#i live so close to one so its so easy to just get a free sandwich and go right home

[phoenixcatch7]

Just finished playing sb ruin!

STEEL WOOL YOU HAD ONE JOB how did you make the plot holes worse.

Three characters have just EVAPORATED two were just environmental hazards at BEST and only two got any sort of character development!!!!

Literally the only new characters were a) the protagonist (expected, wanted) and b) the antagonist (CONTEXT??? LORE?? HELLO?!). 'Oh it's been down there for a really long time' HAS IT NOW?? HAS IT?? BECAUSE IT SURE WASN'T THERE BEFORE. WE WENT THERE AND IT WASN'T THERE.

The voice acting was great, I will say that. Every actor gave 110% and it really brought the whole thing to life. The set building too. And the glitchy effects!

Unfortunately the story completely fell through again.

At the start, it felt pretty clear where it was going to go. 'Gregory' was directing us down to the old afton fight area, there was rabbit/vanny graffiti everywhere, there was a strange rabbit mask that turned the world purple and glitchy and let you walk through solid objects occasionally, instructed by a gaslighting little AI that knew more than it was letting on.

Given the way it lined up with the gargantuan plot holes in security breach, and it was free dlc for the game marketed as fixing those holes, it was fairly obvious it'd be a story with vanny as the final boss, having not given up on her goal and possibly still kidnapping children. Cassie would potentially face mind control or sensory brainwashing from the mask, we'd get attacked by the broken animatronics, maybe put them to rest or cure them enough to escape the pizza plex, and at the end we'd find out how Gregory was being impersonated, a boss fight almost certainly in vr against whatever weird blue robo bunny kept staring at us (it doesn't even do anything???) and vanny irl, Cassie would stop their plans and/or burn the pizza plex down the rest of the way. Meet up with Gregory again at the end, possibly with a freddy head, I wasn't picky.

You know, closure.

Instead, the plot was... Essentially nonexistent, just as much a run quest cycle as sb despite the linear progression and lack of teleporting animatronics, somehow. The boss 'fight' was completely divorced from the rest of the game, all but roxy and the da were entirely absent of any character development, both of which were relevant for about three seconds.

The lift ending was a cheap shock value ending which only left more questions than answers. The other two, which we googled, were equally free of things like 'explanations' and 'filled plot holes' and 'context' and 'closure', and all of which were dependant purely on random actions in the final scene we were given no hints to knowing about, unlike sb. By the end we were left in shock, fury, confusion and betrayal, which isn't a great note to end your game on.

All in all, while eclipse was a pleasant surprise and roxys five new lines of dialogue were sweet and a bit sad, ruin managed to be like security breach in all the worst ways, and didn't even have any funny glitches to laugh at. Loading screens were insanely long, enough we once ate a full meal during three back to back ones and went on our phones instead of waiting patiently, AND regular. All deaths were to the slippery catwalk in gator golf or frustration making us reckless, and we had to get out the walk throughs just to navigate certain areas. Though we were told we were invisible to most animatronics in the mask no one had told any of them. Bar the endos every single one could spot and chase us in the mask. We got softlocked several times and had to restart. The weird robot rabbit never got any context or explanation and didn't even do anything to our knowledge?? Summoned the animatronics maybe but even if you didn't take the mask off and walked through him he wouldn't do anything. Got jumpscared ONCE and then we continued on our merry way.

Also the game crashed twice.

[yoshistory]

its funny because when i went to get my free meal the people behind the counter messed up and funded me points because they couldn't remove my order when they accidentally added something so they had to like do something and didnt charge my card and restart the order but whatever they did funded my account enough points to get a free side

[creganslover]

I think it would be cool if you did a cregan x reader but reader has a dragon and her dragon is called the beast of winterfell or something like that and for the longest time even the people of winterfell have no idea what it means (they assume because of her family they are just referring to her) but while she’s giving birth or something the dragon hears and feels her pain and come out of hiding freaking out and finds her and like puts his snout up to the window to make sure she’s okay and it’s kinda like a crazy moment for the people of winterfell lol just a random idea I had hope you like it feel free to change any details about it

ofc! thank you for requesting, anon! i really hope you'll like it! i apologize if its not that great T^T

─── ⋆⋅ ❤︎ ⋅⋆ ───

beast of winterfell, cregan stark x targ! fem! reader

wc: 1.4k

warning/s: mentions of blood, childbirth, lmk if i missed anything!

─── ⋆⋅ ❤︎ ⋅⋆ ───

Ever since you had been arranged to Cregan Stark, the Lord of Winterfell and the Warden of the North, you knew you were about to live a completely different life as you were expected to live with him in Winterfell for the rest of your days. 

It had taken a while for you to get used to being so far from the West and your family, yet Cregan’s presence was like a breath of fresh air, albeit cold, really cold. 

The lighter clothes you used to wear back in Dragonstone now replaced with heavy furs, you could have sworn if you had listened closely you would hear your back crying in protest. 

Alas you carried yourself with grace, it helped that Cregan had understood where you had come from and he always made sure the fireplace in your shared chambers had been extra warm, even if he had to get the firewood by himself. 

One thing you had also missed in the West was being able to go on dragonback without feeling that you were about to freeze at any given moment.

Your dragon, Rhaegos or commonly known as the Red Beast, could not stand to be far from you either, even willing to visit from time to time due to his own stubbornness that reflected your own. Making himself a home far enough from Winterfell within a clearing in a forest, you think, he had been able to live and feed himself, keeping warm with his flames. 

The folks of Winterfell had not even seen a dragon before, you’d wager, and you intend to keep it that way as they would not need to worry of such a magnificent beast nestled near their home, if they had only known. 

Cregan had also known of Rhaegos, he very well knew the creature as the first ever day Cregan had seen you was you landing on your dragon onto the sands of Dragonstone, he was about to depart then, yet you made him stop in his tracks as the Red Beast had made its appearance.

And you noticed him upon your landing, the ship in the distance carrying the banner of House Stark, which you have soon learned who was going to be your betrothed. 

Rhaegos did not take kindly to strangers nearing you but you just had to see who the ship carried, if it included your soon to be husband. 

And when you hopped off your dragon and had reached him, Rhaegos was watching carefully, even crawling himself a yard behind you, though Cregan did not seem to waver, or was trying his best to keep his composure as a dragon was barely in the North and the way its eyes gleamed at him, had him gripping a little tighter on his gloves. 

To your surprise, Rhaegos had nudged its snout against your back, almost shoving you to Cregan that had sent both your cheeks running hot as he caught you in his arms.

It seemed Rhaegos wanted to play cupid at that moment as you profusely apologized to the Lord of Winterfell.

The marriage came and went, devotion had come easy with you and Cregan, no sooner than a moon after your bedding that you had noticed the changes in your body.

It only took a look for the maester to confirm it. You were with child. 

Cregan was absolutely delighted, he could not stop showering you with affection within the confines of your chambers, his big rough hands gently upon your stomach.

There were barely any signs of growth yet making you laugh. It was your first time pregnant, and of course you’ve seen and heard your mother Rhaenyra teach you a thing or two about it, yet it had always worried you as you saw how it could take a toll upon a woman’s body, like with your mother.

Cregan swore no harm will come upon you and your child as you carry it through the moons, always placing his most skilled men out your chambers if he ever was required someplace else than at Winterfell. 

And when he would return, he would not even mind the cheers of his folk, going directly straight to you, enveloping you in a careful embrace, before he would kneel to press his forehead against your swollen middle, the baby within you kicking in response.

The days had inched closer to your due, and you had felt it with the way your body had increasingly been feeling heavy, the way you waddled while you walked. 

Your scream had broken out the great keep of Winterfell as the moment had finally come when their lady was about to give birth. Your handmaidens paced around you in worry, the maester advising you on what you should do- yet it all seemed to drown out by the time it reached your ears.

Blood began to trickle down your legs as your handmaidens rush you to lay upon the bed, you were restless as your body had been covered in sweat, platinum hair matting to your face as you cried out for Cregan, the maester informing you he was well on his way. 

Your breathing came in rushed, panting as your eyes blinked back tears as you were positioned necessarily for birth. Your muscles had contracted painfully, sending you with another wail. 

Though on this day, not only your childbirth would be borne by Winterfell. 

After your long cry, an unfamiliar loud screeching could be heard in the distance, making every folk in Winterfell pause in their actions. Could it be…?

“Dragon!” A knight exclaimed as people began to panic and rush around. 

Cregan was on his way back to Winterfell speeding on his mount after having visited the Hornswood, but he was not alone. To the West of him was undoubtedly a creature he had not seen a long time, your dragon, Rhaegos. 

His screeching may as well echo throughout the North as the dragon flew itself close to Winterfell. Its intimidating and thunderous roars caused worry for Cregan’s folk as he finally managed to rush inside, dismounting off his horse and quickly telling his people to calm- that the dragon would not dare harm them, that it was yours. 

Cregan then rushed towards the great keep, where your screams and wails grew louder, tearing his own heart as he finally shoves himself in the birthing chambers. 

“Cregan!” You cried as he came into view, rushing beside you as the maester had told you to push for the nth time. You wasted no time bearing a deathly grasp upon his hand, knuckles turning white. 

The gap on the windows was then darkened by a shadow followed by a low rumble, the maidens in the room, even the maester was disturbed at the sight of a dragon’s nout, moving outside as its eyes tried to spot you. 

“Calm down, it means you no harm.” Cregan said firmly. “My wife is the priority.” He commanded, glaring daggers at those within the room. 

Your chest heaved up and down as you could feel Rhaegos’ bond clearly with you as your eyes found his slit ones through the window. “Rāpirī (Be calm) Rhaegos!” You managed to say out loud, the dragon grumbling weakly in turn as it hissed at the maester, who quickly got back to his occupation. 

With one last push, you had felt it– the pain had numbed most half of your body, making you try and chase your breath, Cregan’s gaze flickering to you and the maester, with Rhaegos present out the window, his low grumbling ever a presence to your strength. 

All your body seemed to be in a haze, unable to move your legs- or the whole of your body for that fact.

Until a cry of the babe was heard, Cregan’s heart thumping in his chest as he looked at you and the babe being wrapped in the towel.

“You did it, oh thank the Old Gods.” Cregan murmured, pressing his lips to your forehead before his pressed against yours. “It is a girl, my lord, my lady.” The maester announced as the bundle of joy was placed into your arms. 

“Our- our own little girl…” You croaked out, a grin breaking through your face as tears of joy pricked your eyes, Cregan looking at the babe wriggling and making his heart near to bursting. “She’s a beauty like you.” He murmured.

Rhaegos outside began whirring as he seemed to be feeling your joy coursing through your bond, taking himself to the skies screeching happily, making you laugh weakly. 

Cregan then nuzzled both you and the babe, with Rhaegos’ sounds echoing above. 

Your children would need not worry for a protector, when they’ve got the beast and the wolf of Winterfell by their side. 

─── ⋆⋅ ❤︎ ⋅⋆ ───

cregan tag-list: @misswynters @i-padfootblack-things

[zooophagous]

I'm gonna be contrarian here for a minute and rant about "cats aren't even good pest control."

Which, one study that found cats don't do well against rats is not the be all end all of reality. A cat may not go after Norway rats, which are large and aggressive, no. An adult male wild Norway rat is large enough to give almost any cat a run for its money.

But Norway rats aren't the only thing that exist and get into houses and barns. It is very cold where I live, and while I see mice and packrats and voles, I have never once seen a wild RAT. Wild RATS don't get into my garage. Deer mice do. Bushy tailed pack rats do.

And you know what fixed it?

My cat. He's not even an outdoor cat. He's 100% indoors, or in the garage but only with the door closed so he can't leave.

He single handedly removed my packrat problem. I didn't need to resort to poisons and while I did set traps, none of them had even half of his success rate. Cats were domesticated primarily because of how good they are at catching small rodents. Their success knocked other animals such as trained ferrets off the popular spot for the task. Claiming a cat is useless as pest control is just plain not true.

Cats are decent pest control WITHIN CERTAIN PARAMETERS. They're good for certain types of small pest, and cats need ro be CONTAINED. Much like poisons, you can't just throw cats around willy nilly because they'll kill a shitload of non target animals.

A barn or shop cat is a good option for long term mouse control *if* it is actually confined to that barn or shop and not free to just leave. A semi feral cat that lives in a large warehouse and is vaccinated and desexed and vetted and kills whatever tiny pests get in to chew on stuff is the best case scenario for an adopted feral.

What I do NOT get however, is the insistence that terriers are better and you should just get one of those.

A dog is not an easy animal to keep and nor is it one you should go purchase because you want long term pest control in your barn. If you want a pest control solution call an externinator. If you want a dog that's intelligent and driven and needs dedicated training and care and you're happy to put in the energy to actually focus its chaotic energy into something useful then go get a ratting terrier.

These little dogs do not fill the same niche as a barn cat and their care is quite a bit more intense in general especially if the dog is going to be a house pet as well as a worker. They're intense and destructive and can and will pick fights, often fatal fights, with other animals. Stop telling people to go get one when all they need is to get some squirrels out of a shed. Buying a dog and buying pest control are not the same thing.

You could *hire* a ratter to do a sweep, but unless you're also removing the conditions that made your property popular with rats to begin with you're going to have to keep bringing them back.

The kind of people who leave feral cats outside to roam and breed freely are the last fucking people who have any business keeping a working line terrier.

[marsprincess889]

Yoni animal observations

I did something similar with nakshatras. This is them in a very simple way. This is based on traditional associations as well as my own observations of real life and art. 💕 The word "yoni", as well as meaning the female reproductive organ, also means "origin". Yoni animal represents the instinct of the nakshatra and ultimately, reveals its true core nature.

Also, disclaimer: it's very sad that I have to say this, and apologies if you're not one of those people, but if you're going to correct anything in this post by writing one or more long paragraphs of why you think I'm wrong, you might as well just start your own blog or make your own post about the subject. I've been observing yoni animals for years and I'm kind of sorry if any of this offends you, but I'm not trying to attack anyone personally, or even a specific placement (nakshatras in this case), cause that's just dumb. Of course, everyone is free to express their opinions but please do it politely and have some respect for the person who took their time to gain and share knowledge. It's very easy to correct others, it's very hard to be faultless yourself. So, factual corrections are always welcome(say someone got someone's chart placement wrong, or they have written a factually incorrect association, like if they were to write that Jyeshta is fierce as opposed to sharp/cruel in nature.), but, once again, everyone's view is different and so either respect mine or don't write anything at all.

With that being said, you can now enjoy this post💕

Horse yonis

Ashwini and Shatabhisha

Keywords: activity, simplicity, masculinity(solar/yang), independence, healing.

Straightforward people. They might tend to have black and white thinking, can be very blunt with their delivery and definitely prone to "deafness": not hearing others' views. Simple and utilitarian, goal-oriented. Their presence might not be really noticed until the moment they suddenly speak up about or act on something. Love to point stuff out. Either quiet or very precise while speaking. Not aggressive but can be combative. Most likely will oppose someone before making peace. Independence>sharing. Don't like anything "unnecessary", love to get to the point.

Elephant yonis

Bharani and Revati

Keywords: slow, authority, time, timelessness, strength, transitions, protection, completion, gentleness, complexity, depth.

Not revealing their innermost selves, only revealing it to a select group of people, if to anyone. They attach meaning to things based on their experiences. Protective and gentle with each other, closed off to most of the others. Very private. Not really concerned with trends. Observant but not quick to act. Can have many sides to them that some others might fail to understand. Have an air of wisdom, but not that of arrogance. Still, they are the most likely to knowingly take the high road but still protect their peace, making them very exclusive, although it's never for show. Defensive but quietly so. Accomodating to some degree on the outside, there's always more to them than what's obvious. See the bigger picture in every situation. They have a certain quiet strength and power. Nurture is important to them. Do not appreciate unnecessary aggression and try to dominate over anything they consider harsh/crude.

Sheep yonis

Krittika and Pushya

Keywords: precision, structure, minimalism, choosiness, contained.

Do not like excess in anything. They have a sense of balance, usually in almost everything. Prioritize sctructure and basics/essentials. Like clarity and clear-cut lines in their lives and around them. Can be snappy, but in a passive-aggressive way. Not harsh in a heavy/overwhelming way but still harsh about details. Have a soft demeanor with strangers and acquaintances, sometimes even people close to them in everyday life but can judge them quietly. Neutral to friendly on the outside, but if they have uncomfortable emotions they try hard to release them quietly/without much fuss. Might bottle up resentment in result. Very utilitarian and practical.

Snake yonis

Rohini and Mrigashira

Keywords: enjoyment, ease, materialism, basic awareness, growth, progress, sensory indulgence, instincts.

Very placid and calm. They focus mainly on material things but can live without luxuries, and can also share them, although privacy is very important to them. Very aware of their surroundings and their own presence. Attuned to their senses. Can get easily attached to people and things. Can exhibit selfish tendencies(or that's how it looks to others) when they feel like their desires are ignored, but Rohini and Mrigashira each do it differently.

Dog yonis

Ardra and Mula

Keywords: upheaval, critical point, rebelling, release, change, anchoring.

Tense but not frail. Might look tortured sometimes. Do not like to and probably even cannot focus on details, at least not how it's traditionally done(different to each situation). Like to display their individuality in one way or another. Dark humor or sassy comebacks. Either quiet or very loud, but either way, opinionated. If they're neutral then they're opinionated about being neutral. Can be kind of nihilistic but at peace with it. Contrarian and unapologetic. If they don't care about something you can't make them care. If they do care, they care intensely.

Cat yonis

Punarvasu and Ashlesha

Keywords: accumulation, buildup, purity, safety, protection, preservation, cycles.

Concerned with what influences them, not so much what they put out. Self-focused but also highly aware of others' needs. Can adapt to surroundings and can change their behavior based on what they need or really want. Not unkind but laser-focused on the boundaries. Always keep their cards close to their chest, not out of malice but simply to preserve their safety. Look more unnaproachable than they really are, and know more than they share with most.

Rat yonis

Magha and Purva Phalguni

Keywords: dispersion, creativity, planting seeds, the self.

Can be egocentric. Prideful and nonchalant. Love to show off. Might be aware of surroundings to some degree but even if they are, they rarely care. Getting what they want is the priority, along with self-expression. Not very moralistic, don't care much about labels. Sometimes they can be too detached. Will almost never catch them crying in front of others, although they can be dramatic if they want and can, without a problem, attract their dwsired attention. Their happiness is more warm and generous than loud and euphoric. Might have a poker face, they rarely show strong emotions. The strongest emotion I've seen them express is that of defensiveness, and that's not even an emotion. When they get defensive it's almost always because something has touched their pride or triggered their ego. Focused on what they can do.

Cow yonis

Uttara Phalguni and Uttara Bhadrapada

Keywords: stability, the long-term results, natural, softness, power/influence, unity, calm.

Stubborn. That's the only defense they have, because otherwise they're very soft. Naturally honest. They have an effortlessness about them that feels easy to be around, and they are pleasant to be around but not accepting of everyone. They avoid people they don't like from early on and stick to the ones they consider better. Not hesitant to defend themselves or people close to them, but not quick to waste that energy on just anyone, and when they do become defensive they still maintain "the high ground". Backing their allies and fighting proudly is natural for them. Again, very stubborn, so they rarely, if ever, give up on something important. Although they're tough, they're not sharp or cruel. They are mostly in a state calmness and assuredness rather than anxious defensiveness. Very fixed and comfortable in their ways.

Buffalo yonis

Hasta and Swati

Keywords: materialism, gain, comfort, strength, feminine(yin), ease.

More attached to material things than other yonis. Individuality is defined through connections and surroundings. Love comfort and ease. Interdependence>independence. Can be curiously neutral and accomodating. Self-focused but not selfish. Often phlegmatic and slow. Genuinely caring but can be cunning. Not the most direct people. They will let others know their views but won't push them aggressively on others. Almost everything about them is filtered through that neutrality.

Tiger yonis

Chitra and Vishakha

Keywords: building, gradual, defensive, expression, buildup.

The most defensive. Can look sweet on the outside but are not all soft. Can range from extremely forgiving to extremely vengeful. Aggression comes out while speaking. Rarely, if ever, present in a state of calm melancholy. They moreso go from happy/fun to agitated. Focused on development/building, and always look for more than what's natural for them. Witty but emotionally so. If they're highly agitated, it's very hard for them to exercise restraint in the moment. Not that direct in general but unfiltered during critical moments. It's easy for them to put on a mask, whether out of neccessity or just for fun. Can be very judgemental. If they're not aware, it can make them act in a "mean" way when they feel not their best.

Rabbit/Deer yonis

Anuradha and Jyeshta

Keywords: society, organization, status quo, responsibility, transpersonal, maturing.

Very non-aggressive on the inside, despite how they might look. Naturally have endurance and a sense of responsibility. Can be judgemental but also understanding. Love to give advice. Competitive but respectful. Can become arrogant. Love everything "classic" but want to establish their own, new structures. Choosy and sometimes exclusive. More warm than they appear, and capable of more emotions than how it seems. Often traditionally intelligent. Have a very civilized behavior.

Vanar yonis

Purva Ashadha and Shravana

Keywords: flow, alliances, connections, support, creation and preservation.

Good at reading between the lines, anything too structured is harsh for them. Otherworldly aura/mannerisms. Most likely to posses what others might consider as "quirks". Value their own individuality and uniqueness. Seeks to be different from what they consider boring, normal or basic. Not very reactive. When they get defensive, they get quiet. Can romatisize sadness and melancholy. Capable of seeing both sides but are often willingly biased.

Mongoose yoni

Uttara Ashadha

Keywords: independence, solitude, practicality, victory.

Truly neutral and unbothered. Value honesty and integrity. Not attached to material things at all. Easy to be around but their regal nature might put some people ill at ease. Naturally take on leadership positions. Might feel lonely but won't trade solitude for tiring/uninteresting company. Value practicality and simplicity, and are practical themselves. Surprsingly warm and feeling in certain moments, but can also be uncaring towards others.

Lion yonis

Dhanishta and Purva Bhadrapada

Keywords: notoriety, flashiness, power, aggression, pride.

Very unfiltered and loudly so. Unashamed and bold, proud. That pride and confidence fuels their calmness, but they can lack patience. In everyday interactions they can look very unreactive but if something "triggers" them, they will not hesitate to be a little(or not so little) aggressive. Love to spread their influence. Might strongly dislike anything that looks subtle and quiet to them, as it arises distrust in them. Rarely, if ever, use/appreciate sarcasm. They prefer directness. Can slip into being a bully, or can become a proud voice for others.

[jackiepackiee]

Telemachus x Apollo Blessed! Reader

Chapter One

Masterlist

Prince Telemachus who is favored by Athena with a reader who's favored by Apollo. Both under the guidance of the god and goddess of wisdom and knowledge respectively. One a fierce warrior and the other a lovely musician. Yet complete opposites of their role when it comes to a peaceful artist and intimidating opponent.

an - Telemachus will be here next chapter, don’t worry

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The Gods and Goddesses of Greece were known for many things, scorned by some and yet worshipped by many. One thing they were especially known for was to do in their contact with humans. In love, childbirth, war, and death, the gods changed the lives of many mortals, warranted not always for the better.

And two of the most powerful among these sky dwelling immortals were no strangers to this meddling in human affairs. Romantic rendezvous of the most personal kind to forging warriors with nothing but a cheap sword and minds of steel.

Apollo and Athena, god and goddess of Wisdom and Knowledge respectively, meant to pass on their skills to the humans of earth that they deemed worthy.

And complete opposites.

One, the most handsome god in all of Olympus. Often finding himself entangled with mortals that caught his attention. If not for Aphrodite, it would come as a shock to very few if he was the god of love with his affection for many throughout history.

The other, known as the virgin goddess for her complete disinterest in all romance. Living for the fight, mind a fortress that no warrior or crush could infiltrate.

Oh how unlucky were they when choosing their new mortals to train for the new generations…

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The sun was on its journey to rise above Ithaca, letting its golden light rest across the bustling marketplace, filled with the chatter of vendors and the clinking of coins. It was how it usually was with each new kingdom you moved to. At least each one had a similar experience in shopping, full of the same crowds.

Young children straying from their mothers who bought the household essentials, men who bought tools or just passed through. And boys, the same age as you. All mostly tan with black hair. Every kingdom had its similarities, especially with its choices of acquaintances.

“How about that one? The boys in Ithaca are cute for you, maybe one taller than you? Or are girls more your type? I haven’t asked you that yet, have I?” Apollo’s voice rings out in his usual smooth, teasing tone.

Of course, one thing that was always the same in every kingdom was Apollo as well. Your oh so loving patron god. Stuck to your side since you were little. God of oracles, healing, archery, music and arts, light, knowledge… blah blah. He loved to remind you of all his titles.

But at the moment he is pointing out the other boys around your age in the marketplace. Since he’s unseen by the public, he’s twirling some of the curly hair of a brunette next to you before moving over to a boy buying a loaf of bread and inspecting his face.

“Don’t you have the gift of knowing the future, great god of prophecy?” You retorted, rolling your eyes yet keeping your mouth closed. Easy to talk to a god when he reads your mind when you share your thoughts… You just felt lucky you didn’t look crazy talking to thin air.

Even if he was unseen, he was always excited to interact with the locals in one way or another.

“Unfortunately my little ray of sunshine,” he teases again, poking your cheek enough to bring out a huff from your lips. “I can only see the more important facts of the future. Your love life isn’t the same level of importance as a titan breaking free.~”

You, as usual, ignored his teasing, his poking and prodding was something you had been forced to get used to over the years. Despite moving from town to island across Greece, he had always found where you were and his interest meant a strange sort of friendship.

“Really, in all my years of knowing you I haven’t seen you give even a second glance to these people.” His eyes washed over all the crowds in the busy street, but he was no longer content with the choices he had. Now ignoring the boys who he seemed so fond of only seconds before.

“Are my choices not good enough? Don’t tell me you have high standards.” His whining was sarcastic, as it always was. If you didn’t know by the shining golden hair and a bow in his arm you’d think he was Hermes.

Before he could continue his onslaught of “boy talk”, you let your thoughts into his mind as your response.

“You’re one to talk. I think most people know you because of your little adventures of human love.”

Despite your refute, he didn’t back down on his bright smile and insistence of romance. Ignoring your words completely.

“So I am right, you do have high standards. What do you look for in a person? Good looks, godly power? Because I think you’re out of luck.” He gestured to the boys in the market, now completely uninterested in all of them.

All he got in response was a huff of agreement to respond to one of his questions. You would answer, and he was happy since you would usually shut his inquiries down before he could spit them out.

“I guess… somebody who’s willing to help others. But not someone weak, I don’t want to have to protect anyone all the time, I would be too stressed out to ever leave them alone.”

The market was busy, filled with new weapons built in Sparta, comfortable Chitons from Mycenae, and a booth of items from Athens. Greatly known as a city that had many temples for the gods and adored Apollo as one of the main powers, especially his music. So seeing beautifully strung lyres on the cloth of the table was no shock.

“Oh, and someone who likes the arts. A person who can appreciate beauty and passion.”

As you talked you hadn’t realized you picked up one of the lyres, mindlessly tuning the strings and strumming an almost divine tune. Apollo was your music teacher after all.

