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yukidragon · 5 months

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Sunny Day Jack - Drunk Headcanons

First ramble of the new year. Whoo! I was considering what would be fitting, then I wound up thinking about all the drinking that happens at New Years’ parties and figured, why not go with some drunken headcanons?

Content warning: this post contains talk of drinking, negative experiences with drinking, being drunk, and maybe some smut as well.

Talking about drunk headcanons also gives me the excuse to break out the drunk Jack art drawn by the ever awesome Sauce, since it’s very relevant. Credit as always goes to them for their amazing work and for being cool with me using their art in my rambles about the awesome characters they’ve created.

Isn’t Jack such a cute drunk? Funny how he’s only drunk when MC is though… possibly. After all, pictures like these don’t technically count as canon unless they’re in the game or on one of the official Sunny Day Jack pages, which you can find conveniently listed here.

Speaking of, why not consider supporting the SnaccPop Studios Patreon? If you sign up, you’ll get to see all sorts of exclusive pieces of art and sneak peeks at the lore, as well as amazing audio dramas. It’s well worth joining, in my humble opinion. Just remember to please not share anything privately posted on the patreon. Reposting paid content only hurts the team.

Anyway, back to the topic of drunk Jack, and specifically the teaser art by Sauce that may or may not be canon still.

I’ve talked about this picture before, particularly what it suggests for Jack’s powers, how it probably means he can be influenced by MC’s hormones, and how much he might be affected by MC’s state of being and vice-versa. To summarize, I believe that Jack and MC can sense how the other is feeling, both physically and emotionally, but it’s not quite as strong as the other is experiencing it, and it can be blocked out or minimized. I’ve alluded to it in Sunshine in Hell, as well as some of my short stories, especially the one where Alice is in a lot of pain.

So, as this picture suggests, if MC gets drunk, Jack does too. It makes me wonder though if he broke character and drank alcohol, he could be the one to get both of them drunk instead? The possibilities of these implications, canon to the game or not, are quite intriguing.

Of course, we can’t talk about drunk headcanons without considering what kind of drunk Jack and the rest of the crew might be. As they say, drunk words are sober thoughts, and alcohol does lower inhibitions…

Naturally, it’s kind of dangerous for a yandere character to be drunk. Self-control would be lessened, if not thrown out the window entirely if he’s totally hammered. I think Jack would be a clingy sort of drunk, hanging off his sunshine, shamelessly needing their warmth and reassurance that they love him and need him just as badly. He’s also a possessive and protective drunk, not wanting anyone else near MC. He’d probably insist on carrying them around everywhere even while he’s stumbling, though it’d take one near fall for him to decide that sitting with them in his lap is the better option. He needs to keep them safe, keep them close.

If you think Jack can be clingy normally, he is like glue when drunk, or at least I think so. Even if he was dutifully staying home like MC wanted them, once the drinks hit him through their connection, he’s got to be with them, no matter where they are. Suddenly there’s a clown in the club or party checking to see if they’re okay and wanting to take them home, hanging off them like a big warm blanket while trying to convince them to go and keep them safe from anyone that might take advantage of them.

Once agreeing to leave, Jack would probably forget about any implications or issues that might arise from carrying MC in a crowd of people. Hopefully no one is sober enough to film anything that might complicate things when he’s whisking MC away off into the night. He’s certainly not in any state to really consider consequences.

Well, maybe if they’re lucky any such videos would be assumed to be hoaxes. There’s certainly no shortage of fake “ghost” videos online. Maybe Shaun could use it to promote an upcoming movie…

Of course, if the relationship between MC and Jack is rocky, his desperation is cranked up while drunk. He needs them so, so badly.

Worse, if MC is getting physical with someone else, showing them love instead of him… Jack might not be able to hold back his yandere impulses to make sure that no one steals his sunshine away. He’d certainly have a lot of work to do once sober to convince his sunshine that he was just protecting them from being taken advantage of while drunk, especially if things escalated to outright violence. The level of intoxication, and the intensity of the moment would likely decide how far things might spiral.

Of course, you know me and how much of a sucker I am for my OTP being happy, so let’s swing back around to the fluffier extreme. If MC and Jack are in a relationship, that’s when Jack is drunkenly telling them how much he loves them, and that they should just go home together. There’s not even a token resistance to hold back his true feelings for them. He’s already got them whisked up in his arms, kissing and murmuring sweet words of love. MC is going to have a pretty hard time talking Jack into letting them stay, especially when they’d be more drunk than he is.

Naturally, the type of drunk MC becomes would affect things. Since there are way too many variables there, let’s use that as a segue to how my MC Alice is like when drunk. She’s not the biggest fan of alcohol, disliking beer, and only drinking sweet flavored mixed drinks socially before the breakup with Ian. Even then, it was rare that she got drunk at all.

After the breakup, the idea of drinking scares Alice, especially to the point of being drunk. She almost died after all. As such, the only way she’s getting sloshed in the present day is if she’s unaware that what she’s consuming has alcohol in it until it’s too late.

It’s kind of a shame, as Alice is a giggly, affectionate drunk. She stops caring about people around them and just wants to cling to her partner, giggling between kisses, occasionally gnawing on them or licking them playfully and saying silly things. Ian got quite embarrassed by how overly affectionate she was the few times she got tipsy when they were out with friends, though he certainly enjoyed the attention.

Needless to say, when Alice got drunk after finding out Ian cheated, she was anything but giggly or affectionate. Though the less said about that the better for now. Let’s keep this to fun headcanons, shall we?

Alice is also affectionate to her friends when drunk, telling them that she loves them, giving big hugs and saying what she loves about them. It was very hard on Shaun’s heart the one time he was around when Alice was drunk. She glomped onto him and told him she loved him soooooooooooo much while giggling happily~!

Of course, it was cut into by Ian crying because he was also drunk and thus more sensitive to things, so Alice went over to reassure him that she loved him mostest of all. It was a hard night for Shaun to be the sober driver.

Jack would sadly not get to experience this side of Alice. At least, not under normal circumstances. Knowing she doesn’t drink and isn’t comfortable even drinking a little bit, the moment he felt her get drunk, his protective instincts would kick into overdrive. What if someone spiked her drink? What if they had awful intentions? Even if he found out it was an innocent mistake, probably even a mixup, he would still be very concerned about her.

Well… until Alice latches onto Jack, squeezing him tight in a big hug as she tells him that she loves him. Oh how his heart would feel ready to burst, especially if they’re not together yet at the time. He longed to hear those words from her for so long… it’s just a shame that she’s saying them while drunk. Still, you better believe that his tipsy butt is going to tell her he loves her too. That would send Alice into a fit of happy giggles as she snuggles into his chest, since, let’s face it, her guilty impulses are on full display and his chest has always felt so nice and soft to cuddle.

Jack would be struggling to hold himself back and retain some sense of sobriety, to not ruin things, but it’s so hard when Alice is being so affectionate with him. Yet, he worries that her love for him isn’t the same as the love he feels for her. This is especially true if she was hugging and loving on other friends when he showed up.

Of course, even while drunk, Alice wouldn’t be open to physical contact with just anybody, only those she trusts. Being touched by someone she doesn’t know/trust would result in her fleeing to her nearest trusted friend/loved one to hide behind them, maybe even insisting they protect herrrr, and telling the person who tried to touch her to go away! Shoo! Shoo!

Naturally, if Alice was drunk while she and Jack were a couple, it would be a very strange sight for anyone else there to see her cuddling up to thin air, kissing, licking, gnawing, etc. It’d be even more outrageous to see her scooped up into the air! Hopefully Shaun isn’t there to see it and have his heart broken further. Though if he was around while Alice was drunk, and he was still sober, he would be getting her to drink water and getting her out of there since he knows she doesn’t want to drink alcohol anymore. So he’d be stepping in to help her out until Jack swooped in to steal Alice away from him… again.

Speaking of Shaun, he strikes me as a giggly drunk as well. Though he turns it more into a performance. He’s talking about stories he knows to anyone who will listen. Or anyone who is not listening, since he’d be drunk off his butt. I’m talking grand gestures, booming voice, passion thrown into it as he cries over touching moments in a movie he saw, or what he was directing. Oh, his actors killed it in the beach scene! He’ll tell you all about it, then get interrupted by a different thought halfway through the story, probably something he thinks will be a good idea for another film that he has to scribble onto a napkin. Of course, it becomes a weird scrawl that’s barely legible and makes no sense, but it was certainly exciting to him in the moment!

Of course, Shaun enjoys a good buzz. It makes him want to purr, so it’s a good tell for when he’s getting tipsy. He’s very responsible when he’s the designated sober person, but when he’s ready to cut loose, he’s a tomcat ready to play!

While Shaun is a more bubbly and fun drunk, I think that Ian is the opposite. When he has a nice buzz, he feels pretty good, but when it goes too far and he starts getting drunk… that’s when everything goes downhill. This cropped picture drawn by Sauce makes me think that when Ian gets drunk, that’s when his guilt and self-loathing hits him hard.

Poor guy needs therapy. Also, if you want to see the full picture, which is very NSFW, check it out over on Sauce’s twitter. While you’re there, send them some love for all their amazing art and characters!

I think Ian needs constant reassurance while drunk, especially from his partner. He clings to MC and feels lonely even if they’re a foot away from him. He cries at the drop of a hat, even for silly things like how tragic that is that snakes don’t have legs. Why don't they have legs? It's unfair! He’s going to be needing help not to get dehydrated from all the crying and the alcohol, and his hangover the next day is a bitch.

Needless to say, when Ian and Alice were drunk together, it was a very mushy scene. Ian would be down on himself, then Alice would smoosh his cheeks and tell him to listen to her because he is a prince. Prince Charming! No one else is better. That’d get the waterworks going, and he’d cling to her, crying. She would then start kissing his tears away.

I figure this too also happened when Shaun was around because I’m very mean with the guy and his unrequited crush. Sorry, Shaun, but it’s just too much fun teasing you, haha. Don’t worry though, he’s going to find his own happy ending in Sunshine in Hell with a partner or two who love him more than anything else in the world. Eventually.

On that note, let’s move on to the final love interest, Nick. Nick strikes me as someone who is very smooth when tipsy, but an absolute mess when sloshed. The filter is gone. He’s got opinions, and by God is he going to give them, even if they don’t really make sense. He especially has strong opinions about bad BDSM. That popular book series they made a movie about called, what was it again, 500 shades of fucked up or something? That is not BDSM. That’s abuse pretending to be BDSM. Do you have any idea what that mess has done to the BDSM community and how many people have done stupid things because of it? And don’t get him started on what an awful idea it is to tie someone up with rope from a hardware store of all places!

I see Nick as the type to start recording himself once his inhibitions are dropped. The people need to know! His thoughts have to get out there! His followers need to know the truth! This is why he makes sure that he has to put in several passwords before he can actually upload anything. He learned his lesson that he can’t trust drunk Nick with his socials the hard way. The fans are still making memes and using clips out of context from that embarrassing old video. At least he bounced back from it by joking about it even if inside he’s still dying of mortification.

Speaking of a drunk with complaints, I had the image of Barry really unloading all his grievances when he’s drunk. Fortunately, he knows better than to get sloshed with any of his employees, but if he did, they’d have a hard time escaping from him insisting that he knows what’s wrong with the service industry and customers and how the hell did his latest marketing gimmick fail?! Can’t they see how cute the new mascot is? He paid way too much to the graphic designer! Do you know what artists charge nowadays? It’s highway robbery!

Since we’re going into employees of Yogurtopia, why don’t I touch real quick on the other people on staff who I expanded upon a little in my earliest headcanon posts? Things have changed since then of course, such as the boss having an actual name now. Needless to say, I’m not going with what I came up with for that post, but let’s do a little rapid fire mode with the rest of the employees I want to use for Sunshine in Hell.

Carol is a flirty drunk, which is a big problem if she’s actually in a committed relationship at the time and the person she’s flirting with isn’t her partner. Though I’m sure she’d give her partner permission ahead of time to have sloppy drunken makeouts and sex with her.

Liz isn’t really a drinker so much as a stoner. Though if drunk they would be doodling on napkins and finding the ceiling tiles fascinating.

Susan is underage and isn’t much for breaking the rules, so it’ll be a few years yet before she’d have to worry about how she’d be as a drunk.

I know I haven’t touched on these characters a lot, but I figured why not expand on them when I can, even in small ways. If nothing else, it should make it easier for me to come up with more ideas of what parts they could play in the bigger picture of Sunshine in Hell.

Speaking of my OCs, why don’t I touch on the rest of the King family while I’m at it?

Mama Lycoris enjoys herself a nice glass of wine with good company, most notably her husband, whose name is still undecided. (I’ve narrowed it down to Eden, Seb, Luan, Yuri, or Heliotrope. Picking character names is hard sometimes.) It’s rare for her to get drunk, but when she does, she seeks out her husband, even if she just lost track of him for being out of sight. She’s the type to do the meme where she’s crying while texting them that she misses them while he was just in the bathroom. Once she finds them, she’s crawling in his lap telling them how much she loves him~

Papa King usually is the sober one at a party, embarrassed by his wife loving on them when she’s tipsy. Sometimes Lycoris pretends to be tipsy just to get him flustered. They do occasionally have a glass for a special occasion, like toasting at his anniversary or a special holiday. When drunk, they’re a sleepy sort of drunk, pretty out of it and just off in his own little happy world. They haven’t yet been drunk before though, or even gotten tipsy, as he drinks very responsibly.

Barbie isn’t one for drinking, even socially. Though that’s probably not surprising considering she’s not a very social person. If she did get drunk though, she’d be a mean drunk, eyeballing anyone who looks at her funny and ready to jump into any excuse to fight. It’s probably a good thing she doesn’t drink!

Though, I suppose if Barbie was drunk around Bo, she’ll probably let her dom side out more, ordering him around and getting a bit rough with him. Good thing Bo is a big strong alpha and can’t get drunk due to being an AI, so he’ll be able to take care of his puppy even when she’s gone a bit feral due to alcohol.

Coraline also doesn’t drink, but that’s because she can’t due to medical reasons. It interferes with her prescription medications, so it’s probably best if she sticks with non-alcoholic beverages. If she did get drunk, however, she would probably be similar to her father, being off in her own little world, looking at things as if they were fascinating. She would probably be very keenly interested in holding Elias’ head and examining his neck stump up close, which I’m sure her poor groom wouldn’t quite be comfortable with. He would have to make sure to redirect her focus elsewhere until she sobered up.

Of course, I can’t just end things there. I haven’t gushed nearly enough about Jack and Alice having some drunk shenanigans in a more specific sort of scenario. It might turn into some writing, or it might not, but it’s my post, and I can ramble on longer about my OTP if I want to.

As I said earlier, Jack would be very concerned upon noticing that he’s starting to get tipsy. At first he would probably be confused as to how lightheaded he is, until he realizes that it’s because of his sunshine’s influence. The immediate order of business after that is to find Alice and check to see if she’s okay. With lower inhibitions, it would be hard for him not to worry that someone spiked her drink or something.

While someone spiking Alice’s drink would make for some interesting drama, and a target for Jack to go yandere on for taking advantage of his sunshine… I think I’ll stick with something more innocent for this post and say that there was a mixup with her drink or Alice was unaware something someone brought at the party’s potluck had a high alcohol content until it was too late.

Though if y’all want me to chase that darker and more dramatic plot bunny of Alice getting her drink spiked by some unscrupulous character, and Jack has to save her, do let me know~ ;3

Back to the lighter scenario. While it is intriguing to imagine how torn Jack would be if Alice is loving on him while they’re not together, and she means tells him she loves him in a clearly platonic way, which wrenches his heart… At the moment, I’m more drawn to how much of a cock block it’d be for him if Alice was getting frisky with her affection and turning Jack on, forcing him to hold back his urges and stay responsible even though what he wants to do is take her and fill her with his love until her legs are too wobbly to allow her to stand anymore. He might be tipsy too, but she’s outright drunk, and he’s not going to take advantage of his sunshine in an inebriated state!

Of course, Jack’s first order of business is to get Alice home. It doesn’t matter if they’re in the middle of a party full of people, he’s carrying his sunshine home. Alice doesn’t protest being scooped up by her boyfriend, just giggling in delight before peppering his cheek and neck with kisses now that she’s in range. She also makes sure to tell Jack how she just loves him so, so, so, so, soooooo much~!

Jack does try to be discreet in getting Alice away from the party. He might be pretty tipsy, and his steps a little unsteady, but he needs to protect his sunshine. He needs to take care of her, be responsible. It’s what he’s there for after all.

It’s just a little hard for Jack to focus on walking straight when Alice keeps nipping at his skin. Her giggling tickles his ear too, and it’s hard for him not to melt when she tells him she loves him and that he tastes so sweet.

Having a hardon would also make it difficult for Jack to focus on walking straight. Poor guy. Alice doesn’t think about what she’s doing as she keeps kissing, licking, and nibbling on him, her hands wandering and squeezing his chest despite him trying to gently redirect her attention. He needs her to stop, since he can’t focus, but at the same time he really wants her to continue.

The first order of business once they get back home is to make sure Alice sobers up with some water and food. By the time they’re home, Jack feels like he’s going to go crazy. Like her drunkenness affected him, his horniness affects her, and those playful affections become more lusty as her inhibitions are lowered and the idea of teasing Jack and making him feel good becomes more and more appealing. Eventually it gets to the point that she’s being much more blatant in her teasing, such as tracing his nipples through his shirt with her fingers. Maybe even copping a feel lower down when they’re at the apartment and teasing him about the bulge in his pants.

Needless to say, Jack would be having a very hard time holding himself back. It’d almost be a relief when Alice abruptly nods off due to the alcohol. Of course, he’d have to give himself some real relief, imagining what it would’ve been like if she had sobered up so they could continue. All the while, he’s also swearing to himself that in the morning - provided Alice wasn’t in pain from a hangover - he was going to pay her back for all the love and affection she showed him tonight in spades.

