rolled her eyes in frustration at her petty behavior.

"You need to let it go Wanda," she groaned, "I am the theater major, you are only taking this for an elective."

Wanda stood and whisper shouted, "I want it more!"

"No," Natasha corrected as she stepped to her, a clear sign she wasn't afraid of the brunette with the raging anger problems. "You want Y/N more, which is 100% by the way because all she is to me is a friend!"

"I see the way you look at her," Wanda sneered.

"That's because it is my job, Wanda," Natasha scoffed in genuine offense before adding, "I have Maria."

Wanda glared inquisitively, "Who the hell is Maria?"

"My girlfriend since freshman year of high school."

"Oh."

Natasha chuckled agitatedly, "Yeah, so if you could refrain from trying to kill me again I'd appreciate it very much. I've planned to live a long life with her."

"I," Wanda was honestly stunned into silence. "It was an accident—but originally, I wasn't really sorry."

"At least you're honest," Natasha chuckled amusedly. "Don't confuse this moment Maximoff," the redhead continued, "I might not be a threat but you know as well as I do that Y/N is a catch—don't drag your feet."

"I know, but I can't talk to her about anything other than this stupid class," Wanda admitted in lieu of her masked pride faltering. "She's just so pretty, and soft, it's like I lose the ability to form thoughts around her."

"Pretty things are meant to be taken and cherished," the Russian teased, smile fond as she remembered what it's like to fall in love for the first time; Natasha wanted that for you too. "Trust me Wanda, Y/N is easy to talk to and I hypothesize she would be thrilled if you did, maybe try your luck tonight at the after party."

Natasha playfully acted out taking a shot as she winked at the up until now, sapphic disaster, then she swiftly left the room to let her ponder. When she returned to the stage she found you yelling at the stagehands. She shook her head in amusement then made her way over to save the poor students from your misguided wrath...

—

When you calmed down you found yourself hidden away in your dressing room staring at your reflection. There was this unspoken tension in the air once again and it made you feel queasy. It was hard for you to tell if it was first night jitters or something else entirely.

Deep down you knew it was an unwarranted sadness, one that you associated with the fact that the course would be over after this weekends line up of shows and you'd yet to find the courage to truly speak to Wanda.

"Hey, did you understand the acting prompt," and "That was a weird film to show a class full of women," were not effective ways to speak with your crush.

You knew that, but every time you built up the courage to ask her if she wanted to hang out you remembered the way she looked at you whenever you were around others. A loud sigh left you at the painful reminder that nearly made you miss the faint knock at your door.

"Come in," you meekly called out as you stood up to face whomever it was. Wanda quietly closed your door and walked into the room with a forced confidence.

"Oh, hey Wanda," you chuckled nervously, "Is Nat ok?"

You weren't sure why you asked that in greeting, but it's also not rocket science since she's her understudy. The question wasn't meant to offend either but it did as Wanda considered the possibility that she didn't have a chance with you, but then you gave her a soft smile and she remembered why she was here in the first place.

"She's fine," she politely replied, then she took a step closer and wordlessly returned your smile. You tilted your head slightly and she understood. "I just wanted to come by and wish you luck, though we both know you aren't going to need it. You're a rockstar onstage."

Wanda found amusement in the way your eyes avoided looking into her own momentarily. Once you finally found the courage to look into hers your smile had softened, which had the same effect on her heart.

"Th-thanks Wanda," you stuttered and so she got the confirmation that Natasha basically gave her earlier without exactly saying it. You liked her just the same, something she caught as your eyes fell to her lips, it was brief but obvious enough to fill her with glee.

The woman giggled and leaned forward to place a seemingly friendly kiss, to you, on your cheek. "Break a leg out there sweetheart, I'll see you later at the party."

As soon as she left the room you fell back into your chair with a wide grin and giggled, a hand on the cheek where you could still feel a damp warmth from her lips.

The nerves in your body had all but vanished, so when you were called to the stage an hour later you strutted onto the platform with confidence and it showed in the way you acted every scene to perfection. Even the kiss.

Natasha and you shared a sweet kiss, one that you let her lead as she had the natural acting chops. It was honestly terrible since all you could imagine as her lips moved against yours was what Wanda's would be like.

Your friend's lips tasted like cherry chapstick with faint hints of nicotine that you planned to admonish her for later on after the show. There was perceivable heat to it but the truth was it was void of any genuine passion.

When the two of you parted there was a sweet smile on your lips to mirror the sentiment of your characters, and it only grew wider when you saw Wanda watching. There was something special about the way she looked at you, with a tight smile but a warmth still remained.

For the first time this whole semester you felt hopeful.

—

At the party you were the focus of everyone's attention, loud cheers and genuine accolades met you at every corner in partner with Natasha's. The redhead took it all with a wide smile and thanks, but you however did not have the courage to be so proud. Your friend did her best to take the attention, seeing you look so shy.

When the chance to break away presented itself you took it, heading to the kitchen where you found an array of substances. Just as you reached out for a packed joint you felt a large, soft hand on yours.

"Oh," you chuckled awkwardly, "you can have it."

"We could share," a raspy voice proposed, her hand fell to your hip without request and you slightly stiffened. "You were amazing tonight Y/N, so let's celebrate."

The woman's words made you feel unhappily queasy. "I-I, um," you began to stutter, unsure how to tell this stranger that you wanted to celebrate with another.

"My room is upstairs," she cluelessly teased, as if your stance alone wasn't uncomfortable. "Move on Santos."

Wanda internally beamed when she saw you turn to her with a beyond grateful gaze, the shift breaking you free from the strangers hold and subconsciously closer to her. The horny blonde however wasn't open to being cockblocked so she turned as well and moved closer until their chests brushed. "Last I checked I don't take orders from you, Maxipad, so how about you move on."

Wanda's head tilted dangerously and you felt a flutter of joy in your chest, as well as desire between your legs. The woman caught sight of your thighs clamping and smirked triumphantly, "How about we ask Y/N?"

Your eyes widened, but your lips obediently opened as Wanda seemed to not shy away from you in public.

"What's your name?" The blonde deflated, "Raya."

"It's nice to meet you Raya," you lied with a friendly smile, "But I promised to meet Wanda at the party."

"Well, you heard her," Wanda boasted, her hand reached out and took the blunt from your fingers and smugly handed it over to the blonde in obvious pity.

The moment Raya departed you felt a ringed hand in yours, and you latched on eagerly, letting her guide you through the crowd and up the stairs to an empty room.

As if the universe deemed your dreams worth reality you felt her hands grip your hips and lips catch yours. Wanda decided since talking wasn't her strong suit that she'd start by giving into her urges first. The moment was nothing but carnal, her bare knee slid between your thighs and pressed against your core.

With elegance in her every movement she guided you over to the bed and pressed into you deeper, your thinly veiled pussy rubbed against her skin and you mewled so harshly your swollen lips had to separate.

"Wan-," the redhead shushed you with a gentle peck of her lips that reassured your nervous heart. Alongside her eyes that were full of a warmth that told you this wasn't going to be a once off itch to scratch. "Mommy needs you to stop thinking detka, let me help you."

Amusement tickled in Wanda's throat at the pliant nod you gave, adoration in her heart as your eyes glazed over and body melted further into the mattress. The glare in her eyes reminded you to speak, "please."

The permission left your lips in a breathless whine and so the redheads hands slid beneath your dress that she apparently already bunched at your hips, the cold of her fingers as they tauntingly trailed over your skin made you gasp. "I've been waiting for you to say it," she interrupted your moment of shock with words that brought an adorable pout to your lips. Wanda chuckled as she watched the curiosity fade beneath the surface of your lust as her thumbs brushed over your nipples.

It was embarrassing the way she reduced you into a wordless mess, her knee a contributing factor until she abruptly pulled it away. Viridescent eyes that were reminiscent of obsidian stones, in their active state of lust, stared down at you with a warning not to whine. Wanda beamed at your understanding and rewarded you with her lips back on yours for a fleeting moment.

A sloppy kiss to your jaw, hands roaming over your body, a goddess straddling your waist in a skirt that was much too short for her intentions for tonight to have been anything but what it already was; sinful.

You were somehow expected to remain cognizant, it was a ludicrous notion, so you didn't, all you could do was move just as she asked of you until you were moaning beneath her as her core brushed over yours.

The motion was repeated, a shiver ran down your spine at the sound of her pleasure that loudly followed up yours, it was a sound you never wanted to lose. Her movements picked up, a bare pussy against a covered one and you wanted to scream at the unfair advantage she had over you as her moans overshadowed yours.

Wanda admired your innate understanding to not touch without permission, the way you kept your fidgeting hands at the top of the mattress made her decide to reward you with even more stimulation. Especially since it was mostly her feeling pleasure as she'd yet to remove an article of clothing from you. So in a blur of erratic movements you found yourself in a more exposed state, cold air brushed over your sweaty body as your dress was haphazardly tossed aside. "Oh," Wanda hummed, "so much prettier than I dreamed."

Dreamed. The erratic beating of your heart against your ribcage actually lessened as you heard her admit to having thought about you like this before, her words from before began to make sense now too. Suddenly you were closer to the edge, a bright smile adorned your face fleetingly as you felt the delicious coiling of pleasure in your abdomen. Only to be made better as Wanda's plump lips wrapped around your nipple.

A loud cry left you when the fabric of your panties delicately stimulated your clit, "mommy please." The honorific left your lips easily, it clearly wasn't a trained response to her prior claim to it, but a natural reaction. Wanda bit into the plush flesh of your breast, arousal clear as you felt it seeping into your drenched panties.

Wanda rasped, "Wanna cum with mommy?" The smirk she wore went unnoticed by you, with the crossed eyes and agape mouth that muttered out a strangled, 'yes' as she peered up from your heaving chest. If she was possessive before it wasn't noticeable to you, but all the little moments—like the glares she sent Nat's way, now made sense as she spoke. "Tell me who you belong to," she requested this with a bite to her tone that matched the darkness in her eyes. Her teeth scraped up from the sensitive skin between your breasts to your throat.

There was no hesitation in you to reply, "mommy."

Wanda sped up her hips and started to suck harshly on nearly every inch of skin she could, intent obvious as she set out to prove your words correct. "Let go detka," she purred before her teeth sunk into your shoulder, her determined hips stuttered, the both of you writhed in tandem and the brunette pressed into you harder.

While you gasped for air the Sokovian smiled, her own breathing labored but not nearly as bad as yours. A sense of accomplishment washed over her, remaining for a sweet moment before she craved more of you. You blearily whimpered at the insinuation of her lips as they moved down your tense body, harsh love bites and soft kisses left behind—usually one after the other.

Her ministrations more than enough to have you squirming in anticipation for what you hoped was coming next. Wanda's lips pressed to your hips, then upturned cockily as they impatiently bucked of their own volition, her teeth once again scraped over your soft skin, this time over your pelvis before they had a hold of your panties so she could slowly pull them off.

Wanda was about half way down your legs before she just couldn't hold herself back anymore, the smell of you was far too enticing, so she stopped abruptly and rushed upwards with her tongue out. A lewd moan left your lips as she hummed in satisfaction, tongue vicious as it continued to lick at your sensitive, swollen pussy.

For a brief second you could only feel the warmth of her breath as she pulled away just to really breathe you in, her nose affectionately nuzzled against your clit as she inhaled and kissed your sloppy folds that tingled with need. "Oh my," she chuckled, "you're too divine."

Wanda was impossibly lost in you, initially she was going to tease you further, but then she couldn't stop. Her tongue was a beast as it lavished your intimacy just to prolong the taste of your essence on her buds. The way your slick settled against her plumped upper lip was a comforting promise that you'd linger on her face in the morning. Wanda felt like a fucking pervert with the way her mind ran wild with depraved things that would surely require a deeper conversation first.

If you'd let her, she would devour you whole, much like she was doing now. You felt like she'd split you open, her thumbs dug into the soft flesh of your ass cheeks to spread your pussy just a little bit wider and a hum of appreciation followed as you dripped down her chin.

There was no stop to her madness until you broke the silent rule, allowing your hand to drop down and slip between the messy strands of her hair. It was instinct, and so it wasn't admonished right away, the woman actually loved the way that you both pushed her away and pulled her even closer when she pulled your clit between her lips as two fingers entered you and curled.

The sound of you spilling out and onto some random persons sheets caught your attention just as it did hers. Wanda marveled at the sight of your aromatic arousal that coated her fingers, palm, and dripped from her wrist, meanwhile you were shyly covering your face.

Wanda chuckled, "look at mommy detka, it's okay," her fingers gently tugged at your wrists and you peered up to find her slick, grinning face hovering above yours. "These are my sheets," the brunette added, then she chuckled as your eyes widened comically, you didn't know how she knew but you didn't care much as you had other things on your mind, like the sex you desperately wanted more of and, "you're in a sorority?"

The woman took no offense to the question, the bias of pink wearing, former cheerleading stars being the only ones to join the rush life was common. Most of the girls in the sisterhood she claimed didn't exactly look like Wanda, with her dark makeup, edgy clothes and lower arm sleeve tats, she couldn't really question the shock.

The conversation however was boring, the reason why being that her mom wanted her daughter to follow in her Delta footsteps and so the brunette did, because her parents sacrificed a lot to come here as teens. It was the least she could do, and even less interesting for her to reminisce over so she simply brushed by it as her fingers distracted you by collecting your slick.

"Such a loud, pretty thing you are," she teased as you gasped, her lithe fingers having swirled over your clit before they lifted to her already glistening lips, "I bet I'll have you moaning even louder, like a bitch in heat, with my cock pounding into your tight, needy hole."

Wanda admired the lust fueled darkness that swirled in your otherwise soft eyes. "Would you want that?"

"Of course," you blurted without shame, a smile of reassurance offered that led her right off of the bed.

When the brunette returned from her closet she was surprised to see you sat up, patiently waiting and keeping an eye out for her return. No words were spoken as you saw her skirt fall, eyes completely focused in on her glistening pussy that dripped slick down her gorgeous, muscular thighs. A chuckle pulled you from your thoughts, you slowly lifted your gaze and eyed your almost screen partner with a pout.

"If you're good," she began as she made her way to the foot of the bed, making a show as her voice dropped and her body slowly crawled toward you, "I'll let you get a taste." Wanda adored the way your eyes lit up, but she couldn't help but to tease you as her body pressed into yours. "Well, unless I fuck you too dumb."

"I w-want to," you admitted shyly, "to t-taste you."

"I know," she didn't spare you the embarrassment whatsoever as her thumb brushed over your chin, spreading the drool that was drying. "It's on your face."

The wink that followed made you tremble beneath her in a perfect display of desperation, just as she wanted. A devious smirk followed the pop of her thumb as she released it from her mouth; ironically your mouth ran dry. Wanda was about to ruin you in the best ways.

However, everything had happened so quickly up to now that she felt the urge to slowdown, in need of clarity, "Is this what you want? If I fill you with my cock that means you're mine now Y/N. Mine to fuck, cherish and if you'll let me, to fully fall in love with."

Unbridled lust still coursed through both of your veins, it was clear you wanted her to get moving by the way your hips twitched, but the soft tremble of your lip softened her into kissing you gently to ease the stress. Wanda saw the questions in your mind, and she'd answer them all, but for now she'd fuck them quiet.

Wanda had bought this strap just for you, actually. It was crimson red like her signature lipstick, thick like you'd never seen, and had a cum reservoir that she knew you'd love even if she'd never had the chance to ask you beforehand. The brunette could tell just by looking at you that you'd be a slut for a good filling.

"So," she prompted once she decided to spare your lungs from the fire burning inside. You nodded your head aggressively, words hard but doable when she pursed her lips; waiting. "Please, fuck me mommy."

"Gladly," she purred, rubbing the length of her strap against your slit to collect arousal as she peered into your eyes with a determined, possessive expression. Your hands reflexively curled and you felt emboldened the longer you held her gaze with an attempt to match the intensity of her, but you were once again nervous.

"C-can I touch?" Wanda nodded, offering you an encouraging smile as you timidly reached out to feel her up over her shirt, the tips of your fingers brushed over exposed skin and you appreciated how soft it was. Then you grew confident, fingers fisted at the collar of her shirt and tugged. "mommy, please take it off."

"I see even when impatient that my girl has manners," she chuckled softly at the sight of your beaming eyes, then she tossed her shirt across the room and leaned down to passionately press her lips to yours. Her body firmly pressed into yours, the brunette swallowed your mewl as her strap slipped into your hole just to parrot you as your once timid hands firmly groped her chest.

Once she got a grip of her thoughts she chuckled softly, sending a shiver through you as her lips had begun to trail down your jaw. "You like mommy's tits, hm?"

"I love them," you admitted with pure, genuine intent, hands continuing to knead at the flesh to distract yourself from the burning pain as she harshly worked to mark your skin in a slow, determined fashion. Then you continued softly, "I love everything about you," and she melted into the moment more, the teasing she had planned for you came to a stop as she filled you.

Wanda's hands slid beneath your arched back and pulled your front flush to hers, keeping your body as close to hers as she could while shallowly thrusting into your slippery cunt between your ragged breaths. Her lips gently brushed over the skin beneath your ear and she felt the way your body trembled, and reveled in the way you moaned so breathily when she sucked.

"You took me in so well," she purred, aware as your spine began to curve downward that the pleasure had simmered some, so she settled you back down and let her strap naturally slide from your cunt, leaving only the tip as she gazed into your needy eyes. Then her hips snapped and she grunted, "just like I thought."

No reply fell from your lips, at least not in the form of words as she'd set a ruthless pace that only left space for you to moan mindlessly as she harshly rutted her hips into yours. Waves of pleasure rolled through your body, ending with your eyes as a harsh thumb swirled against your clit, her other hand gripped your hip even harder as your bodies sinfully moved in tandem. The chemistry was palpable in the air that reeked of sex and stale smoke that seeped beneath the dorm door.

Which only made it that much harder to breathe as you gasped so pitifully for air, the sensation overwhelmed you into a place of pleasurable uncertainty. The strap was a completely new experience for you, every toy you'd ever used was sleek but this one was outlined in thick, hyperrealistic veins that dug into your walls.

"Oh," a particularly harsh thrust and you were back to arching your back, and crying out, "feels so good." Your sweaty front briefly brushed against hers before your back returned to the mattress where its sole role was to move against the sheets as Wanda rutted harshly.

"You close honey?" Wanda knew already, she could feel the resistance as your walls squeezed around the toy, and even attempted to push it back out. What she truly wanted was to see where you were at mentally. You nodded weakly, mind too foggy to reply and she felt elated by your state. "Mommy is too, cum with me."

The rapid addition of her calloused thumb against your unhooded clit threw you over the edge alongside the brunette who had the gruff hilt to thank for hers. To watch your eyes grow hazier as they crossed once you got lost in pleasure stimulated her own climax too. Just hearing you moan had her teetering on the edge; Wanda was certain she didn't even need the friction...

Wanda began to lay gentle kisses to your warm skin as her thrusts continued, this time so slow you could feel every ridge dragging and subsequently shivered. You whimpered, "no more," hands weak, albeit firm as they pressed into the brunette who chuckled softly, "come on detka, you can do it, just one more for mommy."

"One," you warily agreed, and the brunette beamed, she paused her hips just to sprinkle some kisses onto your face in thanks. Her heart warmed as you giggled and her lips shifted closer to yours, eyes locked now that she was hovering directly. You both felt as your walls trembled around her strap, she smirked as your eyes closed in an attempt to calm your mind down.

"Open," she commanded and you reluctantly did, lips naturally pouting as you were forced to look into her intense eyes full of a love you saw already existed well before you two gave into this steadily building tension. It was a bit disconcerting but in a self-deprecating way, not in a grab your belongings and flee the state kind.

It was surely curious, but truthfully it was too hard to process much of anything with how her hips shallowly moved, they picked up the pace ever so slightly but Wanda wanted this orgasm to be more intimate, she wanted to foster in you the connection she's found.

Her intense gaze never wavered, and you never closed your eyes—maintaining the connection even if it felt like you were going to combust under it. Wanda's lips were parted in a half smirk as she took note of every little change in your reaction to the slowed down pace.

Before, you were moaning unabashedly and now you were panting and whimpering. The fingers that just left crescent marks in her shoulders and drew angry lines down her back now gripped onto the sheets for dear life because this pleasure was simply unlike before. Something about the connection blooming right before your very eyes was exhilarating; it was comforting.

"Mommy," you whined and stared up intently, eyes brimming with tears as you felt overwhelmed by it all.

"Yes, love?"

"C-can I?" Wanda nodded, accompanied by a sweet smile that crinkled the skin of her nose and eyes, it was genuine, intimate, and the reason why you squirted.

Well, that and the surprise of being filled as Wanda had squeezed the cum pump without any warning.

Wanda felt the same need you just satisfied burning deep within her as your body contorted and a shriek of unnerving pleasure left your lips. Rutting into you didn’t provide the same pleasure it did beforehand now that your walls were slick but too tight to fight against.

In a craze she pulled out and tossed the strap away, her thighs corralled yours and tensed as two of her fingers worked her over fast. You gazed up just in time to see her face wash over with pleasure, there was a look of betrayal on your face that amused the brunette. Her fingers left her core and slipped passed your lips before you could protest that your job was stolen from you.

“I said you could taste, just not how,” she reminded you, and you didn’t even feel a need to protest. Far too busy sucking her fingers clean and feeling the spark of a forming addiction—you needed to taste the source.

However, you were too tired tonight and Wanda saw that as she gazed down into your glistening eyes. It was better that way too as Wanda’s cunt continued to drip.

"Twice," Wanda teased as your slick too dripped down her legs, “you are filthy; squirting on mommy’s bed.”

“‘M sorry,” you mumbled but she wasn’t sure you even knew what you were saying as your eyelids fluttered.

While you slipped in and out of sleep Wanda began to get a bath set up for you both, in one of the only en-suite’s this house has—perks of the house mom being your real mom’s best friend. Your soft snores amused her as they traveled through the crack in the door, into a steamy room decorated with rose petals and flames.

Truthfully, beneath the deceiving layers of grunge she wore with a resting scowl was a woman who genuinely believed in the sappy love stories that Hollywood sells. Wanda wasn’t a one trick pony, she heavily negated the societal need to keep interests separate. In public she kept her image intimidating, unintentionally she did it with you too, but now she’s ready for you to see all of her and with that you deserved her sappy humanity.

Wanda returned to the room once she deemed the tub was ready for you both, but she paused—allowing more steam to fill the space you’d soon occupy, just so she could admire your nude form beneath the moonlight. A smile bloomed as she caught sight of the marks she left behind, some too deep and noticeable for you to hide.

The woman felt prideful as she approached, but her resolve softened the closer she got as you looked so peaceful surrounded by her stained, mussed bedsheets. Currently, all she truly wanted was to hold you close.

You woke up with the gentle jolt of your body, made as Wanda lifted you up and into her chest, not forgoing a kiss to your temple that made you melt into her. A whine of protest followed seconds later as she placed you right onto the cooled toilet. In contrast, your body naturally reacted as it too sought relief, filling the toilet with the remnants of your passionate night together.