“I think passion is one of the most important things in the world, for gods or humans. They need to be confident. Not in an egotistical way, but they need to be proud of themselves for their victories either small or large.”

Before you could continue, Apollo was laughing. That wasn’t a good sign, he never laughed unless something was happening and as far as you were concerned it must’ve been recent.

Looking around for the source of the laughter you quieted your mind from your monologue on love… oh.

This whole time you had thought you were just mindlessly tuning the lyre, but instead it was playing a lovely melody. Your fingers seemed to work in muscle memory to create a tune. This was the song you were currently writing… great.

Not only that, but the surrounding crowd at the stalls of bread, wine, and clothes were all watching with looks of confusion and interest.

This sucks. You didn’t ask for this attention.

Before you can place the instrument back down and apologize for touching the equipment of the shop opener, a little girl tugs at the waist of your chiton.

“Excuse me?” Her sweet voice calls out, a small hand having a vice grip on your clothing. She was adorable, who were you to ignore such a nice kid?

“Yes? Is there something you need?” You replied, no longer hearing the laughs of Apollo. In fact, the market sounded much quieter than normal. Still you bent down, getting closer to eye level with the child. Her fist freeing your dress and going shyly behind her back.

“Could you play more music? It was really pretty.” She glanced up at you shyly, before returning her gaze to her feet. Who in their right mind would say no to her?

Probably someone who was asked to play music is a market full of strangers with no prepared songs in mind…

“I appreciate your kindness, but-”

“Please?” Before you could finish a little boy ran up to you next, his eyes even more puppy dog than the girls. “We wanna hear the… the?”

He was pointing at the instrument, now less excited and more confused. His pleading eyes turned curious.

“The lyre, it’s an instrument for playing music.” You explained, petting the boy's head gently. Your smile warmed your cheeks as his excitement returned to his face.

“Play it! Play it!” The two chanted, and now you really couldn’t ignore them.

So you gave in, strumming the strings just as Apollo taught you. Creating a beautiful song of joy, humming mindless lyrics that were yet to be created.

And as you played, the children danced. Left in fits of giggles and spins, song pulling in the rest of the small ones from their mothers side to join the fun. It was adorable, pure childish fun.

You couldn’t help but laugh with them, continuing the song. Watching all their smiling faces with content.

But this break of peace was suddenly broken by a shopkeeper. A man, in middle age, with a scornful expression. Heavy brows furrowed as he glared menacingly over the street. His shoulders held highly over the crowd of children. One of which being tugged at by his burly hands.

“Quit it, you’re blocking the work.” His voice called roughly, commanding the end of joy and ruining the laughter of innocence.

All of the little ones stopped, some running back to their mothers so they could hide behind their legs and others standing frozen at the tall beast of a man.

Without thinking you gently placed the lyre back onto its original stand at its booth and walked up to the man. Gripping his wrist that held the child’s shoulder and tugging the kid free.

“Is there a problem?” You snapped at him, letting go of his wrist and standing straight. The child you freed running to hide behind your legs, watching in fear.

A crowd had gathered, but unfortunately the market rarely had strong men. Either gone for Troy or lazing as suitors in the castle, there was no knight in shining armor. Not that you needed one.

Mothers and their children, as well as older gentlemen and teen boys watched on, pulling away.

“This is a workplace, not a place for play.” He barked back at you, the sun dimming in the sky. Apollo was quick to become unhappy, as he usually was when you were in trouble.

“They’re children, all they do is play.” Retorting, you gestured to the young now hidden in fear. “I am the one you have an issue with.” Your eyes stalked upward into his, cold and unforgiving.

How dare he be so harsh with the innocent souls of the young?

“Maybe you are the one I have an issue with, girl.” He stepped towards you, the air growing thick as if time had stilled and each surrounding audience member had stolen all the oxygen during their bated breath.

“And yet you will do nothing. This is a place for ‘work,’ not ‘play.’” You didn’t step back, instead standing your ground. You continued. “And if that is true, you should get back to work before the day is lost.” The sun glowed behind your head, creating a darker silhouette of your frame.

Unwilling to move, the man stood in stillness for a few seconds. Challenging you with his eyes, but seeing you not back down he just huffed. His chest deflated as his chin wasn’t held as high as it was before. He averted his gaze from you, tearing his eyes to the ground next to you.

“Fine.” Was all he said before he shuffled back to his stall.

As you watched him, the child you pulled from him hugged your leg.

“Thank you.” She sniffled out, nuzzling into your thigh and slightly shaking. It was heartbreaking to observe her fear.

“Everything is okay, sweetheart.” You smiled and pet her head, letting your fingers feel her soft hair. Her tenseness faded away and she slowly let go of your leg, looking up at you with gratitude.

Apollo had made sure the sun was shining bright again. Giving you a proud smile and nodding towards the lyre you once prayed. Insinuating you strum again for the children.

So strum you did, spending the rest of your morning with the children and their mothers of the town singing soft songs of beauty.

If only you had known Queen Penelope would catch wind of this…

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taglist-

@dog-and-cat-person230 @m-carriaga2021

[natalievoncatte]

Lena knew her pulse was racing, but Kara was either pretending not to notice or too tired to care. They were curled together tightly under the blanket, Kara’s head resting on Lena’s chest, the pair of them curled into each other with a desperate intensity.

An outside observer would see no difference between the way that Nia was tucked and folded neatly into Brainy, his head lolling against hers as they slept on the other side of the couch. Nor would they see any discrepancy between the way Kelly and Alex were stuffed together in the armchair next to it, curled up in one another like a pair of cats tucked in against a cold night.

The outside observer would see three couples who’d begun with a game night and progressed to an unplanned movie marathon and started to crash out and fall asleep, full of wine and mirth and too tired to get home.

One couple wasn’t. One of these pairings was just friends, and the knowledge of it was like a ragged gaping hole in her chest, where something had crushed and torn through her and left a gap that would never be filled.

Lena was terrified.

Alex and Kelly were married now. Nia and Querl were getting very serious. They were going to start building lives.

Kara’s coming out had gone well. She was truly growing into herself in a way that frightened Lena as much as it warmed her heart. The Girl was growing to equal the Super, Kara becoming more and more herself even without the crutch that her suit provided. She was uninhibited, free.

In her secret heart, Lena hated it. In the end, Kara had been right, damn her. The Secret had meant something. They once had a space that was uniquely theirs, where Kara was a person only Lena knew, that not even Alex ever experienced. Yes, the Secret frequently intruded, but in those moments where it hadn’t, where their mutual pining to be normal met and they used it to build a space all their own, the real Kara came out.

That space had been shattered by their falling out but rebuilt stronger, its foundations laid the day that Kara came home from the hell outside the multiverse, the first brick laid when Kara had leaned in as Lena broke their hug and stared at Lena’s lips.

God damn me, Lena thought, why didn’t I make the move? Why didn’t I do it?

The moment was lost.

She looked down at Kara now, purring away on her chest. Kara had begun embracing her alien self, slowly stripping away all the ablative secrets that she’d layered onto herself to pass for human. Lena was delighted to discover that Kara could do that; that if she relaxed it would happen on its own. It made Lena contented and sleepy, especially when they were close in like this.

God, she was so beautiful. Lena had never laid eyes on Kara’s equal and never would, and when she walked tall and smiled and flashed her easy, invulnerable confidence, the sight of her was almost unbearable. Looking at Kara left marks on Lena’s heart the way that looking at the sun left burnt streaks in her vision.

Fear, cold and merciless, clenched in her chest. One day it would happen. Someone would succeed where James and William had failed and Mon-El had come so close. They’d snatch her away and Kara would throw herself into it with abandon and Lena would lose her.

Lena pressed her eyes shut to fight back tears. She willed herself not to mourn a loss before its time, to savor the soft weight propped on her chest and the tangy scent of Kara’s skin but she couldn’t help herself.

“Lena?” Kara whispered.

With all the guilt of a thief found red-handed, Lena froze, her mouth dry.

“What’s wrong?”

Lena glanced around the room. The others were all sleeping soundly, passed out in each others arms. Lena wondered what that was like, to sleep with the joyful comfort of assurance that they would not wake alone, that the others would stay.

“Nothing,” Lena lied.

Kara knew. In the dark, her blue eyes seemed to emit a faint light, another peculiarity of Kryptonian physiology that Lena honestly just hadn’t noticed before The Secret was revealed.

Kara turned slightly, shifted, and tucked the blanket in close, wrapped tightly round them. It was chilly in her loft and Kara was like a living furnace, warming Lena’s cold bones. When Kara slipped a hand free, her skin was fever hot on Lena’s cheek. She leaned into the touch, greedy for it.

“It’s okay,” Kara murmured. “Nobody’s gonna get you while I’m here.”

Lena smiled sadly. Kara knew about the night terrors, about her fears and how she sometimes hated the dark, because the barriers of their friendship, the walls that defined it, were so bent and strained that they’d never return to shape, even as they refused to yield.

“That’s not what I’m scared of. I’m scared of when someone gets you.”

Kara blinked.

“Sooner or later you won’t have as much time for your best friend. You’ll find someone else.”

“Why would I want someone else?” Kara said, almost too loud. “I want you.”

Oh God, that hurt so much. It made the frayed edges of that hole in her ache, at once raw and fresh and old and desiccated. She couldn’t go on like this. Why did Kara say things like that?”

“Were you going to kiss me the night we got you back?”

Kara flinched, and now she looked the thief.

They were both silent. Kara stared.

“I was scared to. We’d only just… I was afraid everything would break.”

Lena swallowed hard.

“Kara, what the hell are you waiting for?”

She blinked a few times more, a storm of emotions clouding her angelic features. She flushed, eyes wide, and was looking directly, openly at Lena’s lips.

She tasted like cherry lip balm and red wine. Kara’s kisses were like Kara herself, ardent and gentle in equal measure, the chaste softness of pressed lips smoldering with the same alien fire that burned under her lushly warm skin. Lena moaned softly, and that from little more than a soft peck on the lips.

She was an addict who’d just tasted the ambrosia of her dreams and her head was spinning. In an instant everything had changed, though Kara had barely moved. There was something new in the way Kara’s arms snaked around her. A slight shift and Kara touched her forehead to Lena’s before kissing her again, deeply this time. Lena let her eyes drift shut and savored it.

“I. Am not. Going. Anywhere.”

There was a heavy, almost oppressive silence. A sob of relief choked out of Lena and she hugged Kara fiercely, freely, joyfully free to crush herself against her unbreakable love.

“I mean,” Alex said, “you could move to the bedroom. I think we’d all prefer that.”

Lena almost jumped out of her skin. Kara let out an equally surprised yelp, as they both realized that everyone else was awake and watching them get lost in each other.

Lena cleared her throat. Kara sat up. She was beet red, and Lena was sure she was, too.

“Guys,” said Kara. “Get out.”

[prettyinpatrickzweig]

bsf! patrick zweig lives rent free in my head

all i do is fantasize about those sweltering summers on the east coast (I think he'd be filthy Kennedy rich and probably have multiple houses, his favorite being on the Cape, maybe Hyannis in true Kennedy fashion)

warnings: horny yearning, smut, unprotected sex, p in v, spitting, slapping, kinda degrading? (both parties are very much into it) come eating, sweat (it’s challengers smut…) NOT proofread.

you'd grown up together, the girl next door and his best friend since you were little

he's protective of you, sure, but there's always been a little voice in his head that was always nagging at him, wondering how easy it would be to corrupt you.

you seemed innocent enough, blushing when he would divulge in his sex life as you two got older.

sleepovers were frequent, your mom loved Patrick and his father adored you, but they didn't really care enough the way parents should about whether or not you guys were... intimate.

you weren't, but god did it annoy you how much faith your mother had in you.

and the lack of intimacy wasn't for lack of desire. fuck, you think you probably thought about Patrick with your hand down your pants on a day-to-day basis, especially in the summers when he was back from boarding school.

he was so alluring, and a tease too. he nagged you about you still being a virgin. even when you finally did lose your virginity in your senior year of high school, he cackled when you told him who it was.

really, it pissed him off that it wasn't him who got to be your first, but you weren't into him like that. his fist sufficed when was late at night and he could stop thinking about your legs or that look in your eye when you were so clearly scandalized by his sexcapades.

he had no idea just how fucking dirty you were. you felt perverted, always thinking about his cock. how pretty it probably was. if it throbbed when he was hard. how it would feel on your tongue. you desperately wanted to shove your face against his chest and inhale his musk, lick his sweat, tweak his nipples.

he had no idea.

the sleepovers were the worst. he was always so close, but you were too meek to try anything. the closest you had been was the one morning you woke up to him gently rutting into your side in his sleep. you slowly brought your hand up and pulled a tit out of your tank top, groping at yourself discreetly while you slowly rolled your hips against absolutely nothing.

when he woke up, you pretended to be asleep. you willed your face to appear as peaceful as you most definitely didn't feel and even pouted your lips a little to appear as if you were dreaming. your cunt was already gushing when he cursed under his breath, looking down at your partially exposed chest. you felt his hand wander and grasp at his bulge, a wretched groan vibrating through his throat. your heart was beating out of its chest and it was a miracle you kept your breath steady. he got up quickly and you heard the bathroom door shut and the faucet turn on.

one summer, a few years later, when you're home from college and he's on a break from tennis tournaments, you find yourself alone in your huge house and incredibly bored. the heat is getting to you, lying outside in the sun by your pool, baby hairs sticking to your forehead as you sip on a drink. your mind wanders, wondering how Patrick is doing.

you haven't seen him in a couple months, probably since Christmas break if you remember correctly. you'd spoken on the phone a few times when he got a few minutes between games and you weren't studying.

you decide to head inside and pick up the landline, calling his house. his dad picks up and immediately recognizes your voice, “I was just on my way out,” he says, but then he starts asking you all sorts of sweet questions, how was school, how's your mom, how's life treating you--checking all of the adult-question boxes. again, he always had a soft spot for you.

when he's satisfied with all of the answers, he says, "give me a minute sweetie, pat's just outside on the court, I'll tell his sorry ass to get inside," you smile at that and twirl the phone cord in your finger.

"actually, mr. zweig, is it okay if I just pop over?" you ask, all sweet. all you can think about is Patrick dripping with sweat and it's making your thighs clench together.

"sure honey."

you chirp a thank you and hang up the phone, before running upstairs to put on a tank and shorts. when you make it to his house, a short skip away, you knock once before the door is opened by one of the staff. you greet him with a hello before you stroll inside and head to the door leading outside. you hover before the glass, peering out to see Patrick in a game with who you assume is his new coach.

his arms are glistening and his chest is collecting sweat as he moves side to side on the court. he glides with ease, twirling his racket when he sends a particularly strong backhand that earns him a point. he grins as he listens to something his coach says as he packs up his bag. you take that as a perfect time to interrupt.

opening the french doors you call out his name and his head whips around to see you, standing there in all your glory. the sun beats down on his shoulders as his face splits into a grin. dropping his bag, he takes large strides over to you on the balcony as you make your way down the stairs. when you meet, he pulls you into a hug and you feel the slick of sweat coating his skin press into the cotton of your top, sticking to his chest and peeling away as he pulls off of you. it takes everything in you not to lick the droplet of sweat hanging off his nose.

one of your straps falls, his eyes trail across your chest and shoulder, and his fingers glide over to pull it back up. he smooths it down against your warm skin, before looking back at you. his touch lingers a moment before he takes his hand off, smiling a crooked smile and mumbling a, "hey."

you smile back at him, swallowing suddenly as your throat has conveniently dried and you find yourself unable to speak as you take in the sheer fucking sexiness that is your best friend.

and the rest of the summer is like that. hot. and sticky. and sexy. and you're fucking drooling every time you even glance at Patrick who is conveniently always shirtless.

somehow he is unaware of your oogling, or so you think.

the day you finally break, you’re by the pool. it’s late, finally cooling off from the sticky day time. you’ve had a couple of drinks but nothing crazy, just a little tequila to loosen you up.

you’re laughing about something, probably how love sick art is with his new girlfriend (he came around a few summers ago and always looked like a lost puppy which you found adorable) or even your moms new boyfriend who’s somehow even richer than her last husband. and somehow, you two keep inching closer and closer until you’re playing footsie with him as you rant about your college experience and how lame everyone is there.

“not as exciting as me?” Patrick says with a quirk of his head, a small smirk playing on his face. you slap him in tease, but your hand lingers on his chest and you both look down at it as the seconds stretch and its still there. your cheeks heat up even though there’s a breeze in the air and maybe it’s the tequila but suddenly you can’t figure out why you never even kissed your best friend. your nails slightly dig into the pink skin and you feel his breathing hitch. when you look up you see his tongue dart out and you just can’t help yourself when your fingers trail to one of his nipples and you give it a pinch, smiling as you do so.

his mouth drops and he slaps your hand away before pushing you into the lounge chair you’ve been sitting in. his arms sit beside your head as he dips his head closer to yours, one of his legs finding its place between yours. you can feel his cock straining against his trunks (which are unbelievably short—SLUT). his nose nudges yours but when you go to kiss him finally, he pulls away, cruel smile splitting his face.

“how long have you wanted this?” he whispers, his voice gravelly. his eyes dissect your face, picking up on the way you keep looking down at his hips, rhythmically rolling against you to relieve some tension.

“fuck you patrick you’re such a tease” you snarl, slapping his chest again. this makes him laugh.

“and apparently you’re into that, baby” butterflies erupt in your stomach and you feel yourself pooling in your bikini.

“answer me,” he tries again, softer this time, as he begins running his nose along your neck, tracing to your ear.

“forever. god you’re so stupid,” you whine. he smiles as he pulls his head up again before finally closing the distance and kissing you.

it’s messy and mean and there’s so much tongue, but it’s so unbelievably Patrick. it’s better than anything you ever imagined. your hips begin rolling to meet his, your hands slithering up his torso and gripping his hair. he groans when you pull on it, so you pull again.

he grabs your face and pulls away, his grip tight and holding you in place. “please say you want to fuck me, god I need to hear you say it”

you’re breathless for a second, you never realized how desperate he was.

“fuck me, patrick. Jesus, please I need it so bad.” his head sagged as he groaned again, his hand coming down to fumble his waistband under his cock before he untied the sides of your bikini, pulling the bottoms off and pushing your leg up to your chest.

you feel very exposed out on his patio, but suddenly you can’t find it in you to care as he uses his thumb to spread your lips, admiring.

“Jesus, fuck— prettiest fucking pussy I’ve ever seen.”

“patrick,” you squirmed. he looked up at you, his mouth open and his eyes half lidded, the look of pure sex and he hadnt even so much as slipped in yet.

“sorry, baby,” he says as he aligns himself and thrusts in. all at once you feel him, every inch as he stretches you out on the scratchy lounge chair. a moan is ripped from you and your fingers find his hair again, yanking on his curls harder now. he moans with you, his mouth resting in the crook of your neck and shoulder, biting at the skin as his hand snakes over your stomach and pulls your bikini top down, groping your tits.

you whine in his ear and he thrusts into you harder in response. balls slapping against your ass, he grunts, “so fucking good, fuck— wanted this for so long. always thought you were too good for me.”

he begins whimpering softly in time with his thrusts. your other hand reaches around his around your throat and you squeeze it harder, panting.

“oh god, you were fucking made for me, I swear. so fucking good. so good. so—“ he cuts himself off with a groan as you yank on his hair harder.

“you dont ever shut up do you?” you say as his head pulls up in time with another yank at his hair. his eyes are closed but he smiles which makes you laugh.

“you’re so mean,” he says, giving another thrust in mockery. “fuck, slap me. slap me please.”

your eyes are trained on him from below. his thrusts haven’t slowed down and it’s hard for you to think straight when the hand from your neck reaches below to start circling your clit. you throw your head back before you can fully grasp what he’s asking you.

“please, baby. need you to slap me. be mean to me, you’re so good at it,” he rasps in your ear before nibbling on the lobe.

you yank his hair again to pull his head up before winding your other hand up and slapping him so his head turns from the force. his next thrust is so hard you can feel it in your stomach as you bring your other leg up and lock it around his back, pushing him in deeper.

“ohhhh god. yes. fuck baby you’re perfect.”

you grab his face and lick a stripe up his cheek, tasting the sweat that’s begun to glisten on his skin.

his fingers work faster on your clit and your chest begins to rise and fall faster than before. sliding your fingers back to the nape of his neck, you grip him hard as the pressure reaches its peak.

“patrick please. please-“

“what is it baby,” he says, lowering his head to suck on your nipple. his eyes locked with yours, your mouth hung open, you let out a loud groan.

“gonna come, make me come, please pat,” you cry out, clenching around him.

“gonna get you there. fuck you’re so good for me. so fucking dirty. fucking pervert too, should’ve known all a long,” he spits on your chest and you throw your head back, releasing as your body jolts with pleasure. he ruts into you faster, still rubbing your clit while chasing his high.

they get sloppy right before he pulls out and comes on your stomach, head thrown back and chest heaving. his fist pumping slowly, milking himself and covering your skin. when he’s done he looks down at you, analyzing the situation. he lowers his body, lapping up the mess before meeting your lips. he pushes it into your mouth and you groan, accepting it greedily.

when you swallow you show him and he smiles all proud.

“fuck you’re just as disgusting as me,” he says with a chuckle. you blush and look away. he reaches for your jaw and pulls you back to him.

“I fucking love it,” he says as he kisses you again, slower and deeper this time.

…

[predestinatos]

too cold | MV1 ⋆꙳❅ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

pairing: max verstappen x female!reader

summary: stormy weather leads to stormy thoughts about a years long friendship.

tags: best friends to lovers, soo cheesy, fluff, giddy max, super whipped for reader!!, wearing his sweater, just so much softness!

author's note: i dreamt about max for some reason and he's been living in my head rent free so... i had to let this out!! hope you like it. it's a short cute thing so..!

word count: 3.5k

warnings: -

It was cold and stormy that day. You had expected it, the forecasts all telling you the same thing, your hair completely tangled in itself as soon as you stepped out of the house into the car.

You planned it all, including getting there earlier, so you could spend as much time with Max as possible – you never skipped the pleasant silence of his presence at least once a week. What you hadn’t planned was for you two to get carried away with taking buzzfeed quizzes and personality tests to the point where it was dark outside, the storm more aggressive, more threatening, and more dangerous.

“Shit,” you muttered when the wind outside made the windows tremble with extreme force, their sound almost like a warning voice in the night. “How am I going home like this?” you asked yourself out loud, desperate and scared, as Max completed yet another ‘What’s Your Mental Age Based on Your Choice of Cutlery’ quiz. He glanced outside nonchalantly, almost carelessly, as if the question was ridiculously easy to answer, close to ironic.

Before going back to the seriousness of the questions at hand, he shrugged, shoulders going up and down in explicit tranquility. “You can stay over” he stated, his finger hovering over a weirdly shaped spoon that said ‘shit stirrer’ on its surface. You let out a breath that indicated his joke was funny yet not useful in the slightest given your current dilemma, to which he looked at you and laughed back, assuming you were amused at the choice of teaspoon he had just made.  “Max, I’m serious” you voiced your urgency and fear with those words. “Me too” he continued, eyes glued on the screen, yet slightly confused at your own comment.

At your audible sigh and attempt to get up from his bed, where you comfortably laid scrolling through your phone for options, he turned around from his chair which was facing the screen. “You’re not leaving” he said, in a concerned tone of a friend who refused to let you be consumed by the rapidly increasing rain. “I don’t understand what the matter is” he continued as he saw you searching through his room for your things, messily scattered on the floor, reminiscent of childhood times spent together.

You merely looked at him in response, the answer obvious to you but seemingly not to him, only hitting him hard in the face as a joke he couldn’t help but laugh at seconds later. “You always slept here” he said, astonished at your reluctance and apparent timidness. “Yeah, Max. When we were 11” you protested, tucking some hair behind your ear as you looked for your charger. “Plus, I don’t have a pajama, or spare underwear” your arms now crossed across your chest, mimicking his own, a baffled smile on his lips.

“You can wear one of my sweaters. And like, my boxers, or something” this made your mouth drop in ridiculous surprise, a fear in your eyes which he didn’t understand. “I’m serious! It’s better than you going out with this storm!” his arm pointed towards the window, the view outside a paid actor because a lightning appeared violently before both of you. With a winning grin, he finished his argument with a “C’mon I’ll let you choose the outfit.”

Opening the drawers, you let yourself take a look at the collection of multicolored sweaters organized neatly. Your eyes landed on a grey one, which looked a bit worn out but comfortable at the same time, its marks of usage being a testament to its quality. You grabbed it and noticed that it smelled like Max, like the years of friendship you two shared. “The boxers are in the other drawer” Max interrupted your thoughts, yet his indifferent air made you less awkward about this situation, almost like it was normal that this was happening, like you were both 10 again, popcorn being prepared in the small kitchen next door.

You let yourself randomly choose some of his underwear, trying your best not to look too much at it, knowing little to nothing about how to even begin choosing such a thing for yourself. The strong wind whistled outside, and Max’s fingers hit the keyboard, creating a soothing lullaby.

“I’m- uh-… going then” you said, making your way towards the bathroom as he happily nodded, the familiarity of the house being a known fact for both of you.

The truth was, Max missed you. A lot. He missed hanging out with you all night, watching really bad films and playing silly videogames, drinking some beers and enjoying yourselves. Lately, he hadn’t had the time to do all these things, let alone doing them with you, and even though he did not plan this storm in the slightest, he was glad for it. The rain came as a reminder that you two had a year long friendship you could still enjoy, the sound blending with the one coming from the bathroom as you turned on the shower.

Sleeping over only got weird given the fact that Max was a boy and you were a girl, but it shouldn’t have been like that. In his mind, nothing changed, and nothing should have to change – he still wanted you as close as he did when you two watched scary video compilations on youtube and spent all night hiding under the covers and whispering in an attempt to not ‘awake the big monster’.

He still wanted to spend time with you when you were 16 and started talking about how cute his friends were, asking him if they were single or not as you put a lollipop in your mouth and painted your nails in colorful amusement.

He still wanted you to sleep over even when his girlfriends told him they didn’t quite like the fact that he was so close with you, that he seemed to want to be with you more than with them, that he dropped everything as soon as you texted him a slightly unusual text.

And it was normal, and alright, because you were best friends, because you knew each other better than your own selves, because you’d recognize his laugh in the middle of a crowd even with noise cancelling headphones, and he would recognize the smile you made when you were flustered even if he was blindfolded.

It was also normal for him to smile to himself and feel the happiest he has felt in a while, because he missed you, and you were staying over and nothing would have felt better than knowing he had a night full of your presence.

Meanwhile, you stood in his all-too familiar shower, accepting the fact that he had no conditioner, and a shampoo would have to do for the night. Simultaneously, this made you reflect on the clear fact that he had probably had no stable, consistent, female presence in his life in a while. As the liquid dropped in your hand and you brought your hands to your hair, thoughts about previous relationships of his flooded your mind.

They never ended well, and the guilt you felt because of it was ever present. Max was the best friend you could’ve asked for, because he always picked you, no matter what. In fact, he gave it no thought nor justification, not to you or his previous relationships. He accepted the fact that you were his priority as a given, something so natural as breathing, as blood pumping through his veins. You couldn’t deny you did the same. Previous partners of yours weren’t too fond of his constant need to assess and approve of them, of how he was your emergency contact whenever anything happened, how you made sure you spent time with him at least once a week.

