#OMG I seriously had such a blast writing this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seouljazzbar · 7 months ago

Text

GO WITH IT

MARK LEE (이민형)

ABOUT 𓂃 ࣪˖ “have sex with me so I can finish writing this” inspired by this tweet or when mark offers to solve all your problems, it's much better to go with it

WARNING 𓂃 ࣪˖ language, mark is a bit of a slut, 18+ spiderman kiss (you’ll see lmao), allusions to fat cock mark… 😵‍💫, overstimulation, unprotected sex, mark’s name repeated like 78 times (no seriously, it’s up there), reader bent like a pretzel, orgasm denial, this author loves a comma, a pinch of softdom!mark, silly ending

PAIRING 𓂃 ࣪˖ bestfriend!mark x bestfriend!reader

WORD COUNT 𓂃 ࣪˖ 6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE 𓂃 ࣪˖ a little surprise drop for my favorite neo! i guess it's also a wee bit of a belated birthday gift to him :) i skimmed it for typos and stuff but i unfortunately did not edit it the way i should have, sorrryyyyy hope y'all enjoy! omg also reader's room is yu nabi's from the kdrama nevertheless hehehe

Nobody was busier than your best friend, Mark Lee. Between his job, his vibrant social life, and his weekly family dinners, you were lucky to be offered a slot in his schedule. It was always a yes to Mark Lee. Usually.

The last three times Mark had tried to make plans with you were all failed attempts, and the excuses varied each time. There was nothing shameful about the truth, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that your friendship was being thrown to the backburner while you sloppily attempted to get your life together. He knew all about your small business, taking commissions for art prints and ceramics, but he had no idea how much time and effort went into each piece. Besides, knowing Mark he would offer to help, and that wasn’t going to be of service to you in the slightest.

All you could do was rot in bed, hoping that something would spark your creative mind to no avail. Frustration was starting to take up every corner of your mind— from the nonstop orders that you couldn’t fulfill, to your supplier raising prices, to the fact that you hadn’t had a good date in two years. You were wound too tight to function, and any minute now you were going to start pulling your hair out in chunks.

The sound of the pin-pad at your door let you know that Mark was about to come barreling through. There were so many times that you’d be in strict creation mode, headphones in at full blast while Mark banged at the door pleading for you to answer; when it started to feel like a normal part of your routine, he just requested the code to let himself in. “Yo!”

Except, this time, none of that was necessary. Your headphones were stuffed in their case on the other side of the room, workstation completely untouched with your multiple projects stacked on top of each other. Despite the custom orders piling up over the last two weeks, you hadn’t had the artistic strength to move forward with any of them. The only thing you could do to buy yourself a little time was to post a message asking for patience and understanding while you navigate some vague emotional hardship. Realistically, though, it would only buy you another week or so before people would start to get angry.

“Hi.” Perched on a stool near the kitchen island, eyes locked on the cup of coffee you warmed up seventeen minutes ago, you were out of it.

Mark waved a few inches from your face, trying to get your full attention. “Hello? Earth to ___, are you okay?”

You snapped out of it, looking over at your best friend to see that he was dressed for a night on the town. “Sorry, got a lot on my mind right now.”

White, distressed tank top, loose plaid button-up undone, and his sexiest pair of black jeans. The way the meticulous curls fell around his face, looping around his forehead in a way that feigned boylike wonder. He looked oh so delicious, but you would never tell him that— his ego was big enough for the both of you. “Anything I could help with?”

A stifled chuckle barely reached his ears before you cleared your throat, turning toward him with renewed energy. “No, not really.”

Mark put his phone and keys down on the counter, taking a quick intermission to wash his hands before walking back over to you. He’d never been in your apartment in this way before— an unannounced hangout where you’re clearly just a stop along the way, being so underdressed in his presence. He’d seen you in a swimsuit before, but something about a big shirt and underwear felt far more intimate than the two strips of fabric. “This is like the third time you’ve curved me, if you hate me just say that.”

“Oh, you’re so fucking dramatic. I’m just busy.” You shoved at his shoulder, urging him to take a seat so you wouldn’t feel so awkward with him standing over you. He refused cooly, taking a look around your apartment to make sure you hadn’t been aimlessly rotting since the last time he stopped by.

“Even I'm not that busy. What’s going on?”

“I’ve just…” You sighed heavily, a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Talking about everything wrong in your life felt far too heavy, too much to divulge to a friend seemingly just doing a wellness check. “I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, and I’ve got all these creative blocks that won’t go away and honestly I just need to be fucked like properly fucked to get my juices flowing again but all of the men worth giving it up to are in hiding.”

Mark stood there, mouth agape in disbelief. He did ask, after all. “Woah.”

“Yeah.” It felt embarrassing to hear laid out like that, but there weren’t too many secrets between you and Mark in the first place. Your sex lives weren’t off limits for discussion, and the two of you had plenty of chats that were NSFW in nature. But blurting out how badly you needed to be railed? That was a new one.

The silence spoke for itself, apparently. You didn’t want to chance a glance up at him, but you knew that you’d have to say something. Maybe something to cover your ass, let him know that you’re well aware how ‘TMI’ that was. Or even—

“I’ll fuck you.”

You nearly choked on air,“What?!” Now you had no choice but to look at him, scanning the twinkle in his eyes in search of sincerity.

“I’m really good, too.” He took a step towards you, eyes never leaving yours as his hands found home in his shirt pockets. This was a side of Mark you rarely got to see— charming, smooth, confident. There were times, namely on nights out, where you’d get a taste of it, watching him chat it up in some dark corner with the prettiest girl you’d ever laid eyes on. But this, being on the receiving end? Watching his eyes drink you in like sweet tea on a balmy Southern summer afternoon? It was enough to make your heart skip several beats.

“Mark—”

The smile he cracks at you makes you embarrassed for even considering it. “I’m just messing with you, geez,” Heat takes over your face as you try to hide it from him, palms rubbing at your cheeks as your heartbeat tries to find its resting rate. “Although, given that reaction, maybe I shouldn’t be.”

“Shouldn’t be what?”

“Messing with you. Joking, rather. I can definitely mess with you, if you want,” Running so hot and cold in such a short window of time has you shivering under his gaze, scared to make the wrong move and ruin what you’d beg him for. “Hm? Is that what you want?”

The air is thick with anticipation, nothing but the consistent drip from a ceiling leak as the soundtrack to your staring contest with Mark. He was so close to you in all of his Friday night glory, cologne a cloud around you as the heat from his chest permeated your personal space. You were certain that just one taste, just one night in the throes of passion with a curly haired Mark Lee would solve all of your problems. If you closed your eyes, you could picture it— sweaty bodies intertwined amidst the sweltering heat of your studio after dark, the fanning of his breath in your face as he rocks into you, his strong frame caging you into the bed so all you can focus on is Mark, Mark, Mark! His sighs and whines of pleasure flooding your senses so they’re all you can pay attention to, just his voice and his unrelenting pace as he— “___,” The sound of your name on his tongue snapped you out of your lustful haze. “Offer’s about to expire, baby.”

Mark slipped his jacket off without breaking away from you, dropping it carelessly on the floor while your attention wandered to his arms. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, crossing his arms against his chest as he awaited your answer. “You’re serious? This isn’t some cruel prank where if I say yes, you’ll tell me it was just a joke?”

“That’s not my idea of a prank, princess, where’s the fun in that?” Mark licked his lips, a faint smirk taking over. “Look, if you’re uncomfortable, we can pretend this never happened,” His fingers ghost along the side of your face, sweetly making their way to your lips. “But if it were up to me? I’d have you seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment.”

That was all you needed to lunge into a kiss with him, throwing him slightly off guard as you practically tossed yourself into his arms. But his lips were ready for you, steaming hot and sopping wet— just the way you like it. The smush of your lips together so suddenly garnered the sweetest moan from him, just enough to tease you of what’s to come. His arms wrapped around your torso like a claw machine, pulling you so flush against him as though he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers.

Your lips were still tingling as he pulled away to lap kisses against your neck, peppering anywhere his lips could reach. “M-Mark, hmngh.”

It was no secret that Mark had a bit of a reputation in the bedroom, but you never thought you’d witness it firsthand. His hands delved blindly to your legs, hoisting you around his waist so he could move you over to your bed. You almost had a mind to remind him of the three big steps up to your bedroom area, but he was far suaver than you gave him credit for— this wasn’t exactly his first rodeo.

He tossed you on the bed, the slight recoil exhilarating before he was all over you again. “If a proper fuck is what you want…” His kisses had shifted to your chest, lips and tongue sucking in the essence of your skin like he couldn’t bear not to. He was almost more excited than you were, his touch reaching anywhere and everywhere all at once, like he couldn’t get enough of exploring everything you had to offer. It was all starting to feel real as Mark made a move to lift up your shirt and the implication of your best friend seeing you naked caught up with you.

“Wait, wait. We’re gonna see each other naked.”

Mark, with the fabric of your shirt caught in his teeth, stared at you blankly. “Yeah…”

“Shouldn’t that be weird?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, squeezing at your hip with the hand closest to it. “Maybe, but how do you suggest we fuck then? Through my jeans?” He pulled your body swiftly down the mattress so you could feel how hard he was through your panties.

“Shut the fuck up, oh, my God.”

“I was trying to before you got all weird and jittery,” Mark made a move for your shirt again, and this time you didn’t fight him on it. The balmy air hit your pert nipples the second they were exposed, and Mark couldn’t stop the gruff noise that formed in his throat. “Just as pretty as I imagined.” You squirmed at the compliment, cheeks heating up at the sight of him drooling over you. “Like that? Hm? Are you my pretty girl?”

His lips wrapped around the peak of your breast, tongue swirling to the same pattern his thumb and forefinger followed on your other nipple. “Yes!” It was embarrassing, how fast you succumbed to his commands. He struck with confidence, maneuvering his way around your body like he’d done it before. “I’m your pretty girl.”

“So sexy saying that for me, baby,” Your legs part instinctually to make more room for him, and Mark took that as his sign to shift gears. “You know… sometimes, every now and then, I’d think about you. If I needed a little extra push towards ecstasy, you’d pop in my head. Think about the way you’d look if I got my hands on you. How you’d feel, how you’d taste,” His fingers prodded at the growing wet patch on your underwear. “Gonna let me see?”

Your back arched off the mattress, hands pulling him impossibly closer to you. “Mark, please stop asking, just do it.”

“Mm, say ‘please’ again.”

“Mark!”

His laugh would be even sexier if it weren’t at your expense. “Alright, fine.” Your panties stayed on as his tongue lapped at your folds through them, the flimsy cotton doing absolutely nothing to stop him from devouring you. You jerked at the feeling as his tongue licked a bold strip through your folds, your hands entangling themselves in his curly locs. “You’re so wet, holy shit.”

One quick motion moved your panties to the side, puffy wet lips on full display for his greedy eyes. His eyes sparkled at the sight, mouth watering at the mere thought of getting to taste you. “Smell so good, pretty girl.” He was so hungry and you were the only one who could satiate him. His tongue had a mind of its own, pressing flat against your folds without a second thought, “Taste even better.”

Mark’s grip on your thighs held you in place as he licked you clean, running his tongue against every nerve-ending he could feel for. He pulled them apart just enough to spread you out for him, just enough to be on full display for him. Your taste occupied every corner of his mind as he blacked out in pleasure, lapping up every drop your gushing pussy offered up.

He circled your clit until you saw stars, your squirming uncontrollable as his tongue darted inside of you. “You’re so good to me.”

Mark groaned between your thighs, in love with the praise you were showering him with. There was something about how natural and seamless it was for you to compliment him that turned him on even more, if that was possible. “I don't think I'll ever get enough of how you taste, Christ.”

His free hand slithered up your torso, sinking his thumb into your eager mouth while his continued working at your core. He wasn’t shy, either, licking boldly from your ass to your clit while shaking his tongue side to side. Slurping up every drop that dribbled out of your entrance, twisting his tongue as far inside of you as he could reach. You were dripping down his chin by the time he introduced his fingers, prodding at your glistening hole with just one to test the waters. He took the way you gripped onto his hair as his sign that you were more than enjoying it. “F-feels good, oh, God.”

“Mm, don’t be shy.”

Laving at your clit, he drank up the praises the way he was drinking you up. He only pulled away to fully discard your panties, diving back into center with renewed vigor. “Need more.” You didn’t want to push him any closer to you, scared you’d smother him, but he didn’t seem afraid to drown. He’d awoken something desperately greedy inside of you, and you were slipping further into a haze of pleasure with every passing moment. Two fingers pressed their way inside of you, pumping slowly to get you adjusted before the jerk of your hips told him to pick up the pace. You couldn’t hold still with the way he was devouring you, mouth and hands prying you open deliciously all for his enjoyment. He would die between your thighs if you let him, you’re sure of it.

You had to physically pull him off of you to get him to stop, orgasming bubbling inside of you in record time. “Want you inside of me already.” The entirety of the lower half of his face was a sticky mess of your arousal, from his nose to his chin completely covered in you. “Bro, you need to wipe… that.” Times like these, you were glad that you kept tissues on your nightstand.

“You cannot and will not call me ‘bro’ now that I know what you taste like. How insulting.”

It hadn’t dawned on you that Mark was still fully dressed, sans his plaid jacket-shirt that was curled in a sad pile on the floor. “Is that an order?”

He bit at his lip, eyes darkening as he drank in your bare figure sprawled beneath him. Your hands ran themselves up and down his arms, finally getting a chance to admire his body after all the focus was turned to you. Maybe it was the lighting, the way his hair fell over his eyes, or just the fact that he was the best kisser you’d had the pleasure of test driving— but he looked divine. Halo of light circling his head as he fumbled with his belt, biceps flexing as he lifted the tank top off of his lean frame. Suddenly, he wasn’t your friend anymore; he was something new entirely.

You were so lost in your own adoration of him that you hadn’t noticed he was undressed, pulling you directly underneath him as he kissed at your collarbones. “Where’d you go off to, huh?”

“It’s nothing,” you shook your head, snapping back to reality (which was so much better than whatever was going on in your will they-won’t they fantasy). “Thank you, for this.”

Mark didn’t respond with words, instead opting to kiss you softly, tenderly. Slowly, deeply, passionately kissing you as he lowered himself atop of you. He wasn’t in a rush anymore, pulling you into him like you were made of glass, grinding against your center like you had all the time in the world. Everything was so delicate, like he was savoring the moment for years to come. It scared you, if you were being honest. “Mark? You know you can still kiss me while you’re inside of me, yeah?”

He hummed in approval, connecting your mouths again in a slow, languid kiss, tongues slithering into each other's mouths and twisting messily. You could feel him lining up with your entrance, his hand wrapped around his girth to guide himself into you steadily. Chancing a look down, you tried to hide the way your eyes bulged out at the sheer size of him— he would never let you hear the end of it if you fawned over how huge he was. It took all of your willpower to remain still, your body welcomed him as though it had hundreds of times, the shape of him slotting inside of you like he was made to. His fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head so he could travel to your neck, groaning out his praise against your sticky skin. The absence of his lips on yours made you whine, hands wandering the expanse of his back just for confirmation that this was real. “Tell me how it feels.”

You couldn’t. Months of the worst dry spell you’d ever experienced coming to a head with Mark milking you for everything you had couldn’t be described. All you could do was moan, coiling around him even tighter as he started to rock his hips forward as though he was testing the waters. He was the only thing you could focus on— his scent, his taste, they way his nose pressed right against yours, the feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours against the mattress, the dionysian desire his hips were fulfilling. It was all just Mark, Mark, Mark. “Mark!” His teeth couldn’t resist nipping at your lip, pulling on it playfully before letting go to let his tongues soothe the area.

“I can’t help it, you’re so fun to play with.” He kissed you to make up for the quick dot of pain, relishing in the way you immediately kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm.

“I’m, I’m close.”

He spread your legs further apart to give himself more room to buck his hips, pressing at your thighs as he fucked into you faster. “Hold it.”

“Whyyyy?”

“You asked for the Mark Lee experience,” His thrusts grew pointed, almost exaggerated as his hips drove forward with precision, “and I’m gonna give it to you.”