Wanda had slipped away again, but you were too tired to note her initial absence. When she returned, fresh pajamas in hand, you whined angrily. It was adorable, the way you reached for her and glared, as if she’d abandoned you, your intimidation tactic failed.

Wanda softly spoke, “Are you ready to bathe love?”

You shook your head and frowned, a bit embarrassed to ask for help but fortunately Wanda was in tune with you as she reached for the toilet paper and wiped. It was quick and she got you into the warm tub before you could overthink the moment. Successfully too as you melted into her front as the warmth soothed your aching muscles and fogged your mind up with peace.

There was no rush to her movements as she cleaned the both of you—if either of you had plans tomorrow it was fair to assume them canceled now. Wanda wasn’t ready to part ways and she knew you would likely be in the same state—if not more so after tonight’s drop.

Once the water began to chill, effectively making you shiver, she got you awake and out of the tub quickly. Wanda adored the way you clung to her, only parting when she persisted so she could get you two dressed.

“Brush your teeth,” she gently commanded, then with you distracted she returned to her room to place the freshly laundered sheets onto her mattress. Then she slid into a harness that made your eyes widen as you rushed out of the bathroom to find her. The muddled space you were in faded as you were unsure of her intentions, you even took a conscious step back once she began to approach but you quickly met the wall.

“Don’t be afraid,” she teased you—with the wide eyes and hesitant smile. “I was gonna ask, do you think it would be okay if mommy slept with her cock in you?”

Wanda’s arm was quick to wrap around your waist, holding you up as your knees proved useless, you felt her nose nudge into your jaw as her lips left warm kisses over the marks you’d yet to see on your neck. Even with as sensitive as you knew your pussy to be you gave in without any fight at all as you pleaded.

With a gentle hand Wanda slid the strap against your pussy until enough lubrication had manifested. Then she settled onto her mattress before guiding you over and slowly inserting herself back into you until there was no space left to fill. You pressed your lips to hers desperately, looking for a bit of comfort as you adjusted. A slow, passionate lip lock ensued until you felt the pain subside and the exhaustion return.

The Sokovian eased onto her back, gentle as she pulled your body down with hers to keep you comfortable. A blanket soon covered you both and you smiled as you tiredly remembered the night’s events—her intense eye contact that should’ve terrified you but it truly didn’t.

"I can't wait to fall in love with you," you admitted against her chest in your state of post-sex delirium and it brought a smile to the perceivably tough woman. It was too early, Wanda knew that, but the brunette had loved you for ages and now she is patiently waiting for you to return the sentiment. "ya uzhe lyublyu tebya."

(I already love you)

————

Bonus:

"Oh no," Natasha mumbled to her girlfriend, eyes catching sight of the random blonde that corralled you against the table. "Poor girl, she's not going to survive."

Maria humored her girlfriend by gazing up just in time to see a fuming Wanda storming over to you both.

"Which one?" Natasha chuckled and pecked her lovers lips, "both—but one will for sure be more pleasurable."

"You're a menace." Natasha smirked, "Oh, I know..."

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff angst #wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x maria hill #blackhill #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda x fem!reader

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wildgirllz · 11 days

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I'm not sure if you are familiar with the "mating press" position, but the little horny voice inside my head says that Tommy would absolutely love it. Just imagine reader having her legs on his shoulders while he pins her down to the bed because he needed to let off steam. Of course, this is completely consensual! Reader is willingly helping her husband out like the sweet housewife she is <3 Would you be up to write something like that? Sorry for being so disgustingly horny about him... (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠)

Omg i love this request!! HAPPY 1K MY BEAUTIES!!!

Mating press with Tommy <3

Warnings: unprotected sex, SIZE KINK OML (I'm sorry I couldn't help myself) pnv, afab reader, he cums inside because he's a loving husband, overall just porn with a little plot

It was a sunny day, the warm Texan breeze on your shoulders as you washed dishes from breakfast. A hefty pile of dishes, Tommy was not a small man to feed. As the warm water eroded the bacon grease from your castiron, you heard some stomping from the yard. You smile, you can imagine how he was looking at that very moment; his mask covering half of his sweaty face, hair stuck to his forehead, shoulders wide and casting a big shadow over whatever he was blocking. His tall frame was delicious, his arms, his hands that held the majority of your torso already made you hot on the back of your neck.

Lost in a trance of your thoughts, you feel the warm water over your hands' sudden absence. You don't need to turn your head to identify the reason. You can already hear his little huffs behind his mask and his big meaty hands pawing at your hips.

“I missed you, Tommy.” You turn and raise your arms to place your hands on his broad chest. His fingers fidget with the red trim of your sundress, one of his favorites. “You like my dress honey? I like this one too, I wear it to ensure you stay grateful for this pretty little wife you got.” You giggle and cover his hands with your own, but only manage to shade a finger or two.

“I made you pie again Tommy, peach crumble! It's right on the counter. Lemme cut you a slice.” You smile warmly before turning to walk to the countertop to your right, but you don't manage. Tommys' hands are glued to your hips, keeping you grounded like a statue on the floor. “You don't want pie, baby?” You ask, sweetly of course. You knew Tommy wasn’t focused on your pie right now, you knew from the second you heard his feet shuffling outside that he had some steam he needed to release, and you’d be damned before you said you didn't want him to take it out on you.

You look up at his lust-filled eyes and reach to untie his sweaty mask. You didn't like that he always felt he had to cover himself up, but you understood it brought more comfort to his everyday life. As the mask fell, you could hear his shaky breaths practically calling for you. You got up on your tiptoes and pursed your lips, so he reciprocated, bending his head downward and capturing you in a warm, desperate kiss.

His hands on your hips lifted your body off of the ground, unconsciously, making your face line up with his. You wrap your legs around his waist, not making it all the way, but you were stable as his hands moved down to cup your ass. You whimper into his mouth, grinding your little hips against his big tummy, and running your fingers through his messy hair.

He lets out a single huff before turning on his heels and taking you to the bedroom. After storming through the doorway, he tosses your body onto your’ neatly made bed and begins to undress. You take his cue and do the same, unzipping your flowy dress and slipping off your white panties. Leaning back in your bed, you take in Tommys' body, how the veins in his hands bulge as he unbuttons his shirt, and how tight his pants look on his thick thighs.

Once he's fully bare, he slowly stalks around the bed, looking you up and down like a piece of meat he’s longing to devour. Suddenly, he yanks you down by the ankles, making you lay flat on the bed. He pushes himself to his knees at the end of the bed, settled between your now parted legs. He shuffles forward a bit, then pulls you by the knees until your legs wrap around his hips.

He bends forward, towering over your frame. He takes your legs and pulls your feet over each one of his shoulders. Your thighs are pressed to your stomach as he settles an arm on both sides of your head. His hair falls around your face, and you reach up to kiss his pretty pink lips. You feel his girth slipping over your slit, and you reach your hand down to press his throbbing cock to your little bud. He groans at the touch of your hand and you begin to rock your hips back and forth, covering his length with your slick.

Not long after, he begins to rock his hips against yours in tandem. His forehead touches yours and you can feel his warm breaths covering your face. On one of his slower thrusts, the tip of his cock caught on the rim of your hole, making you take a sharp breath in. Tommy looks at you to make sure you’re okay, then slowly slides his fat member into you without warning.

“Tommy! Jesus, baby slow down.” You whimper out. The intrusion makes your lips quiver and hands grip the sheets, so he takes your arms in one of his hands and moves them to wrap around his neck, immediately latching onto his hair. As he settles his hefty body on top of yours, his tummy pressing down tightly on yours, he pushes even further forward, trying to get as deep as possible.

Your moans turn into choked-out groans as he slowly pounds into you. Your toes curling and heels digging into his damp back. He lets out deep groans and uses his hand to wipe hair from your face. He cups your cheek and kisses you, a distraction from the ache of your stretched hole, struggling to accept his large cock.

His thrusts pick up in pace, and he buries his face into your neck. His hands slide down to grip your hips, and he maneuvers your body to slam down on his cock in time with his thrusts. In a state of complete cock-drunk bliss, you struggle to let out a whine as you feel your peak approaching. Rolling your eyes back, you grip his hair between your fingers and give it a little tug, before feeling the warmth of your orgasm explode through your body in ripples of pleasure.

Your back arches and your legs shake, the feeling of your pussy clenching over his length makes him whimper, and his thrusts become fast and shallow. You whine at the feeling of him abusing your overstimulated warmth, and Tommy leans down to bury his face in your breasts and grips your hips almost bruisingly in his hands, quickly reaching his orgasm himself.

He wraps his arms around your back and pulls you as close to him as possible before letting out one more deep thrust and filling you to the brim with his seed. He groans and flips over on his back, taking you with him. You lay over his body, feeling his cock softening inside you as his spend drips out. You both catch your breath and relax, his hands rubbing gently over your back.

You close your eyes and let the cool air of night take you both to sleep.

feel free to leave requests! (get FILTHY.) <3

#thomas hewitt x reader #slasher x reader #slashers x you #thomas hewitt smut #thomas hewitt x you #slasher fucker #slasher x you #slasher smut #thomas hewitt x y/n #tommy hewitt x reader #leatherface x reader #leatherface smut

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yawnderu · 9 months

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You make it hard to be a ghost — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Mutual pining, yearning, fluff, conflicted emotions.♡

"That's enough out of you." Ghost barked as he entered your quarters, slamming a crumpled piece of paper onto your desk. You write poetry for him, sneaking it into pieces of his gear and clothes where you know he'll find them. He reads them every single time, the strings of his heart being pulled whenever he reads them. He'd never let you know he keeps them, never let you know just how much your handwritten thoughts truly affect him, but you already know.

"What else am I supposed to do with my love for you, Ghost?" You asked teasingly, though the fear of keeping being rejected was always there, gnawing on your heart every single time he denied your affections.

"I don't need your love." He spat out, British accent making his rejection somewhat harder. How do I let you know you're the sun that casts away my shadows? I can't. His gaze flickers back and forth as you stay quiet, a mixture of guilt and anxiety playing on his expressive eyes though he tried to keep a stern mask in place. "I don't have time for this." You make me feel something.

"You say that, but I know you enjoy what I write even if you don't believe my words." You stand up from your seat, slowly approaching Ghost as your hand gently holds his wrist, examining his tattoo sleeve. His senses are overwhelmed as you touch him, by the closeness of your body, the warmth of your hands, your gentle touch. He wants this for himself, but he can't accept it, yet he doesn't push you away. "Whose dog tags are these?" You inquire, looking at his tattoo with a curious gaze.

"An old friend." He replies shortly, breath hitching slightly. Those dog tags belong to Simon Riley. The Simon Riley who died the same day Ghost was born, the same Simon Riley who gave his murdered family a funeral pyre and was left as just a Ghost. You simply hum, knowing better than to press for more details.

"Stray." His voice finally cuts the silence, his tone more gentle than what you usually hear from him, despite the turmoil in his head. "I've never loved anyone." Other than my mum and brother. It pains him to say those words, but you deserve to know.

"I know." He looked at you with a gaze full of sadness, and you responded with a gaze full of love. Ghost pulls you closer, allowing himself to be vulnerable in this way for once in his life, hand resting warmly against your cheek as he leans closer, breathing in your hair and the scent of your skin. His nightmares and past haunt him, his trauma keeps him up at night, but you keep his soul alive.

"I truly love you, Simon." Your arms gently wrap around his neck and he grits his teeth. Simon. Simon had been dead for years, yet you somehow always found a way to bring him back to life. To make his defenses come crumbling down as if he didn't spend years carefully building them. You can feel the tension leaving his body, muscles relaxing and shoulders dropping. You're aware this is a big deal for Ghost, he never lets anyone get this close. You hear his heart beating wildly, his breath on your neck as his arms wrap around your waist hesitantly, bringing you closer and closer each passing second.

"I love you too." He whispered, swallowing the knot in his throat. It's the first time he's actually been able to say it. "I love you too." He repeats, just in case you missed it the first time.

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thankskenpenders · 8 months

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Amy's fortune cards

The Sonic fandom has long been the kind of fandom that takes minor details very seriously, for better or worse. On the one hand, this means fans will really dig for the diamonds in the rough, latching onto fun character interactions, animations, bits of background worldbuilding, and more in pieces of Sonic media that many would write off as "the bad ones." But it also feels like every week another needlessly hostile debate over Sonic minutia erupts on Twitter, whether it's over individual lines of dialogue, fanart that makes Tails' shoes blue, or the ideal length and volume for Sonic's quills.

So it was probably inevitable that a fandom-wide debate would erupt upon seeing Amy's new gameplay style in the DLC for Sonic Frontiers, which takes the once-obscure fact that she enjoys reading tarot and shines a spotlight on it like never before.

I mean:

The thing is, while I basically always try to tune out Sonic fandom bickering... for once, I kind of sympathize with the detractors? Don't get me wrong, I like Amy's tarot stuff, and people on all sides of the discussion are being overly nasty about their opinions, as usual. (Sonic Twitter remains my personal hell.) But when I set aside the hyperbole and zoom out, I do think I understand why some fans are put off by the sudden shift in focus for the character, even if I think it's cool.

It's complicated. Let me attempt to present the cases for and against Amy's fortune cards

For years, I was always one of those fans who thought it could be fun if they played with Amy's tarot reading, or even leaned into some kind of magic with her. Part of that is my own biases showing, but there's just something that makes sense there, especially when you look at Sonic, Tails, and Amy as a trio. (I would argue that's the real "Team Sonic" these days, especially in the comics where Knuckles is more likely to be stuck on Angel Island or otherwise doing his own thing.)

You could argue that Tails is all about logic, relying on science and technology and deductive reasoning to solve problems. But Amy is all about emotion. She wears her heart on her sleeve, is extremely empathetic, and is very prone to magical thinking - both figuratively and sometimes literally. Her origin story has always been that her tarot cards told her it was her destiny to meet Sonic on Little Planet. She's claimed to be able to "sense" peoples' presences - particularly Sonic's. She's the type to believe that The Power of Love is a literal magical force. So, on some level, it makes sense to mirror Tails's science by having Sonic's other best friend believe in magic. And then Sonic is somewhere in the middle, primarily following his own gut instincts but taking advice from both of them as needed. This isn't totally accurate to how their dynamics actually function in canon stories, but I think it's a mode that could work for them.

Going off of that, it's fun to lean all the way into Amy being a magical girl, or even a witch, using her fortune telling as a foundation. Take, for example, this version of Amy from Diana Skelly's old Sonic cast redesigns from before she freelanced for Archie and IDW. This is one of MANY such redesigns for Amy.

Fast forward to the 2020s, and Amy's tarot cards are, in fact, finally getting brought up again in canon. Which is fun! I like seeing that. I like all of the individual stories involving Amy's fortune cards. This is a fun character trait for Amy, a fun nod to old lore, AND a fun storytelling device, all in one. It's really cool that the Sonic universe has its own thematically appropriate arcana, and that the cards are getting made as physical merch. And sure enough, the official card backs and borders were designed by none other than Diana Skelly, in yet another cool example of an ascendant fan leaving their mark on the series.

BUT... when you step back and look at the big picture, I get why some fans find this shift in focus jarring. At the moment, it's starting to feel like every new story about Amy involves her fortune cards to some degree.

The most recent mainline comic arc to feature Amy as the lead character, 2021's Trial by Fire arc, prominently features a sequence where she reads fortunes while camping with the girls. The Origins version of Sonic CD now bookends the game with scenes of Amy and her tarot cards. Sonic randomly mentioned it in a scene in Frontiers. And now, just this week, we got the (very cute, gorgeously illustrated) Amy's 30th Anniversary comic with a story revolving around Amy's tarot cards, followed the very next day by the Frontiers DLC in which she gets a brand new tarot-based moveset. Even her base melee attack now has her throwing tarot cards instead of swinging her hammer. Again, I like all of these individual things, but after years of it almost never coming up at all, it's VERY noticeable that Amy's tarot cards are suddenly everywhere.

To be fair, I'm looking at this from the perspective of a superfan who's actively following ALL Sonic media. Casual fans - especially kids - aren't necessarily going to be reading the comics every month, buying the thousandth rerelease of the Genesis games, or playing the ultra-hard new alternate ending DLC for a game that came out last year. Each of these stories is going to be someone's introduction to the idea that Amy can read tarot, and that's probably part of the idea behind this unified push.

But to play devil's advocate, for my fellow superfans, I understand why it feels like a very minor footnote of Amy's character is suddenly becoming the entire focus of her personality. While Amy has always been said to enjoy fortune telling, that wasn't really a character trait in and of itself, but rather an example of her being a typical girl who hopes she'll be able to find true love one day. It's less that Amy can literally predict the future and more like her using a cootie catcher or going "he loves me, he loves me not" while picking the petals off of a flower. So I get not vibing with this stuff, or feeling like it's being pushed very hard out of nowhere.

What I don't agree with are comparisons like "it's like if they made Knuckles' moveset revolve around him liking grapes." Like, I get it. Ian Flynn loves shoehorning in his little winking references for us nerds, and mentions of Amy's tarot cards were previously on the same level as other random bullet points from old Japanese manuals. But a multifaceted hobby like fortune telling that opens up so many narrative and aesthetic possibilities is obviously very different from having a favorite food. It's ALWAYS been a part of her story, not just a random fact, and there's no reason why the fortune telling can't be elevated to something more.

And, hell, even if it wasn't an established character trait, there's nothing inherently wrong with injecting new ideas into a character. One of the best Amy stories in recent years, the Free Comic Book Day special "Amy's New Hobby" written by Gale Galligan, came up with the idea that Amy's secretly been drawing little comics about her and her friends. Is this based on Lore? No. But it's cute, and helps tell the story of a younger Amy who's still coming out of her shell as both a hero and a friend.

Certain fans are also looking at Amy's Frontiers moveset and using it as evidence that once again the Vile American Contributors like Ian are CORRUPTING Sonic Team's perfect vision of Sonic with their misinterpretations. And like. Come on. Ian does not control the gameplay. He's a freelance writer. The tarot stuff is clearly something that Sonic Team likes if they made it the basis of Amy's new moveset - and, you know, if they keep approving comics and animations about Amy's fortune telling. None of this gets made without their blessing, and lord knows how much they can micromanage shit and shoot down ideas over the most minor of details.

Like, yeah, Amy's fortune telling was probably conceived less as a sign that she Knows Magic and more as a pretty mundane hobby for a lovesick young Japanese girl to have. But you're gonna sit there and tell me that using Amy's tarot cards for more than that could only be the result of a cultural misunderstanding? That nobody in Japan uses tarot card theming and aesthetics (or the general idea of magical cards) for the cool factor? Stardust Crusaders? Persona? The Astrologian class in FFXIV? Cardcaptor Sakura?? Hello??? Do you think Capcom put Gambit in Marvel vs. Capcom ironically because they thought using magic to throw cards at people was stupid? There's tons of precedent for this! It's nothing like Knuckles throwing grapes at people, be for real.

Giving Amy a very magical girl-esque moveset also just makes a lot of sense. For decades her hammer attacks have literally made sparkly heart shapes appear around her. Leaning into both that and her tarot cards in her new moveset makes a lot of sense to me.

But, admittedly... I do think it's very odd that her hammer is treated as a secondary element here, rather than having her primarily use her hammer and adding the cards for extra flair. If hitting the attack button made her swing her hammer instead of throwing cards, I'm not sure we'd even be having this discussion right now.

But the tarot-cycle and Amy riding her hammer like a witch's broom are fucking SICK and I will not concede on this point

The thing is, this whole fortune card discourse is but a small piece of a bigger problem. Amy's been a character who needed some work for ages, but there's basically nothing you can do with her without pissing SOMEONE off.

Years of stories where Amy's crush was her primary motivator and Sonic went "Ew, cooties!" have lead many casual fans to believe that being Sonic's obsessive fangirl is Amy's entire personality. At best people might call her Sonic's Minnie Mouse. This isn't just a matter of Amy having haters within the fandom - venture outside of that bubble and you'll realize that this is how MOST video game playing people seem to see her to this day. I don't feel like this is a fair assessment of the character, but this idea didn't come from nowhere. No matter how much good deeply entrenched Sonic fans may see in their old dynamic where Amy perpetually chases Sonic, this is a very real problem that Sonic Team has to contend with for their leading girl. Of course all those games where the way-past-cool protagonist thought Amy was annoyingly clingy and tried to get away from her made people think less of her.

If new stories were to go back to emphasizing Amy's crush on Sonic a little more, they'd probably be taken as confirmation that Amy's just the girl with a crush on Sonic and that this is her entire personality. Conversely, when the crush is played down, you piss off the hardcore SonAmy fans who don't seem to understand that they're Charlie Brown and Sega is Lucy holding the football. You can't win.

And so here we are. In the absence of what was once her defining trait, now reduced to an occasional blush or wink in Sonic's direction, new stories are trying to mine Amy's past for additional material to work with. Having been a thing fans wanted to see for years, right now we're getting a lot of tarot, but we're also getting reminders of her compassionate nature and her desire to go out of her way to help the little guy. This is an ongoing process. I continue to hope that her bubbly, exuberant demeanor can shine more in future stories. Now, I also hope that the tarot stuff gets balanced out a little better with other traits of hers. But I don't want it to go away. I think it's fun.

This course correcting is far from exclusive to Amy. Knuckles is getting stories that remind us that he's a competent fighter, an experienced treasure hunter, and even a self-taught archaeologist after years of him being perceived as either the dumb one or just the guy who stands in front of the Master Emerald all day. And Tails has been getting some stories reminding folks that he's a capable hero in his own right and not just Sonic's timid kid sidekick.

But no supporting character will ever compete with the sheer number of new ideas Sega has tried with Sonic himself. Like Amy, his Frontiers moveset has also given him half a dozen new superpowers that he never had before, from the Cyloop to air-slicing projectile attacks to his own take on Shadow Clone Jutsu and beyond. He's also been a hoverboarder, a swordsman, a time traveler, an Olympic athlete, a racecar driver, cursed with a Flame of Judgment, imbued with alien power, a fucking Werehog with stretchy powers, and on and on and on.

If Sonic can do all that, Amy can try out using a tarot-cycle.

Anyway TL;DR the REAL problem with Amy's current characterization... is where the FUCK is Amy's bestie, Honey the Cat???????

#tkp post

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faetreides · 1 month

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oreo tiger milk tea

cw: afab reader, suggestive content (18+ mdni): strap mentions and implied cunnilingus, ooc soft!tashi (she cares about you more than tennis), don’t think too hard about this

you hum and stir the shrimp, trying to remember how long you need to cook them for. you think the recipe said 4 minutes, so you shrug and hope for the best.

the giant flatscreen tv in your living room drones on in the background, you’re just waiting for tashi’s taped interview. her match already ended, you’re still heartbroken that you couldn’t be there but you cheered her on from your brand new sectional.