The next morning, Alice is indeed hungover, though not quite as bad as she would’ve been if Jack didn’t have her eat and drink something last night. Of course, Jack is kind and cheerful, endlessly gentle and supportive of her, giving her some painkillers and making her a nice, mild breakfast. She remembers what she did last night and is too embarrassed to talk about it, just thanking Jack for helping her get home.

Though past the embarrassment, fear would slowly build as Alice woke up more and it sunk in how easy it was for her to accidentally get drunk at the party. It was so easy for her to lose control… for something to happen… Jack picks up on her worries right away and reassures her that he’ll always be there to take care of her and keep her safe. He’ll always protect her and make sure nothing bad happens to her. He made sure she got home safely last night, after all.

Jack won’t ever let Alice suffer through anything as awful as the night Ian broke her heart ever again.

Some reassurance and cuddles goes a long way, and Alice is able to let go of her fear and embarrassment to just appreciate how much Jack cares for her and takes care of her, even when the unexpected happens. She melts into his soft and reassuring kisses that soon turn hot and steamy. Suddenly the breakfast dishes are off the table, and she’s the one getting eaten by her very pent up boyfriend.

You better believe that Jack planned to feed Alice then do the deed with her as soon as possible. The moment she shows that she’s receptive to his affection, he starts enacting all the naughty fantasies that he had while giving himself relief the night before, making sure that Alice is the one being driven crazy this time. He won’t rest until she’s begging for him to make love to her. Repeatedly.

Needless to say, if Alice has work that day, she’s missing it. Jack would’ve turned her phone off after sending a text that she’s sick, just in case. There’s no way Jack is letting Barry cockblock him again. Not after he spent a night getting blueballed by a too sexy sunshine that was too drunk to make love to.

Fortunately, in the light of day and fully sober enough to consent, Jack gets to enjoy every inch of Alice, as well as a nice memory of just how fun and affectionate she gets when her inhibitions are lowered. He also has a goal to strive for, to encourage his sunshine to feel freer with him like that when they’re both fully sober so that they can enjoy every second of their lovemaking.

Well, I think that’s a good place to wrap up these drunken headcanons for now. I hope you enjoyed the silliness. It seemed like a good way to start off the year, and it certainly would be a fun start of the new year for these two!

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur

#Sunny Day Jack #Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack #SunnyDayJack #sdj #swwsdj #Headcanon Ramblings #Sauce-y Art

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theragethatisdesire · 9 months

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much ado about nothing chapter 7 - plug!eren x reader - 18+!!!

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. minors and ageless blogs, please do not read below the cut.

okay so i guess the responses i got on my "i have writer's block wahhh" post worked because GUESS WHAT I FINISHED THIS MORNING. this chapter!!! i have been aching to share this (even when it was half-done), i literally cannot wait any longer. this is an eren pov chapter so you guys already know it's going to be fun. lots going on, and please don't hate me for the end, i promise there's a master plan in place!!! i hope you guys enjoy :-)

specific cws: smut, rough sex, use of names (both endearing and derogatory so take that as you will), drinking, swearing, i want to give eren a giant hug

“Love sought is good; but given unsought, is better.” - Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare (Act III, Scene 1)

Eren has no excuse for any of it. No excuse for stepping in, for throwing Floch against the bar. He knows you, knows you have enough experience with awful men to know how to handle yourself. He just couldn’t help himself.

And now he’s gone and acted out again without thinking. The cold winter air sobers him up, brings Eren back to himself, and when he looks down at you, all cute and furious with him, the heat in Eren’s veins dies. A pregnant pause stretches between you both, you with your arms crossed and glaring up at him, and Eren, surely with hearts in his eyes, looking down at you, something apologetic beginning to write its way into his features.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

Well, so much for that. The venom in your voice reignites Eren’s temper, fans the flames back into a full-blown inferno.

“My problem?” Eren growls, stepping closer to you. “What the fuck is your problem? I was just getting that prick out of your face. I’d think I deserve a thank you more than anything.”

“It wasn’t your place,” you huff.

“My place?” Eren nearly shouts, exasperated. “You’re the one who wanted to be friends so badly, was I supposed to just sit back and watch while he drooled all over you? Give me a fucking break.”

“That’s not– ugh, you’re really fucking frustrating, you know that Eren?”

It’s like watching all the ghosts of his past jump out at him through your teeth; Eren flinches, feels his fury rushing in his ears like a tidal wave.

“I’m–? Fine, fine, yeah, I’m the frustrating one. Definitely not you, throwing a goddamn temper tantrum over the stupidest shit imaginable, makes perfect sense. Really putting that smart little head to use, aren’t you?”

“Oh? ‘My girl’?” As soon as the words hit him, plunging through his chest like daggers, Eren’s blood runs cold. So you had caught his little slip-up. “What the fuck was that, then?”

Eren stutters, words caught in his throat at the worst possible moment. “Y-you know, like my girl, like you’re my friend or whatever.”

“Uh-huh,” you eye him disbelievingly, “you may as well have hiked your leg up and pissed on me in front of him. Am I supposed to be your fucking property or something because we had sex? Is that it?”

“What? No, I–” you’re faster than him, cutting him off.

“Don’t you already have your hands full with your ex?”

That crosses a line, pushes your fight into an entirely new territory. Eren’s eyes narrow. “Are you really bringing up Breeze right now? Like she…Jesus, like she even fucking matters?”

He watches the way you flinch when he says her name, the way your eyes widen, something he hadn’t expected out of you after with your little snide comments today. Interesting.

“She doesn’t matter to me, but I know she matters to you. As your friend, I’m just letting you know it sounds like a bad idea.”

“What’s a bad idea?”

“Getting back together with her,” you say, like it should be obvious.

It hits Eren like a truck; so that’s what’s gotten into you? You think he’s getting back together with Breeze, as if you didn’t text your ex that you were “totally in love with” on that godforsaken night at Paradise? Eren can still hear the slur of your words in that maddeningly confusing voicemail.

“Even if I was getting back with Breeze,” Eren snorts at the very idea, “which I’m not–”

“Oh yeah?” you counter, stepping forward to nearly touch your chin to his chest with how severely your head’s tilted up at him, “never took you for a liar, Eren.”

“A liar? When did I fucking–”

“Sasha saw you two at 104 the other day. You’re not fucking slick, you know.” Eren hates that tone in your voice, smug and wounded all at once. He wants to tear his own hair out.

“Oh, so you just know everything, don’t you?” Eren’s voice is shaking under his efforts to keep it at a low volume, keep you with him outside of your little bar and just make you listen to him. He watches your posture change ever so slightly, a shoulder turning towards him. “I was telling her to leave me the fuck alone.”

“Over coffee?” Your voice is still clipped, snarky. “Sure, Eren.”

Eren tries to keep himself in line, but his temper gets the better of him yet again, shooting out sharp and lethal. “Isn’t it a little hypocritical of you to avoid me over that, when it’s really you that’s getting back with your ex?”

Your eyes shoot open, and you spin on your heel to fully face him. “What?”

“You think I didn’t listen to your little voicemail?” Eren seethes, the full-bodied ugliness of his anger warping his face into a scowl. You don’t deserve the brunt of his temper, he knows you don’t, but he’s failing at every turn to reign himself in.

“You can’t throw that in my fucking face, I don’t even remember it,” you cut him off, eyes narrowed into little slits.

Eren freezes in place. The world around him seems to slow; the only thing tethering him to this plane is the way you’re looking up at him, furious and beautiful in the buzzing neons of Scout’s. He knew you’d been drunk, but not that drunk.

Hey, Eren– fuck, Stor, leave me alone! I’m just gonna talk to him really fast! Sorry, Historia’s all over me because I did something bad. I– I texted my ex, Luke. I never told you about him because he’s like, the worst, you’d hate him. But the funny thing is, I don’t even think I care? Maybe I do because I really was like, totally in love with him. Maybe he’ll text me back and we’ll fall in love again. But…I don’t know, Eren. I think about you all the time. I think I…I think I like you. Not like a friend, more than that. Wait, fuck, can I delete this? Just…I don’t know. Call me tomorrow or something. I want to talk about it before I can go down the black hole of Luke all over again. I know it’s not what you expected, and maybe you don’t feel the same, but…maybe we can just– shit, Historia, don’t hang up the–!

“Whatever I said was bullshit, I didn’t mean a word of it. I’m not getting back with my ex, or whatever else I came up with while I was blacked out.”

Your present-tense voice, affirmative and clear, snaps him out of his daze. I didn’t mean it. Every word of that voicemail that Eren knows so well, has basically memorized after listening to it day in and day out, trying to analyze every little drunken intonation of your voice– it was bullshit. Eren steels his jaw, musters up all the willpower he can dredge up in his body.

“You didn’t mean it,” his voice sounds alien as it leaves his mouth, distant.

“Yeah, exactly,” you’re mean, you’re so mean, not even stopping to acknowledge the sinkhole ripping open in Eren’s chest, “so before you rip me a new one, make sure that you’re not thinking about where you’d rather be right now.”

So you’re not just mean, you’re oblivious, it seems. For some reason, even through the shattering, crushing feeling erupting beneath Eren’s hoodie, it infuriates him. You just don’t see it, don’t see him. You didn’t mean a word you’d said to him in that damned voicemail, so he can’t tell you necessarily. It crosses his mind that maybe he can show you; the last dying ember of Eren’s rational line of thought sparks and spits at the idea in protest, but eventually chokes out, slowly dying in the tidal wave of emotion that takes him over.

“Oh, I don’t have anywhere else I’d rather be,” Eren's voice starts low and venomous, but it escalates with each passing word, “trust me, I showed up just aching to get into it with you. Just dying to have you rip me apart for something that I didn’t even fucking do!”

Not even a lie, honestly.

“You’re such an– ugh!” You shriek, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes.

“A what? Say it.”

“An asshole!”

“Is that what I am?” Eren’s backing you up against the bricks, making good use of his height to tower over you. Some sick part of him relishes in the way that, while your eyes remain blazing furiously enough to send a weaker man to his knees, your height difference forces you to cower under him. “An asshole?”

“Yeah,” you counter, glaring up at him defiantly, “you’re a fucking asshole, Eren.”

His proximity to you is making him dizzy and a little unhinged, and through the drinks and his anger and the mere inches between your heaving chests, Eren feels his blood start to run hot in an entirely different way. The leash he holds on his own temper, his own throat-closing desire, is dragging along the floor as he backs you fully against the wall, and Eren’s too wound up to bring himself to care.

“That’s not what you were calling me when I had my head between your legs, now is it?”

That shakes you, makes your jaw drop a little. Eren’s vaguely aware of your fingers twitching and clenching at your side, inwardly braces himself for a slap to the face. “Well, you weren’t acting like an asshole then.”

Eren smirks, leans into his own cruelty. “What, you jealous that you haven’t been getting all of my attention? Is that what’s got you acting all mean?”

“Cut it out, Eren.” Your eyes are telling him you’re still mad at him, furious even, but Eren doesn’t miss the way the rise and fall of your chest grows ever so slightly more frantic, the way your tongue darts out anxiously to wet your lips.

“Or what?” Eren leans down, boxing you in with one arm on either side of your head.

“I– we’re not doing this.”

“Doing what?” He widens his eyes innocently. “What am I doing?”

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” you hiss, but if you ask Eren, it sounds an awful lot like a moan is lodged in your throat, like your words are lacking the conviction that you’re trying to muster. He pushes himself in closer to you, noses mere inches apart, a wicked grin splitting his face.

“Is it working?”

Eren’s lips meet yours at the same moment that his hand whips out to catch your arm where you’re swinging it up to slap him. A broken little whimper leaves your mouth, spills into his, as your arm slackens in his grip. Eren feels your free hand fist into the hair at the nape of his neck, lets a groan fly out into nonexistent space between your lips. He’s been driving himself crazy thinking about this moment, the next time he’d get to feel your mouth on his again if it ever even happened, what you taste like, the little noises you make. The moment that’s been keeping him up at night is finally here, inflating his wounded ego like a balloon, and it feels fucking good.

You bite a little too hard into his bottom lip, the tangy, copper taste of Eren’s blood leaking into the kiss, making it clear that this doesn’t mean everything has settled between you both, but for the time being, Eren doesn’t care. All he cares about is the way your plush thighs feel wrapped around his waist, how easily he can scoop you up and pin you against the wall, the little moan that slips from your lips when he presses the length of his body entirely into you.

He doesn’t take his time, doesn’t savor the moment like he’ll surely wish he did tomorrow; Eren devours you, running a hand up your bare leg and under the hem of your skirt, grabbing a handful of your ass, squeezing at your hips.

“Bet you’re wet under this short little skirt, aren’t you?” Eren huffs into your mouth, sucking on your tongue.

“Fuck you,” you spit, squeezing your thighs tighter around his hips.

“Is that what you want?” Eren whispers, dizzy and drunker on you than the three Jameson shots he’d knocked back at the bar.

“I–”

“Been thinking about it?” Eren can’t stop himself, trying desperately to keep his lips on yours through the spill of words from his mouth. “Maybe that’s why you’ve been so mean to me, grinding all up on me in that club, teasing me, then running off. Just wanted a little love, didn’t you?”

“That depends,” you pant, moving your face to kiss up his neck, leave little nips in your wake. Eren groans deep in his chest, pushing against you even more insistently.

“On?”

“How bad you really want it,” you bite into his earlobe, steal another shaky groan from him.

Eren’s not a submissive guy, not by any means, but the thrill your words send running through his veins just about makes him drop you.

“Want me to beg?” Eren growls, shoving into you and biting deep at the junction of your neck and shoulder. “I’d only ever beg for you, baby.”

“Is that what you’re going to do? Beg for me when you’ve got another girl waiting for you?” Your anger has fizzled into a bitter sarcasm that goes straight between Eren’s legs and knocks him right in the ego all at once, tongue tracing the shell of his ear.

“Fuck– you’re my girl, my favorite girl, did you forget?” Eren grabs your face, forces your head back against the brick so you can look at him, eyes blown wide with lust and glossed over, mouth open in a desperate pant. “Told you the first time, you’re the best I’ve ever had. Didn’t think I was just fucking around, did you? It’s just you, only you.”

“Could have fooled me,” you dig your teeth into the thumb Eren’s worked between your lips, making him suck in a sharp ouch between his lips, “sure don’t feel like your favorite girl.”

“Sounds like I need to fix that, then,” Eren lets a hand trail down between the little space he’s leaned back to create between your bodies, finds his way to the damp fabric of your panties, “oh, who’s the liar now?”

“Don’t– fuck,” your eyes roll back in your head when he starts pressing into where he knows your clit is, rubbing insistent circles over the cloth just to elicit that reaction from you, rip the control right out of your pretty little hands. Eren chuckles down at you, dark and dangerous, amused at how quickly you melt for him.

“Thought we weren’t doing this?” He parrots your words from earlier, nosing at your neck. “Thought I was an asshole?”

“You are,” you grit out through a clenched jaw, but Eren notices the little forward push of your hips, notices that you’re trying to hold yourself back from rubbing yourself into his palm.

“And that gets you wet,” Eren counters, grinding the heel of his palm up into your clit and wrenching a little gasp from you, “bet you liked watching me in there, bet you would have loved watching me kick his ass for you.”

Eren pauses, waits to hear if you’ve got anything to say for yourself, but you’re already half-gone, rolling your hips against the steady rocking of his hand and whining in your throat. He smiles– god, you really are his favorite.

“Say it,” Eren growls into your skin, slipping a finger past the fabric of your panties to slide it into you, not the whole thing, but just a knuckle, just enough to make you shudder in his arms, “tell me you need me, want to hear you say what this perfect pussy’s already telling me. C’mon baby.”

Just as your mouth opens, either to answer him or snark at him, Eren can’t be sure, a cat-call from across the street snaps both of you out of your haze, your eyes flying wide. You shove at him, wriggling in his arms until Eren mercifully drops you to your feet, reaches down to right your rumpled little skirt for you. You glower up at him, look him up and down, and just when Eren’s about to bullshit some excuse to run home, fuck into his hand with your name on his lips, you surprise him.

“I mean, after all that, the least you can do is walk me home.”

The necessary steps of Eren closing your tabs, walking into the whipping winter wind, walking through the streets silently with Eren side-eyeing you as you storm along, arms crossed petulantly, commence. They go by in a blur; Eren’s not even sure he should be doing this right now with the lack of blood flow to his head. You don’t make eye contact, and if Eren had any more conscious thought at the moment, he would think you’re already regretting this before it happens, but he can’t bring himself to care, not yet.

He’ll kick himself for this as soon as the sun rises, but for now? The only thing he’s worried about lies wet and pulsing for him under the hem of your skirt.

The moment you’ve gotten the door open, Eren’s got you shoved up against the wall again, letting his hands find their way under your skirt and grabbing at your ass with a quiet groan.

“Historia?” he questions, nipping at your earlobe just because he can.

“Ymir’s,” you pant, pushing him off of you and practically storming to your bedroom. It hits Eren that for all the time you’ve spent together, he’s never actually seen your bedroom. He thinks that maybe he’ll do a little investigating of his own once he’s fucked all the fight out of you.

Safely behind the door of your bedroom, Eren wastes no time in yanking his shirt over his head, reaching for yours only to find that you’ve already rid yourself of the cute little sweater he had been admiring from down the bar back at Scout’s. You’ve got a pretty lace number underneath, one that Eren almost doesn’t want to take from you, but he reaches behind you and unclips it. Eren plans on taking and taking and taking everything you’ll give him, just for tonight, because the sinking feeling in his chest is telling him to do it while he can; a girl like you never sticks around a guy like him for long, and he’s already done himself the favor of ruining most of the potential your relationship had anyway.

“Eren– oh,” the broken whimper that leaves your lips snaps him out of his thoughts, reminds him that he’s got one of your breasts in his palm and the other nipple between his teeth. Eren wraps his free hand around your back, pressing his splayed fingers between your shoulder blades to arch you closer to him until he’s so full of you he can hardly breathe.

He’s going to keep taking from you, take until he drowns in it.