You could feel yourself teetering dangerously close to the edge, stomach coiled tight and lungs working overtime. The mere thought of being denied your orgasm was getting you worked up— you hate not getting your way. Your legs wrapped around Mark’s waist, locking your ankles together for good measure. If he wanted to play games, you were down for it. “Harder.”

But instead of faster, Mark slowed to a complete stop, hands drifting down to your hips to pin them to the mattress. “Oh, baby, do you think I’m stupid?” He chuckled in your face, shaking his head as the laughter subsided. “That’s a sure fire way to get nothing.”

“Wait, no, please! I didn’t mean it.”

The damage had already been done. His patience with you was wearing thin, and he didn’t take kindly to disobedience. “Have you learned your lesson?” Each second that passed stole a piece of your orgasm away with it, that delicious ball of tension and heat simmering down to a cool pit of nothing the longer Mark held your hips down. Your heart stopped fluttering with urgency, slowing to its resting rate as you dealt with the consequences of trying to outsmart your best friend. “Speak up, baby.”

“Yes,” You hissed out, annoyed that your declaration of needing to be fucked was currently going unanswered. Who is he to deny you of the very thing he promised you? “I learned my lesson.”

It was exactly what he wanted to hear, “God, you’re so sexy when you behave yourself.”

You rolled your eyes, slapping his chest as he pulled away from you entirely. “What happened to ‘having me seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment’?”

It was Mark’s turn to roll his eyes, fingers running through his hair as he sat back on his heels. “Up against the wall.” You did as he said, spreading your hands against the wall as you felt him behind you, lining himself up with your sodden entrance. The inward arch felt unnatural at first, but you settled into it as you got comfortable in it. “Look up at me.” Mark was towering over you, quite literally. From this angle, all you had to do to see his face was look up and there he was with that devilish smile. His cock pressed into you as you watched him, the sheer thickness splitting you clean open for him, sucking him in like your pussy had been waiting for him. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Maybe it was the taboo of sleeping with a friend, but your body was on fire. You felt your entire body heating up at the sudden change in his demeanor, switching your flirty best friend to a man absolutely starved. With your eyes screwed shut, you reached a hand out to hold onto his arm, fingers giving it a squeeze, head bumping the bare skin of his chest.

“Fuck.”

You were even wetter than you were while he had you pinned to the mattress, the feeling of being filled by him more electrifying after a brief intermission. He was all over you again and that was all that mattered, walls tightening around him with a vice-like grip that had both of you gasping for air.

“Shit,” he hiss, already lost in the sensation, “so good to me, ___, so fucking good.” He emphasized the last syllable with a gentle thrust that had your nails scratching at the wall. Your orgasm was building back up faster than you would’ve liked it to, considering you knew Mark wouldn’t let you cum so soon after denying you.

It hit you deeply, in all the right places at the right angle. Mark was that good from the start, and you couldn’t believe you’d been missing out on it. If you knew he was this goof, you would’ve ruined the friendship ages ago. “So fucking deep, Mark, keep going like that,” you moaned, just as caught up as he was.

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, fucking into you with much more vigor than before, gripping your ass with such force you half expected to see the dents after. You moaned all you had to say, all you had to feel into each other’s mouths. When his velvety tongue enveloped yours you could almost taste the remnants of your arousal and the chocolate muffin he ate right in between sweeping and mopping. The water was still running, hitting part of his back and your leg.

You couldn’t pull away from him even if you tried— he was a part of you now, molded into each other’s bodies until you became one. “Wanna keep fucking you forever,” he groaned, pouring his all into every touch. “Keep you on me forever.”

It threw you for a loop. Keep you forever? Mark was a lot more emotional than he let on, sure, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he meant it in ways other than platonic. You couldn’t even stop him to ask what he meant by that because he was so deep in your guts that you were starting to feel him in your throat.

“Don’t stop,” you cried out, biting your lip when he hit a certain spot inside you and kept hitting it over and over again— the taste of blood didn’t stop you. “Don’tstopdon’tsopdon’tstop-”

“Fuck,” he whisper, voice strained and raspy, smacking at your ass before gripping it and bringing you down to meet his increasingly harsh thrusts, the slap echoing throughout your studio apartment. “Wanna fuck you forever, baby.” One hand kept its vice grip on your hip while the other grasped at your neck, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. “Gimme a kiss, pretty girl.” Your lips found his despite the blurring of your vision, a supple lock as he steadied rocking into your core. Kissing him upside down felt worlds away from the first kiss you shared with him, and yet you still couldn’t get enough of it. The hand on your hip slithered up to cup your breast, rolling your nipple as he pulled away from the kiss. “So obedient.”

All the shame had disappeared from your body, the satisfaction of finally being fucked numbing you to his quips completely. His name was on the tip of your tongue, begging to be set free, but the way his hips ricocheted off your ass made you short circuit. Your skin was hot to the touch, goosebumps littering the expanse of your body as your toes curled around the fabric of your duvet.

“Who knew you were such a dirty girl, hm?” Mark tutted. You hold back your moans, reveling in the sensation of his tip sliding up and down you dripping folds. Interrupting his own rhythm just to get a rise out of you, giving you no warning before shoving himself right back in.

“Bet this was your plan all along,” You ignore the fact that he technically initiated all of this, too blissed out to snap back at him cheekily. “Dripping all over my cock, fuck.” He’s thinking out loud, eyes locked at the way your pussy invites him in, grip unrelenting with each thrust. He drew his hips back again to repeat the same unforgiving tempo, laughing to himself at the way your thighs shake in anticipation.

“Wanted this for so long.” You whine, bashful about the confession rolling off your tongue so easily. Mark had always occupied a special part of your mind, but the barrier of your friendship with him always kept you from thinking of him in that way for too long. He’s hot, sure, and one of the most genuine guys you’d ever met— but risking that by dating him felt too stupid to risk.

Mark didn’t keep you waiting for too long, filling you to the brim with one stroke that had your toes curling. You gasp, a shiver running up your spine as he adopts a frenzied pace that nearly knocks you into the wall in front of you. “You’re so fucking warm.” He can’t help but moan out at the feeling, clutching onto your hips as he pistons in and out of you. Blunt fingers digging into your skin as you let your body fall forward. You felt so full.

“Mark, fuck.” you whine, probably a tad too loud considering how thin the walls feel at night but you couldn’t help it, with the way he held onto you and fucked you like he had never had good pussy in his life. “Faster.”

“Where’d your manners go? Say ‘please’.” He teased, testing your obedience despite knowing you’d obey him. There was just something about knowing he held your pleasure in the palm of his hands, knowing that you’d do anything he asked of you.

“Please, please, please Mark, need you so bad.” It sounded pathetic, and it only makes Markn screw his eyes shut as he fucks you harder. All control lost as he watches the drool drip from your mouth down the wall— he was really fucking your brains out.

Mark's rough groans were slowly morphing into needy moans, the sound causing even more slick to build up between your legs. “Taking my cock like such a good girl.” And you really were, considering you had nothing but the wall to grip onto, you let your body go wherever Mark led it. Each thrust sending you closer and closer to your climax, his dick hitting every single spot that you’re sure you’d see stars.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck.”

“You’re gonna cum? Mm, you can cum. Cum all over my dick, lemme see that pretty face.” You arched inward one last time for him, looking up at the man sending you to heaven and back on a loop. “There you go. Good fucking girl.” Mark smacked your ass sharply, holding onto your ass as he switched his rhythm to harsh, precise thrusts that were sure to throw you over the edge of pleasure. He kissed your forehead as the growing tension in the pit of your stomach snapped, your walls contracting around him in a tight frenzy that nearly triggered his own. He didn’t slow down, though. The clutching of pussy did absolutely nothing to deter him from fucking you with the same rigor, hips just as quick as they were before he finally let you cum.

“M-Mark, I don’...” The aftershocks of ecstasy silenced you in your tracks, the sparks of pleasure like electricity through your bloodstream. “Don’t stop.”

He laughed at the change of your tune, thumb flitting down to flick at your clit. “Baby needs more? Haven’t had enough yet?”

Even with him poking fun at your desperation, you were too drunk on his cock to care. All you could manage was a chorus of fuck me, fuck me, fuck me as Mark held you flush against him. “God, yes, fill me up like that.” Your arousal was dripping all over the inside of your thighs, the sticky slick glistening under the moonlight that peaked through your curtains.

“That’s right, I’m not fucking done with you yet, pretty girl.” This side of him was lethal. He was insatiable, obsessed with the way your body responded to him, greedy for the way you bent to his every whim. It was such a change of pace from the way he was kissing you in missionary, the way he treated you like a doll that he was afraid of hurting you. “Feel good?”

He was mocking you— of course, it was good. You didn’t have to tell him that for him to know; but feeding his ego was so addictive. The way he’d reward you for praising him was enough for you to fall for the trap every single time. “So, good, Mark, hngh.”

The smack of his hips against your ass bounced off the walls, echoing the depravity that you and Mark were oh so good at acting on. All of your senses on overdrive, the overstimulation pulling at you from every end, you weren’t sure if you could take it all for much longer. Drool slipped from your mouth onto Mark’s arm, the edges of your vision blurring as you could feel yourself bubbling over. “Gonna cum again?”

“‘m gonna cum again.”

He was drunk with the power of controlling you. “Hold it.”

“Mark, I can’t.” You were surprised you were even able to do it the first two times he commanded it, not used to having gratification delayed against your wishes.

“Gonna fill you up and then you can cum.” It only took a few more targeted thrusts before he was spilling his seed into you, an endless leak of evidence of what took place over the last hour or so. Even as his cock began to soften, he made sure to fuck you through it, massaging tight circles into your clit until your legs spasmed. The air was snatched from your lungs, eyes flittering shut in sweet relief. It was only two orgasms, but the build up had really taken it out of you. Mark flipped you over gently on your back, brushing the hair out of your face as you sleepily opened your eyes.

“Look at that. Take a look at the mess we made, baby.”

He gestured between your legs, a slippery canvas of cum smeared across your most intimate parts. “So much…” You couldn’t stop yourself from gathering some on your fingers, popping them into your mouth for a taste of the two of you mixed together.

Your brain was on fire, neurons alight with the molten sensation that was Mark Lee. Even though you took him up on the offer, you weren’t expecting him to completely change your world. A solid orgasm and a pat of the back, maybe. But now you were afraid that he was your new addiction that you’d never be able to feed.

You woke up in a fresh sleep shirt to the smell of toasted bagels and coffee. Mark balanced the plates and mugs the best he could as he tackled the steps leading up to your bedroom area. “Mornin’ sleepyhead.”

“What time is it?”

He shoved a mug of steaming coffee into your hands, kissing you on the forehead. “Don’t worry about that. You were exhausted, wanted to let you sleep.”

“Thank you.” The coffee was exactly to your liking, just what you needed after a night of fucking like rabbits. “So, should we talk about… it?”

Blush rose to his cheeks and there was no hiding it, his hair pulled back into a messy bun so his face was on full display. “I mean, only if you want to? I’m okay with proceeding however you want to.”

“You’d be fine staying friends? Never talking about it? Pretending that nothing’s changed?”

He shrugged, “if that’s what you wanted, then yeah.” His attention shifted to his breakfast, eyes zeroed in on his eggs and toast like it was a gourmet meal. “Just don’t wanna make you feel weird about it, you know?”

“Mark?” You placed your coffee and plate down on your bedside table, turning your full attention to him as he continued to avoid your gaze. “What did you mean by all the ‘keep you forever’ stuff then?”

He rushed to try to explain himself, scrambling his words into a whole lot of nothing. “It’s not, like, a big deal or anything. I just get possessive… in bed, sometimes. I’m not a weirdo or anything, I promise.”

None of that mattered to you anyway, your dreams of Mark that clouded your head all night giving you the push you needed to throw caution to the wind. Would it be the worst thing in the world to risk it all with him? One kiss, chaste and sweet, was enough to shut him up for just a moment. “So if I said we should try exploring further, maybe go on a date or something, you’d say yes?”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, mouth falling agape as he searched your face for any signs that you were being facetious. “Y-yeah, yes. If that’s what you want.” He was so bad with his feelings, sometimes— but you were more than willing to be patient.

“Well, good, because that’s what I want.”

#mark lee smut #mark lee x reader #mark lee imagines #nct smut #nct x reader #seouljazzbar

4K notes · View notes

nininikki · 19 days ago

Text

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘, 𝐌𝐑. 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 | eren jaeger x black fem!reader

V. call me when you get this

✧ summary! — one night. that’s all eren needs to show you how he really feels. just one night. but how well do his feelings hold up in the light of day?

✧ warnings! — adultery, age gap (reader is 29 and eren is 40), some jean x reader, fluff, catastrophically down bad!eren, ballet (🩰), lots of POV switching, mentions of pregnancy and miscarriage, angst (lmk if i missed anything, i haven’t slept in days)

✧ author’s note! — guyssss 🙈🙈 don’t hate me for taking eons to update this :( i had to make it perfect ok! anyhow i had a blast writing this (no matter how long it took) and i hope y’all love it too 💋 as always ilysm your support means the world 🙈💋🩷🫂

✧ word count — 9.1k (omg srry)

series masterlist / previous chapter

15 SEPTEMBER, TWO MONTHS BEFORE THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION

“there’s a lot riding on georgia.” mikasa said. the plane food that she would stuff down her throat to keep her mind off the height muffled her tone, so eren couldn’t tell if his wife was about vent to him or give him a lecture. “you’re falling behind with women, so i wish you could have come. but it’s okay. i’ll think of something.”

“talk about my policies that help women.” eren suggested, although he was hardly the utmost focused at the moment.

a stack of black and white stationery splayed across his office desk. a newspaper, and on the cover of it was your face, and despite how much pleasure this would usually bring him, it wasn’t just your face. jean kirschtein’s face just had to be there as well. sitting across from you at one of those outdoor cafe tables, caressing your cheek with the palm of his hand over a shared milkshake. he looked totally and utterly in love with you, and it was sickening to witness.

eren recalled the memory of your pillow soft lips pushing against his, allowing him entry, forming whimpers around his name. was jean capable of such a thing? was he worthy? at that, eren briefly wondered if he himself were even worthy.

KIRSCHTEIN AND (L/N) COZY UP OFF SET!

even the title irked him to a T. despite the photo having been taken during the height of your press tour, it still made eren woozy with envy. how could you be everywhere but where he wanted? in every paper, every movie, every magazine, every show. every corner of his mind. every night, the star of every dream. everywhere but where he needed you most.

eren regained his voice after a moment. “and if that doesn’t work, tell ‘em you make a mean peach cobbler.”

“my husband, always the strategist.” mikasa droned through what was undoubtedly a glass of champagne. “okay, the plane’s taking off. call you when i land.”

with the sound of the dial tone, eren was finally able to think in peace. he could take a thick swig of his morning orange juice while silently cursing the newspaper company (seriously, were newspapers even supposed to report on that shit? what happened to current events?) and the paperboy who dropped it at his door.

eren picked up his glass and took another swig of orange encouragement before jotting your number into the keypad.

15 SEPTEMBER, TWO MONTHS BEFORE THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION

“miss, miss. excuse me, miss.” a sharp knocking on your open bathroom door pierced through the sound of music blaring in your ears. it was your housekeeper, katya, looking awfully worried at the amount of water and bubbles your body was submerged in. you assured her with a carefree smile as you removed your headphones. “the phones,” katya pointed to the house phone stationed in her other hand, chirruping madly. “they ring. would you like to answer?”

you rose from the soft field of bubbles and stretched your arm, which was covered in suds, out for the phone. before you could thank katya, she scurried out of the room, gingerly closing the door behind her.

“hello,” you said upon answering.

“hey, stranger.” the voice on the other end answered in what one could only describe as cheerful anxiety. despite the outward, shiny finishing of enthusiasm, you heard the sharp, broken inhale he took before speaking. as you sat up in the water, allowing a heap of suds to slide down your shoulders, you began to ponder over whatever it was he could be so nervous about.

“oh, hi jean. how’s it going?”

“uh, y’know, pretty good.” it might have been hallucination from the steam, but part of you swore you heard him gulp. “i didn’t expect you to actually pick up.”

with a slippery hand, you adjusted the claw clip that was beginning to lose its grip on your hair. “always time for my favorite co-star. what’s up?”