“yeah, my partner has been such a huge supporter. I’m so grateful to have them, and all my fans.” she says, blowing a kiss towards the camera.

it’s a run of the mill media response, but it gives you butterflies nonetheless.

you smile down at the sizzling shrimp like an idiot, taking it out and arranging them on the two bowls of rice on the table.

your legs are still sore and it takes everything in you to make it to your chair in one piece. tashi likes to joke that fucking you with her strap is all the work out she needs, that and smothering your face with her pussy. she didn’t keep you up as late last night, knowing that she had to be back on an emergency flight soon.

“hey, babe, what are you watching?” she teases as she peeks around the corner, having changed out of her airport clothes into sweats.

you grin and tilt your head up for a kiss, “my gorgeous wife’s interview, obviously.”

she rolls her eyes fondly, giving you your kiss. it’s slow and drawn out, her trip wasn’t long enough to call for a messy fight with teeth. plus, all the “home videos” tashi keeps on her phone are the perfect solution to be away from each other and horny.

“we’re not even married yet, stupid.”

“and what if I said that I'm pregnant with your baby?”

tashi gives you the most loving ‘what the fuck are you high on’ look, “then i’d say that i’m suprised it took this long.”

“so no shotgun wedding?” you pout, trying your hardest not to burst out laughing.

“don’t act like you don’t want a big wedding, you big baby.” she grins and pecks the tip of your nose.

you beam back at her and shrug, pulling her by the wrists to come sit down at the table next to you. you’re still so awestruck by the fact that you’re living in a multi million dollar home with your superstar fiancé.

the shrimp and rice is devoured with numerous compliments to the chef. tashi takes her sweet time wiping her (and your) face clean and putting the dishes in the dishwasher. you can’t help but let your eyes fall to her ass as she walks away.

“nice ass, Tash’ ” you say as you come up behind her and wind your arms around her torso.

you take a moment to sway in the kitchen, absorbing the faint traces of shower water and left over sweat under her orange and jasmine perfume.

“yours is nicer.” she hums, grinding back against you in languid circles.

“if you say so.”

“i do say so.”

your underwear is cutting it close to getting damp, sue you for being weak for your beautiful woman. the teasing rhythm doesn’t even phase you, you slide your fingers along the soft fabric covering her hips and pull her closer. it doesn’t escalate into frenzied dry humping, the warmth and unhurried friction of her ass cheeks against your mound is intoixcating enough.

you do her a favor and close the dishwasher. she casts a look over her shoulder, challenging you to make a move. you smirk and pick her up by her thighs, pushing her to jump up on the counter.

tashi lays down with the most smug smile a person could possibly wear, “you just cleaned the counters, baby, you better not make a mess.”

you stick your tongue out, pulling her pants down and getting close enough to tear her panties off with your teeth. she spreads her legs, giving you a clear view of her pussy. you gently blow air onto her clit and she sighs, rolling her shoulders back.

“yeah yeah, tash’. i’ll get it all in my mouth this time, i swear”.

because you know if you do, she’ll be taking YOUR strap.

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 1 month

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Shining Din Djarin x Female Reader

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: You want Mando to make you shine. Warnings: Smut, oral (m receiving), exhibitionism (you let Din watch you masturbate), p in v sex, creampie (reader has an implant), light sub/dom vibes, Din gets handcuffed by his own binders, sensory deprivation with the help of Din's helmet. Words: 3,735 A/N: This idea has been dancing around in my head for the past week, thanks to @frannyzooey for her thot night post and kind motivation. Also, shout out to "Ghost In The Machine" by SZA. I dunno man, this is the first time I've ever written Din and wow, he was fun.

Masterlist

Mandalorians want for nothing, so why did he want you so bad?

Months of you joining him on his hunts, a damned demand of Karga. “She’s young and capable, she’ll be good for my little friend to have someone else to take care of him. I won’t take no, you owe me.”

Your little trinkets taking up precious cargo in his small ship, your pretty face always shining through the display tempting him to give it all up just for a glimpse of the color of your soft skin, your beautiful body keeping him up and frustrated at night while you sleep soundly on the cot you insisted you needed. The only reason why he caved is because he was tired of you sneaking into his pod and leaving his blankets smelling like you.

The kid, the damn kid loves you, adores you. He’s pretty sure he loves you more than he loves him. The way you talk to him with your sweet voice, the way you run over to him whenever he lets out a frustrated cry, the way his kid looks held in your arms as you soothe him.

He was frustrated, he was at his breaking point. You’re so beautiful and so delicate and yet you call him out on his shit, you keep him in line. He’s never wanted anybody like he wants you.

He hated facing you after stepping out of the fresher, always feeling like you can look behind the beskar he’s covered in. Like you know he just came on the shower wall imagining the cold, flat metal is the warm, silky skin of your tits.

Tonight, in the middle of nowhere on this backwater planet, you trounce around the fire in your gauze sleep gown, smiling and laughing as the kid chases you. You look like an angel, lit by the flames licking across your skin casting your body in a deep amber glow. He tries to focus on the gun he’s cleaning to keep his attention off of you but he can’t stop staring. He counts the minutes until it’s the kid’s bedtime. He has to do something about this, either he needs to take you back home or he needs to feel how your cunt feels wrapped around his cock. Taking you home would be easier.

——

“Well, that didn’t take long,” you say, leaning against the opening of the ship.

He nods at you, his helmet still downcast focused on cleaning his armor. He’s gotten used to you obviously, he’ll at least remove a piece of armor in front of you. Never the helmet, you understand that, but seeing him without his usual chest piece makes you so wet he might as well be fully naked.

You’re going mad, the Crest isn’t a big ship and he’s a big man. If you have to feel the cool touch of beskar against your skin as you move past him one more time you just might explode.

You’re used to getting what you want, you’re smart, you’re clever, you’re resolute. Like Karga always tells you, “you have spunk kid, nobody will ever be able to tell you no.” That’s why you put the white nightgown on, he might be wearing a helmet, but you can always tell just how much he likes what you’re wearing by how hard you feel his stare behind that faceless mask, you really feel it whenever you wear this.

“He’s tired,” you walk down the ramp, “I think all I did today was play with him, don’t know why he needed so much attention.”

“He knows you’ll always give him it.”

“Really?” You roll your eyes as you sit across the fire from him. “At least he’ll sleep through the night, you’re welcome by the way.”

“Hm,” he nods, still preoccupied by shining his armor.

“Think it’s shiny enough, big guy?” You lean over, your hands resting on your knees, the neckline of your dress dipping farther down as you lean forward to look at him above the fire.

“Just about,” he’s rubbing his chest plate harder and faster… you know he’s avoiding looking over at you.

“I love how your armor reflects the flames,” your voice coming out lower and huskier. “I love being able to watch the fire burn on your chest, like your heart’s been set aflame.”

His hand pauses, the cloth he was using sits idle against the metal. His helmet tilts up, you feel his eyes back on you.

“Is it shiny enough for me to see that now?”

A single nod before he lifts his armor over his head and attaches it. “I can see,” you whisper.

He stares forward, his eyes are on you, something has shifted in the air of this small circle around the fire.

You lean even more forward, the plush of your breasts almost spilling out of your dress. You watch his chest rise as he takes a deep breath in.

“I wish I could shine like you,” your confession leaving your mouth as you run a hand up and down your neck and chest.

“You shine,” the modulated voice sizzles through you.

“Yeah? How bright can I shine for you tonight?” Your hand dipping underneath the fabric of your dress petting back and forth across your breasts.

“As bright as you want for me.”

“Sure about that? I can burn really bright. Can I see if I burn bright in your armor?”

He straightens, sitting taller and nods.

You rise off the rock, grabbing the bottom of your dress as you stand, lifting it up over your head.

You pad over to him naked, the crisp breeze of the forest hitting your skin. It truly feels like you’re the only two people on this whole planet. His hands clench into fists as you stand in front of him.

“Can’t see much, just the outline of my body in the flickering light. What do you see?”

“You,” the modulated crackling as he chokes out, “all of you.”

You lift one of his hands, grabbing the edge of his glove. “Can I?”

He nods.

You remove it. Thick fingers, well manicured short nails, trails of veins running through strong muscles. Your cunt begins to weep as you think of what his hand would feel like between your legs. You’ve seen his bare hands before, sometimes he gives the kid it to entertain himself with, sometimes he needs his hand bare to repair something. But, you’ve never seen it this close. It’s the only body part you’ve seen of his, you imagine the rest of him to be just as golden, just as toned, just as thick as his hand.

You rest it on your hip, a moan escapes your mouth at the contact. He lets out a huff of modulated air as he grips your skin.

“Maker,” you whisper into the night sky, just his hand on you igniting something powerful. He tests you, running a lazy line up to your chest and back down to your hips, the path sets your skin ablaze. You want him to go lower, you want one of his thick fingers to push inside, you want him to feel how wet you are.

“See, sometimes you shine too bright, and it does things to me. Sometimes I can’t look away and it makes being around you really hard for me and I have to sneak my hand down at night ‘n try to dull that ache. I think you feel the same way… sometimes I can hear you in that fresher,” his head raises towards you, his grip tightening now searing against your skin, “the walls are thin.”

“I hear you… I-I listen.” Maker, his voice. You’ve never heard his voice this way, the shame dripping out of the tinny speakers.

Your eyebrow raises at his confession. “You listen to me?”

A solemn nod, downcast.

“Hey,” you touch the edge of his helmet, lifting it so he can look at you. This is the first time you’ve ever touched it. In fact, this is the first time you’ve actually touched him, besides a quick brush as you move past or put the baby in his arms. “I like that. Would you watch me if you could?”

His helmet nods in your hold.

You can feel the tensity radiating off of him, you know he’s a hunter you know that under all of those layers he’s screaming to get out, to attack you, to make you his bounty.

“You know, I see you hunt people all of the time. I can’t explain what it does to me to see your big body in the distance walking towards us and the ship, your bounty cuffed and subservient to you. I love the power you hold, but I think you’d like someone else to have that power over you. Am I right?”

“Yes.”

“Can I have that power over you?”

“Yes.”

“You want to watch me?”

He nods.

You turn away from him, grabbing the blanket folded on the rock you were using earlier to look up at the stars with the kid, laying it on the ground by the fire. You settle yourself on it, the warmth from the flames heating your body. You lean back on your hands, locking your knees together.

“Tell me what you want to see, you’re such a being of few words, talk to me.”

“Open your legs.”

You separate your legs, spreading them open, your pussy is on full display for him, dripping for him. His hands rest on his knees as he leans forward.

“Touch yourself,” he whispers out.

You trail your hand down to in between your legs, rubbing a line from your clit to your hole.

“Am I shining here for you?”

“Yes,” the modulator crackles as he hisses.

Your fingers light a trail around your clit, your hips cant up whenever you rub against the tight bundle of nerves. You’re putting on a show for him, biting your lip and staring straight forward into the small window of his helmet. Even though you can’t see them, you know his eyes are only focused on you. You moan into the night, tilting your head back to look at the stars as your finger dips into your entrance.

You can hear his breathing over the squelchy sound of your finger pumping in and out of you, your head turning back down towards him when you hear a low groan. His hands are gripping his knees, he’s leaning over as far as he can as he watches you fuck yourself.

The way his large shoulders are rising and falling rapidly as his breathing quickens makes your body ache, your palm knocks against your clit as you add another finger and fuck yourself.

“Do you want me to cum for you like this?”

“C-c-can I touch you when you do?”

Oh, his voice. It’s so heavy and yet so light. You’ve never heard it like this, he sounds so young, so excited, so unlike the scary Mandalorian that secretly intimidates you, not that you’d ever let him know.

“Come here,” you shuffle your feet wider, spreading your legs as far as you can. “Kneel down.”

He moves lightning quick, a dash of metal appearing in between your legs. He’s so fucking big, so fucking broad, so fucking handsome, so fucking strong, he drives you crazy and all you’ve ever seen of him is his hand.

He takes his other glove off and throwing it to the side before tentatively placing his hands on your knees, the feel of his rough palms planting against your soft skin bringing you closer to your climax.

“Cum for me,” he whispers. You wish he didn’t have that damn helmet, you wish his real voice could float across the air and land against your cunt.

His hands grip you harder as your hips begin to rise and fall while you writhe against the soft blanket, your cunt tightening around your fingers as you pull yourself onto the cliff and leap down into the ocean of your pleasure.

You don’t break eye contact with Mando, his firm stare you feel behind that damned black shield shattering your heart and your pussy into a million pieces as you scream out into the vast wilderness of the night.

His hands chart a path across your knees, his touch so gentle versus the way he was just clutching you as you came for him.

“Did I shine for you?” Your voice comes out smaller and more delicate than you wanted.

“Brightly.”

“Can I make you shine bright for me?”

“Yes.”

“Can I have my way with you, the way I want it? The way I’ve dreamed about taking you?” You sit up, his hands still rub your legs, as if once you’ve given him permission to touch you it’s all he wants to do now.

He nods.

You turn your head to the side, looking at all of his now clean weapons laid out on the table. The binders are still there, their presence has been on your mind since you saw him pick them up earlier to clean.

“Can I borrow something from over there?”

“What?”

“Can I borrow your binders?”

“Y-yes.”

You rise up off the blanket, moving quickly to pick them up, as if you don’t do this right now, he’s going to back out. You’re now the hunter. You pick them up in your hand, they’re heavier than you thought, the metal is cool against your touch.

“Can I cuff you like I caught you… like you’re my bounty?”

His deep growl as he tips his head back shoots a wave of pleasure through your body, you can only assume it matches what he’s currently feeling. You love that the two of you are now sharing in each other’s pleasure instead of hiding it behind the thin metal walls of a spaceship.

“Yes.”

You can’t hide your smile as you stalk towards him, like he’s now caught and you’re ready to get your reward. He hasn’t moved from where he knelt in front of you as he watched you fuck yourself.

“Can you take your vambraces off for me?”

He deftly removes them without a word, laying them next to him.

“Can you do something else for me?”

He nods.

“Can you show me how to turn your volume and display off in your helmet? You saw my cunt, you heard me fuck myself, but you’ve never felt my pussy or mouth. I want you to only feel it now.”

“Dank farrik,” he grunts. “Yes.”

He picks up a vambrace, putting in a couple of codes, his fingers driving you crazy as they move across the small buttons.

“Press this when you want it,” he pants out as he hands it to you.

“Thank you. Put your hands in front, raise them up.”

He follows your instructions. He looks so good like this, kneeling in front of you ready to serve, you like having this power over him. This must be how he feels whenever he catches his prey.

You grab one of his arms, pushing the sleeve up of his flight suit. His skin is just as bronzed as you expected it to be, born that way, hidden away for years underneath fabric and armor. You do the same with the other arm, the sight of his toned and hairy forearms causing a wave of heat to spread over your body.

You put a cuff over his wrist, locking it in place. You look up at him, checking to make sure he’s okay with this. He nods his approval as you slip the other cuff on and lock it. He’s now bound, still kneeling, his thick legs supporting him as he lowers his hands down.

“Good?” You whisper as you stand tall in front of him. “Lay on your back, put your arms over your head.”

You’ll never not be shocked at how big he is, yet how easily he moves in his large body. He takes up the whole blanket. Your mouth waters as you notice how his pants are tented as he lays down for you.

“I promise I won’t remove any more armor or your helmet, but I will help myself to you. I want you to be as loud as you can be, let yourself go, let me have the power, you deserve it. I’m going to turn off the display and your sound, is that okay?”

“Yes, Maker, yes.”

“If you need me, say Lothal,” you hit the button he showed you, Din’s head thuds against the dirt as you imagine he’s now cast in complete darkness and silence. You listen to his deep breathing as you look down at him. Fuck, this is going to be good.

You settle on the ground kneeling between his spread legs, just like he did for you. Your hands move across the rough fabric of his flight suit, his hoarse groan rumbles through his body when you caress his thighs.

“That’s it, that’s it baby,” you whisper to nobody, the thrill of seeing him like this letting go for you makes your head spin.

The shape of his hard cock straining against the zipper of his flight suit beckons you. You run a hand across it, his whole body shudders. He’s panting, the sounds of his struggle soaring into the air causing goosebumps to prickle against your skin and your cunt to clench.

You lick your lips as you unzip the zipper, grabbing the heft of him and lifting it out. Maker, Maker, Maker. He’s so wide and firm, just like you knew he would be. Swollen, throbbing, fucking gorgeous, precum leaking down his tip.

He lets out a rasped “ahhh” as you wrap your fist around his length. His skin is so soft, so silky, so firm. Your thumb swipes across his tip, collecting the precum on the pad of it, bringing it to your mouth to taste him. He tastes delicious… salty and musky. You sit back and watch him lay there vulnerable only for you, his exposed cock twitching in the light of the fire. Your head, heart, and core are heavy with want for this mystery of a man… you wonder if anybody has ever had him like you do right now.

“Mesh’la?” His voice breaks you out of your daze. Mando’a, you’ve never heard him speak it. You make a note to yourself to look that word up on your datapad later.

“I’m here,” you say before realizing he can’t hear you. You place a hand on his thigh and gently squeeze it as you lay in between his thick thighs, his legs caging you in.

You angle your head forward and seal your mouth over the head of his cock, his whole body shivers as you suck him. He feels so good in your mouth, you love the slight stretch of your lips as you move his length down your throat.

Your eyes water as you take him all the way down, his tip hitting the back of your throat making you gag around him. You slide him out of your mouth, grabbing him at the base and slapping his length against your lips, you revel in the sting it leaves against your skin as you stick him back in and bob your mouth up and down, your tongue tasting the salt of his skin.

You hollow your cheeks around him, the combined sounds of ecstasy coming out of the speakers of his helmet mixed with the slurp of your lips soundtrack the night as his hips begin to lift when he begins fucking into your mouth.

You know he’s close, the way his moans garble, the way his hips begin to stutter as you swirl your tongue against him. He chokes out a protest as you slip him out of your mouth, leaving him pulsing. You’re selfish, you want what you want and he’s given you the opportunity tonight to take whatever you want from him.

You grab his vambrace before sitting down and straddling his thighs. Reaching down you grab his cock, angling him to rub between your soaked folds, the tip bumps against your swollen clit and you yelp.

You want him to watch, you want him to hear. You hit the button on his vambrace, his helmet instantly pops up, the black T of his helmet angled to look right at the apex of your thighs.

“Wanted you to see this,” you say as you rise up, grabbing his cock and slowly sinking yourself down on it.

Your body accepts all of him as you roll your hips, getting comfortable around the feeling of being stuffed so full of him.

“You feel so good in me, I knew you would, let me do the work, let me fuck you,” you whimper as he stretches your tight hole.

You use him to fuck yourself, he lays perfectly still like you asked him, you never imagined he’d listen so well to your instructions. He’s panting for you, his arms still raised above his head, his wrists straining against the cuffs, hands forming tight fists as you begin to pound him.

You move your hand down to start rubbing circles around your clit, you’re on the edge of another orgasm, you can tell he’s even closer.

“You can cum for me, I have the implant, I want to feel you pump your cum inside me, cum for me Mando.”

His helmet bobbles as his body shudders underneath you.

It destroys you, the feel of his big cock spearing you as he empties himself into you, the sound of the garbled words he’s grunting as he tilts his hips up into you, the feel of your fingers tracing your clit, the heat of the fire warming your already feverish body.

You strangle his cock as you orgasm, your slick mixing with his spend inside you as you lean forward on him, laying your body on top of his. You reach up and remove both cuffs, throwing them to the side as he shakes each hand out. You stare into his helmet, you can make out the reflection of your face in the black T of his visor.

“I can see myself shining in you now,” you say as he wraps his arms around you.

#din djarin fic #din djarin ff #Mandalorian fic #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin smut #pedro pascal #mandalorian smut #din djarin x reader #mandalorian x you #pedro pascal character fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian fanfic #Mandalorian ff #din djarin one shot

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sugoi-writes · 1 month

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Can I be 🦇 anon? For some reason I’ve always been obsessed with the flexing part of an arm? I don’t know the technical term but I can’t see Demon Al doing this as much as his human counterpart would sooooooooo human Alastor with his sweetheart who has never EVER soon for him like woman usually do I mean he has ladies fainting LMAOA HOWEVER one day when he’s cutting idk wood or something she sees his arm flex she’s like a puddle I mean full fangirling giggling and screaming and he’s like huh??? Until he realizes and then boom from then on he’s flexing any time he can to pull a scream from her

🦇Anon? Love it! I'm a big fan of bats! This ask was too adorable. I just KNEW I could cook something up!

It does get a liiiiittle suggestive in parts, but otherwise stays perfectly appropriate! FEAST, my dearies!!!

"Love? The fire is going out! We'll need more firewood!" You call from inside. You make your way to the door, your top half hovering just outside as you searched for your darling beau. You've always enjoyed your time with him at his family's cabin, a piece of his inheritance that was used quite often. And, of course, it was highly appreciated by the both of you.

Your eyes dart about until you heard a distinct CHOP, eyes finding Alastor with his axe buried into an old tree stump. His smile widens when he sees you, wiping the sweat from his brow. You feel your pulse race, surprised to see his bare chest gleaming in the sunlight. The humid, thick air that permeated in the South could not be helped, and so, Alastor worked without a shirt on. Even with this simple and understandable notion, you found yourself fond of (and shocked by) the rare sight. You try to make your face pleasantly neutral and wave, trying to save face.

"No worries, dear. 'Already mending that problem!"

You chuckle, leaning fully into the door frame as Alastor positions a new log to cleave through. The Summer was good for one thing, you reasoned; seeing Alastor's chest, bared for only you to see, heaving steadily as he worked. Better yet, you could practically feel the gaze he gave back to you, his knowing smile making you beam every time you saw it. While you weren't like most others, not being overly doting or frivolous about his appearance, you still appreciated and treasured it deeply.

When Alastor returned to his work, your eyes fixated on his hands, then his arms. Indeed, you were very familiar with how powerful they were. They did wonders for and to you. But then: you see a flex. A jut and shift of his bicep has your mouth watering lecherously. As his grip relaxed on the axe, his body bending down to grab another log, you watched the muscles in his arm relax and re-fire. This set of motions repeated for a time, much to your enjoyment. As an extra treat, sometimes a vein in his neck would pop out at the same time his forearms and triceps strained, making your pupils bloom and shrink with hunger.

It was, without a doubt, an extremely alluring sight. Each time the axe raised over his head, your eyes followed, forcing you to stiffle a nervous chuckle. God, he was too beautiful for his own good. He was too strong for you to handle, and far too beautiful to be a called simple, minimalist man. His body was the work of a master craftsman, thank God.

As another piece of firewood was cut, you covered you mouth, stifling a squeal as he brought a towel to his forehead, huffing from his efforts. When he heard your little noises, he turned to you, his smile drooping slightly," Anything the matter, dear?" You were quick to shrink back, waving his concern off with a nervous laugh.

"Ha-ha, NO! No, I'm fine! Don't worry about me! I-I'll start working on dinner, okay?" Alastor doesn't seem convinced, squinting in your direction. His glasses were cast aside earlier, in fear they may fall off and become a victim of his labor," If you say so, dear. I'll be inside in a moment to help with the potatoes, mon cherie." You nod and turn to go inside, your face still boiling hot as you try to distract yourself. Your body starts to go through the motions, chopping veggies that were freshly harvested to use in your stew. You try to focus on the task at hand, your mind lingering on images of Alastor's physique. You had failed at your task stupendously. You felt no remorse!

