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buntobeans · 5 months ago

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spilled ice cream is a great wingman - venture x brother’s best friend reader

Nsfw utc. this is FILTHY FILTHY!!!!

Thanx venture’s burrow for this image..

amab sloan

afab reader but is referred to with gender neutral terms (or at least as gender neutral as spanish gets)

you guys are both adults, just to clear up if anything seems uncomfy! i envision Sloan to be around 23 and you’re 21 :))

this is FILTH

like DESCRIBED FILTH!

wrote this on a plane sorry if it’s delulu or uncomfy or grossly described. I think I’m also sick.. also barely edited SORRRYYY also there’s like a severe lack of lube here sad face wahhh wahh ouchie

More italics needed but.. WOMP WOMP!!!!!

i spent way too much time on this

i’ve taken like two classes of Spanish but hoopefully I’ve got it right.. I used the masculine form for some words because I wasn’t sure if I should just make a female reader but— hey anyone can read, regardless of their bits n bobs— let the punana in your heart be your guide <3

OK NOTES OVER!! LOVE YOU E-KITTENS!!!! IM GOING HOMEEEE AND SEEING MY DOG!!!

How the hell did you get here?

Your thighs twitched as you struggled to clamp them shut, but the assured little hushes of Sloan’s voice and their large fingers prying your legs apart strayed you away from doing so.

You opened your mouth and closed it, akin to a fish out of water. Forgetting what you were going to say, your words died on your tongue, shifting into small little whimpers as Sloan rolled their thumb over your swollen clit.

“Doing so good, cariño.” They murmured, tenderly kissing your earlobe. “Mierda. Always dreamed of seein’ you like this.”

“Sloan!” You bounded up to your brother’s best friend as they plopped down the couch of your living room.

“Hey!” They gave you that gorgeous, million dollar grin with their chipped tooth that you’d grown to find so attractive. Sloan instinctually opened their arms for you to leap into, giving you a small affectionate hug. “¿Qué onda? How’s it hangin’?”

“It’s good!” You cheerily piped. Your brother groaned at the sight of you unceremoniously interrupting his time with his best friend, but you ignored it— perhaps you stuck out a tongue at him and gave him a little side eye, but in Sloan’s eyes, you weren’t doing anything wrong! They’d defend you!

Your brother’s best friend. Sloan Cameron. The two had been friends for a while, so it was common for them to come over to your house to chill with your brother. Naturally, you found yourself acquainted with them, popping in to occasionally annoy your brother or include yourself in their conversations. While your brother was most irked by it, Sloan didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, instead treating you like a little sibling, often fondly smiling at you and ruffling your hair.

Oh, how you longed for those eyes to gaze at you with a different kind of affection.

You had the biggest crush on your brother’s best friend. You couldn’t help it— Sloan was so darn attractive with their messy brown hair and skin decorated in the occasional freckle, large frame walking around your house in shirts with the sleeves sloppily cut off, highlighting their muscle, and baggy cargo pants. You soaked up all the attention they’d give you like a sponge, eagerly awaiting them to come over to your house and hang out with your brother so you could brush your fingers with their larger ones while handing them snacks under the guise of showing them hospitality.

But they never seemed to notice. So you kept your pining for sweet Sloan a secret, tucked away in the corners of your heart for your silly little crush to never come to fruition.

“I’m going to the store to get some beer,” your brother announced, grabbing his keys and slipping on his shoes. “Need anything?”

“Hook me up with some ice cream!” Sloan yelled as your brother opened the door.

Your brother left the house and it was eerily quiet, Sloan and you being the only presences in the home. You pulled yourself out of Sloan’s arms, suddenly flustered by the proximity— but, of course, missing their warmth.

“We have ice cream. I bought some recently.” You piped up, hopping off the couch to skitter to the kitchen.

Over your dead body would you admit you’d bought the ice cream with Sloan in mind.

“Ooh, sweet! Haha. Pun intended. What flavor?” Sloan asked, eyeing you as you opened the freezer. They let out a little breath as they watched you bend over to find the sweet treat.

“Vanilla.” You answered, taking out the tub of ice cream, opening it, and sticking a spoon in it. It wasn’t like you’d documented Sloan’s favorite flavor in the archives of your mind… not at all.

You eagerly took the tub and ran over to Sloan on the couch.

“It might be a little bit melted because it sat out but—“

You let out a yelp as you stumbled, the ice cream going flying. Panic set in as you realized you were falling.

“Whoa, whoa! Hey there.” Sloan’s arms wrapped around you.

You swore all the oxygen left your body. Their arms were so big, so warm— you gulped, not daring to meet their eyes in fear of the chipped shit-eating grin they might be wearing on their stupidly gorgeous face.

What you did look at, however, was their shirt.

A mess of ice cream coated their body, and you internally screamed.

Mortified, your heart dropped. “Oh my gosh, I’m so so sorry— I didn’t mean to drop it at all oh no no—“ Hot tears of frustration pooled in your eyes as your lips tugged into a frown.

“Hey, hey!” Their voice cut you out of your rant and meltdown-in-progress. “It’s okay. Everything’s fine. It’s just a little ice cream.”

That was a TOTAL lie. They were practically drenched in vanilla.

You wailed in embarrassment.

“Ay, está bien. Don’t worry! I can just take it off.”

You gulped. You punched yourself in your mind for the lewd thoughts running rampant in your brain, searching for anything to distract yourself with, anything to reply with—

“Y-Yeah?” Fuck. You stuttered. “If you give it to me I can wash it—“

Stupid! Stupid! You were totally feeding into this! Thoughts of Sloan shirtless attacked your mind, and suddenly the room was way hotter than you’d recalled a minute ago.

Sloan chuckled and your soul left your body as you watched them peel their shirt off, showcasing their toned body. They made a show of it, too, confidently lifting their shirt off their body. Holy fuck. Their body was no joke. Accompanied with a bit of chub, they proudly displayed a set of prominent abs. Tattoos of runes, sigils, and ancient gibberish you couldn’t understand (or maybe your head was too clouded to read) were scattered across their body. Their bellybutton had a little piercing and a line of hair trailed down their chest to a place you quickly looked away from before your eyes could meet.

“Like what you see?” They chuckled. You cursed yourself internally. You were practically drooling over them!

“No— I mean yes— I mean—“ You were so close to slamming your head against the wall.

They handed you their shirt and you shakily took it, nervously clutching it like a lifeline to ground you to your surroundings. Thank GOD you were washing it, because you were practically sweating buckets into the fabric from your clammy hands.

“So..? You gonna get off my lap, or..?”

Oh, just kill me already, you thought. Bury me alive and don’t let anybody see my body. Especially my brother. He’d probably laugh his ass off.

You mustered the courage to stare at Sloan. They were so close to you, almost brushing their nose with you and—

Oh.

“There’s something.. poking me..?”

It was Sloan’s turn to be flustered. Heat rose to their cheeks as they gazed down, met with their little “problem”.

“Dios mio,” they gasped. “Don’t pay any attention to that. Lo siento, I am sooo soo sorry—“

You gulped. Was this really happening? No, but— what the hell? Had Sloan really gotten turned on from you sitting in their lap?

Gods. And they were big. Their hardness pressing against you— it wasn’t a joke. You struggled to pick up the pieces of your mind as thoughts flitted about— what would it feel like— what would it be like inside you—

“..Do you need help with that?” You squeaked out before you could even register the words in your mind.

Oh, you’ve really done it now.

Sloan stared at you with wide eyes, cheeks heated.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sor—“

“You mean that?”

Your hands unconsciously curled further into their shirt. You wanted so desperately for a distraction, to leave this awkward situation, but a tinge of hope and an indescribable pull left you staring helplessly into their eyes.

You nodded. A small nod, but a nod nonetheless.

“…You don’t want this.” Sloan laughed nervously. So you weren’t the only horribly mortified one here. It was almost relieving. Almost. “Do you..?”

Fuck it.

“..I like you. I want this with you. I always have. I mean, I want not just this.. I want you as a whole, I want Sloan Cameron—“ You squeezed your eyes shut as you spoke, too afraid to see their expression. Every moment they didn’t respond to you felt like a century. Your heart dropped with each passing second, wholly terrified of their response.

“..Que lindo..” They softly murmured. Their hand reached under your shirt to gently stroke your hip with their thumb, and you shuddered at the sensation. Their hand was big. And warm. You’d spent too much time staring at it, wondering how it would truly feel against you.

“I’ve always thought you were cute.” They finally said. You opened an eye to peek at them. They were looking away, expression unreadable. “Your excited little smile.. the way you always greet me whenever I come here..” They chuckled anxiously. “Heck, it’d be a lie to say I just come here to hang out with your brother.” They were flustered. You could see it. It was your first time seeing this expression on Sloan, but you prayed to whatever deity that existed that it wouldn’t be the last. You held your breath, hanging onto their every word. “Why do you think I choose your house to hang out with him..? I like.. seeing you.. ah,

demonios, I can’t do this at all..”

Their shirt dropped from your grasp and onto the couch as you stared at them, agape. Were you dreaming?

“So.. are you gonna get off my lap, or are we gonna.. canoodle? Ah, that was stupid of me.. idiot Sloan.. who even says canoodle..” You laughed with a mix of bewilderment and adoration as Sloan spoke, wiggling their eyebrows at you.

Before you knew it, you were kissing them. Kissing them like there was no tomorrow. Savoring their lips. Like this would be the last time you’d ever experience their lips at all. Oh, but you knew it wouldn’t be. You knew you’d have so many more moments like this with them.

Sloan’s hands roamed aimlessly over your body, slipping under your shirt. You let out a soft whimper at the sensation, noting the way goosebumps appeared on Sloan’s skin at the sound and the way they were touching you got more possessive; the way they were touching you got greedier.

“Sloan.” A kiss. “My room is much—“ Another one, this time they missed, landing their lips on the corner of yours. “—Comfier than this—“ You threw your head back like a drowning person gasping for air.

Sloan’s brain was too fuzzy to fully comprehend your words, but they seemed to understand the notion, hoisting you up in their arms by your thighs. You let out a yelp at the sudden sensation of being lifted off the ground. Their discarded shirt covered in ice cream that was probably melted by now (with the help of your ever-growing body heat) was long forgotten on the couch as Sloan mapped a course to your room, their lips never leaving your face.

“Abre la boca.” They ordered. You looked up at them, dazed eyes confused by the sudden Spanish. “Ah.. I mean, open your mouth.” You obediently complied, allowing them to greedily shove their tongue into your mouth. You surely would’ve fallen if it weren’t for their big arms keeping you up.

Their energetic tongue seemed to have a will of its own, messily dancing with yours, rolling over your teeth and mixing their saliva with yours. It was like they were trying to explore every inch of your mouth, charting all the places that had never been reached by anyone else. It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced— if there was one thing you knew for sure tonight, it was that Sloan Cameron’s tongue game was insane.

You only understood you were in your room when the sheets hit your back, Sloan atop of you. Their kissing never ceased; your mouth was starting to cramp, but hell, your mind was full of joyful delirium. You’d kiss them for eternity if you could.

You whined as their chipped tooth caught on your lip, the slight stinging sensation surprisingly pleasant. Sloan apologetically sucked on your lip, leaning back to stare at you.

Your lips were a mess. Drool leaked everywhere, and they weren’t too sure if it was from you or them— maybe both— but they were too aroused to care. You made them feel like a horny teen all over again. You, splayed out on your bed, legs quivering, shirt slightly riding up from the sensation of being practically thrown down by Sloan; you looked like a cute little present, one Sloan was itching to unwrap.

“Can I take this off?” Sloan was too impatient for you to answer the question that they themself had asked, fingers eagerly working to strip you of your clothes. You would’ve laughed at their eagerness if it wasn’t for the burning need you felt for them in the moment, instead opting to gaze up at them dumbly.

Sloan sucked in a breath as they gazed at your shirtless figure. You were even more stunning than they’d imagined. Those nights of rubbing one out to the thoughts of their best friend’s cute sibling faded away as they registered that you were truly real and there, under them.

They wanted to ravish you.

They nearly whined, large fingers palming your bra-clad breasts. With shaky hands, they clumsily took your bra off. It took Sloan longer than it should have, them constantly kissing you like they couldn’t be away from your lips for two seconds and them fumbling with the bra strap and trying to stop themself from ripping it off entirely. But damn, if it wasn’t worth it. You looked absolutely beautiful. Sloan’s eyes roved over your body like a hawk to its prey. You shivered, entertaining the possibility of being swallowed up by them.

Their cock pulsed with need at the sight of your bare chest, aching to be relieved. It was almost painful, but Sloan was determined to make this pleasant for you, even in their lust-clouded haze.

“Mierda. So pretty.. I want you. I need you.” They moved their mouth down to greedily attack your breasts, rolling their tongue around your left nipple. They occupied the other with their hand, alternating between gently scratching the bud, flicking it with their thumb and forefinger, and cupping your breast. You squirmed in their hold and they let out a gentle hum of comfort to try and still your movements, which, admittedly, did nothing but make you wetter than you already were.

“Sloan..” They momentarily stopped their ministrations to soak up that heavenly noise, but quickly resumed when you let out a whine of protest.

“Mm?” They mumbled against your breast, stopping their sucking and tongue-prodding to dot kisses down your stomach. “What is it, cariño?”

You shakily sighed, fingers tangling in their hair as you watched them with glazed eyes.

“‘S not enough, I need more.” You protested softly. Sloan’s eyes softened at the sensation. A hint of their teasing nature sparked up and they thought about making you wait for the reprieve you so desperately desired, but they squashed the whim, deciding instead there was plenty of time for that later. Later, when you two were more prepared.

They pulled away from you and groping your tits and you groaned with disappointment, to which they chuckled softly at.

“C’mere.” They shifted on the bed so they were laying down. “Take your pants off.”

That sounded appealing. You gulped, scooting over to them, and obediently stripped yourself to your panties, to which Sloan let out a low whistle at.

Your panties were so cute. Did you doll yourself up in the hopes they’d see you like this and fuck you silly? Sloan sighed dreamily at the thought.

They pulled you onto their lap with ease, and you prayed that your wetness wasn’t soaking through your underwear and onto them. You bit your lip as Sloan hooked their fingers in your panties, slowly pulling them down. They let out a breathy sigh as they stared at the wetness coating your panties. It was them that you were so drenched for. Them. Sloan Cameron.

Fuck, they were so lucky. You were just the cutest.

“On my face.” They said softly, staring at you with love.

“What?” You sputtered. Sloan tossed your panties aside (as much as they enjoyed them) to who-knows-where in your bedroom, occupying their hands with grabbing your thighs. They marveled at the sensation, squeezing gently.

“On my face.” They repeated. “Sit on it.”

You stared at them incredulously. “You want me to sit on your face? But what if I’m too heavy?”

They chuckled, the sound rippling through your body.

“I think I have more than enough strength to handle you sitting on my face.” They said, a bit cockily. You gulped at their brazenness, casting a gaze to the muscles you’d been ogling over earlier.

The offer did seem tempting…

“But what if you, I don’t know, lose air? What if I suffocate you?”

“Suffocating between your thighs sounds like an honorable death.” They flashed that chipped tooth grin at you that you had grown to adore so much. “Sloan Cameron— died because they were too devoted to eating some pussy.” You snorted at their inability to stay serious even when extremely horny, knowing arguing with them was useless.

You shakily clambered atop them. They licked their lips as your sopping wet cunt entered their vision. You hovered over their face apprehensively, but Sloan wasn’t having any of it— you squeaked as they pulled you down onto their face.

You felt your brain turning to mush as you felt Sloan’s face between your legs. Their nose brushed your clit just perfectly, tingling your spine; it was like their face was made for you to sit on— a.. rather odd way of saying you were meant for each other. You gripped their hair in an attempt to steady yourself, but all hopes of regaining some sense of clarity were dashed as you felt them inhale you.

“You smell so good,” they moaned out. “I wanna taste you, I wanna taste you.. amor, oh, mi amor..”

