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so-much-for-the-seashells · 3 months ago

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Sore

Logan Howlett x Reader

Minors, do NOT interact.

A/N: More of my Wolvie because my creative side rests in him atm. Based on the fact that my back literally is brokeback mountain and my legs feel like I took that cowboy up on his offer for five hours after saving his horse atm 🤣 also, domestic smut is SO underrated.

Anyway, all interaction, especially commentary is heavily appreciated! Enjoy!

Cw: Logan’s helping you feel less sore, things get steamy. Fluffy and spicy, domestic!Logan.

P.S: Want more of Logan? Check out my headcanons and/or feel free to submit an ask for a Drabble or Ficlet. :> You want daddy dom Logan? I gotchu. You want Logan to watch, idk, Cars with you?? I gotchu. Just nothing too dark or too crazy, please. Anonymous or not, feel free to drop your thoughts/thots!

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You had flopped down on the your big ass bed the moment you’d gotten home from the gym. For whatever reason you had thought it would be a good idea to overdo it both today and yesterday, and now your legs and back were suffering the consequences.

So here you are, lying face down, starfish style. You barely remembered to kick off your nasty shoes and socks. Haven’t showered, haven’t pulled the comforter down. Just lying there in your misery as the pain in your legs chooses to linger.

You had to have been lying there for about ten minutes when you’re finally ready to get up, but then you hear the door open.

“Y/N?” Logan calls, having just got home from work apparently. It’s about eight at night, this is very early for him.

“Bedroom,” you call back weakly.

You hear his light footsteps pattering towards you. If you hadn’t been together as long as you had you wouldn’t be able to hear him because of how stealth he is.

“Aw, sweets, what’s wrong?” he asks as he walks into the bedroom.

“Sore,” you mumble, giving him another one word answer.

“Why?” he prods, in a somewhat lilting tone that implies he knows exactly why.

“Cause I overdid it,” you say begrudgingly. He was the one who warned you not to, and you could all but sense the smirk that had to be on his face right now. “If you say ‘I told you so’ I’m going to smother you,” you threaten as a follow up.

“Do it with that pretty cunt of yours and we’ll call it even.” Cheeky, as always. You groan in response, and not in a sexy way, even though his dirty words don’t fail to make your core feel a little warmer. “Alright alright. Can I try to make you feel better?”

“Please.” Your voice is slightly whiny as the ache in your legs is starting to get unbearably annoying.

“Aww, sugar,” he tuts, kissing you on the top of your head. “Just give me one second.”

He disappears momentarily, reappearing with some Advil and lemonade for you to drink it with. He sets the pair on the nightstand.

“I’m gonna sit you up, okay?”

“Wait-“ you protest, before gasping ‘ow!’ as he uses his trying arms to hold you up, resting your back against your plush pillows and headboard. He sits in front of you, draping your calves over the tops of his thighs.

“Here,” he hands you the lemonade and Advil.

“Thanks. Wait- tell me about your day,” you prod, before swallowing the pill and the drink down.

“Oh, you really are sweet on your old man, ain’tcha,” he grins, flattening out the random wisps of hair that had escaped your updo. You smile sweetly at him, before downing the rest of the glass.

“Well, I went to stop some guy from stealing an old lady’s purse, but by the time I got over there she was smacking him over the head with it.”

“What in the Tom and Jerry?” you laugh incredulously.

“I swear it! In my too-many years I’ve never seen anything like that.” God, you could never grow tired of seeing Logan like this. Giggly, tired, relaxed. It’s so nice.

“It’s the thought that counts, I guess,” I offer.

“Yeah, until Granny knocks it out of you,” he quips, and we both laugh. “So, where are you hurting?”

“My legs and my back. Shouldn’t have done the extra set of the one where you close your legs on the thing,” I tell him.

“What’re you wearing under this?” he asks, motioning to you. You’re wearing a sports tank and shorts, and underneath…

“Girl’s boxers and a sports bra.”

“Attagirl. Mind if I strip you down to those? Less layers makes it easier for me to dig into you.”

“You ask that as if you don’t fuck me almost every night,” you quip, the affirmation plain in your voice.

“And almost every morning and afternoon, but who’s counting?” he retorts with a mischievous grin. This is true- even after so many years of being together the two of you still can’t keep your hands off of each other.

“Don’t forget about evenings,” you add.

He gasps melodramatically, -“I could never.”-before tugging off your shorts. You sigh contentedly, glad to be free of your fabric confines. He then gently eases off your shirt so that, true to his word, you’re only in your undergarments.

“Can you lay on your stomach for me?” he asks.

“Mhm,” you slowly move from your spot amidst the pillows, slowly but surely. The pain doesn’t get enough time to build as much as before, and just rests at the same throbbing as before. You hear Logan rummaging in the nightstand.

“Shit, sorry, baby. I thought I had bought more of that lavender oil, but I forgot,” he says apologetically.

“Don’t worry about it, your hands are more than enough already,” you tell him.

“Oh yeah?” Logan turns any words he can into a double entendre, it’s his sense of humor.

“I’m surprised you don’t have a rabbit mutation,” you laugh, referring to his persistent and ever present horniness.

“Do I look like a rabbit to you?” he asks gruffly, still joking. You feel the bed dip from behind you under his weight.

“You are pretty cute,” you tell him.

“But a rabbit?” he asks, incredulousness in his voice.

“Mayb-ohh,” your words are broken off as his surprisingly gentle hands start kneading your calves.

“Ohh,” he imitates, pressing deeper. God it feels good- hurts on contact, but then completely alleviates the pressure.

“Shut up,” you try to say through your soft moans of pleasure.

“That’s gonna be a no, sugar,” you can hear the overconfidence in his voice, and it doesn’t even bother you because of how much better you’re feeling.

“Ow-,” you whisper as he presses on a particularly painful spot in the inside of your leg.

“That’s it, huh?”

You meekly hum in response as he takes initiative to continue pressing on it, digging into it with his thumbs.

Eventuakly he has you feeling like putty, all comfortable until…

“Oh, come on!” you say indignantly as he flips you over. You feel the dull pain in your legs ignite again, and you already know what he’s about to make you do.

“I know, but you know you need to stretch,” he chides, sitting on his knees between your thighs. He has a shit-eating grin on his face, because he knows damn well how inflexible you are, especially when you’re sore.

You stick your tongue at him to no avail. He grabs your thigh, squeezing it before beginning to push it back. The dull pain immediately intensifies.

“F-fuck you!” you squeak as he pushes your thigh back further, your knee nearing your shoulder. You clutch Pookie as tight as you can to your chest. The words are directed more to the pain than him, but he can’t help but tease you, naturally.

“Is that nice?” he chastises lightly, the smile plain on his lips as he holds you in place. You can feel your muscles screaming from the soreness, but the position does seem to be alleviating the pressure some.

“No,” you pout guiltily, not wanting to seem ungrateful to him.

“I’m kidding,” his voice softens as he presses my leg back further.

“Ow!” you whine, the additional pressure making your leg impossibly more sore.

“Easy, sweet girl,” he reassures me, massaging the back of my thigh as he holds it in place. He grabs the lone stuffed animal that rests amongst your too-many pillows and blankets. It’s an okapi, his name is Pookie. However, Logan calls him ‘Abomination,’ because the first time you showed him a picture of one that’s what he called it. You always get miffed about him calling it that, so he adamantly makes sure to do so, even though he’s the one that bought it for you on a whim. Go figure.

“How about you hold A-Bomb? Will that make you feel better?”

“It will if you call him by the right name,” you tell him, sass in your voice. He grins- for whatever reason he finds it extremely amusing to annoy you.

“But his name is Abomination,” Logan insists, momentarily distracting you from putting down your leg before picking up your more sore one.

“No it’s not,” you protest, before literally squeaking from how bad it hurts to have the other leg pushed back.

“Fine, it’s not,” he says gently, handing you the stuffed animal with his free hand as he keeps your leg pinned back. You squeeze it as he pushers further, holding it for what feels like fifteen years but in reality is probably all of fifteen seconds.

Slowly you start feeling better, that is until he drops your leg and grabs both this time.

“Logan, no, I’m already stretched out, I feel better-,” you try, but as always, he knows better. He lifts both legs up, and however much better you were feeling is immediately ruined because your lower back is being added to the equation.

“Ow!” you whine, trying to wriggle free from his grasp to no avail. Damn his super strength. Your back is all but shrieking at you now.

“I seem to recall you being able to do this,” Logan says smugly. And you immediately clench on nothing, because you know exactly what he’s referring to.

“Well you’re not exactly dicking me down right now, are you?” Usually when your legs are over his shoulders like this it’s because he’s ploughing into you like it’s your last night on earth. And the memories are vivid- he always makes damn sure of that. The sweat on his brow, his filthy vocabulary….

Okay, you’re wet now.

“Dicking you down?” he laughs. “What are you, Wade?”

“Suddenly I’m not turned on anymore,” I roll my eyes. The Merc with a Mouth may just about exclusively talk about sex, but somehow it’s never sexy. Maybe it has something to do with the fact he still has the brain of a thirteen year old. Who knows.

“Mmm, let’s see about that,” he murmurs, tossing your stuffed animal to the side and dropping your legs down, to your relief. He tugs at your boxer shorts, looking you in the eye for consent. You nod, and he takes no time at all to slide them down your pretty legs. “Looks pretty turned on to me,” he says gravelly as he looks at your cunt.

“Mhm,” you agree, your voice wanton and low.

He knows exactly what you like, and neither of you is surprised by the shiver your elicits from you as he runs a knuckle through your slick folds.

One of the things about being with Logan is anything can be sexy, and by association, turn into sex. You don’t mind at all- you match his freak, if you will- but it is easy to marvel at how random it can be.

Some days it’s just your morning chatter- you’ll be talking about who knows what, maybe a movie you’ve seen, maybe your plans for the day. And then you’ll straddle him to get him to focus on you, because he’s always sleepy and slow in the morning. Before you know it he’ll have his hands on your hips, easing you up and down on his cock.

Other times it’ll be you two silently reading on the couch, legs crossed over one another because you can’t go a second without touching. Once one of you gets bored, it’s over for the other. If it’s he who gets bored but you’re still invested in your book, he’ll have you cockwarm him and finish your book. Sometimes it’s the other way around, but because you’re so needy you’ll usually be bouncing on him before he can finish and who is he not to do as you wish?

It’s always something. And one of those somethings apparently him helping you stretch,, which is a new one because usually you pass out after he contorts you like that.

After getting you ready for him, which really doesn’t take long since you’re almost always wet for him when you’re in his vicinity, he pulls down his sweats and his own boxers just enough to expose his dick.

But, because he’s Logan, and he’s annoying, he grabs the backs of your thighs with a mischievous grin, and before you even realize what he’s doing he presses both of your legs back. It really doesn’t hurt as bad, especially when he leans down to kiss you so passionately and all-consumingly that your mind clouds over.

“You ready f’me?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know that you are.

“Yeah, baby. Yeah,” you breathe. “Just go slow, please.”

“I promise, sweet girl,” he kisses you again, aligning himself with your entrance. “God, I love you,” he whispers as he watches himself slide into you with ease.

“I love you too,” tell him through a gasp, kissing his nose. “Please don’t make me more sore.” You have to reiterate that you want him to be slow, because while Logan is the sweetest, most considerate lover you could have, sometimes he can’t help but overdo it.

He laughs, not one to deny your imploring. “I’ve got you.” He bottoms out slowly, resting inside of you before pushing just a little bit more, hitting a spot that feels so good that it brings tears to your eyes. You’re so, so full of him, you can feel every twitch. This angle, painful as it may be, lets him get so wonderfully deep inside you. It’s a wonder you hadn’t tried this sooner.

“Oh, Logan,” you breathe, leaning into his touch as he kisses over your collarbone.

“Good, huh?” he says somewhat cockily, slowly pulling out of you before bottoming back out, hitting that impossible spot again. It feels so good that you can’t even think of something to say in response. “Thought so,” he smiles, kissing you on the nose. His voice has gonna somewhat breathy, but he still continues his steady, slow pace. The sounds that fill the room are gentle, with soft sighs and grunts and the occasional moan of one or the other’s name. And it’s perfect.

It feels so good that you feel tears slipping down your cheeks, and he leans down to kiss them away. “I know, sweet girl. I know.” His tone is soft, and it prompts you to further bury yourself in your fluffy comforter and pillows as he slowly coaxes a release out of me. He kisses you, slow but passionate as his fingers start to circle your clit in the way you like. The circles are much faster than his thrusts, and the sensation of the contrast in paces is absolutely delicious.

Logan loves having you like this- soft and sweet, in no rush. Your legs strewn haphazardly over his shoulders, squeezing him every time he nudges the head of his cock that extra inch inside of you. He loves to kiss you, to talk you through it. He loves you.

“You’re taking me so well, beautiful. You always do,” he coos, adding more pressure to your sensitive bud. You only whimper in response as your orgasm starts to build. He can feel it, hell, he can smell it. That sweet smell that’s so uniquely yours, that he’s so addicted to. “You gonna cum f’me? Make a mess all over this big dick?” he asks, knowing full well how much of a mess his dirty words make of you. You nod ever so slightly, you’re entire body on fire from how good it feels.

Your legs tighten around his head as you cum, and it’s perfect. The pleasure is immense, intense enough to make you close your eyes as he keeps his same pace, drawing it out longer than ever. “Logan?” you whisper once you catch your bearings.

“Yeah?” he asks, still moving slowly and hitting that perfect spot. His voice is slightly strained, you can tell he wants to cum.

“Cum in me, please,” you ask with your best doe eyes.

“Gladly, sugar,” he kisses you again, coming with just a few more thrusts as you clench around him as tightly as you can. “Fuck,” he mumbles, biting the juncture of your neck and shoulder and darkening what may as well be a permanent mark from him. He always bites in the same spot. He lets your legs down but stays inside you, panting as he holds you close. Eventually he pulls out, and you whine from the loss of contact, feeling your mixed releases slip out of you.

“You feeling better?” he asks, laying on his side as you do the same.

“Yeah. Thank you so much,” you tell him.

“Anything for you, gorgeous. I’ve heard that a good orgasm releases tension.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh yeah,” he grins.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” he hugs you close.

“Waiiiit I need to shower,” you complain, trying to push him away.

“In a minute,” he counters, nuzzling his face in your neck and squeezing you tighter.

That’s definitely the biggest lie he could have told you, because you both knew damn well it would be more than a minute. And even when you do get out of bed- sorry, Pookie!- there’s always room for showers and post-shower sex. You don’t make the rules, it just happens. And with your luck you’ll probably be sore tomorrow, and you’ll probably have asked for it.

What can you say? You’re just a girl, after all. A girl who loves her guy, whose guy loves her.

Fin! Xx.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett smut #wolverine x reader #wolverine fluff #wolverine smut

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warping-realities · 1 month ago

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Where Would You Rather Be? (Redux)

A collaboration with the amazing @johnbrand

“You know I love you, right?” Malcolm reaffirmed to his boyfriend. “And I’m here for you, babe.”

It had been a hell of a week for Shane. He had been living in the city for almost ten years now, moving there for college and then sticking around after graduation. It was a scary transition, but thanks to the quick friends he made, the ride was a bit easier. One of them, Shane’s freshman roommate—who he had lived with and then kept close since they met—got an eviction notice the week before. Shane had been as supportive as he could through the whole mess, but watching his buddy pack up and leave was a real kick in the gut. His friend would now be living hours away, no longer right next door.

Shane nodded his head, followed by a quick “Thanks, babe.”

“I’m happy to be the shoulder you can cry on, I know this sucks” Malcolm sympathized. “Still wanna grab dinner tonight? We can bail on the plans if you need some time.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine,” Shane said with a slight smile. “Plus, it’s our third anniversary—you’ve done more than your fair share, and I’m super grateful for that.”

Malcolm chuckled, quickly snatching Shane from behind. “Then maybe you’ll have to show some gratitude later tonight.”

Rolling his eyes, Shane still returned the passionate kiss from his boyfriend.

That night, he found himself back in his own home. After climbing a few flights of stairs, he was surprised to find his buddy’s old apartment door wide open. Curious, Shane peeked in, and without thinking twice, he stepped into the familiar space, now filled with unknown furniture, boxes, and other random junk scattered around.

Before he could snoop around, a voice from behind barked at him to move aside. “Get outta the way, bro!”

The rich baritone caught Shane so off guard that he jumped a bit, scurrying as a big dude stomped through the doorway before dropping a few boxes. At least six feet tall, the buff, masculine intruder immediately intimidated Shane. Shirtless, barefoot, and rocking some tiny shorts that could easily be mistaken for underwear. Probably due to the effort of hauling all those boxes, the muscular man gave off a strong, manly odor that quickly overwhelmed Shane’s senses. In fact, all of his senses, although he didn’t really realize it. The stranger smiled cockily, sizing Shane up with eyes glinting with mischief before speaking.

“Mind being useful and helping me organize the rest of my stuff?” the man asked. Shane, a bit freaked out by the pure masculinity in front of him, didn’t say a word. The guy didn’t need his response, though, knowing Shane would help him out no matter what. Shane couldn’t explain what came over him; his mouth was just hanging open while cardboard boxes were dumped into his waiting arms.

In minutes, he was soaked in sweat, having to peel off layer after layer of clothing as he helped the stranger organize the apartment. His mind screamed at the absurdity of the situation, yet he kept doing what the man asked him to do like a robot. After an hour of relentless work, the guy, noticing Shane’s drenched clothes, pulled out a change of clothes from one of the boxes still piled in a corner.

“Put these on, thank goodness I wear extra-large, bro, so they should fit your chubby ass!” he said, flexing his muscles and releasing another wave of that masculine musk from his armpits.

Drowsy Shane picked up the clearly unwashed tank top and gym shorts, reeking of that same animal musk but concentrated from days of use. That scent almost made him hurl.

“What are you waiting for, man? Put these on already. We still got work to do.”

Once again, not understanding why, Shane felt compelled to obey, stripping down in front of his new neighbor until he was left only in his underwear. He was already putting on his shorts when the man interrupted him.

“No, man, you gotta let the jewels breathe. Not that they take up much space, from what I can see, but there’s no reason to squeeze the poor things,” he quipped, bursting into laughter, and Shane, even without getting the joke, found himself laughing along. When he was finally dressed in the provided clothes, completely engulfed by the animalistic smell, the man approached him with a grin.

“Back to work, man, a little more exercise and maybe you’ll fill out those clothes just right,” he said with a smirk. Shane just nodded and kept working.

Before he knew it, another two hours had flown by, and the apartment now had a minimally organized look, unlike the previous chaos. The night fully enveloped the dimly lit room.

“Martin,” the mysterious man finally offered his name, alongside a giant meaty hand that crushed Shane’s. “Are you my new neighbor?”

“Uh... yeah,” Shane finally spoke, pointing to the wall their apartments would share.

“Cool, bro,” Martin replied. “Wanna chill on the balcony with me for a bit?”

Shane checked his watch, noting that there was still some time before he had to get ready for his dinner date. “Sure.” Following the muscular alpha outside, Shane took a seat on the wicker couch while waiting for Martin. He did his best to plan out the remaining time he had. Not realizing that the tight outfit now seemed to hang off his body, which in the last few hours had shed a good amount of fat while gaining a little muscle, revealing a face that was somewhere between cute and handsome.

“Sit over there,” Martin directed as he stepped onto the balcony. Shane didn’t think twice about getting up and moving aside so Martin could sit on the couch. It wasn’t until he moved to the other side of the coffee table that Shane realized Martin wanted him to sit on the deck.

“That’s right, faggot. Sit in front of my feet,” Martin said, the friendly smile fading from his face as he propped his giant, smelly feet up on the table.

Shane was shocked, offended by his neighbor’s sudden bigotry. The lame joke about the size of his dick was one thing, but this vocabulary was degrading and... the smell of a full day’s work was coming off those giant boards Martin called feet. And Shane train of thought completely derailed. So he did as he was told, taking his seat in front of the two massive soles placed before him. Somewhat exasperated by the incomprehensible actions he had taken up until that point and anxious not to miss his meeting with his boyfriend, Shane shifted uncomfortably in the awkward spot, to the point that Martin himself noticed.

“You got any plans tonight, fag?” Martin questioned.

