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sssquiddles · 2 years ago

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i dont know how active the red embrace: hollywood fandom is over here (i havent really looked ghfkdsjg) but here: AO3 link

(i appreciate any support over on ao3 but ill post the full chapter here too!)

and the darkness has not overcome it

As the blinding glow of the lights and his cocktail of drugged blood faded, Heath took a step back and failed to realize what he’d done, not until he returned to the hotel...

And set his eyes on the freshly embraced vampire he thought he’d left for dead at the Abattoir.

Rating: Mature

Relationship: Heath/Female Player Character

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence, setting appropriate levels of sexual content, named OC, Sire Heath, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Iscari Player

Words: 4.5k

Coella clasped her hands together in front of her chest, a mimic of a prayer as she practically felt the drawing glow of a halo cast rays from behind her head, drawing the gaze of those who would otherwise pay her no mind.

She wasn’t used to garnering attention, much too comfortable hiding herself like a frightened animal in the corners of gatherings like this. She was used to her words carrying on the wind, whispered wisps of thoughts, tapering off as she realized she wasn’t being listened to- not this.

Not starved, desperate, antsy gazes of those who waited to hear her verdict.

To them she was the newly embraced, the neutral party- Saorise’s lackey who ran with all of LA’s crowds, had a friend or two in each of the three warring clans—or to some, a saint, sent to settle this years-long dispute between the three LA clans, an angel whose words could reach even the coldest, stillest hearts.

She didn’t do anything to earn this unwarranted political favor, to end up in the hot seat, she was just… lonely. Lonely and scared and she wanted someone to understand her, to listen to her, to comfort her- instead, she offered her comfort, her own listening ear, her own, apparently, calming presence.

And now, she stood on a stage in the last neutral ground of LA’s vampire clans, tasked with declaring it under the control of whichever clan she deemed worthy…

~~~

Her story had started in that very same club, one late night after another bombed audition, she’d sat at the bar, nursing something strong and sweet and trying desperately to cling to the last dredges of her Hollywood dream.

Why else would she have come to Hollywood, other than to make it- a model, actress, or singer, as some kind of A-list celebrity.

In the spotlight…

It was the far off dream of a little girl who hadn’t had a home, and could never feel settled in the one she’d been brought into, no matter how much love she’d been showered with. Nothing could fill the hole in her heart that had formed in the years she’d spent unwanted, unseen, invisible.

But Los Angeles… the city of angels… it held the key to filling that space in her chest. She just knew it.

She’d starved herself for this role, stayed up a couple of nights trying to get the lines just right, practicing in the mirror, haunted by the sight of her own reflection, only seeing that lost little girl each time she glanced in her own, dull gray eyes.

“Damn them,” she murmured, staring sadly down at her drink. Her savings were whittling away, more and more with each failed audition, each photographer that ghosted her after taking her money and pictures- she’d have to move back home soon, at this rate.

Or worse, call her adoptive father and beg him for some more money.

He’d give it, of course he would, but he’d ask her how she was doing, ask her if she’s going to visit home soon, and he’d end the call knowing that she was struggling.

Hell, if she sounded too pitiful, he’d probably drive out there to drag her home himself.

“Rough night…?” A soft voice called- much too soft to be heard over the pounding music of the Abattoir, but somehow she heard it as clear as if the room were silent, as a man moved to take the empty seat beside her.

He had a glass of dark, dark red liquid. Red wine, at a bar like this?

Coella slowly dragged her gray gaze up towards his face, having a hard time discerning his features from the flashing, colorful lights of the club. She caught a few glimpses, though- sad, hazy green eyes, a sharp jawline, reddish lips, a flash of white teeth.

She felt drawn to him, a moth to a bright, lonely lighthouse.

“I guess you could say that,” she replied, her own voice too soft to really be heard- but when she looked up to repeat herself, she could see him tilting his head inquisitively, as if prompting her to continue.

Tucking a strand of whitish blonde hair behind her ear, she continued, “I bombed an audition today... Stumbled over the lines, even though I practiced them like, like I should have known those lines better than I knew how to breathe, but- but I just froze, or something. Third one in the last couple weeks, just…” she let out a troubled sigh, taking another long swig of her drink, blinking as it pushed her over the threshold from sad tipsy, to despairing drunk. “Even when I don’t bomb them, it’s like I’m invisible to those people. Like- like what do I have to do to be seen?!”

Suddenly remembering the pretty stranger she was talking to, Coella’s face flushed, glancing up at him in worry—expecting to see a man who didn’t realize he’d picked a crazy emotional broad to chat up, or something. As her lips parted to apologize, he spoke-

“I see you.”

Three words, quiet, drifting into her ears like a melody, and the young woman could feel herself melting. She could have cried—it was stupid, but it was like this man was hypnotizing her.

“Y- You… um, I- I’m sorry,” she’d said, staring up at his ever-changing face, the strobe lights making it entirely impossible to get a good look at him. She’d had more to say, but was finding it hard to remember what it was, as she fell into his eyes. Deep green and sad, hazy like he wasn’t really all the way there, looking down at her.

The man was silent, fidgeting with the end of a dark colored scarf that hung limply over his shoulders, head tilted as he looked down at her. His gaze was hungry, but soft, conflicted. Like he was debating whether to say or do something else.

Part of her wanted to scurry away, some feeling of nervousness rising in her throat, despite his soothing presence. Maybe it was because he was a little too perfect, that he’d showed up to listen to what she needed to get off her chest, and say exactly what she needed to hear…

“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t… um, catch your name…?” Coella finally stammered out, her heart hammering in her ribcage, trying to jump out and run away before she stupidly started to fall for this man she’d just met.

“It’s… River. And… yours?” The man replied, his voice drifting into her ears once again, as he dragged a finger down his wine glass, keeping his gaze on her face.

“River…” she repeated, before shaking her head. “Mine’s- um, Coella. Sorry for rambling on before, I’m just- just, a little frustrated. You- I’m sure you know how it is for us newcomers. Starry-eyed and naive, I- I just need a reality check. Drinking isn’t doing much to help me, a- and- um, I’m rambling again…”

A soft laugh fell from his lips next, and Coella swore she saw the white of a sharp fang peek out from behind them- probably just the flashing lights. She was too focused on how nice his laugh sounded to notice the wry quirk of his lips.

“There’s nothing wrong with holding on to that, innocence. Sometimes it’s better if the curtains never get pulled back,” River replied, shaking his head a little as he took a long drink from his glass. When he set it back down on the bar, it was on the side that she was resting her hand, his fingers brushing against her’s.

Coella felt the spark before she felt the chill of his skin, focusing only on how her heart raced. He sounded like he knew exactly what lay behind the proverbial curtain, and she was beginning to grow more and more curious- she wanted to know what he knew, see what he’s seen. What more to Hollywood was there?

Feeling emboldened by the few dirty Shirley's she’s downed, Coella brushed her fingers against his, on purpose, tilting her head to look up at his eyes. “It’s not a bad thing- to lift the curtain. I want to be on the other side, instead of looking in from the outside. I- I want to shine, wouldn’t you?”

River looked taken aback for a moment, before his face settled into something almost sad, though he was smiling at her, that haziness in his green eyes only settling deeper.

“Do you?”

Coella nodded earnestly—whether or not he really was in the acting scene, like she felt like he was, the connection she felt with him was undeniable. When he took her hand and led her to the back of the club, somewhere secluded, where they’d already passed other couples halfway to copulating, she followed without protest, stumbling a little behind him.

Though they’d come to a corner where they were no longer under the strobing, colorful lights, Coella found she still couldn’t focus on his face—though she’d barely gotten a chance to try, as his lips pressed to her’s, hot despite how chilled his skin felt against her’s.

His hand slid down her back, settling in the dip to keep her pressed tight against his chest as their lips hungrily collided.

The blondish girl felt pinpricks of pain as he bit her lip, before something more euphoric rushed through her. He licked the blood that flowed from his bite, before kissing down to her neck, where he’d nuzzled her pulse point, lapping at her warm, flushed skin.

“Do you… want to see the stars?” River murmured against her skin, his voice sounding and feeling much more far away than it had at the bar. Like he was seconds from pulling away and leaving her there, high and dry.

“Yes, yes, please,” Coella pleaded softly, fingers curled in the material of his leather jacket, terrified of losing this opportunity. Whatever it was, a passionate love affair, or something more—a foot in the door.

He swore softly against her skin, before he sunk his teeth in her neck—much less gently, than anything else he’d done that night, and the shock made Coella sober up in an instant, as she felt her warmth draining into him.

“W… Wait…” she whispered, her own voice sounding far away, her hands clinging much tighter to the stranger. The initial euphoric feeling was fading into something colder, the longer his mouth stayed latched to her neck, her pounding heart beginning to slow, turning quiet.

Instead of clinging to him, her hands began to claw at his arms, weakly trying in vain to stop him before he’d drained her completely, her eyelids fluttering as her consciousness waned.

Was this it? Her last hurrah in Hollywood, being murdered by some psycho vampire fetishist, with no accomplishments under her belt?

Was this how her unremarkable stint in the city of angels was going to come to an end? Quietly passing away in the back of a booming club, her body to be found by the clean up crew later? Would they just leave her unknown, left in an unmarked grave, her family left to wonder what happened to her?

As the last dredges of her life faded, warm, coppery blood was smeared across her lips, dripping into her mouth and down her throat.

Then she felt her body as it was lowered to the ground, footsteps hurrying away.

Left to die.

~~~

When Coella came to, seconds, minutes, hours later—she could tell something was… wrong. The dim lights of the back hallway were too bright, the booming club music, which had already been too loud for the poor sensory-sensitive girl, was now deafening, and she could very clearly hear the smacking moans of the other couple a little ways down the hallway.

All of that, but she couldn’t hear her own heart beating any longer, and she felt… cold. Very cold.

Rising to her feet, her hands trembled as she looked down at them, opening and closing her fingers. The first thing she noticed was her nails- previously cracked and chewed on, were now healed and shiny, as if buffed. She reached up to give her cheek a pat, unsure if this was real life, or if she’d begun dreaming.

Soft flesh pushed against her fingers, damp with tears. She wiped her face and pulled out a mirror quickly, being greeted by the reflection of two, glowing silver eyes. Pulling the compact back a little to take in the rest of her appearance, she found her skin paler, but smoother, her stress breakout was gone. Her skin practically glowed, as if inlaid with diamonds, and her hair was smooth and shiny, too.

It… must have just been the alcohol. Or the sex she didn’t quite remember having, if that… happened at all. She shuddered, her stomach turning at the thought of that man taking advantage of her when she passed out.

She stumbled further down the hallway, and out the back door as her stomach turned really sour, and she threw up the last dredges of her very last meal, completely emptying the contents of her stomach.

On her knees, she slid a hand up her thigh, checking- with a bit of relief, finding that her panties were still there, untouched. That was… comforting. Still, not knowing for sure made her skin crawl, a very real fear making her feel like her stomach was going to turn again. She felt dirty, and she wanted to go home and take a shower, then call home.

“Havin’ fun down there?”

Coella jumped, stumbling to her feet, hands shooting to her sides at the sound of a voice, a nice southern drawl.

Fearful, like a rabbit caught in the sights of an apex predator, she dragged her eyes up to the source of the voice, finding a pair of light-colored glowing eyes peering at her from behind a pair of sunglasses. It was definitely still night time.

“How- d-did you see- I mean, I wasn’t- I j-just wanted to make sure-” Coella stumbled over an explanation, hot tears of shame rising up in her eyes as she desperately tried to explain that she was not touching herself like that.

Thick dark eyebrows raised, along with a pair of gloved hands, as if to say ‘I mean you no harm’.

“No need to explain yourself, I’m thinkin’ you’ve got quite a few concerns now that you’re a walkin’ dead,” the man drawled, lips curling into something more akin to amusement. “You smell fresh.”

“A- A, what…?”

“I guess walkin’ dead makes you sound like a zombie, a little too brainless for most of our kind. Apologies, allow me to introduce myself… I’m…”

At the frightened, trembling gaze of the young woman in front of him, the man seemed to decide against the showy introduction, shaking his head.

“My… you’re as docile as a lamb. My name is Markus, I’m here to escort you to your new boss… Coella.”

“H- How do you know my name..? A- And what did you mean, walking dead…?”

As he took a step forward, she took a shaking step backwards, pressing herself against the brick wall of the club, feeling the music vibrating against her back.

“I make it a point to get to know every fresh face in LA, whether they know me or not. And no, I’m not sayin’ ‘walking dead’ as some cruel nickname before I murder you. I think you’ve had enough close encounters with death for one night, wouldn’t you say?” Markus shook his head, clicking his tongue. “You’re a vampire now, little one. A blood sucker, human predator of the night. Can’t you feel it? Your own… otherworldly glow?”

“Glow…?”

“Mm, especially bright for you- house of the stars. How fittin’ for a rising star. Former risin’ star, of course, we’ll have to erase your old identity…”

“House of the stars…?” she couldn’t help but continue to repeat what he’d said back to him, in a daze.

Suddenly she remembered- a flash, from before she woke up.

“Do you want to see the stars…?”

That soft, melodic voice, twinged in sadness.

That man- River, wasn’t some weird murderer who thought he was a vampire, he really had been a vampire. And he’d turned her into one.

She pressed her fingers to her lips, feeling like she was going to be sick again.

Markus clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Really, they should give you a full brief before they force you to take the full dive. Come here, I can tell you all about this new life on our way to the hotel.”

Coella hesitated, staring into his eyes, her muscles tensed to run, but something in her calmed—or gave up, more likely. She’d already died once that night, what else could really be done to her?

Shoulders sinking in defeat, she nodded, walking towards the man, catching as his eyebrows raised a little in surprise, before settling.

