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hopelesslygaysstuff · 7 months ago

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pairing: past wanda maximoff x fem!reader / present natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary: When you see Wanda again after the secret relationship you shared during your college years, you realize the lasting impact she had on you. Haunted by flashbacks of your time together, you struggle to reconcile the memory of the Wanda you once knew with the woman she has become a decade later.

content warnings: angst, homophobia, a few homophobic slurs, internalized homophobia, heartbreak and grief, some smut, tragedy

word count: 7.1k+

Masterlist

A/N: This is heavily inspired by the song Us. By Gracie Abrams ft. Taylor Swift. I would recommend listening to it simply because it is a masterpiece and the foundation of this fic.

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

The Secret of Us

“Babe, are you ready?”

Green eyes peek around the doorframe, delicate fingers working a dangling diamond studded earring through a slightly reddened ear. There’s a gentle smile on Natasha’s face, a strand escaping her perfectly curled hair and falling somewhat in front of her face. It brushes softly against her cheek, a sharp exhale moving it as a wince appears on her face.

“Here, let me,” you say, curling a single finger in her direction. You place your makeup brushes onto the vanity in front of you, your fingers gentle as you pluck the earring from Natasha’s hand.

It’s a beautiful piece. The golden metal is dainty, yet solid, woven into complex swirls that catch the dying rays of sunshine streaming in from your window. Your hands are careful, threading the earring through her skin like a seamstress, with confidence that comes from years of practice and love woven into each measured touch.

“Perfect,” you mutter. You both know you’re not just talking about the earring.

Natasha smirks at you, full of confidence that is only slightly contrasted by the pink flush rising to her cheeks. You laugh slightly, the sound low and full of warmth as you turn back towards the mirror.

Strong hands rest lightly on your shoulders as Natasha’s fingers firmly rub circles into your skin. You can feel the tight knots give away beneath her ministrations and sigh in relief as you brush highlighter onto the highest point of your cheekbones. Green eyes track your movements lazily, taking you in like it's the first time she’s seeing you. You find it quite romantic and tell her just as much.

“Well,” the bright smile on Natasha’s face shines through the word, “That was my goal, detka.”

A soft shove from you has Natasha’s hands wrapping around your own as she pulls you to your feet. You sway slightly, blinking against the headrush that comes from changing positions too quickly. Arms wrap around your waist as strong as the pull of gravity, unwavering and inevitable.

“You look beautiful,” Natasha murmurs, her lips brushing yours.

“Compared to you, I am nothing.” The words flow from your lips easily, the truth of them lying comfortably under your skin, feeling like the steady weight of a cat curled up on your chest. You kiss away any protests, your tongue swiping against hers when she tries to speak.

“We should go,” Natasha manages to say, the words separated with the firm kisses she places against your lips. “We’re about to run late, and I know you hate it when people are inconsiderate with their timing.”

You nod against her, your hands squeezing her waist gently as you breathe deeply through your nose, unwilling to part your lips from hers.

“Sweetheart.”

Natasha’s tone is firm, her hand pressed against your sternum as she pushes you away. It's gentle, almost hesitant. You know that if you pressed back against it, she would crumble like a sandcastle at high tide. It's for that very reason that you don’t, not wanting to disrupt her carefully planned evening.

“Lead the way, my love.”

—

You find yourself hanging from Natasha’s arm, feeling every bit like a trophy. Shining, and put on the highest shelf, gazes sliding appreciatively over you before moving on to the next impressive thing. You wonder how long it will be before the dust begins to collect.

A man, standing close to your wife. His fingers twitch, his eyes glancing dismissively at you. He’s talking just a bit too loud for the short distance between him and Natasha, and you feel a white-hot rage rising before you take in the fake smile plastered across her face.

It's too wide, showing too many teeth and yet not enough at the same time. Her eyes are sharp, the soft crow’s feet that normally appear at the edges nowhere to be found. The pressure of her fingers against your waist grounds you, leaving you feeling every bit like a rock standing solidly against the crashing waves.

The man moves on, loses interest. You don’t mind. The memory of him is already floating away, being replaced by the soft look Natasha is sending your way. You feel shiny again, not a speck of dust in sight.

Dragging your eyes around the room, you let yourself get lost in the sea of bodies.

Natasha had brought you to some important work event. It was essentially a party, disguised under layers of professionalism in celebration of a multi-million dollar partnership with their rival company.

There was an undercurrent of tension, being slowly filtered into a sort of understanding and grudging respect. The alcohol probably helped.

A woman’s laughter rang around the room. The tension in the air shuddered and released its hold slightly.

You amend your statement. The alcohol definitely helped.

Lazily, you return your gaze to the room. Natasha is slowly walking you towards the center of the room, leading you with gentle touches at your waist. You feel every bit like a lamb, awkward with growing limbs as it is shepherded into a crowd.

Bouncing around the room, your eyes take in the multitude of people. Features start to blur together. A pointed nose, blue eyes almost hidden under thick eyeliner, shimmering dresses that catch the light and make your head spin.

Your eyes catch on brunette hair. Soft, flowing like a calm river on a warm summer's day.

Startling slightly, you blink, a memory dredging its way to the front of your brain like molten lava, slow and inevitable.

Brunette hair, falling effortlessly over strong shoulders. The scent of vanilla washing over you and enveloping you like a well-known embrace. Green eyes sparkling down at you as soft lips move. You focus, dragging your eyes away from the perfectly manicured nails softly brushing against your desk.

“Mind if I sit here?”

A feeble shake of your head, and rapid blinking as you attempt to return the moisture lost to wide-eyed staring back into your eyes.

She’s beautiful.

Her words are kind, a small smile seemingly locked into place on her lips as she regards you. Green eyes roam your face, lingering around your lips for just a second too long.

“I’m Wanda.”

The memory slams into your skull, reverberating painfully around as you feel an age-old, nearly forgotten crack in your heart reopen. It takes your breath away, the weight in your chest feeling like a paperweight, settling down on the last few pages of a story full of loss and anguish.

Natasha’s speaking to someone, her raspy voice filtering through your ears. It’s nothing like the cadence of melted butter you still sometimes hear in your dreams. It's different, better. You wonder when the lies will morph into a semblance of truth.

You take a deep breath, letting those thoughts slide back to where they belong. In the back of your mind, locked away and left to be forgotten. It wouldn’t do you any good to dwell on the past, with its looming, crumbling chess pieces that dance around you in a game that you don’t quite understand the rules of.

“Ah, fuck.” Comes Natasha’s voice, the words mumbled directly in your ear.

You twist your head, shaking it free of cobwebs sticky with memory as you take in your wife. Her eyes are locked on something across the room, the faint furrow of her brows the only sign of displeasure etched on her face. Her lips are moving, mumbling something about an important blah blah man blah blah, rich and influential at her rival company blah blah…

Smiling slightly, you hide your amusement with practiced ease as you turn your gaze towards the man, no, a couple heading your way. Your eyes barely register the neatly parted blonde hair of a tall man, his eyes locked on Natasha with a calculating sort of look in them before your eyes slide over to the woman on his arm.

Fuck, indeed.

Your heartbeat rushes through your ears, a dull ringing cascading through them as you feel your breath catch. Everything has gone numb, or cold, or tingly. You’re not really sure. Everything is too much and the room is too hot even as goosebumps rise on the surface of your exposed flesh. You suddenly see yourself in a third-person view, your mind projecting outside your body as you go rigid at the sight of her.

Wanda Maximoff.

Green eyes, brighter and lighter than the ones you stared lovingly into at the altar. Her gaze flickers over to you, not fully meeting your eyes, a forced sort of dissonance playing out briefly on those perfect features before she focuses on Natasha.

Another memory slams into you, rising unbidden from the depths of your mind before you can stop it.

Soft laughter, echoing around the room before it's absorbed by the four walls surrounding you. Green eyes, smiling at you before returning their focus to the pen and paper in front of her.

Wanda writes something down, your eyes tracing the elegant script that flowed easily from her fingertips. Something scratches at the back of your mind, a tendril of something fond, warm. It feels like coming home, future impressions of familiarity beginning to take root.

“Let me see,” you’re saying, moving closer. Your hands reach for the book. No, it's a leather-bound journal. You’d picked them out earlier, after walking to the store with Wanda from your English literature class.

“No, oh my god,” Wanda was saying, giggles erupting from her as she half-heartedly wrestled the journal away from you. Her hand lands on your knee, her cheeks a little too flushed. It reminds you of the cherry she’d eaten earlier, licking the whipped cream from her milkshake off before smiling and sucking the fruit into her mouth.

Her hand stills, awkward and stiff for a moment. You don’t comment on it, shifting your body weight to be slightly closer to her. The warmth from her palm spreads through your body like a slow creek, new and small and promising bigger currents down the road.

“Let me read yours out loud and I’ll let you read mine,” you offer, taking her journal gently and placing yours in her lap.

“It’s just poetry,” the words flow from your lips, but you know it’s more than that. It’s the very contents of your soul, laid bare for her to see, wrapped under layers of grammar and careful wording. It’s a confession, it’s a sin, it’s something twisting and beautiful and as graceless as a newborn foal. Her eyes meet yours, your thoughts reflected back at you as her fingers twitch slightly on your knee.

Wanda’s hand takes your journal, those green eyes skimming the words as her lips move silently.

You don’t look away, you can’t look away. Her hair is falling over her shoulder, as delicate and soft as the words written before you. There’s a palpable tension in the air, low and thumping like a familiar heartbeat.

Green eyes, flickering back to you. Something behind them that you can’t interpret. You feel like she can see your every thought, the very contents of your being laid out before her as she analyzes each individual piece. It’s frightening and it’s intoxicating, and you look away.

You’re reading her words now, the sentences flowing and mashing together in your mind as you pluck the strings of her mind with your careful hands. It’s beautiful and well-written, layered with so many truths and lies that you can’t begin to interpret the true meaning of her sentences.

Something tingles at the base of your skull, warm and light as it blossoms through your head. Understanding. Or, the semblance of it.

You look up. Light green eyes stare back into yours. They’re captivating, and you wonder if they ever left. If she watched you the same way you did her, attempting to unravel her very being through carefully constructed lines and flowing script and words layered with meaning.

Those green eyes have the power to shatter you. You pick up your pen.

“So what is it that you do?” The man is speaking.

Your mind crashes back into the present, another hairline fracture appearing on the surface of your heart. You can practically feel it, the torment running deeper than the illusion the thin crack offers. It’s bone-aching, and you suddenly feel exhausted.

“I’m a copywriter,” Natasha answers, sounding casual. You can sense the clipped tone and undercurrent of frustration, and your hand gently traces circles against her wrist. “I graduated with a degree in English Literature.”

“Ah,” the man says, sounding every bit as pretentious as he looks. “My wife got a degree in that as well.”

Another crack, splintering into you. Your eyes flick down, catching the ring on Wanda’s finger. It’s shining and big, the diamonds glittering back at you, the mockery of it seeping into your soul. The meaning of it is every bit as surface level as what you assume Wanda’s feelings for this man are. You know better, she had told you just as much.

“I don’t think I’ll ever love a man in the way I’m meant to.”

You don’t have to ask what she means. You don’t respond, a gentle sigh escaping you as the weight of her head rests solidly on your shoulder. The clock on your nightstand blinks back at you, the numbers twinkling in the early morning. Pens and paper and journals are strewn around you, a poetry book facedown in your lap. Your voice had grown too tired from reading, but neither of you seemed to mind the comfortable silence stretching around the room.

Until now.

“I know,” you say. There are not many words you can speak.

It's simple. That’s a lie. It’s not, it’s complicated and it's painful and there’s nothing you can do to take that away from her. You wish you could. You would do anything to let Wanda’s soul have respite in your presence, to be unburdened from thoughts of sin and duty, to be able to finally breathe properly.

Soft fingers find your hand, tangling with your fingers almost hesitantly. Your palm slides easily against hers, and you swallow the lump in your throat. Your hands fit like a jigsaw puzzle, feeling like the final piece as it clicks into place. Confusion and frustration sliding away as the picture finally makes sense.

“Poetry feels like prayer.” Wanda’s voice is quiet, and you know what she means. It feels holy, even with the words only spoken in the sublunary space of your dorm room. Her head twists on your shoulder, and you feel your gaze drawn to her like the inevitable magnetic pull of the earth. Her green eyes peer up at you. “Will you pray with me?”

Picking up the poetry book in your lap, you begin reading. Your thumb runs over the pages. Staring at the words in front of you, you wonder why they’re blurry. You realize later, after Wanda had fallen asleep from being lulled into comfort by your voice, that it had been unshed tears.

You let them fall.

“Yes,” Wanda is saying, and her voice is exactly the same as you’d remembered. She’s speaking, saying something about the university she’d attended and how she got her degree. The only thing you can focus on is the familiar lilt of her words, the smooth cadence you’ve memorized and seared into your brain.

It’s painful, but you can’t take your eyes off of her. Natasha’s hand moves slightly against your waist, and you blink. The man next to Wanda has his arms almost possessively around her shoulders, his hawkish eyes watching you.

You look away.

“Oh, you and my wife went to the same University,” Natasha says, trying to be helpful. You don’t appreciate it. Her words are genuine, but the statement falls short, a beat of awkward silence stretching into an eternity as you try to respond. What could you even say?

Yes. We did. I fell in love with the confident, full-of-life brunette who looked at me like I hung the moon, and I looked at her like she painted the stars just to give the moon some company. I loved her as easy as breathing, and now my lungs never feel full enough, my breaths labored and weighted with the words of love I breathed into her ear that I can’t take back, won’t take back.

Refuse to take back.

“We must have missed each other,” Wanda says, her eyes flashing in your direction, but not fully meeting yours. “It’s a big school.”

A polite smile plasters itself onto your face, too small and stiff to be sincere. Your heart clenches painfully, a small part of your mind begging Wanda to meet your eyes. God, it feels just like when you were at University.

Her husband’s fingers tighten slightly around her shoulder, pulling her further into his side. You wonder if Wanda feels like she’s suffocating yet. You hope not, you want her to breathe. To fill her lungs with light and hope and passion and… not whatever this is.

Another memory, sludging through your mind like a heavy foot through quicksand.

You don’t talk to Wanda much outside of class and the late-night poetry readings in your dorm. She blames it on her busy social life, being in a sorority is apparently no joke. You’ve learned to keep your head down when you see her in public, her eyes always lingering near you, but never fully meeting yours, too focused on the sorority sisters that always seem to surround her. Appearances are everything to her, you know that.

But god, it hurts.

It still doesn’t cut quite as deep as the weekend her parents came to visit.

Wanda had grown up the daughter of a pastor, a well-spoken man with a quiet, hidden-in-the-shadows wife. You’d watched from afar, noticing the small glances her mother would send her way, and the nervous twitching of her fingers as she adjusted Wanda's collar, or brushed a piece of invisible lint from her daughter's skirt.

Per usual, Wanda was nothing short of perfect. Her hair was perfectly curled, laying gently over her shoulders as the brunette strands glowed in the sunlight. She’d done her makeup just subtle enough to perfect her already dainty features, but not enough to rouse suspicion that she was promiscuous.

You’d watched her do her makeup many times, her hands perfecting the art. You wondered how much of her father’s influence and mother’s worry controlled the easy flick of her brush as it spread a light blush across her cheeks.

Tracing your gaze down her form, you glance back to the book in front of you. A poem glared up at you, the words swimming off the page as you remember the subtle curve of Wanda’s spine, her head bowed slightly as her father spoke into her ear.

Wanda was full of life, shining brightly and standing out amongst the rest of the population at this university. Or perhaps that was simply your own observation, after all, your entire waking moments were consumed by thoughts of her.

The point is, she wasn’t… docile. Or submissive, or meek like her posture suggests when her father lays a hand on her shoulder. You can’t tell if he’s gripping his fingers tightly or gently around her, but either way, Wanda doesn’t make a move to remove his hand.

She’s nodding, her head turning towards him. You can see her smiling easily at him, saying something back.

His hand returns to his side, and you hope that you imagine the slope of her mother’s shoulders relaxing. The way her fingers twitch towards her daughter, wanting to replace the feeling of his hand against her skin, but choosing to brush a strand of her hair behind her ear instead. Always deflecting her true intentions.

Wanda’s face turns towards her mother. You see the momentary look that passes between them, but you’re unable to interpret it from across the quad. The moment passes, and her mother returns her attention back to her husband. Always a faithful, obedient wife.

When Wanda and her parents pass by the table you’re seated at, she doesn’t spare you a second glance. Her green eyes are focused on some unimportant thing in the distance, her father’s lips moving near her ear again. You silently plead with her to look your way, to take solace in the silent comfort you can provide.

Her green eyes don’t meet yours. You feel a crack appear on your heart, and you swallow harshly as you stare blankly at the poetry in front of you. Shoving the crack down where you’ve displaced all the other ones, you begin to read.

The poem is a romantic one. Full of yearning and hope and unbridled passion. The only thing you can think about is how incredibly tragic it seems.

Natasha’s thumb is slowly moving, caressing your hip as she holds you loosely by her side. Not possessive, but not without care either. You’re grateful for the touch, and focus on it as Wanda’s husband continues to talk about… what is he talking about?

You don’t really care.

The version of Wanda that you knew and the woman you see in front of you clash in your mind, splintering your thoughts. You’re also aware of your wife beside you, and guilt creeps into your heart.

You chose Natasha. You’re happy with her, you stood across from her and declared your love and promised her that you would love her until the end of time. You intend to stand by that, to uphold your promise. Imagining a future without her seems impossible.

But you’d also imagined a future with Wanda once. It didn’t seem right to just ignore that. And it was impossible to keep the memories at bay. Not when she was standing before you for the first time in ten fucking years, with her perfect hair and her natural looking makeup and her light green eyes and the scent of vanilla washing over you and and and-

Breathing in, feeling the comforting scent of vanilla enveloping you in the strong embrace of a familiar lover. Wanda’s hair just beneath your nose, the silky strands brushing against your cheek and chin as you place a gentle kiss on her head.

Her arms are wrapped around you, her breaths even. You aren’t asleep, but you let her think that you are. It's easier for her to be herself when she thinks nobody is watching. Her fingers slowly dance along the exposed skin of your stomach, softly tracing nonsensical patterns against you as you feel your heart pound steadily.��

A poetry book rests at your side, forgotten in the favor of holding her in your arms. You understand what all the poets mean, with their suffering and their longing written painstakingly on pages of crinkled paper beneath their ink-stained hands, as you hold Wanda gently against you. This moment feels too precious, too raw to ever be put into words, to write down for the world to see.

No, you’d much rather keep this moment pure and untouched, resting in your heart alongside the inevitability of Wanda Maximoff.

You can feel her in your soul. Or rather, maybe it’s your soul that’s bleeding and filling the space between you two. You hope that it is mixing with Wanda’s, filling the painful parts of her that she pushes down and cushioning them with warmth. Is it too much to hope that she’ll carry a part of you with her forever? Is it selfish to take the willing parts of her soul that bleed into yours and keep them there until they’re so ingrained in the fiber of your being that you would lose yourself if she took it back?

Maybe that's the true definition of love.

Natasha's hand grips you tightly, her fingers tense around your hip. Her eyes are locked on Wanda’s husband, his drawling voice grating your nerves. You risk a glance at Wanda, recognizing her blank look at the ground for what it is. Escape.

She used to tell you about the places she’d go inside her mind when life got to be too much for her. It sounded peaceful. She could be whoever she wanted inside her own head, without the pressure of her father or the quiet concern of her mother and the encompassing guilt that she was never making the right choices. You hope she's there right now, and return your gaze towards her husband.

