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totheblood · 1 year

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begging for rain. (one)

󠁐# ONE; the more you wait

PAIRING: ex!ellie williams x nextdoorneighbor!reader

SUMMARY: moving to a new town can be tough, especially as you are trying to hold everything in your life together. after you meet ellie, your life completely changes, but for the better? well that's still up in the air

WARNINGS: mentions of death, grief, related subjects; cursing, mentions of drinking/drugs, mentions of s*x,

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

A/N :new story... this is inspired by some dreams i had and the song begging for rain, by maggie roggers! an amazing song... this will be angsty and fluffy and will spend some time flipping in between past and present! hope u enjoy… AI AUDIOS AT THE END ! please please please like and reblog/reply/send asks, comments, the whole nine yards… it is so appreciated!

2 YEARS AGO

The fall came quicker than you expected.

Your days were overcast, filled with warm tea that quickly turned cold the longer you let it sit. Some days you held the pink and white cup firmly in your hands, fingers warming from the hot liquid inside. On other days you forgot the cup was even there.

The house was big and lonely. It felt as if you had examined every crack in the walls, and memorized the creak of every step. You were going to get to know this house as if it were your own because it was. You moved in late summer, your mom hauling luggage from the door, making some comment about you only bringing in the light boxes. You rolled your eyes and helped anyways. You didn’t want to be here, but you weren’t going to let your mom know that.

The house was in a nice neighborhood, with a good school district. Your mom did as much research as she could before buying this house, making some weird charts on Excel and plugging in numbers. You had a hefty inheritance from your dad, but now that he was gone and your house was down an income, your mother was doing what she had to. She bought the house in full, with no mortgage and no problem. This was her plan and it was the one that ensured you had the best chance of going to a good college.

You didn’t like the idea of moving to a new town and starting over, but you knew your dad’s death was hard on your mom and you didn’t want to be the cause of anymore discomfort for her. So you left your childhood friends, and bedroom and packed what you could in the ten boxes provided to you.

Your new room was simple, but fairly big. It had a bay window with a floral lined cushion in the seat. The walls were painted cream, and in the center of your room lay your bedframe and mattress. It was so empty, and everything about it felt so cold. Directly from your window, you could see into the house next to you. In the room you could see, the walls were a dark blue, littered with posters you couldn’t quite see from the distance. The room was messy, with clothes littered all over the room. From what you could see a white electric guitar was on a stand, right by the window. Then, almost as if she knew you were there, a girl stepped into view. Shaggy neck-length brown hair, half tied up into a bun. Suddenly, you felt like a creep as she stared at you, mouth slightly open as if she was caught. Almost instantly you turned around, embarrassment flooding your features.

You weren’t a creep, and this wasn’t something you did often. You were just curious, and it got the best of you sometimes. You decided that the curtains would be the first thing you hung up, not for your safety but for your neighbours safety.

You had everything situated that night, floral sheets on the mattress and books all tucked into the built in bookshelf. Your lamp illuminated from the corner of the room, making the whole room glow orange. You had pictures of your old friends on your bedside table, next to a picture of you and your dad. You winced as you looked at it.

A small knock shook you from your thoughts. Your mom, in her pajamas, stood in the doorway, arms crossed across her chest.

“How do you like your room, honey?” She questioned, warm eyes following you as you sat on your bed.

“It’s nice,” you rubbed at the blanket at the edge of your bed, “I like it.”

“I know this isn’t idea-”

“Mom, it’s fine-”

“What did I tell you about interrupting?” Her eyebrows raised as she shot you a look, her posture straightening. You rolled your eyes.

“Sorry,” you grumbled, avoiding eye contact with her.

“I know this isn’t ideal, and you are giving up a lot to be here, but,” she shook her head, looking down at her own feet, “this is a nice town with nice people and a good school. It’s what your dad would’ve wanted for you.”

You winced again at the mention of your dad. You opened your mouth to speak but were quickly shut up by the sound of the doorbell. It sounded loud and hollow, something you would have to get used to. Your mom looked down the hallway, fixing to ignore the sound before it rang again. This time you got up to follow her. When she opened the wooden door, there stood the brunette girl from earlier and an older gruff looking man holding a container.

“Hey, um,” He smiled at your mom before looking at you with your arms crossed behind her, “we’re your next-door neighbors and we saw you moving in. Wanted to welcome ourselves and bring you a little somethin’.”

The man pushed forward the container and your mom happily took it, smiling and gesturing for them to come in.

“Come on in,” she smiled, stepping to the side, completely ignoring the look you were shooting her, “I’m Melissa and this is my daughter, Y/n.”

You smiled, pursing your lips and giving a small wave to both of them.

“Well, I’m Joel,” He smiled, nodding at you and gesturing toward the younger girl next to him. “This is Ellie, think she’s about your kid’s age.”

“Well, missy here is about to go into her senior year,” your mom boasted as she gripped your arms shaking you a little, making you roll your eyes.

“So is Ellie,” He chuckled slightly, wrapping his arms around Ellie and causing her to groan, “maybe she can help… Y/n? Was it? Out with school this year.”

Ellie’s eyes widened as she turned around to look at him, giving him a dirty glare.

“In fact, how about Ellie here drives her to school tomorrow?” His smile was tight-lipped as he firmly tapped Ellie’s shoulder.

“You don’t have t-” your mom started.

“Don’t be silly. Ellie would love to.”

Ellie, in fact, did not look like she wanted to. She also didn’t look quite friendly either and you were unsure if this was the best introduction to your new neighborhood.

“We leave at seven,” Ellie’s voice was flat as she gave you a fake smile, Joel smiling brightly at your mother.

“Cool, thanks,” was all you said before taking the metal tray from your mom and into the kitchen. The introductions were awkward but at least you weren’t going to have to find the school on your own.

The next morning you woke up early, washed your face, did your hair, and pulled on your best outfit for school. Your mom had bought you new Dr. Martens as an “I’m sorry I uprooted your life” gift and you made a mental note to thank her for that again sometime later.

You took a granola bar to go and the packed lunch your mom had made you the night before. You smiled to yourself as you took it, knowing you wouldn’t see her till late that night. She had left early that morning, not wanting to be late for her first shift at the hospital. You were secretly hoping it was going well.

As you stepped outside, the fog surrounded you, making you even more grateful to Ellie. You crossed the dirt path between the houses and stepped onto their patio, knocking on the white door as you gripped your backpack straps. Ellie opened the door, face as unwelcoming as yesterday. She wore a blue flannel that loosely hung open with a white band tee on the inside. Her baggy jeans were ripped and frayed at the ends, meeting the black Converse at her feet. She had a distinct style, and she looked good in it.

“You ready to go?” Ellie asked, pulling her keys out and unlocking the jeep parked in the driveway. Nice car.

“Um, yeah,” You quietly said, following her down the steps and into the car. If she was just as quiet as you were planning on being, this wouldn’t work. You got yourself situated in the car, tucking your backpack under the seat as you smiled at Ellie. When the car started up her music started automatically playing, “Be Quiet and Drive” blasting through the speakers. She turned it down a little, to be polite. Nice, you thought.

“Thanks for driving me,” You started, watching as she turned her head to check for oncoming cars as she pulled out the driveway, “I know you might not have wanted to, but I really appreciate it.”

“Eh,” Ellie shrugged, eyes focused on the road, “It’s not a big deal. It’s not like I had to pick you up or anything.”

“But still,” you sighed, “I appreciate it.”

Ellie just mumbled a your welcome before tapping her fingers to the music on the wheel.

“I love Deftones,” you commented, making Ellie turn towards you, looking you up and down.

“You? Really?” She laughed, stopping at a red light.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, your tone taking a little bit of a bite to it.

“Hey, hey. Just saying I didn’t get that vibe from you.” It was your turn to roll your eyes.

“And what exactly is the vibe you get from me?”

“Girl next door,” Ellie laughed to herself, shaking her head a little, “quite literally.”

“I don’t know what that means, but I’m choosing to take it as a compliment.”

The car was silent for a moment as Ellie made her way down some backstreets, occasionally looking over at you to see you on your phone.

“Um,” she cleared her throat, “what’s your favorite song by them?”

“Probably ‘Cherry Waves’, basic I know,” you shrugged, focusing your attention on her.

“Not basic. It’s a good song,” she gave you a smile. Finally. “You have good taste.”

“Thanks,” you finally smiled.

“For a stalker,” She added on, chuckling a bit causing you to gasp.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, shoving your face in your hands. “I wasn’t stalking you, I was just looking out my window.”

“And right into my room!” you could tell she was just teasing, making you shake your head as you laughed.

“It was in my line of sight,” you leaned forward, looking at her smiling, “plus if I knew you were in there I wouldn’t have looked.”

“That’s exactly what a stalker would say,” her smile was spread across her face as her jeep pulled into the parking lot of the school. Busses were lined up in front, kids piling out and talking to each other as if they knew each other for years. It was all so normal, nothing like your nightmares.

“No, that defeats the whole point of stalking!”

PRESENT DAY

Summer had finally come around, the end of your first year in college coming to an abrupt end. You were excited to be home, but your stomach churned at the thought of being so close to Ellie again. She was right there, and all the willpower you had was slowly disappearing.

You knew you didn’t want to see her, and that maybe she had stopped missing you. But both of those things were slightly untrue. You knew if you saw her, your knees would become weak again and you would be crawling across your lawn and straight into her lap. That wasn't an option. That couldn’t be an option.

She had called you again just two nights ago, and she sounded almost sure of herself. You knew she was probably high, and you knew she meant every word she said. It didn’t stop the pain from gripping at your chest when you told her you wanted nothing to do with her.

“You picked up.”

“What do you want, Ellie?” you rolled your eyes, as you felt your chest tightening.

“I come home in a few days, I want to see y-”

“That’s not happenin-”

“Cherry, please,” she sounded so desperate and so sincere. The use of your nickname didn’t help.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Look, I messed up. I know that. I have been apologizing every day for that. I fucking miss you. Nothing is the same and if I am just inches away from you I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself. I miss you, I miss how you fucking smelled, how you tast-”

“Ellie, stop,” you cut her off abruptly, screwing your eyes shut as you took a deep breath to steady yourself, “this is pathetic. You’re acting like a fucking loser and it’s not at all attractive. Move on. Find someone else to whine over. Anyone else.”

“No one is you.”

“You should have thought of that before you-”

“Can we not talk about that?”

“No, we have to. If you ever want to see me again we will have to talk about it,” you were being mean, you were worse before but Ellie never seemed to care, she just kept begging, “I will maybe hear you out if we talk about it, but other than that, I don’t want to see you.”

“Fine.” Click. She hung up the phone, as she usually did when the situation was brought up. It was a surefire way to get her to leave you alone.

As you pulled your luggage out of the backseat of your car, you looked up to Ellie’s window. Surely, enough she was standing there, staring down at you. You couldn’t quite read the expression on her face, but she quickly disappeared from the window, closing the curtains.

Dragging your luggage inside, you stopped when you saw Joel sitting at your dining room table.

“Joel,” you said simply, looking around for your mother who came rushing out of the kitchen at the sound of your voice. Joel simply nodded at you, giving you a pained smile as your mother bombarded you with a hug.

‘My baby!” She squeezed you tight, making you groan. “You’re finally home.”

“Melissa, let the kid breathe,” Joel chuckled, standing up to walk over to you and give you a hug from the side. He was limping, that was new.

“Hey, kiddo,” he took a step back from you and your mom, looking at the both of you, “you’re getting so old, you look just like your mother.”

“I’ve always looked like her,” you corrected him, looking around the room to spot any changes your mom might have made while you were away. Your eyes stopped on a picture of Ellie and you from the fall fair your senior year. You always had this picture in your phone, but now it was blown up and framed, right next to a picture of your dad. You winced. “What the fuck is that? Why is there a picture of me and Ellie hung up in here?”

“Watch your language, missy,” your mom scolded, lifting up a finger to wag at you, “and because I like the picture, it’s nice.”

“Take it dow-”

“You can’t still possibly be on this-”

“Take it down, or I will,” your tone was sharp, causing your mom to take a step back and look at Joel. You eyed her for a moment before turning to go up the stairs, dragging your heavy suitcase up the stairs. Joel rushed over to help you, reaching for the handle. You quickly grasped it out of reach.

“I can do it myself,” you snapped, shooting him a glare and bringing it up the stairs with you. Everyone here wanted to forgive Ellie, but you weren’t ready for that.

You weren’t sure if you ever would be.

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nellielsss · 3 months

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+†+🪦 A Pɾσρҽɾ Bʅαƈƙ Bυʅʅ Wҽʅƈσɱҽ!

Summary: when you date a Magic Knight Captain, it's only a matter of time until you meet their Knights! A/N: just some fluff for Yami! I tried to include as many characters as I could but I'm still getting used to writing multiple chars in one scene. Pairing: Yami Sukehiro x fem!reader CW: swearing, suggestive jokes

╰┈➤ "Is this really where Suke lives?" you asked nobody as you approached his base. "He's always told me not to visit, but this place is just... creepy. Still, I feel bad for making him visit me all the time. Why not pay him a surprise visit?"

You had been dating the famed Captain of the Black Bulls, Yami Sukehiro, for a few months--4 to be exact--and things were starting to get serious with him.

But they were never serious enough for you to meet his squad.

Sure, you had seen them in passing, tagging along with him on missions, but you've never met the Black Bulls in person. It was like they were his kids that he never wanted you to meet for whatever reason. Whenever you tried to ask him if you could meet them, he'd always say: "Nah, not happening. I don't need you meeting those knuckleheads; they'd probably blabber some stupid story and scare you off, and I don't need that."

For the better part, he actually made the effort to go and see you wherever you were. He'd venture as many miles as needed in order to do so. He also just never introduced you to the public in general because he was scared of someone going after you for a vendetta or revenge against Yami (he was a man with many enemies, after all). So, he was content with just going on private dates in secluded bars or spending the night at your place. Any chance he could take to spend time with you, he'd snatch it right up.

Why did you venture to the secretive Black Bulls hideout in the first place? Well, Yami had been busy with training for a while. The missions were swamping him, and his efforts to keep the devils at bay were, inadvertently, keeping your relationship at bay as well. He never had any time to leave the hideout unless it was to go on a mission or to an official summons, and because you were basically forbidden from going to HQ, it meant all you could do was communicate via letters.

And you were sick and tired of it.

You were an impatient girl. You didn't like being basically banned from seeing your boyfriend, no matter how legitimate his causes or concerns were.

You haven't had dick in ages--you were starting to lose feeling down there!! And lord knows his dick was good, so good it left you unable to walk on several occasions.

But you weren't there just to fuck him (although it was a big bonus of dating him); you were there to mend your little broken heart.

So, that's how you wound up on their doorstep. You went at a time which you knew it'd be empty, so you were sure you wouldn't have to meet those bulls. Even if he, himself, was out, you could just wait in his room as a little welcome home surprise.

"I don't suppose I have to knock before entering," you muttered, grabbing the latch of the door and opening the giant wooden slab. Just as you'd expected: the place was empty. Not a peep to be heard throughout the entire tower of oddly shaped rooms and windows that were jutting out of the wrong places.

"Well, this sure ain't too bad. I thought it'd be in ruins by the way Suke described it," you thought to yourself. As you stepped on the cobblestone floors and ventured inside the place, you took note of it. It had a certain charm to it, like a cozy tavern you'd seek refuge from a storm in. There were torches lit up by mana, different flags hanging from the walls, and a big bar in the left side of the room. "If he wasn't so protective of me, I could imagine myself living here with him..."

"Hello... who are... you?" a ghostly voice suddenly said from the hallway.

"Gah! Wait- is it seriously haunted? Was Sukehiro telling me the truth this whole time?!" You immediately hid behind a couch when you saw the mint-haired man standing there.

"I'm... not... a... ghost! I... keep... this... place... running," the ghost said.

"Are you sure? Because you certainly don't look too- gah!" this time, you were surprised to feel that all your mana was being drained from you, simply by being close to the man.

"I'm.. sorry... I... drain... people's... mana... on... accident. Don't... stand... too... close."

"Figured as much," you muttered, somehow able to break free from the man's mana pull. "I knew I shouldn't have come here... I thought all of you would be out for the day."

"You... didn't... answer... my... question. Who... are... you?"

"Oh, right... sorry about that," you said, rubbing the back of your neck, "I'm, uh... I'm Captain Yami's girlfriend. I came here hoping that none of you would be around, but it seems as though I made a mistake. I thought all of you would be on missions for sure!"

The man's ghostly face lit up in surprise when he realized who you were. "Oh! I... know... you... or, at least... I've... heard... of you... Captain Yami's... always... talking... about... some girl... who... he's... been... dating. We all... just... thought... that he... was... lying."

"You seriously thought that he was lying?" you asked in disbelief. "Then again, he is an acquired taste... Anyway, what's your name?"

"My... name's... Henry. I... don't... go on... missions... because... I'm... too... weak, and I'm... bound... to... this... house."

"Too weak?" you asked, feeling a bit sorry for the guy. "Jeez, that must suck. Anyway, Henry, nice to meet you- ahhh!!" he started draining your mana on accident again and you pulled away.

"Sorry..."

"It's fine, Henry; I forgot about your little quirk," you reassured him with a wave of the hand.

"You're... really... pretty. Too... pretty... to... be... dating the... Captain," Henry remarked, making you snicker.

"Well, thank you, Henry! Yeah, you probably couldn't picture him and I together, if I'm being honest. I guess I just have a thing for oblivious brutes," you giggled, making him smile in return. "Anyway, I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell Captain Yami about my impromptu appearance; he doesn't want me hanging around you guys. Somethin' about 'putting me in danger'? As if I could be put in danger," you remarked rather confidently. "I'm not really the type to submit to his wishes all that easily, but he seemed pretty serious about keeping our relationship under wraps. If you don't mind me, I'll be on my merry way-"

"Wait...! The... others... are... supposed to be... back... soon! You'll... get... caught... if you... don't... hide!" Henry warned you suddenly.

"H-Huh? Really?!" you asked him, already freaking out.

As if on cue, you could hear several voices chattering from the other side of the door, and you looked around in panic, trying to find a hiding spot. Henry was blocking the hallway, and if you got too close to him, you'd probably faint on the spot. You tried to hide behind the bar, only for the door to literally break down as the rowdy Black Bulls made their way home. You knew they were loud, but you didn't know that they were the type to break down doors! At the sight of the bunch, you instinctively froze up in fear, akin to a deer in headlights. You ducked for the nearest couch, hoping that they'd choose to go in the opposite direction.

"Did you guys see the way I took that guy down?! It was awesome! I totally surpassed my limits out there!!" A rather enthusiastic, short boy said to the others. That must've been Asta: the anti-magic user.

"You were pretty good out there--not that I'm complimenting you or anything! I'm still royalty compared to you," a similarly short girl with silver hair said. Based on how she was jabbing the boy with her words, that was probably Noelle.

"Just you wait, Asta--I'm gonna get stronger than you!" another guy with a mohawk and glasses said. Magna, if you weren't mistaken.

"I'd like to see you try to get stronger than him! If you do, then I'll spar with you until I get even stronger!" a blonde boy with a psychopathic smile quipped. Luck.

"Just don't go around breaking shit, okay, you numbskulls?" your oh-so handsome boyfriend Yami Sukehiro sighed. "We don't have the money to keep repairing the damage you guys cause."

"I'm going to go worship my sister, Marie," a guy with an apparent sister complex said: Gauche, to be precise.

"What a weirdo," you said to yourself. A few of their heads turned in the direction of your voice, and you hid your entire body behind the couch.

"What was that?"

"Whatever it was, it was telling the truth."

"If you boys don't mind, I'm gonna go have a drink at the bar!" a female voice said, her words already slurred.

"Aren't you already drunk, Vanessa?" another guy asked the witch.

"What's one more drink, Finral? You should come join me!" she replied. You quickly realized you were in deep shit when you remembered that the couch you were hiding behind was right next to the bar.

Well, this is the end, you thought. There was no way you could hide from these guys now. Even if you tried to make a run for it, your boyfriend was right there, and he'd probably teach you a lesson!!

You braced yourself for when the witch, Vanessa, would see you... which was right at that moment. "Umm, guys? Why is there a stranger hiding behind our couch?"

Your eyes shot open in fear, and you looked up at the girl, your face red with embarrassment. "Vanessa, what are you talking about? Are you seriously seeing things?- Oh, hubba, hubba!" the guy named Finral said once he saw you. "If I knew that cute girls would be sneaking into our hideout, I'd leave the door unlocked more often!"

One by one, all the Black Bulls clamored around the couch, wondering who, exactly, the two were talking about. They were all in wonder until Yami came over. Oh, how you dreaded this from the moment you walked in...

"(Y/N)--what the hell are you doing in my base?!" said boyfriend asked, making you flinch with how loudly he asked that question.

"Heh... hi, Suke," you said quietly, only for the man to pick you up by the scruff of your collar and make you stand up.

"Wait, do you actually know that girl, Captain Yami?" Finral asked the man.

"He sure does..." you said meekly.

"Yeah, I do," he sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "Great, this is just what I needed: my Bulls slobbering all over my girlfriend..."

"Did you just say GIRLFRIEND?!" all of them asked in unison.

"I guess there's no time like the present," the man finally relented. Yami stopped pinching his nose and instead wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you next to him. "Everyone, this is my girlfriend of four months."

"GIRLFRIEND OF FOUR MONTHS?!"

"I didn't even know a woman could stand to be in your presence, let alone for that amount of time!" Noelle exclaimed.

"So, you mean to tell me that you bagged a babe like her?! Captain, you need to give me your secrets!!!" Finral said, practically on the verge of losing it at this revelation.

"Don't call my girlfriend a babe, pipsqueak!"

"THIS IS SO COOL!! SO YOU MEAN TO TELL US THAT YOU WEREN'T LYING ABOUT HAVING A GIRLFRIEND ALL THIS TIME?!" Asta exclaimed, his voice drowning out everyone else's questions. "PLEASED TO MAKE YOUR ACQUAINTANCE, MA'AM--MY NAME IS ASTA AND I'M FROM HAGE VILLAGE, AND YOU ARE VERY BEAUTIFUL!!"

"Stop yelling in my girlfriend's ear, are you trying to make her go deaf?!" Yami asked Asta before grabbing his lips and shutting him up forcefully.

"Would you like to spar with me?!" Luck asked, way too enthusiastically for his own good.

"How about a drink?" Vanessa asked.

"A nice, warm meal would be a great welcome for her!" Charmy proposed.

"I don't care if you're Yami's girlfriend: if you touch my sister Marie, I'll kick your ass," Gauche threatened you directly.

"Creep..." Yami muttered. "For the love of the Wizard King, all of you get off of her and stop harassing her with all your questions!!" he barked, now pissed off at the situation.

"Yes, Captain Yami, sir," all of them said, piping down finally.

"This is exactly why I didn't introduce her to all of you; none of you know how to act properly!" Yami yelled again, this time gritting his teeth in anger. You could tell he was getting riled up, so you put your hand on his chest and silently told him to calm down. His frustrated expression settled down to a simple frown, and he offered you a tiny smile. "Sorry, princess."

"I've never seen someone rein him in so easily," one of the bulls remarked in wonder.

"It's clear that Yami appreciates this woman and that we should treat her with the same respect with which we'd treat one of our own," Gordon whispered. Everyone still side-eyed him for how quiet he was being.

Yami took a deep breath and faced his subordinates again. "Anyway, this is my girlfriend of 4 months: (Y/N) (L/N). I expect all of you to treat her with the same respect you'd treat me, just as Gordon said." Everyone nodded, and for once he didn't feel like bashing their heads in.

"Captain Yami, if you don't mind me asking: how come we haven't met her before if she's so important to you?" one of them asked this time.

"Because, if I introduced her to all of you, one of you would blabber your mouths, and then word would get out that I had a girlfriend. That would put her in some serious danger, considering how many foes we face and enemies we have," Yami explained--and quite calmly at that. "And I like keeping my personal life separate from my life as Captain. I don't want the two to intermingle, even if both lives are equally important to me."

"I guess that makes sense..."

You decided that it was your turn to speak: "truth be told, Suke's always been so overprotective of me. He thinks I'm some delicate little flower who needs to be guarded at all costs, even if I'm a stage 0 mage. It's honestly ironic, considering how his type is strong women," you added with a giggle.

"Well, I can't let you get hurt because of me, princess," he said to you quietly. "Even if you are strong, there's always the chance that someone might go looking for you."

"Look at him, he's so protective of her! It's honestly kinda cute," Vanessa remarked, taking another sip of her drink. Yami merely glared at her before looking at all of them again.

"How come she found out about the base if you're so protective of her? Isn't its location supposed to be private?"

This was a question meant for you, it seemed, even if it was directed at Yami. "Well... your horse and buggy's a little quick to give up information if you're pretty enough," you giggled mischievously, playing with your hair as if you were innocent.