“How docile indeed, little one.”

~~~

Heath was coming down from a myriad of drugs as he stumbled into the Hotel, spitefully ignoring the pitious gazes that followed him wherever he went.

He hadn’t quite overdosed- it wasn’t really possible in that infernal body to do so, but he’d certainly gone overboard, having thrown in a hallucinogen this time around. The Abattoir, with its swirling, colorful lights and deafening music just felt… right. He felt drawn to the heady atmosphere like he never had before, often preferring the quiet ambience of his own bar, or the solitude of his own room, over such a crowded and sweaty place.

Drawn even further to the bar, towards the mortal, lonely and shining within the crowd.

He couldn’t remember too much about her appearance, besides the ethereal glow around her, a halo offset behind her wispy white hair, and the fluttering of white wings on her back- that had to have been the hallucinogen.

He remembered being close, too close, and the taste of warm, fresh blood—holding a life in his hands, and soft grasping hands.

And then panicking- smearing his blood on her lips, and running.

So… he’d created another cursed existence today.

“Fuck,” he murmured, running a hand through his hair, tugging at the silvery locks with a wince.

He couldn’t be sure, of course—that dose was strong. Maybe he’d just imagined the entire thing, fell asleep piss-drunk in the back and dreamt the entire encounter.

Yeah…

The lobby had been abuzz with something—apparently one of the new embraces had been mixed up, someone Saorise had picked out bailed, but someone else was embraced in their place, on the same night, by accident. Filling the spot. Weird coincidence.

As he walked through the hall, he passed Markus, who gave him a cold sneer behind his sunglasses.

“The proverbial shepherd finally arrives to tend to his lamb,” Markus said, not pausing in his stride—a passing comment that sent a chill down Heath’s spine.

“What did you say?” Heath called, but Markus had rounded the corner and was gone.

Shepherd? Lamb?

Markus talked like a madman sometimes, but Heath wasn’t stupid- he could guess what that meant, but what…

Oh no, oh no no no…

He rushed down the hall, towards the empty room he’d known had been prepared for the new embrace, likely given to the unsanctioned addition to the clan. He could feel it without even opening the door, that presence, the draw- he’d never sired another vampire before, never even wished to do that to a living person, but he could feel it, on the other side of the door.

He could hear soft sniffles on the other side, ceasing when he’d knocked on its wooden surface.

Shit, he hadn’t even thought of what to say-

The door opened, greeting him to the soft, angelic sight of the woman he’d met at the club, her skin and eyes glowing. A little fang poked out behind her lips when she offered a nervous greeting, inquisitive eyes glancing up at him.

For a moment, he saw it—the flash of recognition, and he could feel guilt sinking into his stomach, before her eyes softened.

“Ah… my… apologies,” he finally got out, “I’d… completely forgotten what I was going to say as soon as you opened the door.”

“Th- that’s okay,” she replied, that same soft, delicate voice he remembered drifting through his consciousness before. The soul that was so similar to his—the light he’d snuffed out himself.

“I’d heard what happened, and I… came to offer my sympathies. Would you be open hosting to a guest?” He asked, trying not to sound too guilty- she didn’t recognize him, yet. Surely she could feel it, the draw, the wish to settle under his wing.

A sire… he’d had one, of course, they all did, but he could hardly remember her, his mother…

“Please do,” the young woman replied, opening the door to let him in, closing it behind him. “Make yourself comfortable...”

Heath took a seat on the chair by the window, as she perched at the edge of the bed, peering at him curiously.

He could see it in her gaze- she was trying to figure out who he was, why she felt the way she did as she looked at him.

“My name is Heath, I- I really must give my condolences, again. Being embraced so suddenly… it’s harrowing,” he said, rubbing his fingers down the side of his face. Whatever flirting mask he’d typically try to hold up crumbled at the sight of her red-ringed eyes, the clear sign that she’d been crying right before he walked inside. “And rarely are the kindred around us very… understanding, about that. Being ripped from your old life… you must be angry, or scared..?”

It was a cheap tactic, removing himself from the equation to fish out how she feels about this- while he’d never consider this accidental embrace a good thing, perhaps he could get some peace of mind, if she’s one of the stronger types, the kind who, unlike him, thrived under these adverse conditions.

Instead of the look of determination he was hoping to see, despair crossed her features, as tears misted over her silver eyes, her bottom lip wobbling with barely-contained tears.

“I- I am scared,” she mumbled in a quiet voice, arms wrapping around herself, rubbing her bare arms as if she could feel a chill in the room. “I- I don’t want to be a part of a war, or politics, and- and I can’t talk to my family anymore, and I can’t go to any more auditions, and I’m so hungry b-but I can’t… even think about…” she trailed off, wiping her tears with a small, shaking hand.

Heath felt the space in his chest ache, self loathing creeping up in his throat like bile as he watched her, before gently reaching out with a tissue. He wanted to run, his muscles tense, waiting for the moment that she would put 2 and 2 together and realize that the source of her misery was sitting in front of her, but she never did. She only delicately accepted the tissue, wiping at her face with a quiet sob.

How could he stay, when she was ruined because of him? She was young- barely twenty years old with her life ripped away from her, just as he had been.

But God, how could he run, when she needed him? Her sire?

It’d make him no better than his own sire—but now, perhaps, some part of him understood now why many sires didn’t stick around. To witness the blossoming pain, and despair, grown from the seeds he’d sown…

“It’s… it’ll get better,” he murmured—he couldn’t bring himself to say it’s okay when clearly it was not. Gently, he patted her shoulder, drawing closer as he offered what little comfort he could bring himself to provide.

His first lesson as a sire was coming at him fast, and he wasn’t sure what to do- bring her a blood bag and tell her to suck it up and drink, or let her waste away into a frenzy, to keep her inside of her comfort zone?

Drawing back, he grabbed a crystal glass and a bag of blood from the fridge, opening the pouch and pouring it into the glass. He saw her head snap up as soon as he’d opened the bag—the smell likely activating the beast that fought for control inside of her undead body.

Walking back over, he offered the glass with a sympathetic gaze as she hesitated, despite how strong the hunger must have been by now.

“I can’t really help with… much else, besides this. It makes it easier to stomach, while you get used to exactly what it is that you’re drinking,” Heath offered, pressing the glass into her hands.

Coella looked up at him like he offered her salvation, not just a glass full of lukewarm blood, and the glowing gaze of his childe made him… shrink away. Her gaze was earnest, desperate, and sad—is that how he’d looked, looking up at his mother, that day?

Gratefully, the fledgling took the glass, hesitating with a tearful gaze before she tipped it towards her lips, Heath’s eyes heavy on her as she took her first drink as a damned creature, officially… sealing her fate, her existence.

Once she finished, she’d calmed down considerably, licking away the last dredges of the viscous liquid from her, now reddened, lips. She toyed with the empty glass, casting her gaze down on it. Now that she wasn’t raging with as many emotions, or hunger, he could sense a nervousness in her motions, the way she’d glance at him and back down at the glass.

“Feel better, now?” he offered, head tilting to look down at her, to try to catch her gaze.

Coella nodded, swallowing thickly. “Sorry for… um, e-exploding.”

Heath shook his head, gently taking the glass from her hands- to force her to shift her attention back on him, for as much as her gaze scared him, some selfish part of him only wanted her to look at him.

“I understand, I… it hasn’t been too long since my own embrace, so… it gets easier to deal with, or to forget. The sun, the human joys of life, sharing space with others… for having our clans, vampires are still such solitary creatures,” Heath said, sadness creeping into his tone as he ran his fingers through his feathery hair, looking down at her. He offered a soft smile, which seemed to lift some of the despair from her own gaze. “I’d love to offer my company, though, should you wish for it. I run a small bar…”

Giving the information that he’d wanted to, after that, he departed, being left with a promise for her to stop by. As soon as he stepped outside of the door, his shoulders sank and he pulled out a cigarette, brow creasing.

Just what had he done…?

AO3 link

#my writing #Red Embrace Hollywood #red embrace heath #re:h #red embrace markus #ive never posted a chapter to tumblr like this but imma try it out n see how it goes?#lemme know if you read this and want more??

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tenaciouspostfun · 11 months ago

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The Fantasticks

Simple Fun.

By Robert M Massimi. ( Broadway Bob).Published about an hour ago • 3 min read

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The Bergen County Players version of the longest running musical is as simple as the one that I saw back in the late 80's at The Sullivan Street Playhouse in The West Village. With limited staging, Director Ray Yucis is able to move his talented cast about the stage with ease.

Over the years I have personally enjoyed the choice of shows that The Players put forth. The rendition of "Spamelot" was as good a performance that I have seen (I enjoyed it more than my recent visit to the Broadway production!). Much of the cast and crew at this wonderful theatre are as good if not better than most off off Broadway shows of recent. In last nights performance of " The Fantasticks" the audience is treated to very good singing and acting.

The musical is as common as most... boy meets girl, boy loses girl, then boy gets the girl back. Why this particular musical ran for so long is that it's a playful, simple show; one in which any audience age can enjoy. The songs are nothing special in there lyrics, however, they catch the audiences ear. As playful as the acting is, the songs add to the spoof that is this musical. As silly as the plot is, the nature of it is wholesome and fun.

The premise of the story is that the two fathers, Hucklebee (Steve Bell) and Bellamy, the girls father (Peter Downing) scheme a plan to pretend that they hate each other; they even build a wall between one another. In the hopes that the 20 year old boy, Matt (Damon Quattrocchi) will fall in love with the 16 year old Luisa (Grace Marie Callahan). Both Matt and Luisa are young and naive; but their love shines through. Conflicted by their parents, they see each other in the night time where no one can see them.

A plan to have the girl kidnapped by El Gallo (Larry Brustofski) who actually doubles as the narrator is more of a philosopher than a bandit. His saddle rash has put him in retirement as a true bandit, he now postulates about life and love. With the help of two buffoonish characters, Mortimer (Adam Mahonchak) and Henry, The Old Actor (Bob Russell), El Gallo is able to pull off the ruse. All seems to be fine at the end of the first act.

Act two is when it all goes array; the over confident Matt is set straight. Angry, he runs off into the real world. Luisa is upset and turns to El Gallo for advise. The two fathers are now feuding for real this time. All seems lost until it isn't. Even in dark times the lyrics and book by Tom Jones and the music by Harvey Schmidt lock this loose and fun show in tight which makes the two hours plus go quickly.

Even though it is simple, Michael Smith's set design keeps the show interesting. The costumes too are first rate. Thomas Carey Gsell, Olga Garey had very insightful and creative ideas in the dress of the actors. The warm glam lighting of Allan Seward and Jim Lupfer's sound design too works and blends well in this production.

What also works and makes this show memorable is that Callahan and Quattrocchi work and blend so nicely; as do Bell and Downing as the fathers. The four actors make this Fantasticks worth seeing. Ray Yucis keeps these four locked in and a lot of the good things that happen between all the actors is attributed to his great direction.

Robert M. Massimi writes for Metropolitan Magazine, Mann About Town Magazine, Nimbus Magazine and My Life Publications. Member Dramatists Guild.

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About the Creator

Robert M Massimi. ( Broadway Bob).

I have been writing on theater since 1982. A graduate from Manhattan College B.S. A member of Alpha Sigma Lambda, which recognizes excellence in both English and Science. I have produced 14 shows on and off Broadway. I've seen over700 shows

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rin-vana · 2 years ago

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⠀⠀⠀⠀───◌┈┈─── ♡ 𝇄 𝇃 𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐄 𝟕 ┋ 𝐅𝐓. 𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐆𝐄𝐑

⎯⎯ ( 𝙋𝘼𝙄𝙍𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎 ) : Guitarist!Eren x Single Mom!Reader

⎯⎯ ( 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 ) : What went from buying baby food for his friend, to stumbling upon a struggling mother, Eren intrigues himself with the woman. What kind of gentleman would he be if he didn't help her out and reep the benefits?

⎯⎯ ( 𝘾.𝙒. ) : Heavily black coded reader, reader is older than Eren so slight age gap, Eren talks in his head a lot, thick coded reader, needy Eren, begging, unprotected sex, lactation (Eren is lowk a perv), nipple play, mutual masterbation (unknowingly), use of nicknames (sweetheart, sweet thing), vocal dirty talker Eren bec that boy can't shut up, reader lives in a 2 story apartment sorta, body worshipping, fully consensual

⎯⎯ ( 𝙒.𝘾. ) : 10,540

⎯⎯ ( 𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀𝙎 ) : The idea of Eren talking in his head a lot versus verbally came from the amazing @/hellavile who wrote the piece Sketch. The idea resonated with me and literally a light bulb went off in my head like yup, that's so Eren, and I wanted to incorporate that idea into my own writing style bec i had this idea for like 3 years straight but never had the courage or time to write it out until now, and it really made me fall in love with his character in this piece of mine. So enjoy <3

Sex so quick it felt as if it didn't happen. You've been laying in bed for what felt like eternity afterwards because you've grown used to the empty spot beside you after coming back to your senses realizing your boyfriend had up and left while you were asleep, not shocking at all. It was something he had always done to either get weed from a gas station or get IHOP early in the morning, but it felt different, feeling as though it was going to be permanent. It isn't like you haven't had the feeling before, but every part of your intuition was telling you it was. Adding on to your growing headache was your son's wails as the sun's rays hardly peaked through your window, meaning you were forced to get up to tend to him. I'm coming Isaiah, give mommy a minute.

It was still dark in your apartment but you managed to enter your son's room, going over to his crib where he laid in a fit of tears at the ungodly hour of 5 in the morning. You wanted to go back to bed, to forget about where your boyfriend was and taking care of Isaiah, but life had a funny way of not going ways we expect. You pulled your baby out the crib, hoisting him on your hip. Walking to the bathroom was no easy task with a crying little boy throwing a hissy fit at you for not being fed, and he wasn't trying to give you an easy time either. Too much like his father.

”Boy,” you groaned in frustration.”I'mma need you to stop crying so I can clean myself 'n you can be fed. Okay?”

You were talking to him as if he could understand a word you said, but it got him to stop so it didn't linger on your mind much longer than that. You set him down on the counter, undressing him to change his diaper that you did not sign up for when you got pregnant in the first place, the whole process you always found disgusting, but at the end of the day he was your flesh and blood, and somewhat his fathers. Isaiah much resembled you albeit he had your brown skin, but his father's grey, wide eyes and his nose. You couldn't have been happier he got your lips though. As much as you loved him he had absolutely none to save his life.

The process of getting your baby looking right took far too long than you realized, the sun was now fully up at 7:00 in the morning, but you weren't fully up with it. Your bonnet was messily on your head, a few braids spilling out from behind that you had meant to take out today but the world had other plans for you. ”Can you watch your cartoon so I can shower?”

A few babbles left your son's lips, and you took that as an answer not knowing what the hell he said, he was only 10 months old after all, still growing and can't be alone for more than 5 minutes when he's awake.

Your shower was short and getting yourself ready was even shorter. It was gonna be a long day and mentally you just weren't prepared for it.

”Alexa play Clouded by Brent Faiyaz.”

The flat, circular device began playing the song, so you turned off the TV grabbing the rest of your things as well as Isaiah in order to go downstairs while the music softly played in the background. You wanted to forget everything that happened last night, from finding out how much money your boyfriend spent to him selling your things to the mind-numbing sex that lasted longer longer it needed to. It was a lot in one night and you wanted to forget it all over eggs and sausage.

Finally moving downstairs from the loft part of your apartment, you're quick to feel the vibration from your phone and notice a few burnt out cigarettes on the kitchen island. Typical of him. You sat Isaiah in his high chair not too far from you, giving him a little toy to play with to distract him while you read the text message from the sender.

Connie💋 - 7:42 AM

I'm gonna be gone for a bit baby, IDK how long but I wasn't ready to have a kid, I'm sorry and I'll be back when I'm ready.

You knew that was going to be never, so why were you so goddamn frustrated? Not like he was much help anyways, but for him to leave with your money and a baby was heartless, even for him. The fuck is wrong with men. You couldn't help the bubbling rage inside you, but taking it out would only make things worse. Looking into the fridge for something, anything consumable only to find nothing was a big ass slap to the face however.

”Break up with me over text and now eat my damn food? Fucking dipshit,” you heaved the more you stared at your partially empty fridge, then looking back at Isaiah who returned the gaze which big innocent eyes that had not a thought behind them. To the market it is.

With the weather rising, wearing your cotton shorts made of sweatpants material and cropped jacket over nothing but a sports bra was one of the smartest things you've done after fucking with Connie. It was sad to admit your baby looked better than you but it was better than nothing. Getting him into his car seat and pulling off in the direction of your local Giants was silent, but stressful. You had to figure out how you were gonna take care of your baby on your own. Not like you haven't been doing so after Connie showed up to your apartment less and less, but the reality bitch slapped you in the face and you had to deal with it.

You pulled up to the parking lot a little under 15 minutes after leaving your house, getting out to sit in the backseat with Isaiah to give him a quick breastfeed so he would at least not embarrass you in public by crying. It took way too long for your liking to the point where you had to pull him off. ”You can't be eating like that all the time or you gonna be fat like mommy,” you said with the smallest smile looking down at him.

You cleaned yourself up and not too long after that entered the Giants with Isaiah hoisted on your waist again. He played with one of your braids as you chose a cart made for moms like you with small kids, putting him inside the chair that resembled a car seat except with the market's colors. You walked around aimlessly inside, grabbing whatever you needed to make decent meals for yourself and being mindful to grab your son a few things while you were at it. Picking all sorts of frozen meats and fresh vegetables seemed like muscle memory after your mother practically forced you to change your diet for the sake of your baby. It paid off in the end I guess.

You walked down an aisle specific for babies, eyeing all the different toys and miniature furniture made for the smaller humans. You stopped specifically at the section labeled "baby food" looking through each brand and going for whatever looked the most healthiest. You were putting a few of them in your cart one by one until your hand and another's overlapped on the same one accidentally.

”Sorry,” you said rushed to whoever it was, not taking the time to look at them as your hand retracted to grab another bottle.

”You can have it.”

A voice so deep you could've sworn it was an echo and not a real person talking to you. Your face had nearly whipped to whoever it was, eyebrow raising in suspicion at who your hand had brushed against. Standing beside you was a tall looking boy that had brown hair brushing a little past his shoulders, the rest in a very messy bun and stray hairs sprawled across his face. He was young, that much you could tell just from what felt like forever staring at him, but his voice made him sound as if it was aged like fine wine.

”Oh- um.. thank you.”

”Do you always stare?” The question alone caught you off guard, stepping back a little to really get a good look at him. He was wearing a white simple baggy t-shirt messily tucked into black capri pants and black adidas. He had a few bits of jewelry here and there, a thin gold necklace dangling over his chest and a matching gold bracelet to go with it. He not bad looking.

”I don't always stare, jus' in my head.” That was a lie. You were staring at the poor boy longer than any stranger would have, but your ego would never allow you to admit that. Isaiah seemed to have a way of telling when your attention wasn't fully on him because he made a loud noise that partially startled you. You turned towards him to silence him a little by giving him something random in your jacket pocket which happened to be a toy car that somehow got in there.

”I take it he's a handful,” the boy spoke again, looking at Isaiah who is in his seat and smiling at the brown haired male. He returned to looking at you who then looked at him again, smiling awkwardly at that but at the end of the day you couldn't care less. ”He can be but I got it.” No the hell you don't.

The pale boy was staring at you for a little, eyeing you up and down once or twice to get a good at your little get-up. He took in every detail as slowly as possible, carving the image of your shorts riding up exposing your thighs, the cleavage your jacket zipper revealed and the ink you have on your left thigh into his head. To be honest you felt like his gaze was swallowing you whole, so you had to break the eye contact otherwise your body temperature would rise. ”Where's your boyfriend to help you?”

”He's deadbeat and gone.” You scoffed at the mere mention of him, grabbing baby formula and tossing it into the cart suddenly feeling your emotions of anger return from earlier. You noticed how the tall boy's eyes seemed to widen before relaxing to the lazy look he had before, his body now facing you entirely.

His voice was smooth and calm as he spoke. ”Sorry to hear that then.”

”It's no problem honestly, the only good thing the bit- I mean he did leave me is Isaiah here.” You smiled with the words you spoke. Sure you may have hated Connie's guts and wanted nothing more than to beat the shit out of him, but you're happy with your baby nonetheless.

After a semi-long silence of you both skimming over the isle one last time, you decided to speak again with inquiry in your tone. ”I didn't get your nam-”

”Eren.” He beat you to it, his body seeming much closer than before because you could feel his body heat radiating off of him, as well as the faint smell of natural forest lurking the more you breathed in and out your nose. It was intoxicating.

”⌈name⌋.” You replied somewhat shortly after, having the silence engulf you until you got tired of it. ”Do you mind.. helping me with this? Like– moving it into my car or somethin'?”

Eren pondered in his head, his deadpan expression boring into yours as his brain seemed to think of a proper response. He did want to help, you looked so small and fragile like you could break at any moment, and yet he liked it. You needed his help even if you've only known each other for 5 minutes. A hum resonated deep within his chest, vibrating his entire being as he prolonged his answer, the reason being seeing your face impatiently wait for a reply.