In a flustered, embarrassed, and strangely lustful state, Shane answered, “Yeah, I have an anniversary dinner with my boyfriend.”

Martin snickered. “And when is that?”

“I should start getting ready in 10 minutes,” Shane’s response was robotic. “I’ve gotta shower, get dressed, wrap my present, and then travel.”

Martin mulled this over for a bit, relishing the fact that Shane would wait for his next prompt. He was completely overtaken by the scent that wafted from the other man. Martin’s natural musk and body odor held an authority over him like nothing else ever had.

“Let me make you a deal, faggot,” Martin finally said. “You can bounce now, get ready, and have a great night with your loving boyfriend. Or you can stay seated right where you are, at the feet of a straight man, waiting for my next command and finally discover what it’s like to be a real man!”

Shane didn’t reply, shocked by what Martin was insinuating. With casual indifference, Martin wiggled his toes in front of Shane, knowing the silence was already his answer. But in true alpha fashion, Martin made sure to hammer his superiority home.

“Where would you rather be, faggot?” he asked, with his feet releasing another wave of potent funk towards an already completely subdued prey.

They stayed there without saying a word: Martin laid-back, comfortable, and minding his own business, and Shane at his feet. Neither got up as time ticked by. In his head, Shane’s plans slowly morphed. He didn’t need to wrap Malcolm’s present, he didn’t need to shower, he didn’t even need to change. Eventually, the anniversary dinner came and went, and Shane was still at the feet of the straight man.

“Well, now that you’ve made your choice I gotta keep my promise, right, sissy boy? But to be my bro, you gotta become a real man, don’t you, Shotgun?”

“My name is…”

“Shut up, sissy boy. You’ll be able to talk when you’re a man and have a place to sit by my side, not at my feet!”

Imbued by Martin’s potent scent and words of dominance, Shane fell silent.

“I don’t give a damn what you were known for, Shotgun,” Martin retorted, making the smaller man shiver at the sound of that nickname. “I don’t care about your art degree or the lame job you do or the degenerate things you do with your fag boyfriend. And that doesn’t matter to you either, Shotgun, because it’s not real, but what I’m gonna tell you now is that it is real, and your jelly brain is gonna do its best to make it happen.” The man concluded, lifting both arms and releasing the most powerful wave of musk yet, taking Shane... or Shotgun?... what kind of name is that? That didn’t matter, only the wave of nauseating smell that invaded him.

“Take it like a man, Shotgun,” Martin ordered, and he obeyed. “What you’re gonna do is very simple, I want you to think about all the jocks who humiliated you in school, the fraternity brothers who often give each other nicknames just like yours, Shotgun, which you certainly mocked but deep down envied. I want you to think about all the real men you and your faggot friends called toxic behind their backs without having the guts to face them. I want you to picture yourself as one of them, with all the stereotypes of white cis straight men, yada yada yada bullshit that your liberal faggot mind has stored. I want you to take all their traits and slap them on yourself. Habits, behavior, conduct, appearance, desires, thoughts, everything! Yeah, everything you think about guys like me applied to you. When you’re done, Shotgun, then we’ll talk man to man, and only then I’ll wanna know more about my new bro. A bro who scored this awesome apartment for a fellow frat brother moving across the country as soon as he heard someone just like him was moving here, just for the spirit of brotherhood that exists between real men that your old self would never have been able to grasp! Do it now!

The wave of nausea hit its peak; Shane felt the vomit rising in his throat but held it back, swallowing it down again, while another sensation took over his head, a feeling of being invaded and violated, his mind dominated by a relentless buzz, his vision flooded with a myriad of colors, while his whole body itched as if a million ants were crawling over him. The whole situation was overwhelming. And it got worse when his memories and recollections started to twist and reform, everything he was being tangled up in a whirlwind of misinformation. He found himself facing several traumatic situations from his life, but in reverse roles; the bullying he suffered turning into the bullying he practiced, the sports activities observed from afar being felt and lived, the toxic behavior going from being judged to being experienced and appreciated. And with that, new memories surfacing, time in the gym sculpting his body to perfection, nights of sex with various women whose names he didn’t even remember, his work at the art gallery replaced by a finance job earned not through talent but through connections made via his fraternity brothers. At last the image of Malcolm, the great love of his life, being erased. In an internal scream of despair, he tried to cling to that safe harbor, but that ship had already sailed to new waters, taking with it his humility, knowledge, empathy, and kindness. Leaving only inflated self-confidence, privilege, and respect only for those he considers equal or superior.

As the night wore on and Shane’s inner turmoil reached its peak, his exterior was undergoing its own transformation. His muscles were going into overdrive. They just kept contracting and expanding. Over and over. Lost in jumbled thoughts, he couldn’t feel his bones stretching longer. But each one was stretching out to its new length, growing denser to support his new weight. His average build quickly disappeared as muscle packed onto his recent lean frame. Little by little, he felt constricted by Martin’s clothing. The shirt pulled at his chest and shoulders while the shorts barely contained his thick, muscular ass, with his thighs growing like tree trunks, stretching the fabric to its limit. His shoulders broadened, turning into large round orbs jutting from his sides. Two mighty pecs pushed a bit in front of him while a firm set of abs grew more defined right underneath. His biceps bulged out of his arms while his forearms widened to support the new strength building within him. Amid the chaos of conflicting memories, his average-sized dick, the butt of Martin’s jokes, quickly grew to new heights. What had been his maximum hard was now his flaccid member. His calves grew to the size of most men thighs. Meanwhile, his feet grew well beyond the previous size 8, increasing to the point of competing with Martin’s stinky paws, which had to be at least size 13. The changes also hit his face, which took on a more squared-off, rugged look, with his button nose growing and turning into an aquiline nose that could’ve easily been broken in a fight, which only reinforced the raw masculinity taking over from his previous cuteness.

Finally, a smile formed on his chiseled face, oozing confidence and displaying his internal arrogance for all to see.

Seeing that smile appear, Martin knew his work was nearly done. And when that new Shane let out a fart and a burp, he knew it was all over. Feeling that new putrid smell mix with his own musk, he turned to the other man.

“Damn, Shotgun, you’re rank!”

“I didn’t get the name Shotgun Shane for nothing, man; it was for the shots I could take back in college, but I almost got called Stinkbomb for what I let out. Now, if you’re gonna complain about the smell, you better get those damn feet outta my face!” Shane shot back, his arrogant smile widening. This made Martin lift his feet off Shane’s face while cracking up.

“I knew we’d be best bros the moment we met, Shotgun,” he said, admiring the result of his handiwork.

“Me too, bro; way better having you as a neighbor than that faggot who lived here before.”

“If you compare me to some queer again, I’m gonna mess you up.”

“You can try!” Shane replied, flexing one of his powerful arms before continuing. “But you’re right, there’s no comparison, dude. To make it up to you, how about I take you to check out the hottest club in town? Celebrate the move by picking up some chicks?”

“Now you’re speaking my language, bro!”

….

Martin hated waiting on others, even though he himself had no problem showing up late. Apparently, Shane inherited that same trait during his transformation. The other man had gone home, took forever in the shower, and then posted some pretty provocative videos on his social media. The first one showed off his well-developed muscles while he seductively invited all the girls interested in him to meet him and his best bro at a city club.

In the second video, he just slid the camera down, revealing the huge package he had stuck in his underwear. All of this under the suggestive caption, “You really gonna miss this?”

Martin was super stoked with the results of his actions. Moving to a new city was tricky, but having a bro made it a whole lot easier, no matter that bro had been crafted by him. Still, he wondered if he hadn’t put too much of himself into the other man while he waited for him with a frown and his arms crossed. After a reasonable amount of waiting, he saw the gigantic figure strutting toward him down the first-floor corridor and was sure he had indeed put too much of himself into the other man, which could lead to some friction in the future when they had to sort out their power dynamics, but at that moment, that didn’t matter; he just wanted to have a good time, and there wouldn’t be better company than someone who was practically him in another body.

That became even clearer when Shane stopped in front of his irritated face and flexed his muscles playfully.

“What’s with the ugly mug, dude? You wanna throw down?”

“The ugly mug is because you took your sweet time, Shotgun! And you can joke all you want, but you can’t compete with this,” he replied, flexing one of his powerful arms. “Now let’s go after some hot chicks, or what?”

….

Malcolm didn’t quite know why he was in that dump of bigotry and toxicity. He just felt like something was missing and couldn’t quite put his finger on what. His trip to the place was the result of an Instagram video where one of the typical patrons invited all the interested bitches to come on down. Malcolm didn’t consider himself a bitch and usually would’ve laughed if someone said he might be into a dude like that, yet here he was. Knowing he had no chance of getting close to that man radiating toxicity. But only when he saw that self-proclaimed Shotgun Shane chatting up a hot young woman did something stir within him, a memory of a passionate kiss shared just that morning.

“S-Shane…?” he murmured, though he didn’t know exactly who this man was, he felt something deeply wrong was going on. While he stood there, dumbfounded, the man made his move and kissed the woman, which made him decide to leave the place as he was hit by another wave of strangeness and sadness mixed together.

However, he wasn’t the only one watching the scene; on the other side of the club, Martin saw his supposed wingman score before he did.

“Damn, I really put too much of myself in that dude,” he muttered as he weaved through the crowd. That’s when he saw Malcolm hurrying along with a look of confusion.

Well, if his wingman bailed on him, he could just make another one, right? It’s not like there was a shortage of material to work with, as that other faggot’s presence left abundantly clear. He just needed to be a bit more careful not to overdo it again, although he didn’t really have that refined of a control over the final result, and the most likely outcome would be ending up with another bro exactly like him. But he didn’t care that much; to him, there wouldn’t be better company than his own, and if someone asked him where and with whom he rather be, the answer would always be the same, he thought, smiling as he approached his future bro.

#male tf #mind change #reality change #jockification #mental transformation #corruption #musclegrowth #gay to straight #douchebag tf

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damiansgoodgirll · 3 months ago

Note

Don’t break my heart part 4 with reader and drew finally kissing ❤️🤭

part one, part two, part three

damian priest x reader (platonic), rhea ripley x reader (platonic), the judgment day x reader (platonic), drew mcintyre x reader

‼️ angst, comfort, liv morgan as a warning, some fluff, family issues, a lot of family issues, crying and panicking , mention of sexual things but nothing happened (yet) - part 5 will be sadder and general worse‼️

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated

don’t break my heart - part 4

it’s been a week since your first “date” with drew and you couldn’t lie if you said you didn’t like him. you probably developed a crush for the man but you tried to keep it as private as possible, fearing rhea or damian would find out, or, worse, fearing that drew would find out.

in the same week you’ve been texting more and more, talking about the silliest things. he even changed his work schedule just to train with you - and rhea and damian.

he didn’t mind them as long as they weren’t keeping you away from him. in this week he got to realise how much they cared for you and even if he wouldn’t hurt you, after you’ve been through, he knew that they still would be over protective with you.

you started talking with drew more and more about private and personal things. you didn’t fully open up to him, especially not via text, but somehow he understood that apart from damian and rhea, you were completely alone.

he felt for you.

you were a nice person to hang out with and he couldn’t understand why the other girls didn’t want to befriend you.

rhea and damian knew something was going on with you. they weren’t stupid, they knew something was going on between you and drew but they didn’t know how to bring up the situation because they didn’t want to upset you.

after rhea saw drew kissing your cheek from the hotel window, she knew she should have done something but at the same time she knew that if she intervened in something that didn’t belong to her, you would have gotten mad, and losing you too wasn’t an option.

so she talked about the whole situation with damian and they both agreed to talk with you after raw ended.

while driving to the arena, damian and rhea kept exchanging glances, noticing how happier you were. they knew it was because you were going to see drew and they hated that he was the reason of your happiness.

“i can’t wait for kicking some asses” you said smiling, making both of the adults laugh.

“yeah, i really can’t wait for my fight against carlito…he’s been a real pain in the ass these past weeks” damian added.

“what about liv? just the sound of her voice irritates me” rhea smirked making you chuckle.

you were extremely excited that you were going back on stage. you didn’t have any match yet but you were there to support damian ringside with rhea. you knew that finn or jd would have done something to make damian lose and you couldn’t allow that.

“how much do i have to get ready?” you asked rhea, watching the clock on your phone.

“about an hour…don’t be late” she winked at you, knowing that you were always ready on time and she was the one who was always late.

while moving to your changing room, your eyes met drew who waved at you smiling. you waved back, smiling at him.

you felt like a teenager in love and you hated yourself for that. you’ve never had an actual teenage crush, all the boys you liked, never liked you back and so you had no idea of what to do with drew, without talking about the age gap between the two of you.

you wished you could talk to rhea or damian about this but if you told them you had a crush for drew, they would probably kick your ass too.

while finishing getting ready, you smiled seeing a text from drew popping up on your screen.

can’t wait to see you kick finn’s ass out there! be careful <3 see you after the show!

he wanted to see you?

he wanted to see you!

“oh my…he wants to see me!” you almost screamed like a baby.

“y/n! ten minutes!” one of the managers screamed from outside the room and woke you up from your little dream.

you weren’t supposed be on the ring until rhea finished her promo so you waited backstage, watching her from a screen. she was showing confidence, something you’ve always admired from her. she was showing the world who was in charge and definitely weren’t dom or liv.

but then liv started talking about how she took everything from rhea. not only the title but how she took dom and the rest of the team from her. how she replaced her in the family she thought she had found and you could see hurt in rhea’s eyes but she was trying her best to not break.

you, on other hand, were deeply hurt from her words and a tear fell from your eyes. you couldn’t understand how someone could be so cruel. you couldn’t understand how finn and dom were siding with her. you couldn’t even understand why dom was treating rhea that way, he always loved to be her puppy so making her feel guilty after she’s the reason he became who he is today, it just wasn’t right.

damian was capable of bringing a smile into your face when he appeared from behind and started attacking dom.

“finally” you whispered getting ready to go in the arena.

just a few minutes later and damian’s match against carlito began. it was an easy match for damian and you knew that he would have won easily but when you saw jd ready to attack him you couldn’t stay back.

rhea held you, whispering that it wasn’t time yet.

“i just wanna delete his existence from the face of the earth” you whispered making her laugh.

“let damian win and then we can go” she said.

after a few minutes damian won his match and was in that exact moment that jd attacked him, making you even more angry “okay, go…” rhea looked at you with such pride in her eyes. she watched you run into the arena and began your attack on jd, trying to separate him from damian.

the crowd screamed of happiness when they saw you.

just a few seconds after and liv was attacking you from behind “wrong team y/n” she whispered. her words only made you laugh.

with a quick move you were able to free yourself and to pin her down, making her yelp from pain.

“wrong person to attack, you bitch” you whispered.

she was surprised at how fierce you were feeling tonight “you know, with this temper, you would fit perfectly with me and the guys” she whispered making sure no one heard.

“in your dreams” you said while blocking her arms down.

the moment rhea came to stage, dom was quick to shove you apart to save liv. so you stayed there, watching with damian how terrified everyone was of rhea.

out of nowhere, finn tried some moves but he was about to get hit by damian when he moved apart and sacrificed jd to get that hit.

“what a coward” you screamed into his face making the whole crowd chant with you. as a result of their cowardice, you, damian and rhea were happily celebrating inside the ring.

both for damian’s victory and for your ability to face the team, you were happily getting backstage. damian in the middle with you and rhea on his side, his arms around your waist while the crowd happily cheered for you.

once backstage you couldn’t contain your happiness “oh my! that was amazing damian!” he happily hugged you when he saw how excited you were.

moments like these were rare so they cherished every single moment when you were happy.

“i’m going to take a quick shower and change…uhm…if you want to go back to the hotel i will see you there” you smiled, trying to avoid that topic.

rhea understood what you meant and even if she wanted, she couldn’t hold you back.

“okay, be careful” she said in a serious tone “and don’t hesitate to call if something happens okay? even if you need a ride back”

“okay, i will, thank you” you said happily before coming back to your changing room. you were quick to take a shower and change in some clean clothes cause you didn’t want to lose drew segment.

seeing him on the screen always made you feel butterflies in your stomach. his confidence, his voice while speaking on the mic, his personality and charisma, that you were kinda shocked to see how different he was with you, almost embarrassed to messed things up.

“ouch!” you almost screamed when you saw punk hitting him with his belt. you knew there were going to be bruises and you were kinda worried for him. you knew he had much worse but still, punk probably went too far.

you took a protein bar out of your bag and happily eat it while watching the rest of the show when you heard his voice through the corridors “funking punk!” he screamed.

that made you laugh.

you reached for your door, wanting to see if he was doing okay when you stopped in front of his changing room. he was trying to see the damage left by punk while looking in the mirror.

“need help with some lotion?” you softly asked. his face soften when he saw you standing in front of his door.

“can you take a picture first?” he asked and you nodded.

he made sure to show the bracelet he stole from punk “you’re being petty” you joked while taking the picture.

“i’m the worst, kid” he laughed. you handed him his phone back and he thanked you.

you saw he was looking for some wipes to clean the blood off but you moved first and took a sanitary wipe from the bag you had on your shoulder “here, this should help…” you handed him the wipe but he turned his back on you, hinting that he wanted you to clean him “are you sure? i don’t wanna hurt you”

“you have feathery hands, trust me, you won’t hurt me more than punk did…” he laughed, convincing you.

you moved cautiously, don’t wanting to hurt him, you cleaned the blood that came from the bruises before gently applying some oil on his skin. he swore he could get used to your touch. kind and gentle, definitely not what he was used to.

“and we are all done…” your voice came out as a whisper. standing so close to drew while he was half naked was completely different from having date lunch with him or texting him.

he turned back to face you again and maybe, just maybe, you were a little too close. the height difference between the two of you was crazy, your eyes were fixed on his chest, too shy to watch him in the eyes as you felt them on you.

“too shy kid?” he said smirking when you lifted your head up.

“i’m not a kid…” you whispered back, making him chuckle.

“you are my kid though…” his hand gently lifted your chin up so you couldn’t escape from his gaze “i could stay like this forever” he whispered.

yes, definitely different from the past week where you’ve been texting nonstop.

“really?” his statement took you back and you wondered if he really wanted to stay like that forever.

“really. you’re so kind and beautiful, and it pains me that people don’t see you the way i do…” his hand gently stroking your cheek “i like you y/n…yes, maybe all of this was unexpected and i definitely wasn’t expecting to fall in love with the judgment day’s protégé but here i am…i really, really like you” his accent made everything even hotter.

you weren’t good with words. especially not when you were still getting to know him well and even if you knew you liked him too, you had no idea of how to tell him so you simply acted of gesture.

you brought his face down so your lips could meet his but he was stronger so he lifted your body up from your waist so now you were the one on your toes, your hands behind his neck while you were still kissing him.

it was a soft yet passionate kiss. something you’ve been wanting for years. you felt all the emotions exploding in your stomach.

drew’s hands moved from your waist to hold your back and your neck, while his lips were still moving upon your soft ones.

your hand went involuntarily into his hair tugging them. he almost moaned into your mouth but when you opened your eyes and saw his look, you thought you might have hurt him “sorry…”

“don’t apologise love, tug on them all you want” he said smiling against your lips.

“can we do that again?” you said trying to catch your breath.

“absolutely” he said before capturing your lips again. this time he was fighting for dominance, gently biting your lower lip, making you smile into the kiss. his hands wished they could touch everywhere on your body but he didn’t want to scare you away, he still was a gentleman so he kept moving them from your neck to your waist and from your waist to your neck even if he wanted to feel the skin under your jumper.

once you both needed to catch your breath, your eyes met and there was like an unspoken rule between the two of you.

you wanted him as much as he wanted you. both sexually, physically and mentally. there was a connection between you two.

“drew?” your side voice woke him up from his trance.

“mh?”

“do you really want this? want…me?” you were hesitant as you didn’t know how actually felt feeling wanted.

“as long as you want me y/n…” he replied.

“i want you drew…i want this and i want to get to know you but…but i feel like once you know the real me, you’re gonna leave…” you didn’t wanna sound weak but there was a lot going on in your life and you didn’t want to open up to someone who might leave, not again “drew…my head’s a mess and i don’t wanna scare you away”

drew’s heart broke when he heard how scared you were of opening up to him “y/n, love, i promise you, i’m here to stay…whatever you might tell me, won’t scare me away, i’m here for you”

you couldn’t find words to thank him enough so you simply hugged him, trying not to mess with his back “let me put on a clean t-shirt and then i’ll drive us both to the hotel” he smiled and you nodded.

once he was ready, you both went into his rental and drove back to the hotel. he complimented your presence inside the arena, telling you how much confidence you were gaining.