You let out a keen as they ran their tongue along your folds, lapping up your wetness. They sighed like they were in heaven at its taste; You were everything they imagined and more, so much more.

You squealed as they traced your tongue around your entrance prodded their tongue at it.

“C’mon.” They shakily breathed out. “Move for me. You can do it.”

You gulped, knowing nothing but the feeling of their mouth buried in your cunt. The vestiges of embarrassment faded away as you first grinded on their face, replaced by a wave of overwhelming white-hot pleasure.

It was too quick, how you lost yourself in the sensations of their mouth. You let out soft sobs of ecstasy as Sloan ate you out like a starved human. They made no move to stop you from tugging on their hair as you ground yourself against their face, basking in your enjoyment and rather enjoying the pain.

“Sloan, oh, oh, I’m so clo—“

“I’m home! I brought your dumb ice cream!” Yelled the familiar voice of your brother. You immediately snapped out of your lusty trance, eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. You stared at Sloan like you’d been caught stealing from a cookie jar— they looked back with the same ‘oh shit’ gaze.

Your brother made his presence known in the living room, setting down the spoils from his trip to the grocery store with a loud, annoyed grunt.

“Where are you two?! Why the hell is Sloan’s shirt on the couch..? And is that ice cream??”

Fuck. You’d forgotten the shirt.

Sloan looked up at you. You looked back, face full of embarrassment, looking to them for help.

“Say something!” They urged you.

“What do I even say??”

“I don’t know!” They whisper-yelled, panic palpable.

You groaned in annoyance. It took every inch of your willpower not to squeeze their face from where it was with your thighs, but they’d probably enjoy that.

“Sloan went home!!” You yelled quickly, trying to sound normal— as if you hadn’t just been given the best damn head of your life.

“Without their shirt?” Your brother yelled back.

You looked at them for an answer. They pursed their lips and creased their eyebrows at you to as if to say “I don’t know!”, but all it did was send ripples of ecstasy through your body. You managed to silence a moan at the sensation of their pursed lips on you, and their eyes tinged with a rekindled fire.

“T-Turns out we had ice cream!!” You yelled back. “They spilled it and just went home without it! Th-they said they were tired!”

Your brother groaned in annoyance, mumbling a “That sounds like something Sloan would do”. You sighed in relief, though it was short lived as Sloan’s lips closed around your clit. Your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head and you had to stifle the loudest whine— with limited success, as it came out like a little grunt. You slapped them from where you were, though it was light, your head too consumed with pleasure to truly do any damage.

“Keep moving,” Sloan murmured against you. You moaned softly at their breath against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Are you crazy?” You whimpered.

They raised an eyebrow at you, as if asking you to really answer that question. Yes. Yes, Sloan Cameron was batshit insane. And yes. You loved them. And the idea was turning you on far too much for you to admit.

You slowly continued rolling your hips across their face, gasping quietly at the sensation.

“Yo, are you sick up there?! You sound awful! Like, more than usual!” Your brother yelled. You cursed under your breath. Of all the times your brother had to show a semblance of care (even if it was backhanded), why now?

You gripped Sloan’s hair tighter, trembling with each roll of your hips. Drool fell from your mouth and onto the bed.

“Yeah, I’m fine! I’m- uh- I’m naked-!” You screamed. You cursed softly under your breath. Your tone was far too shaky to even sound believable.

Sloan giggled against your skin. You squealed, kicking what you could of their body lightly with your foot. They let out a quiet “oomph”, which did little to help you, as it blew air against your swollen clit. You threw your head forward, nearly burying your face in the bed. You really dug yourself a hole with anything you did.

“Ew!” Your brother blanched from the living room. “So I bought all this beer for nothing?”

Please leave, please leave, please leave-

“I’m not gonna waste this. And I definitely don’t wanna see you naked! I’m gonna go to a friend’s house and drink this!!” You sighed in extreme relief. “I’ll probably stay over! Don’t burn down the house! And clean up that shirt and fucking ice cream!” Even better. He’d be gone the whole night. You felt almost giddy at the thought.

You halted your movements, which Sloan pouted at, until you heard the door click shut. You almost burst into tears in relief.

“Thank goodne—“ You trailed off into a loud yelp as Sloan flattened their tongue against your clit. Any possible words escaped you, torn from your mind as Sloan endlessly abused the sensitive bud.

Their hands squeezed your thighs, nails gently scratching small marks into it, heightening your pleasure.

“Close— I think ‘m— Sloan— Sloan!!” You shrieked, clenching their hair and tugging. They moaned into you at the feeling, speeding up their movements to help you reach your peak. You assisted, grinding faster against their face, your imminent release the only thing in your mind.

You cried as you felt yourself cum, digging your heels into the sheets. Your whole body seized up in the most intense orgasm you’d ever experienced, and you collapsed on them, exhausted. Your thighs ached, but you couldn’t imagine how Sloan felt.

..actually, you could. They were beaming, licking off the traces off wetness you’d left on their face like it was fine dining. You were thoroughly embarrassed by the picture, but it was so addicting to stare at.

You panted softly, burrowing your face in their neck. You could feel yourself sweating, the heat in your body doing little in terms of leaving.

“Good?”

“Way too good.. What ab’t you?” You murmured into their neck. They blinked, as if the thought hadn’t even crossed their mind.

“What about me?” They looked just like a clueless puppy. You wrapped your arms around their waist, absentmindedly squeezing their stomach.

“This whole thing started ‘cuz you were hard.” You mumbled, gently raking your nails across their body.

They groaned in embarrassment. “Oh, right.. umm.. don’t worry about it.”

You pouted up at them. They cooed internally at the sight; you were just the cutest!

“No. You pleased me.. I should please you back..”

They sighed with a soft little chuckle. “I pleased you, and by pleasing you, I was pleased. Wait, does that even make any sense?” They hummed, thinking.

You still weren’t satisfied, fingers tugging at the band of their pants. Sloan gulped nervously, feeling heat spread through their body again. Their large, clammy hands covered yours, dwarfing them.

“Honestly, cariño, you really don’t have to—“

“But what if I wanna?” You asked softly.

Sloan let out a sigh.

“I can’t argue with that.”

You eagerly slipped their pants down along with their boxers decorated with assortments of puppies on them, admiring their built legs. You traced the trail of hair from the bellybutton piercing on their stomach down to where their pubes peeked out. You mewled softly, taking in the sight of them.

Your eyes trailed down.

“Oh.” You mumbled.

Sloan laughed nervously. Was that a good “Oh” or a bad “Oh”?

You were taken aback. By no means was it not long, but what you were impressed by was.. the girth. Sloan’s cock was thick. You gulped at the size, but were determined not to let yourself be intimidated.

You spat in your hand, slowly wrapping a hand around them. Awed by the way one hand barely fit around their length, you slowly pumped your hand. It was like you were entranced.

Sloan was weak. They were on the verge of crumbling. You looked so adorable, so fucking innocent, staring at their cock oozing precum with fascination, quickly looking up at them with each stroke to gage their reaction. You were so, so, eager to please them, and they felt like they were going to cum embarrassingly quick.

They felt like they were in some porn— except nothing they were feeling was an act— you were really there, with them, their skin was on fire, oh, they loved you so much. Oh, they felt depraved. Your hand on them was bliss. Pure bliss.

When you licked the tip of their cock, they almost came immediately. They cursed and willed themself to hold out a little longer.

You were thoroughly enjoying their reactions; Every shake, every shiver, every keen was addicting to you. You wanted to draw more from Sloan, discover more, feel more. With them.

You gave a vein a little kitten lick and they pulled on your hair. You gasped in surprise, sending more of their length down your throat. You gagged on it, hot tears forming in your eyes, but oh, seeing them keel over was so worth it.

You absentmindedly cupped their balls, giving them a soft squeeze. Sloan grunted. They were so, so close.

“Mierda, mierda.. te quiero, ah..”

You understood the gist of what they were saying, and let out a muffled “wuvvvyoutoo” against their cock, to which they finally threw their head back with a loud groan.

They came. Hard.

You gulped down a bit, pondering the salty taste. You pulled back, the rest coating your mouth. Sloan looked at you.

You were absolutely filthy, their cum coating your face. They reached out a thumb to wipe your mouth, but you licked it off your lips, just like they’d done when they ate you out.

Sloan gulped.

Yeah, you would never be their best friend’s sibling again.

Just you.

You plopped into their lap, too exhausted to say anything. They sighed, absolutely lovesick, caging you in their arms. They peppered your face with much more innocent kisses.

“I love you.” They mumbled softly.

“Mm.” You tiredly leaned into them, finding entertainment in tracing your hands along their tattoos. “..love you too..”

They smiled softly, nuzzling into your neck.

Sloan was whipped.

so like i kinda fell off at the end 😺 but yeah this is FILTH! if you read this far you’re a SINNER!!! A FREAK!!

plsplspls tell me if it’s not as gender neutral as it can b and if I can fix anything with sloan or you !! love you mwah

sighs I need to write sloan putting it in and becoming absolutlyelyl pathetic

#sloan cameron x reader #sloan cameron #overwatch x reader #sloane cameron #venture overwatch #venture x reader #venture x you

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seeingivy · 1 year ago

Text

it's time to go

actor eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

an: im sweating.

songs/media mentioned: happiness by taylor swift and it's time to go by taylor swift (not mentioned but name of the chapter!!)

previous part linked here

You take a deep breath in as you stand at the shining bright doors of the building, the reflective mirrors at the front showing you your small frame in comparison. You brush down the ends of your dress, ridding your palms of the sweat accumulating as you push through the doors.

There’s a receptionist sitting at the front, with short black hair who is diligently typing away on the computer. You can see the issue of Vogue, the one the Attack on Titan cast did for season two, placed in a placard at the top of the desk. And when you look around, you see that every Vogue cover you’ve done - the one of you and Sukuna, for your albums - is displayed everywhere.

Then again. This is a big deal. Surely it’ll be their biggest feature of the year.

“Alright. Your interview should be up the stairs, in room eleven. They’ll start set-up at twenty and then the interview will start at half-past.” she states, handing you a shiny key-card.

“Would you happen to know if my request regarding the piano was approved?”

“I believe so. It should be in the room.” she responds, smiling.

“Thank you!” you respond.

You walk up the stairs and find the room, a few workers shuffling around the set. They all give you polite smiles as you walk straight onto the stage, an expensive brown couch on the left and the grand piano you requested on the right.

You take your backpack off and pull out the box, filled with polaroids all tagged to perfection for your interview, as they all start adjusting the microphones and cameras into place. A shorter, older woman walks up to you, shaking the microphone pack in her hand as she gestures for you to stand up.

“Hi! Thank you so much for helping me out today. I’m Y/N.” you respond, clipping the pack to the back of your dress.

“No problem. I’m Leila.”

You pause.

“I know you. We-we’ve met before, right?”

Her face widens in shock as she nods, a bright smile spreading across her face.

“Yes, that’s right.” she murmurs, voice quiet.

“It was…god. That was years ago, back when we were doing press for season two. We filmed a video for your daughter, she was asleep and she was a really big fan, right? How is she doing?”

“She’s doing good. She’s still a big fan of your music.” she says, smiling as she loops the wires through your ears, shuffling your hair behind your ear as she readjusts.

“That’s sweet. I’m so glad she enjoys it, that-that’s very special to me that she does.” you respond, cheeks warm and something stirring in your chest.

You take her in full, trying hard to wrack your brain for how she used to look. She’s definitely years older now - five to be exact - but you can’t pinpoint any. No wrinkles, no tiredness - still the same woman you knew.

But you’re miles away from who you used to be, having aged what feels like eons. You think back to the interview, the compliments you and Eren gave to each other stinging in your mind.

Eren. I wouldn’t be standing here if it wasn’t for you. Not only because you took a chance on me after our first screen test, but every other hiccup along the way was only something I could swallow because of you. You-your steadfast determination and belief in me is something so inspiring, so warm unlike anything else. You’ve always been a safe place for me, somewhere I can always run to when I need someone. I’m so glad we can always be fish together.

Y/N. You’ve always been able to sense my feelings - my happiness, my frustrations, my pain - without me having to tell you. And you always, always know how to say the right thing to bring me back down to Earth from it all. You make me a better person and I love you for it.

You’re sure you're crying as you look back at Leila, her eyes wide as she reaches forward to wipe the tears. The deep feeling, the sadness sitting so deep in your chest that you’ve been trying to ignore, is suddenly too overwhelming, too loud for you to swallow.

“I’m so sorry. Was it something I said?” she asks, her look frantic.

You take her hand in yours, squeezing three times.

“No. It’s me. I just remembered that interview. What Eren and I had said to each other and it made me a little sad, that’s all.” you respond, wiping your tears against the back of your hand.

Her face deflates.

“I’m very sorry for what happened. To the both of you.”

You sigh.

“Thank you. I-I appreciate that.”

“This industry is not kind. To anyone. And having seen how you two were as kids, how genuine, it’s sad to see what they’ve said to you both. You know that most of it, if any, isn’t your fault. People- they’re cruel. You’re a very brave girl for still coming here.”

You swallow hard. And hope she still thinks you’re brave at the end of your interview.

You sit down on the couch, anxiously tucking the ends of your hair towards the back of your ears, as the interviewer walks in, a bright smile on her face. Leila leaves, giving you a thumbs up as she walks away.

“Y/N. Congratulations. I’m Layla. Thank you for finally coming down for your interview.” she states, taking her seat on the couch next to you as they adjust the microphone in front of her. She has a blue box in her hands, which she tucks behind the couch.

You don’t miss the snub she makes at you for postponing for months on end. You became a triple threat months ago. And your interview - about your career, about your work - was supposed to happen ages ago.

“Thank you for waiting until I was ready. I can promise you-you won’t be disappointed with what I have for you. What’s that?”

“It’s for you. We’re saving it for the end of the interview.” she states, giving you a smile.

You nod, as you brace your knuckles against your own box, the director coming over to give you both directions and stage you properly against the cameras.

“Hello everyone! My name is Layla Ray and I’m here with Y/N L/N. After a great deal of anticipation, Y/N is finally here, seated with Vogue, for the infamous triple threat interview. We’re going to go through the highs and lows of her career and ultimately discuss what comes with such a great title. Y/N, how are you feeling?” she asks, giving you a bright smile.

You swallow hard.

“Thank you, Layla. I’m doing okay. How are you?”

“I’m great, thank you for asking. This interview has been a long time coming. Six months to be exact. Any particular reason why?” she states, adjusting her tone to be quieter, matching your tone. You can tell she’s a skilled interviewer - the excitement from before dying down as she brings the energy lower.

“I-I wanted to be sure of what I wanted to say here. I want to be honest when we talk about my career and that requires self-reflection. I needed the time to do that. And I-I brought things here to share so I had to put those together too.” you state.

“We’ll go back to the start then. What drew you to the industry - acting, singing, dancing?” she asks.

You pull out your first picture, the one you ripped off of your wall. The paint is still stuck to the tape on the back, the picture of you, Falco, and Colt at your popstar themed birthday party. Colt and Falco have excited smiles on their faces, a sparkly pink crown on top of your head and your hands are clenched around the microphone, at the bottom. You can hear Eren’s words ringing in your mind.

Everyone else holds the microphone at the top, their fingers nearly wrapped around the wire. You’re like the only person I know who holds it at the bottom - like you’re doing in the picture.

“This is me at my fourth birthday party. It was a popstar themed birthday party my parents threw for me. I performed a little show for them and my brothers, did karaoke, the whole thing. I-I saw Hange’s speech a few years later when they became a triple threat and it-it basically cemented this as my dream.” you respond, holding up the picture before handing it to Layla.

She’s smiling, running her fingers over the picture.

“This must be a surreal moment. A dream come true.”

You wish.

“Let’s talk about Attack on Titan. How did you find out about it, what was it like being cast, and on a set for the first time?”

