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#not ready to be a year closer to adulthood
trashgoblincreature · 2 years
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f1daydreamers · 2 months
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𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐨𝐧𝐬 [𝐌𝐕𝟏]
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gif credits: @overtake
Pairing: Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader
Summary: Seeing your boyfriend play with his nephews stirs emotions inside of you. While it may be the first time you and Max have acknowledged it, it may also be the last.
Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, like one mention of alcohol, mentions of an unknown future, parenthood, lmk if I've missed anything!
Word Count: 1.0k words (3 mins reading time avg)
...
The sun dipped below the Monaco skyline, its rays streaming through the expansive windows of the apartment you shared with Max.
In celebration of his successful '23 season, you both agreed that throwing a rather modest dinner would be the perfect way to bring everyone together after a demanding year.
You'd dumped the last of the dirty plates into the sink, thanking Vic as she was already some steps ahead of you, cloth and disinfectant spray in hand as she wiped down the table.
Casting a quick glance around, you confirmed the absence of any stray cutlery, leaving only everyone's respective cups.
However, both your mind and your movements abruptly hit pause, as if your heart had taken the reins, softening at the sight of your boyfriend playing with his nephews, attentively listening to every word they were saying, whether it was meaningful or mere babble.
You smiled as Luka got up and wrapped his small arms around Max's neck, his hand rubbing up and down his little back.
Your eyes even threatened to well up a bit at the wholesome scene. As you brought your fingers up to your face, Max's gaze lifted to meet yours.
You fake-coughed, pretending to shield your mouth, averting your eyes and busying yourself, desperately trying to regain your previously lost train of thoughts.
Max couldn't help softly smiling to himself, but his moment of retrospect was interrupted by a few taps on his cheek from his nephew, who was determined to recapture his uncle's attention.
As the evening progressed on, you constantly found your mind plagued with thoughts that unravelled a potential future with him, one that included the laughter and chaos of children.
Yet, a persistent counterargument resounded in your thoughts, reminding you that neither would be ready, both still traversing the barely begun stages of real adulthood.
The internal conflict tugged at your emotions, creating a fine line between the yearning for a future adorned with parenthood and the sober acknowledgment of the unadorned present. As the dinner gradually transitioned into an intimate gathering with hushed conversations among the group that remained, you politely excused yourself.
Max's arm, once comfortably wrapped around your body, now gracefully descended onto the sofa behind you. With your hand placed flat on his thigh, you leveraged yourself up, slipping out of his gentle grasp.
He let maybe five, ten minutes pass by, granting you some alone time should you have needed it.
But eventually, he placed his beer bottle on to the corner table, crossing the lounge before pushing open and then shutting one of the doors to the apartment balcony.
Lost in thought, your mind had barely registered the sound, your body jolting when his hand pressed into the slight dip of your waist.
You sighed when you recognised the touch a few seconds later, turning your head to meet Max's rather sympathetic eyes.
"Sorry," he quietly apologised. You shook your head, dismissing the need for one. Turning to face him, you wrapped both your arms around his torso, gently resting your head against his chest - a hug he warmly welcomed.
"Want to tell me what's going on in that big brain of yours?" He asked, and you could practically sense the smile creeping onto his lips. He had an uncanny knack for knowing when you needed to unload your thoughts, and his intuition was always eerily accurate. You sighed, feeling his grip on you loosen as you pulled away. Leaning against the railing behind you, Max took one step closer, then another. Pursing your lips, you realised how pathetic this may possibly sound when vocalised. "Just watching you with your sister's kids. It got me thinking, I guess."
Your boyfriend already had a strong inkling as to where this was heading, but he patiently granted you the time and space to elaborate.
He arched an eyebrow. "Thinking about what?"
You lightly shrugged, pressing your bottom lip up to your top. You hesitated for a moment before the next words left your mouth.
"You know, family and stuff. Kids."
Max studied your face for a moment. "Kids, huh?" He said with a knowing smile.
You avoided eye contact, answering with a simple, "I don't know."
He chuckled softly. "Is 'I don't know' code for 'I do know but I'm scared to share my answer' because you think I don't know mine?"
Caught off guard, you silently cursed that eerie sixth sense of his, tensing as you looked up into his eyes. They were light, despite the depth of the topic.
You frowned. "Well, do you.. want children, I mean?"
There was a warmth in his gaze, one that offered you comfort. He looked over your face, his shoulders slumped as if the walls of undiscussed territory had crumbled without much of a fight.
"With you, yeah."
Your frown deepened, but this time, a different emotion flickered in your eyes.
His admission was unexpected, and a pleasant shock washed over you. The corners of your lips twitched as surprise softened into a tender smile. For a moment, your gaze lingered on his face, searching for any sign of jest or hesitation, but you didn't find any.
"If you're ready, then so am I." He added.
And just like that, the hours you spent wrestling with your own thoughts now dissipated into the evening breeze. You held back the surge of emotions within you, searching for the right words.
"Really?" you managed, but not without a quiet sob escaping at the end.
Max chuckled, rolling his eyes as he pulled you into him, embracing you for the second time tonight.
"So fragile," he teased, and you smiled despite the tears streaming down your face.
"Shut up," you retorted, your voice a mixture of laughter and tears.
There was a moment's quiet before your boyfriend spoke. "On second thought, why do I need a baby when I've got one right here?"
It was your turn to roll your eyes now, your voice muffled as you tried to argue.
"Babies cry a lot more."
"Hmm, between you and a newborn? I'd say it's pretty even."
You lightly slapped Max's stomach with your hand; his laughter eventually melting into a warm smile, and he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head.
...
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refined-by-fire · 6 months
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austin city limits | part 1
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pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader
summary: the hottest summer in texas. four months of freedom. your handsome neighbor. what could go wrong?
word count: 8k
contents: (eventual) explicit smut, minors dni, modern au, no outbreak au, tags will be updated as we go - so just be mindful with each new chapter
a/n: omfg I really can't believe I'm doing this. after over a decade of being an active Tumblr user, and a fic author, this is my very first time sharing anything I've created with the world. it's terrifying, as I'm sure every writer can attest to, but after reading so many incredible stories - specifically inside the fandom for The Last of Us - I finally decided to throw caution to the wind, commit myself to finishing at least one chapter (baby steps, alright?), and see where this unplanned adventure will take me. thank u in advance to everyone joining me on this wild ride. I do it for love of Joel.
endless thanks, love and kisses to @scenaaario and @macfrog for the beta! 💞
(gif by @perotovar)
This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.
You had a path, you had a life map— a five year plan that would culminate in your successful achievement of adulthood. You got your Masters degree, you got your boyfriend, you got an apartment in one of those trendy, artsy neighborhoods with coffee shops and boutiques on every corner.
You were good, your life was set.
Until it wasn’t.
Until the shit hit the fan. Suddenly, the internship applications were rejected, the roommates wanted to lease closer to downtown, the so-called man of your dreams decided he “wasn’t ready for a serious relationship” after three fucking years, the landlord smacked you with a $1,500 rent increase because “times are tough I’m just trying to make a living”, and the savings account was quickly dwindling.
Mom and dad were more than happy to offer your childhood room as a refuge— you’re always welcome here sweetie, you know we’d love to have you, right? It’s as long as you want it to be, there’s plenty of work here until you find your feet, no pressure, come home—
As if this offer was meant to sooth you; as if their thinly-veiled enthusiasm for you to move back in didn’t feel like a betrayal of all the hard work you put into leaving that place. The shame stings like bile in the back of your throat, rolls around in your stomach until you think you’ll be physically sick from it. You can’t quiet the white noise inside your head saying you’ve failed. All these years of working yourself into the ground have amounted into nothing. Your roommates did their best to console you in their own halfhearted ways: it’s not your fault the job market sucks right now, it’s not your fault landlords are money hungry scumbags, it’s not your fault that Josh is a giant piece of shit and really fuck Josh because he was never good enough for you anyway we all thought so he was a total loser and you deserve better…blah blah blah.
You hear their words, but nothing sticks. They’re just trying to be kind, but you can’t help hearing what they aren’t saying, what you already know to be true: you’re the common denominator here. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together. As soon as they suggest that going home for a bit might be a smart thing to do (short term of course!), you want to cry.
One night, after too many glasses of wine and your roommate Sasha rubbing your back as you sobbed into the living room rug, you concede that things look bad. You’re nearly broke, you’re jobless, and very soon-to-be homeless.
You don’t really have a choice then, do you?
By the time you booked the one way ticket to Austin, your eyes stung so bitterly from crying that you could just make out the 4 hour and 21 minute flight time between swollen lids. You’d need to put spoons in the freezer for tomorrow if you didn’t want to look like an absolute freak in public.
Heart pounding, stomach rolling and clenching with unease, you texted the details to your parents. Hey guys, I’ll be coming home on the 30th. Booked my flight and everything! I don’t have a lot of stuff coming with so thankfully I’ll only have a few suitcases to lug around. Can’t wait to see you guys <3 hopefully you didn’t paint my room an ugly color lol
Needless to say, they were ecstatic. Absolutely over the fucking moon.
It’s not that you and your parents aren’t close. It’s just…complicated. As you got older, you realized more and more that they didn’t necessarily understand you— your inherent desire to live somewhere that felt alive and important was something of a mystery to them. Your mom had always been supportive, wanted you to be happy and fulfilled even if that took you hundreds of miles away. Your dad on the other hand, not so much. You chalked it up to his being old school: stay close to family, find yourself a practical, steady job that would secure you financially, and keep close to home. He wanted you to be happy, of course, but why did you want to leave so badly? Why couldn’t you be fulfilled there, with them? It was frustrating every time you tried to articulate yourself, explain how it wasn’t them that you found lacking. You just wanted something different, something more for yourself.
After graduating high school, you had agreed to two years at a junior college to earn your AA, but once those credit hours were fulfilled, you applied to every English program on the east coast. UMass Boston was the first to accept you. The six years that followed had been both liberating and isolating. The program had been demanding, your roommates in off-campus housing were nice enough but you never got close. You worked part time at the campus bookstore, but all it did was pass the time.
Then, there was Josh. Tall, lanky, green-eyed music studies Josh. But you can’t think about him right now.
The only upside to this whole mess, was the frenzied pandemonium among the group chat of your high school girlfriends— Maggie, Raquel, and Quinn. Your three ride or die sisters who had befriended the new girl from Florida in ninth grade and never looked back. They had loved and supported you through everything: they threw you a party when you were accepted to UMass, even flew halfway across the country with your parents to watch you walk across a stage and accept your diploma. That had been a year ago, and now you were flying back to them for the foreseeable future.
Through weekend Zoom calls and an endless text thread, all three of them worked overtime to smooth things over. They made sure you didn’t have a shred of doubt that they would make sure your homecoming, unplanned as it was, would be nothing short of an amazing side quest on your journey. They promised girls nights with cheap wine and barbecues and pool days and obviously you’ll come work with us, Quinn had texted one night as you were fitting books between folded jeans and shirts like Tetris blocks. There’s an opening for a part-time barista position and we already told our boss you’d be perfect IF u want it :)
As winter began to loosen its grip on Boston, and spring started to seem possible, April 30th stared mockingly from the calendar across your bedroom. You tried– genuinely tried– to remind yourself that this was a minor setback. Maybe you can just live out of one or two suitcases and spend every waking moment looking for a new place, a job, fucking anything that would keep this ordeal to a bare minimum. You could stomach a little summer break, right? Your parents aren’t strict by any stretch of the imagination, you’ll be reunited with your girls, and between job application submissions and possible shifts at a coffee shop, maybe a couple of months in the sunbaked suburbs of Austin won’t be hell on Earth?
* * *
Your dad is waiting for you at the airport. Trying to keep some semblance of balance lugging three suitcases behind you and frantically trying not to bump into other travelers, you make your way towards him. The arrivals terminal of Austin-Bergstrom International Airport isn't too crowded in the middle of the week, but your dad would be hard to miss even in a crowd of hundreds.
Tall, burly, and holding a sign above his head that reads, “WELCOME HOME BOO!!!!” in various colors of highlighter marker and rainbow streamers taped to the corners. Despite everything, you fight the smile threatening to spread across your face. Boo has been your parent’s nickname for you for as long as you could remember, and they have no qualms about using it in public, despite your constant reminding them that you are twenty-seven years old.
You’re closing in on him, and you can see even from a few yards away that he’s trying to keep it together. You know he’s a big old softy when it comes to you, his little girl no matter how old you get, but it’s hard to remember sometimes when he gets in one of his my-way-or-the-highway moods. His stubborn nature is one of the reasons why you’ve never felt super close to him, and it made moving all the way to Boston that much harder when he’d spent your last weeks at home trying to convince you it was a bad idea. You’ve tried to forgive him over time, tried to tell yourself that he was scared for you in his own way and that he ultimately just wants what’s best for you; even if it’s not exactly the way you need him to show it. Despite all this, you know he would drop everything in a heartbeat to be there for you, just like he is now, dropping the sign he made and pulling you into an all encompassing bear hug, your face smashing into his shirt a little too tightly.
“Oh my baby’s home,” he raggedly exhales into the top of your head.
“Hi, papa.” Wrapping your arms around him, you feel him shaking with unshed tears. You wait for it to pass, allowing him to be in the moment with you. Now that you’re here, you get the feeling he doesn’t want to let you go, like you’ll suddenly change your mind and walk right back through the terminal demanding a seat on the next flight east. You slowly try to pull back, and much to his reluctance, he releases you.
“Flight was okay?”
“It was fine, made it here in one piece.”
“Yup, thank goodness.” Dad reaches for your bags and you try to shoo him away, but it’s useless. He’d carry everything for you if you let him, which you don’t, but he swipes two of the three bulging suitcases from you and he’s ushering you towards the escalators down to the exit.
Even in late april, the knit of your cardigan was almost insufficient against the lingering Boston chill. Here in Austin, that eighty degree heat hits like an oven blast, and any notion of keeping the knitwear on is quickly abandoned as you roughly shove it into your bag.
Your dad skillfully maneuvers you both through to short-term parking, towing two of your suitcases behind him. Three weeks of preparation, sleepless nights and an untold number of breakdowns later, you’re here. You’re actually back in Austin. The whole thing feels absolutely bizarre. It’s surreal in the way that everything around you feels odd. Did you fall through a wormhole? Did you accidentally enter the matrix? Everything moved so damn fast, your carefully laid plans and dreams slipping through your fingers like sand before you even knew it was happening.
The first fourteen years of your life had been spent in Orlando, spoiled by weekend trips to Disney and visits to the Kennedy Space Center; your childhood filled with beach birthdays and pool parties.
Then, in the summer before ninth grade, your parents sat you down and told you they had decided “as a family” to uproot. They said it was better for dad’s business, better for finances, better environment to grow. Dad explained they chose somewhere that was expanding, in need of massive additions to infrastructure. Your dad’s construction company— Dividing Line— was winning bids for all kinds of factories and retail space out west in Texas, and with opportunities starting to dry up in central Florida, he and your mom had settled on Austin.
You felt ambushed. You were confused and upset and didn’t give a shit about infrastructure or construction bids or whatever he was trying to convince you was important— how had this been a family decision when they never even talked to you about the possibility of moving? How was this the best choice for all three of you when it had been completely out of your hands?
You cried and sulked for weeks, begged them through snotty sobs and screams not to take you from the only friends— the only community— you’d ever known. The prospect of starting over again was terrifying.
Looking back now, everything worked out, but at the time it felt incredibly unfair. Austin was a very different culture from Orlando, and you worried, as all new kids do, that you’d be ostracized and mocked for dressing differently or liking anything aside from country music and line dancing. But you actually adjusted really well. You met Raquel and Quinn, then Maggie joined your little group, and suddenly everything was fun again. Maybe you still harbored a tiny chip on your shoulder even all these years later for your parents cutting you out of the conversation to move in the first place, but in the end, you got your three best friends out of it.
Dad still has the same truck, a gigantic Ford, and as he opens the trunk to pile your suitcases inside, you notice it takes him a couple attempts to get enough momentum to swing the first, then the second bag up. It’s unusual enough to catch your attention, and a small twinge ripples through your chest. You think he does look a tad older than when you last saw him. His face is still full and jolly, but his hair and beard are nearly as white as his car, and he hasn’t been walking as hurriedly as he usually does. There’s a weird twist of guilt that comes with these observations— you’ve been gone a long time, and you’ve missed something.
It’s all gone by so fast…maybe too fast.
“What the hell did you bring with you?” He’s shaking out his hands once he manages to fit the bags securely in the trunk. “Good thing you didn’t ship any furniture down.”
“Well the blue bag is full of books,” you shrug.
He just shakes his head, but you can see he’s smiling. “Priorities, huh?”
“Yup."
* * *
The drive home starts out routine enough, dad asks how your flight was and if you were able to wrap everything up at the old apartment with your roommates. “Everything’s taken care of?” His tone has your shoulders bunching up in annoyance immediately— you know what he really means. That’s his way of asking if you’re sticking around, if this is you officially moving back and not just seeking temporary refuge from life’s little hiccups. In nearly every phone call and text exchange you’d had with your dad since telling him you’d come stay in Austin, you had made sure to emphasize how temporary you intend this to be. You made sure to use key phrases like “short-term” and “for now” and “until I get my shit together” so he understood in no uncertain terms that you are not moving back in.
Another thing you and your dad always butt heads about: his selective hearing, especially when it comes to you wanting to spread your wings and take things on under your own steam.
You respond with short but pleasant small talk about the weather, the night out at your neighborhood bar with your roommates as their send off. It’s not until the words come out that you realize none of them had seemed exactly sad to see you go. They hugged you and cheered you on saying you’ll figure things out or don’t worry you’ll be fine, but none of them had said I’ll miss you so much or we’ll text all the time or you’ll be back and I can’t wait or keep us posted on how it goes, okay?
How had you missed that?
After that, dad starts a debrief of sorts, like he’s running down a checklist of everything he thinks you should know before you reintegrate into the neighborhood. You start to tune him out almost automatically, the moments of silence when he expects you to answer drag on and the tension is almost palpable between you when he goes quiet with your lack of reply.
Bypassing the exits for downtown, your parent’s little corner of the world is about a twenty-five minute drive from the city center. As you continue to roll down the highway, he starts up again. “They cleared out the old trailer park,” his sudden interjection makes you jump. You’d been so lost in thought that you hadn’t realized he’d been silent for almost ten minutes. “There’s a nice little green space there now, with a fountain and park benches. Looks really nice.” You finally make a noncommittal sound in the back of your throat.