“will you ever get back that bracelet to punk?” you asked laughing.

“probably not” he said making you laugh even more.

once parked outside of the hotel he helped you with your bags and put them on the floor.

“which room are you in?” he asked.

“uhm…405, you?”

“320…different floors…well, love, let me take you to your room so i can proper kiss you goodnight” he said, making you blush “oh so you are shy now?”

“i’m not shy…”

“right…” he chuckled, calling the elevator while still carrying his and your own bags.

once inside, he gently moved your bags from the floor to the table on your left and took his time in admiring you underneath the moonlight “you are so pretty” he whispered making you blush even harder.

his hands moved some of the hair that laid in front of your face and his thumb gently caressed your lips “goodnight y/n” his lips captured your lips one last time before he went back to his room.

you couldn’t really fully register what just happened but in less than two hours drew confessed to you, kissed you, told you that he was gonna stick by your side and let you take care of him.

maybe life wasn’t so bad at all - you thought but then you remembered that you left the remote at the reception to let them fix it as it wasn’t working this morning, so you would have to go and get it from them.

“hello, i’m here for the tv remote please…” you smiled at the lady who was working at the reception. she kindly gave you the remote back but before you could go back to your room, a very irritating voice caught your attention.

“y/n” liv morgan happily called your name.

“liv…” you weren’t in the mood for talking.

“can we please talk? just for a minute?” she asked but you quickly said no and turned your back to her ��well, that’s sad…you know, you could have your own spot with us…we could be your new family…it’s not gonna take long before rhea and dam abandon you like your own biological family did” she laughed.

how did she know that?

“how do you?”

“how do i know?” she interrupted you “finn told me…finn told me everything” she smirked “he told me about your family, about how they kicked you out when you were only eighteen, how you had no place to go, how lonely you felt…” tears were forming in your eyes but you didn’t want to cry in front of her “i know you’re still in therapy due to all the things your family put you through….i had no idea they tried to reach out when you got famous, pretty sure not even damian and rhea know…” she kept smiling knowing she was breaking you apart “finn practically told me how much of a crybaby you are…how you needed damian or rhea everytime you were feeling down, finn told me about all the times you bothered him with your own stupid problems…trust me y/n, if your family abandoned you, if the judgment day abandoned you, it’s just a matter of time before rhea and damian abandon you too…” she said before going away.

leaving you there, alone, with tears in your eyes and a mind who couldn’t be trusted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

never thought this would be a series but i can’t wait for part 5 cause is gonna be really really angst and i promise you rhea and damian will be more present

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zombieplaygrounds · 3 months ago

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cw: hybrids, hare hybrid König afab! reader

summary: hare hybrid könig, anyone? mostly a joke fic that's been spinning in my head for a few months

So you're the picture perfect cottage core, forest living gal. Real off the grid - well, sort of, everyone needs their WiFi, right? Anyways you're up there with your little vegetable garden, spending most of your days roaming the forest and foraging. If you're not doing that, you're gardening. Little did you know..there's a hare in the woods. A big one too. You've heard the rumors from passing travelers - rumors that were big hybrids up in these woods. Horror stories too, sounds at night and the typical scary stuff that makes you sleep with your head under a blanket and a knife tucked under your pillow.

You weren't stupid - not to your own terms, anyways - but you were maybe a bit naïve. Especially when one early morning you wake up to the noise of something scritching at your door. So you tip toe your way to the door, knife tucked behind your leg and your bare feet quietly stepping on the planks that didn't creak. You check the peep hole...and nothing? Clearly, you've never watched a horror movie either. Because you open the got damn door and are met with the wide-eyed sight of a man sitting his ass down before the door. He was cute, maybe even a little disturbing. Wide uncanny eyes, freakishly fucking long. At first, you really did thing you had finally come across one of those cryptids you heard about online. And then he snuffled, nuzzling his face into your hip.

And like any living being with a soul, you took him in. Apparently, his name was König. He was very clearly a hare hybrid from hell. Ate whatever you fed him and ten times more. Also practically lived in your warmth. Occasionally tried to piss places he shouldn't, which met the wrath of your flying shoe. "Are you gonna let go?" You ask one day while you're gardening. He had been hugging you from behind for three hours now. It was cute at first..but it was getting a bit ridiculous.

"No." König rasped. His voice boyish and a bit raspy. But his words were enough to quickly end the conversation.

You also did try to kick him out in the past, gently, of course. Mostly little shoves about how it was spring and there were probably lots of yummy berries and vegetables sprouting up already. But he just kinda grunted and continued to nibble at the fucking rib-eye steak you made for yourself. Greedy bastard. It wasn't all bad though. Occasionally at night König would tuck you in real close to his chest, and he smelt pretty nice! His heart was always pounding rapidly. He'd nuzzle and sniff at you gently, which honestly was kinda nice when you were having trouble falling asleep.

"You smell good." You mumble, staring up at his wide eyed expression. König would chuff back at you, nibbling your flesh gently. "Because you are my girlfriend" "Oh! Yeah. That makes a lot of sense." "Wait..what?"

this was a not a joke fic please write more hare hybrid konig

#cw: hybrids #könig #konig call of duty #konig cod #konig mw2 #konig x reader #könig call of duty #könig cod #könig mw2 #zombieplayground #zombieplaygrounds #könig x reader #cod mw2 #hare!König #hare hybrids

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topguncortez · 1 year ago

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The Beauty fell for The Beast || Whumptober Day 20 - R. Wheeler

whumptober masterlist

synopsis: Rip has no idea what John saw in you to keep you at the ranch, but he quickly finds out that it's got nothing to do with how you cowboy

word count: 2.2k

@ailesswhumptober prompt: mutilation

warnings: domestic violence, mentions of scars and injuries, cursing, slight sexism

Rip wasn’t sure what John saw in you. Apparently, you had been picked up on the side of the road by Beth, literally shaking in your boots out in the rain. Somehow she worked her magic on John and agreed to let you earn your keep to stay on the ranch. You were weak, you were quiet, you were. . . well, you were just you. You stuck out on the ranch like a sore thumb amongst the foul-mouthed, loud, adrenaline-fueled cowboys who walked around with their heads held high. You looked like a dog that had been kicked one too many times.

“She’s weak, she’s slower than the rest,” John had barely been at the bunkhouse for an hour before Rip started in on his spiel on why you should get fired, “I have to tackle half her workload plus mine-”

“Looks like you need to teach her,” John said, sipping his coffee casually. John had a soft spot for strays, it was clear by the misfits that he had on his ranch. He knew good and well that you were the weaker link, having watched you struggle to keep up with the rest of the cowboys. But it wasn’t very often that his daughter begged him for a chance. Begged him to give you a chance. You didn’t have to say the reason why you were standing on the side of the highway in the rain, John could tell by one look at you.

“But sir-” Rip argued.

John looked over his shoulder at him, “Make her take the lead with pushing the cattle to the north pasture.” Rip’s jaw dropped as John clapped him on the shoulder before sauntering off towards his truck.

You hadn’t expected anyone to stop that night. All you wanted to do was get as far away from that house, from him, as you possibly could. You didn’t get very far in your car, breaking down only a mile outside of town. You knew that you couldn’t just sit there, he’d certainly find you. So, you ditched the car, leaving your phone in it, and took off walking. It was raining so hard that night, you could hardly see ten feet in front of you. Every passing semi and truck on the road made you jump, praying that you wouldn’t become roadkill. You just wanted to get away. Wanted to be somewhere safe and warm. That’s when a blacked-out SUV slowed to a stop beside you and a woman with a scar on her face rolled down the window.

“Are you fucking insane?!” She yelled. The moment you turned to look at her, her hard facial features softened. She clenched her jaw and looked towards her driver, before reaching over and opening the car door, “Get in. And if you think about killing me, I’ll haunt your fucking ass until you die.”

Beth had been the literal angel sent straight from hell. She had given you a place to stay, taking you to the bunkhouse and making all the men in there shake in their boots. She had given you fresh clothes and some toiletries, giving you a bunk with another female, Teeter, who reminded you a lot of your mother.

“You’ll stay here, got it?” Beth said, and you knew better than to argue with her, “Run out on me and I’ll kill you,” You nodded your head. She then looked at Teeter, “Rip doesn’t find out about this until after I talk to my dad.”

“I’ll hide ‘er,” Teeter nodded.

Beth nodded and looked back at you, her heart cracking in her chest a bit, “Get some sleep kid.”

Teeter had tried her best to ward Rip off, keeping him away from the bunkhouse that first morning, but there was no hiding the loud screams of terror that came from inside. Rip pushed away from Teeter, storming into the bunkhouse to find you, a small frail thing shaking and crying while Kolby and Ryan stood utterly confused.

“What the fuck is that?” Rip seethed as he pointed at you.

“Fresh blood!” Ryan smiled, while you were holding your knees to your chest and sobbing. You raised your head gently and looked into the warmest brown eyes you’ve ever seen. He clenched his jaw tightly, looking away from you, “Get her fed and saddled up. We got work to do,” Rip paused and turned back towards you, “And do something about the screaming shit. Gonna scare the fucking horses.”

You got to work quickly, not knowing a single thing about being a cowboy. Hell, you couldn’t even remember the last time you rode a horse. But thankfully, Teeter and Kolby took you under their wings, almost as if they were your proxy parents. Ryan fell into the spot of being the older, annoying brother that you wished you had. The three of them looked after you and made sure that you were doing alright, eating well, and getting your workload done. The only thing the three of them could not stop was the nightmares.

It was like clockwork, every single night. The same dream would plague you, the feel of his rough hands on your body, slamming your head against the wall, threatening to kill you, holding his hands tightly on your throat while black spots filled your vision. You would wake up in the middle of the night screaming, sending the whole bunkhouse into a frenzy. Teeter would quickly jump down from her bunk, crawling into yours and holding you tightly, while Kolby made his way over. He’d always make sure that you were okay when there really wasn’t anything physical happening. Teeter would lay in your bed until you were asleep and then would crawl back into hers for the last few hours of shut eye.

It wasn’t until about two weeks into your working on the ranch that you had another run-in with Rip.

“You’re waking the bunkhouse,” He said gruffly. You looked down at your boots, trying to bite back the tears in your eyes, “My cowboys look like they haven’t had a solid night’s rest in weeks. I would fucking fire you if I could but. . .” You looked up at him, heart in your ears. You couldn’t get fired. You had nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. Rip pinched his nose and sighed, “I can’t cause for some reason, John thinks your worth a shit.”

“But you don’t?” You said softly. Rip had to hide his stunned expression cause he was starting to think you don’t actually talk.

“No, I don’t,” Rip nodded, “So pack your shit and follow me.”

“I-I. . . I have nowhere to go,” You weren’t sure why you had to say that, but it felt like if Rip was going to tell you to disappear, you might as well try to plead your case.

Rip sighed, “Pack you shit. . . You’re coming to stay with me.”

You had been staying in Rip’s house for the past two weeks, and you hadn’t woken up screaming at all. Yes, you still had the same recurring nightmare, but it wasn’t so terrifying that it had you screaming in the dark. You weren’t sure what the cause of it was, but there was something about knowing that Rip was under the same roof that helped you sleep easily. You had seen the way that Rip jumped to stop a fight between Kolby and some rowdy ranch hand at the bar.

Rip had a soft spot for you, whether he liked to admit it or not. It made his chest hurt when he heard you whimpering and crying in your sleep from down the hall. He tried his best to ignore it the first night, but it got to the point that he couldn’t just lay in his comfortable bed, while you were fighting with something in your sleep on the couch. So, Rip found his way to the living room, gingerly lifting your head and laying it on his thigh. He would stroke your hair until you were back into a deep sleep. And then, he’d turn around and leave before your alarm sounded, going to the bunkhouse and telling John that he should fire you.

— — —

There was one thing that you loved about being away from the city, and that was the calm serene mornings. Watching the sun poke its light rays through the dark night. Seeing the purples and reds fade into bright blue skies. You hadn’t been on the Yellowstone ranch long, but you already fell in love with the sunrises. It was getting a bit colder out, as the sweltering summer was fading into the brisk fall. The leaves turn from green to vibrant reds and yellows. You felt calm out here. You felt in control. You knew you were needed down at the bunkhouse, but you didn’t care at this moment. Not after what you faced last night.

Rip was grumbling as he walked towards the stables, taking note of all the ranch hands walking around, seeing that you were nowhere to be found. You hadn’t come home last night after saying you were going into town with Ryan, Teeter, and Kolby. Rip hadn’t bothered to get your number, which he was starting to regret. He cursed himself for being worried about you, knowing you were a full-grown woman. But you were also a woman who looked to be scared of their own shadow.

“Carter!” Rip yelled as the young boy was walking out of the stables, “Why aren’t you saddled up?”

Carter paused for a moment, huffing up the heavy saddle in his arms, “I got a late start. I’m sorry Rip.”

Rip cursed under his breath as he watched Carter continue to struggle with his saddle, “God didn’t add extra daylight to Tuesday, Carter,” Rip rolled his eyes at the boy, who started to break into a jog, “Where’s the other Kid?”

“Still in the barn,” Carter nodded his head towards the white building, “She just got there.”

When he spotted you, resting your head against your house, Rip’s blood was boiling, “Do we just show up whenever the fuck we want to now? Where the hell have you-” You slowly lifted your head and turned to face Rip.

His jaw clenched shut tightly. His anger was now directed off of you and towards whoever the fuck bashed your face in. Your right eye was swollen shut, an ugly cut above your eyebrow. You had what looked like handmarks around your neck, and your nose was clearly broken.

“Who did this?” Rip seethed.

You shrugged, “It doesn't matter.” You grabbed your horse’s reins, going to walk out to the ring, but Rip grabbed your arm.

“That wasn’t up for an argument,” He spoke lowly, “Who did that to your face?”

You gulped and looked up at Rip, “My husband.”

It took all the willpower in Rip’s body to hold back the shocked expression. Why hadn’t you said you were married? Is that why you ran away? Well, clearly it was why you ran away, but how long had this been going on? Did he not know where you went? Was he looking for you?

But none of that mattered to Rip. All Rip wanted to know was, “Where is he?”

“I. . .” You closed your eyes and shook your head, “Dead.”

Rip didn’t ask any more questions, releasing your arm and running a hand down his bearded face. He looked over his shoulder, taking in a quick glance of his surroundings, before grabbing your arm and pulling you into the stall.

“Listen,” Rip whispered, “You’re gonna tell me where you left him and then you’re gonna go back to the house and stay there. I’ll handle this.”

“But-”

“Go put some ice on your face,” Rip didn’t leave any room for argument as he walked out of the stable, leaving you there alone.

— —

You did what Rip told you, leaving the stable and heading back to the house. You weren’t surprised that he didn’t have any ice packs in his freezer, so you were stuck with putting a frozen steak on your eye. The house was eerily quiet as you sat on the couch, frozen meat to your face as you waited for Rip to come back. You wondered what he thought about the house. You wondered what he was going to do to your husband’s body. You wondered if he was wishing that he had never agreed to help you. Maybe he was going to turn you in to the police as you sit.

But all those worries melted away as the front door opened, and Rip walked in. You stood up quickly as he stood in front of you.

“I-”

“How long?” Rip asked. You bit your lip, “How long has he been fucking using you like a punching bag?” Tears filled your eyes as you looked down at the ground, “Jesus Christ.” Rip huffed and took a step closer to you. He gently grabbed your chin in his hand, “Look at me,” You looked into his brown eyes, “You should’ve said something. You should’ve not gone to the house by yourself.”

“He was going to file a missing persons report,” You sniffled, “I thought that I should just go, get the rest of my things, and tell him that I’m leaving. But he got so mad and. . .” Cries fell from your lips and Rip pulled you into his chest.

You felt secure in his arms, his chest strong and comforting at the same time. You melted into his touch as he held you.

“You’ll never have to worry about him or anyone else again,” Rip spoke, making his chest rumble with the dip timbre of his voice, “You’re a part of the Yellowstone now.”

taglist: @els-marvelvsp @sarahsmi13s @topgun-imagines @cassiemitchell @xoxabs88xox @seitmai @a-reader-and-a-writer @bradleybeachbabe @kmc1989 @senawashere @beautifulandvoid @ohtobeleah @rogersbarnesxx @oatmealisweird @dempy @devil-angel-winchester @gillybear17

#Yellowstone fan fic #Yellowstone #Yellowstone fan fiction #Yellowstone imagine #rip wheeler #rip wheeler fan fic #rip wheeler fan fiction #rip wheeler imagine #rip wheeler x reader #rip wheeler x you #rip wheeler x y/n #rip wheeler angst #Yellowstone angst #ailesswhumptober #g's whumptober

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seeingivy · 1 year ago

Text

my love, mine all mine

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

content: HEAVVVYYYYY ANGST. does contain one part where a man is being icky/hitting on a girl in a gross way. viewer discretion advised. protect your peace.

an: ok yall. chapter is named after a mitski song we know it's not good. don't hang me at the stake now.

songs mentioned: my love, mine all mine by mitski

previous part linked here

“This is disgusting.” you mutter, as Armin leans over and takes a picture from what might literally be the worst angle ever.

Connie Springer, human menace, has been sleeping on your shoulder for a majority of the flight to Seattle. And drooling on your hair in the process. You make a mental note to kick his ass when he wakes up for being responsible for the globbed up hair you'll have when you see Eren again.

“He’s been sleeping for almost the entire flight. And he slept all day before the engagement too.” Armin murmurs, flicking the picture in between his fingers as he waits for it to develop.

“Typical.” you respond, readjusting so his head falls on your shoulder more comfortably.

You lean your head against his as he continues to snore against your shoulder, the desperation, the anticipation of what you’re going to do sitting heavy in your head. You’ve run through it a hundred times, the words stringing together in your head.

You’re staying with Eren for the weekend. His birthday falls at the end, but he’s too busy to see you guys, so you’ll take him out the day after.

After making ten very aggressive phone calls to the Seattle Aquarium and throwing a nice amount of money their way, they agreed to close off the aquarium for the weekend, so that you and Eren could have it all to yourself.

So that you could drag him there after he was finished on set and lie down flat on the cold floors to just watch the fish swim above you. So no one else is there when you tell Eren that you still love him, so you’re both surrounded in your own little fishbowl. So that he understands you never did stop loving him. That you won’t ever.

You pause. The guilt sits deep in your stomach, eats at the smallest parts of your conscience and corrupts it. The desperation, the anticipation - it sits heavy in your mind. But the doubt, the guilt, and the anxiety does too.

You either get to have Eren forever or you lose him for good. Because Eren is dating another girl and it comes down to something really simple.

If he likes her more or you.

“You okay?”

You look over at Armin and his perceptive blue eyes are peering into yours, his forehead scrunched up near his hairline.

“I-I have a dilemma, Armin.”

“Do tell.” he responds, propping his elbow against the armrest and leaning his cheek on his hand.

“I….I want to do something. But it could hurt someone.”

He frowns, squinting his eyes at you in confusion.

“I feel a certain type of way. And I want to tell someone. But being honest means I could hurt someone else. Sh-should I still do it?” you ask, cracking your knuckles between your fingers.

“Will it hurt you if you won’t say it?” Armin asks.

Yes.

It’ll hurt you if Eren goes on thinking that you don’t love him the way you do. That walking away from him wasn’t the biggest mistake of your life. That him pulling away kills you, because all you want to do is keep him close.

You can’t keep it all in, regardless of what the outcome will be. And for all it’s worth, you have the feeling that when you’ll see him, it’ll get the better of you, that it’ll be a matter of when you tell him, not if.

“Yes. I-I don’t think I can keep it in Armin. I’ve been sitting on it for a while.”

He brings his hand down on yours and squeezes. And then his blue eyes are shimmering, in the pale fluorescents of the plane lights, and you can’t help but smile back. It’s surging through you - the want, the need, the love you hold for him.

And there’s only three more hours till you’re there.

“I can’t believe you’re finally telling Eren you still love him.” he asks, so nonchalantly as he slides the picture of you and Connie, fully developed, into his wallet as he turns back to you.

“Am-am I that obvious?”