“Feel good? Missed me?” Eren’s words come out a little garbled around the flesh in his mouth, but you get the message all the same, managing a sarcastic eye roll through your arousal. You decline to answer him, but Eren can read your body, so he digs his teeth in harshly to the little swell of fat on the underside of your breast, sucks a bruise in to cut that eye roll of yours right in half. Eren smirks when your eyes flutter closed, a reluctant hand coming up to thread through his hair. “Thought so.”

“Can you just–fuck–get on with it?”

“Uh-uh,” Eren straightens back to his full height, backs you onto the bed until your knees catch and you fall onto your back, glaring up at him defiantly. “Gotta get you ready for me, right? I’m sure you remember.”

He eats up the doubt that flickers across your face, the memory of the first time you’d taken him all over your expression. Eren reaches beneath your skirt, pulls your panties down your legs delicately, rubs his hands along your thigh-high stockings with an appreciative swear under his breath.

“There’s a zipper on the back,” you wiggle a bit to try and reach the fasten of your skirt, but Eren slaps a firm hand onto your hip, pins you back onto the bed.

“Think I’m letting you take this off? After you were teasing me with it all night?” Eren says, stretching his body over yours, taking full advantage of his size to cage you in.

“I wasn’t teasing,” you huff, “these are just my clothes.”

“Anything you wear is teasing,” Eren brings his fingers to your core, swipes through the wetness gathered there, “especially when you look like this.”

You open your mouth to retort, but your jaw goes slack when Eren rolls over your clit softly, rubbing little circles into it at the perfect speed, the perfect pressure. He’s not interested in teasing you too much, he wants to feel you break on him as many times as you’ll grant him the pleasure. Once your little gasps have begun to swell into quiet moans, Eren ventures down, pushes his middle finger into you, all the way to the hitch. Eren answers your widened eyes and your little gasp with a sharp hiss between his teeth, marveling at the way your walls cling to his finger, sucking him in when he slides out and back in again.

“Just like the first time,” Eren murmurs, leaning down to take your collarbone between his teeth, “are you always this tight?”

“I– I don’t– more, please.”

Eren smiles around the mouthful of your skin he has, feeling his heart swell at how cute and airy your words come out, how clear it is to him, even if it’s only for this precious moment, that you’re just as desperate for him as he is for you. He grants your wish, working a second finger in beside the first, curling them cruelly against that spot in your walls that he knows gets your heart racing.

“Eren,” you keen, arching off the bed and tossing your head to the side.

“So tight baby,” Eren says in awe, pulling his head to watch as your cunt leaves little white streaks on his fingers, “so warm, can’t fucking wait to get my cock in you.”

“P-please,” you sputter, hooded eyes sparkling at the mention of it. Eren thinks wildly that he might be falling in love with the little unshed tears that prick your eyes when you start to get close, the little broken pleas you give him.

“You gotta cum for me first.” Eren works his fingers faster, can feel the fluttering of your cunt around his fingers. He realizes how worked up he must have gotten you outside of Scout’s, how you’re so wet it’s dripping down your soft skin onto the sheets, and you haven’t even cum yet.

“I’m– I just want you to fuck me,” you say, whiny and pitiful.

“I will,” Eren coos, “missed this messy little cunt so much, I promise I’ll fuck you, just give me one first. Gotta make it fit, right?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, hips bucking up towards him. Eren watches, drinks the sight of you in: skirt pulled up around your waist, legs spread wide open for him, slick spread all over the inside of your thighs, bottom lip tucked so tightly between your teeth he worries you might draw blood. He commits the sight to memory, his pretty little student all strung out and begging for his cock, begging him to make you cum. If he remembers right, if he curls his fingers just a little more harshly–

“Eren–” your head shoots up suddenly, eyes flying wide open, fists tightening in the sheets.

“Right there?” Eren grins, sharp and half-crazed, raising his eyebrows at the reaction the new angle has brought out of you.

“Right– oh, oh my god, I–”

“Give it to me,” Eren urges, working his fingers even faster, “come on, baby, show me how much you missed me.”

With a cry, you twist and thrash under him, cumming almost violently. Eren drinks it down, leans down to press a kiss against your open mouth, pins your body to the bed so you can’t run from the vicious waves of pleasure wracking your body.

“There’s my girl,” he mutters, licking against your tongue, “such a good, good girl for me.”

When your orgasm finally starts to ebb, Eren doesn’t let up, not entirely; he keeps his fingers working in a slow drag through your walls, appreciating the way your muscles twitch and the way you feebly shove at his wrist.

“Eren…” you trail off weakly, fingers finally locking harshly around his hand and pulling him from you, “too much.”

“Thought you wanted me to ‘get on with it’?” Eren snorts, finally obliging your earlier request and sliding your skirt over your legs, tracing his fingers up and down your thighs once you’re fully bare and beautiful underneath him, taking mental snapshots of every inch of smooth skin that he’s lucky enough to have under his touch.

“I do,” you say, eyeing him with a glint of annoyance in your eye. It just makes Eren smile bigger; you’re so cute when you’re mad.

“Whatever you want, baby,” Eren says, situating his hands under your arms and practically throwing you up against the pillows at the head of your bed. You widen your legs so he can crawl in between them, kissing his way up your torso in a self-indulgent, tender way.

“Do we, um…” you start to question him, and Eren’s close enough to your face now that he can feel your cheeks warm. He sits up a little, arches a questioning brow down at you.

“What?”

“Do we need to use a condom?”

Eren frowns, confused. “I mean, after last time, I thought you were on birth control.”

“I am,” you confirm, nodding slowly, some odd emotion flickering over your features that could be anger, could be heartbreak, “but I don’t know if, like–”

“I haven’t been with anyone else,” Eren catches your meaning, feeling his heart thud heavy and loud in his chest, “not since…”

“Oh,” you exhale quietly, nodding, “okay.”

“You?”

“Uh, no,” your voice is so low Eren almost doesn’t hear you, but he watches your head slowly lull side to side in confirmation, “no one else.”

Eren can’t excuse the rush of relief that courses through him, the swell of happiness to learn that no one’s gotten to see you like this since the last time he had. It goes straight to his cock, hard and drooling between his legs. Before he can get too wrapped up in the emotional side of things, Eren leans in hard to the horrible, possessive thoughts that have constricted him, laying himself over you and taking his cock in his hand, swiping it through the mess between your legs.

“Good.” He even surprises himself with that, looking down on you with dark eyes, eyes that promise ruin.

“Please,” you give him one more breathless plea, Eren swears you know too well how to snap his composure clean in half.

He pushes himself in, choking on a moan at how tight you are, vicelike and suffocating around him. A broken groan flies from your lips, your fingers tighten their grip on his biceps until Eren’s sure you’re going to break the skin, but he’s beyond caring. His mind wipes completely blank, save for the hot, wet heat that’s enveloping him, beckoning him to snap his hips forward viciously and be done with it. With what little self-restraint he can muster up, Eren flicks his eyes up to yours.

“So…it’s so–” another whimper cuts you off, and Eren can feel your thighs twitch on either side of his hips.

“Too much?” Eren manages to reign himself in, back out another inch or so.

“No,” you wrap a leg around his waist, shove him further into you and wrench a deep, guttural groan from his chest, “feels good, keep going.”

“Careful what you wish for,” Eren breathes, trying to retain any semblance of control over this situation, give you that dominant dirty talk that he knows gets you off instead of turning into a whimpering, moaning mess at the feel of you clenching around him. He bottoms out, feeling himself fuck all the way up into your tummy, head falling down onto your shoulder.

Eren manages to keep his pace slow and gentle, rolling his hips into yours like he’s making love to you, not saying goodbye. Little satisfied sounds are slipping out of your mouth, but Eren can see a flicker of consciousness in your eyes; you’re not drooling for him, out of your mind with want, not like the first time. He frowns.

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re…I don’t know, you seem like you’re somewhere else,” Eren hates having to admit that he notices, that he even cares, and the unsteady creak of his voice reflects that, just making him hate himself even more. You don’t seem to notice his vulnerability or, if you do, you aren’t affected by it. You simply raise an eyebrow at him.

“I mean…it’s good,” you say, eyes flitting around the room, like you can’t quite admit whatever you’re going to say while looking him straight in the eyes, “but I want you to fuck me.”

“I am fucking you.” Eren’s frown deepens into a scowl of annoyance. What, is he not good enough for you now?

“Well, literally speaking yes, you are fucking me. But,” a nervous giggle slips from your teeth, riling the anger starting to bubble under his skin again, “I’ve heard a lot of rumors about you.”

“Why are we talking about this while I am literally inside of you?”

“Because I want you to fuck me,” you raise your eyebrows meaningfully, canting your hips up towards him. It clicks– as much as Eren wants to show you what he feels because he can’t tell you, fucking you like an animal, as he’s prone to do, is what you want. Eren’s been so wrapped up in trying to relish whatever time he may have left with you before you inevitably cast him off to the side again, he’s not been paying attention.

“You want me to fuck you, huh?” Eren thrusts forward a little harsher, a little more pointedly. Your eyes roll back, a slow, indulgent smile spreading across your face.

“I want you to fuck me like I know you can,” Eren feels your arms wrap around his neck, pulling his ear to your lips, “unless that last time was all luck. Surely all those rumors aren’t false, are they?”

Eren knows you’re trying to get under his skin, to bite at him through the haze of the heavy air weighing down on both of you, to rekindle that anger that you had brought out of him outside of the bar. What is he going to do with you, incorrigible little thing that you are? If Eren Jaeger was a better man, he would stop this all right now, force you both to talk through the sharp, spiky things that hang in the balance between you two.

But Eren Jaeger is not a better man, he’s only a man, broken and needy and tucked into his favorite place on earth, with the girl of his dreams below him urging him to fuck her brains out. Is he really to blame?

Eren rips himself out of your grasp, standing tall and menacing on his knees over you.

“I’ll fuck you,” Eren grits out through a clenched jaw, grabbing you by the back of your thighs and shoving your knees towards your head, “but you better be ready to put your money where your mouth is.”

“Yeah? Well– oh,” a sharp, shrill cry of your own making cuts your voice off when Eren snaps his hips forward, brutal and unforgiving into the wet heat of your cunt. He doesn’t stop there, immediately pulling out and snapping forward again, hitting somewhere deep inside of you that, based on your face, he knows no man has ever been able to reach. He smirks, all cocky and cruel, setting a harsh pace that’s got you clawing at the sheets.

“What? Is it too much?” Eren whines down at you condescendingly, eating up the way you’re already whimpering and moaning. He can see tears glistening at the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall.

“No, no,” your voice is broken, breathless, “it’s– fuck, it’s so good, Eren–”

“Is this what you wanted?” Eren growls down at you, locking one strong hand around your throat. “Wanted me to fuck you like the little slut you are?”

“Yes!” Your admission comes out in a choked, watery cry, the tears in your eyes finally beginning to run down your temples. Even if it wasn’t written all over your face, Eren can feel how much you like it; your pussy is fluttering, pulsing around him, begging him to keep going. He drives his hips forward like a man starved, a man whose life depends on fucking you until you can’t walk straight for a week.

“Who knew?” Eren muses to himself, wiping the tears from your face. “Who knew my pretty girl was so filthy?”

“I, I–Eren,” you moan wantonly, thighs shaking under his firm grip. Eren should hold himself back, knows that you’re going to be so sore in the morning, but a sick part of him is glad for it. Let you walk around campus with the throbbing ache of him inside of you, maybe he’ll fuck you so hard that little twinge in your belly when you sit down never goes away.

“Say it,” Eren urges, squeezing your windpipe, “tell me how much you love it, tell me how bad this pussy missed me.”

“I–” you choke out around his iron grip on your neck, “I m-missed you, I love it w-when you fuck me–”

“Fuck you like a whore?”

“Fuck me like a w-whore,” you wheeze out, face reddening with shame. Eren loves it, wants to kiss the blush off your cheeks and swallow it whole.

“That’s right, baby,” Eren releases your throat, watches the way you heave and gasp as the air flows back into your lungs, only to be punched out by the force of his thrusts, “you love my cock, don’t you?”

“Yes, I– oh my god, Eren, I–”

“What?” Eren sneers, smirking wickedly down at you, “is my smart girl already so fucked out she can’t talk?”

“No, I– I just– fuck!” You’re so loud for him, if he knew that fucking you within an inch of your life would get him this, Eren never would have bothered playing nice in the first place.

“‘ve barely even started,” Eren laughs, mean and sharp, “and you’re already fucked so dumb you can’t even think. Think you can cum for me, just like this?”

He doesn’t even have to ask; he can feel the way your cunt’s starting to tighten around him so harshly that it nearly pushes him out. He’s bullying his way back into you on every thrust, forcing you to open up for him, to take what he has to give. Inwardly, Eren hopes to god you do cum soon; he’s not going to last, not with you spread out beneath him crying and wailing his name. Eren doesn’t think he can hold out much longer without filling you up, watching his cum seep out of you.

“Eren, Eren, Eren–” your nonsensical babbling has started to take the shape of his name, Eren can feel his ego swelling and swelling to the point of bursting. There’s a tone of warning in your moans; the onslaught of an orgasm is threatening to pull you under.

“Don’t you dare hold out on me,” Eren slaps your thigh hard, the tacky, wet sound of it echoing through the room, somehow finds the wherewithal to piston his hips even faster, “want to feel it, feel you cum on me.”

“I’m going to, I’m going– oh Eren–”

Eren practically snarls, leaning over to spit in your open, waiting mouth. “What are you waiting for? Don’t you–fuck–want your pretty cunt stuffed full of me? I’ll give you yours, just gotta cum for me and give me what’s fucking mine. Go on–”

Eren’s rambling is cut short by the loud, raspy sob you let out, clenching down around him so hard it almost hurts, drawing a loud, long hiss from him. He looks down past your quivering thighs, sees the frothy white that’s streaking his cock, and he’s done for. He grants you a few more sloppy thrusts, and then with one final snap of his hips, he stills, holding himself as deep inside as he can manage, pumping you full of him.

Before he can stop himself, Eren’s crashing into you, bringing your lips to his in a messy, frantic kiss, open-mouthed and teeth clacking together. He can feel your body shaking violently underneath him, rocking with wave after wave of post-orgasm bliss, but he can’t seem to break himself from you, collapsed and clutching onto your smaller frame like it’s the only thing tethering him to this earth.

“Eren,” you finally say weakly, voice muffled as you smack at his shoulder, “you’re heavy.”

“Sorry,” he grunts, rolling off of you reluctantly. Your crumpled, naked form is still there, still so tempting and soft and warm. Your eyes are shut, so you don’t see Eren’s tentative hand reach for your hip, just wanting to rub a thumb comfortingly over the bone there, before he pulls back, second-guessing himself. A few pregnant beats pass by, Eren biting his tongue and holding his breath as he waits for you to make the first move, to direct him into how to speak to you after what’s just happened.

“I need to shower,” you finally say, words coming out in a breathless admission.

“Yeah,” Eren answers lamely, sitting up and looking around your room. There’s postcards from almost every country imaginable, tacked above your desk and fluttering in the breeze from your heating system. The desk itself is a wreck, dozens of papers and books scattered around in seemingly no order. Eren notices a little stuffed teddy bear tossed onto the floor and picks it up with a smile, placing it back against your pillows.

“Are you…”

“Am I…?” Eren looks at you, hoping that his pleading gaze isn’t too horribly obvious.

“I think Historia will kill me if she sees you leaving in the morning.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, Eren swears he can see something like regret fly over your face, and you turn your back to him instantly, scrounging around on the ground..

“I don’t know,” Eren wheezes through his shellshock, trying to force out a nonchalant chuckle that only sounds strangled and tense, “she’s pretty short. I don’t know how she could manage it.”

“You’d be surprised,” you slip a bathrobe over your shoulders and grant him a mirthless smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

Eren dresses in the heavy silence that’s fallen over the room, pulling his shirt over his head and having to inwardly brace himself to face you. Eren’s comfortable with himself, probably knows a little too well that he’s an attractive guy, but he feels completely naked even fully clothed when he turns around to see you, standing all cozy and fucked out and sleepy in your fuzzy robe.

“So…” Eren trails off, wanting to smack his own face for speaking first.

“Have a good night, I guess,” you look up at him and then quickly away, chewing nervously on your bottom lip. Eren steels himself, lets every bit of courage he can find in his body rise to his mouth, forcing it to move.

“Are we, you know, good?”

“Good?”

“We said a lot of things to each other back there,” Eren can’t meet your gaze, can practically feel his face burning as he scratches anxiously at the back of his head. When he forces himself to look at you, there’s something odd and unreadable in your eyes. Are you sad? No, you’re smiling. Well, sort of smiling– it looks contrived, not real. But you’re not angry, not entirely.

“Yeah, I’m good if you are.” That stupid, insincere smile is still twisting your features.

Eren doesn’t like the look of dishonesty on you, but he’s fought enough for tonight. He’s sad, spent, and tired, and he figures it’s hopeless anyway.

“Okay, good,” he makes his way to your bedroom door, fingers twitching for the feel of your skin under his, eyes damn near watering, “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“See ya.”

And with that, Eren’s left alone in the cold of your apartment hallway, alone and sickened by the feelings of satisfaction and longing swirling in his chest.

#eren #eren jaeger x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren yaeger x reader #eren jaeger x you #eren yeager x you #aot x reader #aot smut #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #much ado about nothing #much ado universe #much ado uni

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kookygranger · 4 months

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Is This Desire?

Firefighter!Steve Harrington x Witch!Reader

Steve Harrington falls for you a little harder every time he meets you. Now you're free to live your life and he's ready to make a move on the girl he thinks about every day.

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut-ish (allusions to sex), secondary character death, witchcraft, reader is a town outcast, fem!reader, no upside down/no hawkins au

Word count: 2k

Author's note: This story is inspired by a trippy and vividly detailed dream I had, minus the lovechild because that's not my vibe but good for dream me I guess.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

Chapter One: When Under Ether

1979

The first time Steve Harrington saw you was on a brisk fall night. Brown leaves lifted in small whirlpools down the street as children’s laughter and sugar-induced screams permeated the air. It was Halloween.