"Finral!" Yami said through gritted teeth.

"I-I just figured she was curious!" the boy said, trembling at the possibility of being punished by their Captain.

"I guess I just have my ways," you giggled again. "I couldn't stay away from my boyfriend for too long, not when I have needs!" you shot a wink at Yami, and all he could do was blush in place.

"I don't even wanna know what those needs are..."

"Don't speak of such things around my sister, Marie," Gauche quipped, making you furrow your brow.

"She's not even here--that's a picture you're holding!!"

"She's here in spirit."

"Stop starting fights when we have guests," Noelle interjected, being the voice of reason for once. She then decided to ask you a question. "So, I simply have to know: what possessed you to date the man for four months? From what I've seen, he's not the most perceptive man out there!"

"Noelle, you can't just say that about our captain in front of his girlfriend!" Asta said to Noelle.

She huffed in response. "As if you'd be any better!!"

"Slander my name to her like that and I'll kill both of you," Yami threatened them, making them both jump.

"But I didn't even do anything wrong!" Asta whined defensively.

"To be honest," you started, making everyone look at you again. "I was the one who initially had a crush on him. I know he's not everyone's type, but he sure is mine. Anyway, it was kinda hard getting him to notice my feelings for him. In the end, all it took was for me to simply confess my feelings for him and hope that he'd reciprocate them! And Suke may not look like the boyfriend type, but he's actually the most caring and considerate man I've ever met; he just doesn't show any of you that side... At least, not as forwardly as he does to to me."

Noelle thought about your words, and she couldn't exactly do anything but take your word for it. "If you say so... But, I still just don't get it! You're so... pink, and he's so... whatever he is!"

"Well, everyone has their type," you shrugged.

"But, how do you deal with his bowel issues?"

"Noelle!"

You couldn't help but giggle at her question. "By buying extra toilet paper, of course!"

"(Y/N)..." Yami trailed off, embarrassed by the topic. "All of you: bowel issues are no laughing matter! I go through battles every single day in that room."

"Yeah, we know."

After the Black Bulls laughed at your little statements, he decided to move on to the next part: "alright, enough of a Q&A session. Since you came all this way, I'd imagine you'd be staying over for dinner?"

Your stomach growled in response to his question. "Oh, yes, please. I'm starving--this place is so far from the nearest town!"

"Not to worry, my fair lady!" Charmy suddenly said, standing up on the table. "Chef Charmy here will cook up an amazing feast to welcome you to our humble abode!"

You looked at Charmy and then at Yami. "Can the half-dwarf really do that--cook well?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised. Her food is rich with mana."

"Fear not," Charmy repeated, "for you deserve a proper Black Bull welcome!"

Just as Yami promised you: Charmy cooked up a feast fit for several kings from far away lands and then some. Her cotton magic combined with her food magic made for plenty of meals and dishes to go around, and, although simplistic in their nature, each meal left you wanting more.

You were, of course, seated beside your boyfriend Yami (you were almost touching him), and the pink-haired witch, Vanessa, decided to sit on the other side. "You simply must try this drink, (Y/N)!"

"Oh, I don't drink much, but thanks for the offer," you said. Your efforts were in vain, seeing as she had already filled your cup.

"Don't overdo it, princess. I don't want you stumbling about the place. Y'know, since you can't really handle your liquor," Yami warned you.

"I'll try not to, Suke."

After filling up your cup, Vanessa decided to ask you a boatload of questions, as did all the other Black Bulls. Asta asked you about your family back at home; Vanessa asked you about your relationship; Luck asked you about your fighting skills; Gordon asked if he could be your friend (and make a doll that resembled you?); etc. All the other Bulls asked you unique questions that were different according to their personalities and interests, and you were happily to answer all of them. It wasn't everyday that you got to talk about your wonderful relationship!

As the night settled down, though, a certain personal question was asked by a certain witch who was to your right. "So, (Y/N), I hope you don't mind me asking you this, but... are you happy in your relationship?" It was on brand for the witch, considering that she liked to talk about relationships and was also quite drunk.

"Vanessa, don't ask those kinds of questions," Yami warned the witch. "You've just met her-"

You answered it, though, regardless of how personal it was. Maybe it was the alcohol that opened you up more, but you gave her a smile and said: "more than you could imagine, Vanessa. Suke makes me happy in ways I cannot imagine. Brash as he might be, he still cares for me, and I can see that he also cares about the lot of you in his own special way. You're his family, after all; I'm just the lucky girl who he chose to open up to." It was more than you intended to say, but it got the point across pretty well. You took another sip of your drink, unaware of the way that they looked at you.

"Wow, that's... I sure am glad that you're happy!" Vanessa exclaimed, throwing her arm around your shoulder (and almost falling out of her chair).

"We all are, (Y/N)," Noelle also said with a slight smile.

"We might've just met you, but if you're a friend of Captain Yami's, then you're a friend of ours!" Asta exclaimed.

"I hope we can be great friends," Gordon whispered.

With each praise, each remark of approval, you couldn't help but smile at them. Truth be told, you'd been longing for a group of people who you could call home. Much like Noelle, you, too, had been shunned by your family for reasons you couldn't explain. Yami had been your lighthouse, your guiding rock all this time, but the idea that there was a whole other group out there who you could lean on for support kept your spirits up.

You might've just met them, but you already felt at home.

"Welcome to the fold, kid," Yami muttered into your ear before kissing the skin behind it.

Now that dinner was all cleaned up and over with, the two of you retired to Yami's bedroom. He shut the door behind him quietly, breathing a sigh of relief. "(Y/N), you have no idea the heart attack you almost gave me back there." Although he let the stoic mask drop and be replaced by the softness that he showed you, he still couldn't help but scold you. "Seriously--I wasn't prepared to introduce you to all of them."

"I didn't mean to surprise you like that, I just... look, I planned on sneaking in and going to your room and surprising you there. I wanted to see you--you've been so busy these past few weeks! I really didn't mean to meet them so early," you said, taking your earrings off and putting them on the nightstand.

Yami took the opportunity to sneak behind you and wrap his arms around your body. "I know I've been busy, princess; I would've snuck you in if you asked me to, though."

"I was impatient, Suke. You know how long those letters take to deliver; I wanted to see you today."

He didn't scold you; rather, he chuckled deeply and pressed his lips to the top of your head. "Well, aren't you an impatient princess?"

"You gave me that title, Sukehiro," you quipped, making him chuckle again.

"I guess I did."

After a few moments of silence, and after you'd taken your jewelry off, he took the opportunity to hug you tighter and let his lips travel down your neck. "Well, since you're here... I might as well get that loving in, hmm?"

"You might as well," you quipped. You stopped talking, instead letting him kiss your neck and your shoulder. You were so small in his arms--like a goddamn kitten! Even though you were strong, confident & fierce in your daily life, when you were with your beloved, you were like putty in his big hands, reduced to mush in a matter of moments.

"Good god, woman, I've missed you," he growled, letting his big hand trail up your shirt. "You have no idea how hard it was to resist the urge to just drop everything and come running to you."

"That's no way for a Magic Knight Captain to behave," you teased him, making him spank your ass out of annoyance.

"I know, princess." He went back to kissing your exposed shoulder and decided to take it a step further. "Turn around for me, baby," he rasped into your ear. You obliged happily, turning around to face your boyfriend. "That's more like it," he said, cracking a smile before attacking your lips. His chapped, rough lips kissed your much softer & sweeter ones, his tongue intermingling with yours and tasting the sweetness of your mouth. "Missed this... the way your lips taste," he whispered, angling your head so he could kiss you deeper.

"Missed yours, too," you murmured to which he raised an eyebrow.

"Didn't you say I smelled like cigarettes and beer?"

"That was before I made you quit all that shit. Now, shut up and kiss me," you said before diving in again.

"As you wish." He spun you guys around so that he was sitting on the bed and you were in between his legs. "What're you standing there for? Sit on my lap, sweetheart." You happily obliged and straddled his hips, letting the man pull you in for another deep, passionate kiss. His wandering hands trailed up and down your sides until he finally decided to peel off your shirt.

"Suke, it's cold," you whined.

"Then lemme heat you up," he rasped, continuing to let his hands run amok. Every time he got his hands on your soft, supple skin, he felt his heart skip a beat. You were just so goddamn perfect for him--you were like an angel, sent to keep him tamed. He trailed kisses down your neck and to your chest, kissing and biting at the soft fat of your breasts. "Mind if I take this thing off?" he asked, sticking a finger underneath the clasp of your bra.

"Only if you take this off," you quipped, peeling your boyfriend's tank top off, giving you access to those sweet muscles that you were so incredibly attracted to.

"Like what you see?" he rumbled with a cocky grin on his face.

"More than you could imagine," you giggled, pushing him back onto the bed and earning a spank from the brute's big hand.

"Come here and give your man some loving, hmm? He's missed having you in his bed."

You promptly requested a change of squad the next day. The Crimson Lion Kings would understand.

Bσɳυʂ ʂƈҽɳҽ: Nαƈԋƚ Fαυʂƚ! ⋆♱✮♱⋆

"So, this is the girlfriend I've been hearing so much about, Captain Yami?" the man, who was his vice-captain, asked him. It was a rare occurrence for him to leave the shadow realm and go back to HQ, but when he heard that his old friend of so many years had gotten himself a girlfriend, he couldn't resist the urge to meet you. His eyes flickered from Yami to you, and you felt like they were staring into your soul.

"Yeah, this is her: (Y/N), (L/N). Try not to scare her off and say anything bad about me, 'kay?" Yami asked of the young man.

Nacht offered you a smile and even outstretched his hand from his coat. "Pleased to meet you, my name is Nacht Faust. I was wondering when Captain Yami would find someone who'd put up with his antics," he said, surprisingly friendly for how reserved he seemed.

"Do I really have that kinda reputation?!"

"Yes, you do."

"Um... nice to meet you as well," you replied, unsure if you should be scared of him or be glad he was so friendly.

"Anyway, I should get going. I can't exactly stand to be around your boyfriend for so long," he said in that eerily calm voice before slinking back into a shadow. "It was nice to meet you again!"

"Yeah, it was..." you trailed off as the man disappeared into the shadowy side of that wall. "Is he always like that?"

"He's usually worse," Yami sighed. "Anyway, let's go back to bed. I'm tired."

"But it's 3 pm!" you protested. He merely scoffed and threw you over his shoulder. "Hey, put me down!!"

"Does it look like I care? I'll cuddle my girlfriend anytime of the day I want."

#yami sukehiro #yami sukehiro x reader #yami sukehiro smut #black clover x y/n #black clover x reader #black clover smut #black clover fandom #black clover #finral roulacase #vanessa enoteca #asta black clover #luck voltia #magna swing #gauche adlai #gordon agrippa #noelle silva #charmy pappitson #nacht faust

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fanaticsnail · 11 months

Text

Three, Two, One: Part 1 of 3

Hello beautiful people! I have decided to turn this part one-shot into a two-part series - SPECIFICALLY because I wanted it to be happy and playful, but it is leaning into a super HARD angst and I didn't want to spoil the playful vibe 👌

Word Count: 3,928

Warnings: mentions of tobacco, nicotine and addiction.

Song accompaniment: Know You Girls, Honey, Boy Toy

Fic Request Prompt by: @terarria-sunflower. Masterlist Here.

“Three, two, one,” you glanced down at your rotund, egg-shaped ticking timer as it began to shake as soon as the final number fled softly from your lips. A small smirk pulled at the corner of your mouth as you gazed at the blonde chef as he placed the relinquished cigarette butt within his ashtray; closing the metal lid to keep the cinders away from tainting the blue ocean with its waste.

“Down to the last second,” you muttered again to yourself, shaking your head while opening your journal and jotting down a new number within the pages. You flipped the yellow ribbon back within the page and shut your book; the several ribbons swaying at the bottom of the journal as you wrapped it around in its bound leather strap to place back atop the table.

As ship’s chronicler, you were tasked with notetaking and scribing the comings and goings aboard the Going Merry; a task which you undertook with complete precision and gusto. You had everything down to a fine craft; from documenting strategic battle maneuvers, to how many engagements in combat Zoro completed before his blades needed repair, down to exactly when the ship would need to pull in to resupply the kitchen with fresh ingredients, and the vessel with fresh medical supplies.

Your attention was being currently drawn to cataloguing the kitchen, searching through the prior menus Sanji had completed to determine which items took priority to resupply. As the kitchen was the blonde chef’s domain, you were spending far more time with him currently than the other members of the crew. You adored how passionate he was about food, and reveled in his eagerness to offer flirtations with you. Originally, you paid his flirtations very little mind; drawing conclusions that his words and gestures was built into his character as his occupation moulded him.

However, as his flirtations became more bold with his subtle smirks and playful words directed towards you; you decided it would be amusing to return his gestures, primarily out of boredom in your travels. Immediately, you found entertainment with how flustered you could make him, how his eyes would twinkle widely and his chin would fall to the ground to have his face shrouded by his blonde hair to shield the rising blush from your view.

Gentle touches of his hands brushing against yours as you passed him your journal to look over your kitchen restock notes, leaning yourself towards him over the kitchen benchtop with a playful bite of your lip while you asked him a mundane question, sitting in silence as he lit a cigarette and gawked at you while you read over your notes; crossing your right leg over your left and absent mindedly brushing your toes against his outer thighs with a light smirk.

It was truly a joy to see him flustered. He knew all of the right words and actions to pose towards others in playful advance, but never quite knew how to process the same unbridled gestures when they were reflected back onto him.

As Sanji walked his away from the wooden frame of the Going Merry’s kitchen bay-window, he turned towards you and smiled his beautiful, cuspid smile as you. Your heart began to swell at his attention, prompting you to look up at him half-lidded and cock your head to the side.

“What are you doing in here, beautiful?” he asked, continuing his approach.

“Oh, just cataloguing in the log book while enjoying the view,” you taunted him back with your playfulness, shamelessly raking your eyes over his torso, down his legs and back up to meet his gaze; “the ocean outside the window is nice to look at, too.”

He paused his movement, a small flustered panic behind his eyes before his smile spread further to his face, “You like what you see, then?” He gestured his hand over his body and arched his eyebrow upwards in question. He was wearing his blue and white-striped shirt with his black tie clasped firmly around his neck; sleeves fastened down at his wrists, secured by black buttoned cuff-links.

Your smirk drew into a broad smile as he continued to step closer to you, you confirming: “yes, chef.”

He allowed a large laugh to escape his parted lips, shaking his head at your brazen sanction.

“You hungry?” he asked once his laughter teetered off.

“Barely,” you shrugged, rising to your feet from your place sitting above deck, “but if it means spending more time with you, I’ll accompany you here the kitchen and aid your preparation for-,” you paused, reopening your journal and skimming it’s pages before locating the correct passage; “-Luffy’s second afternoon tea before dinner?”

He again chuckled at you, beginning to roll up his sleeves by unbuttoning his cuffs; “alright then, come and help me. Keep me company.”

You smiled again at him before reaching down towards the table and retrieving your egg-shaped timer from atop the wooden surface and holding it firmly within your hands. Sanji furrowed his brows, looking at the timer in your hands; “what’s with the timer?”

“Oh,” you shrugged, patting him on the shoulder as you moved past him, “nothing that should concern you.” He cocked his head up at the comment, intrigued by your nonchalant comment. You placed the object back down beside your journal, fixed to remain in its non-ticking nor shaking state for the interim as you readied yourself to begin aiding Sanji with the formulation of the meals.

“Okay then, let’s get started,” he began after rinsing his hands thoroughly, turning to his work station and bringing out several ingredients to ready preparation for Luffy’s snack; a two course meal with several sweet and savoury elements that were not too difficult to execute. You began to lather your hands with soap to wash them before you made your way to aid Sanji with food preparation.

While your back was turned and your egg timer and journal were left unattended; Sanji felt he had no choice but to peruse through the pages, finding your latest entry with the yellow ribbon: the colour he knew represented his entries for your chronicler-duties. Your journal was by no means taboo nor out of bounds for any members of the crew, but as Sanji searched through the pages; he was secretly hoping to find some semblance of minor infatuation towards him.

You both flirted with each other incessantly and constantly aboard the ship, and while travelling from port to port. Sanji couldn’t help but to be wooed by your words and actions, hoping that what began as entertainment from boredom grew as much for you as it did for him; hopefully fanning the flames of a small crush on your crewman into potentially developing into a deeper relationship.

You placed an apron over your head and secured the strap around your waist to stop any food items from falling to your clothes accidentally as he watched you over his shoulder; before hunching back over to find anything of the romantic nature between the pages.

He skimmed over his routine, noting several lines of ingredients he neglected to inform you in need of resupply already added to the journal. He sighed, contented and relieved to see you were effortlessly able to pick up on his subtle substitutions he used to cover the need for the missing ones; grinning at the knowledge of how attuned you were to his actions and efforts as chef aboard the vessel. In his daily schedule, he noticed several small crosses flurrying throughout his comings and goings; numbers written next to each cross.

He furrowed his brows and continued skimming over the pages, passing now onto the green-ribbon section: Zoro’s routine, noting his schedule had no crosses nor numbers. He deepened his frown and looked to the orange, red and blue ribbons for Nami, Luffy and Usopp’s schedules and noticed no crosses on their schedules either. Was this the answer he was looking for? He needed to know, and he needed to know, now.

“Hey, love?” Sanji spoke up, alerting you of his attention. You creased your brows at him, noting he had opened your log-journal and was reading his pages; “what are all these marks?”

Wiping your hands on a hanging blue and white kitchen towel, you turned to approach him; leaning your elbow on his shoulder as he turned his body into you, keeping his sights held to the pages of his schedule. You tilted your head towards your notation and narrowed your eyes before turning away from the pages to look at the blonde chef to your side.

“Those are your cigarette breaks, Sanji,” you smiled at him, reaching up to move his blonde hair away from shielding his eyes from you, “I’ve timed them.”

You turned away from him towards the kitchen counter and began sorting through the stock and comprising them into an order of need: items that needed to be cooked and items that only required assembly.

Sanji turned his eyes back to the page and creased his brows at the notes, looking over and acknowledging truly how many times he sought out the nicotine hit within his day to day activities. Although he didn’t manage to secure what he was hoping for, he remained perplexed by the sheer number and time throughout the day he received his dose of nicotine; almost angry at himself for the total amount.

“I have that many?” he asked, rethreading the ribbon back into the pages and putting the journal back atop the counter next to the egg timer.

“That you do, chef,” you nodded, continuing to sort out the piles of ingredients and readying a knife to begin peeling. Sanji hummed, looking over at you as you began peeling fruit with the edge of your knife. He emptied his pockets, placing his tobacco pouch, ash tray and lighter next to your journal before equipping himself with an apron to join next to you.

You both continued to prepare Luffy’s second afternoon snack together, laughing at something one another said and flirtatiously advancing each other with nothing more than a gentle graze of a shoulder or a brush of a fingertip as you continued working with one another. Once you had completed the task, Sanji removed his apron and began reaching toward his tobacco pouch and ash tray. A sly and mischievous look fell over your features.

“Can I ask you a question, chef?” you asked in a slight hint of mischief in your tone, prompting him to halt his retrieval of the pouch for a moment. You removed your apron and hooked it over a brass kitchen rail.

“Anything for you, love,” he smirked at you, turning around to face you and scrunching up his nose playfully. You tilted your head, walking closer to him and gazing up into his eyes.

“What is it about cigarettes that have such a hold over you?” you asked him curiously, “obviously it is the nicotine addiction, but is there more to it than just that?”

Sanji broke his sights away from you and looked off to the ceiling in thought with a small hum.

“You know,” he began with a nod, turning his eyes back down to meet your gaze, “I hadn’t given it much thought until now, truthfully. Maybe the rush? Taking a moment to myself? Could just be the chemical endorphins or the adrenaline, really.”

You nodded and downturned your lips in thought with a shrug. Sanji smirked at you, half-lidding his eyes mischievously before asking; “Why? You got a theory?”

“Frankly, I think it’s primarily about the nicotine,” you nodded, a wince of a smile falling to your face, “you should really think about breaking the habit, it’ll shorten your life and ruin your palate in the long run.”

You flicked your index finger over his chin playfully, a flirtatious grin rising again to your lips; “gotta keep that talented tongue in peak shape for when we get to the All-Blue. Can’t have everything tasting like ash now, can we?”

A small pink hue rose to his cheeks as you allowed a small giggle to escape your lips. You turned away from him to collect your journal, revelling at how flustered you made the flirtatious chef.

“You make a fine point, beautiful,” he broke his face back into a smile, “how do you suggest I get my fix? Save my palate,” he added with a small chuckle.

You halted your step and quirked your head to the side before turning back to face him again.

“Let’s look at natural remedies,” you pondered, looking upwards at the ceiling, a list forming in your mind; “for adrenaline, why not spar with Zoro? He’d likely appreciate the amount of practice he could get in.”

Sanji hummed, stepping his body closer to you, “doesn’t really serve the endorphin release now, does it, love?”

You giggled in response, again looking towards the chef in thought, “you could go for a quick dip in the ocean? Breath control and adrenaline with that one.”

“And strip off my clothes multiple times a day?” he shook his head with a large grin forming, “I hardly see that as a helpful alternative. Again, it misses the endorphin release and doesn’t meet the accessibility criteria.”

You furrowed your brows and pursed your lips in thought. He chuckled again, turning back to face the table to retrieve his tobacco pouch and lighter, beginning to assemble a cigarette; rolling the tobacco within wafer-thin paper and adding a thin filter port to the end of it. He leant against the table, hips aligning with the height as he reclined back into it. As he brought the filter end to his lips, a stroke of genius struck you. He rose his lighter towards his lips and made to cradle the flame to ignite the end, halting at your next words.

“Kiss me,” you uttered softly with your head swaying as you held a small shyness to your voice, a tone Sanji almost missed. His eyes widened, mouth falling slightly ajar as his cigarette clung to his bottom lip.

“What was that-?” he asked in an utterance slightly more elevated than your own. You looked up at him with a small playful grin as you took your bottom lip once again within your teeth to bite it.

“Breath control,” you said more confidently, beginning to step closer towards him, “adrenaline release,” you raked your eyes over his body before settling on holding his eyes firm to you, “endorphin rush? I’d say a simple kiss would meet the criteria.”

His breath hitched within his throat at the suggestion, prompting him to reach up and remove the cigarette from between his lips and place it on the table behind him.

“You’re saying I can kiss you-,” he confirmed with a small hint of both delight and apprehension, “-for as long as I want?”

You giggled, reaching past him to retrieve your egg timer, “I’ll allow you to kiss me for as long as you need to.”

Sanji quirked his head at your actions, widening his eyes at the egg timer in your hands before a small chuckle fell from his lips. You stepped within his personal proximity after searching his eyes for any apprehension to do so. Meeting none, you settled comfortably in the space between his legs as he remained reclined against the table.

“And judging from your routine: with your mornings, you take about two minutes per cigarette,” you nod your head, rolling the timer within your hands, “your afternoon ones are down to a solid three and a half to four,” he nodded, taking your wrists within his hands and looking down still at the timer, “your before dinner cigarette is about one and a half, because you’re desperate at that stage,” he snickered at your comment, you giggling again in tow.

“And my after dinner one?” he asked you in a breathy, almost frantic voice, “surely I take my time with that one-.”

“-The after dinner one, you usually take around three,” you cut him off with a small giggle, “but your before bed one,” you nudged your nose under his chin to bring his gaze up to meet you once more, “that’s where you take your time with a solid five,” you whispered suggestively close to his jaw.

A small whined-groan escaped from him as he began to chase your face to seek to capture your lips in a kiss, meeting only the tips of your fingers pressed against his lips in response. He furrowed his brows and flittered his eyes down towards your hand and back to gazing intensely into your eyes.

“Hold on, big boy,” you warned him, scrunching up your nose playfully, “I have to set the timer first, or it’s all for naught.”

He nudged your hand away with his chin and a small growl escaping his lips in displeasure at your apprehension. You chuckled at his eagerness, allowing your hand to fall onto his cheek in a gentle caress.

“Surely not for the first one,” he commented hoarsely, desperately as he began reaching down to take the timer from your hands; only to be met with your hands closing over the egg-timer and holding it firmer, “just a taste-.”

“-It’s part of the fun,” you smile at him, floating your gaze over his face; falling on his lips before rising up again to meet with his eyes, “otherwise it won’t work and you’ll be back to square one."

He hummed in response, almost in a low whine as he pressed his forehead against you and grazing his hands down your ribcage to settle against your hips; “and what do you get out of aiding me with my fix?”

“I get the knowledge,” you whisper against his jaw, grazing your lips along his skin slowly, “that I’m the one bringing the rush to you, Sanji. I’m the one making you feel good.”

“Set the timer,” he growled firmly, eyes darkening with his pupils blown out and intense with desire, “four minutes.”