“I mean. You feel a type of certain way? We’re going to see Eren? It wasn’t that hard to piece together.”

“No. You’re just perceptive.”

Armin brings his hand down on yours again, squeezing hard, as he smiles at you - so bright and cheery that it makes you excited.

“God, ‘Min. Why are you so excited? You’re kind of supporting me being a homewrecker right now.”

“I-I don’t know. Hyla, I’m sure she’s great and all, but I just don’t think she fares up well to what Eren needs. Not like you do.”

You can feel your cheeks burning at his admission, the compliment and the implication solidifying in your mind. That Armin, Eren’s best friend, thinks it should be you. That you’re good for him. He’s quiet for a few minutes, sliding through the pictures of Jean and Mikasa - the one’s she posted of Jean and her hugging on the ground, minutes after he proposed. Equipped with a caption, that brings you to tears.

the one place i’ll always find myself returning. jeanboy, it’s you and me always.

“What do you think love is, Y/N?”

“That’s such a loaded question to ask me on a dingy ass flight to Seattle, Armin.” you deadpan.

“No, no. Just think. What is it?”

You rack your brain, long and hard. And they all come to mind - your parents, Falco and Colt, Eren, Jean and Mikasa, Levi and Hange.

Levi and Hange. The love letters Levi wrote to Hange, that he gave you when you wrote invisible string for the vow renewal. Maybe the first time you figured out what love might mean. That it was sharing every little part of yourself and every feeling you’ve had - ecstatic, overwhelmed, happy, sad, bored, and soft.

“Knowing each other. Love is knowing each other, Armin. And-he’s pulling away. I-I don’t want him to leave because there’s still so much more of him I-I don’t know yet. I could have a lifetime and it still wouldn’t be enough.” you murmur.

He smiles, leaning his head against yours, as he talks again, his soft voice murmuring into your hair.

“Eren’s known one thing since he met you. And it’s that he wants you around, wants to know more of you, that you’re the best person he’s met. He picked you to be his co-star, called you almost everyday he wasn’t with you, ran into my room and talked to me what it was like to kiss you after you guys wrote New Year’s day, you’re just it for-”

“Wait, what? He did what?”

“Huh? What part?”

“The New Year’s Day thing. You-you knew that we kissed?”

“Yeah. He told me and Marco, like fully woke us up. Said that you guys were practicing the kiss after you wrote the song and that we both needed to kiss someone immediately so we could understand how he felt.”

You snort.

“I don’t remember it being that way. I like totally froze up when he kissed me the first time. We-we had to do it a few times to get it right.”

“Well, it’s always been you for Eren. I bet you could aim wrong and he’d still come and talk about how kissing you is divine.”

“Divine?”

He freezes up, eyes wide, as he realizes his choice of words.

“Armin. Did Eren say kissing me was divine?”

“No. No- we don’t talk about that stuff. It’s- long story, you-you don’t want to know.”

“No. No, now you have to tell me. We’ve known each other forever, it’s-it’s not weird. Quit being all shy.”

“Y/N.”

“Armin! Please. We-I want to know. Please, I won’t tell him and I won’t think much of it.”

“Okay, well. When I started dating Annie, you and Eren had already been together for like a year. And I wanted…to know how to…”

“To?”

“Have sex.” he murmurs.

You bite down on your lip to avoid laughing and he turns his face, cheeks glowing pink, as he whispers profanities at you.

“You’re so rude. I’m not talking about this.”

“No, no! Armin, you’re just so cute.”

“Quit calling me cute.”

“Sorry! It’s just. You and Eren are so sweet, you’re like brothers. Giggling like little high schoolers about sex.”

“We were highschoolers. And you’re acting like you and Mikasa are any different.”

“Yeah! But you guys know we do that, I just never thought you and Eren talked about this stuff. So what did he say?”

“No. This is breaking bro code. I’m not telling you.”

“Armin! Please! You brought it up now it’s going to bother me forever. And-and you and me. We’re cool like that. We can talk about sex because we’re two grown adults.”

“Y/N.” he responds, in a warning tone.

“Pretty please! I’ve always wondered what Eren thinks about me because he-he’s so reserved and-and it’ll help me. When I tell him, to-to know how he felt about me. Help me not back out.”

“You’re annoying. You-you can’t just use that against me to get me to tell you.”

“Fine. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

He groans, leaning his head against the chair, and clenches his jaw. And then Armin’s turning his head, voice all quiet as he whispers.

“You tell another soul and I will kill you.”

“Okay, okay. I promise ‘Min.”

“I-I asked him about it. Because Annie and I were going to….I wanted to make it special. And-and I’m not the type to really, really take initiative when Annie does it first but I-I wanted to.”

“Uh huh.”

“And then I asked him, like. What it’s supposed to feel like. Having sex for the first time. Because, I mean. Isn’t it awkward? And I had heard it hurts for the girl so-”

“I’m trying not to like bite down on my own hand right now. You’re like a little angel.” you coo.

“Shut up. Anyways, Eren said that the first time he-he felt bad. Because it did hurt you and that he just held you after till you felt better. But the second time, he said it was like nothing he ever felt before. That he understood why people do a bunch of stupid shit when they’re in love because it feels divine.”

You swallow hard.

“Armin. He-”

“You’re it for him. I hope I got that through your head. Now just go tell him. And quit making me tell you secrets, you’re breaking every sacred code I have as a man right now.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry, I didn’t mean to mess with your divine brotherhood.”

He flicks the top of your head as you link your arm with his and squeeze hard. And flutter your eyes shut, with him on your mind.

“Connie.”

You reach forward and shake his shoulder, as aggressively as you can, in the back of the car.

“Connie.”

He’s slumped over against the window, fast asleep, despite the fact that he slept nearly the entire way here.

“CONNIE.”

“Huh?”

His eyes flutter open, deeply filled with sleep as he registers where he is, holding his hand out to grab you.

“Con. We’re here. And why the fuck are you so tired?”

“Shhh.” he responds, pressing his finger to your lips as he tumbles out of the car, leaning the majority of his body weight on you as you both walk towards the house.

Not Eren’s house, the one you stayed at when Ricky locked you out, but the townhouse on set since Connie needed to be back as soon as possible. You switch positions with Armin, him taking the responsibility of lugging Connie, as you both walk up to the door.

You nervously reach up to brush the tangles out of your hair and rub the tiredness out of your eyes as you knock on the door, putting on your best smile.

Eren.

Or not. The door swings open and a short girl answers, a bored look on her face and a martini glass secured in her hand. Despite the cold weather, she’s dressed up in a mini skirt and her hair is all clipped up in rollers - clearly from a makeup team by the way they’re placed.

“Can I help you?”

“Um. I’m Y/N.”

“Okay?”

“I mean. We’re here to bring Connie back. He-he’s supposed to start filming again today. And we’re visiting for Eren’s birthday.”

“Oh. Okay fine.”

She swings the door open as you and Armin hold Connie upright, loose greetings falling out of his mouth as he waves at the twenty people that are in the room, their names falling out of his mouth. They’re all lounging around on the sofas and in the kitchen, heads pushed together in their own conversations or on their phones.

“Connie. We-where are you supposed to go?”

“Uh. Right. We-we can just go to my room.”

He drags you and Armin up the stairs, even more people crowding the area, as you shuffle past and make your way up. Connie shoves you both into his room, the two of you falling on his sofa, as you watch him shut himself in the bathroom immediately.

“Should we try to find Eren maybe? I think Connie’s like sick or something.” you whisper.

“Yeah. But it might take a while, there’s like sixty people in here.”

“I don’t understand how anyone lives here. Lana and Eren staying in a house off set makes way more sense now.” you respond, as Armin pulls you up and you drag yourself through the halls.

You both amble down, observing the mess all around, as you read the names on the doors. You’re both holding hands, hard, so you don’t lose each other in the bustle of people and the sweat hanging in the air. And nearly six paces down, you find the door with Eren’s name scribbled across the door. Armin lightly knocks as you both peek your heads in, to find Hyla - fast asleep in his bed.

You swallow hard, pushing hard on Armin’s hand, as you both quietly shut the door behind you and walk back down the hallway.

She’s sleeping in his bed.

“Let’s just see if anyone knows where he is, yeah?”

You nod and both push down the hallway again to the crowded room you entered in, nervously watching the swarm of people in front of you and nitpicking on which one to ask. Despite the chill in the Seattle air outside, the inside here is sweltering - the mix of people certainly being a fire hazard and responsible for the itching warmth in the room.

One of the girls, lazily leaning over the counter, beckons for the two of you to join her, which you awkwardly accept.

“Who are you guys?”

“I’m Armin. And this is Y/N. We’re friends of Eren’s, we were looking for him. Is he around?”

“Ah. Eren and Lana are probably busy with the Bear.” she says, turning her shoulder and snickering with the people around them.

The bear?

“Well. We’re going to his birthday dinner tonight. You guys can see him then, the bus leaves at like six.” she mutters, shuffling off to the other side of the house and walking away.

“Okay. Thanks.” you respond, awkwardly rubbing your hands against your arms and turning to Armin.

Right on cue, loud music starts blaring overhead and you and Armin instinctively reach to cover your ears, Armin signaling that the two of you should just go outside. You both leave the sticky, hot room and walk out, kicking the rocks as the music blares on inside.

“God. Levi would have an aneurysm if we ever did something like that to the townhouse.” you mutter.

“I think I had an aneurysm standing in there.”

“What should we do?”

“It’s only four thirty. Let’s just…walk and get coffee. It’ll be six by the time that we’re back and we can meet him at dinner.”

“Okay. Sure.”

Two hours later and you’re seated at the most awkward table, in the history of awkward tables. Maybe even more awkward than the thought of the Thirteenth Disciple of Jesus, Ryomen Sukuna, being at the Last Supper.

You and Armin are across from the two empty seats - because Lana and Eren are late. Armin’s stuck next to a weirdly rowdy crowd of people, with Connie at the center, who suddenly has a random burst of energy and has been screaming for a better part of the last hour. And on your left, you’re stuck next to Hyla and Myka, who are way too inquisitive for your liking.

“So like. Can I ask you a question?” Myka asks, leaning into your space.

You shake the glass of water in your hands, perspiration leaking down your elbow, as you give her a nod. You nervously twiddle with the straw in your mouth, biting it into oblivion as she starts talking.

“So. I listened to dorothea. And then I listened to lacy. And I was just wondering what happened between you and Historia? Because your song was really sweet but she makes you look like a bitch.”

You swallow hard.

“Ah. I don’t know, we used to be really close when we were younger and filming Attack on Titan together and stuff. I think we just grew apart. And-you know. Songs are more about their meanings, I-I don’t think lacy is about me and dorothea isn’t necessarily about her.”

“Okay but like. What actually happened? Don’t like beat around the bush.” Hyla states, her tone biting as she swirls her own straw through her glass.

It’s the first time you’ve ever heard her talk, with your own ears. Seen her with your own eyes and interacted with her in the flesh.

She’s scary. Freakishly high cheekbones, slicked back hair, and siren like eyes that pull back to her hairline. A pointed nose, a sharp jaw - and unlike Lana, there are no soft features, no soft expressions to offset the harshness on her face.

“She obviously doesn’t like you. And honestly, it’s fucked that she projects onto you so hard. If she wants to be successful, she should just work harder.” Myka states.

“Historia’s busy, Myka. Got other things on her mind.” she states, making a snipping motion with her fingers.

“Sorry, what?” you ask.

“Oh, you know. Scissoring. Because she’s gay.” Hyla states, the ice in her glass clinking against the straw.

You freeze. And swallow hard to think hard on what to say next.

A topic that you don’t personally broach, and never have, but one people can’t seem to stop talking about.

Maybe you’ve had your suspicions. And you push them down and let Historia be. The longing glances at Ymir when she was putting on her harnesses, the way they were attached at the hip - entirely different than the way you and Mikasa were and more like how you and Eren were.

People suspected. It was a hot topic of conversation, especially after Lacy dropped and the people thought the lyrics were…homoerotic. People were stuck trying to figure out if Historia wanted to be you or date you.

You don’t comment on that. She’s entitled to whatever she is and trying to figure it out for her does her no service.

“So what are you going to order?” Myka asks, leaning over to look at the menu.

“Probably the spicy brisket ramen?”

“Ugh. Ramen has so much sodium. That’s how you get fat arms.” she mutters, flipping her eyes through her own menu.

You swallow hard as you shove your face into your own menu this time, probably drawing blood on Armin’s ankle by the way you’re jamming your leg on his foot. He lifts his own menu as well, the two of you whispering behind them.

“This is what my worst nightmares look like.” you whisper.

“If he doesn’t show up in five minutes, we’re leaving.” Armin responds, giving you a nod.

You both drop your menus to find Hyla staring at you two weird, which you two return with less than peachy smiles and lift your glasses to drink together. And right on cue, Eren and Lana are speed walking to the table from the entrance of the restaurant, absorbed in their own conversation.

Lana takes the seat across from Armin and Eren takes the one across from yours - Lana’s eyes bulging out of her head when she sees the two of you while Eren’s too absorbed in the conversation he’s having with Hyla.

“Ok, I’m here. Quit whining.” he says, leaning his hand against the back of Hyla’s chair.

“Only you would be late to your birthday dinner, Eren.” she responds, giving him a smile as she leans forward to kiss his cheek.

“My birthday is tomorrow, so technically, I’m early.” he responds.

Lana elbows Eren in the side, which he rolls his eyes at before turning his head back to Hyla, who's pointing at the menu.

“Eren.” Lana repeats.

“Huh? What?”

He lifts Lana’s drink on instinct and takes a sip, putting it down as he glares at her.

“It’s non-alcoholic. Calm down, Lana.”

“No. Eren.” she responds, grating her teeth as she gestures her eyes over to you.

And then Eren looks over, his eyes bulging out of his head this time when he sees you. Except his shock goes farther than Lana’s because when he moves his hand off Hyla’s shoulder, he accidentally knocks his glass across the table, the cold liquid drenching the front of your shirt and your skirt.

“Jesus, Eren. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Myka asks, snickering as she looks down at you.

Armin’s quick to respond, yanking his jacket off and placing it on your lap, drying the wetness on your legs as Eren stares at the two of you and then immediately turns to look at Lana.

“Y/N. Armin. What are you guys doing here?” he asks, jaw clenched against his skull.

“They’re surprising you for your birthday. Such sweet childhood friends you have.” Hyla says, giving the two of you a sickly sweet smile.

“Um. I-I’m going to go to the bathroom, my clothes are really wet.” you mutter, beckoning Armin to stay as you quickly speed walk to the bathroom with his jacket wrapped around you.

The second you make it into the bathroom, you shut the closest stall shut and lock the door, hanging Armin’s mostly dry jacket on the ring as you survey the damage. Eren’s drink - bright blue in color - has left a big mark on the front of your white shirt, but is virtually invisible on the black pleats of your skirt.

You instinctively grab for the tissues and wipe down the front of your shirt, which only makes the stain worse. And you don’t know why - why this entire thing is so humiliating, but you can feel tears burning in your eyes and your throat itching with insurmountable heat - as the stain doesn’t lessen, the blue splotch staying.

The door swings open and you hear an immediate knock on your door, shiny black shoes visible from underneath the stall.

“Hey Tinky-Winky. You okay?” Lana whispers, her voice soft as she leans her head against the door.

“Y-yeah. Just, um. Trying to get the stain out, that’s all. I’ll just wear Armin’s jacket.”

“Okay. I-I’m waiting for you out here when you’re done, okay?”

You lift your head to the ceiling, hoping that it’ll push the flaming tears back into your eye sockets as you try to quiet your sniffles and shove Armin’s black denim jacket over your clothes. You open the door to find Lana, sweet Lana, leaning against the door with a smile on her face.

She looks different. Her cheeks are fuller and rosy pink, her short hair growing out to her shoulders. And you don’t miss the soft bags around her eyes, the tiredness sitting in her frame. She opens up her arms, which you quickly sink into, her hands in your hair.

“I missed you.”

“Yeah. I missed you too, La-La.”

She pulls back, her arms resting against your elbows as she talks.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“Surprising Eren for his birthday. We-we missed him.”

She brings her hand to your cheek, cupping your face.

“He misses you too. Lots.” she says, giving you a smile.

You give her a smile back as you wrap your arms around her neck, breathing in her sweet flowery smell, as the door swings open again, only for Eren to be leaning against the door frame. You pull back and look at him - brown hair, green eyes, and no smile - staring back at you.

“Y/N. You-you’re okay?” he asks, shutting the door behind him.

“Yeah. Hi Eren. H-happy birthday.”

He breaks a smile - the first one you’ve seen today - and opens up his arms, wrapping them around your frame as he leans down, lips close to your ear. His right hand is firm on your back and the second one is cradling the back of your head, firm around your locks of hair.

“It’s tomorrow.”

“I know that, Eren.”

“Okay, sweetheart. No need to show off.”

At the sound of your nickname, you’re only wrapping your arms around his neck harder, standing on the tips of your toes, in any attempt to be closer to him. His smooth, laundry smell, his skin soft to the touch, and his hair perfectly tousled against your hands.

“Y/N?”

“Hm, Eren?”

“As much as I like holding you, I am technically trespassing in a women’s restroom right now. I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

You pull back, nervously reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ears as you nod, giving the two of them a look.

“Okay so. I’ll go first. Lana, come out like five minutes after. Eren, give it like seven. Not ten, because the timing would be suspiciously perfect.”

Eren squints his hand at you, his forearms clutched across his chest, as he glares.

“Or we could all go back together.”

“No. No, no. That’s weird. Just wait. I-I’ll see you two out there okay.” you respond, giving the two of them a smile and a thumbs up as you push out of the door.

You nervously duck back to the table, buttoning Armin’s jacket up as you slide in next to him, squeezing his hand under the table when he gives you a questioning look. You shake your head as he gives you a nod, the two of you clear and focusing back on the dinner at hand.

“Y/N. Are you hooking up with Sukuna? He’s hot.” Myka asks, leaning into your space.

You spit your water back into your glass as you start choking on the parts that went down, Armin’s hand comforting on your back.

“Um. No, never in a million years. We’re just friends.” you respond, giving them a smile.

“The Promiscuous video was really hot. You’ve never looked better.”

You turn your head to find the guy seated between Connie and Armin leaning over, holding his hand out to you as he talks. He has short black hair and cold, steely eyes.

“Vinh.”

You place your hand in his, thrown off by the clamminess, as he smiles continuing.

“I mean. Some part of it has to be real right? That whole bit where Sukuna’s like on the floor crawling after you walk away, when he pretends to pass out when you blow him a kiss, and when you throw the water on him just to take his shirt off after...you can only fake chemistry like that to some extent.”

“Ah. I’m an actress. That’s my entire job. And the song is called Promiscuous. We-we obviously leaned into a little bit. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“That’s music to my ears then.” he says, smiling.

You know that smile. It reminds you of Ricky.

“Vinh, stop it. And Connie, you’ve had enough to fucking drink.” Eren says, glaring bullets at the two of them.

“Eren. Shut the fuck up.” Connie responds, clearly irritated with Eren. The two of them hold their eye contact, for too long, as you look at Armin.

“Connie. I will beat it out of you again if I have to.” Eren responds, which makes Connie drop his gaze. The group laughs as Eren scoffs, his knuckles white against his glass.

You’re thrown off by the sudden hostility, Eren’s demeanor entirely different from what he was in the bathroom. Granted, he was still a bit off-putting in there, but the fact that he’s…purposely picking a fight with Connie is entirely unlike him at all.

Connie gets so irritated that he storms off, leaving the table all together, as everyone murmurs what a buzzkill he is.

Connie’s always been the life of the party. Even insinuating he’s a buzzkill is downright ironic.

“So. How is filming for the movie going? Which one is this again?”

“Don’t Worry Darling.” Hyla responds, swirling her fork around her plate.

“I’m really excited to see it, you guys. I’m sure it’ll be great.”

Hyla twists her straw in between her fingers as she looks in between Lana and then you.

“Lana Banana.”

Lana curls up her nose at the term, tilting her head over to look at her.

“You’ve just been so busy lately. You’re not really looking fit for your part anymore. I think Y/N should take it. Don’t you think, Eren?”

Eren swallows hard as he looks at you, eyes flitting between you and Lana, as he stays silent. And the beat goes on for too long and no one talks, so you bite the bullet and do it for them.