Feeling the foam forming on your scalp, you remembered the times where you two bathed together, the innocence of gone times flying through your head with fondness. Of course, you two grew, and while you never broke the bond that formed between you, it was also harder to continue certain traditions you maintained.

Your teenage years were filled with angst and some bickering over how uncomfortable he made your dates, or how all he did was talk about girls when you two were together. You used each other as diaries and confidantes, keeping secrets in a closed vault made of memories. Nothing really had changed besides your ages, and none of you were dating, or at least it did not seem like it.

As you washed your body with lavender scented soap, you realized this is what you were missing – the comfortability of being the most like yourself you could possibly be, alongside him.

Max stared at the “You Are 14 Years Old!” result on his computer, reading the in depth description on how that one fork gave his age away, when he heard your shout for his name coming from the now foggy bathroom, the place now looking more like Silent Hill or a liminal space. Removing one side of his headphones off, his voice echoed throughout the apartment “Yes?”, filled with softness and worry, a completely unknown care for you which wasn’t displayed by anyone else but him. Smiling to yourself, you replied, “do you seriously only own one bath towel?”

Removing both of his headphones off now, with realization hitting him and he jumped from his seat, he ran towards the drawer that possessed all the other towels he stored in organized fashion. “Shit! No! Sorry! I’m on my way!” he said urgently, grabbing one as he ran towards the bathroom, opening its door and popping only one arm in, his eyes facing the wall but also closed with affirming need to reassure you that he wasn’t looking, refused to look, would never even consider to do such a thing.

You pulled the fabric off his hand as you thanked him with a soft giggle, his previous nonchalant attitude vanishing upon the thought of seeing you naked – which you weren’t, and he would’ve realized this had he considered the fact that the bathroom possessed ONE towel, currently wrapped around your now wet body. Shivering with cold, you got yourself dry as fast as you could, while Max sat back down in his chair, cursing to himself at his clumsiness and lack of thought.

Examining yourself in the mirror as dried your hair off (after several minutes of looking for the hairdryer, not wanting to put Max through the whole ordeal of performing the biggest demonstration of respect towards one’s privacy ever witnessed) you noticed something you hadn’t before. This simple, yet incriminating item put into question your previous thoughts about Max’s lack of companionship in his home, your eyebrows furrowed and your mouth turning downwards at the thought that he was hiding something from you.

On the tiny little cup sitting on the sink, there were two toothbrushes. They were carefully put together in a magical arrangement of colors that indicated that one had to be able to tell them apart, like each had its own owner. Suddenly, the whole idea of sleeping over – hell, of wearing Max’s clothes – seemed ridiculously selfish. You had done it before, but you were adults now, and with adulthood came a sense of responsibility and respect that hit you in the face like a slap, the simple idea of an innocent sleepover with your best friend sounding absolutely childish and ridiculous.

“Max?” you called out again, a deep breath escaping your lungs as you sat down on the toilet seat, hair still slightly damp, towel still wrapped around your body upon your refusal to put his clothes on. “Yes?” he replied once again, a feeling of déjà vu invading your thoughts, a repetition of mere seconds before yet with rose tinted glasses off.

 “I think it’s best if I just go home,” you muttered, even though you hadn’t moved. Realistically, the idea of going out there terrified you, but perhaps not as much as staying over, given the current situation. Putting your underwear back on after showering felt dirty, but perhaps wearing his clean one after noticing another one’s presence in his room, his life, his thoughts, made you feel even dirtier.

“Come on, I bet your outfit looks amazing” he said jokingly, assuming you were embarrassed about your current look, trying to lighten up the mood with teasing reassurance. Getting up once again, he stood near the bathroom door, head close to it as if trying to listen to the fabric against your skin, some hint of your own amused presence. All he heard was silence, one so unbelievably loud he felt something off, something wrong. “Can I come in?” he asked, his voice now more careful, more tender, and more concerned.

You only murmured in allowance, and noticed the doorknob turn as he stepped inside. “What’s up?” he asked, his eyes revealing deep concern with slight embarrassment over the painting you two were probably creating. Him, pajama pants and hoodie on, glasses now slightly foggy; you, with droplets falling down your hair as you looked down, hugging the towel tightly against your body. “I don’t want to cause any trouble” you said as you unconsciously looked back at the toothbrushes which now seemed to stare at you both accusingly, judgingly.

“Why would you- Oh,” he interrupted himself, his gaze following yours towards the same spot, his look going from confused to serious to utterly humored. “This?” he asked again, grabbing the small toothbrush from the cup, its cable a pretty yellow shade. “What’s your favorite color again?” he continued, waving the object in front of your face as you stared at it in confusion.

Looking up, you replied simply “yellow- oh,” it was your turn to interrupt yourself, now realizing how you had almost forgotten your childhood promise, yet surprised as well at the fact that he had kept it after all these years, the innocence of the act causing your heart to hurt slightly.

“It’s always been here. I mean, not the same one, obviously, but… a spare toothbrush” he explained, even though he did not have to, his hand playfully messing your hair before he headed bac towards the door. “Get dressed, silly. We have films to watch” his warm voice instructed you with tenderness before he closed the door behind him.

Stepping out of the bathroom, finally dry and dressed, you forced Max to close his eyes before looking at you. “Don’t make fun of me or I’ll leave” you threatened jokingly, as his eyes remained tightly shut with his hands in front of them dramatically. “I won’t I promise!” he claimed, yet he was already laughing, the sound of it reminding you of the years of togetherness you both shared.

“Okay, you can look” you finally gave your permission, as he took his hands off his face and blinked fast, the lights suddenly blinding him. At first, he just stared at you, expression absolutely unreadable. Then, he burst into laughter, apologizing as his giggles filled the bedroom. “I look ridiculous” you complained, the long sleeves covering your hands and flopping lazily as you did so. “No you look adorable!” he tried to protest, laughter insistent on making its way through his lips, his eyes shining with happy tears. “Adorably ridiculous” you continued, rolling your eyes and throwing yourself on the bed defeatedly, your head buried in his pillow, filled with the scent of him.

Knowing your mood would change soon, Max merely smiled to himself as he started putting a film on, the choice being the Twilight saga – easy to watch, entertaining, fun, and he could tease you about it constantly, pretending he didn’t enjoy it himself. Bags of jellybeans hit your head as he threw them towards you, in an attempt to wake you from your moody attitude. “C’mon grumpy I have beer” he poked you as he sat on the bed as well, pressing play and opening a bag which he waved in front of your face as you got up lazily.

“’I know what you are’ ‘Say it. Out loud. Say it!’ ‘Vampire’” you said the lines along with the film, echoing each and every intonation and expression. Popping a bear shaped jellybean in his mouth as he took another sip of his beer, Max interrupted your acting session by saying “can you imagine how awkward it would be if it was something else entirely and he would just be like… ‘uh no’” and laughing to himself. Your arm flew to his as you punched it angrily, despite the fact that you were giggling to yourself.

Something about getting you slightly on your nerves while also making you smile made Max feel almost at home, in a safe space without comparison, only available to him when you were around. He felt himself in a constant state of meditation whenever he was around you, his breathing naturally adjusting itself to match yours.

Instinctively, and not out of the ordinary for any of you, he grabbed your hand and played with it softly, his fingers feeling the soft texture of your skin and pinching it with playful tenderness. You never questioned it, and neither did he, this need you two had to display affection more than most friends did, the need to always be in some sort of contact with each other, to feel each other’s warmth and presence closely. Without taking his eyes off of the film, seemingly very intensely focused on Edward’s skin of a killer, he spoke up. “You don’t look ridiculous,” he said, as you held your gaze on the film, yet laughing at his comment, expecting a joke to be made about how what’s on the screen is way more embarrassing than you in his underwear. Yet he said something completely different. “You always look pretty. Very pretty” his voice was soft as he now looked at you, and you felt his gaze on your skin, your cheeks, your eyelashes, yet refused to look at him and face whatever was happening in that night.

The windows rattled once again, breaking the momentary spell that hovered in the room, hypnotizing both of you with the haze of uncertain feelings. You heard his breathing as well, heavy and nervous now, his heart racing and yours matching his, maybe because you were so deeply connected or maybe because your feelings and his were now the same shade of complexity.

 You wondered if this is why you had stopped sleep overs together. Perhaps it was the fear of facing the fact that things were not as simple and easy to brush off when the clock hit 3am and his hand was on his and your head on his shoulder and you had no intention of moving. And he shared these same thoughts, realizing how that letting go of you right now would probably be the worst thing that could happen, the scariest thought that could possibly cross his mind.

All this happened in fractions of second, too short for any of you to truly acknowledge what was happening, his voice interrupting both of your thoughts as he spoke once again, “obviously not as pretty as Edward Cullen but-“ to which you rolled your eyes and laughed. “I bet he’d look better in your sweatshirt” you said, another sip of beer falling on your lips.

“Impossible” he replied, a smile on his lips, his eyes finally meeting yours and then taking your whole appearance in, your cheeks blushing shyly at how attentively he looked at you, at how his gaze seemed so tender and soft. A sudden urgency to feel his lips on yours filled your thoughts with sheer intensity that terrified you. You hadn’t seen Max that way, hadn’t considered it nor question it before, not even when your dates and boyfriends accused you of things, not when your friends commented on how you looked at him. Yet in that exact moment, something shifted completely, perhaps stirred by the storm outside, perhaps because it simply felt right in that moment to feel wrong.

“Can I kiss you?” he suddenly asked. The innocence of the question made you giggle, the contrast between his soft and careful voice and his adult look with a week old stubble making you giddy and timid as you nodded.

His lips touched yours with caution, yet with undeniable fondness that made you question why this hadn’t happened before. You felt his smile in between the kiss, the satisfaction of finally breaking this unknown wall that had existed between you for so long, and which you remained so unaware about.

Pulling away, Max’s eyes stared into yours before moving to the screen, a satisfied smile on his now slightly redder than usual lips, your own face mimicking his. “Edward Cullen could never kiss as well as you” he whispered, earning himself another soft punch, followed by 3 more films worth of kissing.

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 18 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When grandparents come to visit, Rose gets spoiled silly, and you and Bradley get an opportunity to spend some time alone. You have doubts about your body, but being around your husband makes you feel as good as you hoped it would.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, lactation kink, messing around, DILF Roo

Length: 5200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

You were exhausted, and your breasts hurt. There was so much to do, and Rose wanted to eat constantly. Taking a twenty minute shower felt like a luxury, but your husband insisted on it when you started to cry in the kitchen. 

"Do you want some ginger ale?" he asked, tucking Rose into the baby carrier so she would hopefully fall asleep.

"Yeah," you replied, not really sure why you were crying. Bradley patted your butt and told you to go get in the shower, promising to bring the drink in for you.

While the water warmed up, you got undressed and stared at yourself in the mirror. Your body was like a deflated balloon, and you couldn't stop thinking about how weird you looked. Absolutely nothing was as tight as it used to be, and even your face looked unamused and annoyed. And every time you thought about how much you hated the way your body looked now, you got upset with yourself, because you had a beautiful daughter.

"You didn't get in the shower?"

You had you pull yourself out of your daze to meet Bradley's eyes in the mirror. He was holding a plastic cup, and Rose appeared to have finally fallen asleep. "Oh. I will." 

You were almost embarrassed to have him in the bathroom with you as you scrutinized your new bits of cellulite and stretch marks, but he simply wrapped his free arm around you from behind and whispered, "Take your time. I'm going to put Rose in her crib, and then we can watch a movie or snuggle."

Unshed tears burned at your eyes and your throat as he kissed your bare shoulder. He had to go back to work tomorrow. Your parents were arriving tomorrow night. There were so many things happening all at once, and you were overwhelmed even though you barely had to lift a finger with him taking care of so much.

Bradley's breath was warm on your skin as you shivered, naked in the middle of the room. "I love you, Baby Girl. Get in the shower. You'll feel better."

Somehow, he was right. The steamy water pounded against your skin while you sipped your cold ginger ale, and even the sound echoing off the glass and tile was oddly satisfying. You took a few deep breaths with your eyes closed and didn't move for a couple minutes before you reached for the soap.

You didn't even try to put your own clothing on when you finally walked back into your bedroom. Nothing fit, and you didn't want to have to deal with looking at yourself like that in the mirror again, so you pulled on Bradley's old, stretched out gym shorts and one of his shirts. You felt freshly scrubbed and in a much better mood as you walked down the hallway and poked your head inside Rosie's nursery. She was sprawled out on her back in one of her fuzzy sleepers, and you smiled at Tramp curled up in a circle on the rug. He lifted his head to look at you as you turned toward the living room where you could hear the TV on with the volume low.

"Hi," you whispered, and Bradley lifted the blanket so you could join him on the couch. "You got her down okay?"

He wrapped his muscular arm around you. "I did. Eventually. She started crying the first time I set her down, and then Tramp licked her through the crib which made her cry more. This parenting shit is exhausting."

For the first time in a week, you realized just how tired he looked. Bradley made everything seem so easy right now, and you didn't know how you'd manage while he was at work tomorrow. But he looked like he needed a good night's sleep tonight. 

"Want to watch an episode of Real Housewives?" you asked.

He shrugged and tried not to smile. "Only if you want to." It was shamelessly his favorite show, so you queued up an episode and curled up facing his chest. "Aren't you going to watch it, too?" he chuckled, nodding past you to the TV.

You responded by raking your fingers through his hair, and a second later he was yawning. "I'll watch it in a minute," you lied, and he melted into the scalp massage you gave him. Each soft grunt you elicited from him was followed by him closing his eyes for a few seconds, and as soon as you kissed the scars on his cheek, he was sound asleep. Then your fingers went slack in his hair as you yawned.

The two of you got a solid five hours on the couch before Rose started crying for food.

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

"How's the baby? Can I see a picture?"

Bradley sighed quietly to himself and turned to see Javy pulling on a pair of compression shorts next to him. 

"She's great. Gets a little better at sleeping every night," he replied, scrolling through his photo gallery to show him a picture of Rose in her crib. Everyone and their mother seemed to stop him on his way to the locker room, and it was getting to the point where he was going to be late to the tarmac if everyone didn't shut up.

"Damn! She's adorable," Javy said with a laugh. "Kind of makes me want one."

"That's called 'baby fever'," Bradley said, tucking his phone away so he could pull on his flight suit. "Apparently it's a real thing and highly contagious. Want me to put a stop to it for you?"

"Sure," Javy said smoothly, still laughing until Bradley told him the cost of the fancy daycare on base for a month. "Jesus," the other man gasped. "Never mind."

"Exactly," Bradley muttered, finally zipping up his flight suit when Jake strolled in. 

"How's my goddaughter, Rose Bradshaw?" he asked, loud enough that anyone in a three mile radius would have heard.

"Wait, you made Hangman the godfather?" asked Mickey from the other side of the lockers. "Damn. That's pretty wild."

Bradley took a deep breath and said, "I need to get out on the tarmac to talk to Maverick." 

There was something kind of awful about coming back to work after a week off with just you and the baby, and he realized he was in a shitty mood as he took the long way outside to avoid everyone else. He missed Rose, and he missed making lunch for you. He was getting pretty good at smashing up the nasty avocado stuff and globbing it onto a perfectly toasted slice of overpriced bread. He really felt like he should still be there with you just in case you needed something. 

"There you are," Maverick said, pushing his aviators higher on his nose as Bradley hustled through the hangar. "How's little Rose?"

He wanted to tell his godfather that it was bullshit that he had to be at work when he had an adorable nine day old daughter he could be playing with, but he bit his tongue. "She's great. Thanks for the stuffed animals. The goose and the rooster were a nice touch."

Maverick waved him off. "You don't need to thank me for anything. Let's have a conversation as we walk to the tower." Bradley kept up the same pace with him as he said, "I'm going to need you to stay until six today. I'll give you a shot performing a dog fighting exercise with some of the new arrivals, but you'll need to stay and write up your post lesson notes."

Bradley licked his lips. On one hand, he'd been grabbing onto every little crumb that was offered when it came to teaching on base. If he could spend more time working out of North Island and less time on an aircraft carrier, he would be able to avoid some of the long deployments that made having a wife and child at home feel so impossible. On the other hand, he was supposed to pick your parents up from the airport at six. He didn't want to send you and Rose out in rush hour to get them even though he knew nothing could beat the comfort and safety of the red Bronco.

Hopefully he could get to the airport quickly enough that your parents wouldn't even notice he was running late. He cleared his throat nervously. "Sounds good, Mav. I'll stay until six."

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

By dinnertime, you were in tears. Rose was already crying again. You just finished feeding her. You were trying to figure out how to use the breast pump, but now it was in pieces on the kitchen island. You couldn't even manage to put ten minutes together to make it work properly. Your body looked scary, you forgot to eat lunch, your entire face was breaking out, and now Rose was wailing.

If you couldn't even make it through one day alone with her, how the fuck were you supposed to even be a mom?

"I'm coming," you called out, almost tripping over Tramp on your way back to the nursery. Your breasts were aching, and as soon as she latched on, you couldn't tell if they felt better or worse. You couldn't tell anything. You hadn't slept for more than five consecutive hours in over a week, because Rose was always hungry.

"Please take a nap after this," you whispered. "I need a nap, too." Truthfully, you wanted your parents here just as much as you wanted Bradley. Rose spit up on the kitchen floor earlier, and you kept forgetting to clean it up between her feeding frenzies. You could probably get your dad to do that. And you needed more panty liners from the story which your mom could probably handle. And you needed your husband to make you avocado toast before you withered away into oblivion. 

"We're here!" Bradley called out through the house as you finished changing a wet diaper. You quickly yanked your dirty tank top back over your head, and as soon as you walked out into the living room, you started crying.

And so did your parents as they crowded around you, kissing your cheeks and looking at the baby in your arms.

"It was one thing seeing her over facetime," your mom sobbed, "but she's even more precious in person."

"Hi, Rose. I'm your grandpa," you dad whispered as the baby yawned. "I think she kind of looks like me."

You laughed as you cried, relief flooding through your body as your mom scooped Rose up into her arms, and then Bradley was at your side, kissing your forehead. 

"Did my pretty girls have a good day?" he asked, stroking your cheek with his thumb and smiling at you as if you looked like a fairy princess rather than an unfed, exhausted rat. 

He smelled a bit like jet fuel, and for some reason he was still wearing his flight suit even though he knew you couldn't have sex with him. "It was just really hard," you whispered, looking up at him like you needed him to understand without you having to explain it to him.

Bradley glanced around at the pump parts in the kitchen and the spit up on the floor. He held you a little tighter as he nodded. "It was really hard for me, too. I just wanted to be here to try to make your day easier." Now you were crying in earnest as your mom and dad continued to make a fuss over the baby, but Bradley was already walking you backwards toward the hallway. "I'm sure the grandparents can hold down the fort while we take a little break?"

"Absolutely," your mom replied, kissing Rose's feet while your dad held her. "Take your time."

As soon as you were in the quiet solace of your bedroom, Bradley bent to remove his boots, and then he unzipped his flight suit and left it in a heap on the floor. "I think I'd feel better if we got in bed for a few minutes." You nodded in agreement, climbing into the unmade bed, and a second later, you were wrapped up in his arms under the covers. He sighed as you curled up against his chest. "Yeah. This is what I needed."

It was like night and day for you. As soon as you were with him, everything felt better. More manageable. Like you could handle all of it. Bradley pressed his lips to your temple as you whispered, "I've been waiting for this moment all day."

"God, I fucking love you, Baby Girl."

You laughed in response, but you weren't joking. "I'm so serious, Roo. I was overwhelmed, and I haven't eaten anything since breakfast. And Rose is just hungry all day and all night, and I can barely keep up."

His big hand slid up and down your arm, soothing away your stress as he murmured, "Well, you make it look easy, Sweetheart. Best mom in the world. As soon as I get my fill of you, I'll make you dinner."

You let his words sink in as you got your breathing under control. Then you finally lifted your head from his chest and kissed him. "I think I'll be okay."

Bradley sat up with you in his lap. "Let's eat something, and then we can feed Rose and get right back in bed. I'll bet I can get your dad to walk Tramp."

The two of you had only been in your bedroom for about twenty minutes, but when you walked back out into the kitchen, it was like a miracle had occurred. There was no mess on the floor. The breast pump appeared as though it had been set up correctly. Your dad was walking back inside with Tramp, already having completed a walk, and your mom was rocking Rose in her arms in the kitchen with four plates of dinner lined up on the counter.

"I hope sandwiches are okay," she said when she spotted you and Bradley. "Just something simple tonight. Tomorrow I'll make spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread."

You took Rose from her and handed the baby to Bradley before throwing your arms around your mom's neck. "Thank you," you whispered, voice shaking with an emotion that wasn't unpleasant. "All of this is really overwhelming."

"We're here to help make it easier. Eat your sandwich."

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

Having your parents stay for the week seemed to make all the difference in the world. They knew how to handle seemingly everything. When you winced after feeding Rose, your mom mentioned getting some ointment. She made a shopping list and ran to the store, and she even brought back the correct type of coffee. And your dad didn't seem to mind sitting in the nursery in the middle of the night, burping and rocking Rose after you finished feeding her so you could go right back to bed.

In fact, every single thing they did, they did with a smile on their face. They were absolutely loving this. And every so often, Bradley felt a pang of sadness associated with something he would never get to experience.

He was thankful for his in-laws, but he would give anything right now to get to experience his own mom and dad having a visit with Rose. It hurt too much to think about it for more than a few seconds here and there, so he forced himself not to. But you always seemed to have a way of honoring them even when he couldn't come up with one himself, and he was so thankful that you did. When he walked in from work on Wednesday, you were sitting at the kitchen island, pumping your breast milk and typing on your computer.

"Hey, Sweetheart. Where's the Nugget?" Bradley asked as you tipped your head to the side to let him kiss your neck.

"She's outside with my mom," you replied easily. "And my dad is taking a nap upstairs since he was up so much last night."

He hummed as he saw your mom walk across the back patio with Rose in her arms and Tramp following behind them. "What are you working on?"

You sounded calm and relaxed as you said, "Finally getting the hang of the pump. The ointment my mom got is helping so much, and I'm trying to store some of my milk in the fridge to make things easier. Oh, and I'm sending baby pictures to Brenda and the other cousins." 

You turned and kissed him over your shoulder as he looked at your computer screen. There was an adorable collage of photos of Rose as well as a family tree graphic that you made. It had everyone's name on it, including Nick and Carole Bradshaw, with the branches all leading to Rose's name in the middle.

"That's really pretty," he whispered, getting choked up.

"I thought so, too," you said, reaching for his hand. "Maybe we can get a copy printed and hang it by the piano?"

"Yeah. We should do that," he grunted, letting his forehead rest on your shoulder. "I'll be back after I say hi to Rosie."

When he walked outside, your mom was telling a very elaborate rendition of the Three Little Pigs to his daughter while she yawned like she was going to fall asleep. "Want me to put her in the nursery so you can take a break?" he asked quietly.

"I've got her," she replied, nodding back toward the house. "Why don't you take your wife out for a few hours? She's been pumping all day, so I can just give this little one a bottle if she gets hungry after her nap."

"Oh," Bradley grunted. It was Wednesday. This used to be Hard Deck night for the two of you. Nobody would expect it, and it might even be fun. "Yeah. Okay." He kissed the top of Rose's head and went back inside, taking you by the hand as you sent the photos and the family tree off in an email.

"What are you doing?" you asked as he led you toward the bedroom. "You want to snuggle?"

"Yes. Always. But right now, we're going out for a few hours."

"Where?"

Bradley smirked. "It's Wednesday."

You gave him a confused look that melted away immediately. "The Hard Deck?"

"Of course."

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

The idea of getting out of the house took over your brain and made you feel lighter than air, but the prospect of having to wear real clothes was upsetting to say the least. You knew your jeans wouldn't fit, and just thinking about the tight waistband against your belly made you cringe. You watched Bradley change into the tropical print shirt you got him for Christmas, the one that matched Rosie's, and he looked impossibly handsome.

"I'll be ready to leave when you are," he promised, kissing your cheek as he tucked his wallet into his jeans pocket. "Just let me know, okay?"

Then he rushed from the room, leaving you alone with an entire wardrobe of clothing that made you want to scream. After looking at nearly everything you owned, you settled on black leggings that were a little too big on you before you got pregnant and your oversized red sweater. You carefully got dressed, scared to look at yourself in the bathroom mirror, but you needed to put on some makeup.

The finished product wasn't too bad. You looked tired, but so did Bradley. Your outfit mostly hid your weird shape, and you were absolutely craving a beer right now. After this week, you were going to owe your parents big time, but when you went out to the living room, they appeared to be absolutely thriving.

Your dad had a rattle and a crinkle toy in his hands, and Rose was reaching for them while your mom held her. Every time the baby moved an inch, they cheered. You had to stifle your laughter as Bradley came in through the front door with a small bundle of flowers.

"Where did you get those?" you asked him as you leaned down to give Rose a kiss on her cheek.

"From the neighbor's shrub." When you gave him a concerned look, he added, "I asked first! I wanted you to have flowers for date night. I'm pretty sure it's important to keep the magic alive after you have a kid."

The Hard Deck and flowers from a shrub seemed kind of ridiculous for a date, but he was always so sincere. "Thanks, Roo. This is perfect."

He smiled as you put the flowers in the kitchen, and your mom said, "Get a move on, you two. We have everything under control."

You and Bradley were speed walking out to the blue Bronco when you said, "It's like I'm in high school again. I have to get permission from my parents to go out for the night."

Bradley's laughter put an enormous smile on your face as he buckled you in the front seat. He ran his thumb along your cheek and whispered, "You look beautiful," before closing the door. His words left your heart racing, because you knew he meant them. When he backed out of the driveway, he said, "We should stop for pizza on the way there."

It felt like a date early on in your relationship. Sitting in a booth together, constantly holding hands, legs intertwined under the table. Neither of you could stop smiling or laughing, and Bradley still had no shame when it came to inhaling slice after slice of pizza. The best part was when he pulled a bottle of the hot sauce you made in Mexico out of his pocket and set it on the table.

"Oh my goodness!" you gasped, carefully covering your slice in it so you didn't actually waste any. "You win husband of the year, once again."

"I wonder if Rose will like hot sauce," he mused before folding up a slice and eating it in three bites. 

"She better," you replied, moaning in delight. "If she knows what's good for her."

Bradley devoured the last slice when you pushed it toward him. "Let's go fuck up the Hard Deck, Sweetheart."

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

"Mom and Dad are here!"

Bradley groaned when Natasha announced his arrival to everyone in the bar, but you just laughed and snuggled against his side when he slung his arm over your shoulders. Within seconds, the two of you were stopped in your tracks as the usual crowd and a few others came over to offer congratulations and say hello. And a few minutes after that, both of you were holding two drinks.

"Where's my goddaughter?" Jake called over the music, and Bradley pursed his lips.

"She's our designated driver," he replied. "She's waiting in the Bronco."

The aviators laughed as you shook your head and said, "My parents are visiting for the week. They insisted we go out and have a good time."