You want me to say yes don't you? You're giving it away. ”I'll help. Got nothing better to do.”

Your lips curved upwards into a smile again, your body turning to your cart with Isaiah who was gnawing at his own fingers and eyeing Eren as he began following behind you with his basket in tow full of his own food.

”I really appreciate the help, Eren. I probably woulda struggled on my own.” You spoke and giggled at the same time, but the brown haired boy walking beside you was in his own world of thoughts that were slightly muted in the back of his head.

”It's no problem.”

”Can I ask why you got baby food? You got a girlfriend at home?”

Curious now. We just met.

”Nah,” he replied shortly, turning his head slightly down to look at you as you kept walking forward. ”For a friend of mine. Having his own kid 'n he asked me to buy it for him.”

”So you just helping everybody.”

Eren smiled when you finally looked at him. ”In a way, yes. I don't mind doing it 'cause it's nice watching them from the sidelines.”

”So then why don't you have a girlfriend?”

He thought about it for a minute, his relaxed face seeming so close and so far to yours at the same time, the strong eye contact not being dared to be broken by either of you. It was obvious there was some unspoken tension in the air the more you looked at each other and the more you awaited Eren's answer.

”Never really found time for one.”

Your eyebrows rose and your head tilted to the right a little. ”Is that your real answer or somethin' you made up?”

Do that again. ”You'd have to find out for yourself.”

You finally broke the never ending eye contact that had you in a chokehold, walking forward quicker as to hide your face. Not like any blush would show up regardless but you could definitely feel your face getting hot just from the closeness of your bodies.

With you walking so fast Eren opted to take his time to grab anything else he might need, but the conversation was stuck in his head. He played with the bracelet on his wrist catching up to where you stood now in the snack aisle grabbing all sorts of chips. You felt his eyes on you again but couldn't look at him.

You want to look at me don't you? Why don't you do it?

”Miss ⌈name⌋—”

”Uh-uh boy that make me sound older than what I am.” You both shared a laugh, his somewhat quiet, yours a little louder. Isaiah joined in on the noise making by throwing his toy out the seat. You were about to grab it but Eren got it before you could, handing it to your son who babbled more nonsense.

You need someone to help you with him. I can tell but it's fine. Take all the time you need to ask. ”Then, ⌈name⌋, how old are you?”

You turn to smile at him again, teasing him almost. ”You know it's rude to ask a woman her age right?”

”I'm just curious.”

Eren leaned on the opposite side of the cart where Isaiah was sitting, supporting himself on his elbows and eyeing you as you grabbed more things.

”Late twenties.”

”Not even an exact number but you can ask me about my relationship status?” His grin was nothing short of mischievous and teasing, his nose scrunched and releasing a little at the end of his sentence. ”If it's gonna be like then I'm only in my early 20s.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. ”How early?”

So now you're interested again. What if I make you guess.

”That's something you'll also have to figure out.”

”Stop playing with me,” you laughed to shield your embarrassment from him.

Your little shopping trip went longer than expected thanks to your new found acquaintance. Even if Eren was like a minx he managed to help you as he promised, putting bag after bag in the trunk of your 2015 BMW. It was like nothing for him to lift and honestly it was a turn on. His hand easily grabbed 5 bags at once.

Isaiah was already sitting in the car while the two of you stood outside in the humid air. ”Thank you for the help 'cause I don't know how I've been doing it on my own.”

Eren's lips raise at that, his face showing contemptment. ”Then should I give you my number to continue my "helping"?”

His voice dropped an entire octave as if it was mocking you. You had to readjust your stance in order to respond properly, confidently at that. ”No, you can wait for it though.”

You giggled when his expressions changed to a shocked one as you unlocked your car and sat inside it, starting it at the same time.

”Then how will I find you if I can't contact you?”

She's going to raise her eyebrow again.

You raised your eyebrow at him, long nails hovering over the steering wheel as you looked at him. ”You live around here right?”

”Well, yes, but—”

”Then we'll run into each other eventually.”

Eventually turned into a week because soon enough you ran out of food from eating like a mad woman. Everything in you didn't want to go out, wanting so badly to stay laying on the couch with Isaiah in his playpen in his own little world while you caught up on your shows. Your ankles were swollen from overdoing it the past few days that walking in itself felt like a chore. Maybe I should call him—

Oh, right. You didn't have his phone number.

So now here you were at the same market as last week, grabbing damn near the same thing until this time in the snack aisle you saw the same silhouette as before. Eren this time was wearing a sage green long sleeve loose shirt, however the sleeves pulled up a little below his elbows and light grey pants accompanied with some green and white vans.

What caught you off guard was the glasses on his face. ”You ain't tell me you wear glasses.”

Eren looked up slowly from his bent down position eyeing whatever large bag of chips he was looking at. The same grin he had from last week was on his face when he saw you. Assuming she needs my number.

”I don't actually, these are fake ones that I wear from time to time. But, you didn't tell me you wear sexy maxi dresses on Thursdays.”

Eren watched as you looked down to eye yourself, attempting to flip your now new hairstyle of your wig that looked somewhat styled. The hair seemed to engulf your head almost, but it made you look endearing. You were fogging his head now, pretty woman.

”I don't usually, but I decided to look nice. You don't like it?”

Eren chuckled. ”When did I suggest that? You look beautiful sweetheart.”

You felt your face heat up again and your stomach turn. Why was heat growing in your stomach over a small nickname. Your laugh felt forced and breathy to him, and his smirk only grew in size the more you seemed to shy away. ”So we’re doin' nicknames now.”

You're shy over a few words. You didn't get treated well by him didn't you? He made you so upset. I'll take care of you. ”We can if that's what you'd like.”

He was seriously messing with you. He knew that. He loved how you tried to take little steps to hide from his eyes, he loved how you played with your hands the more the silence dragged on, he especially loved his view.

”That is a one time thing.” You finally spoke, your tone a little broken but it's the best you could do. You felt hot and trapped in your own body, this hasn't happened since your first month of dating Connie.

”Don't like it sweetheart?”

Damn his smirk.

”That's enough out of you Eren.” You were bluffing out your ass at this point, moving on to another aisle but he just had to follow you. He was driving you mad at that point. ”You gonna give me a headache if you keep going.”

I'm sure you won't. You want me to keep going sweet girl. ”But you need my help, right?”

You inhaled deeply before you spoke, turning your head to face him. ”Yeah I might just ask another guy for help if you keep that up.”

Eren's face contorted into surprise, allowing his emotion to show through his face. You wouldn't dare. He moved himself closer to you, his arms crossing with his basket in hand, his face suddenly moving so close you forgot you had to breathe for a second. ”Would you really do that? My heart would be so broken.”

You rolled your eyes and put a hand on his chest, pushing him away slightly leaving him to let out such a sweet, deep laugh. It made you wonder if he was really younger than you or not. You continued walking towards the check out area, getting in a random line with Eren beside you whose eyes were staring so hard you could feel it. I'm just admiring, he told himself, but that was a lie. He couldn't help but to stare at the way your dress hugged your body and how it seemed so soft to the touch, how it developed after your pregnancy, how, if he stood close enough, your behind would be on him and your head on his chest, looking like a real c—

”Eren you're next.”

The boy let his mind wander too far for his own good and he didn't so much as realize it. He just nodded at you, his voice stuck in his throat as he put his own basket of groceries on the conveyor belt. You noticed how he got quiet all of a sudden, giving your son some attention while you waited for him. It wasn't until he finally paid that he looked you in the eyes again, then noticeably trailed his gaze down to your cleavage.

You felt hot again under his gaze, clearing your throat to make him stop. What's with the tension? you ask yourself, walking side by side with him. ”Is something wrong? You staring harder than I did when I first saw you.”

It was meant to be a little funny, you even smiled and was about to force a laugh, but Eren wasn't smiling at all. His face had greed written all over it, and he was well aware of it too. His eyes were more relaxed, lips downturned in a frown. He decided to play along and let a miniscule laugh leave his throat, but his eyes were stuck on you.

”The only thing wrong is how I don't have your number yet,” he finally replied, to which your eyes doubled a little.

You both were standing at your car by time he finished his declaration. Jus' smile 'n laugh it off. You lowered your head smiling like a little school girl, digging in your purse to find your phone and handed it over to him, shifting impatiently as he typed in the digits slowly as if he were messing with you. He handed the phone back over allowing you to see what he put himself as.

”"Personal shopper" with a green heart emoji?”

”Yeah, like that one Nicki Minaj song? It was piggy.. something.”

You smiled even wider. ”Itty bitty piggy? What you know about that?”

Eren's face looked as if he had won a million dollars with the way he gazed upon you, looking happy and all. ”I just know it's by her.. but it seemed to impress you enough.”

You couldn't help yourself. Him going from being a seductive little shit to being adorable wasn't what you were used to. Sure you and Connie had your moments but it hasn't made you feel as strong as now.

”You're going to call me, right?” You questioned him, not knowing 100% if you both had something solid or it was just a few lucky times of meeting. Seeing him hold out his pinkie however took you by surprise.

”I can pinkie promise on it.”

”Are you a five year old?”

With your protests and his coercion, you locked pinkies with him anyway, getting in your car afterwards sealing your departure from one another. Getting home with so much on your mind from today was like being a deer in headlights, and Isaiah wasn't making it easy either with his fits of wanting whatever he wanted at the time.

It was quiet. A feeling that felt foreign after your long day. Your son had already gone to sleep after being fed, so it was almost eerie. It doesn't make sense because you've been living like this frequently after Connie came around less, but having the presence of someone physically there is always better. You were mindlessly scrolling on your phone looking for better things to occupy yourself with, going as far as going through your YouTube playlist because the silence was overbearing.

”It's quiet isn't it,” Eren says, standing not too far from the bed, his face solemn as he sits in his black bean bag, tweaking with the tuning pegs of his guitar, headphones loosely on his shoulders. His eyes are closed as he imagines a melody in his head, one simple that flows and is easy to register as calming. His fingers are finding their way to the strings of the instrument, strumming them softly. His mouth curls into a smile the more his imagination vividly shifts to the guitar suddenly being you, plush thighs enveloping his slender fingers the more he strokes it, a song coming from your lips.

You hum along to the song of choice playing from your phone, allowing the notes to leave your lips as pleasure seeps through your body. Enjoyment taking over your entire being as the music continues, body writhing around more to get comfortable, eyes shut to enjoy the feeling even more of the euphorium that seems to spread. Your fingers try so hard to stop the adrenaline building but they disobey your mind, rubbing at your bud so hopelessly you can't help but to imagine it was Connie that was helping you. His heavy breaths fanning over your face, his body behind yours as you're sprawled across his lap trying to reach your peak.

I'll help you ride out this tune, He says to you. His long fingers are reaching spots inside you, making you cry out an even sweeter song. His long hair— Connie doesn't have long hair, — A strong build is supporting you as you stuff yourself with your fingers. Eren continues moving his digits, curling them to make you emit a wonderful symphony from your lips. He meticulously moves the end of his fingers, head tilted back against the fabric as sweat builds up all over his body, the song becoming so much for him it corrupts his mind almost.

You're trying so hard to submit yourself to your imagination, biting your lip to stop yourself from becoming too loud but you only get louder, back arched from the warmth he provided, his turquoise colored eyes peering down at you, watching your face contort. Connie doesn't have turquoise eyes though, nor brunette hair. Eren. He's on your mind when you feel the most pleasure you've given yourself in a while. Is it wrong? To think of him right after you get his number? You want to say it's wrong, but the sound of lewd squechling clouds your mind the more your fingers feel more like what you imagine to be his.

Brushing against your clit just barely and you're already teary eyed. Your eyes are screwed shut, his hands holding you firmly. He's keeping you down to keep his own composure, stroking and stroking, getting you so close. His lips are parted as he can see you reaching your peak, your ecstasy, as your pretty moans get louder and louder—

You open your eyes to your fingers being coated in your slick, no longer seeing the long strands of brown hair clouding your view, nor feeling the firm front side of him behind you. Your mind echoed Connie, but your body felt someone else, someone who's been in your mind ever since you gave yourself time to think. He's ruining your body and you're allowing it. Your bonnet was now halfway off after being lost in your head, braids sprawled across your sheets, earbuds no longer connected to your ears playing the slow songs you absorbed yourself to.

Eren's jaw is slack, his eyes finally opening from whatever euphoria he got himself into based on your image in his head. He looked down at himself, his shirt slightly raised revealing his v-line, but moreover there was an obvious outline of his erection showing in his sweats. You got me like this. His hair is a mess and his body temperature is different from before, but all he can do is just sit there, that is until he got the idea to call you. He already decided that he wanted you, that he wanted to be the one you could depend on. The brunette grabbed his phone at the thought, opening his phone to the keypad where he typed your number that he managed to memorize after seeing it from your phone.

Personal shopper💚 - 5:27 PM

Can I call you?

You felt the vibrations of your phone at the notification, and looking at your screen you see it was Eren who texted you. You hadn't expected him to ask to call you, but who were you to deny him. Not like you weren't just imagining having sex with him. Your fingers typed away at the screen, replying with a short "sure" and waiting for him to call you, not expecting him to do so immediately. ”Hey Eren.”

”Hey– hope I didn't catch you at a bad time.”

”No not at all actually,” you couldn't hide the smile on your face, why were you getting so riled up over a phone call?

”You sure?,” he breathily laughed midway. ”You sound groggy and out of breath.”

”Isaiah was wearing me out. I should be askin' you that though. What are you doing?” Was it obvious? Did you sound that out of breath? Would he figure out you were touching yourself to him? It was an erotic idea for him to guide you through the phon—

”Oh. 'M not doing anything besides messing with my guitar, nothin' special.” Liar.

”You play?” You couldn't hide the surprise in your tone. You were intrigued and there was no hiding it. You sat up in your bed as if he could physically see he had your full attention.

Eren liked the tone of your voice resonating in his ears, it got him in a better mood even. Aren't you cute. ”Not as much but I can play a decent song when I feel like it.”

”Can you do a song for me then?”

”Haven't played for anyone in a while–”

”But would you do it for me?” You may have been pressing him a little, but your curiosity was getting the better of you and you liked how shy he sounded.

The line on the other end went silent as he contemplated in his head, but it didn't last long. ”Mmm,” he sounded. ”I'll think about it.”

”Can you think quicker?”

You both shared a laugh, one that sounded genuine and filled the silence that was once present. Any awkward feelings were left behind the more you talked, swinging your legs back and forth when you turned to lay on your stomach. You could hear shuffling from Eren's end and heard the sound of sheets ruffling, assuming he was in bed.

”What do I get in return for doing this exactly?” Think real hard about how you're going to repay me and I might give you what you want.

”Would inviting you over work? 'cause I'm not gonna have Isaiah on saturday.” You figured the timing couldn't be better, and you wanted to see him outside of the market. Being a little selfish never hurt, and it's not like you're in a relationship anymore.

Eren smiled despite you not being able to see it, eyeing the instrument beside his bed. ”Works for me. I'll finish the song for you by then.” You're going to do it again.

You raised your eyebrow, a puff of air coming out your nose. ”A song for me? You'd do that?”

”Since you asked like a sweetheart I figured why not.” He was going to be the death of you.

”You stay playin' too much.” You had to play it off otherwise you would've felt your body hot. You weren't easy to crack but this white boy was doing wonders to you for no reason.

He smiled imagining your reaction, eyes relaxed as he focused on the sound of your voice. It'll sound even sweeter soon. Make sure you forget about your ex.

”I'll see you in a few days then.”

”I'll be looking forward to my song then Eren.”

The wait felt like forever actually. The week couldn't have gone by fast enough and you were growing restless, even though you two have been talking in between. Working didn't help either and you were anticipating the time you two were going to spend together. You managed to always work yourself up over small, or big things, making it one of the biggest stresses until it's solved. Right now, your stress is him. Of course not hearing back from your ex at all was worrying at some points, but you knew it was coming eventually, and now have a better distraction from all that.

Once saturday did finally roll around was when you dolled yourself up more than usual. You got to take your braids out thanks to boredom and styled it completely differently, putting on your best lashes and smearing minor hints of makeup on your face. Was it a lot for one guy? Possibly, but it passed the time.

It wasn't long before the doorbell rang, and opening it revealed Eren with a large black case in the shape of a guitar slung across his shoulder. He looked down at you, a smug smile across his face and lidded eyes that hadn't the slightest expression behind them. He was hard to read sometimes. You let him inside your home, not that big but still bright and open.

”Y'have a nice place,” Eren commented dryly, stepping inside and taking off his shoes at the front door.

”I decorated a majority of it. A woman's touch was all it needed to look nice.” It was meant as a funny comment, but his face remained as stoic as ever. Did something happen?

His body had approached yours, and suddenly you felt intimidated by how close he was. Eren leaned down slightly in order to get closer, looking you up and down and intaking every bit of you. You were wearing a dress that stopped at your mid-thigh, the cleavage being low but you threw on those cropped hoodies that stopped at your breasts so even still you were somewhat exposed, and the sight was in his face. ”So your ex didn't help?”

Eren finally stepped away from you after he spoke, following the open floor plan to your living room, sitting on your sofa with you following behind, sitting near him but keeping a bit of a distance. ”He didn't but he wouldn't 've helped that much anyways. But, how have you been?”

You made yourself sound as polite as possible, and to Eren he couldn't fight back his lips curling upwards, his hair flowing with him. It wasn't in the man bun, it was more like a half-up half-down style with a small ponytail and instead of strands sitting on his face, his hair was more free. ”Decent, getting by. How about you?”

”I could say the same. With Isaiah at his grandmother's I can get some peace.”

I could've helped. ”I was wondering why it was so quiet in here,” he commented.

Eren began pulling out the guitar from the bag, and it seemed so small compared to his larger build but you knew it'd be big if it were you that was playing. He flung the strap around his head and positioned himself comfortably on your couch, leaning back and spreading his legs partially. Is he trying to get under your skin on purpose?

”It took me a bit but hope you like it.”

”I'm sure I will.”

He was hesitant, that was blatantly clear enough. His fingers were still against the strings of the guitar and his face looked uneasy with the amount of times he readjusted himself. He knew he was taking too long to start which is why he said something. ”Sorry, like I said, haven't played for someone else in a while.”

”Take your time then,” you reassured him, placing your hand on his shoulder and rubbing lightly. His body was tense underneath when you first touched him, but he let himself go the more you rubbed.

He finally began tugging at the thin strings, a gentle sound emitting from the instrument that filled the silence. His eyes were fixated on the guitar, but yours were stuck on his face. Did he always have that dimple on his left cheek? You were almost lost in his features until the tune registered in your ears. It was soft, a higher pitch on some parts, but it became a slow melody after that. He was actually good. You found yourself bobbing your head a little to it, glancing at the way Eren's fingers gently struck the instrument, how they seemed to so easily know what note to hit, how to direct the tips of them. Did he always have long fingers like that?

You're so dumbfounded at the features you didn't allow yourself to notice before that you didn't see how Eren was now looking at you, contempt with the way your eyes were glued to his hands, and feeling at ease with your hand still on him. It's not the silence he was expecting but he'd take it if it meant you were right there.

Your hands are moving up, it has him a little nervous and even tense but he seems to melt like putty when you stroke his hair just once. His bottom lip is a little tucked in and the tune of his little song quickened, but his eyes are practically burning into your face the longer you look away, and you enjoy it. You felt the power you had in the situation, making him wait longer than he had to. The tension is already becoming suffocating, and you can hardly hold eye contact for shit, but you want to so badly. You're giving in faster than you can think about it, meeting his eyes feeling like you were in a fever dream.

”You're really good at it.”

Eren had to force a small, breathless laugh to even respond. ”You had me worried with how quiet you were.”

”Just keep playing.”

And that he did. For once he was the first to look away and concentrate on his guitar while you stared like a fucking creep when you just couldn't stop yourself. You were drinking every bit of his features including the softness of his hair. He's trying so hard to avoid your face, but you touching him was making him shift. Wanna fuck me so bad huh. You're touching him in all the right places, your fingers with acrylics on them gliding to his mid-thigh the more he plays, the song becoming much lower. He can't help but look at you now. Not with the way you're practically begging for his dick like a greedy whore.

”Y'really know how to tease someone,” he rasps, voice low at how close yall were. Your plump lips were curved upwards in a sly smile, suddenly retracting your hands as if you weren't all over him. You raise a brow at him as if he hasn't done that to you. ”I have experience.”