“I found out about it through a flier at my coffee shop. I kind of showed up on a whim and did a chemistry read with my co-star. I got the role later that week and was flown out to be with them all. I-I was overwhelmed when I got there at first. I didn’t know much about the set, the terms that you’re supposed to use, they-they had to teach it all to me, like I was a five year old. A fish out of water moment.”

You nervously walk to the other side of the set, where Eren’s sitting in the makeup chair. The team is brushing through the ends of his brown locks, his eyes fixed on his script in front of him, as he murmurs his lines under his breath. You reach forward and snatch the paper out of his hands and tuck it under your arm.

“Good morning to you too, Y/N.” he responds, eyes wide as he smiles at you.

“Sorry. Good morning, Eren.”

He smiles.

“I was joking. Did you need something?”

“I have an embarrassing question. Can you come here?” you murmur, cheeks burning pink.

He quickly hops off the chair, giving a sympathetic nod to the makeup team, as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, his face close to yours as you talk in hushed tones.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s a hot brick?” you ask.

“Huh?”

“Hange. They-they asked me to bring them a hot brick. And when I said what, they were like…You do know what a hot brick is, right? And I got so embarrassed I kind of ran away and now I don’t know what to do.”

Eren pauses as he registers, which is immediately followed by him smiling and leading you towards the back of the room. He picks up one of the charged batteries of the walkie talkies and places it flat in your palm.

“A hot brick is a fully charged battery.”

“Oh. Right. Th-thanks, Eren.”

He puts his hand on your shoulder.

“It’s only like your sixth day on a set. I didn’t even know this stuff until the end of my first movie. You-you aren’t behind, I promise.”

“Okay. Thanks, I guess.”

“I’ll help you. Before the rest of the cast gets here. Teach you all the terms and the secrets and stuff. You’ll be a natural.”

“Really?”

Eren gives you a nod, the smile on his face drawing your eyes to his dimples.

“Thank you, Eren. Really.”

“It’s no biggie. I’ll help you with anything you want. Just ask, okay?”

“One of our most overwhelming questions that we received was what was it like filming with your cast? Your show - along with Jujutsu Kaisen - were really the first of their types to have such a big child actor presence on them.”

You smile, pulling out your next three pictures. The first - it's a picture of you and Bertholdt, holding a World’s Greatest Dad mug in front of Levi, who has the most annoyed expression on his face. The second is of you and Historia - tying Reiner’s hair into two tiny ponytails. And the third - you and Marco, hugging each other so hard that your cheeks are pressed together.

“It was the time of my life, really. I-I went to sleep every night with a smile on my face. They were genuinely such good friends of mine and this experience, these memories - they’ll always be special to me.”

“Do you have a favorite memory?” she asks.

“Hm. I-we were all kind of immature at that age. I still am. Anything related to dirty jokes, especially when Erwin or Hange were involved is a surefire favorite. Sometimes I’ll remember them and still burst out laughing.”

The teacher stands at the front of the makeshift classroom, the lazy energy enveloping the room. The warm haze of the summer has the ends of your hair sticking to your neck, the cold desk soothing your burning skin - preventing you from listening to whatever the physics teacher is saying about the solar system.

You look to your right to find the same sentiment shared by everyone else too. Eren’s eyes are closed, his chin resting against his desk as the sweat rolls down the side of his face. Connie and Sasha are sharing a cold drink between them and Jean’s nearly turning pink as he fans Mikasa - the only one who looks relatively comfortable right now.

You kick Eren’s leg.

“Hm? What’dya want, sweetheart?” he murmurs.

“Jean is fanning Mika. You could do the same.” you groan.

You feel a light breeze on your neck as you turn your head to see Eren, leaning against his arm as he fans you with the book. You take it from his hand, giving a head shake as you turn to your side, the two of you facing each other on the aisles. You instinctively place your feet on top of his, the two of you looking at each other.

“I was kidding.”

“I know. I don’t mind though. You’re looking a little hot.”

You smile.

“Just a little?”

“Shut up. You know exactly what I think about how you look.” he says, rolling his eyes.

You bite back your smile.

“And that’s why the answer is Uranus.” the teacher says, metal pointer smacking against the board.

You look up at Eren, the two of you so incredulous - from the heat, from being stuck in here for three hours, from how stupid of a word it is - that you both burst out laughing. And then get in trouble together.

“What the hell was so funny that your teacher had to take you out of class?” Levi asks, arms crossed against his chest as he stares the two of you down, hours later. Hange and Erwin are trying to mimic his intimidated stance, but all you and Eren can do is laugh.

“Um. You don’t want to know, Levi.” you respond.

“It’s stupid. We’re sorry.” Eren states.

“No. No, I want to know what was so funny that you laughed so hard you pissed one of your nicest teachers off.”

You and Eren give each other a look.

“It-it’s inappropriate. We’re really sorry, okay? We’ll go and apologize right away.”

You and Eren stand up, linking arms together as you move to walk away. Except Levi’s moved in front of you two, an entirely different look on his face.

“Do I need to have a talk with you two?”

“What?” you ask.

“A talk. About sex.”

You and Eren turn your heads to each other, eyes wide. And you immediately start back tracking.

“Levi. Ew- oh my god. What’s wrong with you? You’re so disgusting. And-and-and a pervert.”

“Y/N. Do we have to have a talk? Are you being safe? Why are you guys making dirty jokes in class that you can’t tell me?” he repeats, eyes burning into yours.

“No! Oh my god Levi! It’s not like that.”

Levi looks back at Hange as you look over at Eren, who's pouting at you.

“What, Eren?”

“You don’t have to act like you’re soooo repulsed by it. That’s not what you sounded like-”

You smack your hand over his mouth, cheeks burning.

“Eren. Shut up. This is not the time or the place to be bringing THAT up.”

He smirks, clearly delighted by how embarrassed you are, before pressing a kiss to your palm where you’re covering his mouth. He turns back to Levi, Hange, and Erwin.

“Levi. We’re sorry. The teacher said Uranus and we thought it was funny.”

“Uranus? What the fuck is so funny about Uranus?” Levi asks.

You bite down on your cheeks to stop yourself from laughing in Levi’s face - his very angry face. Luckily enough for you, you're not the first one to break. And neither is Eren.

It’s Hange. They’re smacking the back of Levi’s back as they ask him to say it again, the four of you - Erwin having joined you - as you all goad Levi on to say it again. And you laugh so hard that by the end of it, you’re on the floor - screaming for them to stop as Eren rubs circles into your back.

Your chest twinges, as she hands the pictures back, and you tuck them back into the box.

“The success after season one of Attack on Titan was pretty tremendous. You guys essentially became house names overnight. How did that feel, especially given your background? Nepotism runs deep and heavy in what we do and you seem to be one of our only outliers, here.”

“It was horrible.”

A shocked look spreads across her face.

“I’m grateful for it all. Don’t get me wrong. But my life changed overnight. I-I went to school and I wasn’t treated as the same person anymore, by people I grew up with. There were people hanging around my school, waiting to take pictures of me, and-and anyone who had a chance of understanding me, they were all miles away. Filming.”

“Did you feel that often? Comparing yourself to your co-stars?”

“Originally, no. I-I was just happy to be there. But people, I mean. They talk. It-it kind of cemented that idea in my mind. I didn’t think it was weird that I was the only one who wasn’t filming until someone pointed it out. And-and someone always pointed these things out.” you respond.

Colt snatches the phone from your hands, an irritated look on his face as he slides it into his pocket. After a six hour phone call with your new publicist and producers - Danny and Sareen - all you could do was aimlessly scroll through social media, their words swimming through your mind as you considered your options.

“Quit reading that shit.” he says, making an effort to storm out of your room. He hangs by the door when he reaches it, his hands pressed against the frame.

You shuffle under the blanket, pulling the soft fabric over your head. And a few seconds later, Colt’s pulling it off, expression a bit softer than before.

“I-I just don’t get why you read it. What’s the point?”

“I dunno.”

He slides onto your bed, putting his cold legs next to yours under the blanket as you complain.

“In my meeting with Danny and Sareen. They-they’re the new producer and the manager that reached out to me. They were saying all this stuff about how I can’t drop the ball anymore. How if I have people paying attention to me now, I-I have to keep it going.”

Colt frowns.

“I-I don’t know how this stuff works. What does that have to do with you reading a bunch of people saying rude stuff about you online?”

“I told them I had time to decide, figure out what I want to do next. They said I should look online and reconsider. That if I want to be a triple threat, I-I should trust them.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. They-they’re right. And they seem like the type to push me in the right direction, like Levi and Hange. I know they’ll do whatever to help me be the best. They want what I want.”

Colt shrugs. And you know he doesn’t understand.

“Let’s talk about season two. You made history this season - by being nominated for Best Actress in a Lead role among many others, becoming the most nominated actress in Institute history in one night. How did that feel? To-to do that so young?”

“That-that was a win. It came after something really, really intense for me actually. I-I had all these feelings about what it was like to be famous. Building for months. And-and I got them put into words for me right before that happened. It was kind of like going from a really low low to the highest of highs. I-Intense is the word I’d use for it.”

“Could you elaborate? On that?”

You swallow hard.

“Being famous is like living in a fishbowl. There’s-there’s glass in between you, the viewers, and me the person. And it may seem like you can see me, that you and I are the same but the glass is always between us. You enjoy on the other side, smack against the glass, sometimes even put your rods out to wring us out. We-we’re stuck there, that’s all. I realized that and found out I got nominated minutes after. But that’s this job for you. You’re at the bottom one minute and the top the next.”

Her eyes flutter down to your tattoo but she doesn’t make a point to mention it.

“Let’s discuss music now. Following winning Best Actress in a Drama Series, your impressive albums and tours started. You released your debut album, followed by lover girl, and then ribbons. This-this was an insane feat on your part - most artists take four to five years to produce albums at this pace. What motivated you during this time?”

“My manager and my producer are pushing me at every step.”

She smiles.

“That’s some support system.”

“That’s not the word I would use for it.” you respond, voice cutting.

She nods.

“That’s right. Following your last performance, rumors were flying around that you had fired Danny and Sareen, your beloved manager and producer. Is this true?”

“Yes.”

“Why, if I may ask?”

“I just told you. They were pushing me at every step.”

You sigh, looking down at your hands, knotting your fingers together. One of the first things, you could come under fire for, is talking about them, so bluntly the way you are.

“I looked up to them. My previous example from my mentors - Hange and Levi - was perfect. Almost too perfect. Because of them, because of how willing they were to support me, to defend me, I thought everyone was like that. I thought every person who was willing to be on my team was taking into account that I didn’t know much about the industry and pushing me in the right direction.”

“And that wasn’t true for them?”

You take a deep breath.

“I think they used that to their advantage. That I had a blind faith in them. That I wanted to please them, to please other people. I didn’t know that it wasn’t normal to put out three records, to do world tours that fast. I didn’t know that it was insane that I forgot to eat some days, I didn’t know that it was crazy that they were waking me up after two hours of sleep to put me to work. I-I thought that it was all part of the hustle.”

“How do you feel about it now? Having fired them?”

“I-I don’t regret what they’ve done for me. I-I am thankful to them. If anything, I’m more embarrassed of what they did make me do. Why I didn’t think twice on things they asked me to do, songs they convinced me to write.”

She looks intrigued. She knows she’s getting into the good stuff.

“Songs like?”

“London Boy.” you respond.

“That brings us to Ricky James. Are you saying that you didn’t write London Boy?”

“No. No, I wrote it. But I was asked to write it the way I did. Write a love song about him.”

“Because?”

“Press. It’ll get people to talk. People get bored of the same thing over and over again after years.” you respond, repeating Danny and Sareen’s words, about Eren.

You sigh.

“It’s embarrassing to admit that I did that. Pretend just to get people to listen to my music. I-I am ashamed of it.”

“It’s okay. We-we understand.”

“I don’t think you do.” you whisper.

You can feel the tears pricking your eyes.

“I-I regret it. It’s a horrible thing to do. Especially when, when you have real love and you give it up to pretend. And it’s humiliating to pretend, to see people coo over you and a guy you barely even know. But when you’re famous, when people are telling you this is what you have to do, when this is what everyone does, it doesn’t seem like much to give up. I-I could feel the shame crawling in my skin when I look back at it now.”

You swallow down the regret, thick in your throat.

“How so?”

“The night my album premiered, Ribbons. In the past, all my best friends, they-they’d come to listen with me. Throw me a party, press kisses to my cheeks. I turned them all down that year. It’s one thing to pretend to everyone you know. It’s another thing to do it to people who know better. Who know what you’re doing. I didn’t want to pretend in front of their faces. ”

“Speaking of that night. Could you speak on this?”

She sides the picture, the one the paparazzi took of you on the curb before Lana got to you, towards you. You pick it up and look at it - at your eyes pinched shut and your drenched hair.

“It’s simple. Ricky James started liking me. Asked me out. I said no. And then he locked me out in the rain.”

You see the discomfort spread across her face as she slides the picture back.

“I’m very sorry that happened to you. But you came out of it at the top, with your hit featuring Lana Price. Was she part of your support system during that time?”

You smile.

“Yeah.”

“Can’t sleep?”

You look up from the shelves you were currently pawing through to find Lana, rubbing her knuckles into her eyes, as she walks over to where you’re standing.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I just wanted water but I couldn't find the glasses.”

She smiles as she wraps her hand around your wrist and leads you to the other side of the kitchen, taking a glass out of the correct cabinet and filling it up for you. You both lean against the counter, illuminated by the fridge of the kitchen light in the dark kitchen.

And suddenly you’re crying again, wet, warm tears falling down the length of your face. At the thought of where you were four nights ago - running in the rain until she picked you up. You aggressively wipe the tears off of your cheeks as she catches on. And Lana, despite this being the second time having met you, is quick to pull you into her arms, the sweet strawberry smell of hers filling your nose.

“You smell like candy.”��

“Don’t go biting me now.”

You laugh, pressing against her arms harder as your tears fall onto her shoulder, trying to muffle your sobs by clamping your mouth shut.

“Eren told me. About Colt.”

She pulls back, wiping the tears off your cheek as she talks, softly.

“You’ll get better at doing this. Protecting them. I can almost guarantee it.” she says, giving you a smile.

“How do you know?”

“Because I did it. Which means you can too.” she responds, placing her glass of water in your hands.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is. I’ll help you. Eren will help you.” she responds.

“You’re already doing enough for me. Both of you. I’m intruding on your house right now.”

You feel two hands, warm, around your neck, accompanied with a light squeeze. And then Eren, his voice still raspy from sleep, whispering in your ear.

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?” you whisper.

“Say that again and I’ll kill you. What’s mine is yours.” he responds, sliding his hands off of you as he pushes the fridge door closed and opens the light.

Lana groans.

“God. Would it kill you to put a shirt on, ugly?”

“Would it kill you to brush your hair, you hag? Or maybe not wake me up in the middle of the night?”

“That wasn’t even me. Y/N woke up first!”

“It was your croaking that woke me up, Lana. You sound like a toad.” he mutters.

You laugh, which breaks the two of them out of their argument, and has soft smiles spreading across both of their faces.

“You guys are like siblings.”

Lana comes over, hands cupping your face.

“My sweet, sweet Y/N. Please don’t insult me.”

And then Eren’s behind you, arms slithering around your waist, his voice warm in your ear again.

“That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me, princess.”

“Quit flirting, Eren. You’re such a manwhore.” Lana says.

“Princess was her nickname on set, dumbass. Because she’s a pop princess. I’m not flirting.” Eren responds,

“Wow. So you’re too good to flirt with Y/N. You think you’re better than her?”

“What?” Eren asks, leaning off of you.

Catching on to what Lana’s trying to do, you turn around and look at Eren, trying to hide your coy expression.

“Do you really think that, Eren?”

His eyes go wide, hands on your shoulders.

“No! No, oh my god! I don’t think I’m better than you. If anything, you-you’re better than me. I’ll flirt with you all you want. I swear!”

You and Lana stare him down for a few seconds before you burst out laughing, a pink spreading across Eren’s cheek as he grumbles, an irritated look on his face as he shoves past Lana.