Steve wanted to dress up as Robin Hood, his outfit complete with feathered cap and fox tail sitting on his navy-blue bedspread at home, but his friends thought trying was lame now – so he settled for a ripped shirt and a half-assed green face paint job. He wasn’t even sure if he was supposed to be a zombie or Frankenstein’s monster.

He’d done that a lot lately. Changed things about himself that others his age suddenly found uncool or only suitable behaviour for babies. He may not have known as much as the kids that sat up the front of class, but he knew one thing for sure, he didn’t want to be thought of as a baby.

Maybe that’s why he was stood in front of the rotting wooden gate that led up to the house at the end of Maple Street, so far away from the rest of the neighbours that it could only barely be counted. Unless it was to get its own street name entirely, which right now Steve felt like it could, as far away from safety as possible to his small legs.

See, the old Ravenwood house was only spoken about in whispers, its history revealed in rumours perpetuated by ghost story obsessed children for as long as anyone can even remember the house being occupied. And with its peeling paint, overgrown and weed-riddled front yard, and creaking front porch, it was a ripe opportunity for a young boy to prove that he was no scaredy cat on All Hallows’ Eve.

Steve walked up the sunken stone path with his two friends in tow. Tommy, the boy who’d suggested the dare earlier in the night brought up the rear of the small group, knobbly knees knocking together.

Steve was wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans when a flurry of bats, unnative to this part of the world, flew into their path, screeching only slightly higher than the two boys behind him who ran straight back through the front gate. His heart battered against his ribcage as he squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath like his grandma had taught him to when he’d get mad or upset, and when he opened his eyes he saw you.

Watching curiously through the second-floor window, where you sat perched inside, a warm glow framing your small body. Steve thought you looked to be the same age as him, but he’d never seen you before. He smiled that charming Harrington grin he’d been told he possessed, then waved – you, more shyly returned the gesture. Then he’d heard his name called somewhere back beyond the threshold of this strange house, and he’d returned to his friends. Brushing off the ill attempt at machismo with talks of scoring candy.

When Steve’s head hit his pillow that night, veins pumping with sugar, he thought of you. He would never forget about the girl in the window. A beacon of light that dissolved his fears.

***

1986

The second time Steve saw you everything faded away into the background.

He’d been swapping occupational war stories with Robin at the bar in town, the one that didn’t refuse service based on age but based on your likeability according to the bartender. He’d made his way up to the bar through the lively post-work week crowd to order another round when he saw you. Through the far from sober bodies, tucked away on a barstool up against the wall, your hands playing with a sodden beer mat as your eyes wandered, people watching, Steve Harrington swore he saw the face of an angel.

Although time had changed you both, bodies growing up and through awkward stages, arms and chests filling out to be hugged now by the scratchy material of Steve’s striped polo and the soft cotton of your dress, your legs strong enough to bring a grown man to his knees (as far as Steve was concerned), the glint of a thin silver chain on the wrist that supported his big hands enough to capture the attention of almost all the girls in town – Steve had still known. It was you. By looks alone, you may have been a far cry from the little girl in the window, but he knew.

Inexplicably, for he could not cite the hairs on his toned arms raising at the sight of your eyes gazing back at his, or the warm, tight feeling in his chest he’d only ever felt once before as proper methods of identification. But your shy smile and hitched breathing as he drew near only confirmed it for him.

And before he knew it, his lips oh so close to yours, shining after his tongue had poked out to wet them were asking if you wanted to get out of there.

“Yes.”

Robin would later get more than her fair share of making up for his total abandonment of her without so much as a goodbye, but in that moment he couldn’t think of anything else but you.

How he could taste the bitterness of your perfume on your skin when he kissed your bare shoulder, how you sounded when he sucked on the skin under your ear and the vibrations you made together when he swallowed your moans, how you squeezed his hand that held yours beside your head laying on the pillow that wouldn’t be rid of your scent for a week after, and how you kissed him deeply after the seventh time he’d asked if you were still okay, if you still wanted this as much as he did.

When you left him, asleep with kissed lips parted in soft snores and hair mussed, the marks he’d left on your neck and thighs would serve you as a sweet reminder. The scent of sandalwood and vanilla followed you as you snuck back into your house through the back door, the quiet creak masked by the singing cicadas. Your uncle exactly where you'd left him, still sleeping off the extra spoonful of valerian extract and dried chamomile you’d steeped with his tea to buy yourself a little more time out there.

Where magic was forbidden. Where children threw cruel comments and the adults they’d overheard them from ushered them across the other side of the street. Out there where people would never be understanding of you, and boys who could trick you into giving up your power ran rampant.

You’d thought – hoped, dreamed – that maybe on your eighteenth birthday you could get a kiss. A moment of normalcy outside of your life stuck in this house but what you got was so much better.

What you got was imprinted on your skin with the lingering feeling of his lips.

***

1993

The third time you meet Steve, you breathe in your first taste of free air.

Steve had volunteered to take a ride with the EMT to transport a body to the morgue, on an otherwise slow shift at the firehouse. The only other one in town had called in sick and the nearest hospital was a town over.

When the bus turned down Maple Street, Steve immediately felt off. A sense of dread washed over him and only increased when the car continued off the main street and down the dirt road that led to the Ravenwood house. As the vehicle kicked up stones and a cloud of dust in its wake he’d been hit with a sudden wave of déjà vu, remembering dreams that felt as real as memories of walking up this path only to find himself back at the start over and over again.

When the bus finally came to a stop in the driveway Steve barrelled out, running up to the front door in a panic, his raised fist ready to knock it down before it abruptly opened. Exhaling quickly at the site of you, the sinking feeling in his stomach alleviated as he took you in for the first time in years.

You’re dressed for mourning. A soft black dress and scuffed boots, hair pulled back to reveal a bare face that Steve had the sudden urge to kiss.

“H-Hi.” He managed to stammer out a greeting as his colleague finally caught up to him, walking up the creaking steps to your front porch.

“He’s in the bedroom.” You held open the front door, moving aside to let them in. Voice small, smelling of lemon, cedarwood and white musk and Steve had to physically keep himself moving as he brushed past you.

Your uncle laid stiff on a double bed, on top of the covers and dressed in a tattered corduroy suit as if ready for viewing, his body now an empty vessel left only for a ceremonial send-off. A white handkerchief covered his face, a small bundle of dried cypress and sweet cicely perched on his forehead. A breeze from the open window across the room swayed the hem of your skirt as you stared at him.

Steve pointed to the handkerchief, asking you if they could move it but stopped his movements right away when you tensed. His colleague tells you it’ll have to come off during the autopsy and you fold, asking if it can at least go back on afterwards.

“Once we drop him off he’s out of our hands ma’am.”

“I’ll make sure it does,” Steve placates you and you offer him a small nod in thanks. He barely remembers to breathe.

You followed the stretcher out to the bus, a rumbling of thunder catching the two men’s gaze up to the sky when the back doors thud shut. The view was clear when they entered the house, no forecast for rain on this mild summer’s day. Now fat drops began to hit the ground with the rolling in of grey clouds. Steve looked down and noticed a small smile on your face.

You took a deep breath in with eyes softly shut. “I think I’m gonna go for a walk.” You took off down the front path, stopping at the front gate when Steve called after you, asking if you were sure as the rain only intensified.

You just turn and smile at him, waving with a fixed mind. “It’s cleansing.” Only to disappear into the tall grass fields across from your house in a blur of black. Walking away, a free woman.

The front door creaked closed, making Steve’s companion jump.

“Freaky.”

After that day Steve hears of regular sightings of the girl who grew up in that house. Gossip of blooming, bright lavender and bluebells, buzzing bees – life where there once was nothing but rot and death. A fixed white picket fence and carefully laid stone-path that led up to a now bright and welcoming looking house at the end of Maple Street. But this was still a small town and generational rumours took more than a fresh coat of paint to cover up. The witch who lived at the old Ravenwood house was still feared among small minds.

***

The fourth time Steve Harrington saw you he was dropping Robin’s overdue books off at the library on his way to work. Navy blue t-shirt hugging his biceps, tucked neatly into his uniform pants, the stomp of his steel-capped boots muffled by the scratchy charcoal carpet.

Robin had sent him in the hopes that he could get her late fees waived. He’d spritzed an extra spray of his cologne on before leaving their shared apartment, Harrington charm plastered on his face as he prepared to win over an elderly lady who was reminded of her husband when they first met. Only, the person behind the counter wasn’t wearing a blouse with a frilly collar or sporting a purple rinse quaff.

The person who greeted Steve was wearing a well-loved PJ Harvey shirt, with long braids running down her back, flashing a timid smile that ripped through his chest.

“Hi, Steve.”

End note: If you want dedicatedly researched, heart-wrenching witch core you should go read @storiesbyrhi's Eddie fic Burning Yarrow. I'd also recommend @rosewaterandivy's S.H. x witch!reader story, which is just blow me down gorgeous. Their words probably inspired the dream that inspired this story ✨

Thank you for reading! x

Steve edit by @/vasguett on pinterest

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things au #firefighter!steve harrington #witch!reader #she writes

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panda-writes-kpop · 3 months

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we're never getting back together (like ever?) ~ kim lip

a/n: apologies for the bad pun, but I had to. 😌 this fic is in celebration of the birthday of my favorite (fucking) boomer @kingmaker-a - thank you for being such a great friend (and for the photocards and album). 💕 sorry for the excessive boomer jokes, but it must be done 🫡 also we've got another entry in the paladin! roommates au with more lore about the Paladins (and some bullshit I made up).

tw: paladin! reader kinda reads like an OC but hopefully you can ignore it, reader and lippie get wasted, one too many boomer jokes, alcohol, parties, hangovers, katie and mala being professional little shits ™️

summary: Your roommates are little shits, but you have to thank them for (indirectly) getting you and your ex back together. Perhaps this is a funny story that you can tell at your wedding, given that you and Kim Lip are sober enough to remember the day.

♡ Masterlist ♡

Laughter was a common noise in the Paladins' apartment. You all poked fun at each other from time to time (it was mostly Katie and Mala calling the rest of you boomers).

What concerns you this time, as you nurse your nasty hangover, is the two people laughing from a room away.

Katie's bubbly laughter rings out through the hallways and into the kitchen. Her laughter was usually accompanied an accusing finger from stealing her baked goods (Mala was the one who did the crime, but you did the time with an hour long lecture about personal property) or a brutal roast about your age.

Your joints may be getting old, but your ears are doing just fine since you pick up on the second person who's laughing.

It's Mala.

Mala and Katie were little shits on their own. Together, they could set fire to an entire neighborhood or wreck havoc to your social life.

As you nurse your hangover cure of choice, you're hoping that they're laughing over their choice of lighter fluid.

"What a boomer!" Katie says before dissolving into another fit of giggles.

Fuck.

You trudge into the living room, looking like shit from the night before. Whatever the youngest Paladins are up to, it's certainly no good.

"What are you two doing?" You mumble as Katie puts her phone away and blinks innocently at you.

Wolf in sheep's clothing, I swear.

"Nothing! Mala was just showing me some photos from last night."

With a smirk, Mala presents you with their phone.

This can't be good.

The first photo you see is a picture of Katie with her arms wrapped around Dami. She's laughing as Dami's trying to pull her in for a kiss.

Cute.

Scrolling to the left, you see a more formal picture of Mala standing next to Tzuyu. They're holding hands while not making eye contact with one another. You wonder how long they'll dance around their feelings for each other before one of them confesses.

You swipe again and again, seeing various photos of your friends and their friends. In one photo, Sparrow's knocked out on the ground, curled up in between Kazuha and Yunjin. In another, Neon and Siyeon cheers each other with wide smiles on their faces. There's even a group photo of the five of you that will definitely be a wallpaper on your phone or laptop.

You swipe again.

Then you see it.

A picture of you, drunk beyond recognition, holding a beer in one of your hands. There's nothing wrong with this photo, except you're not the only one in it.

Your other arm is wrapped around Kim Lip, who is wearing a stunning white dress. If your friends didn't know any better, they would assume that the two of you were drunken newlyweds.

The problem is, she's not your wife. She's not your girlfriend. You haven't been seen together in months since she's your ex.

Maybe you two had only dated for a few months, but you really liked her. She was a goofy loser, just like you. Your heart aches as you stare at the picture, wondering what could've been.

"Do you think he's seen it?" Katie shout-whispers as Mala sighs.

"Do you think he makes that face normally?"

"Did this get posted?" You softly ask as Mala and Katie immediately shut up. "Did. This. Get. Posted?"

"We didn't post it." Katie bites her lip before looking at you. "You did."

You toss Mala their phone before scrambling to grab yours from your pocket. When you unlock your phone and open Instagram, you notice your post right at the top with you and Kim Lip in the photo.

And it has 3,000 likes. Great.

"Ah, Jinsoul texted me last night and..." Katie trails off before playing with her hair.

"What did she say?"

"Check your messages."

You click on the message bubble in the top right corner as the menu changes in front of you. Once your messages load, you notice that Kim Lip's name is right at the top.

You click on the message without hesitating.

I saw your post.

Do you have time to meet?

I want to talk things through.

You shouldn't be here.

It's 11:35 a.m. - she's five minutes late.

Your friends aren't late as the two youngest Paladins are dressed in the worst disguises you've ever seen - fake mustaches and all.

A few tables away, Mala holds up their phone with scrolling text that reads: you've got this! just keep your calm and relax.

Katie then holds up their phone, and her scrolling message is: don't screw this up you fucking boomer.

There's something to be said about the duality of man between your two friends, but you can't say anything to them as Kim Lip enters the coffee shop.

You wonder if she knows that this is the same coffee shop you had your first date in.

And you're sitting in the same booth where she told you that she didn't have feelings for you anymore.

You still weren't over her, months later.

She's just as beautiful as the day you last saw her.

Katie's right - You're such a fucking simp.

"Hey." She gently tucks a small bit of hair behind her ear before setting her bag on the table. "Mind if I sit?"

"Not at all."

Kim Lip slides into the booth beside you as you fiddles with the coffee up in front of you.

"Want anything to drink?" You offer before pulling your wallet from your pocket.

"No, I'm alright," She smiles for a moment before asking, "how are you feeling after last night?"

Terrible, I'm dealing with a headache in my brain and two headaches twenty feet away from me.

"A bit rough, but it's nothing that a little hangover cure can't fix." You take a sip of your drink before continuing. "But I'm sure that you didn't come here to just ask how I was feeling."

"Right," She shakes her head for a moment, "listen, I'm sorry about everything I said last night. It was completely unfair of me to dump all of my feelings onto you when you didn't ask for it."

You do your best to hide a surprised reaction, choosing to cough and cover your face with your hand instead.

What did she say? How drunk was I last night?

"You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" Her eyebrow raises as you sheepishly nod. "Well, shit."

Kim Lip grabs her bag and pulls out her phone. She grabs her phone and quickly navigates to her gallery as you try to recall anything that happened last night.

I remember getting there, talking to a few friends, playing a bit of Truth or Drink... that's about it.

With a soft blush, she hands you her phone. You play the video, hoping that you didn't make an absolute fool of yourself.

You hear Jinsoul, the cameraman, laugh as she approaches the two of you. With tears streaming down her face, Kim Lip shakes your barely conscious form.

"I love you!" She screams into your face. "I miss you so much! I was such an idiot for dumping you. Please, please, please take me back!"

You don't even blink at her confession - how fucked up were you? - as she continuous to blubber in your ear.

The video ends with Jinsoul laughing again - you understand why her and Katie are friends after that debacle.

"So?" Her eyes meet yours as you hand her the phone back.

"Did you mean any of that?" You honestly ask as she pauses.

"I- I did." She bows her head as you take a pause of your own to process what she's said.

"I missed you." You hate how desperate you sound, but it's the truth.

You'd do anything for a second chance, and by the way her eyes lit up at your words, you think she feels the same way.

"I'd like that drink now, if you don't mind." She smiles as you sigh.

"Once I get rid of those two, sure," You vaguely gesture towards Katie and Mala, "I don't need them interfering in my boomer romance."

"They still call you a boomer?"

"They haven't stopped."

She laughs as a lovesick grin appears on your face.

"I don't mind them, really," You say, "They're just-"

"-annoying? overprotective? hilarious?" Kim Lip takes a few guesses as your eyes widen.

"-betting on us?" You say, astonished, as you witness Mala hand Katie a handful of money. "Those little hustlers!"

You go to stand up, but Kim Lip grabs your arm and pulls you back down.

"Careful, boomer, you might pull a muscle." She teases before winking at the two little shits who are laughing in the corner.

"That sounds like a you problem, since you'll be the one taking me home." You smile as she laughs.

"As long as we go home together, I don't mind what happens next." Kim Lip says, and you find yourself agreeing.

Perhaps there's still room for love in a boomer's old, tired heart.

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schrodinger-swriter · 3 months

Note

I am going to give you freedom and allow you to pick three prompts and three letters (or just one or the other) for one of your favorite characters that you haven’t done because that sounds fun

Prompts 8 9 and 13 with Sir Pentious

I hope you don't mind me just doing the tropes post! I think Sir Pentious had most of the letters completed for him in the alphabet... or maybe I'm confusing him with Lucifer...

If anyone is interested in the tropes list as well as the fluff alphabet, you can find both of them linked at the bottom of both Helluva Hotel masterlists!

Mutual Pining:

I hadn't realized that I'd done this as it's own post a while ago, so here is the link!

Drunken Confession:

Pentious is the one to confess to you. He cannot hold his alcohol well, becoming drunk after a few drinks... and boy does he get emotional.. Any shame he might feel when he's sober is completely out of the picture, leaving him to bluntly gush about you to your face and to anyone who will listen. Many get annoyed with him fairly fast, leaving him to mumble into the bar's counter... completely unaware that you're within ear shot. Even if he was aware, he doesn't care all that much. Liquid courage, as they call it. He wouldn't try much of anything other than simply babbling his thoughts about you out loud, before promptly puking on the floor and maybe crying after.