You couldn't help but squirm at the mental images: veins and muscles shifting from physical effort. That devilishly handsome smile and toned body... it made your heart race! You wondered what his arms must've looked like when he was hovering above you... Your grip was tightening as you chopped the veggies faster, your safety disregarded. You giggle to yourself, eyes closing momentarily to focus on the pleasant thought of Alastor caging you with his muscular arms until--

"FUCK-- shit!"

No sooner did you wail was Alastor at the door, slamming it open," What happened??? What did--"

Alastor's eyes were wide, pupils shrunken to mere pinpricks as he took in your form. You held your bleeding finger, huffing.

"I-It's fine, it's fine! I'm fine!" You reassure, grabbing a handtowel to press to your wound. Alastor strode over to you, tongue clicking at your carelessness. As he went to put his axe down, your eyes caught his arms again, yelping as you turn away hastily. Your sudden movement left your partner clueless.

Alastor pauses again, a brow raising," My love, what's gotten into you? You've never been this careless before..."

You shuddered as Alastor came behind you, hands resting on the counter on either side of your hips," Are you sure you're quite alright?"

He leaned in to kiss your cheek, coaxing you into looking his way. You began yelping again, your mouth slamming shut as you tear your eyes away from his body. Alastor grumbles, slightly annoyed with your silence," Sweetheart, I can't help you if you don't use your words--"

One hand snatches you by the hip, spinning you quickly around while the other takes your wounded hand.

You eyes are blown wide, unable to make eye contact as they stare down at Alastor's arms," I-Im fine, really just-- just got lost in my thoughts! I promise!"

Between Al's proximity, his partial nudity, and those arms trapping you, you felt like your face blazed hotter than the fucking Sun. Alastor seemed to catch on, watching as your legs squeezed, shifting your weight uncomfortably. He leans closer to you, the muscles in his torso expanding and contracting with his movements. You sigh shakily, stifling a blissful squeak. Ahh. So it was him that was causing you to fret...

Alastor began to chuckle slowly at first, before laughing heartily. You stammered as a large hand came to your shoulder to steady himself, your lips blubbering pathetically. He was laughing fairly hard, causing his abdominals to flex and seize (a sight too delicious to behold). You were whining, on the verge of squealing as you weakly pushed against him again.

"A-Alastor, if you don't back up, I just might NOT be okay!!!" Alastor couldn't help himself, working himself into short bursts of stitches as he calms down, eyes watering.

"Ohhh, dearest... honestly, was I really that distracting to you?" His voice was low and flirtatious as you felt yourself being pressed into the counter, his hips holding you in place. You nearly shrieked as Alastor's hands gripped the counter harshly, knuckles white. Your mouth fell agape with a silent moan as the muscles in his upper arms and pecs stirred once more. You push against him once more, feeling as though you would pop like a balloon.

"A-Al, this isn't cute!!! Stop it, please!" You practically whine as Alastor just leaned, kissing your bright, heated cheeks.

"Well, I suppose I could go chop more wood, if the space could offer you some reprieve..."

You gasp as your chin is pulled forward, forcing you to make eye contact with him. If you weren't in your prime, you'd fear having a stroke at the sight of his almond colored eyes staring back into yours with a tumultuous energy.

"But, I think we both know you'd prefer that I stay rii~iiight here, don't you?" He teased, his lips dangerously close to your own. Your own lips quivered at the relentless pestering, your eyes struggling to make contact again," W-Well, I-- you know I-- uugghhh, if you keep teasing me, dinner is going to be late!!!"

"That's fiiiine by me!" Alastor says in a sing-song tone, and to your horror, you are lifted and placed onto the counter with minimal effort. Your eyes become transfixed on him, unable to clench your legs closed. Alastor knew exactly what he was doing, and he wasn't going to let you off the hook so easily. Your partner moved to be between your thighs, his voice a husky gravel; his tone was JUST loud enough for you to process.

"How about we start with dessert first, hmm~?"

#alastor x reader #human!alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor fanfic #alastor imagine #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #heeeheeehee sorry if its a little TOO suggestibe #we all thirst over this man violently sooooo i figured it would be okay #let me know if youd rather a fluffier one and i can make that happen!#this was so fun to do #gdhdhsjshsja

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flightofthejackdaw · 2 months

Text

I just want to say how much I adore the women of One Piece, not just on a ‘holy moly these women are beautiful’ but also on ‘holy moly these women are so well written’

I love how many layers the lady’s have, even those who are not part of the main cast

Nami acting as the brains of the crew, but always being up to scrap with the boys and put them in their place, her fear of trusting and being betrayed being a core aspect of her character. WCI and Wano are pretty recent examples of this, with her anger at Sanji, and her belief in Luffy. I love how confident she is in her self, and how she is a little evil sometimes she’ll use everything at her disposal to get what she wants. How she knows that she’s needed on the crew and without her they would’ve all drowned along ago, and she’s beautiful and cute and she knows this. I hate people thinking that she’s less of a character post timeskip just because of her appearance, she’s so much more than that

Vivi’s love of her people and her country, her worrying nature and her desire for adventure despite her position. Her care for the crew despite the small amount of time she knew them. Also how she’s basically the main character of Alabasta, and how she’s the one saving her country

Robin going from someone who was always looking over her shoulder, always running and never having a real place to call home. To someone who knows she has a family who loves her and will protect her no matter what, and she can be her strange morbid self without judgement (other than from Usopp)

Viola and Rebecca, two ladies forced into a living hell under Dolfamingo. One humiliated by her own people and forced to fight for her life when at heart she just wanted peace, and the other whose soul was almost broken by Doffy but chose to fight against him even if she knew she wouldn’t win. Viola going to stab Doffy even if she knew she would fail shows her strength as she stood up against him even if it could’ve meant death because she wanted to do what she could

And there are so many others that are just as amazing:

- Big Mom: a major villain with a twisted idea of family and love. One of the most powerful pirates in the sea, all this strength but she’s still just someone that was abandoned by the world and became obsessed with filling that void

- Pudding: a woman twisted by the abuse she suffered hating herself and lashing out at others in turn. And how that persona comes crashing down when showed only a bit of kindness

- Boa: the strong powerful empress, who is deeply scarred and can’t show any weakness to her people. And just wants to be loved by someone who sees more than her beauty

-Reiju: the older sister that had to go along with her little brothers abuse, and helped when she could. But only when she couldn’t be the target, she’s flawed and distant but she loves her brother

- Bonny: a literal child who braved the seas to save her father and became one of the most wanted pirates of her generation in under two years, scrappy and tomboyish with a soft heart for her dad

These ladies are living breathing characters! And there are some many others that are just the same, they are all so well developed and different from each other in character. And none of them are just there to be, ‘the girl in the group’ or the ‘love interest’ (though Boa likes Luffy and Pudding likes Sanji neither are their main character traits and have story reasons for being in love)

I love them so much

I love women

A certified girl kisser wrote this at like 1 am

#one piece #cat burglar nami #nico robin #boa hancock #vivi nefertari #jewellery bonney #vinsmoke reiju #big mom #charlotte linlin #charlotte pudding #one piece girls

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aetherdoesthings · 1 month

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would you like some cake? (pt 2)

forethoughts: if you want to read part one it's would you like some new toys :D. i'm literally going to go home in a few hours and pull for arlecchino i'm so excited so happy so on adrenaline i can't ahhhh

notes: gn!child!reader, but fem!reader in mind. NOT AN X READER, READER IS A CHILD!!!

You don’t remember when was the last time you stepped foot in the playroom again. Father said she would take you to a different playroom, away from the others. You spent every day in that new playroom with Father. Father always gave you an option to go back. The door was always wide open. Distant sounds of the other children laughing and cheering rang in your ears.

Father said you were getting better day by day. Much more used to your new toys. Father even allowed you to bring your toys with you everywhere. One inside your boots, one strapped to your belt. Father even allowed you to bring one to your room.

Your room. Instead of the room you shared with the others, Father had moved you. Closer to her office. You have your own room now. Father had decorated it herself, she said. The mattress felt like three of the mattresses in your old room stacked upon each other. The room made you feel tiny. Alone. But Father was always there. Father was always with you.

Father said you were almost as skilled as the guards that stood outside the orphanage.

Father was proud.

Father was proud of you.

Father always read you bedtime stories. Tucked you in, planting a soft kiss on your forehead before turning off the lights. Father always taught you to not listen to what the other children said. That the only person you should be listening to is her and yourself.

You don’t remember when was the last time you felt eyes casted on you and words piercing your heart when you ate your meals. You still ate your meals in the hall with the other children; Father was adamant that you would still have some interaction with the others. But you didn’t care.

Father made sure you knew your worth.

Using your chopsticks, you fished up a bundle of noodles, putting it in your spoon and then in your mouth. You chewed, and then fished up another bundle of noodles. The children behind your back were loud and rowdy as usual. Father said to pay no mind to them. This time was different.

They were talking about Father.

It was Father’s birthday tomorrow.

Father was always secretive and didn’t reveal much about herself. They were planning on surprising her with a big party in the playroom. Of course, you weren’t part of it.

Father was always there for you, you thought. Never shy from giving you gifts and words of advice on the days you needed them.

You stood up from your seat, carrying your empty udon bowl to the sinks, giving it a quick rinse before putting it on the racks. You walked out of the hall, letting your feet take you where your mind wanted to go.

You closed the door to your new room, taking a seat behind your desk as you took out two sheets of paper, and some crayons Father had gifted you. While the rest played and had fun, you were in your room, scribbling away as best as you could with your black crayon. With your second piece of paper, you took out more colors from the box.

Father was always there for you.

You’d be a bad kid if you didn’t do the same, right?

The other’s idea of a celebration was tricking Father to go to the playroom, then cheering and singing happy birthday to Father while they played with Father. That meant that Father was unavailable to give you your daily lessons on how to properly play with your new toys. Fortunately you were busy too.

You entered the kitchen the moment you heard everyone else chant happy birthday in all different keys, the wide empty space with high workstations and cabinets sending doubt into your head. You shook it away, closing the door behind you with two hands, before taking a small tour around the space you would work with. Seeing that dinner was just served, all the cooks were done, leaving you a window of time to carry out your plan. Using a nearby stepping stool, you climbed onto the counters, reaching the high cabinets that were attached to the roof. Just as fate intended it to be a cooking book fell onto your lap, flipped to the page you wanted to go on. You closed the cabinet door, placing the cooking book by your side as you placed your boots on the stepping stool.

Father said you were good at looking for what you needed.

Father said you were good at doing what you wanted to do.

You prayed Father was right.

With the big book set on one counter, you scurried around the kitchen, gathering all the required ingredients and items you needed next to the book. You found two more stepping stools, allowing you to move around on each stool like different stations.

Father said your academic level was higher than the rest; you were doing exams meant for ten year olds.

“Pour… flour… in a bowl…” You muttered, finger on each word. You did as the instructions said, scooping out some flour and dumping it into a bowl.

“Egg…Sugar…Mix… Bake…”

For the rest of the day, you buried yourself in work, making what they called a ‘batter’. You had nearly dropped your hard made batter when you had to place the mold inside the oven, a new lesson learnt the hard way. After as much time as the book said, you took the mold out, this time wearing the funny shaped gloves on top of the counter next to the oven. With all your strength, you lifted the baked circular batter into a cart, before wheeling the cart back to your workstation. As the batter was baking, you had prepared a frosting, as they called it. Using a flat rectangle shaped object that had its corners rounded out, you spread the frosting over the top of the cake, before adding a fresh cherry to the top.

The celebration had stopped.

You heard Father’s voice tell the children it was time for bed. You gripped onto the counter, trying not to get shaken by the earthquake created by the hoard of orphans storming up to their room. Holding your breath, you waited until you couldn’t hear Father’s footsteps anymore, before letting out a sigh. You placed your finished cake on a pretty plate, using two hands to hold each side before exiting the kitchen.

You let out a deep breath, looking at the gold and crimson ornate double door in front of you. With the papers in your pocket, cake in hand, you used your shoulder to turn the doorknob, stumbling into Father’s office.

“Y/N?” Father. You turned around, facing Father. Father was behind her desk, hand moving from her forehead to her chin as she looked at you with a playful grin. Since your back was still turned to her, she couldn’t see the cake you made.

“I was worried sick about you, my dear. I didn’t see you at the celebration the others held for me.” Father chuckled. “Where were you? Not even the caretakers or workers could find you.”

You opted to not answer her question, rather hobble your way over to Father’s desk with your little legs. You placed your creation on the same place Father had set you when you got injured. Father looked at the cake, her eyebrows raised as she tried to conceal the grin that was spreading on her face. She pointed at the candle that was stabbed into the cake next to the cherry with her index finger, and the wick was instantly lit on fire.

“U-Umm…. I overheard it was Father’s birthday… so I wanted to do something special for Father…” You mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve as you tried to maintain eye contact with her. “I-I made you a cake. I t-tried my best. Would Father care to try my cake?”

Father let out a chuckle, looking at you with a soft and warm gaze. “You made a cake? All for me?”

“I-I wrote a c-card too…” You pulled the card and the second piece of paper out of your pocket, placing it next to the cake.

“Y/N… I…” Father chuckled, the corners of her mouth reaching her eyes. You’d never seen her look at you like this. Yes, she was always happy and cheerful. But never this much. Even as she tried to conceal it, you had spent enough time with her to know that she was feeling much more than a simple grin.

“Of course I would love to try your cake.” Father took the fork that was placed next to the cake, digging out a portion of your creation before putting it in her mouth. You could’ve sworn you saw a glimmer in her eyes. She took another bite, nodding her head and smiling at you.

“D-Does Father like it?” You asked with a worried tone.

“I love it, my dear.” Father hummed, forking out another chunk of your cake, putting the fork in front of your mouth. “Why don’t you try your own creation?”

“But it’s Father’s cake.”

“I insist.”

“O-Okay.” You wrapped your mouth around the fork, chewing on the cake you made. A smile crept on your face as you swallowed the bite. Thank the gods you had actually made food and not poison.

“Come here, my child.” Father patted on her laps. You walked around her desk, climbing on her laps as you looked up at her. She continued to spoon feed herself and you, wiping away any crumbs on your lips with her finger.

“H-Happy Birthday, Father.” You exclaimed.

“Thank you, my dear Y/N.” Father smiled at you, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “I loved it, my little cook. This was the best birthday present ever.”

You could feel serotonin rush through your body. “R-Really?”

“Yes! Why would I ever lie to you, my dear?” Father hummed. “Thank you for such a wonderful birthday gift, my dear.”

Arlecchino sat on her chair, a sigh exiting her mouth as she looked at the card you had written, as well as the piece of paper. She had read a quick bedtime story to you, tucking you into bed before going back to her office. Arlecchino opened the letter, as the words entered her heart, fueling that flame of hers she carried and protected.

“Father,

haqqy dirthbay. I hoqe you hab a goob bay anb are haqqy. thank you for everything you bo for me. i really like my new toys.

Y/N.”

#genshin impact #arlecchino #arlecchino genshin #arlecchino x reader #the knave #child #aetherwrites

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mangowillow · 2 months

Text

last to know | ch. 2: as always, even now

pairing: jungkook x (f) reader / kim woosung x (f) reader

summary: you and jeongguk got together at 16 years old, married at 20, and divorced at 21. what was once love ever after turned into nothing but pain and unfulfilled dreams. you keep going despite the pain in your heart that never really went away, until one day, jungkook comes back— to seoul and in your life.

general story tags: divorce au, childhood friends, angst, hurt & eventual comfort, kind of a slow burn, OC is an adopted child in this fic, a lot of flashbacks later on because context is important; and the others that a lot of people seem to dislike: a love triangle and a LOT of miscommunication. look away if this isn't your thing. tags and warnings will be updated as we go along with each chapter!

warnings: mentions of weight loss and a hospital, jeongguk has a panic attack (semi-detailed), problematic parent-child dynamics. let me know if i miss anything and please be kind!

word count: 5.3k

author's note: *peeks into the void* why hello there! let's pretend i didn't disappear off the face of the earth. earlier this year i went to see The Rose live for their dawn to dusk tour and it was so much fun! there's just a lot of things that have happened and continue to do so; please accept my sincerest apologies for being inconsistent! BUT. know that i haven't forgotten about this story. heh.

also a few more things: ♡ to put things into perspective: jeongguk, OC/reader, and woosung are all the same age; that also means they're as old as seokjin and yoongi in this fic. all the other members maintain their age. honorifics may or may not appear at times. if that bothers you, well, can't please everybody! ♡ this fic isn't beta'd nor proofread by anyone. we go rogue, always.

tags for interested readers will be open for as long as this fic is ongoing! let me know in the comments or message me, whatever fits your preference!

fic masterlist

Woosung plants a big, sloppy kiss on your cheek and giggles.

Looking at him, you ask, “What was that for?”

“Do I need a reason?” Woosung teases as he chews on his jjajangmyeon. You chuckle at his candidness and reach out to wipe the sauce that landed on the corner of his lip. The both of you resorted to sitting on the floor, surrounded by boxes, using one of them as a makeshift table to place the food.

“I’m really happy you got to come today,” you muse, enjoying Woosung’s calming presence as he delicately places a piece of chicken karaage on your noodle bowl before setting his own down. You haven’t seen him for a few days because he needed to get some new music done in preparation for his application to a recording agency as a performer and a producer. You were more than happy to support him in any way you could, including giving him his space to figure things out. It was also who Woosung was— a quiet soul who liked working in solitude.

You and Woosung are so much alike.

“Why? Did you think I’d forget?” Woosung teases, a smirk playing on his lips.

“No, I just thought… maybe you needed more time to prepare for your application. That’s important.”

Woosung gently shakes his head, ready to disagree— “Nothing will ever be as important to me as you.”

A slight pink dusted your cheeks. You didn’t expect him to be this cheesy so early in the morning so you smile and cast your eyes back down to your meal.

“... I do have news for you, babe.” Woosung starts. He turns his body to face you. Giving your hundred percent attention, you cut the noodles with your teeth and place the bowl down. Wiping your mouth with a napkin, you hum at his statement, “What is it?”

Woosung smiles and looks at you lovingly. You feel a bit self-conscious every time he stares at you so intensely and like clockwork, you feel your cheeks heat up.

“I got the job, sweetheart.”

Hearing the news leave his lips leaves you surprised— your hands fly to your mouth and your eyes start to water. “R-really?” Woosung nods and chuckles through his own teary eyes, you throw yourself at him to give him a tight hug. “Woosung, oh my god— this is— “ you hold him by the shoulders, explore every inch of his face, elation in both of your hearts— “this is great, oh gosh I am so happy for you,” you hug him again.

You feel Woosung’s body relax instantly in your hold; it has been a journey, walking with Woosung through his own painful moments struggling with his art and passion. Two years ago, he came to Seoul desperately needing a break from life and music after many unsuccessful attempts to make it into the music industry back home in the United States. Although he and his bandmates have put out several songs in the past, they never really gained as much traction with an audience as they had hoped. Going back home to his roots in South Korea also meant leaving his bandmates behind— they have been nothing but supportive of him and his time as they also needed to re-assess their own lives and figure out what they truly wanted.

Two years ago, Woosung also met you. Both your lives changed ever since.

“Thank you for all your support, ____… you know I wouldn’t have been able to get through all this if it weren’t for you.” Woosung whispers, tightening his hold on your waist. You feel this, you feel everything when it comes to him— so you wrap your arms tighter around him, too. “This is all you, babe. This is all your hard work.”

You both stay that way for a while. Unspoken words are left hanging, as well. You both know well what might become of all this as you always try to communicate. You believe it is what has sustained your relationship for so long.

Both of you know that Woosung will always belong to music— it’s his dream and the reason why he took so many risks along the way. It was only a matter of when. The possibilities have always been there— should there be a moment where Woosung would return to his career, to his band, to becoming a global star. The fears that come along with those possibilities were also ever-present: what you and Woosung’s future would look like.

All of these thoughts come rushing to the both of you, but neither of you said anything.

For now, the both of you are happy. And that is enough.

When you parted from each other, you pushed away some of the hair that fell over Woosung’s eyes. “When do you start?”

Woosung takes a deep breath, “As soon as the higher-ups get settled in. I’ve been told they’ve recently landed in Seoul so it shouldn’t be too long now. I’ll be meeting with the owners and one of them is the lead producer. I heard he was a genius, but also a bit scary. They’ve also given me a signing bonus and a potential collaboration with him… that was new… he said they liked my work so much…”

“Wow, that… that sounds so exciting, baby. How are you feeling about all of this?”

“I’m nervous, for the most part,” Woosung murmurs, readjusting the collar of his shirt. It’s been a while since I talked to someone else about music professionally and… this company— I’ve heard so many wonderful things about it. For one, it was built by musicians, too. So I’m hoping they’re not just doing all of it for the business.”

You smile warmly at Woosung and hold his hands. “You’re going to do great, you know that, right?”

Woosung draws in a breath and nods before meeting your eyes.

That night, Woosung couldn’t sleep. He watches over you as you dream and when a strand of your hair falls on your face after moving a bit, he tucks it behind your ear. His fingers lightly dance while grazing the side of your face. Woosung sighs as a feeling of anxiety starts to creep into his heart. He loves change, but he cannot help but feel somewhat scared about it anyway. He gets so lost in his thoughts about you that he doesn’t notice you wake up.

“Baby, hey… you’re still awake.”

Your voice brings Woosung back to the present. Seeing your sleepy eyes under the sliver of moonlight that passes through your window makes his heart do a mini somersault— it always does.

“Hmm… I couldn’t sleep,” Woosung says. You scoot closer to him, his arm going under your shoulders to support your body in an embrace.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” you whisper, eyes closed, inhaling his scent— him.

“Just… things. I’m not sure how to articulate them yet…”

You hum, “Then I’ll just stay like this with you to keep you warm… warmth helps you sleep, right?”

Woosung nods, bringing your body closer to his. “Hm… especially your warmth.” Seconds later, he feels you breathe deeper, letting him know that you’re about to let yourself succumb to sleep once more. “I love you.”

When no response came from you, Woosung closed his eyes. Then suddenly, in the stillness of the night, he feels your hand squeeze his ever so lightly.

“I love you, too.”

“Hyung, I think that’s the salt—” Jimin starts.

Seokjin snorts, stopping with the shaker in his hand mid-air, “What do you mean, Jimin-ah, I think I know the difference between salt and sugar.” He was about to potentially put salt on the croffle in front of him, leaving Jimin feeling both very nervous and distressed.

“Last time, I remember you put the sugar in a different container because a customer accidentally broke the original shaker. The color of the cap was blue, not red. This—” he pointed at the shaker Seokjin was holding, “— is obviously not blue.”

“Yah, that happened last week, but I already switched them out two days ago—” Seokjin tries to argue.

They didn’t notice Woosung enter the cafe until he spoke, “Why don’t you just taste it?”

“Oh hey, Woosung-hyung,” Jimin greets.