“You guys are annoying. I’m going back to bed.”

“Aw, Eren! Come back! Flirt with her!” Lana says, teasing him on.

“Don’t stay down here too, Y/N. You’re going to lose brain cells.” he murmurs, shuffling away.

You turn back to Lana, who's filling your glass with water again. She has a soft smile on her face, eyes warm as she hands you the water.

“This type of stuff…it really helps.” she says.

“This type of stuff?”

“Good people. Who want to take care of you. Make you laugh after you cry, all that cheesy stuff.”

You hum, leaning against the counter again.

“Lean on Eren. Don’t get so jumbled up on what it means and how he’s feeling because he just wants to be there for you.” she says.

“I’m trying to. I guess I just feel bad.”

“I would have benefited a lot from someone like Eren, if I knew him when I was younger. When I was-”

You quirk your head to the side, beckoning for her to elaborate.

“For the longest time, I thought that this is just how guys were. Assholes. Dicks. That it was a matter of finding one who was relatively nice, good enough. That real guys, they’re never like this.”

You frown.

“My dad was an asshole. Ricky was horrible. My brother was the only person who was nice to me but we just- we lived so far and with the jobs and stuff we grew apart. And when I had to deal with things on my own, things I was too young to even understand, I-”

She pauses. Swallowing hard.

“I would have benefitted from knowing Eren earlier. Guys like Eren, like your friends Jean and Marco. Eren’s helped with a lot of my shame and made me better. I-I owe a lot to him really. I know we said what we said earlier, but he is like my brother. He’s always protected me. Overwhelmed me with kindness under insults.”

You smile.

“He’s a good guy. Always has been.” you whisper, heart warm at Eren being Eren, still.

“So let him. Overwhelm you with kindness. Be there for you. You have no reason to be ashamed. And every reason to be scared. Quit feeling bad and just let him. He’s the person you’re comfortable with here.”

You smile, leaning your head against your shoulder.

“Dunno. You’re pretty cool too.”

She laughs.

“Yeah?”

“You know what would be cool. If you guys went to bed.” Eren says, shuffling into the room again.

Lana groans.

“All men have is the audacity. You just ruined a really sweet moment.”

You smile at Eren, which he returns.

“Can Lana sleep with us?”

He stops smiling.

“Huh?”

“You sleep on the left and she can sleep on my right!” you respond.

“Y/N.” he whines.

“Please? It’ll be like a sleepover. I can’t have bad things on my mind before I go to bed if you’re both there.”

“No thanks, sweet girl.” Lana says.

“I’m trying to lean on you guys! Give in.” you respond.

They both groan as they agree, the three of you shuffling towards Eren’s room. You settle straight into the middle of Eren’s bed, as they both shuffle around - loudly talking in Eren’s bathroom.

“Ew, Eren. Why did you just kiss my cheek? I’m not Y/N, idiot.”

“That was for you, Lana Bear!”

“What pervert spirit possessed you at this time of night? And you know how I feel about that nickname after what Hyla said to me at dinner, so shut up.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Lana. And I just wanted you to know I love you too. You’re like a sister to me.”

You hear Lana smack Eren.

“Were you eavesdropping? Asshole. I was lying. None of it was true.”

“Okay, Lana. Sure thing.”

“I’m serious!”

You shake the memory from your head, as you pull out the picture for her to see, one of you and Lana that Eren took. You’re both on his couch, your hands tangled in the bowl of popcorn - glaring at the camera. Eren was blocking your rewatch of High School Musical.

“Speaking of support systems, one of your most talked about relationships is that with your co-star, Historia Reiss. After seemingly dropping songs about each other and making up and breaking up, there’s a lot of speculation on what happened. Anything to share?”

You smile.

“Historia and I are friends. And friendship is complicated. You just got to witness ours first hand, that’s all. Everything between us - it’s water under the bridge, if there ever even was one. We’re just really similar and we butt heads. We still love each other at the end of the day.” you say.

“Well that’s lovely to hear. How about Ryomen Sukuna? The two of you are all anyone talks about these days, especially after how cozy you two were on the red carpet.”

You snort. And pull out the polaroid - of you and Sukuna, of him kissing your cheek at the awards show. And in the background, Nobara and Maki are pretending to gag.

“We’re not dating. And we won’t ever. We’re just really good friends.”

“Friends kiss each other on red carpets?”

“These ones do!” you respond, smiling.

She laughs, nodding as you tuck the picture back into the box. She swallows hard, rubbing her hands against her palms as she asks her next question. The one you know she’s been itching to ask.

“Look. We’ve talked about your career at great length - all but caught up to the night that you became a triple threat. But there’s one person that we haven’t discussed yet, maybe brought up in passing but haven’t broached. Who I think is relevant.”

You smile.

“Eren.”

“Eren.” she repeats, nodding.

“What do you want to know?”

“I mean, everything. How did it feel to know that you finally got him back for what he did to you, the way he dragged your career through the mud. I mean you basically had him hanging his head between his knees by the end of the night, after you ended him. Throwing his relationship with his brother in his face, the songs you wrote, I mean- that. That has to be liberating. To do all that and come out as a triple threat at the end.”

You can feel the tears spilling down your cheeks as you take your last picture out, one of you and Eren at Levi and Hange’s vow renewal. You’re leaning your head on your palm, looking up at him as he smiles down at you. And you swallow the hiccups as you respond.

“In what world did that night seem liberating to you? Making a joke out of the love I shared with someone? I sobbed my way through the entire last song. Didn’t even make a speech. In what world was that liberating?”

You see the shock spread across her face.

“I just thought-”

You smile.

“Since we were fifteen, all people have done is speculate about me and Eren. Are we dating? Are we in love? Are we real? Are we faking? And therein lies the issue, because I think the people, the fame - it came between something really real.”

She stops, nodding.

“Something real? Are you telling us that Eren Jaeger lied in his interview?”

“I don’t know his truth. Maybe it was fake for him. But I was there too.....And it was real for me.”

You look down at the picture, fiddling with it in your hands.

“I-I’d like to sing my song, if I could. I-I think it’ll help explain how I feel.” you say.

She nods, gesturing to the piano. You sit at the seat, sneaking out the vinyl sleeve from the inside of the bench and pull it out. The album cover is a picture of the cast from season one of Attack on Titan. You and Eren are front and center, smiling at each other instead of the camera, everyone’s heads going in different directions. Jean and Mikasa are looking at something to the left and pointing, Ymir is smiling at Historia who is disgusted at Connie and Sasha plugging their fingers in each other's nose.

“This is my fourth and final studio album, called The Lucky One. And this is my first song on the record, called happiness.”

You brace your hands against the keys, playing the tune into the air as you sing. The feeling sits deep in your chest. Your realization was simple. That Historia’s statement - that your Eren wasn’t the Eren that existed anymore - is true. You just chose to focus on the wrong part of it.

You loved Eren and he made you happy. He burned you down, hurt you in the way that only he knew how, but loved you, made you whole in only the way he could too. There's a deep hurt.

But there was great happiness. It’s why you forgive him. Why you choose to move forward, and hold whatever love you did have close.

Past the blood and bruise Past the curses and cries Beyond the terror in the nightfall Haunted by the look in my eyes That would've loved you for a lifetime Leave it all behind And there is happiness

There is happiness In our history Across our great divide There is a glorious sunrise Dappled with the flickers of light From the dress I wore at midnight Leave it all behind Oh, leave it all behind Leave it all behind And there is happiness

You wipe the tears off of your face as you turn back towards the camera.

“Eren Jaeger is the love of my life. He’s everything you want in the person you want to spend the rest of your life with and more. He’s kind, he’s sensitive, he’s all too willing to understand you. Too willing to meet you where you are, as you are, and look past all the bad parts of you.”

You stifle your sob, the tears pouring out of your eyes. You glance back at the picture of you and Eren at the piano. And the memory sticks out in your head.

“I love you.”

You look over at Eren, his green eyes gentle and heartfelt as he takes your hand and squeezes three times.

“Eren, you-”

“I love you. The three squeezes - that’s what they’ve always meant.” he whispers, his hand warm in yours as me mimics the motion you’ve done a hundred times.

You swallow hard.

“Eren Jaeger is the love in the room. He gives people a chance, even when he shouldn’t. He’s supportive, so incessantly adamant about his belief in you, that you believe in yourself too. He loves hard, he loves soft, and everything in between.”

“He’s the best person I’ve ever met. Until he wasn’t anymore. And I-I don’t know what they did to him. If they pumped him full of drugs, if they told him something about this industry that I’m unaware of, if-if it was something about me. But this Eren Jaeger, so full of love that it was almost spilling out of him, doesn’t exist anymore. He was real. But he’s not like this anymore.”

You swallow hard.

“This career, the way we live in our fishbowl. It-it’s so cruel. You all enjoyed watching me ruin him. You all enjoyed watching him ruin me. You liked that we spent our entire lives loving each other and maybe loved it even more when it came crashing down. It was interesting to speculate on, to talk about. You saw the softest love in us. In him. And then gutted it out of him like he was a fish.”

You take a deep breath.

“And with that, I quit.”

The interviewer sits up, hand on your shoulder at the piano bench as the shock spreads across her face.

“You’re quitting music?”

“I’m quitting all of it. I don’t want anything to do with this. You already got to have him. You don’t get to have me too.”

You give her a smile as you turn to the camera, before walking straight off of the set and into the waiting room outside.

You sit on the bench outside, swinging your legs as you watch the people around you move. They’re all rushing to air the tape, which you expected. And making flash copies of the vinyl you gifted them, getting ready to post them online as the interview goes out.

Figures.

The only person who comes to your side is Leila.

“HI.” you say, cheeks burning from the tears and your eyes swollen.

She hands you the blue box, the one they hid behind the couch at the start, and shakes her head.

You give her a strange look as you open up the box, filled with a large stack of letters. You reach for the one at the top, opening the pages to find Eren’s messy handwriting scribbled on the pages.

Dear The Institute (I don’t know if you’re a person or like someone specific I’m just writing a letter to the address Levi gave me), My name is Eren Jaeger. I’m fifteen, the son of Carla and Grisha Jaeger. I’m going to be in a new show called Attack on TItan. But that’s not why I’m writing to you. I want to tell you about my friend, my best friend. Her name is Y/N L/N. She’s going to be my co-star in the show. You haven’t heard of her yet but I promise you won’t forget her. And I’ll make sure you won’t. Because I’m telling you now, she’s the next big thing. And you’re going to make her a triple threat. I’ll spend this entire time convincing you until you do. But she’s amazing. It won’t take much. You will hear from me again, Eren Jaeger

You pull another page out, opening up the crinkled pages, the block sitting in your throat.

Hi (Can you tell me your name? It feels weird to call you The Institute. Like that’s almost dystopian.) It’s Eren, again. Y/N is going to perform her song, New Year’s Day at the award show tomorrow. It’s her first one and it’s perfect. Like genuinely, who the fuck makes a hit song on the first try? And even after making something great, she’s trying to be better. She doesn’t like to play the piano, but she tries anyway. Every time I try to teach her, she’s hanging on the ends of my words, trying over and over again until she’s satisfied. She works very hard. I’m asking you to not overlook that. See you soon (and when’s your birthday? We’re basically becoming friends at this point.) Eren Jaeger

You flip the pages, again.

Good morning/good afternoon/good evening (covering all my bases, I don’t know where you live), Now, don’t start discrediting what I’m saying as biased because of the rumors. Granted, they are true. I adore Y/N with my entire heart. I love her with every fiber of my being. But that doesn’t discredit any of her work or how I’m vouching for it. Because she truly is amazing. Her new movie is coming out on Saturday and her album on Sunday. Quit being assholes and give her this award already. She deserves it. Really. My deepest apologies (for calling you assholes and for bothering you all these years), Eren Jaeger

And again.

Hi, We broke up. And we don’t really talk much anymore. But the fact that I’m still writing this to you should be proof enough for you to at least CONSIDER her as a triple threat. Like seriously. We aren’t even dating and I’m still raving about her work (because it’s that good). Her new movie comes out soon. She is all things great. The sun, the moon, the stars and everything in between. The light in the dark, every cheesy thing you can think of. Art is a reflection of who you are. And her art has always been the best. For the love of god, give in already, Eren Jaeger.

And the last one, despite being the shortest one, is what hurts the most. Dated for the day after the awards show, what you assume is barely hours after Eren was sobbing during your performance.

Dear The Institute, Thank you for listening. And for making her dream come true. Best, Eren Jaeger

You hold the letters close to your chest as you cry into the box, nearly twenty or thirty pages you still haven’t read. Of Eren, his messy handwriting, and his endless love for you.

His words ring in your mind. They don’t make any sense and none of it does. You didn’t have any faith in me like I did you. Your parents weren’t famous and you had no ins. I have to do something to offset that if you’re my co-star. I’m not lying to you when I’m trying to make you feel better or tell you that you’re great. Maybe Hange and Levi are, but I’m not. I’ve always thought you were great.

You sit up from the bench and walk out the door with the box in your hand. You find Falco and Colt standing on the curb against the car, soft smiles on their faces as they push you into the car. And take you where no one gets to touch you, suck you dry, push you too hard, take what you love most away from you ever again.

Your most haunted memory sticks out to you as you drive away. As you feel the physical weight of this life be left behind on that piano and let him go.

The waves continue to crash, Eren’s hand raking through your fingers as you both look up at the moon, shining above you.

“Y/N.”

“Yes, Eren?”

“Have you ever been skinny dipping?”

You curl your nose in disgust.

“When would I have time to go skinny dipping, Eren? And if I did, you would have known.”

Eren turns on his side, a bright smile on his face.

“Let’s do it.”

“What?”

“Skinny dipping.”

“Eren. Quit being ridiculous.”

He rolls his eyes.

“I just turned twenty-two. Like fifteen minutes ago. I am the pinnacle of seriousness.” he states, putting on his best Erwin-like tone.

“Eren.”

“Come on. It’s like a quintessential experience. We don’t get those - prom, memorizing your crush’s classes and waiting outside them, going on a date in the city. Let’s do this one.”

You nod as you both trudge to the shore, hands locked together as you quickly lose your clothes and run into the water, biting cold against your skin. The Seattle cold does nothing to help, the two of you shivering in each other's arms as you hold each other in the water.

“Ttt-this was a sss-stuppid idea, Er-rren.” you shiver, glaring at him.

“It-it’s ff-un.” he responds.

You groan as he pulls you into his arms, your face flat against his neck as you guys hug in the water. You can feel his heart beating under your ear and you pull back to find him smiling at you, his hair matted against his forehead. You reach forward and push it out of his eyes.

“Thanks.” he whispers.

You nod, giving him a smile. He’s all but grinning at you, the smile on his face so big that it’s throwing you off.

“Eren. What?”

“Nothing. You.”

“Me?”

He nods, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Just trying to remember this moment. You and me - being real people.”

“You sound like a crazy person.”

“You’re not a pop star. I’m not an actor. You’re Y/N and I’m Eren. We’re skinny dipping. And I love you.”

You turn your head to the side, confused by his sentiment all together.

It makes sense to you now.

Almost a year and a half later and you’re nervously running your sweaty hands against the pleats of your black dress. You half debate walking in, even though you flew all this way. If there’s still a place for you in this townhouse, even though you all but grew up here.

You can hear a loud chatter on the inside, voices talking over each other as you think hard, every regret of yours running through your mind. You wonder if they replaced you already, if your doppelganger is walking around in there.

As always, this is what brings you back to them. All of them. And you hate it. Because as always, they are the only ones who understand. They are the only ones who feel it too.

You’re fish. On the same side of the glass, separated from everyone else.

You supposed that’s what it does to people. That being fish, to some extent, was something everyone related to - not just you and Eren, Mikasa and Jean, everyone else who was famous.

This tears down things that were a resolute fact - bringing you to places you never thought you’d return, to people you didn’t think you would ever need anymore. A fishbowl - separating you from everyone else on one side of the glass, with everyone else - normal and whole - on the outside.

Fame can do that to people. But grief can too.