"So you came to the Hard Deck?" Reuben asked, leaning in to give you a hug. "Rooster, take your wife and the mother of your child somewhere nicer next time."

You were laughing as hard as everyone else now, as Bradley groaned and looked at the ceiling. "I used to like it here," he said as Nat pulled both of you in for a bear hug.

And that was when the two of you were saved from being the center of attention by an even more exciting arrival.

"He's back!"

Bradley turned in time to see Bob walking in, holding Maria's hand. His cheeks were flushed pink, and his glasses were a little crooked, and Bradley could tell instantly why they were just getting to the bar now even if the aircraft carrier docked this afternoon. At least they hadn't broken up over the deployment. 

Maria shook her hand free and made a beeline toward you. "Oh my god, I can't believe you're here! When can I come see the baby?"

"Any time," you replied. "I'll be home for weeks."

She kissed your cheek before giving Bradley a quick hug, too. "I'll bring Cam with me one night. And you should come to brunch this weekend or next weekend. You can bring Rose!"

Bradley cringed a bit at the idea of his tiny daughter being around a bunch of loud, germy strangers in a restaurant. "Or... she can just stay at home with me while you enjoy yourselves," he told you and Maria.

"Sure, Roo," you replied, stroking your fingers along his cheek. "Yeah, I'll make sure I get to brunch one of these weekends."

Bradley watched you converse with Maria, and then the two of you talked to a very overwhelmed looking Bob who also asked about the baby. And Bradley swore you only sipped at your beers, but you were starting to look a little tipsy.

"You okay, Sweetheart?" he asked, trying not to laugh as you danced around completely off the beat of the music playing on the jukebox.

"Yeah," you told him, smiling over your shoulder. You were so fucking adorable, it was unbelievable. "But my boobs are starting to get uncomfy. I'm going to need some relief soon." You turned to face him as you ran your hands along your chest, and even with that sweater on, his imagination took over.

His cock was already reporting for duty as he rasped, "You want me to take you home so Rose can nurse and make you feel better?"

You kind of shrugged in response as you took a step closer to him, still touching yourself. "Well, I've been drinking alcohol, so if we go home, I'll have to pump instead and then dump it down the drain."

"Fuck," Bradley groaned as you reached for his hand and brought it up to your chest in the middle of the Hard Deck. "I don't think you should be wasting that."

You smiled and asked, "Back seat of the Bronco then?" 

When he just nodded at you like an idiot, you hooked your index finger through one of his belt loops and dragged him around, erection and all, to say goodbye to everyone. His jeans were not his friend at the moment. Not with the prospect of your tits leaking milk filling his mind. Once you had him outside, your lips were all over his.

"You make everything so much better, Bradley," you whispered against his mouth as your fingers tangled in his hair. "Literally everything."

"I love you so much. Fuck," he moaned as you cupped him through his jeans. Someone else was exiting the bar now, but he didn't have the wherewithal to tell you to stop. He didn't want you to stop. "Come on, Baby Girl," he said, ushering you to the promised solitude of the backseat.

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

You were so horny. You couldn't even fathom what was going on with your hormones that you were mostly in tears on Monday and desperate for an orgasm tonight. Straddling Bradley's lap in the back of the Bronco was nothing new for you, but you were a little concerned about the way your body looked. 

"Holy fucking hell, you're so hot," he groaned, inching your sweater up and pulling it over your head. He was looking at you like you were a million dollar lottery prize with your stretched out belly and your nursing bra. He ran his hands up your hips to your waist, and he looked you in the eye as he said, "You're stunning."

Okay. Well, he could have anything he wanted. You unhooked your bra, letting it fall to the floor as you ground yourself against his erection. He hissed in response before bringing his hands up to your tits and giving them a little squeeze. You were already leaking milk, and Bradley was whimpering softly as he dragged his nose along the curve of one breast and then the other before tasting you.

"Roo," you gasped. His lips and mustache were needy and rough, and you couldn't stop yourself from rubbing your pussy against him. He looked up at you as he sucked on your nipple, and you played with his hair as you asked, "Do you like this?" He nodded before teasing you with his tongue and sucking more of your breast into his mouth. "I'm so horny," you moaned.

He released you. "I want to fuck the absolute shit out of you right now. Do you have any idea?" He started kissing your other nipple as he guided your hips so you were flush against the fly of his jeans. "I want you to get yourself off, Baby Girl," he rasped. "I know you can do it."

You had no shame, head tossed back, whining his name as he wrapped his perfect lips around your other nipple and helped himself. You could feel the outline of the head of his cock through his jeans. He was hard. So hard. And he felt good against your clit. You had to be soaking through your cotton underwear and leggings, but he kept guiding your hips closer and closer.

"Do it," he coaxed softly, running his mustache along your nipple.

You were about to tell him that your body felt so different, you weren't even sure if you'd be able to get off or if it would even feel good. But the words froze in your throat as Bradley parted his lips to taste you again, and you felt yourself gush into his mouth.

"Oh my god," you whispered, maybe a little embarrassed that you had no control over your own body. His eyes went wide as he lapped up your breast milk, and you arched your back as you came on his cock through his jeans, grabbing his hair and the Bronco ceiling for control. You were shaking all over, keening loudly, convinced someone in the parking lot must have heard you by now. You didn't even care. This orgasm was insanely good, and it kept going as you panted and squirmed.

Your breasts were damp to the night air, and you knew it had to be some combination of your milk and Bradley's saliva cooling on your skin as you shivered against his body. His arms were wrapped around you as you rocked slowly before finally coming to a stop.

"Feel good?" he asked between little kisses to your chest.

"Incredible," you moaned. "Holy shit, Roo."

"Yeah," he agreed breathlessly. "Me too."

You noticed he wasn't as hard now, and you took his chin in your palm, guiding his gaze to meet yours. "Did you cum?"

"In my jeans," he confirmed with a nod. "I can't handle how fucking perfect you are." You felt powerful as you stroked his cheek with your thumb. "You literally made me cum in my pants, Sweetheart."

You gave him a soft kiss. "And you didn't even break the center console."

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

BG is definitely struggling a little bit with her postpartum body. Roo is struggling in a different way. There's a lot on the horizon, including angst, but if there's something you'd love to read about this family, let me know! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 19

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[augustwinesworld]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭

you didn’t know if you wanted to cut it.

description: the trio gets their hands on ODM gear, a decision that will affect their rest of their lives without them knowing.

pairing: underground! levi x underground! reader

genre: pathetic yearning/ fluff

warning: tooth rotting

notes: the virgin induced christian yearning in this one makes the wait completely worth it.

word count: 4.3 k

extra: moodboard | playlist | ☆:**:. 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐞 .:**:.☆ 

Feel free to #𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 (◕‿◕✿) *:･ﾟ✧ if you have any scenarios in mind! I might not write everything but I’ll respond to everyone.

series masterlist: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭

If the Underground had one redeeming quality, it was this: its endless maze of abandoned

Silent, shadowed, and forgotten by most—ideal for watching without being seen.

From your vantage point across the street, Ksaver's tavern was alive with noise and chaos.

The glow of lanterns spilled onto the streets, illuminating clusters of drunk Garrison soldiers who lingered outside, laughing too loudly and leaning too heavily on each other.

“You’d think they were on leave,” you muttered, shifting slightly behind the dusty crate that hid you from view.

“They definitely think they are” Furlan replied with a grin, adjusting the straps of his satchel. His gaze flicked toward the warehouse looming just beyond the bar. “A couple more drinks, and they won’t even notice if we waltz in and take what we want.”

“Don’t get cocky. Drunk doesn’t mean blind. If we get caught, there are no second chances.”

The warehouse stood high next to the tavern, though still inconspicuous. A fortress of stone and steel—thick walls with narrow windows barred by iron.

A single lantern above the main entrance cast an eerie glow over the heavy steel door.

If you stop to think about it, so many defenses make the hideout look out of place compared to the surrounding buildings—but to be fair, it's not that weird either.

And section D-4.

The warehouse’s location was no accident. It was close to one of the main access points to the surface, a perfect hub for transporting supplies or weapons.

Its proximity to the tavern provided a convenient excuse for soldiers to loiter nearby, their presence both a deterrent and a cover.

Strategically, the spot was flawless. The surrounding alleys narrowed into natural chokepoints, ideal for defending against an attack or ambush.

But the same features that made it easy to guard also made it predictable.

Once again, you scanned the perimeter, noting the lazy paths of the patrolling guards. Their footsteps irregular, as though they were half-heartedly going through the motions.

Furlan shrugged off Levi’s warning, his grin widening as he gestured toward the soldiers at the bar. “You know, they don’t look all that bright. One distraction, and we’re golden.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed, his voice dropping into that dangerously calm tone he always used before losing his patience. “One mistake, and we’re dead. This isn’t a game, Furlan.”

You stifled a sigh, crouching lower as you scanned the warehouse’s perimeter. A pair of guards moved methodically near the entrance, their lanterns casting faint pools of light. “Relax, Levi,” you said, your voice low but steady. “We’ve got this.”

His piercing gaze snapped to you, cutting through the dim light. “If I had a coin for every time you said that right before things went to hell, we wouldn’t need this job.”

Furlan snickered, nudging Levi’s arm with his elbow. “Lighten up, Captain. You’ll give yourself wrinkles.”

“Keep talking,” Levi muttered, his hand tightening around the hilt of his blade, “and I’ll give you something worse.”

Despite the harsh words, there was a rhythm to this—it was a routine that had carried you through countless close calls.

Still, the stakes felt higher tonight.

The plan was deceptively simple: avoid the guards, slip into the warehouse unnoticed, grab the gear, and get out. No unnecessary risks—but if they spotted you, there would be no retreat. You’d have to fight your way out.

Securing the ODM gear was the top priority, no matter the cost.

Levi crouched beside you, his eyes fixed on the guards patrolling the perimeter. “We move on my signal. Stay close, stay quiet, and don’t lose focus. If they see us, we end it fast—no hesitation.”

“Got it,” Furlan whispered, adjusting the straps on his satchel. “Though I doubt they’re sharp enough to notice anything.”

“They’re drunk, not blind,” Levi muttered, his voice low but edged with warning. “And even if they were, don’t get sloppy. We can’t afford mistakes.”

You stayed silent, your focus locked on the warehouse.

The guards’ paths were sloppy but predictable with patience.

They lingered near the main door longer than necessary, sharing drinks and trading jokes before pacing the perimeter with uneven steps. Their torches cast moving shadows, perfect for slipping through undetected.

Levi moved first, slipping into the dim alley like a shadow. His footsteps were silent as he hugged the wall of a neighboring building, gesturing for you and Furlan to follow.

One at a time, the three of you crossed the narrow street, sticking to the darker corners as you approached the back of the warehouse. The steel door loomed ahead, reinforced and locked tight.

The faint scuff marks near the hinges and chipped paint around the lock told a familiar story: this wasn’t the first time someone had tried to break in.

When you reached the side door, Furlan knelt to pick the lock, his fingers moving deftly over the worn mechanism.

“You sure you’ve got this?” you asked, glancing nervously over your shoulder.

He grinned without looking up. “Relax. It’s not my first dance.”

The lock clicked, and Furlan pushed the door open with a shit-eating grin. “After you,” he said with a mock bow.

Such a moron.

The air inside was thick with the smell of oil and rust, suffocating with very little light.

“There,” Levi said, his voice low as he nodded toward the far end of the room. Different sets of ODM gear hung on racks, their metallic components gleaming faintly.

You moved cautiously, your footsteps muffled by the dust-covered floor. Furlan reached the gear first, his grin widening as he inspected one of the sets. “A little outdated,” he murmured, running his fingers over the mechanisms. “But definitely worth the trip.”

“Take it and go,” Levi ordered, his gaze darting toward the door. “We’re not sticking around.”

You slung one set over your shoulder, the weight pressing heavily against your back as you adjusted the straps. On the other hand, Levi and Furlan grabbed two each just in case.

Just as you turned toward the exit, the sound of muffled voices reached you. 

Your stomach dropped. 

The guards were at the back door.

Levi’s hand shot up, signaling for silence. The three of you froze, your breaths shallow as the voices grew louder.

“They’ll notice the open lock,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Levi’s jaw tightened, his sharp eyes scanning the room. “If they come in, we take them out. Quick and quiet.”

The door creaked open, and two guards stepped inside, their lanterns sweeping across the room. Their boots scuffed against the floor as they muttered to each other.

The creak of the warehouse door sent a chill down your spine. Lantern light swept through the space as two guards stepped inside, their boots crunching faintly on the dusty floor.

“Check the racks,” one of them ordered, his tone clipped. “Captain’ll have our heads if we lose track of anything in here.”

Your heart pounded as the light moved closer to your hiding spot. The narrow gap between the crates was barely enough to conceal the three of you, and the weight of the ODM gear on your back made every shift of your body feel agonizingly loud.

“Wait,” one guard said suddenly, his footsteps halting. “Something’s missing.”

Shit.

Levi’s pointed gaze flicked toward you and Furlan, his fingers already tightening around the hilt of his blade. 

The second guard stepped up to the racks, running his hand over the empty hooks where the gear had been. “What the hell…? It was here yesterday.”

Furlan’s grip on the strap of his satchel tightened. “They’re gonna figure it out,” he whispered, barely audible.

Levi’s eyes narrowed. “On my mark,” he murmured, his voice a thread of steel.

The first guard turned, his lantern swinging dangerously close to the crates. “Check the other side of the room. Maybe someone moved it.”

Levi moved before the guard could take another step. Silent as a shadow, he emerged from the gap and closed the distance in an instant. The flash of his blade was quick, precise—a clean strike that dropped the first guard before he could make a sound.

The second guard spun, his eyes wide with shock. “Hey! What—”

His shout was cut short as you lunged forward, your hands already on the haft of the short blade tucked into your harness. The guard’s lantern fell, clattering to the ground as he stumbled back, your blade slicing through his defenses.

Furlan stepped out next, grabbing the fallen lantern and snuffing its flame before the light could draw attention from outside. “Subtle,” he muttered, his grin strained but intact.

“Clear,” Levi said, his voice low as he scanned the room. He crouched to check the fallen guards, his movements quick and efficient. “We need to move. Now.”

You nodded, adjusting the weight of the gear on your back. The warehouse felt heavier with silence now, the echoes of your scuffle fading into the distance.

“Think anyone heard that?” Furlan asked, his tone almost casual as he slung his gear over one shoulder.

Levi didn’t answer, his focus already on the exit. He motioned for you to follow, his movements still sharp and deliberate.

The three of you slipped out the side door, sticking to the shadows as you retraced your path through the narrow alleys. Every sound seemed amplified—the scrape of your boots against the stone, the distant hum of voices from Ksaver’s tavern.

As you reached the edge of the alley, Levi raised a hand, signaling for a halt. He peeked around the corner, his grey eyes scanning the street ahead.

“All clear,” he said finally, stepping forward.

Relief flooded through you, though it was short-lived. The weight of the gear pressed heavily against your back, a constant reminder of what you’d risked—and what you’d gained.

By the time you reached the safety of your hideout, the adrenaline had begun to wear off, leaving your limbs heavy and your mind buzzing with exhaustion.

“Well,” Furlan said, dropping his gear onto the table with a thud. “That was fun.”

Levi shot him a glare, his voice cold. “You call that fun? If you hadn’t been so loud earlier—”

“Relax,” Furlan interrupted, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “We got what we came for, didn’t we?”

You sat down heavily, the stolen gear still strapped to your back. Despite the tension, a small smile tugged at your lips. “We’re alive. That counts for something.”

"Barely."

Levi didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on the gear. Finally, he nodded, his expression softening just slightly. “This was just the start. Next time, there won’t be room for mistakes.”

The abandoned factory near the hideout became your training ground.

It was vast and empty, the towering beams and rusted catwalks providing the perfect place to test the ODM gear without drawing attention.

Levi, annoyingly so, took to it immediately—balanced, studious, and calculated.

The same as always.

Watching him soar through the air, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.

Furlan stood below, arms crossed, grinning up at you as you adjusted the straps of your harness. “Sure you don’t want to let the expert go first?”

You snorted, securing the final strap across your chest. “Pretty sure we’re both equally clueless about this.”

“Speak for yourself,” he replied, stepping back as you approached the edge of the platform. “I’ve been preparing for this my whole life. Born to fly, you know.”

Levi, perched on a beam several feet above, didn’t bother looking down. “Born to crash, maybe.”

Furlan gasped dramatically. “Was that a joke? From Levi? Someone mark this moment in history.”

“Keep running your mouth, and I’ll make sure you’re the first to ‘fly,’” Levi muttered, tightening his grip on his gear. His gaze flicked to you briefly, as if checking to ensure you hadn’t strapped something wrong.

The mechanisms in your gear hissed softly as you tested the triggers, the faint resistance sending a thrill of anticipation through your body. You took a deep breath, your fingers steady despite the rush of nerves in your chest.

“Alright,” you said, stepping closer to the edge. “Let’s see what this thing can do.”

The grapples shot out with a loud metallic hiss, embedding themselves into a beam high above. Gas hissed from the canisters on your back, and suddenly, you were airborne.

The initial jolt nearly threw you off balance, the weightless sensation both exhilarating and terrifying.

Air rushed past your face as the world blurred around you, beams and scaffolding flashing by in streaks of rusted metal.

You adjusted the tension, the pull of the cables propelling you forward in a shaky arc.

Then you realized your trajectory was off—badly off. You were heading straight for a beam.

“Shit,” you muttered, trying to adjust the line, but your inexperience betrayed you. The controls felt clunky, unresponsive. You braced for impact, your heart hammering.

The collision never came. Instead, a harsh tug yanked you sideways, and suddenly, Levi was there, his arm locked around your waist as he propelled you both toward a safer landing.

You hit the platform with a stumble, Levi steadying you as you regained your footing. His grip was firm, his breath steady despite the chaos of the moment.

“Careful,” he said, his tone clipped but quieter than usual.

You looked up at him, your chest still heaving from the adrenaline. His face was close—too close—and for a moment, all you could do was blink at him. “Thanks,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “I had it under control.”

Levi raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of disbelief and mild irritation. “Right. That’s why you were about to introduce your face to a steel beam.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the way his gaze lingered on yours made the words falter. There was something unreadable in his expression, an intensity that made your stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with the gear strapped to your back.

“Uh… you can let go now,” you said, your voice higher than you’d intended.

Levi blinked, as if realizing for the first time that he was still holding you. He stepped back quickly, his arms dropping to his sides with a stiffness that bordered on awkward. “You’re lucky I was watching,” he muttered, looking away.

“Always am,” you shot back without thinking, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

The silence that followed was loud.

Too loud,

Fuck.

Furlan’s laughter cut through it, his voice echoing from below. “Oh, that was smooth. I’ll give you that one.”

You turned, glaring down at him. “Shut up, Furlan.”

Levi cleared his throat, adjusting the straps of his gear. His expression was unreadable again, though a faint pink tint dusted the tips of his ears. “Get back up there,” he said flatly, nodding toward the scaffolding. “You’re not done until you stop flying like a drunk bird.”

The next few days blurred into a grueling routine. Each of you took turns practicing with the gear, alternating between bursts of progress and painful missteps. Furlan’s attempts often ended in chaos—his grapples tangling in beams, or his launches sending him spinning uncontrollably.

“Maybe this thing just doesn’t like me,” he muttered after his third crash into a stack of crates.

Levi, of course, took to the gear with ease. His movements were perfect: deliberate and efficient, each arc and turn executed with precision. Watching him was equal parts inspiring and frustrating—how did he make it look so easy?

One afternoon, after another exhausting round of practice, you sat on a ledge adjusting your gear. The straps were digging into your shoulders, the weight feeling heavier after hours of trial and error.

“You’re overthinking it,” Levi said, his voice cutting through your thoughts.

You glanced up at him, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He stepped closer, crouching beside you as he gestured toward the triggers in your hands. “You’re forcing the movement. The gear’s designed to work with your body, not against it. You’re trying too hard to control it.”

His voice was calm, measured, but the proximity made it impossible to focus. His fingers brushed against yours as he adjusted your grip, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt through you.

“Relax your wrist,” he said, his tone softer now. “Let the momentum carry you.”

You swallowed hard, nodding as you tried to ignore the way your heart had started pounding. “Got it.”

Levi stepped back, his arms crossing as he watched you with that same intense focus. “Try again.”

You inhaled deeply, gripping the triggers as you launched upward. This time, the motion felt smoother, more natural. The air whipped past your face, and when you landed on the next platform, you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face.

“Better,” Levi called, his voice carrying easily across the factory.

You turned back to him, your chest tightening at the faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It was subtle, barely there, but enough to leave you feeling unsteady all over again.

Furlan’s voice echoed from below. “Alright, lovebirds, break it up! Some of us are trying to survive down here!”

You rolled your eyes, heat rushing to your cheeks as you shouted back, “Shut up, Furlan!”

Levi didn’t respond, but the small smirk that flickered across his face was enough to make you forget your embarrassment—if only for a moment.

That evening, Furlan announced he was done for the day, dramatically clutching his lower back as he slumped onto a crate. “I think the gear hates me,” he said, shaking his head. “And honestly, I’m starting to hate it back. I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

Levi barely glanced at him. “Good. You crashing into things is getting annoying.”

Furlan chuckled as he headed for the exit, leaving you and Levi alone in the cavernous space of the factory. The air was cooler now, the sounds quieter as the faint hum of distant life settled into an almost eerie calm.

It was just you and Levi now, the dim light from the fractured windows casting long shadows over the beams and scaffolding.

You tightened the straps on your harness, pretending the silence wasn’t getting to you. “I’m going again,” you said, breaking the quiet.

“Not like that,” Levi’s voice cut in, sharp but softer than usual.

You turned to him, frowning. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixed on you like he was sizing you up—not in the critical way he usually did, but as if deciding whether to elaborate. He stepped closer, his movements deliberate, and gestured to your harness. “Your straps. They’re too loose.”

You hesitated, glancing down at them. “They feel fine to me.”

“They’re not.” 

Levi was already in front of you, his hands reaching for the straps before you could protest. The adjustment was quick, precise, and practical—his gloved fingers deftly tightening the leather across your collarbone with a firm but careful touch.

It should’ve been nothing, and yet you felt it everywhere. The warmth of his hand through the glove, the way he was so close you could feel his presence like a weight pressing against you. Your breath hitched despite yourself, and you fought the urge to look at him.

But you couldn’t help it. Your gaze flicked upward, catching him in a moment of complete focus. His expression was neutral, eyes locked on the harness, his attention so sharp it felt unfairly indifferent—like you weren’t standing right there, hyper-aware of every small motion he made.

“There,” he said, stepping back slightly. His voice was calm and clipped, efficient as always, but there was a flicker of something—hesitation?—in the way his gaze lingered on your face before dropping back to the straps.

You nodded, your voice quieter than intended. “Thanks.”

But instead of stepping away fully, Levi’s eyes shifted downward, landing on the straps at your waist and thighs.

His jaw tightened for half a second, his hand hovering as though he might reach for them. The urge was fleeting but sharp, a thought that passed too quickly to stop but lingered just long enough to make him tense.

He dropped his hand, straightening and stepping back with a slight shake of his head, which was now beet red. “The lower straps are loose too,” he muttered, his tone soft but edged with something he couldn’t quite hide. “Fix them before you go again.”

Your pulse quickened as you followed his line of sight, fumbling with the straps around your waist, your fingers clumsy against the worn leather. His words were practical, but the air between you felt anything but.

“Right,” you murmured, tightening the buckles and avoiding his gaze.

Levi crossed his arms, his eyes flicking back up to your face once you were finished, like he was assessing your work. “Next time, check everything,” he said, his voice steadier now, though the faint tension in his jaw remained.

You nodded again, swallowing hard. “Got it,” the silence stretched, thick and heavy with things you didn’t know how to name. Your face grew hot as you tried to come up with something to say—”um, thanks.”

You adjusted your stance, focusing on the triggers in your hands, trying to shake the weight of his attention. But it was impossible to ignore the way his presence settled over you, like an anchor you couldn’t pull free of.

It was nothing, and yet it wasn’t. You hated how aware you were of him, how he—

“Try it now,” he said, his voice softer this time.

You nodded again, turning toward the edge of the platform with shaky hands.

The grapples hissed as they shot out, embedding themselves into the beams high above. Gas propelled you forward, and for a moment, everything else fell away—the nerves, the tension, the weight of his eyes on you.

But when you landed, breathless and steady, it was all there again.

“Better,” he said, stepping forward. His approval was quiet, almost reluctant, like he didn’t want to give too much away.

You forced a small smile, trying not to let the words hit harder than they should. “Guess the straps really were the problem.”

His eyes lingered on yours for a moment, unreadable. “It wasn’t just the straps,” he said eventually, his voice quieter now. “You’re starting to trust the gear. That’s why it worked.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say. The silence stretched between you, not awkward but heavy, like there were too many things left unsaid.

“I’ll go again,” you said finally, taking a step back.

But Levi didn’t move.

“Wait,” he said, the word soft but firm enough to make you pause.

You turned to look at him, your pulse jumping when you saw the way his expression had shifted—something about the edges of his usual stoicism softened, just slightly. It made him look almost unsure, which was wrong in so many ways. Levi wasn’t supposed to look unsure.

“You’re still forcing it,” he said after a moment, his voice lower now, almost hesitant.

You frowned. “Forcing what?”

He sighed, stepping closer again. His hands reached for yours, adjusting your grip on the triggers like it was the most natural thing in the world.

But it wasn’t—not for you, anyway. His gloves were worn and rough, the touch fleeting and practical, yet it sent a warmth curling through you that made your chest ache.

“You’re thinking too much,” he murmured, his voice so quiet you almost missed it. “The gear works with you. Stop fighting it.”

“I’m not—” you started to argue, but his gaze stopped you short.

He was close now, closer than he needed to be, and the intensity in his eyes was almost too much.

You could feel his breath, steady and even despite the distance you’d just flown, and it made you horribly aware of how uneven yours was in comparison.

“Try again,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and turned back to the edge of the platform. Your fingers tightened around the triggers, your grip firmer now but more deliberate, and you launched upward.

This time, the motion felt different. Easier. Smoother. The rush of air filled your lungs, and for a moment, you felt weightless in a way that didn’t terrify you. When you landed, it was with a steadiness that surprised even you.

You looked back at him, your chest still heaving. He was standing exactly where you’d left him, his arms crossed, his gaze sharpened but softer than usual.

“Better,” he said again, his tone quiet but unmistakably sure.

You smiled, though it felt too vulnerable, too honest. “Thanks.”

He nodded, but the way his eyes lingered made your stomach twist again. You thought about saying something—anything to cut through the heaviness between you—but before you could, he turned away.

“Don’t overthink it next time,” he said, his voice back to its usual clipped tone. But as he adjusted the straps on his gear, you caught the faintest trace of pink at the tips of his ears.

You swallowed back a laugh—soft and pathetic and a little bitter—and turned to reset your stance.

Levi didn’t look at you again, but his presence felt impossibly heavy. It was maddening, this quiet pull between you, like a thread you didn’t know how to cut.