“Hey, Jimin. Good to see you,” Woosung replies as Jimin nods, his eyes turning into crescents as soon as he smiles.

Seokjin scoffs once more before greeting Woosung, but he relents and tastes whatever is inside the shaker. When he makes a funny face, Jimin and Woosung chuckle.

“Told ya, hyung. Tell us I saved your life.”

“I can’t believe this is salt, I knew I already switched it out—”

With possible disaster averted, Jimin doesn’t listen to Seokjin’s monologue anymore, “You’re here early today, hyung. Would you like to order the usual?”

“Actually, I am here to buy a mango parfait… ____’s fridge is crazy cold and the frozen mangoes are, well, too frozen. I might actually break the blender. I also forgot to make her usual overnight oats. We had to move a lot of things very quickly yesterday so she could have a bed to sleep on.”

“I got you, hyung. We just finished making a fresh batch of parfaits. Do you want one, too?” Jimin asks.

“Are there other flavors?”

“Blueberry and strawberry,” Seokjin adds.

“I’ll take one blueberry, then. Thanks.” Woosung gets ready to pay, but Seokjin waves him away. “It’s on the house.”

“You always give us free stuff, Seokjin—” Woosung tries to argue, but Seokjin shakes his head immediately.

“Taking care of my sister is more than enough, Woosung-ah.”

Woosung gives Seokjin a tight smile and nods. Seokjin then asks, albeit softer, “How is she doing lately?”

“She’s doing better,” Woosung reassures. “She has been painting more recently; not just because of her job at the university, but also at home. We’re going to set up her studio today so it should be fun.”

“That’s good to hear, right hyung?” Jimin turns to Seokjin, who nods. Jimin hands Woosung a paper bag with the parfaits. “I put some new desserts we’re experimenting with. Please give them a try.”

Woosung peeks at the paper bag and sees croissants and greenish muffins, presumably matcha-flavored. “Oh wow, thank you Jimin… I won’t take up too much of your time, guys. ____ is still sleeping and I need to clean up the mango disaster I left on her kitchen counter before she wakes up.”

Seokjin chuckles, “You really came all the way here for parfaits when you could have bought these anywhere near ____’s apartment.”

“Ah, but nothing beats your parfaits, Seokjin. A wise man once told me that,” Woosung smiles. He and Seokjin instantly formed a bond the moment they met two years ago, much to your relief. You’ve always been nervous to tell your brother anything remotely new about your love life— and you understand where he is coming from.

“Well whoever that wise man is must be pretty smart,” Seokjin replies. His eyes soften right afterward. “Go. Let’s have a drink sometime, yeah?”

“Sure thing,” Woosung waves goodbye to Seokjin and Jimin.

Jeongguk walks the hallway of the recording studio, still groggy from sleep. Hands in his pockets, he stood outside Yoongi’s door, staring at his peculiar mat: a cat with its middle finger raised, the words ‘fuck off’ glaring at him. Figures, he thought. A doormat won’t stop him from ringing Yoongi’s doorbell, though.

“Who is it?” he hears Yoongi call out.

“It’s your favorite person in the whole wide world,” Jeongguk says, sarcasm lacing his voice. He pinched the bridge of his nose; a habit he developed in college whenever he felt the exhaustion seep out of him. He hears scuffling from the other side of the door until the sound of the door’s automatic lock rings. Jeongguk sees Yoongi clad in a plaid shirt, ripped jeans, and a gray beanie— his signature style.

“Dumbass,” Yoongi mutters under his breath before turning his back to return to his equipment. “Good morning to you too,” Jeongguk teases as he closes the door behind him.

“How are you already set up? It’s barely a day since we arrived!”

Yoongi chooses not to respond.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Jeongguk asks in disbelief. “Please tell me you at least went home to get your shit sorted? Or maybe sleep like normal human beings do?”

“I did… for a brief moment, maybe?” Yoongi starts.

Jeongguk shakes his head, “You have to stop spreading yourself thin, Yoongi. It’ll be the death of you.”

Yoongi fiddles with a few knobs on the synthesizer before muttering, “That doesn’t seem so bad— spreading myself too thin, that is.”

Jeongguk throws his hands up in surrender and rolls his eyes.

“Have I succeeded in frustrating you to hell and back, yet?” Yoongi smirks while continuing to flit his eyes through the numerous screens in front of him.

Jeongguk was about to say something but then the door alarm clicked. Kim Namjoon’s head peeks out from behind the door.

“I came to say my welcome remarks,” Namjoon says as he lets himself in. Jeongguk’s mouth falls open because he couldn’t believe Namjoon could just easily waltz in without any resistance. What’s even more astounding was that he knew Yoongi’s passcode— while he, on the other hand, had to ring the fucking doorbell.

“Oh, great. So your boyfriend knows your passcode and I don’t?” Jeongguk asks.

“He isn’t my boyfriend,” Yoongi states, matter-of-factly. Jeongguk couldn’t help but glance at Namjoon’s way, who seemed unfazed.

“Right, and I’m Neil Armstrong,” Jeongguk plops down on the couch.

“You’re the CEO, Jeongguk, of course, you should know the passcode… right, Yoongi?” says Namjoon, ever the oblivious one.

Yoongi continues to do work on his computer, his fingers deftly flying across his keyboard, “Don’t encourage him, Namjoon.”

Namjoon looks back at Jeongguk who has now taken an interest in the plant beside the couch. When they met each other’s eyes, Namjoon just shrugged, his dimples showing.

“How was your flight, you guys? I hope everything was easy peasy.”

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” Jeongguk responds. “Not sure about Yoongi here though. He looked like he was about to puke.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi retaliates.

“I can’t imagine the both of you tolerating each other while in another country. It’s a miracle this production company is still standing upright,” Namjoon says chuckling.

Namjoon met Jeongguk first in university while they studied in New York. Although Jeongguk was a business student and Namjoon double majored in music theory and composition, they ran into each other at a frat party-— with Jeongguk being drunk off his ass. He was about to fall into the pool full of piss (which the other frat members thought was funny) when Namjoon saved him in the nick of time.

Apart from Yoongi, Namjoon also served as Jeongguk’s confidant, especially after things went south between you and Jeongguk. When the dust settled and Jeongguk was sober enough to realize the gravity of his mistakes, Namjoon helped Yoongi pick up the pieces of Jeongguk’s brokenness. As with time passing by, Namjoon and Yoongi started to develop into something more, too. Much to Jeongguk’s delight and envy.

However, neither Yoongi nor Namjoon has admitted their feelings to the other. And truth be told, Jeongguk is sick of them dancing around each other.

But he also knows it’s none of his business.

“Hey, Jeongguk, is that family dinner of yours still happening tonight?” Yoongi decides to ask. Also probably to change the subject.

Jeongguk lets out a deep sigh. “Yes, it is.”

“Ouch. Will you be alright?” Namjoon asks out of genuine concern.

“I don’t really have a choice.”

“You always have a choice, Jeongguk-ah,” Yoongi inserts. “You just need to work on making the right ones.”

Jeongguk slacks his jaw and runs his tongue across his lip ring. He doesn’t really have an answer to that.

Because once again, Yoongi was right. Not just about the damn family dinner; Jeongguk also knows his best friend’s words run deeper and imply a whole lot more than just feeling forced to sit down with his parents over steak and champagne.

“See you on the other side, then,” Namjoon says as he pats Jeongguk on the shoulder before leaving the room.

Jeongguk mulled over bringing flowers to the family dinner but decided against it.

He knows that the house would be filled with them, anyway. And his efforts won’t matter, either.

As he got out of his car, a chauffeur was already by his side ready to take his keys for him. When the car drove off, Jeongguk took a moment to look at the house he hadn’t lived in for years. It feels odd to come home; it feels even odder to feel numb about all of it.

It took Jeongguk a few seconds to ring the doorbell; for god’s sake, it was his house too, he thought. Ringing the doorbell meant he was a stranger— which he felt was appropriate.

He was greeted by a new housekeeper. He gave her a nod before stepping inside. Almost instantly, his mother appeared at the top of the staircase. They look at one another for a moment, before his mother breaks the silence.

“You finally decide to show yourself.”

Jeongguk doesn’t move. Doesn’t respond, either. He was prepared for a stare-off match with his mother, but that was until his father showed up from the kitchen. With a dish towel in hand, Jeongguk’s father smiled at him as he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“It’s so good to see you, son.”

Jeongguk, once more, doesn’t have it in him to respond.

At the dinner table, the silence was so loud, that Jeongguk thought it could break glass.

“Did you settle in fine, Jeongguk?” his father asks.

“Yes, father, I did.”

“You should have chosen a place that was nearer to us, Jeongguk,” his mother chides.

“Honey…” Jeongguk’s father tries to put out a fire that is about to ignite. Jeongguk, on the other hand, was so tired from the flight and emotionally, that he felt a need to retaliate.

Because why not? Whether he speaks up or not wasn’t really up to him. Between him and his mother, he has nothing to lose.

“I don’t know, mother, I chose that place because I wanted to get away from here as much as possible.” Jeongguk remarks. He knows he hit a nerve because his mother downed her champagne rather than respond.

“How is the company going, son? Everything doing alright?” his father asks, trying to mitigate a conflict that neither of them could recover from.

“I guess. Yoongi and I haven’t managed to burn anything so that’s nice,” Jeongguk eats a spoonful of mashed potato. He knows he really needs to shut up and regulate his emotions, but he just can’t help but be sarcastic.

Once more, the silence won. However, Jeongguk’s mother is the type to not back down.

“You should think about getting married soon, Jeongguk—” she starts. Jeongguk feels himself grow cold as if on instinct.

“—and this time, we want you to marry someone your level,” she finishes. Jeongguk felt his heart twisting so painfully that he didn’t notice how tight he held on to his cutlery.

Jeongguk swallows the once-repressed pain that used to consume him whole. He knows this is futile because he never dares to face his regrets square in the face. Instead, he allows the pain to make him angry. He allows his resentment to consume him in ways he doesn’t know how to handle and in a pained effort to avoid causing further damage, he remains quiet. Unresponsive. Cold. Withdrawn.

But his own mother is even more cold-hearted than he is. She is the one who made him like this.

It’s her fault.

“You need to marry a good woman who can keep up with your social status. Remember you’re not just anyone, Jeongguk. You’re a Jeon. And you have a legacy to uphold,” his mother condescends.

Tears start to sting Jeongguk’s eyes, but he doesn’t want to let his mother win. So he keeps still.

“I have a few prospects for you, dear. We should set dates for them, don’t you think so? I chose the most refined and educated—” Jeongguk hates how his mother knows how to push his buttons and hurt him.

He knows that his mother knows his ultimate weakness.

You.

And because his mother cannot contain her insecurities and prejudice, she projects it all on her son. But most especially, you— whether you were in the room or not.

Jeongguk’s mother continues her monologue. His father miserably fails to become the referee (he always does). Heat starts to rise Jeongguk’s neck and he swears he could hear his own blood pumping through his ears. What almost immediately follows is the high-pitched ringing that only he can hear.

Jeongguk starts to feel dizzy; like he’s about to lose control.

But instead of releasing, instead of crying, instead of getting angry— he does none of them.

He finds himself standing up, his hands dragging the plate full of food to the ground. With all his might, Jeongguk tries to breathe deeply.

“That’s enough, mom.” Jeongguk croaks. A tear escapes his eye. “Please.”

Jeongguk rarely addresses her as “mom”. But in times of vulnerability and helplessness, it’s the term he ends up using.

“As I expected… you are still weak, Jeongguk.” his mother states with absolutely no remorse.

Jeongguk feels like he is about to throw up. To save himself, he drags his legs to leave the dining area. Housekeepers try to help him, but he brushes them aside. Security guards around the house up until the gate tried to support him, but Jeongguk just waved them all off.

He just needed to get away before his vision completely blurred. He needed to get out of this godforsaken house.

It was a miracle that Jeongguk got far away from the house as he had. But in doing so, he felt physically weaker and weaker. His mind isn’t done with him yet as thoughts of you start to resurface. His chest starts to tighten again. He feels cold and afraid and tired.

Jeongguk falls to his knees on the side of the road; he allows his body to go limp and fall to the ground.

He barely remembers what happened next.

When Jeongguk opens his eyes, bright, stale lights greet him.

He hears beeping, faint footsteps, a voice over an intercom.

He feels something brushing his leg so gently that it takes him a while before realizing that someone is standing over him, wiping the edge of his slacks.

Jeongguk squints his eyes to get a better look at the person touching his leg. When he tries to elevate his upper body, the person in front of him feels him moving.

Jeongguk couldn’t believe who he was seeing. His panic attack must still be happening because it was impossible.

It was you.

“Oh… hi,” you start. Jeongguk is at a loss for words so he continues to stare at you.

You immediately feel self-conscious so you start to wrangle the damp cloth you were holding.

“Are you okay? Hang on, I’ll call the nurse—”

You start to leave, but Jeongguk catches your wrist. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. You look at his hand on your wrist before Jeongguk lets go of it.

“W-what happened?”

“You’re at the hospital… um, I– I got a call from them saying you were here,” you say.

Jeongguk’s eyebrows met. He is still confused as to how or why the hospital would call you. As he looks at you, in the flesh, in front of him, the familiar ache in his chest threatens to overwhelm him again.

You look as beautiful as ever, even more so than the last time he saw you. The last time he did, you were crying to him. He did that to you. That was his fault.

“Are you hurt, anywhere, Jeongguk? I think I need to call your doctor, just give me a second—”

“No… please. I’m okay. I don’t feel any pain.” Except for my broken heart.

“Oh… okay.”

Jeongguk observes you, more particularly your hands. You still have that habit of fiddling with your fingers when you didn’t know what to do, he thinks.

“H-how did the hospital call you? You didn’t change your number?” Jeongguk is a hundred percent sure his choice of questions was dumb, but he doesn’t have any idea as to why you’re here.

“The hospital told me I was your emergency contact… they uh– they only found your wallet on you and found this,” you explain as you handed him his wallet. Inside was an old piece of paper with your emergency contact number and e-mail address.

“The e-mail address is now defunct, but my number is still the same because I had it reactivated when I came back here…”

When I came back here, Jeongguk repeated to himself.

Jeongguk wanted to ask you a million questions, but his throat feels dry and he is unable to speak.

“I um, I also called Yoongi. He should be here any minute,” you continue. When Jeongguk looks at you funny, you give him a small smile— the first one you’ve given him since he woke up. “We talk sometimes.”

There is a lot of information that Jeongguk needs to process but his head hurts a lot and he makes a mental note to interrogate his friend later.

You move to grab and open the plastic bag that is on the bedside table. You pull out a pair of black socks. Jeongguk sees you hesitate a bit before speaking again.

“I got these across the street… your socks got wet from the rain.”

“Oh.” Jeongguk feels really dumb.

“May I?” you tentatively ask. “Your feet will get cold if we don’t—and you have the IV on so you won’t be able to use your hands—”

“It’s okay…” Jeongguk’s response startles you. “Thank you.”

You nod and sit by his feet to put on the new socks. Jeongguk feels the tears again but he tries to hold them back as he feels your touch and your warm fingers graze his bare, cold skin. When you’re done putting them on him, you smile to yourself.

“Does that feel better?” you ask.

Jeongguk nods and hums. He took his time to look at you and to his mild surprise, you reciprocated. A sense of stillness seemed to occur like time stopped just so Jeongguk could fully take in the sight of you.

He hurriedly tries his best to memorize all your features—old and new. Your face is smaller, your cheekbones higher; both indicative of you losing a bit of weight since he saw you last. Your eyes are softer, but also more tired. You also grew out your hair.

To Jeongguk, you are still so beautiful.

And he missed you so much that his heart hurt again at the thought of losing you.

“How are y—” Jeongguk tries to ask, but the door to his hospital room slid open, revealing a disheveled Yoongi.

“Jeongguk, are you okay? What happened?”

Jeongguk notices you quickly moving aside to give Yoongi room.

“I’m fine, Yoongi. I guess I just passed out and—”

“You had another panic attack, Jeongguk. That’s the second time this week. Have you taken your medication?”

Yoongi’s string of questions had Jeongguk feeling anxious. He just had the unexpected chance of seeing you again but under the most dire circumstances. Surely, it wasn’t the time for you to hear about his mental health issues.

“Yoongi, can we—” Jeongguk tried to save face, but Yoongi was faster.

Yoongi turns to you and hugs you. “I’m sorry, ____, you must have been so confused.”

“No, not at all, I’m… I’m glad I could be of help,” you reassure. More so for Jeongguk because you know this must be very awkward for him.

A bit of awkwardness did happen because none of you spoke for a bit. Your phone ringing was the only saving grace.

“Hello? Oh, okay. I’ll be right out,” you answer the other person on the line. Hanging up, you say, “Um… I should get going.”

“Is someone picking you up?” Yoongi asks.

“Yes, Taehyung’s just a few minutes away,” you answer.

Yoongi nods and pulls you in for another hug. He whispers his thanks and you respond by hugging him tighter.

You also approach Jeongguk a little closer. “Take care of yourself, Jeongguk.” You see the pain in his eyes, but you refuse to acknowledge it to yourself, even if Jeongguk’s eyes were brimming with unshed tears and his nose was already pink.

Jeongguk doesn’t want you to go. But again, he has no choice but to let you.

“You too, ____.”

As soon as you close the door, Jeongguk allows his tears to fall.

As soon as you get into the car, Taehyung asks his questions.

“Why the hell did you just come out of a hospital?”

“Tae—”

“Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere? You’re the only one there? What happened?” You can feel the panic rising in Taehyung as he inspects you, but you just chuckle.

“Yah—you laugh?”

“I’m fine, Taehyung,” you tell him but he doesn’t look convinced. “I really am.”

“Then why were you in there?”

“I saw Jeongguk again, Tae,” you calmly respond.

Taehyung freezes. “You’re joking, right?”

“I’m not,” you answer.

“And you’re… are you okay?”

“I am.”

Taehyung knows you better than that but he gives you a pass because he could also tell you were tired and your short answers mean that you didn’t want to talk just yet.

“Do you want to talk about it over ice cream and fries?”

For a second, you felt tempted, but you just also wanted to go home. “Maybe some other time, Taehyung.”

Taehyung understands immediately and nods. “Should I take you to Woosung hyung or do I take you home?”

You do want to see Woosung because you know he is what you need, but you also don’t want to burden him with a bombshell of an event so you opt to be alone for the night. “Take me home, please.”

“Okay, ____,” Taehyung answers.

The rest of the car ride was a quiet one.

The short walk in the hallway leading to your home is a heavy one. As you punch in your passcode, you deeply sigh. You want nothing more than to collapse on the bed and ruminate on what just happened over the past few hours.

However, the moment you open the door, a wave of delicious scents welcomes you home. As you take off your shoes, you see a familiar pair. You smile to yourself as you place yours beside it.

You enter your home further and see Woosung with his back to you, working his way in the kitchen. As if on cue, Woosung turns around and walks toward you.

“Hey you,” you say with a smile.

“Hi,” Woosung responds, gathering you in his arms and pulling you into a tight embrace. “Did you have a good day, today?”

You feel yourself swallow once before nodding. Woosung, ever the sensitive boyfriend, holds you tighter.

You know you can’t hide from him. So you hold on to him tighter, too.

And you allow yourself to break down and cry.

Woosung feels your body shake and he runs his hand across your back to soothe you.

He may not know what’s going on right now, but he also knows you will talk to him when you’re ready. So he continues to embrace you; kissing the side of your head after a while.

Woosung whispers against your ear, “You’re safe with me, sweetheart.”

taglist: @whoa-jo @nays2112 @junecat18 @jk97bam @butterymin @smdnai

tags for interested readers will be open for as long as this fic is ongoing! let me know in the comments or message me, whatever fits your preference!

#jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook x you #jungkook angst #jungkook scenarios #bts au #bts au fanfic #woosung x reader #jungkook divorce au #divorce au

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seeingivy · 2 months

Text

sweet nothing

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting fic

previous part linked here

songs mentioned: minor mentions of slut by taylor swift, new year's day by taylor swift, end of beginning by djo, turning page by sleeping at last, sweet nothing by taylor swift, and must be love by laufey

It feels like every new piece of information that comes your way is overwhelming as the weeks fly by. And really, that sinking feeling that things are coming to an end only feels deeper, more final as the days dwindle down to the end.

Jean and Mikasa are getting married in two days. Your last day of filming together as a cast is in three. Lana and Sukuna are having another kid and you’re almost positive that Eren is in love with you.

You have two weeks together before you part ways.

Every second that the group of you spent together felt like the moments were only slipping out of your fingers, like you were hopelessly trying to hold onto a needle in a stack of hay. It was almost impulsive the way you were trying to linger around everyone – to memorize every last detail of the memories so that you can’t forget them when they leave.

Falco and Gabi eat cereal in the morning before they go to set, Levi has a mole near his left eye, Eren loses all of his guitar picks.

You shuffle through the stack of polaroids in your hand – an endless stack of pictures of Miaksa and Jean – and get more frustrated looking down at the empty page on your notebook. Eren’s handwriting is perfectly lined up at the top, light scribbles of lyrics and words he’s changed for the song you were gifting Jean.

I spy with my little tired eye Tiny as a firefly A pebble that we picked up last July Down deep inside your pocket We almost forgot it Does it ever miss Wicklow sometimes?

Eren explained that Jean and Mikasa, after getting engaged (for the second time), took a two month trip where they just traveled together. Most of the pictures are from that time period actually – of Jean and Mikasa drunk in random bars, cheesing in front of billowing green hills, or napping on picnic blankets.

You look up at the two of them, clearly relieving some wedding stress by getting tipsy, and dancing with Falco and Gabi a few feet away. You can’t help but smile as Mikasa teaches Falco how to dance – and how he profusely apologizes every time he steps on her feet. It’s almost as sweet as Gabi and Jean who are trying to do the most aggressive slow dance known to man and that neither of them seem to be taking seriously in the slightest.

“Who’s getting injured first?”

You look to your right to find Eren hovering over your shoulder, his hair damp from the shower and the sweet smell of his soap still emanating off of his skin. He gives you a boyish grin before taking the seat next to you on the couch, leaning his chin on your shoulder as you watch the group of them.

“I’m sure Mikasa needs a bandaid already. Falco has stepped on her feet ten times already.”

“Poor guy. I’ve never seen him stress out over something so bad.” Eren states.

“What do you mean?”

Eren laughs.

“He’s freaking out about the wedding. He’s really worried that Gabi won’t enjoy it with him as her date – because he can’t dance and that sometimes he can’t think of things to talk about when he gets nervous.”

You frown.

“Baby.”

“Tell me about it. Last night he was in my room asking my opinions on pick up lines and how you even initiate dancing with someone.” Eren states.

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him that he should suggest getting matching tattoos. I know girls love that type of thing.”

You turn your head to glare at him.

“I know you didn’t encourage my sixteen year old brother to get a tattoo.”

Eren shrugs.

“What’s the difference between sixteen and eighteen? He’s a big kid.”

“He would get a tattoo of a cat jumping on a trampoline if he could. And that’s horrible advice.”