The news clip rings in your head.

Marco Bodt, best known for his time as a recurring character in the drama series Attack on Titan, died on Friday, five days short of his twenty-fourth birthday.

You brace yourself and knock on the door of the townhouse. Eren’s the one who answers.

next part linked here

an: lol. so does "passed down like folk songs, the love lasts so long" still apply if he's dead....thoughts? also the lucky one tracklist

taglist: @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @squirrelspoetry @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlo l@mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi

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despairots · 1 year ago

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could you do a story where miles from earth-42 and our miles are twins and we cant decide which one we like better as we like both of them? you can write the story however you want to!

━━━━━━━━ if i were you, i’d do me.

earth1610! miles morales x gn! hacker! reader x earth42! miles morales. fluff and if you like squint really really hard you’ll find angst. 18 and above please dni, unless your my moot or something… i forgot to change my requests to open but u can send me requests (only abt atsv) just like be patient cuz im daydreaming and shit 🙏

pls ignore the title its nothing suggestive i was braindead and was listening to my saved audios on tiktok this was thw first one on my saved so el oh el 🤕 i gotta keep my writing grind up. keep in mind that earth 1610 miles will keep beinf spiderman and earth 42 will keep being prowler. if y dont know sliver wolf from hsr, switch her up cuz reader is heavily based off of her

this’ll be left on a cliffhanger cuz like idk i just dont wanna make another part and sometimes things are better off with cliffhangers since you guys have creative minds you can come up with your own scenarios

where in a dimension, earth42 and earth1610 miles morales are twins, may look the same but have completely different hairstyles and different personalities also another weird, interesting fact, you’re a sucker for twins, especially them.

interesting fact about you, specifically you, is that you almost got caught by the government when hacking into their system to steal some information.

and of course, them having connections to spiderman, told him to go after this hacker who causes a lot of trouble for the government.

miles morales obviously being under that mask and friends with this hacker who knew that you hated authority (yes, you’re an anarchist), didn’t bother doing anything, probably just telling you to stop messing with them.

on the other hand, his twin bother, myles morales, encourages this behaviour. polar opposites but two cuties, and you, who got roped into romance with them.

“[name], what’d i say about hacking the government?” miles scolded you as you chewed on bubblegum with your feet propped onto your desk, holographic screens in front of you.

“i don’t know, me forgot.” you nonchalantly shrugged, spinning your chair to go back to your screens and swiping left to play the weeknd.

miles spinning you back and placing his arms on your arm rests, too close to your liking.

you smirked with a light scoff, “your brother likes it.” miles rolls his eyes at the mention of him, “i don’t care what he likes.” he snapped back, obviously lying.

miles leaned back with a sigh, “god, what am i gonna do with you?” “maybe get off my ass.” you muttered, not knowing if miles heard that, to which he did.

“i’m sorry, what?”

you jumped at that, quickly shooting your arms up and trying to find excuses, opening your mouth like a fish.

your voice’s overlapped eachother, unable to hear his twin brother opening the door to your room, mask off and everything.

he looked at you who kept stumbling on words.

miles spider sense went off and looked at the entrance, seeing the one guy who encourages your behaviour, “what - what did you tell them?” myles smirked and shrugged.

“i didn’t say anything, bro.” he placed his claws on your bed and sat down on it, “i am not your bro.” miles chuckled and sat down on your bean bag.

“um actually-“

“shut up.”

“cope.” you playfully stuck your tongue out at miles who smiled and rolled his eyes, god you loved his smile. i mean, what?

you don’t love them, boo, you hate them.

“dude, tell [name] that if i don’t catch the ‘hacker’ i’m gonna get my ass kicked.” miles and his brother made eye contact, “i hope you do.” myles replied with a playful tone.

miles threw his hands up, “you guys are actually evil.” you laughed at his comment, “we’re actually vigilantes.” myles pointed out, patting his brother’s shoulder (the bean bag literally beside your bed).

you smiled at the two with light pigment on your cheeks, “i really wanna kiss you guys—“ you paused your sentence with embarrassment, realizing you were saying your thoughts out loud.

the two paused and looked at you, blinking, “eso es adorable, amor—“ “get out.”

“¿qué dijiste, amor?”

“i hate you guys. kill yourselves. espero que te resbales y te caigas en tu próxima misión.” you rolled your eyes and buried your face into your hands as the two twins looked at eachother.

“you don’t mean that, amor.” you groaned at the nickname the two labelled you. it made you want to giggle, twirl your hair and kick your feet like a schoolgirl.

you blushed when you felt an arm sneak around your neck, hugging you against your chair with their head beside your ear, “te gustamos los dos, ¿verdad, amor?”

god, you couldn’t choose between the two.

[name] when they keep getting teased and literally cannot deal with it.

#kaz. 💫#earth 1610 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 #earth 1610 #earth 1610 miles #earth 42 miles #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman into the spiderverse #miles morales x reader #42 miles #42 miles morales #1610 miles #1610 miles morales

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norman-fucking-reedus · 8 months ago

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So… Scud riding fem!reader’s strap-on?

YES YES YES YES YES FUCKING YES

UGHH When I tell y’all Scud fucking LOVES to ride. It puts so much power into his little hands he doesn’t even know what to do with himself

FOR THE FIRST TIME IN FOREVER IM GONNA ACTUALLY WRITE THIS OUT BC yall dont even understand the way this consumes my brain. Bottom Scud is for life I’m sorry hes my baby and my baby deserves to be fucked

“Fuck I almost forgot what the apartment looks like!” Scud sighed heavily as the door creaked out, kicking off his shoes and stretching as he walked over to the couch, dropping himself down onto it. You shut the door behind yourself and toe off your own shoes, leaving them in a messy pile right next to Scud’s.

You peeled off your coat and hung it up, keys following suit before you padded into the tiny kitchen “Do we have any food?” You groan as you open the door, fridge mostly empty and stuffed with mainly leftovers.

“We can get some takeout, fuck, I’d kill for a burger right now” Scud spoke as he moved onto the floor, banging on the shitty TV to boot it up and plugging in his PS2 controllers. “We don’t have enough money” You frown slightly, walking into the living room and plopping down on the couch, legs on either side of Scud’s head. He almost purred contently when your fingers began scratching his scalp.

Scud easily turned into putty at the faintest touches, slumping against you as you massaged his head. “Mmh, can we smoke a bowl?” He muttered, and you’d be crazy to deny.

“I think we only have a little left” You said as you leaned over the arm of the couch, grabbing a grinder and Scud’s bong. You tapped whatever remains were left in the gringer into the small glass bowl, reaching down to fish out the small bag you bought to better preserve the bud. “When’s Blade paying us again?”

Scud shrugged, fingers tapping and flying against his controls as he played some fighting game, leaning himself comfortably against your leg as he spoke. “Hopefully soon. I should asked for a raise” You stick a few sticky nubs into the grinder, twisting it around a couple times until it was finely grinded up into keef.

“Like he’d ever give you one” You snort, snatching a lighter and half dranken waterbottle off the coffee table. You pour the rest of the water into the bottom of the bong, sticking the long bowl inside and holding it steady by the long neck, gapping your lips through the whole at the top, flicking the lighter and bringing the flame down onto the small bowl on the side, inhaling until the water started to bubble and smoke started to form, swirling up and filling the long bong, your lungs shortly after.

It was a huge hit, the smoke turning a slight yellow color as it was built up and burning your chest where you held it in for a few seconds, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Hey no fair!” Scud snapped his head around and pouted at you, because he wanted you to shot gun that right down his throat.

“I’ll give you the next one” You comb fingers through his hair as he whines softly. You bring the flame back down to the bowl, inhaling and watching the yellow-ish smoke form inside and climb up into the neck, down into your lungs.

You held it in for a few seconds as you tilted Scud’s head back, pressing your slightly agape lips against his and exhaling your hit into his mouth, smirking softly at his tiny moan as he inhaled.

Scud sighed around his exhale, staring up at you from his upside down position. “What?” You mumbled, cupping his face with a small smile. “That make you happy?”

He nodded, leaning up to kiss you before turning his attention down to the bong in his lap, not wanting to knock it over. You handed him the lighter, and glanced over at the clock.

“We should just order a pizza” You murmured, rising to your feet and stepping around Scud who was mid-rip. He followed you with his eyes, taking a massive hit and coughing out, exhaling a huge cloud that fogged up your small living room more. “I thought we didn’t have money?” He croaked out, beating on his chest a little.

As he said that, you rummaged through your purse, fishing out your wallet and opening it, raising a brow. “I’ve got ten bucks”

Scud pats his pockets, digging through them and pulling out a few crumbled ones. Better than nothing. You took the bills out his hand and grabbed the landline, plopping back down on the couch as you clicked through the numbers, eventually landing on the local pizzeria.

Stoned, showered, and stuffed, you watched with half lidded eyes as Scud needily bounces on your strap, loud moans and whines coming from him.

“Feels so fucking good, mommy feels so fucking good, want her to fuck me so hard” Scud babbled, sobbing as he totally fucked himself stupid, fingers curling into the cushion of the couch. You watched, rocking your hips steady against the small vibe pressed to your clit, throbbing from all Scud’s sweet little sounds. “You don’t need my help pretty boy, you’ve got it” You coo, sliding your hands across his hips, running them up his shirt and wrapping them around his throat, squeezing tightly. He wheezed out a gasp, clenching around you and whimpering the best he could in your grip.

You pulled him down for a hot and sloppy kiss, Scud breathlessly panting into your mouth as his back arched, rolling his hips down and up against you. He was a complete mess, choking on his moans and grunts as he started to ride your dildo harder and faster, rocking his hips back and whining desperately. “Good boy. Ride me like the dirty little whore you are, hear how disgustingly wet you are for me baby?”

“Y-yes, love b-being so wet for mmngh!–mommy, always s-so ready for her” Scud gasped out his words, your grip around his throat still so blissfully tight that he was starting to become lighthead, shifting himself a little before grinding back down, a loud and choked off whimper tearing from him. “There! Please, please fuck me there- need mommy to fuck right there” Scud desperately cried, bouncing on the spot with all the strength in his body. You gripped his hips and thrust up into him, Scud heaving a groan as he caught his breath. You ruthlessly pounding into him from underneath, watching Scud’s pretty face twist and turn in pure pleasure.

His fingers tightly gripped the couch cushions, toes curled and his head rolling side to side, so utterly destroyed. “Ohh fuuck” He bit down on his spit-soaked bottom lip, loud moans and whimpers escaping past anyway. Each hard jab of your cock was sending him flying off the edge, his own cock twitching and oozing a mix of cum and pre-cum, the tip turning a cherry red as it start to swell up, painfully hard.

“Gonna cum aren’t you, Scud? Or do you need mommy’s help with that too?” You ghosted your hand near his cock.

Scud trembled like a leaf in your lap, “Can’t do it by myself– I can’t–“ sobbing as he pushed back against your thrusts, the head of your strap bumping the bundle of nerves inside him. “Need mommy to help, need her so bad” He rambled, continuing to rock back against you. His face was soaked with tears, sweat, and drool as he was almost riding you again, loud drawn out moans tearing from his chest as each snap of your hips took him further and further. “You poor little thing, begging for help cause you can’t get yourself off on my cock?”

You started to slow your hips, rocking into him at a quick but lazy pace. Scud whimpered and desperately pushed back against you, chasing the blissful build of his orgasm. “Hnnghh– I need- I can’t- Ughhh fuuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck” Scud was so entirely gone, so very far gone. It felt like there were a million bees buzzing against his body, tossing his head back with a loud, broken and shaky sob of sheer pleasure, only a few more hard bounces before his jaw went totally slack, eyes rolling into the back of his skull as his untouched cock spasmed and twitched lewdly as he came, warm shots of white painting his shirt and landing on yours.

Scud slumped down against you, dropping his head onto your shoulder breathlessly and overfucked. He twitched slightly, and whined when you slipped yourself out, leaving his hole to feel uncomfortably empty.

You combed fingers through his hair, kissing his sweaty face and holding his limp body flush against yourself. “Wanna go to bed?” You whisper, kissing his cheek and letting your lips linger there. Scud nodded, but groaned when he realized that meant he had to get up. “Comfy” He mumbled, snaking his arms around you and squeezing, burying his face in your chest.

"We need to change, babyboy" You kiss the top of his head, feeling his sticky cum starting to seep through the fabric of your shirt. Scud whined, arms tightening.

You sighed, tired, high, and a little hungry again. Scud was starting to feel really heavy in your lap, pressing his whole weight down onto you. The clock in the kitchen ticked, and an idea crossed your mind, grunting as you pushed yourself up onto your feet suddenly, Scud flailing and scrambling to wrap his legs around you, eyes wide at the change in position. "Bed" Was all you said, hoisting him up and carrying him into your single shared bedroom.

When you went to drop your boyfriend down onto the bed, trying to get him a clean shirt, he tugged you down with him, rolling you onto your back and straddling you once again, staring down with a flushed and needy face. "Wanna go again, wanna ride mommy again" He huffed, grinding back against your strap. His skin burned, and the fabric of his shirt was uncomfortably sticking to his skin, leading him to pry it off, tossing it somewhere in the room.

You did the same, nothing wrong with sleeping naked, and moved a hand down to steady your dildo, holding it so that Scud could lower himself down, drawn out moan leaving his lips. Being so full of cock made him happy, especially when he could feel the hot drag of silicone against his walls.

Scud lifted himself up and almost immediately dropped back down, a shaky groan coming from his chest as he wasted no time eagerly bouncing his hips against you, whole body on display. You ran your fingers across his bare legs, up his jutting hips, and across his tattered belly, tickling his scars under your soft touch which made him giggle. He wasn't really one to feel insecure. Your fingers danced across his sensitive nipples, a tiny whimper in response.

“Such a spoiled little brat, aren’t you?” You coo as you watch Scud’s nude frame grind against yours, his cock bouncing and smacking against his abdomen. Scud whined and nodded, rolling his hips. It was true that he was very spoiled as saying no to him was genuinely the hardest task of your life. You could deny him, but never flat out refuse. In the end, Scud always got what he wanted, and right now, he really wanted to cum again, leaning down to needily kiss you.

You took the chance the place your feet on the bed, thrusting upwards into Scud who moaned into your mouth, gasping against you as you pounded into him. “Feels so good, mommy makes me feel so good” He slurred out breathlessly, moving to bury his face in your soft tits. He whimpered as you nailed his sweet spot, his cock rubbing against where it was sandwiched between your bodies.

Scud simply moaned and clung to you, dragging his tongue over one of your nipples and sucking it. Each rough snap of your hips lurched him forward, his hums vibrating your tit and his cock leaking all over your stomach.

He groaned and squirmed ontop of you, his hands squeezing the squishy flesh of your chest, pressing his face into their warmth. “Gonna cum, feels so good ‘m gonna cum” Scud babbled, his words muffled. You pressed his front closer to yours, making him rut his tender cock against you which each hard thrust. It was all that Scud needed to totally fall apart, whimpering out sobs as ropes of cum spurted from him, landing on both your stomachs.

You dropped your hips and completely pulled out of Scud, running fingers through his hair when he whined at the loss. “You made a mess of us both, Scud”

“M’sorry, just felt really good” He mumbled, head now pillowed on your chest, one of his hands mindlessly fondling a soft breast. “Can we take a bath?”

You smile softly, even though you had both just showered an hour ago. “Only if we make it bubble one”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

#scud frohmeyer #scud fanfiction #scud #scud x reader #scud blade 2 #hes my babygirl #norman fucking reedus #normanreedus #norman reedus #the walking dead #daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #twd daryl #twd

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cl3fairyyy · 8 months ago

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routine : part 2 || edward nashton x GN!reader ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

summary || you and edward finally go on a date

warnings || eddie is a liiiittle more stalker-y in this one, smoking, mentions of drinking, mentions of edward following reader home and just overall being his strange little self, this fic does get a little suggestive (no actual smut) so please MDNI!!!! i think that's everything, if i forgot anything i am so sorry </3 this fic is mostly just fluff with a side of awkward first date small talk

word count || 4.5k

notes || i am so sorry for the long wait on part 2!! been having the worst writers block of my life and my job has been taking over my life atm </3 but it is finally here!! i had so much fun writing this one, definitely thinking of doing a part 3 if u guys want it :)) apologies if at any point eddie is too OOC, he's definitely a little more confident in this one hehe. also this pic of paul is EXACTLY how I imagined him looking while writing this

You arrive back at your dingy apartment later than you had planned and, admittedly, a lot tipsier than you had wanted to be.