He takes a right lane exit, and you’re rounding the offramp into the suburbs.
You feel yourself slipping into something vaguely familiar, like wearing an old shirt you haven’t seen in a while. There’s a version of you, a pre-college you who had skateboarded down these streets and had six years worth of memories that you’d put into storage. Unbelievably, as the concrete highway morphs into vegetation and domesticity, it all just looks so…unchanged.
You expect to be overcome with nostalgia— an overwhelming wave of warmth inside as you begin to spot certain landmarks and places you recognize in the back of your mind. It’s as if the whole community has been frozen since the moment you drove away to catch your flight east. You pass by the hardware store, Tires Plus, the Walmart super center, even the ancient ice cream shop you and the girls would visit every Friday after school for $1.50 cones still stands sentinel on the corner— the swirl of vanilla ice cream that crowns the top of the roof just as weather-beaten and chipped as it was in high school. It’s all passing by in a blur behind the tinted glass of your dad’s passenger window.
The feeling doesn’t quite hit. Maybe it’s the growing nervousness that’s pooling in the pit of your stomach, twisting knots inside you at the thought of returning to a place where you’d felt stagnant and trapped. You fear being trapped again. You’re terrified of reverting to that old you who felt small and voiceless. You take a deep calming breath and try to push the spiraling thoughts out of your head. You’ve been here for less than an hour, you can’t fall apart this early into the trip.
Quiet neighborhood lanes with pristine sidewalks and immaculately trimmed lawns give the impression that Ranchwood Grove is a deed restricted community straight out of Norman Rockwell’s dreams. It’s a sweet little place, quaint and cozy with its 70s and 80s style ranch homes, eccentric neighbors with garden gnomes and cheap little flags for the local sports teams. Aside from a few speed tables and a brand new roundabout main entrance, this too, is frozen in time.
“What time does mom get off of work?” You ask as your dad navigates the turns deeper into the grove. Your street is near the back of the neighborhood, on a little cul-de-sac south east of downtown; you had spent countless summer nights with Raquel on your roof, passing a joint or bottle of cheap moscato back and forth watching the skyscraper lights twinkle in the distance.
“About five o’clock. Should take her twenty-or-so minutes with traffic to get home.” Your mom had spent the majority of your formative years at home raising you, but when you moved to Austin, she figured you were old enough that she could afford to get back into the workforce. She’s been with the same company in their HR department since your junior year of high school.
You round the final corner onto the dead end street you once called home, and it all comes rushing back: the daily rides home from school or back from the mall and movie theater. You can’t help but laugh a little despite yourself. It’s like you’re sixteen all over again.
The house, #15, is beautiful as ever thanks to your mom’s weekend gardening sprints. She’d text you pictures every Sunday showing off her latest mini tree from Lowe’s or when she’d refresh the mulch under the bay window in preparation for new seasonal foliage. Always a gloved thumbs up in the left hand corner, always a series of smile, flower, and heart emojis sent in quick succession. Thick aloe plants and desert flowers nestled in amongst bleached pebbles and dirt beds, two old whiskey barrels flanking the front step overflow with wildflowers. The soft gray-blue paint looks freshly touched up (Behr’s ‘French Colony’, recalling how your mom fell in love with the fancy name), and three cherry red Adirondack chairs strategically placed face the road. The whole picture pulls another little smile at the corner of your lips. The three musketeers, that’s what your dad always calls your family unit.
The truck lumbers up the cement driveway, and before your dad can even shift the gear into park, there’s movement at the corner of your eye just outside the passenger window. Turning your head, there’s a figure barreling towards you from the house next door: an amazon of a woman with a mane of ink black hair trailing behind her. You’re opening the door and running before your brain even realizes you’ve unbuckled your seatbelt and opened the door.
A high-pitched squeal greats you as Raquel practically flings herself at you, wrapping her long arms around your waist and literally hoisting you off the ground. “BESTIE!” She screams and rains loud smooching kisses on top of your head. Your heart is pounding, eyes stinging, and your whole body is buzzing with affection. Raquel has lived next door at #14 since before you arrived, and she instantly sought you out the day you moved in and declared you would be best friends for life. Nearly fifteen years later, it was still the case.
“Oh my God, I’m so happy you’re here! I didn’t know your flight got in this early!”
You try to articulate a response while she’s squeezing the life out of you, “I told you the flight time, you didn’t text me back, dingus.”
“Oh, sorry,” she’s not sorry at all, “you know I never look at that thing.”
“For God’s sake,” you mumble once she releases you, a giant grin splitting across her face. You can hear a car door shutting behind you, and turn to see your dad making his way towards the trunk. “Are you working tonight?”
“There’s a private event at the shop, so I have to head in early to set up.”
“Text later, once I’m settled?”
“Yeah, absolutely! Go, go, rest you must be exhausted, I’m just so happy you’re here!” Then she’s sweeping you up again, the best hugger in the world.
“Me too,” you answer automatically and you find that you mean it.
With a wave in your direction, she’s gone again, and you walk back to the car and help your dad unload your suitcases.
The inside of your house hasn’t changed either in the past few years, every stick of furniture and picture frame in the exact same spot you remember from your Thanksgiving and Christmas visits in college. It even smells the same. The dark herringbone floor extends all the way through the living room, open dining area, and back towards the sliding glass doors leading to the yard. The kitchen was updated a few years ago, and the giant flat screen tv mounted to the wall is playing baseball highlights, of course.
Your room sits at the front of the house, with a perfect bay window overlooking the street. Your dad had joked for ages about turning it into a workout room when you moved out, but you knew he would never do such a thing— he’d keep it ready just in case you decided Boston was overrated and came home. Even six years later, he still believed that. Honestly, the room isn’t in too bad of shape. The carpet could use a deep clean, and your parents have painted the walls a washed out light blue, but your old IKEA bookshelves are still here, along with your dresser, queen size bed and sun-bleached posters of Sinéad O’Connor and Stevie Nicks. “Home sweet home,” you mumble under your breath.
Leaning against the doorframe, your dad looks at the space expectantly, “We had to move the treadmill and all those weights I put in here.”
“Ha ha, very funny,” you roll your eyes but laugh against your better judgment when he bellows out an overdramatic chuckle as his own joke.
“Well…if you need any help just holler.”
“Okay, thanks dad.”
“I’m really glad you’re home.”
The warble is back in his voice, that emotional pinch from earlier when he’d hugged you at the airport. That same wave of guilt from earlier crashes over you again, but you put every ounce of sincerity you can muster into a tight-lipped smile as you turn to him, “Me too.”
He taps the wooden frame twice and turns back towards the living room, leaving your door ajar just enough in case you need him.
You let out a long, steadying breath in the quiet of your old room. You had stayed here during the twice yearly holiday visits you could afford during college, but knowing this is it— that there’s no charming pre-war loft apartment or boyfriend or literary agency internship waiting for you nearly two thousand miles away— makes the four walls feel smaller somehow. This little space is the only one in the entire world you have to call yours. Your only safe haven. You wish it was more comforting, but it just makes your chest feel hollow.
Clothes are tackled first, released from the confines of your stuffed suitcases and laid out according to category on your bed: delicates, everyday wear, jeans and shorts, pajamas, and thick winter wear (not that you’ll be reaching for anything in that last pile anytime soon). Once everything is more or less put away, you get as far as emptying the third suitcase of the books you’d brought with you from Boston. You would think someone with a Masters in English Literature would have shipped a hundred boxes full of books, but with the demands of a graduate program and a part time job eating up every minute not spent sleeping, reading for enjoyment wasn’t something you found yourself doing much of the past few years. As a teenager, your bookshelves used to be overflowing with all kinds of material, and now your collection barely fills two and a half shelves.
Packing your luggage like Russian nesting dolls, you open the closet to store them away when a beige lump catches your eye. A bulbous mass of something is hidden beneath an old painter’s tarp. Pulling back to multicolored fabric, a smile breaks across your face. Your old pottery wheel is tucked into the corner of your closet, and either your mom or dad has made sure to keep it at least semi dust free and safe.
The wheel had been a very expensive sixteenth birthday present from your parents after you started taking ceramics in high school. You and Raquel would spend hours every weekend elbow-deep in clay creating all kinds of wonky mugs, cups, and vases for friends and family before bringing them to a local shop to have them painted and fired. You loved how you could just tune everything out and hyper focus on the rhythmic spinning and molding of the clay, how it would squish and bend beneath your fingers into whatever shape you wanted. When you got accepted to UMass, the wheel and all your clay had to stay put in Austin.
Another little piece of yourself that had faded over time, and you hadn’t even realized it.
You’re suddenly so damn tired— crashing down from the anxiety of moving, flying, the emotional turmoil of coming back home— your body’s been stuck in fight or flight, sustained on nothing but caffeine.
The platform bed, with its crisp fluffy sheets and fresh Downy smell instantly seems like the most inviting place in the entire world. Laying down for a couple minutes won’t hurt, right? Just a little break, then maybe you can go out into the living room and watch baseball highlights with your dad. Okay, more like sit next to him and scroll through Instagram while he watches highlights, but still, that counts as bonding time, right?
Closing your eyes against the early afternoon sunshine peeking through the curtains, you slip under the duvet and snuggle into the pillow face-first. A tiny break, that’s all, then you can go back out and…and…
Sleep takes over before you can finish your thought.
* * *
Your eyes flutter open, and there’s your mom— beautiful and glowing like the sun with her tanned skin and blonde curls and smelling like your childhood, that combination of hair spray and patchouli and coconut lotion which shouldn’t go together but it does because it’s her and all you want to do is burrow deeper into that safe nostalgia and go back to sleep. “Hey boo bear, welcome home,” she whispers. She’s knelt down next to your bed, gently rubbing the round of your shoulder.
“Thanks mama,” you mumble drowsily. Your mouth tastes stale, eyelids sticking together from sleep. How long have you been out? Midday naps always feel so disorienting. “How was work?”
“Oh, you know, same shit different day. It was fine.”
You move to get up, mumbling something noncommittal about what’s for dinner and how you have to be sociable, but your mom’s hand firmly keeps you in place.
“No, no, you stay right here and sleep as long as you want. I’ll bring you dinner if you get hungry, you’ve had a long day.”
It’s easy to relent, to fall back against the mattress and will yourself to sink into its soft depths. You must have some sort of look on your face, one your mom doesn’t like, because she immediately tries to reassure you it’s okay to rest.
“Listen, I know this isn’t exactly what you wanted, but I don’t want you to worry, okay? You’re gonna figure this all out and your dad and I will do everything we possibly can to make sure that happens.”
“I just…” your throat tightens around the words. You feel tears starting to well up in the corners of your eyes and you squeeze them hard to stave off crying. “I feel like I failed,” it’s a whispered confession, one you hadn’t shared with your parents because you didn’t think they’d understand, thought they would be offended and take it personally as though you were blaming them for all this.
“No, honey, you didn’t fail. Come here,” she immediately envelopes you in a hug and by some miracle you don’t immediately break down. Your mom sighs, and you can feel her shaking her head against you. “This is just a setback. It’s temporary. Nothing in life is ever simple, or easy, and this is just one of those things that happens. You are the most amazing person in the world and I know for a fact that you didn’t fail anything or anybody, you understand? Just take a deep breath, take some time to refocus, and things will work out exactly how they’re supposed to. They always do, I promise.”
You manage a nod because speaking would inevitably lead to tears. Your mom lays a gentle kiss on the top of your head and says something, but you don’t hear it, your mind is already swimming again with drowsiness. It doesn’t take long for sleep to swallow you whole yet again.
* * *
Turns out, the nap was a bad idea.
It’s well into the night when you wake up again. The house is dark and quiet, your parents asleep long ago. Your stomach is growling fiercely with hunger, so you sneak out into the kitchen. They must have ordered Chinese take out, you find telltale signs in the fridge in the form of white cardboard containers full of chicken lo mein. A minute in the microwave, and you tuck into dinner with the tv on a midnight run of House Hunters International.
Leftovers turn out to be another bad idea.
Less than ten bites in, your stomach suddenly sours. Your mouth fills with saliva, your heart beating too fast and— shit you’re gonna be sick. Running to the sink, you wretch into the basin, throat burning and choking as you turn the faucet on to drown out your gagging.
After a moment, your breathing settles and the nausea abates. You dump the lo mein into the trash and shuffle back into your room. Maybe your body is just too exhausted to function right now, maybe you need to hibernate for a solid twenty-four hours and do a factory reset?
Crawling back under the covers doesn’t help. Tossing and turning for what feels like hours, and no matter how comfortable your sheets or how many times you flip your pillow to the cool side, nothing helps. You’ve grown accustomed to the ambient noises of a busy city at all hours, the constant hum of cars lulling you off to unconsciousness had been a comfort back in Boston. Here, however, the silence of midnight is near deafening. You aren’t used to the groans and rumblings of this house anymore— the metallic knocking sound when the fridge refills the ice tray jolts you in bed more than once. You had been exhausted by the trip, but the front of your skull still throbs with a dull headache and your brain just won’t give it a rest. You pop a Unisom around 1:30 A.M.— what usually knocks you out in twenty minutes winds up taking forty. Fitful half-dreams and endless readjusting keeps you just out of arm’s reach of oblivion until nearly six in the morning.
You can’t settle. Everything feels off.
At some point close to sunrise, you give up and roll out of bed. It’s still too early for either of your parents to be up on a Saturday, so you tiptoe as quietly as possible through to the kitchen straight for the Keurig. Thankfully your parent’s bedroom is all the way on the opposite end of the house, otherwise you might worry the obnoxious spitting noise coming from the machine as the coffee shoots into your mug will wake them. A healthy dose of sugar and milk dye your coffee a light caramel brown, and you take the steaming drink with you outside on the back porch. The backyard is spacious, with plenty of lush green lawn surrounding a sparkling blue pool. You can tell you dad has recently pressure washed the pavers around it. The perimeter fence looks only half done, there are large gaps on the south and left sides where the boards haven’t been nailed up yet.
You can count on one hand the number of times you’ve been awake early enough to catch the sunrise. Today, the misty pre-dawn clouds are cruising south so fast you can see them moving if you stare long enough. Behind them, the sky is starting to brighten into a beautifully pastel, almost romantic blush of pink and lavender.
Tucking yourself into a wicker chair and pulling your too-large shirt over your knees for a little warmth, the dewy silence of the early morning soothes you into a loose-limbed relaxation compared to how uneasy you’d felt inside yesterday. You still have a million things to do— finish unpacking, edit your internship resume for the hundredth time, respond to the influx of invitations to hang out that are currently flooding your inbox—
But for right now, in this moment, all that can wait. The world is still sleeping, and you can afford to steal a few minutes to just bask in solitude.
The coffee is simply divine, caffeinated warmth spreading throughout your entire body instantly, and a contended hum escapes your lips as you tilt your head back and watch the sky clear and sharpen into a pale blue as the sun rises.
You can feel the tension draining from your muscles with every sip, the morning birds chirping, no inconsiderate roommates closing doors too loudly, no horns honking in the alley. It’s all so peaceful—
“Shit.”
The gruff exclamation sends you skyrocketing.
A yelp bursts out of you as you scramble out of the chair so fast you nearly tip the thing over, your coffee sloshing wildly over the rim of your mug and splashing onto your toes. You whip around to find the source of the disturbance is standing only a few yards from you, stock still, through the giant unfinished side of fencing.
He’s tall, you can tell even from this distance that his collarbone would be at your eye level if he were standing toe to toe with you. He’s broad, too, in an appealing sort of way where his dark shirt fits snugly around his chest and arms. He has long sweatpants on with the Texas Raiders logo, the bottom hems rolled up exposing his ankles and bare feet. His one hand is held out in a defensive posture, as if he were about to apologize for scaring you, while he holds a coffee mug in the other. Now that the sun has broken over the horizon, golden rays of light cut across the yard in the space between houses, illuminating the details of his face enough to make out a plush mouth, dark facial hair, and a gently sloping nose.
To your internal mortification, you remember you’re only wearing a white t-shirt three sizes too big, the frayed hem barely skimming the tops of your thighs. You’re unkempt, rolled-out-of-bed shabby ass is pantsless in front of a very random, very handsome, very noticeably shocked stranger.
You’re frozen in place, staring, and so is he.
It must be the breeze that sets your skin prickling, goosebumps spreading all across your neck and shoulders, down your back and arms south towards your legs.
There’s a funny little feeling inside your chest. Not a twinge, but a tightening, like you’re looking at something important but you don’t know why.
Off in the distance, a car’s engine is revved, and the spell breaks.
You seize on this momentary distraction and bolt for the sliding glass door. You hook inside and firmly lock it before sliding against the wall, away from view, away from prying eyes. Your heart’s beating so fast you can see the fabric of your shirt fluttering with each erratic thump.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuck,” you wheeze into your now empty mug.
* * *
Once mom and dad come strolling into the living room a good two hours later, they’re surprised to see you're not only awake, but showered and already deep into another revision of your cover letter. Your dad offers to make breakfast, but you politely decline— you’re not big into eating this early in the morning. Back in Boston, all your graduate classes had been in the first half of the day, and you only had time for a quick run to Starbucks or Einstein Bagels. After four or five years of a jam-packed lecture schedule, your desire for anything breakfast-related was reserved almost exclusively for 11 A.M. brunch on weekends with your roommates (when they remembered to invite you).
You put your headphones on, the universally understood sign meaning I’m busy, and get back to work on refining your qualifications for a position in publishing. Time passes without you taking much notice, the bouncy click of your laptop’s keys creating a rhythm you can zone out to. You’re in the thick of it when a waving gesture catches your periphery. Looking up from the screen, your dad is standing in front of you, hat and sunglasses on. You slide one of the headphones from over your ear, “What’s up?”
“Did you see the fence yesterday, when we pulled in?”
A beat of awkward silence. “No…?”
“The old one was rotting away, wouldn’t have survived another bad storm. I asked a buddy of mine to do it— you remember him right? The young contractor across the street?”
You’re only half listening, distracted by the bright light on your screen and a desire to get back to work. The sooner you get this thing looking perfect, the sooner you can find a job, the sooner you can get out of here and back on track. “Can’t say I do, sorry dad.”