“Oui, chef,” you whispered with a small giggle in anxious anticipation, pulling your lips away from his jaw and turning towards your egg timer; winding it to the appropriate duration.

“Okay Sanji, the time starts: n-,” your words are halted by his the soft but intense collision of Sanji’s lips overzealously engaging in entanglement against your own. You squealed slightly at the immediacy of his reaction, your eyes wide as you stared at his closed eyes as his brows creased in intensity with your cheeks held firmly within his hands.

You reached slowly behind him to place the timer down on the table and raked your hands over his back and slid your fingertips against his flesh and holding his hips firmly while closing your eyes. You shifted your lips against his, opening them to deepen the kiss and allow him to glide his tongue behind your entrance to dance with your tongue. You gasped as soon as the contact was made, feeling a sharp piece of metal beneath the muscle, attached firmly to his frenulum. A piercing? Sanji has a tongue piercing?

He smiled into the kiss, feeling your shock as you brushed your tongue with his. He retracted the muscle from your mouth and began to place rougher kisses, assaulting your lips while raking his fingers through your hair and cradle your head further against his own. He rotated his head to continue the deep and rough engagement, prompting a whimper-like moan to fall from your lips in response.

As he remained reclined against the table, you wavered in your mind how much more adrenaline you could spike into his bloodstream to elevate his heartbeat further. Deciding to not withhold your ministrations; you pulled yourself further against his hips and hooked your right leg over his left and guide his left hand from your hair to wrap around your thigh. A groan fell from his lips as he reclined against the table further, unbreaking the kiss from your lips as he eagerly began to support your weight against him with fervour.

He pulled his other hand from your hair as you laced your hands behind his neck to hold him further into yourself. Just as you tilted your head and made to rake your fingers into his hair while he reached down to grip the back of your other thigh to hoist you up against himself fully; the egg-timer began to rattle and shake, alerting you the duration of the kiss was to be drawn to a close.

The low groan released from Sanji’s lips followed by a whimper as you began to pull yourself away from him was as delicious as the meals he would readily present to you, filling you completely with his unbridled need being absolutely met by your body.

“Please-,” he cried his protestation and need for you softly as you made to break from his lips, “please I need more.”

You smiled while he chased you with his lips as you pulled away from him, unlacing your leg from circling his hip and pulled your arms around his shoulders. You pressed your hand to rest against his chest, feeling the rapid pace pummelling harshly at his breastbone, pushing him away with a gentle but firm touch.

“You can have more,” you cooed at him, looking down through your eyelashes to see his desperation on full display over his face; his breath unevenly falling from his mouth, “in an hour and twenty minutes, before dinner.”

“For how long, then?” He gasped, moving his hands from your hips to lace his fingertips within your own, “surely not just for one and a half minutes.”

You giggled at him, looking at the beautiful picture you had painted on the man of a canvas before you: his eyes blown out with lust and desire, his heart beating with the rapidity of an over-excited puppy anticipating its first treat, his lips bruised from the prior collision against your own.

“You are out of breath,” you nodded to him, gesturing to his lips with your chin, “you have a spike of adrenaline, gathered by how rapid your heart was beating just now,” you rubbed your thumb to circle over his own, “and hopefully the kiss gave you as much of a rush of endorphins as it did me,” you giggled with a nod, taking your bottom lip between your teeth.

He nodded, looking down at the ground with a small smile tugging at his slightly swollen lips.

“Thank you for helping me with breaking my addiction, and,” he murmured, bringing your hands upwards to brush his lips against every digit; paying them all as much attention as the other with his lips, breaking only to utter; “for helping me restore my palate. I’m going to look forward to receiving my next hit from you.”

You felt a small rush of butterflies falling over your chest as he bore a wide grin against your knuckles.

“Okay, chef,” you said, releasing your hands from his and bringing your right hand up to caress his cheek, brushing your thumb over his lips to tenderly sooth them, “let’s go bring the captain his second afternoon tea.”

“Oui, mademoiselle,” he groaned, pressing a small and playful kiss against the pad of your thumb, prompting a small whimper to fall from your own lips this time; a smirk readily rising to his cheeks as he took the balled piercing from beneath his tongue and twirled it against his teeth absent mindedly.

Part 2

#one piece #opla #opla fic #x reader #one piece live action #sanji opla #black leg sanji #sanji fic #sanji x reader #one piece sanji #sanji

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personasintro · 11 months

Text

Mutual Help | #51

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.6k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢

Never in a million years would you think you and Jungkook will go to work together. To the same workplace as if you were colleagues. In some way, you kind of are colleagues at the moment, even though you won't be exactly working together.

It definitely has some perks.

For example – you don't have to drive since Jungkook suggested you should go together in one car which makes sense and it is something you were planning to offer anyway. Jungkook's car is more comfortable of course, how can it not be for the money he spent on it, right?

You enjoy the freedom of not having to drive through busy Seoul to get to work. However, you still offer to drive once you see Jungkook yawning as soon as he sits down on the driver seat.

He even has the audacity to snort at your offer. "You driving my car? Nah, I'll pass."

You do feel offended, though you would never purposely try to drive his expensive ass car – too scared to get into an accident or scratch the perfect shiny exterior.

"Asshole," you grumble, "Didn't you offer your car when I got into the accident?" you point out, noticing Jungkook's grin which slightly falters at the mention of your accident. You know he's just teasing you, despite his morning tired state.

"It was a matter of life and death," he remarks, causing you to flick him off. "Sorry, angel. Hate to break it to you but you're not that good of a driver."

Angel... that's new. Even if it's his way of teasing you again, you can't help but feel the little fluttering in the pit of your stomach. It doesn't help that Jungkook has cleaned and dressed up nicely. His outfit is quite simple but knocked the breath out of you as soon as he stepped out of the bathroom, fully ready despite his tired puffy eyes. White button-up with black casual slacks – a total threat to your sanity.

"I am a good driver!" you argue.

Okay, maybe you're not a complete Michael Knight when it comes to driving but you're pretty decent. It took you a while to improve but experience helped a lot.

"You can't compare me to you!"

"I know, I know. I'm just teasing you." Jungkook adds teasingly, met with your annoyed huff as your back meets the car seat frustratedly.

For the rest of the drive, Jungkook takes it as his mission to make you laugh and he blasts old Justin Bieber songs, dramatically singing as you try to keep your laugh at bay.

"You're who I'm thinking of, girl you ain't my runner-up,"

He quickly shoots you a playful wink as you roll your eyes, nudging gently his shoulder as he keeps his eyes on the road.

"Just shut up and drive."

"Oh, that's a good song!"

"Oh god..." you mutter, staring from the window as your facade finally cracks.

Though as Jungkook glances at you, he sees your grin in the reflection and he knows his job is done.

Junho snatches Jungkook from you as soon as the elevator door opens, his nervous figure pacing around the place. His usual self nervous and on the edge now seems to be under control and you think it has something to do with Jungkook. Only because once he spots you and Jungkook, his eyes widening slightly before a welcoming smile stretches on his thin lips as he gives your friend a warm welcome. Not just you, but half of the staff witnessing this moment just gape at him.

Junho likes to kiss ass to everyone who works above him, especially any partners but you would never expect him to be so warm towards a photographer. It only proves he really loves Jungkook's work and is more than happy to have him on this project. So much, that he trusted Jungkook's offer of involving someone whose work he hasn't seen at all. Which reminds you Ester should be here soon, so she and Jungkook can get to work.

You assume once Junho is done kissing Jungkook's ass, he is leading him to the studio where they should go over the work once again before the models are prepared to have photoshoots.

There are many people, strangers who work for other companies, most of them make-up artists, agents. You've been here for three minutes and it's already looking hectic.

"Well, fuck me."

Turning sideways, you spot Yoongi glancing at retrieving figures of your boss and your best friend, similarly looking taken aback.

"Yeah, I know." you mutter, seeing him holding a stack of papers, wearing a gray suit.

"Asshole, we work for him for years and do most of the job and he never treats us like that."

You snort, not surprised by Yoongi's annoyance and irritation showing because in a way, you understand him. Junho can be very hard on all of you and he doesn't exactly treat you friendly, but he's not a bad boss. You're sure there are far worse bosses out there than just a simple man who's too greedy and ambitious for his own good.

"Shh, somebody is going to hear you." you scold him, mouth opening as soon as he thrusts the papers into your arms causing you to almost drop them. You glare at him but he's not even looking at you, sighing as Junho's figure disappears before he glances back at you.

"Like I give a fuck. Junho needs me, he's not gonna do a shit."

"You're too confident. Junho might need all of us," Yoongi rolls his eyes, "But he's got a temper."

"It would be his loss."

He's right about that but you don't tell him that.

"Why did you give me these papers?"

"Wake up, sunshine. You're at your work right now, chop chop."

And he simply walks away with no looking back which leaves your mouth hanging open, and you choke on the fit of curses that want to leave your mouth but you already hear your name being called, one of your colleagues rushing to you as they need your help.

Great. You haven't even got the chance to put your bag away. Fucking Min Yoongi and fucking Mondays.

Ester arrives a few minutes after Jungkook. He had to laugh at her petrified face when he politely excused himself to Junho, so he can help her get into the building since she doesn't know her way. It's enough she has to be nervous which only confirms once Junho so eagerly excuses him, leaving a few coworkers that are around completely speechless.

"Am I late? You said eight, right?" she asks him as soon as Jungkook holds the door for her to come in, chuckling at her anxious state.

"No, you're good and I did. I came a little early," he assures her and sees the sigh of relief she lets out, "Besides everything is just getting ready, well the final preparations but Junho, the boss I was talking you about," he says, momentarily stopping to make a space for people leaving the elevator before they both make their way in.

He pushes the button, turning to her as he gives her a comforting smile which she tries to return.

"He is gonna go over the things again with us and then we should get to work. We have a long day ahead of us."

She nods, not giving any sort of other reaction – her nerves getting the best of her.

Meanwhile you spot Ester and Jungkook coming in, getting to work right after – you're already swallowed by your own responsibilities and not having time for anything else.

Despite the day's business, it feels as if it's dragging painfully slowly. You don't get to see Jungkook in action, somehow he's always just a blur in the background and you're not phased even in the slightest when you catch a glimpse of him, doing a great work with models. He's a true leader, involved just as much as he can be as he naturally communicates with the models and Ester on the side, who seems to be in her natural habitat.

You don't know any other photographer besides your best friend but seeing how two of them work well together, both of them understanding each other right away makes you think they have a lot in common when it comes to photography. They joke a little, Jungkook helps her with her camera once it seems as if there's a little problem in the setting as he sorts it out for her – all of this you experience in a span of five minutes watching from the distance, some of your coworkers beside you as you wait for the shoot to end. Well, a part of the shoot anyway.

"He's doing a great job, isn't he?"

You almost flinch at the sudden presence of another body next to you, looking at Benjamin who hands you a cup of coffee. You see Lauren holding one of those as well, shooting him a last appreciative smile before she focuses on the tablet in her hands.

"Thank you,"

You thank him, not having the heart to decline his attentive gesture. You don't like to get through the day drinking coffee, it bites you back in the night as it follows with the hassle of not being able to fall asleep. But it's soon lunchtime and you haven't had the time to just sit down, even if it's for five minutes so you gladly take the cup from the coffee machine and take a cautious sip.

"You're like the fifth person who told that in a span of ten minutes." you chuckle causing him to do the same as he lightly shrugs.

"It's true, I had to be there for a few minutes and seriously, he's amazing. You must be proud of him."

There's nothing but sweetness and tenderness in his raspy voice and soft expression and you have to look away to try and shoo away the approaching guilt, still feeling like an idiot for lying to him. To be fair, he hasn't tried anything since then but still remained sweet and friendly. Jungkook is not your real boyfriend but he doesn't know that and ever since he heard the revelation, it's obvious he backed away. You're glad he's still the sweet guy you met – unfortunately, it makes it even worse for your guilt and the little white lie.

"I am," you respond, cutting your thoughts off before you can feel like a total loser.

No lies need to be told, not when it comes to Jungkook's talent and you being proud of him. You remember the beginning of his photography career. He has always been doing good, but it took a lot of courage to get a freelancer career right after college, praying he will have enough clients to pay his bills. In the end, it wasn't the smoothest start but he's nifty and ambitious which helped a lot in this journey.

Despite his parents voicing out their concern for his son, not that they didn't believe in him but their concerns weren't helping him to smooth his own concerns of the future, he has managed to pull it off.

"Photography is his passion." you add softly, not really sure why you just shared that because you're not sure if Benjamin even cares but he responds with one of his charming smiles.

You continue to watch the scene happening in the distance, noticing the tall model you remember from the company's party standing now alone, exposing her skin and legs to everyone's eyes. She's not phased about it, how can she? This is her job and she's used to it, having done a good amount of photoshoots in her lifetime. You know you couldn't just stand there in a bikini, revealing the curve of your ass and most of your ass-cheeks exposed to dozens of men. Nobody in your company is disrespectful and just as she's used to the eyes, you all are used to seeing models. It doesn't matter what gender.

Her blond hair is curled into big beachy waves, breasts pushed up in the bikini bra as she professionally poses for Jungkook's camera. He chats with her throughout it, both of them trying to figure out the new positions and concepts together as they share a laugh together before returning back to work.

There are other models watching them, both female and male as the women seem equally attracted to Jungkook, despite there being male models right next to them.

All the men models are handsome, looking almost unreal even from the distance where you are standing. All of them are captivating and interesting looking in their own way, which makes them special and you know your company has done a good job at picking them up. You're not sure you've seen so many abs in your life like you're experiencing right now – even though most of them have thin robes draped over their shoulders.

Despite it all, you stare back at Jungkook and it's like no one competes with him. It's not even about him having an equally amazing body than the male models here. It's just him and for a split second you panic. You know you're attracted to him, that much is clear because you wouldn't be able to let your new deal keep going on for this long. But you're scared. So you hide your distress behind the plastic cup as you take a few sips of the coffee, letting more caffeine into your body.

"Don't do that."

Turning to Benjamin, you're met with his soft gaze once again and for a moment you think you see an amused grin spreading on his plump lips.

"Do what?"

"Well, at least I hope you're not comparing yourself to them." he says, pointing his head towards the models direction as you glance at them, met with the perfect skinny bodies and shiny skin while his eyes stay on your face, watching you attentively.

"I--no, I'm not." you assure him, but it comes out unsurely and way less honest than you intended.

Working here, you think almost every woman gets through the whole insecurity process at least once. Especially if you're met with gorgeous women on a daily basis but it comes out of inner insecurities in the first place. Eventually, if you're in a happy place with yourself, embracing your own beauty, it's not something you beat yourself over or getting on a radical diet, so you can even come close to them.

You're not envious and jealous, not at all. There are times when a woman can get insecure, or compare herself with literal models and by "a woman" you include yourself too. You think it's only natural in an environment like this but you're happy with yourself and you hope every single coworker of yours is too.

"Good, because you're pretty," he says, a serious tone laced with softness as you stare at him with wide eyes, not expecting the compliment but honesty too. "Ah, sorry have I crossed a line? I didn't mean it--I wasn't meant to be disrespectful towards your boyfriend. I just saw you looking at them and I thought--Ahhh, I'm sorry." he rambles as you watch him with your mouth agape before you let out a chuckle and shake your head.

"You aren't disrespectful," you assure him, still seeing the panic in his light eyes. "Thanks for the compliment."

He lets out a breathy laugh, "I hope I didn't come off as if I'm coming onto you or something. I know you're in a relationship,"

Your features turn guilt for a second and you know he catches the change, though he most likely mistakes it for sadness rather than guilt.

"I'm not like that!" he quickly adds and you laugh, shaking your head.

"Benjamin, please breathe," you continue to laugh silently, "I know. You're very sweet, thank you."

"Good, I don't want to be on bad terms with your boyfriend. He seems like he can throw a punch or two." he jokes, but there's a little fear and seriousness in his voice which makes you giggle.

"He can," you muse but quickly add, "But don't worry about him. He wouldn't punch you for calling me pretty, not that he has to know."

You give him an assurance that you won't snitch on him to "your boyfriend", even though it's not a big deal at all. Even if you had a boyfriend and someone else called you pretty, it doesn't mean they're coming onto you. And you appreciate Benjamin's concern, knowing he really didn't mean to come off as pushy or invading in any way.

"Good, good..." Benjamin sighs in relief, giving you a grin. "Who's the other photographer? Is she from our company?" He changes the topic.

"No, actually. She is Jungkook's friend."

Benjamin opens his mouth, an audible "Oh" leaving his mouth before another voice reaches your ears.

"Admiring your boyfriend, I see?"

And just like that, your own grin drops and you turn around finding Yoongi making his way to you. Can he be any more suspicious? He looks amused as fuck, finding his little joke (which is unknown to Benjamin) a little bit too funny and your expression of annoyance even more.

"No. I'm doing my job which can't be said about you." you remark back, watching his grin stretch even more which annoys you to the core while Benjamin stares confusingly at you and him, sensing the tension.

It's not like he is new to it but he's probably confused why you still bicker at almost every chance.

"Oh, admiring your boyfriend is your job?" he teases, or more like annoys the shit out of you as you bite your tongue. "Besides, I've been doing my and your job."

"What do you mean?"

"They're looking for you in the office. You're supposed to sort out finances with the team."

"No, I am not. I'm supposed to be here for a while until--"

"Doesn't matter," You're rudely cut off by him as he waves you off. "Get your ass there. You're lucky Junho isn't there and is busy admiring your boyfriend."

"Careful, you sound jealous, Min." you sing out, gulping down the rest of the cold coffee now before you bin it.

Brushing past Yoongi, you pat his shoulder just for the right measure to piss him off and seeing him narrowing his eyes at you annoyingly, you know you've succeeded. Throwing a wave to Benjamin, you leave the two of them there as you're on your way to find the fuck out what you have to do with finances.

The next time you see Jungkook is after lunchtime, he's joined with Junho and a few other people including Natalie, the main star of today's project and Ester. You heard Junho invited some of them to lunch outside, which threw you off a little considering he's been a nervous wreck about this project and you pictured him showing his usual temper. But at the same time, it makes sense he's suddenly a different man, trying to impress everyone he invited to lunch.

He never did that with any of his employees – not that most of you would go anyway, maybe strictly out of politeness and a fear of possibly pissing him off.

You've around five minutes to get back to work, meeting Jungkook's gaze across the room as he makes his way over to you, leaving the partners and agents alone as everyone is going their own way.

There has been barely any time to chat with him, or just make sure everything's good even though you know Jungkook can take care of himself and everyone is swooning over him. So once you're met with a gentle smile of his, you reciprocate it.

"Hey, where were you? I thought you'd join us for lunch." he says, stopping right in front of you.

"I couldn't, besides Junho didn't invite us and we still had some work to do." you explain.

By work you don't mean anything too important, just to make sure everything's ready on the next set so you can go home on time.

Jungkook's eyes narrow for a moment, an unpleasant look making its way on his face as he licks his lips. "Have you eaten?"

"Uhh, yeah. There is a buffet prepared for all of you but Benjamin actually ordered us a delivery."

You'd be completely fine eating toast or something light for lunch, as long as you get to eat something and won't stay hungry. Luckily Benjamin was kind enough to take it upon himself to prepare food for all of you, the people that were left behind in the company. Though, to be completely fair you were free to go eat out too, it's not like you have forbidden to do so, but all of you know it wouldn't be convenient today.

"You could've just told me." Jungkook says, sound tilting close to the actual scolding which makes you let out a breathy chuckle.

"Told you what?"

"Well, I could've taken you for lunch. I thought you guys would join us, I didn't know.... If I knew you weren't invited I'd just eat with you."

You smile at his concern, shaking your head lightly while Jungkook frowns even more. "It's fine," you laugh a little, "You can't exactly decline their invitation. It's only polite for you to go. It's no big deal."

"No, it's not... If I just knew..." he mumbles, "I'd decline them anyway."

Now that makes you laugh and Jungkook's lips twitch as he tries to hide a grin.

"What? I don't care if I'm invited or not, or what's polite or not."

"You're lucky Junho seems to like you a lot."

Jungkook shrugs, a cocky expression taking over his handsome face. "What can I say..."

"Don't say anything," you joke, "How's Ester doing?"

"She's actually very good. I knew she'd do a good job." he answers.

Nothing else can be said because Junho ushers everyone to get back to work. Jungkook sighs and gives you one last dreadful look which makes you giggle as he walks away.

The rest of the week goes exactly the same. You and Jungkook go to work together but you separate as soon as you enter the building, this time around Jungkook makes sure to take you out for lunch and Ester joins you, since she doesn't know many people and you wouldn't want her to be left alone when Jungkook is the only person who she knows the most. She actually comes out of her shell and gushes over this opportunity, thanking your friend a few times.

She's sweet, kind and friendly. In a way she reminds you of someone, she's very much similar to her – personality wise and you wonder if Jungkook sees it the same way.

After lunch, you both go doing your job and don't interact with each other (besides the soft smiles whenever your eyes meet) until it's time to go home. You catch up on the way to Jungkook's apartment, get ready to go to bed before you repeat the same process every day.

It's Friday now and you successfully finished this week with a great outcome that's seen for now. After working ten hours of being constantly on your feet and handling stuff, you miss the softness of your bed and Jungkook's huge expensive shower and you have to control yourself not to look grumpy in this nice bar Junho invited some of you to. Just the close circle of his employees and agents from the other company, to apparently celebrate this week.

You weren't as lucky as Yoongi who slipped away through the doors before another word could be uttered. The idiot is probably at home by now, or doing whatever you want while you're stuck in this bar, listening to Junho bragging about useless things.

Most people that were invited you don't know personally, nor you've a close relationship with or any at this point. Excluding Jungkook who couldn't say no because your boss insisted. Even Natalie has been invited, which doesn't surprise you as she charms everyone with her own charms around the table.

She's taking most of Jungkook's attention, the man having a casual conversation with her while you sit next to him like a grumpy cat, swirling your drink. Non-alcoholic drink to be precise and you already regret your decision not to drink tonight.

It's boring and not even when Jungkook tries to keep you entertained whenever he can, it doesn't help much.

You spend the time going through the entire week, lucky there was no drama happening regarding Yoongi or Benjamin. The last time Yoongi and Jungkook interacted with each other, your friend was ready to punch your coworker. Luckily, they never bumped into each other. And Benjamin? He has never questioned you about your relationship with Jungkook, probably thinking you're keeping it professional in the work which you would do either way – with or without a boyfriend. It ultimately made it easier with Ester as well, since she knows you and Jungkook are friends and you're glad it hasn't reached her eyes that you're "dating" Jungkook all of a sudden.

"You wanna go home?" Jungkook asks once he leans in your direction, close to almost brushing his lips against your ear as his scent fills your nostrils.

You've been here for only an hour but if anyone even talks to you, it's just boring conversation that leads nowhere. Damn, you really feel antisocial right now.

"Not if you don't want to," you tell him, knowing you both came here by his car. "I can just take a cab." You change your mind as Jungkook gives you a look.

"Don't be ridiculous," he scoffs gently, "I'll finish the drink and we can go. It's boring anyway." he says the last sentence with a whisper, so nobody else can hear him which makes you bite back a laugh.

Is he lying? He looked like he's having a good time. He talked the most amongst the group which can't be said about you.

"Junho has offered me a job in the company."

Your brows lift up in surprise, Jungkook driving you both home as he lowers the volume of the music that's been pleasantly playing in the background.

"Oh."

"Yeah..."

You had a photographer that used to be employed in the company, but Junho decided to fire him because he "wasn't good enough". Of course you're no professional but you think he had the job done, so him getting fired surprised everyone at that time. That's why your boss stuck to finding a different photographer for each project, instead of employing someone.

"What did you tell him?" you ask.

"That I'd think about it."

"And will you?"

"I don't know," Jungkook chuckles, "It'd be less work for me. It's simpler than being a freelancer and having to sort everything out by myself. But I don't think it'd be a good idea regardless."

"Why not?" you frown.

As much as you complain sometimes about your job, you do like it and you'd be bummed out if you were fired for some reason.

"First of all, I like the fact I'm my own boss. I choose what I want to work on. Besides, I don't think it'd be a good idea if we worked together," he explains, briefly glancing at you to notice your curious gaze but before you can open your mouth, he jumps to explain further. "Friends working together is never a good idea."

"Well, technically we wouldn't work together. I don't really interact with photographers a lot, somebody else does."

"Well yeah, but I wouldn't want to come into your own workplace. That's your place."

"I'm pretty sure it doesn't work like that," you chuckle, "But I understand what you mean."

You find it sweet that he puts you first, even though you don't see a problem with him working at your company. If that's what he wants.

"Me and Jimin worked together."

"Yeah but you met there. You weren't already best friends. That's different. And you only did an internship there."

"Hm, I guess you're right." you hum.