You shove your key into the crappy broken lock that your landlord refuses to fix and jiggle it around for several moments until you finally hear a click. Opening the door, you sway on your feet a little before stumbling over to the couch, kicking the door shut behind you; when you plop down on the velvety throw you use to cover up the horrible cracking leather of your equally horrible sofa, you sigh and throw your head back, allowing a smile to play onto your face.

He had asked you on a date.

You keep replaying the interaction in your head, mentally swooning at how Edward had lit your cigarette for you, how he had been so close that you could smell the laundry detergent on his clothes. You giggle like a schoolgirl, hugging one of your cushions as you fish around in your bag for your phone. You have to suppress a giddy squeal when you are greeted with not one, but three messages from a random number, one you can only guess belongs to Edward. You feel dizzy unlocking your phone, and you don’t know if it’s the alcohol or your nerves.

Hi, it’s Edward. I hope you have a lovely rest of your night.

I really liked talking to you today. You’re a very interesting person.

Are you okay? It's late, did you get home safe?

It takes everything in you to not dreamily sigh like you’re in a fucking rom-com. He's concerned about me, you think, typing a reply with a lopsided smile on your face.

hiii yes im fine!! just made it home : )

im vry drunk lol

Immediately the grey typing bubble pops up and you launch your phone across the room, scrambling to the fridge to open the half-empty bottle of slightly too expensive rosé that you have been saving for the next time you rewatch Fleabag.

You hear your phone ding twice and gingerly pick it up from underneath the coffee table, your hands shaking.

Oh, good to hear that you’re safe haha. I was about to head back to the bar to see if you were okay.

That was a joke by the way.

You can’t stop a smile from spreading across your face. You take a swig from the bottle and begin typing.

yea im sure it was lol

it was nowhere near as interesting after u left. u were in such a hurry too are u ok??

Edward’s cheeks grow red when he reads your second message. You think he’s interesting? Are you hinting that you would’ve preferred if he stayed?

Wish I could have stayed for a bit longer haha, just had some work at home that I couldn’t get my mind off, so wanted to take another crack at it.

Obviously, he can’t tell you that his work isn’t just some simple tax fraud, but a potential money laundering scandal that ties all the way back to Maroni and your own boss. He knows at this point, though, that you’re too polite to question him.

u sure do work a lot!!!! idk how u havent burnt out yet.

try to get some rest if u can : ) its not like the work wont be there tmrw!!!!

Edward smiles. You are so lovely to him; the idea that someone like you could show so much kindness to him makes his heart swell and his eyes fill with tears. A few run down the tip of his nose and plop onto his phone screen.

I know, I know. Sometimes it feels like I can’t switch my brain off haha. It’s been in overdrive since I got home.

He cringes at himself. Is he meant to text so formally? You're pretty much the only contact in his phone besides his landlord and the office. He glances down at his screen, noticing that you’ve read his message but haven’t started typing an answer, and immediately begins to panic.

Of course someone like you couldn’t like him. He was a fool to think you were any different than anyone else in this shithole of a city. You’re probably still sat with your colleagues at that shitty bar, reading out his messages and all having a good old laugh at him. Everyone get a load of Nashton! you're probably saying, and he feels sick to his stomach.

soso sorry my phone just died out of nowhere!!! i srsly did not mean to leave u on opened

honestly i get u i can be like that. its probably worse for u tho bc ur so smart lol

whats been sending the brain of eddie into overdrive tonight??

Edward shakes his head at how silly he’s being. It would be funny if he didn’t feel so pathetic. He reads your messages over and over until his eyes burn; no one has ever given him a nickname before. Eddie. He rereads the nickname, trying to imagine how it would sound coming out of your mouth. His mind begins to wander, picturing you lying beneath him, bare chest heaving as you moan that name to him. Eddie.

He's snapped out of his thoughts when his phone lights up again with a notification from his news app. He attempts to push down his building arousal before it completely clouds his mind, and scrambles for his phone to send you a reply.

It’s a little embarrassing, but... I have been thinking non-stop about the conversation we had outside.

I really would like to take you out, if you’ll let me. If you’d like to pick where we go so you feel more comfortable, I’m happy with that. I’m sure you know much nicer places to go than I do anyway haha.

You squeal at your phone, kicking your feet in the air like a goddamn teenager. You hastily type a reply, and soon enough you’ve made plans for Sunday to go to a lovely downtown jazz club that plays live music. It's one of your favourite spots in the whole city.

You fall asleep fairly quickly after throwing yourself on your bed still fully clothed. You don’t think twice about how bad your hangover will be when you wake up, instead picturing your date with Edward and just how lovely he is.

Edward, on the other hand, stays up all night, his thoughts rife with anxiety. You'd had one conversation in a loud bar, and now he’s expected to keep you entertained for an entire evening? What if you didn’t find him interesting? What if he ran out of things to talk about? What if you stood him up entirely?

He shakes his head, trying as hard as he can to shake the thoughts from his brain entirely. He opens your social media, which he has found himself doing every time he seems to be on the verge of a panic attack recently. He finds his favourite picture of you, a candid photo of you in a coffee shop mid-laugh, your eyes sparkling and cheeks rosy. He loves your smile in this picture.

He hopes he can make you smile like that.

Saturday goes by painfully slowly for you. The dragging hours aren’t helped by your awful hangover that seems to have convinced your brain that any slight movement will have you vomiting. You cringe rereading the messages you sent Edward the evening prior, hangxiety hitting you like a train.

Eddie? Seriously?

You have one conversation with the guy and have already started throwing nicknames around- you're in shock that you didn’t scare him off with how forward you were being. If he brings it up, you can always blame it on how drunk you were, which isn’t exactly a lie.

He doesn’t text you until later in the evening, just a simple message confirming that you’re still on for tomorrow. You wonder if he’s as nervous as you are, if his anxiety manifests itself in the way he chews at his lower lip the same way you do.

When Sunday finally rolls around, you wake up extra early to give yourself as much time to get ready as humanly possible. You would never admit it to anyone, but you’d picked out your outfit the night before and laid it on your desk chair, your nervous excitement barely allowing you to get a wink of sleep.

Edward had offered to pick you up, but you really do not need him seeing the shithole you live in the first time he sees you outside of work. You both agree to meet outside the bar, and since it’s in walking distance from your apartment, you decide against getting a taxi.

Gotham is strangely beautiful in March, the last moments of winter finally coming to fruition. The sun is just beginning to set when you step out into the chilly air, casting an orange glow on the old buildings and warming your cheeks against the cold.

Edward’s heart races as he clumsily stumbles out of the subway station. He's almost twenty minutes early and grasps a cluster of lilies in one hand, the other of which he uses to steady himself against a lamppost. The lady from his favourite podcast whispers soothingly in his ear as he attempts to block out the loudness of the city and steady his breathing.

“You are strong, and you are worthy. Be the change you want to see.”

He closes his eyes, taking deep breaths before finally grounding himself. Edward is all too aware of how he must look right now: sweaty, clutching a bouquet of flowers while standing alone outside a bar. He glances at his watch. Still ten minutes until your meeting time.

He tries to ignore the lump in his throat and the stinging in his eyes. You will show up. You have to.

Edward jumps slightly when his phone chimes in his pocket. His heart drops when he realises it’s a text from you.

so sorry!!! running a few mins late :/ decided to walk today and ofc that’s the day that every traffic light in the city decides to break LOL

The light-hearted tone in your message doesn’t do much to comfort him. He types a short answer and sends it, trying to focus all of his energy on his podcast and not crying from how utterly terrified he is.

Ten minutes after your initially agreed upon meeting time, Edward hears a voice shouting his name. He looks up to be met with the image of you practically sprinting down the street towards him. You pull to a stop in front of him, smoothing your hair down and smiling bashfully up at him. Christ, you forgot how tall he is.

“Before you say anything, I am so sorry. First there was the traffic light thing, then one of my old college friends stopped me in the street and decided that she wanted to update me on every single day of the past three years of her life.”

You breathe in heavily through your nose, your hands on your knees as you try and keep yourself from keeling over. You make a mental note to begin using that gym membership you keep renewing. Quitting smoking would probably help, too.

You look up when Edward hasn’t responded for several moments, and his cheeks are very pink.

“Look, you have every right to be pissed at me. If you want to cancel-”

Before you can finish, Edward interrupts you by thrusting a bouquet of flowers into your hands.

“Th-these are for you. I, um, remembered you mentioning lilies were your favourite flower, so...” He stumbles over his words, talking just a little too fast.

You're quite literally lost for words. You examine the flowers, your cheeks growing warm; it's a lovely spray of pink, yellow and orange lilies, tied together with a cream ribbon. They’re a little crumpled, but nothing that can’t be fixed with a little plant food. You smile at Edward.

“Oh, Edward. They're gorgeous, really, thank you. No guy’s ever gotten me flowers before...”

A small, lopsided grin spreads across his face.

“I can’t imagine why anyone lucky enough to have you wouldn’t get you flowers.”

You flush at that, and loop your arm around his, leading him inside. You manage to find a nice booth in the corner, away from the stage and speakers that surround it while Edward heads to the bar. You anxiously drum your fingers on the table and scroll through your phone, not really paying attention to what you’re meant to be reading as your mind replays what Edward had said earlier.

Edward watches you from the bar, admiring the high flush on your cheekbones and the way your outfit hugs your body. By the time he’s ordered and heading back to your table, you seem a little more relaxed. You smile at him gratefully as you accept your drink and try not to make your staring too obvious.

He looks handsome. He's wearing such a basic outfit, just a simple button up shirt and some smart slacks, but there’s something about Edward wearing something so casual and making it look so good that has you crossing your legs under the table.

“You look lovely tonight, by the way.”

You smile shyly at him, tracing your finger around the rim of your glass.

“Thank you, Edward. I have to say, you clean up pretty good yourself.”

He laughs, and you don’t miss the way it sounds like it's one of disbelief.

“Well, I don’t know if I’d say that.”

You roll your eyes playfully, taking a sip of your drink.

“Well, I would. You look really handsome.”

Edward shakes his head, a bashful smile on his face as he looks down, taking a sip of water. The pair of you sit there for a few moments in awkward silence, trying to think of something to start a conversation with.

“So-”

“You-”

You lock eyes and both laugh, cheeks red. You wave your hand.

“Sorry, you go.”

Edward averts his gaze, fiddling with his collar.

“I, um, was just going to ask how you found this place? I’ve never even heard of it. Well, I suppose the fact I don’t drink and don’t listen to jazz music doesn’t help, but...”

Edward finds himself trailing off, kicking himself for how utterly awkward he is. The way you smile at him, unfazed, doesn’t help.

How could someone like you ever find any interest in someone like him?

“It’s a funny story, actually. My old roommate was on a date with this absolute dick, and she needed me to come save her. So, what happened was....”

As you tell him the grandiose story of having to pretend to be your roommates' partner who caught her cheating, and how you had to run away when her date attempted to fight you, Edward can’t help but admire the way your eyes light up as you gesture wildly with your hands, the way your laugh comes out as an adorable snort when you attempt to do an impression of her very flustered date.

You are so beautiful. He wishes he could capture this moment in a bottle and replay it every day, for the rest of his life.

He doesn’t realise how much he’s staring until you clear your throat a little awkwardly, clearly finished with your tale. He can feel the warmth on his cheeks.

“Ah, well, I do hope you don’t have some secret boyfriend who’s going to jump out on me like that.”

He bites his lip after saying whatever the hell that was, but to his complete disbelief you laugh. Not a pity laugh, not one of discomfort, but a genuine laugh, one that’s just a little too loud, one that disturbs some of the patrons around you.

You clearly don’t care, your head thrown back as that smile, that lovely smile from his favourite picture spreads across your face. Even as you speak, uncontrollable giggles escape you.

“Oh God, can you imagine? Lucky for you, I’ve been single for a while, so don’t worry about my secret boyfriend coming in and trashing the place.”

That makes Edward laugh, much to your pleasure, and just like that, the tension in the air has dissolved. You can see Edward’s tense shoulders visibly relax, and the next few hours are spent under the warm light of the bar’s lamps, your conversations hushed and filled with longing glances, and it feels like you’re the only two people in the world that exist.

The two of you step out into the bitter cold of the evening, hands fumbling for your respective cartons of cigarettes. Your shivering hands are somehow able to summon a flame from your crappy old lighter, and the alcohol in your system, as well as the way Edward looks at you with such adoration in his eyes, warm you from the inside out. He offers you his arm and you take it maybe just a little too enthusiastically as you walk through the city streets.

When you look up at Edward, he’s already got his eyes on you, the tip of his nose pink from the late winter air. You can feel the flush spreading across your face, quickly averting your eyes to the sparkling lights of the skyscrapers.

Edward retracts his arm from yours, and you look up at him again, confused and somewhat offended. He’s shrugging his parka off his shoulders and draping it over your own before you can even comprehend what’s happening.

“You’re shivering. You might not feel cold because you’ve been drinking, but I can see the goosebumps on your arms.”

He says this so matter-of-factly. Does he not realise how romantic and thoughtful his actions are? He opens his mouth to speak again, but you interrupt him.

“Thank you.”

He offers you that adorable lopsided grin that accentuates just how round and soft his cheeks are.

“It’s really no problem. I don’t want you getting sick.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s just how perfect the night has been. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. Before you can second-guess yourself, you’re removing the cigarette from between his lips and replacing it with a kiss.

He's stiff at first, unsure, before you feel a hesitant hand on your face, thumb caressing your cheek. He pulls away first, pressing his forehead to yours, and you can practically see the stars in his eyes.

“...Wow.”

You suddenly feel bashful, pulling away from him completely and taking a drag from your cigarette.

“Sorry, I-”

“Why are you apologising?”

You meet his gaze again, his glasses fogged up, but not enough to conceal the way his brow knits with worry, the apprehension in his eyes.

“I don’t know, I- I should have asked first.”

He takes your hand in his own, his smile so comforting that you feel all your worries melt away almost instantaneously.

“You don’t ever have to worry about asking me something like that. The answer will always be yes.”

He kisses you again, softly, and you can taste the tobacco on his tongue, making your head spin. His other hand comes to rest on your hip, squeezing it reassuringly as he takes your breath away.

You pull away first this time, readjusting his glasses which have slipped down his nose.

“Do you want to come back to my place?”

Edward’s face goes entirely red at your suggestion, and he stumbles over his words as he tries to string together a coherent sentence.

“I- um, well...”

You smile patiently, and he returns it somewhat hesitantly.

“I’ve- I’ve really enjoyed our night together, and I, just, um... I like you so much that, ah, I don’t really think we should rush anything. You’ve had a bit to drink, and I would hate to take advantage of that.”

Your eyes sting at his rejection as you attempt to muster up a tight-lipped smile, nodding stiffly. Edward’s smile drops.

“Oh dear, I’ve upset you, haven’t I?”

When you don’t quite meet his eyes, he sighs and gently holds your hand, giving you the chance to push him away. When you don’t, he pushes a little further, holding your chin between two fingers and tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“I’m not lying when I say I like you. I really do, and I would hate to rush something as important as... that... especially when you’re intoxicated. I don’t want you to have any regrets. You're too special.”

Your heart leaps at his words, and you give Edward a small smile. It was never about him, or his comfort. He’s worried that you’d regret sharing yourself with him.

“I... yeah. I guess I’m just used to guys only expecting one thing out of a date. I really like you too, Eddie.”

He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, offering you his hand.