“Come look real quick,” he motions for you to follow as he heads towards the front door, “It’s almost finished, looks real nice and he’s cutting me a deal on the wood since we’re neighbors—”
“I’m—uh—kind of in the middle of something.”
“It’ll take two seconds, please?”
He’s doing that thing again: looking at you expectantly. Hoping you’ll indulge him. He won’t move until you give him the answer he wants to hear. Choose your damn battles, you think to yourself. Just do what he wants. Taking a deep breath, you shut your laptop a little too forcefully and hop up off the couch, “Okay, fine.”
On your way out the door, you grab an old baseball cap off the hook— one of your old ones, you realize— and roughly shove it onto your head.
It’s another hot day. Not even noon and it’s over eighty degrees. The driveway is baking, and you already feel a light sheen of sweat forming on your lower back from a mere ten seconds outside. You hadn’t noticed the fence when you arrived yesterday, but now that your dad’s pointing it out, explaining how this wood is treated better than the last fence against the elements and termites, you see the brand new slats stick out starkly against the deep green of the front lawn. You make sure to nod along and make affirmative noises as dad continues, again mentioning how there’s still a few gaps to fill before it’s finished.
“Who’s building this again?” You bring the front of your cap up to rest on your head, dragging the back of your hand against your forehead to wipe at a droplet of sweat before it runs down your cheek.
“Hey Joel!” Your dad’s voice goes booming across the cul-de-sac like a crack of thunder.
You turn in the direction of his inordinately loud greeting, the sun blinding you for a moment before you shove the brim of your cap back down.
Whoever it is, someone directly across the street from you, your dad is now waving him over. Oh Jesus, really? Great, now he’s coming over, fantastic. You don’t exactly feel like putting on a social facade right now, especially when you have work to get back to. You toe at the ground awkwardly as the figure walks across the street and towards your dad.
“Afternoon.”
It’s gruff, that voice, but not in an unfriendly way. The timber of it is nice, really nice actually, low and relaxed and slightly twangy.
You lift your head just as the neighbor crosses over into the yard, and your whole body locks up in recognition.
Tall, broad, tan muscular arms beneath a snug cotton shirt, rough jeans instead of sweatpants this time. It’s him, it’s the guy from this morning, from the gap in the fence, who saw you without any pants on—
Your dad is shaking his hand, saying something you can’t make out because you’re staring at him again but now it’s in the full light of day and he’s so much closer than he was this morning and—
Oh fuck. He’s even more good looking close up if that’s even possible.
His muscles are obvious, but there’s a slight roundness to him, evident in the soft sliver of tummy that pokes through the bottom hem of his shirt. The tan skin of his neck slopes into broad shoulders. His dark hair isn’t ruffled like you thought when you stared at him from between the fence— it’s curly— delicate little flips and waves frame his face so sweetly.
His nose is a strong feature, elegant in the way it curves. His mustache and patchy beard are sprinkled with salt-white strands that add a kind of ruggedness to the small smile on his very pink, very plush lips. The sun is almost directly above you, which casts a shadow along the generous fan of his lashes. Those eyes— sweet lord— are a rich brown. Like russet, like walnut, something earthy and bottomless. 
“Haven’t had a chance to introduce you yet, this is my daughter. Just got home from Boston. This is Joel Miller, the contractor I told you about. The one who helped me out with the flour processing plant a few years back.”
Your dad is talking faster than your brain can process all the information flooding in. You vaguely remember your mom talking about a job your dad had finished when you were still in school: Euro-Breads or Euro-Bake-something, a giant processing building for dough. The last name Miller sounds familiar, but you’re not sure. Has he always lived here? You think you would remember a neighbor as striking as him, even as a teenager.
Joel says your name, the vowels rolling around in his mouth like he’s testing it, tasting it, and that shouldn’t send a zip of electricity straight through you.
“Nice to finally meet you, your dad talks about you all the time.” He extends his hand out between you, and you accept it without hesitation.
“Nice to meet you, too,” you’re fucking amazed you articulate as well as you do given the circumstances. His hand is much larger than yours— surprisingly warm and dry, long fingers extending to wrap around the delicate skin of your wrist. You squeeze, and he squeezes back. Everything inside you melts.
You force your hand into the back pocket of your shorts. Your palms feel strangely tight and itchy.
“Both our little girls are all grown up, aren’t they?”
Joel has a very direct way of looking at you. Not in a harsh way— his eyes are too soft and round for them to be piercing. But they’re expressive, clear, like he’s seeing right into you. You don’t think you’ve ever had someone look at you as if you’re important. 
“They sure are,” he replies.
Your dad mentions how you’re home for the summer, taking a break from city life until you can find a steady job. Joel doesn’t look away from you, his brown eyes squinting in the sun. The curls at the front of his face and nape of his neck are starting to shine with sweat.
“Well I’m usually around so just knock on my door if you ever need anything.”
The polite thing to do is say thank you, the polite thing to do is smile and say you appreciate the kind gesture. All you can muster is a weak smile and an overenthusiastic nod.
Your dad reaches over and gives you a hug and kiss, breaking you out of the haze. “We’re heading to the hardware store for a couple things. Need anything while I’m out?” It takes you a second to realize he’s speaking to you.
“I’m good, thanks.” It’s a squeak of a reply, but your dad doesn’t seem to notice as he starts towards the car.
“It was nice seeing you again,” Joel’s smile is polite if not a little strained, and before you can reply, he’s off following your dad.
It’s boiling hot out. You’re sweating through your shirt and hat, but you end up standing in the front yard watching them pile into the truck, start the engine, and pull out of the driveway towards town.
Can one get heatstroke this quickly? Your entire brain feels like one giant pile of scrambled eggs. Only a few thoughts buzz through your head over and over again— You have a hot neighbor. When the hell did that happen? And how hadn’t you noticed Joel Miller before?
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scarletttries · 2 months
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Roman Roy x Shiv's Best Friend!Reader Headcanons (Succession Request)
Pairing: Roman Roy x Shiv's Best Friend Reader
Rating: Fluff
Word Count: 1.6k
Request: "Hi! If you’re still writing for succession, can I suggest headcanons for dating Roman while your shiv’s best friend? No pressure of course!!"
Author's Note: Celebrating his win this week, here's some headcanons for Roman Roy falling in love with his sister's best friend 🥰
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- No matter how much time passes, Roman can still vividly remember the first time he saw you. It was a Tuesday afternoon, shrouded in monotony and teenage angst, sat at the dining table closely guarded by a tutor who'd been hired to make sure he got at least a passing grade to finish high school with. Despite being nowhere in sight he could still feel the oppressive judgement of his father breathing down his neck as he struggled to understand the notes laid out in front of him, the frustrations rising inside him and threatening to spill out in tears as his tutor joked that 'this should be easy!' Then the sweet sound of laughter cut through the pressure and the noise, like a windchime chirping out the loveliest tune in the middle of a storm, whipping his head around to find the source.
- It had taken two weeks of pleading and a thorough background check, but Shiv had finally been allowed to have a friend over to the house. You had been her classmate for years, but as you both readied yourselves to head off to the same college next year, you two had grown that much closer, your friendship cemented as you planned parallel lives on that first step into adulthood. Your first time visiting her stately home you found yourself pulling your school blazer more tightly around your shoulders, the echoing fortress sending a chill through you, its classy interior feeling hollow and uneasy. As you drifted through winding corridors Shiv led you into a grand dining hall, throwing her designer bag on one end of the oak table and saying you two could finish your homework here before you go upstairs to her room.
Despite the tutor's protest that Roman needed all the concentration he could muster, Shiv only laughed and set about teasing her brother for his supposed incompetence. Despite only a few months difference in your age, he looked so small to you, younger and more vulnerable, like he hadn't quite stopped being a little boy yet even as he strived to become a man.
"I remember that module from last year - don't feel bad, it took me ages to understand it all. You'll get there." You threw him a soft smile as you pulled your own folders from your bag, earning a scoff from Shiv and a hopeful look from Roman. Your gentle kindness seemed to lift his spirits and take the weight off his shoulders, the rest of his afternoon spent throwing desperate glances your way, mentally pleading for you to stick around and smile his way again.
- You and Shiv only grew closer as you shared a college dorm, more often than not visiting her during the holidays and giving her an ally in the misogynistic environment she called home. Each time you visited, Roman had grown up a little more, transforming from that meek boy to a young man who at least considered himself charming, even if that wasn't exactly what anyone else thought. You always found that no matter how confidently he drifted into the seat next to yours, catching up in easy conversation as old friends do, you couldn't help but still see a flicker of that sad, scared boy you had first met in his eyes, a part of him seeming to never really heal from whatever a childhood spent as a Roy entails.
- You and Shiv had so many milestones passed side by side, so in turn Roman was there to celebrate you with each one. It was hard to tell whether he applauded you or Shiv more loudly as you walked across the graduation stage, and when you landed on the first step of your chosen career ladder, the biggest gift basket you recieved was proudly signed 'Love, Roman.' He was there with a housewarming gift when you got your first apartment, a bouquet of flowers for every birthday, and all the while insisted he'd do the same for any of his old friends.
- His lack of subtlety made it easy for you and Shiv to deduce his true feelings, your best friend slightly disgusted by the thought of anyone dating her little brother, but the softest part of her knew you'd make him happier than anyone else could, two decades of friendship a testament to your positive impact on the lives of those you cared about. And after a few less than successful romances with big city executives who couldn't stop bragging about what they brought to the table, you couldn't help but enjoy the thought of spending more time on the receiving end of Roman's loving gaze.
- And so you put yourself out there, accompanying Shiv into the Waystar building on a Friday afternoon and giving Roman an overwhelming rush when you tapped lightly on the glass door of his office, giving him the same sweet smile you had offered him in consolation all those years ago. The advantage of a glass office was that you could clearly see the way he bolted upright in his chair, running his fingers through his hair as he awkwardly half-jogged to the door and flung it open with more force than he intended.
"Fuck, hey! What are you doing here? Do you need me to help you find Shiv?" He seemed almost out of breath as he spoke, voice wavering in pitch, trying to get a hold of himself.
"Actually I came to see you. I wanted to know if you were free for dinner tonight?"
"Like me, you, Shiv, maybe Ken?" His forehead creased as he spoke, frowning at the uncomfortable flips his stomach was executing in return for your eye contact.
"No, just the two of us? Like a date." You clarified, watching the gears turn in his head as if the request he'd so often fantasized about making didn't actually make sense when uttered aloud. Finally the penny dropped along with his jaw, his eyes growing wide and wild as he nodded in silence, unable to conjure the words he needed for once in his life. Taking pity on him, you spoke again, "Cool, what time do you finish here?" As you gestured to the desk behind him, you seemed to remind him of where he was - in his work place, in plain view, stuttering and tripping over himself for all to see. That wouldn't do.
"Uh - i'm done now. Fuck it, let's get out of here." In a singular moment of courage, Rowan grabbed the jacket he'd discarded over the back of his chair in one hand, and reached for you with the other, letting out an excitable giggle as you laced your fingers through his for the first time.
- After the most comfortable first date you had ever been on, Roman gave you no chance to get bored of him, or think about anyone else. After decades of pining, he decided that one night was enough to make him your boyfriend, quickly planning his whole life around you, and making sure an evening couldn't pass without you on his arm. His heart still hammered in his chest every time he got to touch you, but he tried to ignore that and act as if you had always been together, partly because in his head he had been yours for years, even if you hadn't been his in return yet.
- You both have to endure a lot of jabs and taunts from Shiv, although at least half of them are made with love. She makes a serious affair out of dividing up your time between her and Roman though, not willing to lose her best friend even if her brother is the happiest she's ever seen him.
- For Roman you feel like a comfort blanket at every family event, a physical reminder of the kindness he deserves and that there is someone good in this world that cares about him. When his father is especially vindictive or cruel, Roman clings to you under the table, a gentle squeeze of your hand meaning safety to his fragile inner child.
- Roman has spent so long captivated by you, desperate to be in your favour, soaking in the warmth of presence, that now he can't get enough. Given his lack of meaningful adult relationships he doesn't have a frame of reference for how he should act, or how to manage his emotions. He'll feel like a frantic teenager in love, unable to let go of your hand no matter how difficult it makes navigating a crowd, discussing moving in and plans that span 'forever' after only a few dates. It makes perfect sense for him, because you're the only person that's made him feel this way his entire life, so of course you're going to be together forever.
- Every time you plant a soft peck on Roman, he'll let out a sweet hyena giggle, before repaying you with a matching kiss, euphoric in his newfound appreciation for affection. It's not just physical affection either, although he does find himself clinging to you and begging you to run your fingers through his hair and down his back. He cherishes every sweet word you say, almost to the point that he really believes them. He rereads the texts you send him like they are poetry in themselves. His heart swells when you describe him as your partner and introduce him to your friends, not ashamed of him or your feelings, making Roman stand a little prouder in himself.
- That first moment of kindness that you showed Roman sparked a small light inside him, a flickering hope of a life of kindness and joy that he could only ever picture with you. Now getting to face that reality is so much brighter than that young, stressed, despondent boy could have dreamed.
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hjparisian · 10 months
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make a wish- harry j potter x reader
p: harry j potter x reader (she/her pronouns) w: kinda deep, mainly fluffy, not proof read summary: it's (y/n)'s birthday but it doesn't feel like it. she doesn't want to celebrate it as it is a reminder that she's growing up and is getting older. boyfriend harry (and the rest of her friends) are determined to remind her it's still a special day. a/n: its my birthday today and this is based on my own feelings of getting older. sorry for not actively posting as much, i haven't had much motivation but will hopefully get back soon as i have so much planned out including a harry x reader book for a different platform
It was a special day, and no, not Christmas. It was (Y/N)'s birthday. But to (Y/N), it just felt like any other day. As the years keep going by, her birthday just felt less special. With the end of the school year slowly coming, (Y/N) realized that her youth is slipping away, nearing the stages of adulthood but not feeling prepared.
(Y/N) walked into the Great Hall for breakfast, fellow students wishing her a happy birthday as she walked towards the Gryffindor table where she'd eat with the rest of her friends. She began piling some fruit onto her plate when she saw Hermione and Ron sit down in front of her.
"Happy birthday (Y/N)" the two said to her. "I can't believe you're getting older," Ron points out
"Thank you," she said with a sour smile. "Where's Harry?" She asks wanting to divert from the reminder that she's another year older as well as wondering where her boyfriend is.
"He's still getting ready, he overslept a bit," Hermione told the girl.
Right after she said that, the subject in question rushed over to the group, taking a seat next to the birthday girl.
"Sorry I'm a bit late," Harry told his friends as he piles food on his plate. He looks over to his lovely girlfriend and kisses her cheek. "Happy birthday love!"
"Thank you Harry," (Y/N) says.
"How does it feel to be another year older?" asks Harry. "Are you planning on doing something big today? Fred and George could probably get food over to the common room and we can have a big party for you?"
As interesting as it sounds to (Y/N), she really had no plans. The day no longer felt special now that she's getting closer to adulthood. What was the point of celebrating something that no longer makes her excited?
Losing her appetite from these thoughts, she decided to leave, wanting some alone time. "I think don't wanna do anything. I should go now, I need to grab something from my dorm." She quickly left the hall, leaving her half filled plate behind.
Ron looks at her fading figure, slightly confused. "That's kind of odd," he points out. "Is she okay?"
"I hope so," Hermione says. "But she usually isn't like this. She was so excited last year. I'm worried."
Harry was worried too. He always wanted to ensure the happiness of his lover. He had to find out what was clouding (Y/N)'s mind and try to cheer her up.
"What if we throw her a surprise party?" Ron says. "Everyone likes surprises."
"Not everyone enjoys surprises, Ronald," Hermione huffs out. "It isn't a bad idea though. And like Harry said, we can use the twins help. We can invite her friends to the Gryffindor common room. What do you think Harry?"
"It's not a bad idea. But I want to check on her to see if she's alright," He says.
"Well you're going to have to wait until later. Class is going to start soon," Hermione said.
Unfortunately Harry had to wait til after classes to have a proper chat with (Y/N) since all the classes they had together decided to be busy so there was no time for them to chat. Didn't help that in half of them they don't even sit by each other.
The moment classes ended, Harry went to find (Y/N), dragging her to his dorm.
"Harry where are we going?"
"My dorm."
Harry opens the door to his shared room, closing it behind (Y/N). He drops his stuff beside his bed and goes over to his girlfriend and gives her the biggest hug, which she returns.
"Are you okay love? You don't seem excited today." He hears her sigh, cracking open her true emotions. He brings her to his bed to lay down, wrapping his arms around her as she lays her head on his shoulder.
(Y/N) began to speak."I don't know, its just, its kinda of dumb."
"Whatever you're feeling is not dumb (Y/N)," Harry tells her.
(Y/N) could feel the tears trying to build up in her eyes. "Well my birthday just doesn't feel special anymore, it just feels like another day. I feel like it's just a reminder that I'm almost an adult now and I have to start figuring my life out. Graduation is coming closer and closer and after that, we're all going to go chase our dreams and who knows if we will be in contact. I just wish we were still first years exploring Hogwarts for the first time. I miss being a little kid and having no worries. I'm not ready to get older Harry."
Harry shifts his body to face her, and giving her a kiss on her lips before responding.
"(Y/N), it's okay to feel like this. What you're feeling is completely valid. Growing up is scary, but it means new experiences to try. We still have a lot of time. You don't need to grow up yet and you don't have to have your life situated right now. Sirius told me to live in the present. If we spent too much time worrying about the future we will forget to live in the moment." Harry pauses for a second. "I promise you that we will all still be in contact together. Hermione and Ron could never forget you. I could never forget you. If anything, Ron and I already planned to get houses right next to each other so we will always be together."
Harry leans over and opens his bedside table, pulling out a small box and hands it to (Y/N).
"This is one of your gifts. Open it," Harry tells her.
(Y/N) removes the wrapping and opens up the small box. Inside it was a ring. It was simple, but it was beautiful. She puts it on her ring finger. It was a perfect fit.
"It's a promise ring," said Harry. "To prove that I will always be right by your side. That I promise to love and take care of you even after Hogwarts. I see a future with us (Y/N), and I don't plan on letting go of you."
The tears in (Y/N)'s eyes filled up again, but for a happier reason. She wrapped her arms around Harry's neck and pulled him into a big kiss.
"I love you so much Harry," She tells him. "You're the most amazing person ever."