“I uh. Don’t have time for that actually. Danny and Sareen lined up a four day only show in New York City for me the week of the Institute Awards. I’m supposed to close for that award show, so I-I’ll have a lot of rehearsals leading up to it.” you respond, dissolving the loaded question so Eren didn’t have to.

“Well our next movie. You should definitely join, everyone here loves you. Vinh especially.” she says, smiling.

“Oh! I-I’ll see about that.”

“Don’t you think Y/N and Vinh would be cute together, Eren? She’s clearly into that whole bad boy thing since she liked Sukuna.”

“Oh, I don’t-”

And then Eren’s leaning into her space, lips a few feet away from hers, as he smiles and tucks her hair behind her ear. And then he presses a kiss to the top of her forehead, her cheeks turning bright pink.

“Do you want to get out of here? Just you and me?”

She gives him a giddy smile as she nods, putting her hand in his, as he drags her out, arm secured around her waist. He gives Lana a look over his shoulder as he leaves, which Lana ignores as she gives you and Armin bright smiles.

You settle into the bed, Lana at your side, as you reach for your phone.

you: everything good?

armin: yeah. connie isn’t even here he like never came back. also his room smells like pop rocks LOL

you: so THIS is why he’s sleeping all the time.

armin: everything good with you?

you: yes. i’m sleeping with lana.

armin: okay. sweet dreams. don’t think about stuff too hard.

you: speaking of stuff, i don’t think i’m going to do it anymore, armin.

you: i thought that eren and hyla would be more like…me and ricky. but he actually likes her i think.

armin: yeah. i think so too, i’m sorry y/n.

you: our time just passed i guess. better to keep him around as my friend than not at all, right?

armin: it’ll pass, y/n. it-it goes away. talk to ymir. about hisu. she can help you better.

You turn on your sheets to find Lana next to you, already sprawled over the majority of the bed, and dead asleep. Her expression looks so tired, her deep breaths indicating that she’s already fully out, despite it only being five minutes since you’ve been here.

And she looks soft. Her jaw isn’t as sharp anymore, a little bit of fullness in her cheeks, but the same pointy nose.

It’s pretty. She’s pretty.

You bury your head into your own pillow as you flutter your eyes shut, trying to will away the image at dinner. Except you can feel it in your space, the thought of them together, like you’re being poked.

“Y/N.”

Poke.

“Y/N. Wake up, sleepyhead.”

You flutter your eyes open to find Eren, big green eyes staring at you, with his jacket pulled over his head as the source of the aforementioned poking. On instinct, you reach forward and make contact with his nose, which has him falling against the wall and groaning. The sound is so loud that you both look over at Lana, who is unbothered by the sound and still dead asleep.

You jump up and cup Eren’s hands in your face, fingers soft and feeling for his nose in the dark.

“Eren. What-what the fuck was that?”

“You’re asking me that? You’re the one who just punched me in the nose!” he whispers.

“Are you stupid? I’ve had like three different run-ins with people stalking my house. I-I learned self defense.” you whisper back.

His face softens and he brings his hands up to where yours are - still resting on his face - as he removes them and drags you towards the door. There’s a jacket on the desk, which he’s holding open for you and gesturing for you to put on.

“What are we doing?”

“I-Armin told me you want to take me to the aquarium the day after my birthday. But. I-I can’t. I’m busy but I still want to spend time with you so, let’s go.”

“Where? It-It’s like almost eleven. Aren’t you filming tomorrow?”

“Please? It-it’s my birthday? One hour to my birthday?”

You roll your eyes and nod which has Eren pulling the hood over your hair and carefully zipping the jacket up as he gives you a smile. The two of you tiptoeing through the townhouse as you sneak out. His hand is locked in yours, pulling you hard, as he pockets the keys to one of the cars and drives you out.

He’s driving along the roads, nearly empty, as the moon shines light on the puddles in the road. The car comes to an abrupt stop at a small house and when you get out, the breeze and the smell of salty air envelopes your nose as you march up together.

“You have a beach house?”

“Not mine. It’s a friend’s.”

You nod as the rocks crunch underneath your feet and Eren pockets his keys, shoving the brass into the door and dragging you in. The lights are open and there’s a decent amount of giggling getting louder as he pushes you through the house, a confused look on his face.

“Why are you guys still awake?”

You turn your head to find two people - a guy who can’t be much older than you holding a little boy - frosting cookies over a granite countertop.

“Eren!” the kid says, shaking his arms and leg in his hold until he’s dropped.

The boy runs over to Eren, wrapping his arms around his legs as he excitedly laughs, the sound so loud it pierces your ears. In a good way.

“Teddy. Why aren’t you sleeping, little man?” Eren asks, crouching down to pinch at his cheeks.

The other man, from before, takes your side as he responds to him, giving Eren a knowing look.

“Nightmare, Eren. I’m Landon, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Y/N.”

“Ah. The infamous Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you.” he responds, smiling as he holds his hand out for you.

“Are you here to play with me, Eren?” Teddy asks, jumping up and down against Eren’s legs.

“Not exactly. But I do have a friend I want you to meet.”

Eren looks up, a smile on his face, as he gestures for you to crouch down next to him, Teddy standing in front of the two of you.

“Teddy. This is my pretty friend, Y/N. Can you say hi?” he says, emphasizing each word slowly.

Teddy gets embarrassed when you smile at him and immediately buries his face into Eren’s shirt, the back of his neck entirely red as he nervously shakes his head against Eren.

“Teddy. Just say hi, she’s really nice.” his voice soft, coaxing Teddy to say hi again.

You smile as he turns his head, brown eyes peering into yours, as he awkwardly shuffles in Eren’s arms, his hands knotted together behind his back.

“Hi! I’m Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you.” you say, flickering your eyes quickly up to Eren who's beaming at you as he waits for Teddy’s response.

“I’m Theodore.” he responds.

“Theodore? Since when do you go by Theodore, little man? Trying to impress someone?” Eren asks, reaching forward to pinch his pink cheeks and lift him in the air, which has him giggling like no other.

You laugh as the two of them keep laughing together, leaning against the countertop where Landon’s leaning, the half frosted cookies in his hands.

“So how do you know Eren?” you ask.

“We have a mutual friend. And he keeps coming around, to play with the kid. Uninvited, mind you.”

“We’re sorry to intrude. Though, he dragged me here and I had no idea. So it’s his fault.”

“Sounds like him.” he says, dusting off his hands as he walks over to Eren, scooping Teddy out of his arms.

“Okay, Teddy. Say bye to Eren and Y/N now. It’s bedtime.”

You walk up to Eren, who’s hunching down so your faces are close to each other as you both wave bye, the silence filling up the room as you step back and away from Eren. He gives you a soft smile as he places his hands flat on your back and pushes you through the open door, the sand and ocean glimmering under the light of the full moon.

Eren swipes a guitar case and a blanket off the patio as you both discard your shoes and pad into the sand, a few feet away from where the waves are crashing. Eren hands you the case as he places the blanket flat onto the sand and lies down on it, tapping the spot next to him and beckoning you to join him.

You cross your legs and sit instead of lying down, his head a few feet away from your knees. His green eyes focused on the moon, shining above, bathing you in the pale light. You open up the case, a beautiful acoustic guitar lying in the case and start strumming aimlessly against the strings, not missing the way Eren smiles at the tune and closes his eyes.

“Can you sing me something?” he asks.

“What do you want to hear, almost birthday boy?”

“Invisible string.” he responds.

You smile as you switch the chords, fingers strumming against the strings as you quietly sing, watching Eren’s closed eyes and his soft smile. His dimples on display, the freckles underneath his eyes, his soft, soft hair.

It’s only then that it stings. That you hold all this love, all this big, real love for Eren. That at one point, you felt it together at the same time but that he’s moved long past that.

As you finish, Eren’s shooting up, swinging the strap of the guitar off of your neck and slipping it around his own. He’s tapping the ground in front of him, beckoning for you to lie down in front of him now, his fingers soft on the guitar.

“What song is it?” you ask, head turned to the side away from him and focused on the crashing of the waves, how they roll perfectly, rise and fall to crash against the sand.

“New one.”

“Hm. What’s it about?”

“Marco. He-he gave me this Maya Angelou poetry book on my birthday a few years ago, the birthday where you gifted me the vinyl. There was a quote in it that just made me think.”

“What was the quote?”

“Just like the moons and the suns, with the certainty of the tides, just like hope springing high, still I’ll rise.”

The wave rises. And it crashes. Again and again.

“Sing, Eren. I want to hear it.”

Moon, tell me if I could Send up my heart to you? So, when I die, which I must do Could it shine down here with you? 'Cause my love is mine, all mine I love, my, my, mine Nothing in the world belongs to me But my love, mine, all mine, all mine

You shuffle away from the tides to look at him, his eyes focused on the strings and his fingers plucking so softly. Eyes focused on his lips. The lips, that could end you here and now.

“The moon is blushing up there, Eren. You’re writing love songs about it.”

“The moon is my muse. I can only write songs about her.” he whispers, his hands making their way to your hair, to tuck your flyaways behind your ear.

You feel your cheeks burning, the image of Eren - seventeen and whispering in your ear about how you’re his moon, how you have a pull on him - on the forefront of your brain.

“Y/N. You-you don’t remember what it means?”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“This.” he responds, his fingers switching to the other side and tucking your stray hairs behind your ears.

You feel your ears burning, when you remember. The secret signals that you and Eren came up with. And the tucking the hair behind the ears, it’s- it means he wants to kiss you. You shoot up and Eren swings the guitar off, knees hiked to his chest as his green eyes look at you, expectantly.

“You-you can’t, Eren.” you whisper, the thought of dinner still in your mind.

“Why not? Do you not want to?” he asks, whispering back.

“That’s not fair to her. You can’t.”

“You-you heard me right? Nothing in the world belongs to me, except my love. And-and you're the only thing that's really mine. You-you still do, right? Belong to me?” he asks, his voice wavering.

“Eren.”

“Please. Please, I don’t want to beg. Don't make me. Do you still belong to me?”

He brings his hand up to your face, warm against your cheek, which is ice cold from the biting wind, and you lean into it. The warmth, in his hand, his eyes, his honey sweet voice.

“Yes. Yes, I do.” you whisper.

“Y/N. You- don’t get confused. You know what this means right? Us?”

You give him your best smile and nod, your fingers tingling. It means he still loves you too.

He leans forward, eyes closed as he kisses you, warm and soft. The sensation tingles all the way down to your stomach, makes your cheeks burn, and your brain prickle. And you relax, the familiarity of this, so delicate, so unchanged from the time he kissed you last that you can’t help but smile into his lips.

You lean against his shoulder and look up, at the moon above you two, his arms wrapped around you.

“Moon looks pretty tonight, doesn’t it?” you ask.

“Always has.” he responds, his lips soft in your hair as the warm tears fill your eyes.

“Happy birthday, Eren.” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

“Thank you, my moon.” he responds.

And you stay there, to watch the sun rise. On the two of you, together, for the last time.

Eren tucks you back into bed with Lana as the sun peaks up, though it’s a battle in itself. Because Lana’s all starfish on the bed, her limbs tangled over every open space on the bed. But Eren’s rude and he’s just flopping her around, until he makes space, pressing a kiss to your forehead before leaving.

And hours later, the sun is sinking down, with Lana nowhere to be found and Armin reading at the couch to the side.

“Hey.”

“Jesus. It’s almost sunset, you’ve been sleeping all day. Whatever Connie has is rubbing off on you.” he mutters, reaching over to hand you a water bottle.

“Sorry. I slept late because-”

Because of Eren.

You jump up and take the seat next to Armin, excitedly telling him everything that happened last night. And he’s smiling so bright, blue eyes glimmering that you’re both excitedly hugging each other and squeezing hard.

“Well. He’s been out all day, but he should be back tonight. Let’s go to dinner before we leave, yeah?”

You nod, jumping up to the bathroom to get ready, the smile on your face aching your cheeks as you reach for the toothpaste. You peek your head out the door at Armin.

“‘Min.”

“Hm?”

“Do you have toothpaste?

“There’s some in Connie’s room. Just go grab it.”

You take your toothbrush and bustle through the hallway, past the crowds of people walking through. You’re lucky you never have to mourn the frat house experience. You’re fairly certain you’re living it right now.

You swing into his room, the smell of candy overwhelming, as you push forward and open the door. Only to find Connie, leaned over the counter, fixing up three lines of white powder with a credit card.

“Connie. What are you doing?” you ask, your throat burning in your neck.

He turns his head and his eyes nearly boggle out of his head as he quickly swipes the powder into the sink and the excess on his hands against his pants. He’s smiling, too big, too synthetic as he grabs your hands.

“Y/N! Nothing! You- it was a joke. It’s not what it looks like, I swear.”

You swallow hard as he presses you into a hug and the dots connect, your eyes burning.

Connie’s doing drugs. It’s-it’s why he sleeps all the time and then suddenly has intense energy out of nowhere, why his nose is red, why Eren told him to stop drinking.

Eren’s words from dinner ring in your head, of how he said he beat it out of Connie, and sit in a bad way.

Eren beat Connie up for doing this?

You pull back and press your hands to Connie’s face, to take him in. His skin is burning hot to the touch and there are beads of sweat matting his forehead, his entire demeanor so anxious, so jittery and nervous that it sets you off. And all you can think of is sweet Connie, so excited and energetic doing this in his free time that it makes you eyes burn.

“Connie. Are-are you okay? Why are you doing this?”

He freezes. And at your words, his entire demeanor changes and suddenly he’s on the floor softly crying, his head in his hands. You join him on the floor and put your hand on his shoulder.

“Connie. What’s wrong?”

“I-I just wanted to be the best, Y/N. I wanted to be the lead for once, I-”

“Connie. You, you’re-”

“Do you know how fucking tired I am of all of this? I-I can’t do this anymore. You- I’m done. I have to quit, I have to-” he says, shaking in your arms as you wrap your arms around him, tears streaming down your eyes.

“He couldn’t even let me have this one thing, Y/N. Eren just had to be the best.” he spits out, his chest heaving up and down as he mutters out more words, a long list of profanities directed towards Eren.

“Connie. You- we can go. Armin and I are leaving in a few hours, you-you should come with us. We-we want to help you.”

“You don’t get it, Y/N. Wherever I go, this thing follows me. That people know my fucking name when I walk down the street, when I go to the beach, when I’m at the doctor. We’re never getting fucking out of this. This is our life now.” he responds, cheeks straight on your face.

You reach for your phone on the counter as it buzzes, Armin’s name flashing across the screen. Connie’s still lying down flat on the floor, his tears falling straight onto the floor.

“Y/N.”

“Armin.”

“Are you crying? I-I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding, let’s just go-”

“It’s Connie. Can you come here? It’s- he’s not okay.”

“Okay, okay. I’m running.”

And a few seconds later, Armin’s pushing into the bathroom and his eyes are boggling at the sight of the two of you and his face falls when you explain. And then your phone starts buzzing on the counter, the notifications constant. You lift it and scroll, eyes flitting through the letters.

mikasa: don’t panic. we’ll figure out a response, okay?

jean: call us as soon as possible okay? ill kill him next time i see him

nobara: i’ll fly out to see you. are you still in new york?

levi: Call me when you get a chance. Hope you’re okay. Hange is going to talk to him.

sukuna: On your side. Whatever you do.

“Y/N. You- there’s something you have to see.” Armin says, dragging you out and handing you his phone. He rushes back into the bathroom to Connie, as you scroll through the tab on his phone.

It’s a video of Eren and Lana, with chunky headsets and microphones in front of their faces. You recognize the backdrop immediately - one of the WBS’s most popular podcasts, called Life in Love.

You press the clip and tilt the phone, eyes focused on Eren and Lana as they start talking.

“The person that you’re most associated with, Eren, is your co-star, Y/N L/N, from Attack on Titan. Can you comment on that, on what it’s like to have your first love be something so public?” the interviewer asks.

“First love is a funny way to describe it. I-I know that a lot of people like to assume things and we’ve never really said it publicly, but we never did actually date. It was a whole thing we did together, while we were filming Attack on Titan. Method acting.”

“Can you elaborate?” the interviewer asks.

“It’s like that thing with Ricky James. I mean, we’re all actors, we’re all part of the entertainment industry. And we do things, pretend a little, to make our art feel more authentic. The reason Y/N and I act so well in Attack on Titan, and win awards from it, is because we do it outside of it too. It’s like we’re acting all the time. You can turn it on and off.”

“So are you just friends, then? I mean, Y/N has an interesting track record with her own friends, like Historia and Jean and Mikasa that many people have pointed out before. Is that something that you can corroborate? That she’s a good friend?”

“She’s a good friend of mine, we-we laugh about it sometimes. And as for the stuff about her other friends, you know. You’re in competition and if you have something you really want, you-you’ll do anything to get it. That’s something I can admire. There’s only one person who ends up on a pedestal and if you have to kick people off to get there, that’s what it is.”

You jump off the bed and rush back into the background, where Armin is crouched next to Connie, his hand on his head.

“Connie.”

“Y/N. Hey, you ok-”

“What were you saying about Eren?”

“Huh?” Connie asks, eyes deeply lidded and his breaths becoming more labored.

You put your hands on his shoulders and shake, as aggressively as you can, as the tears stream out of your eyes.

“What did you mean? What did Eren do?”

“What he always does. Put himself first. Even if I’m the thing at stake.” Connie mutters, his hands shaking in your hold.

Armin gives you a pained look as your tears flow harder, your hands still on Connie’s shaking frame.

“Y/N. Get ready. We-we should leave.” Armin says, hands on his phone as he calls the car.

“Okay. I-I need a few minutes. And we’re taking Connie with us. I-I don’t care if he gets fired or whatever, he-he’s not staying here, Armin.”

Armin presses his hands on your shoulder, squeezing hard.

“I was going to say the same thing. C-calm down, Y/N. Okay? I’ll be back in a few.”

You wait in the kitchen as Armin lugs Connie’s bag down, swirling the glass of water in your hands. Your eyes are focused on everyone in the room, a smaller group, ambling around the room.

“Hey.”

“Oh. Hi Vance.”

“It’s Vinh.” he responds, giving you a smirk.

“Sorry.”

He scoots closer to you, his hand firm on your shoulder, as he leans down, a smile spread on his face.

“So, would you ever think about doing it with me?”

“Excuse me?”

“Faking it. Except, we can do all the real things too.” he says, securing his hand around your face and leaning closer to your lips.

You push his hand off as you put space between you two.

“Why would I ever do that?”

“Don’t act like you’re above it. Eren, Ricky James. I don’t see how I’m any different. Or if you have any dignity to preserve.”

You feel your throat dry, at the impact of Eren’s words solidifying in your mind. That him saying that your relationship wasn’t real only furthers all that hate you received after you told everyone the truth about Ricky.

That you were fake. And it meant now that people were going to start doing it again - start nitpicking every little thing, your relationship with Mikasa and Jean, with Eren and use every mistake you’ve made against you.

And for guys like this, it’ll just make them think this is okay. That you’re easy, that they’re entitled to what you’ve done for others because you’ve done it before.

“It-it’s really different.” you respond, running out of the kitchen.

You quickly duck out of the room as you see Armin dragging Connie down the stairs and make your way over to help him, the itchy, dirty feeling of the interaction you just had being pushed to the back of your mind.

You and Armin lug Connie to the back seat of the car, letting him lie down flat against the seats, as Armin reaches for the last of the stuff to put into the car. Connie’s still twitching in the seat, eyes pressed shut and sweating.

You place your hands on both sides of his cheeks, the tears filling your eyes again.

“Connie. I-I think we should take you to rehab or something, you-you’re not okay.” you whisper.

He’s quiet, still shaking in your frame as he opens his eyes and looks at you. And the tiredness, the red and the pain mixed together has your heart flinching in your chest, cutting deep.

“I hate myself for it. I didn’t want to be like this. That asshole who is high when his best friends are getting engaged.”

“They won’t be mad at you, Connie. We-we understand.”

“But I don’t understand. I wanted to remember it, Jean and Mika, they-they’re special. I-I wanted to remember it.” he says, his voice cracking as the tears start spilling down his face.

“Con.”

“I hate myself for it. I really, really do.” he says, so definitively, so sure of himself that all you can do is squeeze his cheeks in your hands as he falls asleep.