“I mean,” Her husband's eyes are sharp, glinting dangerously at your wife. “It’s so nice that they allow so many… diverse individuals to work with your company.”

His eyes travel down her body before flicking over to you briefly.

“Is it hard to keep your lifestyle and work life separate?” he asks, and your blood boils. You see Wanda’s head lower further. “I imagine it's quite difficult to relate to your peers, with a secret like that.”

Natasha is seconds away from exploding, tearing him down with sharp words and securing her own termination in the same breath.

You find your voice, the quiet strength of your words surprising you. “I’ve been out and proud since I was in high school. I’ve never been ashamed of who I am. And neither is my wife.”

Wanda’s eyes cut sharply over to you, that specific shade of light green filling your vision.

“Why the fuck would you give this to me if you didn’t want me to interpret it that way?” You’re not yelling, you never would. Not at her. Never at Wanda. But you can feel the frustration leaking into each syllable, and you hate the way that Wanda’s shoulders seem to hunch in on themselves.

“I never meant for you to…” Wanda can’t continue, her eyes locked on the poetry book you’re clutching between your fingers.

“You never meant for me to fall in love with you?”

A flinch, green eyes staring at the carpet and gentle fingers clenched uselessly over the back of a chair. The words bounce around your dorm room, settling in with a tentative weariness.

“Why would you give me this poetry book about romance and passion and fighting for love if that’s not what you wanted me to think about you?” you set the book down on your desk, the pages flipping open. You can see the smudged ink of your annotations. That was a flaw of yours, always writing too fast as you try to keep up with the thoughts in your head.

“That’s not what I mean I-” Wanda’s eyes are locked on the book and you watch her swallow harshly. Her voice is shaky, her head bowed. You hate it, and there’s nothing you can do to make it better. “I can’t love you.”

“You don’t love me?”

“That’s not what I said.” Wanda’s voice is quiet.

Oh.

“You don’t understand,” Wanda has unshed tears in her eyes. You want to wipe them away, your fingers twitching, unsure if you’re allowed to anymore. “My family means everything to me.”

Oh.

The weight of tragedy settles in, burying itself deep within your bones and wrapping around your heart and squeezing. All of the cracks you’d smothered appear at once, splintering and creating new fractures with each labored pump of poisonous blood coursing through your body.

You finally understand what the poets mean. The metaphors and desperation, the weight of grief and longing and the way it sticks to your very soul like a parasite that you keep feeding and nurturing because the pain of forgetting is worse than the crushing travesty of remembering.

Wanda is talking, and for the first time, you’re not paying attention to her words. She’s saying something about her parents and financial dependence and them cutting her off and all you can hear is that she’s stuck and scared and trying to protect herself and you can’t choose her path for her.

It’s agony, it’s grief and it’s nothing like what you imagined as you innocently read the words scattered across the pages of your poetry book. It’s so much fucking worse. Wanda’s hand is on the doorknob of your dorm, her vanilla scent already fading from your walls as she looks at you with longing and grief and something devastating hidden and suppressed deep within her soul. You wonder if this will be the last time her green eyes ever look at you with genuine emotion shining through them.

You wonder if you’ll ever escape the numbing chill of loneliness that settles beneath your skin like an old friend.

Vision, you’d learned his name at some point during the conversation, seems at a loss for words for the first time since you’ve met him. His face is steadily reddening, the tips of his ears practically scarlet as you watch the hand on Wanda’s shoulder tighten.

“I’ve seen your name credited a lot, you must be very good at what you do.” Wanda’s voice is melodic, her words placating yet genuine. She’s mending the rift, her words an unspoken apology for her husband’s behavior as he stands sullen beside her.

Natasha smiles and begins speaking.

It’s strange, to see the woman you’re in love with talking with Wanda. There was a time when you thought you’d never find someone who made you feel the way Wanda did. You were convinced that your love would live and die with her.

Then, you met your wife.

Natasha was everything you could have ever hoped for. She loved you openly and proudly from the moment she met you. Her commitment to you had never waned, her gestures true and meanings genuine. You’d never trusted somebody more, never felt as comfortable with another person.

She stood by your side when others did not. She held you when you were sick, and stayed by your side when you were at your lowest. The day that you had married her was the best day of your life, and your vows were nothing short of pure truth. The green eyes that had looked at you from across the altar were vibrant and dark, your love for that shade of green far surpassing the one you’d loved all those years ago.

So why did it still hurt to think about Wanda?

If you had to choose. Right now, Natasha or Wanda, you knew you’d choose your wife in every lifetime. But that didn’t explain the splintering cracks reappearing on your heart the longer you stayed in Wanda’s presence.

Music rattles the floor, a plethora of swirling hues surrounding you. Your senses are dulled by the fiery liquor burning within your veins, your brain finally relaxing.

“Dude, come on don’t just stand there like a weirdo,” Kate pulls you away from the wall, spilling your cup in the process.

You both look down at it for a moment, before bursting into peals of laughter that leave you clutching her shoulder for support as she bends at the waist. Her dark hair falls neatly over her shoulders, her backward cap holding it in place.

The music drowns out most of your laughter, but you’re aware of the eyes on both you and Kate as you wipe tears from your eyes. She’s pulling you closer to the DJ, dancing sloppily with you. You can’t bring yourself to care about the people around you. There was one goal tonight, get absolutely sloshed at the local college bars and then pass out on Kate’s couch to forget about the whole thing.

“Who the fuck let the sloppy, drunk dykes in?”

Kate doesn’t hear the words, but you do. You turn to face the group near you, the liquor making you bold. It’s a bunch of sorority girls, with their skin-tight dresses and judging eyes watching you with caked-on mascara. Your heart drops when you see Wanda standing in the middle of them.

Your blood runs cold, a surge of sadness and fury sweeping through you. It’s confusing, but most of all, it’s fucking infuriating.

Behind you, Kate stumbles, her elbow knocking into your side. Your arms wrap around her, keeping her upright as she mumbles an apology in your ear. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Wanda whisper something to one of the girls, their eyes on you and filled with mirthful laughter.

“You’re right, Wanda,” the girl says, loud enough for the whole group to hear. “These dyke sluts would probably jump on the nearest dick they could find, since nobody else wants to fuck them.”

The blood rushes to your ears, and Kate’s gasp reverberates around your skull. The bar seems quieter than before, and a multitude of eyes are on you and the blonde bitch in front of you is smirking like she just stole your favorite candy and Wanda is laughing and pointedly avoiding eye contact with you but her smile wavers slightly as her eyes grow sad for a split second before she remembers where she is and you’re so fucking mad and it all just seems so goddamn tragic and-

Your fist connects solidly with that stupid, smug smirk that the blonde girl proudly plasters on her face. There are gasps and Kate whooping loudly in your ear and arms wrapped around you and pulling you towards the door and alcohol making your head spin and fuck you’ve never felt more alive.

Wanda’s eyes finally meet yours. They’re filled with shock, but just before she turns away, you see a sliver of gratitude and the hint of an apology glimmering in their depths.

Needless to say, both you and Kate are banned from that bar.

Your wife is laughing. The echoes of mean laughter from Wanda and her sorority sisters fade into the background noise of your brain as you refocus on the conversation. Natasha’s soft chuckles bring a smile to your face before you can stop it, your lips turning up as you look at her.

She’s effortlessly pretty, her eyes crinkled slightly at the edges even as her gaze flickers warily over to Vision. Her arm is wrapped around your waist, solid yet unrestrictive.

Wanda’s eyes linger around the fingers that lightly draw circles against your hip. She seems to shake herself, eyes quickly moving back towards safer territory as she focuses on Natasha’s face. You don’t miss the fleeting expression of longing that flits across her face, her appearance seeming soul-crushingly tired for a mere moment before it smooths over in a way that speaks to years of practice.

You wonder if she’s remembering the same night that rises to the front of your mind. You try to combat it, to stay in the moment. Natasha's fingers squeeze your hips lovingly, and you descend into the memory with bone-deep guilt.

The concrete is cold beneath you, the wind picking up slightly and threading its way through your hair. You shiver, feeling Wanda adjust her body closer to yours. You’re aware of her heat spreading through you. Her hand fits seamlessly in yours, and you wonder when loving Wanda became as easy and inevitable as breathing.

“Do you think the poets compared their words to the stars?” Wanda asks.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” you say, breathing in her vanilla scent. It’s hard to focus on her words when her body is pressed fully against yours, your left side burning with warmth and something else that you’re almost scared to identify.

Wanda chuckles, the sound heating your cheeks further.

“Well,” she pauses. That’s one of the things you love about her, how careful she is with her words. “Do you think they viewed their words, their poems, as unattainable yet beautiful and pure?”

You’re quiet. You can think of something that is also unattainable, pure and completely inevitable. It’s not poetry, and it’s not the glittering stars that take up your vision. She’s lying right beside you, her nose bright red from the wind and a future stretching out ahead of her that she is able to mold into something beautiful and something that is completely her own. If only she had the courage to do so. You hope she does.

“Of course they did. They’re poets,” you respond, and Wanda hums. “Do you feel that way?”

Wanda doesn’t respond, and that’s enough of an answer for you.

The silence stretches on, but it's comfortable. Wanda is shifting silently, more of her body pressing against you, the wind having died down a while ago, leaving no easy excuses for her leg pressed fully against yours.

“You wanna know what I think?” Wanda’s voice is quiet, yet firm.

Turning your head, you look at her. She looks back, her lips mere inches away from yours. You can feel the soft, warm breath escaping her lips and hitting your face as she speaks.

“I think that you’re like the stars,” Wanda begins, her green eyes sparkling at you. They glance down imperceptibly, almost too quickly for you to catch. You notice, of course you do. “You're incomparable, chemical almost.”

Wanda trails off, her eyes firmly focused on your lips. You understand, you always do.

“I can’t tell if you’re a curse or a miracle,” you whisper, feeling Wanda lean in. The tension vibrates palpably between your lips and hers. “But I don’t really care.”

Soft lips collide with yours, a seismic shift that causes your head to spin for a moment. It’s perfect and pure and something bordering on holiness and you find yourself never wanting to leave this moment. Then, Wanda’s lips are moving against yours and the heat inside you is rising and her hands are everywhere and you can’t get enough of her and-

Her moans feel almost reverent, stretching out into the minimal space between you as she arches herself closer to you. Her skin is pressed against yours, warm and alive and feeling every last bit like an all-consuming force that you gladly pull closer. Your fingers slip inside her easily, the feeling of her bringing tears to your eyes. You want to live in this moment forever, with the taste of her on your lips and her thighs impossibly soft around you, her head thrown back as she chants your name like a prayer.

You’ve never believed in God. But in this moment, you finally know what it truly means to worship.

A man’s voice pulls you from your thoughts.

“Well, as lovely as it’s been to meet you…” Vision trails off, and Natasha simply raises an eyebrow.

“Thank you for the wonderful conversation,” Wanda’s smooth words cut in, another unspoken apology and excuse for her husband's behavior. “We should probably be leaving, it’s getting late.”

Green eyes glance at her husband, whether for permission or in reprimand, you can’t tell. Either way, it gets Vision to move, a firm head nod directed towards your wife before he’s striding towards the door, pulling Wanda with him.

She’s leaving. Again.

A final memory claws its way to the surface. You know this one. It's a memory that you’ve kept hidden in the deepest part of your brain, in a place full of sticky cobwebs and scarce lighting, meant to be forgotten.

It’s inevitable.

Wanda is almost at the exit, her husband's hand possessive against the small of her back. It speaks of ownership, of pride. You despise it. It’s nothing like the soft, loving touch of your wife’s hand against your waist.

The turn of a head and soft brunette waves falling gently around delicate, hunched shoulders. Soft skin, glowing slightly in the dim, red lighting of an exit sign. Green eyes, piercing yours in the same manner that they had all those years ago.

Your breath catches, lodging itself painfully in your throat. Or maybe it's just your chest, and what lies beneath the surface. A heart, with cracks all along the surface, squeezing painfully, the tension, the agony almost too much to bear.

A single tear slides down your cheek. You hear Natasha murmuring something in your ear, a gentle hand wiping your face dry.

There’s a mask sliding into place over those perfect features that you’d memorized a decade ago. Green eyes, light in shade, sliding past you as if you’re an insignificant, forgotten trophy on the highest shelf. And then she’s gone, out the door with only the faint scent of vanilla and a permanent memory etched into your mind.

The cracks splinter, and without warning, shatter completely.

“Pick up, pick up… please just… fucking. Ah, just, goddamnit pick up the fucking phone Wanda.”

You’re drunk, the phone feeling awkward and heavy in your hands. The sound of a dial tone beeping ricochets through your mind, and you clumsily jerk the phone away from your ear. Blearily, you take in the four previous calls you’ve made to Wanda.

One more try can’t hurt. Right?

You firmly press your finger against her name, the sound of your phone dialing her number washing over you. The tiny numbers in the corner of your screen read somewhere between one or two in the morning, but you don’t care. All you need is for Wanda to pick up.

A sound, different from before. You hear quiet breathing on the other side of the line.

God, you’ve missed that sound. The feeling of her head resting against your shoulder or chest as slow measured breaths fill the four walls of your dorm room. The small puffs of air hitting your skin when she shifted, burying her face in your neck.

You say as much, the words spilling out of you. You’re not sure if Wanda is listening, but you hope she is.

“Fuck, I- I just miss you so much. It feels like I’m dying every time I see you, and I can’t take your eyes avoiding mine anymore. I mean,” you hiccup, the sound pathetic even to your own ears. It doesn’t matter.

“Don’t you miss us?” you say, your voice quiet. The soft breaths on the other end of the line hitch, and you grasp at it. “I miss the flame of what we were, I don’t even really know what we were, but… I miss the small reign we had. Even if it was just in the space of my dorm room. I would go through the pain of you every day if it meant I could be close to you. I-”

You lose the words, the regret pouring through you as quickly as a flooding river. The words can’t escape fast enough.

“Do you regret us? I know we were a secret, and I was okay with that. I would have done anything, kept anything private, secret even, just to keep you in my life. You know that Wanda.” You draw a shaky breath. You hope that you don’t imagine the same type of breath on the other end of the line.

“Do you miss it?” You ask, hating the way your voice cracks gently. You hear Wanda’s sharp, soft inhale. “Do you regret the secret of us?”

Click.

---

Taglist: @alexawynters @msvenablesbitch @marilynthornhilllover @lifespectator @milkeeteaa @imnotawitch @marvels--slut @justabrokensunshine @dorabledewdroop @wandsmxmff @esposadejoyhuerta @captivepotato

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tightjeansjavi · 2 years ago

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𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐃𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐨 𝐌𝐫.𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫?

Joel Miller x f!reader

NSFW🔞

A/N: this is a result of my post gym ✨horny✨ thoughts. I love to think that Joel can be a whimpering mess, every now and then. You’re welcome ♡ ♡ ♡

Summary: You get jealous seeing the women in Jackson throw themselves at Joel. You decide to give him a gentle reminder of who he belongs to.

~word count : 4.3k~

Warnings: smut with no plot, established relationship, sub! joel, feral/dark! joel, soft! joel,needy! joel, possessive joel! is going to tear you apart! joel, dom/brat reader, unprotected p in v (wrap it kids) oral receiving (male) fingering, light choking, knife play, teasing, edging, light bdsm, consent, consent, consent, nicknames, praise kink, cockwarming, cream pie, cum eating, cum play, uhhh yeah a whole lot of filth! Not much else to say! (+18) MINORS DNI SERIOUSLY THIS IS STRAIGHT UP PORN.

Songs used:

“Freak” by Doja Cat (just trust me on this one y’all)

“Tear You Apart” by She Wants Revenge

“…Ready For It?” By Taylor Swift

“No Good” by KALEO

“Dinner and Diatribes” by Hozier

You never considered yourself to be a naturally jealous person. You had no reason to be. The people of Jackson knew well enough that you were Joel’s lady, and he was your man. You never had to worry about getting hit on at the Jackson bar, or while on patrol, because no one dared to even look at what belonged to Joel. The women of Jackson? They were a little more ballsy than you thought.

You knew your man was handsome. Hell, he was fucking beautiful in your eyes. You’d see some of the single women, and even some of the happily taken women, fawn over your man.

Could you really blame them? He was definitely a sight for sore eyes. You’d watch them touch his arm, laugh at something he’d say and that’s when your jealousy began to bubble deep in your gut.

Didn’t these women know Joel belonged to you? Did he remember who he belonged to? Perhaps you needed to give him a gentle reminder.

Your man had arrived home late one night after being on patrol. You could hear his heavy boots from where you stood in the kitchen, you heard him mutter under his breath about his bad back as he hung his rifle up alongside yours. Joel was currently looking forward to a well deserved, hot shower and a good cuddle with you, his lady. He knew however that something was off because you never would leave the lights off. You kept them on usually on the nights you knew he would be getting home late.

He called out your name.

“Baby? You down here? Where are you, my sweet girl?”

He heard your soft footsteps padding from the kitchen and then your face appeared soon after. He wasted no time to grab you by the waist and pull you flush against his chest. “Hi honey, I was just waiting up for you.” You softly spoke while draping your arms around his neck. “How was it out there?”

“Mmm. Hi Sugar. Why were all the lights off? You usually keep ‘em on for me. S’alright out there. Long fuckin’ shift, and all I could think about was comin’ home to you darlin’.”

You gave him a sweet kiss, gently playing with the ends of his hair through your fingers. “Yeah, baby? I’m sorry it was a long shift. Are you tired? Here, how about you sit down? You’ve been on your feet all day.”

Joel kissed you back immediately while he tightened his grip around your waist, pulling you in as close as he physically could. “S’alright. Feet and back are fuckin’ killin’ me though, sweet girl. Is Ellie home?”

You slowly pulled away from the kiss, sliding your arms down from around his neck and brought your hands down his chest. “C’mon i’ll take care of you, okay? She’s at Dina’s. They’re watching a movie so we’ll have the place to ourselves all night.”

“You had me at we’re gonna have the place to ourselves all night darlin.’” a chuckle vibrated up his chest. “Did ya have somethin’ particular in mind baby?”

You unwrapped his arms from around your waist, grabbing his hands as you brought him into the dining room. “I knew you’d love the sound of that Joel. Go on, take a seat honey.”

He raised an eyebrow in your direction as he tried to gauge just exactly what it was that you were up to. When he took too long for your liking, you placed your hand on his chest and firmly coaxed him down into the chair.

“What’re—”

He was cut off when you had climbed into his lap, straddling his hips while you brought his arms behind the chair, holding his wrists together firmly.

“Shhh. You trust me, right baby? I just wanna take care of you. Treat you real well but first, I think you need a gentle reminder of who you belong to.”

Joel’s eyes had immediately widened when you ever so casually climbed into his lap. His own frustration began to bubble when you brought his arms around the back of the chair, preventing him from touching you. “Course I trust you honey. Whad’ya mean you need to remind me who I belong to? Baby, I belong to you. You and I both know that.”

“Do the Jackson women know that you belong to me? I see the way they fawn over you Joel. You think I don’t notice? They practically fall to their knees when you’re around.”

Joel chuckled, leaning his head back against the chair with a smirk on his lips. “Do I sense a bit of jealousy in ya? I see the way they act around me sugar. I don’t pay ‘em any attention. Don’t need to when I’ve got you. By far the prettiest girl in town. Can confidently say I am one fuckin’ lucky man.”

Joel was too focused on you in his lap to notice that you had pulled a strand of thick rope from your pocket. He barely felt you tie his wrists together behind the chair, till it was too late.

“Yeah, you are one fuckin’ lucky man, Miller and you better remember it.”