Harry smiles at her. "I love you too (Y/N). Don't make your self grow up yet. You're perfect just how you are."
(Y/N) smiles back at Harry. The one man who validated her feelings, telling her it's okay to feel what she feels, who comforted her. Birthdays don't have to be a reminder that she's getting old, rather, it should be a day to celebrate life. She doesn't have to force herself to be an adult yet. Will these thoughts continue to plague her head from time to time? Yes, but it will all be okay. She just has to remind herself to live in the moment and enjoy life.
"So," (Y/N) began. "You said this was one of my presents. What about the other?"
"Oh we'll come back right here for it." Harry winks at (Y/N) causing her to blush. "But first, there's something else waiting for you." Harry takes (Y/N)'s hand and brings her out the dorm.
"Gonna need you to close your eyes," Harry tells her.
"Why?"
"Just do it. Please? I promise I won't let you trip and fall."
(Y/N) closed her eyes. Harry held her hand as he guided her down the stairs to the common room.
"Alright, you can open your eyes now love."
As (Y/N) opened her eyes, she sees a bunch of people jumping out from behind furniture.
"SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY (Y/N)!"
The common room was decorated in streamers and confetti. A sign hanged in the middle of one of the walls saying "Happy Birthday (Y/N)!" All of her friends from every house was here, to celebrate her.
Hermione and Ron came up to her and gave her a hug. Fred and George were right behind them with a big cake with candles.
"Make a wish!" The twins said.
(Y/N) thought for a moment. I wish to just enjoy my life with the people I love the most.
She blows out her candles, everyone cheering.
"What did you wish for?!" Someone in the crowd asks.
(Y/N) chuckles before letting her answer slip. "This!"
Fred and George helped pass pieces of the cake around. Harry went closer to (Y/N), placing his arm around her waist and gave her a kiss.
"Happy birthday (Y/N)."
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nikoisme · 3 months
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Alright Achilles and Patroclus headcanons take 2:
-Patroclus is older than Achilles (this is canon but it's fine),, not by much, in my head it's about 2 years;
-They are the same height!
-Before Patroclus killed the boy over dice, they got into a fight and Patroclus ended up breaking his nose. It healed with a slight deformity and he has a bit of problems with breathing through his nose;
-I portray Achilles with amber/hazel-ish eyes,, but i'm so tempted to change them to blue purely because of this:
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-Achilles and Patroclus got along immediately. You know how some kids in kindergarten are best friends and maybe swore a blood oath by the end of the first day? That's them.
-Chiron had to constantly keep them from getting into trouble and getting killed. They were really reckless as kids.
-Patroclus almost never gets sick. Even when he does, it's nothing serious. Achilles on the other hand? He's the first to catch a cold or any sickness. The moment it gets slightly colder he is sick;
-Achilles is an excellent swimmer and can hold his breath underwater longer than average;
-It's not that Achilles is afraid of Patroclus' dogs,, he just avoids them. Doesn't think much about them, but they kind of tolerate each other based on their shared love for Patroclus.
-Achilles and Patroclus kind of have this little.. grudge against each other since they were kids. It started with Achilles tripping Patroclus. Then Patroclus returned it by letting a branch hit Achilles (he didn't hold it for Achilles to pass,, he just let go of it and it smacked him in the face). And that whole "oh you'll fucking see for this" thing extended through adulthood;
-Patroclus' sense of humor I talked about here;
-Also he has a habit of boasting over someone he's killed and just cracking jokes as he kills them, and usually someone of the Achaeans will hear him and go "oh my gods" and just burst into laughter;
-He does that partially because Trojans will obviously be pissed off and rush forward,, but he just wants them to come closer so he can kill them;
-On that topic, Achilles doesn't really know how to joke. He doesn't understand most of the jokes, and frankly doesn't like them. He only understands Patroclus' humor and slowly learned his own as time went on. Also he is shit at recognizing tone of voice (that's why he is on complicated terms with odysseus. never knows if he is fucking with him or not).
-And my interpretation of their relationship here;
-Thetis and Patroclus never interacted much, but she is quite fond of him;
-While Patroclus gets along with pretty much everyone in camp, he isn't afraid to call out anyone's bullshit.
-For example; he gets along just fine with Odysseus (they often talk about dogs :D) but he is willing to get into an argument with him any time.
-On the other hand, Achilles and Odysseus get along great on some days, but on some days they can't stand each other's guts.
-You know how we talk about how Patroclus has to hold Achilles back when he gets mad? I stand by that. But whenever Patroclus gets mad, he has to be held back by several people (that usually being Achilles, Automedon and/or Phoenix). He needs to be given a lot of time to calm down.
-On that topic, Patroclus has so much rage stuffed inside of him. He just chooses to remain calm and collected and find a reasonable solution for things,, but as a result he is a ticking bomb just waiting to explode. He usually takes that rage out on the battlefield.
-Patroclus and Achilles aren't constantly next to each other in battle. They are always ready to rush in and help on other sides of the battlefield, then they get distracted and just fight their way through. But they always somehow spawn next to each other. One will turn around and see the other just fighting next to him out of nowhere.
-Achilles doesn't really mind blood (he literally spills it every day). But he kind of freaks out when he sees his own, whether it's a nose bleed or whatever. On the other hand Patroclus tends to his own wounds by himself like it's nothing.
-Now, they are both formidable warriors on their own. A Trojan soldier will see Achilles and while that's horrible on its own,, he can't help but think where is the other one??? And then he gets killed from behind by Patroclus. They like to ambush soldiers like that.
-Patroclus is the one who listens to Nestor's long stories. Listen, everyone at camp respects the man, but they always find a way to get Patroclus to do the listening instead of them. He takes one for the team.
-Also Achilles gets nosebleeds often.
-Patroclus and Menelaus were really good friends! And after Patroclus was killed, guilt was devouring Menelaus from the inside.
-Antilochus kept a very close eye on Achilles after Patroclus died. He is also one of the first/only people Achilles let into his life after Patroclus.
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kitorin · 5 months
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11:56 pm - 11th of November : s.akito
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contents. shinonome akito x gn!reader, 2.485k words, fluff, no warnings really, rushed, mizuena mention
happy birthday to my love <3 wish i had time for a full fic but it is what it is
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It's the dead of night when Shinonome Akito's night is interrupted.
The sky's pale blue was washed away long ago, by the brooding navy of the night, the sun bid the world farewell and traded places with the moon. Both inside and outside was desolate, with the winter wind's whispers and moths pursuing the weak light of the street lights being exceptions. Not even Ena was awake, for once sleep, due to lassitude's victory.
Typically, Akito refuses to sleep so recklessly, always brushing his teeth before a certain time and avoiding screens half an hour before bed. It was too late for his liking, fatigue rubs at his eyes, urging him to close them and fall into restful slumber.
But today's sort of special.
In twenty minutes (now nineteen) he'll turn seventeen— a mere year away from eighteen. He knows it's a big number, inching closer to graduation and eventually adulthood. He doesn't exactly feel thrilled, nor fearful. There's a sliver of yearning to be a carefree primary schooler again, other than that he felt quite stoic towards the matter.
Yet he still decided on waiting 'til midnight. Just for the sake of it, no rational or particular reason.
Borderline foolish, really. He'll feel a sense of achievement when the clock strikes twelve, then retreat to the blankets of his bed right afterwards.
Two taps sever the silence of the room, abrupt but loud.
Akito immediately looks up from his book to the door, instinctively. But his mother always notifies him with the gentle call of his name (while Ena yells at him instead), and his father simply doesn't bother with knocking. Ena passed out almost instantly when she came home (an hour or two ago), and his parents maintain a healthy sleep schedule.
"Yes?" He says, pushing his chair out of the desk, the wheels quietly rolling against the carpet. When he opens the door, he's met with nobody. A quick scan of the corridor produces no results. There were no footsteps, and no one in his family was immature enough to do knock and run in the dead of night (maybe Ena, but she wouldn't be bothered to sprint away).
Fear approaches him, its cold grip tightening around his chest. Suddenly he regrets watching Youtube videos about gruesome murders and true crime documentaries on Netflix.
With a shaky inhale, Akito prepares himself. He hasn't got the faintest clue from what, but he's ready to throw a front kick if needed.
The knocking happens again, this time a lot louder. Now it's obvious that it's not against wood, and cautiously, he turns to his window.
It's you.
The whole situation makes his heart skip a beat, both because you're perched on the window sill outside, and that he's not alone in his room (well technically, you were still outside).
Concern makes him act quick (especially with the shoulder bag you were wearing whilst precariously hanging onto the window), he opens the window and you're greeted immediately with a scolding when you enter.
"What the hell? Why are you here, this is the second fucking floor— Are you crazy?"
"Happy birthday!"
The ebullience reinforcing your voice catches him off guard, silencing reprimands. You were just saved from a highly likely (and fatal) injury, yet you're smiling as if you're on top of the world.
"Don't ignore me. How are you up here?"
You shrug, unfazed by his worry. "There's a tree."
"I can see that idiot. What you didn't was the things that could've happened. What if you fell down? I could've been asleep and no one would've been able to help you and—" Akito senses himself edging towards a mental breakdown, from the simple thought of something happening to you. Terror strangles him, and his words can't be uttered smoothly.
You seemed to take notice of this panic. "But I didn't fall. I'm okay. I wouldn't've done this if I wasn't confident in my own capabilities."
Unstable, though deep, he breathes in, focusing on how the air enters and exist. There was no need to think about what could've went wrong when the right thing already occurred.
He clears his throat, embarrassed at how emotional he got earlier. "Was a text not enough? Why'd you come here?" You didn't make an attempt to break in at An's house, nor Touya's or Kohane's. Why his specifically?
"Because today's special. It's your birthday." You unzip your bag, but instruct him before taking anything out. "Close your eyes, it's your gift."
He does as he's told, and he listens to your shuffling around the room and your possessions.
Electric guitar floods the room, accompanied by piano in the background. The tune rings a bell in Akito.
An entire stadium of ego, the wintry rationality.
Akito knows this song. Uninterrupted Indigo. Both the lyrics and music were created by Shishishishi (formerly known as Chosauce), there's two original versions of the song, one where the composer himself performed while the other featured Hatsune Miku.
But these vocals weren't the composer's. Nor Miku's
They were Akito's.
Heat permeates his cheeks rapidly, his eyes open without waiting for you to ask him to. He finally grasps input on what you're doing.
His record player is open and placed on his desk. The transparency of the case permitted the moonlight through, its pale complexion revealing the vinyl record slowly rotating in the dark.
Only now he just noticed that it was sort of the record player's birthday too. Precisely a year ago his mother gifted it to him, as his love for music was nurtured the more he spent time performing. Akito had told himself that he'd buy vinyls, but it completely slipped his mind (they were expensive, too). Streaming services were much more tempting anyways, their convenience were unmatched and he could listen to music whenever, wherever.
He only indulges in his own covers to review where he can improve, never for his own enjoyment. What is there to enjoy when it's the very reason why he struggles so much一why he's so unworthy of his dream that no one seems to have faith in.
Akito's about to say something, ready to criticise his vocals.
"I love this song, but I love the way you sing even more. It's my favourite. Anything you create, as well."
Suddenly the harsh things he wanted to say were gone.
He's heard you compliment him before, but each time feels just as magic as the previous.
"Did you know I fall asleep to this? I don't know if that's weird, but it's so comforting, the vocals and lyrics."
His voice, comforting? Being labelled as your favourite was surprising enough, but for his singing it be a source of comfort and joy almost made his jaw drop in disbelief.
Akito's scepticism of your words doesn't go unnoticed by you.
"I know you don't like your singing. And that's fine. But there are plenty of things I didn't like about myself too. Yet I love them now, thanks to you."
He knows what you're referring to, how when you mentioned suffering from self esteem, so he wrote something he found admired about you on a page per day in a notebook, 'til it was full.
"I wanted to do something similar for you too. Though I don't think I'm very good at it, I want you to view yourself the same way I do. Beautiful and perfect, just fine the way you are. Even if people try to accuse you of being any less."
Akito's heart throbs, both with appreciation and desire. Yearning blossoms within him, pining thorns strangle his heart as it frantically races. Teeth dig into his lips, and red pervades his cheeks for a reason other than hearing himself sing.
"If you like it, then it's more than enough for me. It makes me happy beyond words that you enjoy my music." He notices the record's case, a photo of him from when you went camping together, when you spent the night sleeplessly; roasting marshmallows and laughing until you struggled for air.
It's always you. You're the one who does reckless shit for his sake, you climbed up a tree to the second floor just to say happy birthday. You do the things you hate with a passion if it meant the slightest more comfort for him. It's always you who notices when his throat is overworked, or when tears threaten to spill.
It's only you.
The initial grin on your face dissipates, concern growing. "Do you have a fever? You're really red." A hand comes up to his forehead, and he's quite certain it reddened him even more. "You're heating up." Even when you're frowning he can't help but stare.
"And this is why I like you." Akito breathes out. He didn't want to confess, not yet, at least. Yet the words still found their way out, he might as well ensure they're told in the right way. "I can't help but want you more and more with each second. I can't think properly when I think of you, let alone when you're around."
The timing was horrid really, but though he'd much rather look at you in proper lighting, something about the shadowed room and sliver of moonlight highlighting your face is charming. "So then, may I be yours?"
This is what he means when he says he can't think. Look at him, confessing at midnight, on the day of his birthday, too.
"Of course." With a blink of an eye Akito finds himself wrapped in the warmth of your arms. "I like you too, Akito."
The weight on his shoulders which he didn't even noticed was lifted, finally free from his fear of awkward rejection. There's no more fighting his emotions to maintain composure in front of you, no more worrying about you accepting another as yours.
Now, turning seventeen didn't seem so bland.
"Thank you for tonight." He murmurs into your ear. Something inside of him pleads him to kiss you, whether it may be. But the mere thought of planting one on your cheek seemed impossible, let alone meeting his lips with yours. "Thank you for staying safe out there."
"Sorry if I scared you. Sleep now, you must be tired. We have a big day for you planned." And there it is, the cheery grin he'd never get sick of. "There's more to your gift too."
Akito doesn't want to sleep, not when his crush of over a year reciprocates his feelings. Lethargy was nowhere to be seen, right now all he wants is you.
"Mind if I pick up my bag later today? It's a lot easier to climb without it. The rest is just water and snacks I brought just in case, feel free to have 'em." You're already half out the window.
"You can't just like me back then leave."
"What do you suggest then?"
"Stay the night." He'll deal with his father's scolding. He'll answer all his mother's questions and he'll even tolerate Ena's teasing. If it meant you'll stay, that's fine (he doesn't feel alright knowing you're travelling late too). "Your parents are away, I'll deal with mine."
"If you say so then." Akito goes to his closet, where his futon is stored. You pull him away, almost making him fall over.
"We're sharing a bed, please? We did it at An's, why not now?"
But that was as friends, and he barely confessed a few minutes ago. "I'm fine with that." Adores and entertains the idea of it, though he doesn't know what to do. What if he's too cold? Kicks in his sleep? Snores?
You already indulge in his blankets, lifting them up to let him in, he accepts the invitation, and ends up regretting because his face is hot enough already.
You find your arms snaking around his waist. "Is this okay?"
The unfamiliarity of the contact flusters him, but he doesn't hate it. "Yeah, really good." His voice is a breathless whisper, a bit shaky from being so nervous.
"Can I do more?"
He nods.
Your chin is nestled on his shoulder, the sensation of your hair against his neck slightly ticklish. He can smell your breath, the saccharine scent of haichus and the other sweets you adore.
"Good night."
You mumble it back, and for the first time in a while, Akito feels at genuine peace.
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"What are you studying in school?"
You list off your subjects with confidence, subtly hinting at success and awards in them, all while wearing a sweet smile.
"Mum, there's no need to interrogate them." Akito finally swallowed the large bite of pancake he was on, the rest of the dish shining in the dining room's light, soaked in maple syrup.
Mrs Shinonome didn't seem to care. "I need to know the kind of people you're hanging out with, you never bring anyone home. I've been worried that you didn't have any friends." Socially, he was doing fine, Weekend Garage was a much more appealing place to hang out, with the live bar and cafe. "They seem like a great influence. Studying difficult subjects and still doing well, they're well educated. I hope you start rubbing off of them."
"Akito, it's fine, really. She's fun to talk to." It was entertaining to watch her talk about Akito as a child, while Ena poked fun at them. She was sweet, complimenting your skin and marveling at your jewelry, while thanking you for being Akito's friend for so long.
He murmurs in response. "That's only because you saw baby photos of me." There was that too.
"To be honest my impression of you wasn't very nice. It scared me to see someone else in Aki's room." A sip of her tea, Akito's mother rests her chin on her palm. "How did you get inside? You didn't find the spare key or anything, did you?"
"Actually, I cl一"
"I let them in. I asked them sort of last minute. Y'know, waiting until midnight together." Ena watches Akito keenly, eating her pancakes as her gaze remains on him as he speaks.
"Awww, that's so cute." Ena comments with a grin. "So, how long have you been dating?"
Akito scoffs. "We're not dating dumbass."
"Then I guess y/n's holding your hand under the table because it's cold?"
"Ena, shut the fuck up, you haven't told Mum about being in love with Akiyama either."
The sudden change in atmosphere makes you purse your lips, the sight of what seems to be a war exclusively between siblings.
"Language!" Their mother scolds them, but too preoccupied to do it as she flips part of the table cloth up to see better. "You really are holding hands- And Ena who is Akiyama?"
You weren't the only one being interrogated that morning, the siblings exchanged heated words throughout their mother's quest to learn more. But amidst this chaos was you, chuckling in your seat at the ordeal.
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taglist (send ask to be added) : @yuzurins, @pokkomi, @chigirizzz
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© kitorin : do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate
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heartfullofleeches · 2 years
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Yandere Male Naga x GN! Reader
3k words. Warning for light gore.
(An: Please don’t apologize for sending asks. You aren’t invading my inbox, I love each and every message I get no matter how many one person sends. Take care and I hope you enjoy it. ) 
Ever since you were young, you had a love for the slithery inhabitants of earth. Frogs to newts; the more you learned about reptiles and their amphibian family, the more fascinated you became. Now onto the later years of young adulthood, you were studying to become a herpetologist and live out childhood dreams. Unfortunately, outside of school there weren’t many people to talk to about your love of said animals and you had barely any friends outside that department on top of that. With very few choices of ways to make new ones, you opted for the easiest route of searching online.