You brush your fingers through his buzzed hair one last time as you step out of the car, only to see Armin and Eren arguing near the bags by the door. You walk up, which stops them all together, as they both focus their eyes on you.

“Eren. Can I talk to you?”

He tilts his head towards Armin, who's still standing there, fists clenched. You give him a nod as he walks away, rolling the rest of Connie’s bags towards the car.

“Did you want something?” he asks, eyes squinting into yours.

“Yeah. I-I want to know what happened. You and I- we.”

“Y/N.”

You reach for his arm, for his fish tattoo right above his elbow and squeeze.

“Eren. It-it’s not true, right? There’s an explanation for this? Because we-we can help you. We’re taking Connie and leaving and you should come.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“Eren. Whatever it is, we can figure it out. Just come with me. Or if you need me to stay, I’ll do that too. We can figure out how to tell the truth about it all. I won’t leave.”

He rolls his eyes, green eyes glaring into yours as he responds.

“Y/N. What part of what I said was a lie?”

You swallow hard, the acidic feeling in your mouth burning.

“Like almost all of it? You and I were real. We loved each other. And we still do.”

He places his hands on your shoulders and squeezes, as he drawls his voice out, each word stinging more.

“Do we?” he asks, his look so harsh it stings and the tears rise to your eyes.

Yes. You do.

“Yeah. What-what about yesterday? On the beach?”

He sighs, pushing his hand through his hair as he falls out of your hold, putting space between you two.

“I asked you if you knew what it meant when I kissed you. You clearly didn’t understand what I was trying to say.”

“And what did it mean, Eren?”

“That was a one time thing. For-for fun. It didn’t mean anything like that, I-I was just thanking you for coming down all the way for my birthday.”

You pale.

“You and I spent hours talking on the beach. About-about it all and-”

“We did other things too.” he responds, his voice biting.

You feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, the understanding registering. That you spent hours on the beach talking, but amongst that there were other things you did too. The pale purple on his neck is proof of that.

“But-but you said all that stuff before. Sang that song, called me the moon and-”

“You’ve always been into that fluff shit. We always say corny shit like that before we do stuff.”

You pale, every memory of Eren whispering soft words against your skin as he kissed you souring in your mind. Because of the insinuation that none of it was real. That he just did it because he knew you liked to hear it, not because he meant any of it.

“Excuse me?”

“You know. The whole “we’re fish together thing” and the songs and all that.”

You stare at him, at his forehead crushed up in frustration and his green eyes, cold and soulless as they stare at you. You look down at his fish tattoo, and cross your arms to cover your own, glaring back at him.

“You’re a fucking liar, Eren. You-”

“Y/N. I’m a fucking actor. My entire job is to pretend like I like you, do you really think I am so incapable of keeping the act up when the cameras turn off?”

“It doesn’t make sense. There’s no reason for you to do that.”

“There is. I want to win Best Actor in a TV Series.”

“And what does that have to do with us?”

“Levi said that this role, if I did it right, could make me the fucking best. And you-you had no experience. I had to make sure that you actually liked me so that I didn’t have to carry you in every fucking scene. So that your acting wouldn’t bring me down.”

"Eren."

"Why did I win an award for the Thank You scene? Because you actually fucking liked me, because you were able to cry and act in the scene. You're a good actor, but you were never that good."

“But what about after? You-we were together when we weren’t filming.”

“You went on your tour. Got distant. Did I ever once make any effort to talk to you when you stopped? No, I didn’t. You broke up with me on that balcony because your team wanted you to date Ricky James instead of me. Did I stop you? No. You know why? Because who you date doesn’t fucking bother me, not in the slightest.”

“You knew. We-we understood each other. That’s why we broke up, because it’s fishbowl and-”

“Who the fuck would be okay with that? Seriously, if it was all in earnest, you think I’d just let you do that?"

“Then why the fuck are you writing depressing ass songs at the Met Gala and then taking care of me after the whole thing went down?”

“Y/N. You’re so fucking naive. That’s what you have to do. I act on the screen and I make people interested in me after the fact. I write songs about you, make it seem like you’re the one who broke up with me, so that people stream the songs. So that people talk about them. So that they’re popular. And then I save you after the fact, because at the end of the day, you and I still have a show to fucking finish and I can’t exactly leave you out there in the rain, can I?”

“Eren.”

“Think about it. After you were good and fine with Ricky, did we keep talking? Did it stay the same? No. I had no interest in putting effort in after that, because I was dating another girl. And I still am by the way.”

“Eren.”

“Get it through your head. You- I had to help you. In whatever way I did. Your parents weren’t famous and you had no ins. I have to do something to offset that if you’re my co-star.”

"No part of real to you? Not even one?"

"It-it's fun to pretend sometimes. But that's all it is, Y/N. Pretending. Faking it."

You feel a hand on your shoulder, squeezing hard, and turn to find Armin, his jaw clenched against his head.

“Are you serious, Eren? How can you even say that to her?”

“It’s the truth. She should try it sometime.”

You choke back a sob, your chest heaving up and down, as Armin lets go and pushes Eren, the irritation sitting in his chest.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you doing this to Connie? To Y/N?”

“Armin. We filmed one show together when we were kids. Don’t get mad when I don’t have the same loyalty that you all feel for each other. It was fun, but I still have a career outside of it.”

“Eren. You loved Attack on Titan. And us, you-you wanted to go back to it so many times after we stopped filming and went on hiatus.”

“Yeah. Because I was in a show that was actually good. Not shitty movies that were flopping. That-that had nothing to do with you guys.”

“Eren.”

“You guys should leave. I’ve had enough.”

Eren reaches for the last bag, grabbing Armin’s polaroid camera on top before pushing the last bag into Armin’s hands. And when he extends his hand to hand Armin the camera, he pulls back at the last second and lets it fall to the ground, with a resounding crack.

All you see is red.

“Eren. What did you just do?” you ask.

“My bad. I broke it.” he spits out.

Armin swallows hard as he looks at it, the camera that’s documented every portion of your childhood, every up and down and in between for the past seven years, now broken in his hands. Levi and Hange's vow renewal, every birthday, everyone messing around in between takes and- he just broke it.

You crouch down and put a hand on Armin’s shoulder, his tears falling straight onto the floor, over the camera. And pick up the pieces with him, the jagged edges hard in your hands, as you carry them over to the car.

You look back one last time, to see Eren with his hands in his pockets, illuminated by the moonlight, you take one last look and sit in the car. And then get in the car and let your tears flow freely. You lift Connie’s head and place it in your lap as Armin puts in the directions. And on your right, your phone buzzes and you pick up.

“Hello?”

“Hi! This is the Seattle Aquarium! We just wanted to know what time you would be coming by for your friends birthday tomorrow so we can set up?”

You swallow hard and hang up, cursing the stupid aquarium and the stupid fish that got you caught up in this in the first place.

You slide to Eren's contact - the picture of you two staring back at you - and block the number. And make a mental note to get your tattoo removed.

“Hello.”

“You’ve sat idle for three months now. And I’m not letting you sit around any longer. It’s-you have to defend yourself. This-you’re better than this. They’re making a mess of you.”

“Let them. Is there really anything I could say to stop them? No and-”

“Watch the link I sent you. Quit talking back with your shit excuses and remember why you even did any of this in the first place. And then call me back when you’re thinking straight.”

The line goes flat as the notification comes, the link in your messages. You open it up, a clip of Hange’s getting their triple threat commendation. Their speech, the one that got you involved in all this shit in the first place, ringing in your ears. The only reason you wanted to be a triple threat in the first place.

To anyone watching at home, in their living room in their rundown pajamas, this is a sign to never ever give up on your dreams. Because that used to be me, and it can be you too. Never let anyone stop you from becoming the triple threat you are meant to be. To let that fire run wild and true and let people see the real you.

The media made a shit show out of you, in the three months that followed. So much so, that you don’t even show your face in public. Because it snowballs so fast, the entire drama around Don’t Worry Darling, around you and Eren and Hyla becomes the only thing people talk about.

And the narrative is simple. You're quickly written off into something you’re not. That you faked your relationship with Ricky James and Eren Jaeger for publicity, that you leached off of their fame to be famous yourself. That it’s all you care about.

Hyla goes on the record and brings up the night you and Eren shared on the beach. And quickly gives you your reputation as a home wrecker, as a people pleasing attention seeker who likes people who puff up her ego.

People like Jean and Mikasa, like Connie and Sasha - who are still famous and good for your image, but not famous enough to over shine yoU. Not like Historia, who you so quickly discarded and then opened a full on competition with when you released your records.

That at the end of the day, all you are is a small town girl from Canada, with a sick need to be at the top of the pedestal. To have people clamoring around you, praising you, because of your inferiority complex. That you're easy, that you have no feelings, that you're not even a real person.

The words churn in your mind, the thought angrily swirling with every other feeling. And the push, the support in a moment like this solidifies your plan in your mind. To let that fire run wild and true and let people see the real you.

The real you.

you’re right. i’m in.

on my first flight out. we’re going to bury this asshole in the ground.

And in the most perfect way, you’ve got the best person at your side helping you. Always known for upstanding honesty, truth, and for digging people into holes when they deserve it. For burying them with art, with carefully chosen words and songs.

It’s what makes her the perfect right hand to your revenge. Historia's always had a flair for the dramatics.

next part linked here

an, again: sukuna reputation era? sorry. girls do it better. (im just kidding, he'll be part of the reputation era but our best baby girl historia will be too). there is just something so insane about them ALL using historia as a piece of evidence against y/n and then her being right at her side. also no one hang me at the stake please.

taglist:

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cevansbrat0007 · 1 year ago

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A Man Starved

Summary: Ari lives for the taste of you on his tongue...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Smut, Manhandling, Oral Sex (fem rec), Light Rimming, References to Anal Sex (mentioned), CMNF, Ass Slapping, Pussy Slapping, Light Edging, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: This fic is part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Takes place directly after the events in Off the Market. Not beta'd. Not beta'd. All mistakes my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

You were working on borrowed time. Shaking your head, you reach for another plate as you take your time cleaning up after dinner. All that was left after you finished the dishes was wiping down the range.

The floors looked good, which meant that you could probably get away without sweeping. You’d already convinced Ari to invest in the magic that was a Swiffer WetJet. It wouldn’t take more than a few minutes to do a quick touch-up.

Your eyes stray to the clock, noting the increasingly late hour. Ari could afford to be patient for a little while longer. If anything he was probably exhausted after the busy day you’d had, what with the shopping spree and the hour long drive back home to Bell’s Creek.

He was probably half asleep by now. Meanwhile, you were secretly dreaming about the next time you’d be able to enjoy another one of those hand-dipped milkshakes like the one you’d had at lunch. Preferably without that damned Stella.

Your lip curls into a snarl at the memory of your waitress. Having to stomach that heifer’s attempt to flirt with your man had left you feeling madder than a wet settin’ hen.

You yank the Swiffer out of the closet, jumping backwards as the broom clatters to the floor. Shit. Perhaps you were still a touch riled up. You’re just about to lean down to pick it up when you feel two large hands settle on your hips.

“Yeah?” You huff out.

“I’ve been patient long enough.” Ari rasps. “Time for bed, sweet Bird.” Soft, warm lips skim along the curve of your throat, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “Let’s go.”

“Ten more minutes and I’m all yours.” You assure him as your pulse kicks up, the familiar feeling of butterflies dancing in your belly.

“No.” That one word has your spine stiffening in rebellion.

“Patience.” You remind him, shimmying out of his grasp while still clutching the Swiffer. “Some might even say it’s a virtue. I think I heard that in a movie or something. Can’t quite remember where, but I’d like to think it’s still a good rule of thumb.”

You continue to prattle on as you set down the mop to search for a new bottle of cleaning solution found under a nearby cabinet.

“Already told you, baby.” Ari growls, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. “I’m all outta patience.” He reaches for you then, needing to touch you. Wanting to feel the softness of your submission as your body melts for him.

“Ari…” You blow out an unsteady breath as your pussy spasms, your empty walls clenching around nothing.

“You made me wait all day for a taste of you.” Your man purrs at the same time as he grabs the edges of his faded black t-shirt before tugging it over his head, revealing his brawny hair-covered chest. “You wouldn’t let me have you earlier. I admit I didn’t like it very much at the time. A man needs his fix, you know? Especially after watching you show off all those sweet curves during our trip today.”

Frankly, even he’s surprised that he’s been able to last as long as he has. You have no idea just how close he was to snapping and simply taking what he felt was owed to him.

Especially after he’d spent the entire afternoon fantasizing about splaying you out on his kitchen table and getting lost between your luscious thighs. He’d already gone too long without the taste of you on his tongue.

And if Ari was being honest, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able last another minute without you – let alone ten of them. Something had to give.

And that something was you.

“Surely you can wait until I finish mopping, can’t you?” You whisper, scarcely recognizing the sound of your own voice as butterflies give way to raw need under the weight of your man’s heated gaze.

You’d never had anyone look at you the way he did. And even after these last couple of months together, you still weren’t quite used to it.

“Afraid not.” Your Bounty Hunter is quick to shake his head “no”. And he doesn’t look the least bit ashamed of it either. “Time to feed me, Duchess.” His wolfish grin sends ripples of desire coursing through you, straight to your dripping core. “I’ve spent all day thinking about all the ways I plan to wreck that greedy little pussy.”

His intoxicating blue eyes dip to your waist as he growls low in his throat. You were wearing too many clothes for his liking, which meant your pink cotton panties and matching satin nightdress were about to be a thing of the past.

“Y–you have?” You stammer as he begins to approach, his sinewy muscles bunching and moving as he bridges the distance between you. The next thing you know, he’s standing in front of you, his sinful lips hovering mere inches above yours.

“I wasn’t joking earlier when I asked you to stay the night. I sleep best after I’ve spent the evening getting all tangled up in the sheets with my woman.” Ari leans in to nuzzle your nose with his, eliciting a quiet whimper from you. “Never had anyone as sweet as my stubborn little Bird.”

Your grip on the Swiffer goes slack as you allow it to fall to the floor, your hands going to rest on Ari’s thick biceps to keep yourself upright. Because at this point, the man’s ability to make your legs turn to jelly might as well be his goddamn superpower.

“And I’ve never had anyone like you.” You murmur before rising on your toes to give him a swift, but meaningful kiss. “Never had my very own Beast of a man who makes me weak in the knees on what feels like a daily basis.” You’re rewarded for your honesty with another nuzzle, this one accompanied by a sharp hint of teeth, signaling that Ari was close to his breaking point. “And if you give me just two more minutes, I promise to show you just how much I appreciate – oooh!”

Your words end in a scream when your Hunter bends down to throw you over his shoulder. Your world tilts on its axis yet again as he turns on his heel and strides off in the direction of the bedroom. “Put me down, damn you!” You screech as you pound fists pounding on his back.

Not hard enough to do any real damage, but just enough to be annoying.

“I warned you, sweetness. I did.” Ari delivers a resounding slap to your upturned ass, loving your little whine of protest. “Told you I needed my fix. It’s just not right to let a man starve the way I have.”

Of course he would paint himself as the victim in all of this. Nothing unusual there.

Thirty seconds later you find yourself flying through the air as he unceremoniously tosses you on the bed. You didn’t know this, but there’s a small part of him that takes special pleasure in watching you bounce on the padded surface.

After all, you’d brought this on yourself. And as such, he was certain there wasn’t a jury in the world who would convict him for all the dirty things he was about to do to your delectably curvy body.

Ari’s head cocks to the side as he watches you sit up, your hardened nipples peeking through the thin material of your nightdress. A low hum of appreciation escapes when you reach up to readjust the silky garment, exposing even more of your cleavage.

Oh yeah. Tonight was about to get downright filthy.

“I suppose I brought that on myself. I should’ve known better than to…” You trail off, smoothing your hands along your sides before pulling yourself up on your knees. “Shame on me for treating you so insensitively.”

“I take it that was your version of an apology?”

You nod sheepishly, a light blush warming your cheeks. And now it’s your turn to watch as a slow, devilish smirk spreads across your Hunter’s chiseled features.

Fuck. If your panties weren’t soaked before, they definitely were now.

“Well, sweetheart, as nice as that was…” Ari’s large hand moves to cup his impressive erection, giving himself a squeeze through his boxers. “I’m afraid I can’t accept.” He chuckles softly, not missing the way your eyes glaze over with lust as he continues to touch himself.

“Why not?” You rasp, your pink tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip. “I promise to be more mindful.” You reach for him then, intending to drag his big body down onto the bed with you. “I hate the thought of you being made to suffer all day long the way you have.” You give him your best pout, bating your eyelashes at him as you do.

It earns you nothing.

“You wanna make it up to me, Bird?” His nostrils flare as he breathes deep, almost as if he can scent your arousal. “Then I think it’s time I finally got my taste, don’t you?” His smirk returns when you nod once more.

Your eager hands fly to the hem of your gown, lifting it over your head and tossing it to the side before your man can so much as blink. You briefly hesitate before repeating the same action with your panties, all but ensuring they would survive this erotic encounter.

“Fucking beautiful.” Ari rasps, his voice coming out hoarse. “Every single fucking inch of you.” He motions for you to turn and face away from him. “But right now, I’m dying to see you on your hands and knees for me.”

“But I–”

“Hush.” Your Beast commands, effectively cutting you off. “If you want me to believe your apology is sincere then you’ll shut that sweet mouth and do as you’re fucking told.” While there’s no bite to his words, they still make you shiver nonetheless.

Ari smacks your left flank as you scramble to do as you’re told. Goosebumps rise across your heated flesh as you give him your back, your bare bottom on full display.

“Good girl.” Comes his silky purr. “Push that ass up for me. Now spread your thighs a little more – yeah, that’s it. There’s that pretty fucking pussy you’ve been keeping from me.” You find yourself preening at his praise, your slick coating your inner thighs.

“I…please touch me, Beast.” You whine, your body trembling with need. “Please.” You allow your head to droop when Ari finally joins you, the bed dipping beneath his delicious weight.

But your relief, however, is short-lived.

“Tonight I’m gonna give you as much of me as you can take.” He growls, his slightly calloused palms possessively rubbing and kneading the generous globes of your ass. “And I’m not gonna stop until I’ve had my fill…”

A tiny whimper escapes when Ari parts your cheeks, exposing your drenched pussy and puckered hole to his gaze. You jump when he uses one long, thick finger to part your slippery folds so that he can toy with your sensitive little clit.

“Can’t say when that’s gonna be, baby.” He swirls the pad of his finger over the nub, making your hips arch as white hot pinpricks of pleasure dance along your spine. “Because as you know, I've worked up quite the appetite.”

“S’okay!” You cry as you attempt to bear down, wishing he would add another finger. Or at the very least allow you to ride his thigh or something. Last time you tried that you came so hard you’d–

Your thought stream is interrupted by the sudden feeling of something hot and wet taking the place of your man’s fingers. Although you try to pull away, Ari’s grip on your hips remains steady, making it clear that you weren’t going anywhere without his explicit permission.

Leaving you with no doubt that you'd also be sporting a fresh set of bruises before the night was over.

And you can’t help the sweet moan that gets stuck in your throat when he briefly pulls away long enough spit on your tight, virgin hole before brushing his finger along the rim. “Can’t wait to take you here too.” He snarls, tracing along the seam with his wicked tongue. “Gonna make you mine in every way that counts.”

“Ooh! Christ, Ari, I fuck–!”

You’d never had a man do that to you before. Anything involving your ass had always been off limits. Until now.

A fresh wave of arousal has you trying to rub your thighs together, hoping to obtain some kind of relief in spite of your torture. Your hand slaps down hard on the bed when Ari buries his face between your thighs once more.

He takes his time devouring you, savoring your essence with each frenzied stroke of his tongue. This man planned to enjoy every sob, every moan, every cry of pleasure he rang from your body before this night was over.

In hopes that you would think twice before denying him again. For depriving him of all your sweetness.

“So sweet.” Ari’s eager tongue continues to lap at your passion-swollen cunt, his eyes rolling backwards in carnal bliss. “Always so fucking sweet.” The compliment comes on the heels of a desperate growl. It’s peppered by several sharp smacks, each one harder than the next.

Tears spring to your eyes as he continues to drink you down, the filthy wet sounds of his sensual feast echoing throughout his bedroom. Your hands fist the covers as you try to crawl away, only to be dragged back into position seemingly without him so much as even breaking a sweat.