Eren grins.

“Worked on you, didn’t it?”

You shove him in the side, earning you a laugh from him, as he takes the opportunity to peek down at the page – mainly at the fact that you haven't been able to write anything. You sink back into the couch as he offers you a smile, before flipping through the rest of the pages.

“I have a question.”

“What is it?”

“Are you ever going to release any of these songs? I really think some of them are great.”

You lean over his shoulder to follow his line of vision, to all of the songs that you had produced out of the requests that you had been given. You eye the song he’s fixated on – called Slut, that you wrote for Sasha – as you shrug.

“I do really like some of them.” you offer.

“I really love this one. I think it’s perfect. And a lot of them are.” Eren adds.

You lean back on the couch.

“I know that…things are ending. And I have to think seriously about what I want to do after I leave here but sometimes it gets complicated when I think about it. But I am sure that...that I'll do something. In some capacity.” you state.

Eren leans back to join you, leaning his damp locks against your shoulder. You mimic his motions, leaning your cheek against his hair and welcoming the cold touch.

“I like being here and…and being here makes the songs and the acting really easy. I feel like I have that support system, of people who care about me, who can kind of help me push through it. The thought of having to figure out things without people helping me when I leave here and…and not having that makes it seem impossible.” you state.

“You don’t need other people to –”

“I know I don’t need other people to do this, that I can write songs and act if I need to. But, I need them for me. I’ve spent a lot of time alone and I realized I don’t want to do that anymore. I want to be here forever, I’ve…I feel like I barely appreciated the time I had here and now it’s almost over and I can’t do anything about it.”

It’s horrible timing. That the song in Connie’s playlist switches.

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

You both sink deeper into the couch, cheeks pink as the song stops the conversation in full. You can feel that the group of them are all averting their eyes to where you and Eren are sitting, though none of them seem to comment on the fact that your love ballad is booming from the speakers. You turn to Eren and offer him a smile, one that he returns before nervously fiddling with his hair.

“You still have time left here. You can make the most of it. And even after we leave here, we’re all still backing you up. It might not be all of us all in the same place but…but we’re here when you need us.” Eren states.

“Yeah. I know that. But it’s just different.”

You pause, unable to put the garbled mess of feelings that’s rumbling in your chest into words.

Three days ago Levi told you that they were going to put the house up for sale when you were leaving – and the thought of never being able to come back here, that someone else would be sleeping in your room and you’d never be able to return to it made you sick to your stomach.

You had read the last bits of the script and it was perfect – except for the blank portions that Levi left in one of the sections. He had mentioned that he wanted you and Eren to do something similar to what you were going to do for the “what am I to you scene?” where he was going to ask you to improv whatever he had planned.

There was a sense of urgency when he mentioned it, because that was actually going to end up being the last scene that you ever filmed. Because Mikasa and Jean were going to get married on Friday, the last day of filming with the entire ensemble was Saturday, and they were all out of there by Sunday night.

And for the entire week that followed, you, Levi, Hange, and Eren were going to be in the house alone. Hange mentioned it as a sort of gift that Levi wanted to give you – that he wanted to grant the two of you time alone before you parted your separate ways.

(Apparently he was just sentimental. Or projecting, according to Hange. And part of it was just that he understood because when he had his last weekend of filming La La Land with Hange, he just wanted them all to himself before he had to let them go. That he wanted that for you and Eren or just for himself instead.)

The thought of being alone with Eren in the house, the way you were when you started filming all those years ago, made your stomach churn with anticipation. Only because you knew – that if something was going to blossom between you and Eren, if you were able to let go of whatever it was that was holding either of you back – it was going to be then.

Or at the wedding.

You had visited the venue with Eren a few days prior and the outdoor, woodsy venue that Jean and Mikasa had picked out was eerily similar to where Levi and Hange had their vow renewal. They were leaning into the same energy – of a backyard wedding, with all of their closest friends – and you were half convinced that the setting alone would have you word vomiting everything to Eren.

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

Eren reaches forward, placing his hand on top of your head, before he slightly rattles your head.

“Okay, that’s enough being emo for today. Quit being sad and focus on writing the song. Jean is expecting something really great, you know?”

You groan.

“Don’t tell me that. I hyped it up so much to him just because he was being annoying but I’m really scared that he won’t like it. Every lyric I write is so ridiculously idiotic that I end up wanting to throw my entire book away.”

“You’re trying too hard. Just do what feels natural.”

You’re not sure why the thought crosses your mind, but right after it does it fills you with a bout of embarrassment. Because if you did what was natural, you’d lean forward and close the space between the two of you, only because you couldn’t help but feel like you were getting intoxicated by how much you wanted him every time you were alone like this.

But that was just the thing. You weren’t alone. There were at least seven different people in the room. And the fact that it felt so intimate, so bare every time you talked to him like you were the only two people in the room made it impossible to be around him.

Levi walks into the room with Hange, the two of them juggling cardboard boxes in their hands. Levi nearly drops all of them when Gabi and Jean almost salsa dance straight into him, but luckily enough, Niccolo is able to steer them in a different direction before they can.

Hange and Levi set the boxes down at the center table, before gesturing for all of you to join them around the table. Eren holds a hand out to you – and it makes your stomach churn when he doesn’t let go as you both walk all the way to the table.

You can’t help but focus on it. That you’re all circled around the table, that Niccolo is handing Sasha his water bottle, that Falco and Gabi are out of breath, and that Eren has his hand tucked into yours as he intently waits for Levi and Hange to explain.

“As you guys all know, we’re going to be giving up the house in around a week. I know it feels a little early, but we need to start making preparations since things are going to start wrapping up really fast.” Levi states.

“And this part is only logical. You guys were the ones who put the polaroids up. It’s only fair that you’re the ones who are going to take them down.” Hange adds.

You feel your throat dry.

“What?” Armin asks.

“We can’t exactly leave them all up. Imagine how horrifying that would be for whoever moved in here after – just thousands of pictures of strangers that they didn’t know.” Levi states.

“They would be so lucky. We’re literally famous.” Connie huffs.

“Okay, Connie. Relax. Even then, I figured that you guys would want to keep some as you guys got ready to leave here. We can toss whatever it is you don’t want to keep.” Hange resopnds.

It just keeps getting worse. You can’t even stomach the fact that they would even consider throwing any of the pictures away, let alone being so ready to pull them all off of their respective spots on the wall.

“Are you insane? You can’t just throw our childhood away.” Reiner states.

“Well, you can keep all of the stragglers. Drown in the polaroids in your penthouse apartment, Reiner.” Levi deadpans.

“Oh, I plan on it.” Reiner responds, glaring at the two of them.

You can tell that Levi and Hange were well prepared for the pushback. And you understand the frustrations, or at least the panic, everyone seems to be expressing. Armin’s trying to delay whatever this is to the best of his abilities – saying that the wedding pictures would be perfect with all of the polaroids in the background. Reiner said that taking everything down was only fair when Eren got to be a part of the death wall, and Sasha and Mikasa are already fighting over how they’re supposed to divvy up polaroids that we’re all in.

And you get it, but all it does is fill you with the sinking pit of despair.

This was the start. Taking all of the pictures down, wrapping your childhood into a little cardboard box and never returning to it again – at least not in the same way.

The song from the playlist switches, finally mellowing out the ends of your voice, before changing to a different song.

Levi’s ears immediately perk up at the sound of his own voice, booming through the speakers.

Just one more tear to cry One teardrop from my eye You better save it for The middle of the night

When things aren't black and white Enter, Troubadour Remember twenty-four?

And when I'm back in Chicago, I feel it Another version of me, I was in it I wave goodbye to the end of beginning

“Who is playing this?” Levi asks.

“Connie.” Eren offers.

Levi shakes his head, almost like it’s thrown him a distraction, before he hands each of you the boxes and a marker. You all start begrudgingly inking your name into the cardboard, before halfheartedly clutching it to your chests. A few of them make the first move, until it’s just you and Armin left lingering in the kitchen, unable to move.

“Jesus fuck, Hange. Why would he play this song?” Levi whispers, stuck in a conversation under his breath with Hange.

“The timing is uncanny. Don’t go crying on them now.” Hange states.

The two of them shuffle out of the room as you turn to Armin, noting the warm tears that are filling his eyes, as you offer him one of your hands. He opts to link his hand through yours, as you both task yourself with walking over to the fridge first, as you stare at all six of the polaroids stuck under the magnet.

“I really don’t want to do this.” Armin whispers.

“Me neither.”

He snags the first polaroid off of the fridge, of Erwin wearing a sparkly pink apron with Kiss the Chef embroidered into the front pocket. You distinctly remember when Eren had gifted it to Erwin for his birthday – and how he refused to stand in the kitchen without wearing it, even if he wasn’t cooking anything.

“This picture doesn’t belong anywhere but here.” Armin states.

You snort. You can see that Armin hesitates, but he settles for putting it in the box.

“We’ll make a pile on the main table, of who is in each picture. Then…then people can fight it out for who gets to keep which one.”

“Good idea.”

It’s quiet, leave for Levi’s voice booming through the speakers, as you and Armin start yanking the pictures off of the wall. The wallpaper has been fading for years, but it’s only more obvious when you start ripping the pictures out to see the brighter color that was covered underneath.

Armin stops you every few seconds, only to pull on your arm to show you a picture. It’s quiet smiles that you give each other, when you find one of him and Annie, or he gives you one of Hange, and it makes it the slightest bit easier.

But some of the memories hit you like a bullet train, only because you can’t fathom how much of them you’ve actually forgotten. You only remembered that Falco and Colt had actually been to set before, years before they were even on the show, when Eren flew them out to surprise you for your birthday. Or that on that same day, Mikasa and Armin were the ones to gift you the first notebook that you had ever scribbled your lyrics in.

They were so deeply intertwined in the memories – every single one. You suppose that’s probably why it was the hardest to let go, to walk away from all of them and limit them to just being pictures in a box.

And when I'm back in Chicago, I feel it Another version of me, I was in it I wave goodbye to the end of beginning (Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye)

“Armin.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever think about that night? In Seattle?” you ask.

He pauses, abandoning the polaroid fixed in his fingers – of you and Historia cheek to cheek – as he sinks against the wall and sits on the floor. You join him on the ground, looping in your arm through his, as you lean your head against his shoulder.

“Sometimes.”

“Me too.”

“I try to pinpoint moments where it feels like things changed. And there are lots of them, but I do find myself always going back to that one. Things felt so weird and out of line in the months before that, I felt like we were all moving in different directions, and that really solidified it.” Armin states.

You pause.

“Yeah, yeah I agree. Sometimes I wish I could go back and change things. But I also don’t.”

“What do you mean?” Armin asks.

“My first instinct when Eren and I started fighting was to ask him to tell the truth, to come with us and that we’d fix everything. Knowing what I know now, I wish that I had fought harder – that I trusted my gut more because I could clearly feel that something was wrong. But I also don’t, because sometimes I think the way things played out is how it needed to be, for me to feel how I am right now.” you state.

“How do you feel now?”

You pause.

“I remember when we took Connie home with us and…and he started screaming at us. I felt really hopeless. I feel like watching him act like that, to be struggling so much, really sank me into that pit I was in. But I guess, I don’t know. Maybe I needed to see that and how he is now, to see how Sukuna was and how he is now, and Lana too to know that maybe there’s some way out of it for me too after I leave here.” you state.

Armin smiles.

“I’m really happy for Lana and Sukuna.”

You grin.

“I’m really happy for Connie too. And Eren and…and us too. So much has happened that I really can't even wrap my mind around everything that has happened, but sometimes all I’m left with is that I feel really grateful that we’re all here right now. Especially you and me. Sometimes I forget that you and I faced the worst of it together and…and that we’re here right now, the way that we are, just kind of…fixes it all in my mind.”

“I agree. I feel like we saw the worst of it together, maybe acted at our worst together too, but it makes me feel better that we both came out of it the way that we did. I feel like we never learn and even though we burn bridges, we still ended up doing what was right at the end of the day.” Armin adds.

Armin smiles, as he pushes up off the ground and holds out his hand to you. He pulls you up, averting his eyes to behind you, before you turn to find Annie and Eren standing behind. He gives you a knowing look before he switches places with Eren – and the two of them stalk off together.

Eren gives you a smile, before aggressively sticking a polaroid in your face. You’re caught off guard by the suddenness, before you focus on the picture. It’s of you and Eren on the last day of filming Season Three – your arms wrapped around his neck as you both smile in the camera.

“Yours or mine?” he asks.

“Mine.”

“Well, you should get a move on. I’ve already stolen whatever pictures there were on the wall near the bay window.”

“No debate? No negotiating?” you ask.

“Absolutely not. You snooze, you lose.”

You and Eren fall into a quiet pace, the same way you were with Armin. It seems like it’s something everyone was adapting, because the house felt quieter as usual as you all pulled the memories off of the walls.

He’d stop here and there and place a polaroid into the palm of your hand. It was getting almost overwhelmingly nostalgic, making that melancholy that seemed to reside in your chest almost impossible to breathe through.

It was like watching yourself fall in love with Eren all over again.

Because all you can think about is the fact that you had really liked Eren at that award’s show, that you went on a date before that press event, that filming that scene was really fun because you had spent the entire day together.

That you used to sleep in the same bed every night, that you made breakfast together every morning, that the safe confines of this little wooden house was the place that you and Eren got to be yourselves, where your love was saved from being touched and garbled by other people.

“Eren.”

“Yeah?”

“What are you going to do with the pictures?” you ask.

Eren pauses, eyeing the messy mess of pictures in his box, before he looks back up at you.

“I’m staying at this place by the sea, in Ireland, for a few months after the show ends. It’s my parent’s cabin, but I just want to go there and take a break before I jump into anything again. I’ll put some of the pictures up there.” he states.

You nod.

You’re not sure why you ask the question, and it’s almost instant embarrassment when it comes out, but you have to stick with it after you do.

“Will you tell other girls about who I am?”

“What?”

You bite your tongue.

“I just mean. If people point to the pictures and stuff, you’ll tell them about us, right? All the pretty girls you’re going to take to your fancy cabin?” you joke.

Eren seems to visibly relax when he figures that this has to be some weird idea of a joke that you’re making.

“Oh. Yeah, of course. Trust me, when I take my children to that cabin, I’ll make sure they know the entire story before they leave.”

You smile.

“And what’s that?”

“Oh, you know. That it was a moment in time, what you and I had. That people went crazy for it, that…that you and I did too.” Eren states.

“Who said I went crazy for it?”

Eren rolls his eyes.

“You have not one, but two matching tattoos with me. We’ve written so many songs about each other, that people still listen to.”

“I was just teasing. Relax.”

Eren hands you a polaroid – a solo picture that he had taken of you at Hange and Levi’s vow renewal – that you tuck into your box. The walls are bare and empty as you peek your head through the other rooms. And you all group back together in the main room, boxes filled on the ground as you find too many of them locking their limbs together and swaying together in the air.

You and Eren smile at each other as Reiner catches sight of you and makes a dramatic display of wrapping both of his arms around you. Jean and Mikasa follow next – somehow producing shots for everyone out of thin air.

The only notable thing that stands out is that Connie’s standing by the far wall, stuck staring at the wallpaper. Normally, you’d expect him to be at the center of this, making some extreme, dramatic speech on top of the table about how we were all going down in history.

You tangle out of Mikasa’s embrace to walk up next to him, only to feel your stomach churn when you find exactly what it is that Connie’s staring at. Because it’s not a blank patch of wallpaper – but instead, his shitty spelling marked into the wall, accompanied by the one polaroid you had seemingly forgotten all about.

Of Marco, his tub of ice cream, and his bright smile when you had all inducted him as the start of the death wall. You look to your left to find Connie crying, as you lean your head against his shoulder, unable to stop your own.

“I can’t take it down. He…he’s going to miss the wedding.” he whispers.

It makes your stomach ache. That Marco won’t be there to see Jean and Mikasa get married, that he won't be at the wrap party, and that someone will have to come over here and rip him off of the wall for good.

“I can’t do it either.”

Eren’s the next to join the two of you, his arms warm around your shoulders, before you feel him physically tense at your side when he realizes. The crowd only seems to get bigger, until the entire group of you are standing there, limbs tangled in together as you all stare at the picture of him.

Levi and Hange, who are the last to join, are the first to break the silence.

“No one can do it, can they?” Hange asks.

You all shake your heads. Levi makes his way to the front – and you can’t help but study him as you watch him observe the picture.

It was no secret to you that Levi had a soft spot for Marco, that it only intensified after he died, and that it was something that Levi was going to beat himself over forever.

You think about it often – that one time that Levi insinuated that what happened could be traced back to him, because Marco’s fame could be traced back to when Levi had cast him in the show. That if Levi didn't make Marco famous, the paparazzi would have called the ambulance instead of prioritizing the photo.

When he reaches for the picture, you realize that you can’t let him do it alone.

You walk up to his side and pull on his arm.

“Together.” you state.

Levi gives you wide eyes, heaving a deep sign out, before he nods. You turn back to the crowd of them standing, as you gesture for them to join.

You all place your hands on each other, making it literally impossible for you to all stand there as you try to jump and duck under each other to secure your hands on the picture. It’s all giggles because Connie asks Reiner not to touch his butt and they start bickering before you all pull.

But on the count of three, you all pull it off of the wallpaper, before letting go. It’s left in Levi’s hands at the end of it.

You all let him keep it. He shoots you a grateful smile for the assistance.

The air is palpable the morning of the wedding. You can feel it thrumming under your skin – the anticipation – the second you spring your eyes open. It reminded you of how you used to sleep the night before a field trip, unable to contain your excitement to the point where you were unable to quiet your mind before sleeping.

You nearly shoot up because of it, unable to stop staring at Mikasa at your side. Her hair is tousled around the pillow, the sleep mask that she put on last night sticking to the side of her face, and she’s snoring horrendously loud.

In your excitement, you lean forward and press a kiss to her forehead.

“Jean?”

You snort.

“No. Don’t insult me in the early hours of the morning.” you state.

Your voice is enough to wake Mikasa up, and similarly enough to you, she shoots up the second she’s regained consciousness. The green mask is falling off the right side of her face and her eyes are so horrendously wide that she almost looks like an alien.

“Holy shit. “

“What?”

“I’m getting married today.”

You can’t help but smile from ear to ear as you wrap your arms around her neck and squeeze hard. It’s a mix of giggles, of the two of you squealing like you were fifteen again, and of you and Mikasa tickling each other in your hug.

The morning goes by relatively slowly.

Whatever that feeling is, the warm, sweetness in the air – it’s hanging in the air. The group of you are all holed up in Mikasa’s room – Gabi, Falco, Connie, Historia, Armin, and Sasha. The rest of them were all stuck with Jean. You can already anticipate that there’s more panic and high energy in that room just from the sheer fact of Ymir being stuck with Reiner, Eren, and Jean in there alone.

You were all in charge of getting Mikasa ready, of getting dressed yourselves, and getting her to the venue. They had to do the same with Jean – but you and Eren had to be there before to pass out the corsages and pin the boutonnieres.

There was a slight panic in the background, but the calmness was making it taper into almost nothing. And really, the entire ordeal felt so homey, so ordinary that you couldn’t help but find yourself smiling as you all went about it, because you had been thinking – planning for it – for so long.

Connie and Sasha tasked themselves with making iced coffee, Falco and Gabi had spent twenty minutes tracking down the Doordash order with the breakfast, and you were left alone to do Mikasa’s hair.

It was just the two of you, humming in the bathroom to the quiet little playlist Jean had sent Mikasa as a gift this morning, as you quietly tasked yourself with doing her hair. It was relatively simple, just two braids at the front to tuck behind her ears, with little flowers intertwined in between. The veil was going to take up most of the space in the back, so you were just curling the ends for her.

It’s quiet until you can hear her sniffling, only to look up in the mirror to her trying to blot her tears away from her eyes. You try to focus on the song that’s playing – only to find that Jean had put invisible string in the playlist – and you can’t help but smile. You pause, placing your hands on her shoulders as you squeeze hard.

“Oh god. Are you getting cold feet because he’s ugly?” you joke.

She glares at you.

“Fuck off.”

You laugh before tucking wrapping your arms around her waist and leaning your chin on her shoulder. She gives you a smile in the mirror – one that you return – as she finishes wiping her tears away.

“Now really. What is it? You can’t be sad on your wedding day or else I’ve failed as a maid of honor.”

She shakes her head.

“Not sad. Just…I don’t know. I was reflecting. Feeling really introspective about a lot of things and I realized that there was a point that I thought this would never happen for me. And god, I’m so fucking happy it is.” Mikasa states.

“This meaning…?”

“You. Braiding my hair for my wedding. Jean. Actually marrying me after everything that happened. Getting to leave here with him.”

You swallow hard. She turns around, placing her hands on your shoulder. You distract yourself by messing with how the ends of her bangs were falling, brushing them into place before you give her a smile.

“Thanks for coming back. I would never want to do this without you.” she states.

“Thanks for letting me. It would be agonizing to watch this from the sidelines.”

She leans forward and hugs you, so hard that she’s leaning her entire weight on you. And every inclination that you made of letting go gets ignored, because Mikasa holds on to you for a long time.

“You’re my best friend.” she mumbles.

You can feel the tears accumulating in your own eyes, the sniffling coming from your nose this time, as you hear Mikasa spare a quiet laugh.

“Seriously?”

“I just started getting all fucking…introspective like you were. I’ve spent my entire life here, my entire childhood sleeping next to you and when I wasn’t, it was because Jean was in here. And now you’re getting married to him and I’m going to be right next to you when it happens, and I just…”

You pause.

“I don’t remember when we grew up. I’m glad I got to do it with the both of you.” you finish.

You try to etch it into your memory – this moment – so you can remember it forever. The two of you in your pajamas, barefoot on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, breathing in tandem as you held each other while crying.

She was hours away from being a wife. You were about to watch Jean and Mikasa get the perfect ending, that the nights that they spent together in your room all led to the two of them standing on that altar, exchanging vows. You would be two feet away from Eren, who was going to smile at you with his perfect green eyes and make your stomach do a somersault.

You were going to hold hands, he was going to dance with you, and that might be the end of it. Or the start, if you’re both able to muster and get over that block that was always stuck in your throats.

Connie and Sasha return with the coffee soon enough and Falco and Gabi with the food. You all sit in a circle, sharing bites and switching drinks, until Sasha locks herself and Mikasa in the bathroom to do her makeup and fit her into her dress.

You take the free second to sit at the vanity, using the sweet free time to style Falco’s hair for him before you do your own makeup. You can see Connie brushing Gabi’s hair through the mirror, intently focused as he holds the bobbi pins in between his lips, and gathers her hair together at the back of her neck. You can’t help but smile as you focus back on Falco, trying to tame the unruliness of his hair with the mousse.

“Be careful with Eren’s cufflinks today, Falco. He’s expecting those back.” you state.

“No, he isn’t. He gave them to me earlier and he actually said that he wants me to keep them.”