There you go again. The guitar is long forgotten by now, leaning against your couch. His body is turned towards yours, his build feeling oppressive with the way it towers over you, and you love it. His arm is rested against the back of the sofa, the other one suddenly grabbing your hand it nearly brings you from your senses. He's putting it on his chest, sliding it up and down his body and now you're melting.

”Can ya show me that experience 'cause right now I wanna kiss you so fuckin' bad.”

You're giving in to him as soon as he gets the words out his mouth, pressing your lips against his and taking control of your own hands again by running them all over his body. Eren isn't hesitant to do the same, pulling you forward so it's skin against skin. He's too shy to admit he likes the contrast of tones and even more shy to admit that he's giving in to every bit of you. His mouth fits like a puzzle against yours and it's over when your tongue brushed against his lips, he's already parting them to allow his own tongue to further itself inside your mouth.

Saliva dribbled down his chin and it felt too soon when you both departed to regain oxygen, his pupils blown with clear need. His cheeks are five shades of red just from a kiss and it has you rubbing your thighs together. ”Touch me, please,” you mumble in between the exchange of spit. He's doing as you said obediently, a different kind of feeling running through your body at his hands roaming your curves and the fact that he listened.

Soon enough you're letting out sounds you hadn't made genuinely in what felt like forever, pulling away from his face to catch your breath. It gave you time to really think, to really process what was going on. You've only known Eren for like two weeks and you're all over him. There's doubt in your face the more you pull away, wiping your wet mouth the longer you avoid his eyes, the same ones you've dreamed about while fucking yourself.

Eren couldn't let this chance pass, not when he had you like this. Lips swollen and damn near straddling him. Not yet, don't stop baby, please, need you right now. He's intertwining his hand into yours, fingers curling in between your own so he can pull you back towards him. It was gentle, a stark contrast to before but it had you back in his embrace instantly. ”C'mon, lemme take care of you. You deserve it so much.”

”You want it that bad with me?” You couldn't help but inquire, searching his face for bits of truth because the last thing you'd want is to be used again. You were scared.

He suddenly lifted you from the couch after scooping you up by the ass into his arms, holding you up by the underside of your thighs. ”Do you really–”

”Fuck, yes, been wanting it from ya for a while.” Let me fuck you how you deserve to be fucked. Eren's lips are on yours again as he walked, carrying you upstairs until your back suddenly hit a wall. Your tongues are practically dancing with each other. Your breath hot and so damn rigged. His body is pressed against yours so close you can feel something hard against your leg. His chest heaving up and down. He's keeping you up far enough just to kiss you deep enough. Fuck he's taking over your damn mind.

”Which way,” he paused just to kiss you again. ”..is your room.”

”Door on the left.”

You're out of breath but you still want more which is a damn shame. You can feel your panties become soiled the more you try to move in his grasp. He's already opening your door by then and carefully laying you on your mattress, hovering above your body and looking so far into your eyes you're sure he knows every bit of thought you've had about him.

Your hands are moving on their own traveling up his shirt, tugging at it eagerly to get him to take it off. Eren can't help but grin at this, helping you pull his shirt off and toss it somewhere, but he eyed your dress as if he hated it. ”Y'want me to take it off?” He asked as he eyed you further, hands sliding up your waist and following the outline of your body until you said yes. He pulled it off you and as soon as he did he pulled down your bra. ”Eren wait—”

”I can't wait anymore, need to have you. Please let me [name].” Eren's eyes met yours and every bit of logical thinking got thrown out the window. He looked so damn needy with his hair tussle and swollen lips, hands not stopping the constant kneeding to your thick flesh, all of which he's trying not to get carried away in. His eyes look a much darker shade of turquoise, and in that moment you felt like he'd tear you apart the more he looked at you. ”Go ahead, 'n try not to disappoint me.”

”I don't plan on keeping you bored,” and as quick as he finished his lips latched on to your nipple, a choked whine leaving your mouth because his mouth felt so wet and warm against your skin it was addictive. He kept flicking his tongue and sucking eagerly while undressing himself, and seeing the imprint in his boxers made you whine even more. You needed him, falling into his trap of touches and harsh licks, your thighs locking around his waist to grind yourself on him.

”I know baby, I wanna lose myself to you too, but there's something I wanna try.”

”And what's that?”

He answered your question by placing his mouth on your other nipple. Your mind was in a daze at the built up pressure of your chest suddenly feeling relief and it only then hit you what he wanted to try. He was milking your breasts fucking dry and you were more turned on by it. You had to rub your cunt against him, the ache was becoming unbearable because of the mess he was making on your chest. ”Eren, shit, Eren please, I can't take anymore waiting, need you in me.”

He let go of your nipple with a pop sound resonating in your ears, his mouth a complete mess from indulging himself in his filthy fantasy of sucking your tits and getting something out of them. Really it was something he should've been embarrassed about but thinking of the way your body reacted to it didn't help, he needed you in his mouth, in his hold. He can't let another second pass by where you're not near him chanting his name.

”I wanna savor this a little longer [name], be a little patient with me.”

You're nodding along and even still he sends a firm slap to the side of your thigh where your tattoo is and a small yelp leaves your mouth that distracts you long enough so he can finally pull down his boxers. His length springs free from its confinement and you can't help but let your jaw slack a little.

”God you're bigger than I imagined.”

You thought about us fucking haven't you. ”You've imagined my size?” He lets out a small chuckle.

”Don't get too cocky,” you responded, but Eren wasn't going to let your comments slide, yanking your underwear down your thighs and throwing them across the room, eyeing your mound having a starved haze over it. It wasn't enough for him though, he's greedy and selfish with what he wants.

”Spread your legs,” he orders and you can feel the heat rush to your face, spreading yourself open until his hand pushes your thighs back further, having your pussy sprawled out for him like a meal. His eyes are locked on to how wet you were, reaching a hand down to allow his fingers to spread you more. You couldn't help but giggle at his enthralment, keeping yourself open for him, wiggling your hips just a bit. His fingers spread your puffy lips open and it was then he lost it. Your cute hole fluttered open as more of your slick coated your inner thighs, your clit poking out just for him.

Eren finally began to line himself up to your cunt, lightning sparks in your body the longer he looked at you and the more he rubbed his tip against your already engorged clit, a moan withdrawing from your throat.

”You gonna let me in sweet thing?” You shuddered as goosebumps appeared on your skin, nodding your head slowly because coming up with a coherent response felt impossible. He lowered his head towards your neck, biting and kissing and suckling on your skin as he finally eased the tip inside you.

”Ng..ghh fuck,” you inhaled sharply the more he pushed on, but he suddenly stopped and you whined despite feeling so damn full already. You can feel his breath staggering against your neck as it trails further up to your lips, capturing them in another one of his overpowering kisses that you submerged yourself into. He continued to push himself in again and that's when you felt the pressure to a specific spongy spot within you. He curved a good ways to the right and inside you it was the perfect amount of pressure that had you hyperventilating.

”Let me know when you're ready, y'look like you struggling.” He kept his eyes on yours the entire time, watching your cute face contort. Eren had a guilty pleasure for watching you struggle to take him. He was big and he knew it. Your mouth had been quivering, trying to adjust to the mere thickness of him, but seeing his face written with knowing had you fixing your own. ”Just.. start moving.”

Your command had been answered with a breathless chuckle once Eren finally started moving his hips back and forth at a slow pace. Every time he bottomed out you felt a painfully good pressure in your stomach. Low mewls resonated in your throat as he kept going, adjusting to both his size and the pace of friction he set. Eren's mouth hung ajar, eyes lidded but locked onto the way he slid in and out of you. You're so goddamn wet.

”Fuck.” He couldn't keep his hands off you any longer. It'd be a waste not to touch you when you're underneath him after all. His body leaned forward until you were face to face, his hands drifting towards yours and guiding them to wrap around his neck. ”I-... want you to hold onto me, alright?” You gave him a meek nod as an answer until you felt a shift in pace. You were only just getting adjusted to the slow and steady tone but with his size going like this had you feeling hazy and lightheaded. You needed him closer to you, feeling his skin against yours, feeling like you'd lose yourself to the feeling of his dick without it.

”Oh my God—” you rasp and claw at his back to ease some of the pleasure, even if it's just by a little bit, but no matter how close you pull him to your body it's not enough. Losing yourself on me, too fuckin' cute.

Eren loves how vocal you are, and it's all for him. The way you shudder when his hips snap against your pussy, the way you squeeze him to damn near suffocation, he has to bite his lip to stop himself from moaning like a bitch. His lips meet the crevice of your neck, his teeth beginning to tug at your skin as a way to muffle his moans, but you feel them vibrate in your body and it has you digging your nails into his back.

”Just like that.. keep grabbing me, not goin' anywhere sweetheart.” The way his voice sounded right at your ear had you whining again. He sounded so fucking sexy. All you can do is just nod.

You're grasping at the chance for air when his pace increases. At that point it felt like he was just so goddamn deep inside you to the point where it even stung a little. ”'Ren.. Eren. Hurts– too deep,” you plead to him, a hand of yours leaving his back to push his hips away a little, but his hand is quick to swat it away and hold your waist. ”Can't help it, you keep pulling me in. Feels so good I can't help it.. fuuck.”

The best you can do is sniffle as a sob leaves your lips. It sounded so beautiful to Eren though, like the beautiful melody that's been playing in his head on repeat. He needed to hear more from you because you sounded so pretty, so cute. But he couldn't see your face like this when he knows it's probably tear stained and fucking slutty, so he moves his head from your neck to get a better look at you, and he couldn't be more right. Your eyes were glued to the way his pelvis met yours, tears on your cheeks from the way it felt like he was in your stomach. Fuck. ”You look so pretty like this. Pretty little face and the prettiest pussy in the world.”

He left you speechless at his choice of words. They were so filthy but they felt so good, just as good as the pressure in your pussy. How could a man fuck like that? Like him? Can't tell if you love him or his dick, or both. His eyes stayed lidded and locked on you, but you looked like you were losing yourself, so he tapped your cheek. ”Don't go passing out on me.”

You giggle with little breath, gasping in between but your body is giving itself away, jerking and writhing feeling heat pool in your clit. ”Sorry, 'm getting close. Mmmh.. I'm gonna cum soon if you keep moving like that.”

”Then I wanna see your face, wanna see how beautiful it is. Wanna see it when you cum.” It's all he can say because there's an eagerness to seeing you unravel. He felt it too, feeling himself tighten and ache feeling the way your warmth squeezed him just right. Shit, forgot a condom. At that point Eren didn't care, he'd just pull out. You didn't seem to care either, your whines getting louder and your hand going to push at his waist again once he startes fucking you harder than before. You missed being able to hold him the way you were before, but you also liked the view of him looming above you, exposed chest, v-line and all.

”Oh fuck, oh my God, Eren�� shit.” Your free hand starts gripping the sheet beside your head feeling yourself cum and spasm on his cock, biting your lip as you moan.

Eren felt the new sudden feeling of something creamy on him, looking at where the two of you connected and saw your essence seep out of your hole as he kept fucking into you. The sight had him on the edge, body sweating and full of so much damn regret as he pulled out. He's desperately wrapping a hand around his shaft and fucking his fist, head tilted back trying to imagine that he was still inside you. The sight was so sexy, to watch him get off to the thought of your pussy still hugging him, even as your breath was still ragged and mind hazy you wanted to remember that forever.

”So fuckin' beautiful– ahh. Your ex didn't deserve this perfect pussy, this perfect body— fuck!” He's so frustrated that he has to finish like this, but he's the one that gets to cover you in his cum and the thought alone gets him spurting thick ropes of white onto your stomach and clit, some dripping down onto your partially gaping hole. God your ex. If he could rub it in his face it'd probably make him cum again that he gets to fuck you better than him.

You're admiring the way he keeps leaking onto your body, white pools glistening against your skin. You were breathless and the space where your legs met your pelvis were starting to ache the longer you held them in this position so you put them down. By doing that you didn't think you'd get his attention though. ”Who said we was done, sweet thing? Put your legs back up f'me.” Go ahead and arch your eyebrow.

An eyebrow of yours raised, looking him up and down when all he did was just look at you with that same cocky smirk you remember from the market. ”Oh really?” You weren't gonna back out now, and in all honestly Eren wasn't either. He wanted to test your limits, see and learn what your body likes.

The night before seemed like forever ago, or a messy dream at that, because before you knew it the sun was shining through your black-out curtains signifying that a day had passed. The aching where your legs met your pelvis couldn't be more overwhelming, but the sleep you got distracted you from the dull ache. Horny fucker.

Originally you were meant to go sex-free for a while, but clearly your mind and pussy had other plans. Not like you had much room for regret though because it was one of the best experiences of your life. Eren. He was so much better than you could've imagined, he even changed your bed sheets for you while you showered independently. You smiled reminiscing on the aftermath, but you wanted to see him, see his pretty face again, hear his voice. Should I be like this?

You turned over only to be met with an empty bed, sitting up from your laying position to study your empty room. You didn't hear anything, nor felt movement in your own bed so you wondered if he left. Damn, just how good did he fuck you for you to not hear him leave? Even still, there was a high chance he did since he didn't live with you, and it more or less felt like a one night stand.

You shouldn't feel so disappointed, but at the same time you want to call him and ask him where he is, listen to him talk, just be with him. But he wasn't there, in the same fashion that Connie wasn't there either. For fucks sake. One pretty guy enters your life and he's already imprinted on your mind. You're sitting up by then, legs dangling over the edge of your bed as you sit and contemplate whether you should try to find out where he is, however what if he didn't answer and your apartment is actually empty? You didn't want to admit you were scared, but the questions spiraling in your head made your anxiety spike.

Not again, not like this shit again. You can't let yourself be fucked over by another guy again, you've already been at that point. Being so lost in your own head you got up from your bed, motioning towards your connected bathroom to fix your appearance because you'd be damned if you let yourself be a mess over another person. Except you stop, standing in front of your bathroom door as the strong smell of food hit your nose. Who the fuck?

You don't remember eating anything last night, so you blamed the smell on your hunger, but just as you're about to step fully in your bathroom it hits you stronger until you're already gravitating towards your bedroom door. Opening it, you're met with the sound of your son's giggling. He shouldn't be home yet so how is he inside? Instinct tells you to investigate, rushing down the stairs and seeing the bare backside of a tall man with brown hair sprawled down his neck and shoulders.

”Morning sweetheart.”

Your feet move you forward, eyes a little wide and all. ”But you– how did Isaiah…?”

You can't even finish the question, your voice trailing off as you try to connect the dots. Meanwhile Eren had turned to face you, placing the cooking utensil down from making fried potatoes. ”A lovely woman who looked like you brought him home. Told me I was handsome too.” All you do is scoff while going over to your babbling son, picking him up out of his high chair to hold him.

You didn't mean to stay silent but you're still trying to make it make sense. First you thought he was gone and now here he is cooking you breakfast. Who the hell sent this man to me? ”First of all she lied,” you retorted in an attempt to hide your slight awkwardness. It was Eren's turn to scoff at that. ”Secondly, that was my mother.”

”I guessed that much because she has wonderful taste.” You look him up and down, not being able to hold a wide smile back when you know fully well it was because of the reddish marks on his neck and collarbone. Pretty thing was worrying about me. Eren could tell by how your body language gave you away. You came downstairs tense, but now you look lax.

”I'm assuming you hungry.” He begins motioning to two plates he somehow manages to find in your unorganized kitchen. ”Yes, please I'm starving.”

It's when he begins making your plate that a ring resonates throughout your apartment. Must be mom. You set Isaiah back down in his high chair and went towards the front door, assuming your mother had possibly forgotten to drop off something that belonged to your son since she seemed to do that a lot, so you don't care to make yourself presentable since she's seen you at your worst.

”Ma what you–” You spoke before opening the door, but the last person you expected to see standing there just had to be there. Just fucking had to be. Eren must have somehow known you were just standing there based on your silence, because he came over to stand behind you with his hands in his pockets assuming your mother was standing there. You both couldn't have been more wrong, and you really really wished you were.

#eren x reader #eren smut #eren jeager smut #aot smut #aot x reader #aot fanfiction #aot eren #attack on titan eren #attack on titan #aot x you #eren x black reader #eren x black y/n #aot x black reader

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snoozepotato · 2 years ago

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We’ll Be Fine -1- (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader)

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the original source material or any of its characters.

A/N: I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors I missed, characters may be a lil ooc because I just love big men being soft! Ghost brain rot since 2009🔥💀🔥 I AM SORRY!

she/her pronouns

Congratulations, I have gifted you a younger brother for this story!

Category: slice of life, slow burn, mutual pining

Warnings: swearing, eye contact, mild shenanigans

Masterlist

Summary: You arrive at base to pick up your brother, he does a terrible job at introducing you to his friends.

Part 1

~Kiddos~

Standing near the entrance to the facility you thoughtlessly bounced back and forth on the balls of your feet, an outlet for your slowly growing anxiety. ‘Technically’ you're a government employee, it’s complicated... Despite that being here leaves you feeling uneasy, most places like this still do.

After an extended deployment overseas your brother had finally returned home, and you had promised to cook him dinner. So here you are, waiting for him to make an appearance in front of the military base he currently calls home. It's been a dreary day but the dense clouds are parting, making way for a steady building sunset.

‘At least it’s not TOO cold,’ you suppose, allowing a false relief to wash over you. You were never very good at dressing for the weather, which comes with the ‘indoor person’ territory you radiated. What you lacked in physical prowess you made up for in technical abilities, at least that's what you tell yourself.

A brisk wind suddenly strikes your back, the thin sweatshirt just barely enough to stop nature's oncoming assault. Stuffing your hands into the front pocket, you fumble with your keys in an attempt to keep distracted.

‘Should have just waited in the car,’ brooding, you roll your eyes before catching sight of a group heading outside.

Curious eyes scanning the lot of them as they exit the building, spotting your brother's large figure somehow dwarfed by the hulking men beside him… Suddenly feeling very small.

Your eyes lock momentarily with a stranger's murky stare, deep brown orbs stricken gold by the fading rays of light. Dark grease paint smudging out the skin left exposed by his balaclava.

‘That's different,’ your thoughts halt, shoulders stiffening involuntarily realizing you're just staring at this man who you don't know. Quickly averting your gaze, attention shifting to greet your brothers steadily approaching figure.

Large hands grasped your forearms before pulling you into a crushing hug. Wrapping your arms around him stiffly, you let out a breathy laugh.

“This is my older sister, and I’m off to have a home-cooked meal,” he declares, snatching the keys from your hand and making a dash for the car. Abandoning you on the sidewalk.

“Debug,” you correct and turn to leave, attempting to place the now empty appendage back into your pocket but are stopped mid-motion.

Another lad seems to materialize in front of you, your small hand now clasped in his much larger one. Looking up you take him in for a moment, gray eyes cast in the warm light of the evening sun. Brown hair cropped into a short Mohawk, and a handsome stubbled jaw.

“Hello, lass, call me Soap,” The Scotsman gushes, your hand still loosely resting in his grasp. He shoots you a wicked smile resonating with a boyish charm.

Stony facade you'd been maintaining cracking in the slightest, gaze softening before retracting your hand. You turn, giving them a curt wave, a gentle smile. Enough socializing for one day!

“Bye kiddos,” Words stumble awkwardly out of your mouth before promptly following after your brother, who is waving you down from the now-open driver's side window. Mentally cursing yourself for being such a colossal dork…

“Kiddos,” Soap repeats blankly.

Having rushed off immediately after Soap's introduction, Ghost can’t help but wonder if they scared her… If he scared her.

They watch as she reaches for the passenger side door, car abruptly lurching backward leaving the handle just out of her reach. Very much unamused she is left standing there with a blank expression, arms slack.

Taunting laughter can be heard across the lot as the action is repeated twice more before she is finally allowed to enter the vehicle.

“Fuckin wanker,” Ghost irks scrutinizing the juvenile interaction.

“Feel kinda bad for her,” Soap chuckles

Thanks for reading <3

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idungoofed · 2 years ago

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Peli’s Wedding!

Din Djarin x Fem

Yeah yeah I know I know the crest is gone but it is alive in my head and how is one meant to get ready for a wedding in a teeny tiny N-1 Starfighter huh? HUH? (I am ignoring your screams for literally anywhere else.)

It’s Peli’s wedding! She’s getting married to Mok Shaiz’s Twi’lek majordomo, (As far as I can see he never got given an official name, and I thought it was funnier to work with that than use a name generator) and you’re invited along with Din and Grogu as well as some other familiar characters. Any wedding traditions I have pulled from my own personal experiences, and weaved it into my very limited knowledge of the Star Wars universe it is what it is. This had been super fun to write, and I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Fluff, just so much fluff. Soft!Din, helmet comes off, no use of Y/N, allusions to sex but no actual smut, and some fictional alcohol consumption.