"Anyway, I don't think I'm gonna take it. I didn't want to tell him straight away to look impolite or inappreciative."

"Just so you know, I wouldn't mind whatever you decide on." you assure him and the corner of his lips lifts up.

A minute of silence follows until Jungkook stops at the red light, drumming his tattooed fingers against the steering wheel.

"I'm gonna meet up with Hoseok."

Jungkook manages to shock you a second time within the past ten minutes but this time, your head snaps to his direction as he glances at you, a serious expression on his face.

You know he mentioned talking to him recently, but to be honest you completely forgot about that conversation and you'd never thought of bringing it up to him. That's completely his decision if he wants to talk to Hoseok. You know Jungkook deals with a lot of stuff that's eating him alive, no matter how better he seems to be and assures you he is fine. The betrayal he still feels from Hoseok's action is very fresh but there's at least the slightest amount of understanding, at least you hope so judging from your last conversation you had with him about this topic.

"That's great, Kook," you say, not really sure what to say – due to your shock and wondering what's the right thing to say. You don't want him to doubt his decision and you're glad he is at least moving on. "Did you wait the entire evening to drop all this information on me?" you joke and actually make him laugh as he drives off once the light turns green.

"Wanted to have you all to myself before I do," he jokes and you ignore the set of butterflies his words cause you. "I was thinking about it a lot... I can't promise how our conversation will turn out because I'm still hurt, and I don't think it's gonna go away any time soon... but, I'm willing to talk to him. So I texted him today before I could chicken out because I know I would."

"It's not gonna be easy to hear him out, you're still hurt. But just try to see his perspective a little," you advise him carefully while he stays silent, "However your conversation goes, remember you tried your best."

"Yeah." he exhales a sigh, nibbling on his bottom lip as he brushes his thumb across it.

He knows he has to talk to Hoseok either way before it's too late. He needs to deal with this while it's fresh.

The place they agreed to meet is Hoseok's apartment. At first, Jungkook was thinking about meeting him in a public place because the last time Hoseok was in his apartment, it didn't end well. So many things were left shattered that day. He is more calm now but regardless of that, a public place is not suitable for such a conversation they're about to have.

When Hoseok offered to meet at his place, he agreed. The conversation simple and blunt, straight to the point and it's ridiculous how awkward and tense it seemed even through the stupid texts.

For fuck sake, he even woke up early to have a morning jog just to come back and find you already preparing for your day with Maya. He has barely eaten, too distracted to properly function and with each mile he gets to the final destination, he feels his stomach in knots.

However, he walks to his door with utter confidence knowing he has an upper hand in this. And meeting Hoseok's brown soft eyes full of sadness and regret makes him actually soften. But then he is reminded of what he has done to him and if it weren't enough, the pictures that fill his apartment – pictures of his friends and among them Kiko – he is reminded he is in this position because of her.

Not only she ruined their relationship and possible future, she has also managed to ruin his friendship with Hoseok. A friend he has had for years.

But is he selfish to put all the blame onto her? Clearly, it wasn't his fault what happened. It does feel bitter to know she got involved with more people and he wants to be so mad at her. A part of him still is. But then he looks at her wide smile he fell in love with and tries to think what pain she went through alone. Even though she has done it voluntarily, it still doesn't feel better to know she was in pain. Still is.

"Do you want something to drink? Water, juice or I can make you a drink?" Hoseok asks once the awkward greeting is over, motioning Jungkook to sit down on his couch as he listens and peels away his eyes from the memories in a form of framed pictures.

"Water is fine."

He drove here and even though he could easily drink and call a cab, it's better to stay away from alcohol. Not that he is scared to flip out or something because Jungkook isn't the type to turn aggressive if drinking, but it tends to strengthen emotions. He needs to have a clear mind for this.

"Sure, let me get that for you and then we can talk." he offers him a crooked smile and Jungkook knows it's just a mask to hide his own nervosity.

Hoseok has always been collected, the fun one in the group alongside Taehyung but he could still be stern and serious – definitely more than Taehyung. But he has never seen him like this but it only makes sense. Hoseok has never ruined a friendship with anyone. He is friends with anyone. Well, if he doesn't count the awkward interactions you had with him.

He comes back within a minute, placing the glass in front of Jungkook as he thanks him but doesn't reach for it just yet. Though his throat starts to feel dry, he feels it tightening as he's not sure how to start.

"I'm sorry," Hoseok blurts out suddenly, "I know I said it so many times by now but I can't look you in the eyes without saying it again. It feels awful to feel this tension and awkwardness between us, I know it's my fault..."

"No, it's not..." Jungkook mutters, ignoring the subtle surprise on Hoseok's face as he nervously brushes through his dark hair, staring at the younger. "At least not entirely,"

Hoseok's face drops but he nods in understatement.

"I was so mad at you. I felt betrayed by my own friend and having to come to terms with what happened--it's still hard and it's not easy but I think I'm getting better at understanding you and... her,"

Hoseok's features turn soft, not daring to say a word. Not yet at least.

"It sucks because I'm still mad, a part of me is and I don't think it's gonna go away any time soon," he repeats the words he said to you in his car yesterday, "But Y/N made me think about you more... well at least to try and see things from your perspective as she would say. She actually made us an example,"

He chuckles at the memory.

"And I understood if Y/N came up to me and asked me--asked me what Kiko asked you as her best friend. I would do it in a heartbeat. I would be there for her and keep it a secret because I respect her that much. I think it would be so fucking hard to keep such a heartbreaking secret, but I would do it for her. I guess I was selfish to see things from only my perspective. I was too consumed by the anger and heartbreak."

He hates how Hoseok gives him a pitiful look. He hates when people pity him and that's when he usually chooses not to be vulnerable in front of anyone. He deals with his stuff alone

"And it's totally understandable, Kook," Hoseok says slowly and softly, "I can't imagine what you had to go through and I hate myself for not telling you anything since I knew the truth from day one."

"I know it wasn't easy for you either," Jungkook tells him, finally having the courage to look back into his brown eyes. "I think it would be worse if you actually didn't feel bad." he tries to joke and it helps to soothe out the tension in the room, as Hoseok chuckles but it comes out dryly.

"Ever since I've known," Hoseok says hesitantly, eyes glancing at Jungkook as the younger slowly nods at him to silently tell him it's fine to be honest and open. Even if it might hurt him. "I told her to tell you. She even told me she regrets telling me and dragging me into this. But I'm glad she did, only because she was alone. I know she chose it and I know you're the best thing that happened to her, I encouraged her to tell you before it's too late. To talk to you before she–"

He sets his lips into a tight line as Jungkook gives him a saddened nod, knowing what he is referring to.

"I told her you'd take care of them. I told her even if she decided she doesn't--whatever she decided, you would be there for her every step of the way. But she was so stubborn, she wouldn't listen to me and she panicked. Before she knew, it was too late. When she broke up with you--I scolded her for not telling you the truth but she told me it will hurt you even more than the lie,"

He knows, she told him and it's still hurtful to hear this thing all over again.

"But she put your well-being first. And then you guys got together again and I still told her to tell you because one way or another, you will find out and then she will lose you. I think that intimidated her the most and she caught herself into this web of lies. She loved you so much that the thought of losing you again scared the shit out of her. She regretted her decision and--I know you probably don't want to hear about her or hear her side because what she did–-it was her decision and she had the right to do so. But she still hurt you... a lot."

"No, it's fine. I think I need to hear all of it to be able to fully move on." Jungkook swallows, hearing his heart cracking but something tells him he really needs to hear all of it.

"She started going to therapy shortly after..." he motions with his hands, still not able to say it out loud because it is too painful. For him as well. "She wasn't doing well, Kook. I know you probably don't care–"

"I do," he cuts him off gently, "I don't like the thought of her suffering, despite all."

"Because you have the biggest heart," Hoseok says immediately, cringing at his words which makes both men chuckle a little. "You really do."

"I just don't get it... we were doing so fine. We talked about our future. So what if it happened way sooner than we planned? She wasn't planning to break up with me. Does she think we couldn't be a family? Does she think we couldn't raise a child together? As a father of the child, I had the right to at least know that she is pregnant. Fuck, we had sex just a few days before she broke up with me. Knowing she was pregnant at that time--"

"Nobody would change her mind. Not even you, Jungkook," Hoseok reminds him softly, "I know you think you would... but she was too stubborn. She was depressed and sure of her decision. It backfired and she is gonna live it for the rest of her life. She lost you for good."

Jungkook swallows, wanting to reach for the stupid glass of water but he doesn't want to look weaker than he already is.

"How--How is she?" he asks carefully. Tone perfectly slow and wary, he's not sure if he wants to hear about her but a part of him wants to know.

He hasn't seen her and nobody talked to her in front of him, which is understandable and he knows it was better that way.

"She's in Japan at the moment," Hoseok smiles sadly, "She is with her family and needs to heal. It fucked her up a lot. I think even more because she blames herself knowing it's all on her."

"I...I'm sorry to hear that."

He really is. No matter what happened between them, it's not easy to hear how much she is suffering. He doesn't want her to suffer for the rest of her life. He's not that bitter and bad to actually wish that.

"She will be better," Hoseok says, though Jungkook is not sure if he means it or tries to persuade himself, or both of them. "At first she tried to hide her true emotions, she thought I couldn't see she's faking it... it always ended up with her losing it. It would take hours to calm her down."

"I'm... I'm glad she had you." he says, knowing he wouldn't be able to be that person to her.

Or maybe he could but he's not sure if he was capable, considering his own heartbreak and demons.

"You were the one she wanted," Hoseok admits softly, "But nobody would ask you of that. She really hates herself for hurting you."

"I know," Jungkook sighs, "I don't want her to hate herself."

"Maybe you could tell her that? Maybe in the future? I know it's a lot to ask and I don't want to make it seem as if I'm pressuring you. You've got every right not to see her anymore because I know how much that must hurt. I think you both aren't ready to see each other and most importantly, talk. But maybe the right way to heal is to heal each other?" he asks unsurely.

He definitely doesn't want to push Jungkook's buttons, he already appreciates him being here and this conversation going smoothly, even though it's sad and heartbreaking all over again.

"Maybe," he mumbles, "I'm healing slowly but I guess you're right. I'm not ready though. It still hurts. I can't help but think what if... and all that. I imagine what my life would look like if she didn't... but I guess it happened for a reason?"

"Yeah," he nods slowly and gives him a saddened smile, "Maybe you just weren't meant to be for each other."

"I'm not sure if I believe that," Jungkook frowns, "We loved each other. If she said the truth, things could be different. I wouldn't leave her no matter what."

"Of course, I don't doubt your love," Hoseok reminds him, "I'm sure if things were different, you'd still be together. But I'm glad you're healing. I'm really sorry for what you had to go through. I wish I could change it."

"Maybe it happened for a reason," Jungkook shrugs, though he is still not sure if this is his fate. "I'll have to live either way."

"You look well." Hoseok tells him, searching Jungkook's face. He doesn't look as broken as he once did.

The memory of Jungkook's indescribable face when they last talked together still haunts him to this day. It made his guilt even bigger each time he thought about it.

"Y/N helped me a lot. So did Taehyung and Jimin..." he explains silently. "She made me see things that would take me way longer to realize."

Hoseok smiles and a few moments of silence follows as Jungkook stares at his intertwined fingers.

"Hobi," Jungkook calls out softly to his friend, Hoseok's eyes sparkling at the nickname as a relief washes through him. "I'm sorry for almost punching you."

"No, please, it's alright. I get it."

"No, I was aggressive. If Y/N didn't get between us, I would have punched you. I really wanted to."

"Do you want to punch me now?" He jokes and makes Jungkook's mouth twitch as a playful gaze washes over his eyes before he slowly shakes his head.

"No."

"Good, it would definitely hurt like hell," he chuckles, "But yeah. It was crazy of her to get between us. I told her she shouldn't have done that when I was leaving."

"God, if I punched her accidentally I would've never forgiven myself,"

If that happened, he knows it would be technically your fault because who the fuck gets between two men that are about to fight? Well, between a man who's about to punch the other one.

"She saved the day, though. Didn't she?" Jungkook cracks a smile as Hoseok laughs.

"Yeah, and my face too. Remind me to thank her later."

"I will." he laughs and the air suddenly feels lighter than before. It's still a little awkward but as he stares at Hoseok's joyful face, or at least way more relaxed than he looked in the beginning, he feels relief.

"We are good, yeah?" Hoseok asks unsurely, suddenly turning nervous again as Jungkook stares at him for a second.

And then his lips stretch into the slightest smile, unspoken forgiveness lingering in Jungkook's big and dark eyes. "Yes. We will be."

Once Hoseok stretches his hand to him, Jungkook takes it and is surprised when Hoseok gives him a crushing hug.

"Don't overdo it." Jungkook jokes, slapping Hoseok on his back as he pulls away with no regrets.

Maya looks beautiful in every dress she tries. It does make you emotional to see her in her possible wedding dress, and you have a hard time not to tear up. It's definitely the champagne's fault the woman that works in the shop gives you.

You've lost count how many dresses she has tried so far, each of them unique and beautiful in their own pretty way. Maya has no idea what style to go for, so she picked various styles and has managed to look good in each of them.

You're enjoying this, not only the champagne with a strawberry in it, but it's something new and it's safe to say you've never been in a wedding salon to be a part of the process of picking a wedding dress with your friend. It does distract you from the thoughts of how Jungkook is doing. You do check your phone whenever Maya is in the fitting room.

You don't know what you expect. A message of Jungkook losing it again? A message that everything went well? You know meeting Hoseok is a big deal for him, regardless of how he tried to hide it this morning.

"Crap, there's not enough time. Can you try the dress for me?" Maya pulls you out of your thoughts, your eyes directed on the wedding dress she's wearing at the moment once the woman informs you there's another client coming soon.

It's the last piece Maya has to try, the sleek dress hanging on the hanger for her to try. Just getting out of each dress is taking a lot of time and you think you've got enough time. Apparently you don't and you can already see the stress on Maya's face. This is a big deal for her and this process does make her feel nervous, because she wants everything to be perfect. Even though she tries to look carefree and relaxed.

"Me?"

"Yeah, there's not enough time for me to try it." she whines, sending a glare to the door where the woman working in this salon disappeared. Well, it's not her fault Maya chose too many dresses to try in a span of two hours.

"But our bodies are different," you remind her, "It's gonna look different on me than on you."

"I just need to see how they look on the body. I don't really care whose body it is."

"Oh, okay." There's not enough time to think this through and you stand up, wiping your palms against your jeans as you walk towards the white dress.

The woman comes back from the door, seeing you grabbing the dress as she rushes to you and takes it from your hands to help you. "Let me help you," she smiles kindly, "Are you trying it for your friend?"

"Uhh, yes." you smile nervously and let her lead you to the fitting room.

She helps you to put them on and surprisingly, they fit amazingly. You'd still need a pair of heels because the dress is too long. You walk out of the fitting room, chuckling at yourself.

"Yah, I'm not sure."

Maya looks in your direction, hopping off the circled stair which is placed for brides to stand to see the dress more clearly, since the mirrors surround one side.

"Wow," she lets out, grinning ear to ear. "Don't do this to me girl. You'd be a prettier bride than me."

"Oh, please." you roll your eyes at Maya as she helps you to step on her previous spot.

It's the moment when you turn around to fully look at your reflection under the bright lights that your mouth falls open. Your hair is down, the soft waves you made yourself in the morning actually make you look less casual with this dress on. It's got blouson sleeves, the skirt thin but flowy. It looks like a dress for a princess. You feel like a princess and you can't stop looking at yourself.

"God, you're so beautiful," Maya whines next to you, "I love the dress. How you feelin'?"

"Weird?" you chuckle, "I've never tried a wedding dress before. Obviously." you snort at yourself.

"The dress suits you," the woman joins your conversation, complimenting you as well as your cheeks heat up at their compliments and eyes widened in awe. "You look like a princess."

"I want to look like a queen at my wedding." you joke as both of them giggle with you.

"Let me take a picture," Maya says and hands you your phone to unlock it for her since you've been taking her pictures on your phone, so she can decide on her choice later.

She said like ten times on each dress that "It's the one" and all of them are beautiful, so deciding will be hard for her.

You hand her the phone back and pose for her, even throwing a peace sign as a joke as you laugh together. The owner of the salon, whose name you unfortunately forgot when she introduced you, takes a picture of you two before you have to rush to get out of the dresses so the other client doesn't have to wait once she gets here.

Just as you thank the owner, grabbing your stuff, the other client arrives just in time as you get out of the salon.

"Fuck, it's gonna be so hard to choose." Maya complains but the happiness on her face is clear as the day. "This was so fun. Thank you for coming with me."

"Don't mention it, it was so much fun," you tell her, letting her intertwine your arms together. "Here, let's get an ice-cream and look at the pictures!"

She doesn't refuse, both of you stuffing your face. The entire dress is trying to make both of you hungry.

Once Maya goes to the bathroom later on, you check your phone to see no notifications. You open the chat with Jungkook and jokingly send him a picture of you trying on the dress. You'd show him later anyway but you do want to ask him how's it going.

You're about to lock your phone, thinking he's not going to respond right away and there's a chance he is still talking to Hoseok. Surprisingly, he replies right after you lock your phone.

Kook: 😳

You snort at the emoji, thumb hovering over the screen before another message pops up.

Kook: are you trying to tell me something?

"🙄 what?? No compliments?"

Kook: are you getting secretly married?

"Lol yes"

Kook: who's the lucky guy?

"Not you 😜"

Kook: ouch and here I thought we said we'll get married together if we are not married by the age of 40

"I guess you aren't that lucky then"

"They told me I look like a princess 😎"

Kook: you do

You unawarely bite your lower lip as you stare at his text, wondering what the tone of it is. Deciding that you're not sure what to reply next, because all of this is just a joke, you start typing.

"How's it going with Hoseok?"

Kook: great actually

Kook: I'll tell you at home

Kook: see you until then princess ;)

You send him an emoji of rolling eyes, knowing he must be cackling behind the screen. Putting away your phone, you smile at approaching Maya as you fall into another friendly conversation as soon as she sits down.

Jungkook is in the shower when you come back, the day with Maya dragging longer since you decided to go for a walk and then have a late lunch together before you parted ways. She still hasn't decided on her dress but she still has some time, a few weeks or months. Nobody expects her to choose one on the first day.

You change into more comfortable clothes, grabbing yourself a glass of lemonade when Jungkook joins you in the kitchen.

"What's up, princess?" he teases, greeting you once you turn around to spot him wearing his sweatpants only, hair wet from the shower. He is doing this on purpose, doesn't he?

Not letting yourself to look too affected for various reasons, you roll your eyes at his teasing. "Keep teasing."

"Or what?" he presses, a scent of shower gel and shaving cream filling the kitchen as he leans against the kitchen island, smirking at you.

You clench your jaw, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your sweatpants. "How did it go with Hoseok? Show me your hands."

He rolls his eyes, chuckling a little. "Good, actually," he responds, shaking himself out of the amused mood as he turns serious. "We talked a lot. I'm able to understand him more but... yeah, I think it's going in the right direction."

"That sounds great, I'm glad." you smile and Jungkook returns it.

"We hung out for a little longer and then I went to work out to process it. I feel... surprisingly lighter and more relaxed."

"He is your friend, I can imagine you want to have him in your life."

"Yeah..." he mumbles in thought before he glances up just as you drink the lemonade. "How was your day with Maya? What's with the wedding dress?"

You laugh, "We were running out of time, so Maya asked me to try the dress for her. All the dresses were so beautiful, Kook. So many various styles and materials."

"You had fun, I see."

"I did."

"Did she pick one?"

"No, there were too many and she still has time to decide. We took a picture of each dress, so she has the pictures to choose from. But the prices, oof."

"Isn't she renting the dress?"

"She is, but it's still expensive. We talked about her wedding plans and the money they're about to put in it, fuck. I mean I know organizing a wedding is expensive but the prices she told me--I'm not sure if I'll ever get married." you laugh and Jungkook amusingly rolls his eyes.

"You will." he assures you.

You know you will. You're just joking but the money you need for a single wedding is still a lot. Mind blowing.

"Oh," you suddenly remember, reaching for your phone on the counter as you unlock it. "I wanna show you something."

"What? Another wedding dress?" He jokes as you thrust your phone into his hands, eyes trailing your face amusingly for a moment before he looks at the screen and his features freeze before a slight frown makes it on his face. "What's this?"

"I found this on the internet." you explain, standing next to him as you peek at the screen, a familiar image and text on it.

"Are you moving out?" he asks, surprised.

"I told you I'm searching for apartments and I found this. Look at the pictures, the apartment is so cozy and the rent is actually very good. It's even closer than the building I lived in before. Look, look," you tell him as you swipe the pictures to show him how the building looks from the outside. "Doesn't it look western? It brings me back home. It even has a balcony!"

Jungkook looks at the pictures, reading the information that comes with the ad.

"I didn't contact the person yet, I wanted to show you first. But I think I'm gonna try it and have a look. What do you think?"

He hands you back the phone as he looks a little taken back, which you do notice and it makes your excited features fall down a little. He meets your gaze and suddenly relaxes as he gives you a smile.

"You should try at least."

"Would you come with me? I mean... if you're free that day."

"Yeah, sure. We can check it out together." he assures you and you sigh in relief.

"What's wrong?"

He frowns, shrugging. "What?"

"You look weird. Do you not want me to move out?"

"Do you think I want to?" he asks dumbfoundedly. "I told you you can stay as long as you want." he reminds you.

"No, no that's not what I meant. I know I can stay. But we both know I can't stay here forever."

"Why not?" Jungkook's lips curl as he sits down on the chair and pulls you between his spreaded legs. "I got used to having you here,"

And his hands roam down your lower back as you shiver, looking down at him and how soft his skin looks.

"It's gonna be sad not having you around."

You snort, "You make it seem as if I'm moving to another country," you joke, "I will still be around. Have you grown attached to me, hm?"

Jungkook rolls his eyes, "You know I enjoy your company."

"Mhm, company," you tease as he grins at you, eyes sparkling. "Or something else, don't you?"

"It's not just about sex." he frowns a little as you snort.

"Okay," you nod, knowing that's not what he meant. "But it does make things easier, doesn't it?"

"It does," he agrees, "How will I fuck you? Will we have to make sex apppoitments or something?" he whines and it causes a bubbly laugh rip out of your throat as your hands play with his hair at the back of his head.

"Oh, how awful." you tease and he groans, hiding his face into your stomach as you keep laughing.

He pinches your ass and you yelp, scolding him right after as you're interrupted by Jungkook's ringtone. He reaches for the device, staring at the screen as a low "Fuck" makes it out.

He groans and you look at the screen, seeing "Mom" written on it.

"I was supposed to call her but I forgot." he explains before he accepts the call.

"Yah, Jeon Jungkook! You don't know your mother's number?" Mrs. Jeon scolds him as soon as she realizes Jungkook has accepted her call, even before he can utter a single word.

You hold back a laugh, watching Jungkook pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm so sorry, mom. This week has been busy and--"

"So busy you can't contact your parents?" Mrs. Jeon continues to scold him as Jungkook shoots you a glare, ready to slap your ass as you dodge it just in time. "Jungwon told me you'll call me and I've been waiting."

"Ah, I know. I'm sorry, mom," Jungkook sighs disappointedly at himself, "I'll make it up to you."

"You will!" she agrees, "I want you to come visit. The last time you were here was for Christmas. It's spring already, spring Jungkook!"

You can't hold it back and you laugh out loud, slapping your hand over your mouth as Jungkook's mouth twitches and he tries to hide a grin. His mom says something as Jungkook sighs.

"It's Y/N. She's here with me."

You hear something muffled, now that her voice isn't as loud as Jungkook sighs. "Wait a second,"

And then he turns on the speaker and places his phone on the counter.

"Okay, she hears you now."

"Y/N, my sweetest girl! Is my son annoying you? Is he cleaning after himself? I heard you live with him, I hope he takes care of you."

You giggle, Jungkook pursing his lips as he looks annoyed at his own mother.

"Hi, Mrs. Jeon!" you greet her cheerfully, stepping closer to the phone so she hears you more clearly. "Don't worry, Jungkook is the nicest roommate."

"I'm happy to hear that. I raised him well!" she praises herself and Jungkook snorts, causing you to elbow him as he shrugs.

"You did." you agree with her, smiling as she asks you how you are and how's your work. Simple and friendly questions you gladly answer.

In the middle of your conversation, Jungkook sneakily starts to caress your ass down your thighs, shooting you a grin as you turn around to glare at him.

"--you need to come to Busan too! Jungkook-ah, take her with you. We need more girls in this household."

Jungkook snorts, "I don't know if Y/N wants to, mom."

Mrs. Jeon stays silent, waiting for your answer. "I mean... if I'm free I'd love to see you and Mr. Jeon again." you reply politely.