Bathing Together:

He nearly refuses to take a bath with you because he doesn't want you to feel like he's intruding in on your privacy... even if you invited him to join you. He does eventually warm up to the idea, though. He has to bunch his tail up so you can both fit in the tub. He... tries to insist that you don't need to help him, but he won't turn down helping you. Blindly, of course, because his hood is fanned over his face as an effort to be.. "decent" when you turn to face him in the bath. Very shy about it buy very polite, he's totally beet red the entire event..

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #sir pentious x reader #sir pentious x you #sir pentious imagine

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enigmatist17 · 11 months

Text

Kind of a sequel to this post based off AU art done by @chiliger

-------

"...nearly made him jump 20 feet into the air. He was not amused."

The laughter that filled the air was loud enough to cover the snort of amusement that Cody let out as he sipped his drink.

"I hope you got a vid of that, Kenobi never gets scared as far as I know." Wolffe sat forward with a grin, his elongated canines startling some nearby natborns that were passing by 79's. It wasn't often a lot of the commanders were on Coruscant at the same time, and in honor they were gifted the expansive table that overlooked the street and hyperlane outside the bar.

"Oh yea, copied it the second he stalked off to his quarters." Cody chuckled, sitting back with a crack of his neck.

"So, he still talk to you like a nervous shiny when he sees your teeth?" Bly smirked, stealing the last of the bar food that Fox had ordered some time ago.

"Not as much, but if he thinks I don't feel the way he watches me all the time, he's mistaken."

"So...are you going to take your shot?" Fox took a swig of his drink, quite firmly in the drunk-but-not-overly-so department. "Because if not..."

"Don't..." Cody growled, and bares his teeth at Fox as the others giggle and laugh at the display.

"Please, Foxy here has his own prey." Rex snickered from his corner of the table, using Ponds as a support to stay upright. He may or may not have had more than a few drinks, and may or may not be finding this entire situation hilarious. "More than one I've heard too?" Rex is sent into some proper laughter when Fox's much louder growl and bared teeth silences a few nearby tables, officers and various troopers freezing as they seemingly await some sort of standoff before realizing it had nothing to do to them. A quick glanced shows that Fox is focused on someone at his table and not on any of them, and slowly conversation resumes save the occasional look their way.

It was never wise to be around a higher ranked officer when they're facing off over someone they had feelings for.

"Careful Rex, might end up arrested until you're sober." Bly snickered, and Fox snorts in amusement as he relaxes back into his seat.

"I am just Fox right now, and I am going to keep drinking until I forget what the GAR is." Fox waved for a fresh round, Cody patting his shoulder with a nod.

"Then let's keep the stories coming eh? Maybe scare some of the others again. Should get you plenty drunk eh?"

Fox grinned, and raised his glass with a hum.

By the end of the night they're the last ones in 79's, so drunk and unaware the music had died down and people had left they failed to see a group of amused men sitting at the main bar.

"How much longer do you think it'll take?" Anakin Skywalker grinned, sipping a water as he watched the commanders burst into laughter about something.

"A few minutes, Ponds appears to be slowly falling asleep." Plo Koon hummed, using the bar as a seat in his meditation pose.

"I do hope so." Obi-Wan Kenobi was trying very hard not to blush as he listened to Cody talk about an encounter they had shared a few weeks ago. Mace Windu was staring at him, and he was going to be damned if he let the man have a single inch of blackmail material via his reaction.

"What, all the glittering teeth over there setting you off?" Anakin snorted into his drink, jumping out of the way when a bar stool is thrown in his direction. The noise attracted the attention of the drunken crew, who finally seemed to realize that there were Jetti in a very empty bar, and attempt to stand at attention.

Instead, Bly and Wolffe trip over their own feet, and without Fox and Rex grabbing them, they would have fallen flat on their faces.

"At ease, at ease." Plo chuckled, moving to stand as the group stumble their way down towards the bar. "We thought you may want some assistance, you all are quite inebriated."

"That means drunk." Bly snickered, and everyone but Wolffe starts giggling as their Jetti watch on with some soft chuckles among them.

"Come, you can stay in the Temple tonight, it's much closer than your barracks." Windu waved his hand to start turning off the last of the lighting the owners had left on, Plo and Anakin becoming some support for the drunk men to remain upright. Cody suspiciously was the closest to Obi-Wan, hugging the man from behind and all but melding them together.

"Hello sir." Obi-Wan is very aware that Cody is dragging his feet, the others already out the door by the time the two of them had made it even halfway across the room. "Didn't see you waiting for us."

"It's quite alright." Obi-Wan coughed, nearly jumping again when Cody presses his face against his neck. "Cody?"

"Mhm?"

"May I ask why you're uh, so close to my neck?" Obi-Wan bites his tongue when he feels Cody hum, the noise rumbling in his chest.

"No reason." The clone purred, and mumbles something Obi-Wan can't catch.

"Come, there should be a vehicle for us to use." Obi-Wan knows the others have already gone, and is grateful that Mace in particular isn't there to tease him. He goes to say something else, but whatever words that were forming in his mind are suddenly scattered when Cody presses a kiss to his neck. The man is letting his canines purposefully drag as he kisses a trail along Obi-Wan's shoulder, pushing away thoughts of wanting to do more as he finally pulls away from his flustered general.

"Coming general?" The drunken man grinned, stepping around so he could get a look at the wide-eyed Jetti.

"....you are an absolute bastard." Obi-Wan's voice is strained as the two finally leave the bar, Obi-Wan locking the door as Cody stumbles to the nearby speeder. "Passenger seat Comm-dear."

Now it was his turn to see the way Cody looked back, reminding him of a fresh-faced solider the way he stumbles into the passenger side of the speeder.

Obi-Wan is grinning the entire ride to the Temple, and Cody has his face in his hands at being the one to be an embarrassed mess upon their arrival.

Oh well, there's always next time.

#personal #star wars #clone wars #bigger teeth clone au #bigger teeth au #chiliger #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #codywan #commander fox #commander wolffe #captain rex #commander ponds #commander bly #master windu #anakin skywalker #plo koon #just having fun with this AU

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zqmbiescorpse · 1 year

Text

𝗧𝗥𝗨𝗧𝗛 𝗢𝗥 𝗗𝗔𝗥𝗘..

kaitlyn ka x female reader

a/n: i've been dying for kaitlyn fics, and just the quarry fics in general, because there's hardly any and that makes me want to cry. anyways, first thing i'm hopefully posting so no bullying pls. no werewolves! also sorry if the ending feels like it could be improved, i just really wanted to be finished with this <3

warnings: nothing serious, some making out

word count: 2.4k

(masterlist)

The joyous, fun atmosphere surrounding the gentle flicker of the campfire quickly disappeared, leaving the mood somewhat awkward as everyone who had remained (being Dylan, Ryan and yourself) turned towards Kaitlyn with a disappointed look.

"What?" questioned the small ravenette, sensing the glares from the three of you while she feigned innocence at the situation she, may have, intentionally, created.

"You totally ruined the party man," Dylan absentmindedly responded, taking a sip of whatever beer was left. All of you were a little tipsy, sober enough that thinking clearly wasn't an issue but drunk enough to feel a warm woozy sensation floating around your bodies.

In all truth, you weren't bothered in the slightest by the absence of Jacob, Abi, Emma or Nick. You did like them, sure, though being with them throughout the summer was often challenging - you typically found yourself enjoying the company of the others instead.

The four of you had stuck together for a large portion of the time, and you felt you'd become pretty close; so close that, naturally, you formed a humongous crush on the confident, very attractive, super cool dark-haired girl that was sometimes a little mean to you.

With Kaitlyn, you could never be quite sure about how she felt about you, there had been a few occasions where you doubted if she even liked as a friend. She was hard to read and you were a bit sensitive so, as you can imagine, things got tricky - having a ton of feelings for her only made you suffer greatly.

Then again, when these times occurred where you were miserable, Kaitlyn would periodically open up to you and let you know that, yes, she did appreciate you. Small moments of affirmation after so much doubt made you feel so unbelievably fuzzy inside. Unfortunately, the pair of you were tremendously insecure, because of this, there was a lot of dancing around each other the entire summer, similarly to Nick and Abi.

Suddenly desperate to relish in what could be the last evening with her, a rapid demand to continue the entertainment of 'truth or dare' came spilling from your mouth.

'Someone's...eager," Ryan chuckled slowly, glancing over at you and then at Dylan with a knowing glint in his eye.

Following this, Dylan offered, "Y/N's just disappointed she didn't get to smooch anyone this evening."

"You and me both, Y/N."

It was such a quiet array of words yet everyone heard Kaitlyn mutter them - nobody said anything back.

You were so hopelessly in love with her, that you couldn't help but hang onto anything Kaitlyn said that remotely resembled a reciprocation of feelings.

Shyly, you lifted your gaze from the muddy floor to your friends around you, careful not to stare directly at her gorgeous face. Whatever you were about to say next needed to be calm, one hundred percent normal and definitely not suggestive of anything.

With a brief amount of consideration and overthinking, you said, "Well, I don't know, what else is there to do right now? We can keep playing without the others."

You needed to stop working yourself up over such minuscule things; with Kaitlyn anywhere near you, you couldn't control yourself. Not being a fumbling mess was incredibly difficult.

"Yeah sure, why the fuck not?" Dylan chimed back in with a sense of glee, intrigued to see what would happen next.

"Cool alright, Kaitlyn?"

Deep down, it was clear to you that she would join back in, but part of you still inwardly thanked Ryan for ensuring that she was interested in continuing.

"I'm in, of course," A short pause. "You're a bit far away from us Y/N, you should get a bit closer, come here..."

Watching as Kaitlyn patted the empty space on the rough log impatiently, indicating you join her, an eruption of warmth covered your cheeks at her attention being on you; her wanting you next to her.

"Yeah, come on over here Y/N!"

Obviously, it didn't feel as special when Dylan said it, though, you appreciated how it got rid of some of the tension.

"Okay okay, yes, I'm coming," You spoke up, giggling, absolutely infected with giddiness that was bursting to show. You're sure it did, a big goofy smile plastered to your face as you made your way to the opposite side of the campfire. Apparently, the delight spread to Kaitlyn since you could've sworn she was attempting to mask an excited grin too.

Immediately, a soft scent of honey mixed with something floral was all you could smell, each and every time you inhaled. It made you feel very comfortable.

"Who wants to start it off this time?" inquired Ryan, yet your attention was instantly torn away from him due to the sensation of a soft, smaller hand brushing over your slightly sweaty one.

There was not a doubt in your mind. You had already jumped to the conclusion that it was intentional. From doing an action so small as turning away from you to face Ryan, how could Kaitlyn's hand touch yours in the process if it were on accident? There was no time to think rationally, you were already freaking out like mad. And she loved it.

"I'll go."

Leaving no room for arguments, Kaitlyn's head whipped back round to face you once more, this time with a playful theme prominent within her features.

"Y/N. Truth or dare," she asked, intently, her pretty eyes trained on your very nervous self.

You couldn't pick a place to focus your line of sight, eyes darting from her straight to the floor and back at your two shaky hands resting in your lap. Not in a million years were you prepared to answer 'dare'. In what world did you have the confidence.

Telling yourself it was the sensible response, you requested 'truth' like the jittery coward you are - to nobody's surprise but to Kaitlyn's disappointment.

"Tryna play it safe, are we, Y/N? I'm not letting you off that easily," was all she said as you sat there, patiently awaiting for whatever abomination that was heading your way.

Finally, you observed as her eyes lit up with a sudden delight; her full attention, once again, solely focused on you, not quite prepared for what was coming next.

"Out of everyone here, meaning me, Dylan or Ryan, who would you be the most interested in dating...and you have to answer otherwise it's no fun."

The situation wouldn't have felt awfully suffocating if it weren't for your stupid crush, which you were starting to suspect Kaitlyn was fully aware of. Her plump lips contorted mischievously into something smug - a perfectly arched eyebrow raised while she continued staring you down.

Because of the intense stare and immense amount of pressure you felt you were under, you missed a faint flash of worry flicker in her eye at your hesitation; uncertain whether or not her question had backfired on her.

Words couldn't describe the newfound urge tugging at your stomach to let her know that you so badly wanted to date her, to be with her, to kiss her. You couldn't handle rejection in the slightest but also couldn't bare the thought of letting this go on much longer - missing your chance when you had it.

You felt yourself tearing apart because of a silly crush on a girl who was way too good for you; evidently taking this unimportant game way too seriously. This time, you locked eyes with Kaitlyn, your heart racing, making an effort to bring any remnants of confidence together to prepare an answer.

"Uhhhh, I'd probably wanna date you, Kaitlyn?"

You had never experienced something simultaneously this underwhelming and overwhelming. Really, your response was very simple, basic, and not that huge. If, by chance, the beautiful ravenette was utterly disgusted by your answer it could be put down to merely a game and everyone would move on. You would be devastated but you'd get over it.

Having said that, repulsion was the last thing Kaitlyn felt regarding your answer, instead, a frantic fuel ignited within her. For a moment, she kind of just gawked at you, a bashful awkwardness radiating from your features.

"Truth or dare," she asked once more, this time the question coming across as more demanding, and a slight shake was apparent in her voice. Desperation spurred over her yet she seemed to be concealing it quite well, aside from the little chew on her lip while she awaited your answer, the nervous habit being the only indication of how Kaitlyn felt.

"Hey, what!" Dylan interjected, "Why are you going again, Kaitlyn? It's Y/N's turn."

Though you had to admit that Dylan's disapproval was amusing, you were too engulfed in whatever was happening between you and her. Nothing but you and her. Bathing in her alluring nature, you really did not mean to take this long to respond, you shouldn't be keeping someone that exquisite waiting.

"Dare..."

To outsiders, the atmosphere didn't appear tense at all. The luminous blaze of the golden camp, flickered and your chest tightened by the second.

"I dare you," Kaitlyn breathed out, her words trailing off implying a wane in confidence. Again, she was doubting herself, even when, at this point, the both of you had been as open as you could about your intense romantic interest for each other without explicitly saying anything.

You observed her complexion closely, each insecurity conveyed on her face made your heart rate increase consequently. You yearned for her to give in and do something to relieve all the built up anxiety, yet couldn't blame her too much since you found yourself incapable of initiating the first move.

An abrupt change conjured. Kaitlyn ostensibly bolder.

"I dare you to kiss me."

Silence. You inched forward but couldn't quite make it all the way. You didn't know what it was, something was holding you back. Also, with the audience of the two boys, you couldn't help your sheepish nature.

As though she couldn't handle it anymore, impatient because of your hesitancy, Kaitlyn took matters into her own hands and closed the gap, her soft lips meeting yours. Certain she would tease you about your failure to for fill the dare, you decided it was best to concern yourself with it later - a highly insignificant worry, really.

The kiss didn't last too long. The bliss you felt quickly overpowered by insecurity, and maybe disappointment too. You had hoped the moment you had been chasing for months would at least be longer than a few seconds. Grateful you got to kiss her, yet, you needed more.

"That was...terrible. I'm sorry," You mumbled bashfully, barely audible for Dylan and Ryan.

"Nu-uh baby, it was good," She whispered back, then tugging your face toward her once more.

Whereas the first peck was delicate, shy and over in a few seconds, in this instance, the kiss was deepened almost immediately. Her gentle hands cupped your flushed cheeks, promoting you to tightly grasp at her clothes. It took all of your power to not let any whimpers or whines escape you, making out with someone while other people were around was embarrassing enough as is.

"Okay...guys..." Ryan, being the first to speak up, broke the immersion, the two of you reluctantly pulling away from each other.

"Totally digging how happy you are right now, but, you know, lodge is empty..." Dylan chimed in, somewhat less awkward than Ryan.

You shared a look with Kaitlyn, your shortness of breath mirrored after your lips had been pressed against one another's for an extended period of time.

"Sounds great, thanks Dylan," Kaitlyn rose from her place seated on the log, enthusiasm oozing from her. "Let's get going huh, Y/N?" She proposed, laced with sultry.

You stayed seated, a little dumbfounded about the kiss and relishing in the electric sensation circulating in your body. Kaitlyn gripped your wrist, gaining your attention as her request caught up with you.

"Uh, yeah...yes we should go," Stumbling over your words, you got up, waved to Dylan and Ryan and began your journey back to the lodge. Incoherent mumbling could be heard from the pair left behind. You ignored it, giggling slightly and walked beside Kaitlyn.

When you arrived, you opened up the wooden door and stepped inside, Kaitlyn not giving you an opportunity to voice your opinion on anything; her mouth soon latched onto yours.

It was hungry, and you returned the passion. Although she may have been smaller than you, she still forced you up against one of the aging walls of the building; her tongue buried in your mouth. There was no fight for dominance, Kaitlyn was in control, not that you minded. It was such a rush, her lips all over your cool skin, your trembling hands in her dark hair, the occasional raspy chuckles from her, and the whines from you. Anything either one of you did spurred the other on wildly.

Eventually, distances had to be created since you couldn't keep going without catching your breath.

"I can't believe it took us that long to do this. We could've been having hot make-out sessions all summer" Kaitlyn beamed with genuine delight, her hands retreating from being all over you to placed on her hips, taking her usual sassy stance.

"I know," You agreed, laughing," I was so scared about being rejected"

"It's okay, I was equally terrified. Better late than never I suppose. At least we know now." The ravenette smirked, gazing into your eyes, entertained by how dishevelled you looked, encouraging her to admit, "I seriously am so fucking attracted to you."

Again, you let out a giggle, a noise that Kaitlyn thought was endearing. "Well, I've been fawning over you for like ages now." You blushed, the confession sparking a wave of heat to pass over you. Even though your actions had already said enough, disclosing the information made your shoulders feel externally lighter.

"It does really suck that it's the end of camp, going our separate ways and all" You continued, dejectedly. You were overjoyed that you were finally sharing these movements with Kaitlyn but hated yourself for holding off this long.

She examined your rapidly declining mood, likewise, she was regretful for waiting, however, not an ounce of uncertainty clouded her mind.

"What is there to worry about? Of course, we can stay in touch, I'm serious about this and...I do want to be with you." She reassured you, offering a loving smile filled with comfort. "Just give me your number, baby."