Word count: 3,872

___

“Why do we have to go to this thing again?” Din sighed outside the fresher door, his voice coming out modulated beneath the helmet.

“Stop calling it ‘this thing’! It’s Peli’s wedding/” You say for what felt like the 100th time that day.

“And who’s she getting married to?” Ask’s Din, his tone challenging.

“The Twi’lek guy that used to be Mok Shaiz’s majordomo-“

“You don’t even know his name!” He exclaimed.

You could imagine him outside the door now, finger pointing as he accused you.

He wasn’t wrong, you had no idea what he was called; for some reason that guys name just wouldn’t stick in your head.

But that wasn’t important, you were all going for Peli anyway, and that was that.

It had been a surprise when you got the invite on the holopad, you’d seen Peli since your last visit to Mos Espa but she hadn’t let on she was even dating the Twi’lek, let alone wanting to marry him.

But you weren’t blind, and you saw the spark between them in the aftermath of the Pyke Syndicate showdown and Boba’s rancor destroying half of Mos Espa. They were an unlikely couple with Peli’s fiery nature and no nonsense personality, and his air of grandeur and love of the finer things in life, but you know all too well that opposites attract.

You’d been with Din for just over a year now, after he got you out of a sticky situation with a sore-loser Wookie and a game of sabacc.

Since then you took on the role of baby sitter to his adorable green kid, occasional mechanic, and what you liked to think a giant loveable pain in his arse.

You were a talkative ray of sunshine compared to Dins brooding quietness. (And he realised quickly his menacing, helmed stare had zero effect on quelling your bouts of talkativeness.

He could of gotten rid of you, but he didn’t, because under all his sighing, arm-crossing and unimpressed head tilts at you, he would miss you too much if you were gone. The Crest felt brighter to him with you around, and Din had needed that light when things got dark.

You’d seen Din through some rough times what with losing the kid, getting him back, and then watching the heartbreak of Din giving him up to the Jedi.

You grew closer after that, seeking comfort from the gaping green hole that was left in both your hearts. The simmering attraction between you two seemed to break like a dam, and one night on the Crest, after too many spotchkas and reminiscing of your time with the child, you ended up in a tangle of limbs in Dins small bunk. It was the only good that came of the loss of Grogu- you and Din realising how much more you needed each other now.

Then who showed up in the middle of a war ground in Mos Espa? Grogu. Of course. Saving his father with the force at the last minute once again. Your happy family together and complete.

—

You finished the last few touches of your hair having opting to wear it down for once, and rechecked your make up.

The dress your wore was made of a silky green material that hugged your curves in all the right places. It was the first time you were getting to wear it, having impulsively bought it in a market on Coruscant.

You looked at yourself in the fresher mirror one last time.

“Are you almost done?” Called Din through the door, “We’re going to be late if we don’t-“

His words died in his throat by you pressing the button to open the door.

You stood before him, slightly taller than he was used to with your heels on, and looking more beautiful than he had ever seen you.

Dins silent stare unsettled you, and you started worrying about your appearance, your hand coming up to fiddle with the tendrils of hair around your face.

“What?” You ask, brow crinkling. “Is it too much?”

Din took two slow steps towards you, his body crowding yours. “You look… beautiful.” He said, his hand coming up to cup your face as his other came to the lip of his helmet and pulled it off.

You only caught a glimpse of his handsome face before his lips claimed your own. His hand that was on your face traveled down, landing on your hip, his thumb making small sensual circles.

“You know, we could just go to the evening reception?” He said pulling his lips away. You’d gotten to know the look in his eyes all too well over the past months, and you couldn’t deny it was tempting, but you hadn’t spent the best part of the last hour making yourself up for nothing.

You bring your hands up to his face, and lean in close as if to kiss him, but before your lips connect you pull back. “What? And risk ruining my hair? I don’t think so.”You pat his cheek. “Down boy.” You can’t help the smirk that spreads across your face at the sight of Din rolling his eyes. You duck under his arms out of reach, but not before catching sight of the resigned smile on his face.

You walk over the where Grogu was currently napping, gathering him in your arms and transferring him to his floating crib. He coo’d in his sleep as you fuss over a little ribbon you’d fashioned into a bow tie, and attached to his clothing under his chin.

“Okay, I think we’re ready.” You say when satisfied with the child’s appearance and turn back to Din, his helmet firmly back in place. “Just one thing before we go.”

“What?”

“You really wearing that?” You ask, gesturing to his usual attire of brown flight suit and shiney beskar armour.

Din crosses his arms over his chest, his weight shifting to one leg as his visor stares back at you menacingly.

“Just kidding!” You say as you walk past him and out the shop door, unable to hold in your burst of laughter.

You wouldn’t have him any other way.

It doesn’t take long for you and Din to walk to the wedding venue - Peli’s ship yard. Although it was hard to even recognise the place with all the decorations.

The bulk of the yard had been cleared out, which basically meant any ship parts had been pushed to the sides. Streamers were hung from one side of the yard to the next, while colourful flowers adorned the walls and sat in anything that could be used as a container.

In the middle of the yard two rows of chairs sat facing a small makeshift podium adorned with an floral arch. Two pit droids were currently tugging a chair back and forth in an argument over how many were needed for each row.

There were a number of other guests milling around in the yard already, many you didn’t know, however there were a few you did.

The Frog Lady you and Din had helped get to Trask was standing to one side, her husband next to her as their three froglets played at their feet.

You wave at them and as soon as the now awake Grogu spotted them began to fuss in his crib wanting out.

“Okay kid, you can say hi.” You say, picking him up and setting him on the ground, but in an after thought say, “But try keep clean, don’t forget you’re the flower kid!”

“And no trying to eat them.” Din says to Grogu, wagging his finger which earns him a long-suffering look from the green child.

Making the most of a second alone, Din wraps his arms around your waste and pulls you to his chest. “You really do look stunning today, cyar’ika.”

You place you hands on the cool metal of his chest plate, smiling and look up into his visor. “Thank you, Din, you’re looking particularly shiny today.”

He huffs a laugh out at your silly compliment, shaking his head.

You hear your names called from across the yard. You turn and leave Dins embrace, and spot Boba and Fennec walking over to you.

Boba was in his usual attire of green and red Mandalorian armour, although you could tell it had been polished recently and there were fewer dents that usual. Fennec, was attracting stares from the male - and some female, guests. Looking stunning in a black dress, not too dissimilar to her usual attire, it had a practical style with thigh splits for easy movement and where you could see glimpses of multiple weapons holstered, and a high neck and capped sleeves.

“Boba! Fennec!” You greeted them, pushing Boba’s out-stretched hand out the way and going in for a hug, before moving on to Fennec.

He was another man in your life who you refused to let their cold exterior intimidate you. You saw yourself how he coo’d over his rancour; he was a big softie under that beskar.

As the four of you made small talk the droids started gathering the guests towards the empty chairs ready to begin the ceremony.

You turned to get Grogu, who to all appearances was attempting to lick one of the froglets arms.

“Grogu!” You scold, scooping him up, luckily before Frog Lady saw. “Was eating half of their unborn siblings not enough?” You whisper to him.

Grogu stared up at you, the picture of innocence.

“Yeah, you’re lucky you’re so cute.”

___

The ceremony went off without a hitch, Grogu did his job perfectly, leaving a little trail of petals down the isle. Well almost perfectly - he did stuff a few handfuls in his mouth as he went, much to the amusement of guests.

The word beautiful didn’t do Peli justice, she looked straight up bad ass as she strutted down the isle. She wore a white fitted jumpsuit and topped it off with a matching blazer with black lapels. Her curly hair bounced around her face and was adorned with tiny white flowers.

You almost made it through the first set of vows before you crumbled, the joyous emotions of the day finally getting to you. Luckily you weren’t the only one, a Jawa in the opposite row seemed to be taking it pretty hard.

Din glanced at you, doing a double take when he saw your teary eyes. “Mesh’la are you really crying?” He whispered, not unkindly.

You nodded, grabbing the only thing you could to try mop up your face - Dins cape.

He let out an amused sigh next to you. “Do you have to use that? You’re gonna get it all snotty.”

“I just love love, you know?! Look at them, they’re just so happy together!” You hiccup, eyes on the bride and groom.

Din didn’t take his eyes from your face, bringing his hand up he caught a stray tear on your cheek with a gloved finger. “Yeah, they really are.”

Confetti showers around you as Peli walks back down the isle, hand in hand with her new husband. You still didn’t know his name as Grogu let out a loud gurgle during the vows causing you to miss it again.

Grogu squeals on Dins lap as he tries to catch the paper flecks in his tiny hands.

You hadn’t been able to stem your tears yet, you couldn’t help it - weddings just made you feel all gooey and emotional with love

Din wraps his arm around you. “Did you see Peli slip him the tongue?”

You laugh-sob and dab at your eyes with Din’s cloak still clutched in your hands. “Yeah” You say, sniffing. “It was beautiful.”

You hear a modulated huff of a laugh in your ear as Din lowers his head down to bump gently against yours in a chaste keldabe kiss.

The evening reception started with the bride and grooms first dance. Peli led her Majordomo on to the dance floor and then proceeded to lead in the dance as well. It was typical Peli, but her new husband didn’t seem to mind.

You adored watching them glide across the floor to the music, eyes only for each other. It was beautiful, but turned slightly awkward when they unabashedly started making out, Peli’s hands making their way south to grip her new husbands butt.

The other guests that had been watching started finding their feet or the decorations above very interesting, and you took that as your cue to take Grogu back to his crib.

The music wound down as you stepped away with Din behind you, but before you could go far you heard Peli screech your name.

“Where are you going missy?! I’m about to chuck this thing and I need you front and centre!” She called to you, waving her bridal bouquet in the air.

You turned back around, eyes darting between Peli and Din. It’s not like you didn’t want to join in, you loved wedding traditions, but this one? You loved Din, and knew he loved you - you’d told each other as much when your relationship shifted from friendship to more, and although of course you wanted to be more - Din’s riduur, you didn’t want to feel like you were forcing the idea on to him.

Before you could make your next move, Din stepped in front of you and plucked Grogu from your arms.

He leaned in close to you. “You better not keep the bride waiting.”

You looked up him, your brows knitted together. “You know what this tradition means right?” You ask.

Din simply nods his head and nudges you forward. You didn’t catch what he whispered to Grogu after.

A grin stretches across your face as his words sink in. You jut your chin forward and straighten your shoulders, and with an air of confidence take your place among the small crowd of other female guests.

Peli tosses the bouquet over her head, and you’re jostled by the women around you, getting pushed towards the back of the group. Peli had over-shot, the flowers on course to tumble over your heads. However just as you thought it was going to pass you by, it seemed to hit an invisible wall, stopping it in its tracks, and causing it to tumble down into your waiting hand.

You raise the bouquet over your head victoriously, while the other females groaned in disappointment. Your eyes find Din, and you excitedly skip over to him.

You can hear his husky laugh as you reach him. “That’s my girl.”

“You know some would call that cheating.” You say not in the least bit mad about it, and then ruffle the top of Grogu’s head. “Thanks little guy.”

“So Mando! I guess it’s your turn next!” Taunts Peli good-naturedly from behind you.

Din looks down at you through his visor, and although you couldn’t see it, a smile was forming on his handsome face. “I guess it is.”

___

The party was in full swing, the band from the local cantina playing up-beat numbers that have you wiggling your shoulders and tapping your feet in your chair. The dance floor was starting to fill up with people throwing shapes.

“Okay I’m going in.” You say downing the last of your drink and turning to Din. “Fancy joining me?”

“You know I don’t dance.”

“Oh come on, just one? Please?” You plead, it wasn’t as fun dancing on your own, and Grogu was fast asleep again in his crib.

“No. I’ll watch.” Said Din, and you knew there was no point in begging by the finality of his tone.

“Fine.” You huff and shimmy towards the dance floor. You turn and try once more to change your Mandalorians mind, swinging and catching him with an invisible lasso, but he just crosses his arms and shakes his helmed head, so you shrug and dive into the crowd.

You come back to the table a few times, the first to kick your heels of, and then only in quick visits to gulp at your drink in an attempt to cool down before darting off again.

“Instead of staring at her longingly why don’t you ask her to dance?” Said Boba across the table from Din, which was littered with party poppers and empty glasses.

“I can’t dance.” Replied Din matter of factly.

“I don’t think she cares, Mando, I’ve seen the way she looks at you. She’s turned down every male here who’s asked her to dance, she only wants you.”

Din looked from Boba and back to you, as you hold your nose and mime going under water with the Frog Lady and Peli.

He sighs heavily, knowing Boba was right, and pushes himself up from the chair to head towards you. As he does the song changes to a slower number, and he watches as Frog Lady and Peli pair off with their husbands.

You stand there, looking around at the different couples pairing off to dance together, and are unable to stop the pang of jealousy. You turn, deciding you better go back to the table to wait the slow dance out. Although as you do, you almost walk straight into Din.

“Will you dance with me, mesh’la?” He asks, his voice only loud enough for you to hear.

The smile that lights up your face makes Din wish he asked you sooner. He places his hands on your hips as you wrap yours around his neck, resting your head against his chest plate, and start to gently sway to the music.

Din says your name. “I’m sorry I can’t dance.”

You look up to him and follow where his visor is pointed - at the Frog Lady and her husband who were gracefully pirouetting around the dance floor.

You bring your fingers to the side of his helmet, turning his face to yours. “Hey, I don’t care about that, just having you here is enough, I love you Din, a few bad dance moves won’t change that.” You finish with a smirk.

Your Mandalorians shoulders judder under your arms as he lets out a chuckle. “I love you too cyar’ika.” He said, lowering his head to yours.

___

As the evening winds down to an end, you bid goodnight to Boba and Fennec who were finishing off another bottle of spotchka - those two could drink, and wave goodbye to Frog Lady.

The bride and groom had disappeared into Peli’s office a while ago, and you were /not/ about to interrupt them. You didn’t need that image burned into your brain.

You both approached the Crest arm in arm with Grogu still fast asleep in his crib floating in front of you.

“I’m not quite tired just yet, I’m going to look at the stars from the roof.” You say, entering the ship.

“No!” Din busts out, causing you to snatch your hand away from the ladder you were about to climb.

He clears his throat, tripping over his words. “It’s just… I… Grogu wants you to put him to bed!”

You raise an eyebrow, and look over at Grogu. “But he’s not even awake-“

“He told me earlier.” Din says, dashing to the ladder and disappearing through the hatch.

“Ohh-kay.” You say completely bewildered. Told him? How?

When you carry Grogu to the his little hammock he wakes briefly, wining at the disturbance, but he quickly settled back down into the nest of blankets you create for him. All the while you can hear Dins heavy footsteps moving around above you, at one point hearing something skitter across the floor and a resulting, “Dank Farrik!”.

After you hear him climb the second ladder to the ships roof you double check Grogu is asleep, stop by the fresher and then head on up.

Your head breaches the hatch and your eyes widen at the sight before you. Candle’s flicker on the roof, their soft light glinting off the metal exterior and the armour of the man standing before you. His helmet is discarded at his feet next to Peli’s bridal bouquet.

“Din? What’s-“

“Come here, mesh’la.” He says, his voice soft and his hands reaching for you.

You move toward him, picking out a path through the candles, and when you’re in front of him he takes your hands in his. He’d removed his gloves and his hands were soft and warm against your own.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you… ask you something for a while now, I just didn’t know how yet.” He says, voice hushed as he studies your entwined hands.

You blink up at him, waiting for him to reveal where he was going with this.

He breaths your name, and looks up into your eyes. You swallow down a gasp at the raw emotion behind them.

“You’ve been the brightest star in my night sky, if I didn’t have you by my side after Grogu left… I don’t think I would of gotten through the heartbreak.”

You open your mouth but he shakes his head as to say he’s not finished. “You held me together, and didn’t stop or let go even when he came back. You’re a part of our family… and, if you’d like, I’d like if you were a part of our clan too.”

Your eyes are brimming with tears at his confession, your heart so full you feel you’d be able to see it thudding in your chest. “What do you want to ask me, Din?” You say barely above a whisper.

“Will you be my riduur?”

You’re only able to utter a simple “Yes.” before Din’s mouth crashes down to your own. You kiss him back with equal passion, tears spill over as you close your eyes and relinquish yourself to him. There’s so many things you want to say that you instead pour into the kiss. How much you love him too, how long you’ve wanted him to utter them words, and how complete it makes you feel to be officially wanted as a part of their clan.

You break the kiss to catch your breath, and Din’s fingers swipe at the tear tracks on your cheeks.

“Don’t cry, sweet girl.”

“Sorry, I just love-“

“Love.” He finishes for you, chuckling. “I know.”

Din takes leads you to the blanket you hadn’t yet noticed under the candles, and you both settle down on it, lying back with you snuggled under Din’s arm, head resting on his broad chest.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” Asks Din.

“You might of mentioned it once or twice.” You answer playfully.

“Hmm, not nearly enough then.” He says, holding you tighter.

You glance over to his other side where his helmet sits next to the flowers, and a thought clicks in your head.

“Peli was totally in on this wasn’t she?” You ask, hearing laughter rumble through Din.

“She might of helped.” He admits.

You both break into laughter, clinging to each other, your future together spread out under a blanket of starlight and Tatooines three moons hanging full in the night sky above.

Thanks for reading!💕

Don’t mind me just tagging some lovelies: @insomniamamma @heythere-mel @whataenginerd @mildlyhopeless

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piratesfromspace · 3 years ago

Text

Finance Management (Deckard Shaw/Reader)

Deckard Shaw (Fast & Furious) x Reader

Word count: 1.9k CW: mention of food & alcohol, smut

Female reader

Note: This short fic has been inspired by a friend of mine who created the character of the financial advisor of mister Shaw. Also there is not enough fics with Deckard Shaw so here we are.

Read on Ao3

MASTERLIST

“Mister Shaw, it’s me again, I’m so sorry but I really need you to call me back please. It’s important. Thank you.”

You let out a deep sigh as you hang up. Handling the finances of rich people is a lucrative and thrilling job, but damn it sometimes those clients of yours are annoying. Especially Mister Shaw.

First, he’s annoyingly busy and unreachable. Most powerful people are, but he can disappear for weeks on end without so much as sending an email.

Second, he’s also infuriatingly handsome and smart and funny. And he has an impeccable sense of style. He has nothing in common with the other clients of your firm, mainly old and boring men, whose only conversation subject is their money and how they hate their wives.

And finally, the worst thing about him is how good of a lover he is. You found out half a year ago, when you ended up in his bed after what should have been a regular business dinner. It was a mistake of course. One that could have cost you your career because it was a very serious breach of contract to sleep with a client.

You never told a soul, and you promised yourself to never do it again. But it was still hard to forget the feeling of him pressed against you, of his hands holding your waist, of his mouth between your thighs...

You try to focus again on your task and stretch your legs, kicking out your high heels. Feet bare on the soft carpet, you walk to the floor-to-ceiling window of your posh office, taking a second to admire the view, as the final rays of the sun disappear over the lake, and Geneva lights up under you. It’s breath-taking, really. But it also means you’re once again staying way too late at the office. Your assistant has gone home a couple hours ago, and your colleagues are either on vacation or on business trips, making you the only person on the building’s 7th floor. You still have a few things to finish so you plop on your leather chair and get back to work, hoping to make it home before 11pm.

That’s when you hear it: the familiar *ding* of the elevator’s door, at the end of the corridor. You tense immediately. You’re not waiting for anyone, and the security guards always use the stairs when completing their patrol.

Steps are coming down your way, and you grab your phone, ready to dial for the security team. And then you recognize his silhouette through the polished glass wall. There is a knock on your door before it opens to reveal Deckard Shaw himself. He’s wearing an expensive suit and an even more expensive watch, a very light stubble is highlighting his perfect jawbone and his deep grey eyes bear a mischievous glint. Handsome, as always.

“Mister Shaw…” you stammer.

“You know you can call me Deckard.” His stupidly sexy British accent and cocky smile will be the death of you.

He’s been in your office for two seconds and you already want to slap him in the face - or climb him like a tree, you can’t really decide.

“It’s quite late, Mister Shaw, you scared me. Anything I can do for you?” you insist on saying his family name, in a feeble attempt to maintain a professional façade.

“You needed to see me.” it’s more a comment than a question, and you’re suddenly reminded of the dozen of unanswered phone calls you made trying to reach him.

“Yes… yes, that’s right, but honestly you could have called tomorrow morning.”

“I’d rather see you in person.” he answers, looking you straight in the eyes. You can feel yourself blushing under his gaze. “Wanted to make sure you’re alright. You’re working too much you know.” he says with a soft smile, as his eyes drift down to your sore bare feet and then to the discarded heels under your desk.

What a condescending prick, you think. But at the same time, he’s right and his care seems somewhat genuine. It will not make you forget you almost lost your job because of him though.

“How did you know I was still here tonight?” you purposely redirect the attention on him, rather than you.

“Well, let’s say I would not leave the woman in charge of my assets without any... supervision.”