“Let me walk you home?”

You nod, leaning into his side.

Edward, of course, knows exactly where you live, but feigns ignorance as you take the lead back to your apartment. He'd know your building anywhere, thanks to his tendency to follow you home after work to ensure your safety, but being in front of it now, with you by his side, feels so fresh and new that it’s almost as if he’s seeing it for the first time.

It's falling apart, of course. Every building in Gotham that isn’t owned by someone extremely wealthy is. Crude graffiti adorns the crumbling brick walls, and he feels you stiffen up beside him when you notice a couple of shady guys, probably dealing drops, only a few feet away.

“It’s not exactly... the best area. Will you at least wait for your cab in my apartment? I really don’t want you getting mugged, or worse.”

Even with his impressive height, you’re worried Edward could be a target. His smart clothes definitely don’t help.

Edward can hardly believe his luck at finally being able to see the inside of your apartment. Of course, he’s seen it from outside your window when he’s perched on your fire escape late at night, but this is different. This is intimate. Even though he’d turned down your offer for sex, you’re still revealing such a personal aspect of yourself to him.

You trust him.

You lead him into the rundown building, apologising for the elevator that has been broken for months. He already knows that, but nods anyway.

“That’s okay. Five flights of stairs won’t do me any harm.”

When you finally make it inside, he perches somewhat awkwardly on your couch, his height making the piece of furniture appear ridiculously small. You curl up on the other side of the sofa, giving him his space as he books an Uber home.

The silence is thick, but comfortable. Edward is so engrossed in his phone that you’re finally given the chance to really study his features. The curve of his strong nose that holds up his glasses, the roundness of his cheeks, the softness of his jaw. The warmth of the numerous lamps scattered around your apartment light up his face with a soft glow that makes him look almost cherubic.

Edward glances at you, clearly feeling your intense gaze. He doesn’t seem anywhere near as nervous as usual, his smile relaxed.

“You okay?”

You prop your head up with your hand and nod, content.

“You’re so handsome, you know?”

His cheeks grow pink, his smile a little more shy. His voice is a whisper when he speaks.

“Thank you.”

You lapse into another comfortable silence as he returns to his phone, the smile never leaving his face. His phone chimes and he stands reluctantly.

“Cab’s nearly here...”

You walk him to the door, and he lingers for a moment.

“Can I-?”

You don’t give him time to finish, tugging him down by his collar and pressing your lips to his in another soft kiss. His hands find refuge at your waist, pulling you closer to him. You run your hands up his sides, and he reacts with a delicious shiver to your utter delight. Gathering your nerves, you tease his lower lip with a nibble, and he chases your mouth with a soft groan when you pull away from him.

You grin at his flustered state, his cheeks red and glasses fogged up, his sandy fringe ruffled beyond repair. You press one more lingering kiss to his lips before unlocking your door.

“You said your taxi’s nearly here?”

A chuckle escapes Edward, an octave lower than what you’re used to, and your knees go weak at the sound. He runs his hand through his hair, adjusting his glasses.

“You are so cruel.”

You glance down, immediately realising what he’s referencing, and giggle giddily.

“You’ll just have to wait for next time, I guess.”

He sighs, a dazed smile on his face.

“So, you want me to take you out again?”

You roll your eyes playfully, standing on your tiptoes so that your mouth is on level with his ear. You run a hand down his chest, your voice a sultry purr.

“I thought that much was obvious.”

Edward breathes out heavily through his nose and you smile innocently at him before kissing his cheek. The tension is shattered by the loud sound of his ringtone and you both jump back, the spell broken. Edward smiles apologetically at you when he answers the phone before panic spreads across his face. You can faintly hear a very angry man shouting at him on the other side of the line.

“Yes, yes! Sorry! I’ll be right there! Sorry!”

The other caller hangs up and you snort, pushing him gently out the door.

“Don’t let me keep you any longer from the most awkward ride home of your life. Are you gonna tell the driver you left him waiting so long because you were making out with your colleague?”

Edward stumbles over his words, the flush on his cheeks somehow deepening.

“I, ah, will not be doing that. Christ, I’m going to have to tip him even more than I was planning to, aren’t I?”

You giggle and Edward laughs too, giving you one last quick kiss before practically throwing himself down the stairs.

You close your door, sighing dreamily like the protagonist of a cheesy rom-com. You shoot Edward a quick text and sink onto your sofa, your heart thrumming. You'd gotten him to open up. You're going to go on another date. You kissed him. As far as first dates go, you’d chalk that up to being pretty successful.

The rest of your evening is spent texting back and forth with Edward, and when you finally roll into bed your brain is clouded with thoughts of him, his smile, the feeling of his lips on yours. You’re so focused on the image of Edward’s silly flustered smile after you kissed him for the first time that your rational thinking completely skips over one minor detail that you’ll have completely forgotten by the time you wake up.

How did he know what floor you live on?

#dano riddler #dano riddler x reader #edward nashton #edward nashton x reader #paul dano #riddler 2022 #riddler x you #batman 2022 #edward nashton x you #riddler x reader #danocel #dano!riddler #danonation #danonator

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peaterookie · 10 months ago

Text

Lupin Week 2024 Day 4: AUs and Mythology

Goemon's face looks like he's seen a ghost.

ahhhh god ok my stupid stupid silly au i made a year ago.... this will be a bit long so get ready

tldr: lupin died, the gang is alive. goemon finds lupin but he's a shark merman!? and lupin remembers nothing!!!

long version:

so this AU follows upon the story of shin lupin, which basically, the gang gets killed off by zenigata because he rigged an island full of explosives.

instead of them all dying however, lupin decides to knock the gang unconscious and find a way for them to escape off the island safely, leaving only him in the island to die.

the rest of the gang had no idea how they escaped and assumed that lupin had sacrificed himself for them. they woke up adrifted on the ocean until they eventually got picked up by a ship where the invisible captain from new adventures returns. but ah ill spare the details for another day

---

2 years have passed and the gang just kinda separated to do their own thing. we'll only focus on goemon cuz he's the featured character of this comic.

goemon decided to escape the life of crime that has burdened him for years living as a part of the lupgang. he's mostly a wanderer now and tries to do good and help people along the way

funnily enough, goemon is not the first person to find lupin, but I'll talk about this later. but goemon is definitely very mixed about seeing his friend who he thought was dead for years. he doesn't know whether to be happy or worried.

---

lupin, at the brink of death after the explosion, plummets down the ocean and wakes up one day, feeling like he's been rebirthed!

essentially, lupin became a merman because right before he could die, his body (i mean what's left of it 💀) interacted with a magic crystal that has the ability to grant life to a living being.

It's really rare, but it exists in clusters deep in the ocean floor or- deep under the rocks of an island :) you can say im bullshitting, which i am but i dont think exploding an entire island down to every rock has happened before, so it can kinda make sense why something so coincidental about these crystals could happen. (I AM TOTALLY MAKING EXCUSES I JUST WANTED TO MAKE LUPIN A MERMAN.)

and so these crystals used whats left of lupins body and reassembled him back, and idk other essences of the ocean to make him a merman!

the memories of his past life have definitely been buried deep inside his brain to the point he can't remember any of it though, so he thinks that he was born under the ocean and has lived there for his entire life. other than that he retains almost everything about himself, down to stealing stupid shit and messing with humans just for the fucks of it. he's kinda seen as like a nessie.

---

anyways, y'know how i said goemon wasn't the first one to meet lupin? that's because lupin has met zenigata before!

living a life with only fishes around means lupin's kinda lonely and likes to stalk humans sometimes. the interaction with him and zenigata did not end well though, and lupin has no idea why zeni wants him dead so much.

after that he's way more cautious around people that look like zenigata- hatted big men with guns. its gonna be fun once he sees jigen.

ok what else... i think that's all i want to reveal now. will i do more of this? maybe. maybe not. kinda embarrassed of this because of how silly it is but i hope you people find this interesting! byebye

#lupin iii #lupin the third #lupin iii manga #goemon ishikawa xiii #peaterookie art #shin lupin iii #lupinweek2024 #lupin au #merman #merman lupin #peater oc

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gorgeys · 3 months ago

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heyyy i've been thinking about this specific scenario w our queen for a while now and id love to see you writing about it if possible bc ur amazinggg

so basically ive been thinking about maeve and reader being in the beginning of their relationship but maeve is still very closed off and hates any sign of vulnerability so when reader notices that and tries to help maeve process her emotions in a healthier way than w drugs or just bottling up like she always does she gets really defensive and fight w reader about it but then maeve realize that it was a shitty thing to do n apologize to reader because she really wants this to work its just that old habits die hard

basically angst w happy ending bc im a sucker for hurt/comfort

never let me go ★ queen maeve

Queen Maeve x fem!reader

Maeve has her walls up, but you help her break them down

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 2960

Note: thank you sm for the great request! i'm not the best at writing this hurt/comfort stuff but i really tried!! i hope you enjoy!

you stuffed shredded chicken into a searing pan of sauce. if someone had walked in, they would have assumed you were cooking for a family of six. but no, the pan was piled high just for your girlfriend who had a never-ending appetite and claimed she'd rather eat your food than the meals at any restaurant. that boosted your ego quite a bit considering maeve had literally dined at the most expensive and renowned restaurants in America.

some nights she'd come up behind you while you whipped up one of your classic dishes and wrap her arms around your waist. she'd leave little kisses behind your ear and tell you how much she missed you, leaving a stupid smile on your face. then she'd rest her head on your shoulder and ask you to tell her everything about your day because her day was "boring as usual." you didn't consider being a crime-fighting superhero boring by any means, but you got the hint that she didn't want to talk about it.

but then other nights you wondered if the meal was all she came for. it was nights like tonight, where she sat silently at the kitchen table with a beer in one hand and an empty bottle beside her, that left you worrying. whenever you glanced back at her, she always seemed to be blankly staring off into space, as if complicated thoughts were clouding her mind. you had tried giving her space but you couldn't get rid of the feeling that something was wrong.

she only makes her presence known when she gets up from her chair, opens the fridge, and reaches for another beer. upon noticing, you release a tired sigh that catches her attention.

"maeve, do you really need another?" you ask without turning around. "i mean, you're gonna finish the whole case."

she closes the fridge behind her.

"i can just go out and buy some more," she says with a simple shrug.

"no, maeve, that's not what i mean," you say. you half turn to meet her eyes and just look at her for a moment, wondering if she'll catch on. from the little twitch of her eyes, you think she does, but she still doesn't say anything. she just stands there and stares back at you, her hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle. you sigh once more. "is something going on?"

"what? no," she quickly says with the slight furrow of her eyebrows as if it's a stupid question. she doesn't sound one bit convincing.

"right," you say, fully turning around and dropping the wooden spoon into the pan. you lean your back against the edge of the counter. "so you just sit in silence, drinking like a fish for no reason at all?"

she scoffs and laughs as if you're being absurd.

"since when do you care how much i drink?" she asks with her usual satirical smile. you know that smile well. it's the one she always displays when the conversation is teetering on something uncomfortable.

"since you started drinking like a middle-aged man going through a divorce."

"oh, come on, y/n" she says, waving you off. "it's just cause i can't really get drunk like a normal person. i need a few more."

"a few more?" you ask with raised eyebrows. "maeve, you drink enough to kill a couple racehorses. i mean, the only people i've seen drink that much are people trying to forget things."

her smile falters and you take it as a sign that you're headed in the right direction.

"if anything's going on, i want you to know that you can talk to me about it," you say sincerely, taking a step toward her. "i'm always here for you, no matter what."

you catch her rolling her eyes before she turns away from you.

"god, stop with all the sappy shit," she says sharply. she slams the beer on the tabletop rather hard. "i'm fine, okay?" she says, borderline shouting.

"then talk to me, please," you say, placing a hand over your chest. you know you sound a little pathetic as you plead but you hope it gets through to her. "because it's so hard to guess what you're feeling when you just sit there not saying anything. i can only imagine the worst."

she audibly groans before she sits back in her chair. her eyes lock dead onto yours and she ignores the desperation written all over your face.

"i have shitty enough days already, the last thing i wanna do is come here and talk about my fucking feelings like i'm in kindergarten. i deal with enough children at vought already," she says, crossing her arms and staring daggers into you.

you press your lips together out of frustration. she's a grown woman but she's acting like an immature teenager.

"well you can't just keep everything to yourself," you say, matching her posture and crossing your own arms. "i know it's a lot to carry between the seven and vought and having to save everyone in this whole shitty city, so don't feel like you have to carry it alone."

she laughs at you and it only feels like a punch to your gut.

"god, i didn't know i was talking to my fucking therapist," she says, overenunciating her words and practically spitting at you in the process. "do you come up with these lines yourself or do you steal them off inspirational pinterest boards?" she asks with a derisive smile.

"maeve," you sigh, growing tired of this game that you're playing. she's usually awful at these touchy conversations but she's especially defensive tonight. you take another step toward her. "all i'm asking is that you have a real conversation with me. i mean, i feel like i'm talking to a stranger half the time because i don't know a single thing about you. you wanna talk about the bachelor for an hour but can't tell me a thing about your day or what's actually bothering you. it's like pulling teeth with you."

you take a final cautious step toward her and place one palm on the table to support your weight. you're standing just inches away from her.

"stop shutting me out. it's hurting both of us," you say, more softly this time.

"you mean it's hurting you," she says, punctuating her words by slamming her fist on the table, causing you to flinch and jump away from her. you look down and notice she's cracked the wooden surface.

you've never been seriously scared of her strength before, but you are in this moment.

"i'm doing just fine, actually. you just want me to have a break down so you can feel better about yourself and your small, meaningless problems," she says, rising from her chair.

you scoff out of disbelief.

"do you even hear yourself right now?" you ask, throwing your hands up in the air. "i'm your girlfriend, not some villain you have to fight. i'm not praying on your downfall. all i wanna do is help you."

she laughs and shakes her head while you huff. it boils your blood when she treats you like this, like some ignorant outsider, not someone who cares so deeply about her.

"oh, okay y/n, so let's just hold hands and sing kumbaya and maybe all my problems will disappear," she says, the typical sarcasm dripping from her tone. it's quickly replaced by venom. "you can't do anything to help me. you're stupid for ever thinking you could," she yells, before falling back into her chair and opening the beer bottle with the flick of her thumb.

once again, you just stare at her, wondering if she'll recognize the insanity behind her words and the visible hurt they've inflicted on you. but no, she just takes a long swig from the bottle, letting you know that nothing you've said has pierced her tough exterior.

finally, you've reached your limit with her. you know this is going nowhere.

"well fuck me, maeve, for trying to help," you say, spinning around and turning the stove off. she puts her beer down, a little surprised by the abrupt change in your usually understanding nature. "you can make your own dinner and go back to your bougie penthouse and drink yourself to death up there, okay? i'm not fucking doing this tonight."

she only watches as you, with glossy eyes, stomp toward your bedroom and slam the door behind you. she doesn't make an effort to stop you, but instead sits there almost dumbfounded by the way she's tipped you over the edge. she had never seen you like this before.

she stays at your now cracked kitchen table for quite a while, downing her third beer and contemplating if she should go in and talk to you or leave like you asked.

even if she did push aside the embarrassment and work up the courage to knock on your bedroom door, what would she even say to you? that she has blood on her hands from all the people homelander's killed and she can't take it anymore? that when she closes her eyes, all she can see are those screaming, terrified, innocent people? that that's why she's broken inside? no, those are her burdens to carry, not yours, she thinks. she can't scare you away now, not this soon.