“Please!Please!Oh, fuck, right there!Please!” You chant over and over like a fevered prayer. “God, yes!”

Your voice sounds hoarse, even to your own ears. But you don’t let that stop you. Because now that Ari had seen fit to whet your appetite, you were ready for more.

A hell of a lot more.

You feel the coil tighten in your belly as your orgasm approaches. Sensing that you’re close, Ari tightens his grip on your hips, granting himself better access to your weeping pussy. God, you were so close you could taste it.

But right as you’re about to topple over the edge, Ari suddenly pulls away. The fucking rat bastard!

“But why?” You whine, turning to look at him over your shoulder, pleased to see your slick coating his bearded chin. His unrepentant grin making you want to scream.

“Aww.” Ari coos rather mockingly, his eyes alight with mischief. “What happened to patience being a virtue and all that?”

“Oh, you can fuck right off!” You snarl, attempting to twist out of his grasp so that you can rough him up.

He simply shakes his head as laughter bubbles up and out of his chest. And then he flips you onto your back, parting your thighs so that he can get himself another nice, long look at your still glistening cunt.

“Maybe later. But first, I'm gonna need another taste.” He purrs, his hand delivering a wet slap to your throbbing core. “Now be a good girl and hold these pretty thighs open for me.”

END

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conniesanchor · 1 year ago

Note

connie + shy!reader like she had a hard day at work or something and all she wants is a hug but is too afraid to ask

YES I LOVE THIS

you were glad that you and conrad had only planned a movie night and not a big date tonight. you probably would have canceled if you had. today had kicked you in the ass. three people yelled at you at work, your manager being one of them. you just needed conrad.

the ten minute drive from your work to your boyfriends house felt like an hour. the five second walk from the bottom of the driveway to the top, felt like twenty minutes. you had never been more relieved in your life when you finally reached the front door. shooting conrad a quick, 'let me in' text, regardless of the fact that he had told you multiple times you could come in on your own.

it was only a few seconds before the blonde had opened the door, "hi, baby," he smiled, moving out of the way in order to let you in. you smiled back, not saying anything as you made your way to his couch and set your bag down on it. he wasn't far behind you, sitting down on the couch and pulling you with him, "hi," he spoke once more.

"hi," you responded. you moved to dig through your bag, trying to get the pajamas that you swore you had packed. when you came to the conclusion that they were, in fact, not in there. "fuck," you mumbled, leaning back onto the couch with a sigh.

"what's the matter?" conrad asked, placing his hand on your knee.

you took a deep breath, afraid that you might start crying if you hadn't, "i forgot my stupid pajamas," you mumbled, running your fingers through your hair. you had said it like it was the end of the world, and conrad couldn't have been more confused as to why.

he looked at you, tilting his head, "it's alright. we can go upstairs, and you can have one of my tee shirts," he said, moving to stand up and offer you a hand to do the same. you nodded, taking his hand and following him up the stairs. conrad sat you down on his bed, opening his closet, "okay. want a sweater or a t-shirt?" the boy asked, turning around to face you.

you looked up at him, and he felt like he could cry when he realized how sad you looked. "just a t-shirt, please. can i have some sweat pants, too?" you requested, softly.

"anything for you." you got dressed into warm clothes when conrad finally decided to bring up the elephant in the room, "now, pretty. why do you look so sad?" he asked. you shook your head, not wanting to give him an answer. "that's okay. im great at guessing games," your boyfriend smiled, "hmm, are you tired?"

you shook your head.

"hungry?"

again.

"okay, okay. do you want a hug?" bingo. you nodded, looking up from your lap to make eye contact with him. he chuckled, immediately wrapping his arms around you. "y/n/n, baby. you never have to ask for a hug, you know that." he told you, the words muffled into your hair. "bad day at work?" he asked, earning a nod.

you pulled away after a few minutes, ready to talk, "im sorry, connie. it was just a really long day. i didn't mean to shut you out."

he looked at you like you had three heads, "it's okay. we all have bad days. let's go watch the movies," the boy suggested standing up and pulling you with him.

you watched five minutes of ten things i hate about you before you fell asleep.

#conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher x reader #tsitp conrad #conrad fisher #conrad fisher fluff #team conrad #conrad tsitp #tsitp fluff #tsitp imagine #tsitp fanfic #tsitp cast #tsitp imagines #tsitp oneshot #tsitp #christoper briney #chris briney #jenny han

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writing-intheundercroft · 10 months ago

Text

when you know, you know

Read on AO3

Word Count: 7,169

Rating: T (just some smooches)

Summary: You and Garreth Weasley aren't on speaking terms, not since you were caught stealing billywig stings for him and subsequently banned from Honeydukes.

But the dawn of your sixth year brings a potion brewing contest, and you might finally have a chance to put him in his place.

A/N: Happy first birthday, Hogwarts Legacy! The HL discord server I'm in came up with the theme of One Year Later, and this is my submission. Thankful for all the lovely people I've met through this fandom, who encourage me to write every day <3

“Welcome to your sixth year of potions,” Professor Sharp says gruffly, leaning against his desk. “I hope you’re all prepared to start exploring the theories of potion composition, and have read the first five chapters of your textbook over the summer holidays as instructed.”

Sebastian groans next to you, flipping open his book. You snort, craning your neck around the room to assess your classmates.

Everett, Sacharissa, Andrew, Nastai, Poppy, and Grace–all of them still have the post-summer slump, faces glum as they wished to be free of the potions dungeon. At the station next to you, Leander looks ready to fall asleep. He was practically using his fingers to keep his eyeballs open during the double potions period.

Next to Leander, you can’t help noticing Garreth Weasley. It's unusual to see him so engaged; Garreth is normally the class clown, always trying to figure out a way to disrupt the lesson. Instead, he’s sitting stick straight, scribbling every word Sharp had to say. His notes were neatly organized, ingredients for the day’s brew already portioned out and chopped.

“What’s gotten into Weasley?” you whisper to Sebastian.

Sebastian scoffs. “Oh, he’s probably trying to get on Sharp’s good side, with the potion making contest coming up.”

“What contest?” You ask, albeit a bit too loud.

“I was just getting to that point,” Sharp says your name; the entire class had turned their attention to the two of you. Even Garreth was staring, despite the iciness between the two of you. It’s been months since you last spoke, exchanging choice words in a shouting match after he’d gotten you banned from Honeydukes. After all, he was the one who’d assured you Mr. Flume wouldn’t be home, and that it wouldn’t be too difficult to steal the billywig stings.

Nevermind that, you think, turning your attention back to Sharp’s lecture.

“Every year, I challenge the sixth year class to create a new potion,” Sharp drawls. “Many of the students who’ve won in the past have gone on to become some of the Hogwarts’s most successful potioneers. The winner of the contest will receive after hours access to the potions classroom, unlimited usage of the ingredient cupboard, and their name included on the plaque in the trophy room.” he explains.

Sharp continues droning on about the rules; you feel Sebastian’s breath tickle your ear “Garreth’s been assuming he’ll win since we were second years,” he whispers. “I’d love to see you put him in his place.”

You swat at the freckled brunette, who lets out another audible chuckle. Scanning the room again, your eyes briefly make contact with Garreth’s. He looks at you with something fierce in his eyes; it’s almost threatening, you think. He also looks a tad bit deflated, but considering the two of you aren’t friends anymore, you don’t really care to know why.

“Sure, I’ll enter.” You say loudly enough for Garreth to hear. “I’m sure it’ll be a clean sweep.”

Garreth’s eyes turn to slits before he refocuses on his notes. His face is turning red as he scribbles on the parchment, and you can’t help feeling a bit satisfied at his reaction. Suits him right, you think, for being such a coward. You’re going to kick his ass and get back for the ten detentions he bought you last year.

Sharp’s NEWT level class is just as painful as you’d imagined it would be. Sacharissa nearly slices her own finger off trying to cut open a sopophorous bean, and Everett faints from the blood. Andrew sends his own bean flying across the room, thwacking Natty in the forehead; it incites a verbal altercation that has the two nearly come to blows before Sharp can separate them. You and Sebastian can’t help but laugh watching them, falling dreadfully behind in your own quest to brew a draught of living death.

“Look at those prats,” Sebastian nudges you.

You look over at the two redheads adjacent to you–they’re working diligently, ignoring the dramatics of the classroom. Garreth is clearly guiding the process, Leander eagerly observing him as he chops and stirs. They’re the only two students in the classroom even remotely close to brewing the potion correctly, and it’s a little surprising to you that Garreth would be so tame.

He tilts his head, copper colored hair falling in front of his eyes. His hair is longer, shaggier than last year. You also can’t ignore how much larger his forearms are, probably from detentions spent lifting the cauldrons to and from the storage room. They’re thick and freckled, a dusting of hair—

Garreth turns his head, glaring at you. You’ve been blatantly staring at him for a whole minute now.

“Oi, get it together, woman.” Sebastian chides, snapping his fingers in front of your eyes. “I don’t think your cauldron is supposed to be purple—“

“Dammit!” You curse, turning back to your own brew. . Sebastian laughs as you thwack him on the shoulder, stirring your potion. It’s no good–the brew has turned the wrong color, and now resembles a fudgy texture.

“So much for winning the competition,” Sebastian teases you. Your face heats up with embarrassment as Sharp walks over to your cauldron, assessing your work.

“Better luck next time, I suppose.” Sharp says gruffly, raising his eyebrows at the thick goop.

As expected, Garreth and Leander win the day’s best brew. It takes twice as long as usual for you to scrub your cauldron, cheeks red from both embarrassment and the extra elbow grease you have to put in. Sebastian, despite his promises to stay as long as he can, has already abandoned you to get to lunch ahead of the rush. At this rate, you’ll miss lunch entirely.

“You should really throw some ashwinder eggshells in there.”

Looking up, you see Garreth standing a few feet away, his hands shoved into his pockets. In lieu of the traditional blazer, he’s gone a bit casual with a crimson and gold Gryffindor sweater. It looks a tad tight on him, and well worn. Likely a hand-me-down from one of his many older brothers, you think.

“Mixed with water, they’re quite abrasive. It’ll help with the cleaning.” Garreth suggests, shrugging his bag onto his shoulder.

“So, we’re talking again.” your tone is flippant; you scrub even harder at the baked in potion caking your cauldron.

Garreth rolls his eyes, dropping his bag to the ground. “Let me help,” he says gruffly, elbowing you out of the way. He takes a handful of ashwinder eggshells, sprinkling it into your cauldron. You peer over the edge as he dribbles water inside.

“Now put on your dragonhide gloves,” Garreth advises. “Don’t want to get burned, do you?”

You do as instructed, slipping the gloves on. Garreth hands you the wire brush again, and this time the sludge slides off the edges of the cauldron with ease.

“See? Not so bad.”

You open your mouth to thank him, but Garreth has stepped away from your station. Bag in hand, he gives you a wary look.

“Earlier, when you were staring,” Garreth trails off.

“I wasn’t staring.” you scoff. In reality, you were , but that’s not the point.

“You were,” Garreth countered. “You weren’t trying any funny mind tricks, were you? I’d heard a rumor that you and Sallow were trying to study legilimency–”

Eyebrow raised, you cross your gloved arms. “Why on earth would I need to read your mind, Weasley?”

“To steal my potion recipe.” Garreth blurted, eyes narrowed. “For the contest. You’re trying to win, I overheard you and Sallow talking about entering.”

You scoff in his face. “Why would I need to steal a recipe from you ?”

Garreth straightened, pushing his copper hair out of his eyes. “Because everyone knows that I,” jerking his thumb towards himself, “am going to win. I’ve been planning my submission since I was a first year, and I’m not about to lose to you.”

Whatever warmth you thought Garreth Weasley was going to give you is long gone. You lean back over your pewter cauldron, scrubbing aggressively.

“I can’t believe you’d think I’d stoop so low, Garreth.” You seeth. “You know what? Just for that, I am going to enter Sharp’s contest now–and I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Like hell you are,” Garreth huffs, leering down at you. You hadn’t noticed just how tall he’d gotten over the summer–

Focus, you remind yourself, eyes flitting away from his form.

“What are you two still doing in my classroom?”

You and Garreth spin around, almost knocking your cauldron over in the process. An exhausted looking Sharp stands in the doorway, his palm on his head.

“Not you two,” he mutters. “I had a feeling the two of you would be battling it out for best brew.”

“We were just comparing notes, sir.” Garreth says easily, backing away from you. “She needed help cleaning her cauldron.”

“Not your best work today,” Sharp reminds you, peering into your now sparkling clean cauldron. “The two of you should be off to lunch, or else you’ll miss the meal.”

“Yes sir,” the two of you chirp in unison. Garreth takes his leave while you’re stowing your cauldron away, and he’s nowhere to be seen once you get to the Great Hall for lunch. You want to fight, defend yourself against his accusations, but it doesn’t look like he’ll give you the chance.

His loss , you think, meandering over to your house table.

The first month of classes has been hell. While you’d pictured your sixth year to be quite leisurely with the extra free periods, you’ve spent every study hall cooped up in the library, buried in your books. Despite passing last term with flying colors, it feels like you’re going to spend your entire life catching up to your classmates. You might be the hero of Hogwarts, but you still feel stupid in History of Magic, stumbling over your words.

You’re cursing to yourself as you run through the streets of Hogsmeade, trying to make it to J Pippin’s before closing. Sharp’s potions contest has fallen to the bottom of your priorities, but the events of lunch earlier in the day have pushed you to work on your submission. You’d been sitting at the table with Sebastian and Ominis, lamenting over your shared arithmancy assignment when Garreth and Leander walked into the Great Hall, loud cheers and whoops coming from the Gryffindor table. They were sopping wet, hair windswept, having just tested Garreth’s potion submission.

“No one will be able to beat him,” Leander had declared loudly, rustling Garreth’s long red hair. Garreth was grinning broadly, a gaggle of fifth year girls surrounding him in awe. That alone was irksome; as if they really knew Garreth Weasley.

“Since when did Garreth Weasley become the hottest commodity?” Ominis asked, tilting his chin in his palm.

Sebastian took a sip of his pumpkin juice, snorting. “Probably because he grew five inches over the holidays,” he joked. “Lost the pudge too.”

“Sebastian,” you warned, flicking him in the head. “Don’t be so cruel.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, shrugging. “It’s true,” he argued. “Anyways, I can’t wait to watch you put him in his place during the potions competition. Do you have your brew ready?”

“Of course I do,” You lied, turning back to your parchment. “Don’t be silly.”

In actuality, you didn’t have your brew ready whatsoever–you’d spent the last month tinkering with several recipes, but nothing seemed good enough for submission. With potions due tomorrow, you’ll have to spend the rest of your day working on the brew. The rest of your classes for the day go unattended, spending the afternoon cooped up in the Room of Requirement to draft a recipe. Nothing seems to be working, and you’re out of focus potions. You could brew them up yourself, but perhaps some fresh air and a walk will do you good–therein, a trip to J Pippin’s was necessary.

The bell rings as you push the door in, Parry Pippin smiling at you from the register. You entertain his small talk, questions about your summer holidays, all while anxiously checking your pocket watch for the time. You still had your arithmancy homework, as well as a four foot scroll due in Transfiguration next week to work on–

“You haven’t run into Mr. Weasley, have you?”

Snapping out of your thoughts, you look up at Parry. “No, I haven’t.” you say sharply, taking the carefully wrapped package full of focus potions that he’s packed into your arms. “Why would I?”

Pippin clicks his tongue. “I’m fresh out of the stench of the dead, that’s all. Mr. Weasley was trying to purchase some more for his potions project. Nasty business, procurement. It’s hard to find a supplier that’ll face up to the inferi in the first place.” The register opens, and he begins counting your change. “I recommended he reach out to you for assistance.”

You blink at the shopkeeper. “Me?”

“Well of course,” Pippin snorts. “You’re rather fearless, aren’t you? Not that it matters, of course, he was quite put off by the suggestion. Asked me where he could find them, and I pointed out an old abandoned treasure cave a few miles north, up in the valley. Can always find them lurking around there.”

“I’m sorry , you directed a student to an inferi den?” You gape.

Pippin looks at you, eyebrows raised. “Don’t they teach you how to fight them and what not? Isn’t that what Defense Against the Dark Arts is for? Anywho, Mr. Weasley seemed rather confident in his abilities. Think he was a bit embarrassed that I recommended he ask a girl for help.”

You block out whatever Pippin is saying, tucking the package under your arm as you leave the shop. While it’s not your responsibility to look after Garreth (considering recent events and his rather frosty attitude towards you) you can’t help feeling a bit worried. Most students don’t have much experience with the undead; you only have a basic grasp on battling them due to Sebastian’s shenanigans the year prior. Inferi are tough, even for most grown adults to deal with; any wound inflicted by one can render even the strongest wizard ill.

The sun is beginning to set, and while you know you should head straight back to the Room of Requirement to work on your contest brew, you turn towards the path north. You’re certain you’ve visited the treasure den Pippin is talking about before, and it won’t hurt to check. If the clearing is empty, you’ve just gotten extra exercise for the day. If not–well, you don’t want to think about that quite yet.

You’ve forgotten how long the trek to the Hogsmeade Valley is, feet aching as you stumble over the rocky terrain. You bet that even if Garreth has gone to hunt the inferi, he’s likely given up by now, gone back to the castle already. You doubt Garreth wants to battle the inferi–he’s always had a distaste for dueling, preferring to watch everyone battle it out during Crossed Wands rather than participate.

You swallow thickly, trying to push the image of Garreth fighting the undead out of your mind. Despite your anger towards him, you really don’t want him to go up against something he’s not ready for just to win a stupid class contest.

The sky is dark by the time you round out the hill. From a distance, you can see the wooden arch to the old treasure den, and to your relief, nothing is disturbed. You’re about to turn on your heel to go back to the floo Upper Hogsfield when you sniff the familiar putrid stench of inferi. Your blood runs cold when you hear a familiar groan, and then anxious yelps.

“ Diffindo ! Ah, shit!”

You drop your parcel in the long grass, disappearing into a blue wisp as you close the distance between yourself and the voice. Of course, it’s Garreth, looking panicked and battered as he tries to slice through the inferi. They’re not fast, but his leg is bleeding, and he doesn’t know that severing charm will do no damage to the undead.

“Garreth!” you yell, sliding through the rocks towards him.

Garreth’s eyes widen, crying out your name. Despite his injury, he’s holding his arm out as if to shield you. That bloody Gryffindor bravery, you think, swatting his arm away.

“Get back,” Garreth yells. “Get to Upper Hogsfield, I can hold them off–”

“Get out of the way, you idiot,” you shriek, waving your wand towards him. Depulso might be a bit extreme, but all you can think about is getting the wounded boy out of the way. As soon as you hear Garreth yelp, landing on the soft grass, you turn your attention back to the inferi, who are closing in.

“Confringo!” you pant, unleashing fiery flames from the tip of your wand towards them. The heat of the fire has them shrieking and turning away. Several of them disintegrate, leaving behind the precious bounty Garreth had sought them out for in the first place.

It’s quiet, except for your heavy breathing and the screeches of inferi, all turning into piles of ash as you defeat them. Once you’re sure the last one has been slaughtered, you turn back to Garreth, a few feet away in the grass. He’s staring at you, dumbfounded, as he clutches the gash on his leg. He’s looking rather pale, the blood seeping from his cut a strange dark color.

“Garreth,” you breathe, falling to your knees next to him.

“It must be infected,” he says slowly. “From the inferi.”

There’s no time to waste. You dig through your hip pouch, pulling out one of your spare wiggenwelds. Garreth will surely need a blood renewing potion and some more itensive healing potions when you get back to Hogwarts, but this will do for now. Pulling out the stopper, you push the vial into his hands.

“I can’t believe Pippin would direct you to an inferi den,” you snarl, tearing a piece of your cloak to make a makeshift bandage. Garreth is quietly sipping on the wiggenweld, trying not to look at the damage. “I have half a mind to report him to your aunt–”

“Don’t,” Garreth begs. “Please, don’t. It’s embarrassing enough.”

“Garreth, you could’ve been killed.” You argue.

“It’s my own fault.” he says miserably. “Fire is what destroys inferi. I can’t believe I fucking forgot.”

You give him a wry look. “Well, potions is your better subject.” you joke.