“Is that a polite way to say you’ve been spying on me?” you retort dryly.

“Oh I love when you’re getting all angry and snobbish, your French accent is even cuter.”

You’re gonna murder him. You really really want to tell him to go fuck himself, but he’s the one responsible for a very generous part of your paycheck, so you have to keep quiet.

“I would be more comfortable if we keep our conversation strictly professional, Mister Shaw.”

“Everything you want, dear.”

-----

“Mmph, fu-ck... Deckard, don’t stop”

The professional attitude has been long forgotten, since Deckard has pulled you onto his lap on the velvet couch of his presidential suite at the Four Seasons hotel, where you were supposed to only review the important documents he needed to see. But when the room service had brought a very nice bottle of Scotch, you knew you were screwed. You could not refuse a drink, and the warmth of alcohol combined with the warmth of his hand slightly brushing against your thigh had overcome all your resolve.

You are now sprawled on the king-size bed, moaning his name as Deckard Shaw is destroying your sanity very methodically. One foot on the floor, one leg bent on the edge of the bed, he’s pounding into you, holding your hip with one hand, and circling your clit with the other. His pace is calculated, not too fast so you can feel every inch of him, but not too slow so your nerves don’t have any respite, and it’s driving you crazy. Hands tangled in the dark silk sheets beneath you, you try to catch your breath to no avail.

“I won’t stop darling. Not until I can feel you coming again all over me.” His voice is like heavy honey, dripping all over your senses, drowning you in sweet and sinful promises.

You want to close your eyes to focus on the overwhelming feelings, but the view in front of you is too good to be missed. He looks like some demi-god, bathed in the subdued light of the room, broad and muscular chest, abs perfectly drawn. What is his job again? You vaguely remember him talking about serving a few years in the military when he was younger, but he is still definitely hitting the gym on a regular basis.

His muscles flex when he brings you down on his thick cock a little more sharply than before, and you keen as he hits that perfect spot inside of you. You can feel your orgasm build again, and so can he.

“You’re close, princess, aren’t you?”

You mewl in response and he chuckles darkly, keeping up with his ruthless assault on your most sensitive parts. He angles his fingers just a bit differently on your clit, and keeps thrusting into you, stretching you so perfectly you can’t remember the last time someone fucked you this good - wait , actually you can, it was a few months ago and it was by mister Deckard “annoyingly perfect” Shaw.

“Come on, I know you want to, I’ll keep going until you give me one more anyway princess…”

And that's it. You’re gone. Back arching off the bed, you come hard, harder than the first time, clenching around him. You barely hear him hiss in pleasure as you spasm helplessly on the soft sheets, the silk feeling almost cool against your burning skin.

----

“Good morning darling."

You open an eye, natural light is flooding the room, as is the delicious smell of fresh coffee and tea. At the foot of the bed, you spot a room service trolley loaded with breakfast treats and through the open door of the bathroom, you can see Deckard is looking at you in the mirror reflection while buttoning a crisp white shirt.

"Your tea is ready. Black, no milk, right?”

He's right and it's annoying because is there anything this man messes up?

"What time is it?" You ask, suddenly remembering you have a busy schedule today.

"You have 27 minutes to eat and get ready, so I can drop you off at your office in time for your first call of the day."

He knows about your tea preferences and your professional agenda, of course he does , he was not joking when mentioning the whole "spying-on-you" situation, or "supervision" as he liked to call it. He needs to stop it, but you decide to keep this discussion for another day.

You stretch, and rise to put on the hotel bathrobe, sighing at the thought of having to wear the same clothes as yesterday. Last you saw them, they were scattered on the floor all over the room and your underwear were positively ruined.

"The concierge was very helpful this morning, thanks to him I got you a few clothes delivered for today." Deckard adds as he pours himself a cup of coffee from the cart and gestures to the leather armchair where a couple of bags doning logos of luxury brands are perched.

You make your way to the packages, and open the first one to reveal a sophisticated dress, fitted and sexy, but not too much that it would be inappropriate as office wear. The second bag is a thoughtful selection of high end make-up products. And the last one contains a gorgeous set of lacy lingerie, nothing too raunchy but sexy nonetheless. Of course everything is in the right size.

"Thank you..." you whisper, a little stunned. The assortment must have cost him a couple grands at the very least - not that he can't afford it because you're well placed to be sure he can, but still, he did not have to do this.

You have to suppress a smile, because damn he's being annoyingly perfect once more, but you don't want to give him the satisfaction to reveal he was right when promising you could stay the night instead of going home and still look fresh for your day at work.

"I was thinking, I'm free tonight, so maybe we can finally review those documents, you know the ones you were supposed to show me before you jumped on me on the couch last night?" Deckard states as he bites in an apple in front of the window, casually looking at lake Geneva glinting in the bright morning sun.

You blush unwillingly, struggling to find a reply that would save you from admitting you had failed at enforcing your usual work ethic.

"I'm kidding dear!" He barks in a laugh. "I know enough to trust you on this venture, you have my approval to go on with the investment." He continues more seriously.

You open your mouth to answer but he's quicker.

"I'm not kidding about being free though, so what about dinner and then we can see where this takes us…"

When you don't answer immediately, he turns to look at you. Maybe he's realizing the situation can be awkward and precarious for you since you're technically working for him.

"You can say no, I won't take any offense." He adds without irony.

"Yes..." You finally answer, tip toeing toward him until you can snatch the apple he was eating from him. He protests but you shush him.

"...Yes, I would like this very much..."

As he starts to protest again, you take a big bite from the fruit with a knowing smile.

"...but only for dinner. Nothing more."

"You'll be the death of me." Deckard says, falsely irritated, his voice dropping lower.

"At least the feeling is mutual, mister Shaw ..."

#deckard shaw #deckard shaw x reader #female reader #fast and furious #hobbs and shaw #deckard shaw fanfiction #hobbs and shaw fanfiction #deckard shaw / reader #jason statham #jason statham imagine #smut #hobbs and shaw smut #deckard shaw reader insert #fast and furious fanfiction

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raplinesmoon · 3 years ago

Text

An Age of Oddities (Jung Hoseok x F!Reader)

Part of Undisclosed Desires: An Anthology

pairing: nobleman!Hoseok x f!reader genre(s): fluff, smut, angst, drama, mystery, slight horror au(s): based on Don Juan by Lord Byron word count: 6k warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, brief mentions of a robbery, Hoseok is a fuckboi with many conquests that he likes to delve into detail about, Hoseok lusting after married women, brief mentions of a duel society people being rude and snobby, a ghost story?, hunting is mentioned, brief religious mentions, Hoseok nearly takes someone out but... you’ll see. smut warnings: implied streaking, girls love giving Hoseok blowjobs, fondling, deep throating, floor riding (is that even a thing), ruined orgasm, oral (m and f receiving), gagging (with fingers), fingering, light exhibitionism, Dom!Hoseok, brief unprotected penetrative sex rating: 18+

summary: Jung Hoseok is a wealthy, raucous libertine who takes pride in his ability to be able to seduce any woman. Roaming through Europe, he stumbles upon conquest after conquest, his carefree and sensuous lifestyle capable of beguiling everyone he meets. Until he meets you.

a/n: Ahhhh it’s here. Hoseok had me working on demon time because the more and more I wrote of him, I couldn’t stop. His story is so so much fun to write, and I hope you can see the literary parallels between him and Don Juan, but also the creative twists! Special thank you to @yoon2k for helping me brainstorm the ending since the original work was left unfinished (love you Fi and I hope I did your mans justice). This is unedited for now!

Taglist: @miscelunaaa @shameless-army @firesighgirl @sunshinerainbowsbts @seokjinger-ale (sorry if I missed anyone!)

listen to the playlist!

Among the vibrant rays of the setting sun, pale specks of dust filtered through the air, carried away by the wind. Hoseok felt the grand urge to cough. London was such a grimy city. No sooner than when he had stepped off his carriage, he was accosted by some innocuous old chap, brandishing a rusted blade.

“Your money or your life.”

Where he came from, back in Andalusia, money was your life. A low chuckle escapes him upon remembering the statement, recalling how the robber had scurried away the moment he’d reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a few notes. So much for the virtues of the English.

He wonders if he’d been too hasty with his charity and if he should have instead implored the man to see reason, that harassing wealthy strangers on the street would get him nowhere. But the thought leaves his mind as soon as it enters. That wasn’t what he was here for anyway.

Straightening out the creases in his jacket, Hoseok walks to the end of the street, awe-struck by the row houses that seem to close in on him. For a brief moment, he misses the Spanish air, and his guilty mind flashes back briefly to a swell bosom and pretty tendrils of dark hair, causing his cock to stir in his pants. Sana.

The last letter he’d received expressed that she had no regrets for what happened between them. But that had been a long while back when he was still in the throes of his youth. He hoped the convent was treating her well, and that Don Taeyong hadn’t come back for more revenge. Streaking through his garden in the dead of night after he’d torn his garments to shreds had been more than enough embarrassment for Hoseok.

He pauses in front of the last row house, peering through the windows as the lively tunes from the ensemble float out the window and into the night. The Ohs spared no expense for his arrival in Britain it seemed, despite his insistence that he could meet Lord Sehun at the country estate.

A woman passes by him in the night, turning to look at the handsome, solitary figure standing outside the mansion block, honey-colored skin glowing brighter than the fleeting rays of the sun. Hoseok can feel her gaze burn into him from behind, and turns to her with a smirk. Her painted lips are parted slightly, eyes nothing but hollow pools of darkness. Checking his pocket watch, he realizes he’s egregiously late to the soirée. It seems there would be no fun to be had tonight. Giving her a wink, he turns back, heading inside.

The polished lilt of the music is overpowered by the frenetic din that erupts at the arrival of its guest of honor.

“There he is—”

“The libertine?”

“I heard he seduced an empress…”

Hoseok’s lips twist upwards at the last comment as he wades through the sea full of pearls, plumes, and silk. No seduction had been necessary on his part. Lisa had nearly fallen to her knees with one look at him, promoting him in rank and Hoseok, a wayward youth from who knows where, had suddenly grown into the man his mother had always wished he’d be. All those years of education: history, philosophy, religion, they’d all paid off in that moment. And they’d paid off behind closed doors too, as Hoseok remembered her pink, swollen lips and tear-streaked gaze when she choked on his cock.

Shaking his head, the fog of his time in Russia dissipates, and he cranes his neck, looking for the hosts that were awaiting his welcome.

“Don Jung!” A loud, boisterous voice bellows, and Hoseok turns to see a handsome, tall, stern-faced man approach, accompanied by a slender woman in elegant pink silk.

“Lord Oh Sehun, pleased to make your acquaintance,” the man offers his hand, his grip so tight Hoseok wonders if he’s engaged in a handshake or a wrestling match.

Lord Henry finally lets go, and Hoseok shakes out his hand, watching as the other man directs him to the lady by his side.

“My wife, Lady Yujin,” he gestures, no sooner than Hoseok had picked up the lady’s hand, greeting her with a soft kiss. A soft sigh escapes her throat, one that goes unnoticed by her husband, but rings loud in Hoseok’s ears.

“So pleased to meet you, Don Jung,” she remarks, her voice reeking of the polished sophistication he’d come to loathe from English society. Why couldn’t they just let loose and have a screaming match once in a while? The Russians had been far more entertaining.

“The night is yours to enjoy, our dear friend,” Lord Sehun claps him on the back, pushing Hoseok back into the crowd.

Hoseok strides through the mass of people, more graceful on his feet than the scores of people who line up to dance with each other. The whispers continue, women turning from their partners to gape at him, which then provokes the haughty, envious gazes of men. But Hoseok was used to people being jealous of him. It was an unfortunate reality he’d grown up with, men ready to draw the sword if Hoseok so much as gazed towards their wives. And so he’d learned to keep his head down, and let them come.

As he draws towards the fringe, pausing by the window, he hears a chorus of giggles from behind him. Immediately, a gaggle of women descends upon him, launching into a flurry of introductions.There’s a madam someone, followed by a lady something, and a duchess of anything.

“Have you any brothers?” an older dame asks, her sharp eyes trained on him, no doubt inquiring for a daughter in the crowd.

“Unfortunately, I’m an only child,” he counters, amused at the way her face immediately falls.

“Don Jung!” One of them squeals, her eyes growing wider. “We heard you speak many languages. Do tell us, what is the more romantic language? Russian or Castilian?”

Hoseok nearly scoffs at the inquiry. Surely these smart, well-educated women had to be joking with him? But no, their eyes were trained on his figure, breaths held in, awaiting a response.

“Well, uh, Castilian is what I’m more familiar with, but personally, I think it’s not about the beauty of the language, but more about the beauty of the speaker,” he winks.

“Will you sing to us in Spanish?”

“Show us how you dance?”

“What are your thoughts on Keats?”

He stumbles through their questions, all of his tutor’s lessons flitting in and out of his head at the moment. The confidence in his words, however, captivates their attention, sparing him the embarrassing admission that he cared little for their academic pursuits, much more focused on which one of them he’d lure to bed tonight.

Before he can make a move, however, Lady Yujin is upon them, swishing her skirts and shooing away the crowd.

“Don Jung must go now, ladies, I’m sure you’ll all have the chance to converse again,” she smiles, and there’s something pointed and sharp in her expression, despite the baby pink of her dress. “We leave for Norman Abbey and the countryside in the morn. There’s much to look forward to there.”

The countryside air appealed to Hoseok much more than the stuffiness of the city. Norman Abbey was beautiful, its tall, formidable structure reminding Hoseok of the cathedral in Seville, and he suddenly felt himself longing for home. Wondering how his mother was, he remarks that he hasn’t heard from her in a while. Would she be proud of the man he’d managed to become? Wealthy, smart, educated, who traveled and indulged across the entire continent, with stories from every city.

Shaking his head, he lets out a low laugh. She’d probably nag him about why he wasn’t married yet, despite his thirtieth year of life soon approaching. Sighing, he clasps his hands behind his back, pausing to marvel at the view.

A small lake lay in front of the abbey, its crystalline waters sparkling against the sunlight, from which numerous species of wildfowl drank. His eyes followed the stream that fed the lake, the soft ripples against the water’s surface creating a soothing, babbling song, as it gurgled towards the woods, disappearing between the trees.

From behind, the house stood proud, the grand Gothic arches swooping and giving ways to alcoves that hid statues of devotional figures that Hoseok had lost all care for long ago. Society and life itself was governed by the hidden natures of men, and those natures, where they were concerned, always revolved around two things. Sex, and money.

More curious were the hallowed halls of the manor, long and winding, the stained-glass windows coloring everything in an eerie light. From a simple walk through, Hoseok marveled at the Oh’s impressive collection of art, recognizing a few works that he’d seen while touring through Italy. Stranger yet, were the various statues and suits of armor that decorated the never-ending corridors. Their presence gave Hoseok chills, for he feared their eyes would come alive at night, roaming the halls, looking for souls to torment.

Well, it was a mighty fine matter that Hoseok stayed locked in his room at night. Now, if only he could find a companion to accompany him to bed, and soon, the ghosts would be all but forgotten…

More peculiar than the abbey itself were its owners. Lord and Lady Oh were unlike any other couple he’d ever come across, so straight-laced and sophisticated, yet also mysterious.

Lord Sehun was easy enough to figure out. Politics was the man’s entire game, as he always paused to clap Hoseok on the back annoyingly and rant about the latest goings-on in the House of Lords. He always spoke loudly and proudly of his various friends in politics, but to Hoseok they seemed more like hidden pawns in Sehun’s game.

Nevertheless, he’d struck up a friendship with him, Sehun showing an interest in Hoseok’s travels, using his experience as an envoy to draw up various memos and scrolls detailing Anglo-Russian relations, having Hoseok read and comment upon each and every word. The sessions left him bored, wanting for more. His only form of entertainment would be Lady Yujin stopping in to drop off some tea, laughing and conversing with him, drawn in by the warmth he exuded.

Speaking of the lady herself, Hoseok was fascinated by her. Yujin moved so politely and gracefully through society, a queen bee in her own right. She was loved by all, beautiful, wealthy, reminding Hoseok much of himself. Yet, he saw the sharp political mind that lurked underneath the surface, far more impressive than her husband’s. Yujin was in the business of building relationships and tearing them down just as quickly. Anglo-Russian relations could learn a thing or two from her shrewdness.

He’d long been contemplating beginning an affair with her, the depraved ache in his loins growing at every swish of her skirt when he watched her pert ass leave the room. He’d seen the passionate soul that brewed underneath her prim demeanor, and he yearned to rip through the shreds of her disguise and expose the debauchery. He couldn’t be the only one longing for some scandalous action in the household. Yujin herself was restless in her “pursuit” of him, always asking Hoseok if he had any future plans to marry, suggesting that she knew many “impressive young women” that would catch his eye. When in reality, all she wanted was to control him, another piece on the chessboard underneath her slim fingers. And if there was one thing Hoseok hated, it was being at the mercy of anyone. His spirit was too restless to spend his life’s pursuits in matchmaking and dilly-dallying.

Excusing himself, he retires to his room, determined to catch some rest before their dinner party tonight. For Hoseok, the affair would be fruitless, yet another tarnished reputation under his belt, leaving him with a brief ephemeral gratification that never seemed to linger. Besides, the Ohs were an imposing duo – all of London society was at their beck and call. He was sure they’d sink their claws into him, draining all of the fun from his hedonistic pursuits the moment it began to impact them negatively. Brushing away his thoughts, his eyes flutter shut. But his sleep was a restless one, for Hoseok could not shake the feeling that he was being watched somehow.

The notice had gone out in that morning’s Post that the Ohs were to host another soirée to celebrate the receipt of their new guest at their countryside estate.

And so, nearly thirty-three of London’s elite descended upon the Abbey, clad in their Sunday best. A coterie of nobles, much like the Ohs in disposition, composed of various dukes, and lords, and duchesses, clad in the finest velvet and silks, the gold filigree on their garments subtly hinting at the expanse of their wealth.

And yet, there were characters within. A swordsman, prone to showing off tricks and stunts with the blade that rested at his hip, an orator who spared no occasion to launch into an impassioned speech about the state of the country, twin lawyers who looked so identical it was uncanny, but whose demeanors could not have been far more different.

Lady Yujin had spared no expense when it came to the feast, the table full to the brim with various delicacies that when combined, created a fragrance so divine, Hoseok could have sworn he was in the land of milk and honey.

But, he’d been put in a rather precarious position you see. Seated at the table, a predicament had begun to brew. For on either side of his, he had the most riveting company. On the one, there was the voluptuous Duchess Hye-jin. One look into her sultry eyes, and lower still, and he knew she’d had enough trysts and love affairs to rival himself. When he turned and asked about how she and her husband were doing, her eyes blazed, whether with anger or with lust, he could not have known.

“We stay happy and out of each other’s way,” she said, voice sickly sweet as she batted her eyelashes, and he could have sworn he heard Lord Juyeon cough from across the table.

On his other end, a subtle character, but one that doesn’t pose any less intrigue.

“This is Lady ____,” Yujin had introduced him when he came to take his seat, declining the hunt with the men for favor of spending his time around women, whose conversations he found far more interesting.

Duchess Hye-jin you were not. Where she was loud and brash, evidently obvious in her opulence, you were more reserved. Simple was a word that came to mind when he first dared to characterize your demeanor, but he brushed it off, considering it far too limiting for your appeal.

As he turned to introduce himself, an upturned smirk on his face, he was taken aback. For your eyes were wide and you were looking at him. Not in the conventional sense one looks at an object right in front of them, but really looking at him. Those glassy eyes bore into his soul, and he felt unsettled by the flash of sadness he saw lurking in their depths.

“Are you liking England?” you asked him, your voice sweet and musical, like the song of the nightingales that had begun to croon come the sunset.

And he stops, heart threatening to beat out of his chest. No one had ever asked him how he liked it here. Of course, they’d been interested in him, in his travels, in his talents. But never his well-being.

“It’s nice, of course,” Hoseok’s voice wavers. “Lord and Lady Oh have been nothing but welcoming. But I miss home sometimes. The sun shone so much brighter over there. Or maybe I’m just getting older and prefer to spend my time indoors.”

You laugh quietly at that, and he’s once again amazed at how different it is from the bubbly giggles he’s normally used to.

Leaning in towards you, he feels you shrink from his intense gaze, breath hitching in your throat. Now he feels more at home.

“I heard Lord and Lady Oh have quite the impressive collection of books in the library? What do you say we go take a look?” he whispers in your ear, voice dropping low.

From the other end of the table, he can feel Yujin’s eyes on the back of his head, knowing her pretty face is probably flushed with anger and jealousy. But Hoseok was sincere. He wanted to spend time with you. You’d caught his eye, with your lack of embellishment and austerity. It was so… refreshing.

“We’d better not,” you respond quietly, eyes flitting to the other side of the table, and he feels his heart drop. “It would be disrespectful to Lady Yujin.”

Soon enough, you’re swept into a conversation with your seatmate on the other side, and Hoseok stews in jealousy, with not even a wink from Duchess Hye-jin able to quell the strange feelings that have risen up within him.

The bright morning light sears into Hoseok’s pupils, causing him to nearly stumble out of bed. For a moment, behind his closed eyes, he’d seen a lovely face peering into his own, and wondered if you’d come up to check on him after last night’s festivities, where he’d gotten a little too drunk and flirted up a storm with Duchess Hye-jin.