You didn’t know if you wanted to cut it.

next chapter↠

© AUGUSTWINESWORLD : no translation, plagiarism, or cross posting.

[thehistoriangirl]

If You Hadn't Left (Me) [Chapter 2]

I live!!!

Viktor x Fem! Reader-----2.1K----SFW

// M A S T E R L I S T

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Synopsis:Viktor was never supposed to see you again, just like you had promised that evening when you both ended up heartbroken and bitter toward destiny and all its twisted ways. So twisted as to put you back into his life not only as a temporal working partner to cover Jayce’s absences, but also as the maid of honor in the wedding where he’ll be the best man. Hypothetically, it doesn’t have to be that difficult to find a way around the river of memories flowing between you both. Though, of course, hypotheses are flawed. Just like that part of him that still craves another ending to this story. 

Chapter Summary: People say things look better under a new light. But once you step inside Viktor's lab, Viktor discovers that the view isn't just striking, but also very troublesome.

Tags: Second Chance | Angst | Exes to Lovers | Denial of Feelings | Viktor's pinning | Reader is pissed | | Eventual Smut | Eventual Happy Ending |

Taglist: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @syren201 @slycazzz @jourlinemaktan @seraceres @m1dnight-artisan

Viktor was no stranger to sleepless nights.

Most of them could be excused by incessant workload lined up on his desk in the form of blueprints and pages filled with scribbles of ink where equations hadn’t resolved in a positive way.

It wasn’t about rushing thoughts of the future looming over his shoulder either; the time when his conscience whispered that he couldn’t be good enough. That he’d never be, as progress is a fleeting, moody thing.

What an unbreakable riddle were you. Your words haunted him; your kiss… soared his heart. Guiltily so; flown at the past he promised couldn’t revisit. And not only because digging out the tender flesh already buried would mean expose the wound again, risking of bleeding out.

I want to be the Interior Design’ Teacher at the Architecture Faculty.

He laid in his bed, covers barely thrown open, his mind filled with the million possibilities about the future, once hopeful and bright with all the new inventions he could create with Hextech, to the one where he had to walk carefully across campus to not take a glimpse of you passing by.

Get over it, get over it.

He wished it’d be so easy. Guilt gnawed at him, now already broken free from the depths of the drawer where he kept your photo. The ring he never gave you, that he’d been fool enough not to return. A treacherous mind he had, repeating old routines as his personal condemn.

Sighing, he incorporated at the edge of the bed. Pitch darkness looked back from every corner of the quiet room. His fingers grabbed the handle of his crutch, the familiar leather creaked under his unrelenting grasp once he hauled himself up.

He should have left right away, as he did when the strain in his muscles didn’t allow him any rest. But something stopped him.

His reflection in the mirror showed what he most tried to hide. Deep eyebags, messy hair, wrinkly clothes.

Viktor didn’t wish to give you reasons as to think he was so unkept because of you. Because he wasn’t—it was only a bad night sleep. Not the first and either the last.

Groaning, he took the dubious decision to bathe in the middle of the night. Seeking the refuge of the cold water to calm the cascade of thoughts sieging him. It was like any other day back at the Academy, when he was Heimerdinger’s assistant. Time had gone backwards.

Replaced rolled up dress-shirt’s sleeves with proper cufflinks. His creamy vest now gray with ash and oil stains replaced by a clean one, just as his pants. Untamed hair controlled with luck.

The way back to the lab was calmer at night, with only the cold hitting his face during his journey up the hill. Empty boulevards whose metallic details shone silver against a crescent moon in a clear, starry sky.

He wondered, for a moment where his mind forgot to close the floodgate, if the sky looked the same in the place you had being for the last decade. That—if the tawdriness of those novelists wasn’t tricking him—the moon had watched you built who you were now.

He couldn’t stop the stab of jealousy that coursed through his bones.

The walk cut short after that, dipping his face to the ground until the had to look up toward the guards appointed at the entrance of the research building. A simple nod. At least he didn’t have to break in again, though he thanked those days where lies had flown out his tongue so easily.

Viktor presaged he would need the practice.

*~*~*~*~*~*

At first, he heard the echo of your heels against the desolate hallway.

The familiar whirring mechanism of the door that both Jayce and him had forgotten to oil up.

Then, he must fill the uncomfortable feeling that the lab was shrunk up.

“You’re late.” As an answer, you put a cup of steaming coffee at his left, right where there weren’t any papers that could be stained. “…thank you.”

Finally, he saw you.

A loose, airy blouse and a fancy skirt that hugged your legs up your knees. Perfect for a space this enclosed where the heat of the machine motors warmed it up by noon.

“You can’t wear that,” he stated, meeting your frown with his own. “Where’s your safety equipment?”

“Where’s yours?” you said back, crossing your arms in signal of victory when Viktor got out of excuses.

“I have deep understanding of safety measures in a space such as this, whereas you do not.”

“What? Do you think I’m going to lay on the desk while you tinker with a machine?” You huffed. “Have more faith in me, Viktor.”

You shouldn’t say his name so nonchalantly, especially when Viktor could never mask his reactions to your keen eyes.

“I’m going to attempt to fix this faulty prototype, so you’ll have to wear at least a lab coat if you want to enter the lab.”

“Really now?”

Grunting, Viktor stood up toward the closet at the far left of the room, grabbing two of his coats—because you wouldn’t let him alone if he didn’t abide by his own rules. “Take this one,” he said, throwing you one with his free hand, plopping in the stool back again.

“Don’t you have a smaller one?” He saw you, with the grey clothes almost serving as a robe. One of the sleeves was burned, with a hole the size of the Hexclaw’s laser.

“It’s the only one we have here,” Viktor lied. Well, only a half-truth. Jayce’s clothes wouldn’t fit you, and Sky kept them locked inside her workstation in the annex room.

“Something more I need to wear? Or can you signal me Jayce’s drawing table?” You said instead, leaving your bag at one corner of the hexagonal forge in the middle of the room. Right next to Viktor’s bag where he had shoved the jacket he wore to come here at the dead of night.

“It’s the only one next to the chalkboard.” They shared worktable for all the times Jayce was pondering about designs while Viktor looked at the sketches to make modifications. He had all night to clean it, stacking the papers in Jayce’s desk that wouldn’t be used in a while so you didn’t have another reason to criticize him. “You can use the chalkboard if you want.”

“It’s alright. I’m only drafting planes with the sizes they provided.” You voice sounded absent, muffled once you crouched to lift your map case, getting out your usual tools of mediation, escalimeter, and set squares. The gigantic T ruler, slid smoothly over the worn-out wood. Every movement seemed so easy to emulate, the way your fingers flew across the surface to set the plan in front of you, getting out all kind of pencils that for Viktor looked all the same.

“Do you need something?” Your voice tore him away whatever place his mind was wandering.

“What?”

“You’re staring.”

He blinked, using his left leg to turn the stool around. “Of course I wasn’t,” he snapped, followed by the sound of your unamused hum.

After all, you promised to maintain peace, and so you did during the excruciatingly long morning.

Viktor had his back sore from being hunched down toward a pile of scribbles that made no sense; unconclusive theories and half-done equations. Yet he didn’t dare to look away the paper in front of him, no matter how much his eyes blurred and his muscles ached. He could hear the friction of the pencil against paper, the eraser’s circular motions and the soft blow coming from your lips.

Years ago, all you had was the familiar table at the third story of the library. Next a window so you both tracked the time by the change of light. He still remembered the hues over your hair, like a kaleidoscope. By the time darkness had arrived, he was tugging at your hand over the table to wake you up.

Since when reminiscences sieged him? It was so usual for Piltover to always look toward the future that attempt to look back would endanger one into tripping and being left behind. This felt wrong, stuck in a past that no longer mattered.

You were only classmates, after all.

“This is the design.” Over his numb hands, the paper of your plan was sturdy and rough to stop the abrasion of the eraser from making a hole in it. He was thankful for the hiding spot once he felt his right hand twitch by instinct, just awoken by the familiar, now fancier, milk and lavender scent of your hair.

His eyes swept over the drawing; thin, delicate lines showed a slick tower mirroring that of the Hexgates, curved and unbalanced in an amorph geometrical pattern. Behind it was the complement, so at the distance it would look like one.

He observed you. Dangerously close. You had changed, blooming even prettier with age. Contemplative eyes used to take every detail in, new marks of wrinkles of your smiles and beams. Yet the same lips and cheeks he loved to caress.

You arched your eyebrows. “So?”

You’re precious. “I don’t favor any of these design in particular.” He shrugged, trying to get off the weight of your attention. “They’re not my taste.”

“Then you have terrible taste.”

Oh, truly? You wanted to pick a fight? He had some time to spare, then.

“Alright. Do you want an honest opinion?” Viktor sighed, as if he were exhausted by this conversation and not having his heart working overtime. “They’re ugly.”

You smiled at him; an ironic grin but a smile after all. “Thank you. I won first place in the contest with this one.”

Viktor extended a hand toward you, fingers pointing in an accusing manner. “Now you see? You can’t handle constructive criticism—”

“What constructive criticism?“  you hissed, but he ignored it. Taking a deep breath, you plastered a kind smile on your face that almost made him chuckle. “Why are they ugly?”

Viktor hummed. “Severe. Pretentious.”

“You don’t really recognize who the clients are, do you?”

“I know who are the clients, which is why I’m saying it.” He reclined in his seat. “This aren’t how your designs usually are.” It wasn’t a question, as shameful as it may feel, with his cheeks burning and eyes averting, he remembered the vision you once shared.

You retreated one step, a futile attempt at building a fort.

“You don’t know my designs,” you said, your tone cutting like a knife’s. “Not anymore.” You were already walking toward your bag, and Viktor cursed in a hushed breath. This wasn’t what peace supposed to be.

You loved curves and simpler facades, towers with gigantic windows so the residents inside could feel they touched the sky, small houses to hide a precious treasure in the form of a cozy living room to cuddle in a cold winter.

“Wait—” he called your name, and it sounded so wrong. Tasted bitterly when once had been the sweetest.

“What?!” you snapped. “Just give it to Jayce so he can show it to the Council. Roll it if you don’t want to see it.”

Viktor stood up. “You’re trying to pick a fight.” And he understood. You left without the chance to free all that built up inside of you the moment you got apart, and time had only harvested that sadness into pure wraith.

You huffed. “I don’t even know why I bother to ask your opinion.” You signaled the whole lab. “Do you want to know why you never won any Inventor’s Contest in your time as student? Because your designs were ugly.”

Viktor frowned. “Now who’s bringing the past? My prototypes worked perfectly—more of what I can say to the many winners whose inventions never saw the light of day outside the award.”

“Functionality and aesthetics must be interwoven, Viktor.” You felt as if teaching a stubborn child. “This is what I’m referring to when I say you have bad taste.”

“I would love to differ,” he said, his mind clouded by irritation, nervousness, and the ever-present reminders of another life. “How would you accuse me of having horrid taste when I dated you once?”

The silence hung heavy and charged between the two. You looked as if he had hit you with his cane, and he didn’t feel any better.

What have you just done?

“You’re impossible,” you just said with a tired sigh. Turning your back toward him and almost running out the door.

[lokis-army-77]

A New Purchase

Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 1.6k

When you come home only to discover your boyfriend has bought something completely ridiculous.

Warning: 18+. p in v, riding.

Here's the little thing we talked about the other day @munson-blurbs @lofaewrites @chrissymjstan @hellfire--cult (it isn't as good as I think it could be but oh well)

Masterlist

Eddie was almost giddy with excitement when he saw the Facebook marketplace posting. The aluminum body was a bit rusted and the inside fabric was also questionably stained but hey it was a decoration for three hundred dollars and local pickup, hell yes, he was buying it. 

The only thing Eddie didn’t realize was that it wasn’t a small decoration. No…  it was real and he had no clue where he was going to store it until Halloween. Then came the brilliant idea of testing it out. He only wanted to know what it would be like to lie there, how comfortable would it be?

That’s how you came to find Eddie lying in a casket in the middle of your living room.

Walking through the door you stop suddenly, as the small walkway between the wall and the back of the couch is blocked. Eddie is lying there, eyes closed and hands crossed over his chest. 

“Eddie, what the fuck are you doing?” 

He can’t help the grin that paints his once stoic features. He squints open his eyes as he begins to laugh. “I’m testing out my new purchase. Do you like it?”

You sigh and whip your hand over your face, shaking your head. “What on Earth possessed you to buy a casket? Wait, hang on, where did you buy a casket?”

He sits up, resting an arm on the side, and goes into his explanation. “You are never gonna believe it, fucking Facebook Marketplace. It was so cheap and to be honest I thought it was a fake one that would have been maybe a foot or two tall but nope. Imagine my surprise when I get to this guy's house and he rolls this baby out. He slaps the side panel for emphasis. He even threw in the church trucks for free so it would be really easy to move around.”

You just chuckle and shake your head. “Okay, then why did you buy it?”

“I figured we could use it to decorate for Halloween and also because when I saw it was actually real I just had to test it out. Take it for a test drive before I actually do kick the bucket.” He said it so seriously like it was the most obvious reason in the world.

“Eddie, really?”

“Oh, come on babe, like you’ve never thought about laying down in one of these bad boys.” 

“Contrary to what you might believe, no, no I haven't.” 

Eddie reaches out then, making a child-like gesture of opening and closing his hand. You walk forward and curl your fingers around his. “Switch places with me, see how it feels.”

“No, I’m not getting in there.” You laugh.

“Why not? Do you really want the first time you experience this to be when you’re dead? You won’t even know if it's uncomfortable or not.” He pulls you forward even more. 

“Eddie no-”

“Come on… If you won’t switch then get in with me.” 

You give in, sighing playfully as you bend down and crawl into the cramped casket. Eddie tries his best to shift over so you have space, but the area inside is only so big and definitely was never intended for two.

You both are laughing when your knee suddenly loses its steadiness, atop the thin, almost non-existent padding layered over the metal bottom, and slides out from under you and you fall on top of Eddie’s chest with an “oomph”.  You look up and you catch a glint in his eye as they darken just a bit. 

It’s a familiar look, one that he has given you so many times no matter the situation or surroundings. A look that he knows you will give into. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” You plead with him, knowing where this will end. 

Eddie looks at you, eyebrows raised in faux confusion. “I’m not looking at you in any particular way, Sweetheart.”

You slap his chest playfully. “Eddie you are giving me your ‘I want sex’ eyes and I am not going to, not here.”

“Baby,” He wines. “Come on. It’ll be sexy. We could even role-play as vampires.” 

“No-”

“Please.” Eddie reaches his hand to cup your cheek, pleading softly as he brings his face closer to yours. You are trying to fight it but you know you can’t and Eddie knows too. As soon as he looked at you with those sultry brown eyes, you were plyant in his grasp.

When his lips press into yours, you sigh, relaxing into him. Your fingers curl into his shirt and you inch up, caging his hips between your thighs. It hasn’t even been thirty seconds from when the kiss started and you can already feel him hardening under you. 

Pulling away, you mumble into him, lips barely touching. “Does it really turn you on thinking of fucking here?” 

Eddie nods and surges forward to reconnect your mouths. His tongue flits past your lips and finds its way inside, caressing your own. 

You're barely-there resolve crumbles as you begin to roll your hips into him. You can feel his hard length as you grind, his breath catches in his throat. 

"Fuck baby," he mumbles against your lips.  "Need to feel you around me."

There is a heat coursing through you, clouding your mind as your fingers begin to unbutton his pants. 

Eddie is eager, his hips press up into your hands, pushing you to free him faster. The blue cotton of his boxers has turned a deeper color in a small spot where the head of his cock rests, the precum there being soaked up by the cloth. 

You slide a nail up his covered shaft and a great shiver overtakes his body under you. "Don't tease me- please."

A chuckle bubbles out of you. "But that's the fun part." 

Eddie just whimpers in response. 

You begin pushing your fingers past the elastic waistband. You pull the fabric down and bring your other hand up to help situate both his pants and boxers down to his mid-thigh.

His cock springs forward and you can't help the feeling of absolute lust coursing through your veins. You need him inside you, now. 

You silently thank your past self for deciding to wear a dress today. In your need, you don't think you would be able to wrangle yourself out of a pair of pants. 

Firmly you take Eddie's cock into your hand. He hisses at the new pressure you ar editing him. 

"Fuck baby, just like that." His hips jump into your touch. 

"Gonna let me fuck myself on you? Gonna let me take what I want?"

Eddie only nods. Words have left him as he stares into your sultry gaze. 

You begin to stroke him, up and down, spreading the stickiness leaking from his tip with your thumb. 

Then, you begin to scoot up his body. Hovering over him. Eddie watches in awe as you take him up in one hand and move your panties over with the other. A slow moan releases itself from your as you begin to sink down on him.

Eddie's cock was perfect. It always felt so good to be wearied around him, his head pushing deeper into you. 

Both of your breathing is labored. You try to keep yourself calm, you don't want to rush into riding him, you want to take your time making each of you feel wonderful. Eddie. On the other hand, is trying not to combust as he lays there and watches.

The way your dress is hiked up around your beautifully, thick thighs, how his cock disappears into you, surrounded by a curly thatch of hair. 

God he loved you. It was the only way to explain why his heart was beating out his chest. 

You groan as you feel him entering you. There is a slight burn as you stretch around him. Slowly, you begin to move your hips. Eddie starts to make choked noises and his hands reach out to grab you. His fingers grip your hips, helping you grind into him. Your own hands grasp at his covered stomach. 

There was an ache building as you moved. Low in the depth of your stomach and it began to grow. The more you fucked yourself onto Eddie the more the ache was felt. IT had you clenching down around him. You cunt milking his cock of everything he could give you.  

Eddie’s hands caress your body. When his fingertips touch skin, it's like an electric shock goes through you. 

“Eddie-” You moan.

“I know, love.” He mummers. 

“Can feel you so deep.” You grind harder, shivering as your clit rubs against his pubic bone. “Need more.”

“Yeah? Take it, baby, take anything you want.” 

You catch Eddie’s hands and guide them up under your dress and to your breasts. 

He hums in approval as he pushes your bra down and begins to play with your nipples, pinching and pulling them slightly.

Your head lolls to the side, hair falling down around you. It’s taking so much energy for you to keep moving. Your legs are beginning to tire out, there is a sting in your muscles. Your knees are screaming at you as they dig into the not-so-comfortable foam at the bottom of the casket. 

Body becoming rigid, you cry out, moaning Eddie’s name loudly into the living room. Your fingers cling to him as your body caves into him. You can no longer keep moving so Eddie begins bucking his hips into yours, helping you to ride out this high and bring him to his own. 

Eddie lets you fall almost completely on top of him once he’s finished. His arms wrap around you, your breaths in sync with the other. 

As you rest your forehead on Eddie’s chest, you feel the tiny movement of him jerking. He’s trying not to laugh. 

You crane your neck to look up at him. “What?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Eddie.” 

“Nothing, just that we fucked in a casket.” His smile was as wide as could be,

You let your head fall and you laugh into his chest. “Don’t get used to it.”

[sherewrytes]

𝐻𝒜𝒰𝒩𝒯𝐸𝒟, 𝐸𝓇𝑒𝓃 𝓍 𝐹 𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

I knew possessive Eren was gonna win, so i wrote this fic anyway.

Prologue

Eren leaned back in his chair, his office dimly lit by the glow of his monitor. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city lights stretched like stars beneath a dark sky, far away and insignificant. His focus was anchored on his screen, where a familiar face smiled back at him from a photo posted over a year ago.

She looked different then—bright-eyed and carefree, dressed casually in a photo with friends, her smile wide and genuine. It wasn’t a polished, professional smile like the one she wore in the office now. This was something real, a glimpse into a version of herself she didn’t show anyone here.

He shouldn’t have kept scrolling back, shouldn’t have let himself get sucked in so deeply. But here he was, poring over every post like he was unraveling a story, piecing together the parts of her life that she’d left public, unaware of who might be watching. Eren liked the challenge of putting it all together—the places she went, the friends she kept, the life that existed beyond the walls of their firm. A life he wasn’t part of. Yet.

His finger hovered over the screen, caught in a lapse of control. Before he could pull back, his thumb brushed the screen, tapping “like” on the year-old post.

He cursed under his breath. She would see that. The thought made him pause, fingers itching to undo the mistake. But instead, he left it.

Let her see, he thought, leaning back and savoring the unease that would flash across her face when she noticed. She’d wonder, worry, maybe even try to brush it off, but the seed would be planted. She’d know that he was watching.

It was time she understood that she was more than an employee to him, more than just another person on his team. The moment she’d stepped into his world, she’d taken root, lodged deep in his mind. And he couldn’t pull her free—not that he wanted to.

His phone buzzed on the desk, pulling his gaze away from her image on the screen. A message notification lit up: a reminder of tomorrow’s 9 a.m. meeting, one he’d called specifically so he could see her, watch her from across the room, close enough to reach out but far enough to stay undetected.

When he finally pushed back from his desk, the clock on the wall blinked past midnight, the entire building silent except for the quiet hum of his footsteps as he walked out.

Y/N POV

The office buzzed with a quiet, controlled energy, the low hum of phones ringing, keyboards clicking, and hushed conversations merging into a backdrop of everyday corporate life. You settled into your seat, rolling your shoulders to ease the tension of another early morning. The building’s sleek, minimalist design, with its glass walls and polished floors, was both impressive and stifling. It was the kind of place that demanded excellence, and you planned to give it—nothing less.

It was barely 8:45 a.m., and your coffee was still too hot to sip comfortably. Jean, your colleague and occasional work confidant, leaned over your desk with his usual easy grin. He was one of the few people who made this office feel less like a pressure cooker. Tall, casually charming, with an air of confidence that bordered on playful, Jean had a knack for putting people at ease.

“So, did you see the email last night?” he asked, giving you a look that said he already knew the answer.

“Which one?” you replied, raising a brow, already scrolling through your work emails. Your inbox had exploded with new project updates and memos, mostly sent late at night. It was typical of Eren Yeager, your intense and demanding superior, to send out tasks and reminders well after business hours. The man practically lived in his office, a constant presence that seemed to watch over everyone in the department.

“You know which one,” Jean smirked, lowering his voice. “The meeting. 9 a.m., Mr. Tall, Dark, and Intimidating himself presiding.”

“Oh, that.” You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Of course, I saw it. Just didn’t have the energy to respond at midnight like everyone else.”

Jean chuckled. “Guess you’ll have to turn on those notifications if you want to keep up with the boss’s schedule. He’s got eyes everywhere.”

You scoffed, waving him off. “I’ll pass. I already see enough of Eren in daylight hours.” You knew he wasn’t being entirely serious, but the idea of Eren’s influence lingering in your personal life struck a nerve you couldn’t quite place.

Settling into work mode, you reached for your phone to quickly open Instagram, stealing a few minutes to catch up on social media before the meeting. You rarely checked notifications right away—they were turned off for most apps during work hours and even out of work—but this morning, a little distraction felt necessary.

As the app loaded, you felt your stomach drop. There it was: a tiny heart notification in the corner of a photo from over a year ago. You recognized it instantly—an old post from a weekend trip with friends, long before you’d joined the company. And the name beside the heart? Eren Yeager.

You blinked, scrolling to confirm, a chill settling over you as you stared at the notification. There was no mistaking it. Your boss—the same man who rarely glanced up from his work, who gave off an air of rigid control and professionalism—had been scrolling through your posts in the middle of the night. Not just any post, either. A photo from a year ago, a carefree memory buried far down your timeline, one you’d forgotten about.

“What’s up?” Jean’s voice broke into your thoughts, his brows furrowing as he followed your gaze to the phone in your hand. He glanced over, a smile forming on his lips as he noted your wide-eyed expression. “Oh? Someone sliding into your DMs?”

You quickly flipped your phone screen down, shaking off the uncomfortable prickling feeling that lingered. “No, nothing like that. Just… weird notification, that’s all.”

Jean gave you a knowing look but didn’t press further. He was perceptive like that, often picking up on the things you left unsaid. You appreciated it more than you let on.

You tried to shake off the odd feeling and turned your attention back to your computer, but your mind kept drifting back to the notification. The way his name seemed to linger there, like a subtle, invasive reminder that he was watching, that he knew details of your life you’d never shared with anyone here.

Stop overthinking it, you told yourself. Maybe it was a mistake, an accidental like. But that didn’t explain why he’d been scrolling so far back. You rubbed your temples, trying to shake off the creeping feeling of unease.

9 A.M. Meeting

By the time you entered the conference room for the morning meeting, you’d managed to pull yourself together. Eren sat at the head of the table, his posture relaxed but commanding, an unreadable expression on his face as he watched each employee filter in and take their seats. His presence filled the room in a way that was hard to ignore, his gaze sharp, assessing, as if he were silently measuring the worth of everyone around him.

You slipped into your seat, feeling his eyes flicker over you for a brief moment. The memory of that notification resurfaced, making you hyper-aware of the way he seemed to watch you, a hint of something dark lurking beneath his otherwise composed exterior.

“All right, let’s begin,” Eren said, his voice a low, smooth cadence that carried authority effortlessly. His eyes scanned the room, resting on you for a moment longer than necessary before shifting to the agenda displayed on the screen. You kept your expression neutral, refusing to give him any indication that his subtle invasion of your privacy had affected you.

The meeting dragged on, a detailed breakdown of project deadlines, assignments, and expectations. You found yourself glancing up every now and then, catching Eren’s gaze lingering on you, an intensity there that made your skin prickle. He looked away each time, as if nothing had happened, but you couldn’t ignore the feeling that his interest wasn’t merely professional.

Toward the end of the meeting, he spoke up, addressing the room but directing his gaze toward Jean. “Jean, I’m moving you to the new department project starting next week. You’ll need to focus on that exclusively for the time being.”

Jean looked surprised, a slight frown creasing his forehead. “Oh—sure, that’s fine, but I was under the impression I’d be working with [Your Name] on the current project until the end of the quarter.”

Eren’s expression remained neutral, his voice calm and authoritative. “Things have changed. I need you on something more pressing. [Your Name] can handle the rest of the project on her own.”

You stiffened, shooting Jean a quick look of apology, but he simply gave you a reassuring nod. You’d grown accustomed to working closely with him, and his sudden reassignment felt… calculated. Eren’s actions were swift, almost surgical, like a move in a chess game, rearranging the pieces to his advantage. It made your stomach twist, a realization settling in: he wasn’t just assigning work. He was orchestrating the details of your environment, manipulating who you interacted with, controlling who had access to you.

The meeting concluded shortly afterward, and you gathered your notes, trying to avoid Eren’s gaze. But as you turned to leave, his voice stopped you.

“[Your Name], a moment?”

You froze, every nerve on edge. You glanced back, finding him standing at the head of the table, waiting for you as the rest of the team filed out. Jean shot you a supportive look before he left, mouthing a silent good luck as he exited.

You walked back to Eren, keeping your expression as neutral as possible. He didn’t waste time with pleasantries, his gaze fixed and unwavering.

“I wanted to discuss your progress on the project,” he said, his voice calm but holding an edge that set you on alert. “Are you prepared to handle it on your own?”

“Yes,” you replied, keeping your tone steady. “I’ve been on top of it.”

“Good.” He nodded, his gaze drifting over you with an intensity that felt almost predatory. “I don’t want any distractions taking your focus away. Especially… social ones.”