#the quarry #the quarry fanfic #the quarry fandom #the quarry kaitlyn #kaitlyn ka #kaitlyn ka x reader #dylan lenivy #ryan erzahler #emma mountebank #jacob custos #until dawn #supermassive games #the quarry x reader #until dawn x reader #lgbtq #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #x female reader

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whateverwhyamievenhere · 5 months

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little lestappen drabble

Hii, so I usually don't post on here, but you know it, it's winter break and the brain rot is brain rotting, so I've started to write a drabble. It's inspired by some of my favorite moments of Charles and Max that can't seem to leave my mind. This is nowhere near anything but a draft, though I thought some of you might enjoy this. Please be so kind and let me know if you like it or what could be improved. Also if anyone has any ideas where this could go plot-wise hmu, because I suck at drawing up plots beforehand. Have a great day/night wherever you are. L <3

The sun peaks right through the tips of his hair. Strands flying, highlights glistening in the golden light. One last lap they said, one more push, till he got to feel the light of the setting sun blind his eyes. He's in Texas, finished his quail lap, scrambled out of the car, and all he searched for was the blue of his eyes.

Like ocean, like storm. Crashing on a shore, there will always be a twist in Charles gut when Max meets his eyes. Inevitably drawn to each other, dancing around each other, desire mistaken for distaste. Green clashing into blue, in a haze of moments Charles is being ripped right out of the calming sun. Media Duty, take pictures, smile, be nice and orderly. Most importantly, get along. Get along with Max. These are direct orders because everyone seems to think they hate each other. Charles thinks they may did once upon a time. Now he’s not quite sure what to make of it all. ____________________________________________________ “Charlie I’ve got some space for you” the words echo in Charles' head, did Max just call him Charlie, normally only Alex or maybe Lando does so rarely. Why in the world of why's does it make feel Charlie all giddy? What does Max think that he's allowed to call him Charlie? Isn’t that reserved for his closer friends? Does Max think they are friends? Sure, he's been acting as such ever since Austin, but what exactly changed? Why aren’t the forcibly nice, why does it seem like Max enjoys his company more than he used to? And why does he immediately comply and squeeze through to Max, standing at the other side of the room? Brush of shoulders, hands clasping each other, slight shove where his back dips in. Broad smile, teeth on full display, eyes crinkling. Max is flashing him his most Maxie smile there is. Sue him if Max can call him Charlie, at least he can call him Maxie in his mind. Maybe one day he will be allowed to say it out loud, just like Daniel is. “I thought you’d suffocate over there.” “Yeah, well I’m glad, I didn’t. Any news from Daniel, his party still standing for tonight?” “Do you really think we’d be in Vegas and Daniel would let it slip though his fingers to start the weekend of sober? He’s going to be the death of us!” “Ah no, I think we will manage quite well, you think?” At that, Max slings an arm around Charlies shoulder, slightly shakes his head in dismissal, smirks to himself and moves them after the rest of their friends that were just mingling mere seconds before. Max is leading them towards the press conference that Charles entirely forgot about once he heard Max claim “Charlie” his. ____________________________________________________

#charles leclerc #max verstappen #lestappen gate 2023 #lestappen #fanfic #f1 #f1 drabble #formula 1

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luckydinosauur101 · 2 months

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! SPOILER ALERT !

I will be posting about Chapter 17 of “The Rehabilitation of Death” by @Bamsara for probably the next day or 3, including posts rambling about parts of both that chapter and many others before.

Please, if you do not want to be spammed with posts and reblogs; turn off notifications for when I post or something :)

WE STARTING HERE

FIRST OF ALL

Is this a reference to the 5+1 lmao?? Bro you ASKED for them to LITERALLY KILL THEMSELVES TO SEE YOU

SECOND OF ALL

“Without question, he closes them.” This entire chapter I noticed, especially as Narinder got more drunk, he was more willing and compliant with doing whatever Lambert told him to do, no fuss, no question. “Do this.” “Ok.” “Go over there and sit down” “alrighty”. Not even a fuss. I think it just shows how much he truly loves the Lamb, and only his sober pride stops him from just willingly letting Lambert take the lead

Haha cat’s neck goes -snAp- I thought of his head borderline 180’ing here

-Bam self-inserting their own drunken mood cuz they decided to get drunk while writing but then arson collapsed on himself-

I literally just ended up taking a picture of this entire scene here because.

I’m sure. I’m sure you can tell why.

I was listening to

I recommend listening to it it’s pretty good- very fitting to Trod (@-Bamsara again I may or may not have made my own trod playlist for songs I thought fit. And I may or may not like for people to give me their opinions on how they fit :3c)

And so I hit the “I’m sorry” part right before I read the “I relinquish the crown to you”. Fitting. Agonizingly. Fitting

AND AGAIN A LITTLE WAYS DOWN.

“Under all that angst and anger is a beating, human heart” as I read the

F U C K I N G.

“They do not have a heartbeat. They do not have a pulse. They will not rise.”

I HEAR THE LYRICS AS I READ IT.

I needed to take a second.

Because it really.

Really hurt.

That entire scene.

hurt.

#the rehabilitation of death #trod au #spoilers

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amberlynnmurdock · 1 year

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Blind Faith

Chapter 3: Temperance

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Chapter Summary: You get private self-defense lessons from the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, who you call Mike now.

A/N: The POV switches a bit frequently in this chapter, between Matt and the reader. I tried to make it as clear as possible. Basically, if you see Matt's name when he's with the reader, it's from his POV. But if it's just described as "he" then it's the Reader's POV. Thanks to all for the kudos you've left on this so far <3 this fic is in its beginning stages but I am really excited to see it through. Enjoy! P.S. This entire series takes place after Season 3 of Daredevil, but Matt kept the black suit.

Chapter 2 here

Hell’s Kitchen

8:00 AM

You hated mornings.

You specifically hated mornings when you were hungover. Your phone alarm woke you up obnoxiously. Groaning, you slammed your finger on the button to shut it off, worried it might wake your friends.

The bright 8 AM sky of Hell’s Kitchen shone directly in your face. No amount of blankets covering your eyes could keep the darkness inside, and you forced yourself to wake up knowing your sleep was well over. You stretched in bed and reached for your phone again on your bedside table.

You scrolled through your notifications.

The Daily Bulletin posted a new article about new restaurants coming to Hell’s Kitchen this summer. You scrolled through mindlessly as you tried to stay awake. You had a few emails from professors, wishing you a happy graduation and good luck to prospective law students. You remembered your job searching app and that you had one new message from one of the firms you applied to.

Nelson and Murdock: 1 view, 1 new message.

You clicked open the message:

Hi __,

Thank you so much for applying to be our new legal assistant. Of all the applications we received, your resume stood out the most to us at Nelson & Murdock. We’d love to have you come in for an interview next week. Does Thursday at 4:00 PM work? We look forward to seeing you.

Sincerely,

Karen Page

Office Manager at Nelson & Murdock

You couldn’t help but smile at Ms. Page’s message. Finally! I get to have some experience working in the legal field before applying for Columbia Law.

You quickly typed out your message:

Dear Ms. Page,

Thank you so much for reaching out! Of course, I would love to come in for an interview. Thursday at 4:00 PM is perfect. Thanks so much for your consideration.

Regards,

___

You added the interview to your calendar and immediately texted your friends’ group chat the exciting news.

Hell’s Kitchen

8:30 PM

You wanted to go out with your friends, but you had other plans for tonight.

“I can’t believe __ is skipping out on tonight!” Hannah exclaimed as she was getting ready in the bathroom. You looked up from the LSAT book in your lap from the couch and mustered up the most convincing shrug.

“If I want to be a successful lawyer, I’ve got to get into law school first. Columbia, no less. That means studying for this Godforsaken test,” you held up the textbook in your hand and clumsily dropped it in your lap.

“Oh, you’ve got the whole summer to study,” Emily pried, dabbing her lipstick on.

“Better start now, then,” you retorted. The truth was, you were absolutely not going to get any studying done tonight. But it was unlike you to decline a night out with your friends, so you used the LSAT as your excuse. You had other plans… of course, if your savior decided to actually show. Who knows? Maybe vigilantes also played games like every guy you’ve ever met at NYU.

“Well, we’ll miss you,” Bella said as she walked out of her room. You smiled at her.

“The bright side is if you guys need me to pick you up, I’ll be sober to do so!” You tried to reason with them.

“True, though we may crash at Ben’s place. Depends how the night goes,” Hannah explained. You nodded, thinking that might be preferable, but you didn’t say so.

You waited patiently, hiding behind your textbook for your friends to leave for the night. Luckily, they decided to get dinner before going out. You would’ve been jealous had you actually needed to study, but the thought of seeing your savior was too exciting to be jealous about anything else.

As soon as they locked the door, you hopped up from the couch and changed out of your pajamas and into a relaxing outfit of leggings, a sports bra, and a hoodie.

It was 9:30—only thirty minutes until your secret meeting with the man in the mask on the rooftop of your apartment building.

Office of Nelson & Murdock

Earlier that day

“Okay, who’s ready to hit up Josie’s tonight?! Karen, Matt?” Foggy Nelson cheered as he slammed his hands on the conference table. Karen Page laughed in her seat as she leaned back in her chair. Her strawberry blonde hair was pushed to one side of her neck.

Matt Murdock suppressed a smile and paused the case file he was just listening to on his Orbit reader.

“I might be inclined,” Karen thought, leaning forward on her desk. “It would be nice to have a drink after coming in to work on a Saturday…”

“Oooh, yeah,” Foggy squinted his face, “sorry about that. I mean, it’s a good thing we’re getting a lot of clients but at the same time, we don’t have enough people here to talk to all of them,” Foggy explained. And then, he remembered something. “Hey, did that applicant ever reply to your message?”

“Oh!” Karen pointed a finger, “Let me check. Ahh, okay! Yes, wow, she did. Uhh, so she’ll be coming in for an interview next Thursday. I just calendared it.”

“Yes!” Foggy put his hands into fists. “Karen, I trust your judgment, unless you want Matt or I to sit in on the interview.”

“Either works. Whoever’s available, I guess,” Karen nodded.

“Cool. So, Josie’s tonight? Matt?”

Matt shook his head.

“I’ve got plans,” he simply said, a smirk on his face. Foggy rolled his eyes.

“Come on, man,” Foggy begged, “you can’t take one night off?”

“I—I can’t,” Matt answered, “I promise next time I’ll join you guys. But not tonight.”

Karen sighed. Matt knew neither of them was pleased with his nighttime activities as they called it, but they’d be happy to know that wasn’t entirely what he was up to tonight—then again, he’s not sure they’d be happy to hear what else he had planned. That was a secret he wouldn’t tell.

“Just let us know if you’ll need us, okay?” Karen asked. Matt nodded.

“Of course,” he said.

“Alright well, guess we’ll hit up Marci to join us,” Foggy suggested.

“Matt, we trust you’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured them.

“Well then, I’m going to get a head start on Josie’s martinis. Karen, let’s get outta here.”

Hell’s Kitchen

10:00 PM

You stood by the edge of the rooftop, looking down at the people who walked the streets. You never came up here at all. Sometimes, you and your friends would take pictures up here, but that was it. Being up here alone felt different—it felt like a hideaway. There you were, watching as stores began to close, and bars began to open up. You could see the lights from Times Square in the distance. You shivered when a cool breeze passed.

And then you were startled by something—a thud, somewhere around the back of the rooftop access. You turned around in defense mode, waiting to confirm the identity of what the noise was.

Then, he appeared. Out of the black, into the soft light that reflected from midtown. His black shirt hugged him so tightly, you could see the outline of his muscles on his chest, his abs… his arms. His face was of course covered by the mask, but you saw his lips and the light stubble he had. His hands were wrapped in rope, like a boxer's. He wore black pants and boots to match.

“I wasn’t sure if you would come,” you decided to speak first as you walked toward him. You stopped after a few feet. The man in the mask walked toward the edge of the roof and sat on the edge, facing you.

“I keep my promises,” he replied. “It’s the Catholicism.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, “you’re Catholic? And you act outside of the law? Seems like a subjective way of justifying things.”

“I don’t think about it too much,” he responded with a shrug. You eyed him suspiciously.

“So, before we begin,” you cleared your throat to keep the mood light, but truthfully he was making you nervous, for some reason. He had a smirk on his face you wanted to wipe off. “Why did you agree to come here and teach me how to defend myself?”

He was quiet for a few moments.

“You had a convincing argument, from what I remember,” he said.

“That can’t be enough to come out of your way and onto the rooftop of my apartment. Surely, you have more important things to do. So, why did you come? And don’t say it’s because of religion, because that’s bullshit.”

“Maybe I wanted to,” he returned. Your heart pounded when he said this. You were thankful it was dark out, or else he might’ve seen your blush. “And you know, it’s important you know how to defend yourself.”

“Hmm,” was all you said. You pressed your lips together. “Do you give all the girls you’ve saved before private self-defense lessons?”

He laughed. You liked how his laugh sounded.

“You’re my first student,” he said in a low voice.

“So, what should I call you? In my head, I’ve been calling you my savior.”

He smiled, then he got a bit serious.

“Call me Mike,” Mike said.

“Well then, Mike,” you walked closer to him so you were no more than a foot away. You crossed your arms and tilted your head. “I’m a quick learner.”

Mike pushed himself off from where he leaned, so the space between you shrunk even more.

“I don’t doubt that.”

~~~

“Show me what you’d do if someone were to approach you in front of you,” Mike ordered, placing his hands on his hips. You squinted your eyes at him, thinking.

“I’d try to do this,” you began as Mike pretended to “attack” you. You took your arms and tried to hit him away, but he grabbed you by your forearms and steadied you from losing your balance.

“That’s how they can get a hold on you, as I do now,” Mike explained, with a sly grin on his face. “Instead, you want to make sure you move both your arms to one side and do a swiping motion, so they can’t grab you. Try again.”

He got back into position as you did. You braced yourself as he came to you, holding up his arms. You did exactly what he said before, and moved your arms in a swiping motion, gently hitting his arms away.

“Don’t be afraid to hurt me when we do this. I want you to fully grasp how you’d handle yourself, God forbid, you ever had to,” Mike stated. “One more time.”

You repeated your stance as before, and this time, you aggressively swiped his arms away, feeling your forearm clash against his.

“Good girl,” he smiled in satisfaction. Your heart was pounding again in your chest. You weren’t sure if it was from his comment, or that self-defense training was like a workout. You huffed as you caught your breath.

“And what if they anticipate that? What next?” You asked, genuinely curious. Mike thought for a moment before answering.

“Then you have to use your legs,” he replied. “Let’s try that. Give me your arms,” he held up his hands. You raised your arms, and like slow motion, he wrapped his fingers around you, pulling you closer to him. You gasped at the contact. The tip of your nose barely touched his.

“Listen carefully,” he said in a low voice. “I’ve got your arms. You’re going to want to slip from under, using your whole weight.”

You nodded your head, understanding him. His grip on your arms tightened. You took a deep breath and then plunged, slipping out of his grasp.

“Now stop!” He halted. “Raise your right leg and try to kick my shoulder.”

“I don’t know if I can stretch that much,” you stressed.

“You can. This is life or death. Just try it,” he urged you.

You raised and kicked your right leg, hitting his shoulder and using the weight to push him away. He nodded and clapped his hands.

“Exactly that,” Mike smiled.

“I need a water,” you uttered, “I don’t know how you do this every night. Do you need a water?”

“I could use a water,” Mike answered.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

Trotting down the rooftop access stairs, you hurried for two water bottles from the fridge. You glanced at the clock—11:30 PM. Sheesh. Time flies when you’re learning self-defense.

Upon entering the roof again, you were confused to not find Mike where you left him. You scanned the roof, looking for him. Did he leave?

Suddenly, a dark figure came charging at you. You dropped the water bottles and immediately went into defense mode, realizing it was Mike. You thought fast and swiped his arms immediately, swaying him to the side.

“That was a test,” Mike said out of breath.

“Jesus!” You exclaimed, “You scared me!”

“That’s how fast an attacker will be. Out of nowhere, and just like that,” Mike explained.

You shook your head, picking up the water bottles from where you dropped them. You handed one to Mike.

“Let’s take a break, shall we?”

~~~

Matt contemplated coming tonight.

There was something wrong about why he chose to come to you, to fulfill his promise. When he started his activities, he told himself he’d never get attached to the people he saved—never get emotionally involved. He would strictly leave it to business: stop the criminals, and save the innocent person. But for some reason, with you, he couldn’t let go.

The second time he saved you was a complete accident…fate, as you had said. He was in a completely different part of town, and you so happened to be in the same area. He remembers hearing your voice, dignified, yelling at that punk kid to leave that innocent girl alone. He recognized your voice immediately. Matt’s hearing was so sensitive, even after hearing someone’s voice once, he could pick it out in an entire crowd. He liked that you talked to him; that you weren’t afraid of him in his suit.

And still, he wasn’t sure if coming tonight was a good idea. Because he knows he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from coming again.

And now, here was, on your rooftop, sharing a bottle of water with you. He sat against the wall, knees pulled up. You sat next to him with your legs in front of you.

“Don’t you ever get tired?” You suddenly asked in a soft voice. Matt tilted his head to listen to your body. You were calm now. You weren’t when he first showed up. Your heart was beating steady. She feels safe. She is safe. He could smell a lingering scent of your perfume on your skin. It smelled like black cherry and vanilla.

“Of what?” Matt asked in return.

“You know,” you shrugged, “expecting to be everyone’s savior.”

Matt shook his head, “not really. It’s easy to not get tired when you’ve accepted this as your purpose.”

“It’s your purpose, to bear the burden of other people’s situations?”

Matt laughed, despite himself. “Maybe.”

“Well, if you ever need someone to share that burden with—I’m right here,” you told him. “Even though I don’t actually know who you are.”

He smiled a little. “It’s better that way.”

“Is it?” You questioned. “I mean, you could literally be anyone. You might be one of my professors and I might not even know it. Actually, I’d hate that. I take it back,” you shook your head. Matt laughed again.

“I promise I’m not one of your professors.”

“Phew,” you said. “Well, who are you?”

“A New Yorker, like you.”

“I guess that counts,” you smiled. “How old are you?”