It makes your heart sink a little – only because you don’t know what it means. If he was giving it up to Falco out of good will because he was your little brother and he loved him or because he wanted to get them straight off of his hands since you two were going to be leaving and parting ways soon.

“Well, be careful. They’re very nice. And they’re special too, so just. Take care.” you state.

Falco frowns at you through the mirror, before turning back to look at you.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You seem sad.”

“No. I just feel really sentimental. My best friend is getting married and we…we’re all going to be leaving soon. I’m watching two people who have been in love forever seal the deal before I won’t ever live with them ever again.”

Falco frowns, before he reaches forward and wraps his arms around you. You can’t help but smile as you bury your nose into his shirt, breathing in the scent of his shampoo and laundry detergent mixed together.

“You’ll have a lot of fun today. You’ll have Eren with you. And you’re performing your song, which will be amazing. Levi also told me that you have to save a dance from him and Connie said he’s going to mix drinks after the reception, so you have a lot to look forward to.”

You glare at him.

“The only thing you’re mixing is soda, Falco.”

He gives you a grin.

“Right!”

“I’m going to tell mom.”

He glares.

“Don’t be a narc. I was trying to be nice to you.”

“You’re going to get liver disease, Falco.”

“Gabi and I have never tried it. We just wanted to do it together.”

You pinch your lips together, before shaking your head.

“I’ll just pretend like I didn’t hear that.”

You watch as Falco’s eyes light up, before he presses a wet kiss to your cheek. You push him off, as you finish the last touches on his hair, and lean down to press a kiss to the top of his head.

Falco runs off, mainly to Gabi’s side as he starts admiring her hair and she does the same to him. And as you quietly start smearing the makeup on your face, Connie takes the seat at your side at the vanity.

It’s quiet. Mainly because he’s messing with the ends of his own hair and you’re focused on smearing the glitter on your eyelids that you don’t really acknowledge each other. You only break the concentration – and start the conversation – as Connie watches you struggle with your necklace.

“Yikes. Want help?”

You smile.

“Yeah. Yeah, thanks.” you state.

You hand the necklace over to him – and watch the smile spread across his face as he eyes the little Saturn charm – before he signals for you to turn around. The necklace falls perfectly into place before you turn back to him and silently thank him.

“Eren’s wearing his pin too.” Connie states.

“He is?”

“Well, planning on it. I saw him walking around with it downstairs when we were making the coffee.”

You hum in response, as you place the blush on your cheeks.

“How did he seem? Is he stressed out?”

“No. He’s pretty zen, considering how batshit he was acting last night when you were running through the checklist.”

You smile.

“I just think he’s excited for the wedding. You know how much he loves Jean and Mikasa.” you state.

Connie smiles at you through the mirror, before leaning his cheek in the palm of his hand. It’s a weirdly antagonistic look that he gives you, that you ignore as you rummage through the colors of your lip glosses and lipsticks to find the perfect one.

“I know how much he loves you.”

You give him a weary look.

“You kissed three times. He smiled into the kiss. You used your tongue. We’re not about to play this shitty game.” Connie states.

“I didn’t say anything.” you state.

Connie smiles and really, the fact that he was rooting for the two of you so hard, that he approved, only made your excitement to see him later grow tenfold.

“So you know that he loves you?” Connie asks.

You swallow hard, before shaking the thought away.

“Well, of course he does. We’re good friends.”

Connie gives you a glare and it makes you fold.

“Just…don’t tell him, okay?”

“I won’t. But you…you do know, right?”

You sigh.

“Yeah. I’m just stuck on how to tell him, when the right time is, if…if he really wants to. I know that he loves me but that…that doesn’t necessarily mean that he wants to give our relationship another try.”

Connie frowns.

“He doesn’t know that’s on the table.” Connie states.

“What do you mean?”

“You know he loves you. He has no idea that you love him too.”

“There’s no way. It’s…it’s obvious. I’ve given him so many signs.”

Connie shrugs.

“Yeah. But he’s insecure. His mind plays tricks on him…and he won’t believe it unless you tell him, explicitly. Some days he says that he thinks you reciprocate and in the next hour, he’s moping in my room about how he’s lost you forever.”

You deflate and give him a nod, as you secure your hands around one of your tubes of lipstick. Connie shakes his head, before taking it from you and digging through the little pouch himself.

“No, you can’t wear that.” Connie states.

“I didn’t realize you were so opinionated about the makeup I wore.”

“No. Well, yes. But no, no Eren likes it when you wear glossy stuff on your lips.”

“Why do you know that?”

“He’s down horrendous.” Connie affirms.

“I’m not picking my makeup look based off of Eren.”

Connie pauses and gives you a look. You sigh.

“Okay, fine. Give it.”

He gives you a bright smile, before handing it over to you. And you smear it over your lips, before taking the open room on the left so slip in your dress and meet Eren downstairs.

You slip into your dress before you meet Eren downstairs, to make sure that everyone gets tucked into the correct cars, with flowers pinned to their jackets and secured around their wrists. You carry the pair of shoes you had chosen – black kitten heels to save your feet from the walking – as you make your way down the stairs.

You can already see Eren standing in the kitchen, placing the boxes in a line, as you feel the nervousness prickle all over your skin. His hair is pushed back, tucked behind his ears. He’s not wearing his jacket yet, the sleeves of his white collared shirt pulled up to his forearms, and he looks perfect.

You nervously knock on the frame of the door, as you drop your heels to the ground and join him at his side.

“Hey. Want my help?” you mumble, feeling the shake in your voice.

Eren’s fumbling with the plastic box in his hands, his throat bobbing, as he doesn’t respond, until it’s awkwardly been too long. And it’s almost like he’s realized it – that he was staring full on, that he had ignored what you had said – as he shakes his head before looking up at you.

“Did-did you say something to me?”

You can’t help but laugh, as you nervously rub at the sides of your biceps.

“Yeah. I was asking if you wanted help.”

“Right. Yeah, yeah. I was just making sure that the boxes had everyone’s names on it.” Eren adds.

You hum in response, as you join him at his side, and eye the little list that he had set in the middle of the counter. You start to eye the little labels, leaving little star marks next to each one you found on the paper, as you try to distract yourself and the burning in the pit of your stomach.

“You look beautiful.”

You feel your eyes widen.

“Huh?”

“I mean, you’re beautiful. You’re always beautiful, but you…”

Eren lifts his gaze from the plastic boxes, as he looks over at you, eyes striking and piercing. It sends a shiver down your spine. He places both of his hands on your elbows and you mimic the motion by resting yours against your forearms as you look up at him.

You watch as his eyes waver – first to your lips, before they drop down to your necklace. He reaches up, twisting the little Saturn charm in between his fingers, before he smiles up at you.

“Mine is on my jacket.”

You smile.

“He has to be there some way, right?”

He sighs.

“Yeah.”

“Speaking of…”

He looks around the little plastic boxes, before he reaches for one that has your name scribbled over the top. You reach for it, before he pulls back, giving you an offended look.

“Are you insane?” he asks.

“What? That’s literally mine.”

“What kind of guy do you think I am? You’re my date, I obviously have to put it on for you.” Eren states.

“Oh.”

Eren smiles.

“Yeah. Oh.”

Eren opens up the little plastic box, pulling out the little corsage, before fidgeting with the little flowers until they fall perfectly. You hold out your left hand to him and he slides the little ribbon across your wrist, until it’s set in place.

He lifts your hand and presses your knuckles against his lips, leaving a quiet kiss on your ring finger. It makes your chest burn.

“Perfect.” he whispers.

You swallow hard, trying to swallow the dryness in your throat, as you look up at him.

“Can I do yours?”

“I don’t have a corsage, sweetheart. Such a shame.”

You shove him.

“You know what I meant.”

He smiles, as he reaches for his coat hanging from the chair. You find the box with his name on it as he pulls his jacket on, adjusting it. You take the little silver pins and the boutonniere as you press it to the lapel. And it’s going well until you poke a little too hard, in the wrong direction.

“Ow.”

“Fuck. I’m so sorry, Eren.”

You can feel your hands shaking as you try to pin it properly this time, which only gets worse when you can feel that Eren’s watching you – and that he’s amused by how hard you’re trying not to stab him with the pins.

“That didn’t actually hurt, Y/N.”

You place the last pin before you unclench and look back up at him. You take the second to admire the little purple flowers on his coat, before smiling up at him.

“Perfect!”

Eren smirks, before he leans forward. He’s so close that you can feel the breath tickling your nose when he talks and the mint in his breath.

“No kiss for me?”

“Huh? Did…did you want one?”

“It’s hardly satisfying when you have to ask for it. You have to offer it to me.” Eren states.

And you were about to, but that’s right when Jean and Niccolo come tumbling down the stairs, readjusting their collars. You can hear the cars pulling up against the gravel outdoors, as Eren hands both of them their boutonnieres, and they run out the door.

Everyone tumbles through like a stampede – as you get stuck handing all of them the boxes and get too distracted to hand them all out. You feel your heart burst when Historia realizes that she gets two corsages – since Reiner and Connie are both her dates – and the dramatic display that they both make of kissing her hand and her cheeks when they put them on her has you giggling.

Levi and Hange are the last ones to leave, until it’s just you and Eren standing in the kitchen, facing each other.

“Ready?”

“Yeah. Just have to put my shoes on.”

Eren gives you a nod, before grabbing them from the side and getting on his knees. His arms move around your leg, exposed from the slit in the side of your dress as he secures the buckles around your ankles.

“Too tight?”

You clear your throat.

He has to know what he’s doing to you. That he can’t just place his head in between your legs like that.

“No. That’s good.”

He mimics the motion with the other shoe, fingers featherlike around your ankle, before he looks back up at you. And he holds his hand out to you, circling it around yours as the two of you walk out onto the gravel towards the car.

The four of you are lined up inside, peeking out the window, at Jean standing alone at the altar. You can see groups of people running around the little makeshift aisles – Hange and Levi sharing a drink, Lana with a little baby bump and Teddy tangled around her knees, and Sofia and Ymir admiring the flowers around the aisle.

“Lana and Sukuna are here. I can’t believe she’s showing already.” you whisper to Eren.

You watch as Eren’s eyes scan the room, before he catches the sight of the three of them on the left and smiles.

“Look at Teddy’s suit. He’s fucking adorable.”

“Sofia and Ymir look fucking amazing.” Connie adds.

“And Niccolo!” Sasha adds.

The three of you turn your gaze to her, giving her a side eye, before you all burst out laughing. In the time that you have to wait for Mikasa, Connie somehow produces two popsicles from the little truck outside, one that he hands to you and Eren and the other that he shares with Sasha.

You consider yourself lucky that Connie chose the blue one for himself and gave you and Eren the lemon, which had a translucent color. Connie later realizes his mistake when his tongue turns blue.

You look up at Eren, whose eyes are still transfixed at the people lingering around outside.

“You don’t want any, Eren?”

He looks over at you, and down at the popsicle, before he wraps his arm around your wrists and uses it to lift the popsicle to his mouth. He takes one bite and gives you a smile, before dropping his featherlike touch from your hand and looking back outside.

You can’t help but use your other hand to rub the inside of your forearm, where his fingers had just touched yours.

And you watch everyone with him, the two of you silently standing at the window. Levi keeps getting Hange refills and Reiner and Historia go in the photo booth. Sukuna basically guards Lana like a dog – refusing to leave her side, leaning down every few minutes to whisper in her ear, with what you know is constant questioning of if she’s comfortable or not.

Connie and Sasha yank on your elbows. The two of you turn your heads only to fall silent at the sight of Mikasa, excitedly smiling at you in her pristine and perfect white dress.

“Ready to get me married, guys?” she whispers.

You feel your heart squelch in your chest as you reach forward at the same time as Sasha, the two of you stuck in each of her arms and the fresh scent of her bouquet filling your nose. You can’t help but admire her – the shimmering glitter on her skin, the sparkling accents on her dress, and the veil flowing behind her.

It’s perfect.

She lets the two of you go before she gives Connie and Eren a shy smile, and they both rise to the occasion. They make a dramatic display of clutching their chests and it makes your heart sing as you watch Mikasa smile at the praise, at the two of them making it evidently clear that she’s one of the most beautiful things she’s ever seen. Connie and Eren both lean down to press a kiss to Mikasa’s cheeks, before you all line up, standing side by side.

Connie and Sasha stand in front, followed by you and Eren, and then Mikasa alone. You turn to Eren and he offers you a wink, as you feel your nerves bubble as the entrance song stars.

You can see it from the window – Levi seated at the piano with the microphone in front of him. And on his cue, Sasha and Connie walk out first together.

I've waited a hundred years But I'd wait a million more for you Nothing prepared me for What the privilege of being yours would do

Eren extends his hand out to you and you wrap yours in with his, as you both walk out into the courtyard. The air is fresh, the sun is dipping into the sunset and making a perfect mix of purple and pink hues, as the little lights hanging from the trees start twinkling.

You can’t help but squeeze hard on the bouquet as you walk down, nerves tingling. It’s warm in the little courtyard, but only because of how the blood rushes to your cheeks – it nearly hurts to smile this hard.

You offer Sukuna a wink as you walk past, before you and Eren let each other go at the end of the aisle. You and Eren stop before Jean, before leaning forward to give him a hug. You press a kiss to his cheek, which he smiles brightly at, before you and Eren take your spots opposite to each other at his side.

If I had only felt the warmth within your touch If I had only seen how you smile when you blush Or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough

I would have known what I was living for all along What I've been living for

Levi’s voice is piercing, so warm and full that it makes the tears spark to your eyes. And when everyone rises out of their chairs and Mikasa steps out into the light, you instantly turn your head to the left to look at Jean.

And surely enough, Jean’s hands are shaking at his sides as the tears start to sprout out of his eyes – as he looks at her glide down and doesn’t break his eye contact once. It’s full blown tears, from both of them, and Mikasa’s basically rushing down the aisle just to get there faster.

You look past Jean to find Eren watching the two of them, with the brightest smile on his face.

Your love is my turning page Where only the sweetest words remain Every kiss is a cursive line Every touch is a redefining phrase

When Mikasa makes it to the end, Jean reaches for her hand and pulls her up. You take the little bouquet from her hands, and she gives you a wink in response, before turning back to Jean and locking her hands in with his.

I surrender who I've been for who you are For nothing makes me stronger than your fragile heart If I had only felt how it feels to be yours Well, I would have known what I've been living for all along What I've been living for

Levi finishes the end of his song with a dancing melody on the piano, before everyone takes a seat and they start the ceremony.

You and Eren stare at each other the entire time.

The reception afterwards is cast in silver moonlight. There’s a live jazz band, a little dance floor, and obviously an open bar. It’s a rush to make sure that Mikasa and Jean aren’t entirely shit faced by the time you’re able to perform your song and keeping them away from the bar before that happens turns out to be a horrendous task.

But surely enough, you and Eren are standing by the piano as you wait for Levi to announce the first dance. You turn to Eren, looking up at him, as you watch Levi make his way over to the microphone.

“Nervous?”

Eren shakes his head.

“Have you with me. We’ll be fine.”

You give him a nod as you absentmindedly tangle your hand in with his at your sides, that he welcomes. And when Levi announces that it’s time for the first dance, Mikasa and Jean make their way to the center of the dance floor, the two of them blowing you a kiss as you take your seat at the piano.

The second they look away, too entranced with looking at each other, Eren slides into the bench at your side and the two of you start playing the piano together. It’s only when Eren starts singing the first verse that they look back, at the two of you sitting there together.

Eren: I spy with my little tired eye Tiny as a firefly A pebble that we picked up last July Down deep inside your pocket We almost forgot it Does it ever miss Wicklow sometimes?

You look up from the piano keys to find Jean looking at you – smiling so brightly as the tears stream from his eyes – with Mikasa in his hands. You give him a wink, as you watch him turn his head away, his tears only increasing when he looks down at Mikasa.

Eren and Y/N: They said the end is coming Everyone's up to something I find myself running home to your sweet nothings Outside, they're push and shoving You're in the kitchen humming All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

Y/N: On the way home I wrote a poem You say, "What a mind" This happens all the time

You can’t help but turn to your left to look at Eren, only to find that he’s already looking at you first. He tangles his foot in with yours under the piano as your fingers brush against each other and you can feel it – the softness enveloping you and Eren, that the feeling of being around him makes your skin tickle whenever he looks at you.

Y/N: Industry disruptors and soul deconstructors And smooth-talking hucksters out glad-handing each other And the voices that implore, "You should be doing more" To you, I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it

You and Eren turn your heads back to the dance floor to watch as everyone joins Jean and Mikasa on the dance floor, hands locked together as they all smile at each other. Connie, Reiner, and Historia are trying some weird three way version of slow dance that has all of them laughing, and Hange and Levi are stuck in some deep conversation that they are whispering in each other’s ears.

Falco and Gabi are so tense that it almost looks painful, but the smiles on their faces don’t indicate that they’re aware of how rigid they’re both being. And Ymir presses a kiss to Sofia’s cheek, which makes her laugh.

Eren and Y/N: They said the end is coming (they said the end is coming) Everyone's up to something (everyone's up to something) I find myself running home to your sweet nothings Outside, they're push and shoving (outside, they're push and shoving) You're in the kitchen humming (you're in the kitchen humming) All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

You and Eren turn to your left to give the jazz band a thumbs up, as they take over on the music and start playing soft violin music so everyone can keep going. And you turn back to your right towards Eren and lean forward to wrap your arms around his neck.

And when you pull back, you secure one of his hands around his cheek and absentmindedly rub your thumb against his bottom lip.

“Think it went well?” Eren whispers.

You shrug. Eren smiles back, before mimicking your shrug in response.

You can feel the breath leave your lungs as you feel a pair of two arms around you, only to find Jean and Mikasa strangling you and Eren from behind the piano. The two of you stand up, to hug the two of them openly, as they smile down at you. Mikasa seems to break off to talk to Eren, because Jean pulls you to the side.

“Y/N.”

“Just to be clear, that was your gift. And if you hate it, that’s too bad because I –”

You’re cut off by Jean pressing a kiss to your cheek, before he envelopes you in a hug so hard that you can barely breathe. Jean lets go after a few minutes, his hand warm on your face as he smiles down at you.

“I loved it. That was the song of my dreams.”

You can’t help but grin at him.

“You deserve nothing less, Jean. I…I’m really happy for you. Just take care of my girl, okay?”

“That’s a promise.” he affirms.

You’re joined by Eren and Mikasa at your sides and you can tell from the pink mark on Eren’s cheek that Mikasa was feeling just as sappy as Jean was. You reach forward and wipe the mark away from his cheek, as you look at the two of them.

“I owe Mika a dance and then Gabi. I’m all yours after that, Y/N.” Eren says.

You smile, before you wave him off.

“Go ahead.”

You take your seat back at the piano bench, as you collect the sheet music and the lyrics and tuck them into the little cabinet of the piano. You sit there for some time – watching Eren and Mikasa giggle on the dance floor before he switches with Gabi who can’t stop blushing.

That’s until you’re joined by Levi at your side, who offers you a flute of champagne. You take it from him, as you tuck your arm into his, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“Your song was beautiful, Levi.” you murmur.

“Yours was too.” he responds.

You both watch the room in silence for some time, at how animated and lively it all was. Teddy was falling asleep against Sukuna’s shoulder, but him and Lana were caught in a deep conversation – soft smiles on both of their faces as they talked under their breaths at their table.

“I want to talk to you about something.” Levi states.

“Go ahead.”

Levi clears his throat.

“I…I hear that my vow renewal all those years ago meant a lot to you. Eren and I were talking about it.”

“Oh. Yeah, what about it?”

“I want to know what it meant.” Levi clarifies.

You lean back as you think about it – about the love in the room – and turn back to him.

“That night was the first time that Eren and I said we loved each other. That…that was the last time before things went so horribly wrong. Because we sat on the bench and talked about the love in the room, about how it was between us.”

You can feel your throat drying.

“After that, I got so busy. I started working too hard. He got stuck on Satellite Port, he…he was around people we hated and there were just so many things that came between us. I let go but then he did too. I had him for a second and then he was gone for good.”

You look back out at him, posing for a picture with Gabi encased in his arms.

“I saw you and Hange that day and all I could think about was how in love you guys were. About how I knew love was real, because you guys had it. That…that was what I was going to strive for, what I still do strive for at the end of the day. You guys are perfect, you’re THE love story for me and…you always have been.”

Levi sighs.

“Can I say one thing to you?” Levi asks.

“Yeah.”

“You have a tendency to not see things as they are sometimes. Like Danny and Sareen taking advantage, like Eren saying it was okay when you let him go, and believing him when he said what he did.”

You tilt your head to the side, in confusion.

“Hange and I are far from perfect. I’ll tell you now, very clearly. Hange and I did a vow renewal because we needed one. Not because it was romantic and we wanted to do it again.”

“What?”

“We wouldn’t be together if we didn’t do it. And our relationship reached that point, where…where we needed to affirm it again. That we loved each other, that we were committed, that we were what was most important.”

You sit back, dumbfounded.

Levi and Hange were in love. They had always been in love.

“I don’t get it.”

Levi smiles.

“What I mean by this is that…these things are normal in love. The initial attraction doesn’t keep you going. You have to pick each other, you have to be on the same side. It’s far more intentional, less cosmic as you think.” Levi states.

You follow his gaze to Jean and Mikasa, clearly obscenely drunk out of their minds, eating their wedding cake.

“They’re just as perfect as me and Hange are. It’s a fucking testament to them that they’re sitting here married after what happened with them. And it should be proof to you that what happened with you and Eren won’t hold you back, that…that it’ll really benefit you when it comes to it. You’ve already gotten past the hard part, you just need to leap now.”

You swallow hard.

“Are you shattering my entire worldview by telling me the truth about your vow renewal so I’ll date Eren?”

“Yeah.”

“Figures.”

Levi looks over at you, hands warm on your shoulders.

“Your mistake wasn’t picking him. His was not picking you when it came to it later, not in the way that mattered anyway. Now, fix it. Pick him now.”

Levi abruptly stops when Eren’s standing at your side, tie loosened around his neck as he gives you a cheesy smile.

“Ready for me?” Eren asks.

Levi gives you a narrowed look, which you ignore as you nod and stand up at his side. Eren leads you to the center of the dance floor, securing his hands around your waist as you tangle your own around his neck.

You and Eren sway to the violin in the background, the two of you quietly observing each other as you walk in step.

“I’m sorry I took so long. I danced with Mikasa and then Gabi. Lana and Sukuna stopped to talk to me and I just got side tracked.”

You shake your head.

“No, no. I…it’s okay. I was with Levi.”

Eren smiles.

“I…I’m glad you’re here with me now.” he whispers.

“Me too.” you whisper back.

The live singer, a small gift that Levi and Hange had planned for Mikasa and Jean, arrives right at the start of your little dance, and her voice so soft and melodic that you can’t help but pull yourself closer to Eren as she sings, until your ear is muffled against his coat, barely catching the ends of his heartbeat.

Time's moving so much slower lately It's like the world's playin' a joke Laughing at me for falling foolishly again But something's different with you

Traffic on Sunset doesn't phase me I'm just unusually composed That is until I touch you and I can't pretend I lose myself again, I do

I'm all in, I'm fallin' Can't get back up Can't think right, too tongue-tied It must be love

“Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“What are you thinking about?”