“i was, um,” he made a noise that seemed to be a cross between an exhale and a… sneeze? cough? heimlich maneuver? “wondering if you wanted to do something next saturday.”

“do something?”

“y’know, like a hang-out. y’know, two friends hanging. oh, that sounded weird. uh—”

“are you asking me on a date?” a date. a date? you lessened the intensity of the faucet’s outpour with polished, suddy toes before you let yourself think.

it was weird. it was weird, wasn’t it? going out on a date with your co-worker. dating your coworker. society (and the human resources department) usually discouraged that kind of thing. they also discouraged casual sex with said coworkers. where was your morality then?

well, not in hollywood, they don’t. sex appeal was about one-third of what kept everything up and running. when you first gave in and told hange you were sleeping with jean, you remember them lifting you off the ground whilst spinning in circles, screaming, “the publicity” over and over again. everything after that was blurry.

after a millenium of thinking, jean spoke again. “yeah,” you could hear the slightest tinge of his usual confidence returning. “yeah, is that weird?”

“no. not at all.” if you thought about it for too long, it absolutely was. in all your time of fornicating behind closed doors, you had went on exactly zero dates.

sure, you would sneak into his trailer to see how many times you could blow him before it was time to shoot the next scene. and maybe the way he kissed you during some takes felt a little too real. but could that work forever? could that passion translate into romance?

a date. where would we go? what would i wear? what would he say? the he you were referring to was a green-eyed politician whose cologne you could still smell on your neck, even while submerged in soapy water.

eren won’t care, you thought. it bruised your ego as it crossed your mind. surely he’d have too much too much on his plate to even notice something so silly. debates, primaries, dinners. a gulp formed in your throat. his wife. you sunk yourself deeper within the water. ah, yes, his wife. that bruised something deeper than your ego.

“i’d, uh, i’d love to, jean.”

***

“don’t just sit there, hange. help me pick out a dress.”

“what day is it? friday? you’ve got a week to pick something out.”

“yeah, only a week. so i’m basically two weeks behind.” your wrists had nearly gone limp rifling through what felt like a million imperfect dresses. “could i have that versace ordered in time?”

“i don’t know why you worry so much.” hange moaned, removing themselves from your mattress with agonizing patience. “frenchie’s not gonna care if you show up wrapped in a dish rag.”

“could you not call him frenchie?” your irritation grew as you tripped over a pair of manolos. “he’s not a dog.”

“well he’s french, isn’t he?”

you turned around clutching a colorful, floral dress to your chest. hange leaned against the closet’s door frame, toeing the line between bored and amused. “‘kay, what do you think of this?”

they dramatically pushed their glasses past their hairline, and squinted as if they were in pain. “well not that. you’ll give him a seizure.”

you rolled your eyes. “don’t worry.” a sardonic chuckle fell from your lips as you pulled five dresses from the rack and made your way into your room. “we’ve got my whole closet to go through.” the hangers and fabric fell to your bed with a cacophony of clangs and thumps.

“not tonight.” hange sat down on the bed, popping open a few buttons on their shirt. “got a hot date.”

although your first instinct was to scoff, you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips as you caught hange blushing. “with who? one of the girls from your magazines?”

the words barely left your mouth before their calloused fingertips pinched the skin of your hip. a feverish blush crawled down their neck. “with a girl, a nice one. she’s a supermodel, so the magazine thing is probably true.” hange rubbed their knuckles over the bridge of their nose, something they only did when wracked with nerves. “total knockout too. you’ve probably met her.”

you hummed, admiring the way your friend fawned over their crush. “well, i look forward to formally meeting her. at least before the wedding.”

hange pinched you again, harder this time, eliciting a yelp. “you’re so dramatic. pass me a dress.”

you shuffled through the stack before passing them a little black number with bandage-like straps. “i mean, you probably are gonna sleep with him, but don’t make it so obvious.”

“oh, c’mon, hange. it’s a pretty dress!”

“yeah, if you want him to touch your private parts.”

you laid the dress across the footboard, mentally labeling it as the no pile. “mind if i order chinese?”

“you’re insatiable.” you murmured, gesturing toward the house phone next to your bed.

“you love me.”

hange made their way over, haphazardly fiddling with the buttons as they tried to recall the number to wok-a-holic.

“you have one unheard message.” the automated woman inside your telephone announced to the room. “would you like to hear it?”

hange quickly and clumsily pulled their glasses over their face “shit, i didn’t mean to do—”

“uh, hi. i know i shouldn’t be doing this, but i don’t know.”

hearing his voice was like a baptism—only the most sinful kind. with every word, you could feel him over you, cupping his big hand over the back of your head. staring at you in that way that he did—past your eyes and directly into your soul—before submerging you in the water that was ice cold, yet burning you alive with sin. every movement of his lips was corruption.

your heart pumped with pure adrenaline as you scrambled to get across your king sized bed. “what the fuck, hange. what’d you press?”

“i thought i hit the seven!”

“just been wantin’ to hear your voice,”

“what the fuck,” you noticed the slur in his voice, but couldn’t quite make out if he was tipsy or just tired.

hange looked genuinely puzzled more than anything. “who is that?” they whispered, as if eren could hear the two of you.

“i-i don’t know, it’s just some guy that-that i met at the...” you cut yourself off with a gulp. you prayed hange was oblivious to the fresh tears of shock springing in your eyes, or the way you kept doubling over like you were gonna puke any moment.

“i thought i was doin’ fine, then one of your movies came on today, and well…you can guess how that went.”

at that, you lunged for the phone. because although you could not guess how that went, you’d bet your top dollar that he was either going to tell you, or say something else just as awfully incriminating.

“wait, not so fast. i wanna hear the rest.” hange tsked, encircling their arms around your abdomen and directing you away from the phone. you inwardly cursed their abhorrent noseyness and stellar upper body strength.

“look, i know this is way outta line, and i probably shouldn’t even be asking, but…mikasa’s left for georgia this morning,”

hange scrunched up their face in bemusement. “mikasa?” then you watched realization contort that same bemusement into shock, and then horror. and then shock again, then a weird mixture of the two.

“and…i figured that’d give us the opportunity to talk things out, or maybe not. it’s completely up to you.”

“shit.” you collapsed back into your mattress, defeated and shameful.

“anyway, i don’t wanna take up any more of your time. please just…call me when you get this.”

there was a dial tone akin to the sound of a judge’s gavel. as hange turned to face you, you wondered what their verdict would be.

“you’re fucking him?”

“no!”

“jesus christ.” they uttered beneath their breath. “you couldn’t sleep with, like, a soccer player. or-or-or one of those set-dec guys that are always drooling over you. noooo. you had to sleep with the governor of california.”

“you’re insane.” you nearly screamed. the shame you felt was beginning to border on frustration, even though you had no room to be frustrated with anyone but yourself.

“i’m insane? you’re sleeping with an elected official, and i’m insane?”

“yeah, funny how that works. and we are not sleeping together.”

hange made a face indicative of needing more information.

you dug your acrylic nails into your palms. “i don’t know. h-he likes me.”

“and you like him, too?”

the way you habitually chewed on your lip and crossed your ankles back and forth told them everything they needed to know.

your manager and best friend let a deep sigh rumble through their chest, then joined you on the bed. “this is so fucked. we’re so fucked.”

suddenly, you felt like a twenty year old girl again. life steering out of your control. passion with nowhere to pour it. a disappointment. a failure. a mockery of everything everyone had worked for. “i know. i’m sorry. please don’t hate me.”

they sat upright, immediately wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “hey, don’t cry.”

“‘m not crying.” you scoffed.

“you are.” hange brushed a thumb over your cheek, and it came back wet. “and i don’t hate you. but i’m definitely gonna need a raise.”

you sniffed. “fair.”

***

eren got your call at around a quarter til midnight. just when he was beginning to think you’d rejected him, and had poured his first glass of scotch for the night.

he had gotten through the day mostly okay. he ate lunch without thinking of you. he had almost succeeded going for a run without thinking of you, but your latest GQ campaign was plastered on a billboard big enough for someone in alaska to see. he had a phone call with levi where all he did was think of you, and how much he’d rather have his head underneath your skirt than hear another word of campaign talk. he tried not to think of you in the shower, but you can guess how well that went.

and now he was in bed thinking of you. because he had left that message, what was it, almost twelve hours ago? and not only had you left him with radio silence, but now a cosmetics commercial of yours was on and eren wondered if this was what it felt like to go mad.

he could understand if you wanted to be left alone, but were you aware of how hard it was when you were everywhere?

then you called, and he nearly broke his hand picking up the phone.

“you’ve got some nerve leaving a message on my answering machine.”

his heart exploded with ecstasy. he didn’t care that you sounded angry enough to scare off a pack of hyenas. you were here, and you were talking to him. “good evening to you, too, (y/n).” he relaxed in his sheets.

“don’t try to butter me up, eren. this is serious!”

oh, it probably was really serious, but he couldn’t bring himself to care when you said his name like that. with so much passion and fury. it invigorated him. “mmm, tell me about it.”

“my manager found out.” just as your voice dropped just beneath a whisper, so did the beating of eren’s heart. “and thank god they’re cool about it, or we’d be all over tmz by now.”

eren sighed with relief and revelation. what were you doing to him? though, it really wasn’t your fault. he was the elected official. he was the married man. he knew it was wrong to want you as much as he did, yet he did anyway. regardless of his title or his wife, or his campaign.

and you. the way you walked, the way you talked. the way your voice wrapped around his name when you addressed him as mr. governor. or even better: eren. you were so effortlessly enchanting. it was easy for him to forget that he couldn’t have you the way he needed.

“what were you thinking, eren?”

“i’m sorry, i just…” he combed a hand through his still damp hair. “i-i-i missed you.”

“i’m not that stupid,” you scoffed, as if you could just tell he was lying. but, really, he wasn’t. it was more of a partial truth than anything. “so be honest.”

involuntarily, the image of you and jean in the newspaper made itself present in his mind, stirring up fresh agony in his gut. jean shouldn’t have been allowed to look at you like that. eren knew this for certain, as he himself wasn’t even allowed to look at you like that.

“i guess…” eren brushed his fingers over his adam’s apple, wondering if he could punch the words out of his mouth. “i’malittlejealous.”

“you’re what?”

“i’m… jealous.” eren uttered the word as if it were a slur. it felt like one. it tasted like one as he spoke it, which was ironic, considering the emotion had been eating him alive for long enough.

eren couldn’t recall a time in his life where he wanted for something that someone else had. connections? he had them. money? more than he could ever need. women? they flocked to him in groves. a beautiful (albeit distant) wife, a promising political career, and a cushy estate to fall back on if things didn’t go as expected.

so why did the sight of jean kirschstein looking at you like you were his make his blood froth so ferociously?

“jealous? jealous of wh—” you cut yourself off again. you lowered your voice to a serious and sort of patronizing tone. like you were about to scold a kindergartener. “is this about jean?”

god, he even hated the way you said his name. “maybe.”

at that, you released a boisterous laugh that seemed to go on for an unnecessarily long amount of time. “sorry for the giggles, but this is just too funny.” your words were folded between labored, highly amused breaths. “how’s your wife doing, by the way?”

“haha, very funny.” eren drawled. his eyes drifted to the photo of he and mikasa that sat on his nightstand.

“glad you agree with me.”

eren shifted in his bed, listening to your breathing soften on the other end. it almost calmed him. “it’s just…” his throat tightened as though admitting his feelings would cause some sort of allergic reaction. “i hate that he gets to be with you.”

he could hear you sucking in a sharp breath. “eren, y—”

“i want it to be me. i want to kiss you again. i wanna be able to touch you the way he does.” the words came out in a sort of vomit-like state. moreso emotions that had been taking up space in his psyche than coherent sentences.

“y-you wanna kiss me again?” the way the question left your mouth—so delicate, breathless, almost scared. like you couldn’t believe such a thing was possible. soft, shaky exhales followed. eren could picture the way your glossy lips would’ve been parted in surprise. he basked in the picture.

“‘course i do.” warmth covered his body like butter. spreading down his neck, the bareness of his chest, past the elastic of his lounge pants. recalling his time in the garden with you wasn’t helping. he brushed a shameful glance over the growing print in hopes of sating his lust. “it’s all i’ve been thinking about.”

on eren’s end, it sounded like you were shifting around in your bed. now that was something he really shouldn’t have been thinking about. he liked to imagine you were wearing some sort of slip. something with thin straps and lacy edges. something he could pull up and slide down if he so pleased.

“me too.” you purred. “i miss… the way you feel.” as another whisper of a breath exited your lips, he wondered if you felt the same way as he did. was there a hand between your legs too? trying to rub the away pain through the fabric of your pants? were you wet for him? he wanted to feel it. he needed to taste it even more.

eren closed his eyes, letting the image run over and over in his mind with a defeated, “fuck,” he really did feel a little defeated. his resolve could’ve been more firm. “what did i feel like, (y/n)?”

the words dropped from your lips in another soft exhale. “like you were mine.”

without a moment’s hesitation he declared, “i am.” because, truly, he was. from the moment he first saw you hanging off his wife’s arm, he was yours for the taking.

“i wish that were possible.”

“tomorrow night,” eren said. he had gained a little bit of his composure back, and sat up straighter in bed. the little black planner on his nightstand had practically levitated into his hand. he snatched the pen from the spiral where it lived and frantically jotted down three separate phone numbers. call at 9 AM, sharp, he scribbled below it in bold letters. “tomorrow night, i’m gonna take you somewhere.”

“you’re gonna what?”

“i’m taking you out. tomorrow night. be ready at 8:30.”

“eren, don’t be st—”

“un-unh. tomorrow.”

“that’s imp—”

“at 8:30.”

“fine,” you heaved a sigh so large that it almost certainly maximized its capacity in your lungs. eren didn’t need to have you standing in front of him to know you rolling your eyes in the most adorable—albeit petulant—manner. “where are you taking me?”

“‘s a surprise,” instinctively, his lips curled into a smug grin as he scrawled two more names and numbers in his planner. being the governor of a state surely had its advantages. “so don’t even worry about it.”

“well, i need to worry about it, eren. what am i gonna wear?”

“somethin’ pretty, like you always do.”

“hahaha, so cute, and not helpful at all. you’re gonna feel real stupid when i show up in my daisy dukes.”

“show up in those and stupid’s the last thing i’m gonna feel.” sure, he joked, but the mental image of you with daisy dukes hugging the curves of your hips made him so hard that he almost passed out.

your lips opened around a hearty laugh that threaded through your words. “fiiiiine, i‘ll be ready at eight-thirty. to go wherever the hell with you.”

“in the daisy dukes?”

“you’re pushing it.”

***

16 SEPTEMBER

“i cannot believe you asked me to help you with this.” hange droned, perched atop your bathroom counter while you meticulously drew subtle layers of lip gloss over your cupid’s bow. “and i agreed! god, woman, the things i do for you.”

too focused on your reflection, you sighed, smacking your lips before relaxing them completely, spreading them wide in a bright smile, and then pouting them for good measure. that’s good, you decided, you could get anything you wanted with that pout. “well, how can i leave the house without you seeing me first?” you inwardly debated on whether or not to go over your eyelashes again before remembering it was already nearing eight fifteen. “if i’m looking crazy, i need you to let me know.”

“aren’t you going out with a married presidential candidate tonight?”

“uh yeah, why?”

“nothin’. just think the looking crazy ship has sailed. couple times, actually.”

you fought with the urge to grab the nearest lipstick and draw a retaliatory streak somewhere over hange’s face, but they weren’t wrong. if you were less mature, you’d resent them that.

“seriously, though. how do i look?”

“beautiful, you know that.” hange rolled their eyes, poking you in the rib cage. “kinda like marilyn monroe.”

“not funny, hange!”

“what? she was a babe.”

“babe, schmabe.” you scurried into your closet and pulled out one pair of black, open-toed jeffrey campbell heels, a pair of classic louboutins, and held them up before hange. “which shoes?”

“those,” hange said, gesturing to the jeffrey campbell’s. “your toes are painted white, so it’ll make the white in your dress pop, kinda.”

“kinda? or am i gonna look like a floozy?”

“oh, just shut up and put the shoes on.”