“Oh, come on,” Matt sighed.

“What? These are valid questions. I won’t figure out who you are, but I can know basic information. Can I guess? You’re definitely older than me.”

Another reason why this felt wrong. He wasn’t that much older than you—about seven years.

“I’m not that old,” Matt argued. You laughed.

“I didn’t say you were, Mike.”

“Let’s try another defense technique,” Matt said, changing the subject. He stood up from sitting and held out his hand for you. You grabbed it and he pulled you up. He let his hand linger in your touch before he let go again.

“Okay,” he said, “turn around.”

“What?”

“Turn around,” Matt repeated. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you answered. Matt listened to you closely. You weren’t lying. You turned around.

“Do you mind if I…get close?”

It was your turn to pause. “No.”

“Okay,” Matt took a deep breath. He listened to you closely again, and using his senses, he took you in. He knew your hair was down. He slowly raised his hand and moved your hair to one side, revealing a part of your neck. He felt your goosebumps rise at his touch. You shivered. Matt pretended not to notice. He placed both his hands on either side of your waist, bringing you snug against him, so your back was against his chest. You felt warm against him, and delicate. He slid his arms underneath yours so he rested at your collarbone. He was completely holding you against him now.

“You okay?” He whispered in your ear. You took a shaky breath.

“Yeah,” you said in a small voice.

“Someone could come up from behind you, and grab you like this,” he held you tighter for emphasis. “Similar to before if they got hold of your arms, you have to slide out from underneath. And kick back, too.”

“Okay,” you said in understanding. “Let me try.”

Matt anticipated your moves. He felt your muscles tense as you braced yourself to slide down. And you did, quickly. You exited his restraint, and he didn’t feel warm anymore.

“Good,” Matt said, “exactly.”

You caught your breath. “Can we do it again?”

Matt nodded, motioning for you to come to him.

You slid easily back against him, like putting on a glove. It was like your body melted against his, the way you sunk back into position. You rested your head in the crook of his neck, taking a deep breath.

Matt could feel every muscle you had relax when you did this. It was then he slipped his arms under you again, holding you tightly—but not in the way he instructed before, a different way. He held you tighter against him and touched his covered nose on your temple. He took a deep breath, and instantly, like inhaling a drug, you filled his senses to the max. Your fragrance was intoxicating. He listened to your heartbeat slowly pick up its pace until it was pounding against your chest. He heard you take your own deep breath, as you sunk even more into his body.

It took everything in him to practice self-restraint. He repeated Bible verses in his head, the longer he held you.

A man without self-control is like a city broken into and left without walls. Proverbs 25:28.