"See, Jungkook? Even Y/N wants to see us."

"Mom," Jungkook groans, hand between your thighs as he caresses your inner thigh.

You hate to admit how wet you already are from his touches and he is not even touching your clothed heat.

"I said I'm sorry. You really gonna torture me?"

Mrs. Jeon snorts, "Yes."

"You women are something else."

"Y/N dear, slap him for me."

"Mom!"

You start laughing, Jungkook dropping his hand off your leg.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Jeon. I will punish him." you joke, not realizing how your words sound until it's too late but Mrs. Jeon doesn't put any thought to it as she laughs and supports you.

Jungkook glares at your amused expression that you give him, something flickering in his eyes. "Keep talking," he warns you with a low tone, so his mother doesn't hear him.

You stick your tongue out at him.

"Mom, I will try and come this weekend. I'm sorry for not calling sooner. Say hi to dad from me, okay?"

"You better come this weekend. We miss you and it's been a while. Haru has been talking about her uncle, I'm sure she will be happy to see you again."

"I was just babysitting her, mom." Jungkook reminds her dumbfoundedly.

"And? That's why she can't stop talking about you. Why do you sound so annoyed, Jeon Jungkook? I hope you're not because she is your niece, just wait–"

"Alright, mom. I love you and I will see you next weekend. Bye, love you." And he hangs up before she can say anything else.

He leaves you speechless and you laugh, slapping his shoulder. "That was mean!"

"She was mean too!"

"Genes." you shrug simply and walk away from him.

"Yah!" You hear behind you.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts au #jungkook scenario #personasintro

845 notes · View notes

zombholic · 11 months

Text

𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏

“who the fuck moves to tennessee dad!” you threw your hands to your head while having a heated argument with your father.

he said something about his business booming if they moved over there, how he’d be making twice as much as his regular income.

but next thing you knew you were unloading boxes upon boxes into your farm house that was beautifully remodeled you can even say. you chose the room with a gorgeous bay window that showed the entire farm from the backyard, you can say this is the whitest thing you dad ever decided.

after a couple of weeks of still getting settled into your new home, the only neighbor you had being at least three miles away. your dad had hired some help with the farm, he was eager to make it into something beautiful, he was having them buy all sorts of crops and farm animals. yeah, you like animals but if a chicken chased you, you are running for you damn life.

“y/n, come here real quick!” you slipped on your fluffy little slides and made your way downstairs to see your dad sitting down with a couple other people, he made them something to snack on in the meanwhile.

“yeah?” you sat on the arm of the coach “these are our farmers, they’re gonna be here for a very long time so introduce yourself now because they’re gonna become family real soon” he chuckled, you got up and shake their hands, your eyes getting caught on the muscular blonde with a long braided ponytail, her blue eyes and freckled face could’ve ended you right there until you noticed her arms.

“uh.. i’m y/n but you guys can call me y/nn if you want” your handshake with the girl lasting a little longer “well of course miss y/n, it’s great to meet you, my names abby!” a strong southern accent slipped from her lips.

—

every time your dad left for work you took the opportunity to blast music from you room, the songs slipped through the little cracks in the wooden house enough for the farmers to hear. you noticed today was a little hotter than other day so you decided to be a good little help and bring them sandwiches you made with something to drink.

walking outside over to the guys you thanked them for their help and handed them the snack, you couldn’t seem to find abby until you heard noise coming from the stables, entering it you swore you could’ve passed out at the sight of her. the sleeves to her button up rolled up to show off her veiny arms, sweat seeping through, strands of her hair sticking to her face. she was loading hay bells on top of each other, she noticed your presence after you staring at her with goo-goo eyes.

“hey ms. y/n, can i help you with anythin’?” she took her gloves off tucking them into her back pocket, wipes the sweat off her face with her arm, breathing heavily from the labor.

“i um made you a sandwich, you guys deserve a break” you gave her a shy smile before handing her the sandwich and cold water bottle “that’s so sweet of you hun, thank you” she took them from your smaller hands, gulping down the water bottle within seconds. “oh um, did you want another one?” you didn’t it was humanly possible to drink water that fast.

“no no, it’s all good miss, thank you s’much” god you couldn’t get enough of that accent of hers, “did you need help? i can help load them” you walked in front of her and tried to pick up one of the hay bells before miserably putting it back on the ground “no, don’t hurt yourself miss, they’re too heavy” it seemed almost like an insult, you can do heavy lifting as well.

“i can help around my farm as well abby, see” you finally lifted the hay, struggling very very badly to put it on the other ones “if you want to help, miss, you can pick those pretty little flowers” she grabbed the hay bell from you and settled it down “i don’t want your pretty little hands getting all rough n calloused like mine” she threw her gloves back on.

“i can do that” you went over to the small garden that growing the prettiest flowers, getting on your knees you slowly started picking the ones that you thought were pretty, you screamed bloody murder when you saw a little snake in between the flowers, jolting up and running away from it before hitting into something hard.

“oh god miss, what? what happened?” she held your arms with a very concerned look “abby there’s, oh fuck” you coughed a little, hiding your face in her chest unintentionally, you had the worst fear of snakes, didn’t matter how big or small they were, they scared you to death “what? miss? wheres what?” she noticed your distress and rubbed her hands on back “there’s a snake in the flowers, ohmygod im gonna pass out.”

abby had you sit down on the bench near the stable, your knees tucked against your knees as you were afraid of anything else showing up, she bent down and easily grabbed the little snake, a laugh erupting from her “you were scared of this little fella?” she looked over at you, you were tense by seeing her holding that thing.

“yes! please put it away somewhere far!” anyone else would’ve said you were overreacting but a phobia is a phobia.

she came back over to you with the softest smile “let’s get you back inside miss, don’t need you gettin’ a heart attack” she halfheartedly joked, agreeing with her you slowly and carefully walked back inside your house, abby following closely behind you like a bodyguard. turning around went you reached your back door you gave her an embarrassed look.

“i must’ve look so stupid to you, city girl comes to the country and screams at the first thing she sees outside” your comment earned a laugh from her “i can’t blame you miss but i grew up in this area so i’ve seen everything you can think of.” you smiled at her, giving her a small thank you before walking inside.

AUTHORS NOTE: ima drag tf outta this series yall!!

#lesbian #lgbtq #wlw #the last of us ii #the last of us #tlou #abby anderson #tlou2 #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson drabble #abby x you #abby x fem!reader #abby tlou #abby anderson x reader #abby the last of us #abby x reader #farmer!abby

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quietly-sleeping · 3 months

Text

Shen Qingqiu wanted to kill one of his fellow Peak Lords.

At least, that was what the rumors swirling around Cang Qiong said. The disciples couldn’t seem to agree on who the Qing Jing Peak Lord wanted to kill; just that he had sent his disciples out with an order to retrieve.

Shang Qinghua was the first of the Peak Lords to hear the rumors, his disciples had gotten more chatty than usual, the typical workload for anyone on the peak not leaving much energy to do much of anything. Other than gossip, as it turns out.

“Shizun,” His poor, overworked Head Disciple spoke up while they were sorting out yet another tower of papers into only mildly less intimidating stacks. “This disciple was wondering, has Shen-shibo said anything…worrying lately?”

“In what way, Wu Xiaoli?” Shang Qinghua didn’t stop his work, he really couldn’t, he barely had any time at all to himself after working to the bone every day, if he stopped at all he’d have to forgo sleep to get it all done. “In a murderous way?” Wu Xiaoli was hesitant as she said this, her hands barely slowing as well, what a good disciple.

“Your Shen-shibo is almost always like that, is something specific supposed to be happening?” Shang Qinghua glanced over at her, her prolonged silence stretching for a moment more before she spoke again. “In the way that most of Cang Qiong believes he is trying to capture and then kill one of his martial siblings.” Wu Xiaoli let that sit in the air for a moment before adding, “It should be fine, right Shizun?”

Shang Qinghua really regretted being reborn. “Yes, you could say that Wu Xiaoli.” He felt faint. The paperwork, just the thought of the paperwork a murder like that would spawn nearly sent Shang Qinghua into a panic attack, nausea starting to build in his throat already.

Which would lead to a visit from Mu-shidi, who while nice, was still trying to drug him with anxiety meds that Shang Qinghua did not need, thank you very much. He could feel Wu Xiaoli staring at him as he pondered how viable throwing himself off the mountain would be for knocking him unconscious, very viable, with only a mild threat of death, before she looked out the window and jolted.

“Forgive this disciple, Shizun, Tan-shijie requested a meeting about the salary allotted for building a new garden on Qiong Ding.” Wu Xiaoli hurriedly sorted the last few papers in her hands before standing and nervously brushing at her yellow robes.

“Don’t get scammed too badly this time.” Shang Qinghua said around the lump in his throat as he fished another very late work order for Bai Zhan, thank you Liu-shidi. Wu Xiaoli pouted for a moment, looking ten years old rather than nineteen before turning on her heel and marching out the door. “This disciple will try her best, Shizun!” She called out behind her.

Shang Qinghua did not hold back on the panicked sobs of dread now that his disciple was gone. He was more open with his sobbing response to issues when she was younger, but that led to a good year or so when Mu-shidi was very blatant in drugging his food and tea with anxiety meds.

The despondent Peak Lord angled himself so any tears wouldn’t hit the delicate paper covered in ink. He may have to appear red and puffy later, but by the gods that had forsaken him, he would not ruin his paperwork.

Qi Qingqi was the next to hear about the rumors. Her usually on-top-of-things Head Disciple, Shi Fa, was distracted by the adorable new addition to their Peak, little Liu Mingyan. The four-year-old giving the poor girl a run for her money.

It was amusing, but it did prove that perhaps Shi Fa wouldn’t be a great fit for Peak Lord. Which was an utter shame, the girl was perfect in every other aspect, Qi Qingqi mused on the issue for a moment before nodding to herself, a Hall Master then.

They’d do better only interacting with the students in a more detached manner, still there to advise or support the Peak Lord’s decisions. Qi Qingqi looked back down at the report that had made its way onto her desk, the handwriting hurried with ink blotches and missed strokes.

Shi Fa had heard the rumor while attempting to track down Liu Mingyan on Bai Zhan and extract her from the feral child colony that populated the Peak. One of the eldest of the feral children had been hired by a disciple of Qing Jing, needing their help since they had left the sect more often and to varied places.

Shi Fa had located Liu Mingyan and managed to contain the delightful ball of fury while gathering more information, Shen Qingqiu had ordered a fetch mission on a martial sibling. None of the Qing Jing disciples actually fessed up to which martial sibling it was, but Qi Qingqi was certain it was not one of the Peak Lords.

Since a murder had not happened during the last Peak Lord meeting, and Shen Qingqiu had been no more nasty than usual. The true question was, out of the martial siblings wandering the world, which had managed to offend Shen Qinqiu so deeply while having not stepped foot into Cang Qiong in roughly ten years at this point?

Truly, what an amusing situation, Qi Qingqi could barely keep herself from giggling like a young maiden at the possible reasons this whole situation played out. Her darling wife would suggest something along the lines of a romantic falling out, which Qi Qingqi would normally agree with, as her wife was always right, but it was Shen Qingqiu they were talking about.

Honestly, the man wouldn’t know romance if it bit him in the ass.

Shen Qingqiu heard the rumors and felt deep distaste for his gossiping martial siblings. They must be the ones to fuel this, the rumors wouldn’t have spiraled out of such control that they suggested he was hunting down a romantic partner that had scorned him.

Truly, the imagination in his disciples was utilized in everything other than their studies. He’d be much more comfortable in sending his disciples out into the world if he didn’t have to read multiple poems about bamboo after every assignment.

Other plants existed on Qing Jing, they had gardens, and they didn’t have to write about Qing Jing specifically. He could only read so many synonyms of the color green before he began to feel a deep frustration at the mere mention of poetry.

However, there had been progress, of a kind. Sightings of his wayward shidi were documented in various areas along the border between the Human and Demon realms. Shen Qingqiu was reluctant to mark them as true sightings, at least the sightings given to him by his disciples.

His network of spies, at the very least, gave more reliable sightings. He’s thrown out so many reports in the last year of a tall man with dark hair and some sort of pet. They fit the most basic description of his shidi but lacked any truly distinctive markers.

It was infuriating. Shen Qingqiu knew that his shidi wasn’t hiding on purpose at least not anymore, his shidi probably wasn’t even aware he had forgotten about their meeting. A broken promise, Shen Qingqiu seethed.

The only thing keeping Shen Qingqiu from actually ordering his spies to hunt his stupid, airheaded shidi down was that it would freak the man out, drive him into actually hiding himself. It had happened before, roughly around the time of the Qing’s ascension. The previous Ling You Peak Lord had ordered a manhunt of their youngest shidi.

The forgetful man had hidden so deeply that the previous Peak Lords were half certain he’d died in some remote hidden realm. Of course, anytime Shen Qingqiu felt like vanishing for a while, he was always dragged back.

If this continued for much longer, Shen Qingqiu might have to, with deep disgust, call in the brute to track down his shidi. Shen Qingqiu shuffled through the papers stacked neatly on top of his desk, however, other measures could be implemented before he had to rely on the brute.

He paused, long fingers tapping on the paper he was holding as he hummed thoughtfully. This could do. Qi Qingqi certainly had contacts of her own, even the sniveling rodent of An Ding had his channels. A polite request for tea from his shimei was certainly unexpected, ah her wife must be coming along.

Shen Qingqiu felt the corner of his lips twitch slightly, for a woman of such brutal background, Qi-shimei’s wife was such a stickler for formalities.

Yue Qingyuan, despite the pains he went to keep an ear and eye on his Xiao Jiu, couldn’t keep track of everything the strategist did. So when Wei-shidi mumbled over his cup of tea about a manhunt, Yue Qingyuan felt a deep twist in his gut.

He knew that Xiao Jiu had his reasons, but his Xiao Jiu had grown even more reticent since the ascension, but that had never stopped Yue Qingyuan. Wei-shidi had fled quickly, muttering about checking on a volatile sword, but the sect leader barely heard him, just nodding with a small polite smile.

Blankly he stared at the wall for a moment, lost, before he called out. “Tan Liu?” Soft steps walked towards the office, “Yes, Shizun?” Tan Liu was the oldest of the Head Disciples and her command over her shidi and shimei made Yuq Qingyuan certain she knew about what was going on.

“What is this about a manhunt?” He asked, his thumb rubbing along the teacup. Tan Liu hesitated for the barest moment before she straightened, “Shen-shishu issued a retrieval order for a martial sibling of the Qing generation. The general description has made its way to this disciple's ears, but not the name. I apologize.”

Yue Qingyuan hummed for a moment, gently setting his teacup down on the low table. Tan Liu scuffed her feet gently on the wooden boards before speaking up again, “This one knows she should have reported this earlier to Shizun, however, this one felt she didn’t have enough information or evidence.” Yue Qingyuan glanced over at her with a small smile, “This master understands, the description?”

Tan Liu relaxed slightly, before reciting the short description she had made sure to memorize. “A taller man of slight build, favors lighter colors such as white and pale blues and greens, wears a simple hairstyle, typically braided, dark green eyes, with a slightly crooked nose.” Tan Liu paused a moment before continuing, “Likely to be spotted with a creature of some sort, the creature will be tame, likely rare. Will take requests regardless of reward or how simple the request may be.”

Yue Qingyuan closed his eyes as his Head Disciple’s voice tapered out. He knew exactly who his Xiao Jiu was hunting. The man was difficult to pin down, even harder to keep in one place, the only person who had succeeded before was the man’s own Shizun, who had defaulted to tracking talismans.

“Good. Thank you, Tan Liu.” Yue Qingyuan didn’t look over at the woman as he waved his hand. They both had paperwork to return to, and she didn’t need to be standing around waiting for him to come to a decision. He heard her soft footfalls as she left the room, the door shutting behind her.

Yue Qingyuan sat in silence for a long moment, a deep exhaustion beginning to form deep within his eyes, Xiao Jiu was certainly hunting someone. Their youngest shidi in fact, someone they hadn’t managed to track down before their ascension, his courtesy name still sealed within a final letter from the Previous Ling You Peak Lord.

It had been ten years, perhaps the man had slipped out of hiding, his guard falling enough for them to herd him back to the sect. If Xiao Jiu didn’t bring this up at the Peak Lord Meeting next week, Yue Qingyuan would, if only to bring their shidi and shimei into the hunt.

Shen Yuan, the missing Ling You Peak Lord, and the youngest shidi of the Qing generation. He was still out there, at the very least, Shen Qingqiu believed he was, which knowing the man, was probably as good of evidence as Yue Qingyuan would get. A soft sigh left his mouth before he stood, his paperwork was still waiting for him, and if he was going to be ascending another Peak Lord soon, he’d need his schedule as free as possible to plan a ceremony.

part two

ao3

#svsss #fanfic #mxtx svsss #shen yuan #shen jiu #yue qingyuan #shang qinghua #qi qingqi #so sorry about my grammer #this is what i was complaining about shen jiu for #had to rewrite this from the ground up #ill post this on ao3 later but i wanted to get it out there before i over think myself into oblivion #also the time line has been altered #the qing generation ascended about 10 years before the tlj fiasco #that is relevant information later #you can blame my roommate for the bullshit i pull with qqq's wife #part 1

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chaotic-toasters · 5 months

Text

Keep in Touch

If you cried, please let me know. I cried while writing this and now I feel like a wimp

Jen Beattie x Teen!Reader Arsenal WFC x Teen!Reader --------------------

You awoke to the creaking of your bedroom door, followed by the dipping of your bed.

"Hey, kiddo," your mam's voice soft, fingers carding through your hair. "Time to wake up. We've got a big day ahead of us."

You cracked your eyes open, blinking rapidly at the light streaming through your window. "Five more minutes?"

She smiled fondly. "Sorry, kiddo. We've got to finish packing, and then we're gonna meet the girls at Colney one last time before they send us off at the airport."

A few months ago, you and your mam had received almost identical offers from the newest team in the NWSL, Bay FC. Your mam had jumped at the promise of something new, but you'd hesitated.

Arsenal was all you'd ever known. You'd grown up in the academy, winning tournaments left and right before signing your first professional contract for the gunners at fifteen years old.

You had memories of Katie chasing you through the Emirates, practicing pens with Kim, and doing media with Leah. If you left, you wouldn't get to make any more of those memories that were so near and dear to your heart.

It was a difficult decision to make, one that your mam assured you was totally up to you. Any of the girls would take you in in a heartbeat if you wanted to stay.

You hated change, and you hated the position Bay FC's offer put you in. Whether you stayed or left, your life wouldn't be the same.

Stay, and be an ocean away from your mam.

Leave, and abandon everything you'd ever known since you were a wee child.

Stay or leave.

Your mam or your found family.

Pain or pain.

Stay.

Leave.

Stay.

Leave.

Realistically, as much as you dwelled on the decision, the choice was made the second you opened your email.

You could never leave your mam. Your mam who never forced you to do anything you didn't want to. Your mam who always made time for you. Your mam who would stay home from matches or training when you were sick. Your mam who always supported you and loved you.

So, you accepted. You accepted the offer to leave the WSL behind, comforted only by the knowledge that your mam would be right next to you the whole time.

It had hurt to accept the California team's offer, a metaphorical knife to the gut, but your teammates had reminded you that you were still in the early stages of your career and could come back later on. That had brought you some sense of relief, knowing that they would gladly welcome you back if you wanted to return.

But now, on the final day of your life in London, it all came crashing down, and you suddenly did not want to leave.

"O-kayyy," you mumbled, rolling off the bed. "When do we leave? To Colney?"

Your mam extended her hand, pulling you up. "In an hour. Get the rest of your stuff, and we'll have breakfast on the way."

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

"He—oof!" You grunted as someone tackled you into a hug, taking you both to the floor.

"I'm gonna miss you, kiddo," Leah's voice wavered. "So, so much."

You squeezed her tightly. "I'll miss you too, Lee. Who'll make fun of your five year-old diet now?"

Katie joined you on the floor, stealing you from Leah's embrace to pull you into her own. "I will, kid. Don't ye' worry."

Leah wiped away a stray tear. "You remember this, Y/N. Once a gunner, always a gunner. You hear me? You'll always have a place hear at Arsenal."

You smiled sadly as yet another one of your teammates stole you for a hug. "Thanks, Lee. I'm gonna miss you all so, so much."

"She was proper crabbit this mornin'," your mam said with a sad smile of her own. "She cried, yelled at me, cried again, then walked into the door frame because she couldn't see through her tears."

"Maaaam!" You turned red as your teammates laughed. "That didn't happen!"

Kim ruffled your hair. "It's okay, sweetheart. You did that exact thing with a goalpost when you were younger."

You tried unsuccessfully to hold in your laughter. "Kimmy!"

Your mam grinned. "Nothin' I'd rather be doing during my last day as a gunner than making fun of Y/N with you all."

Unfortunately for you, that was all that you and your teammates did for the remainder of your time together. Make fun of you. Oh, to be the baby of the gunners.

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

"I don't want you to leave," Kyra murmured, gripping your shoulders desperately as your flight was called. "You're like... my little sister."

You softened at the uncharacteristically wholesome confession, hugging the Aussie who you'd grown so close to tightly. "Keep in touch, Ky. We'll be sure to visit."

"You promise?" you'd never heard Kyra so vulnerable, not even when Australia had lost to England in the Semifinals and been knocked out of the World Cup.

"I promise. I love you."

"I love you too, Y/N."

It was Kim who scooped you up into a hug last, the Scotswoman practically having watched you grown up since your birth. Your second parent in the absence of your father.

"We'll miss you here, kiddo," she whispered in your ear as you tried to hold back tears. It was almost comical, the short Midfielder having to stand on her tippi toes to do so, barely able to reach you even as you leaned down to hear her. "You'd better call or I'm boardin' the nearest fly to San Francisco and takin' you back home."

You patted her on the back before pulling away, averting your eyes before you started bawling. "I will, Kimmy. I will."

As you and your mam boarded the plane, you shoved your fist into your mout to choke back a sob.

Sitting in your seat, the tearful goodbyes of your teammates echoed in your head. They hadn't wanted you to go, and you hadn't entirely wanted go either, torn between two sides, but you'd known this was the right decision. You'd stay with your mam, broadening your horizons and giving yourself more experience.

Staring out the window, you took in the landscape. The English landscape that you'd known your whole life, left behind as you started a new adventure in the United States.

As the plane took off, Leah's voice echoed in your head.

Once a gunner, always a gunner.

#I suck #angsty angst #woso x reader #arsenal women x reader #jen beattie #jen beattie x reader #kim little x reader #kim little #kyra cooney cross #frida maanum #katie mccabe #leah williamson #Stupid bay fc #arsenal women #arsenal wfc

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14dayswithyou · 7 months

Note

Hi! (age is at my profile)

If MC is going on a vacation outside the city, who would tag along and who would wish them safe travels?

ANSWERED: I think everyone would tag along if Angel asked! It might be fun to imagine it as a group outing ghhdsj

Similar to the beach and Disneyland asks:

Elanor and Conan would be the ones who take shifts driving the minivan into the city.

Teo would be awkwardly sandwiched in the first row scrolling through his phone while Olivia tries to get his attention (she keeps "accidentally" shifting closer to his seat every time the van goes over a bump) and Kiara busies herself with her work laptop.

Violet, Leon, and Jae (and by extension, Maple) would all be in the next row either talking about some random topic or leaning on each other's shoulders and snoring away.

Finally, Ren would claim the entire back row for for himself and Angel, and would gladly let them use his lap as a pillow if they wanted to sleep during the whole trip!!

...Except it proves difficult when Alice is right there in the middle. (Conan trusts Angel to look after his kid!!)

Once in the city, everyone would probably branch off to do their own thing before meeting up for lunch, or something.

Teo and Kiara (SEPARATELY!!!) would go off to look at high-end fashion brands and blow a hole in their wallets.

Conan would take his daughter Alice to a quiet (fast food) restaurant or cafe to unwind and have lunch, before going on a walk and taking in the sights.

Elanor would tag along with Violet to do some window shopping, and maybe even visit some cute cat cafes and candle shops! El might buy some souvenirs for everyone, even if the city is only a few hours away from Corland Bay.

Jae and Leon would see if there are any bustling activities or recrooms nearby (like bowling, indoor sports, a gym, or even go nightclubbing)

And Ren would happily tag along with Angel to meet their online friend for the first time at the airport! ...Then awkwardly third wheel while they talk about finally meeting, AoG updates, and of course; Haruko.

In between these moments, however, Moth would be not-so-subtly teasing Ren and Angel for their... relationship(?? girl help, even Moth doesn't know what to call it lmao)

#💌 — answered.#💖 — 14 days with queue.#deluluisokay #to be tagged later #No character tags on mobile; I'm sorry for the inconvenience!!