“you’re the boss.”

as you took a few practice steps around the room to ensure you’d be able to walk comfortably, your eyes latched onto something outside your window. a shiny, black limo was parked just out in front of your house, its windows tinted so thoroughly that you weren’t even sure there was someone in it. “holy,” you breathed. you could feel your heart pick up speed in your chest. “is that…”

hange was behind you in an instant, an incredulous stream of air leaving their mouth in the form of a scoff. “married and punctual. how about it,”

“hange!” as much as you wanted to storm away, you couldn’t risk it in your dress, so you turned on your heels and made your way downstairs as carefully as you could.

“what? i’m not knocking it, (y/n).” they said, hot on your tail until you both stopped at the hallway mirror near your foyer. “in fact, after you sleep with him, i want all the details.”

“i’m not gonna sleep with him.” you stated, so definitively that you almost believed yourself. though truthfully, you weren’t all that certain. sure, you had been fantasizing about it since the moment you first saw him in person, but you didn’t have to act on it. at least not so soon. he hadn’t even bought you dinner yet!

and besides that, sleeping with eren would make all of this so much more real than it already was. it would officially become an affair. or was it one already? could late night phone calls and a few stolen kisses really be enough to constitute a whole affair?

“yeah, right, and i’m not gonna eat the last twinkie from the box in your pantry.” hange quipped, dramatically winking and tilting their head in your direction to get their joke across.

as stupid as it was, you laughed despite yourself. whilst grabbing your clutch off the side table in the hallway, a little part of you began to wish this date was just like all the other events you attended—hange accompanying you, sticking to your arm and telling you all the right things to say the entire time. the skin of your palms grew softer with a barely there sheen of perspiration. were you nervous?

“don’t get choked up now.” said hange, spritzing your hair with a vanilla scented mist you didn’t even notice them grab on the way out of your room. “just think about how much fun we’re gonna have gossiping about this later.”

“yeah, yeah.” the clock on your hallway table read eight twenty-eight in a blaring, crimson red. “just trash the twinkie box on your way out.”

***

“thank you” is the first thing eren hears upon his driver, wattson lending you an arm to help you out of the car. you flashed him a darling smile as you smoothed out the fabric of your dress, and eren watched him blush stumble over his words trying to think up a response. that’s my girl.

the los angeles central theatre was usually bustling with people about this time, coming and going to and fro different shows. however, thanks to a few connections and phone calls made by eren, he was able to rent the place out for the entire night.

your hair jumped around your face in thick, shiny ringlets. bounce, bounce, bounce with every step towards him. oh shit, you were walking his way. “hi,” the word left your mouth in a wispy breath. you adjusted the bodice of your dress, although there seemed to be nothing wrong with it to begin with. it was an elaborate mugler piece that involved the bodice diverging into two sides just above your naval. what covered your chest was a white fabric that sat snug at the back of your neck.

of course, you looked heavenly. literally as though some god had parted the clouds and rained you down onto earth. what good deed had eren done in his past life to deserve you? “hey there, pretty lady.” you giggled and blushed, hiding your face behind a manicured hand and murmuring something like along the lines of, oh, stop it.

“come here, let me look at you.” eren purred, even though he had already looked at you plenty. there were still things he hadn’t seen yet! like the pretty color painted on your lips, the diamonds hanging from your ears, the way your dress was split so high that a glimpse of your thigh peeked out at him between the fabric. truthfully, he felt like a victorian-era man seeing an ankle for the first time.

you slipped your hand into his and pulled him toward the entrance. “you’ll have all night to look at me.” you said, pulling at his arm with a smile he just couldn’t say no to. “c’mon, eren. wanna see what it was that was sooo special it had to be a surprise.”

“well, at least let me hold the door!” eren made a rush for the entrance just as your hand brushed against it.

“whatever gets you in here faster.” you said, so smug at having gotten your way.

“so, you really rented out the entire theatre?” you asked, still beaming as he led you past the empty concessions stand. he listened as your heels clicked against the fancy flooring, the sound ricocheting off the walls of his mind like a metronome. “all for me?”

eren looked over at you and tried not to pay attention to the way your breasts jumped just ever so slightly with the speed of your feet. a gulp passed through his throat. “who else?”

your gaze flitted over to him in an instant, glossy lips turning up in a sly smirk. “you are so cheesy, y’know,” however, if the way you tightened your grip on his hand told him anything, it was that you didn’t mind at all.

“have you been here before?” eren inferred, judging by the eager way your eyes crawled over every bit of embellishment and flooring in their line of sight.

your pace slowed as the gears in your brain sped up, presumably in memory. you tapped at your chin with a busy finger. “one time,” your face contorted as you shuffled through your mind for more. “back when i first moved out here. but the ticket was so expensive, i could only afford the one show.” eren fixed his lips to wrap around the words, what show was it? but you had beat him to the punch by a fraction of a breath. “much ado about nothing, by the way.”

you chuckled as though you seemed to remember something else, but cleared it from your head with a tiny shake. “that was, what? seven, eight years ago?” eren takes a moment and tries to imagine you at twenty-two years old. before you were famous. a young, recently graduated harvard student who had all but disregarded her degree in favor of acting?

though the idea sounded crazy on the surface, eren couldn’t help but notice the similarity between you and himself. there were moments where he would ponder the fantasy of throwing away his political career and chasing you into the sunset. just tiny, fleeting moments. like this one now. as you two were reaching an expansive staircase with marble railing and ornate carpeting, he couldn’t help but notice the gentle sway of your hips as you ascended ahead of him. or the way you peeked back over your shoulder to throw him a smile. yeah, he couldn’t quite say he would mind risking his career for that smile.

the two of you reached the top of the stairs and seemed to halt your gait entirely. “thank you for bringing me here.” you turned to him and said. “not sure how you swung it in twenty-four hours, but thank you. ”

don’t you know, eren wanted to say, i would do anything for you. the thought was so viscerally, painstakingly honest that he did not even have the courage to breathe the sentence.

you filled the silence with an unfortunate string of words. “y’know, i would kiss you if it didn’t risk ruining my lip liner.” unfortunate for eren, because—believe it or not—he had not even thought about kissing you since you arrived at his side. mostly because you looked almost too beautiful to touch.

your lips were puckered slightly, as if you wanted him to kiss you anyway. he wished you would stop looking up at him like that—with your batted lashes and shy little smirk—, or else he’d forget himself and do more than kiss you.

the column of your neck craned higher, just in time for him to tilt downward, toward the direction of your cheek. the way you sucked in one swift breath as his lips came in contact with your skin made the touch that much more heavenly. radiating off your neck was a delicate vanilla flavor so enticing that his mouth began to water as if he were a wild animal being baited by its favorite meal.

the kiss only lasted a second, though. he still had enough self-restraint to not drool on your cheek. he readjusted his vertical and swallowed the saliva that had gathered under his tongue. “how was that?”

your head lolled to the side as you hid a giggle behind the palm of your hand. “good,” eren felt himself pinned still by the bashful gaze you threw him. “perfect.” you whispered.

he hardly had a moment to appreciate how cute and dazed you were before he realized the time on his watch read nine-nineteen. “now, come on,” eren coaxed you in the direction of more stairs, and found himself pleasantly surprised at how pliable you were just after being kissed. “we don’t wanna miss the show.”

once seated in your section—a small, elevated wing located west of the main stage—you hardly spoke a word apart from, “do i look silly?” as you held the opera glasses up to your smiling face.

the first note of music sounded, and you were immediately entranced within the world of swan lake.

if eren was being honest, he had not paid much attention to the first act. too busy studying your reaction, waiting with bated breath to see if even the most minute expression on your face would indicate whether or not you liked it.

thankfully enough, when the queen announces that prince siegfried is to be betrothed to a wife of her choosing, eren could hear you suck in a sharp gasp before you disentangled your hand from within his in favor of clutching the imaginary pearls at your chest.

though, even after the first act ended, and it was clear that you couldn’t take your eyes off the graceful ballerinas prancing about the stage, eren could not take his eyes off of you. not even for a moment, even if he wanted to.

happening right before his eyes was a ballet performance that he paid an arm and a leg to see. but did that even matter when you were right here, too? with your eyes eagerly following the dancers as their lithe bodies moved in perfect unison, bottom lip being nursed between anxious teeth as the plot unfolded with each crescendo of the music, feet tapping rhythmically at the ground as it matched up with the notes of the piano.

eren could see swan lake again, a million more times if he wanted. but the look on your face when siegfried and odette dive into the lake, no longer inhibited by von rothbart’s curse, is something that not even he and his infinite money could buy.

the brightness of the lights crawled slowly to a minor dim, and eren saw that you were crying. a singular tear fallen from each of your eyes, appearing as though they were about to be joined by more. “they were willing to die for their love,” you sniffed, pinching the bridge of your nose and fanning your wet eyelashes. “that is so beautiful!”

with another sniff, you leaned over and planted a soft kiss on his face, right at the apex between his cheekbone and his jaw. softly, you murmured, “thank you,” just below the shell of his ear, and eren had never been so happy to make a woman cry in his life.

***

he wasn’t supposed to accompany you on the drive home, really. taking separate limos was more risk averse. being alone gave him time to think and get his thoughts under control, something that was made almost impossible by your presence.

eren should’ve taken a separate limo home. but, as the two of you were breaching the exit doors of the theatre, you asked, “would you wanna ride in the limo with me? it gets so dark in there, and i don’t want to be by myself.”

what on earth did you think you were playing at? if that were the case, then riding to the theatre should have scared you silly! and in any case, the limo had lights! these were all logical points that should have countered your argument and quelled your fears. however, just as eren was about to gently turn you down, you looked him in his eyes, tilted your head, and jutted your bottom lip out in a soft pout.

un-unh, eren thought, averting his gaze anywhere else, just to avoid looking you in the eyes. nope, not happening. can’t happen. he had been on the end of a million or so pouts in his life. if you thought he was gonna be that easy, you were sorely mistaken. taking separate cars was the smarter, safer choice. surely, you would understand that. “(y/n), i don’t—”

“please, eren?”

with a sigh, he heaved out a defeated, “fine,” before letting you pull him in the direction of the limo.

okay, so riding in the car with you wasn’t the worst thing in the world. it helped that neither of you had bothered to turn on the lights, so he could hardly see you. you were but a shadowy manifestation of everything he ever wanted. that’s all.

“these are where the lights usually are,” eren fumbled around at the car’s ceiling until his fingers found the dim backseat lights. “just in case you ever have to be in a limo without me again.”

the brightness of the lights crawled up until he could see you just enough to spot the smile etching its way onto your face, which was then followed by the pleasant melody of your laughter.

as his ears took in the sound, eren had begun to feel as though every choice in his life had been… pointless. here he was, listening to the most beautiful woman in the world laugh at a stupid joke he made. truly, what was the point of running for president when he had discovered his life’s purpose right here—making you laugh.

you scooted over to his side of the backseat, propping yourself up into a sitting position on your knees and resting your hands on his thigh for balance. a cacophony of emotions hit eren so fast it dizzied him. conflict, arousal, hunger, idiocy. mercilessly and all at once.

right ahead of him were your breasts, held snugly together between the pressure of your arms. they heaved ever so slightly with every minute breath whistling through your nose. it would be so easy for him to take the fabric covering one of your nipples and pull it back ever so slightly. expose it to the chilled air of the limo before pinching at the hardened bud with the pads of his fingers. how long could he last doing that before he was tilting his neck downward and wrapping his lips around the pretty thing?

no! no, no, no. his thoughts came to a screeching halt when he felt his jaw tightening and his mouth growing heavy with saliva. eren swallowed his guilt down and averted his gaze towards the other end of the backseat. y’know, where you should have been sitting.

that worked for all of two seconds before his eyes were trailing over the bewitching curve of your back’s arch. seriously, he was trying his very best to keep his gentlemanly upbringing at the forefront of his mind, but there was really only so much he could do. it wasn’t very gentlemanly of him to imagine splaying his hand across the small of your back as he slid the head of his cock into your waiting heat. or to visualize the pretty expressions your face would contort into once he had buried himself in, all the way to the hilt.

realistically, he could do it now if he wanted. with the limo’s partition rolled all the way up, no one would be the wiser. he would only have to muffle your sounds with a hand over your mouth.

eren had to dig his heels into the floor in order to quell the arousal gathering in his core. it didn’t help that you were still using his thigh for support. fingers occasionally dipping into the apex of the flesh whenever you leaned over a little too far.

all the while he was losing his mind, you were absentmindedly feigning an avid interest with the lights, oblivious to how much of a mess you made him. “wow, i’ll have to keep that in mind.” and just like that, you slid off of him and back into your seat, leaving him painfully aroused and a few degrees warmer.

eren was stunned into silence for a bit. god, you were just fucking perfect, weren’t you? off the top of his head, there wasn’t a flaw about you that he could come up with. except for the fact that he hadn’t put a ring on your finger. but that was really more on him than anything. he wanted to drown himself in his own idiocy.

“hey,” when your foot connected to his shin via a soft kick, he realized he had been silent for a number of minutes. “what’s got you all quiet, mr. governor?”

he ignored the subtle stir in his groin in favor of giving you a viable response. “just feel stupid, is all.”

“stupid?”

“for having married someone that wasn’t you.”

it was just his luck that he happened to meet the woman of his dreams only after he had been married to someone else for nearly six years. maybe it was his karma for being born into one of the most powerful political families in america. it surely seemed to outweigh all the extraordinary privileges he had been afforded in his life. at least ordinary people got to fall in love. “i should’ve just…waited. then it wouldn’t have to be like… this. i’m sorry, (y/n).”

you deserve better, he wanted to say, but surely you knew that. never mind that he was too selfish and boastful to say such a thing out loud.

“hey,” you called, reaching over to inch your fingers, one by one, into his palm until your hands were interlocked. eren then wondered if there was a way for him to freeze this moment in time, and live in it forever—with your beguiling vanilla scent perforating the last remnants of his common sense, nerves soothed under the gentle weight of your reassuring stare, your hand enveloped in his. “i’m not anywhere i don’t wanna be.”

eren felt his eyebrows soften, and his lungs release the breath they had been unwittingly holding. this was the sort of thing people saw just before they entered heaven. had he suffered a heart attack and died one of those times that you smiled at him?

when the car began slowing to a smooth stop, you dealt his hand a soft squeeze before pulling your own free to take your seatbelt off. “walk me up?”

“‘course.”

when he emerged from the car, his heart still thumped heavily and his skin still climbed to a fever pitch despite the catharsis of fresh summer air. he opened the door to your side of the backseat, and you sprung from the car with a light yelp. seemingly excited to be close to him again after so much time (two seconds) apart.

a choir of crickets harmonized somewhere in the woods, though eren couldn’t tell from where, given your home was surrounded by woods. maybe she likes to check the mail in her underwear, he concluded when he heard the billowing hoot of an owl.

you practically whispered, “well,” once the two of you concluded the trek up the stone path leading to your front door. “this is me.”

“i know.” eren purred, silently admiring the way you ascended the little stoop in front of your door and made yourself at eye level with him. speaking of eyes, yours were wide as saucers, even with the cheeky grin pinching your face. you stood with your hands crossed behind your back, heeled foot lightly tapping at the concrete. “i take it you had fun tonight?”

“i…” glancing up at the moon, you hummed and made a face as though you were greatly deliberating before reverting your eyes to him. then, you leaned in and whispered as if telling him a secret. “i had a blast.”

“that’s good to know.”

“why?” you began rocking back and forth on your feet. “wanna ask me out again?”

“you’re a smart girl. did you go to harvard or something?”

still rocking, you playfully shoved him whilst hiding a bashful chuckle behind your palm. you must have really liked him, because that wasn’t nearly as funny as your face conveyed.

your laughter ceased when eren steadied you with a pair of hands to your waist. without even noticing, his face had been inching closer and to yours until the tips of your noses were touching and he could taste your breath in his mouth. your lips hovered slightly over his, and when they actually brushed against each other for a fraction of a moment, simultaneous shivers wracked both of your bodies.

finally, your hand rested upon his cheek and you fed him a soft, juvenile sort of peck. like you were two teenagers, and he was dropping you back home after your first—no, third—date. eren kissed you back, surprisingly with no urge to deepen it. this is all i need. his hands on your waist, steadying himself more than you at this point, given that the softness of your lips intoxicated him in all the best ways.

the two of you kissed like you had all the time in the world to do it over and over again. like a naive pair of courting lovers and not grown adults engaging in an affair.

you were the first to pull away, fanning his lips with a shaky exhale as you did. eren kept his eyes shut for as long as he could, afraid that when he opened them he would be back in his house, in bed next to his wife, staring blankly at the ceiling above him.

only when you removed your hand from his face and exposed his skin to the naked air did he finally let his eyes flutter open. you were still there, thankfully. quietly backing towards your front door, but there nonetheless.