“Ready,” Matt whispered.

~~~

You slipped out of his grasp, and you were almost successful, but he held onto your right hand. Mike kept holding on, and suddenly, you were pulled right back into his grasp. This time, facing him, you collided flush against his chest.

He was breathing heavily, and God did you wish you could see his face underneath that mask. His mouth was slightly parted, and you were breathing heavily. You felt Mike’s strong arms snake around your waist, pulling you closer to him. His nose gently touched yours. You felt his hand run up the length of your spine before it rested on the back of your neck. And then, his lips were on yours.

The kiss… you felt his stubble tickle your face, but you didn’t care. His lips crashed into yours, which you accepted gracefully. His lips were soft, but his kiss was rough. Needy. Curious. It was intoxicating, being kissed like that. The closest thing to describing it was like a brand new day. It was like exploring a new universe, where only the two of you existed. Yeah, that’s what it felt like right now. You weren’t in New York City, on your rooftop anymore. It was you and him sharing this kiss, with no one else to see. In secret. His head tilted to the side to take more of you in. You breathed in sharply, desperate for more.

And then, he pulled back and rested his forehead against yours.

“Was that your plan all along?” You asked suspiciously.

“No,” Mike answered. “It wasn’t.”

“Good,” you said, “because that’d be messed up.”

Mike laughed.

“I fear we are way past messed up now, sweetheart.”

Hell’s Kitchen

1:00 AM

Your friends stumbled into the apartment. You were on the couch, LSAT textbook in your hand. You kept reading and re-reading the same paragraph over and over. Your mind kept replaying your moment with Mike, just an hour ago.

“There’s our girl,” Hannah walked in the living room, plopping on the couch next to you. Bella made a beeline for the fridge and Emily sat on the floor, turning the TV on.

“How’d studying go?” Hannah asked drunkenly.

You sighed and closed your textbook.

“Terrible,” you answered with a knowing smile, “I’m in deep trouble for this test.”

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fan fiction #matt murdock imagine #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil imagine #charlie cox #charlie cox x reader #charlie cox fan fiction #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #marvel one shot #blind faith

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theres-a-bea · 5 months

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I'm drunk, it's barbie time.

ft. Delancy Devin's place in the line of succession to the Gardanian Throne

sigh i can't believe my first ever post of 2024 is a dissertation on the line of succession of a fictional barbie kingdom...

I am currently kinda drunk and I've thought of this for a long while now because I've been scrolling through PCS tiktok and everyone keeps insisting that Delancy Devin is Blair's cousin through Reginald

Anyways Delancy is related to Blair/Sophia through Isabella and I can PROVE IT give me like five minutes to sober up

1.) How would you even explain their resemblance?

Like look at them: they have a pretty clear resemblance to each other, which is why it's pretty fucking crazy because Blair looks exactly like Isabella¹︎. And while Delancy may have her resemblance to her mother, ironically, Devin is not related to the royal family by blood.

Which could only lead to one explanation: Delancy's father is Isabella's brother. (Isabella's side has strong ass fucking genes, I'm pretty sure that brother looked almost identical to her too)

I mean look at poor old reggie, his daughter bears absolutely no fucking resemblance to him at all. If Delancy's dad had been his brother instead, then why is there a very clear resemblance between Delancy and Sophia-Blair? (Like their overall profiles are so goddamn similar, I'm actually gagged that nobody had clocked it before, or even at least pointed it out.)

(Look me in the eye and tell me there was not a single incident where Hadley had tried to scare the shit out of Delancy in the semi-darkened shower rooms at like 8 pm only to find that it was actually Blair, or even Portia tripping out of her mind at 3 am in some dark hallway thinking she was talking to Delancy in the dark when it was actually Blair taking her back to her dorm)

All jokes aside, let's get into the serious shit:

2.) If Reginald was "King"²︎, then why the fuck was Isabella coronated as the true heir of Gardania during graduation?

This actually means she went to Charm School AS the princess representing Gardania, because how the fuck else could she be coronated AS PRINCESS of Gardania if she wasn't?

If some Blair Coronation Shit happened to Isabella too when she was crowned, that would be BIG TALK amongst the courts, the nobles, and ALL THE PRINCESSES PRESENT DURING THE CORONATION.

Keep in mind that Princess Charm School's Graduation Ceremony is a MAJOR diplomatic event that literally has all those countries' leaders in ONE ROOM. Given that Blair's two other besties are princesses whose fathers or mothers might have been possibly present during the graduation ceremony/coronation of Gardania, wouldn't they have at least fucking mentioned it to her? I mean they literally gave her the entire tea on the car crash why the hell wouldn't they tell her if they knew anything juicier? Such as a PCS student being coincidentally the true heir of Gardania when the magic tiara somehow hit her head and lit up³︎?

(I'm aware that it's possibly a Princess Diana allegory given the Spencers' lineage but STILL, kinda fucking embarrassing being next in line to the throne and finding out your fiancée is actually the true heir of your kingdom??? I would actually never show my face before society ever again tbh.)

According to Dame Devin's accidental tell-all slip⁴︎, it is implied that Isabella was in fact, Queen Regnant, and not Reginald. (Because, why would you specifically admit to eliminating Isabella and NOT Reginald? Let's be honest, bro was just a bonus kill.)

This means that Reginald is simply a consort, and we can assume, that Gardania's succession line is matriarchal, and that Queen is actually a higher position than King, which is the reason why Isabella probably got the throne first and not her possible brother, who is most definitely Delancy's father.

i mean, let these charts just speak for themselves:

(yes I made these)

If Isabella is queen, and Delancy is related to Blair via Reginald, then there would have been no way for her to inherit the throne, since she'll only be royal by marriage.

This renders Dame Devin's (admittedly successful) coup absolutely fucking useless, unless of course she killed several other clans with a claim to the throne until she got to Reginald's family, (assuming he was a part of Gardanian nobility) which is highly unlikely considering she would've been caught earlier ??? Cos girl that's literally regicide and treason.

But if Delancy is related to Blair via Isabella herself, then she would have a legitimate claim to the throne, and she has the chance to ascend if Isabella and all her heirs somehow die in a freak accident (which, oh no, is exactly what fucking happened).

so no I will NOT be hearing anyone else out.

Dame Devin's baby daddy mystery solved. *mic drop*

References & Direct Quotations:

¹︎ "No way, Blair, it's a picture of Blair!" (Princess Isla, Princess Charm School, 44:29)

²︎ "Queen Isabella, King Reginald, The Princess Sophia, and their loyal dog, Prince." (Princess Isla, Princess Charm School, 45:00)

³︎ "It lit up on Queen Isabella's head at her coronation." (Princess Hadley, Princess Charm School, 40:36)

⁴︎ "I eliminated Queen Isabella so you could be princess one day!" (Dame Devin, Princess Charm School, 1:11:13)

Source:

Barbie Princess Charm School (2011), dir. Ezekiel Norton

#barbie princess charm school #delancy devin #blair willows #princess charm school #i will never shut up about this movie #i will NOT be hearing out anyone who protests that Delancy is Blair's cousin through Reginald

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jakekiszkasmommy · 10 months

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Bullseye Part 2🥃

Warnings: Slow burn, starting to get a little spicier... I'm just gonna go ahead and say 18+ only- Kissing, mentions of piercings

Part 1

Part 2

............

Time stands still as you giggle to yourself in the bathroom mirror, trying to sober up before going back out to the boys. You check yourself over in the mirror, pulling up your jeans so they cup your butt just right. Your outfit for the night was your trusty black Doc's, your favorite pair of ripped jeans, and a simple black crop top (that showed off your 🍒 piercings just the way you liked). You figured it was just drinks with Sam anyways, no need to get all dolled up.

Fixing what little makeup you threw on earlier in the evening, you pull out your phone and snap a selfie before posting it to your story. You pushed open the bathroom door and were met with a crowd of people at the bar. It seemed since the hours got later, the more people wanted to go out.

You made your way through the crowd, back to your spot at the dart boards but neither Sam or Danny were anywhere to be found. You huff and make your way back up to the bar to order more drinks for yourself. Just as you plop yourself at the end of the counter, Danny places a hand on your lower back and leans close to your ear so he can be heard.

"Would you mind ordering me something as well? Whatever you're having."

"Careful what you wish for, Daniel." You flirt. Why were you flirting with him? You hate him.

The other bartender on shift asks you what you were having and you asked for 2 tequila shots with salt and limes.

He slides them across to you and you both cheers and take the shots. Slamming your glass back down, you nod to him signaling for the next round and he slides them across.

This time you hold your hand out to Danny, palm up. He places his hand in yours without question. You bring his hand to your mouth before licking the area between his thumb and pointer finger and pouring some salt on it. He stares at you with pupils blown wide. The alcohol was starting to affect him too.

You do the same to your own hand and then hand him his shot and lime. You hold up your glass and toast, "TO MY FIRST BULLSEYE!" Before clinking glasses and taking a long slow lick of the salt, downing the shot, and sucking on the lime. The entire time his eyes locked on yours.

"One more?" Danny is leaning into you when he asks, dipping his head low to your ear again and lightly touching your exposed skin on your side. Ugh his hands, wish they would touch me everywhere.

You looked up to his broad figure that was being illuminated by the old christmas lights strung above you and held up your pointer finger, "One more."

He orders another round and asks the bartender to close both of your tabs. Your final round of shots is now in front of you as you repeat your previous steps.

"May I?" Daniel asks while grabbing your hand with the salt and lime. You were confused at what he was asking. "You- you don't have to. I just thought it would be fun. For our last one you know?"

It clicked. He wanted to lick the salt off YOUR hand...and you do the same to his. "OH! Yes! Sorry, a litle fuzzy up here." You giggle.

He raises his glass to you, "To your first bullseye!" He licks a slow, languid stripe up your hand, flattening his tongue before taking the shot and placing the lime between his lips. His SOFT lips. Stop. Why were you thinking about his lips? Get it together Y/N!

A devilish smile spreading across his face as he raises an eyebrow at you, signaling for you to go. You repeat your actions from earlier and place the salt on his hand except when you are done, you hold his hand up in front of you, palm facing himself. An idea springing into your mind.

"If you want a challenge, Wagner, a challenge you'll get," you smirk at him before slowly licking up the back of his hand before working your way up his thumb, you pop the tip in your mouth and give it a swirl before releasing it from your glossy lips. You raise your eyebrow at him before taking the shot and grinning ear to ear as you plop the lime in your mouth. Happy to see that his jaw is nearly on the floor at what just trasnpired in front of him.

He immediately drops his hand to your waist and pulls your body into him. "Come back with me?" Your senses are swirling with his scent mixed with tequila. It's enthralling. You nod an eager agreement before he grabs your hand and drags you back through the crowd and out the door. "I already had an Uber on it's way for me. I just hoped..." he trailed off.

"You hoped I'd come home with you?" You asked before climbing in the car and scooching over to make room for him.

"Yes. I always have. Love at first sight I guess. I saw you talking to Sam at the first gig you came to. You watched him the whole time. And then during my drum solo, I looked over and you were no where to be found. I always swore I'd try to get your attention after that."

"I thought you were just trying to be cocky. That drummer who knows he's good. Tries to impress every girl. I thought we hated each other? All the time spent yelling at each other backstage or at practices-" you start to question.

"Was just me trying to get some sort of interaction with you. More of a reason to enjoy seeing those cheeks flush red. You look hot when you're mad or when you pout." He rubs the back of his neck. "Damn, sorry, I didn't mean to tell you all of this. I guess I just saw my opportunity tonight to see if you felt the same...do...do you feel the same?"

You hadn't thought much about it. You had only known what you called hatred, for Danny. But why did he make you so mad? You racked your brain only to come up short. Only to realize this entire time, you did feel the same way.

The car came to a stop outside of Danny's house. A white, two story home, porch beautifully decorated...you couldn't wait to see what inside looked like. He stops before unlocking the door and turns to you.

"Can I- can I kiss you?" He asks, looking down to your eyes.

"Please." You whisper.

He brings his hands up to cup your face, his fingers ever so gently brushing through your hair. You close your eyes and relax into his touch. Leaning your head up to meet him, your lips connect. And you are thrown into complete bliss. You move your lips to get a sense of the kiss and he does the same, this time a bit more confidently. Your hands move around his neck to pull him into you more.

Your kissing becoming more aggressive and needy with every breath. His left hand flies out to fumble with the keys. Groaning, he tears his face away to see what he's doing. As he does so, you take a chance and kiss his neck. The exposed flesh looking delicious in the porchlight. You continue your attack on his neck as he continues to try to unlock the door. His kneels feeling weak as you hit the spot at the top of his collar bone. He finally swings the door open and turns back to you.

"God, Y/N. You drive me wild." He whispers before picking you up by the back of your thighs and wrapping your legs around him. He walks you through the threshold and kicks the door shut with his foot. The kissing never stopping. "Can I take you to my room?"

This time you break away the kiss in a breathy tone, "Yes. Please, Daniel, yes." You attach your lips to his again as he stumbles through the house to his bedroom. He toes open the door and gently places you on his bed before standing between your legs, his hands laying on either side of your head on the mattress.

"I need you to tell me what you want, Y/N." He looks deeply in your eyes.

"Make me feel good. In any way. I don't care, please, Danny. I just need you to touch me."

"Oh I can promise you there will be PLENTY of that," he says as he nips your ear playfully with his teeth.

............

Part 3

#danny wagner #greta van fleet #gvf #gvf fanfiction #danny wagner fanfiction #danny wagner smut #greta van fleet smut

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sojirosteacup · 10 months

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The (possible) origins of the Mori/Haruhi rumor

Or, I take a look at four different language versions of Mori's character profile to try to debunk this rumor.

You guys probably know the rumor that goes like "Tamaki wasn't supposed to end up with Haruhi, it was going to be Mori, but Tamaki became more popular and the mangaka changed her mind"

Like many others in this fandom, I'm tired of people blindly believing it so I was trying to write a post about how I think this rumor started. I was originally going to focus more on the "it changed because Tamaki became popular" part, because I felt that the "Mori was supposed to be endgame" part of the rumor had already been dissected by other people.

Except when I was I looking for Mori's character profile (the infamous quote that is believed to be the source of it) to use for my post, I found different versions of it depending on the translation. And maybe the "Mori was supposed to be endgame" part needs a bit more dissection, actually.

Especially since I couldn't understand at first why Mori of all hosts is the focus of this rumor, because MoriHaru was pretty much a rarepair before this.

Now I'm going to analyze both the "Mori was supposed to be endgame" part and the "it changed because Tamaki became popular" parts. And I think I may have a pretty good theory for how this rumor started.

Here is my analysis under the cut:

(Beware there are probably some spelling mistakes bc it's 2AM and english is not my native language)

The MoriHaru rumor is widely believed to have come from a quote from Hatori in a manga volume. More exactly, Mori's character profile.

So let's take a look at his character profile for a second.

The English translation that gets passed around goes like this:

"If I leave him alone, he winds up being a 'quiet, sober-faced fellow' so he makes Hatori groan a lot. But his love is vast (laugh), so there's at least an outside chance of Haruhi and Mori becoming a couple."

Here we have what might have confused some people. "Outside chance of Haruhi/Mori becoming a couple" doesn't mean they were supposed to be endgame, it means there is an unlikely chance of them being a couple.

Makes sense people would misread this. But I've always felt it was such a weak sentence to start this entire rumor… especially when there is literally shippy art of Haruhi with every host in the manga. Wouldn't any other character have started a similar rumor? Why would such a weak sentence start something so big?

But I was looking for a clear picture of the English profile to add to my original post idea when I stumbled over the Spanish version. And it got me confused because it was worded differently:

If you don't know Spanish, this is very similar to the English text, except the ending says:

"My (Hatori's) favorite couple is Mori + Haruhi, maybe."

Wait, we have an entirely different sentence here! This one implies Hatori likes MoriHaru more than the other couples, which could point to this being the source of the rumor. But I'm not satisfied. This is not enough. Let's dig deeper.

Spanish is not my native language, so I went to my actual native language, which is Brazilian Portuguese. Fortunately I have the entire collection with me, so I opened volume one to find this:

The first sentence is pretty much the same as the English and Spanish versions, but the rest says "He ends up worrying me, because he gives me the impression he will end up turning the story around. But I like him a lot (laughs). Maybe my favorite couple is Mori and Hani"

And that Hani bit is a fucking mistranslation from the Brazilian Portuguese print! It's supposed to be Haruhi, not Honey. This is the second time I find a mistranslation in this volume! This is why shoujo manga doesn't sell well here, publishers!

But the rest of the text is interesting. He could "turn the story around" (this is the closest translation I can give you for the word "reviravolta"). That means he has the potential to change the plot. Interesting. Seems in line with the rumor of Hatori's plans changing.

Now we have three different translations here, all of them pointing to different things. It's a bit confusing. Which one is the real translation?

But you don't know the depths to my obsession! I do have the first ouran volume in Japanese! And there is no better way to solve this mystery than to look at the original text!

I'm not fluent in Japanese but I have six semesters of beginner level Japanese under my belt + it's 1 AM 2AM and I should be asleep because I'm going to cosplay Tamaki at a con tomorrow + I drank an entire cup of green tea and I'm shaking AND THIS IS THE PERFECT TIME TO FALL IN A TRANSLATION RABBIT HOLE!

Here is a pic of the Japanese text taken straight from the manga:

In the Japanese text, Hatori says Mori/Haruhi (yes, HARUHI, not Honey) is a 大穴 couple. I searched 大穴 on a japanese dictionary app and this is what it means: "Long shot win (in horse racing), big winnings (on a Long shot), a killing (made from a bet)"

So THAT'S probably where it came from. She called MoriHaru an unlikely win and people thought it meant she was planning for him and Haruhi to be a surprise endgame in the long run. Looks similar to the english version, but I feel it has more "winning connotations" here, you know? Add this to the translation calling them Hatori's favorite couple and you have the likely source to the confusion: People thought it was her favorite couple and that it would win in the long run, surprising everyone.

From this to "they were supposed to be endgame but it got changed" it's not a big leap.

I should try translating the rest of the japanese text but let me do it another day when it's not 2AM, thanks

But that does not mean she was planning for them to be canon. If anything it's more likely she didn't know who to ship Haruhi with at first (there are other quotes from the manga that support this or the "Tamaki was always endgame" theory).

So another part of the mystery seems to be solved, but none of this explains the whole popularity part of the rumor. You know, when people say Tamaki became the male lead because he was more popular than Mori.

We know this is highly unlikely because Mori actually got second place at the first popularity pool, losing only to Haruhi. And Tamaki wasn't the only popular character in the group. You can see this in depth in this post by another person.

So where could people have taken that from?

You know which other shoujo fandom has a very similar rumor? Boys over flowers (a.k.a. Hana Yori Dango a.k.a. Meteor Garden).

If you are into that manga, you have probably heard that "Tsukasa wasn't supposed to be the male lead, Rui was. But Tsukasa won the first popularity pool and the mangaka changed her mind."

(Listen, I'm a huge boys over flowers fan but I'm not sure if this is true in this fandom either. I'm not a huge interview reader, so if anyone has a source where Kamio says this, please send it to me.)

But in boys over flowers case it at least makes a bit more sense! Tsukasa did win the first popularity contest (Rui got third place). And I've seen this rumor on bof fansites from the 90s/early 00s, so this one has a higher chance of being true compared to the ouran one.

Honestly, the first time I heard the Mori rumor my first reaction was "???? I've heard this before in another fandom????"

So my guess is that the rumor about Boys Over Flowers somehow jumped to Ouran. But how did people mix up completely unrelated series from different mangaka and magazines? It's not that hard to imagine. They are both popular reverse harem series with the same basic concept (poor girl in rich school with rich boys).

My guess is that someone saw the Mori thing and thought "oh, so it's like boys over flowers where the male lead changed because the other was more popular" and it snowballed from this.

Again, I could be wrong and maybe there is a Hatori quote somewhere on the internet proving the rumor. But for now, I'm going to believe it's a mix of mistranslations/misinterpretations and people jumping to conclusions.

(And this is not an attack on people who ship MoriHaru, btw. Ship whatever you want. This is just about the rumor)

#ouran high school host club #ohshc #takashi morinozuka #meta #please it's 3 am and i'm not a native english speaker be kind to my grammar if i stop making sense here #i know this has been analyzed a lot of times but i need to add my two cents

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sailorgreywolf-german · 5 months

Text

The spicy SpaAus part of my Congress of Vienna oneshots (that I probably should have posted first):

-----------------------------------

There was a knock at the door, so quiet to be almost shy. Austria looked up from the task of undoing his sash. He had been undressing for the night, assuming that his invitation to Spain had been tactfully rejected.

He had already put aside his ornamental saber and was busy working on taking off the layers of his dress uniform. He left the task where it was and went to the door.

He was half-surprised when Spain was standing on the other side of the door, still in his dress uniform and an uncharacteristic uncertainty in his green eyes. On impulse, Austria said, “Here I was thinking that your answer was no.” Spain gave him a wry smile, “For a while, it was. May I come in?”

There was something deeply amusing about him asking. Spain was usually a man who did as he pleased without asking. Austria answered warmly, “Of course you can.”

He stepped out of the way and Spain stepped into the room. He glanced around and located the chairs and settee. It occurred to Austria that the rooms had been redecorated and renovated a couple of times since he had last been there.

Spain said as he continued to look around, “I could really use a glass of wine, if you’ve already opened-“ His eyes fell on the china cup that Austria had been drinking out of before his arrival. Sounding slightly deflated, he said, “Only you could be drinking coffee at this hour.”

He settled himself in one of the chairs and he absentmindedly fidgeted with one of his buttons. Austria chuckled as he went back to his sash, “I am happy to be sober. And anyway, the entire wine cellar has been requisitioned for the Conference.”

Spain was watching him carefully, like he found the unwinding cloth hypnotic. He said, in a way that sounded much more like him, “You could just take a bottle anyway. You won the war, and no one would deny you.”

Austria finished taking off the sash and put it aside, smiling to himself as he did so. There was something about Spain’s forward nature that he had missed greatly. He answered, as he continued to work on taking off the ornamental details, “If you want one, I can send someone to pick out a bottle for you. I am sure that I have something old and Spanish down there.”

Spain shook his head, “No, I’m not going to be drinking alone. It’s probably better since I only think of the empire when I drink. It’s all that I have been for centuries.”

Austria saw a shadow pass over his face, the same one that had been haunting him for weeks. It was the worry about what would happen if the empire collapsed. Austria tried to find words to say to him as comfort. He knew what kind of importance Spain put in being an empire. It was his only way of proving himself as more than Rome's bastard.

He could see Spain chewing on his inner lip anxiously, clearly thinking about his uncertain future. He decided on saying, “Antonio, if you have proven anything in the last couple years, it is that you can fight for more than the empire. It isn’t all you are.”

He saw Spain slowly processing what he had said as he looked seemingly at nothing. Then his eyes lighted on the ornamental saber that Austria had laid on the table. There was a mischievous glimmer in his eye as he asked, “Have you learned how to use one of those yet? Or is it just to look pretty?”

Austria rolled his eyes, “Don’t be an ass.”

He was distracted by trying to reach under his stiff collar to untie the ribbon that eld his Order of the Golden Fleece. It was proving exceptionally difficult, like the knot was pulling itself tighter as he tugged on it.

Spain noticed what he was doing and said, “Why don’t you come here and let me help with that?”

Austria made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and said, “No, I can do this myself.”

He was aware that it might help to have someone else help. But he was not sure how Spain was going to help when he was sitting on the other side of the room.

His fingers slipped on the silky ribbon and he muttered to himself in frustration, “Gott im Himmel.”

Spain cleared his throat pointedly and said, “Stop being stubborn and come over here.”

Austria sighed. He could not deny how much he liked that commanding edge to his voice. Spain seemed to realize that he was being too commanding and added, “Please, Rodrigo.”

The way his eyes softened was the final straw. Austria’s boots clicked on the parquet floors as he walked over to where Spain was sitting. He stopped and said, “Well, are you going to stand up?”

Spain smirked at him in a way that made his cheeks go hot, and answered, “No, you are going to sit down. Right here.” He put his hand on his knee as if Austria needed direction. It had been a long time since they had been husbands, but not so long that he had forgotten.

He looked at Spain’s waiting lap for a long moment. If he kept his distance, then he could deny that his invitation had been sexual or romantic. But that would be a lie. Spain’s incredibly tenacity in resisting Napoleon had given him such strong feelings of affection that he hadn’t felt since the annulment.

Seeing him so close reminded him that it was not just the romance that he’d missed. The need to feel their bodies together again had returned like a craving. It was not the smartest thing he could do, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He had survived a terrible war, and he did not want to exercise restraint.

He sat on Spain’s lap, earning him another little smile. Spain reached up, around Austria’s neck, trailing his fingers along the curve where the fabric met skin, and untied the ribbon deftly. He used the other hand to catch the medal and put it aside.

Austria’s eyes met Spain’s and he felt himself start to blush again. His eyes were so green, and he so focused on the task at hand. Once he was done, Spain didn’t remove his hand. He kept his fingers on Austria’s skin, like he couldn’t stand the thought of being parted. He said, “It really is a tragedy that you are undressing yourself when I can do a better job.”

Austria felt himself leaning into the touch, reducing the difference in their heights. His eyes trailed down to Spain’s lips as he replied, “Can you? Aren’t you a bit out…” He trailed off as he found himself distracted by thinking about what Spain’s lips could do. He found his train of thought and repeated, “Aren’t you out of practice?”

He realized that Spain had leaned in just as he had. They were so close that they were mingling breath. Spain drew in a breath like he was about to speak, but instead he leaned forward far enough to close the gap between them to kiss Austria on the lips.

His fingers wrapped around the back of Austria’s neck and entwined in the hair just above the nape of his neck. Austria’s heart started racing at the way that their lips felt pressed against each other.

He hadn’t realized how much he had missed this feeling. It felt familiar but thrilling, like filling the craving that was roaring in his chest.

A small sensible voice spoke in the back of his head, saying that he should be careful. Had they not annulled their marriage for a good reason? Had they not fought fiercely before it? The thoughts raced through his mind as he felt Spain press his tongue into his mouth.

Austria moaned and he felt himself lean in even as the rational voice in his head urged him to consider whether it was wise to get entangled with Spain. If he hadn’t intended this, he would not have issued the first invitation.

As they broke apart, Austria thought about what to say. He didn’t want to turn Spain away, especially not once he was looking at him. There was a handsome warm flush in his cheeks and his hair ruffled, his green eyes shining with a certain kind of hunger.

He wordlessly ran a hand through his hair, blushing some loose waves off of his forehead. He caught sight of an angry red scar that was partially hidden beneath Spain’s hairline. He let out a long breath through his nose before saying, “You poor thing. Did Francis do that to you?”

Spain answered it, stroking Austria’s cheek softly, “It was a long war and I have many scars. Don’t trouble yourself about it.” He paused and looked earnestly at Austria before adding, “I think that you will see more of them.”

Austria felt like he had perhaps ruined the mood and not intended to. He had heard about the brutality of the Peninsular War, and he knew it would be naïve to assume that it would not show on Spain’s person. He had tried not to imagine what France was doing to Spain during it all because he knew it would pain him. His love for the man had never truly died, even when he'd tried to smother it.

He stroked Spain’s hair and kissing him softly where the scar was. As he leaned back, he said, “You still look handsome to me.”

He felt Spain’s hand tighten on the back of his head and pull him downward, towards his lips again. Austria did not want to fight it. The first kiss had given him an insatiable longing for another, and he decided that Spain was right that the war gave him a right to take what he wanted. At that moment, he wanted Spain.

He knew that the other man felt the same. The caress of his lips was hungry, and the kiss was deep. Spain’s teeth brushed his lower lip like he was tempted to bite. Austria parted his lips to let Spain kiss him more deeply.

One of the Spaniard’s hands remained on his neck, holding him in that deep kiss. The other found the buttons, deftly undid them, and slipped beneath to caress Austria’s waist through his chemise. Austria loved the heat of his hand. Spain had always been so hot-blooded, and he had no realized how much he had missed it. His whole body leaned into the touch, trying to pour himself into Spain’s hands.

As Spain broke the kiss to take a breath, he looked up at Austria with earnest eyes. He said, sounding almost breathless, “My Rodrigo. My little prince.”

Austria smiled back, “What do you mean little? I’m a Great Power now. And you will remember my station. You are not going to fuck me on a chair.”

He kept careful control of his tone to sound playful rather than admonishing. Spain’s hands both held him tightly as he asked, “And are you going to let me fuck you?”

Austria stared at his lips as he spoke, those lips that could be so loving or so sharp. He answered, “Yes, but we are not going to fuck. We are going to make love on my bed like proper lovers.”

Spain nodded like he could not be more pleased with the turn of events. He planted a soft kiss on Austria’s neck before saying, “I think I remember the way to the bed. It has not been that long.”

Austria wasn’t going to remark that it had been quite long since it would dampen the mood, and the bed had not in fact moved. He nodded, stood up and extended his hand, “Then come with me.”

The smirk that crossed Spain’s face could not have been more familiar, “We’ll have to start with taking this off.” With that , he stood up and used his hands to push Austria’s jacket off of his shoulders. It slipped down his arms and hit the floor with a heavy thud, weighed down by all of his medals.

Austria said, with his own little smirk, “But what about yours, dear?” He reached over and slipped Spain’s buttons out of their buttonholes. It made it easy work to push it off, leaving Spain in his breeches and his chemise.

Once he did, he felt Spain’s eyes on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, Spain closed the distance to kiss him again, silencing any other conversation. Between kisses, Spain said, “Don’t keep me waiting. Please, I need you. To bed now.”

Austria nodded. The next moments were a blur of hands, laces, breeches, and the sound of uncoordinated footsteps, and Austria found himself on his back on the bed. Spain had removed his glasses at some point, and the world had become remarkably blurry. Spain had somehow already managed to strip them both of their boots and their breaches with astonishing speed.

Austria smiled into the kiss as Spain leaned over him. In grateful response, he wrapped his legs around Spain’s waist and pulled him in. He pretended that he did not see the red scar on Spain’s side when the shirt was pushed up. He would have time, once the acute need subsided, to kiss each of them and ask about them.

He was thinking about the way that Spain’s hands were sliding up his legs and nothing else.

There were warm lips on his neck, making his heart race and his mind feel blurry. It had been so long since he had been touched like that, but it felt like an old dance, and he knew every step. The silky feeling of his hands tangling in Spain’s waved as they kissed was something he hadn’t realized he missed this keenly.

Spain breathed in his ear, “Do you still keep anything in this room for this part?”

He didn’t need to clarify what he meant Austria could feel the hand on his inner thigh. When they had been married, he had been prepared for their nights together. But it had a long time since the annulment. He answered, “No, not anymore.”

Spain didn’t pause for even a moment before saying, “This will have to do then.” He put fingers in his own mouth and coated them thoroughly.

Austria found it mesmerizing to watch him, the care he had always taken. The feeling of the first finger pressing in made Austria groan gratefully. It didn’t feel pleasurable yet, but centuries of marriage were enough for him to know it would soon. He spread his legs to allow Spain better access, hoping to move quickly to the enjoyable part.

The Spaniard practically purred, in heavily accented German, “Schön. You take that so well. You always did.”

Austria moaned again, “You feel how I remember.” He knew he was goading Spain, and the man took the bait marvelously. He removed his fingers and pushed in, gently but firmly.

It was exactly what Austria wanted, and he wrapped his arms around Spain’s back to pull him in. The thin layer of fabric kept him from embedding his fingernails in Spain’s back. Spain breathed in his ear, “And do you remember this?” He started to move as if he was making a point. Austria nodded breathlessly, “Of course.” He moved one hand down Spain's back to give his butt a firm squeeze and added, "And I remember this too."

He didn’t know how to say that he had dreamed of Spain feeling exactly like that for weeks. He didn’t dare reveal that he had been longing for that long or that keenly.

The first thrust felt better than when he dreamed of it; it dragged a long moan from his throat. Spain continued to speak between small kisses across Austria’s neck and jaw, “Well, you feel even better than I remember.”

The next thrust sent waves of pleasure across Austria’s skin. He met Spain’s green eyes, and he could see the adoration in them, and it was a look that he thought he’d never see again. Not in those eyes, not that look that made him feel so beautiful.

He could tell that Spain was holding himself back from joining their lips because he wanted to be able to look. Austria wanted to keep their eyes locked, but the feeling as Spain increased his pace was too overwhelming.

He closed his eyes and threw his head back. Spain kissed and nibbled his neck while cooing praise in a mix of Spanish and German. Austria held onto him and let himself enjoy the feeling. He did not know when he would have it again, so he refused to let a single sensation go unrelished.

Spain’s pace continued to build, and Austria angled his hips up to allow for the perfect angle for both of them. The feeling was building in Austria’s gut and he knew he was close.

Spain seemed to be too, the words that usually slipped easily from his lips were failing him as his pace became more erratic. Austria balled his hands in Spain’s shirt as he felt the final thrust and reached his own climax.

Spain finished and collapsed onto the pillows next to him. Austria looked over to see a strangely anxious look on the Spaniard’s face.

He asked, sounding deeply concerned that he was about to be thrown out, “Rodrigo, may I stay tonight?” Austria touched his face, stroking his cheek. He didn’t need to think about it for long before he answered, “Of course you can.”

#hws austria #spaus #hws spain #did I write these completely out of order? Maybe

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