He let out a strained noise from his throat when he realized you had successfully tied him to the chair and his eyes narrowed in on you. “Fuckin’ minx. You really just go and tie me to the damn chair?” He let out a low growl.

You were the one smirking now as you leaned in close to his face, your lips nearly touching his. “I did baby, I told you I’m going to take care of you. Just trust me on this okay?” You spoke in a sickly sweet tone.

Your words traveled down his neck, past his thighs and settled beneath his jeans where his cock had twitched slightly. It didn’t take much to get your man going and you were pretty proud of that.

“So you tied me to the damn chair? You gonna punish me, sweet girl? You got it in you to do that to me baby?”

You brought your fingers around his throat, tipping his chin back slightly as you brushed your lips over his, taking his lower lip between your teeth, biting down on the soft flesh as you tugged it out. Your actions elicited a low groan from his chest.

“Oh, I think you and I both know I’ve got it in me baby. You gonna be a good boy for me, or are you gonna be difficult?”

You quite literally stole the air from this man’s lungs. All the blood was draining straight down to his cock. God, you were so filthy and he loved every second of it. “I’ll be a good boy for you darlin’, only if you promise to give me your worst.”

His pupils darkened as he looked up at you, desperately wishing he could fucking touch you as he pulled against his restraints on his wrists.

“I promise you I will, baby.” You cooed and his eyes nearly rolled back into his skull.

You dragged your fingertips along the thin skin of his throat as you leaned down over him, bringing your lips to the shell of his ear, kissing the skin right below. It was the spot that you knew drove him crazy. “You let me know if it’s too much and you wanna stop. Okay honey?”

He felt a shiver run down his spine from your lips along his neck. “I know darlin’. I got you, you got me.”

Your relationship with Joel had been built around trust, and consent. It was important to you both, and no matter what the situation was between you, consent was always at the forefront.

“Good boy.” You whispered against the shell of his ear as you reached into your pocket and pulled out a blindfold.

His jaw went slack as you tied the fabric around his head, covering his eyes from your view.

“You’re about to fuckin’ ruin me, aren’t you baby?” He rasped out, feeling his senses on overdrive now that he could no longer see you.

“Gonna do a lot more than just that, honey. You just sit back and relax. I got you.” You pressed another kiss to the spot below his ear before you slowly dragged your lips down his neck, nipping and biting at the thin skin as he hissed under his breath, turning his head to the side slightly so you would have better access.

You dragged your sinful tongue down the expanse of his throat, you could feel his pulse quicken as your fingers began to expertly undo the buttons on his flannel, exposing his skin to the warm air as you let your fingertips trace down his collarbones, brushing over his nipples as they descended down over his navel.

His stomach went taut under your soft, feather light touches. He had sucked in a harsh breath as his cock twitched in his jeans once more. “Baby, please. Don’t fuckin’ keep me on edge like this honey. Please, I’ll be a good boy, just like I promised.” Your man begged you.

You popped the button off his jeans and tugged the zipper down. Offering him a brief moment of relief as you tugged his jeans down over his broad thighs, listening to the fabric fall down his ankles, and settle above his boots.

His breath hitched in his throat when your fingers lightly brushed over his growing bulge in his boxers. He was so big, so thick, the fabric was straining and could barely hold him.

What you did next? Completely through your man for a loop. You had unsecured your knife from your holster, dragging the edge of the blade down his chest, over his navel. The coolness of the metal against his hot skin was a delicious combination.

He tugged on the restraints hard, the chair scraping on the old hardwood floor when the edge of your knife dragged across his covered bulge. Your man fucking whimpered.

“Darlin’, is that your knife baby? What’re you gonna do with that, huh?”

You kept the edge of your knife lightly pressed against his bulge. You could feel his thighs quiver beneath you, and his cock twitch once more as you leaned in, and whispered against his ear, “Who do you belong to, Mr. Miller?”

He let out a string of curses past his plush lips, stuttering over his words as he was already a whimpering mess beneath you and you had barely touched him. “Yours baby. I’m all fuckin’ yours. All yours.”

“Good boy.” You hummed as you removed the blade from his covered bulge, placing it down on the table before you wasted no time to free him from his constraints. Watching his cock spring up against his stomach. The tip was leaking with precum, all thanks to you and your filthy words. Your mouth was already salivating for a taste of him.

He could no longer feel the weight of your body on his lap. He heard the chair scrape slightly as you got down on your knees in front of him. He wanted to fucking see your pretty face, your irresistible eyes on him, but the fabric on his eyes, blinded him from experiencing that pleasure.

“Gonna have a taste of you now, okay baby? Dying to have one.”

“Fu—fuckin’ hell darlin’ you tryin’ to send me to an early grave talkin’ like that—“

He lost his voice the moment your pretty lips wrapped around his aching tip. You swirled your tongue against the veiny head, collecting his precum with ease.

You dragged your lips and tongue down his thick length, feeling him twitch again as he let his whimpers flow through his lips freely.

“You taste so sweet, honey. What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue baby?”

Joel growled frustratingly as he gave the restraints another good tug but they wouldn’t budge and he was completely at your mercy.

“That’s my fuckin’ line darlin’” he groaned.

“Yeah?” You hummed against his length, letting your fingers grasp his balls, giving them a little squeeze. “Well, now it’s mine. Deal with it.”

“You little—”

You had wrapped your lips back around his tip, slowly sliding your wet, hot mouth down over him, as you slowly began to bob your head at a delicious pace.

“F-f-fuck—darlin’ that pretty little mouth of yours is gonna be the death of me. Not gonna fuckin’ last long like this.” He groaned while bucking his hips up slightly, desperately wanting more.

You brought your free hand, that wasn’t playing with his balls, around his thick thigh. You sank your nails into his skin, dragging them downwards as he let out a hiss, digging the heels of his boots into the floor.

You could feel every ridge, every vein against your tongue as you continued to suck him off, your teeth lightly scraped against his length as his tip hit the back of your throat. You knew how to take him well, but there were still tears pricking in the corner of your eyes. You fucking loved having his cock shoved down your throat like this. You loved the way he whimpered out your name, just from your mouth and tongue wrapped around him.

“Fuck—fuck baby you gotta stop soon, please! Fuck. I’m seein’ stars right now. Takin’ my cock so fuckin’ well in that pretty little mouth. S’pretty, just for me.”

Your throat tightened around him slightly as you held him there for a few moments, nearly gagging around him before you slowly lifted your head up, releasing him from your mouth with a pop. You had saliva dripping down your chin that he would have absolutely loved to see, along with your pretty swollen lips.

He heard your own jeans start to be taken off as he listened to the fabric hit the floor with a soft thud as he anticipated your next move on him.

“Where’d you go, darlin’? Can’t feel ya anymore..you better not be fuckin’ leaving me down here tied up like this—”

You had sank back down into his lap, your covered, aching cunt brushing against his swollen tip as you let out a low hiss from the friction. “Mmm. I’m right here baby. I wouldn’t be that cruel to leave you tied up like this..don’t give me any ideas though, okay? Not finished with you yet.”

He let a whine slip past his throat when he could feel your cunt rub against him, as you rolled your hips into his slowly, eliciting another frustrated groan from him, and an eager moan from you.

You reached your hand up, untying the fabric from his eyes and tossed it to the side, his eyes were immediately locked on yours, his jaw clenched so tightly, he could cut something with how sharp it was.

“You gonna fuckin’ let me touch you baby? Or not yet? Gonna keep me on the edge? Fuckin filthy little whore you are. M’so fuckin lucky.” He whimpered.

You brought your fingers through the back of his hair, gripping it tightly as you yanked his head back, rolling your hips into his once more. “Do you think you deserve to fuck me right now, baby? You think you deserve to fill me up with your cock? C’mon, answer me.” You demanded

Joel’s jaw went slack at your words as he swallowed hard. You were something fucking else entirely and he was at a loss for words.

“I’ve been a good boy, haven’t I baby? C’mon, sweet girl. Let me fill you to the fuckin’ brim. Please. Please. Please. Want to feel your warmth around me so fuckin’ bad. Give into me darlin.’ Take me however you fuckin’ want.” He rasped.

He watched as your hand slid down between your bodies, pulling your panties to the side, revealing your slick pussy to his greedy eyes as you dragged your fingers through your arousal. Swirling your fingers against your clit as you kept your eyes locked on his. “Bet you wish you were touching me right now, huh baby? I’m so fuckin’ wet for you. Don’t you wish you could have a taste? Mmm, your fingers do a much better job than mine.” You purred, wasting no time to slip two of your fingers inside, pumping them slowly on his lap. “I’m so fucking tight, Joel. Don’t you wanna feel me baby? Feel how fucking tight I am for you.”

Joel frankly had enough with your teasing. He nearly had drool dripping down his chin as he watched you with hooded eyes. He watched your fingers, slick with your own arousal, disappear inside your tight cunt. The squelching sounds of your wet pussy had his eyes rolling back as he kicked the side of the table with his boot, frustratingly.

“Goddamn you. Fuckin’ filthy. Look at you fuckin’ yourself on my lap. Fuckin’ should be my fingers filling you up right now. You little minx. Do I have to fuckin’ beg you? Your pretty little pussy is fuckin’ purring for me baby. You gotta let me out of these things, please baby. I’ll do whatever you want. Just please fuckin’ let me touch you.”

“No.” You spoke sweetly, between moans. “Keep fucking watching me Joel. Keep watching me fuck my pretty little pussy.”

“You are so goddamn lucky that you tied a fuckin’ good knot. Gonna fuckin’ ruin you when I get out of these baby. Just you fuckin’ wait.” He growled. He was unable to tear his gaze from your fingers fucking yourself, even if he tried. He was absolutely intoxicated with you.

You slipped your fingers out of your mouth slowly, they were dripping in your arousal as you brought them up to your lips, licking them clean right before his very eyes as he kicked the side of the table once more.

Your man was absolutely feral.

You grabbed the base of his cock then, dragging his tip against your slick folds, his arousal and yours mixing together. When you finally, sank down onto him, he let out the most delicious fucking sound you had ever heard. The mix between a groan, and a whimper as you sank down to the hilt, bringing your arms around his neck. “Filling me up so good already, baby. See what happens when you’re a good boy? You get rewarded.”

His breath hitched in his throat when you rolled your hips into his. He could feel every inch of you slide around his cock, and just as you started to get into a rhythm, rising and falling over his thick length as your walls gripped around him deliciously, the rope around his wrists snapped, falling to the floor.

His hands were on you before you even had the chance to open your mouth. You were positively fucked.

“Now, it’s my fuckin’ turn.” He had immediately grabbed ahold of your hips, roughly pulling your chest flushed against his as he fucked into you, his balls slapping against your ass while his nails dug into your hips harshly. “You fuckin’ like that baby? You naughty fuckin’ girl. Hope you enjoyed your fuckin’ little game while it lasted baby.”

His lips were attacking every inch of your skin, between your neck, collarbones and breasts, he was absolutely ruining you with his mouth. nipping, biting, sucking on your tender flesh as he fucked into you, drinking in your moans around him as you let him finally have control, not that you had much of a choice. You knew it was only a matter of time before the restraints would snap.

He had grabbed you from your ass, lifting you up onto the dining room table, while still buried deep inside of you. He brought your legs over his shoulders as he fucked into you, with your back firmly planted against the table.

When you had reached down to touch yourself, he smacked your hand away, grabbing both of your wrists and slammed them down above your head, holding them down with one hand. “No.” He growled.“You don’t get to fuckin’ do all of that to me and then think that you can touch yourself, baby. You’re mine now. You fuckin’ got that? All. Fucking. Mine”

“Joel—fuck! Please baby, I was only having a little fun! Please, are you going to let me cum?” You whimpered, tugging your lower lip between your teeth as you looked up at him with those eyes that would send any man’s knees buckling.

Joel let out a deep chuckle, using his free hand to close in around your throat, his thumb pressing against your windpipe as he leaned down, bringing his forehead against yours, drinking in your moans as his lips crashed into yours, your teeth and tongues clashing together. It was a rough, heated kiss. One that was absolutely scrambling your brain. “You think you fuckin’ deserve to cum? You think you deserve that?” He mumbled into your lips, holding you completely captive beneath him.

Your breath was caught in your throat as his thumb squeezed along your windpipe slightly, just enough for you to feel it. The pain, mixing with the pleasure, you fucking loved it.

“Please, Joel! Please let me cum, baby! Don’t you want me to coat your cock? You gotta let me cum otherwise I can’t—”

He slammed his hips into yours, knocking your back against the table, stealing the air from your lungs. “What was that? Sorry, sugar. Can’t hear you above the sounds of my cock tearing your pretty little pussy apart.”

You let out a choked sob when his tip had hit the spongy spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. Your body was beginning to tremble beneath him and you nearly cried when you finally felt his thumb working your clit to the very edge.

He had released your wrists just so you could wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, and sink your nails into his skin, he knew how much you loved that.

“So fucking close, Joel! So close! Thank you baby, thank you!” You praised him.

Both of your bodies were slick with sweat as his thrusts began to grow uncoordinated and sloppy but despite this, he was still working his thumb over you, stumbling over his words as he groaned out your name.

“That’s it, my pretty fuckin’ filthy girl. Gonna cum around my cock? Gonna coat me? Wanna see you leaking out on the fuckin table when I’m through with you. Think you can handle that honey? Wanna see my fuckin’ cum drippin’ out of that pretty little pussy.”

It didn’t take long for either of you to hit your impending high. It crashed around you, sending white hot pleasure up from your core and through your whole body, Joel shuddered above you, as your pussy milked him of every last fucking drop. He kissed all over your face, praising you for being such a good girl as he gave one last deep thrust, before collapsing on top of you.

This is how it always ended. Joel buried deep inside of you while he grew soft, yours and his cum leaking out of you, while you would cradle him against your chest, running your fingers through his sweat soaked hair.

The post orgasm calm was your favorite part undeniably. You loved the lazy, sex stained grin your man would give you. God, he always looked so pretty after a proper fuck. He’d kiss you slow, deep, letting his tongue slip into your mouth while your fingers would gently scrape against his beard.

“I wanna see more of that in the future.” He mumbled into your lips, kissing you languidly.

“Yeah? You liked that?”

“Fuckin’ loved havin’ you take control like that baby. Do it whenever you want, kay?”

You let out a soft giggle, pulling away from the kiss to get some air as he let out a small whine, he wasn’t ready to stop kissing you just yet. So instead, he let his lips kiss all over your face, your cheeks, chin, nose, your eyelids. He couldn’t get enough of you.

“I will definitely be taking control more often, baby. I can promise you that.”

“Good.” He hummed, pressing one more kiss to your nose, lightly nibbling on it before he slowly slipped out from your warmth.

“We made quite the mess together honey. Dripping all down the fuckin’ table.” He chuckled, dragging his finger through your cum mixed with his, before he licked his finger clean, shooting you a wink.

You sat up slowly, your heart beat had returned to normal as you watched your man with a small grin as he collapsed back into the chair, kicking his boots off along with his jeans before he gathered the pile of clothes up into his arms to take them to the laundry room.

“I fuckin’ love you, you know that?”

“I know you do, Joel. I love you too.”

He leaned down over you, kissing you sweetly once more. He left to drop the clothes off in the laundry room before he grabbed a towel. He was always big on after care so you laid there, waiting for him.

He gently wiped between your thighs, and then the table before he was scooping you up into his arms. He helped you wrap your legs around his hips as he carried you upstairs, smiling to himself when he could feel your thighs tremble, all thanks to him.

One well deserved hot shower later, and you and your man were curled up in bed together. You were the big spoon tonight because you know how much he loves to be held by you.

You were his lady, his girl. He was your man. Your fellow, your guy.

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mickyschumacher · 2 years ago

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[STYLE! PT.1]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: carlos sainz and you have an on and off relationship: full of an alluring pain. and no matter what, it seems you two always come back to one another. 𝐏𝐓. 𝟐 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors DNI), infidelity, toxic relationship, reader has a vagina, unprotected sex (wrap it up like a gift!), reader slaps carlos, crying, ANGST, carlos bordering on being a sadist, cumming inside, fingering in the car, that being said - dangerous car driving, oral sex, incorrect model stuff probs, severely poorly utilised spanish, probs poorly written smut lol, probably missing plot holes but yeh

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: carlos sainz x model!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k+

𝐀/𝐍: this is poorly based off taylor swift' 'style'. i hadn't realised i turned such a nice song into something well um... not nice? proof-read but as always, don't hold it against me!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Before you even started your cat-and-mouse game with Carlos, you were well aware that he was trouble the moment he walked into the room.

Scratch that.

Formula One drivers were nuisances. Ask any other model on the street and they would probably agree with you.

You knew that it was a relationship you probably shouldn't even be in. He was always going to be away in a new country every other week while you were doing photoshoots and walking runways. You would barely have time with each other. You don't think that you could even label such a relationship 'long distance'.

So when your management sent you down to the infamous Monaco Grand Prix as eye-candy, how were you to deny those brown eyes constantly lingering on you, following your body as he sported a smug smile? No one would be in their right mind to not fall for a guy like Carlos.

The heated gazes, the flirty comments, the burning brushes of touch... it was clear for the both of you that you had to be together.

But of course, despite knowing all of this, you couldn't help still feel a bit emotional about your relationship.

midnight

you come and pick me up, no headlights

long drive

could end in burning flames or paradise

fade into view, oh

it's been a while since i have even heard from you

Here you were. In Miami. The sun had fully set and the rare few stars you could find had taken up their night shift.

You were just leaving the office of your management after having a discussion on what photoshoots you were doing in the upcoming weeks and what events you were attending.

Chanel, Dior, Ralph Lauren, YSL, Louis Vuitton...

Brands on any other general day you would've love to talk about. But your mind was in a state of disarray after receiving a message from a certain Spaniard.

hot spanish polla (prick)

pick you up in 15, princesa (princess)

behind your office.

Even now, looking at the message again, you let out a scoff. You scrolled up, finding the last message you had sent to him. In January.

It was currently May.

Your fingers clenched around your phone as you let out a shaky sigh. Despite all the rage you felt, of course you were here, in the secluded area of your company.

You looked down at your clothes. A model life meant wearing 'fashionable' clothes. You, your manager, and your stylist often pre-agreed on the outfits you wore just for the sake of your image. Today, your stylist had dressed you in a black mini skirt and maroon sweater. You neck and ears all adorned in thin gold jewellery while you feet were hugged by a classic pair of white sneakers.

You pursed your lips. At least you looked good.

But of course this was just like Carlos. Speaking, calling, texting... all when he wanted. You knew he was in Miami. You weren't an idiot. You had all of this season's races organised into your calendar.

You were just in disbelief that Carlos had the audacity to even text you after not hearing even a word from him in almost five months.

Your ears perked up to a low rumble of a car entering the area. The headlights were off but you could still spot it's familiar features. You eyed the iconic Prancing Horse and rolled your eyes. The love and hate you had for Ferrari was unexplainable.

The car stopped in front of you and the door of the driver's seat opened. Carlos came out as if he were in slow motion.

You sucked your tongue to your lips upon eyeing his appearance. He was in a black coat, a simple white shirt that stuck to his sculpted body paired with black trousers that brought out his stupidly defined thighs. Those thighs... god, how much time had you spent on them?

and i should tell you to leave 'cause i

know exactly where it leads, but i

watch us go 'round and 'round each time

Carlos waved a hand through his hair and smiled at you. You could feel his eyes waver over you, making you suppress the innate shudder his gaze would usually send you. You couldn't let him think that everything was okay.

He opened the door to the passenger side and gestured for you to come in with an extended hand.

You folded your arms and stared at him. Were you really going to do this? Yes. Was this what you deserved after so long? A man who felt dizzy for you but wouldn't speak to you for four months? Yes and no.... yes.