However, he soon realizes it was all a dream, populated by a figure he hadn’t thought of in a long while. Yeji. For a moment, he remembers the salt in the sea breeze and the warmth of the sun on the island, and lets out a deep sigh. It had been the closest to love he’d ever felt with another woman. There had been nothing tying them together, the two of them hadn’t even spoken the same language. They were driven only by passion. But overtime, he’d grown to care for the girl, until he found himself captured and shipped out to sea by pirates, Yeji lost to him forever.

Her innocence and childlike curiosity reminded him so much of you. Both of you had the same, optimistic outlook on human nature. But where Yeji had been the bright, tall flames of a bonfire, you were the quiet flicker of a candle. Both capable of inducing warmth, but in very different ways.

He dresses quickly, hair mussed as he pads down the staircase to where breakfast was being served. Much to his surprise, many of the guests had stayed the night, including Duchess Hye-jin. Probably for the hunt that was occurring later today. His heart skips a beat when he realizes you’re among them.

At the breakfast table, you smile and nod along with the conversation that’s occurring, and Hoseok feels sad when he realizes no one is including you much. He longs to make you laugh like he had last night, where your teeth had poked out in an adorable, albeit not very ladylike fashion.

“Don Jung,” a sultry voice echoes from behind. Hye-Jin. “Will you not show us your talents during the hunt at least? Your presence has been very missed on the dance floor at all of these events.”

“You haven’t even seen the half of my talents,” he counters with a wink, as your curious eyes watch him from the other end of the table.

“Very well,” the duchess responds. “We shall see then.”

The chorus of ooohs and ahhhs that follows during the hunt is not unknown to Hoseok. Throughout his life, he’d gained the reputation of being the most admirable company. He supposed it was the happy, jolly air he put on, always ready to entertain at a moment’s notice.

After one too many pats on the back, he decides to escape the suffocating crowd, venturing over to the stream, where he sees the swish of blue by the water’s edge.

“You’ll dirty your dress if you fall in,” he says, causing you to jump up in surprise. “We wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

“Don Jung,” your voice is shaky eyes flitting to and fro. “I am sorry, I did not see you approaching.”

“Do I scare you?” he asks sincerely, curious as to why you shrink away, so unlike any other person he’d met. Normally, Hoseok was the center of attention, always dialing up his charm to win the hearts of all.

“No! Uh, of course not,” you respond quickly. “Why aren’t you over there with the others?”

“Because I want to be here, where the air is clear and the water is clearer, in the presence of a most beautiful lady.”

You smile politely at the compliment, eyes turning to the smooth pebbles that line the stream’s bed, picking one up and offering it to him.

The two of you skip stones for a long while, silent but drinking in the presence of each other’s company. Your aloofness is quite becoming, Hoseok discerns, lost only in trying to get the stone across the water in as many skips as you can. For a brief moment, terror strikes in his heart. Were you really not attracted to him at all? A strange pain rises up in his chest, almost like he can feel his stomach free falling in air.

“Thank you for the company, Don Jung,” you wipe your palms on your dress, turning on your heels. “I should be getting back now.”

“Hoseok,” he interrupts your leave. “Call me Hoseok.”

He offers his arm out to you, and is pleasantly surprised when you take it, twin smiles lighting up both your faces.

“Okay then, Hoseok.”

“Don Jung,” Lady Yujin calls out to him, and something in her tone seems forced, and hurried, like there’s an urgent matter she needs to attend to, or she’ll explode.

The guests had finally left, promising to return again soon, and Hoseok found himself alone in the Ohs’ presence once more. While before, their company had been more than enough, Hoseok finds himself missing the varied crowd, all of them invoking his interests in different ways. Especially you.

Just a few days ago, he’d found himself in the library, perusing over one of the many books he’d found amongst Lord Sehun’s collection The book had captivated him, but sooner rather than later, he’d found himself dozing off, forlorn that he had no one to talk to about it. When he awoke, he felt the strangest chill in his bones. Almost like there was someone in the library with him. The feeling dissipated mere moments later, and all was well. Perhaps he was just missing your company.

He shoves all thoughts aside as he bursts through the door to the drawing room, panting and in a sweat. From across the room, Lady Yujin is perched on the couch, sipping tea from a dainty cup.

“Come sit,” she says sweetly. But it sounds fake.

“What is the matter?” Hoseok demands, chest caving in on itself from anxiety. “Has something horrible happened?”

“Not at all,” she pats his shoulder as he sits, her smile dropping when he scowls at her touch.

“I was thinking, dear friend,” she begins, and a sense of dread creeps into Hoseok’s veins. “Are you not in want of a wife at your age?”

“What are you implying?” Hoseok’s eyes narrow at the thinly veiled statement.

“No implications are being made,” she cuts him off with a purr. “Of course you have many fine qualities that any woman would be in need of. You are accomplished, confident, sincere, and loved by so many. Surely you must have thought of settling down before.”

“Not particularly,” Hoseok muses, training his eyes on something, anything, but the expression on her face. “Is there a reason you’re suggesting I should?”

“My dear, most special friend, there are rumours afoot,” she whispers, and Hoseok is caught off guard by her confession. “I know you seem aloof and are kind-hearted, but people whisper about you, and I worry for your soul. How sad would it be to be condemned merely by the thoughts of others?”

“C-condemned?” Hoseok roars, veins in his neck throbbing. “What is this madness you speak of?”

“Calm yourself,” she grabs him and urges him to sit back down. “I know many suitable women, who would make a fine match. There is Miss Lee, Lady Park, the last I heard, Mr. Jeon had a younger sister. All these women are of an even and polite temperament.’

“It’d almost be like being married to me,” she jokes, but the quip is lost on Hoseok. “I spoke with Lord Sehun, and he agrees it would be a fine endeavor to pursue.”

“What about Lady ___?” Hoseok asks, and Yujin’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“____? Oh dear, that poor thing? She’s dreadfully plain and boring, don’t you think? She’s never interested in our gatherings.”

“To the contrary, I find her quite invigorating,” Hoseok argues smugly, seeing the vein at Yujin’s temple throb. Her game isn’t lost on him. But years of falling fancy to the whims of women have taught him to live boldly, yet guard his heart. For the longest time, he’d never found another that made his hallowed organ come to life in such a strong manner.

“I hope you do consider my proposal, and have some tea, please” she rises, leaving him in the room. Hoseok brings the cup to his lips, bitterly disappointed to find that it has run cold.

The night that followed after his argument with Lady Yujin was a restless one. His head hit the pillow, but his eyes remained wide awake, plagued with thoughts of you. He hates how quick Yujin had been to shut down the prospect of a match, but perhaps the two of you needed more time to get to know one another.

He sighs, eyes fluttering shut. But they fail to carry him to the land of dreams. Outside his window, a gust howls, rattling the shutters and swooshing through the branches of the willow tree in the courtyard below. Paralyzed with fright, the faint light of his candle flickers out, causing Hoseok to jump up out of his bed. He throws the doors to the room open, scanning the halls for any sign of danger. The statues in the hall haunt them, their grotesque shadows creeping up onto the wall in the moonlight, and for a brief moment his heart stops, thinking he hears a suit of armor rattling in the distance.

Chastising himself, he mutters a silent prayer for the first time in many years, when suddenly, something flits across his field of vision. Thinking it a mouse, he freezes, blood turning cold when he sees the hooded figure of a monk in the silvery moonbeams. As the figure passed, it paid Hoseok no mind. He knows not how long he stood there, breathing labored and hair standing on end, waiting for the figure to rush back and claim his soul. But it never returned.

“A monk?” Sehun asks, taking in Hoseok’s pale, distraught figure. “There hasn’t been a monk at the Abbey for years. Are you sure, friend?”

Hoseok doesn’t know what to say, still frozen from the shock of what had occurred last night. Lady Yujin is glaring at him with a disapproving look, and Duchess Hye-Jin’s lips are curled in a snide smirk.

“It’s nothing of course,” Lady Yujin assures the guests. “Like Lord Sehun said, there have been no monks at the abbey for years. It was probably just a bad dream.”

Hoseok feels betrayed. For all of Yujin’s shrewdness, he had at least believed she would stand by him as a friend. But it seems hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

“Are you okay, Hoseok?” You whisper to him. “Whatever happened last night, you look like you had quite a fright.”

“I’ll be fine,” he says, not wanting to worry you, although he’s touched by the care you seem to show him.

“Still, why don’t we go for a walk in the woods later? I’m sure the sunlight will help calm your nerves.”

A smile makes it way onto your face, and for the first moment ever, Hoseok catches the hint of a flush on your cheeks. He doesn’t know what you mean by the proposition, but he’ll take the chance if it means spending time with you all the same.

Returning from his walk with you, the sun has begun to set, and Hoseok wonders how he could ever enjoy the company of one woman so much. Surely, he’d have continued to spend his life being seduced by women he could never have. Such was his nature, and nature was a fickle beast to contend with. It neither bent nor broke for just anyone. However, you, it seems, had reawakened the hardened feelings he thought he’d buried long ago.

Smiling to himself as he locks the door, he muses about how much you’d like the sun in Spain. You loved spending time outdoors. His mother would be happy with a daughter as lovely as you, there was no doubt.

Sitting on his bed, he disrobes, ready to retire for the night, when he hears a click. The door turns, and opens. There enters the spectral figure he’d seen the night before, except now the blasted creature was in his room.

Hoseok’s heartbeat pounds in his ears, the figure approaching him, drawing closer and closer every second. In a flash, he sees you behind his eyes, and anger fills his veins. No, this ghost would not take away his only chance at happiness.

He rises, charging towards the hooded figure, slamming it against the wall. Shock overcomes him, as his palm meets the soft flesh of a chest, and warm sweet breath tickles his ear. Freezing Hoseok pauses, eyes scanning the ghost. He catches the gleam of painted red lips under the hood, and a slender hand meets his own, urging him to squeeze the softness of what he now realizes is a woman’s breast in his hand.

Pushing the hood back, he’s met with the face of Duchess Hye-jin.

“I’ve got you now,” she croons in his ear. “Poor Don Jung, stuck in this lonely house, under the steel grip of that horrid Yujin.”

Her lips ghost his own, and Hoseok feels his cock throb underneath his pants. She presses hurried, frenzied kisses to his neck, dropping to her knees as she fishes him out from his briefs.

Pressing a kiss to his tip, her warm, wet lips engulf his heat, and Hoseok’s eyes flutter shut. How long had it been since he’d lost himself to pleasure like this? There had been too many days of indulging in the torment of societal pressures and expectations, not to mention his hidden feelings. He’d longed for blazing warmth, but in a different way.

The lewd sounds from her sucking reverberate throughout the room, accompanied by Hoseok’s grunts and her soft moans. He realizes that she’s begun rutting onto the floor, arousal leaking from her cunt and pooling into a warm wet puddle below, and feels himself grow harder in his pants.

“Be mine,” she chokes onto his dick, tears blurring her eyes. “Be mine, and you’ll never be in want of another again. I can take care of you in all the ways Yujin couldn’t.”

Hoseok feels his impending orgasm deflate at her words, suddenly overcome with shock and guilt. What was he doing? Moments ago, he’d been on the brink of passing out from fright, thinking that his judgement day had finally come. And now, he was letting the Duchess touch him all over, lost to his baser desires, while his heart belonged to another?

No, Hoseok would not submit this time. He was tired of being used by others for pleasure, of being the proverbial notch on someone’s bedpost. He longed for a life free of sin, and full of love, with the one person he desired the most.

Gently tapping the Duchess’ shoulder, he pushes her off his cock, watching her eyes widen in surprise.

“Go,” he says coldly. “My heart is not yours to take. If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I’ll tell your husband of all your trysts faster than you can count to five.”

Whimpering, her eyes spill over with tears, as she scampers from the room. Sighing, Hoseok collapses on his bed, when suddenly, he jolts forward, looking at one of the many trinkets Lady Yujin stored on his beside table.

Picking up the delicate glass figurine, he throws it against the wall, collapsing into a series of sobs.

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” Yujin seethes at him, nearly bursting from Sehun’s grasp to fall to her knees in front of Hoseok.

“It is time for me to move forward,” Hoseok replies. “There are many more places around Europe I’d like to see, many things to discover. London no longer holds any charm for me.”

“Any charm at all?” she admonishes him, the answer to her question clear from Hoseok’s silence. But he would never admit it to her. He was too proud.

“Fine,” she relinquishes him with a sigh. “Be it as you wish.”

As his bags are loaded into the carriage, Hoseok hears the frantic clacking of shoes against the gravel, and the heavy breaths of someone running towards him.

Turning towards the noise, he sees you, cheeks flushed and hair askew, panting as though you’d run a marathon.

“You’re leaving,” the words come out in a near sob. “You didn’t tell me.”

“I apologize for the abruptness of my leave,” he reassures you. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“You did not worry me,” you breathe out. “It’s just, I will miss you, Hoseok.”

“Pity,” Hoseok smirks, winking at you. “I hope you’d accompany me. As my wife, of course.”

Your face is blanched in shock, mirroring his from the previous night, but warms instantly as he leans to capture your lips in a passionate kiss.

From behind, he can feel Yujin’s eyes on him, and Sehun’s jaw drop in shock, but he doesn’t care. The reinvention of Jung Hoseok had only just begun…

“Oh my god, Hoseok, yes, yes, right there!” you scream, his fingers pushing themselves into your mouth to silence your bratty moans as he continues to tongue at your cunt. Your walls clench around him, unaware of what has come over your usually reserved demeanor.

Your husband had brought out a fervor within you. The two of you had been married for mere hours, impulsively stopping at a parsonage on your way out of the country to make it official. He’d been so excited to take you home with him, gushing about meeting his mother and how much you’d love the warm, balmy climate of Andalusia.

But before any progress could be achieved towards your goal, he’d snuck his fingers up your dress in the carriage, his lips sealed over yours to silence your moans. His skilled digits had you falling over the brink for the very first time in your life, flushed and panting heavily. He’d given you no time to recuperate and wallow in bliss, immediately shoving his cock down your throat. You’d gagged on him gleefully, loving the bitter tang of his seed down your throat.

And now you found yourselves here, stopped at an inn for the night, impulsively consummating your marriage. The movements of his tongue stop, and tears fill your eyes when you feel your orgasm ebb away, small sobs leaving your utterly wrecked body.

“Quiet, brat,” he commands. “Don’t be greedy, I’d rather have you falling apart on my cock anyway.”

You close your eyes, nodding, waiting for the sensation of him to fill you up. But it never comes.

For the moment Hoseok had prepared to sheathe himself inside you fully, he’s stopped by the sudden appearance of something behind your shoulder. Looking up, he freezes. The same spectral being that had haunted him at the Oh’s estate, now here in its ghostly flesh.

The ghost’s appearance could not even be written off as a joke in jest, for Hoseok saw the malevolent red gleam in its eyes, and immediately dropped dead of fright.

fin.

A/N pt. 2: Thanks for reading! As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

262 notes · View notes

writertitan · 2 years ago

Text

Confinements - Pt. 5

pairing: soldier!levi x f!medic!reader

themes: war themes + war crimes, enemies to lovers, mature and heavy content (minors dni), medic!reader, reader is a tough cookie due to wartimes, levi is a prisoner of war, reader and levi are snarky lil fellas, afab reader, swearing, heavy themes regarding acts of war, mentions of death, dark content, finding warmth in each other during cruel and cold-blooded times, unconditioning of propaganda, violence, blood, character injury

chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 chapter word count: 6k a/n: ahhhh!!!! final part!!!!! i hope you guys enjoy pt.5, let me know what you think!!!! as a reminder, all previous parts are up at the top, in the chapters section. :)

Levi seemed surprised to see you come back soon. Or, maybe, on some level, he was surprised to see you at all. It would have been easy for you to leave him there to die. The thought made you shudder, though, so you didn’t dwell too much on it.

When you held up the key, trying your very best to give him a happy smile, his eyes brightened and he seemed to loosen up a little, a relaxed pose overtaking his shoulders. Then, he saw how the smile didn’t reach your eyes, and the little spark in his own eyes died down.

“How bad?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. The speed at which you’d come back told him everything he needed to know.

You didn’t answer with actual words, just a shaky sigh and downcast eyes. Not being able to find a living soul other than a dying Dr. Muller crushed you, but you had to keep going. You couldn’t let this be the event that made you give up – there was still much to do.

Carefully, you freed Levi from his chains and gave him some room to stand. He seemed okay, though he noted some soreness in his wrist and ankle where he’d been chained up. His ankle was still a little tender from its previous injury, but Levi swore up and down he would be fine to walk on it, though you didn’t love the idea. His ribs were another story. You’d have to be very careful. Even so, there wasn’t much to do except let him grin and bear it.

“We have to go,” you told him, urgency lacing your words. “Dr. Muller…he told me what was going on.”

Levi saw the grief in your face and didn’t probe on the matter of Dr. Muller. He did, however, skirt around that and asked about what the doctor had told you.

“What’s going on?”

“The general wants to ruin your land, Levi. He wants to use this as an excuse to blitz you with a raid. No one’s come back to assess the damage yet, but when they do, I’m sure they’ll be coming down to see if you’re dead. So we have to go,” you said, already grabbing his arm and tugging him out the door. “We have to go warn your people!”

Levi let you lead him through the door, still looking a little bewildered, but then eventually matched your step and walked through the cellar door with you.

You heard his breath hitch when he saw the damage that had been done but you didn’t dare look at him. Mostly because you could feel his eyes on you, and you didn’t want to see the pity there. It would be too much.

When he whispered your name, the first time it had ever really fallen off his lips, you couldn’t even take the time to savor the buzz it gave you.

“Come on,” you said sternly, still not looking at him. “We have to go.”

Now, however, it was Levi who led the way. Though you knew he was unfamiliar with your territory around here, he was still a captain, and would know better than you how to escape as safely as possible. He let you grab your medical kit just in case of emergencies, but you had to empty many things out that might have weighed you down or caused trouble. It felt almost useless to carry it with you, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

The bombing had lasted throughout much of the night. The sky was a muted blue-grey, the horizon breaking light slowly, but actual rays of sun hadn’t stretched themselves across the sky just yet. It was still light enough to travel around, though.

Your eyes hadn’t ventured away from the immediate vicinity. Once you started trekking out, though, you scanned the decimated land, heart sinking to the pit of your stomach at the level of damage. Your living quarters were completely demolished, the ground had been turned inside out everywhere, and there wasn’t a single intact thing in sight.

Levi grabbed your free hand when he noticed you were starting to fall behind, too engrossed in what you were seeing and grieving, and made sure to keep you close to his side.

“We’re going to that cluster of trees over there,” Levi whispered to you, pointing them out. “Just focus on those trees. That’s our goal.”

They weren’t terribly far away, just some hundred yards away, but you knew why Levi was telling you this. It was to keep you from looking at anything else and to keep you focused on getting away. It was a distraction and a mission.

Those trees were all you looked at until you reached them. You didn’t even look at Levi at first, but once you had reached the trees, you turned your head to watch him. He looked determined but also worried, his thin eyebrows knitting together as he thought long and hard. Then, he looked at you, and that worry seemed to increase in his eyes.

“How well do you know the area?” he asked.

You knew it quite well, so you told him so. It was lucky that you liked taking walks, especially those sneaky walks to visit your brother’s gravesite every year. It had helped you get familiar with the land around you. There had also been times where you’d needed to travel to some wounded soldiers with your team in the event that they couldn’t make it back to the encampment. A lot of those times, those soldiers didn’t make it back with you.

Once you redirected yourselves to Levi’s front lines, it was a quiet trip, a silence filled with unsaid things. Levi hadn’t let go of your hand. He’d even started rubbing soothing circles into the back of your hand with his thumb, which had actually, surprisingly, helped ease the pain you were feeling.

The first rays of dawn were finally peeking out, though there were rain clouds threatening to cover the entirety of the sky yet again. You hated those clouds today. If you could have one thing, it would be to have the sun shining on your face. You wanted to feel warmth.

You weaved through the trees, never straying too far from the dirt road cutting through the forest, but making sure to keep out of sight in case anyone traveled through.

“How long until we reach one of your camps?” you asked Levi eventually, just to break the silence.

He seemed to snap out of whatever deep thoughts he’d been entrenched in, head turning a little too quickly to face you.

“Most likely just a few miles, if that,” he muttered.

It was then that you noticed how pale he looked – paler than usual, you should say. Then, your gaze flickered down to the slight limp in his walk, but when Levi scoffed a little, you looked up at his face again.

“I can tell that you’re worrying about me. Stop.”

“Hard to stop when I know you’re hurting,” you whispered. At that, Levi’s eyes softened almost imperceptibly.

“I’m a soldier, Doc. I’ve fought harder battles with worse injuries,” he said. His voice was confident and borderline stern, but the secret softness in his gaze didn’t dissipate.

You wondered briefly what Levi was like when he was home. Was he different when he was comfortably on his own turf? Would he immediately get back to the front lines? That thought scared you. It was a very high possibility, but you didn’t want him to leave your side. Selfishly, you were also scared for yourself, though not as much as you were scared for Levi.

“What do you think they’ll do to me?” you blurted out without thinking.

“Who? My people?” Levi asked.

“Yes. I don’t suppose they’ll respond well to an enemy crossing their lines,” you said matter-of-factly.