"fuck," she curses as she stands up from the table, eyes locked on your bedroom door.

she wants to be in that bed with you, her head tucked in the crook of your neck as you sleep soundly. she wants to fall asleep to your perfect, soothing smell and the soft sound of your breathing like she usually does.

but no. no matter how much her heart hurts, she can't bring herself to your door. she can't let you see through her like that. instead, she throws the bottles into your trash can and walks out of your apartment.

xxx

for the next few days, all maeve can think about is you. she thinks about you opening your apartment door for her, close to midnight, after a long night of crime-fighting. you're in your cute plaid pajama pants and maybe your oversized queen maeve shirt that she stole for you from vought tower.

she thinks about watching netflix on the couch with you, cuddled under your favorite soft blue blanket. she thinks about the moment you slump against her shoulder as you begin to doze off.

she even misses your texts. she misses your "have the best day, baby!!" texts. she misses all the heart-eye emojis you send her. she misses the cute impromptu pictures you take, especially the ones you take of yourself kissing random queen maeve billboards or posters around the city. she misses your "i love you <3" texts.

and it's during a boring seven meeting where she keeps checking her phone, hoping for a text from you, that she realizes that she can't lose you. she desperately needs you and every day that she doesn't see you feels like a pointless one. she can't carry on with vought or the seven or saving people if she doesn't have you to come home to.

so maybe, to make this thing between the two of you work, she needs to change. maybe she needs to open up, because losing you is not an option.

that's the sentiment she repeats in her head as she knocks on your apartment door, waiting impatiently to see you for the first time since your fight.

she hears the pitter pattering of your bare feet from behind the door before you swing it open. and there you are, in all your glory of messy hair and sweatpants. you don't say anything, so maeve sends you a weak smile.

"hi," she says awkwardly, looking almost embarrassed to be in her current situation.

"hi," you reply, more coldly than she's used to. though she understands after everything she said last time.

she stares at you for another beat, soaking in every part of your presence. relief floods her body just seeing you.

"i, um, i bought you a new table," she says, raising the cardboard ikea box she had tucked under one arm. "i'm sorry about what i did to your other one."

you open the door wider so she can come in and set the box down in your kitchen. when she walks back to you, you still have one hand on the door edge, holding the door open.

"is that all you came to do or..."

she can't read your blank expression. do you want her to leave or stay? it doesn't matter. she has to be brave right now.

"no," she says, standing awkwardly in your living room, her fingers playing with the hem of her sweater. she nervously looks down at the floor for a moment. she reminds you of a shy school girl that's trying to work up the courage to ask out her crush. "can we talk?"

you close and lock the door and notice that maeve's already invited herself to sit on your couch. so you sit beside her, your body turned toward her and your elbow resting on the top of the couch. you watch as she sits there stiffly, as if she's never been there before, with her hands tightly folded in her lap.

her gaze nervously flickers from your face to her hands every few seconds. you can see the gears in her brain spinning in overdrive as she tries to find the right words. although the air is slightly tense and awkward, you would sit there for hours if it meant maeve would finally share herself with you.

"y/n," she finally says, abruptly raising her head to look you in the eye. your heart jumps a little. "being a hero isn't all it's cracked up to be. i've...seen terrible things," she says before taking a deep breath. "i've done terrible things."

you realize that this is the moment. this is the moment where she's finally going to let you into her life. her whole life. so, you shelve your anger and gently rest a hand over one of her wrists. you give her skin a soft, encouraging squeeze that tells her to continue.

"and...the guilt is the worst part. i-" she pauses to take another shaky breath and then press her lips together. you can see that tears are beginning to prick the corners of her eyes. "i don't know what to do," she admits, her voice cracking. your heart cracks along with it.

"and i guess..." she continues. "i didn't want you to have to worry about that. i didn't want to scare you," she says, looking back down at her hands.

"maeve," you coo, resting your other hand on her shoulder. a pout naturally finds it's way to your lips. seeing her this emotional almost makes you want to cry with her.

"and i'm so sorry. because...not telling you made everything even worse. and i just don't want to lose you," she says, a tear rolling down her cheek. her hand immediately rises to wipe it away. "i don't want to lose you because of something stupid like this."

"maeve," you say, your hand leaving her shoulder to push a strand of hair out of her face. "it's okay., it's not stupid. i get it, you're not used to doing...this. i know it's hard for you." you gently hold her cheek in her hand, forcing her to make eye contact with you. "but you could never scare me away. i promise. i'm with you because i want to know all of you. all the bad stuff too."

"but, y/n, it's really bad," she says, pressing her lips together to prevent herself from breaking down.

you're leaning into her and holding her face with both hands now, your foreheads almost touching.

"maeve, you're a good person," you say. you sound so sincere that maeve can't help the silent tears that start to flow rapidly. that was everything she needed to hear and more. "i know that. you know that. whatever is going on, it's not something that we can't overcome together. if you let me in, i'm going to help you as much as i can, okay? i'm always here for you," you say.

she nods in your hands and feels her body flooded by an overwhelming sense of comfort.

"i need you, y/n. i need this to work. and i wanna be better. for you," she says, finally bumping your forehead with hers.

"i know. and i know it's scary to tell me all this stuff but i promise, it's going to get easier. if you trust me, there's nothing we can't do," you say, a little smile finding it's way to your face. you know it sounds cheesy and it's something maeve would have made fun of you for under typical circumstances, but in the moment, it feels right. "and you know i love you, right?"

she instinctively wraps her arms around your shoulders, engulfing you in the tightest hug you've ever received from her. she familiarly tucks her head into the crook of your neck, inhaling that smell she missed so much.

"i love you so much," she whispers into your skin and you melt in her arms. you hold her just as tightly, your fingers rubbing up and down her back. "i missed you."

"i missed you more," you say.

"i'm never letting you go again," she says, squeezing you to her chest even tighter, and you laugh softly. she's telling the honest truth.

though fear still lingered in the back of her mind, this feeling sure as hell beat any alcohol.

#queen maeve #queen maeve x reader #wlw #the boys #queen maeve x fem!reader #maeve #queen maeve x you #the boys x reader #the boys x you

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addisonnie · 2 years ago

Text

hinge and uhaul

summary: college!au. when all else fails…one must look for love on hinge!

an: hi! back from hiatus and of course it would be for a clump of pixels because i am down astronomically bad! this is the first part of a possible series! so let me know if a part 2 is warranted.

warnings: cursing, reader has 0 rizz shes literally a mess, reader also rambles and lots of this is just her inner dialogue because why not. also not very edited and possible tense shifts because im the worst!

part 2 ———————————

Tinder is a soul-sucking vortex.

A nightmarish flurry of shirtless mirror selfies, conservatives, and men that look like they’d hit on your mom after walking you to the door. Switching your profile settings from ‘men’ to ‘everyone’ seemed like the best option; It wasn’t. The best option would’ve been to delete your account and light your phone on fire after receiving the fourth “you send?” message in a row.

Hinge is a smaller soul-sucking vortex. At least you can deny their comments before you embarrass yourself by matching with a douche like that. Your account is set to ‘show me everyone’ and you can only hope that ‘everyone’ includes at least some good ones. Swiping and clicking on dating apps seems to be more of a game than it is actual match-making, a time-passer of sorts.

Your roommate, Dina, huffs loudly from her lofted bed across the room, “would you get your sorry ass off of that app? It’s sad listening to you moan and groan about all the losers!”

You roll your eyes, “my soulmate could be the next person!”

No. No. No, again. Oooh…yes?

You swipe through the girl’s page before deciding not to match with her, because who’s Hinge bio states that they’re still in love with their ex? Dina cheers while you huff and slam your phone onto your desk, spinning idly in your chair. The television on top of Dina’s purple mini fridge is playing a random episode of Bob’s Burgers and, for a moment, you forget about your ever-growing dating app addiction.

It’s not that you’re addicted per say. You just spend most of your downtime sitting in your bed and judging people’s profiles, when yours surely isn’t up to par either. Hey, at least you don’t have a picture of you holding a fish.

The rhythmic buzz of your phone quickly draws your eyes away from the cartoon on screen, your hand dramatically reaching for your phone.

Hinge: Ellie liked you! Tap to see the comment she left.

Ellie. That’s a cute name…fairly normal too! Surely she didn’t leave some weirdo comment about how your hair looks like it smells good. Your fingers fumble to tap on the notification and you feel a blush rising to your cheeks as you click on Ellie’s like.

She left her comment under a picture of you taken at a local museum. A big cheesy grin is painted across your face and there’s skeletal remains of some random dinosaur behind you, Dina is crouched under the jaw of the creature pretending to scream while she gets eaten. Hopefully this isn’t one of those situations where Ellie asks ‘if your friend is single.’

Nope. She left a simple comment. I love dinosaurs!!!

You smile as you quickly click on Ellie’s profile to see her. There are a couple pictures of her, and good god is she hot. Flushed, you quickly match with her.

But what do you say? This is life or death. You need this woman.

Hey!

You’re hot

Do you want to have vicious lesbian sex with me?

Okay. Jesus, you are not good at this. While you mull over the keyboard attempting to decide what to say to the ever-attractive Ellie, another message comes in.

Hey, pretty girl!

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Your fingers are fumbling over the keyboard, your heart is beating, you’re planning you and Ellie’s wedding. You wonder if she likes lace or prefers the classic look?

Hey! What’s up?

Nothing really. Just playing some guitar!

Guitar? She just gets hotter. Did she also save puppies from a burning building? You wonder if she would want roses at the wedding. Hopefully not, too basic.

Ooooh guitar you say? Whatcha playing?

It’s a few moments before she responds and you’re biting the nail on your thumb awaiting her reply.

Whatever your favorite song is.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you smile and rest your head in your hand.

Why don’t I tell you that over dinner?

It takes Ellie a few minutes to respond this time and you’re sure you’ve managed to scare her off at the mention of an actual date. Her reply comes just as you go to turn your phone off,

How about you give me your number and we can talk more about this date?

————

Giving your number to Ellie was perhaps the best decision made in your life thus far. She constantly sends text messages of whatever she’s doing, wearing, eating, or strumming on her guitar. It’s been about a week since you first exchanged information and you’re slightly worried that Ellie no longer wishes to go out on a date. You’ve tried to ‘accidentally’ bump into her on campus multiple times, but she manages to just barely slip away each time.

You’re sitting at your desk attempting to finish an essay when your phone rings in your lap. Ellie’s contact appears lit up on the screen and you just about scream when you grasp the phone between your fingers.

“Hello?” You’re already blushing.

“Hey, you! What’re you up to?” Ellie’s voice is loud into the microphone and you can make out multiple different voices on her end of the line.

“Nothing important,” you close your computer quickly, “why, what’s up?”

She takes a moment to answer as you hear her yell something to whoever else is in the room with her, “me and some friends are at a bar…will you come? Live music and stuff. Plus, I still haven’t taken you on that date!”

“Yes!” Okay, you probably should’ve tried to sound less excited. “Ehem…yes. Text me the address?”

You hear Ellie laugh before she happily responds, “will do! Text me when you get here and I’ll come out front to meet you.”

—————

Dina and her friends surely shop at Hookers R Us because where else would anybody find a skirt so goddamn short.

“D. Dina. My cheeks are hanging out the bottom.” Dina rolls her eyes and tugs on the hem of the mini denim skirt.

“Well if you wore it down here,” she tugs the denim again, “instead of up to your tits like a grandma would…maybe it would be longer.”

Several shirts are thrown toward your perch on Dina’s desk chair, “what’s wrong with the shirt I have on?”

Dina’s boyfriend. Jesse, interjects, “because I don’t like it.”

“Okay, fashion police. How about this one?” You hold up a form fitting black top and Dina nods vigorously, “yes. But no bra. Show off them ladies!”

————

The Uber barely comes to a full stop as you clamber out of the backseat. Grasping for your phone, you text Ellie.

Here! :)

Was the smiley face overkill? Too much?

Cominh!!!!!

*Coming. Not drunk, I swear.

You think you’re the one doing the coming as you watch Ellie stroll towards you in the parking lot. If she was hot on Hinge, she’s ten-thousand times hotter in the dingy lighting that casts a magical glow upon her. She’s wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a white wife-beater, an old worn out flannel is unbuttoned over the top and rolled up just above her elbows. Her raggedy jeans are cuffed to the top of her converse and— wow is she a walking wet dream.

“Hey! I’m glad you came.” She doesn’t wait for an answer as she pulls you straight in for a hug, her calloused hands resting on your hips. You feel her finger tips touching the uncovered skin below your top, the contact makes you shiver.

Ellie squeezes you a little tighter before pulling away, leaving her arm draped over your shoulder, “c’mon, warmer inside.”

You let her lead you into the bar and through the slight crowd congregated near the entrance. A small group of people stand huddled next to the bar and Ellie leads you straight to them as she leans down to speak in your ear, “those are my friends.”

You nod and shamelessly nudge your body to be tucked further into her side, blushing profusely when you feel her arm tighten around your shoulders.

“Guys, this is the girl I was telling you about! And these are my friends I mentioned on the phone.” Ellie smiles while she introduces you to everyone and as much as you enjoy the domesticity of hanging out with her friends, you much prefer the nook you’ve found nestled under Ellie’s toned arm.

———

Her face leans down by your ear again, “wanna drink? I’ll get you one.”

You smile up at her, “would you shoot me if I said I want an espresso martini instead of the beer you’ve been nursing all night?”

She giggles into your ear and her breath fans across your face, “one espresso martini, coming up!”

She pulls away and salutes you before turning around and marching to the other end of the bar, waving her arm to grab the bartender’s attention.

“So you’re the lucky lady? I’m Abby, Ellie’s friend.” Damn, she is buff as hell. Her toned arm stretches across a barstool to shake your hand.

You stare at her open palm, “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that. Who still shakes hands? I’m done drinking for the night.”

She cracks a smile when you laugh and shake her hand anyways, “nothing wrong with a good ol’ handshake.”

You speak with Abby while you wait for Ellie to return with your martini. She’s leaning up against the wood and speaking to the bartender as he pours the concoction into a glass. How she manages to look so appealing at all times is an enigma. Her short hair is pulled half-up into a bun while the rest barely skims the top of her shoulders, the botanical tattoo on her forearm sticks out from under her rolled-up sleeve and—fuck. You’re drooling.

Double-fuck. She caught you staring.

You blush when she throws a wink your way, turning back toward the bar to grab your drink.

And then she’s in front of you once more, “malady.”

She slides in between your legs while you sit atop the cushioned barstool (which you’re pretty sure makes a fart noise any time you move) and rests both of her hands on your hips.

Lifting the drink to your mouth, you hum happily when the flavor covers your tongue, “good?”

“Really good. Superb.” Ellie chuckles and leans in toward you, placing a kiss in the hollow of your collarbone, “c’mon, there’s some more people I want you to meet.”

————

You’re not exactly sure how you ended up in this position but good god do you wish you could die right here and right now. Ellie is leaning up against the poster-covered wall of the bar with you pulled tightly to her chest. Your back is pressed against her front and one of her arms is wrapped around you, long fingers splayed across your lower stomach. She’s talking animatedly to the guy standing in front of you two and in all honestly you can’t focus on what they’re talking about while you feel the tips of Ellie’s fingers rest upon the skin under your skirt.

It’s innocent. She doesn’t realize her fingers have traveled just south of the top of your skirt, but you’d be lying if you said the feeling of her calloused fingertips below the belt didn’t make you squirm. Her auburn hair tickles the side of your face as your head rests back in the crook between her neck and shoulder. And even better—her cheek presses to the top of your head when there’s a lull in her current conversation.

Hearing the man she was speaking to bid his goodbyes, you turn in her arms. The one that was previously grasping a beer bottle quickly swaps to rest in the back pocket of your skirt instead, her other hand squeezes your hip.

“Hi.” She smiles at you.

“Hi.” You press a kiss to her cheek.

The feeling leaves Ellie warm and she squeezes you a few times before ultimately deciding to cut to the chase and lean in. It’s a sweet peck, a little tipsy kiss that leaves you buzzing and floating outside of your body. The bright, crooked smile she gives you after pulling away punches the air from your lungs and Jesus Christ— now you understand the U-Haul lesbians because in this moment you are well and truly fucked. If this woman, this stranger, asked you to pack your shit and move in, you would.

And the look she gives you as she brushes a stray piece of hair behind your ear tells you she might just feel the same.

#here she is #i told u #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #tlou #tlou part 2 #the last of us #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie x reader

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