Carlos narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to look at you. He knew exactly what you were thinking. "Get in the car, Y/N. Before I make you."

There was nothing threatening about his tone. In fact, even if it was, it would be an empty threat. Because at the end of the day, the both of you knew you were going to.

You internally sighed, before walking up to the open door. You turned your head to him and gave an amused huff. "As if you would, Sainz."

Carlos flashed his classic grin, the very one that had gotten you into this mess in the first place, and watched you enter his car.

By the time you had but on your seatbelt and rested your arm on the door, Carlos had finally sat next you.

"You look good, cariño (darling)," Carlos murmured, bringing your hand up to his mouth to leave a small kiss.

You clenched your jaw at the fiery tingle that sprawled across your hand. You snatched your hand away. "I know. I look good all the time," You mentioned curtly.

Were you being a bitch? A bit catty? Simply put, yes. But you thought a man who usually got what he wanted deserved some sort of catty behaviour.

"Four months, Carlos, four goddamn months... of nothing," You sighed out.

A remorseful expression fell over Carlos' face. "I know. I'm so sorry, cariño. I don't have any excuses."

You huffed once again with an irked smile, folding your arms while you looked out your window. You could think of one. But maybe it wasn't time to bring it up right now. You were tired of this game already. You would rather a false peace than the raw reality.

Your eyes peered over to him. "Long drive home?" You asked.

Carlos smiled softly at you. "As per usual."

You nodded slowly and Carlos turned the key of the car. The engine came alive and seemingly so did he as his hand naturally fell to your thigh while he reversed out.

you got that james dean daydream look in your eye

and i got that red lip classic thing that you like

and when we go crashing down, we come back every time

'cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style

you got that long hair slicked back, white t-shirt

and i got that food girl faith and a tight little skirt

and when we go crashing down, we come back every time

'cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style

Carlos could feel your eyes on him as he drove down the empty, long roads of Miami, dotted with the sparsely spaced palm trees swaying in the warm summer breeze.

Your eyes trailed over every inch of him. His hair. His eyes. His lips. His neck. His body. Every crevice. As if you were trying to print an image in your mind.

You always looked at him like that. Carlos remembered asking you about it. "What are you looking at?" He would ask.

"Just you," You would retort, "I just can't believe someone like you exists."

Carlos would chuckle and question what you meant by that. You simply said he reminded you of James Dean. Even now. His hair was slightly grown and slicked back with the heat of Miami. His entire aura was smug and intoxicating. The entire world could see Carlos Sainz as the Spanish romantic driver, but you knew that behind that warming exterior, was something dirty... troublesome in the best way, in fact.

You, god, you were the complete opposite. Y/N L/N. The good girl model. Pure. Untainted. The type of model you would see in spreads of brands right after they had a controversy because your angel aura would put anyone back in the good books. No matter how revealing your clothes were or how much skin you had on display, you were somehow still the epitome of unadulterated goodness.

There was a saying that people often associated with good girls like you. Every good girl wants a bad boy to be good just for her.

You wished that wasn't true. How desperately had you avoided all those flashy teenage popstars and actors. But here you were inevitably falling for an intoxicating Carlos Sainz. Time and time again.

so it goes

he can't keep his wild eyes on the road

You let out a shaky sigh as Carlos' hand travelled closer and closer up your inner thigh. "Carlos," You warned, eyes widening slightly as those brown eyes were planted firmly on you, taking in every little movement of yours, instead of looking at the road.

"Yes, my ñina bonita (beautiful girl)," He answered almost questioningly in a teasing tone.

"Keep your eyes on the road," You weakly mumbled.

You both watched his fingers linger up your skirt. His fingers danced across your burning skin and paused at the thin material covering your core. You sucked in a sharp breath once those fingers met your panties.

Carlos grinned at your shaking eyes and the warm dampness on his fingers. "You make it hard to look away," He confessed earnestly.

You could feel his fingers rub your pussy ever so slowly, only just grazing over that sensitive nub of yours.

"Jesus fucking christ, Carlos," You hissed out, hips bucking at his touch.

Carlos could feel his pants become incredibly tight all of a sudden. The control he had over you was so enthralling that he wanted to simply stop in the middle of the highway, grab you by yours hips and fuck the living life out of you.

What a sight that would be. You straddling his lap, soaking his trousers as your ass rested against the Ferrari symbol embedded into the steering wheel. He would make sure that the brand he represented would be covered in your cum after he was done with you.

Carlos sucked in a sharp breath. "Jesus fucking christ, indeed, cariño," He managed to get out, blinking hard at the road in front of him.

He watched out of his peripheral vision as your head fell back against while his thick fingers pushed past your panties and slid against your drenched folds.

His fingers ventured and craved a journey, feeling each crevice of your pussy. Carlos thrusted his fingers into your warm walls, briefly watching you envelope him entirely.

"Fuck, Carlos," You moaned out, hand instinctively reaching out to covers his. You couldn't tell if you wanted him to stop in this horny haze or push him in even further.

It must have been the latter as you could feel his fingers delve further into you. Carlos let out a strangled moan, foot pressing further on the accelerator. He needed to get you home as fast he could.

takes me home

the lights are off, he's taking off his coat

i say "i heard, oh, that you've been out and about with some other girl"

he says, "what you heard is true

but i can't stop thinking 'bout you and i"

i said, "i've been there too a few times."

By the time you had reached home and got to your bedroom, the entire of your house remained living in the darkness you had found it in.

Carlos and you didn't need lights. If there was anything he was purely confident about, other than his driving of course, it was your body. He knew it like he knew those race tracks. Every curve. The distance from your breasts to your pussy. How long it would take you to cum. He knew it all.

Carlos shrugged off his coat somewhere onto your floor, needing a release from the heat surging through his body. Your shoes and socks he had pulled off in a haste as well.

His lips had found yours as his hands roamed your back, pulling him closer to you. His fingers snuck past the hem of your shirt, brushing your bare skin while reaching up your torso to find a neat surprise.

"No bra," Carlos' hoarse voiced queried with the sound of a smirk playing at his lips. At least thats what you could assume in the dark.

Carlos inched you towards your bed as if it was a second nature to him.

The soft silk sheets he had bought you last year consumed the both of you as his fingers brushed past your nipple.

You released yourself from this kiss at the action, gasping for the air that Carlos had taken from you.

"I heard you were with some other girl. Is this what you did with her?" You finally asked, feeling a small smirk grow onto your face despite the annoyance running through your body.

You could feel Carlos stop moving, probably boring those beautiful brown eyes of his into you.

He knew what you were talking about. February. Pre-testing season. The drivers, some staff and their partners had gotten together to celebrate the upcoming season.

Lando, like the photo lover he was, had decided to document the night with his camera and post it to his Instagram dedicated to photos, lando.jpg.

You had clicked on it a few hours later, deciding to see how much fun they were having while you were doing a photoshoot with Kim Jones. Pictures of Charles dancing terribly with Max had made you laugh. Carmen looking concerned for George's wellbeing as he took shots had made you laugh even harder. There was also a photo of Alex and Lily being the cute paddock couple they were while Carlos was drunkly looking into the camera

But then your fingers stopped on particular photo of Carlos.

He looked good, you could not deny him that. Flushed skin, hazed eyes, the perfect smile... all while dressed as the Madrid's richest.

But lo and behold, that wasn't the only thing getting your attention. Instead, it was the girl in his arms. The same girl who in the next few photos had her lips on him and his hands on her ass. You could even spot a fresh hickey that wasn't on her neck in the previous photo.

God, the comments and tweets were coming in at lightning speed.

user55: who's the girl? i thought carlos was with y/n?

user04: maybe they broke up?

user16: wasn't just with her for new years? jfc, that man needs to get a grip

mickyschumacher: y/n deserves better than this

user44: i wonder if she knows?

Quite soon after, Lando had taken down the post, apologising to you profusely. You reassured him it was okay, even though deep down you were exhausted of this.

Not only had Carlos been going around with another girl, but he didn't even have the decency to say sorry. He would rather say nothing.

Carlos didn't know what was worse. His growing guilt or the fact that your reaction was making him harder.

His fingers skimmed across your swollen lips. "Obviously what you saw was true. But the thing is... I can't stop thinking about you and I, princesa. You consume me for every second of the day. Even if I don't show it. Fuck, I have a ritual before every race, you know? To cum to your name... to your body."

Was is it a poor excuse? Yes. It didn't even explain why he had done it in the first place. But the most damning thing was, you didn't care. Or you could care less to begin with.

Instead you were turned on. The pool in your panties had gotten even bigger as you released a light moan at his words. Your hands travelled to his waist, peeling off his white shirt while he raised his arms. The combination of your body heat was so high that it could almost be considered unsafe for the average human.

"You're a lucky man, Sainz. I can't stop thinking about you too."

Carlos could only let out a moan at your words, removing your sweater before bringing his lips to your nipples, dividing his attention to them equally. His hands were busy unbuckling his belt and taking off his trousers.

Your hand reached into his long hair, gripping the locks tightly as he moaned against your breasts. You could hear the clink and thud of his belt and pants hitting the floor as he pushed up your skirt, unbothered to take it off.

In face, these mini skirts were going to be the death of Carlos. He loved them on you. It wasn't just the easy access to the heaven down there. But if he had to explain it, it was the way they rested on your thighs. Laying there simply, not doing anything but creating a monster in him.

Carlos pushed your panties to the side, plunging his fingers into you without any warning. He could feel you arch your back and push your head into the bed while you writhed under his touch.

"Fucking hell," You swore, clenching your thighs around his hands.

Carlos chuckled. "Such a dirty mouth, princesa," He stated before speeding up his pace.

Your loud moans echoed within your empty house. Your hips bucked into his hand, fucking yourself faster on him to chase the release he had built up in the pit of your stomach.

"You wanna cum, Y/N? Hmm? Tell me?"

The sweat was building up on your skin as Carlos had added his thumb over your clit. He rubbed his thumb briefly in slow circles but he had given up on the teasing. He wanted you to squirm in his hands because that's how much pleasure you were receiving. He flicked the nub in fast motions, dropping his warm spit into your hot folds.

"Holy–Carlos!"

Carlos smirked at the ironic combination of words following out of your mouth. Yes, he was holy. But if he was that divine, you were no angel. You were a sin. A goddess. A she-devil.

"I would love to watch you cum, princesa. I really would. But my cock is begging for you, hmm? I think your pussy deserves some attention that isn't my fingers, no?"

Carlos had stopped moving his hand and removed his fingers from you. He could feel you shake in his hold. From anger or pleasure, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he had left you begging for more.

Although it must've been anger.

Because almost immediately, he had heard it before he felt it. The sharp whack of the air. The burn on his cheek almost sizzling.

You could feel his hot gaze pierce through you as your chest heaved up and down in frustration. "You're a little shit, Carlos," You groaned. "Sorry, no. What was it in Spanish? Polla? Yes, fucking polla."

The room had turned eerie in seconds. Carlos' silence had started to worry you. You could still feel his gaze and hear his laboured breathing but he was saying nothing.

Suddenly you felt his hands wrap around your waist and move to his lap. You let out a gasp at the bare cock you had been placed upon and the sloppy lips resting near your ear.

"I think I need to fuck the nice back into you, princesa, no? Maybe if you become my little divine goddess, I'll let you cum, hmm? What do you think?" Carlos' whisper was hot and heavy in your ear. "Use your words, mi amor (my love)".

Goddamn it. He had broken out the 'mi amor'. The only thing that had you hanging by a thread. The sliver of hope that whatever you and Carlos had going on was more than this. That you truly loved one another.

"Yes, Carlos," You said, bringing a gentle peck to his lips.

You could feel him smile against your lips. "There's my good girl.''

Carlos pushed your panties aside, assured that you were stretched out and wet enough by his fingers. He grabbed his cock and was overcome with a shudder when rubbing the tip of his cock through your folds.

"Spit, cariño," His voice commanded.

You gathered all the saliva that had easily accumulated after salivating for this man and let the warm fluid fall from your lips.

Carlos couldn't see but he could just imagine if the lights were on. The bubbled liquid falling from those pretty lips of yours, turning into thin strings as they had perfectly landed on the slit of his cock.

He didn't even have to say anything as your nimble fingers rubbed your saliva over his shaft. You could hear his heavy breaths in the air and a small sigh of pleasure came from his lips. "Baby, let's get me in you, hmm?"

You let out a small whimper at his words before releasing a strangled moan as you pushed his cock into your pussy. You could feel each swollen and puffed out fold take him in and your warm walls wrapping around him tightly.

Carlos shut his eyes tightly. "Mierda (shit). You feel so good, princesa," He groaned, lifting his hips up.

You moaned in agreement, throwing your hands around his neck as he thrusted in and out of you.

The concept that cock could made a person dumb often sounded strange. But with Carlos, it was true. You couldn't do anything or say anything but moan in pleasure.

"Lamp. I need to see your face, princesa," Carlos muttered out in awkward pauses, rutting his hips against you in an angle that almost made it impossible for you stretch your arm out and turn on the lamp.

A yellow illuminated the room and finally, you could see each other.

You had made eye contact with Carlos. His eyes bore into you while his mouth was agape as if he was constantly ready to moan. His normally slicked hair was now tousled courtesy of your fingers.

Jesus, was he a sight to behold.

But Carlos didn't think any less of you. God, how were you even real? Your skin was flushed, hair sticking out in every direction, sweat and traces of your wetness across your body and your eyes: dazed with lust and bordering on the edge of being fucked out.

But most especially, those goddamn lips of yours. They were painted with red when Carlos had first picked you up. The red had faded, only trace amounts left mixed with the red flush of the swelling he had brought by kissing you. What a vision you were.

Your eyes flickered to the specifically red cheek that faced you. God, this man knew how to make you feel for anything. His hips jerked into you, pushing his cock deeper as every second passed. The spell he had on you was serious; dangerous.

You could feel a glaze of water fall over your eyes as your fingers brushed his reddened cheek. His skin was still warm from your slap. Carlos shivered at your touch, eyes fluttering shut.

"I'm sorry, Carlos," You murmured out so quietly that if he wasn't listening so intently, he would've missed it. "I didn't mean to."

Carlos could feel his heart pace as you softly kissed the burning skin of his. It was as if you were kissing his pain away. A warm tear from your eyes had fallen onto his cheek, making his heart melt.

Carlos could feel himself tighten at the action, even more so when you clenched your walls tightly around him.

"You think you deserve to cum, mi princesa?" Carlos queried, wrapping his hand around your jaw and making you turn to face him. His eyes shook at your teary eyed gaze. The mascara and eyeliner you wore had broken down. If he hadn't felt so soft for you, he would've teased you and said you looked like a racoon.

Carlos could feel you start to shake as you buried your nails into his skin. To his surprise, you shook your head no. You begun to slow your pace and clench around him, only trying to get him off.

"Oh mi amor, mi ñina bonita, you deserve to cum. You deserve a lot more than you know," Carlos whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear. He planted a soft kiss to your forehead before bringing his thumb to your clit, rubbing hard and increasing the speed of his cock thrusting in and out of you.

You couldn't help but let out a sob mixed with both pleasure and sadness. A wave of euphoria convulsed within your body as Carlos staggered to a halt in you. His cock twitched and throbbed, spilling his hot cum into your walls.

You bought Carlos into a tight hug, pushing yourself further onto his cock, making him groan again and release a few more ropes of his cum into you.

Carlos brought his lips to your shoulders and left a small trail of kisses as the two of you calmed down.

The double meaning to his words had thrown you off.

You could tell what he meant.

This why he had reached out in the first place.

His guilty glances. The poor excuses.

This was the last time.

Whatever this was between you... it had to end.

You both needed to move on.

But especially you.

It was a gutting feeling to know. But Carlos was right. This sadness, this anger, this toxicity could go on no longer. Despite being heartsick, you were happy though.

Because even if this ended, you had gone out in style.

𝐏𝐓. 𝟐 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz imagine #f1 x taylor swift #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 x you #mickyschumacher #carlos sainz x reader

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khloethecatsworld · 2 months ago

Text

My Very Last Christmas Due To Cancer - A Letter To Taylor Swift

Hi. My name is Danielle (or Dani for short). I’m 27, have Spina Bifida and I’m a full time wheelchair user. I also have hydrocephalus and require a shunt. About 2 years ago, I was diagnosed with bladder cancer, which I am learning is common in younger people with Spina Bifida. They have tried all the common treatments and immunotherapy, but it has been unable to be tamed (the cancer cells). I write this in tears because my doctors are saying this is the end of the road and I met not even make it until Christmas. There is nothing more they can do.

I’m going to start this off by saying I have been a Swiftie since the Fearless era and I have always dreamed of seeing Taylor live. To see Fearless live would make me just the happiest girl alive but I missed my chances. Listening to Taylor makes me believe in hope and the idea of miracles. The song ‘Ronan’ makes me bawl my eyes out because I understand what it’s like to go through a grueling journey with cancer. All the treatments, sickness, and losing out on your youth. It’s awful and so isolating.

During the Eras tour, I watched every show and was so happy for my friends that they got to live out their dreams. I hope I get to stay here on Earth and live out my dream of seeing Taylor. Taylor, you have inspired me to be loving, patient and witty. Everything about you just makes me so happy and I wanted to thank you for helping me through this journey. ❤️

Here’s a picture of my cat Khloe that @eyeballzhurt drew. They’re a wonderful friend of mine

#taylor swift

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sturnsdc · 5 days ago

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The Alchemy

pair: Jack Hughes x fem!reader.

synopsis: Yn has had bad experiences in romance, and when her mom asks why she's so sure about Jack, the memories start to answer for her, helping her understand why Jack is the right one.

words: 4,9k

warnings: just some corny shit, slightly influenced by taylor's song the alchemy, probably some mistakes in the writing—english isn't my first language, non-canon events, slight angst, cussing, mention of surgery, a mom who's apparently quite sensitive, and reader's had some really bad experiences in the past, use of “yn”.

A/N: this is so bad, i'm sorry, this is what happens when i listen to music while watching a Devils game

main masterlist nhl masterlist

dividers from: @cafekitsune ! ♡

This happens once every few lifetimes

YN´S POV

this afternoon, when my family organized a meal and my parents told me to invite Jack, i didn’t expect that sweet melody i’ve been obsessed with these past few days to start playing, and right at the moment my mom walked into the kitchen. She leaned against the counter, looking at me almost hesitantly, as if she wanted to say something.

“sweetheart, can i ask you something?” she said in a soft, cautious voice. I swallowed the cookie i was eating and nodded, frowning in confusion.

“sure, mom.”

“throughout your teenage years, i saw you with a few boyfriends—boys who seemed amazing, promising, and very charming. And i can see that Jack is even more than all of that, but… how are you sure?” she said. I stayed silent for a few seconds, processing the question. “Don’t get me wrong, we all adore Jack and his family, and we adore them so much that i need… to trust. I need to know that this time we’re leaving you in good hands, and that he’ll be good to you.”

“he’s different. And i know i’ve said that before, many times, actually, but i know i’ve never felt the way i feel with him. And he’s not perfect, you know? but i’ve realized he doesn’t have to be,” i added, looking at my hands for a second before meeting my mom’s gaze again. “I feel good with him, happy, even with things that seem so small, like, sometimes i can’t see him for weeks, and all it takes is seeing that big smile of his to make me feel safe.”

These chemicals hit me like white wine

What if I told you I'm back?

The hospital was a drag

Worst sleep that I ever had

then i quickly remembered one of those many moments when just seeing his smile was enough.