“i’ll call you tomorrow. how’s that?”

“i’ll answer. how’s that?” you turned toward the door, not even giving him the chance to answer your completely rhetorical question. when his bottom lip jutted forth in a soft pout, he concluded that he was already starting to miss looking at you.

on the upside of that, he was already excited to call you tomorrow and ask you on another date. the thought inspired a grin across his face. “perfect.”

17 SEPTEMBER

normally, being awoken by the chipper sound of your ringing telephone was irksome beyond comprehension. especially at—you squinted toward the clock on your nightstand—eleven in the morning, sharp. if you hadn’t gone to bed last night fuzzy with the anticipation of eren’s call the next day, you’d be a lot angrier as you picked up the phone.

“he—”

“turn on the tv, now!” hange’s voice penetrated the receiver so fast, you hardly processed your disappointment at it not being eren.

“huh?”

“find a tv and turn it on!”

hastily, with crust still framing your eyes and blurring your vision, you tucked hange between your shoulder and ear whilst fumbling around the bed for your ever-elusive remote. eventually, you located it at the foot of the bed under the covers. “what channel?” you droned, watching the machine power on with a reluctant press of your finger.

“any news, just hurry.”

mentally, you cursed hange’s sense of urgency as you flicked to and fro between channels until you landed on the first news outlet.

there sat mikasa, in some fancy georgian diner, fervently shoving forkfuls of pie down her throat with only some of the most southern looking women you had ever seen. expensive strings of pearls adorning their necks, heads topped with flashy hats, and purses that were more than likely filled to the brim with bibles and peppermint candies.

just when you were about to doze off again, hange shouted through the receiver once more. “are you watching?”

“yes, i am! god, would you hush?” you hadn’t meant to snap, but if hange had woken you up just to watch mikasa eat pie, you were positive you would kill them.

“well firstly, i have to say that this pie is spectacular. the governor and i will have to make another visit whenever we’ve got a free weekend.” the way she said, the governor and i sent a sharp pang up your backbone. perhaps if you felt such guilt when he had his hands on you, or when he was telling you how pretty you were, you would have more of a backbone to speak of. “secondly,” mikasa continued, “honored as i am to be sitting with such an amazing group of women, i can’t help but feel as though i’m not being as honest as i should be.” at this, you kicked your legs out from the warmth of your comforter and scooted up toward the edge of your bed.

“you see, a couple months ago, eren and i were delighted to find out we were expecting our first child together.” the words left her lips so naturally, you hardly had a moment to be shocked before she was onto the next sentence.

“i mean, delighted is an understatement. we were thrilled. just over the moon. since we’d had trouble conceiving before, our doctor told us not to tell many people, so really no one knew but us. but still, we were just…so happy. we’d made up a whole list of names and everything, y’know. the whole shebang.”

of course, they were happy. over the moon, even. they were supposed to have kids. it was only the natural order of things. boy meets girl. boy marries girl. boy and girl have kids. that is what’s supposed to happen. so why did it feel as though someone had quickly and quietly plunged a dagger through your heart?

so, after he was done picking baby names and cooing over mikasa’s growing stomach, he would sneak off into the night to tell you all those things you were so desperate to hear. and how much could he have meant any of that, really? clearly not much if he had been family planning all the while.

“then around three weeks ago, i miscarried.” at mikasa’s shaky words, a lone tear rolled out from the outer corner of her eye. it was not until one of the women sitting closest to her reached out for her hand that you realized you were now crying, too. “campaigns can be so stressful to get through, and i guess my body just couldn’t handle it.” she sniffled, her grey eyes shining tragically beautiful as ever.

self loathing curled within your gut as if it were nausea. what business did you have crying for a miscarrying woman? it didn’t matter to you when eren was whisking you off into the night on secret dates, so why did it now?

then again, perhaps you weren’t crying for her, but for yourself. that only made you feel impossibly worse.

more women surrounded her at once, offering encouraging hands and fluorescent handkerchiefs. she took one and dotted her eyes with only the most breathtaking humility.

“eren and i, we were just so…stuck.” stuck. you thought back to when he kissed you outside of his party. when he told you what the two of you had meant something. how stuck was he then?

“he even wanted to drop out of the race, but i begged him not to, just because i believed there was no one more fit than him to be president of the united states.” mikasa’s posture straightened, and she pushed a lock of hair back that had flown astray on her forehead. “and i still do.”

news anchor harin lee concluded the broadcast of the conference with a, “there you have it, folks.” and everything that followed was a thick blur.

hange’s voice funneled through the receiver as though they were a thousand miles away. surprisingly, you had managed to keep a hold of the phone. a heavy ringing was what filled your ears and muffled all the other noise.

hange could (sort of) be heard imploring you to stay put and not do anything stupid. though, everything below your waist felt frozen numb, so there wasn’t much room for stupid decisions anyway.

you wordlessly placed the phone on its hook. in the back of your nearly catatonic mind, you wondered how long it would take for him to call you. doesn’t matter, you concluded.

subconsciously, you were working overtime to keep a fresh spring of burning tears from spilling beyond your waterline. sensing the imminent headache, your hand connected with an already opened box of benadryl tucked just behind the vase on your nightstand. you dropped the pink pill on your tongue and pushed it back with a bout of saliva. the plush of your pillow could not hit your head quickly enough, and soon you had successfully forced yourself back into sleep.

you were so gone that ten minutes later, when the long, piercing beep sounded from your phone’s receiver, you were none the wiser. the monotonous voice of the woman inside spoke nonetheless. “you have one unheard message. would you like to hear it?”

you’re all caught up!

tags ✧˖*°࿐ — @cindol @taylarxse @nyanglock @beyondsuki @ittostan @rensbby @madsoncrack @shawtynoire @braxxinterlude @kai7911

#nikki writes ✶#attack on titan #aot #aot fanfiction #snk #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin eren #shingeki no kyoujin smut #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyojin #eren jaeger fanart #eren jaeger fanfiction #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x black reader #happy birthday mr. president

217 notes · View notes

my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 1 year ago

Note

omg i really really love your blog<3 you are such a sweet person and so kind to all your followers and others on here and your writing is absolutely amazing!

i saw ur requests were open and i was wondering if you could write something for poe dameron? a hurt comfort because in your rules you said you wouldn't accept full angst which honestly is so real of you and i completely agree :D its just, ive read so many fics where poe's best friend or squadron member is either in love with him or fwb with him and he starts dating someone and they look rlly in love but then he leaves the person for the best friend and i cant help but always wonder how the person he left is feeling! and i was wondering if you could write something along the lines of this but he doesnt leave the reader and hes not really in love with his best friend or anything im so sorry this became really long but you can totally ignore this or say you cant do it its absolutely alright!<33

thank you sm though and i hope you have a good day!

Anon, thank you so much for such lovely and kind words! You are AMAZING! (Seriously, they have absolutely made my day/week/year!)

This ask has killed me (positive), my subconsciousness had a lot to say, it seems.

Tangerine, Tangerine

Poe Dameron x GN!Reader Rating: M Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: angst (but with a happy ending), thoughts that a partner is cheating, blood, x-wing fight, swearing (not star wars swearing, because even though Kriff is great, I need to say fuck), Moonbeam as a nickname, typos, rail road sentences, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 4494

_______________________________________

It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss.

You’d misunderstood, you’d read the situation wrong, you’d seen incorrectly. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss.

Your radio crackled, “Green Leader, checking in. We’re manoeuvring in 5. Call out.”

“Green Two check.”

“Green Three check.”

It was just a kiss.

“Green Four check.”

It was just a-

“Green Five check.”

Just a-

“Green Six check.”

Just-

“Green Seven,” you swallow. “Check.”

It wasn’t just a kiss.

You patted your helmet twice and rolled your neck, breathing deeply as you settled in. On your left, you could see some of Blue Squadron.

This mission was straightforward - on a holopad.

Two teams to escort The Harbringer, the resistance supply ship. It had been damaged by a rogue blast from a tie fighter just as it jumped to hyperspace and had had to make an emergency landing on one of Tre’Ral’s desert moons.

The crew on board had managed to fix all they could. But without proper materials, there was little chance of the ship making it out of the moon’s thick atmosphere and entering hyperspace. So Blue and Green Squadrons had been dispatched. Blue 1-4 had already made contact, jump-starting The Harbringer enough to get it airborne.

Due to Tre’Ral’s sun and planet density, the gravity on the moons was a little stronger than most world’s atmospheric pressure.

Green Leader, Sena, had repeated through briefing at how this would affect flying. How to be ready for it. And she hadn’t been wrong, it was different flying here. Tougher. And you loved it.

You’d grown up on Para, a planet with a high gravity density. You’d learnt to fly there well before you’d flown in space. Being here on this desolate moon almost felt like home. Your movements seemed smoother, precise. No longer needing to overcorrect for your naturally ingrained harsh movements. No longer spinning out and fighting low gravity, finally working with the tide.

The manoeuvre would see the ships escort The Harbringer out of the moon’s atmosphere and then the rest of Blue squadron would form a sort of 3D star formation around the cargo ship. All jumping to hyperspace at the same time to carry it along with them.

Simple.

In theory.

Everyone had spoken about how practically textbook it was, how easy.

But then, of course, why was Green Squadron going?

No one at the briefing had asked, why would they when the answer was so obvious. This part of the quadrant was teething with First Order. With a slow, busted supply ship you were all practically screaming for them to come and play target practice.

You swallow.

You should be focusing on that, on the mission. Instead of the utter nonsense that was ricocheting around your head and piercing your heart.

I hadn’t just been a kiss.

You and Poe had gotten together clumsily, three months ago, your normal awkwardness drowned out by so much Polanis Red that you almost couldn’t see straight. It had been after the battle of Hurthwen, a nasty dogfight that had everyone hyped up on adrenaline.

He had been drunk when he kissed you, you remembered that.

Maybe he had thought… maybe he had believed he was kissing her instead.

It made a lot more sense.

Sena was the Green Leader, she was a great pilot. One to be reckoned with. She was kind, she was fun, she was beautiful. She and Poe had joined the resistance together, risen the ranks together. Basically inseparable. Always laughing and joking. She had been in the same squad as Poe, under his command before she was promoted to leading one of her own.

They had always been close. Always. Best friends.

Sickness bubbled in your throat.

You remembered Frizz and Hank talking offhandedly, well before you and Poe were a thing. Both of them sure that Sana and Poe were dating or ‘knocking boots’ as Frizz had so elegantly put it.

“Two people can just be friends, you know.” You’d said, trying to hide your little crush on the commander.

“Yeah,” Frizz laughed, “But not them. You seen them together?”

Hank chortled.

Nonsense. You’d brushed it off then. Allowed it to creep into your thoughts when it was dark and the base was quiet. When Poe’s breathing was soft and light behind you, his arm around your waist.

Him and Sana just made a lot more sense than him and you.

“Yeah, but not them. You seen them together?”

Yeah. Now you had.

The Harbringer came into view over the horizon. The seemingly endless stretch of desert was cut through in the distance by a fearsome outcrop of crocks, leading up into a field of formidable mountains.

Blue 1-4 were already hooked up to the cargo ship, all five hoovering moving together as they flew towards you to meet.

You wouldn’t have said things were difficult with you and Poe. Well, you wouldn’t have said that before. It was complicated for everyone on the base, most staff were on different call schedules, off-world or on a mission at all times. Having a relationship wasn’t straightforward. There were stretches where you wouldn’t even be on the same planet for days, but…

But you had thought it was…

It didn’t matter.

You’d gone back to the briefing room, just before take off. You’d wanted to tap the main holoscreen twice, for luck. A little ritual you’d adopted early on. Most pilots were a superstitious bunch.

That’s when you’d seen them. Sana and Poe. Locked in a tight embrace, their lips pressed together in a deep kiss.

Your heartbeat had thundered so loud you’d been surprised they hadn’t heard it. But they’d been too preoccupied to notice your presence.

It was cliche but time had almost slowed, calmed and stretched like the moment you take aim, the second before you fired your ship's canons.

A flash of the control panel had flickered into your mind when you saw them, your fingers twitching as if you had the trigger in your hands.

You’d turned and left without a sound. Without a word. Without letting them know you saw. Leaving them to… whatever they did next.

Was it their first kiss? One of many? Had this been going on well before Poe had taken your hand and led you outside so he could clumsily name all the constellations, making up new ones and backstories to make you smile?

“That one here, you see it?”

“Yeah?”

“That one’s the best one, best in the sky. It’s orange and it’s right next to that other orange one, like they’re holding hands.”

You’d laughed.

“That’s me and you Moonbeam.”

Moonbeam. That stupid nickname.

You’d gone to your room quickly, the one that you and Poe shared, and taken off the necklace he’d given you.

“I want you to wear it for luck, Moonbeam.”

That stupid smile he’d given you as he’d slipped it from his own neck and onto yours. That stupid kiss he’d given you after. You’d thought that expression was cute when you’d seen it, pure. Now it just seemed like he’d been laughing at you, playing some sick joke. ‘How long can I string someone along?’, ‘how far can I go before they realise it’s all pretend?’

You’d left the necklace with the ring slipped through on the small set of shelves in the corner, the one Poe normally kept his holopad on.

It was idiotic, but your neck felt… empty without it. Cold. Every now and then you touched at where the chain normally lay.A subconscious action only brought to the forefront of your mind by the sensation of your own skin instead of metal.

Something caught your eye in the distance, a flash of sunlight glinting off the horizon. Dread twisted in your stomach as realisation dawned a second earlier than your scanners. The extra gravitational pressure and high quantity of magnetic metals in the sand affected everyone’s ship computers, causing a brief information delay.

Your alarm sounded out inside your ship, the radar blinking into life as tie fighters approached from the rock outcrop. They’d used the high mineral concentration to hide their energy signatures.

“Fuck.”

The radio screamed into life, orders out pouring over orders. Blue squadron rushed into position while Green scrambled.

“Blue in place now!”

“It’s gonna be rushed, but we haven’t got a choice!”

“No time!” “Incoming!” “Green half split! Evens left, odds right, let’s keep those fighter’s off The Harbringer and Blue squadron! Gamma pattern!”

“How far away is the Delta?”

“Calling in attack pattern!”

You swing to the right, falling in with Hank and Petal and bank hard, it takes less than a second for you to notice that your squad's movements aren’t as precise and well-timed as usual. The stronger gravity throwing everyone, except you, off their game.

That didn’t bode well.

You climb for a second, punching hard on the acceleration to get some height and a clear view of the oncoming and flick on your targeting system. The image glitches, doesn’t hold steady even as you focus. Off by half a fraction.

Shots fire out from both sides, most missing.

“Targeting not working!”

“It’s out!”

“I can’t get a clear shot!” “The read is malfunctioning!”

“Half a click 4/8!” You shout, as you take your shot, hitting two tie fighters head-on.

“Good shot Green 7!” You can hear the joy and relief in Sana’s voice. “Half a click 4/8, you’ll all have to manually adjust!”

You dive, swirling around two fighters before skimming close to the ground, trying to draw their attention away from the cargo ship. You spin, slamming your control harder than you would need to in any other situation as you turn and spike past another fighter, taking out one in the process.

“Wooooo!” Hank yells over the intercom.

You laugh. “Bet you never thought you wished you grew up on Para right?”

“Every day new things surprise me.” He banks left, you right, Petal dives down.

It’s too much of a rush, everything all at once, patterns and shots flying, your ship’s systems screaming as you push the engines a little too hard.

The tie fighters aren’t moving as fast as they normally do, bogged down even more than the x wings by the gravity. They can’t make their normal quick turns and it’s affecting their strike patterns.

Good.

But there’s so, so many of them.