The insinuation in his words was undeniable. You met his gaze, refusing to look away, even as the weight of his stare made you feel exposed. He was waiting for a reaction, testing you, pushing boundaries that should’ve stayed firmly in place.

“Understood,” you replied coolly, refusing to let him see that his words affected you. “Is there anything else?”

A faint smile tugged at his lips, almost as if he were amused by your defiance. “No, that’s all… for now.”

As you left the conference room, you could feel his eyes on you, a dark promise lingering in his gaze. This was more than a mistake, more than a casual interest. You were part of something twisted now, something that felt like it was spiraling out of control. And somehow, deep down, you knew he wouldn’t stop until he’d claimed every part of you.

You walked back to your desk, heart racing, struggling to process the entire interaction. Eren’s stare, the way he’d pushed Jean out of the project, the invasive social media “like” that felt like a silent confession of his interest—it was all too much. You tried to shake it off, rationalizing his words as a reminder to stay focused, but a lingering unease settled in, something you couldn’t ignore.

Jean was waiting for you, leaning casually against your desk with an easy smile, though concern flickered in his eyes.

“Everything good?” he asked, hands shoved in his pockets as he watched you approach.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you replied, plastering on a smile as you settled in your chair. But your mind was elsewhere, still processing Eren’s intense gaze, the almost possessive tone he’d taken.

Jean didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. “If you say so. Just say the word if you need backup. I know Yeager can be… a lot.”

You laughed lightly, though it was forced, glancing over your shoulder as you tried to shift gears and focus on your work. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of Eren watching, even though his door was closed. The memory of that year-old Instagram notification lingered, like an invisible mark he’d left on you.

Why would he scroll back that far? It was a question that had no easy answer, one that filled your mind with possibilities that sent a shiver down your spine.

Later That Evening

The workday wore on, but you couldn’t shake the weight of Eren’s presence from your mind. By the time you left the office, the sky was already dark, streetlights casting long shadows across the city. You walked quickly, glancing over your shoulder as you made your way to the train station, paranoid even though you knew it was irrational.

Arriving home, you set your things down, finally able to relax in the quiet comfort of your apartment. But as you changed into comfortable clothes and settled onto the couch, your phone buzzed with another notification. You glanced down, expecting a message from a friend or maybe Jean checking in—but the sight of Eren’s name on your screen made you freeze.

It was a message from his work account, the tone professional but terse.

Eren YeagerI need to see you in my office at 8 a.m. sharp tomorrow. Don’t be late.

The message was short, but it felt weighted, as if it held an unspoken promise of more. You stared at it, fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure if you should respond. There was no polite sign-off, no explanation for the early morning meeting. It was an order, one that demanded obedience without question.

You locked your phone, deciding not to reply. The idea of being alone with him, especially so early in the morning when no one else would be around, sent a pulse of anxiety through you. But you had no choice. If you ignored his request, you’d risk his wrath—a risk you couldn’t afford in your current role.

Just get through tomorrow, you told yourself, trying to shake off the feeling of dread that settled over you.

The Next Morning

At 7:59 a.m., you found yourself standing outside Eren’s office door, heart pounding as you raised your hand to knock. The office was nearly deserted this early, the usual bustle absent in the dim, quiet corridors. You almost turned back, second-guessing yourself, but the door swung open before you could retreat.

“Come in,” Eren’s voice greeted you, smooth and calm.

You stepped inside, swallowing your nerves as you glanced around the room. His office was pristine, modern, and impersonal—just like him. The only hint of personality was the faint scent of expensive cologne that seemed to permeate the air, a reminder of how meticulously he controlled every aspect of his world.

He gestured for you to sit, watching you with a calm, unreadable expression as you took the chair across from his desk. You fought to keep your face neutral, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you unnerved.

“I wanted to discuss your performance,” he began, his tone smooth but carrying a hint of something darker. “You’ve been doing well with the project, but I noticed that your focus has been… scattered lately.”

Your stomach tightened. Scattered? You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, caught between indignation and confusion. “I haven’t been distracted,” you replied, keeping your tone even.

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as if he found your response amusing. “Haven’t you? Checking social media during work hours, lingering at your desk with Jean instead of focusing on your assignments… I’d call that distracted.”

You felt your face go hot, a mix of embarrassment and anger bubbling beneath your skin. He was referring to your harmless Instagram check yesterday, something you’d done quickly during a break. And as for Jean—well, you couldn’t control his friendliness. But the way Eren spoke, it was as if he’d taken note of every small action, every minor slip-up, and filed it away for moments like this.

“Is that really affecting my work?” you asked, keeping your voice calm even as your heart pounded in your chest. “I’ve met all the deadlines, and my reports have been on time.”

Eren leaned forward, his intense green eyes fixed on you, his voice lowering to a near-whisper. “This isn’t just about deadlines, [Your Name]. It’s about your dedication, your priorities.”

You felt his words wrap around you like a trap, as if he were challenging you to admit something you didn’t fully understand. His gaze was heavy, penetrating, and you realized with a sudden, unsettling clarity that he wasn’t talking about work at all.

His next words confirmed it.

“People get distracted,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly as he observed you. “They forget who’s really in charge. And they let others”—his eyes flashed with something dark—“interfere.”

The implication was clear. Eren wasn’t just monitoring your work; he was watching every interaction, every minor connection you made in the office. He wanted your attention, all of it, and he wasn’t afraid to bend the rules to make that happen.

A surge of defiance rose in you, a determination not to be cowed by his intimidation tactics. “With all due respect, Mr. Yeager, I think I’m managing just fine. My work speaks for itself.”

He leaned back, his eyes narrowing slightly as he observed you, almost as if he were savoring the challenge. “If that’s how you feel,” he replied smoothly, “then I expect nothing less than your full focus moving forward. No distractions. No side conversations with… co-workers.”

Your stomach twisted. You could practically feel the weight of his control bearing down on you, subtle but suffocating. Eren’s gaze lingered on you a moment longer before he finally leaned back, dismissing you with a nod.

“That’s all for now. But I’ll be watching, [Your Name]. Make sure you don’t disappoint me.”

You stood, your legs stiff as you resisted the urge to throw a sharp retort back at him. Instead, you turned and walked to the door, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

But as you reached for the handle, he called out softly, “And remember… if you need anything, anything at all, you know where to find me.”

You didn’t look back, didn’t dare acknowledge the unspoken meaning behind his words. But as you walked away, a shiver ran down your spine, the realization sinking in: Eren was watching, his presence an invisible shadow that lingered over every corner of your life.

And deep down, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to stop.

Chapter 2: Eren's POV

I watch her leave my office, her back straight, the calm facade she wears never quite matching the storm I know brews beneath the surface. She's good at hiding it. Too good. But I see through her. I always do.

I could’ve pushed harder, pressed her more. I could’ve let the tension between us grow, let her feel it, but I know the rules. I know how to play this game. I’m patient. I’ve been watching her for months now—studying every shift in her expression, every flicker of emotion that betrays her cool demeanor. She thinks I’m just another boss, another man she has to deal with to keep her job. She doesn’t see what I see.

She doesn’t understand that I own her. Not in a way she’d ever admit. Not yet. But it’s coming.

I’ve been in control of my life for so long, meticulously crafting every move, every interaction. But the moment I saw her, I knew I was losing that control.

That first day when she walked into the office, all poised and professional in her perfectly pressed blouse and skirt, looking completely out of place among the chaos of this company... I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She stood out, a beacon of grace in a sea of mundane. It wasn’t just her looks—though she’s breathtaking. It’s her aura, the way she moves, the way people gravitate to her without even trying. But what I couldn’t handle was how easily she laughed, how easily she made friends with everyone. Even Jean, that fucking rat. I don’t trust him. I don’t trust any of them near her.

I hate the way she smiles at him. That warmth. I watch her in those moments, just a little too long. Jean doesn’t realize it, but every second she spends with him is a second closer to me losing my patience.

Her kindness? Her ability to make everyone feel like they’re worth something? It makes me sick. It makes me want to pull her closer, force her to realize that her place is with me, not with the rest of them. They don’t deserve her. No one does. Not like I do.

I’ve done everything I can to keep her focused on her work, keep her away from distractions. Jean? He’s been moved to another department. He’ll think it’s just for business reasons. He’ll never know the truth. I won’t let him have her. No one will.

I’d love to see how she reacts. I want to see her frustration when she can’t find that friendly face to laugh with during breaks, when Jean isn’t there to chat with her like some old friend. She doesn’t realize yet, but every little thing I do is part of the plan.

I’ve been following her on social media for a while now. It's not like I’m obsessed. No, it's just... research. I need to know what she’s doing, who she’s talking to, what interests her. I saw that post she shared from over a year ago. That’s when I liked it. A simple gesture, but I know she saw it. The notification. It was a crack in the door, a way to remind her that I see her, that I’m watching, even when she doesn’t realize it. She may act like she doesn’t care, like she’s unaffected, but I know the truth.

She noticed. I could see the way her fingers hesitated over the screen when she opened it, the way her eyes darted to the notification, the subtle way her lips pressed together, a sign of frustration or confusion. Good. She’s thinking about me now. I like that. I like knowing she’s aware of my presence, even when I’m not in the room.

And I’ll keep doing it. I’ll keep moving those pieces, reshaping the world around her until there’s nowhere left for her to go except into my arms.

She doesn’t realize how much she needs me yet. She doesn’t understand what I could give her, what I could offer, the security, the control. The way I’d take care of her—physically, mentally, emotionally. She would never have to worry about anything. She’d be mine. And I’d make sure she knew it.

But patience, I tell myself. One step at a time. For now, I’ll keep my distance, make sure she doesn’t feel smothered. I’ll play the game, act like everything is normal. But every conversation, every interaction, is a calculated move, a reminder to her that I’m always in her periphery. I don’t need to rush this.

I’ll keep her on her toes. I’ll keep her questioning herself. And in time, she’ll realize that the only person who truly knows her, who truly understands her, is me.

I can already feel it.

She’s mine.

For the past few weeks, I’ve found myself more drawn to her than I care to admit. Some might say I’m obsessive, that I’ve crossed a line in watching her every move. But they don’t understand. I’m not obsessed—I’m simply possessive of what’s mine. And she is mine. She just doesn’t know it yet.

I've kept my distance, careful not to scare her off, keeping up the mask of the professional, distant manager. But the more I watch her, the harder it becomes. I see her subtle shifts in expression, the way her shoulders tense whenever I enter a room, as if she can feel me. She can feel that magnetic pull too. She must.

Today, she finally came to me, probably driven by the carefully crafted breadcrumbs I’d left for her. I could see the determination on her face as she knocked and entered my office, closing the door behind her. She’s nervous—trying not to show it, but I can see the tension in her stance. She’s bracing herself, as if she’s come to confront me.

“Mr. Yeager,” she begins, her voice steady. “Can I ask you something?”

I lean back in my chair, giving her my full attention, my expression carefully neutral. “Of course,” I say smoothly, as if she has my undivided focus—which she does.

She clears her throat, looking down briefly before meeting my gaze again. “I… noticed something strange recently.” She hesitates, watching me closely, as if gauging my reaction. “You… liked an old photo on my Instagram. From over a year ago.”

There it is. The spark of curiosity, maybe even a little irritation, hidden beneath her calm facade. She’s trying to find a reason, some logical explanation, but she won’t find it.

I keep my expression mild, letting a small, almost dismissive smile tug at the corners of my mouth. “Oh? I didn’t realize. Must’ve been a slip of the finger,” I say lightly, shrugging as if it’s nothing. “I probably just scrolled too far.”

She narrows her eyes slightly, as if trying to see through my answer, to find the truth lurking beneath my calm mask. But I won’t give her that satisfaction. I keep my smile relaxed, as though it’s the most normal thing in the world.

For a moment, there’s silence. Then, she speaks again, her voice softer, more hesitant.

“I see.” She shifts, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, it just… seemed strange. I mean, it was a really old photo.”

I tilt my head, giving her a curious look. “Are you worried about what I think of your social media, [Your Name]?” I ask, my tone just slightly teasing, enough to throw her off balance. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

The color rises in her cheeks, a sign that I’ve hit a nerve. I can see her frustration simmering beneath the surface. She probably didn’t expect me to brush it off so easily, to play it so nonchalantly.

“Anyway,” I say, shifting the topic before she can dwell on it too long, “are you seeing anyone?”

She blinks, clearly caught off guard by the question. “What?”

“Just curious,” I reply, keeping my tone casual. “You seem close with some of the others here… I was wondering if you were dating anyone.”

Her lips press into a thin line, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Not that it’s any of your business, but… no.”

I already knew the answer. She’s kept to herself, no messy entanglements to interfere with the focus I want from her. I nod slowly, keeping my expression thoughtful, as if I’m filing away that precious piece of information.

“Well,” I say after a beat, looking back at her with a calm smile, “that’s good to know. Less distraction, right?”

Her eyes flash, a quick hint of irritation before she masks it, and I almost laugh. I wonder if she realizes what her reaction betrays, how her every movement, every flicker of emotion, only draws me closer.

She’s mine. Even if she doesn’t know it yet. And one way or another, she’ll come to understand just how deep that connection goes.

For now, I’ll give her space, let her think this was just a fleeting moment. But in time, she’ll see. She’ll see that every step she takes, every decision she makes, is already part of my plan. And when she finally realizes it, she’ll understand that she’s exactly where she belongs—by my side, where I can watch over her, where I can protect her.

And no one—not Jean, not anyone—will ever get close enough to take her from me.

Y/N's POV

I head back to my desk, still trying to shake off the strange feeling lingering from my conversation with Eren. The way he brushed off that whole Instagram thing… it didn’t sit right with me. And then he asked if I was dating anyone? Out of nowhere?

I sit down, take a deep breath, and open my phone, deciding to vent in my group chat. Mikasa, Annie, and Kaylah have been my rocks for as long as I can remember, and they always know how to put things in perspective.

Group Chat:

yn: Eren just asked me if I’m dating anyone…

kaylah: Your boss? 👀

kasa: Oh gurl, he tryna fuck 😏

annie: That’s her boss. 😑

kasa: And?? 👀 He’s still tryna get it.

kaylah: It’s not just “any boss,” though. It’s Eren. You’ve been saying he’s been acting weird for weeks, girl.

kasa: Exactly. That man is on some type of mission, and it sounds like it involves you.

annie: Are you comfortable with him asking questions like that?

I chew on my lip, reading through their messages. They all have a point. Eren has been acting strange, hovering a bit too close sometimes, watching me like he’s waiting for something. But Annie’s right, too. It’s not exactly normal for a boss to act this way, is it?

I hesitate for a second, wondering how much to say. Then I type back.

yn: Honestly? I don’t know how I feel about it. He’s always so… intense. But maybe it’s just me overthinking?

kaylah: Girl, that’s not “intense”; that’s creepy. 👀 Bosses don’t just stalk their employees’ social media.

annie: Exactly. And liking a photo from last year? There’s something else going on here.

kasa: Sounds like he’s trying to mark his territory. 😳 Bet he’s trying to make sure no one else thinks you’re single.

I let their words sink in, and suddenly, it’s like I’m seeing my interactions with Eren from a different angle. That “slip of the finger” excuse sounds a lot thinner now. And asking if I’m seeing anyone? Was that a simple question, or was he trying to figure out if he has any competition?

The back of my neck prickles.

I sigh, typing out the next message, feeling a little ridiculous but knowing my girls will understand. There’s more to this situation, and I need their take.

yn: Oh, and there’s something else… He moved Jean to a different department. Just… out of the blue. He said it was for a “long-term project” or something like that, but now Jean’s basically out of my life at work for the foreseeable future.

kaylah: Wait, what?! Isn’t Jean like… your work husband?

annie: Your “project”? Yeah, right. Who’s he trying to fool? 😒

kasa: Soooo he removes the guy you’re closest to, then asks if you’re single? That man’s trying to clear the field. 👀

kaylah: Sounds like he’s… territorial. He probably hated the idea of you and Jean hanging out all day.

yn: It just feels so over-the-top. Jean didn’t even get a say; one day he’s there, and then Eren just pulls him into his office, and boom, he’s off on some new assignment.

annie: If this isn’t a huge red flag, I don’t know what is.

kasa: Honestly, girl, I’d be careful. This man doesn’t sound like he knows how to handle boundaries. 😬

I lean back in my chair, their messages washing over me, making my skin prickle. I keep telling myself that maybe I’m imagining things, that he’s just an intense boss, but each detail lines up too neatly. Jean was always the one person I could talk to freely, the only guy in the office who made me feel safe—and now he’s gone.

My stomach twists as I hear Eren’s voice, sharp and commanding, slicing through the quiet of the office.

“[Your Name]!” His voice has an edge to it, and I jump, startled. When I glance over my shoulder, he’s standing right behind me, eyes dark and fixed on my phone screen. I can feel the tension radiating off him, and the realization slams into me—he saw everything.

“...My office. Now,” he says, each word clipped, his tone leaving no room for argument. My heart pounds as I quickly turn off my phone, shooting one last frantic message to the group.

yn: I think he saw everything. He just caught me on my phone—

I barely finish the sentence before shoving the phone back onto my desk. The vibration of new messages is already buzzing like crazy as I walk toward his office, each step slower than the last.

The entire office feels like it’s holding its breath, and I can sense my coworkers glancing my way, probably just as curious about what I did to earn Eren’s wrath. I swallow hard, focusing on keeping my expression neutral as I make my way to his office, heart pounding louder with every step.

As soon as I step through the door, Eren closes it firmly behind me, and the air in the room feels heavier. The calm facade he usually wears is gone, replaced by something sharper, something that borders on fury.

"Care to explain what’s so important on your phone, [Your Name]?”

“Mr. Yeager, with all due respect,” I say, forcing my voice to stay steady, “my phone is my personal business.”

His expression hardens, his jaw clenching as he takes a step closer. “So discussing me is your personal business then?” he bites back, his voice low and challenging.

Without thinking, I snap back. “If you’re all up in it, then yes.”

The words are out before I can stop myself, and I’m immediately shocked that I actually said it. My heart slams against my ribs, and the tension between us is thick enough to cut with a knife. I should apologize, I know it, but something about the way he’s staring at me—like he’s both furious and intrigued—has me rooted to the spot.

He lets out a short, humorless laugh, his eyes narrowing. “Funny. Because I don’t recall giving you permission to turn me into office gossip.”

I grit my teeth, forcing myself to hold his gaze. “Well, maybe if you didn’t act like everyone here’s a pawn in some twisted game, we wouldn’t have anything to talk about.”

His lips curve into a cold smile. “Oh, so you think this is a game, huh?” His voice is dangerously low, and he’s close enough now that I can feel his presence looming over me, his eyes piercing into mine. “Trust me, [Your Name], I don’t play games.”

My pulse quickens as he steps closer still, so close I can feel the warmth radiating from him. My instincts scream at me to back down, to apologize, but something inside me flares up instead, matching his intensity. I meet his gaze head-on, refusing to be the first to look away.

“If you’re so sure of that,” I say, my voice just as quiet, “then why are you so interested in what I’m doing on my phone? Seems pretty ‘game-like’ to me.”

For a moment, his face shifts, and I catch a flicker of something almost raw in his eyes—something possessive, unsettlingly intense. But then it’s gone, replaced by that cold, unreadable mask he always wears.

“Careful,” he says, his voice smooth as silk, though there’s a warning underneath it. “You don’t want to push me, [Your Name].”

“Or what?” I challenge, my heart racing, the words slipping out before I can stop myself.

Before I can process what’s happening, I feel his lips on mine, fierce and unyielding. The kiss is forceful, intense, sending a shock through my system. It’s soft, yet possessive, hot and somehow tender all at once—a confusing mix that leaves me breathless. I barely have time to react, my hands frozen at my sides, as if caught in a whirlwind of everything I should and shouldn’t feel.

Then, just as abruptly, he pulls back, his face hovering inches from mine, his gaze steady and dark as he studies me. He doesn’t look smug, nor does he look regretful. There’s something raw in his expression, something he’s barely containing.

“I love your eyes,” he murmurs, his voice rough but oddly soft. “They’re so brown and beautiful… just like I thought they’d be up close.”

I blink, still reeling, the intensity of his words sinking into my skin like embers, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. I open my mouth to respond, to say something that might make sense of the mess of feelings swirling inside me, but nothing comes out. All I can do is stare up at him, my mind racing with confusion, with anger, with something I can’t even name.

His hand lingers on my arm, and the weight of his touch is both grounding and electrifying. He’s close enough that I can see every shade of green in his eyes, every fleck of something darker that burns there, a kind of need that’s both alarming and magnetic.

“[Your Name]…” he says, voice barely above a whisper, as though my name is a secret he’s been keeping.

Eren’s voice is a low murmur, almost daring me as he leans in just a fraction closer.

“Ask me what you really want to ask me.”

His gaze holds mine, and the challenge in his eyes makes my breath hitch. He’s waiting, watching for some sign that I’ll back down—but instead, my pulse races with a new determination, my words tumbling out before I can second-guess them.

“Why did you really move Jean?” I ask, my voice steadier than I feel. “Was it because of… me?”

A flicker of satisfaction crosses his face, like he’s pleased I finally asked the question that’s been burning inside me. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t even blink as he responds.

“Jean was… a distraction,” he says, his voice low, each word deliberate. “You don’t need him taking up your time.”

My stomach flips, caught between disbelief and a strange, unnerving thrill at his bluntness. “So you’re saying you—moved him just to have me all to yourself?”

Eren’s mouth twitches in the faintest of smirks. “I don’t like sharing what’s mine,” he says, the possessiveness in his tone unmistakable. He brushes his thumb over the back of my hand, a gesture that’s both tender and unsettling. “And whether you know it or not, you’re mine, [Your Name].”

The air thickens between us, charged with tension and something darker that I don’t dare name.

“Yours?” I say, my voice wavering between disbelief and defiance. “You don’t even know me, Eren.”

A glint of amusement flashes in his eyes, but there’s something else there, something darker and more intense as he steps even closer. His gaze traces my face, studying me like he’s memorizing every detail.

“Don’t know you?” he murmurs, a faint smirk curving his lips. “I know you better than you think, [Your Name].”

My heart skips a beat as he begins listing things—little details I hadn’t even realized he’d noticed.

“You prefer coffee black on Mondays but switch to a caramel macchiato on Fridays. Your favorite color is emerald green. You call out sick on the third Thursday of every month to go to your hairdresser and then your lash girl.” His smirk deepens, his voice softening, almost proud. “Which is why I always approve your requests for those particular days off and pay you for the extra time. I figured I’d make it easier for you, since I know you’d never ask.”

I stare at him, speechless. It’s unsettling—no, terrifying—how much he knows. I’d thought it was a coincidence, a stroke of luck, that my days off lined up perfectly with my appointments. Now I’m realizing it was anything but. He orchestrated all of it. Eren didn’t just notice these things—he’s been planning around them, bending my schedule to fit into the life he believes he controls.

“You… you really did all that?” I whisper, unable to hide the shock in my voice.

“Of course I did,” he replies, his tone calm, as if this all makes perfect sense. “I told you, [Your Name]. I don’t like sharing. And I don’t like the idea of you needing anyone else but me.”

The possessive gleam in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine.

Eren’s gaze never leaves mine as he continues, his tone low and smooth, yet laced with a quiet intensity that unsettles me.

“You think I don’t notice the way you bite your lip when you’re nervous? Or how you twist your pen when you’re lost in thought?” His eyes roam over my face, lingering on my lips before meeting my gaze again. “I notice everything, [Your Name]. Every single thing about you. It’s only fair, given how much of my time you take up.”

I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. Eren’s gaze is so intense, it’s as if he can see right through me, through every facade I’ve ever put up. He steps forward, closing the last of the distance between us until he’s just inches away, and I can feel the warmth of him, the weight of his attention, like gravity pulling me in.

“You can deny it all you want,” he murmurs, his voice almost a whisper, “but deep down, you’ve always known. You felt it, too. This connection.”

My heart races as his words sink in, leaving me both shocked and disarmed. Part of me wants to deny it, to push him away, but another part, the part that feels his touch lingering long after he’s gone, knows there’s some twisted truth in his words. Eren’s confidence, his calculated planning, his unwavering focus—it’s both overwhelming and alluring, a dangerous thrill I can’t seem to shake.

He tilts his head, his voice dropping even lower. “You keep looking at me like I’m the one crossing the line, but maybe you should ask yourself why you keep letting me.”

Eren’s eyes narrow, his voice a quiet, unyielding demand. “Now, ask me what you really want to ask me.”

His words send a shiver down my spine. There’s an invitation in his tone, a challenge in his stare that dares me to voice the questions that have haunted me since he first stepped into my life. My heart pounds, and I feel my pulse throb as I stare up at him, trying to decide if I should say the words out loud.

I swallow hard, my voice barely above a whisper as I finally ask, “Why… why me, Eren? Why do you go out of your way to control every part of my life?”

A slow smile spreads across his face, but there’s no warmth in it. Just a chilling certainty, as if he’s been waiting for me to ask this all along.

“Because, [Your Name],” he says, his voice dripping with that familiar possessiveness, “the second I saw you, I knew I’d never want anyone else.” He pauses, letting the weight of his words sink in. “And I don’t like the idea of anything or anyone else having you, even in the smallest way. Every detail of your life is mine to know, mine to control. Because whether you realize it or not, you’re already mine.”

The intensity in his eyes is overwhelming, and I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, a part of me terrified of him, yet drawn to the way he looks at me with that all-consuming need.

“So don’t fight it,” he murmurs, his fingers grazing my cheek, lingering for a moment. “Just accept it.”

“This is too much,” I say, my voice shaking as I try to pull away, desperate to put space between us. My hands move instinctively to push against his chest, but before I can make any real distance, Eren’s grip tightens around my wrist, pulling me back toward him with surprising force.

I stumble, barely catching myself as I’m drawn back into his presence, and before I can even react, his hand grazes the side of my jaw, his fingers cool against the heated skin of my cheek. The sensation is dizzying, my body reacting before my mind can catch up. He holds me there for a moment, just enough for his thumb to trace the curve of my jawline, sending a chill down my spine.

Then, without a word, he grips the back of my neck, his touch possessive and commanding as he yanks me closer to him. My breath catches in my throat, and I find myself trapped between the heat of his body and the pressure of his touch, unable to escape even if I wanted to.

“I’m going to kiss you again,” he murmurs, his voice low, controlled, but with an undercurrent of something darker. “You can tell me no now, or you can let it happen.”

My heart slams in my chest as I feel the heat of his breath on my lips, the tension so thick that it almost feels suffocating. A part of me wants to pull away, to run from the intensity of this moment, but another part—one that scares me—wants to stay, to see where this overwhelming pull will lead.

Eren’s eyes lock onto mine, dark and unwavering, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. His grip on my neck tightens just enough to remind me that I’m in his control, that I have no escape if he doesn’t want me to have one.

“What’s it going to be, [Your Name]?” he whispers, the question more of a command than an invitation.

"Eren… I—" I start, but before I can even finish the sentence, he cuts me off, his words sharp and commanding.

"Wrong answer."