Jack had surgery, and we were all waiting for him to wake up. A part of me felt incredibly nervous—what if he’s still upset? These past weeks, he had been in such a bad mood with everyone. He sighed constantly, answered defensively, and his performance started to drop. We were losing him, and this had to be the solution. It had to be.

right?

but what if it wasn’t? what if something else starts to frustrate him?

what if he doesn’t want me here?

he doesn’t know it yet, but i spent the night by his side, holding his hand and suffering from a terrible backache because of the uncomfortable chair in the room. Luke had asked if i’d rather go with them, but how could i do that? i couldn’t bear the thought of him waking up in the middle of the night and realizing he was alone. At the time, i didn’t even ask myself if he’d prefer me to leave. It didn’t cross my mind that he might not want me there. Maybe it was too soon to be this close?

we´d been together for a month, and although we´d been great friends before that, i never worried about overstepping boundaries with my closeness—until now.

i sighed, staring at the options in the vending machine in front of me. My favorite cookies weren’t there, so i chose the not-so-bad option.

‘the things i do for you, Jack Hughes’, i thought, feeling my phone vibrate repeatedly in my jacket pocket. When i pulled it out, i saw i was getting a call.

“naked cat,” it read on the screen. That´s Luke, so i quickly answered, feeling my heart race and anxiety wash over me. His voice came through as i bent down to pick up the cookies i’d just bought.

“are you busy?” i heard his voice��it sounded irritated, or maybe just tired.

“not really, just went down to grab something to eat. Why?” i asked, trying to sound calm.

“Jack woke up, but he won’t stop asking for you. He wants you here, and he’s being so… annoying.” There was definitely some irritation in his voice.

“i, uhm, i’m coming,” i said, sounding more desperate than i’d intended. “Is he alright tho?” i asked softly, walking back toward the room.

“he’s fine. He’s just being a jerk,” he said. “Please hurry.” Then he hung up.

well, that’s a good sign, right? i mean, he wants me there.

i felt heat rise to my cheeks, and my heart pounded so hard it felt like the whole hospital could hear it. My hands were sweating, and my footsteps seemed so loud, as if everything else had gone silent at that exact moment. Or maybe it was just my anxiety consuming me. I wasn’t sure. Either way, i had to snap back to reality when the cookie package almost slipped from my hands embarrassingly, right at the entrance to Jack’s room. I quickly grabbed it, but the noise was loud enough to make everyone turn to look at me—including Jack.

that’s when he smiled.

he smiled in a way i´d never seen him before—not even when he talked to kids or hung out with his friends. His eyes crinkled, his cheeks turned slightly red, and he looked genuinely happy to see me.

i felt my heart melt, and i completely forgot about the past few weeks—the arguments, the tense nights, and the distant days. I forgot all my worries and doubts because there he was, still groggy from the anesthesia, smiling at me.

his smile was so genuine that i knew i’d never forget it. I wanna see him smile like that for the rest of my life. I want him to always be that happy.

his family looked relieved; his brothers gave me tired smiles, and his parents exchanged glances with small grins.

“you’re here,” he said, his voice groggy but smiling so brightly.

i smiled unconsciously at the memory, and my eyes drifted out the kitchen window, quickly finding my boyfriend in the yard, talking to my cousins—probably about golf.

“with the others, i got overconfident, and that’s why it was devastating to lose everything with them. But with Jack, it happened naturally, and i had the pleasure of getting to know him deeply before falling for him. He’s an incredible guy—with convictions, plans, and a deep love for his family and friends. And, you know… there are certain moments—the kind that make you realize you made the right choice.

before, even a short, silly fight could destroy a year-long relationship, even if it was over the most trivial thing. So i got used to expecting little, predicting responses, and bracing myself for how things would turn out. But he’s the one who opened my eyes and made me realize it won’t always be like that.”

I circled you on a map

I haven't come around in so long

But I'm coming back so strong

this time, the memory made me sigh.

we argued—it wasn’t a calm discussion, nor was it resolved. I can’t even remember what the fight was about anymore, but i know it ended because Nico called Jack, saying it was time to leave. Jack just sighed in defeat, said a brief goodbye with a kiss on the cheek, and slammed the door. Not long after, i followed.

that was almost a week ago. Now i’m in Boston visiting my family, and Jack is wrapping up his road trip with a game in Toronto. We’ve spoken briefly, and even through messages, the tension is palpable.

Luke and Nico have spent the last 48 hours begging me to forgive him and call him already. They say he’s constantly looking at his phone and that they’ve caught him rereading our conversations over and over. They tell me he’s sorry and that they can see it in his face and in the way he plays.

i’m trying to believe them—i really want to take the first step—but whenever i try to send a sweeter or longer message, my mind reminds me of all the times i’ve done that before and ended up humiliated, feeling like an idiot. So i can’t.

i decide instead to watch the game with my family, all of us sitting near the tv, watching every play. They were winning—Jack had even scored a goal and made an assist—but every time the camera focused on him, a pain in my chest grew stronger. He looked angry, frustrated. He wasn’t enjoying it.

my dad kept glancing at me every time Jack appeared on the screen, almost as if silently asking me what was going on. I couldn’t meet his eyes. I couldn’t tell him that his daughter was too much of a coward. I couldn’t admit that i was afraid Jack would react poorly, that everything might fall apart over a fight i can’t even remember how it started.

my mind was spiraling with doubts when the intermission arrived. My phone vibrated, and i grabbed it like it was a lifeline. It was a message from Luke. My heart sank when i opened it. It was a picture of Jack, taken not so discreetly from behind. He had our conversation open on his phone.

we haven’t talked in hours, i thought.

“please, just talk to him,” Luke’s message said

“y´all play in NJ on saturday, right?” i replied, and he quickly answered.

“yup, so please come back. I’ll even pay for your ticket if you want.”

and that’s how i ended up here, hiding in the crowd, watching them win again. We’d talked a little more since then—he’d gone back to calling me affectionately, using all the nicknames—but i kept up the act. Part of the deal with Luke. Deep down, i still couldn’t forget the way he spoke to me during the fight.

today, he seemed more upbeat—not completely, but definitely more than he’d been during that game in Toronto.

i saw him smile when Nico scored a goal, and his face looked more relaxed. Something in me hurts at the thought of that changing when he knows i´m here. Luke and Nico talked about how regretful and upset he was, but we still needed to talk about what had happened. It couldn’t happen again—not something like that.

the game went on, and i tried to enjoy it as much as possible, celebrating the goals and finally their victory against the Rangers.

“at least he’s having a good day,” i told myself.

but the moment had come—i had to see him. Following Luke’s instructions, i waited until the locker room was almost empty. While waiting, Nico came out and smiled with relief when he saw me there, wearing Jack’s jersey and offering a small smile of my own.

“thank you,” he said, and i could tell from his voice that he truly meant it.

finally, Luke came out, and i could hear Jack’s voice behind him.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” i heard Jack ask, his tone questioning. But his brother didn’t answer. Instead, Luke smiled at me and came over to hug me before Jack could see me.

when Luke stepped aside, Jack’s question was answered. His eyes widened, his mouth opened, and it looked like he’d lost his breath.

i´m not much different. Even though i knew i’d be seeing him, it felt different in person. He is here, and i don´t know whether i wanna laugh, cry, smile until my face hurt, or drop to my knees and stay there. I feel happy to see him, to know he is still here. But i´m also anxious—the possibility of things going wrong loomed larger and larger.

“hey,” i tried to say, though i had to clear my throat when my voice came out higher than usual, thanks to the anxiety.

but he didn’t answer. He ran to hug me like he hadn’t seen me in a year. In his arms, i felt him tremble. I could only hug him back just as tightly, taking in his cologne, the dampness of his hair from his quick shower, and the warmth radiating from his body.

“i’m so sorry, i’m really, really sorry,” he said, and i could hear the pain and sincerity in his voice. That was all it took for my tears to fall. I cried just like i had the day i came back to my parents’ house, sobbing into my old bed, thinking i’d lost Jack. But this time, i cried in relief because he is here, holding me just as tightly, apologizing for what had happened.

“i’m sorry too, baby. I’m so, so sorry.”

he pulled back just enough to cup my face in his hands. His eyes were red, his lips trembled, but he was looking at me with so much love.

“we’re gonna fix this,” he said, not breaking eye contact. “This can’t happen again. I don’t want to ever feel this fear of losing you again, so we’re gonna fix it.”

and we did. When we got home, we talked for hours, setting personal and relationship boundaries and clearing up what had happened that day.

“Jack makes me feel safe,” i confessed to my mom. “He shows me everything i’ve learned from my past experiences and helps me use it in a positive way,” i added, looking at her. “He helps me, and together we’re building a relationship that tries to be as healthy as possible. And i didn’t even know that that was possible before being with him!” I laughed bitterly. “He makes everything feel right—but not in that honeymoon phase way, you know what i mean?”

So when I touch down

Call the amateurs and

Cut 'em from the team

Ditch the clowns, get the crown

Baby I'm the one to beat

this time, the memory was more casual, sweeter, and perfectly represented what it feels like to be in a relationship with someone like Jack.

we were in the garage, in a space we decorated together, which has a small net and some sticks and plastic balls we use for “training.” We had dinner about half an hour before, and Luke was so tired he decided to head to bed early. Jack and i, however, weren’t sleepy, so we decided the best thing to do was burn some energy by training. Well, Jack calls it training, but all i do is stand in front of the net and clumsily try to block the balls he shoots my way.

i don’t think i’m much help in his training, but honestly, neither of us cares. It’s fun, and i love feeling this free and silly with him.

“come on, at least try to catch it!” he complained, laughing loudly and teasing my slowness.

“i am trying!” i defended myself, but i laughed just as hard.

Jack shot another ball in my direction, and this time, i actually managed to catch it. I let out a squeal of surprise and looked at Jack, who was smiling widely.

“i did it!” i jumped into his arms, and he hugged me tightly in return. The garage echoed with our loud laughter and cheers, and that repeated for a while until we finally started feeling tired.

the next morning, when i turned on my phone, I didn’t expect to find a message from Luke. But when i opened it, my heart melted instantly. It was a photo from last night—the moment I hugged Jack after finally catching the ball. It was a beautiful photo, and Luke’s message made it even sweeter.

“i was gonna tell you two to shut up because i could hear you from my room, but when i saw you two i couldn’t bring myself to do it. You looked too happy. Still, please shut up next time.”

“and… with Jack, everything feels so natural, even though i know being with him involves attention and some undesirable things. Normally, one would think that’s one of the biggest issues, but he’s shown me he’s willing to do whatever it takes to make sure i stay comfortable and true to myself.”

Cause the sign on your heart

Said it's still reserved for me

Honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?

when i started dating Jack, i should have expected that this would eventually become public, that people would find out at some point and our bubble of love and safety would be invaded by thousands of eyes and opinions. However, even though i thought about it once, i never imagined it would happen this soon. I didn't think it would happen now.

it all started with a mistake. I filmed a tiktok, just talking about a book i read and wanted to share with the group of people who follow me on the app. However, i never thought the video would reach more people than usual. It was no longer 100 views; it was nearly a million, and the comments were no longer about the book.

@/garretlover: omg, is that Jack Hughes??

@/hughesyjack: What?

@/garretlover: Yeah! Look at 0:42, on the right side, you can see a guy walking behind, and I swear it's Jack, he literally looks just like him!

@/oliviarofan_acc: Yall are delusional, it's just an average guy with brown, wavy hair.

these were just examples, but there were many more, debating whether the blurry figure in the background belonged to the famous hockey player or if it was just a guy who looked very similar. The comments were divided, and the video kept going viral because of this situation.

but what am i supposed to say? should i post a video clearing things up? should i say it’s not him or should i be honest? Jack and i had never talked about a situation like this because we never thought it would happen.

then, the pages dedicated to posting content about the New Jersey Devils began to take notice, some posting the news of this rumor that was getting bigger and bigger.

i guess my biggest mistake was opening the comments on these posts, because unlike my tiktok, there wasn’t so much debate about whether it was true or not, but people were giving their opinions about this controversy.

@/jackswife: why would people think he's with her loll

@/huggybiggestfan: Standards are so low now...

@/john928: What happened to the models? I thought players always dated models, or at least beautiful women

@/kay_fl: I saw the video before she deleted it, and honestly, her voice is so annoying, how could Jack be with her? I'd be in constant pain LMAOA

@/sidney87fan: Isn't she his fourth girlfriend this month? lol, I swear he's always with different women, people worry too much, he’ll probably dump her in a few days.

is this what it all comes down to? they just saw a two-minute video, i was just talking about a book, why is everyone now commenting about me and him?

i know i shouldn’t let it affect me, that i should stop looking at the comments, but it's addictive, and my finger keeps scrolling down the screen, with new comments appearing constantly. "She's fat," "she seems annoying," "she’s uglier than the last one," even darker comments, wishing horrible things for me and sharing information i’m not sure is public or if they got it from somewhere private.

any app i opened felt like a virus, it was everywhere, and i could only read the opinions of what they thought about me from that video, not even realizing it was nighttime until i heard the front door open and Jack's voice announcing his arrival.

“hey, babe,” he greeted, and i could feel my whole body tense up. My chest hurt and i wanted so badly to respond, to greet him and run to hug him like i always do, but i couldn't, because i knew that if i spoke, the knot in my throat would be obvious, and i felt like if i moved, my body would hurt more than ever. I saw him appear in front of me. He looked at me, and his brows furrowed when he did

“what happened?” he asked.

i shook my head and cleared my throat to speak, “Nothing, how was your day?” i asked, making an effort to stand. However, i didn’t go to hug him, but walked past him towards the kitchen, feeling a tear slip down my cheek as i heard his footsteps following me.

“it went well, the guys were in a good mood,” he replied softly, and although i was giving him my back, i could feel his gaze, intense, analyzing.

“that’s good,” i said quietly, grabbing a glass and filling it with water, which i quickly drank to get rid of the knot in my throat. Instead i felt like vomiting, and had to put the glass back and hold onto the counter, fighting the urge to empty my stomach.

there was silence, long enough to make me more anxious. My stomach twisted, and i had goosebumps. I couldn’t turn around to look at him, and my whole body hurt.

i heard him sigh, and before i could panic from it, i felt his hands on my waist, and his chin resting on my shoulder. “What’s going on, babe?” his touch was warm and comforting, and when he wrapped his arms around my waist, hugging me tighter, i could feel myself starting to fall apart. The tears began to fall uncontrollably, and my sobs were so loud i couldn’t speak. He didn’t rush me, he waited.

when i finally regained my breath, i started telling him everything that was going on, and he listened to every word without interrupting. When i finished, i looked at my shoulder. We stared at each other for a few seconds, without saying a word, until he straightened up, pulling away from me and using his hands on my waist to turn me around. When we were face to face, he opened his mouth, looking directly into my eyes.

“i don’t care if it was a one-minute video or a ten-minute one, or if i was on the side or the whole screen. I’m your boyfriend, you can show me, i can sneak in. Now, if you want it to be a secret or private, i’ll respect that, but believe me, i don’t mind being in something that involves you, because i really want this to be serious and real,” he started. “You and i both know i didn’t used to take things seriously, and that i had some casual relationships like people are saying, but this is different, and i see a future with you.” His hands gently caressed my waist. “Eventually, people will find out, but today I can start demanding that these posts be deleted and that no one talks about my private life. I can’t promise they’ll forget it, but i’ll do everything i can to make you feel comfortable again and to make sure you don’t feel like you owe anyone an explanation.” In his eyes i saw sadness. “I’m so sorry that this side of my job is affecting our relationship, but i really want you to feel safe enough to tell me anything that bothers you, because i swear i’ll do everything i can to change it.”

i don’t know if it was the tone of his voice, or the sincerity in his eyes. Or maybe it was his touch, his warmth, and the way his words seemed hypnotizing, but something about him made the pain in my chest start to lessen little by little, and only the remnants of my suffering were left in my swollen, irritated eyes and my congested nose.

“i’m sorry, i really didn’t want this to happen,” i said, and he quickly hugged me, to which i reciprocated, my body losing its tension and energy.

we stayed like that for minutes, or maybe hours, whatever it was, it was enough to make me feel better.

“by the way, don’t believe what they say, to me you’re beautiful. The most beautiful girl,” he confessed, making a small smile appear on my face.

“Jack is really an incredible guy, and even though at first i tried to resist, he made me understand that i shouldn’t,” i saw him stop talking to my cousins, and the smile on his face was so big that i started smiling without realizing it. “He...”

These blokes warm the benches

We been on a winning streak

He jokes that it's heroin but this time with an "E"

"Jack, in the recent photos posted on the team's social media, we've seen you looking very happy, and this season has been one of the best of your career. Is there something keeping you this motivated?" said the voice of that interviewer whose name i’ve forgotten.

this is the third time i´ve watched this video, but i can’t stop, and i feel like i’m smiling more each time.

Jack smiled, letting out a small laugh as he looked down. “Well, you know, the usual,” he replied, though you could feel the emotion and nervousness in his voice from that question.

oh, he definitely knows why he’s been so happy heading into games.

“is it about that girl? people in the comments talk a lot about how happy you seem since they’ve seen you with her,” the woman insisted.

“yes, she’s really helped me a lot, along with my family. She’s like a heroine,” he said, surprising me the first time, as he usually wouldn’t have said something like that. My heart beats so hard I feel like it’s going to leap out of my chest, and my cheeks burn so much they feel like they’re going to explode.

“I suppose she really is a heroine, since we haven’t seen results like this from the Devils in such a long time. Do you feel confident you’ll advance in the playoffs?”

then the video ended, followed by another, and another, and another. People in the comments started calling me the “heroine,” and unlike when the rumors about our relationship exploded, this time people seemed to support us, even seeming happy about the change in the star player.

“he’s different, and everything feels so right,” i sighed happily, watching as people slowly began entering the house, including Jack. “I know it’s hard to trust again—believe me, i know—but he’s worth it. And if you ever doubt it… he’ll show you a thousand times why you should believe in him and in his love.”

Shirts off, and your friends lift you up over their heads

Beer sticking to the floor

Cheers chanted, cause they said

There was no chance, trying to be

The greatest in the league

Where's the trophy?

He just comes running over to me

winning the Stanley Cup isn’t easy. Every team fights through long and grueling games, and each player endures physical and emotional challenges, chasing their dreams and hoping to achieve the ultimate prize while enjoying what they do. From my experience, i’ve seen these guys give it their all—pouring in effort, tears, hope, and trying to maintain faith in the incredible team they’ve built. They had to fall so many times, feel frustrated, stuck, questioning everything they know over and over again. But only by doing that were they able to rise again, coming back to win with breathtaking games—like the one where Jack pulled off another hat trick, like it was nothing, helping the team secure that electrifying win that pushed them into the finals. Now, after six incredible games, I can see the result of all these months of hard work.

there are screams, tars, leaps of joy, and i can feel my own cheeks wet as i watch how everything they fought for finally led to this prize—the Cup. Seeing Nico lift it felt surreal, and i feel like my heart is about to burst with happiness as i watch them smile and embrace each other. I don’t even know how much time has passed anymore, because i feel like i’m floating. I hear them singing, laughing, and i watch each of them lift the Cup, kissing it and savoring one of the best moments of their lives.

i spot Jack and Luke, hugging each other tightly, and beside me, i hear their mom crying with pride for her sons.

is this really happening?

then he looks in our direction, and his eyes find mine. I can only smile, and at some point, time begins to blur, and i find myself standing in front of him.

he won the Cup, but i swear, my prize is seeing him this happy. My prize is the way he runs into my arms, lifting me into the air and spinning me around as he laughs, refusing to let me go.

this is where i always want to be—supporting him every step of the way, in every moment. I want to be by his side.

i remember that moment perfectly because the photo Quinn took of us has been my lock screen ever since. We even have a framed photo at home to commemorate that day.