Explosions fly debris out, and you climb higher. Needing a clear view and unable to rely on your targeting systems.

More shots fly out, The Harbringer is taking a battering but so far its shielding is holding the hull together.

The radio keeps screaming, overlapping voices that blur into background noise. You’re trained to only hear your call signal, direct messages. You vear off, narrowingly missing a blast to your wing.

“-On my tail.” Frizz’s voice cuts through the noise, a sharp stab of dread slicing you open as you turn, automatically looking to the reader, it’s still not clear.

You climb, twist, fall, see a Green ship, followed tightly by two fighters. Accelsorate, bank. You fire. You’re aiming in a panic now, not adjusting right, not breathing through.

The shot hits one, before you have to swerve to avoid being struck head-on.

“Thanks 7!” Cril yells over the speaker, managing to shake the other fighter.

There’s a scream, a crackle of sound over the system. A sound you know too well. You see the ship crash into the desert, exploding before it even hits the ground as the a tie fighter’s shots hit home.

Frizz.

“No…”

“Check!” Sana yells, unable to tell who went down with the system glitching. “Green Leader!”

You swerve around another fighter, everything moving so fast, too fast.

“Green Two check!” Cril.

“Green Three check!” Petal.

Nothing.

“Green Four!” Sana yells. No call replies. Balna. Not Frizz.

The momentary rush of relief at Frizz being alive is cut horribly short by the image of Balna’s kind face that bursts behind your eyes.

You bank left, right, swerve, take aim, twist.

There’s a chance, a good chance that you’ll win. All of Blue is in place, The Harbringer is moving up with them. The tie fighters are taking more hits than the resistance, their less aerodynamic design hampering them more than usual with this gravity.

All you need is…

Another alarm.

“Oh… fuck.” You slam on your intercom. “Z-Fighter!”

A chorus of yells answer you.

A Z-fighter, a quick moving ship a fraction bigger than The Harbringer, with two powerful front guns. A few shots would take the cargo ship out completely.

And with how slow the supply ship was moving, that wouldn’t be hard.

The Z-fighter storms in, moving fast but not firing, they were obviously having problems with their targeting too, needing a close clear shot.

“Take out the main cannons!” Sana yells, the panic in her voice cutting through the chaos. You turn, aim, take out a tie fighter but have to veer up at the last second. Twist.

Someone comes in after you, aiming for the cannons, a fighter clips their side and they can’t correct quick enough. They spiral off, their ship crashing into the Z-fighter. Obliterated on impact. The Z-fighter seemingly unaffected.

You loop back, adrenaline blinding you to everything, anything that’s not the goal. Take out the canons. Take out the canons. People are counting on you. Take out the canons.

You fire, a clear shot before you bank to the side to avoid a direct hit to your hull.

It’s not enough.

You need to pass again, and again. Other x wings flying in, taking shots, the gravity making them slow, imprecise. Only one blast hits and it’s not full on.You’re the only one hitting directly and it’s not enough.

It’s not enough. It’s not enough. It’s not enough.

There’s shouting and screaming, the zipping of the fighters as they cut through the sky. Someone yells your name and you don’t hear it.

Another hit lands. One canon out. Only one left. You can do this. The Harbringer is nearly in the upper atmosphere, they can jump from there. Just a few more seconds. You can do this.

“Black Leader!” Poe’s call sign cuts over the dim, followed by the call signs of half of the Red Squadron.

They must have scrambled after first contact.

The canon’s powering up, a quick glance to your panel tells you that The Harbringer’s shield is barely functioning. They won’t survive a direct hit. With how close they are and the Blue Squadron ships that are attached there’s no way they wouldn’t be pulled down too if The Harbringer fell.

The canon needs more than one hit to take it down, more than five. No way you can shoot five times before they fire.

You twist, full force. Pumping the acceleration. Fire. Fire. Fire. Three hit. You don’t slow down. Fire. Fire. Fire. They hit. The canon is still operational.

Sana is screaming orders, so many shots fire at the canon, none of them hit right, hit full on.

Two chances left.

One to fire. If it takes out the canon you just have enough time to serve up, to avoid getting smashed to bits.

Poe shouts for you over the intercom.

You don’t answer.

One to fire. If it doesn’t take out the canon then… then you crashing into it head on will.

Poe yells again, this time cutting over everyone else, sending you a direct call.

You don’t answer.

You fire. Hit.

Poe screams for you, his voice painful and panicked. He’s already worked out your plan before you had even thought of it.

The canon doesn’t go down.

You cut the call to him. Blocking out his signal. You don’t want Poe to think you did this for him.

You don’t want him to think you did this because of him.

“Green Seven!” Sana yells, seemingly knowing what you’re going to do.

Hank screams your name over the radio. It hurts. You think it’s the worst sound you’ve ever heard.

“Moonbeam!” Poe’s voice is ripped raw from yells, Sana has patched him through over her signal. You were wrong. That was the worst sound you’ve ever heard.

You dip at the last second, not hitting the canon straight on but smashing your right wing into it. The force surprises you, even though you braced for it. The impact sending you spiralling. You try to regain control, try to turn into the spin. Training taking over even though you're a wing and half a ship down.

Shouts over the radio, you barely make out-

“-cannon’s down-”

“-Jump!-”

A spark hits, your console explodes into flame, shards hit your side and you yell. Sky and sand tumbling over each other over and over, and you manage to hit the eject button.

The force rips you upwards, free briefly from your burning ship. But you’re too close to the floor, not enough time to slow down your velocity. There’s-

The impact of the ground hurts. Pain explodes along every nerve despite the ejection seat dampening. You scream.

Agony is everywhere, everything. You can’t feel anything else, can’t comprehend anything except floods of pain.

You hit your belt, falling out and to the desert floor. Looking up just enough to gauge where you are, where your ship fell. It’s an exploded, fireball mess far off. At least it’s not an immediate threat. You crawl to the side and sob.

There’s blood falling into the sand from your head, the right side of your face. You can’t see properly out of your eye and your left leg is definitely broken. Shattered. Still, you drag yourself forward, digging your hands in and pulling as something ribs and tears in your side, warm liquid soaking into your fight suit.

The resistance will jump to hyperspace, they’ll get out. They’ll make it.

You just needed to get away from your ejection seat, when the First Order doubles back they’ll see it, they’ll see you. You just needed to get to an outcrop. Hide.

Make it look like you had a weapon.

Make them shoot you first instead of taking you for questioning.

Can’t let them take you alive.

There's the faint sound of a ship somewhere above, landing gear coming down.

For a second you freeze, panic gripping your heart, you dig into the sand hard, pull, pull, pull yourself closer towards the outcrop of rocks. The air seems to be leaving your lungs, your breathing ragged and hot.

You cough, red hitting the dirt, iron hitting your tongue.

You crawl, pull. The pain is making you light-headed. You gasp, trying to get in a full lung full of air. It's not enough. It's not enough. It's not enou…

When you open your eyes your first thoughts are simple. Clear.

I'm dead.

You were either shot in the head in the sand or simply succumbed to your wounds.

But then things begin to feel… fuzzy. Not painful, but not right either.

And that's when you smell the Bacta. And then the light starts to change to distorted shapes, and finally, you recognise Hank sitting next to you.

“You better not be dead too,” you whisper your voice dry from lack of use.

Hank jumps up, goes to grab your hand and then stops himself. There are tears in his eyes. He softly places his fingers on yours and you squeeze back.

“You're a fucking idiot you know that?” He grins and you laugh. Which hurts a little, but feels good.

“One sec,” he moves away just to speak to someone outside before he comes back. “I'm the one that picked you up, you know?”

“Now who's the fucking idiot?” You smile but your chest aches, heavy with the weight of his words. “You shouldn't have done that.” You whisper.

“What?”

“You were under fire, you should have just jumped-”

“I saw you eject. Saw you moving. You think I was just gonna leave you there?” He sits. “Besides, I was closest. The commander would have blown up the whole planet to get to you.”

You swallow, turning away slightly. Going cold at the mention of Poe.

Hank mistakes the look for guilt, and squeezes your hand again. “Hey, look,” he smiles, “you took out the canons, you're a fucking idiot but you know how to fly in heavy gravity.”

You snort.

He smiles.

“Who did we lose?”

Hank sighs, “three…”

You nod, closing your eyes for a moment.

“There-”

There was shouting from outside, a crash and then Poe stormed into the room, med staff close behind him.

You swallow, sickness building in your throat.

He looked awful, drawn out and worn thin like he hadn't slept or eaten in days. His eyes red.

He rushes forward, Hank moves out of the way, so Poe can take your hand in his. He leans forward and kisses you softly, carefully stroking your cheek, being gentle with your bandages.

“Moonbeam…” he mutters and you flinch back from him. He looks at you with sad, confused eyes.

“Look, I can only allow one visitor in here.” The med staff member says.

Hank stands, and speaks when you frown. “I'll see you later, Poe’s the one that hasn't left your side. The only reason he wasn't here when you woke was because I made him go take a shower.” Hank smiled, “you can thank me for that later.”

Both you and Poe are quiet as the others leave. Poe searching your face for something, while you look away.

“Moonbeam,” he says again softly, but there's an edge to his words that you're not used to. “What the fuck happened on that mission? What the fuck is this?” He holds up his hand, his necklace and ring wrapped around his palm. His eyes are shiny as he speaks. “Were you trying to kill yourself? What the fu-”

“Poe,” you breathe. Best to get it over quickly. “I saw.”

He frowns. “Saw? Saw what?”

“You and Sana, in the briefing room… before take off.”

The small frown on his forehead relaxes slightly for a moment as his eyebrows raise. “You… saw?”

You nod.

“You, but, I didn’t see you when I pushed her away?” His voice cracks at the end, a splinter running into the muscle of your heart.

“You pushed her away?”

“You didn’t see that?” He frowns again, blinking hard, “you just, just saw and walked away and what? Took this off?” He holds up the necklace again. A tear falls from his eye and he rubs it away furiously as if it had scorched his skin. “Just, just left it and… and…”

“I didn’t know you didn’t want it…” You say quietly, emotion is making your chest tight and constricted. “I didn’t know you didn’t want her…”

“What?” He breathes, moving closer and squeezing your hand. There’s disbelief in his voice, confusion. Anger, it’s deep down and controlled but it’s there. “No, look, she kissed me. I pushed her away, I, I even logged a report, I’ll pull up the god damned camera feed to show you.”

He’s not lying. His gaze is unwavering and he’s got that painfully earnest look in his eyes.

“You thought…” he shakes his head slightly, his voice pained, “you thought I’d-”

“You both make sense together.” You blurt out. “She’s… and you’re…” you shrug and sigh, on the verge of tears yourself. “You’re both the best of us.”

“No,” he shakes his head fiercely, “Moonbeam, no.” He wipes roughly at his eyes again, glancing down for a moment and you lightly touch his head.

He looks up instantly as you stroke his curls, still lightly damp.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

Poe shakes his head again, grabbing your hand and kissing your wrist. “I’m sorry.” He kicks off his shoes and clambers into bed next to you a little awkwardly. He’s trying to be careful, trying not to hurt you but needing closeness so badly it’s suffocating.

You scooch to the side as quickly as you can in your current state and lean into him as he wraps his body around you softly and kisses you sweetly.

“Love you, love you, love you,” he repeats after every kiss, pressing his lips to every part of your skin that he can reach.

“Why are you sorry?” You mutter as he holds you, “I’m the one that messed up.”

He shakes his head, “I’m sorry that I don’t make you realise how special you are, how perfect.” He kisses your cheek, “you’re the best of us Moonbeam.”

You tut but his grip tightens and he holds you tight.

“And one hell of a pilot.” He grins.

You scoff.

“You are.” He kisses you again.

You nuzzle against him, settling into his touch. Knots have formed in your chest, pain that’s loosening. His warmth is comforting. Home.

“Sana said she didn’t know I was in a relationship,” he says softly, resting his chin on the top of your head. “I don’t know if that’s true, but… I do believe her.”

You nod. “She’s a good person.”

He moves so he can look you in the eyes. “Please, Moonbeam, I… don’t,” he bites his tongue, closing his eyes for a long second. “I want to tell you, I want to say, don’t ever do something like that again… don’t… don’t put yourself at risk.”

You touch his cheek lightly.

“But it’s not fair is it?” He smiles sadly. “We both do that every day… You know you were gonna be in my squadron at first?”

You shake your head in surprise and he nods.

“You were, but… well,” he blushes ever so slightly. “I was so embarrassingly head over heels in love with you,” he laughs lightly. “For months I could hardly talk to you, you know I had to down five Polanis Red’s in a row after Hurthwen just so I could ask you out? I knew I wouldn’t be able to function right if you were in my squad. I knew that I’d put everyone else at risk because if it came down to it… if there was a choice between everyone in the squad dying, everyone on the base, or you… I’d let the resistance burn instead of lose you. Every single time.”

You close your eyes, fighting the emotion that needs to break through and squeeze his hand like a lifeline. “I love you.” You whisper.

Your fingertips brush against the necklace, the ring hooking around the first knuckle of your index finger by chance.

Poe slowly moves his hand from yours and unwinds the necklace from his palm before carefully placing it over your head, giving you plenty of time to move away if you wanted.

“I love you Moonbeam,” he mutters, his voice low, reverent. Then leans in to kiss you. You kiss him back with all your heart.

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @romanarose @pimosworld @jake-g-lockley @saturn-rings-writes @boredzillenial @lonelyisamyw-0love @melodygatesauthor @steven-grants-world @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @queerponcho

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

#poe dameron #star wars sequels #poe dameron x reader #x reader #poe dameron x you #x you #poe dameron x gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #poe dameron x gn!reader #x gn!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

671 notes · View notes

maple-the-awesome · 1 year ago

Text

You Sacrifice Yourself for Them || Part 3/3

Part 1 || Part 2

Pairings: Twilight, Wild, & Wind x GN Reader

Requested by anonymous: HIIIII OMG I JUST WANRED TO SAY i lovelovrloveloveeeee the way you write so much!!!!!!! ur recent loz post had me kicking and squealing in my sear hehehe T_T could i request a scenario with the chain in a situation where the reader sacrifices themselves to protect the boys? im imagining things begging the enemy to take them instead, protecting them from a hit or even something funny like taking the blame for a mistake they made!!! id love to see some angst from you!!!!! THANK U AND HAVE A GREAT WEEK!!!!!💖💖💖💖

Zelda Masterlist �� Fandom Masterlist

There had been a time when Twilight hated dungeons for how often they popped up during his adventures. Between the brain teasers and terribly inconvenient designs (seriously who needs so many rooms or levels?), he would groan aloud every time someone warned him about a problem coming from deep within some 'sacred temple' or caves near their home, however after months of walking until his feet are sore and countless encounters with monster hordes, you could say Twilight has officially had a change of heart. Sliding a few boxes around for an extra heart piece really doesn't sound that bad compared to chasing a shadow across several realms, now does it?

With that said, he had been a bit relieved when a group of locals brought it to his attention that some strange smoke had been rising up from a nearby mountain, practically begging the group of visiting heroes to check it out. He wasn't the only one willingly to agree, in fact most of the boys seemed eager to help aside from Time who was hesitant to derail their quest as well as Wild and Warrior who just couldn't understand what all this fuss about dungeons is about. In the end, it was decided that half of the group would go for the locals' sake while the others would stay to investigate leads about portals. At the time, this seemed to be a great trade and Twilight had even been looking forward to being able to do something different, but as his luck continues to prove, it turns out he has none whatsoever in terms of joy...

What even happened? He doesn't quite understand. He was joking with Wind and Hyrule about something long after everyone had split into two groups to make exploring the dungeon go faster. They were nearly complete with their half, having successfully fought a miniboss which was no trouble at all, in fact that's what had them in such high spirits at the moment. They entered the next room while placing bets regarding how 'difficult' the main boss would be when a shout met their ears. Seconds later, Twilight heard a 'BOOM' while being shoved backwards by a heavy force. Given that sound and the vague smell of smoke in the air, he would've assumed he had been hit by the blast of a bomb which probably wouldn't have been so far from the truth if not for you.