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theragethatisdesire · 6 months

Text

quick bright things - eren jaeger x afab!reader, 18+!!

okay hi. after my many-months writing hiatus, i am offering up this humble creation. welcome to the world of quick bright things, caught somewhere between a fairytale and a shakespeare play and a priceless piece of jewelry. this was inspired by....a lot of things, from midsummer night's dream to saltburn to the secret history to romeo & juliet like, you name it and i've probably crammed it in here. eren is a lot different than i normally write him (or read him, for that matter), i hope you all find him as lovely as i do! this will be 2 parts (for now...), i'm not sure what else to say except i'm happy to be back and i hope you all love part 1 ₊˚⊹♡

pairing: eren jaeger x reader

wc: 10.4k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

cws: alcohol, swearing, smut, fingering, reader has female anatomy, wet dreams, allusions to cannibalism (idk that's a stretch it's more of a metaphor), exhibitionism, cum-eating, creepy stepsiblings, rich assholes, throat-closing amounts of sexual tension, i honestly don't even know what to put here

without further ado...

"Last year I abstained / this year I devour / without guilt / which is also an art."

“Now don’t forget: university is for discovery, for adventure.” Your mother tucks the front of your shirt into your skirt, tugs at your collar until it’s sitting prettily against the cliff of your collarbones. It’s not a good fabric, this shirt; it’s cheap and scratches uncomfortably at the summer sunburn still lingering on your chest. “It’s for finding your passions, your life path, yourself…”

“Darling, you’ve been philosophizing since breakfast. You’re going to give the poor girl a conniption.” Your father chuckles lightly, swinging the hammer at the wall of your dormitory and finishing the hanging of one of your many posters over your creaky, lofted bed. The posters are bright and colorful, almost garish in the pristine, ancient light pouring in from the windows. With a slow blink, you realize you’re going to take them down later, that they feel incongruous with the dust particles and the oak furniture.

“It’s alright, really.” You manage a smile of compromise, lips clamped tight to hold the flutter of nerves in your throat at bay. “I think I’ve got it from here.”

There’s an expectedly teary goodbye, a small monologue from your father about how much you’ve grown, and a few reminders from your mother to separate the darks and the lights when you do laundry, to focus on your studies. Just before she slips out behind her husband, she grabs you by the shoulders and presses her lips to the side of your head, kisses a blood-red print into the shell of your ear.

“Don’t forget. Find something.”

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Whether it started with that conversation or with the buildup that accompanied the thirty-six months of monotonous paper-writing and numb boredom of your first three years at Oxford, you can’t be sure. In truth, maybe your first three years weren’t all that boring, and they only seem so by comparison of everything that came after, but you can’t be entirely sure of that either.

What you can be sure of is that something down the line—between meeting Sasha in that class on Milton and squeezing her hand as the plane landed and the dozens of bottles of champagne you’ve consumed over the last weeks—something led you to this moment, standing in this kitchen somewhere outside Verona with your bare feet against the hot clay tiles, staring at the sharp angle of an unfamiliar, tanned collarbone.

He’s coated in linen: a half-unbuttoned, burnt-orange drape of a shirt is rolled carefully up around strong forearms, and one large, boyish foot peeks out from his baggy jeans, propped up on its throne upon the opposite knee. A golden cross winks at you from his chest, nestled in the sparsest dusting of chest hair and dripping with the same peach juice that’s sliding down his Adam’s apple, from his strong chin, from the crooked smirk that’s pointed at you like a knife.

You recognize him before he speaks– this must be Eren. Sasha’s mentioned him enough times: the shock of rich, dark hair, the lakewater eyes, the way he leans back in his chair like a king and cocks his head like a trickster. This is Eren, and you tell him so.

“Guilty.” The sun compliments everything about him but his smile, a little too sharp with too much danger behind it. It’s a smile made for moonlight. “And you are?”

A memory surfaces in your mind, a cautionary childhood tale. “You can never let a fairy know your name,” Emma tells you, graver than death, crouched in the bushes beside you, “or they steal you away, and you can never be human again.”

“Well?” Eren says expectantly, head leaning even further to the left. He’s studying you, the baggy linen pants pooling around your toes and ruby-studded ears poking out of a fray of frazzled bedhead. You feel naked, feel a wild urge come over you and wonder how his eyes would glow at you if you were. You shiver, goosebumps raising in the stuffy summer air. When his lips twitch, you realize Eren’s noticed; you feel feverish.

You mumble your name at him, as if it’s something given unwillingly. Waking the espresso machine seems like the right thing to do with your hands, and you’re grateful for the noisy mechanical sounds it provides to shatter the still morning. You bring an absentminded hand to rub over the tip of your ear, feel if it’s grown to a point yet.

“We haven’t met, have we? I feel like if we had, I’d remember.”

God, you wish he’d stop talking.

“Well, do you go to Oxford?”

“Sometimes.” You roll your eyes, and he laughs, little bells and glass shattering. “I’ve been abroad for the last semester. I flew in from Egypt a couple of weeks ago.”

“Hm,” you hum to yourself, choosing a small red cup for your morning coffee. You aren’t sure what to say; the most exotic place you’ve ever visited was a seaside town three hours from your house.

You can hear his newspaper crinkling; the sound of him putting it down betrays his arrival behind you, but you still don’t expect the puff of warm breath over your shoulder. He comes into your space like he belongs there, like there’s never been a door that wasn’t held open for him to stride through. “Are you still asleep?”

Before you can answer, you hear a shriek from down the hallway, and you breathe a little sigh of relief, thanking whatever ancient gods that belong to the hills you’re in for the interruption. Venus springs to mind, and you swat her and her entourage of Graces away from you with a huff.

“You absolute asshole!” Historia comes barreling into the kitchen, dramatic, fluffy dressing robe spilling out into the unrelenting summer heat behind her. You realize that in the three weeks you’ve spent with her, you haven’t once seen her in the actual kitchen, watching the way the breakfast chef’s eyes widen at the sight of her as he hurries by with an armful of eggs.

“Stori!” Eren elegantly catches her best attempt at a tackle with the good grace you assume he does everything with, breaking out into a warm peal of laughter. “Since when do you not love a surprise?”

“Since always.” Historia’s face is scrunched up where she’s buried it into the crook of his neck, forehead red with the effort of squeezing Eren as hard as she can. “You could have at least called, I mean– ugh, I didn’t even get the chance to get your favorite–”

“Relax.” Eren urges her, rubbing soothing circles into the small of her back. He carries them both over to his seat, plopping down and curling her up in his lap like a child. Eren holds his cup of coffee to her lips temptingly, and Historia shoves it away with another scowl. You hide your giggle at her antics behind your espresso, not wanting to remind them of your presence, but enjoying the show all the same. “Brat.”

“Ow,” Historia hisses when he pinches her thigh, expression lightening when she catches sight of something on the wall. “I always forget how pretty the kitchen is here.”

“Where’s your brother?”

“Still getting dressed.” Historia’s blue eyes turn to the frescoed ceiling with an irritated huff. “You know he can’t stand to be seen in his pajamas.”

“That’s because he doesn’t wear any,” Eren remarks with an eye roll of his own. “You could have called to let me know we’d adopted such a pretty houseguest for the summer.”

Your face burns with acknowledgement, and you can feel your toes curling into the clay bricks of the floor hard enough to scrape the tip of your pinky. Eren seems satisfied at your bewilderment, letting his eyes drag over your hardly-covered chest lazy as a wandering mouth.

“Why would anyone wear pajamas under those heavy duvets? It’s almost thirty-two degrees out.” Armin breezes in in a feigned display of nonchalance, but you can see the way his eyes skim over Eren like a ship narrowly avoiding an iceberg. The Titanic was inevitable, and so is the gravity of Eren sitting golden on the other side of the room.

“You look good, Min.” Eren squints his eyes at Armin’s shirt, nearly identical to his own. “Where’d you get that?”

“You left it last summer,” Historia hums, tucking her head under Eren’s chin and nuzzling into his chest more completely. Armin makes a soft snort of irritation, grabbing for a fig in the bowl of fruit on the counter and beginning to rummage through the cabinet drawers.

“Do you want half a fig?” Armin’s cool gaze slides to you, and you shake your head, feeling a little underwater as two lifelong relationships unfurl in front of you, your mind still fuzzy from last night’s wine. “Historia?”

Historia says no as Eren says yes, and Armin makes his sound of annoyance again before continuing his rummaging, muttering about the inconvenience of finding a knife.

“Do my eyes deceive me?” Sasha, still disheveled with sleep and grinning bright as Christmas morning, pops her head around the doorway. “Shouldn’t you be overseeing the construction of your pyramid?”

“I’m not dead, Sasha,” Eren laughs—it really is distracting when he does that—pulling Sasha onto his other knee, ignoring Historia’s grumbles of discontent. The NYU Men’s Lacrosse t-shirt that Sasha cropped too short rides up, exposing the swell of her breast, but no one acknowledges it. Eren’s hand tucks in snugly around the curve of her hip, easy and natural, and you wonder if his fingers have ever itched to travel up under the hem of her tiny sleep shorts.

“Not dead yet.” Historia glares up at him venomously, reluctantly making room for Sasha to pile onto Eren and smother his face with kisses. Sasha pulls away from him suddenly and frowns.

“Peaches?”

“Where are the knives in this fucking kitchen?” Armin’s growl of frustration is loud enough to make you jump, and Sasha giggles at you.

“Jesus, Armin, you’re going to kill her, and it’s not even noon.” Sasha slips off of Eren’s knee, practically bouncing over to where Armin’s viciously jiggling a locked drawer. She slides open the drawer next to him and draws a long, wide knife from it, passing it to him with the blade extended and her eyes on you. “Did you meet Eren?”

“Careful of his hand!” Historia squeals, shooting an arm out towards Armin as if she can deflect the tip of the blade from across the room.

“It’s fine, Stor.” Armin’s voice floats across his nearly-bare shoulder, mild and careless as it grazes the collar of the too-big button down sliding off of his slim frame.

“That knife’s a little big for a fig, Sasha.” Eren stands, placing Historia on the table and pinching her cheek when she scowls at him.

“There’s no such thing as a too-big knife– listen to me. Did you meet Eren?” Sasha’s fingers are gripping into the flesh of your arm– hard. Your eyes widen in surprise at the urgency in her eyes, like if you haven’t been introduced to Eren, there’s grave danger afoot.

“We met.” It happens quickly and easily, the slide of his heavy arm around your shoulders. You can feel your body tense under the lazy weight of him, big hand wrapped around you like it belongs there. “I don’t think she’s particularly fond of me.”

Eren shoots you a wink that you’re sure is intended to mean something, a reference to an inside joke that you have yet to establish, maybe.

“I didn’t say that,” you say in your own defense, wanting to yank Sasha to the side and demand to know why she hadn’t warned you that Cupid himself was going to greet you in the kitchen this morning. Armin slices the fig neatly in half, a strangely practiced motion performed by small, soft hands. He offers it to you again insistently, and frowns when you shake your head.

“I said I wanted it, ‘Min,” Eren says with a hint of red to his words, snatching the halved fig from Armin’s hand and biting into it voraciously, little pieces of the flesh spattered around the corner of his mouth.

“You’re such a brute,” Armin scoffs, picking the meat of his half out gingerly with an oyster fork that you don’t remember him grabbing from the drawer.

“Why don’t you like Eren?” Sasha pouts at you, grabbing the hand that’s squashed between yours and Eren’s hips. Your palm feels hot against her fingers.

“I said I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t say much of anything, to be fair.” Eren’s got the fig pressed to his mouth, digging his teeth and tongue around in the husk of it obscenely enough to make your cheeks warm. Being so close to him is filthy, that cross around his neck is looking you straight in the eye to make sure you feel it.

“Eren’s always a pest,” Historia provides from her perch on the kitchen table, picking at her perfectly manicured toenails, “why would she like him?”

“You like him plenty,” Armin says, not looking at her. It’s not the first time that’s been brought up, if Historia’s answering sneer is anything to go by.

“You’ll love him if you give him a chance.” Sasha smiles hopefully at you, nodding.

“Yeah,” Eren grins down at you, teeth colored with fig, “give me a chance.”

“Eren, you’re going to scare her off,” Armin says with a roll of his eyes, peering around Eren’s broad shoulders to look you up and down. The way his eyes drag over you makes you feel like there might be a stab wound somewhere on your person that you don’t know about yet, the adrenaline of the moment keeping you numb.

“Back off her, Eren,” Historia echoes, “she’s fun, I don’t want you to make her leave.”

“She’s not going to leave.” Eren looks directly at you as he says it, something in his smile growing imperceptibly darker. A dare. How much will you let me get away with?

You stare and stare at him, ignoring the continued bickering of Armin and Historia in the background. He’s golden and blood-red, oil smeared on his forehead and a crown of thorns nestled in his dark thatch of hair if you look close enough. If you’re not imagining it, his hand might be tightening around your shoulder, maybe he’ll leave a purple bruise on it.

“Of course not,” Sasha interrupts your thoughts, thumbing at your cheek affectionately, “she belongs here. With us.”

“She’s our little fairy,” Historia giggles dreamily, referencing the long-winded fairy tales you drunkenly make up every night, casting each other as heroines and knights and dragons.

“Right,” Eren agrees, not breaking your gaze, “our little fairy.”

The only thing that comes to mind is your childhood friend, Emma, looking on at you sadly with her muddy toes, watching the wings sprout from your back.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Days lug themselves by, barefooted and dragging their heels, and most of the time, even the monotonous rise and fall of the sun doesn’t help to differentiate one calendar block from the next. Like a bat, or maybe a slinky, silvery fish in an underwater cave, you rely on your other senses to track the passage of time.

For example, today, you know it’s a Wednesday because Maria, one of the three house chefs, brings fresh peaches up from the co-op down the hill every Wednesday. Sasha’s spent the last thirty minutes hand feeding you peach flesh as you lounge by the pool, insisting that you suck her fingers clean of juice and feeding you little sips of champagne each time you sober up enough to tell her that that’s lewd. Historia swats at you and giggles at the smacking and slurping sounds you make around Sasha’s fingers, oiled-up palm landing on oiled-up hip with a wet slap; Armin admonishes her quietly from his seat beside her, insisting the girlish noises emanating from the three of you are tearing him from his book. You can feel Eren watching, too– that’s all, though. Always just watching.

You wonder how opaque the lenses of Armin’s sunglasses are, perched haphazardly on your nose, wonder if they’re doing a good job of masking the slow lick of your gaze over Eren’s skin, wonder if you care. Maybe the champagne is finally getting to your head.

“We should go in soon,” Historia sighs, a hand tossed across her forehead. She’s a little movie star, built for the golden age. “It’s so hot.”

“It’s always this hot,” Sasha argues, and you can practically hear the furrow in her brow, not willing to take your eyes off of the trickle of sweat running down Eren’s chest to see it for yourself. You’re really getting the hang of it, this opposite-sense thing. Everything’s upside down here in the heat.

“She’s getting hungry,” Armin supplies, wiping the sweat off his palms to reach up and turn the page of his novel. Brideshead Revisited. A little on the nose, isn’t it?

“I am not!” Historia hates when people point out her appetite, but not really. She kicks up a fuss because it’s “ladylike”, and she’s advised you to do the same.

“You are,” you sigh, really feeling the heat sink into you even with the heavy, lazy movement of lolling your head to face her, “you always get hungry around this time.”

“What time is it, then?”

You don’t reply– you don’t know the answer.

“I think we’re all hungry,” Eren, ever the peacemaker when he can find the time to be so, sits up, letting the shirt that’s been shading his face fall into his lap. Your eyes track its descent– even that seems slow. He says something to you, managing a crooked grin while he squints in the heat of the sun, but you don’t hear it.

“Huh?”

“Everyone except you, anyway,” he repeats himself, reaching over Sasha and smearing his thumb through the peach juice collected on your chin. Eren’s thumb disappears between his pink lips, and when he sucks on it with a satisfied hum, your jaw clenches hard enough to hurt.

“I guess it’s getting close to dinner,” Sasha says regretfully, picking her wristwatch, a priceless Braus family heirloom, up from a puddle of orange juice and tanning oil. “We should probably clean off.”

“I might even shower twice,” Armin rubs a hand over his belly with a grimace, “this tanning oil makes my skin greasy.”

“I feel disgusting,” Historia agrees, sliding red toes into her sandals and standing with a dramatic stretch.

“Filthy,” Eren murmurs in agreement. He’s still staring at you.

“I’ll be in soon. I’m so close to the color I wanted for today– I just need, like, ten more minutes.” You peel down the strip of bathing suit stretched over your hip, showing off the distinct mark of yesterday’s color and today’s tan.

“You’re crazy,” Sasha scoffs, throwing some designer sarong her mother lent her over her shoulder, “I’m melting.”

Armin and Historia pause their bickering over who gets to wear Armin’s Cucinelli belt to dinner—Armin wants it for his trousers, Historia for her maxi dress—just long enough to offer a momentary goodbye, breezing along into the house with Sasha. You settle back into your chair and take a deep breath, letting the sun sink into you just long enough to forget that you’re not alone.

“Open up.”

You’ve been enjoying this game of trading one sense for another, and you keep your eyes shut firmly, letting your jaw fall open and your tongue hang out. A piece of peach, fleshy and dripping with juice, finds its way onto your tongue, pinched too roughly between strong fingers. When you close your lips around the fruit, the fingers stay with it, frozen in their pinched position and forcing you to suck the peach from them, to swallow around them, to run your tongue along them and get as much of the meat as you can. When the fingers withdraw from your lips, you open your eyes and gasp quietly.

Eren’s leaning over you, a solar eclipse that smells like tan skin and sounds like Campari, and in the silhouette of the sunlight, you think he’s smiling.

“You’re still hungry,” he says, a question that’s left its punctuation mark behind. You think of Historia, of the improper shame of revealing your appetite. You dodge.

“I’m never hungry.”

“Never?” Eren crawls over you to kneel between your legs, propping one of your ankles up on his shoulder. The game you started is ripped out of your hands, chess pieces flying into the pool, scattering across the table, knocking over bottles and matchbooks. It’s so silent out here in the sun it hurts, and you almost miss the constant buzzing horseflies of early summer.

“Never.”

“If you’ve never been hungry,” Eren muses, tilting his head so that his cheekbone fits into the sensitive arch of your foot, reaching a hand down to splay it wide on your belly, “you’ve never been full.”

“How do you figure?” Your words come out throaty, waterlogged.

“Can’t have one without the other.” Eren shrugs, turning his head to the side. His lips brush against your heel, your Achilles’, the swirly seashell dangling from your anklet. You dig your teeth into your bottom lip, toes twitching behind his ear. “I don’t believe you, anyway.”

“No?” You try to tilt your head coyly, like your heart’s not clawing and scratching against your throat to get to him. Hungry, indeed.

“You wouldn’t stare like that if you didn’t want to.”

You’re taken aback, but not enough to fall out of the moment– Eren’s lips closing around the knob of your ankle slowly, like the pit of a fruit, make sure of that.

“Didn’t want to what?”

Eren’s hands meet the cushion on either side of your head hard enough to rattle the chair, his long, tanned body stretching over yours. He’s close enough to brush his nose against yours, but you can still see the hazy green of his eyes flicking here and there on your face: from your eyes to your lips to the beauty mark on your cheek. Your poolside lounge feels more like a butcher’s block under your taut spine.

Sasha’s told you about the wolves in these hills, that they howl murder at night, but they’re sleepy and indulgent in the heat of the sun. One of Eren’s canines catches the light and glints at you as he grins.

“Eat yourself sick.” He practically spits it into your mouth, one thigh pressed into where you’re sticky and sinful, and he chuckles under his breath when you shudder under him, feverish in the late-afternoon heat.

Before you can even think of biting back, Eren’s off of you, picking your sandals off of the ground and sliding them gently onto your feet, stopping to run his palm from your ankle to your kneecap with an appraising hum.

“We should head inside,” he says evenly, offering a hand to pull you to your feet, “I’d hate for us to miss dinner.”

You don’t have anything to say back to him, letting him lace his fingers through yours like lines in a play, interspersing seamlessly with the summer scenery. Eren leads you through the kitchen, waits patiently for you to take your sandals off, and waves you on your way up the stairs, saying he needs a cigarette. As the distance between you grows, your mind grows clearer, and you turn on your heel, calling down to him from the top of the stairs.

“Eren? Eren? Where are you, Eren?”

“Call me something else,” Eren pokes his head around the corner, smoke pouring from the grin on his face, “whatever you want, really. Make your own name for me.”

“You stare at me, too,” you say, tearing through his impishness. Eren cocks his head, unperturbed, smile growing wide as he nods.

“I do.”

“So you’re…” You can’t bring yourself to say it, not where it might echo in the cavernous hallway, where it might take the form of a confession. You scamper down the stairs, nearly sliding on bare feet, almost crashing into Eren when he appears at the foot of the staircase, catching you with two broad palms on either side of your ribcage. You pluck the cigarette from his mouth, stick it between your own teeth, narrow your eyes accusingly, and whisper: “You’re hungry too.”

“For every man hath business and desire, Such it is.” Eren takes the cigarette back, pulling on it and making a clear show of trying to hide a smirk.

“Hamlet?”

“A woman with teeth and a brain,” Eren tilts his head at you, “aren’t you something?”

“Do you always quote Shakespeare when you want to fuck somebody?”

“Only when I want to fuck you.” Eren stubs the cigarette out on the ancient oak of the staircase railing, grins up at you brilliantly, smiles brighter when he notices how obviously flustered you are.

“I need to go take a shower,” you say hurriedly, choking on the remnants of your shame and your confidence as they burn out in your throat, making an attempt to back up the stairs away from him. Eren laughs at your attempted escape, catching you by the wrist and pulling you close to him, close enough to dizzy you on the tendrils of smoke still sticking to him. Your breath stills, your heart slows as Eren wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you together, skin on tacky skin.

“Oh, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” Eren coos to you, mouth moving against your cheekbone. “C’mon, just one bite.”

“He that is proud eats up himself,” you hiss a quote back at him in response, ripping yourself from his grip and scrambling up the stairs, heart pounding and cheeks burning. You can hear a lovesick sigh follow you up to your room, and hope that the slam of the door behind you is enough to keep it from touching you.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

The murky waters of your vision ripple out into clarity, and you’ve found yourself in a forest. You’ve been here before, you recognize the tall, thick trunks and the bed of fallen leaves under your feet. You’ve been coming here since you were a little girl, been wiggling your toes in the greenery since before you could remember. You never come alone.

It appears just as you remembered: a blinding glimmer of light, a flame for a head, and ribbonlike wisps of energy that beckon you like arms, like love. One step towards it, and it disappears, vanishing into nothing with an echo that might be laughter. You think it’s happy to see you.

When it reappears a few feet away, you take your first steps, sighing at the feeling of the wild enveloping you, of the prickling of your skin, kissed by the chill winding through the trees. You wish you could explore this place, so familiar and so strange all at once, but you know you have to keep moving, keep following the lights as they lead you deeper and deeper into the forest. They won’t hurt you; you aren’t sure why that’s true, aren’t sure why you keep moving. You just know better than to stop.

They lead you over a familiar path, winding past a creek, over a bed of flat stones with an ice-cold creek running over them. You never tire here, legs pumping and arms working to push yourself faster. You’ve never caught the lights, and you aren’t sure if you ever will, but again, you know better than to doubt. It feels like hours, feels like minutes, feels like purpose, chasing these lights through the forest, but suddenly, something’s new.

There’s a little chirping sound, almost conversational and too high-pitched for you to understand; you’re not even sure if you recognize the language. It ricochets around the bones in your body, touches something ancient in their marrow. You almost jerk your head to the right to find the source, but you resist, pushing ahead on your path as the lights lead you deeper. You get the feeling that you’ve gone off-script somewhere, that this is a part of the forest you haven’t seen before, but the warmth in your bones shoos your doubts away. You’ve never been this far, but it feels like home.

A growl curls around the shell of your ear, plants fear right in the center of your chest. Your eyes widen at the light before you before it disappears; you frown at the next one, not daring to speak but demanding an answer anyhow. The lights will save you, won’t they?

Shrieks from overhead, guttural, animalistic calls, howls and chatters of excitement; you never presumed to be alone in this forest, but you never presumed to be in danger, either. The lights urge you on, vanishing and regenerating at an alarming rate, your feet drumming against the forest floor faster and faster. A sliver of moonlight begins to glow from the trees a ways off, an indication that there’s a clearing ahead, and you shove the bile in your throat down, swing your arms faster, ignore the frantic fluttering of your pulse in time with the bestial chorus ringing clearer and louder from the trees with each passing second.

You do, against all odds, manage to launch yourself into the clearing, and the moment you feel the soft cushion of moss under your feet, as opposed to the branch-littered, crunchy path of the forest, you nearly stumble to your knees as your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness of the clearing. The grumblings of the woodland entities have quieted, an almost awestruck silence settling in the open space around you.