This happens once every few lifetimes

“so just trust me, because i know he’s the one,” i said, looking back at my mom and noticing she was smiling, wiping a tear from her cheek. At that moment, Jack walked into the kitchen, just as the song ended, smiling and greeting us, completely unaware of our little conversation.

yes, this is where i want to be forever.

#sturnsdc #jack hughes x reader #new jersey devils x reader #jack hughes #hughes brothers x reader #mama i love him #the alchemy #taylor song #Spotify #jh86 x reader #jh86 #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes fic #new jersey devils #nj devils

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seeingivy · 8 months ago

Text

long story short

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting fic

songs mentioned: saturn by sza, so american by olivia rodrigo, lover by taylor swift, good luck babe by chappell roan, margaret ft. bleachers by lana del ray, make you feel my love by adele, false god by taylor swift, only angel by harry styles, and long story short by taylor swift.

an: buckle in friends. songs and tweets and all :D

previous part linked here

six months later

The two of you decide that it would be smarter not to stay in the townhouse, for the time being. Because while Eren had bent backwards and forwards to buy the house without Levi noticing – which included paying a hefty tip to the realtors dealing with the sale – there was something too melancholy about staying there – and not having a plethora of voices echoing across the walls.

Eren’s first plan – to stay in the cabin in Ireland that his parents owned – was your next best bet. And really, it was the quietest little patch of land, accompanied by what might be the coziest town you’ve ever been in – and it was every bit of perfect.

The cabin was two stories and maybe the uniquest little house you’ve ever been in. With gold accents, a green kitchen, and what might be the prettiest garden – it was almost far too easy to pretend that you and Eren had left the bright shimmering lights and camera flashes behind.

Eren’s morning usually starts hours before yours – only because he insists that he has to run in the mornings to get a good start to the day. If you’re in a good enough mood, he’s able to coax you to come with him and the two of you choose to walk instead. Sometimes you wonder if Sukuna and Teddy talk about the same thing on their walks that you and Eren do.

The neighbors are either too old to mention anything or perhaps too polite. Because they show up here and there, unassumingly with a fresh loaf of baked bread, that they simply couldn’t let go to waste. And their kids that you happen to see on holidays, their eyes linger for a little too long – almost like they’re trying to convince themselves that it really is the two of you – but never make a comment about if they ever do get the shred of confidence.

There’s a kid, barely eleven, who brings homemade yogurt around on Friday, as an errand before he can go play with his friends. Sometimes Eren makes him late to his basketball games, because he finds himself lingering by the door too long, talking about things that are entirely lost to you. Though you should have figured as much, because Eren was always popular with the kids.

And you find a stray cat three months in – one that Eren lovingly names Milo. A tiny british shorthair, with light green eyes and white fur. Upon first inspection, you told Eren jokingly that you simply had to keep him, because he had Eren’s eyes. Eren took the joke a little too seriously, but the little diva that Milo ended up being always kept things interesting.

The only thing annoying about the cabin is Eren’s placement of the furniture, specifically the well loved coffee table that, in your opinion, needed to be centered in the main room. And that’s only because every morning, you’d get your breath nearly knocked out of your chest when you walked straight into it.

“You know, you need to move that goddamn coffee table.” you grumble, rubbing at the side of your hip.

Eren looks over, before placing his hands on your hips and lifting you up onto the counter. It’s a lingering kiss that he presses to your knuckles, as you use your free hand to rub at your eyes, before looking over at the pan.

“Connie’s on his way?” you ask.

“An hour out.” Eren responds.

“Okay, I’ll go set the clothes out. Anything specific you want?”

“The green hoodie. That you stole and thought I didn’t notice.” Eren grates.

You jump off the counter, pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek, before padding back into the room and setting the clothes aside. And it’s only a few minutes before Eren’s at your side, giving you a half-appreciative smile for returning the hoodie.

“Are you nervous? You know he’s going to have a meltdown right?”

Eren scoffs.

“Serves him right for what he did. Walking around talking about his girlfriend – you know, I’m half convinced she doesn’t even exist, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes.

“He’s literally bringing her along. You should have at least told him I would be here so you know…he doesn’t have a heart attack or something.”

The two of you took the idea of privacy too seriously. A little too serious, because now six months had passed and most of your friends didn’t even know you were together. And really, the two of you were very close to getting found out since you had an awards show to attend at the end of the month.

If Eren was any bit as hopeless as the neighbors mentioned, they would have the two of you figured out within a split second.

Levi and Hange knew, naturally. And then Colt and Falco, and by extension Gabi, since Falco seemingly could keep secrets, just not from her. And it extended out slowly – your parents, his and Zeke, Lana and Sukuna, and Jean and Mikasa.

Lana and Sukuna was an accident. Because Eren had been calling Teddy and you accidentally walked in the background. Jean and Mikasa were similar and only because you accidentally let his name slip from your mouth when you called them after their honeymoon.

The secret was well kept, but you knew the news was about to spread around to everyone, because Connie was about to find out, when he realized that you were living here with Eren during his little visit.

“Well, it serves him right. He’s about to tell everyone we know. Because he’s going to have to tell Reiner, who will tell Annie who obviously can’t keep it from Armin and it’s just going to snowball from there.” Eren mutters.

You shake your head at him, as the two of you pad out to the front where Eren’s left the plates of eggs steaming. You shuffle into your chair – making it a point to slam your notebook shut – and naturally, the gesture doesn’t get past Eren.

“What are you writing?” Eren asks.

“Nothing.”

Eren grins.

“Are you writing a song about me?” Eren jokes.

You roll your eyes. And Eren’s too quick with it – guising it by putting his arm around your waist – but he all but snatches the book from underneath your elbow. And he looks to you for confirmation before he starts flipping to the page he was looking for you can see the recognition clock on his face, before he looks over at you.

“Saturn, hm?”

You take the book back from him, running your fingers over the inked lines and the tiny drawing in the corner.

If karma's really real How am I still here? Just seems so unfair I could be wrong though If there's a point to being good Then where's my reward? The good die young and poor I gave it all I could

Stuck in this terradome All I see is terrible Making us hysterical There's got to be more, got to be more Sick of this head of mine Intrusive thoughts, they paralyze Nirvana's not as advertised There's got to be more, been here before

Ooh (ooh, ooh) Life's better on Saturn Got to break this pattern Of floating away Ooh (ooh, ooh) Find something worth saving It's all for the taking I always say

I'll be better on Saturn None of this matters Dreaming of Saturn, oh

It plagues Eren, in the smallest of ways. It was almost like he could tell that on certain days, the reality of it all seemed to wear you down, to the point where you really didn’t say too much and spent far too much time by yourself outside. He figured this is the closest he would get to really understanding what it was like for you, in the two years that you spent by yourself.

And it does really bother him, that this is the only thing he can’t help you with. Because having six months of the still, quiet life gave you time to think, to really process everything that had happened.

And it was chilling. Because it would almost be easier, if this wasn’t the only thing plaguing your mind. But he had asked you time and time again and the answer was always the same – that you didn’t have any regrets, about how the two of you came back together, the relationships that you repaired, or even the havoc you wrecked at the award shows. That really, they were all means to an end.

But there was one regret you did have, and maybe in the cruelest of ways, it was the one you couldn’t put to rest in this lifetime – which was taking Marco for granted.

The smaller things helped – the sweet stories about him in the two years you missed, the voicemail that Eren had gifted you at the funeral, and all the polaroids you pulled off the wall. But deep down, in the pit of your stomach, it was the only piece of it all that you hadn’t been able to rectify yet.

“Yeah, Saturn.” you respond.

“Have you given any thought to my offer?” Eren asks.

You wrote songs about Marco often. And Eren read all of them, helping you work through piecing together the composition. But one of the songs – one you called Bigger Than The Whole Sky – seemed to concern Eren so much that he left a tiny little card on your pillow that night.

With the number to his therapist.

Eren doesn’t say much, only because he knows it’ll fall on deaf ears, and that sometimes with you – sometimes his hands in yours are the only thing that he can offer. And the quiet offer of the therapist he gave was more of a think piece for you – hoping that you’d at least give it a chance someday.

But the resolve of it all is quickly shattered when the doorbell rings – with Connie and his girlfriend behind the door.

Eren sighs.

“Are you ready for everyone to know our secret?” Eren asks.

“No. And yes. I’m kind of just excited to watch him kind of have a meltdown.”

Eren grins.

“You and me both. I’ll go get him.”

You pad into the kitchen, reaching for two empty dishes and plating the extra eggs for them as you hear Connie hollering at the door, and relish in the little wave of excitement that rises in your stomach.

“Okay, well. I made breakfast so just kind of help yourselves. Do you need the bathroom?” Eren asks.

“We’re good.” Connie responds

Eren gives you a bright and glimmering two dimpled smile as he stops in the kitchen, before looking over at Connie who now looks like he’s some mix of constipated and fraught.

“I made you guys some plates. I do hope you still like eggs, Connie, because we haven’t had a chance to do groceries lately.” you respond.

Connie’s eye twitches as you give him a bright smile before walking closer and opening up your arms. And he’s almost too confused – because he barely hugs you back before turning to Eren.

“What’s she doing here?” Connie asks.

Eren smiles.

“You’re not the only one with a secret girlfriend, Connie. Two can play that game.” Eren responds, as he takes the plates and gestures for Connie’s girlfriend to follow him to the main table.

Connie pauses, before looking over at you.

“You guys are pranking me, right? Because I didn’t tell you? Because that’s in no way funny.” Connie asks.

You point to the polaroids pinned on the fridge – a mix of old and new – before turning back to him.

“While we do love to mess with you, even we wouldn’t be that committed to a bit like this. Now come eat, you’ve had a long flight.” you respond.

Contrary to your wishes, Connie, in fact, does not eat. He spends the first ten minutes staring the two of you down – to the point where it’s almost creepy – before asking you an insane amount of questions.

When did you start dating?

Or better yet, when are you getting married?

How does it feel to be a traitor?

And it’s only after an insane amount of questioning, before he slumps back down into his chair, before offering the two of you a sweet smile.

“You’re really dating, right?” Connie asks.

Eren rolls his eyes.

“That’s the tenth fucking time you’ve asked me that. I’m starting to think that it’s insulting – is it really that shocking to you that a pretty girl would date me?” Eren asks.

Connie rolls his eyes right back.

“Yeah, when that pretty girl spends her time being just as clueless as you.” Connie responds.

You avert your gaze to your left, where Connie’s girlfriend – Maryam – is sitting and give her a smile. It’s one that she returns right back, before whispering underneath Connie and Eren’s bickering.

“You’ll have to forgive him. This is a really big deal to him.” she mumbles.

“Don’t worry, I’m well aware. He’s spent half of his young life trying to play cupid, I would only assume that it’s overwhelming to finally see your dreams come true.”

She gives you a smile, as you elbow Eren in the side, and signal for him to stop.

“Speaking of cupid, how did you and Connie meet?” you ask.

It’s horribly bad timing – because the big sip of water she took goes immediately back in the glass as she gives Connie a weary glare. And he gives her a bright grin, before turning back to you.

“See, it’s kind of funny. She –”

“Connie!” she whispers.

“What? You’re going to have to tell them eventually.” Connie responds.

“Yeah, but I just met them. This is the kind of stuff you tell people years later, as in "haha want to know something crazy?” not like…two seconds after you meet them.” she whispers back.

You and Eren turn to each other, giving each other a look, before turning back to Connie.

“They won’t care, I promise.” Connie responds.

She gives him a weary look, before turning back to the two of you with wide, doe eyes.

“Listen. I swear to god, I’m not a stalker. Y/N, I didn’t even know you were going to be here…and…and I didn’t even know I was like…talking to Connie before I was talking to Connie.”

Eren interrupts her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

She sighs, before lifting her palms and burying her eyes in the heels of her hand and Connie, for some unknown reason, seems to be enjoying himself a little too much. She gives you both one last look, before dropping her hands.

“I met Connie on stan twitter.”

“What?” you ask.

“Well, he was one of my mutuals. And I…I always talk to my mutuals and we used to text all the time. And then I started really liking him and…and we made a deal to kind of meet up when he was in New York. And then I showed up and he was just fucking standing there. I knew for years that Connie was on stan twitter since he always used to accidentally send his burner tweets to his main but…I didn’t think I was talking to fucking Connie.”

You and Eren bite down on your cheeks, fighting the urge to laugh.

“Connie, I think you’ve finally met your match. This is kind of perfect.” you respond.

“I know, right?” Connie responds, giving you a bright smile back.

“You didn’t like…think he was punking you?” Eren asks.

“Oh, I totally thought he was punking me. It was only until he mentioned all the things that we had talked about, over the years mind you, that I actually realized it was him I was talking to all this time. And it started to make more sense, because he always seemed to know more about things that were happening than what was kind of shown on the surface.” Maryam replies.

You shake your head.

“So who did you run a fan account for? Was it Connie?” you ask.

She pinches her face.

“Right. Well, I…I actually ran a fan account for you. Both of you. You’ve actually both interacted with me on Twitter…multiple times.”

You slam your fist down on the table.

“Oh my fucking god. You’re THE fan account girl. Your username is y/n jaeger and you…you have that green profile picture?” you ask.

“Holy shit. We’ve like literally talked about you multiple times.” Eren adds.

Connie takes his free arm and slings it around her shoulder, before flinging it around her shoulder.

“Told you, they literally don’t care.”

“I swear though, I’m really not a stalker.” she adds again, almost like she’s entirely embarrassed.

You and Eren shake your heads.

“Well, you didn’t even know I was going to be here.” you respond.

“And you didn’t even know that the person you were talking to on Twitter was Connie.” Eren adds.

“And for what it’s worth, if I remember right, you’ve been one of the people who’s been defending us since the start – especially when it wasn’t a very popular thing to do. Which is something we’re really grateful for. And well…I’m happy if Connie’s happy, which he very clearly is.”

Connie gives her a smile, one that she returns, before turning back to you guys.

“I know it’s kind of silly, but I just really liked you guys. I was really into fashion when I was a kid and I really liked your stylists. And then I watched your show and listened to your music – and I just really loved it. Classes and medical school and all that would get really stressful, but it was fun to talk about the little hints that you seemed to leave in your music and the beautiful documentary you made.”

You and Eren turn to each other and smile.

“We appreciate that, really. And well…this kind of worked out perfectly, because we might need your help in a few months.” you respond.

“With?” she asks.

Eren sighs.

“We kind of want to keep the public off of our tails for some time. While we’re fine with telling our friends now –”

“You better be fine with it because I already told Reiner and Sasha.” Connie adds.

Eren gives him a glare before turning back to Maryam.

“I know you have a lot of followers and if…if you made it seem like…”

“Like you guys weren’t dating, other people would believe it.” she finishes.

“Yeah. We’ve just spent so much of our relationship out in the open, we…we kind of want to share it with everyone when we’re ready.” you add.

She smiles.

“I’ll do what I can.”

Connie helps you make dinner on the last day of his visit – only as a gesture to thank the two of you for your hospitality and for finally getting back together. It gives Eren time to show Maryam the final scripts of Attack on Titan that he has saved, delighting her by sharing all the scenes that got cut or edited in the final season.

“Can I ask you a question?” Connie asks.

“Sure.”

“Are you happy?”

You smile.

“Very happy, Connie. Really.”

Connie gives you a smile, before leaning forward.

“But?” he asks.

“No buts. I am really happy.”

“I don’t doubt that, but…surely there must be other things you’ve been thinking about. I feel like there’s something else kind of lingering in your…aura.”

“Don’t talk to me about auras, Connie.”

“You’ve got a weird and off putting vibe every time I interact with you on your own, princess.”

You sigh.

“Did you talk to Eren?” you ask.

“No. I can just tell. So there is something that’s bothering you?”

You pause, abandoning the spoon in the pot, as you look down at the mix of noodles. It’s a pink sauce – one that Connie swears by – that included a decent amount of the leftover vodka that you and Eren had gifted to you by the neighbors. You made a passing joke that Jean and Mikasa would love this dish and it made Connie laugh so hard he nearly burned his own hand off.

And you’re not sure where it comes from but before you know it, there’s hot tears pouring out of your eyes and Connie’s warm arms around you. And it’s a quiet whisper that you’re able to muster out in response.

“Yeah. There’s something bothering me.” you respond.

“Well, no shit, princess. You’re getting snot all over my shirt. What is it?”

You fight the urge to laugh at the sarcasm before pulling back and looking up at him.

“Marco.”

Connie sighs, before giving you a nod.

“Yeah, that’ll do it.” Connie responds.

You pause.

“I just…feel like something’s wrong with me. Everyone else seemed to have moved forward from it or…or seem like they’re handling it better than me.”

“I think there’s different circumstances. What you have to move on from is entirely different from what the rest of them do.” Connie offers.

You heave another sigh, using the back of your hand to wipe the wetness away.

“What do you mean?”

“What you went through was entirely different than what someone like…Sukuna struggles with or Eren for that matter. They’ve had their fair share of struggles, but yours is just different than theirs. That means you can’t compare the two. They talked to them right until the end. And because of your circumstances, you didn’t. It must be hard not to blame yourself for it.”

Connie pauses.

“When I was struggling after rehab, being…being around things like that again, at afterparties and stuff…I found it really hard to even keep my head level in situations like that. It was so overstimulating…so overwhelming, that I found myself locking myself in my house alone with her for a week.”

“You sound like me.” you respond.

“That’s exactly the point. Sometimes things are so overwhelming that you can’t do anything but that. Locking yourself in the house till you have a bearing on it. And people like Sukuna and Eren, I…I almost envy them sometimes. They find a way to keep moving forward when all I can find myself doing is standing in one place and staring at myself from the outside in.”

“Eren’s really hopeful. And I know deep down that he is right. That Marco wasn’t mad at me, not in the slightest. But…I can’t help but be mad at myself. I feel like sometimes I’m reliving the entire thing over again.” you respond.

Connie smiles.

“You sound like me.” Connie murmurs.

“You seem fine, though. For the most part.” you add.

Connie reaches forward, cupping the side of your face.

“I’m lucky enough that the people I’ve wanted to make amends with are still here. But even then, that wasn’t enough, not for the blame. Sometimes…you need a little extra help. And really Y/N, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Connie’s ears seem to ring in your ears as you watch him and Maryam drive away. And even more so when you and Eren settle in for bed that night and he reaches over to shut the light switch.

You reach for Eren’s hand, locking your fingers in with his in the sheets, before squeezing three times, a gesture that he returns.

“Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Do…do you still have that card that you gave me? A few weeks ago?”

Eren leans closer to you and you take the invitation to crawl into his open arms.

“Of course I do. Did you want to use it, sweetheart?” he whispers.

The warm tears return and Eren’s quick to wipe them away.

“Yeah, I think so.”

At the end of the month, Connie’s beloved girlfriend helps devise the best plan known to man. Which involved a little bit of acting, lying, and theatrics – something you and Eren were no strangers to.

It was fairly obvious, after everything that had happened, it would be hard to make people believe that you and Eren hadn’t ended up together. And she figured it would only work if you admitted to the fact that you were dating other people and really sold it in your last press tour and awards campaign that you were soulmates – but in the platonic type of way.

It’s why you spent three weeks in the press talking about your new beloved boyfriend, Bruce, who was just a normal guy that you met at your recording studio. Coupled with the newest song you released – so american, something Eren most definitely wouldn’t call you – people were quick to switch the breaks and think otherwise.