It takes a good minute for Twilight's poor mind to catch up, realizing much to his horror what had actually happened as you fell stiffly against his chest, your entire backside scoured. The floor tile behind you both - the same one he was about to step on before you shoved him out of the way - is gone, only a smoldering pile of broken shards left in its wake. Now why it exploded, Twilight doesn't know nor does he care. His main concern is you, sitting up in a snap and grabbing your shoulders with worry. At least there's some relief in you blinking open your eyes to look at him, but the way you groan and flinch at the movement makes him sick with guilt.

"What was that?!" Wild asks the same question that's hidden deep in Twilight's mind.

"The gold floor tiles explode," You explain, the pain clear in your grumbled voice as you attempt to push yourself away from Twilight, although he doesn't allow it, instead carefully shifting you to sit on his lap as he hisses as the sight of how the flames had burned right through you tunic, leaving behind a nasty open wound that no doubt continues to burn.

"Why did you do that?!" He asks the questions on the front of his mind, accepting the potion Four quickly hands to him for you. A part of him wants to be angry given how calm they can all be given your injury, although any other day he'd be rational enough to understand panicking won't help the situation. Regardless of logic, this is you. You're hurt and you got this way protecting him. It should be the other way around if anything!

"Don't be such a hypocrite. You would've done the same for any of us," It's as if you can read his mind as he carefully pours the liquid over your burns, causing you to hiss quietly, but other than that, you're actually handling the pain pretty well, "Besides, it would've been a lot worse had you stepped on it directly. All that fur you wear looks pretty flammable to me. You would've gone up in flames instead of a small burn."

Twilight tries to keep his eyes down at his work as a stubborn sign that he knows you're right, not that he could ever admit such a thing aloud, "...Still...A shouted warning could've done."

"No it wouldn't. Your foot was already lowering -"

"- You two can argue about this later," Four interjects while offering you a hand to get up, "That potion is only a temporary solution. We should get you back to the inn so that Hyrule can heal you completely."

You're about to begrudgingly agree, knowing full well how difficult it'll be to walk on your own even though you were pretty excited to finish this dungeon. Before you can take Four's hand, however, you're lifted into the air, held bridal style in Twilight's arm (which poses no challenge for him to accomplish).

"I'll carry you back."

"You don't have to -"

"- You took a hit for me. It's the least I can do," His voice is as stern as his mind, making it clear that this is the only compromise you'll be presented with less you want to keep the argument up all night. Thus, you merely pout and look away with a huffed 'fine', "I'm sure the three of you will be fine finishing the dungeon by yourselves?"

"Pff, with our eyes closed," Legend crosses his arms, offended anyone would think otherwise. Four and Wind nod quickly, their eyes still reflecting sympathy for your sake even though they know you've seen worse.

With that, Twilight turns, heading towards the exit of the dungeon with you (more comfortably that you'll say) in his arms and Hyrule at his feet. As upset as he appears on the outside, Twilight can't help feeling some sort of shameful pride at the thought that you'd be so fond of him as to willingly risk injury, so he makes an unspoken promise to himself to spoil you for at least until the evidence of your burns fade. It's the least he could do (and the best excuse he'll find for staying at your side nonstop).

Perhaps it's because he's never had many opportunities to do anything like this before the Calamity or maybe it's because he got so accustomed to it after those dark days. The origin doesn't change the fact that Wild tends to find more comfort in nature than ever before. The splashing of stream water down a waterfall. The singing of birds or creaking of crickets depending on the hour. The gentle breeze through his hair as his only company...It's become a habit of his to find spots like this during tough moments, especially those when he feels himself slipping the most...moments like what occurred today...

If he wasn't so upset and angry inside, he'd feel sort of guilty for running off the way he had back there. It wasn't anyone else’s fault that he's out of his element lately, resulting in more screwups on the battlefield. It's not their fault that he messed up during the last fight, too, breaking his sword against a darknut's armor, leaving himself defenseless (he didn't think it would be that strong!). Most importantly of all, it wasn't their fault that his ignorance resulted in you, for whatever reason, feeling as if it was your responsibility to save him with complete disregard for the risk.

Wild keeps replaying the moment in his mind - you fighting viciously against the darknut until it was reduced to a puff of purple smoke, but not without receiving several cuts and scrapes yourself. He's not sure what hurts more: seeing you injured for his sake or the anger that flashed in your eyes when you looked back at him. You're not happy with him. Nobody was considering the number of times they've warned him about not rushing in battle head first, however your disappointment carried a strong burn that challenged even the Old Man's. If anything, Wild strives to see your joy and hear your praise, not be the source of your dismay.

He can't help but wonder what would have happened if you weren't so prepared at that moment. What if you had gotten a more serious injury? What if you had died all because of him? Could he stomach losing another person he loves like that? How can he call himself a hero when he's constantly failing those he should be protecting the most? He can't. He's a failure...

"Link?"

He pretends not to hear your voice, although it's a poor act given the way he flinches. Sighing, you take his turned head and stiffened shoulders as an invite to walk closer, finding a seat beside him in the grass. You don't say much at first, simply taking in the beautiful scenery and counting the fireflies fluttering around you.

"...I'm sorry I yelled at you either. I lost my temper, but I shouldn't have."

"You had every right to," Wild mumbles, pulling his knees to his chest and hiding his face against them so that he doesn't have to look at you, too afraid he'll break down if he does, "I put everyone in danger by being impatient. I put you in danger."

You shrug, looking down as you run your hand against the grass, "...You really do have to be more careful, I'll stand by that. You gotta assess situations especially against monsters you've never seen before...but with that said, no one can expect you to be perfect. This situation is different for all of us. Really, aside from the Captain, most of us have never even worked in groups before, so it'll take getting used to. Just try to keep in mind that you're not alone, so don't act like it."

Wild lifts his head only to put his chin upon his knee, still stubbornly glaring into the distance instead of responding to your words, although he's forced to smile a little when you nuzzle your face against his while whining his name for attention.

"I heard you."

"Then show it. It took me forever to think-up that heartfelt speech. Do you know how difficult public speaking is?"

"It's only the two of us."

"And like, thirty fireflies!" You gesture to the bugs in question, happy to hear Wild's chuckle and even happier to wrap your arm around his without any sort of fight, "...I mean it, Link. It's okay to lean against the rest of us sometimes. I'd be devastated if something irreversible ever happened to you."

He blushes, his words whispered as he leans his head against yours and closes his eyes, "...I'd be, too, if anything happened to you."

This can't be happening again. How is this even Wind's luck? He thought he made himself perfectly clear from the beginning that just because he's the youngest in the group does not mean everyone has to keep trying to protect him as if he’s made of glass! He's a hero of courage, too! He did his part, traveling across the great sea, fighting through numerous difficult dungeons, and defeating Ganondorf all by himself - Well, the King of Red Lions and Zelda helped some, too, but the point still stands! He didn't need Wild to take a hit for him that one time nor did he need you to do practically the same exact thing now!

It's worse this time than it was with Wild which only makes Wind angrier (and guiltier). Unlike the Champion who bounced back onto his feet after a few minutes, you weren't so lucky. No matter how much Wind shook your body or cried your name with his tears dripping across your bloodied face, you just wouldn't wake up. He couldn't even lift you to carry you to safety. Time has already tried explaining to him that his panicked state likely waived his strength, but Wind refuses to accept that excuse.

He must've done something during that fight to make you think he couldn't handle himself. You got hurt - really hurt trying to protect him and he couldn't even protect you afterwards. It was Warrior who picked you up and ran out of the battle. It was Hyrule and Legend who worked together to heal your wounds with potions and magic. What did Wind do in the meantime? He cried like a child.

He did his best to hide it, wandering to the back of the group while desperately trying to use his sleeves to clear away the tears. He couldn't help it, as much as he wanted to believe otherwise. For those long ten minutes of you not moving regardless of everyone's efforts, he was left thinking he had killed you. He's a hero who's supposed to save people, but instead he ended up getting one of the nicest and more selfless individuals he's ever known killed!

At long last, you began to stir, further awoken by the chorus of relieved sighs that followed. You complained of a nasty headache and immediately tried sitting up which Legend wouldn't allow; you're okay - you're alive despite how it may have looked seconds ago, but that doesn't make Wind feel much better.

Even from where he stands so far away, he can see the smudged blood staining your forehead and that dazed look in your eyes while Wild just laughs, welcoming you to the club of needless head injuries. You, of course, brush everyone else off, your eyes skillfully finding Wind despite how he tries to hide from view.

You croak his name, yet he turns his back to you with crossed arms, doing his best not to start crying again, "I thought I told you all to stop risking yourselves for my sake. I can handle myself!”

"You would've been hurt yourself," You comment with a frown, making Wind's anger flare.

"I'm not a child, though!"

"I didn't say you are one. I would've jumped in front of you even if you were as old as the rest of us. Trust me, Wind. The only thing on my mind at that moment wasn't anything related to your age, it was simply the worry that you were about to be ambushed. I didn't want to see you hurt any more than I'd want to see any of you boys get hurt."

Wild chews on his bottom lip, blinking back the tears as he at last stomps over to join the rest of you, pouting stubbornly yet his voice is genuine as he mumbles, “...I’m just happy you’re alive.”

You give a droopy smile and a thumbs up, although the action is rather shaky, “As good as ever!”

“No, you clearly are not,” Twilight deadpans.

“Lay back down already, you have a concussion!”

"Legend, lower your voice."

#lu twilight x reader #lu wild x reader #lu wind x reader #linked universe x reader #linked universe #legend of zelda x reader #legend of zelda #link x reader #x reader

235 notes · View notes

all-or-nothing-baby · 10 months ago

Text

I LOVE IT WHEN CHARACTERS IN FICS YOU'RE WRITING END UP TAKING YOU PLACES YOU HAVE ZERO HAND IN

e.g. i'm currently writing a buddie wip and the boys are getting drunk on tequila and eddie just posed the question to buck: which star wars characters would we both be? and now theyre going about making their comparisons in ways that show what each of them loves about the other and i'm tapping away at the keyboard, incredulous, like oh my GOD THIS IS GOLD while at the same time thinking OH MAN HOW IS HE COMING UP WITH THIS SHIT? IT'S PERFECT! bc seriously, honestly and truthfully, I HAD NO IDEA THEY WERE GOING TO END UP HERE and they're having an absolute blast omg like sooo much fun yet it's also brilliant bc it's the most incredible way for them to express their feelings (somewhat repressed; it's the #pining part of the fic) for one another and just how on earth did they even get here when they were discussing dead wives only moments ago? like how? THEY ARE WORDS ON MY PAGE BUT THEY ARE AUTONOMOUS like wtf?!—

and okay this maybe got away from me a little bit but i think i'm just in trying to convey HOW COMPLETELY AWESOME IT IS WHEN CHARACTERS GENUINELY BEGIN NARRATING THEIR OWN STORIES AND YOU, THE WRITER, ARE LEFT SIMPLY NODDING YOUR HEAD PROFUSELY AND JUST VERY GRATEFUL THAT YOU'RE ALLOWED TO TAG ALONG FOR THE RIDE

like. i just think it's rad af

26 notes · View notes

not-poignant · 5 months ago

Note

I finally checked out your playlists on Spotify for all of your works and ohhhhh my god when I saw brothers on a hotel bed in the Stain playlist I had to lay facedown about it for like a good ten minutes. It’s perfect. It’s terrible. I am picking Alex up and shaking him like a dog toy. I haven’t thought about that song in YEARS and it immediately hit me like a freight train. GOD that boy is so sad I can’t wait for him to be even marginally less tortured and depressed.

Anyway I love your playlists and I love your writing, thank you for all of it 💕💕💕💕

Yessssss, omg this makes me so happy, anon.

I often put on the playlists when I write each chapter for a story, and in many cases will pick a song or sequence of songs that fits, and actually Brothers on a Hotel Bed fits so much one of the chapters that's coming up. Even if they're not on a bed at the time, lol.

Sometimes we just gotta hear a song that's a total blast from the past and then sit in feels for a while, and that song is definitely one of those songs!!

(I'm so glad you enjoy the playlists though, seriously, I love making them for folks. For anyone curious, my playlists are here!)

#asks and answers #a stain that won't dissolve #thespectaclesofthor #i have such a soft place in my heart for the Stain playlist #I Know How to Speak as the opening song to me is such an Alex song #and i have listened to that on repeat while writing the early chapters #it just sat in my soul and put me in his headspace so fast #administrator gwyn wants this in the queue

8 notes · View notes

lily-alphonse · 6 months ago

Note

Omg pls do smth for Haley x Sebastian. I can imagine her hating him for being the ‘town freak’ but she actually loves him yk yk??

Hi Seph! I had an insane brain blast for this one and I would love to write it one day. I'm going to try to summarize as best as I can because my brain is absolutely sprinting with this idea and I already have the makings of a full fic formed lol.

I checked AO3 for funsies and was surprised to find they genuinely are rare, I was expecting more. At the time of my search I see ten, you can click here to see existing Haley/Seb on AO3.

I actually have a plan for these two to hook up in my SamAlex series (it isn't posted anywhere yet but sooo soon, you can check out the ask its based on though) but that's more casual, let’s give them the makings of a real relationship this time.

I might have seen this somewhere but I love the idea of Haley going to Sebastian for weed, and that's how they get closer.

I need Sebastian to SAVE her. That’s what got me all fired up. That’s my climax.

Ok so initially, Haley definitely just sees Sebastian as a freak, especially because he was even weirder in high school while he was figuring out his style and stuff.

She dreads that she has no other option but to go to him for weed, preferring to go through Sam whenever possible, but Jodi is really strict you know, he can't always be meeting her for stuff like that or keeping weed in his place.

So she has no choice but to meet him.

Sebastian has changed. He's grown, he's gotten his style together. He's kind of punk, but Haley doesn't hate it. (I'm imagining @modern-gremlin 's interpretation of Sebastian for this). Haley's even a little intrigued, but won't admit it to herself. He's not the kind of guy she usually goes for.

The first time she meets him at his house on the mountain she complains about the trek, but she’s wearing fashionable heeled boots and Sebastian looks at her like she’s stupid. “Nice boots.”

“Is that sarcasm?”

Sebastian can't tell if she’s asking that seriously or not. It makes things awkward (high implications that Haley is autistic I love autistic Haley fanon). “Maybe” he decides to answer.

She waggles a gloved finger at him. “No, no. I don’t take sarcasm. I will thank you for your compliment, and your backhanded joke is ruined,” she says matter-of-factly.

Sebastian, amused and a little high, just chuckles and says “Okay.”

“Thank you. Now where’s my weed?”

Sebastian shakes his head to himself, an incredulous smile glued to his face. He can’t quite shake his sarcastic tendencies when he gestures back to the house, “After you my lady.”

She nods and flips her blonde hair behind her.

They start meeting up regularly, usually once a month. Always short business dealings. At first Sebastian does offer to smoke her out so she can test it, but she refuses. More than potentially being awkward, she really prefers just to smoke at parties. It's not that she doesn't trust him, she supposes she does if she's buying weed from him, and he never seems to short her.

I want to have a buildup bonding moment where she learns something about him that's surprising and she likes it. Maybe she comes by and he is working on his motorcycle (🥵 every Sebastian lover when we get that scene) and after that starts opening up to him a bit more.

She starts letting him know about the parties she is going to in town where she's taking the weed to. When it seems a little sus or new territory, he asks her how she's getting home and stuff like that, just to make sure she's safe, and she laughs him off. She's a big girl, she can take care of herself. He assures her anyway that if she's ever in a bad situation she can call him or Sam. They are often in town on the weekend anyway. Haley is touched at that.

She decides maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to get high with him sometime. I’m thinking the first time is a fun little hangout with a group though I’m not sure who exactly yet. Essentially I need them to get high and have a good time and with their guards down there actually starts to be a little romantic tension between them but they can’t do anything about it because of the others there.

Next we get a party scene where Haley is kind of checked out and uninterested in hooking up or playing any racy party games because unfortunately she’s kind of hung up on Sebastian now. Both are individually having their own 'damn I might have caught feelings' moments.

A few days after those realizations they stumble across each other by accident and are both sober, that's important. They have a cute little sober moment like she comes across him in the woods as she’s taking pics, or he takes her out on his motorcycle. By the end of it they are officially both interested in each other. They are looking forward to seeing each other again, but neither of them has spelled out that they're dating.