His lips crash onto mine, and the force of it takes my breath away. His kiss is demanding, fierce, as if he’s claiming me in a way I can’t escape. It’s overwhelming, and my body betrays me, sinking into the kiss, my hands finding their way to his shoulders, grasping at him for balance. I can feel the heat rising between us, every inch of him pressing against me in a way that makes my heart race and my mind spin.

I can’t think, can’t form coherent thoughts, because all I can feel is the overwhelming pressure of him, his touch, the way his mouth moves against mine like he’s determined to break through every wall I’ve ever built.

And then, without warning, I feel him bite down on my bottom lip, pulling it gently with a smirk that tells me he’s enjoying this—enjoying the control, the way I’m losing myself to him.

The sensation stings, and I gasp, but he doesn’t give me a chance to react. His lips return to mine, more insistent, deeper, as if he’s trying to mark me, to claim me, until I’m not sure where I begin and where he ends. His hands slide to my waist, gripping me tightly as if he’s worried I might slip away, as if he’s afraid that one kiss won’t be enough.

It isn’t enough. It never will be. I feel myself craving more, my body pulling him closer, as if I’ve been waiting for this, for him, all along.

The realization hits me like a wave, and I almost want to pull back, to snap myself out of the haze he’s wrapped me in. But instead, I stay, letting myself sink further into the kiss, into him.

Eren pulls back slightly, his breath heavy against my lips. His eyes search mine, dark and intense, filled with something I can’t quite place.

“I told you, [Your Name],” he whispers, his voice low and almost satisfied, “you’re mine.”

As I make my way back to my desk, my mind is still spinning, heart racing with the lingering heat of Eren’s kiss. My body feels like it’s moving on autopilot as I sit down, glancing at my phone. I open the group chat with Mikasa, Annie, and Kaylah, my thumb hovering over the screen as I prepare to update them. The last message I sent was, I think he saw everything. He just caught me on my phone.

The messages from my friends are already waiting for me:

Kaylah: Girl, what the hell? He saw EVERYTHING?

Mikasa: Oh no, not this again. What’s going on?

Annie: No way. You need to be careful, Y/N. I’m not liking this.

I quickly type out my reply, still feeling the weight of Eren’s presence hanging over me, almost like he’s watching me through the screen.

Y/N: He pulled me into his office. I… I didn’t expect it, but he kissed me. Forcefully. He told me I’m "his" and that I should stop pretending I don’t know it. Then he made me come back to my desk to tell you all this.

I feel a rush of emotions as I hit send. Part of me wants to keep this to myself, to pretend it didn’t happen, but I know they deserve to know what’s going on, especially since it’s clear Eren’s intentions go far beyond just the office.

The chat explodes almost immediately:

Kaylah: Bitch, WHAT?! You just got kissed by your boss?? Omg, no, this is insane.

Mikasa: He pulled you into his office? Girl, this is so messy. You gotta be careful. This feels like a power move.

Annie: He’s crossing boundaries. I don’t care how much "power" he has—this isn’t okay. You need to set some limits, Y/N.

I feel a mix of emotions—fear, confusion, and something else I don’t want to acknowledge. I glance at the time, realizing I’ve been gone for longer than expected. Eren’s words echo in my mind, “You’re dismissed now.” The finality in his voice leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

Y/N: I don’t even know how to handle this. I just feel… stuck.

Before I can read the responses, I hear Eren’s voice in the distance, calling out to someone else in the office. The sound of his voice makes my pulse spike again. His control over everything is suffocating, and I don’t know what to do next.

The messages from my friends continue, but my mind is already elsewhere, replaying every moment in his office, trying to make sense of everything he said and did.

Kaylah: Babe, you need to lay down some ground rules.

Mikasa: He’s not going to stop unless you make him.

Annie: You’ve got this. You’re stronger than you think. Don’t let him manipulate you.

I stare at my phone, still in a daze from the events of the day. My fingers hover over the screen as I type my response, unsure of what I’m feeling.

Y/N: What if… what if I liked it? Well… shit. I don’t even know anymore. Maybe I should just move departments.

Before I can think it through any further, my phone buzzes again. I see a new notification from the group chat—Mikasa’s added two new members. I blink at the names: Onyankopon and Armin.

Onyankopon: Kasa, you add me to the wrong group or sum?

Armin: Why we in your girl group?

Mikasa: Y’all now know Eren. He’s acting crazy.

I let out a frustrated sigh, rolling my eyes as I quickly type the rundown of what happened in the office. It feels so surreal, like I’m recounting someone else’s life. But it’s mine, and it’s hard to ignore how Eren’s presence looms over me, even through the screen.

Y/N: Okay, here it is. Eren pulled me into his office, kissed me, told me I was “his,” and that I should stop pretending like I don’t know it. He’s acting all possessive and… weird. I don’t know what to do about it. Maybe I should just switch departments or something.

I hit send and brace myself for whatever they’ll say. It doesn’t take long for the messages to flood in.

Armin: eye roll emoji* Is this Y/N LN, or am I missing something?*

I read the message twice before I realize he’s talking about me. It’s not a surprise, but it hits a little differently now, seeing it written out like that.

Then, Armin sends a series of screenshots. I glance over them, and my stomach drops.

Armin’s screenshot: Eren: "Bro, I kissed her. I swear, I went too far. I’ve been watching her since she started working here. I think I’m losing it."

I stare at the words for a long moment, my breath catching in my throat. I’d been so caught up in my own confusion that I hadn’t even realized how much Eren had been planning, how deep his obsession with me went. And the fact that Armin had these messages, these private thoughts of Eren’s, just adds another layer of unease.

Onyankopon: LMAO, Mikasa. So this is Y/N LN? Oh shit, this is funny as fuck.

I feel a sinking feeling in my chest as I read his message. It’s like everyone can see it, but me—how out of control Eren is. I can’t stop myself from feeling… exposed.

Onyankopon: Armin, we gotta tell Connie about this. This is crazy.

I feel my stomach twist at their reactions, the way they laugh it off as if it’s some kind of joke. But it isn’t a joke. It’s my life, and I’m caught in the middle of this twisted game Eren’s playing.

Y/N: This isn’t funny, guys. Eren’s fucking with my head. He’s crossing lines I never thought he would.

But even as I send the message, a small part of me wonders if I’m being too dramatic. If maybe I do like the attention. It’s hard to tell, especially with all the confusion in my head. Maybe I’m overthinking it.

Mikasa: You’re not overreacting. This isn’t normal. But I don’t think moving departments is the answer. Eren’s not just going to let you go that easily.

I stare at Mikasa’s response, my thumb hovering over the screen. What the hell am I supposed to do now?

Armin: I’ll talk to him. Eren isn’t... okay, let me not lie... anyway, Ony, if you’re free, we gonna have to go pay Eren a visit at work.

As I read Armin’s message, a strange feeling begins to twist inside me. The fact that he’s offering to talk to Eren is both comforting and terrifying. I can’t deny that I feel a little bit of relief knowing that someone might stand up for me, but it also doesn’t sit right with me that Eren needs a “talking to” in the first place.

 can’t help but shake my head, a nervous laugh slipping past my lips. I’m not sure what’s scarier—the fact that Armin’s taking it so lightly or that I feel like I’m somehow becoming the center of their attention. It’s one thing for Eren to be possessive, but now it seems like everyone is getting involved.

Onyankopon: IDK, y’all want me in white folk business?

My eyes widen as I read Ony’s message, unsure if I should laugh or be annoyed. He’s right, though—it’s pretty ridiculous. But before I can say anything, Kaylah’s message pops up in the chat, and it’s clear she’s already found the humor in the situation.

Kaylah: LMAO! Y/N ain’t white, bro.

Ony’s response comes so quickly, I can almost hear the sarcasm in his voice. I laugh a little despite myself, because it’s true—Eren’s behavior does feel a little… out of place. Like he doesn’t know how to handle someone like me.

Onyankopon: I know, that’s why Eren tweaking. He ain’t ever locked a baddie before. Lame-ass white boy.

The chat explodes with laughter, and I can’t help but chuckle as well, even though I’m still dealing with the weight of everything that just happened. Ony’s comment, as ridiculous as it is, actually makes me feel a little better. The absurdity of the whole situation is almost laughable.

Mikasa: Y’all wild, but for real, Y/N, you need to stay strong. Don’t let this get to you.

Kaylah: For real, don’t let his crazy ass try to claim you. That’s your work life, and you need to protect that shit.

I read their messages, my mind swirling. Their support means everything, but I still don’t know what to do. The fact that Armin’s going to “talk to” Eren doesn’t feel like enough. I can’t just sit around and wait for him to fix things. Eren’s power is too much, too overwhelming.

Y/N: I don’t even know how to fix this. I feel trapped, like he’s watching me all the time now. Everything’s so messed up.

I leave the message on read for a while, my thoughts drifting back to Eren. To his kiss. To the way he said I was “his.” It’s a bitter reminder that maybe things have gone too far already.

at the same time  

Eren’s hands are shaking as he types into his own group chat, his mind racing from everything that happened earlier. He can’t get her out of his head—Y/N, with her eyes so full of confusion, and the way she didn’t pull away from him when he kissed her, even though she probably should’ve.

Eren: Guys, I fucked up.

He watches the messages pop up one by one, his anxiety bubbling with every new response.

Armin: Jail time or a murder case?

Connie: Please tell me this ain’t about who I think it is.

Ony: Sure this is about Y/N again, bro? She ain’t want your white ass.

Reiner: Eren, what did you do... this time?

He slams his fist against the table, frustrated. He doesn’t have the words to explain it, but his thoughts keep racing back to her—her soft lips, the way she melted into him for just a moment before reality hit. He didn’t want to go that far, but when he kissed her, everything felt... right. It felt like it had to happen, like he needed her.

Eren: It’s Y/N. I kissed her. And I know, I know I fucked up, but it was just... it was too much. She doesn’t get it, man. She doesn’t see me the way I see her.

Armin: Oh boy, here we go. What exactly do you mean by ‘too much’?

Connie: Bro, what the hell are you doing? Did you force her?

Ony: I told you, man. She’s not your typical type. You can’t just make her fall in line like you want. She don’t need your controlling ass. You’re out here acting like you own her.

Eren clenches his jaw, his fingers gripping the edge of the table until it creaks.

Eren: I didn’t force her. But damn it, I don’t know... it’s like she’s got something in her that draws me in. She’s the only one who makes me feel like I’m more than this job, this life. She makes me want things I’ve never wanted before. And now she’s got me thinking, shit, I don’t know if I can stop. I’m not letting anyone else get close to her.

Reiner: That’s some dangerous shit, Eren. You’re letting your emotions run wild, and you’re gonna fuck up your entire career over her.

Armin: Man, you already fucked up. But at least you’re being honest about it now. You know you can’t keep this up. You need to step back before you lose it all.

Connie: I swear to God, Eren, if you don’t pull yourself together, you’re gonna make it worse. You need to stop acting like she’s yours. She doesn’t owe you anything.

Eren feels the weight of their words, but they don’t hit him the way they should. He knows what he’s doing is dangerous, but he can’t help the way he feels. Y/N’s on his mind every second of the day, and he’s not ready to just walk away.

Eren: I can’t stop. I won’t. She doesn’t get it yet, but she will. She’s mine, and I’m not letting anyone else near her.

Ony: Bro, you’re wilding. She’s not some fucking trophy to claim. If you keep this up, she’ll be gone faster than you can blink.

Reiner: Eren... you gotta rethink this. You’re walking a thin line.

Eren sits back in his chair, his chest tight as the words sink in. But even with everything they say, there’s only one thing on his mind—Y/N. No one else. And no matter how messed up it is, he’s not ready to let go.

Eren: I’m not letting her go. Not now. Not ever.

Ony: Well, Armin, good thing you're a lawyer. You gonna have to plead his case when Y/N drops charges on him.

Eren’s eyes widen at the thought, panic creeping up his spine. His fingers hover over his phone, unable to stop the flood of thoughts racing through his mind.

Eren: Fuck! Will she do something like that?

Ony: LMAO, bro, look at yourself. One whiff of cocoa butter and you're acting mad.

Reiner: Bro, you really out here trippin' over some lotion?

Eren's face flushes with frustration. He’s not even thinking about the damn lotion. It’s about her. He can’t stop thinking about how soft she felt against him, how her skin smelled, how her lips tasted.

Eren: It's actually shea butter and lavender, not cocoa butter.

The group goes silent for a moment, and then the floodgates open.

Ony: Bro, WTF?

Armin: Wait, what? You’re obsessed with her scent now?

Reiner: Eren, you out here getting fetishy with lotions?

Eren growls under his breath, running a hand through his hair, trying to stay composed. But every word they type is making the pit in his stomach grow deeper. He wanted this—her—so badly, but now he’s in too deep, and they’re all calling him out for it.

Eren: I smelled it when I kissed her. Man, da fuck?

The silence in the chat is almost unbearable before it’s broken by a series of laughing emojis.

Ony: Bro, you a different type of crazy. I can’t even deal with this. You out here stalking this girl’s scent like you’re some kind of detective.

Armin: Yo, you need a therapist. This is borderline obsession.

Reiner: Damn, man. You really need to chill. She ain’t even looking at you like that.

Eren’s chest tightens at their words. He knows what they’re saying is true. He’s spiraling. He’s obsessed. But the way Y/N made him feel when she was close to him… that—he can’t shake that feeling. He wants her. Needs her. And he can’t let anyone take her from him.

Eren: She’s mine. I’m telling you, I won’t let anyone near her.

The group’s response is quick and harsh.

Ony: Bruh. You really need to stop.

Armin: If you don’t back off, you’re gonna ruin everything, Eren. You gotta calm down.

Reiner: You’re gonna scare her off if you keep acting like this. Just back off a little.

But Eren just stares at the screen, his finger hovering over the keyboard. He wants to prove them wrong, to show them that he can handle this. But deep down, he knows they’re right. His obsession with Y/N is unhealthy.

He types one last message.

Eren: I can’t stop. I won’t stop. She’s mine.

Armin: Bro, you're scaring her.

Eren’s chest tightens, the words hitting harder than he expected. He’s not sure how to react, his thoughts a mess of frustration and possessiveness.

Eren: How the fuck do you know?

Ony: Cause Mikasa added me and Armin to their group chat.

The weight of Ony’s words doesn’t quite hit him at first. The realization that Mikasa and the others are talking about him—about this—makes his stomach turn. His grip on his phone tightens, and he types with clenched fists.

Connie: Damn and I ain't get no invite lol.

Reiner: Connie, focus.

Eren doesn’t respond to Connie, but his mind races. If they’re talking about him in her group chat, if Mikasa and the others know what’s going on… that means Y/N knows too. And that thought alone sends a chill through him.

He wants to control everything, to make sure Y/N never slips out of his grasp, but the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes just how dangerous this is. His thoughts swirl between possessiveness, fear, and that nagging sense of guilt that won’t go away.

Eren: It’s not like that. I didn’t mean to scare her. I just… I just can’t stand the thought of anyone else having her.

Armin: Bro, you're not thinking straight. You need to give her space. You can’t keep acting like this.

Ony: If you really want her, you’re gonna have to play it cool. She’s not gonna stick around if you keep acting crazy.

Connie: Yeah, bro. I get it. She’s fine, she’s beautiful, but you gotta chill out before you push her away.

Eren stares at the screen, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He’s not used to this feeling, this vulnerability. He’s used to getting what he wants, but with Y/N… it’s different.

Eren: I can’t stop. I don’t want to lose her.

Armin: Then don’t fuck this up, man. You’re already on thin ice. If you push her too hard, she’ll leave. You gotta play it slow.

Reiner: Yeah, just relax. Don’t make it worse.

Eren leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. They’re right. He knows it. But it doesn’t make it any easier.

He types one last message, his mind clouded with frustration and desire.

Eren: I’ll figure it out. But she’s mine.

Eren sits at his desk, his fingers drumming the surface as his friends settle in around him. Ony leans back in the chair across from him, feet propped up on the desk like it’s his own office, while Armin and Reiner sit on the side, making themselves comfortable. The vibe is casual, but Eren can feel the pressure mounting as his thoughts keep returning to Y/N. He’s trying to relax, to not seem too “crazy” in front of his friends, but the tension is there, simmering under the surface.

The door opens, and in walks Y/N, papers in hand. She looks focused, her heels clicking against the floor as she approaches Eren’s desk. She doesn’t immediately acknowledge the guys, but her eyes briefly flicker to them as she places the papers in front of Eren.

Y/N: Here’s the paperwork you asked for.

Eren glances up at her, his heart pounding, his mind racing with the thoughts of what had transpired earlier. He’s trying to play it cool—trying to keep his composure with his friends here. But then, he notices the way Y/N’s presence seems to make the air in the room shift. It’s electric, and he knows it.

Eren: Thanks for this, Y/N. You’re a life-saver.

He’s quiet for a moment, but then he decides to make the introduction, all too aware of the tension in the room.

Eren: Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N, these are my friends—Ony, Armin, and Reiner.

Y/N offers a polite but brief smile, nodding toward them as she quickly scans the room. The last thing she expects is to find herself in Eren’s office with his friends lounging around.

Y/N: Nice to meet you all.

Eren, for the briefest moment, feels a flicker of unease—like a possessive fire just beneath the surface—but he shakes it off and turns his attention back to Y/N. That’s when she lets something slip that makes him freeze for a moment.

Y/N: By the way, I saw you moved Jean to a different department. Couldn’t help but notice.

Eren’s heart skips, but he stays composed, offering a faint smile as his friends glance at him. He doesn’t want to act like a jealous lunatic in front of them. He clears his throat, focusing back on Y/N.

Eren: I’m sorry about that. I thought it was necessary for the project’s success.

He gestures to the papers she handed him, trying to shift the focus away from his internal frustration.

Eren: Thanks for the paperwork, though. You’ve been doing great. Actually, take the rest of the day off. Consider it a reward.

Y/N raises an eyebrow, not fully buying into his offer. Her arms cross as she stands in front of his desk.

Y/N: I’m fine, Eren. I don’t need the time off. I can finish up the rest of the work.

Eren leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly, trying not to let the tension in his voice show. His tone becomes slightly sharper.

Eren: Y/N, you’re making a spectacle of yourself. You’ve been running around nonstop lately.

Y/N scoffs, clearly not taking too kindly to his suggestion. She looks at him with an unimpressed stare, her lips curling slightly in disdain.

Y/N: I’m fine. I’m not some fragile thing that needs coddling, Eren.

Eren smirks, an arrogant edge to his smile as he leans forward in his chair.

Eren: You’re not fragile? Maybe, but you're definitely testing my patience.

Y/N’s eyes flash with something fierce, her gaze narrowing. She leans in slightly, her fingers twitching as if she’s about to snap at him. Then, in one swift motion, she raises her hand, as though she’s going to slap him across the face.

The tension in the room thickens. Ony and the others watch, intrigued by the standoff. Eren doesn’t flinch, his smirk growing wider, his gaze locked on hers.

Eren: Be my guest, Y/N. Go ahead. Show me what you got.

For a split second, Y/N hesitates, her hand still hovering in the air, poised to strike. Her chest rises and falls with each breath as her eyes flicker between his confident expression and the space between them. The moment stretches on, heavy with anticipation.

But then, something shifts. The fire in her eyes dims, and she lowers her hand slowly, almost reluctantly. Eren watches her, his expression unreadable, but there’s a satisfaction in his eyes that only he understands.

Eren: You’re stronger than I thought, Y/N. I respect that.

Y/N scoffs again, turning on her heel to leave, but not before shooting one last look at him.

Y/N: You’re impossible, Eren.

As she walks out, her exit leaves the room strangely quiet. Ony, Armin, and Reiner exchange looks but don’t speak a word. The energy in the room has shifted once again—this time, it’s palpable. Eren can feel it, the shift between them, the growing tension, the silent understanding that this dynamic is far from over.

He leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly as he watches her go. His mind races. There’s something about her—something he can’t get out of his head.

And he knows, deep down, that he won’t stop until he gets what he wants.

Armin sighs dramatically, leaning back in his chair as he watches Y/N’s retreating figure through the office door. He shakes his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

Armin: I’m definitely gonna end up being your lawyer when she sues you, Eren.

Reiner laughs, shaking his head at the situation, the tension in the room still lingering from the encounter.

Reiner: Man, I’m not even gonna lie... you’re making this harder than it has to be. He pauses, glancing at Eren. Just ask her out for God’s sake. What are you waiting for?

Eren stays silent for a moment, letting their words settle. The thought of it is... strange. Sure, he’s had plenty of women—flings, casual affairs—but this? This was different. The intensity of it all, the pull he felt whenever she was near, it was something he couldn’t ignore.

But then, his mind drifts back to the kiss, the way she’d reacted. It was like she wanted to fight him, but also... something else. He couldn’t put his finger on it.

Eren: It’s not that simple.

Ony, who had been quiet until now, raises an eyebrow. He lounges back in his seat with a grin that suggests he’s been amused by the whole situation.

Ony: Bro, it’s never that simple with you, huh? Just admit you want her, stop overthinking it. I’ve been hearing you complain about this girl for weeks, and now you're playing dumb?

Eren clenches his jaw, not wanting to admit that Ony’s right.

Eren: It’s complicated. She doesn’t even... He trails off, the words coming out in frustration. She doesn’t know what she wants.

Armin and Reiner exchange knowing looks. They’d seen Eren go through this type of internal battle before. He could be aggressive, possessive—he was always the one to go after what he wanted, but when it came to Y/N... something about her made him second-guess himself.

Armin: Man, you think she doesn’t know what she wants? She knows. She just doesn’t want to be controlled by you. Maybe try showing her you’re not just some... I don’t know, crazy possessive boss for once.

Eren rubs the back of his neck, visibly frustrated.

Eren: I’m not crazy.

Reiner chuckles.

Reiner: Oh, you’re definitely crazy. But it’s not the crazy we’re worried about. It’s the possessive part. If you keep pushing her like this, she’s gonna run, Eren.

The words hit hard, but he knows they’re true. Every second he spent obsessing over her, every action he took to control her, was pushing her farther away.

Eren doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze now fixed on the papers Y/N had left on his desk. He still has her scent lingering in his memory—the sharpness of her perfume, the warmth of her skin from their brief touch.

Ony: Bro, we need to just go out for drinks tonight. You need to clear your head before you go off the rails with her.

Eren finally looks up, meeting Ony’s eyes, then Reiner’s, then Armin’s. His mind is still racing with thoughts of Y/N—her scent, her attitude, the challenge she presents. He could feel his patience fraying, but there was something else gnawing at him. Something deeper.

Eren: Fine. Drinks. But we’re not done with this.

His friends nod, understanding the weight of what he meant. As much as they tried to talk sense into him, they knew Eren would do what he always did. He’d chase after what he wanted, no matter how messy it got.

Eren leans back in his chair, still staring at the door Y/N had left through. He knew it wouldn’t be long before she was back in front of him. And when she did, he wouldn’t let her walk away so easily.

Later, the guys meet up for drinks, but Eren can’t shake the image of Y/N out of his head. The way she stood up to him, her confidence, her defiance—it was all too intoxicating. He couldn’t let it go.

Ony watches him, a smirk playing at his lips.

Ony: You know, man, I’m starting to think you’ve already decided what you’re gonna do next. Stop pretending like you don’t know what you want.

Eren just grins, taking another sip of his drink.

Eren: I’m not pretending. I’m just waiting for the right moment.

Ony turned to Connie, his eyes gleaming with mischief, his grin wide as he leaned in to make a bold wager.

Ony: I'll bet you 50K she sues him.

Connie raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he crossed his arms.

Connie: Nah, she’s gonna end up fucking him and leaving his ass.

Reiner, who had been quietly sipping his drink, couldn’t help but join in.

Reiner: Lol, facts. Eren can’t handle all that. He acts like he’s built bad, but we all know he’s a mess when it comes to her.

Ony burst out laughing, practically cackling with amusement.

Ony: Bro, no lies detected! I mean, just look at him! Can’t even control himself around her.

Eren remained silent through all of this, the teasing growing louder, but he didn’t flinch. His thoughts were miles away, still replaying the events from earlier in the day. The kiss. Her defiance. Her eyes staring back at him like she knew exactly what he was thinking, and it drove him crazy.

He finally broke his silence, his voice cutting through the laughter.

Eren: Are you guys done?

Ony grinned wider, clearly not done yet.

Ony: Nah, man, I’m serious. She’s definitely gonna sue you. At this rate, you’re gonna end up in court with a restraining order on your ass.

Eren scowled, his jaw tightening. He knew they were right, in a way. The way he’d pushed her, the way his obsession had been growing—it wasn’t normal. It wasn’t healthy. But that didn’t stop him from wanting more.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, interrupting the moment. It was a message from Y/N. His heart skipped a beat. He quickly pulled it out, unlocking it and reading her message.

Y/N: I’m still thinking about the kiss. I don’t know what the hell just happened, but I’m not the kind of girl who gets pushed around like that. You’ll hear from me soon.

Eren stared at the message, the words sinking in. A mix of guilt and desire swirled inside him, but his stomach tightened. He was used to getting what he wanted, but with her? He wasn’t so sure anymore.

Eren: Shit.

He tossed his phone onto the table, meeting his friends’ eyes. They were watching him, waiting for his next move.

Reiner: I’m telling you, man, you’re either gonna lose her or you’re gonna lose yourself trying to keep her. You can’t control everything.

Ony snorted.

Ony: He’s right, you know. You gotta chill out, bro.

Eren leaned back in his chair, a frown settling on his face. He didn’t like hearing the truth. Not from them. Not about this.

He glanced over at Connie, Reiner, and Ony.

Eren: I don’t know what to do.

There was a brief pause before Connie spoke up, his tone more serious than before.

Connie: Honestly, dude? You gotta stop playing games. Either you’re gonna let her go, or you’re gonna go after her. For real. No more back-and-forth.

Eren looked at his friends, his mind racing. Connie was right. He was at a crossroads, but the pull he felt toward Y/N was too strong. He wasn’t ready to let her go.

Eren took a deep breath, slamming his drink down on the table.

Eren: I’m going after her. I don’t care what happens. This time, I’m not backing down.

Reiner, Ony, and Connie exchanged looks, and then a silence fell over the table as they all realized the gravity of what Eren was saying.

Ony: Well... that’s the Eren I know. Just don’t get arrested, bro. We got enough problems without you bringing the cops into this.

Eren’s lips curled into a half-smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His mind was already on Y/N, already thinking of the next step. This time, he was going to get what he wanted, no matter what it took.

Eren: We’ll see about that.

Timeskip

Eren had been out of the office for the entire week. The sudden absence had given me the space I didn’t realize I needed. For the first time in what felt like forever, I could breathe. I wasn’t constantly on edge, waiting for his presence to fill the air, to make the ground beneath me feel shaky with every word he said or every look he gave. It was a weird feeling, almost like something had been missing, but in a good way.

I texted my friends to update them. I couldn’t keep this bottled up any longer.

Me: Mikasa, I met Ony and Armin, the guys you added to the chat.

Mikasa: They’re cool.

Kaylah: How she know’s Eren’s friends?

Mikasa: High school.

Annie: So you know Eren then?

Mikasa: Kinda, we weren't really that close. More of a friend of a friend thing.