Eren was doing the same, fawning in any and every interview, about his sweet new girlfriend Margaret, one of the assistant costume designers that he met on the set of Attack on Titan. About how she was the sweet love of his life, who had shown up right when he needed her.

It wasn’t an entire lie.

Besides the fact that it really is so fun to pretend in plain sight, the awards show was the first time that the group of you got to be together again. You were seated right next to Lana and Sukuna – the former of which is exuding the sweetest glow from her baby girl that’s due any week now and the latter who has a set of choice words for you when you take your seats together.

“I don’t get it. Why don’t you just fucking tell people?” Sukuna mutters.

You smile.

“Simple. We don’t want to.” you respond.

“Yeah, but your boy toy is about to win the award of his dreams, again, and you’re about to be ten feet away getting cock blocked by lesbians.”

You smile. Eren, in all of his brilliance, was nominated for the Best Actor in a TV Show, yet again. And truly, it was no competition – you were all positive that he was going to win, something that he wasn’t so keen about himself.

“We can hear you.” Ymir mutters.

“We can switch seats if you want Y/N, for that part. If you want to sit next to Eren.” Sofia adds.

You give her a smile, before sinking back into your chair and looping your arm through Ymir’s – who was going to be accompanying you as the opener on the Birds of a Feather tour, with her lovely Sofia, who she married last weekend.

“Where are Jean and Mikasa? I have an itch to get blackout drunk right now.” Ymir mutters.

“No point in trying.. They’re already back there and borderline blackout drunk with empty flasks already..” you respond.

“Figures.”

“They pressed some really wet kisses to my cheek earlier. If I didn’t love them, I would find it absolutely disgusting.” you add.

You give Ymir and Sukuna a light nudge at your sides, before standing up to the group of people walking up to you.

“Oikawa, right? From Haikyuu?” you ask.

He towers over you, looking down at you as he offers you a smile.

“That’s right. We’ve replied to each other a lot on Twitter.” he responds.

“Right. It’s nice to meet you in person, again. I feel like we’ve probably walked past each other a bunch of times, but…it’s nice to talk.”

He smiles.

“Listen, I was planning on telling you this last weekend, but I’m planning on bringing my girlfriend to your opening show next weekend. She’s a really big fan…and she’d love to meet you.”

You place a hand on his bicep, and really, only because you can’t reach his shoulder.

“Of course. I’ll get you a seat in the VIP tent with everyone else coming, okay?”

“What was last weekend?” Sukuna asks.

Oikawa turns to his left, giving an entirely unassuming smile.

“Hm?”

“You said you were going to ask her last weekend.” Sukuna clarifies.

“Oh! Right, I just figured you’d be at Historia’s wedding that’s all. But she told me, it really is a shame that you were all too busy.”

You’re dumbfounded as he gives you all one last smile, before walking away. And Eren and Connie are quick to join you at your sides, Eren’s hand ghosting across yours at his side.

“What did that tool want?” Eren asks.

“Did Historia tell you that?” Sukua asks, to which you shake your head.

“Was he hitting on you? I’ve seen him on Twitter, don’t even get me started.” Eren mutters.

Sukuna rolls his eyes.

“Dude, this is so not the time to be getting your panties in a twist.” Sukuna responds.

“What did he say?” Connie asks, nudging you in the side.

“Historia got married. Last weekend.” Ymir states, an almost gravelly tone to her voice.

Connie and Eren give you a weary look, before turning back to her.

“She didn’t invite any of you and told all the guests that you guys were all too busy to come. Too busy to come because you were at my wedding, with the date I've had set for months now.”

Sofia stands at Ymir’s side, looping her arm in with Ymir’s as she offers a small smile. And it gets worse – because the horribly timed news made you all forget that Historia was the opener for the show that you wer eall sitting at.

You can’t help but admit it, but the willowing white dress that she wears is beautiful. But there’s a part of it that haunts you, almost like she’s a ghost instead of a bride, as she takes the center of the stage with a pink guitar and a glimmering ring on her finger.

“My name’s Historia Reiss. This is my newest song, everyone – it’s called Lover.”

Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever? And ah, take me out, and take me home You're my, my, my, my Lover

Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand? With every guitar string scar on my hand I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue All's well that ends well to end up with you Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover

Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever? And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever) You're my, my, my, my Oh, you're my, my, my, my Darling, you're my, my, my, my Lover

You watch as Ymir sinks into her seat, securing her own hand in Sofia’s, as you look over at Eren. And in the few seconds that you have between the commercial break, before you have to head backstage to announce the award, you lean forward and place your chin on her shoulder.

“Are you okay, Ymir?” you ask, shooting Sofia a pinched smile over the way.

“She’s fucking insane.” Ymir mutters.

You’re taken off guard by the hostility. Only because in every rehearsal that you’ve shared with Ymir, she’s all but remorseful for how things ended with them – and even moreso, was looking forward to being friends again.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“She’s trying to piss me off. I’ve heard that fucking song – it’s one she wrote about me when we were still filming season three.”

You wince, sharing a look with Eren, before turning back to her and squeezing one of her shoulders.

“I don’t know what her problem is. If she’s trying to make me feel…regret over what I did last weekend, that’s far from it. I have no regrets about the people or the person I’ve chosen for myself. She can sing herself sick about it if she wants to.” Ymir finishes.

“Good for you.” Connie states.

“Huh?” Ymir asks.

“Good for you. Really. You know what you want and you’ve had it by your side this entire time. If she wants to be bitter about it, she can go right ahead. That won't stop you from having that by your side or make her feel any better – and I’m sure she’ll realize that eventually.” Connie finishes.

You give Connie a smile, before gesturing to take your open seat as the ushers arrive to take you backstage. And you’re met with the sight of Hange and Levi – with a glimmering golden trophy and an envelope in their hands.

“He won, didn’t he?” you ask.

“We don’t know.”

“Do you think they’d like kill me if I opened it?” you ask, as Levi places the glittering envelope in your hands.

Hange smiles.

“In all seriousness kid, I think they’re kind of anticipating you will. WIth you as the announcer and us handing over the trophy, it’s fairly obvious they’re expecting something great.” Hange responds.

You give the two of them a smile as you turn over the envelope, breaking through the latch of the sticker, and pulling the little cardstock slip out. And surely enough, it’s in bright, bold letters.

Best Lead Actor in a TV Show - Eren Jaeger, Attack on Titan: The Final Season

You look up at them and smile, trying to contain that scratchy feeling in the back of your throat.

“He did it.” you whisper.

They both give you bright smiles as they link in their arms with yours, the three of you waiting for your cue at the side of the curtains. And on their mark, the three of you walk out into the bright lights, as you scan the crowd for where Eren’s sitting – noting the bright smile on his face and the wink he offers you.

“I think the fact that I’m standing here, with Hange and Levi at my sides, is proof that one of the best actors of our generation has won one of the most special awards here tonight.”

And you watch as Jean and Connie’s eyes go wide, as they reach forward and secure their hands on Eren’s shoulders, jostling him as he brings his hands up to his cheeks – in utter disbelief.

“While he’s winning an award for acting tonight, I truly do think that the recipient is a jack of all trades. Because he’s been so involved in this beautiful show – from picking the co-star in his first chemistry screen reading, to bringing life to the pages, and at the end, actually writing them. It’s been a joy to watch him in his element for the last ten years and really, to share such a big part of my life with someone who is so special.”

You look down at the envelope, pulling out the slip again.

“The award for Best Actor in a TV show goes to Eren Jaeger, Attack on Titan: The Final Season.”

It’s an obscene amount of hollering – mostly from Reiner, Connie, and Jean – as you watch Eren hug Gabi and Falco before pressing a kiss to Lana’s cheek and making his way to the stage. And it’s almost too sweet – getting to watch the lingering hugs that Hange and Levi give Eren, before he turns to you to give a polite hug.

You take the few seconds you have to say your piece.

“Hey. Guess what?” you whisper.

“What?”

“I told you so. All those years ago.” you respond.

Eren presses a kiss to your cheek, before the three of you all shuffle off to the side, and watch Eren from a few feet away. And you watch as he runs his hand nervously through his hair, before looking down at the award.

“I promise I’ll make a speech this time.” Eren starts.

You all laugh, as he looks over at you, before turning back to the crowd.

“I…I truly have no words for what this show has meant to me and what it has brought me. Almost ten years ago, two writers turned screenwriters, for whatever god awful reason, saw a film in which I had all but ten minutes of screentime before I got killed off. And for some reason, it spoke to them – so much so that they decided to make me the lead of their show. It seems strange at first, but they’re the first people I find myself being the most thankful for, because they’re the only reason that anything after came. I’ve made…”

Eren’s voice cracks and you swallow hard.

“I’ve made lifelong relationships and…and a real family. I’ve had the privilege of meeting my partner in crime, Connie, the sweetest friends I’ve ever had, Jean and Mikasa, and maybe one of the only people who understands me best, Armin. I’ve met maybe one of the most important people in my life, Y/N L/N, who gives definition to being the best friend and partner everyday, and most of all, I’ve met the love of my life, my sweet Margaret. There are no words for how thankful I am, really. Thank you so much.”

There’s a resounding sound of cheers as Eren links his arm in with yours and the four of you clump together backstage. And in the few seconds of quiet you have, you reach forward and cup the side of his face before pressing another kiss to his cheek.

“I’m so happy for you, Eren. You dream came true – the right way this time.”

Eren smiles, before linking one of his hands in with yours.

“You next.” Eren states.

You scoff.

“Leave it to you to make your award about me. Just be happy.” you respond.

“I am happy. But really, you’re next.” Eren states.

“You can’t become triple threats twice, Eren.”

“You know, I’ve happened to write very convincing letters in the past. To have them accept demos from me on behalf of you, to consider you for awards for years on end. I think I’ll try my luck on that one and see where it gets me, sweetheart.”

The following week, Eren’s standing by your side backstage with Sofia on the other side, in the mere minutes before you perform. If your timing was correct, Ymir was halfway into her set and seriously killing it, meaning that you were going to follow in under an hour.

Gabi and Falco are the first ones to greet you backstage – and the first guests on the Birds of a Feather tour.

When you think back to the past, all the memories of touring are the worst. Because the only thing you can remember is your legs shaking from the exhaustion, your ears deaf from the screaming, and your chest hurting from the pain – before you were dragged onto stage another time by Danny and Sareen and forced to do it again.

It’s why you kept the tour relatively short by your standards, with thirty-six shows, and your friends by your side.

If they wrote the songs with you, they could perform them with you too. And while Glue Song was technically Gabi’s request, Falco’s the feature – so it was only fair to let both of them sing it with you on the first day.

And you watch from far as Eren stands behind both of their little vanities, hearing the ends of their conversation – as Eren reassures both of them before taking pictures of the two of them together. And it’s almost like he can see you watching him, because he turns to look over his shoulder, before offering you a smile and walking over.

“Not that people know, but you and I are kind of the first ladies of the Birds of a Feather tour.” Sofia states.

“What do you mean?” Eren asks.

“My wife is the opener. Your girlfriend is the main set. We’re the first ladies.” Sofia states.

Eren snorts as he reaches for the back of your hair, readjusting it against your bodysuit, before giving you a smile.

“Ready?”

“I think so.”

Sofia gives the two of you a sweet smile, as she loops her arm in with yours and leans her head against your shoulder. And three songs in, you feel her tense you at your side.

“Oh god. Here it comes.” Sofia murmurs.

“Here what comes?” you ask.

She turns her head to the side, confused.

“She didn’t tell you? She added a new song to the setlist, it’s…about Historia.” Sofia responds.

“Does she know that Historia’s actually here in the tent? With her husband?”

Marcus, Historia’s newly wedded husband, was nice. It’s really the only word that you could use to describe him, because honestly, it didn’t seem like there was much else going on besides that. He mentioned a plethora of niceties when you met him hours prior – that he had missed you at the wedding, that he had memorized all the songs before the show started so he could fully enjoy it – and that was it.

You could tell that he didn’t have the faintest idea about Historia and Ymir, or Historia at all.

But he was kind. And he wouldn’t hurt Historia and you supposed that was all that mattered.

“That’s kind of the point, Y/N.” Sofia mumbles.

The three of you inch closer to the edge of the stage, just out of view of the curtains, as you watch Ymir’s visuals change – bright graphic letters spelling out Good Luck, Babe!

It's fine, it's cool You can say that we are nothing, but you know the truth And guess I'm the fool With her arms out like an angel through the car sunroof

I don't wanna call it off But you don't wanna call it love You only wanna be the one that I call "baby"

You can kiss a hundred boys in bars Shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling You can say it's just the way you are Make a new excuse, another stupid reason Good luck, babe (well, good luck), well, good luck, babe (well, good luck) You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling Good luck, babe (well, good luck), well, good luck, babe (well, good luck) You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling

You look over at Eren, who is crushing your hand to oblivion at your left, before turning back to Sofia.

“Jesus Christ.” Eren whispers.

“I can’t even blame her. Historia came for blood last weekend.”

“That’s not even half of it. It gets worse.”

You and Eren widen your eyes, before leaning forward and paying attention again. And it’s insane, because Ymir’s crouching on the ground – before she fully lies down and starts belting into the microphone.

When you wake up next to him in the middle of the night With your head in your hands, you're nothing more than his wife And when you think about me, all of those years ago You're standing face to face with "I told you so" You know I hate to say, "I told you so" You know I hate to say, but, I told you so

You can kiss a hundred boys in bars Shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling (well, I told you so) You can say it's just the way you are Make a new excuse, another stupid reason Good luck, babe (well, good luck), well, good luck, babe (well, good luck) You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling Good luck, babe (well, good luck), well, good luck, babe (well, good luck) You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling

a year and a half later

After almost two years of being married, Jean and Mikasa welcome a baby girl, named Olivia, in October. And on her fourth week of life, they invite all of you over to meet her in Seattle.

You’d be lying if it didn’t fill you with dread.

“Why are you freaking out?” Eren asks, reaching down to adjust the charms of your necklace, the Saturn charm now accompanied by an ocean wave, against your collarbone, before looking back up at you.

“Babies don’t really like me.” you state.

“You know, they can kind of sense when you’re all…tense and stuff. Just relax when they ask you to hold her.”

You groan.

“Jean and Mikasa can keep their empath baby to themselves. What do you mean it can sense if I’m stressed?”

“You’ll drop her if you’re being too stiff. Just cradle her head against you.” Eren responds.

“That’s exactly why I can’t hold her!”

Eren rolls his eyes.

“She’s basically like your niece. You’ll have to hold her eventually.” Eren deadpans.

“Maybe when she’s older. Fully conscious and talking and stuff, you know. Like Teddy.”

Eren sighs, almost acutely aware of how hopeless you were when it came to this, from the way you acted with Lily. Except Sukuna was far less faith in you than Jean and Mikasa and agreed with you every time you refused to hold her out of fear.

Eren locks his hand in with yours as he drags you to the porch, only to be met with Zeke and Carla answering the door.

“You’re finally here!”

Eren’s mom pulls you forward, nearly side sweeping Eren and trapping you in a crushing hug as you give Zeke a pained look at your side, to which the two of them only laugh in response. And when Carla lets go, she brings her hands down to your wrists, before squeezing.

“You’re a vision in yellow! This dress is beautiful, Y/N.”

“Mom. You’re laying it on a little thick there.” Eren mumbles, placing his hands on her shoulders before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Shut up, Eren. This is the closest I’ve gotten to having a daughter.” Carla states.

You look over at Eren – entirely aware of how much his parents, or more specifically Carla had been, about how he needed to propose soon. But Eren rolls his eyes as he walks off, greeting Lana and Teddy in the kitchen as you turn back to her and wrap one of your free arms around her.

“Did you see Olivia yet?” you ask.

“She’s beautiful. Oh, she looks just like Jean.”

“Well, that’s a shame.” you respond.

“I heard that, twerp.”

You look over to find the source of the voice – a very tired Jean, with a stubble and a well grown out mullet – glaring at you. But the second you look at him properly, he gives you a smile as you run forward, wrapping your arms around him as he returns the gesture.

“Hi, Mr. Dad.”

“That’s the best you could come up with? Mr. Dad?”

“Saying just Dad is weird. But I had to acknowledge the fact that you…have a whole child just out here and breathing and stuff.”

“Wow. You really have such a way with words.” Jean states, as the two of you trail down to the kitchen, where Eren and Jean do their weird handshake.

You feel a tugging at your legs, before you pick up Teddy who leans his head against yours.

“You get bigger everytime I see you, kid.

“I’m a growing boy.” Teddy shrugs, as you turn to Lana and laugh.

“He’s getting every bit of sass from Sukuna.” Lana states.

“I can tell.” you respond, before turning back to him.

Sukuna presses a kiss to your cheek as a greeting, before Connie and Reiner join the group as well and do the same.

“How are you today, Teddy? Did you see baby Olivia yet?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

You smile as you turn over to Eren, who leans against the counter and watches the two of you from a few feet away. He fights the urge to take a picture – only because Sukuna would tease him into oblivion – and makes a mental note to ask for one like it later, of Teddy snuggled in your arms and resting his head against your cheek.

“Did you like her?” you ask.

“She’s cute. For a baby.”

“You wanna tell Y/N what you told me, Theo?” Sukuna asks.

Teddy sits up, turning to Sukuan with confusion.

“Tell her what, Dad?”

“About what you did when you saw Olivia.” Sukuna clarifies.

He turns back to you, a smile on his face.

“I held baby Olivia all on my own.”

You turn back to Sukuna and Eren, the two of them laughing with irritating smiles on their faces as you stick their tongues out at them.

“Oh, be quiet.” you murmur.

“If my literal child can carry that baby, so can you.” Sukuna states.

Sukuna rolls his eyes, before taking Teddy from your arms.

“I’m gonna grab a drink.” Sukuna states.

“I’ll come with.” you respond.

The two of you walk quietly out to the little backyard, as you fill three glasses of lemonade and hold one out to each of them.

“So do you just not want kids in the future?”

“What? Of course, I do.” you respond.

Sukuna snickers.

“Are you not going to hold your own child?”

You roll your eyes.

“Pump the brakes, Sukuna. Eren and I aren’t even married yet.”

“Speaking of. Are you two ever going to tie the knot?”

You shrug.

“We’ve talked about it before. It’s definitely in the cards but I told him that he should wait until he feels ready. And things are really nice now, the way they are. I figure he’s just soaking in it all.” you state.

“Would you say yes if he proposed?” Sukuna asks.

“Are you crazy?”

“I mean…you’re saying that you told Eren to wait until he was ready. There’s no doubt you will of course, but are you ready for that?”

You nurse the little glass of lemonade close to your chest, before looking up at him and smiling.

“I’ve been waiting to marry him since I was like sixteen. Of course I’m ready.”

Sukuna gives you a smile, before gesturing for you to follow him back inside where Eren’s waiting for you patiently. And you can tell by the excited smile on his face and the way that he grabs your waist exactly where he’s leading you next.

“You should be excited. This is literally both of our best friends, in one person.”

“I am excited. I just want her to like us, that’s all.”

When you enter the room, it’s quiet – with Levi, Jean, and Mikasa’s mom by the crib and Mikasa sitting in the bed, rearranging the little toys.

You and Eren beeline in different directions, with him heading straight for the baby and you heading straight towards Mikasa’s side. And you can’t help but do it – reach forward and cup her cheeks before hugging her full on.

“Mikasa, you look so cute.” you mumble, as she nearly crushes you with her death grasp of a hug.

Mikasa pulls back, rolling her eyes, as she eyes your dress.

“Are you saying I look different after Olivia?”

You roll your eyes.

“You’re all full in the face. With rosy pink cheeks. It’s adorable.” you whisper.