“There you are.”

Your head snaps up comically fast– “You?”

“Me,” Eren says, that razor-sharp, moonlight smile lighting up his face. He looks…right here, as if the forest is extending a sense of belonging, as if he’s been here longer than the ancient trees themselves. Even the little crown nestled atop his head is fitting: a tangle of brambles and thorns and leaves tucked into his dark locks. Is that a throne under him, that mass of branches and leaves and some silvery metal you can’t place?

His eyes glow in the starlight, illuminated with a certain hunger that you can feel reverberating through your bones. It should be frightening, but it’s enticing. You feel welcome.

“What are you doing here?” Your tongue is slower on the uptake than your mind, and you can feel the suspicious expression folding your facial features, hiding the thrum of anticipation the sight of him brings.

Eren cocks his head pityingly, smiling at you in a way that would seem predatory if it wasn’t so entirely disarming, so entirely inviting. Your feet are bringing you closer before he even speaks— you know why you’re here before he says it.

“I’ve been waiting so long,” Eren beckons you onto his lap, firmly grabbing your shoulder and silently demanding you straddle him when you try to turn away from him, “you’re beautiful, so…alive here.”

He takes a bit of your hair between your fingers and rubs it, satisfaction flickering over his face. It’s then that you realize how little fabric covers you; really, it’s only a thin, wispy excuse of a dress, hanging in tatters around your body and leaving your skin free for the taking. Taking notice of your dress leads you to take notice of another pressing matter: Eren’s naked beneath you.

“Where are we?”

“Does it matter?” Eren reaches up to toy with your hair again, smiling gently. He tilts his head up, asking you for something you can’t identify, but that you already know you’re willing to give. Your soul, maybe.

Your lips meet his in a tentative brush, a motion that feels shy, but practiced. It’s a reflex, an instinct, to kiss him this way. Eren groans gutturally against your mouth, pressing into you deeper, digging his fingertips into your bare skin. The chorus of inhuman chatter erupts around you both again, and you jump, almost pushing away from him before he stops you with a firm hand against the small of your back.

“Sh,” he whispers, nipping at your chin, “don’t pay them any mind. You’re with me, remember?”

It’s difficult at first with the ever-growing hum of life around you, but it grows increasingly easier to melt into him, to lose yourself in the rhythm of him. He’s thick and hard underneath you, pressed right where you’re already slick and ready for him, and he’s got a tight grip on your hips, working you against him to make sure you feel it and oh– do you feel it.

A debauched gasp pours from your mouth to his; Eren sinks sharp teeth into your bottom lip with a grunt of approval, pulls you up to situate you over his twitching cock. You can feel the lecherous eyes of the woodland creatures, spirits, monsters, whatever they may be around you, looking in on the sticky, tangible arousal building between your bodies. The steady glow of Eren’s eyes, the prick of the thorns in his hair under your fingertips, the insistent weight of him pressing against the wet heat of you: all of it keeps you grounded, keeps your hips rolling into Eren like your life depends on it, like it’s what you were born to do.

“Are you ready?” Eren murmurs, quiet as the grave, stilling your hips and lifting you.

“I’m not sure, I–”

“I’ve been waiting so long,” Eren interrupts, “so long for you– you’re ready for me, I know you are.”

And with that, he’s sliding you down onto his cock, splitting you open, dropping your jaw. The cacophony from the forest grows deafening, but the glowing eyes in the brush streak and blur as your eyes flutter closed, a stuttered moan falling from your lips.

“Oh–”

“Knew you were ready,” Eren sinks his teeth into your collarbone, lets you wiggle and roll your hips until he’s situated comfortably inside of you. “You were born for this. For me.”

You can’t even bring yourself to disagree, to refute, to question. It’s godly, the way he fills you, the twinge of pain in the pit of your belly that doesn’t waver, no matter which way you squirm. The longer you sit, perched upon him– you feel something akin to divinity, akin to prophecy ringing through your bones. You were born for this.

“Eren…” It’s more of a sigh than anything, a confession and an admittance of guilt, a repentance. He likes the way it tastes, you can tell by the way his hands grip you harder, roll you along his cock faster with an urgency that betrays his calm, adoring gaze. He’s sinking his claws into you, bit by bit, and you’re better for it. You belong here, with the night on your skin and Eren nestled inside of you.

“Don’t ever leave,” Eren smiles gently, as if it’s a choice, “stay with me forever.”

The pleasure’s beginning to peak in your stomach, the howls swirling in the air around you start to feel more like a blanket, the moonlight like a crown. His hands are so hot they almost burn, his tongue licking up your neck feels like a baptism. Your back is arching, your blood is rushing, the stars are speaking to you– what are they saying?

Your fingernails have left angry indents in your throat where you’ve clutched into the skin in a desperate attempt to regain your breath, shooting up out of your slumber with a vicious jolt. Your head spins with the sudden movement, the antique furnishings of the room bleeding into candlelit blurs as you heave for breath.

“Sleeping?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the gravel of Eren’s voice, having believed yourself to be alone. Some instinctual part of your mind almost remembers falling asleep on the loveseat in the glass-enclosed sunroom earlier, one too many martinis to thank for that, but you can worry about that later– Eren’s your priority now, shirtless and leaned against the doorframe with one eyebrow raised and a very telling flush rising to his cheeks. The chilly wetness between your legs brings your dream to the forefront of your mind. Had he heard, somehow?

“What are you doing down here?” You do your best to narrow your eyes into something convincing enough to pass for annoyance, unsure if you’ve managed to pull it off with the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

“Water,” Eren says simply, raising a glass you hadn’t noticed he was holding, “but it seems like you might need it more than I do.”

“I don’t–” He ignores you, crossing the room to hand you the ornate glass. Your throat is dry, and so you drink, eyeing him suspiciously as you sip.

“Dreaming?” The corner of his mouth twitches almost imperceptibly.

“Nightmare.” You push yourself up to sit, crossing your arms defensively over your chest. “How’d you know?”

A long pause, Eren’s eyes dragging over you slowly, your skin burning. “You were squirming.”

“It was disturbing,” you say truthfully, looking over your shoulder and half-expecting to see some horrible monster leering at you from the doorway, salivating over you and Eren, “but I’ve had this same dream since I was a kid. Part of it, anyway.”

“Need company?”

“No,” you say quickly, shaken by the dream and how low Eren’s pajama pants hang on his hips, “I just need to get to my real bed. I’m sure sleeping outside had something to do with it.”

“That’s not true.” Eren’s scooping you up into his arms before you can open your mouth to argue, as if you even would. This isn’t unusual for him; you’ve grown used to his tendency to touch you, to hold you close to his chest as though you belong there. It echoes in your head, you were born for this. A shudder wracks through your body. “Cold?”

“Mhm,” you hum, not trusting your own voice. Eren nuzzles your head deeper into his shoulder, lets you get a noseful of the scent of him. Dewdrops, mankind, a rotting forest floor. It gives you a disconcerting sense of deja vu.

“Sleeping outside is good for you,” Eren goes on, scaling the stairs with impossible ease, “my mom used to tell me that.”

“Is that so?” It brings a sleepy little smile to your face, despite yourself: the image of a messy-haired, fussy baby Eren, curled up in his mother’s lap and looking up at the night sky.

“Sure.” You can hear the nostalgia in his voice. “The stars can talk to you that way, through your dreams. They show you where you’re supposed to go.”

Your blood runs cold at that– does he know? How could he? He’s a man, not a mind-reader, not a mystic. Right? You let him carry you to your door in silence, the only noise being the padding of his bare feet down the Turkish carpet runner in the hall. When he gets to your door, Eren finally starts to move to let you down, and your mouth moves without your permission, voice small and echoing in the still nighttime air.

“Eren?”

He freezes, muscles locking you in place against his chest. “Yeah?”

“Was I talking in my sleep?”

Eren settles you on your feet before answering, leaving one lingering hand on your hip and bringing the other up to brush at your cheek. Your eye must have been watering– his thumb catches a stray tear. His smile is a little too sharp when he answers.

“No, why?”

“Just wondering.” Relief courses through your body, but your muscles stay taut under his touch.

“Okay,” Eren looks you up and down one more time, as if he’s making sure you’re all there, “goodnight, then. I hope your dreams get better.”

When he turns to go, the broad silhouette of him growing darker as he retreats, you remember something fragile underneath the floorboards.

“Wait, Eren! You forgot your water.”

“My what?” When he turns to face you, he’s still grinning– baring his teeth, more like. You think you’re imagining the glow in his eyes, too fresh from that dream.

“Your water. I think I have a cup in my room if you need it.”

“Oh.” Eren waves a hand nonchalantly through the air, catching a stray stream of moonlight. You can see the dust particles dancing around his hand, enchanted by his movement. “Wasn’t thirsty."

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

It’s a slinky, dazzling dress; Elie Saab, Spring 2005, maybe? 2006? Sasha had lent it to you, insisted upon you taking it, really. It’s got to be worth at least your years’ rent payment, dripping with Swarovski and cut low and square across your chest, and easily the most decadent thing you’ve ever worn but– it’s family dinner night. No expense is spared.

Historia sits across from you, reaching one dainty hand out for Armin’s negroni, nearly dipping the massive drop-pearl charm on her bracelet into the first course: a cold, cucumber soup. Armin nudges her meaningfully, scowling and handing his glass to her, glancing apologetically at the stiff-backed butler across the room, who wasn’t looking anyway. Sasha’s at the head of the table, working on Historia’s serving of the cucumber soup, dunking focaccia bread into it in a voracious manner that you’re sure wasn’t outlined in the etiquette courses she’d endured as a child. And he’s next to you, naturally.

His dinner jacket looks out of place on him, oddly enough: angular and overly formal, as well-fitting as it is. You wish it was a little greener, a little more playful, something to match the Eren you’ve gotten to know under all the glitz and glamour. It’s too human for him, really, but that thought makes you shudder faster than you can shove it to the side.

“Wasn’t that the girl from Luxembourg?” Sasha asks through a giggle, finally leaning back to allow the butler to collect the remnants of her first course. Historia frowns at her, gulps back nearly half of Armin’s cocktail.

“No, the girl from Luxembourg was a slut. He wouldn’t have touched her.”

Armin and Eren exchange a look that implies that, whoever the slut from Luxembourg might have been, she didn’t escape their clutches unscathed. Historia notices the guilty smile dimpling Eren’s cheek and smacks Armin in retaliation.

“Ouch, Stori!” Armin scowls right back at her; if you didn’t know about Armin’s father’s remarriage to Historia’s mother, you’d think they were actually related.

“She was a slut,” Historia sniffs, finishing the rest of Armin’s cocktail in a second swig.

“It was Eren’s idea– you’re always punishing me for what he does.” When the staff place the second course, some sort of ceviche, in front of him, Armin crosses his arms over his chest and looks away like a huffy child. Sasha laughs and swats at his shoulder.

“Don’t pretend you don’t have your own hand in things. You can’t blame everything on Eren.”

“Maybe he can,” you shrug, the champagne going to your head. You’re feeling impish, feeling like one of them. Wildly, you reach a hand up to pinch at Eren’s cheek, smiling to yourself when you feel it turn warm under your fingers. “I mean, just look at him. He’s a devil.”

“Am not,” Eren scoffs, slapping a hand on your leg and shaking it playfully, “you weren’t there anyway. Min’s very convincing when he wants to be.”

“I am.” Armin smiles at you, head tilting intrepidly. “I can get Eren to share anything I want, I bet.”

It feels loaded, like a challenge, and Eren’s fingers tighten where he’s gripping your leg. When you chance a glance to the side at him, his jaw is tense, gaze focused on Armin like a threat, like a predator.

“Not anything,” Eren says, voice low and dangerous, more somber than you’ve ever heard him. Armin’s face falls for a millisecond, scrunching his nose at the murderous glint in Eren’s eyes, before he clenches his jaw and glances between the two of you with a haughty smirk.

“Est-ce vrai? En êtes-vous sûr? Tu l'as dit toi-même - je suis convaincant quand je veux quelque chose.”

“Ne commencez pas avec moi, pas pour ça.” It’s hardly louder than a murmur, but the threat carries all the same. You look to Sasha with widened eyes, hoping for a translation, but she’s chewing slowly on a bite of her ceviche, looking at Armin, Eren, then Armin again with a strange expression you’ve never seen before.

A heavy silence settles over the table, Eren’s fingertips leaving sore spots through your dress where they’re digging into your thigh, and Armin’s eyes dancing over Eren’s face, that same smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Daring.

“You two are so in love,” Historia gripes with a roll of her eyes, smashing the carefully-cubed ceviche on her plate into a mush. You eye the smear of meat on her fork disdainfully and set down the bite you had been about to pop in your mouth, opting for your glass of bubbles instead.

The jokingly grumpy lilt of Historia’s comment seems to cut the thread of tension that had grown taut between the two men, as Armin allows Sasha to pull him away from Eren and back into his corner of the table with her and Historia. Their conversation drones on, the ethics of Eren and Armin’s tendency to tag-team women fading into the background as you wait for Eren’s hand to slip from your thigh. It doesn’t.

His thumb rubs idly over the slit of your dress, brushing it back and forth over your bare skin for just long enough to get you used to the pressure of his palm beaming heat through the thin fabric, get your guard down. And then his fingers slip underneath, grabbing into the hot flesh of your thigh.

You jump ever so slightly, flighty as a fawn, and Eren chuckles under his breath beside you when you choke a bit on your champagne. He’s cool—stoic, even—as he bashfully bats away the scandalous insinuations of Sasha and Historia’s storytelling, the lewd raise of Armin’s eyebrows at the mention of a certain leggy redhead in Prague. His hand stays steady, possessive and permanent on your leg. When Armin and Historia start arguing over yet another of Armin’s alleged missteps with one of her college friends, Eren takes the opening to lean into you, murmuring into your ear.

“What’s got you so jumpy?” His breath puffs out hot and sensual against the shell of your ear, and you can feel your earring lifting with the movement of his lips. He’s so close.

“Not jumpy,” you answer under your breath, trying to keep your composure.

“Hm,” Eren hums, leaning back just enough to study your profile, “wasn’t sure if you’d dozed off, started dreaming again.”

Your head whips towards him in what is surely an uncouth accusation of insinuation, borne of shock, but luckily, Armin’s too busy being hand-fed ceviche by Sasha and scolded by Historia to notice. Other than his eyes, Eren’s stiller than death, watching over the antics with the littlest smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. His eyes, though, flick down to you, glinting like a dare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means something?” It’s a challenge, and you realize too late that the rope around your ankle has cinched, and you’re caught in his trap.

“No,” you say, hoping for more conviction in your voice, but it comes out as a breathy whisper. The corner of Eren’s mouth twitches, and it pulls an irritated huff from you.

“Tell me about your dream. The one that woke you up the other night.”

“Tell you– w-what? Here?”

“Yes, here,” Eren repeats you, quiet and calm, keeping one eye on your bickering friends to ensure you’re kept all to himself, “unless it’s something you can’t share.”

The blanching of your face tells him everything he needs to know, and that sickening admission almost overshadows the fact that he knows. He undeniably knows, now; maybe not the specifics, but enough to know that you had woken up sticky and gasping after a sinful dream. Maybe he even knows it was about him.

You’ve given up on trying to understand the otherworldly elements of Eren; the way he seems to appear at inopportune moments and know what you’re thinking at every turn, but this is too much. You quickly realize that while you’re not sober, you’re certainly not drunk enough to deal with him, and you finish your glass of champagne in a single gulp.

“You’re one to talk about sharing,” you hiss at him, trying to will away the goosebumps prickling your arms as his fingers inch higher, skating along soft skin. Eren’s demeanor falters, if only for a moment– he looks frustrated.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Eren leans into you, brows furrowing. “I don’t share just anything, and especially not just because ‘Min wants a taste.”

“Am I yours to share?” That heavy swig of champagne has gone straight to your head it seems, as you turn your face up to him defiantly, finally saying the quiet part out loud. The weight falls off your shoulders like a head, and you can almost feel the itch of the guillotine at your neck as the words leave your mouth. Eren, ever the gentle executioner, only lets the calm fascination return to his face, brings his fingers further up your thigh.

“Tell me about your dream, hm? They’re not listening, it’s just you and me.”

He’s only inches away from where you’re already beginning to grow hot and wet– he hasn’t even done anything, and you want to chastise yourself over the undeniable need beginning to bubble inside you. Eren’s smiling so sweetly, as if he’s lulling you into a sense of complacency, and your tongue hangs heavy in your mouth, eager to spill your secrets.

“I…I’m scared.”

Eren’s eyebrows raise and his smile grows a bit toothier, disbelief written plain on his face. “Of me?”

“Sometimes,” you say, small and honest as the grave, “it’s like you aren’t real.”

“I’m very real,” Eren insists, two fingers pressing against the damp silk of your panties, his eyes lighting up when you stifle a gasp, “doesn’t that feel real?”

“Wait–”

“The dream,” Eren says again, increasing the pressure of his fingers, “were you scared of me there, too?”

“Yes,” you whisper, ashamed and painfully cognizant of the feel of him between your legs, “I was in a forest, running after the little lights, they– I’ve seen them for a long time.”

“Since you were a child,” Eren repeats your confession from the other night. He’s reading you, you realize, not like a book, but like a poem. You couldn’t put the difference into words if you had to, but there’s a certain melody to the flickering of his gaze over your hot face.

“They’ve never led me anywhere before,” your words hitch in your throat, stopped dead when Eren’s fingers start rubbing circles over your swollen clit. The silk is thin and soaked, and his fingers slide over you in a way that feels god-given. Your jaw hangs ever-so-slightly, the butlers coming to change the course. You wait for Eren to slip his hand out from under your dress, fearful of the staff watching as he toys with you, but he only nods encouragingly.

“Keep going.”

“Um,” you stammer, swallowing thickly and glancing at the plate of bleeding, rare filet in front of you, “they took me to a clearing in the forest. There were creatures, ones I’ve never seen before.”

“Did they hurt you? Any of them?” A furrow appears between his eyebrows, deep and concerned. Some small part of your brain, muted since Eren’s hand slid beneath your dress, worries itself with why Eren seems so disquieted with your dream– it’s not like you actually could have been hurt, it was only a dream. Wasn’t it?

“No, they stayed away. They just made a lot of noise, but they all got quiet when…”

A knowing smirk. “When?”

“When I saw you.”

Eren pats your thighs gently, urging them apart; he looks relieved, exhilarated, unreal. If you didn’t know better, you’d think his eyes were glowing in the candlelight. Armin, Historia, and Sasha’s clamor across the table grows louder with each passing second, but as soon as you begin to wonder if you should be doing a better job of hiding what’s very clearly happening under the slit of your dress, Eren’s fingers have wiggled their way beneath the fabric of your silk thong. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, eyes widening.

“I was glad to see you,” Eren says quietly, “in the dream, I mean.”

“You said you’d been waiting for me,” you whisper, keeping your voice low to hide the whine scratching at the back of your throat, “that you’d been waiting a long time.”

“I bet I was,” Eren hums thoughtfully, grinning viciously when he sinks a finger into you, clearly relishing the way your fingernails tighten into his wrist. “I never lie.”

“Even in a dream?” You feel fuzzy and warm, blinking moony, worried eyes up at him. Eren shakes his head in confirmation, curling his finger and making your thighs clench. “You put me in your lap, and–and, you had a crown. It was nighttime, I think, and the moon was really bright. You were inside me.”

Eren slides another finger in to match the first, and you’re hardly able to stifle a moan when it comes fluttering through your teeth, a breeze of a sound compared to what you’re struggling to keep captive in your chest. Eren’s other hand reaches forward to grab a small piece of the carved steak, brings the meat up to your mouth and brushes it over your lips.

“Eat,” Eren instructs, smiling placidly as you mindlessly obey, biting into the red meat, “but keep telling me.”

He waits patiently for you to chew around the bite of steak he’s offered you, eyes searching you for something– what it is, you can’t be sure. Your mind is wobbling around the flashes of memory of your dream, distracted every few steps by an overwhelming rush of pleasure from between your legs, Eren’s fingers curling incessantly against your walls. You swallow, never taking your eyes off of him.

“You fucked me.” The confession is breathless when it leaves you, and even through the haze of what you pray isn’t a rapidly-approaching orgasm, you don’t miss the way Eren’s shoulders stiffen, the way his eyes flash.

“Did I fuck you, or did you fuck me?” Eren murmurs back to you, mischief in his eyes and a tense gravel to his voice. “You said you were in my lap, after all.”

“I—oh, god—I don’t know,” you’re barely able to keep your voice low, a little whimper interrupting you, “Eren–”

“Keep going, it’s okay,” Eren’s fingers don’t slow– in fact, they begin to move more harshly, “you’re safe with me, you know that. I showed you in the forest, didn’t I?”

“Mhm.” You can’t stop your forehead from falling onto his shoulder, teeth digging into your lip so hard you aren’t sure if that coppery taste is from the steak, or your own blood. The conversation in the room, despite being made by only three people, feels like a deafening rush in your ears.

The realization hits home that Eren’s going to make you cum all over his fingers in front of your friends, the staff, and your dinner, and he’s going to wrench it out of you in a matter of seconds, if the tightening of your gut is anything to go by.

“What else?” Eren practically growls in your ear, low and hoarse. “Is there anything else?”

“You asked me– fuck, you asked me something.” Your hips are canting forward into his palm, your face tacky and warm thinking about the couture fabric under you, now drenched in your cum and sweat. “Eren, you have to slow down, please–”

He’s merciless, pumping his fingers into you ceaselessly, rendering you a lost cause. “What did I ask you?”

“You asked—oh, my god—asked if I, if I would stay with you forever.”

“What was your answer?”

You can’t respond, not with the way you’ve stopped breathing to swallow down the debauched moan bubbling in your chest. Your entire body tenses, strung tight as a bow around Eren’s fingers as the knot in your stomach unravels, cool, inevitable release finally crashing over you. Eren works you through it, murmuring little hushes into your hairline, and placing a comforting hand over your fingers that are digging into his wrist, smiling against your forehead as you slide your hips back and forth over his hand.

You manage to pull the whole thing off impressively subdued, no more than a tinny whimper leaving your lips, only to be absorbed by the sleeve of Eren’s dinner jacket. When you dare to sit up, to meet Eren’s eyes, he’s still looking at you expectantly, as if that wasn’t enough.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” you whisper, waiting for Historia to chastise you, or Armin to make a lewd comment. The three of them are still arguing, Sasha stealing bites from Armin’s plate each time he turns to snap at Historia, who’s now sitting amongst a crowd of empty crystal glasses.

“What was your answer?” Eren says again, pulling his fingers from you and smirking at the glisten that stretches down into his palm.

“I woke up,” you say with shaky conviction, trying to glare at him.

“Are you still scared of me?” Eren asks innocently, picking up a piece of his steak with his hand and feeding it to you again. Your cum mixes in with the flavor of the steak, gives it a certain tang and salinity that makes your heart beat faster, even though you’ve just floated back down to consciousness.

“I– I don’t think so, but…” you trail off, looking down at the plate. Eren brings another piece to your lips, letting you bite half and giving the rest to himself, not missing the opportunity to suck on the tips of his fingers. Your thighs press together when his eyes flutter shut, knowing what he’s tasting and watching him revel in it.

“But what?”

“I don’t think I understand you,” you confess breathlessly, “I think that’s what scares me. I spend all day looking at you, and I never feel closer to understanding you, to really touching you. It’s like you’re not…” you trail off in search of the right word.

“Real?” Eren cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Human,” you say without entirely meaning to, widening your eyes at him in apology. “I’m sorry, not in a bad way necessarily, but– you feel…like you’re above me. In a sense.”

“Above you?” Eren frowns, forgetting his dinner entirely and looking straight at you with rejection written all over his face, wrinkles you want to smoothe over with your thumb.

“I just…” you sigh, finding it harder to meet his gaze by the second, “I don’t understand what you want with me.”

“Still?” Eren tilts his head. “Even after that?”

“The dream?” You nearly chuckle in exasperation. “It was just a dream, that’s all.”

Eren frowns a little, reaches for your glass of champagne– oh, god, when had that been refilled?– and hands it to you. He watches you take one sip, and then another, that concentrated pull of his eyebrows never ceasing until you reach a shaky hand out for your fork, beginning to feed yourself small bites of steak. His perplexed expression ripples out into one of contentedness, smiling gently as he watches you take care of yourself.

“All days are nights to see till I see thee, and nights bright days when dreams do show me thee,” Eren finally says, looking at you very much like you’re supposed to be parsing something out from his quote.

“On to the sonnets now, are we?” You cock a playful eyebrow at him, despite your tired, slouching posture and your repeated attempts to keep your guard up. Eren grins mischievously, leaning in as if he means to press the tip of his nose to yours.