He pulls you apart a little, until you’re standing properly and looking up at him. The violin’s are sending goosebumps down your arms as he looks down at you, pointer finger hooked under your chin as he guides you to look up at him.

“That someone heard my prayers.”

You smile.

“Really?”

He nods.

“Armin and I used a whoopie cushion on Connie earlier. Gabi gave me a sweet kiss on the cheek and Teddy fell asleep in my lap earlier. Jean and Mikasa are getting married and I’m here with you. There was a point where thinking I’d ever end up here seemed unfathomable to me.”

“You and Armin are so immature.” you state.

Eren shrugs.

“It keeps me young,” he jokes.

Friends asking me where I've been hiding I'm losin' hours in your eyes Lost in your wonderland, I hope I'm never found There's no one else around, tonight

I'm not so used to being happy Now I just float down every street You made a sappy, stupid something out of me The kind I swore I'd never be I'm awake inside a dream

“I have…I have a lot I want to talk to you about, Eren. So…so much I want to say.”

Eren’s eyes widen.

“My time is always yours. What did you want to say?”

“It’s so many things. And I want to say it right. There’s…there’s so much going on and I don’t want you to take it the wrong way and I don’t want to scare you off because you and I are just doing good again and I don’t think that –”

Eren narrows his eyes.

“Why are you so tense? There’s nothing you could say that would hurt my feelings. It’s just me.”

You frown.

“That’s the problem. It’s just you.”

You feel a tapping on your shoulder, only to find Jean and Mikasa standing by your side, with two glasses in their hands.

“Are we interrupting something?” Jean asks.

You groan.

“No. What’s up?”

“We have one last request.” Mikasa states.

“What is it?” Eren asks.

The two of them give each other an excited smile – cheeks glazed pink – before they turn back to you.

“You have to let loose and drink.” they state, pushing the glasses into your hands.

You both give each other a pinched look, before turning back to them.

“We don’t drink. It makes me sleepy. And he doesn’t like the taste.” you state.

“We’re not going to force you. But really, you put so much time into the wedding. We just want you guys to have fun…loosen up a little bit.” Mikasa states.

The two of them giggle as they walk away, leaving the two of you in the center of the dance floor, nursing the glasses in your hands. You look up at him, entirely lost from your train of thought, as he eyes the liquid.

“Do you want to?” Eren asks.

“I don’t know. Do you want to?”

“It’s been a while since I’ve drank. And really, I only choose not to drink because I always seem to be around people that I’d feel uncomfortable losing my inhibitions around. But it’s just you and me and you’re basically one of the only people I could drink around. I don’t think a little wouldn’t hurt, I guess.”

You nod, following his lead. Your moment to say your piece had passed already.

“Okay. Okay, yeah.”

You both lift the glasses to your lips and sip.

Eren has to carry you back into the house. Because true to your previous statement, wine did make you really sleepy – and two bottles of it has you curled up into his lap in the back of the car.

Eren can feel his heart beating fast, the sensation blooming in his chest as he tries to steady his breaths. He absentmindedly runs his hands through your hair, running his finger over the sole braid tucked behind your ear.

He doesn’t think about it very well, but he leans forward and presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. Eren figures that he must have leaned too close because it has you rousing from your sleep, only nuzzling into his chest even more.

“Are we home yet, Eren?”

He can feel his chest tightening.

“No, sweetheart. Almost, okay?”

“Okay. Okay, just take me in with you, alright?” you mumble.

Eren saves his retort about how he’d never leave you behind for when you’re awake, just so he could make sure that you’d actually remember it. And five minutes later, he’s left standing on the gravel with you, as you lean almost all of your weight into his side.

Every move he makes has you losing your balance, almost toppling to the ground.

“Hey. Can you lock your arms around my neck?”

You give him a halfhearted mumble before following his instructions, only to feel him hook his arms underneath your legs and shakily walk you towards the door. You can tell that he’s stumbling a little bit – not walking straight as he almost backs up into the wall as he walks in.

The two of you must have had too much to drink. Because as Eren walks straight up the stairs, he aims so horribly that he smacks your head straight into the wall and curses after the fact.

“Eren.” you hiss.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t see the wall.”

You groan in response.

“Look out for it next time.”

Eren scathes his way to the hallway to his room, which he kicks open before leading you in. You all but collapse on his bed face first as he leans against the wall – groaning from how dizzy he was getting. Luckily for him, he had thought ahead to lay out clothes for himself – and that he overthought so much that there was a second pair too.

Eren walks over to the bed, placing one of his hands on your shoulder as he shakes.

“Y/N.”

No response.

“Y/N. You can’t sleep in your pretty dress.” he whispers.

“Tired.” you respond, voice mumbled.

“Here. I’ll help you change, just work with me.”

Eren holds one of his hands out to you, which you take. He uses it to pull you up until you’re leaning against him, head lolled against his shoulder and his hands on your waist stabilizing you. Eren secures his hand around your face and you lean into the touch as he looks down at you, eyes side.

“Work with me here.” Eren whispers.

“Okay.”

“I’m going to help you with the zipper on your dress. Just slide the shirt that I left on the side, I-I’ll close my eyes.”

You shrug.

“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to close your eyes.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Is that weird? It…it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. And…and I’m not…I don’t know what I’m saying.”

Eren gives you a nod before he guides you to turn around, fixing his shaking hands on the zipper as he starts pulling it down. Eren can feel his breath hitch in his throat as he turns his head away, trying to banish the thought of the fabric pooling at your legs on the floor, at the small dip in your back that he always seemed to think about.

He can feel you tugging at his arm and he turns back to find you drowning in one of his old t-shirts, as you look up at him.

“Are you cold? I have pants you can wear or…or an extra blanket and I –”

“No. No, it’s okay.”

Eren didn’t really ask for the help, maybe because he was a little bit more awake than you, but he doesn’t stop you when you reach forward and start unbuttoning his shirt. Eren can tell that it’s more difficult for you than it would have been for him, but he doesn’t have it in his heart to stop you.

Eren pulls the shirt off and discards it to the side, before turning around to unbutton his pants and switch into his boxers.

“You…you don’t have to wear a shirt. If you still don’t.” you state.

Eren can feel his cheeks burning.

“You sure?”

“I actually don't want you to. That’s why I mentioned that.”

You’re definitely drunk, Eren thinks.

“And why’s that?”

“I like feeling close to you. There’s nothing between my ear and your heart when I lean against you.” you mumble.

Eren can feel his heart constrict – even more than it was before – when you look up at him now, the glitter smeared around your eyes. And he’s not sure what it is, but there’s tears accumulating in your eyes, replacing the sweetness in his chest with concern.

“Eren.” you whimper.

“What? What is it?”

You swallow hard. You lean your hands against his chest, before pressing your cheek to his chest.

“I love you so much.”

Eren frowns, before leaning his chin against the top of your head.

“That’s nothing to cry about, princess. I love you too.”

You shake your head, bringing your hands up to your cheeks as you squeeze hard on the skin.

“No. No, I love you, Eren.” you whisper.

“Y/N. You…you’re drunk.”

You frown.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I do. But I…I don’t know if it’s because you’re drunk. You might change your mind in the morning.” Eren states.

You shake your head.

“Eren. Eren, you’re everything to me.”

You look up at him, reaching to tuck the ends of his hair behind his ear, as you feel your voice shake.

“I saw Mikasa and Jean and I just…I just knew more than I already did before that I want it to be me and you. I want us to write songs together, I want to wake up next to you, I want to give you haircuts in our bathtub.”

Eren smiles.

“Haircuts?”

“I love your hair short. Just a little bit shorter than it is now, because…because it looks like your hair when I fell in love with you. I’ve been falling since then and I just need you to crawl down into this hole and be here with me, Eren.” you mumble.

Eren sighs.

“I’d do anything you asked me to. But, but I need you to say it to me tomorrow, when…when you’re being serious.”

“I am serious. Eren, there’s no love in the room if you aren’t in it with me.”

Eren has no words. He has to stumble something out – something because you’re looking at him so expectantly with your doe eyes like you’re waiting for him to give in.

“Still.”

You nod, as you stand on the tips of your toes to tuck yourself into the neck.

“Can you give me one thing, Eren?”

“What?”

“Will you kiss me? Just once?” you ask.

Eren pulls back, eyes weary as he looks down at you.

“I don’t want to take advantage of you. You, you’re…”

“I want to kiss you. I messed up our second kiss while we were filming because I wanted to kiss you so bad I forgot we were working. I think about it all the time. I want it so bad and I just –”

Eren leans forward, pressing his lips to yours. You can still taste the remnants of the wine on his lips and he’s breathing shakily into your mouth as he cradles your face in his hands.

You can feel your heart somersault when he smiles into the kiss, when he presses two, three, and four more to the side of your face. You drop your hands from his neck to his back, the raised skin of the scars on his back underneath your fingers as he presses kisses down your neck.

“Eren.”

“Sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry. Too much. We have to go to bed because you’re drunk and I…I can’t do this if you’re drunk and I am too and it…”

You nod.

“You’re right. Just…just let me sleep here with you?” you ask.

“Come on.”

Eren walks around to the other side of the bed, not without walking straight into the wall first, before he climbs under the sheets with you. And it’s the last thing he remembers before he goes to sleep – you wrapping your leg around him and pressing a kiss right on top of his heart before he goes to bed.

When you wake up in the morning, Eren’s spot in the bed is empty. And you only see him an hour later, when you’re able to reel from what happened last night and see him in the kitchen.

There’s ten different people milling around the kitchen. Erwin and Historia, Connie and Falco throwing a football, and Sasha taste testing Niccolo’s coffee. But all you see when you walk in is Eren, who just gives you a small wave.

You feel the rejection sting as you offer it back and take the spot next to him.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Happy last day of filming. Well, not for us, but…you..you know what I meant.” he states.

You feel your heart drop. He doesn’t remember last night.

“You too, Eren.”

next part linked here

an: oh ladies and gentleman are we ready. ARE WE READY BC CONFESSION NEXT CHAPTER AND IM SO FRRRR. not proofread maybe ill do it tomorrow if I feel strongly enough about it.

also taylor as gojo, bsfs older brother sukuna, and method acting in three days. aka. I CRY A LOT BUT I AM SO PRODUCTIVEEEE ITS AN ART (no I don't I just though this joke was funny)

alsOOOO as I wrap things up I remember someone mentioned wanting some MA chapters from eren's perspective but I can't for the life of me think about which one's would be good for that. the main one that comes to mind is when y/n gets stranded and eren comes to her rescue with ricky LOL. anyways im open to ideas.

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

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

Text

Dirty Work 44

Joyous Walpurgisnacht: Part II

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Please share your screams in my ask or a reblog!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Laufeyson returns with a second drink. You still have your first, nursing it as you find your head spinning with the activity all around. As more guests stream through, raucous as they meet others they know, the stage hums and the speakers crackle to life.

Bragi begins his set, a brief tidings for the event before he strums into a tune. You wiggle your foot to the beat, peering over at the full band behind the lead. It's all so big and bright.

You turn back, reaching for your glass, as Laufeyson draws from his own. He watches you over the brim, eyes traveling down your body, focusing on the movement of your foot. You still it and uncross your legs, setting your soles flat.

He puts his drink down, half-finished. You sit back and fold your hands in your lap, peering around evasively. He probably saw you slouching or was annoyed by your fidgeting. You blow out between your lips as the party blooms around you.

Voices thrum in ripples beneath the steady rhythms of the stage, hollers go up now and then, piquing your interest as you look over to see a group cluster. They stand around smaller tables framed by two chairs each. You can barely see those sitting at them moving small pieces around the board.

“Hnefatafl!” The cry goes up as Thor stands and the pieces scatter on the table before him. You quickly look away as his head pops up above his audience.

“An old game,” Laufeyson explains, “rather dry for an event like this.”

You raise your brows curiously. You’re almost tempted to ask him more but think better of it. He hardly seems interested. Distant thunks bring another roar from a crowd further down. You twist in your chair to see across the field large round boards set up. A man with blond hair hurls an axe towards the wood, embedding it. You flinch and face the table again.

“Chaos,” Laufeyson mutters.

“Yes,” you agree, your toe tapping on the grass until you stop it again.

You sink into a silence which exists only between you and him. The furor of the party crackles around you, circling you in a whirlwind. There in the eye of the storm, there is no sound. It is deafeningly hollow.

“Ahem,” the clearing of a throat and tap on your shoulder brings you around. Laufeyson looks over your head, fixing his posture as you face Odin, “hiding in the corner?”

“Not exactly, father,” Laufeyson says, once more taking up his drink.

“There is much to enjoy. Your mother’s put in so much effort, I’d for her to see you glowering like this,” Odin reproaches.

“I do not glower,” his son snips.

“Mm, yes, well, you are more than welcome to wallow alone,” Odin replies flippantly, “but you needn’t cast a cloud over others…” he shifts to face you, opening a hand to you, “might I be so humbled as to request a dance from the lovely lady?”

You look up at him and your mouth falls open, “dance? I don’t know… how.”

“Well, then it is a good thing I must take it slow,” Odin insists, “it isn’t so hard to learn.”

Laufeyson sighs and drains the last of his whiskey. He stands abruptly, “I need to top up.”

Odin eyes him tensely but doesn’t remark. He looks back to you, “you don’t need to sit in his shadow all night. One dance, fair maiden of Walpurgisnacht, I see you can barely contain yourself.”

You look down as his gaze falls to your foot, once more wiggling. You still it and accept his hand. You hope Laufeyson isn’t too upset. It is only his father after all, he can’t be too put out.

“Thank you,” you stand and let him lead you away.

Odin brings you amid the other dancers, on a flat white floor laid out over the grass. He guides you to face him and helps you place your hands before he hooks an arm around you. He’s gentle but firm in leading you, counting with the rhythm between directing you how to move your feet.

“That’s it, dear, you’re a natural,” he praises as you let the music guide you, “and a beauty. That dress is very becoming, though it pales on you. You look immaculate…” he continues to sway with you, “my son is a fool not to say it himself.”

“Odin,” you look past him sheepishly.

“It is the truth. You are glowing and he is playing the troll, secreting you away from the light,” he tuts and shakes his head.

“It isn’t my party,” you utter.

“You belong here,” he insists, “don’t you think otherwise.”

“I am the house manager–” you rebuff.

“You aren’t,” he says, “my son didn’t get his senselessness from me. No, that is bred of mistrust. Fear, truly.”

“Odin, it’s true–”

“If he says it, it cannot be,” he counters, “when he looks at you, he is not looking at a house manager. He will claim I do not know him but he is my son. I see through him, it is only a pity he looks in the mirror and cannot do the same.”

You stare at the button of his vest. You don’t believe him. You don’t want to. You’re too afraid to think it could ever be true. Yet how can you tell him the truth? That would be humiliating. You are only half-right, your son wants more of me but only to sate his worst urges. It isn’t sentiment, it is convenience.

“Pardon,” a voice has you tripping over your own feet but Odin keeps you balanced, turning you as another figure stands close, “father, may I… take over?”

“Ah, but we are having such fun,” Odin taunts and twists you away from Laufeyson again.

“Yes, it seems so,” Laufeyson says thickly, “perhaps the next song…”

“Oh, don’t be so mopey,” Odin stops you as he chuckles, “I was only trying to pep you up, yes? It’s a party.” Odin raises your hand and kisses it gently, “thank you, dear, for humouring an old man.”

He stands straight and lets you go. He faces his son but you cannot see his expression, only the way Laufeyson’s eyes gleam back dangerously. Odin departs and Laufeyson’s attention flits onto you. He takes a step forward, once more looking you up and down.

The music ebbs and a new song begins. The soft plucking begins, then the reedy tone of a flute. Mr. Laufeyson offers his hand and you accept it, awkwardly coming closer as he sweeps his arm around you, his hand stretched over your lower back. He looks down to place his feet with yours before he begins. He is lithe and graceful, you feel otherwise.

“This is your song,” he says as the melody comes clearer.

You tweak an ear as you follow it, then lyrics begin.

“Moon River, wider than a mile…”

Your heart pulses in recognition. You smile towards the stage. You didn’t expect him to truly do it but it’s wonderful.

“I like it,” Laufeyson says, “it is very… whimsical.”

You turn your head straight, focusing on your footwork, careful not to trod his feet, “it is.”

He’s silent as you feel his gaze upon you, bearing down. He must be annoyed by how you follow his lead, uncertain in your body. How pathetic; never had a birthday cake, never had a dance. You look up and gulp shakily.

You almost stop dead in your heels as you see something less than agitated in his expression. He is fixated on you without a trace of chagrin. His hand shifts on your back, his other on your hip as you hold his shoulder and his upper arm. He is handsome in the dimming approach of the evening.

“When I said before that you look nice,” he begins, “I was remiss. You look… beyond anything I could ever put into words. You are magnificent, pet.”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you stutter, “well, you look very handsome as well.”

“I am not looking for compliments,” he dismisses, “and I think I owe you more than that.”

You don’t know what to say. Is it an apology? You don’t know entirely what he means. He’s had three glasses of whiskey, just like that night, and in the morning, he was just the same as before. You won’t count on the kindness he finds at the bottom of a bottle.

A sudden flash makes you squeak. You look over as Yvonne smiles over the large lens. You give a nervous giggle and brace Laufeyson tighter. He sweeps you away from the camera.

“Tomorrow, we will talk,” he avows, “but we can enjoy tonight. It is Walpurgisnacht and it is a new beginning.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

He winces and exhales, “can I be Loki for tonight?”

“Loki,” you echo, “yes.”

As the song ends, the heat speckling in your skin licks to flames. You don’t know if it’s being so close or his constant gaze or the thought of tomorrow and whatever you might talk about. You’re sweating and you're uncomfortable and you need a breath.

“Excuse me, um, I need the bathroom,” you gently pull away.

He reluctantly lets you go, his hand lingering on your hip as he points, “there, in the tents, I believe mother had facilities put up.”

“Thanks,” you offer a weak grin and step away from his grasp.

“I’ll be here,” he promises as you go.

You try not to hurry. You don’t want him to see how desperate you are to be away. It isn’t him, it’s you. This is all too much for you. It isn’t you. You’re not one of these people but they treat you like one. You’re just a poor girl born of cigarette ash.

You find your way to the tent housing the stalls. You take your time and try to collect yourself. Your nerves are tingling in your fingertips and where he held you; just along your lower back and your hip. It’s that urge that worries you, the one that made you think of resting your head on his shoulder.

You emerge and use the outdoor sinks set up in front of the stalls. You dry off and measure your breaths. You can do this. You go back down towards the fervour and as the night sets in, the large lights come to life and light the crowd.

You search the clusters of bodies. Where is Mr. Laufeyson? As you inch along the threshold, a shadow shifts to your right. You glance over but the figure disappears. You shake off the eerie sensation creeping down your spine and march forward into the tide of people.

You weave around bodies and tables, dizzy from the flurry all around you. You stagger as you’re nearly stampeded by a rowdy group of guests and you spin around to face a table in the far corner. There you find a scene that makes your heart plummet into your stomach.

You can’t stop yourself as you near the pair. Laufeyson, Loki, sits in a chair, two drinks on the table; his whiskey and another bright purple concoction. But beside him is Sif. She leans forward, her wrist clutched in his grasp as she whispers through the curve in her delicate lips. He stares back at her, eyes fiery, jaw locked.

“Loki, we had something good…” you hear her slither as you get closer. Her blue eyes dance over to you and her lips curl, “I still love you.”

She looks at him again and smashes her lips into his. He winces and turns his head, his gaze finding you as you stop, paralysed as you watch helplessly. You blink and swallow, wetting your lips as you bring your hand up to your sickened stomach.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

You turn and race away on clacking heels. You don’t look back as you elbow through bodies, running without direction, without escape. You just need to be away from it. All of it.

You find the pathway into the garden, plunging into the brush as your heels wobble with each step. You stumble and grunt in frustration. You stop and bend to unbuckle the shoes, tossing them away before you hurry on.

You find the stone gazebo, lit only by moonlight, and throw yourself inside. You land on a stone bench and hang your head in the frame of an arched window. You deflate as you hunch over, trembling so much it hurts.

You won’t cry. Why would you do that? It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. Mr. Laufeyson only said you looked magnificent then turned around to kiss his ex-wife. And why wouldn’t she? She’s much more than you’ll ever be. She fits neatly into their puzzle.

“Ah, little maid,” the gazebo darkens as the moonlight disappears as if a clouds passed over the nocturnal guardian, “what is the matter?”

You sit up and shudder as Thor’s burly silhouette limns in silver. You brace the edge of the bench and stand.

“N-nothing, I was only… having a break, I should head back–”

“It is peaceful out here,” he says, unmoving as you gesture around him. He fills the entire doorway.

“Yeah, but er, I should–”

“How do you like Walpurgisnacht? Are you having fun?” He asks, propping and elbow against the stone.

“Sure, I guess.”

“And did you play any games?” he sneers.

You falter and lean back on one heel. You have a bad feeling. You wring your hands as the air breezes in, a shiver rattling you.

“No…”

“That is too bad. This is a day of fun! Games are fun, aren’t they?”

“Please, Thor, I have to get back–”

“Let’s play a game,” he ignores your protest and steps into the gazebo, “I know a special game.”

“Thor,” you croak as you glance towards the windows. You see the lights above the trees and hear the muted noise of the partygoers and Bragi’s tunes. You look back to him as he takes another step towards you.

“You can be the mouse…” he says, “and I shall be the cat.”

“No, please, I don’t want–”

“You best be nimble, mouse. for the cat is hungry,” he growls as he looms closer, “and ready to pounce!”

He lunges and you jump back. Your shoulder hits the wall and you cry out. You turn and feel around, nearly falling through the opposite doorway as your feet slip over the stone steps. You stumble at the bottom, slipping in the grass as twigs and stones poke into your bare soles.

You hear him behind you, laughing as he makes a steady but easy pursuit. You sprint across the small field towards the row of brush, skirt catching on bramble as you dive into the wilderness. You don’t know where you’re going, you just need to get away.

Your feet slip on moss as dirty sticks to your skin. You puff as you pump your arms, glancing back over your shoulder frantically. He isn’t running, but he is coming. You can hear him laughing.

You swerve around, towards the noise of the party. You just need to get back there. You need to find a path. You don’t know where you are, the further you go, the more lost you are. The noises fade further and further. Oh god, wrong way!

Suddenly, your toe hits something hard and you nosedive forward. You don’t have time to get your hands up as your face crunches into a thick trunk and you collapse to the ground. You roll over as you taste iron on your tongue. Ow.

You sit up and touch your throbbing nose. As you plant your feet to stand, you hear a rustle and suddenly, you’re pushed flat to your back. Thor snickers as he holds you down by your shoulders, straddling you beneath him as he huffs.

“Ah, I’ve caught you, mouse,” he taunts as you squirm and whimper, “now the cat must feast.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #mcu #marvel #avengers #thor

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