“Well, you’re quite adorable too. This is a beautiful dress – I’m going to side sweep Eren and propose first if he doesn’t get around to it.”

“I heard that, Mikasa.” Eren deadpans, from his far corner of the room.

“That was the point, goofy.”

Eren frowns as he walks over to her side, offering her a hug before sitting down with the two of you.

“Goofy is the best you’ve got?” Eren asks.

“There’s a baby in the room. I can’t exactly call you an asshole now, can I?” Mikasa whispers.

You both giggle, only to be stopped by the glare that Levi gives the three of you, as you clear your throats.

“She’s perfect, Mikasa. She’s got your eyes.” Eren states.

“Oh thank god. Carla gave me a heart attack downstairs when she told me the baby looked like Jean.”

It’s only then that Jean walks over, with the tiniest bundle of little pink blankets in his hand, that the three of you stand up. And you take the natural position, standing slight behind Eren as he looks up at Jean, eyes wide.

“Can I hold her?”

“Dude, go ahead.”

You and Mikasa share a look, irritated by their nonchalance, as you watch Jean carefully transfer Olivia over to Eren’s arms. She’s quick with it – securing all five of her tiny fingers around one of Eren’s fingers as he laughs, looking over at you.

And Eren’s quick to notice that despite all your self-proclaimed fears about holding babies and giving birth, you have the same curious look in your eyes that you had when you met Lily.

“Olivia, my name’s Eren and this is Y/N. Your parents are basically the coolest people we know.” Eren whispers, almost like he’s not trying to disturb the quiet peace in the room.

“Well, not your dad. He could use a little help in that department.” you respond.

“Stop badmouthing me in front of my child.” Jean responds, reaching forward to flick you on the forehead.

But it’s right at that second that Olivia lets out the quietest little coo, before readjusting in her little blankets. And it’s enough to make the group of you laugh, teary eyed smiles from you and Eren, as Jean walks over to Levi and hands him the camera to take a picture of the five of you, together for the first time.

And in the thirty minutes that Eren spends holding Olivia and whispering with Mikasa, it’s the free second that you take to talk to Levi.

“Look at you. Trying to butter up Mikasa’s mom.”

Levi glares.

“She’s my sister.”

“Right. I kind of forgot about that.”

Levi rolls his eyes, as the two of you look out of the window, at the group of them all chattering downstairs. You can’t help but smile at Teddy and Lily sitting at the table, who are showing a very interested Ymir and Connie all of the drawings that they’ve allegedly done together.

It was mostly Teddy of course, but he just liked to include Lily in everything he does. Which is something you’re told that Sukuna and Yuuji do together all the time – and it makes your heart warm all the same.

“Is there a reason you never had kids, Levi?” you ask.

Levi smiles.

“Hange can’t have kids.” Levi states.

You feel your throat dry the slightest, as you look over to the left, where Hange and Sofia are playing a very intense game of chess.

“I didn’t know that. I always figured that you two weren’t…”

“A lot of people did. And I suppose that made it easier, because it really did break our hearts that we didn’t get to have any.”

You smile, before leaning your head against his shoulder.

“If it makes you feel better, I know that myself and fifteen of my peers have always seen you as a father figure.”

Levi smiles.

“It does actually. Only because my self-proclaimed children are all so talented that I have so much to brag about.”

You press a kiss to Levi’s cheek as Eren beckons for you to join him downstairs, now that Olivia’s fallen asleep. And you all but oblige, trying to memorize the sickeningly sweet kiss that he gives you on the way down.

“Do you ever think we’re going to have kids?” Eren asks.

“Eren. You’re basically like born to be a dad.” you whisper.

“What?”

“Every kid we’ve ever met loves you. Of course, we’re going to have kids. I’ve even taken the liberty of naming them already.”

Eren gives you a confused look, before knocking on your forehead.

“Who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?”

“Hilarious.” you deadpan.

“No seriously. I’m shocked Mrs. Scared of Pregnancy because of Reddit threads from when you were thirteen is saying this to me right now.”

You roll your eyes, trying to make your way down the stairs, before he pulls back, pressing a kiss to your cheek as a consolation.

“Okay, I’m joking. But tell me the names.”

“No. You’re being rude.”

“Come on. They’re going to be my children too. I want to hear it.”

You sigh, crossing your hands over your chest, as you look up at him.

“If it’s a boy, we’re going to name him Marco.”

Eren smiles, giving you an approving nod, as you twist the rings on your pointer finger.

“And if it’s a girl, we’ll name her Maya.”

“Maya?”

“Well, the plan is hopefully that we have a boy and a girl. We’ll name our kids after Marco…and his favorite poet, Maya Angelou.”

Eren leans forward, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

“That’s a deal.”

Two days later, you and Eren seem to right a historical wrong, in your long winded history, in the mere hours before you attend Lana’s album listening party.

By visiting the Seattle Aquarium, the way you were supposed to all those years ago.

It was your idea when you made your weekend plan to be in Seattle. Because Eren had three extra days before he started shooting and before you headed back to New York to record with Niccolo – and it only felt right.

Despite your horrible track history of attendance, the owners of the Seattle Aquarium granted you entry on Sunday, the day they were closed, and offered you the place for the entire day. Though you suppose, it’s only because you’ve given them such gracious donations over the past years.

When you walk in, you run your fingers over the bronze plaque as Eren looks over your shoulder, admiring the lettering.

With special thanks to Bruce and Margaret, whose generous donations have benefitted our environmentalist efforts and preserved over forty-five species of fish over the past year, nearby in the Pacific Ocean.

Eren takes your hand, the two of you taking the little blankets and pillows, and setting them up right in the center of the aquarium, before you lie down against the little makeshift fort you made.

And you’re not sure what it is – the dim lights and the overwhelming blue – or the fish swimming all around you and Eren in their not so little fishbowl, but you can’t help but feel the strangest sense of nostalgia. That a few years ago, you saw Jean and Mikasa get engaged for the first time, and it pushed you so hard that you were ready to confess to him under these same lights.

“Do you ever think about what would happen if we actually ended up coming here last time?” you ask.

Eren looks over at you, pressing a stray kiss to your forehead, before messing with one of the strands of your hair.

“Sometimes. I figured we’d have to fight out of there someway, just in a different way.”

“What do you mean?”

Eren pauses.

“They’d run a slander campaign against you. They’d probably dox Falco and Colt and your parents would get in the crossfire by proxy.” Eren murmurs.

“Yeah.”

“I figured they’d probably give Connie all the big roles so he wouldn’t have any reason to leave. Everyone would know about Lana and Teddy and well…I don’t know if Sukuna would be on our side the way he necessarily ended up being.”

You lean closer to him, interlocking one of your free hands in with his.

“I don’t know if we’d stay together.”

“We’d stay together.” you murmur.

“Yeah. I do figure it would be harder though. We kind of lucked out, twice, with how isolated the set was and then the cabin.”

And Eren reaches into his pocket, wrapping one of his free hands around you as he opens up a little green box, to a glimmering diamond ring.

“I figure this would happen farther down the line if things went that route.” Eren mumbles.

You’re taken aback as you sit up in the little pile of blankets as Eren follows suit, a sweet smile on his face as he presses the little box into your hand.

“I don’t necessarily know how things would have ended up if we got to be together all those years prior. All I remember, really, is watching you drive away from me and feeling like I had just experienced the loss of my life. For a second time. It only feels right to me that we get to promise to seal the deal here, for good, like we should have all of those years ago.”

Eren takes the box from your hands, plucking the ring out of its little slot, and takes your hand in his.

“Will you marry me?”

You can’t help but lean forward, nearly knocking him back down into the pillows as you press a kiss to his lips, which he smiles into.

“I’m taking that’s a yes?”

“Oh my god, Eren. Yes, obviously.”

Eren sits up again, this time carefully securing the ring around your finger, before lifting your hand and pressing a kiss against your knuckles.

“Did you tell anyone you were doing this?”

Eren shrugs.

“I asked for your parents and Falco and Colt’s blessing. Then I remembered that Levi exists and asked him for good measure too. And Lana, of course, just because I can’t keep anything from her.”

You smile.

“Was there someone else I was supposed to tell?”

You pinch your lips into a line.

“No.”

“Oh my god, there totally was. Who did I forget?”

You fight the urge to laugh as he reaches forward, tickling at your sides as you shove him off.

“No one, Eren. I love the ring.”

Eren twists his face in confusion, before leaning forward.

“Who said anything about the ring?”

You pinch your eyes shut, before reaching forward and placing your hands on his cheeks.

“I love the ring. And I love you, it’s really not –”

“You told someone what type of ring you wanted, didn’t you?”

You sigh, as you look down at the sparkling diamond on your finger, that really is perfect.

“It was a tiny request that I had. I should have known that you’d tell Lana and not Mikasa, in hindsight.”

Eren shakes his head.

“That’s not a big deal. I’ll just get you another one.”

“Eren.”

“Really, I was planning on getting you multiple anyway. You have to have one that has a silver band and one that has gold, because I know that you hate mixed metals. So really, you can tell me what it is that you wanted and I’ll keep it in mind.”

You sigh.

“It’s kind of cheesy.”

“I’m not lactose intolerant, Y/N. Just tell me.”

You sigh.

“I like the diamond, but I wanted it set with another stone.”

“I do like unique rings. Which one were you thinking?”

“An emerald. Because it’s green, you know?”

And you watch as Eren grins, fully understanding your request this time, as he leans forward, his lips a few feet away from yours as he whispers.

“Are you telling me you want a green emerald because my eyes are green?”

“Sue me, Eren!” you deadpan.

And it’s a lingering kiss that Eren presses to your cheeks, before he leans back and looks up at the fish. You follow his gaze to the two yellow fish swimming near the top, as they make their way down to the other side.

And Eren looks over at you and smiles.

“No, I don’t think so. I think I’ll just marry you instead.”

You’re slightly late to Lana’s listening party and the two of you sneak in towards the back door, where you greet everyone waiting for you backstage. And it’s quite obvious that Lana and Sukuna shared the news with everyone the second you arrive – because Mikasa reaches for your hand the second you walk up to her and Lana gives you a lingering hug.

“Oh thank god, I was starting to get worried.” Mikasa states.

“All the comments got to you the other day, didn’t they?” Sukuna asks.

Eren rolls his eyes.

“On the contrary, asshole. Though the comments did start to piss me off, because I was doing so well at hiding it before you all started bringing it up and making her think about it.”

There’s a little dinging overhead, signaling that Lana had to start, as the group of you all head out to the little audience – filled with about fifty of Lana’s fans who nearly start screaming the second you all walk out to listen with them.

“Hey.” Eren whispers.

“What?”

“I’ll be back, but you should keep your hair in the front.”

“What? Why?”

“I left a mark earlier.” Eren responds, squeezing at your shoulder as you glare at his retreating form.

He shoots you a wink over his shoulder, before he walks backstage and Lana walks on. And it’s sweet, the flowery dress she’s wearing and the purple guitar as she takes the stage. You feel a tap on your shoulder, to find Sukuna at your side, smiling at you.

“Congratulations, stinky. There’s not many times that I find myself believing in things like this, at least not before anyways, but you’ve proven me wrong, time and time again.”

You loop your arm in with Sukuna resting your chin against his shoulder, as you watch Lana start to tune the guitar.

“I could say the same thing about you.” you respond.

The two of you quiet down as Lana starts and Eren walks behind her, taking a seat at the piano. He shoots you a smile from his spot, starting to play the piano composition as Lana starts talking.

“I’ve written lots of songs about people in my very long career of music, now. And I’ve had many songs written about me by my friend Eren here. I figured it was only fair that I returned the favor by writing about him and his beautiful fiancee, with his help of course.”

Eren smiles as he leans closer to the microphone.

“This song is called Margaret.”

This is a simple song, gonna write it for a friend My shirt is inside out, I'm messy with the pen He met Margaret on our rooftop, she was wearing white And he was like, "I might be in trouble" He had flashes of the good life He was like, "Should I jump off this building now or do it on the double?

'Cause, baby, if your love is in trouble Baby, if your love is in trouble Baby, if your love is in trouble When you know, you know When you know, you know

It kinda makes me laugh, runnin' down that path When you're good as gold 'Cause when you know, you know 'Cause when you know, you know And when you're old, you're old

Like Hollywood and me, that diamond on your ring The soul that you bring to the table One that makes me sing In a minor key Diamond on your ring 'Cause when you know, you know When you know, you know

The two of you tie the knot a year later, on a chilly December night, back in the old townhouse. It’s decorated to perfection – the walls that you originally took down are now covered again with polaroids of you and Eren, but all of your loved ones too.

True to Mikasa’s statement all of those years ago, the flower girls at your wedding are Olivia and Lily – but they can’t exactly walk yet, so it’s only fair that Reiner and Connie carry them and their little flower baskets down the aisle.

As busy as Mikasa and Jean are with the baby, they give up their spots as best man and maid of honor to the more seasoned parents, Lana and Sukuna. Though it feels entirely wrong to have Lana standing on your side and Sukuna on Eren’s, so you decide to switch the roles. Teddy’s quite possibly the best ring bearer and Levi’s the perfect person, who gives a sweet passionate speech about holding out for love, as the officiant of your wedding.

Levi, however, is full of all sorts of tricks – which is something the two of you only note when it’s time for you to do your first dance. Because instead of the piano quartet that you organized, he’s sitting on the bench next to Hange instead, tapping on the microphone to get your attention.

“I believe it’s time for the first dance.” Levi states.

Hange rolls her eyes, before taking the microphone.

“You’re so stiff, Levi.”

“You talk then.”

“No, you always tend to have a way with words.”

You look up at Eren, admiring the two little pins on the lapel of his jacket – a crescent moon and the Saturn pin – before looking back at the two of them and their antics.

“Eren and Y/N. You’ve written quite a few love songs, not only about the beautiful love that you share with each other, but the love that we all seem to have for one another as well. And really, we figured it was only fair that we all repaid the favor, by writing a song about the two of you for you to dance to.”

“And well, we know how much being surrounded by the love in the room means to you. So we’re going to invite everyone to join you on the dance floor, so you can be surrounded by it.” Hange states.

The group of them all give you sweet smiles, as you all walk out onto the little makeshift floor, as Hange and Levi start playing the piano, Levi’s quiet voice filling the backyard.

When the rain is blowing in your face And the whole world is on your case I could offer you a warm embrace To make you feel my love

When the evening shadows and the stars appear And there is no one there to dry your tears I could hold you for a million years To make you feel my love

You pause from looking at Eren, as you pull him closer – resting your ear against the beating sound of his heart – and catch it all again, the love in the room so warm it’s almost suffocating. Because it’s Falco still stepping on Gabi’s feet after all these years, Ymir spinning Sofia way too many times, and Jean and Mikasa dancing with Lily in their arms.

“Can you believe they wrote a song about us?” you whisper.

“I’ll fucking say. It was about time. Do you know how many weddings we’ve carried on our backs by writing songs?”

“Don’t exaggerate, Eren. It was only like three.”

“Three too many. I was expecting the damn fanfare when I walked in.”

You both laugh, before leaning forward, and looking over at Hange and Levi – soft smiles that they give each other, as they play the piano together.

I know you haven't made your mind up yet But I will never do you wrong I've known it from the moment that we met No doubt in my mind where you belong

I'd go hungry, I'd go black and blue I'd go crawling down the avenue No, there's nothing that I wouldn't do To make you feel my love

Eren makes his SNL debut three months after the fact and you figure that there's no better time to announce the fact that you and Eren are together. A silly little skit – where your fake characters are both named Margaret and Bruce – is the perfect end to what the two of you started at the beginning of the week, when you released your songs False God and Only Angel on the same day.

But unbeknownst to Eren, you change the original plan you had – to play False God at the end of the show – and choose to play a different song at the end. Eren turns to you, giving you a last wink as the show starts rolling, and he turns to the camera.

“Once again, Y/N L/N-Jaeger.”

There’s a resounding sound of cheers as Eren takes his side next to Connie and Maryam at the front, as you start strumming on the guitar.

Fatefully I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me Misery Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep

And you passed right by I was in the alley, surrounded on all sides The knife cuts both ways If the shoe fits, walk in it 'til your high heels break

And I fell from the pedestal Right down the rabbit hole Long story short, it was a bad time Pushed from the precipice Clung to the nearest lips Long story short, it was the wrong guy Now I'm all about you I'm all about you, ah Yeah, yeah I'm all about you, ah Yeah, yeah

The first thing you catch sight of when you look out is Hange and Levi. And the first thing that comes to mind is that speech – watching Hange spilling tears into that microphone, watching it in your pajamas with Colt at your side and Falco fast asleep somewhere in the corner – and it makes your stomach jolt.

Actually I always felt I must look better in the rear view Missing me At the golden gates they once held the keys to When I dropped my sword I threw it in the bushes and knocked on your door And we live in peace But if someone comes at us This time, I'm ready

Ricky comes to mind next, but it’s only because you can see Lana and Sukuna in the third row – their heads leaned against each other as they hold hands. Because it’s not exactly the justice she exactly deserved, but years after the fact, his horrible mouth had landed him on a blacklisted list of actors – and really, he was never to be seen again. Hyla and Scott were always around, but never warranted a second thought after what you had done to them – tearing their once empire to the ground with your own bare hands and a pencil.

No more keepin' score now I just keep you warm (keep you warm) No more tug of war now I just know there's more (know there's more) No more keepin' score now I just keep you warm (keep you warm) And my waves meet your shore Ever and evermore

Past me I wanna tell you not to get lost in these petty things Your nemeses Will defeat themselves before you get the chance to swing And he's passing by Rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky And he feels like home If the shoe fits, walk in it everywhere you go

The raw spot of hurt that was reserved for Marco softened over the years and the over-consuming feeling it once used to give you was now open – for you to give to other parts of your life. To your friends, to your family, and to Eren.

Eren.

Now I'm all about you (and now) I'm all about you, ah (and now) I'm all about you (and now) I'm all about you, ah Yeah, yeah I'm all about you (and now) Yeah, yeah I'm all about you

You can’t help but smile at him, feeling your heart nearly pounding in your chest, as you look at him – smiling back at you from the front row, his hands pressed to his chest, with a silver band around his ring finger.

Long story short, it was a bad time Long story short, I survived

Hange had told you, indirectly all those years ago, to show people the real you. And as much acting as you and Eren had done - method and otherwise - you supposed there was nothing more real than the love that existed between the two of you.

Eren closes the distance and you swing your guitar to the side as he brings his hands around your cheeks and presses one last kiss to your lips before the camera cuts.

an: a very bittersweet goodbye to one of the most special fics i've ever written. i truly do not think that there are enough words that i can string together (which as ironic as someone who is a fic writer) to explain what this fic has meant to me, what your interactions have meant to me, and everything else in between.

this fic has truly been a piece of my heart - not only because i've poured so many of my real emotions into each of the characters, but also because it's brought me so much joy to share with people - and to have them nitpick and find all the little clues i've been leaving along the way.

whether you've been reading since july or just picked it up in the few days before it was finished, thank you so much for being here 💌

PS: method acting fun fact! this fic was actually a REQUEST that I wrote for someone, if you can believe it. further proof to kind of interact with writers and show ur love bc u can ask for a fic and then be stuck with this mumbo jumbo of almost 270k words at the end of it.

peace and love!!! ronnie out <3

(if you request any side pieces about this stories/ask any questions/etc!!! I am more than happy to always answer. i've thought of so much lore in my head)

taglist: @k0z3me @sugu-love @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 @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi @najaemism @ilovekimchi123 @youraggedybitch @xoyumiqls @leafguitar @spiidergirlsworld @luvs4kim @levin4nami @florichun @hoonmyluv

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