Then, first conflict. Something happens, probably some kind of miscommunication. They don’t end up reconciling before Haley gets herself into trouble at the next party she goes to.

This bit originally got too graphic for this post so I will just say, she ends up in a bad situation, and manages to call Sebastian.

Sebastian comes in fully prepared to do jail time. I'm not pretending he is a big guy, I know that, he knows that. He has just seen some shit in his life and knows how to defend himself. Plus it helps that he is pissed. He majorly fucks up the bad guy and rescues Haley.

She's super out of it but murmurs his name. "Seb..."

“I told you I’d come get you,” he says, choking on relief.

Haley smiles a little and closes her eyes again. He picks her up, walking out of the party cradling her in his arms.

And then we could get an epilogue of them properly reconciling and becoming official and all that teehee

This ask is a part of the (now closed) SDV Rarepair Challenge! Check out the other answers here, and make sure to boost your favorite so it can appear in the final fic poll! More info on that here.

#stardew valley #sdv #answered asks #send asks #fic writer #ao3 writer #rarepair #shipping in the valley #rare ship #rarepair challenge #ficlet #fic idea #lily speaks #sdv sebastian #sdv haley #haley x sebastian #sebastian x haley #stardew sebastian #stardew haley

10 notes · View notes

amywritesthings · 19 days ago

Note

hi hi hi i read silver underground for the first time last night and it is one of my favorite fics of all time. it's so bittersweet and made me feel emotions i didn't even know existed???

also the first time when levi and james kiss (james kisses him, he leans in tho) it was so... tender.

the way you write deserves a paragraph on it's own. you've probably heard this before but the world building, pacing, dialogues is just so good? thank you for sharing this story w us!!

I have a few words for the commander esp during the flashback: omg erwin is finally here, miche is here too? let's go!!! sir what the fuck do you think you're doing? Ohhjjjhhhh he's a calculative bastard i hate him. ok blade on the neck was kinda hot—

also the first thing james and levi individually thought was to kill erwin after joining the scouts is so funny to me

and the whiplash we (i) got, when we went from flashback levi to present day levi??? Idk why i was thinking it would be a happy moment, in the middle of the forest but instead Levi's shaking after reliving it again and again— anyways I'm kissing your hands rn.

i have more thoughts that I'll be sure to comment on ao3, chapter by chapter the next time i give it a read.

once again, thank you for writing this incredible story, have a lovely weekend <3

I sat with this over the weekend and read the message a few times because honestly, my gosh, what an incredibly kind and nice thing to send to someone. I'm honestly so honored and touched.

(Erwin is the secret hottie weapon in this story, I swear.) I never thought I'd be good at writing Erwin because he's so complex, but I have to say I genuinely had a blast writing his scenes. He's such a bastard sometimes and is 4 steps ahead of everyone, and I'm really glad you liked my interpretation of him!

And I know!! It took me so long to get all of those flashbacks done and I wanted Act 3 to feel natural. So much of the outline has changed as the story progressed and I can say that it used to be a 'happy' moment, but the more I wrote Act 1 (I wrote the flashbacks first) I was like 'nope Levi has some STUFF to go through before we get to any of that'.

You are so wonderful, seriously. Thank YOU for reading my story and taking the time out to send this. It really made my week, and I can't say how many times I read this before responding. 💕💕💕

#feedback.#fic: silver underground

4 notes · View notes

alexanderlightweight · 2 years ago

Note

Happy Wednesday!

If it tickles your fancy, I would love, love, love, love, love a fic of any flavor in the Mob Wife Alexander Lightwood universe you just casually yeeted onto my dashboard because that's obviously going to live in my head rent free for the next many moons. <3

(What a world omg)

Laws i love this verse so it will always tickle my fancy to get prompts and saeth keeps sending me things that boost my interest. Well this is definitely a flavor in that verse and I hope you enjoy it because it took a turn I didn’t imagine it taking.

Seriously I never planned this character to be in the fic or ever write from their pov and then it was like ‘oh hey interesting let’s do it”.

So this is basically an interlude after Alec’s figured he could either be a bodyguard or a boytoy and only one of those gets to flirt and touch Magnus all night.

Simon pov (he’s an unreliable narrator, prone to rambling, anxiety and dramatic and humorous interludes and he lacks so much info)

Alec is just like: I would just like to get back to my husband. he doesn’t sleep as well when I’m gone, so please talk as little as possible and just listen first.

Simon: I’m so glad I can’t breathe. If I move he’ll kill me.

(also mob wife is an occupation not a gender role but Simon doesn’t get that… yet)

—

“Simon.”

And Simon shivers because Alec Lightwood doesn’t need to raise his voice to be terrifying.

And Simon is terrified.

Officially.

But also not overwhelmingly so.

Because he’s also finally seventy percent sure Alec won’t kill him, which is much better than the fifteen percent Simon thought it was until recently.

Though in a crisis, he’s also the one Simon wants to hide behind.

Even in the beginning, Simon’s chances were always better with Alec, even if they both complained about it.

“Okay, yeah right. I’m Simon.” He hears himself say and he reminds himself to take a breath even though he doesn’t need to.

A lack of heartbeat and oxygen only mean that even Simon’s own body won’t save him from panic anymore.

“Yes? I know you’re Simon.”

And Alec says it like it's an obvious conclusion but Simon is just really happy to hear him say it, especially without a threat.

Because Alec isn’t the kind of person who is casual with most people and Simon is almost nothing to him.

Sometimes Simon worries he’s just another body to Alec — one in the congo-line-of-lovers that Izzy has had — but then Izzy reminds him he’s the only boyfriend Alec’s bothered to remember the name of.

And Simon is also one half of Clary’s package deal and boy, that sure did him no favors when they first met.

He takes pride in it.

“Simon—“ Alec says and he’s sighing, deep and long and Simon wonders if his inattention and eagerness has once again doomed his — now second — attempt at living.

Well living while being dead but Simon might actually stay dead this time if he lets his thoughts keep going.

“The greenhouse?” Alec is asking him and Simon wonders why until he remembers how much he hates Alec’s office.

The greenhouse is the only other place Alec takes official meetings.

And something shivers down Simon’s spine.

Because Alec doesn’t even like him but he’s noticed Simon’s dislike.

This is an Alec that’s trying to be careful.

So just how much does Alec notice? Simon wonders and the little part of his brain that he’s learned can save his life tingles.

Where does it end?

“For the love of, Simon sit the fuck down and breathe every fifth count.”

Simon finds himself on the hard marble of the Institute’s unfamiliar greenhouse floor. His head between his knees and a too heavy hand roughly smacking his back in sets of five.

There is brightness on his face when he finally opens his eyes.

“This is sunlight!” He accuses angrily, because he finally trusted Alec a full seventy percent and now this.

Betrayal!

“Simon you’re a daylighter. You were blasted by the soul sword and survived. You’re fine.”

And Alec doesn’t sound sympathetic and Simon winces because well—

Okay yeah. That’s fair.

Plus Alec has seen Simon drunkenly dance naked in the sun and that is a memory neither of them talk about.

It actually calms Simon down, because if Alec refrained from killing him when he plastered his naked body to Alec’s and yelled ‘teach me how to fight future brother-in-law!” Alec had in fact, spared his life.

First by not killing him.

And secondly, for not telling Magnhs that Simon’s no-good-very-bad-brain decided it was perfectly reasonable to cop a feel of Alec’s ass with vampiric strength.

It’s not a bad ass.

A little flat but very muscular with thighs that could break a neck and Simon tries very hard not to work himself back into a panic.

He does not need Alec Lightwood bringing him down from a panic attack while he thinks about how he nakedly gropped Magnus’ Bane husband’s ass hard enough that Alec had sighed and in the medical bay he’d dragged Simon to, activated an iratze.

“Magnus is going to know that these marks aren’t his.” Alec had said casually, “and he’s not going to like it. I really didn’t like it. You certainly didn’t like it either, if you know what’s good for you. So therefore, this never happened.”

And Simon is never ever going to tell even Clary that he did like it.

He’d liked it very much and he’d suddenly understood Magnus’ instant obsession.

Which had turned into a new crisis.

Because Simon’s taste is apparently Lightwood’s.

Which is not helpful for his continued life expectancy.

Because it will either be Izzy for eyeing up her married brother, Magnus for eyeing up his husband, and Alec for Simon’s sheer audacity.

“Simon, do I need to get someone else?”

“No!” Simon manages to get out because Alec Lightwood-Bane can never find out that he snapped out of the panic attack three minutes ago and almost sent himself into another panic attack because of said man’s ass. “I’m good. I’m good.”

Alec doesn’t look impressed but Simon knows he must not look very impressive.

He doesn’t take it personally.

Alec isn’t impressed by anyone besides Magnus, unless he’s impressed by someone’s stupidity.

And that never turns out well.

“Okay, so what can I do you for? I mean for you. What can I do for you?”

Alec is eyeing him like Simon is Magnus’ awful snake Baby.

Which is rude.

Because Simon has seen Alec with that nasty little worm and Alec is much nicer to Baby than he is to anyone besides Magnus and Madzie.

“Okay so listen carefully. This is a lot of information I’m going to give tou. Magnus has several identities in the mundane world. Some of them are linked legally but most of them are involved and hold a great deal of power in mundane crime groups.”

“Magnus is a mob boss!” Simon gasps out in giddy delight and then Alec is ruining his joy like the grumpy dilf he is.

The grumpy dilf he is not.

Because Simon doesn’t even know what a dilf is and he’s never been so glad that Alec can’t read his mind.

“No Simon. He’s not actually running a mob or gang or whatever else you’re thinking. He’s simply a powerful individual and is known for his information and skills and he has a lot of money. Nobody wants to be on his bad side. Everyone wants to be on his good side. So he has the authority of someone high-up and even the mundanes behave in Brooklyn. I personally don’t really care how Magnus got his status or how he maintains it.”

And Simon has so many questions but Alec has his—

if-you-interrupt-me-I’m-shoving-my-hand-through-your-chest-and-exiting-with-your-heart

— look on his face.

And Simon has seen that security footage. So he stays silent.

“It’s a persona that most High Warlocks do. Create identities in the mundane underbelly of their territories. Make sure the mundanes fear and respect them enough that they can come and go freely. They need to be trusted to keep an eye on any slip-ups. And no, they’re not undercover. They’re not doing the mundanes work for them.

“But Magnus and I quite honestly don’t care. We protect mundanes from the shadowworld, not from themselves. If the mundanes want to kill themselves and each other, that’s their problem. So long as they only do it in mundane ways and not with ties to the shadowworld. We don’t need the clave coming down here, bristling about the accords anytime soon, or anytime at all.”

And Simon swallows because he understands how serious this is, intimately.

Aldertree was sent by the clave.

He remembers Aldertree.

Izzy remembers Aldertree.

A lot of people remember Aldertree.

So he keeps focused, listening to the hummingbird-wing-beat of Alec’s pulse under his words.

“Magnus has done this for centuries. He knows what he’s doing. But we’d both prefer if I could go with him in the future.”

And Simon is practically vibrating because he’s nearly positive that he’s about to get a padawan.

Which, even in such a serious situation, is amazing!

“Which means I need to know more about modern mundane culture than I do.” Alec is grimacing and Simon knows it’s a testament to just how much Alec loves Magnus that he’s doing this.

“Magnus gets by because he has centuries of knowledge but I’ll need a crash course. And no Simon, I cannot read your mind.” Alec Lightwood’s eye roll continues to be a thing of beauty and Simon feels his undead soul un-die a little more. Because Alec definitely can’t read minds.

Or Simon wouldn’t continue existing.

“Look, Magnus and I went over a list of all the questions you might possibly ask. He gave me the answers so I didn’t have to waste time. We both agreed you’d be the best to ask, since you spend the most time around young adult mundanes. And you’re popular with your peers.”

Simon feels like he’s dreaming or maybe died again.

Except this is a much nicer if not possibly a more traumatizing experience than his first death so Simon concludes it has to be real.

His luck is always this bad.

“Magnus thought and I agreed that it would be just you and I, you tend to—“ and Alec trails off and Simon has a moment where he wishes he’d never drank Jace’s blood.

Because Alec is trying to be considerate.

Because he’s trying not to say that Simon can’t handle being in the same room with both of them after the incident.

It’s mortifying.

“Right, so do I need to call Magnus so he can join us?” And Alec looks very serious, eyes dark and calm and without a flicker of anger or of true concern. Alec is a good leader not because he cares but because he makes himself act regardless of care.

It took a while for Simon to realize that sometimes the people who care the most are the ones who let you down the worst.

And Simon winces, because Alec does look incredibly tired compared to when Simon saw him… however long ago.

“No sorry. I’m good, just a surprise. But like a good surprise, it’s like I’m Q and—“ and Simon trails off with a sigh because there’s no point and he is shocked when Alec runs his big hands over his scruffy perfect Lightwood face.

Or maybe it’s his Trueblood genes.

Whatever.

“Yes, okay fine. Simon you can be Q. But if you call me 007 or whistle that obnoxious tune I will give you cause to regret it.”

“You know 007?” Simon actually gasps, because this might truly be some epic dream and he doesn’t even register the threat.

Well, his hindbrain does and it’s screaming, but Simon can’t listen to it over the shockhold Alec’s words have put him in.

“Simon, consider who my husband is. Just for a minute.”

And Simon does consider it.

He considers how a delighted and charmed Magnus would coax Alec into ‘research’ for his ‘undercover excursion into the mundane world’.

“Oh my god.” Simon barely breathes out, “Magnus made you marathon them.”

And Alec is gritting his teeth. Simon can hear the grind of his incisors and he swallows, hard.

“Right. Absolutely no mentions of triple digits or shockingly appropriate theme songs.”

And Simon’s death flashes—

hunger the dirt the gnawing-bite-thirst-trap-feed of hunger and Clary’s screams

— before his eyes when Alec gives an exasperated sigh.

The moment passes and Alec is giving him a begrudging yet judgmental look.

“It’s often that the criminal part of mundane life is where the shadow world slips over. Magical drugs slip into mundane ones, easy money, anything goes. And no one cares about that except sometimes it leaves evidence. Unexplainable evidence that mundanes want explained. Right now Magnus is chasing a new rumor; and we’d like for me to be able to go with him.”

This is quite possibly the single coolest thing Simon has ever been involved in.

“So are you going in as his bodyguard? A new dealer of some super magic drug? Oh. My. God. Alec, are you going to be a rival boss or something coming in? Or a hitman? Are you going in as Magnus’ cleaner?”

And Alec is staring at Simon like he’s actually truly lost it.

Which Simon doesn’t get. They’re all obviously the best and most understandable choices.

“Simon, Magnus is my husband. Obviously I’m his mob wife.”

And Simon can’t breathe, but he feels the oxygen knocked out of his lungs.

Because Alexander Gideon Lightwood-Bane — a man who has prevailed heavily in both Simon’s nightmares and his recent and most horrifying wet dreams — wants to learn how to be a proper mob wife.

“Oy vey.” Simon manages to get out and then he looks up at Alec and blinks at his too-tall, too-powerful body.

And wonders how he’s supposed to guru Alec into anything that can pass as what middle-aged criminals will consider a wife.

Mob or otherwise.

Later they’re finally finishing up their first crash course and Alec looks worse than he did with his own arrow through his chest.

But he escorts Simon out, ordering his shadowhunters absently to various duties and checking in as he passes and Simon takes it in with a sudden wonderment.

Simon’s seen more changes of leadership in his short time as a part of the shadowworld than is normally seen in a generation.

And he got a much more up-close and unwanted personal view of how badly it can go.

And Alec is… he’s surprisingly really great. Even if Simon only has shitty examples to compare him to and so when Simon is walking out into the sun and Alec is going through a portal that appears out of nowhere, he lets his guard down and mutters.

“He’s so totally M.”

And just before the portal warps out of existence, Simon’s hearing picks up a quiet, irritated—

“Simon.”

And he winces.

Alec’s senses are frightening and Simon is a vampire.

#shadowhunters #magnus bane #alec lightwood #malec #simon lewis #writing wednesdays #writing wednesday #lumine writes #my fics #my fanfics #my ficlets #immortal husbands #shadowhunters au #prompt fic #prompt #fill #dressed to kill

90 notes · View notes