You browsed various pet forums; most of your interactions being answering questions the curios folk had and commenting on pictures of cute pets. It was a nice way to past the time and you managed to make a couple acquaintances in the process. As much as you enjoyed each individually, none were quite like your longest chat partner.
With on a hike on a natural trail not far from your apartment, you spotted a snake slithering through a nearby creek. It was the beginning of the warmer months of the year, and at the point where they were starting to get more active. Keeping your distance, you snap a quick photo of it before continuing on you way. You honestly forgot about it, until you found it while scrolling through your camera roll the next day. You decide to post it online, just for the hell of it. A few replies thrown your way and you were content. You thought it’d even there – till you received a message in your inbox later that day.
“What a cute little guy. Is his friend as cute as he?~”
Another message comes your way the second you read the first.
“Ha, that was in poor taste of me. Please don’t block me.. I’ve seen you around this site and thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea to send you a message.”
Though a bit of a flirt, you and the stranger got along quite well. You talked about reptiles and the like; most of your conversations ending on snakes, and your studies as well. Overtime, other aspects of life began to blend into your texts. Other interests, how living in your respective areas was, and just life in general. His name is Morgan, from what he claimed; your first real friend in a long while. 
Eventually, you both work up the courage to exchange pictures of each other. It was slightly difficult to see his face clearly, but you could make out the general shadow and his lips quirked in a mischievous grin. “If you think I’m a fake I’ll gladly send more.” He joked. He had deep brown eyes, hints of yellow bordering like off gems in the darkness of his room. Must be some kind of filter – you concluded. You send one back after, met with instant praise. 
“Ah, I knew you’d be stunning. You’re so cute I could just eat you up!” 
Time continues further and you continue speaking. You give him your number; his changing ever so often, buy you never went a day without a response. One night, as you getting ready for bed; you received a frantic message from him.
“Y/n! Are you awake?”
“Yea, I’m still up. Is everything ok?”
“Something attacked one of my cameras just now, but I was able to get the footage from it. Check it out.”
As told, he sends you a clip from a surveillance camera. It was pointed downwards towards a grass covered trail; footage grayscale. Morgan told you he lived near a forest, but this was far beyond than that. It was closer to a jungle; vegetation covered every area and trees dominating the landscape. He put cameras throughout it to capture footage of the wildlife within, and the instances like the one now on your screen.
In the distance, the camera recorded the end of something  slithering off the man-made path and into the trees; just barely catching its shadow. From the lack how far it was, it was hard to make anything out other than it was big. Just the corner of what you saw was nearly the width of a cow. You could vaguely detail a lighter shade of color on its underside, not much else to be seen.
Silence lingers as the footage remains still – then a crack. The tree holding camera topples over, somehow leaving it in tact and pointed at the sky. You hear the sound of something shuffling through the grass, a large shadow looming over view. It’s hard to tell what the thing is as its body coils around itself, you leaning in to try and determine what it is. It suddenly lungs at the camera, the last thing you see before it shuts off being what looks like a pair of fangs longer than any you’d ever seen. 
“What… was that?.”
“I know! I’ve wanted to tell you about it for so long, but I feared you wouldn’t believe me.”
“There’s a legend in my town about a beast in the forest. Larger than any man or animal; ten times stronger than the toughest of either species. Some say it’s even a hybrid of both. I think this is proof it exists!”
You start to believe it’s a prank. “Are you sure?”
“Positive! I wouldn’t bother you with this if I didn’t have more proof to show.”
He sends his proof; all rather damming – or the work of someone who knew their way around scene design.  A closer picture of trail the creature left showed just how massive it was; plowed through the earth like a bulldozer with a girth of around twelve yards. There were pieces of what looked like a snakes shedding shattered through the broken land, big enough for you to wrap yourself in twice over. The most chilling photo was that of the tree, a handprint wedged into the wood topped with thin claw marks. Upon a second look at the video, you swear the jaws holding the fangs seem too human like to be anything but. Hollow and cheeks stretched far beyond possible, but human nonetheless.
“This is crazy! Have you told anyone else about it?”
“I don’t trust a soul but you, my dear. Someone might alert the presses before its time. I need more proof if I want the world to believe me.”
“Is what you have already not enough?”
“The world is full of skeptics, Y/n. You can never have enough evidence! Plus someone might get better stuff than what I have if I wait. I plan on to taking a close up photo of it, but even I know it’s not wise to go alone.”
“Who will you go with?”
“That’s where you come in, love.”
“Me?.. What do you mean?”
“I want you to come! Think about it. You’ll be one of the first people to document a never before seen creature. That’s must mean something in your field.  Regardless of that, the thought alone must be exciting, no?”
You think over his offer, unsure as to what you should say. He did have a point on both accounts. Before you can reply, he sends yet another message.
“Plus… we can finally meet in person. It’s rather embarrassing, but I’ve wanted that for a while now”
“Alright. Alright. I’ll help you.”
“Yay! I look forward to it, my little mouse.” 
“Are you calling that because you plan to use me as bait?”
-
After discussing things further, you get the location of his town and make plans to meet  A quiet place with few towns folk keen on speaking with you..  Unfortunately, Morgan is unable to meet on the night you get in, but he promises to see you soon. As apology, - and because you spoke of it before, he gives you directions to where you’d stay for your visit. An RV on the outskirts of town; key tucked under the welcome mat just for you. A gift from a relative moving out of state – as he told. 
The interior was spacious; kept tidy and sectioned off between bedding and other activities. You knew Morgan had turned the van into a mini research lab, but you hasn’t expected all this much. Tables stacked with notebooks and books on animal behavior; a computer opened with various camera views of the forest beyond. A map was pinned to a board on the wall, thread connects to tacks spread across a makeshift drawing of the woods – detailing the creature’s travel patterns. 
Setting your belongings aside, you suppose he wouldn’t mind if you looked through what he had down. You pick up one of the journals, getting comfortable on the bed before you read. Opening the book at random, you note that some pages had been torn from the spine. 
“Day 1,
It’s my first night out here. The quietness of the forest is pretty relaxing. I tried asking around town to see of anyone could inform me about the stories more with no luck. I’ll head out first thing tomorrow.”
“Day 2,
No luck with my search. When I got back, I noticed tire tracks in the dirt. Not like the van had moved itself, but as if it were pushed to the side. There were strands of black hair by one of the tires. None of us have dark hair.”
“Day 13, 
I finally saw it. At least its tail. From appearance, it seems to be a speckled king snake, but the species isn’t native to the area, nor are they that huge. If I had to guess, it was longer than the van. 
“Day,
I found it’s cave. It was sleeping, so I was able to put a tracker on it, but it woke up. It saw me-"
You close the book, chills running through you. You understood the dangers of coming out here, but this was something else entirely. Who was this “us” he mentioned anyway? You place the book where it came from, focusing the rest of your energy on getting comfortable within the sheets. The trip so far had you pretty tired and you needed your rest. You send Morgan a final message before you shut your eyes  - the distance sound of a photos chime unheard by your ears.
-
You’re awoken by a powerful force slamming against the side of the RV, rattling its walls with you along with it. Startled by the distance, you sit up, looking around for the source. The night still hung high in the sky; the shadow of the moon raining over the window. Upon second glance, the shadow is not that of a celestial being but of a indescribable form pressed against the glass. It drags thin nails along the pale, webbing between its fingers translucent from the light of the moon. You stare in silent terror, mind blank except for trying to process what you just witnessed. It eventually remembers it has a body; you rushing for the door – safety the last thought in your head. 
The monster vanished as quickly as it arrived, leaving you dumbfounded in the doorway. The cold air slaps you in the face, waking you from your trance the creature had over you. You sit at the steps, body trembling from the encounter. Against the voice in your head's demands, you stay put. As terrified as you were, you just had to know more, but you’d have to wait.
-
You climb back in bed, unable to sleep for the rest of the night. By the time morning had crept in, you still hadn’t gotten a response from Morgan. You were starting to get antsy. Leaving without him was the only thing you didn’t want to do, but your patience was run thin. The mystery of the unknown had you completely entangled; a grip that refused to let go.
By the time noon rolled around, you finally gave in and decided to go without him. You carefully unlinked the map from the wall, tracing the thread's lines with a pen. As you gathered things for the journey, oddities began appearing. Some of the journals were written in a different handwriting. Clothes of various sizes tucked in corners. Had your brain not been hopped up on adrenaline, you would have taken the clears signs of warning and ran. Instead, you ignore and hike towards the groove of trees.
The trees block out the sun in an instance, the holes of which it’s ray poke through just barely enough for you to see. Map in hand, you navigate through the thick forest with relative easy. According to the map; marked with bold marker, the beast’s home was directly in the heart of the woods – damn near a straight path from where you were. You come across the tree from in the video, trunk split clean in half. The ration part of your brain makes you dig your heels into the dirt, but the determined part keeps you going.
Time treks on, and so do you – eventually finding the cave where the beast lie. Any warmth in the air was snuffed; dragged in by the abyss of its entrance. Water dampened the earth below like a miniature moat, your foot falling almost ankle deep as you step by. You pull out a flashlight from the bag you had taken; light reflecting on the shine of the cave's walls. Your footsteps echo no matter how quietly you attempt to walk, dread hitting like a hammer with each step.
As you reach the end of the cave, you somehow almost miss the sleeping mass in the corner. Gigantic; wide – blackish-brown scales blending with background of the cave. Yellow scales mixed and hid under the darker ones; leaving it identifiable as a king snake as the journal had foretold. A snake known for its deadly constriction. From the way it was collided around itself, you couldn’t see its face and that was probably for the better. If it woke up now, it had the capabilities to swallow you whole if it didn’t crush you to death first. 
You pull out your phone, snapping a few pictures of the creature while you could. The flashlight helps you get a clearer shot of it, but your phone was too small to catch its full size. You take a couple steps back for a better angle, tripping over an unseen force. It cracks under your heel, causing you to freeze. You had come very little debris in the cave, so you hadn’t bothered to check the further you went. You look down to see what it was, almost dropping your phone and light in the process. 
A human skull rests at your feet; completely stripped of muscle and skin. Its broken jaw lies under your shoe, panic rising up your leg. Looking around the cave, there’s more remains littered about; most by or crushed by the snake’s tail. As you become more aware of your surroundings your other senses kick in; a faint coppery scent masked by the smell of murky water. You needed to get out of here. Fast. You turn your flashlight back on the snake, heart squeezing in your chest as you do so. It was moving.
It had been from the start.
Small, twitching movements that now delved into the unraveling of its body as it stirred. Its upper torso begins to rise, scales declining into human skin the further it rose on its spine. Yellow freckles lined its shoulders, skin ashened. Clawed fingers wipe gore from its mouth as it turns to face you; forked tongue clearing blood from it extended fangs. It’s other arm cradles a broken corpse, bites of flesh torn from its neck and limbs bent an unnatural way. Familiar eyes smile warmly as you, the body collapsing to the floor unharmoniously as it spreads its arms towards you. The irises were thinner now; piercing. 
As if matters could get more terror inducing, it opens its mouth once more. Not to lash out at you, but it greet you with warmth; tongue fluent in human language.
“Y/n! What a surprise to see you, my love~ Had I known you were coming I would’ve cleaned up more.”
It laughs. A deep rumbling cackle that mocks the shocked look on your face. You can’t process it. You had seen the videos and pictures. You felt its presence last night. You had heard his voice before.
“M….morgan?” 
His face melts into a soft expression. “Yes, my beloved? I know this must all be a shock to you, but I assure you I am he.”
He pulls out a phone, the device looking like a child’s tool in his hands.
“The internet is a fantastic place, don’t you agree? I’ve never gotten this much food so quickly in all my years! As wonderful as that is, never did I think that I’d find my mate there as well.”
You shiver as he licks his lips. “Mate?”
“Yes darling.” He’s on you before you even blink, wrapping his tail around you only to keep you still. It’s only when you struggle that his hold tightens; not enough to hurt, but to render you motionless. An act of tough love. His hands snake around your upper body, face pressing against your neck. The slender muscle of his tongue kisses your skin; a cavernous purr leaving his lips as he takes in your scent.
“As you may know, snakes don’t mate for life, but I tend to stick our from the crowd. I’ve longed for another to hold for ages, and you’ve been the only perfect candidate. Such an adorable passion you have for your field of work, and a cute face on top of that. Oh, your scent alone soothes me greatly, my precious mouse.”
Morgan nozzles your cheek, sapping your warmth against his rough skin. Now that he had you, he’d never let go. You manage to wiggle one arm free, attempting to distance yourself much to his disappointment. 
“I’m… flattered, but there’s no way I can stay here. I have a life outside and there’s things I need to-"
He squeezes you to his chest, cutting off your sentence.
“Don’t worry about a thing, Y/n. I’ve done my research, I’ll take such good care of you you’ll never think of another again. I had that van fixed really well for you, did you not like it? Those researchers were so messy, but I made sure they did a good job before they expired.” 
You gulp, not enjoying his choice of words. You’re forced to look up at him; persistence and obsession swirling in his eyes.
“Do you need more? I can get rid of someone in town and you can have a nice home – the whole town if you so wish. Anything for you, so long as you be a good mate and stay by my side.” 
His fingers course up the end of your spine; voice dropping to a whisper. “I’ve even studied human pleasure, if intimacy is what you truly crave.”
2K notes · View notes
hairstevington · 6 months
Text
Daily Drabble, 10/11/23
Prompt: "different first meeting"
(Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington)
Summary: Steve wakes up on his graduation day and he isn't happy about it. Then, he wakes up on his graduation day again, and again, and again....
WC: 2K
Warnings: Time loop, Steve is a Sad Boi, drinking/smoking
A/N: This is far too long to be considered a drabble but I just had to write it once I thought of it. Inspired by a post @spoookysix made that I will link here.
-----------------------------------
Steve woke up on the day of his high school graduation and was already over it.
He’d lost Nancy. He didn’t get into any colleges. Sure, he and Dustin had gotten closer, but it’s not like it made him feel cool to be hanging out with a 13 year old.  He’d stopped hanging out with most of his friends - which he knew was a good thing, but it did mean he was alone a lot of the time, and that was something he wasn’t used to. Girls still liked him, but he was nowhere near top dog anymore. 
Whatever. It was time to graduate and say goodbye to Hawkins High forever. 
He got dressed. Listened to his parents somehow talk about how they were both proud and disappointed in him. Drove to school. Waited in line. Sat in the seats. Listened to the speeches. Walked the stage. Went to a party. Got drunk. There was a sadness to all of it. An emptiness. A loss.
He woke up the next day to a pounding on his door.
“Are you almost ready?” his dad called. “You’re supposed to be at the school in twenty minutes, son.”
Steve looked at the clock, confused, and although he didn’t understand why he had to get up, he did so. He was still half asleep when he put a shirt on and headed downstairs, only to find his parents waiting for him, in the same outfits they’d been wearing the day before.
“Please tell me you won’t be wearing that, honey,” his mom warned through thin lips. 
“Well, if it will be covered by the robe…” his father noted, checking his watch. 
Steve stared at them, confused. He figured it had to have been a dream of sorts, so he just…went along with it. Put on his graduation outfit. Went through the motions of driving to school, waiting in line, sitting in the auditorium. He didn’t go to the party this time - instead, he just went home.
Then, he woke up again. Got dressed. Freaked out when his parents gave him the same speech about the responsibilities of adulthood. Drove to school. Tried to tell someone what was going on, but sounded even crazier. Went to the party. Got drunk. Got so drunk that he passed out somewhere (he was pretty sure he ended up in a bush).
He woke up again in his bed, and that’s when he realized what was going on. 
Oh, shit.
It felt incredibly emasculating to go to a thirteen year old boy for a problem like this, but Steve wasn’t sure who else to turn to.
“Steve!” Dustin said when he opened his front door. “What are you doing here? Isn’t it graduation day?” Steve groaned.
“Dude, that’s the problem,” he explained. “I’ve graduated three times already.”
And so, he told Dustin what was going on, and thankfully, the dipshit believed him. Dustin said that Steve must have been caught in something called a “time loop,” whatever that meant, and theorized that Steve had to learn something or do something a certain way to break out of it.
“So, what do I have to learn or do?” he asked, frantically. Dustin shrugged.
“I dunno. You’ll have to figure that part out.”
Steve sighed. This was a total nightmare.
He lived the loop a few more times. His first attempt and breaking from it was trying to be a  better person - righting his wrongs, basically. He brought people coffee. He gave money to someone asking for it on the street. He cheered at every single name called.
When that didn’t work, he tried to right specific wrongs. He stood up to his parents. He apologized to Jonathan. He had a heart to heart with Nancy. These were huge conversations he’d put off for far too long, and they neither made him feel better nor broke him from the stupid time loop.
So then, he just started having fun with it. He danced across the stage when he got his diploma. He talked to different people at the party every night and listened to their stories. When all the pressure was off him of any consequences, that’s when he started to finally feel less stressed about his situation.
There was only one person left at the party he hadn’t really talked to - this guy everyone called the school Freak - Eddie Munson, who was always somewhere in the background waiting to be summoned for drug deals. Steve found Eddie to be abrasive and a bit intimidating. He figured they’d hate each other, so he never tried to talk to him. 
But this was a time loop, so why the hell not?
“Hey,” Steve said, leaning against the wall where Eddie was. Eddie broke from people-watching as he’d been doing to stare at Steve in confusion.
“Uh…hi??” he responded. Steve laughed.
“I don’t think we’ve officially met. I’m -”
“King Steve, yeah I know who you are,” Eddie replied. Steve raised his eyebrows, then shrugged.
“Not so much a King anymore, but yeah,” he said. “I didn’t see you at graduation today.”
“That’s because I didn’t graduate.”
Steve didn’t understand at first. He thought that he’d had Eddie’s grade level wrong or something, but no. He was pretty sure Eddie had already repeated senior year once, which meant - 
Oh. Oh, shit.
“That blows,” Steve told him. Eddie shrugged.
“Yeah,” he said. “Today is kinda shit.”
“Tell me about it.”
The boys both continued leaning with their backs to the wall and watched everybody else. They were all so…happy and free. 
“What do you have to complain about, Harrington?” Eddie asked, a slight annoyance to his voice. “And why are you over here with me, anyway? You should be with them. That’s where you belong.” Steve shook his head. 