Garreth ignores your quip, downing the rest of the healing potion. “You came up to find me.” he points out, pushing the empty vial back into your hands. “Why?”

You shrug. “Pippin told me you didn’t want my help, and I assumed you’d go off trying to get the ingredients for yourself. You shouldn’t go up against them alone, Garreth.”

“You fought them alone,” Garreth points out. “You could handle them.”

“Well, either I fought them, or else you’d be turning into an inferi yourself right now.”

“Probably best to not waste my good looks on being a zombie.” Garreth jokes. Taking note of your stern face and unwillingness to laugh, he winces. “Should we get back to school now? Perhaps we can make it to Upper Hogsfield; take the floo from there. But make sure to get some of that stench of the dead before we leave.”

Garreth carefully supervises you as you scoop up the murky essence into your vials; he eyes you as you tuck them in your bag. Garreth tries to get up on his own, groaning as he balances on his good leg, swatting away your helping hand.

“Let me help you, you twat.” you urge him, slinging his arm around your shoulder. It doesn’t do much–he really has grown, and you need to stand on your tiptoes to even support him.

The two of you stumble through the grass and you pass your sad little package on the way down. Oh well, you think. Your potion is the least of your worries, considering Garreth is still dripping blood next to you. Despite his protestations that he’s doing fine, you know from the way he’s clutching your shoulder that he’s not.

“You’re not going to take me to the hospital wing, are you?” Garreth groans as you support him to the flickering green flame outside of Upper Hogsfield. “If you take me there, Blainey will tell Aunt Tilly, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that lecture yet.”

“I have somewhere else you can go.” you offer, biting down on your lower lip. You’ve never invited anyone into the Room of Requirement before–Professor Weasley strictly forbade you from sharing the room, and you’ve kept it a secret from Sebastian, Ominis, and Natty for almost a year now. But you’re sure you can’t get into too much trouble, especially if you’re healing another student.

“Do you trust me?” You ask Garreth, slipping your arm around his.

The redhead looks down at you, perhaps a bit skeptical. “I trust you.”

“Good. Not like you have a choice anyways,” You remind him, turning back towards the flame.

“Okay, now this is truly unfair,” Garreth complains, splayed across your settee. “Aunt Tilly is officially my least favorite family member.”

You snort as you sprinkle mallowsweet into your bubbling cauldron. “Because she didn’t show you the Room of Requirement?”

“Yes,” Garreth barks. “You’re telling me I’ve been sneaking into Sharp’s office after hours just to trial potions, meanwhile there’s a perfectly good potions lab in the astronomy tower? Rubbish,” he mutters. He picks at the piece of your cloak that you’ve tied around his thigh; it’s still bloody, and he looks peakish.

“The blood renewing potion is nearly done,” You assure him, walking away from the cauldron to assess his wound again. “Why do you need the stench of the dead so badly?” you ask, wrinkling your nose as you take off the bloody fabric. “Is it for your potion contest submission?”

Garreth swallows thickly. “Yes,” his voice is careful, trying not to give anything away. He inhales sharply once the fabric has come off; his wound, despite the wiggenweld, still looks worse for wear.

“Oh, come off it,” you roll your eyes, waving your wand to summon a fresh roll of linen. “Just tell me what it is. I guarantee you’re going to win anyways.”

Garreth gives you a funny look before bowling his shoulders over, letting out a loud sigh. “I’ve created a bottled tornado,” he admits, wincing as you bandage him up. “Bit of a play on the thunderbrew; you take the potion before entering battle, and you have full control of a windstorm against your enemies.”

“Is that why your hair was so fucked at lunch?” you muse.

Garreth rolls his eyes. “It looked good, okay?”

The two of you glare into each other’s eyes for the first time in quite a while; after a terse twenty seconds, both of you burst into laughter.

“Was it that bad?” Garreth wheezes.

You laugh, visibly shuddering. “Not that bad, actually. Those fifth years rather enjoyed it.”

Garreth rolls his eyes. “The most attention I’ve received from any of those girls, ever. Leander has been trying to talk me up to them, find us a double date.”

You’re quiet for a moment, stomach twisting with unfamiliar anxiety at the idea of Garreth and Leander sharing butter beers with those girls. Not that you care, really, but you miss hanging out around the Three Broomsticks every Saturday with Garreth. He’d been one of your closest friends until the incident at Honeydukes, and then nothing .

“Is that why you want to win the contest so badly?” You blurt. “For notoriety? Or just attention from the girls?” You joke.

Garreth shakes his head, shaking out his ginger mane like a lion. Sometimes, you think it’s too fitting that he’s a Gryffindor. “Nah, not for that.”

“What for, then?”

Garreth chews on his lower lip. “Have I ever told you about my family?”

“Uh, no. Just that there’s a lot of them.” You admit, resting your palms on your knees.

“I’m one of seven siblings.” Garreth says, head falling back against a pillow. “There’s Arthur, Benedict, Cornelia, Deirdre, Edwin, Frederick, and myself.” he counts out his siblings on his thick fingers.

“Alphabetical order?” you asked, slightly amused.

Garreth rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately, yes.” Your eyes flit down to his torso; the hem of his shirt has risen, exposing a freckled stomach. You think back to what Sebastian had said–how Garreth had lost his baby fat over the summer, his once soft stomach turning muscled and strong. You try not to linger on the thatch of red hair trailing down to his waist.

“Artie, Deirdre, and Freddie played Quidditch for the house team. Cornelia and Edwin were both prefects, and Benedict was head boy.” Garreth explains.

“A successful bunch,” you offer.

“Successful besides me.” Garreth grumbled. “Mum wouldn’t let me hear the end of it when I didn’t get prefect our fifth year. I’ve always been middling at Quidditch too, so no hopes for the house team.” he says moodily. “Just plain, untalented Garreth. The only thing I'm even remotely good at is brewing a potion, so I've been hoping to win ever since I was a first year. All my siblings tried, but none have won. Thought I might get my own name out there, instead of just being the youngest Weasley.” His eyes are glued to the ceiling, but you can tell from the furrow in his brow and hardened jaw that he's frustrated.

You tilt your head, giving him a disapproving look. “I think you’re talented, Garreth.”

“I think you’re talented too,” Garreth points out. “Which is why you’re probably going to win the potion making contest. Sharp hates me, after all.”

“I think you have a fair shot,” you argue. “You’ve spent all summer working on your potions.”

“Yes, but you’re you.” Garreth fights back. “You’ve had magic for what, a year? And you’re the most powerful witch I know.”

“It’s not that easy,” you mumbled under your breath, smoothing down the front of your trousers as you stand. You step back over to the station; the blood renewing potion has finished, a thick purple sludge that leaves a metallic smell in its wake. You pull out a clean vial, trying to ladle the necessary amount.

“Everything seems to come easy to you.” Garreth pointed out. “You defeated a troll, took town the goblin rebellion–”

“At what cost, Garreth?” you shout, closing your hand into a tight fist. “Ow!”

Garreth shoots up, propping up on his hands to peer over at you. You open your hand, shaking it out–you’ve shattered the vial. Cursing under your breath, you walk over the wash basin, muttering a quick charm to get the tiny shards of glass out of your hand.

“Let me help,” Garreth pleads, hobbling over towards you.

“Get back on the couch, Gar.” You seethe, pointing across the room.

Garreth puts his hands up, still shuffling your way. You wag your hand; it’s still stinging, but it’s just a surface wound. A wiggenweld and a bandage will do just fine.

“Let me,” Garreth says quietly, his tone soft towards you for the first time in ages. “It’s my fault, after all.”

“It’s not your fault,” You sigh. “It’s me, being stupid.”

“You’re not stupid. You’re the furthest thing from stupid.” Garreth assures you. “I meant to say that it was my fault you got caught last year.”

You pause. Is he really apologizing now?

Garreth takes the roll of linen, wrapping it around your palm. “You were looking for the billywig stings for me,” he says, tearing the linen with his teeth. He sets down the roll, tying a knot around the bandage in your palm. “I’m the reason you got caught, and you covered for me. Flume could’ve called the aurors for burglary, and I let you take the fall.”

All you’ve wanted for the past six months is for Garreth to own up to his part in you getting all those detentions and losing fifty house points. You feel a little satisfied, but at the same time sad–you could’ve been friends all this time, instead of strangers. Losing him made the other Gryffindors go icy against you, and it drove you further into Sebastian’s arms. While you love your other freckled friend to death, you can’t help but wonder what trouble you could’ve avoided had you not felt so isolated.

The thought overwhelms you, and you burst into a loud sob.

“What’s wrong?” Garreth panics.

You wipe a tear from your eyes. “It’s nothing, it’s nothing at all.” you blubber.

“It’s clearly not,” Garreth says gently.

“It’s just we’ve been avoiding each other for months,” you take in a shaky breath. “And I’ve missed being your friend.”

Garreth lets out a loud sigh, his hand trailing down to touch your forearm. It’s hard not to melt into his warm touch.

“I’m sorry,” he admits. “I was being stubborn. I should’ve apologized ages ago, I’ve missed you too. I was just so intimidated by you, I forgot how to be your friend.”

“Intimidated, by me?” You gape.

Garreth gives you a look, raising his thick eyebrows. “You’re the Hero of Hogwarts,” he waves his free hand. “You only just discovered magic a year ago, and yet you’re at the top of the class. You’re the best duelist I know; you bloody saved my life tonight.”

“I’m not a hero,” your voice falters. You’re not. Garreth would be horrified to know what you’ve done–dabbled in dark magic, taken life (even if not by choice).

“You’re a hero to me,” Garreth murmurs.

You look into his deep green eyes. They’re warm and honest; the Garreth you’ve gotten used to has a cold stare, eyes flitting away from yours as fast as possible. This Garreth makes your stomach flip, but not in an uncomfortable way. He’d always elicited that reaction from you, from the day you’d met. Garreth had always been cheerful and cuddly, an arm always tossed around your shoulder as you sat together or fiddling with the hem of your robe. It had gotten to the point where you might actually believe the rumors that he'd had a crush on you, considering the way his hugs lingered or the way his eyes caught you across the classroom.

For a second, you wonder if he ever actually did have a crush on you. You also wonder if he still might.

“You should take the potion,” you change the subject, shaking off his grasp.

Garreth obediently sits back down on the settee while you scoop the thick potion into a clean vial. He looks up at you with a smile as you settle down next to him, as if his leg still isn’t shaking and bloody.

“Bottoms up,” you press the vial into his hand.

Garreth takes the blood renewing potion, shuddering as the thick sludge passes through his throat. He shakes out his hair, setting the empty vessel down on the side table.

“How do you feel?”

“Feeling better already,” Garreth assures you, and you know he’s telling the truth. His cheeks are reddening, the color flooding back into his face. You look down at the gauze wrapped around his leg; thanks to the potion, the other healing potions you’d forced him to take are now kicking in.

“You’re brilliant, you know?” Garreth murmurs. “You’re beautiful, brilliant, and so damn brave. That’s why you’ll win Sharp’s contest.”

“Will you stop saying that?” You snip at him.

Garreth gives you an incredulous look. “It’s a compliment.”

“You don’t realize how much work it is,” you say, fidgeting with your hands in your lap. “To catch up to all of you. Having this magic, not being able to control it–it doesn’t make any of the day to day any easier. It seems like there’s always something I have to learn, things I should know by now that I don’t. I feel like a fraud most of the time.” you admit, tears welling in your eyes.

“Hey, none of that,” Garreth tuts, wiping at your face. “You’re no fraud. You, my dear, are the real deal. I’m the one bumbling around, getting scratched up by inferi–”

You shut your eyes, clutching at the hand he’s resting on your face. “I won’t let you talk about yourself like that,” you argue. The thought of Garreth, one of the most clever wizards you know, feeling inferior to his siblings is still fresh in your mind. “You’re marvelous, Garreth. You’re one of the best potioneers here at school, and you’re going to win.”

“But what about your submission?” His eyebrows are knitted together in confusion.

You shrug. “You need it more than I do–I already have my own space here, and you deserve the recognition.”

Garreth purses his lips together. “I can’t finish mine, unfortunately. Not without the ingredients–”

“Trust me, we have plenty now.” You assure him. “I probably have the rest of what you need here,” you say, scrambling to your feet. You rush back over to the potions stand, conjuring a clean cauldron. “I’m assuming you’re using the same base as a thunderbrew–”

Garreth is over to the potions station in three quick strides, closing the distance between you. He grabs your wrist, but his touch is soft.

“You’ll really help me?” he asks, his voice hopeful. “Even if I’ve been an absolute prat towards you for the last six months–”

“I think if last year proves anything, I’d do anything for you, Garreth.” You want to look into his eyes, but the moment feels too charged. "You were one of my first friends here, and I care about you."

Garreth’s eyes flit down to your lips. “As a friend?” The question hangs heavy between the two of you.

You shake your head. “Yes...but also, no. Not just as a friend.” you say slowly, hoping he'll understand.

Garreth doesn’t release his grip; his fingers move down, tangling with yours. He takes a step closer and you can feel his hot breath on your cheek. You look up at him, opening your mouth to say anything , but you don’t get the chance. Garreth’s lips crash against yours in a tender kiss, the pad of his thumb running over the back of your hand. You tilt your head up a bit too eagerly, your teeth clacking against his.

Garreth pulls away, and you’re momentarily mortified until he descends back upon you, this time wrapping his arms around your waist tugging you close. Your hands are in his hair, grasping at the copper locks you’ve spent the last six months eyeing. It’s just as soft as you thought it would be. Sighing into his touch, you can tell the freckled boy is smiling against your mouth from the curve of his chin. His tongue glides against your bottom lip and you grant him access, warmth pooling in the pit of your stomach as the kiss deepens. You want more, even if you're being greedy. You don’t want any distance between the two of you whatsoever anymore.

Garreth pulls away and you whine at the loss of him. He presses his forehead against yours, looking quite bashful. The look in his eyes says everything you need to know for now.

I’m sorry.

I’ve missed you.

I have feelings for you.

“Should we get to brewing?” you ask breathlessly, gesturing down to the empty cauldron.

“Let’s. I want to get it out of the way–I think the two of us have some more catching up to do.” Garreth teases, his hands hovering over your waist.

You grin, turning your attention down to the cauldron. Garreth’s warm body encases yours from behind, listing off all the ingredients and their exact ratios. His chin lands against your shoulder, breath tickling your ear as he whispers the instructions. It's only after he presses his lips against the nape of your neck that you slam the chopping knife down, hands shaking.

“If you keep this up, we’ll never finish.” You warn him.

Garreth’s chuckle sends a shiver up your spine. “Fine, fine.” he sighs, pressing a kiss against your cheek as he steps away. “I’ll observe some personal space for now, but the moment we’re done…” his voice trails off. “I’d like to kiss you again.”

You swat at him, rolling your eyes as he starts chopping mandrake leaves. The air in the Room of Requirement feels thick, charged with the tension between the two of you as you take turns stirring the altered thunderbrew. Before long, the cauldron is emitting sparks of lightning and gusts of wind, indicating your success.

“Back to catching up?” Garreth asks, chewing on his bottom lip as he bottles the brew. As soon as the potion is stowed away safely, you nod, and the redhead wastes no time taking you back to the settee.

You never did manage to have the time to come up with your own potion. Garreth had insisted on working through the night to help you come up with your own submission, just so he could win fair and square, but you'd shrugged him off. You'd only entertained the idea of entering to compete with him in the first place. Besides, you would rather save the precious time in the Room of Requirement for other activities.

Professor Sharp had just announced the winner of the potion brewing contest before the bell rang. In a tired, yet unsurprised tone, Sharp announces that Garreth has won by a landslide. The class is roaring and chanting for him; Sharp is perturbed that he’ll have to grant the budding potioneer access to his classroom and store cabinet after hours. Nevertheless, Garreth’s name is quickly etched into a little silver tag that will be added to the plaque in the trophy room, and class is dismissed.

“I can’t believe you bungled up your potion.” Sebastian shakes his head, slipping the strap of his bag over his shoulder.

You shrug, clutching your books against your chest. “Just wasn’t meant to be.”

“I was really hoping you’d put Weasley in his place,” Sebastian mumbles.

You turn your head over your shoulder, eyes immediately locking with Garreth’s. He’s standing over his cauldron, sprinkling ashwinder egg shells into the vessel as he smiles at you. His cheeks are a bit flushed–you’re not sure if it's from the heat of the cauldron, or from the memory of the kisses you’d shared in the Room of Requirement after finishing his contest submission.

“I wouldn’t worry too much, Seb.” You assure him. “I think I’ll be putting him in his place much more often now.”

Sebastian doesn’t catch on to your innuendo, shrugging as you pass through the door. “Fancy meeting Ominis for lunch?”

“I’m fine,” you lie. “I”ll catch you both later. I think I left my quill behind.”

Once Sebastian is past the corner and out of view, you turn back around, slipping into the potions classroom. You were hoping for a moment alone with Garreth, but Leander’s whinging cuts the silence.

“The two of you couldn’t stop staring at each other all period,” Leander shakes his head. “What’s going on?”

Casting a quick disillusionment charm, you slip into the store room, leaving the wooden door slightly ajar to watch the boys interact.

“Don’t worry about it, Lee.” Garreth assures him, waving his wand to rinse out his cauldron.

“Are the two of you friends again?” Leander asks. “Sallow must be pissed.”

You shuffle forward, trying to get a better look at the two of them.

“He’ll get over it,” Garreth laughs, picking up his cauldron to stack it against the rest. His shirt is rolled up above his elbows, and you bite down on your lower lip as you watch the muscles in his forearms flex.

“I knew you’d win,” Leander snorts. “You’re the best in class, everyone knows it. You deserved it. But honestly, I’m surprised she didn’t even enter.”

“I know,” Garreth shrugs. “But she’s smart too. Quick as a whip, hell of a duelist. I don’t think we ever thank her enough for what she’s done.”

Leander scoffs. “Why are you kissing her arse? Oh no, don’t tell me you have a crush on her again.” he complains, rolling his eyes.

Garreth chuckles, walking back over to the station to pick up his book bag. “Crush on her? Mate, I’m going to marry that girl someday.”

Your heart stops for a moment, cheeks aflame. Garreth had confessed his feelings to you in the Room of Requirement, after the two of you had to drag yourselves apart at the risk of taking things too far. Now that you were back in his life, he assured you that there was little chance of him ever letting you get too far away again. You’d agreed wholeheartedly then, but your mind hadn’t even gotten to the idea of life post-school.

Marriage . Marriage to Garreth Weasley. The thought of it is comfortable, like a worn in sweater or a cup of tea. You can imagine waking up every morning to his lips pressed against your neck, encased in his warm embrace.

Yes, you might like that.

Even though you have a disillusionment charm on, you swear Garreth is looking straight at you through the crack in the doorway. He has a dreamy, faraway look on his face, one that makes you want to barrel out the door and tackle him to the ground right now.

“Now you really sound like you’ve been confunded,” Leander laughs. “You’re sixteen, Gar.”

“It’s more than that.” Garreth says fondly. “I know it is.”

“Whatever you say,” Leander snorts, heading towards the door. “Coming to lunch?”

“I’ll meet you there,” Garreth echoes.

You hear Leander grumbling to himself, his footsteps becoming quieter as he gets further away from the classroom. Finally, you hear nothing at all except the familiar hum of the boisterous Gryffindor boy you’ve been itching to spend time with all day.

The door flies open and Garreth reaches out, tapping your shoulder. It disarms your disillusionment charm, and you blink up at him in shock. He’s still beaming, a toothy grin accompanied by freckled rosy cheeks. Before you know it, the door is shutting behind you, and he’s backed you into the shelf. The taller boy has you pinned against it, muttering a quick locking charm before he slips his wand into his back pocket.

“I hope you heard me,” Garreth murmurs, brushing hair out of your face.

“I did,” you stammer. “You’re mad, Garreth Weasley.”

Garreth grins broadly, his hair falling against your forehead as he presses his body into yours.

“Maybe,” he sings. “But you heard me. When you know, you know.”

You have no complaints. With Garreth wrapped around you, sixth year might not be so daunting.

#garreth weasley #garreth weasley x reader #garreth weasley x you #garreth weasley x mc #writing-intheundercroft #you can't tell me garreth isn't the dream boyfriend #i don't write enough for him WAHHHH

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