Levi became eerily silent after that, which didn’t do well to calm your nerves, but when he finally spoke up again before you could say anything else, his answer surprised you.

“It may be hard to believe given what you’ve been made to think about us, but no one will hurt you or imprison you. I’ll vouch for you as a refugee. You wouldn’t be the first of your people to cross over asking for sanctuary.”

You wouldn’t be the first.

How many of your own people had made it over? There were so many unanswered questions in your mind, each one leading to different mental spirals. Once upon a time, you wouldn’t have even flinched at information like this or even a situation like this. Now? You felt like you were holding on by a string.

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

The trek was a little slower because of Levi needing to take it easy, but you didn’t mind in the slightest. Nobody had come around on the nearby road and that had calmed you into thinking of this as a safe walk to safer lands. The sense of urgency you’d felt earlier was still swimming in your veins and it tugged at your muscles, wanting you to go faster to make sure nothing catastrophic happened, but you had to remember to be present with Levi and go at his pace. He was already pushing himself by putting so much strain on his ankle with miles of at least regular-paced walking. You could tell he was at his limit. He believed that you were only a quarter of a mile away from one of his camps by now, but even knowing that, he couldn’t keep going.

“Give me a moment,” he said suddenly. His hand tore itself from yours and he staggered over to the nearest tree, leaning his full weight against it.

He was breathing heavily when you rushed over to him. You set your kit down and opened it, but knowing full well that you didn’t have much in it that would help Levi. He’d made you throw out things you didn’t think you were going to need in such a short amount of time of a trip, but now you were regretting leaving anything behind. Levi hadn’t been too keen on letting you bring any pain medication, knowing how unfocused and loopy they made him become. It was really all you could do to help him now, other than some potential relief from a numbing salve that you could apply to his ankle. He would have to endure the pain in his ribs.

You helped Levi get his boot off so you could apply the salve, your heart hurting for him the whole time.

“Please don’t go out and fight yet,” you pleaded with him, looking up at him with sad, teary eyes. “Promise me that when we get there, you won’t run out and fight. We have to warn everyone first and then we need to get you more medical care.”

Levi didn’t answer you. He met your gaze only briefly, but then looked too conflicted and uncomfortable to keep looking at you.

“I can’t promise you that and you know it,” he said finally.

He finally sat down and pulled his boot back on when you were done, and he looked like he was about ready to fall asleep. He must have been exhausted. All the adrenaline had finally dissipated – for both of you – and now you were made to deal with the aftermath.

You let Levi close his eyes for a moment, giving him at least a few moments of peace.

As you were closing your kit again and silently hoping that Levi would just listen to you about getting some proper rest, your body tensed up when you heard what you believed to be a branch snapping.

The adrenaline was back in full force then, every particle in your body screaming at you to keep going and to run to safety. When you heard more rustling and even a few whispers, you knew you were in deep trouble.

Levi had gone rigid as well. His eyes had snapped open, alert and sharp, when the whispering started. He got up slowly, crouched like a predator, but you couldn’t pinpoint exactly where all the noise was coming from. Levi looked like he could tell.

He beckoned you to stand beside him. He nodded in the direction of the noise – behind the tree. It would act as a shield for you. He waited a few more moments, letting the strangers approach and making you nearly die of nerves.

He looked like he was about to attack, which you were conflicted about, but you yourself gripped your kit tightly, ironically ready to use it as a weapon for blunt force trauma if needed.

There were two of them, soldiers traveling together with rifles at the ready. They weren’t on the road, probably using the same traveling tactics as Levi. As soon as they were in view, about three things happened at once.

First, you registered that the soldiers weren’t your own, but from Levi’s side, wearing Levi’s colors.

Second, Levi had put too much weight on his bad ankle when he got into his fighting stance and it made him lose his balance. He stumbled and gave away your position, making the soldiers whip around to face you, immediately getting into fighting stances of their own with their rifles lifted and positioned effortlessly.

Third and most horrific of all, you were glaringly aware now of the fact that Levi had never changed out of your country’s uniform that you’d lent him. He wasn’t wearing anything of his actual uniform. He was wearing your colors.

From there, everything went from going very fast to going very slow.

When Levi realized they had pointed rifles at you, he went from offensive to defensive, moving quickly to shield you while simultaneously trying to get you away from any potential shots instead of attacking them.

“Don’t shoot!” you cried out, fear and shock pulsing through your body. It felt like you had a mouthful of cotton stuffed in your mouth and down your throat. Your lips were barely able to even move to form the words, and the volume of your voice was off. It felt as though you were thrashing around and screaming in a dream. Everything in you felt like lead, heavy and hindering.

The two soldiers looked a little shocked behind their practiced fierce facades, but you ultimately made the grave mistake of swinging your kit toward them. You had meant to show it as a peace offering, to alert them that you were a medic, and then Levi would be able to reveal his identity. However, the soldiers were too reactive. They took it as a potential threat, a sign of danger, and before Levi could reveal himself, a shot was fired.

The sound pierced your ears and a shrill ringing erupted in them immediately after. You and Levi toppled onto the ground, broken branches and jagged rocks stabbing into your back. There was no immediate pain from getting shot, though you knew that sometimes it didn’t register for people right away.

“Stop!”

This time, you had found your voice.

That was when you finally felt a warm wetness begin seeping into the fabric of your pants, on your thigh. You’d been shot. The shock from it was masking the pain.

“I’m just a medic!” you shrieked, trying to use your best authoritative voice. “This is Captain Levi! This is your Captain Levi! Tell them, Levi!”

But Levi wasn’t responding. He was still sprawled on top of you, rigid and yet also spasming. His jaw was clenched and his eyes looked unfocused and wild. It took you a minute to realize why because your brain did not want to comprehend it.

It wasn’t you who had been shot, it had been Levi. The blood from his gunshot wound had bloomed vibrantly across the entirety of his leg. You couldn’t even tell where exactly he’d been shot.

You’d never felt so cold in your entire life. Part of you knew you were shouting Levi’s name, but it was like your consciousness was retreating away from reality. You couldn’t feel yourself yelling his name or gripping at him so tightly that you were afraid you were hurting him, but you knew it was happening.

Vaguely, you could hear the two soldiers’ responses of shock and panic that it was Captain Levi, and that they’d accidentally shot their very own captain, but you couldn’t care less at that point. You were frozen in shock, all of your years of training wiped out of your head. It was strange, to be so frozen like this while knowing that you needed to act fast if you were going to save his life.

During the very beginning of your medic training, you’d seen many of your peers experience this exact same thing. When a highly traumatic case came in and you’d all needed to act lightning fast, some of them had frozen up just like this. In all your years of being a medic, you had proudly said that that had never happened to you. Why now?

“Captain?!” one of them shouted, tearing Levi off of you. Suddenly, you could breathe again. Air was filling your lungs and you felt lighter without his weight on you. Somehow, it made you feel even colder.

“Snap out of it! Hey!”

Everything sounded far away. You were fairly sure someone was talking to you, but it felt like you were slipping away. Briefly, you remembered falling into this abyss when your brother had died.

A forceful slap across your face was what ripped you out of your stupor. You blinked a few times, your reality crashing back down onto you too quickly for you to accurately process.

“Stay with me,” the soldier barked at you. “You’re a medic, right? Help us with Captain Levi!”

They had torn his pant leg apart looking for the bullet wound and had found it on his upper thigh. It had grazed the fat of his thigh, leaving a gory gash, and the bleeding was immense. But he was alive. He was alive and you could still help him. The fear of him dying on you had been so immense, you’d nearly succumbed to the grief of it.

“The bullet may have nicked a vital artery,” you said automatically, suddenly working on muscle memory.

You shuffled over to Levi, who was ghostly pale, and now barely conscious.

“You’ll be fine,” you said to him, voice shaky. But your hands were steady as you reached into your kit and grabbed some gauze, getting to work on wrapping it tightly around his wound. Then, you tore some fabric off of your shirt to use as a makeshift tourniquet, tying it tightly around his thigh.

“How far away is the nearest hospice camp?” you asked the soldiers. The sandy-haired one was strapping both rifles to his back while the brunet was taking off his uniform jacket.

“It’s up ahead, not even a quarter of a mile. Maybe a little over 300 meters,” one of them – the brown-haired one who had fired the rifle – said to you.

“Can you carry him?” you asked. “We’ll need to hurry so that he doesn’t bleed out.”

It hurt to say the words.

They were quick to react, though, and the brunet had Levi on his back within moments, after yanking his jacket on the captain.

He took off running and you and the taller sandy-haired soldier followed suit, panic seeping into every pore of your body.

As you hurried, you looked to the taller soldier, grabbing his attention.

“I need to speak to your commander right away,” you told him, that tone of authority back in your voice. “Something very bad is going to happen if we don’t get the news to everyone as soon as possible.”

He seemed to take you very seriously because he was yelling orders as soon as you had even finished saying the words.

“Eren! You go to the hospice camp with the captain! I have to take the medic to the commander!”

“Stop bossing me around, Jean!”

But the two seemed to be in agreement with the plan, because the taller boy, Jean, began leading you further away from Levi and the other soldier, Eren.

That made you nearly stop in your tracks.

“I don’t want to leave him,” you choked out, your head turned towards Levi, who looked even worse than before. Those instincts were kicking back in. You wanted to stay and help him, no matter what it took. Part of you even thought you’d risk the safety of everyone else just to be with Levi and do what you could to keep him alive and by your side.

“He’ll be okay,” Jean said, and he really sounded like he meant it.

Even though you could painfully feel your heart shattering in your chest because of the choice you had to make, you still made that choice. You retreated with Jean and the two of you sped up, no longer needing to accommodate Eren and Levi.

Out of your sight, he was all you could think about.

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

It only took a handful of minutes running to get to a large wooden structure, which you assumed was where you’d see the commander and his immediate reports.

Jean stood a little straighter and greeted some soldiers around the small structure, all of whom sent you curious and wary glances.

“Commander Smith, this is Officer Jean asking permission to enter,” Jean called from outside – there was nothing but what looked like a tent flap as a door, but you knew the respect given to leaders called for this. Then, after glancing at you, he tacked on, “I have a medic from enemy lines with me with news to report.”

It was barely a split second later that a tall and bulky man nearly ripped the tent flap to get it to the side and usher you in.

He looked at you curiously with deep blue eyes, and you felt a little intimidated. Still, you squared your shoulders and met his gaze. You told him your name, and then, through the lump in your throat, told him that you’d been taking care of Captain Levi.

At that, his curiosity piqued.

“Where is he now?” he interrupted.

You looked to Officer Jean, who had the decency to look sheepish.

“He wasn’t wearing his uniform,” he started defensively, but then eventually took accountability. “We ran into them in the woods and Eren shot the captain thinking he and the medic were threats. Eren’s taking him to the infirmary.”

The man seemed a little miffed, but he hid it well. When he turned back to you, his curiosity raged on in his eyes.

“I’m Commander Erwin Smith,” he introduced himself. You knew his name well, and he knew that you did, but you could see he was a formal sort of person. “Please, tell me what you know. Tell me why you’re here and why you’ve decided to bring Captain Levi back.”

It felt like you couldn’t get the words out fast enough.

“I’ve been the primary carer for Captain Levi after he was captured as a prisoner of war. He’s let me in on what’s really been going on with this war. Our own general bombed us at the hospice camp,” you started, and it took all of your concentration to keep your voice steady and to hide the emotions you were feeling. Though you’d been teeming with this information and eager and anxious to get it to the commander and get this weight off your chest, you still felt like you weren’t doing good enough. You had to go back and rephrase things, you had to stop and remember to provide other information, like your brother’s death, and there was just so much context that you wanted to provide but didn’t know if it would even be of use. There was no time to explain to the commander how betrayed you felt and how you had known something was off for so long and yet you’d been so conditioned to ignore all the red flags. That was for you to process, not him.

When you were done, you were nearly out of breath, and Commander Smith seemed composed but very rigid. The way he held himself reminded you of Levi.

You didn’t realize you were shaking your leg impatiently and tapping your fingers against your thigh until the commander pointedly looked down at your leg. Even then, you found it hard to stop.

“Can I go see him now?” you asked, noting the impatience in your voice.

“I’ll go with you,” Commander Smith answered.

Officer Jean was sent to relay your news, and the other captains that had been in the little office with you had already started devising a plan on how to get this done once and for all.

The walk to the infirmary was quiet, though you could tell that the commander had things he wanted to say.

It felt like an eternity before you were led to a room with a closed door, which Commander Smith opened to reveal Captain Levi himself, resting and looking much better.

The relief that washed over you was so tremendous that the tears that came couldn’t be stopped.

“Levi,” you whispered, a watery smile on your face.

You were careful not to wake him as you grabbed a chair and gently set it by his bedside, ready to camp out until he woke up. Commander Smith waited politely by the door, but he had closed it shut again behind him.

“You never told me why you came here with Captain Levi,” he said quietly, also careful not to wake Levi.

You were puzzled at that and raised a brow at the commander.

“I told you everything,” you said slowly, not sure what else to say.

“I suppose you did,” he said thoughtfully, and then leaned against the wall. “But you had the option to escape by yourself and go back home. You could have let your general go through with his plans and your country would have won the war. You could have left Levi behind.”

The last part made you go rigid, and Commander Smith undoubtedly noticed. When you didn’t say anything, he continued speaking.

“I guess I’m just surprised,” he admitted. “Not with you, but with Levi.”

You noticed he’d stopped using Levi’s title as captain. He talked more like they were friends.

“Why are you surprised?” you asked.

“He trusted you enough to escape together. He even took a bullet for you. He must really think highly of you.”

The coldness that had come back ever since the debacle in the woods was slowly melting away, replaced by that warmth that Levi had coaxed out of you. It was nice to hear from someone who knew Levi well, that he trusted you so much and would literally take a bullet for you.

“I should go, there’s a lot to get done,” the commander said, straightening up and placing his hand on the doorknob. “I have no doubt you’ll take good care of him. I’m sure he’ll be upset he won’t be allowed to help us win this war, but we need him to be at his best.”

He was gone after that, leaving you alone with Levi. It felt nice to have it just be the two of you again. You could pretend, if only for a little while, that you were the only two people in the world, just like you had last night. Had it really only been last night? It already felt like a lifetime ago. Your whole world had changed so much in so little time.

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

Commander Smith must have told everyone not to visit, because you only got the occasional doctor coming in to check on Levi. They’d urged you to get checked out as well, but you had brushed them off, making a half-hearted promise that you would as soon as Levi woke up.

He stayed asleep the rest of the day and all through the night, while you stayed awake and watched over him while keeping your ears sharp and focused for anything that could be happening outside. Part of you was afraid you could have been too late in breaking the news and half expected to hear those awful sirens again, or feel the rumbling of the earth breaking apart from the bombs. But that never happened. The only thing you had heard was a quick but uniform marching very late in the night, when it was getting close to morning yet again.

You were beginning to doze off in your chest, head lolling and then jerking upright again when you realized you were falling asleep.

At one point, a nurse came in with a blanket and some tea for you.

“Chamomile,” she whispered, giving you a warm smile. Your own nurses weren’t anywhere near as compassionate as the nurses in this infirmary. “It will relax you, maybe get you to sleep. I can bring a cot in for you.”

You accepted the blanket and tea with a small smile and you tried to say you didn’t need the cot, but she brought it in anyway. It stayed lonely at the corner of the room, unused. However, the tea did eventually loosen you up and relax you, and you couldn’t help but fall asleep, bending over to rest your head on Levi’s bed by his leg, your hand gently placed over his.

It felt like you’d only been sleeping for five minutes before you felt a gentle squeeze to your hand. You reciprocated it, smiling softly, but then when your brain finally caught up, you bolted upright in your chair, ignoring the cracking of your joints and soreness of your muscles.

“Levi!” you gasped, eyes flying to his face.

His grey eyes peered at you tiredly but he looked okay, not wincing in pain or anything. He looked peaceful, even.

“You didn’t have to stay here, Doc,” he croaked out, but he barely finished his sentence before you were practically sprawled on top of him to give him as best of a hug as you could.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you whispered in his ear, afraid that if you spoke above a whisper, you’d lose control and start sobbing. “Don’t ever take a bullet for me again.”

Much to your surprise, you felt his chest rumble with a short chuckle.

“I’ll take all the bullets and you can patch me up after,” he said, clearly joking, but you frowned at that and peeled yourself away when you heard the strain in his voice. You’d probably hurt him. When you remembered his rib injuries, you frowned even more.

“I told Commander Smith everything. I hope we made it in time. I think we did because nothing’s happened yet,” you said, knowing that would be his next question. Even so, he didn’t seem too fazed.

But when Levi tried to sit up despite all his wincing and grunting, you pushed him back down gently, a stern look crossing your features.

“Absolutely not,” you warned. “You have to rest, really rest, now that you’re not a damn prisoner. Don’t even think about trying to act like you can waltz out of here.”

“Are you okay?” he asked suddenly. “You took a fall when I knocked us on the ground. Did you get examined?”

You thought about lying, but you could see that Levi already saw it on your face. He was frowning at you now, clearly not happy.

“You were the bigger priority. You got shot, Levi,” you reminded him.

At that, he rolled his eyes, a flash of annoyance in his eyes.

“Fucking kids,” he spat out. “When I get out of here, they’re the first ones I’m getting my hands on, your entire army be damned. Everything I taught them seems to have fallen out of their dumb heads. I swear it was a little personal.”

You fought back a smile and shook your head, lacing your fingers together.

“That can wait,” you told him. “Get back to your best health and I’ll help you kick their asses.”

A flicker of a smile curled at his lips.

You tried to mirror it, but you couldn’t find it in you. Now that Levi was awake, you could let yourself be worried about next steps. You still felt the need to protect him, but you couldn’t do that if you didn’t know how successful his army was going to be in counter-attacking or, at the very least, tipping off your own army that their plans had been found out.

“What’s going to happen now?” you asked, mostly to yourself, but Levi was quick to ease your pain, as always. It was becoming a pattern of his now.

“You’ll always be safe here,” he promised you, squeezing your hand again. “Or, if you’d prefer, I can arrange to get you safely back over to your own land.”

“No,” you said quickly, revolted even at the mere idea of having to return. That was no longer your home; it hadn’t been your home for a long time. Though the process of starting over was scary, you knew you had to do it. You wanted to do it, if it meant doing it with Levi.

You looked at him, trying to look nonchalant as you said, “Scoot over,” and you were pleased that Levi was quick to obey. He made room for you on his tiny bed and you curled into him easily, a million things going through your head.

Levi seemed to read your mind, because he didn’t hesitate to whisper in your ear, “Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it together. Okay? Don’t think too hard about it right now. Just focus on you and me, in this room, and pretend there’s nothing else.”

You closed your eyes and did just that. The peace was indescribable. Though you knew at any moment the world could essentially end, you were sure you’d die happy like this. You’d done all you could. It would just have to be enough.

As you fell into this bubble of peace, you could hear a ruckus outside of Levi’s room. You couldn’t make out any exact words, but the energy was unlike any other you’d felt in years. At first, you were sure it was the end of the world, come at last. It took a moment to pinpoint exactly what it was, but it was a celebration. Some kind of celebration.

Even outside the infirmary, out of Levi’s window, you could hear cheers and gleeful shouts. The incredible sense of knowing you hadn’t failed settled into your mind and your gut. Still, you didn’t move, and neither did Levi.

“I guess we did it,” you mumbled. And the reward was this – Levi’s safety and his embrace.

“You did it,” he corrected. “All I did was get shot.”

His little joke made you roll your eyes a little, but you couldn’t help but smile. It was a sincere smile and it felt lightweight. No longer were either of you in shackles and beaten down by war. You were, for all intents and purposes, free.

“Give it to me straight, Doc. How long until I’m out of here?” Levi asked.

You thought back to what his doctor had said. You’d trusted him enough to not feel the need to examine Levi yourself. The doctor had reminded you of Dr. Muller.

“You’ll be here for at least another few days, but should be free to go home in a week,” you told him. “But you won’t be able to be on active duty until your ankle and ribs heal fully, and you’ll need to recover a lot at home.”

You met Levi’s gaze and he seemed to contemplate this seriously, his brows knitting together in concentration. Then, he raised a brow, still sounding completely serious and no-nonsense as he asked you a question that made your heart soar.

“Am I allowed to take you out to dinner in a week?”

Outside of the infirmary, you could hear music.

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