“Nah, I don’t belong there,” he said. “Honestly, I have no idea where I fit in anymore.”
There was another silence as they both wondered where to take the conversation from there. Eventually, Steve left the party and went home, only to wake up in bed again.
He skipped graduation this time and drove to Indianapolis instead. His parents would give him hell, but only if for whatever reason his decision broke the loop.
It didn’t. He woke up in bed, as usual. 
He wasn’t sure why he did it, but he found himself driving to Eddie’s trailer. He knew where he lived - everyone knew he was at the trailer park - and it wasn’t hard to find his specific trailer thanks to the beat up van parked in front of it.
Steve knocked on the door. Eddie opened it a minute later, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips.
“Uhh…hi?” Eddie said, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Steve smirked at the way his greeting hadn’t changed. “Why aren’t you at graduation?”
“Why aren’t you?” he shot back. It was a risky joke, but it paid off. Eddie chuckled.
“Yeah, touché. Come in I guess.” Steve followed Eddie into the trailer. It looked exactly how he’d expected it to look. Tommy had described the place a few times after he’d bought weed from Eddie. “So, can I interest you in any drugs, my liege?”
“I told you, I’m not -” Steve stopped himself, realizing that Eddie wouldn’t have remembered that conversation. Eddie waited with his eyebrows raised. “I don’t think I’m above you or anything, honest to God. At least, not anymore.”
“What changed?” Eddie asked. Steve shrugged.
“Everything.”
It was still slightly awkward between them. It felt almost as if something was being left unsaid. Like Steve was forgetting something, or that Eddie had a secret, too. But he was too out of it to care, really. Steve bought some weed and headed out. 
He then proceeded to go to the quarry and smoke all of it. He was still incredibly stoned by the time he passed out. Waking up in his bed was the most sobering feeling he’d ever experienced.
This time, he didn’t go to graduation, but he still went to the party. And he got drunk - VERY drunk. 
When he woke up, his memories from the night before were fuzzy. He was pretty sure he kissed someone. He also was pretty sure he spilled his guts - metaphorically and literally - but he couldn’t for the life of him remember anything else.
He checked the clock. Good thing none of his actions had any long term consequences, right?
He wasn’t sure why, but this loop he decided to play along. He was a good son. He wore the shirt his mother bought him and he still cheered for every name. 
Then, they got to the H’s. Tommy was grinning as he always did, eager to graduate. He’d still remained both popular and an asshole. He also happened to be right before Steve’s name in the alphabet.
That was another messed up thing about graduation. The order of it all - Hagan, Hargrove, Harrington. Steve had to hear people screaming their heads off over his enemies, and then hear the excitement die down for his own name. 
“Steve Harrington.”
Steve heard the clapping and froze. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t walk the stage.
Then, the clapping was replaced with sounds of confusion. Then laughter. None of which had ever happened before. Steve looked up to find that someone had climbed onto the stage and was now being chased around by faculty. 
Someone with long brown curly hair and tattoos.
Steve couldn’t believe his eyes. Eddie had completely disrupted the ceremony, and now everything was out of control. Students were being rushed off the stage and back to their seats. Eddie was screaming curses and hailing Satan. And then, suddenly, he was making his way toward Steve. His eyes widened as Eddie grabbed Steve by the arm and dragged him out of the auditorium. 
“Dude, what the - what the hell? How did you -? Why-?”
“They’re gaining on us, come on!” Eddie replied, encouraging Steve to run faster. Steve stripped off his robe and ran as fast as his legs would carry him, and then the weirdest thing happened.
He started laughing. He felt free.
He ran with Eddie all the way to the beat-up van parked in the lot, and then he found himself climbing into the passenger seat and cheering when Eddie sped away. 
Steve smiled as he caught his breath, then looked to see Eddie looking exactly the same.
“Eddie, what are you -”
“I’ve been reliving this goddamn shitstorm day for god knows how long,” Eddie confessed. “Do you know how shitty it feels to have to wake up every morning and know that all your friends are graduating without you? Of course you don’t, because you actually graduated. But, you do know how it feels to wake up every day and feel shitty that your life sucks, so…”
“Wait, what?!” Steve responded, aghast. “How did you know that?” Eddie clicked his tongue to his teeth.
“You don’t remember much from last night, huh?” he asked, still driving down the road. “Or, this night I guess.”
Steve thought about it, and like a vision it all came back to him. He was drunk, he stumbled over to Eddie, and he told him - he told him - 
Oh, shit. Steve told Eddie everything. Like, down to the Nancy stuff and the parents stuff and of course the time loop stuff. He might have even let the Upside Down shit slip too. Steve shook his head, still processing all of it.
“So you’re telling me that -”
“I’m stuck in the time loop with you, Big Boy,” Eddie said. “So, I say we have some fun with it.”
It took Steve about five seconds to relax into the idea, but once he did, he was down completely.
“Yeah, okay,” he said. “What do you have in mind?”
Eddie grinned, then floored it until they were speeding through the town that Steve had come to hate. 
Steve fumbled with the hem of his shirt when it occurred to him that he still suspected he’d kissed someone at the party, and he was pretty certain he knew who it was.
He would have asked about it, but he decided to save it for later.
He and Eddie had all day together. They’d get to it eventually.
------------------------
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83 notes · View notes
darthxdaddi · 1 year
Text
Saber Play
AnakinxFem!Reader
This idea has been in my head for a while now and I finally gathered the balls to write about it. Please read warnings, if you feel uncomfortable just keep scrolling. Again, I get straight to the point with this fic as well. No plot, just smut.
UNEDITED so I'm sorry if I made mistakes, please ignore them :,)
Warnings: 18+ (MINORS DNI!), dub-con?? , foul language, inappropriate use of a light saber, slight edging, Dom!Anakin, slight age gap (Anakin is 23 and reader is 19), Master Anakin & Padawan reader (no Ahsoka or Padme, sorry m'ladies!) , humiliation, degrading, pet names, squirting, almost public sex?, praises from Anakin, face fucking, riding, spitting, choking, messy fucking, unprotected sex and cream pie.
You've only been Anakin's Padawan for a year now after your original master was killed during the battle of Geonosis. The council deemed that he was ready to take on the task of finishing your training. You've made googly eyes at him since you two were both Padawans. He never paid mind to it though. After all you were 4 years younger, he thought it was an innocent crush. Which it was at the time, but now you're mind is mature. You are reaching the point of adulthood where you're innocent crush is more like intimate crush. Honestly you didn't get much action, yeah you messed around with other's your age but it wasn't the same. You wanted him. You wanted your master so badly and it was truly unbearable. It was completely forbidden to love or be attached to one, but being in love with you're master was on a whole new level.
It was stupidly hot this day and of course Anakin chose an outdoor training day. He loves to watch you complain and argue to try to get you're point across, he immediately shuts you down and banters on about how he is the master and you are just a padawan. He loves his new sense of power, even if he uses it on small things like this. Before you head out to the training platform you decided to wear a cropped tunic that you made yourself along with your normal pants and utility belt. You knew this would piss him off, that's what you always aimed to do. Being a brat is what you strive for, it really gets Anakin going. You loved the way his jaw clenched when he is pissed at you, the way his brows furrowed in anger.
Arriving at the training spot, you see Anakin staring off into the city only to look back at you in anger, "Little one, what in the maker are you wearing? Haven't I told you a thousand times not to tamper with your clothes?" He said obviously annoyed by your rebellion. You crossed your arms and spoke, "Well master, maybe if you hadn't picked the hottest day to train, I wouldn't have to wear such provocative clothes" you said rolling your eyes, knowing that's what his lecture was about. Anakin sighed and walked closer to you, "Y'know, you've been a real fucking brat lately. Not to mention those lustful thoughts of yours. Do you really think you deserve my sex?" He hissed. Taken aback, you could only open your mouth to speak. Yet know words came out. "Is this your attempt to seduce your master? Wearing such a shirt" he said tugging on the bottom of your barely-there under tunic. "Pathetic, your tits almost hang out of this thing. You look like a slut" he growled. One thing Anakin was good at was humiliating you. He made you feel so insignificant at times, it was actually kind of hot. You're core began to dampen as more degrading words flowed from his mouth. "Now look at you, all turned on and flustered over my cruel words. I can sense you Y/n, you can't even mentally shield yourself from me, so weak and horny for me" he chuckled, his curls began to stick to his forehead due to the heat. He inched closer, making you feel small under his gaze. "Ani, I'm sorry. I really did not intend to-" he cut you off, "You didn't intend to what? Cause me to have this aching boner? Gods I can't stand you right now" he said through his teeth. Anakin released his saber from his belt and glared into your eyes, "And that's master to you, slut" his words stung this time, did he only see you as his Padawan now? Anakin ignited his light saber in front of you.
"Strip" he said bluntly. You scurried to take off you're clothes, even though Anakin would never hurt you. He eyes you up and down, taking in all of your features. Anakin smirked as you look at him, so helpless and under his complete control. He turned his saber off and looked into your eyes, "Like I said before, I don't think you deserve my dick" with that, he ran the cold metal of the saber's hilt down your lower stomach and to your swollen cunt. He rubbed the smooth side of the hilt on your clit, staring into you as he did so. You felt so embarrassed that you closed your eyes, yet you couldn't stop the sweet groans from escaping your throat. Anakin laughed at you and pouted  mimicking your state, "Are you really going to get off to my light saber right now? You truly are pathetic" he scoffed. Anakin immediately stopped and reignited his saber, so close to your navel that you could feel the heat off of it. You were sweating, not only from nervousness, but also from the Coruscant heat. Anakin ran his weapon up and down, close to your skin. This started to excite you, the thrill of your master having so much control over you had your adrenaline pumping. "Be a good girl for me little one, and get on your knees" he said extinguishing his saber once more. You did what was asked of you and dropped to your knees. Anakin pulled down his pants just enough for his dick to show, it sprung out tall and hard as it hit his clothed abdomen. You looked at him with big doe eyes. "Don't act innocent Y/n, I know that you aren't a virgin. You sneak around other's quarters all the time" he said rolling his eyes. Looking at him in shock you said, "That may be true, but honestly I'm not very experienced" you embarrassingly admitted. He chuckled and patted your head, "You'll do just fine. Now open that pretty mouth of yours" Anakin cooed at he held the back of your head, guiding you to his glorious cock. You maintained eye contact with him and took the head of his length in your mouth, suckling on it softly. 'fucks' and groans poured out of his mouth as he pushed your head further down on him, helping you bob it. You placed your hands on his thighs for support as he started thrusting his hips into your face, his finely groomed hairs prickling at your nose. Anakin threw his head back at the sight of his very own padawan getting her face absolutely fucked, "Thats right pretty girl, earn that fucking cock" he grunted out, speeding up his pace. You wouldn't help but gag at his quick thrusts, it was almost too hard to breathe from his impressive girth. You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt him twitch in your mouth. Anakin quickly pulled out of your mouth, "Open up for your master darling~" he cooed at you. You did so, just for him to spit in your mouth and shove your face back into his hips, "Fuck, I'm going to make you mine, pretty little thing" he growled at you, quickening his speed. All you could do was mumble around his suffocating dick. Anakin started getting sloppy with his thrusts as his hot cum filled the back of your throat. You didn't dare spit out what he gave you, instead you swallowed it proudly.
A voice from the hall began echoing towards the two of you. "Let's move this to my quarters hm?" He said in an almost panicked voice. Without thinking Anakin pulled his pants up and took of his cloak off, putting it on you quickly. You picked up your discarded clothes and stuffed them into your arm underneath the sleeve of Anakin's massive cloak. He helped you slip your shoes on as you desperately wrapped the excess cloth around your body. The door swiped open to reveal a confused Obi-Wan, "How was the training- Y/n why do you have Anakin's cloak on?" He questioned with a raised eyebrow. "We were practicing dueling and I got a little carried away... My shirt ripped and I left my cloak in my quarters" you lied straight through your teeth, a bad lie at that. "Oh dear, that is embarrassing young one. Good thing your master is so generous to cover you up hm?" Obi-Wan said with smirk as he looked at Anakin, as he has an idea of what really happened. "Yes well we should get going master, wouldn't want her standing here like this any longer" Anakin said with a fake smile. "Very well, the two of you better rest up. You look exhausted" Obi-Wan said chuckling. Anakin mumbled under his breath as the two of you headed for Anakin's quarters, which wasn't far from yours, "Fuck, he definitely knows something" he said with shut eyes and a sigh. Anakin swiped his room door open, locking it behind him. Though his demeanor changed as he got a better look at you with his cloak on. He was smirking at you, "Y'know, you look so damn adorable with my robes on, so tiny compared to me" he said looking at how his clothing drags to the floor more than usual on you rather than him. "Really?" You said with a smile, giving him a turn. "Really, though I'd love to see you without it on" Anakin stated as he helped you undress completely again. This time he was being sweet, pulling you by the waist to meet his gaze. Anakin placed ticklish kisses on your neck while holding you by the hips. "Anakin undress with me" you flirtatiously said. "I thought I told you it was master, or daddy if you prefer. I think I love the idea of you calling me daddy" he said with a smirk. "Daddy it is" you replied back with confidence. Anakin smiled at you as he pulled away, "Maybe if you ask nicely I'll reveal myself to you, darling" he whispered in your ear this time. This sent chills down you, forming goosebumps at the scandalous words your master had uttered. "Will you please undress for me master?" You said in a tiny voice that was almost too quiet to hear, but Anakin gave in to your cuteness and began stripping down until he was fully naked along with you. The two of you took a moment to embrace the moment, touching each other's naked bodies like it your first times again.
Anakin picked you up by the under of your thighs and back up to his bed, sitting you on his lap as he initiated a heated make out session. He grabbed and played with your ass which was almost enough to make you orgasm, as the slightest touch from him was enough to take you over the edge. You began to grind your hips into his thighs, feeling his hard cock slip in between your folds in the most delicious way. Anakin felt the same way you did as he used your ass as leverage to further grind your hips, the two of you rocked back and forth patheticly, looking into each others eyes and enjoying the moment. Grunts and groans poured lewdly out of your mouths as you sped up your action. Although before you reached your high, Anakin tossed you onto the bed and wasted no time touching your prescious parts, rolling and rubbing your clit between his skilled fingers. "So fucking wet for me little one, so damn good for me" Anakin whined as he proceded to work down your slick, spitting on your pussy. Your masters middle finger entered your hole that was aching for him so badly. You squirmed at his cold touch. His strong gloved hand held your hip to keep you in place as he introduced another finger, immediately pushing on your plush spot. You were thrown into shock by the feeling. Others had fingered you before, but not like Anakin. He was so skilled with his fingers that it made you wonder how many girls he's slept with. "Hey! Why are you worrying about my sex life? It's just me and you in this moment baby, nobody else" he said almost offended by your wondering thoughts. You blushed at his words that made you feel so special. Anakin only cared for you in this moment, something you have always longed for. He snapped you out of your thoughts as he sped up his pumps, applying more pressure to your g-spot. You bit your lip at the familiar feelings, you were about to squirt. You have only done it one other time while fucking yourself stupid to the thought if Anakin, but this time it was him who was about to make you spew. "Thats right sweetheart, let it all out for me" he said keeping his tempo. With that you threw your head back in bliss and let out a broken moan as the build up of your fluids were finally released. Anakin loved this. He loved seeing you so messy for him. He rubbed your clit quickly, sending you into your first euphoric high. Your face twisted in an ugly orgasmic way that he found so hot. "Atta girl!" Anakin chanted at you finished your orgasm, "That is such a good girl" he cooed. Anakin plopped down on the bed, pulling you on top of him. "Now Y/n, be a big girl for me and ride my cock" he smirked at you. "But daddy-" you attempted to speak but your master cut you off. "Princess you want me so bad and you know it. Go on and take what you want so badly" he said stroking your hair sweetly.
You crawled up to his length and aligned it with your dripping parts, sinking onto his thick girth. Anakin groaned as your walls clenched around him, taking in every inch. You slowly rocked your hips back and forth on him, you propped your body against his thighs to give him a better look at your pussy engulfing his dick. Anakin groaned and circled your swollen and sensitive clit with his thumb, encouraging you to grind with his finger's pace. You sped up to match him as the both of you watched as his cock slid in and out if you. "Fuck you look so good around me. Such a slut for this dick" Anakin groaned, pulling you down towards his face to kiss you. You smiled into the kiss, loving the dirty name he deemed as yours. Breaking off this kiss, you attached your lips to his neck, licking the salty residue from the sweat earlier. Anakin had no shame in letting out a few moans as he held your hips up to thrust into your cunt harshly. He wanted to ruin you, make you cum repeatedly for him. Your kisses and licks didn't last long as your mouth hung open, letting out whiney moans in his ear. Your legs began to feel like jelly as he penetrated your poor hole. "Don't stop daddy, oh gods please don't stop" you bellowed out, loud enough for the whole of  Coruscant to hear. The sounds of skin slapping and moans melodically traveled through the room. You bit down on his neck in an attempt to muffle out your moans. Anakin winced at the sharp pain and flipped you over, taking complete control of you. He summoned his light saber from his belt and ignited it like he did earlier, holding so close to your throat you could feel the heat from the weapon. This excited you immensely, feelings so helpless once again. Anakin continued to fuck you hard and fast with the light saber still to your throat, "Don't bite me whore, you aren't mine yet" Anakin hissed at you through his teeth, holding onto your hip with his free hand to control your body. He sped up his movement go an ungodly pace, completely ruining your cunt. You squirmed and whined at the way he fucked you, that's really all you could do. You where speeches. "Im going to cum in that messy hole of yours and make you mine, just as I promised" he growled at you, extinguishing his light saber and tossing it to the side. Anakin then pinned your small hands above your head and used his free hand to choke you. You saw stars, no, fireworks. You were reaching a complete euphoric orgasm like you never felt before, your walls started contracting around Anakin cock which threw him over the edge too. He moved the hand on your throat to your wrists and he buried his face into your neck, releasing his hot load into your cunt with no mercy, "You're mine now little one, all mine" he rasped into your ear.
Here it is! I hope you enjoy this content as it's a little different than I usually write.