“I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say–”

“If it be love indeed, tell me how much?” You’re quicker than him on this one, a vicious little smirk cutting across your face when you manage to cut him off. Eren’s eyebrows raise, impressed, but you don’t keep him down for long.

“There’s beggary in love that can be reckoned,” Eren finally says, twirling the ring on your pinky absentmindedly. You don’t even remember when he laid his hand atop yours, but it feels heavy and comforting, and so you let it lie there, just for the time being.

Your post-orgasm exhaustion hits you like a train, the temptation to slump against Eren’s shoulder winning out over your propriety. You’ll sit back up by the fourth course, you tell yourself, nibbling on a large piece of parsley that had come as a garnish on your plate. Eren doesn’t seem to mind the weight of your fuzzy head nodded into the cotton of his shoulder; in fact, he seems to adjust himself so you can nuzzle closer, eyes blinking owlishly as you reach for your glass of bubbles. You’re teetering dangerously close to the edge of unconsciousness, and you almost wouldn’t care, until something catches your eye.

Over the rim of your glass, Historia is staring at you. It’s not a look of admonishment, but more…caution? Concern? Pity? All you can discern for certain is that Historia must have seen everything Eren did to you, everything he’s still doing to you, taking a caviar bump off the back of his hand and laughing at Armin, shoulder shaking under your cheek. Historia’s brows furrow at you, her bottom lip wavering slightly.

You sit up suddenly, ignoring the way the room spins with the speed of your action. Eren turns his head to you, surprised, only to follow your gaze across the table to Historia. You’re trying to keep from looking at him, but you can’t help yourself, watching his expression crumple into something stern and disparaging.

Historia withers for only a moment, before narrowing her eyes at him threateningly. Eren squeezes his hand around yours. Sasha shoves Historia admonishingly for not listening to her joke. Armin’s eyes focus in on where your fingers grip your champagne flute hard enough to turn white.

You think you see a few pairs of familiar, glowing eyes in the bushes outside, peering in on the scene at the table. You think you need to go to bed.

#eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger fanfiction #aot #aot fanfic #eren jaeger x you #eren yeager x you #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #that's all for now folks!!!!#more to come in part 2<3

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

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dad!Eddie Munson x fem!reader

kidfic from the simmer verse 🍳 inspired by this ask/tiktok

When your daughter turned six, you and Eddie moved out of your apartment and into a home fit for a family. One with a big bay window and a huge garden, an oak tree out the back for Eddie to hang a swing from.

It came with a wrap around porch and the kitchen of Eddie’s dreams and Maeve got to pick the colour for her new bedroom, a mustard yellow that made her room feeling like an eternal summer. She was her daddy’s girl, a princess.

And then she turned twelve.

Eddie was in the kitchen when Maeve appeared, already so much taller than Eddie liked, her hair the same colour as yours but as curly as her fathers. She was just as pouty now, preteen hormones making her perpetually moody, sulking in corners and stealing away to her bedroom with Basil.

Now? Now she seemed to be on a mission.

“Dad?”

Eddie looked up from the cook book he was reading, tired eyed after an early morning meeting at the restaurant. They were making a new menu and Eddie had been worn thin, working too late and coming home to make you taste test all his new ideas. You never complained.

“Yeah, squish?”

“I’m hungry,” Maeve announced, sliding herself onto one of the barstools at the large island. Copper pots hung on a rack from the ceiling, casting bronze coloured reflections off of the girls cheeks. She still had freckles from the summer, a scratch on her chin from where uncle Argyle had tried to teach her how to skateboard. “Can you make me something?”

“Yeah, babe, sure,” Eddie wandered over to the fridge and he pulled out some containers. He wiggled one enticingly. “I made some mac ‘n’ cheese last night, you want me to hear some up?”

Maeve wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like mac ‘n’ cheese.”

Eddie’s face fell and his frown matched his daughters perfectly. If you’d been home from work, you would’ve laughed and called her his comeuppance.

“Well, you liked it fine last week.”

The twelve year old just shrugged, her legs swinging from her stool. “Well, I don’t anymore,” she replied with just as much indignation as her dad. “Can I get some pizza pockets?”

Now Eddie really did huff. The only reason the box of pastry abominations were in his freezer to begin with is because you’d done the last grocery shop. He narrowed his eyes at Maeve but moved to the freezer door when she giggled.

“We need to teach you some taste, kid,” Eddie tried to act stern. “How many you want? You starvin’?”

Maeve leaned onto her elbows and let her hands squish her cheeks. Her nails were black and glittery, painted carefully by you a few nights before and she’d proudly shown her dad her colour choice when he came home from work. “I don’t know, just two.”

“You don’t know?” Eddie questioned and he peered over his shoulder, the over door open. “You said you were hungry, babe. This is a meal for a hamster.”

Basil appeared at the mention of rodents, the black cat slinking into the kitchen to wind around Eddie’s ankles.

“I’ll have some chips too.” Maeve announced. “And some sliced apple, but only like, four slices, okay?”

Eddie blinked. “Four?”

“Yes, please.”

Well, at least she had manners. Eddie grumbled under his breath but did as told, shoving in the pizza horror before washing off an apple under the tap. He cut it as his girl watched, chomping every other slice until only four remained.

The timer on the oven had five minutes left. “Anything else, princess?”

Maeve seemed to ponder this question before she nodded, her little face as serious as could be. “Some grapes too, but just ten. And if there’s some baby bells left, I’ll have one. Oh, and seven gummy worms.”

Eddie’s lips were parted, his brows raised as he stared across the counter at his daughter. He didn’t know whether to laugh or call you and ask if this was some kind of prank he didn’t know about.

“What?”

Maeve blinked. “What?”

So Eddie huffed again and got out a plate, murmuring nonsense to himself as he gathered Maeve’s order, glaring playfully at her as he counted out exactly ten grapes. She grinned as she leaned over, laughing mischievously as she plucked one from the plate.

And when Eddie gasped, all theatrical, Maeve pointed to her plate and told him quite plainly around a mouthful of fruit, “dad, I said ten.”

Eventually, the timer beeped and two pizza pockets with oozing fake cheese were added to the plate. Eddie slid it over with a flourish, cackling when Maeve took offence to one gummy worm touching the pizza sauce that had leaked out. So he snatched it and shoved it into his mouth biting off the side with the sauce before dropping it back onto her plate.

“Dad! Ew!” Maeve gasped, throughly insulted but she slunk off her stool and Eddie flicked her on the as she passed, grinning when she scurried back to her room with Basil at her feet.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #dad!eddie munson #eddie baby blurb #eddie munson oneshot #simmer blurb

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vickyvicarious · 2 months

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I do genuinely love the descriptions Mina gives of the town, and also the way her writing feels reminiscent of those 'lady journalists' she planned to emulate. Not just stuff like her interviewing the old men she meets about local legends, but also just in the way she describes the area. I like that even when she is being quite descriptive here, with history, people, and landscape included, it still has a different feel to me than Jonathan's writing. Stoker did a great job of giving different writers distinctly different tones. (Today's entry is a fun contrast too between the terse and tense Captain, and Mina freshly arrived on her vacation and writing long descriptions.)

Right over the town is the ruin of Whitby Abbey, which was sacked by the Danes, and which is the scene of part of "Marmion," where the girl was built up in the wall. It is a most noble ruin, of immense size, and full of beautiful and romantic bits; there is a legend that a white lady is seen in one of the windows. Between it and the town there is another church, the parish one, round which is a big graveyard, all full of tombstones. This is to my mind the nicest spot in Whitby, for it lies right over the town, and has a full view of the harbour and all up the bay to where the headland called Kettleness stretches out into the sea. [...] Outside the harbour on this side there rises for about half a mile a great reef, the sharp edge of which runs straight out from behind the south lighthouse. At the end of it is a buoy with a bell, which swings in bad weather, and sends in a mournful sound on the wind. They have a legend here that when a ship is lost bells are heard out at sea.

Mina is sniffing out the local landmarks and stories, of course. And at the time hanging out in graveyards was way more common than it typically is today. But still, it seems pretty clear that she's partial all the spooky stories and is enjoying being in a place with so many of them, haha. It's fun to count up all the moments.

I shall come and sit here very often myself and work.

Also, still making plans! That, and her being conscious of timing (clock striking six and Mina knowing the Westenras will be back by then) are both little character beats which we've already seen in her letters to Lucy.

#dracula daily #mina murray

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moxfirefly · 9 months

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"I'm going to kiss you. Okay? Just...just let me kiss you."

With bay donnie or Mikey pls? Some cute nervous fluff <3 thx thx

Gonna go with my lad Mike, boy deserves more love.

Rated Tooth Rotting Fluff

The voices in the apartment were loud, your friends had decided to drop by unexpectedly which had cause your evening with Mikey to be cut short.

Expertly he had scattered out of the window and you had followed with a quick excuse about not having service for your phone. While your friends dropping by wasn’t unwelcomed, tonight it really wasn’t the vibe when you knew in your gut that Mikey was just starting to tell you something.

Something that felt like a confession.

He was just about to go down the stairs when your whistled at him, kneeling as much as you could away from the window, Mikey crouched and climbed up a bit of the way to get closer to you.

“I’m sorry about this, these clowns really had some timing, huh?” You smiled apologetically, crushed with his little sad smile and shrug.

“It’s alright girl, we got another day filled with 24hrs we can choose from.” Mikey heard your name being called, felt a little tug at his chest.

He had spent the better part of the day trying to hype himself up to do this, to talk to you, to tell you something very important.

His nerves were rearing their ugly little heads, taunting him if he left now, that would be it. His window was gone.

“I know you wanted to talk, maybe I can call—“

“I’m going to kiss you. Okay? Just…Just let me kiss you.” His eyes searched your gaze for any negativity, any shape of the word ‘no’.

He found his ‘yes’ in your lips meeting his own. The soft meshing, a gentle collision that melted every self doubt going down the drain.

Mikey turned his head, lips a little more sure of themselves as he kissed with more determination. When his hand found your chin and a little love sick sigh found it’s way into his throat, if it hadn’t been for your name being called again, he would’ve had you pinned down on the couch.

Regretfully he detached himself from the closest he’s ever gotten to heaven.

But your red flushed skin and smile only told him that next time meant this again.

That he’d get to kiss you again.

#ask #anon #tmnt bayverse #tmnt michelangelo x reader #tmnt mikey x reader #michelangelo x reader #mikey x reader #tmnt michaelangelo #tmnt mikey #michelangelo #Mikey #emotional? prompts

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rafeyscurtainbangs · 1 month

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Please Please Please - Rafe Cameron Short Story (Part 3 of 6)

+18 Minor DNI

Older MobDealer!Rafe x Female Reader

⭐️ republished ⭐️

+18 Minor DNI

Part 1 Part 2

2798 words

Warnings contain spoilers: blood, domestic assault, cheating, swearing, name-calling, gaslighting, threats, and mentions of killing partner, kissing, general violence, gun violence, heavy petting, mild smut warning

Loosely based on the song and music video Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter 💕

✨”It’s not gonna be me and you if he’s around, baby.” The muscles in his jaw tighten, tears glistening on his waterline that hadn’t been there a moment before as he leans in closer, letting his cheek rest against yours. Rafe’s lips brush against your warm skin, making you melt into him. “Men like me take what we want, and we don’t take ’no’ for an answer. He’s not gonna stop ‘til I make him. No one fucks with my girl.”✨

Sexual content in pink if you want to avoid that

Reader’s POV:

“Fuck, I missed my girl,” Tony groans as he nuzzles into your neck, his stout cologne doing nothing but turning your stomach. “You gonna wait up for me tonight, babydoll? I promise I won’t be gone too long this time—just a quick meeting.” His fingers scrap along your jaw, capturing your chin between his pointer finger and thumb. You wince in shame and disgust. I wonder what he’s thinking. Does he even see what he did to me? It doesn’t matter.

“Of course, I’ll wait for you.”

”Oh, and wear that little set you were wearin’ the night before I left. I’ve been thinking about it since.”

You purse your lips, forcing them into a tight smile. “Of course, Tony,” you subsist, your voice cracking slightly, making him shift his stance, looking down at you concerned.

”You alright, honey?” He questions as he moves even closer.

“Mhmm… You press the utterance past your lips. “You just got here. I don’t want you to leave,” you lie.

He looks back at you lovingly, matching your pout, rubbing his rough thumb along your bottom lip. “I never wanna leave you, princess.”

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦

You wait by the phone nervously, standing by for a call from Rafe. Nothing yet. An hour passed when he said they would meet. Maybe they’re just gonna talk. Maybe Rafe has enough muscle to scare Tony.

No. There’s no way they’re both coming out alive…

Your eyes fill with tears, thinking about Rafe alone in this. Maybe he brought someone with him, his goons, just like Tony would surely do. Barry? He hasn’t mentioned anyone else in his corner.

BEEP.

Your phone lights up, making your stomach fall. You look down at the screen. Unknown. A burner phone… Either Tony or Rafe. Light floods your bay window, filling with light the dark kitchen. Is the deal done? What if Tony took care of Rafe and stole his phone, following the chain of messages between him and me, putting together all the pieces?

You skitter into the kitchen, catching a large knife out of the butcher block, holding it at your side for protection. Snagging your phone off the counter, you creep toward the window, peering outside, but it’s far too dark to see.

CLICK.

You lift the phone to your ear, listening to your uneven breathing in the playback as you linger for the caller on the other line to say something.

“C’mon, princess. Let’s get outta here.”

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦

“I don’t know, Rafe,” you whisper shakily, your delicate voice vying with the music pouring out of The Country Club. Rafe reaches behind his back, it adjusting himself; the tilt of his large body just slightly in front of yours, giving you a glance of his GLOCK 19.

”Rafe-“

”Don’t worry,” he stops you, looking into your eyes with a requisition to remain calm. “You know I’ll take care of you. Yeah?”

”Yeah,” you answer as the two of you slip into the entryway. Rafe’s large hand clutches yours tighter as you move quickly through the thick crowd to the back. He lowers his head, and you follow suit, catching the door as a stripper struts onto the main floor just as you did before.

The noise around you plunges to a muffled roar, leaving the two of you alone in the dark hallway. Sweat gathers on your palms; heart, racing. Your knees wobble, ankles weak in your heels as the two of you step closer toward the door. Rafe reaches for it, and you go for him, wrapping your hand around his bicep. His eyes fall to yours, softening as he sees the apprehension in your eyes.

“Please, baby. Just - Just please let’s go,” you plead. He tightens his strong jaw, shaking his head ‘no.’ “Please…” You whimper weakly. Rafe wraps his arm around you, pulling you away from the door, caging you against the wall, looking out before turning his attention to you.

“If I don’t come out, you gotta leave.”

“Leave? Why? I don’t want to leave you,” you panic.

”And have you struck in the crossfire? I don’t think so. You’re only here ‘cause I need you close. I need to be able to grab you after I handle shit so we can hide out together. I don’t trust anyone to keep you safe but me.” You nod up at him, waiting for further direction. “Need you to go somewhere safe; somewhere close-”

”The champagne room-” You interject.

”Yeah - Yeah. That’s perfect, baby,” he breathes as he brushes your cheek with his thumb, demanding your eye contact, knowing his presence is the only thing keeping you from a full-on panic attack. “I told you I’d take care of you. I meant that. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a set of keys. Rafe grabs your palm, resting them on your trembling hand. “I bought you a Penthouse in Charleston, and a car to take you wherever you want to go.”

You look down at the triple set, a gold house key, a Mercedes fob, and a third silver key with a palm tree etched in the metal. “That G-Wagon we took here is all yours, princess. If you open the mirror, you’ll find the address of your new place and a credit card. There’s a burner phone in the center council. Those contacts will make sure you’re taken care of and protected. And, if for some reason you’re not, and if anything happens—I’m talkin’ anything, and you feel unsafe, this key is for my hideaway in Nassau. Text my sister Wheezie, she’ll tell you where I hid the address. Okay?”

“You - You… Shit. You didn’t have to do that… Why did you do that for me, Rafe?” You panic. “That’s too much. That’s-”

“Stop, baby,” he soothes as he brushes your tears off your cheeks with his rough thumbs. “I needed to do this. I need you. Alright? You can thank me later. I’m fuckin’ counting on it,” he chuckles weakly. “I’ve been thinkin’ about that since our phone call-”

“Please just think this through,” you whimper. “We can start over anywhere. Just me and you. We can go to your hideaway tonight.”

”It’s not gonna be me and you if he’s around, baby.” The muscles in his jaw tighten, tears glistening on his waterline that hadn’t been there a moment before as he leans in closer, letting his cheek rest against yours. Rafe’s lips brush against your warm skin, making you melt into him. “Men like me take what we want, and we don’t take ’no’ for an answer. He’s not gonna stop ‘til I make him. No one fucks with my girl.”

He pulls away slightly, searching for your eyes. You look up at him, hating yourself for not fighting harder, but there’s nothing you can say to stop him. The only thing you’re doing is getting in his head, adding further emotion to an already emotional situation. If he is going to come out alive, he needs to focus. You look up at him and nod. “It’s just a conversation,” you whisper.

“Only a conversation,” he breathes as he reaches behind his back, double-checking his piece. You grab him by his shirt, pressing a hard kiss on his lips like it might be your last time. Rafe separates slightly, ghosting his lips over yours before kissing you again, taking control of the situation—the perfect kiss, exactly what you needed; deep and passionate yet gentle enough to feel more.

His lips pull away from yours, leaving you chasing him. “Pretty girl…” He mumbles, with a gentle grit in his voice. “This isn’t my first time. Aight? I know how to handle business, I know how to use my gun, m’not afraid to get shit done,” he assures, resting his forehead against yours.

“Red wine,” you whisper, fighting off tears as you rest your hands on his toned chest.

“What now?” He chuckles before kissing your forehead.

“That’s what I want. I wanna share a bottle of red wine with you tonight-”

“On our date?” He asks happily.

“On our date.

“She’s confident now. Huh? I needed that, princess. I’ll buy you a bottle of whatever you’d like, and we can share some dessert. Yeah?” He asks as he cups your cheeks in his large hands, kissing your nose, then your lips. “I love dessert.”

You giggle weakly, right on the verge of tears. “You can have whatever you’d like after this, baby.”

”Whatever I’d like?” He breathes between kisses. “You know what I’d love. Don’t you?”

“I do. I’d love that too.

“My girl,” he smiles. “Now let me handle business. Aight? I’ll be right out.”

“Okay.” You quickly catch a tear on your finger, brushing it away on your dress. Rafe turns toward the door, taking a deep breath. He lifts his fist, banging on the large wooden entry.

“Come in.”

”Stop,” you gasp, pressing your hand against the door. Rafe looks down at you frustrated; your talk apparently not enough to let him do what he needs to do without more pushback. “Just stop for a moment.” You whisper. “That’s not Tony.” Rafe’s eyes narrow, shifting from you toward the door and back to you, watching you as you lean in, pressing your ear against it. You shut your eyes, doing your best to focus on the conversation behind it.

“What are they saying?” Rafe whispers.

You lift. your finger to your lips, quieting him. “Shh, baby… Just-”

”Who the fuck else would it be?” A man grunts.

”Why the hell isn’t he comin’ in then? It’s gotta be one of Tony’s sluts,” a second adds. It’s always ‘yes sir,’ or ‘no sir,’ whenever Tony’s in the room. None of these men would ever have the balls to call Tony his first name to his face.

”Then open the goddamn door and find out what they want.”

”Nobody’s been back here all night. It’s him. We got specific orders. Kill him, take her home. We fuck this up, we’re gone.”

“Next knock, we handle it.”

”Can you hear what they’re sayin’,” Rafe asks, the pull of his voice making it impossible for you to compartmentalize him and the other conversation together in your fear-muddled mind. You bury your face in your trembling hands, finding yourself in a seemingly hopeless situation, trying to remain strong.

“Rafe - I… He’s not in there,” you whimper. “It’s a setup. Kill you. Take me.” The gravity of the situation has the opposite effect on Rafe. Those exact words sending him into a fit of rage instead of a fit of terror.

“So, he’s a woman beater and a pussy. Huh?” He chuckles darkly, pulling his gun out from behind his back. “Fuck, I’m gonna love killin’ him.” You look at Rafe, hearing those words fall so easily from his mouth. There’s no question that it’s not just lip service. He can’t wait. He’s looking forward to it. “Can you pretend to be a dancer? Just call for Tony? Throw him off?” You nod obediently. “You ready?” Rafe asks. You step toward the door and look up at him, tears wetting your cheeks. “I need you to take a deep breath for me, princess. It’s all going to be okay. Five minutes tops. Give it five minutes. If I don’t make it out. Leave. Please. Don’t look for me. If I’m alright, I’ll find you. And if not… just know that I love you.”

You stare back at him in disbelief. It’s hard to wrap your head around an instant connection with someone and even more challenging to convince yourself that love at first sight exists, but there’s no denying you feel it, too. “I love you, Rafe.”

“That’s all I need to know,” he whispers. He wraps his body in yours, burying himself in your neck and breathing deeply. Rafe kisses your neck, cheeks, forehead, and lips, lingering momentarily. You feel his lips tremble against you, his shaky breathing letting you know that he may not be as confident as the face he’s putting on for you, but the last thing he needs is more doubt.

“I’ll be waiting for you in the champagne room on the main floor, back-right, red curtain.”

“Five minutes,” he adds sternly. You separate slightly, walking toward the office door; rapping on it several times. “Tony, it’s Serena. I have a cash drop,” you call, holding onto Rafe’s hand for dear life. He kisses your head before nodding toward the main floor.

You run away, just as he asked, listening as the office door opens. Light floods the hallways, illuminating Rafe as you watch him draw his gun. He aims, quickly firing three shots inside, making you cover your mouth, muffling your scream as he rushes inside.

You sprint toward the door, throwing it open; clipping toward the champagne room fast. You look both ways, turning the plaque from empty, to occupied. It’s an out-of-body experience as you peer out the crack in the curtain into the club, everything visibly unchanged as the bass continues to thump, strippers climbing and sliding down the poles as if you’re not cowering in the corner, and there’s not a gunfight going just down the hall.

Your thoughts start to consume you, the idea that that could have been the last conversation the two of you would have ever shared, the depth of his love even after such a short time, his deep-seated need to keep you safe, the idea of not getting to share a life with him after.

You slide your fingers along your swollen cheeks, sniffling and wiping your tears. “C’mon, Rafe,” you blubber as you look down at your watch, seven minutes since he went in—two minutes longer than you vowed to stay. You feel torn; listen to him and leave or stay and wait. If he doesn’t make it out, I don’t want to either…

Your stomach flips; heart skipping as the curtain is pulled back. Rafe. You stand up from the booth, running into his arms before he can even set down his gun. Your hands wrap around the back of his neck, dragging him toward your lips, needing him close. He rests his firearm on the table, giving you his full attention as his large hands paw at your body. Your kiss is desperate, rushed, and hungry. Your tongues reeling, teeth clashing, tugging hair; your hands everywhere. You pull away, panting for air, taking the deepest breath you have all night. “I was so worried. I-”

“Baby, I’m alright. I’m okay,” he comforts as your kisses soften, the two of you falling on a smoother tempo.

“What happened?” You whisper, lips flowing close.

“You were right… He wasn’t there.”

“Did you-“

“Kill anybody?” He asks, voice hoarse with adrenaline. “Yeah, baby. I killed ‘em all.”

“Shit,” you stammer, looking over his shoulder into the club, the guests and girls none the wiser. No heavy hitters in Tony’s crew were taken out. No one who truly mattered to his operation, just warm bodies set out to handle the boss’s dirty work - goons that got taken out in the crossfire.

It was them or us.

I still have him.

“Sit,” you whisper

Rafe smiles along your lips, lifting you into his strong arms. “Yes, ma’am…”

You reach for the top button of his shirt, pinching it between your fingers, tugging it open, working to the next as your eyes lift to his. Rafe sits down, setting you on top of him. You sink the rest of the way down, straddling his lap, grinding with the tempo of your kiss and the beat.

“I want you so fucking bad, sweetheart,” he mumbles between kisses. You can feel his want pressed against your delicate lace panties, your dress hiked up around your hips, pussy pulsing at the sound of his voice and the weight of his words.

"I need you, Rafe,” you groan. He chuckles lustily against your lips, groping your ass with his large hands.

"Oh, Yeah? Fuck, princess,” he hums as his eyes follow your hands, working lower and lower, exposing more and more skin as you pull open each button. Your lips press against the column of his neck kissing and sucking his hot skin. “Thankin’ me already, baby?”

You look at his opened button-down, dirtied with small splatters of blood. Rafe lip his bottom busted lip; in the heat of the moment, unnoticed ‘til now. His hair is a mess, hanging loose in front of his darkened eyes. He brushes his bangs off his face, smiling at you that has you physically aching for him. “There’s not enough time in the night to thank you…”