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overtrred28 · 5 months
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Stargirl | matildas x original character fic [part two]
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Words; 1.5k
Pairings; matildas team x astrid taylor (OC)
Warnings; none (i don't think)
A/N; second part of this series. the only games i'm fully going off of right now are the tillies games and not for Sydney FC, sort of making them up myself. again please give it some love and i welcome any good feedback. enjoy x
masterlist
Joining Sydney FC was one of the best things Astrid could have done. She was thriving. She knew joining in the middle of the season was going to be tough, especially because all the girls already knew each other, and it was at first but having Cortnee there really helped, and the other girls ensuring a smooth transition for her too.  
Astrid and her parents did argue for a while when she signed because they weren’t so keen on letting their only child live in Sydney alone at 17, but that was the only option with them unable to move from their jobs. Astrid was a little scared at first when they finally agreed she was more than mature enough to do it, but Cortnee was close by and they had developed a sister-like relationship in Matildas camps and now at the club. And it wasn’t long until she was going to be 18 anyway so it was just an early start to adulthood and Astrid loved it. 
It wasn’t long until she was playing her first Women’s A-league game, subbing on in the end of second half as a right forward. During training and practice matches Astrid was known to always score a goal, specifically towards the end. That’s why the coach brought her on when they were still 0-0 and 20 minutes from full time. She had been warming up since the second half started, ready to run on and help the team out. 
Almost 15 minutes passed and their side finally gained more possession of the ball, Cortnee ran with it on the right side, opposing defence closing in on her. She shot the ball straight up to Astrid who was in a lot of free space just further up on the outside of the box. The ball connected with her feet, with players coming closer she went for it, shooting strongly with her left foot, successfully passing by the goalie and sinking it in the back of the net. The crowd roared, Astrid ran directly to Cortnee who was already running to the younger girl. Astrid jumped onto Cortnee, a wide smile plastered on her face as the rest of the team ran and jumped onto the pair. Her first A-league game and goal and she had brought the team ahead to 1-0 with minutes to spare. 
The game has ended here and the score is 1-0 to Sydney FC with the only goal from number 19 Astrid Taylor. First appearance with this club at 17 years old, after joining the CommBank Matildas a few short months ago. I’ll say it now, I think she’s one to watch everyone, she’s got a strong strike and a great passion for the sport.
After that game, Astrid was gaining more and more minutes with the club, not in the starting 11 just yet, but subbing on towards the end and gaining the position of a ‘super-sub’, never failing to give the team a leg up by scoring at least one goal and a few assists per game right at the end. 
Her parents tried to come to as many games as they could, it being easier with her in the same state and especially when they played against Central Coast United. But when they couldn’t see them in person, they got the extended family together to watch at home. They were so proud of her, finally getting some acknowledgement for all the hard work she had put in from a young age. 
The new year started and the Matildas were off to compete in the AFC Women’s Asian Cup, Astrid and Cortnee travelling over together after their recent club match. 
When they arrived Astrid couldn’t have been happier to see the rest of the team after almost 2 months, immediately jumping on Kyra and Charli from behind when she saw them walking towards the tunnel. 
“ASTRID!” Charli squealed once the attacker had let go and they both turned around and brought her into a tight hug. “Oh I missed you.” Charli smiled before letting go, allowing Kyra and Astrid to hug finally. 
“I missed you guys so much. It’s been way too long.” Astrid spoke over Kyra’s shoulder. 
“Good to have the group back together.” Kyra commented as the pair let go, the three of them now walking down the tunnel together, arms wrapped around each other. 
“You know, I think we could beat Cait, Lani and Macca for the best trio on the squad.” Astrid spoke up as they spotted the three players chatting amongst themselves, her comment catching their attention. 
“Excuse me?”  “What?”  “WOW.”
The three of them spoke after one another, Kyra and Charli trying not to laugh beside the youngest player who was about to speak but Mackenzie got the chance first, a small smirk on her face. 
“Now listen here, child-” She began but was interrupted by Tony calling the group over to the pitch for today's training session. 
“Catch ya later.” Astrid smiled before skipping off with Kyra and Charli, arms linked and laughing. Caitlin, Alanna and Mackenzie stood for a second before laughing and following close behind with a shake to the head. 
Throughout this first training session plenty of laughs and jokes were shared within the team, most coming from their youngest player and quite a few being harmlessly thrown at said player. Astrid was building a dynamic with the squad and it was working well for everyone. 
Astrid had been working really hard over the past few days, hoping to maybe make her debut in this camp alongside Cortnee who had yet to make hers too. The pair had been talking up this camp excitingly since it was announced, both having spent a while on the squad but yet to play. 
And that day came for Cortnee. It was their second match in the competition against the Philippines this time and the Matildas were struggling a bit more than their last match a few days ago when they won 18-0 against Indonesia. They reached half time and no goals were made. The starting line up came back after halftime more pumped up than ever. 
6 minutes into half time and Sam had secured them a goal with an assist from Steph; then a Phillipines player made an own goal and gave them another one. Another goal in the net by Emily Van Egmond and they felt even more hopeful about securing the win. At the 71 minute the substitutions for Aus began happening. When Cortnee, Courtney and Holly got called up, Astrid gave them all a clap and a pat on the back, hugging Cortnee a bit more and wishing her luck for her international debut. 
Astrid definitely had the loudest cheer when Cortnee ran on, subbing for Kyah. The final goal by Mary at 87 minutes and then the game was over. A 4-0 victory and a Matildas debut for Cortnee, it was a good game. The Matildas had another game in the group stage, making it to the quarter-finals with a 2-1 win, but again no debut for Astrid. 
The quarter-finals match against South Korea was a tough one, the first goal of the match being made by South Korea in the 87th minute and ending the Matildas journey in the competition with a 0-1 loss. The team were devastated of course, Astrid slightly upset at not making her debut this camp again, but she had only been on the squad a few months so she knew her time would come. 
When Cortnee and Astrid returned to Sydney FC they both trained really hard, especially Astrid. She knew she had something to prove with both her club and national team and the only way to get there was to keep going. In their second match since returning from camp she made the starting line up and Cortnee could not have been more proud, nor could her parents who had been able to come to the game. 
Astrid had played more than 70 minutes and scored the team 2 goals and one assist before she was subbed off, more than happy with her results and to take a rest from her first long game since joining. At the end of the game, which they had won 5-1, Cortnee and Astrid made their way over to the barricade where her parents and Cortnee’s parents and brother had been chatting while they waited for the pair. 
The two families had joined the next day for lunch to celebrate the win and get to know each other a little better. They could see the sisterly bond Astrid and Cortnee had created and Astrid’s parents were happy to see she was being well taken care of since moving out of home. 
The next Matildas camp wasn’t until early April so Astrid had plenty of time to hone in on her skills, gain more minutes with Sydney FC while also adding to her score sheet. By the end of March she had 16 goals, many more assists and even more determination to be on the pitch in the next Matildas camp coming up next week.
to be continued...
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Bakugou’s first love who’s temper and passion matches, no, exceeds his, because you had to fight twice as hard to earn things he was given, had to fight twice as hard to get a seat at a table he was born to. His first love, who’s outcast by hero society for carrying too much anger, for being too rough, too much. 
For being Quirkless.
He never said it was love, but it was. He could feel it, knew you could too. Or at least, he hopes you could. 
So after you disappear, there’s not a single day that goes by where he doesn’t think of you, well into adulthood. Little things like the flowers in the florist shop window that are the exact color of your old car, the way the city glows after a rainstorm.
He thinks it would be easier to forget you, to not have to carry the weight around with him all the time, and he hates himself for thinking it at all. Hates that he feels burdened by your memory instead of thankful he could tell someone exactly where every mole and birthmark sat on your skin, the different colors in your eyes.
It’s that perfect memory that confirms his worst suspicion when history begins to repeat himself, a new group of villains unhappy with society rising from the ashes of the last.
You’re clearly different, but he knows you. Knows the way you move, the tilt to your voice when you’re hiding that you’re wounded.
It’s the first time that his heart is at war with his sense of duty, but he keeps quiet about his suspicion regardless, needing to confirm everything for himself before he spoke up.
It’s a thin line he’s walking, but he assures himself he won’t cross it, no matter what.
And yet, when he finally catches you, unmasked and pinned beneath him, bloody teeth bared, he finds himself lifting enough for you to escape. He wants desperately to give chase, to catch you again, but he knows it’s not so he can bring you in.
It’s that realization that wakes him up, makes him take extended leave so he can track you down. Except he doesn’t have to.
You show up at his apartment one night, covered in shadows near the open window as he comes in, absently listening to Kiri worry about him over the phone. It takes everything in him not to hang up on his friend immediately when he sees you, freezing in place.
He should be angry, should be insulted that you, a wanted villain, had the audacity to show up in his home and silently watch him, but he’s not.
Part of him believes he’s finally lost it, chasing ghosts, so he calls out your name quietly, more of a breath than real words, but he can see the way your body reacts to it immediately, and all he can feel is relief crash around him.
There’s a heavy silence for a while, and then he takes a step forward. You stiffen, and in a blink, you’re gone, the only sign you were real to begin with a note telling him to stay away.
But he doesn’t. And neither do you. He knows you follow him, can feel watchful eyes on him, even if he can’t see you right away.
And then you show up in his apartment once more, clearly ready for a fight in the middle of his kitchen. There’s a glint of a knife in your hand, and he’s careful to move slowly as he sets down his groceries, hands splayed to show you he’s unarmed, as if he couldn’t kill you with one flick of his wrist. He calls out your name again, softly, like he’s talking to a wounded animal, and you can’t help the way your heart begs you to respond, even after so many years.
You shift, hesitate, and he straightens, takes a chance, and takes a step towards you. Your hand twitches, but you don’t raise it, don’t charge him. So he takes another. And then another. And then he’s within striking range, and your eyes are hard, angry in warning, but wide, like you’re lost. 
So he steps closer. And you step back, knife falling from your hand and clattering to the floor. He presses forward until your back hits his kitchen island, and he’s leaning over you, knuckles white with the way they grip the marble. 
You look panicked, fear brewing in your gaze when he raises a hand, eyes squeezing shut so you don’t see the blow coming. 
Instead, he brushes your hair away from your face, and your eyes fly open in surprise, the large pro drinking you in, his eyes flicking over your form. 
“I thought you were dead,” 
His voice is softer than anything you’ve ever heard, rolling over you and bringing back memories long since repressed. He cups your cheek, thumb sliding over your skin as if to make sure you’re real, and you hate how good it feels, how much you’ve missed him, and then his gaze dips lower and he freezes. 
Now that’s he’s able to be close to you, breathe you in, he sees what he’s missed before, hidden under stealth suits and large hoodies. From beneath your top curl ragged scars, curving and licking up along your throat and across your shoulders, more abundant than unmarred skin.
Your breath hitches as his fingers leave your face to trace over the scars on your collarbone, his face filled with anguish. His searching takes him lower, to the collar of your shirt where he pulls away, shaky hands falling to the hem as he begins to lift it slowly. 
Your hands circle his wrist in warning, and he spares you a glance, his pretty eyes filled with silent pleas, and you give in to him, as powerless to him as you were when you were stupid kids believing you were in love. Your fingers fall away from his skin slowly to let him continue, heart hammering as you let the man you came to kill undress you. 
He hesitates, inhaling deeply, steeling himself for what he might see before he tugs the cotton upwards once more. 
His stomach twists in knots as you’re revealed to him, arching scars covering most of your torso, some clearly old, but far too many new, deep, and he can only imagine what you went through to earn such markings across your skin. 
He can hardly find those moles and beauty marks he used to be able to map perfectly, now replaced with thick and jagged lines. He looks tortured, struggling not to let it show, but you see it anyways.
You can’t help the noise that bubbles from your throat when you lift your arms for him, a fresh wound beneath your left breast pulling painfully tight with the movement, and he clenches his jaw at the sound of your whimper, brows drawn low over his eyes. 
When his palm lays flat against your stomach, measuring the expanse of your scars to his hand, the former reaching out far further, you squeeze your eyes shut and tilt your head back. 
You never wanted him to see you like this, and in that very moment, you wished you were dead like he’d assumed, rather than a broken shell of who he used to love. 
He’s silent as his hands wander, their warmth seeping into your skin and settling on your hips, fingers splayed wide. He lets out a shaky huff and you finally peel open your eyes as he drops to his knees, his breath warm over your skin, moments before his mouth presses over your flaws.
He doesn’t miss the way you inhale sharply, hazy eyes focused down at him kneeling at your feet, mouth ghosting across your body. 
He traces a path upwards, his hands keeping you grounded as you arch against him, goosebumps rising in the wake of his ministrations. He deviates from his path only once, to press a feather soft kiss against your newest wound, and you hiss, fingers flying to tangle in his hair. 
It shouldn’t hurt so much, but his mouth feels like a brand, his nose brushing along the underside of your breast, lighting a fire within you that you had assumed died long ago. He murmurs out something you don’t quite catch against your skin before he returns the drag of his mouth between your breasts, up until he’s pressing kisses against your jaw, his forehead bumping against your cheek as he shakes his head. 
He exhales shakily again, and you tilt your head ever so slightly, needing to see him, needing to see the disgust, the pity in his eyes. You need him to give you a reason to push him away, a reason to hate him so neither of you start something you can’t finish. 
But all you see is a quiet fury buried in those crimson eyes, smothered by a emotion you’ve only ever seen in those very eyes the last time you’d seen him. You’re not ready to admit what it is yet, denial flooding you even as your mind supplies the word. 
Love. 
It’s like all the air rushes from your lungs, and you’re sure in that very moment, if it wasn't for his firm grip, that you’d simply crumple under the weight of your realization. 
He draws you back to him, nose bumping yours when one of his hands cups the back of your head, fingers burying themselves in your hair. He opens his mouth and immediately closes it again, breathing in sharply through his nose before he speaks again, eyes shutting. 
“I’m sorry I wasn't there to protect you.” 
And just like that, you can’t resist his pull anymore, closing the distance as the first tear rolls down your cheek. 
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derangederensimp · 1 year
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Jujutsu Kaisen One Shot Kinktober
#3 Mask Kink Choso x Fem Reader
CW: Ghost face Choso, slight angst, fingering, unprotected sex, mating press, possessiveness.
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“Choso I’m bored” you said aloud scrolling on your phone.
“Suppose that would be my problem to take care of then hmm? Seeing that there’s no one else you could possibly want to hangout with. You practically live here and your such a cock block” Choso responded from the kitchen.
“As if your pulling any. I guess a movie and good is the best us lonely friends can do” you said.
“I’m going to go take a shower” Choso said, disappearing into the bathroom.
Sighing to yourself you laid down onto the coach and began to mindlessly scroll through social media. A pattern forming of this one trend- Ghost face mask. A smirk coming to your face as you set your phone down. “Choso! I have something I want to do” you called out into his apartment.
Choso walking out of the bathroom with a towel loosely wrapped around his waist as he dried his hair off with another moving it around his head. “What is it y/n?”
Giggling to yourself you sat up on the couch turning around to face him. You couldn’t help but stare at the way water droplets dripped from his undry hair down his neck to his chest, and lastly down his abs before it got absorbed into the towel. “No free shows perv.” Choso said, throwing the towel from his head at you. Before you could run after him he closed his bedroom door quickly. “Predictable, really.” He chuckled to himself.
A few minutes passing you waited beside the door, it swung open as you kept your eyes on your phone “finally your ready let’s go to the Halloween store I want to do this trend with you-“ you cut yourself off as your stared at Choso crouched to the ground eyelevel to you. His face covered up by the mask “what are you surprised? It’s just a mask.” He said lifting it up to partly show his face. A smirk growing on his face. “Put it back on” you said, bringing it down to cover his face.
After a few attempts you finally got the video just right. Editing the lighting and taking a few photos to use a cover. Once uploaded the both of you sat on the couch, Choso setting the mask down onto the table grabbing the remote. “What are you staring at y/n?” He asked.
You weren’t aware how intently you were looking at him till he mentioned it. Why was your chest fluttering so much out of nowhere. Why did seeing him in a mask turn you on so much and you knew you shouldn’t be feeling this way for your best friend. There sure was a lot of sexual tension between the two of you but it wasn’t something either of you tried to fix. Your face blushing to the question “it’s nothing” you sheeply said, clutching your thighs together.
Choso knew that look all too well, you normally only looked at guys like that when you were into them. You two have gone all these years into adulthood not being into each other but why now was his own heart beating out of his chest to finally have your eyes set on him. Calculating his next move he decided to tease “your looking like you got a crush y/n or what did that mask get you going?”
Crossing your arms you huffed out air “What? No? What I can’t just look at my best friend” you refuted, your face just more so telling the truth. “Come on don’t lie to yourself now. Your looking at me like how you looked at all those asshole dudes that never worked out. Leaving me to pick up the pieces. So tell me y/n do you like me?”
Your eyes widened by his statement, his question completely throwing you off guard. “M-maybe” you sheeply said. A smile growing on his lips, “well maybe I like you too” he said. His body turning to face you, his hand resting below your chin as he pulled your face closer to his lips.
All restraint broke just with one kiss, your bodies moving in sync as he pulled you onto his lap straddling him. His hands exploring down your body as your lips did the same. Starting at his neck and stopping at his chest. You sat back watching him remove his shirt and toss it to the ground, you marveled at his fit body, his pants waistband sat just below his v line giving you room for imagination.
His cock growing underneath you made your cunt even wetter without him even touching you. Choso took your face into his hands again making you look at him. “Do you want to keep going?” He asked, keeping his eyes set on yours. It felt like hours went by before you gave your response “Yes”
He wasted no time grabbing at your shirt and stripping it off of you. He was not surprised to see you wearing one of your fancy lingerie bras knowing that the panties would definitely match but it turned him on more. How often did you wear something like this around him without his knowledge if he had seen it sooner he would’ve ripped it to shreds letting no other man have the chance of seeing it.
“Com’on let’s go to my bed, not ganna fuck you for the first time sloppy” Choso said, grunting when you bit down onto his neck and suckling. He leaned forward grabbing the mask and placing it partly over his head before picking you up, your legs wrapped around his waist while he carried you to his bedroom.
The heat between your legs becoming unbearable with each passing minute. He sent you down on the bed, his body hovering over yours, placing his knee between your thighs and pushing up to be flush to your cunt. Pulling the mask fully down he tested your reaction by moving his knee around, your soft moans you tried desperately to keep in spilled out.
“I can feel how wet you are, going straight through your leggings and onto my pants. Such a naughty girl” he cooed into your ear.
“C-choso, I want more”
“Impatient but I’ll allow it this time” he said.
Hooking his fingers on each side of your hips he yanked down your leggings, slipping them off your legs and tossing them to the floor. “There’s what I wanted to see.. did you dress up all for me y/n?” He teased.
“Ahuh” you moaned out.
“Your so wet, did the mask make you this horny?” He watched your face burn red. “I see, you like this. I’ll keep it on then” he chuckled to himself.
He only partly lifted the mask to kiss your lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth exploring it. His hands fondled your breasts, squeezing them softly to hear your muted moans. His lips traveling down your chin, to your neck, and stopping at your chest. “Take it off” you breathed out. He did as you asked, his mouth taking its spot on your nipple, softly sucking the raised buds. His hands traveling down your stomach to your panties, slipping underneath it he thumbed at your clit making circles.
His cock continuing to grow hard from your moans, a tent in his pants forming. Laying beside you he finally let you get his pants off, his cock springing from his boxers. You couldn’t help but stare at how big he was. Slipping your panties off he climbed on top of you, his cocks tip resting at your entrance. “Ganna let me in?”
Slipping his cock between your lips wetting the tip, his hand stroked at the rest of his length to spread your juices. “Please” you moaned.
Choso pushed your legs back to your chest, his legs resting by your thighs. He aligned his tip with your cunt, slowly going in inch by inch, the position making you feel like he was splitting you in two as you moaned out his name loudly. He started off slow before he began to jackhammer into your cunt. The force knocking the wind out of you leaving you gasping for air. He let you catch a breath before he continued.
“Tell me y/n did they ever fuck you as good as I am” Choso cooed into your ear. Nipping at your nipple with his teeth made you scream out “never”.
“F-fuck Choso” you cried out with each pump of his cock bottoming out inside of you. Your cunt pulsating against his cock made him groan from pleasure. “So fucking tight, w-want me to slow down y/n?”
“No, p-please no keep going” you panted. His hips rutting against your continuously. The sound of your bodies slapping together filled his room as well as your dragged out moans. He was lucky he didn’t have neighbors at the moment if he did there would be a noise complaint. But even so if someone came knocking he wouldn’t stop until you were finished.
“Your pretty pussy is squeezing me so hard, gotta cum y/n?” He nipped at your ear.
All you could do was nod your head, your mind running blank. “You’re mine you got it?” Choso harshly grunted out. Bottoming out once again your cunt seemed to squeeze him even harder like it was responding to his demand.
“Cum y/n, cum on my cock” he groaned. Your legs spasmed underneath his hands that held them in place. The knot in your stomach bursting as you came all over him. He ripped the mask off, leaning his body down and kissing your lips roughly letting you ride out your high. Your chest heaved up and down while Choso pulled out and came all over your breasts.
“Never ganna leave my side” he cooed into your ear kissing your forehead before he plopped down next to you catching his breath.
-
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Kinktober Masterlist
Taglist: @yellooaaa , @immindingmyown , @dovas-world , @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn , @ilovestevelacy2228
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I go back to my roots when I’m stressed. Self indulgent blurb because comprehending growing up is a lot. Pre adulthood anxiety go brrrr
I had Older by Alec Benjamin on loop while I wrote this lmao
warnings: crying, breakdown, stress/anxiety about the future, suggested abuse but nothing explicitly stated
also Sugawara is 19 in this and starting university, reader is a 3rd year in Highschool
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“Hey, Koushi? What was it like? Finally saying goodbye to your childhood?” You asked, sitting at the edge of his bed as he typed away on his computer. 
“It was hard, but exciting. I thankfully had my dad to help me with all this adulting stuff, so, it was scary, and I do sometimes miss my childhood, but growing up isn’t so bad,” he responded earnestly. 
“That doesn’t sound as bad as my extended family makes it sound,” you chuckled lightly. 
The former setter turned around to study your face. “You still worried about it? Getting older?” 
Your eyes fell to your lap. “Yeah.” You forced a laugh. Your boyfriend was a year older than you and was currently talking university courses, but you were finishing your final year of Highschool. Graduating wasn’t the scariest thing to you, you were ready to say goodbye to these school halls. You however, weren’t quite sure how prepared you were for the future, the closer it got to adulthood. You knew your boyfriend was there to support you, but nonetheless it terrified you. And there was one other thing… 
“Oh gosh, does it worry you that much, my love?” You hadn’t realized you were crying until Koushi spoke in a lower, concerned tone. 
He moved to the bed, sitting next to you, bringing his hand to hold the side of your face carefully. He wiped away your tears as they fell. He wished he could do the same with your anxieties. When you didn’t respond, it worried him more. “Darling, what’s wrong? You can talk to me.”
You met his eyes with your teary ones, trying to find the words to describe the mess in your mind. “I just. It feels so sudden. I, I don’t really have much of a childhood to say goodbye to, yknow? I feel so.. robbed. I had to grow up way too fast, I missed out on my childhood and teen years, and now I’m being thrusted into adulthood, clueless of how to do anything.” You explained, voice breaking as you spoke. “How can I miss something I never had?” After that, you couldn’t keep it in, and the sobs that were building in your throat finally escaped.
Koushi’s eyes knitted together, his hand on your cheek moving to the back of your neck, gently pushing you to the crook of his neck. His thumb soothingly stroked your skin. “Oh honey,” he whispered, pressing comforting kisses to your temple. He held you there like that, shushing you softly. You were so precious to him, he treated you like porcelain, not as in weak, but because you’re valuable. You remained there like that, face tucked under his chin, one of his hands on the back of your neck, the other holding you. He waited till your sobs had calmed down to sniffles to speak.
“It’s perfectly understandable to mourn that you never properly got to be a kid, or a teen for that matter. I wish things were better for you, you deserve so much more than this.” He paused to look you in the eyes, so he could convey his words. His heart ached seeing the lost look in your eyes, he wanted nothing more than to take it away and replace it with happiness. Then he got an idea. 
“I know it’s not much, but I know of something that might help, even a little. How about you tell me about the things you wanted to do as a child, or even recently, and we’ll do it. I’ll get you the things your parents didn’t let you have,” he smiled, brushing the hair from your face. “Within reason of course.” He added, trying to lighten the mood. 
Your heart swelled up at his offer, tears beginning to fill your eyes once again because of how kind he was. “But you’re busy with uni, I couldn’t bother you, I’d feel too bad.”
“I’m never too busy for you, darling. Besides,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I love being bothered. You don’t bother me enough. I want to do this for you, I promise. I know I’ll never be able to make up for all the years of your life that you’ll never get back, but you deserve better than this, so I want to do what I can.” 
“You don’t have to, Koushi..” you mumbled, feeling bad. 
“True, but I want to. You’re worth this, love, and so much more.” 
You two spent the rest of the evening cuddling, watching a movie of your. He got you tea before bed, which was set on the nightstand before you snuggled into his bed next to him. You laid your head on his shoulder, and he pulled you closer to him in response. 
“Goodnight my love, tomorrow will be better, I love you,” he whispered before giving you a kiss.
“Goodnight, I love you too.”
The next morning you found a plushie you wanted since you were little sitting on the bed, a card with your name on it resting in front of him. You smiled to yourself, grateful to have someone like Koushi in your life. 
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wiccawrites · 1 year
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Dragon!Porsche, the deity who has been guarding a perilous mountain range for almost a thousand years now. He's bound to these mountains – the result of a curse he placed on himself centuries ago, when his own foolishness led to the death of his own brother.
Porsche keeps to himself; is careful that the occasional caravan of traders or group of bandits doesn't know he's there. He does send his pet tigers after the bandits sometimes, if he sees they're the especially bloodthirsty kind who won't spare innocent lives but he makes sure his presence is undetected.
Solitude is his penance.
He's spending another evening watching the stars when he hears ruckus coming from a nearby pass. There is screaming, but not the terrified kind that Porsche has gotten used to. Instead, it sounds like an argument.
"I can't let you do this!"
"How did you even follow me? I took the fastest stallion here!"
"Would you please stop changing the topic? Your Highness. You seriously cannot be trusting some half-crazed old man's advice on how to save the kingdom."
Kingdom?
Porsche knows there's a human settlement on the other side of these mountains. Or at least, it had been a settlement centuries ago. He and Porchay used to slip into their human forms and visit there, under the guise of travelers.
Was that settlement the same kingdom these two humans were referring to? It could be. The number of traders passing by these mountains had grown significantly over the centuries.
Out of curiosity, Porsche follows the sound of their voices.
"If it can save the kingdom, I'll take advice regardless of who it comes from."
"What if it doesn't work? You'll bleed out and die!"
"I've instructed Arm to distribute rations to our people. Ships and caravans are ready. Pete will lead our men. Kim has already planned an escape route that will guarantee the survival of most of our people."
Porsche is close enough that he can see two figures -- a man and what sounds like a boy barely breaking into adulthood. The man has his back turned to Porsche but the fine quality of his clothes are certainly fit for a royal. His broad frame hides the face of the person he's talking to from Porsche's line of sight.
Porsche is close enough that he can hear the man's voice grow soft.
"It will be difficult, but I trust my brother to lead our people. He'll take care of you, so please look after him for me too."
"No. I won't do it. No. Please, Your Highness. Please don't do this. Please. You can escape with us."
"The moon is almost at it's peak. You should go."
That it is.
The moon is full tonight and she lends her light to the darkness. It's thanks to her that Porsche sees the blade glisten in the man's hands, hidden behind his back.
The boy tries to plead some more, but he runs out of time.
As soon as the moon rises to its highest point in the sky, the man pushes the boy away. He turns around, slices his palm with the dagger and lets his blood drip into the earth before turning the knife towards himself.
The metallic scent blood fills the air and Porsche looks on in regret as he hears familiar words uttered into the night before the man finishes what he'd set out to do.
The thing about being nigh immortal is being able to witness the stories about you turn into tales, which then turn into lore, that somehow evolves into a legend. To this man's credit, he does have his facts right.
Had Porsche been a weaker deity, a selfless blood sacrifice made at the height of the full moon would have bound him.
But Porsche is much more powerful than that.
He watches as the man falls to the ground, a pool of his own blood already beginning to form around him.
"P'Kinn!"
The man's companion rushes to his side and Porsche freezes in place as he sees tears flow down the boy's face.
No. It can't be.
Porsche is stepping closer to get a good look of the boy's face before he can even think about throwing a glamor on himself. He steps on a branch that snaps loud enough for the boy to look up, red-rimmed doe eyes the exact same as they had been nine hundred years ago.
"Please," the boy's voice wavers as he begs, completely oblivious to the fact that Porsche had never been unable to deny him anything since they were born. "Please save him."
Without even thinking about the consequences – the bond he'd be forming with a virtual stranger, the life force that he'd be sharing with someone who he wasn't even sure was worthy saving, the target he'd be placing on all their backs if the wrong people found out – Porsche takes the dagger and gives in to his brother's request.
(Later, when the three of them are safely in Porsche's home, the man he'd saved wakes up. His name is Kinn, and he is the king of the relatively small but prosperous kingdom nearby. There is an invasion brewing and all plans of negotiation have failed.
"They will need to pass through these mountains if they want to get to us. Please, protect us."
"Done."
"You won't ask for anything in return?"
Porsche holds up his hand, shows Kinn the fresh scar on his palm.
"You've already paid the price. You're a king, aren't you? The ritual you performed binds you to me. As I am bound to these mountains, so shall you be."
"You're saying I'm your slave and I can't leave this place," Kinn says grimly. Porsche nods, lets him assume the worst; hopes this interpretation of the bond will keep Kinn as far away from him as possible . "For how long?"
"This is not a bond that can easily break."
"Will you keep protecting the kingdom?"
Porsche sneaks a glance at Kinn's attendant. The boy called Chay, who was currently napping beside one of Porsche's tigers.
"Sure, why not?"
"Then so be it.")
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miko-mik · 1 year
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Burned Flames
Warning: Angst, maybe one shot?, Open for request!
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You were sat on the cough of your apartment, your eyes were puffed and glossy from the crying you had done earlier. Your cheeks still stained with the flood of tears that managed to creep out your eye lids and spill, making you feel weak and vulnerable. You stared down at the screen of your phone, the paused video shown threating to reveal more tears.  
You've always thought of yourself as a closed off person, but when you met Eren however you couldn't help but break down the walls you had built up over the years.
You should have expected that at some point in your relationship this moment would come, this was Eren were talking about. You knew what you were getting into when the relationship first started.
Eren was the Mr. Handsome of your campus and it even followed him to adulthood, girls would practically throw themseleves at you even if they knew that in the end he didn’t care about them. He just wanted to use them like a toy to relive his pleausres whenever he wanted to. 
But you had thought your relationship with Eren was different, just by the way he was always so gentle around you, always being exactly there when you needed  him. Becoming an escape to reality.
He understood your emotions and wasn’t in a constant mood about everything like he was in some of his relationships, he ignored the other girl's with no shame and instead showed you off as more than just his girlfriend, as his family. His one and only desire, at least that's what he told you. 
He even took the time to introduce you to his friends, he’d go out of his way to make time for you even if it meant having to stay up to finish his work later. 
Yet as you stared down at the video of him and some girl sat on his lap, rubbing herself along his leg as if she were a cat in heat, his arms around her waist while she kissed his neck. The cocky grin spread across his face only made your stomach tighten up into knots, you wondered if you had become just one of the many girls who's been lied to and blinded by Eren.
A few hours ago while you were getting ready for bed, deciding not to wait up for Eren since you had a busy day of classes tomorrow. You’d gotten a text from an unknown number, you couldn’t recognize the number from anywhere yet you still opened the message to see to contexts.
Your eyes filled with shock while you stared at the video, you felt as your heart leaped to your throat choking your sobs, your stomach filling with aches. Tears started to build up in the corner of your eye, making you bite down on your lips to try and stop anything from falling down.  
You hadn't noticed things in your relationship being off,nothing in your mind would be a red flag. So why was this happening to you now?
You wished so desperately that you'd never opened the message, then maybe you could have pretend to think that you had a boyfriend who actually loved you. Who wouldn't cheat on you for god knows how long yet still come home and sleep with you between his arms, whispering how much he loved you.
You wondered for a moment if all the times he'd cuddle up with you and whisper how much he loved you, if it was just for him to get over his own guilt. To make himself feel better about being a cheater.
Just as your mind spun from one idea to another you heard the front door start to unlock, making you quickly reach your hands up to your face to try and get rid of the sight of you crying. Even though your red eyes and trembling lips would blow your cover.
You sat at the edge of the couch as you watched as Eren make his way inside the apartment, taking off his shoes and leaving it by the door. He walked closer to you, stopping in his tracks when his eyes came to scan across your face. He took a step forward to try and hold your hand you but you moved back before he could touch you.
"Y/n?". He started, his voice already making you feel nervous and as if you had butterflies poking around in your throat, stopping you from speaking first. "Is something wrong? Your eyes are all red, have you been crying?".
You took in a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment as you tried your best to control your breathing and build up the strength to let your emotions be heard. You stood up straight, balancing your own your feet as you stood in front of him.
"how..long-" you muttered, you voice shaking slightly as you mustered up the courage to lifted you head up and stare at his face. Looking at his features and avoiding eye contact.
"What?" He responded, voice tinted with confusion. You could see the worry in his eyes, and for second you wanted to take back your words. Make up a problem just so that he could hold you tightly against his chest, make you believe that he loved you and only you. But as you stared at him more you knew you wouldn't be able to forget that video, all that popped up when you thought of him was 𝒉𝒆𝒓 marking his neck without any care. We're was this concern for you when he was out with some girl on his lap rubbing up on him.
"how long have you been seeing her Eren!" You repeated, adding some base into your voice. You saw as his eyes widened, he took a step back out of caution.
"What are you talking about Y/n? How long as what been going on?" He asked, narrowing his brows.
"Don't play dumb with me Eren, I saw the video of you and that girl. Her rubbing herself on your lap and kissing your neck, while you did nothing about it! How long has it been going on!" You yelled out, almost drying out your throat as tears started to fall down your cheeks. Staining onto your oversized shirt.
He stayed silent after that, lacking the words to explain his side of the story. He parted his lips to speak only to shut them in an instant, you could see the panic in his eyes. Which made you want to smile a little, you'd gotten your answer.
That Eren Yeager was still the same fuck boy from collage. But you also wanted to break down and cry, how could he cheat on you after all the year the two of you had spent together. After all the people you turned away all because you were too blind to realize that Eren was just going to hurt you in the end rather than give you the life you wanted.
"Wow, I guess this is what it looks like when a cheater runs out of lies" you said with a slight chuckle, sniffing your nose as he continued staring at him. Waiting for him to say something at least.
"I.. promise you that it's not what you think". He stated, only making you groan in annoyance. Apparently there was more stories that he could spin out of his web lies.
He brought his hand up to rub against the back of his neck. "I went to a party a few weeks ago, I got wasted and one thing turned another and we ended up In that position. I don't remember too much from that night but all I can say is that, I didn't sleep with her Y/n".
You weren't fazed by his excuse, only scoffing as a response. You rubbed your sore eyes, letting out a breathy laugh you couldn't believe your ears. How could he continue to lie even after he's already been caught in the act.
"I didn't do it Y/n and you don't have to trust me on this because you have no reason to, but I'm begging you please just don't leave me. Let me try and prove to you that I didn't sleep with her, I'll do whatever just don't leave". He came closer, pushing you up against him, his hands around your shoulders pulling you in more and resting your head on his chest.
You hit his chest until he moved back. "I'm not leaving Eren". You heard a breath of relief leave his lips making your blood boil.
Wiping the tears away from your cheek you built the confidence to stare him in the eyes, staring upon his emerald green eyes.
Watching his pleading eyes, feeling as if time itself had stopped, the option to just forget it all seemed more teasing than ever. All you wanted to do was wake up and be told it was all a nightmare, to be able to melt into his warm arms and breath in his sent just as you had done many times before.
But having to pretend for the rest of your relationship that in the back of your mind you weren't doubting his loyalty, doubting whether she had kissed the very lips you had or if it was all really a misunderstanding was too much to try and find out.
Especially in these walls were all your memories with him had been stored, it's funny how years worth of love can vanish without a second thought.
You spoke again. "You are".
His eyes widened, his mouth falling. His eyes glossed and for the first time in a long time you saw a tear fall down his cheek, he wasn't a crier. Always putting on this strong front, you could have never imagined this is what it would take to see such emotions from him.
"I'm sorry Eren..."
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