Kaylah: Aye, Ony, Armin. I know you bitches still in here.

Ony: What you want, Kaylah?

Kaylah: Anyway, why Eren ain't in the office?

Armin: He not catching a case.

Ony: He’s well...

Armin: Bro, shut up.

Annie: Nah, nah, spill now.

Ony: Leaves group

Mikasa: Adds Ony back to group.

Mikasa: You were saying?

I laughed as the group chat erupted with back-and-forth messages. They were like a well-oiled machine when it came to digging for dirt, and I was more than ready to let them have it. I didn’t want to keep this to myself anymore.

Me: Alright, alright. Here’s the tea: Eren’s been out of the office this whole week. But, like, he’s been working from home, so I don’t know what’s going on with him.

Kaylah: Damn, that’s a whole vibe. So, what, he’s just... avoiding you?

Me: I don’t know, girl. Maybe. He just started acting strange last week, and then... he took the whole week off.

Annie: Did he say why?

Me: He didn’t. And I didn’t ask. But it’s like I get the space I need... but I also miss him? I don't even know what to think about it anymore.

Mikasa: You like him. Don’t front.

Me: Maybe. I don’t know, Mikasa.

Kaylah: Girl, come on. You definitely like him. You just don't want to admit it.

I paused, biting my lip as I read through their messages. I wasn’t ready to admit it to myself, let alone them, but the truth was undeniable. Every time Eren wasn’t around, I felt this hollow ache in my chest, like I was missing something vital. Maybe I was starting to get used to the tension, the way he made me feel when he was near. I didn’t want to, but it was there.

As if on cue, my phone buzzed again with a message. It was from Eren. My stomach flipped when I saw his name on the screen.

Eren: Can we talk?

My fingers hovered over the keyboard. I didn’t know what to do. I was still mad at him for the things he’d done. But I couldn’t help but wonder what he had to say now. Why had he texted me out of nowhere?

Me: Now?

Eren: Yes. It’s important.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the nerves that were quickly setting in. He had a way of making everything feel so intense, so out of my control. But I was done with running away from this. I’d face him.

Me: Fine. I’ll come by in 15 minutes.

I could practically hear the smirk in his reply.

Eren: Good. I’ll see you then.

My heart beat a little faster as I closed my phone. I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. There was something about him—about Eren—that I just couldn’t ignore.

When I arrived at the address Eren had texted me, I was standing in front of a sleek, modern apartment building. It looked too nice for someone like him. Maybe I was just underestimating him.

I made my way up to the penthouse and knocked on the door, trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach. As soon as the door opened, Eren stood there, looking like he belonged in a magazine. His usual intense gaze softened when he saw me, though, and I couldn’t help but notice the subtle change in his posture.

Eren: You came.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

Me: You wanted to talk?

Eren stepped aside, motioning for me to come in.

Eren: Yeah. I’ve been thinking a lot this week. About everything.

I stepped into the apartment, my eyes scanning the room. It was tastefully decorated, minimalist, and oddly calming. Eren closed the door behind me, his gaze lingering on me as I took in my surroundings.

Me: Well, let’s get this over with, then.

He chuckled softly.

Eren: I was an idiot last week.

Me: You think?

I crossed my arms, trying to hide how his admission affected me. He was right, I’d been suffocating under the weight of his attention, but now that he was pulling away, I couldn’t deny that something was missing.

Eren: I wanted to apologize. I was... overbearing.

Me: That’s one way to put it.

He took a step closer, closing the distance between us.

Eren: I had to take a step back. I didn’t know how to handle it. But I can’t deny what I feel for you, Y/N.

I froze. His voice had dropped an octave, and I could feel the weight of his words in the pit of my stomach.

Me: You can’t just say things like that.

Eren: Why not?

He was too close now. Too close for comfort. My breath hitched as he placed a hand gently on my arm, his thumb grazing my skin.

Eren: I’m not going to apologize for what happened between us. But I need you to know that I can’t let you go. Not like this. Not after what’s between us.

I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice.

Me: What if I don’t want this?

Eren leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered.

Eren: I don’t care if you don’t want it. I’m not going to stop.

My head spun. The mix of desire and frustration was overwhelming. But I couldn’t ignore how his presence seemed to fill every corner of the room, making it feel smaller, tighter.

Me: You’re crazy.

Eren: Maybe. But I’m not backing down.

He leaned even closer, his lips just a breath away from mine.

Eren: I’m not letting you go, Y/N. Not now, not ever.

His words hung in the air as he slowly tilted his head, his lips brushing against mine. The kiss was gentle at first, as if he was testing the waters. But I melted into it, my hands moving to his chest as I pulled him closer.

When he pulled away, his face was inches from mine, and I could see the struggle behind his eyes. He wanted me, but there was something more there. Something deeper.

Eren: And neither are you.

I felt my knees weaken, the tension between us unbearable as I tried to resist, tried to push him away. But the pull... it was too strong.

Eren smiled softly, his gaze never leaving mine as he stepped even closer, his breath mingling with mine. The heat between us was undeniable, and his presence seemed to consume the space around us.

Eren: Stop me, Y/N. If you really don’t want me, tell me to back off, and I’ll stop. I’ll drop this whole thing right now.

I swallowed hard, my thoughts racing. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. He was my boss, my manager. I was supposed to stay professional, keep my distance. But the way he looked at me, the way his voice dropped lower with every word, it was like I couldn’t think straight.

Me: Eren... you’re my boss, you’re my manager.

Eren chuckled, shaking his head.

Eren: Technically, I’m the owner and CEO, but I like this position more at times.

My eyes widened in shock.

Me: What on earth? I thought the founder was Zeke Yeager.

Eren laughed, a rich, confident sound that sent shivers down my spine.

Eren: Zeke is my older half-brother. He’s a co-founder. I just didn’t want my name plastered all over it. But... back to the topic.

I stared at him, completely caught off guard by the revelation. My mind was spinning, trying to wrap around the fact that he owned the company. He was the one who called the shots. The one who controlled everything. And here he was, standing right in front of me, making everything feel like it was about to fall apart at the seams.

Me: You’re... crazy.

Eren’s smile deepened, his eyes dark with something I couldn’t quite place.

Eren: Maybe. But right now, you’re the one who’s making me lose control.

I took a step back, shaking my head, but he didn’t back off. His presence was overpowering. Every step he took toward me made me feel smaller, more vulnerable.

Me: We shouldn’t do this.

Eren paused, his expression unreadable, before he took another slow step closer, closing the gap between us. I could feel the tension building, thick and almost unbearable.

Eren: Say the word, Y/N, and I’ll stop. Just say it.

I looked up at him, my chest tight with conflicting emotions. He was so close now, I could feel his warmth, hear the steady rhythm of his breathing. His eyes were locked on mine, waiting for me to make a choice, to decide where this was going to go.

But what was I supposed to say? Could I even say it? Could I walk away from this... from him?

Me: I... I can’t.

Eren’s gaze flickered with something darker, something more intense, and before I could even process it, his lips were on mine again. This time, there was no hesitation. His kiss was hungry, demanding, and it ignited a fire within me that I didn’t know I could still have.

I was drowning in it, in him, in the weight of everything unsaid, all the questions and fears I had about us. I couldn’t stop it. And maybe, just maybe, I didn’t want to.

Eren: I told you, Y/N. I’m not going to stop. Not now. Not ever.

I didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know how to stop what was happening between us. The lines between work and whatever this was had already blurred beyond recognition, and I had no idea how to find my way out.

Eren’s voice was rough, laced with hunger, as he groaned my name, the sound vibrating through me. His hands gripped my wrists, pinning them above my head as he leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear. Every movement was calculated, controlled, making it clear just how much power he had over me in this moment.

Eren: Y/N... you don’t have any idea what you do to me.

I couldn’t speak. The words caught in my throat, my body frozen beneath him. His weight, his closeness, it felt suffocating in the most overwhelming way. But I couldn't deny that a part of me wanted this, wanted him, wanted the heat that radiated off him, the way he made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered.

He lowered his lips to my neck, trailing soft kisses along the sensitive skin, the feeling sending a jolt through me. My breath hitched as his hands moved down, gripping my waist tightly as he slowly, carefully, slid me further back on the couch. The movement was deliberate, almost possessive, like he was marking me, staking his claim.

Eren: You’ve been driving me crazy, Y/N. I can’t get you out of my head. And now... now you’re mine.

I gasped as he spoke, the words stirring something inside of me. I felt exposed, vulnerable, and yet... there was something thrilling about it. The way he controlled the situation, the way he held me down, making it clear that he wasn't going to let go—he wasn’t going to let me go.

I swallowed hard, trying to fight the conflicting emotions that were starting to bubble up. I wanted to push him away. I wanted to tell him to stop, that this was wrong. But the words never came. Instead, I found myself sinking deeper into the feeling, the heat, the intensity of the moment.

His lips hovered above mine, his breath mingling with mine as he whispered, his voice low, almost a command.

Eren: Tell me you don’t want this, Y/N. Tell me you don’t want me to take control.

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. My mind was a blur, the only thing I could focus on was him, his body against mine, the way he was making me feel like I was completely at his mercy.

I couldn’t deny it anymore. I couldn’t ignore the pull between us. The fire in my veins.

But even as I gave into the moment, a part of me knew it wasn’t going to be as simple as this.Eren’s words were soft, almost a whisper, as he pulled back, releasing my wrists. His hands fell to his sides, and he exhaled heavily, like a man who had just been holding his breath for far too long.

Eren: I’ll stop... I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.

The sudden distance between us was almost more overwhelming than the intensity of his earlier actions. My chest rose and fell rapidly, my heart pounding, unsure of what I should feel. His voice had been filled with something I couldn’t place—guilt? Regret? Or was it just his way of keeping control?

I tried to sit up, my body trembling slightly as I took in what had just happened. My hands moved to my throat, as if trying to steady the rapid breaths, but I could still feel the heat of his presence surrounding me, making me feel trapped in the tension that hung between us.

Y/N: Eren...

I couldn’t even get the words out, unsure if I wanted to argue, to push him away, or to confess that a part of me didn’t want him to stop. It confused me—this mix of anger, desire, and confusion all swirling inside me like a storm.

Y/N: You... you can't just... do that.

I stumbled over my words, my voice shaky as I tried to make sense of what had just happened. He had pushed me, tested my limits, but I wasn’t sure if he even realized the depth of what he’d done. The emotional weight of it was suffocating.

Eren stood there for a moment, his back slightly turned, but he wasn’t walking away. He was waiting for me, waiting for something. I didn’t know what exactly, but I could feel his eyes on me, the tension in the air like a fragile thread.

Eren: I know... I know. I crossed a line. I just... I can’t be near you and not want more. But I should’ve never made you feel like you had no choice.

He turned back to face me, his eyes softer now, but there was still that edge, the intensity that never seemed to leave him.

Eren: I can’t promise that I won’t want you. But I can promise I’ll respect you, Y/N. If you tell me to stop, I will. If you don’t want this... I’ll walk away. But I need you to tell me.

The silence hung between us, thick and heavy. The words I wanted to say were stuck in my throat—what did I really want? Could I really trust him not to cross that line again? Could I trust myself not to fall deeper into this twisted game we were playing?

I looked up at him, his face a mask of regret and something darker, something deeper, and in that moment, I realized that Eren Yeager was a man of contradictions. But more than that, he was a man who knew what he wanted. And that was dangerous, because right now, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stop him.

As soon as I left Eren’s apartment, my heart was still racing, my mind swirling with the confusion of everything that had just happened. The quiet hum of the city around me barely registered as I quickly typed a message to my group chat, hoping my friends could offer some clarity—or at least some comfort—after the whirlwind I’d just been through.

Group Chat:

Y/N: SOS, my place. Now.

It didn’t take long for the messages to flood in.

Kaylah: Girl, what happened??

Mikasa: Are you okay?

Annie: You good, Y/N?

I didn’t know how to answer them. How could I explain the suffocating mix of emotions I was feeling? The tension, the heat, the confusion, the need... I was a mess.

I responded quickly, trying to catch my breath as I walked faster toward my apartment.

Y/N: It’s... it’s bad, guys. I don’t even know what happened. I don’t even know what to think right now.

The three of them went quiet for a moment, and just as I was about to send another message, my phone started buzzing again.

Mikasa: Do you want us to come over?

Kaylah: Don’t go back to him, girl. You deserve better.

Annie: He did what??

The words hit me harder than I expected, the reality of it all crashing down. I still couldn’t wrap my head around the way Eren had acted—how he pushed and pulled me, how everything had escalated so quickly. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his lips felt against mine, the way his body had pinned me, the desire, the intensity...

But the other side of it—the control, the way he’d dismissed me as soon as I started to speak—left me feeling small, insignificant. It made me question everything, even my own feelings.

I paused at a crosswalk, staring at the phone screen, trying to figure out how to respond.

Y/N: He told me to leave. Like it was nothing.

I hit send, my fingers trembling slightly.

Kaylah: What do you mean?

Mikasa: He told you to leave?? After everything that happened??

Annie: What a piece of shit.

I almost laughed bitterly at Annie’s words. She wasn’t wrong. But something inside me twisted, because I didn’t want to think of him as that. Not after everything. Not after the way he made me feel, both good and bad.

I didn’t want to feel conflicted anymore. I didn’t want to feel trapped in my own thoughts. But the reality was, I was. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized I didn’t know if I was ready to walk away for good.

I finally made it to my apartment, but my mind was still spinning, the nagging thoughts swirling around Eren. I needed to talk to my friends. I needed them to pull me out of this spiral.

I quickly unlocked the door and flopped down onto the couch, letting my phone rest on my chest.

Y/N: I don’t even know what to do anymore...

Kaylah: Get some sleep. We’re coming over in a bit. Don’t go back to him, though. Not like this.

Annie: Yeah. You need to clear your head, girl.

I closed my eyes for a moment, the weight of their words settling in. Maybe they were right. Maybe I needed to pull back, take a step back from everything, from Eren, from the intensity he had brought into my life.

But part of me knew that wasn’t as easy as it sounded.

I set my phone down, staring at the ceiling as my mind replayed every moment from the apartment, every word, every touch.

I wasn’t sure what would happen next. But I knew one thing for sure: this wasn’t over. Not ye

I sat down on the couch, my hands trembling as I told them everything. The kiss, the tension, the way Eren pushed and pulled, the way he’d given me an out and I still hadn’t stopped him. I hadn’t even tried. I couldn’t bring myself to, and that realization hit me harder than I expected.

Kaylah was the first to speak up, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

Kaylah: Why didn't you stop him, Y/N?

I froze, the question hanging in the air like a weight. The answer was simple yet complicated. I hadn’t wanted to stop him. The truth was, a part of me had wanted it. I couldn't lie to myself about that. I was drawn to him in a way that made no sense, especially after everything that happened earlier today.

But I didn’t know how to say that. I didn’t know how to admit that I’d wanted him, maybe even needed him, in that moment.

I stayed silent, my gaze fixed on the floor as I tried to gather my thoughts.

Annie: Omg, you wanted him to, didn’t you... holy fucking shit, Y/N.

Her voice held that amused, mocking tone, but underneath, there was something softer. Something more... concerned. Mikasa, on the other hand, was less playful and more serious as she looked at me, processing everything I’d just spilled.

Mikasa: Let's backtrack for a second. So, Eren is the co-founder, CEO, and whatever else of Paradis Inc. Not Zeke.

I nodded, still caught in the whirlwind of everything, but I couldn’t help but feel a little rattled by her words. It was hard to process everything. I had thought Zeke was the one pulling the strings, but now Eren had just flipped my entire perception upside down.

I had only known him as my boss, but now? The owner, the CEO, the guy who owned everything around me? It changed things in a way I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

I still couldn’t get over how he’d been watching me. The way he knew so much about me, the little details I hadn’t shared with anyone. It was like he had studied me, prepared for this moment—this power dynamic, where he held all the cards.

I was the one with no control, and I couldn’t decide if I hated it or craved it more.

Kaylah: Wait, you didn’t know all of that?

I shook my head, the weight of the secret crashing down on me. Y/N: No. I thought Zeke was the one who owned the company. I had no idea Eren was...

I trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence. How was I supposed to process the fact that this man, who had kissed me like I was his, was also the one with all the power? The one who controlled everything.

Annie: So Eren’s basically been running this shit behind the scenes?

Mikasa: And you didn’t even know. I can’t believe he didn’t tell you sooner.

I shook my head again, trying to wrap my mind around it.

Y/N: No, he didn’t tell me. But it’s more than that. The way he... controlled everything between us... made it feel like I didn’t have a choice. I don’t know how to explain it, but when he kissed me, I... I didn’t want him to stop.

The words spilled out before I could stop them, and the room fell silent as my friends processed what I had just admitted.

Kaylah: Damn, Y/N. You want him. You’re hooked on him.

I didn’t have an answer. I didn’t know if I could even deny it anymore. But that didn’t mean I was okay with everything that had happened. It didn’t mean I could just ignore the fact that I had let him get so close. That I had let him in when I knew, deep down, something wasn’t right.

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that maybe, just maybe, I liked the way it felt. The intensity, the pressure, the way Eren had made me feel like I was the only one in the world for him. Like he was in control, but in a way that had made me feel wanted.

Annie: Y/N, I don’t know what kind of mind games Eren’s playing, but you need to think long and hard about what you’re doing. This could go left real quick.

Her words hit me like a cold shower. I didn’t want to admit it, but I knew she was right. There was something dangerous about how easily I had let myself slip into his control. Something that scared me.

I rubbed my forehead, trying to gather my thoughts.

Y/N: I’m not sure what to do. He’s... he’s confusing. I don’t know if I should stay away from him or... or go back to him.

Kaylah: Girl, you’re playing with fire. He’s your boss, for one thing. You can’t just let him run shit like that. You deserve better.

Mikasa: Yeah, Y/N, if you’re not careful, this could get real toxic, real fast.

I sighed, feeling the weight of their words pressing down on me.

Y/N: I know. I know it’s not healthy, but there’s something about him I can’t shake off. Something that makes me want to stay close to him... even when I know I shouldn’t.

My phone buzzed suddenly, cutting off the conversation, and I quickly glanced down. The message was from Eren.

Eren: You know I’m serious, right? We need to talk.

My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t know if I was ready to talk to him again—didn’t know if I was ready to face what had just happened. But a part of me couldn’t resist.

I locked my phone and put it face down on the coffee table.

Y/N: I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, but I’ll figure it out.

The room was quiet again, my friends’ concerned gazes on me as I tried to make sense of everything.

The tension in the air thickened as Mikasa held my phone, her fingers pressing against the screen, and she put it on speaker without a second thought. The moment Eren’s voice crackled through the speakers, my heart skipped in my chest.

Eren: Who are you?

Mikasa: Mikasa, why you calling her phone

Eren: what the fuck? Where’s Y/N?

Mikasa: What the fuck are you on?

I could hear Eren sigh on the other end, clearly frustrated, but Mikasa wasn’t about to let him off the hook. She leaned back into the couch, arms crossed, her eyes narrowed as if she could hear him through the phone.

Eren: Where’s Y/N?

Mikasa: Answer the question, Eren.

I could feel the weight of his silence pressing through the room, but Mikasa wasn’t backing down either.

Eren: Where’s Y/N?

Mikasa clicked her tongue in annoyance.

Mikasa: Is your record broken in that throat of yours?

I could hear Eren’s breath hitch, probably trying to keep his cool, but the frustration was palpable.

Eren: Take me off speaker, Mikasa. I’m not stupid.

Mikasa didn’t hesitate. She let out a little chuckle, her fingers tapping the edge of the phone like she was playing a game.

Mikasa: Nope.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at how this was escalating. It was almost like they were enjoying this back-and-forth too much.

Eren: You wouldn’t get it.

Mikasa: Get what, Yeager?

Her voice was sharp, and there was a dangerous edge to it now. Eren didn’t respond immediately, and I could tell he was trying to figure out what to say. I could imagine him standing there, running his hand through his hair, annoyed at being backed into a corner by Mikasa of all people.

I leaned back against the couch, my heart still racing from the conversation, unsure of what was going to happen next. I hadn’t expected Mikasa to put him on speaker, but now that she had, there was no turning back. This was going to get messy.

Mikasa: Well?

There was another long pause, and when Eren finally spoke, his tone was more resigned than before.

Eren: I don’t need your fucking permission, Mikasa. I’m trying to talk to Y/N.

I could hear Mikasa’s sharp intake of breath.

Mikasa: And you think she wants to talk to you after what happened?

The words hung in the air like a threat, and I had to force myself to focus on the situation.

Eren: Look, just... just put her on the phone. I need to talk to her.

Mikasa: That’s up to her, not you.

There was a finality to her voice, and I could feel the tension mounting. But deep down, I knew Mikasa was just looking out for me, protecting me from whatever game Eren was trying to play.

I grabbed the phone from Mikasa’s hand, finally deciding to take control of the situation.

Y/N: It’s me. I’m listening.

There was a moment of silence before Eren’s voice, softer than I’d ever heard it, finally came through the line.

Eren: Y/N...

His voice trailed off, and I could hear the mix of frustration and something else—something deeper, maybe regret or concern? I couldn’t tell.

But I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear him out, not yet.

Y/N: What do you want, Eren?

Eren: I... I need to explain. Please, just let me explain.

Mikasa: Y/N, don’t do it. He’s just going to confuse you more.

I glanced over at Mikasa and the others. They were all watching me, their eyes full of concern. I knew they didn’t want me to fall back into this mess with Eren. But part of me... part of me wanted to hear him out.

Y/N: I’m listening, but this better be good, Eren.

Eren sighed, and I could almost picture him pacing.

Eren: I didn’t mean to push you. I got carried away, but I need you to understand. I want you, Y/N. Not just as my employee or some... business thing. I want you. But I don’t know how to fix this. I’m sorry if I fucked things up with you.

I felt my heart hammering in my chest as I listened. His words were raw, but I wasn’t sure if I could trust them. After everything that had happened, I wasn’t sure what was real anymore. Was it just guilt talking, or was there something more to it?

Y/N: I don’t know if I can trust you right now, Eren. You’ve crossed too many lines, and I... I don’t know if I can just forget about that.

There was another long pause on the other end, and when he spoke again, it was almost a whisper.

Eren: I know. I get it. I just... I don’t want to lose you, Y/N.

I closed my eyes, biting my lip. This was getting way too complicated. I wanted to hear him out, but I couldn’t ignore how badly he had hurt me. The push and pull of it all was driving me insane.

.

Y/N: I told you, Eren, but I was never yours.

Eren’s sigh echoed through the phone, and I could feel the weight of it pressing down on me. It wasn’t just frustration; it was something deeper, like he had finally realized the truth.

Eren: You’re right, but I want you to be...

His words hung in the air, and I could hear the vulnerability in his voice, something I hadn’t expected from him. It was almost like he was pleading, but there was still that cocky edge lurking beneath.

Y/N: But if I don’t want that?

Eren’s response came quickly, with a sharp edge.

Eren: Then stop telling me what-ifs and tell me straight up you don’t want me. Then I’ll back off, Y/N. I won’t push you anymore, but I need to hear it from you.

The finality in his tone hit me hard. He was right. All this time, I had danced around the truth, letting the situation unfold without really confronting what I wanted. He wanted honesty, and in that moment, I realized I had to give it to him, no matter how much it stung.

I stood there, phone in hand, my heart pounding in my chest. It wasn’t just about him anymore—it was about me too. What did I want? What did I really want?

I took a deep breath, steadying myself.

Y/N: I don’t want you, Eren. Not like that.

The silence on the other end was deafening. For a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to respond, and I almost regretted saying the words. But I knew I couldn’t take them back.

Eren: Alright... I’ll respect that. But don’t think this is the end of it, Y/N. I’m not giving up so easily.

I could almost hear the smirk in his voice, but this time, it didn’t feel as teasing. It felt like a challenge. Like he was daring me to stand by my decision.

Y/N: Maybe it should be the end of it, Eren.

There was a long pause. I could hear his breathing on the other end of the line, and for a moment, everything felt still.

Eren: You’re making it harder than it needs to be, Y/N. But if that’s how it has to be... fine. You don’t want me. But you’ll regret it.

With that, he ended the call. The finality of it hit me all at once, and I stood there, staring at my phone, trying to shake off the mix of emotions swirling inside me.

Part of me felt relief, like I had finally put an end to all the confusion. But another part of me... part of me wasn’t so sure.

Was I making a mistake?

The next couple of months blurred into a strange, quiet routine. Eren had placed Zeke as my new manager, which, in hindsight, seemed like a relief at first. Zeke was easy to work with—no pressure, no tension. It was smooth sailing, and I almost forgot what it felt like to have that weight hanging over me. But there was always a nagging feeling, an emptiness that I couldn’t quite shake.

Eren... had become more of a distant figure now. He had fully taken over Zeke’s role as CEO, and with that, the office dynamic shifted. The gossip spread like wildfire, and it wasn’t the kind of talk that made him sound like the ambitious businessman people had once admired. No, the rumors about Eren now painted him as a monster—cold, detached, and impossible to work with. People said he was ruthless in meetings, demanding more from the staff, never satisfied, never giving anyone a break. He was the opposite of the manager Eren had been.

I rarely saw him anymore. When I did, it was brief—a passing glance, a fleeting moment where our eyes locked for an instant. It was like he saw right through me, as if I didn’t even exist. His gaze would always shift away before I could even register it. It was almost like I was nothing to him, like he had erased me from his world completely.

The changes were undeniable. Eren’s appearance had shifted drastically. His hair had grown longer, messier, giving him a rougher edge. He had been working out, his frame more defined, his muscles more prominent under his usual attire. But it wasn’t just his physical appearance that had changed. It was the energy he carried now—hardened, cold, and entirely unapproachable. He had tattoos now, ones that were visible under his sleeves when he’d roll them up, and they only seemed to add to the mystery surrounding him.

It felt like I was looking at a stranger.

Sometimes, I caught myself watching him from across the room, like I was some outsider trying to understand who he had become. And whenever I thought I had caught him looking back at me, there was no recognition in his eyes. It was as if I had become just another face in the crowd, an unimportant memory from his past.

I wanted to reach out. I wanted to ask him what had happened, what had changed. But I didn’t. The space between us had grown too wide, too complicated. And I didn’t know how to bridge it anymore.

For the first time in months, I couldn’t help but wonder... Did I really make the right choice? Was I wrong to push him away when everything had seemed to be going in the opposite direction?

The silence between us was loud, deafening. And I couldn’t escape the feeling that I was the one who had caused it all.

Zeke gave me some paper work to drop for Eren. It was the first time I was gonna have direct contact with him in wht 6 months. I headed up to his office floor.

Eren was pacing his office on a call raising his voice at someone on the call. He locked eyes with me and eyed the paper work in my hand.

I stood frozen just inside the doorframe, the papers in my hand suddenly feeling heavier than they should. Eren’s presence seemed to fill the room, his energy, tense and coiled, pulsing through the space like an electric current. His gaze met mine—sharp, cold—and for a brief moment, it felt like everything was suspended.

He didn’t acknowledge me verbally, just motioned toward the desk where he clearly wanted the paperwork dropped. His eyes, dark and intense, briefly flicked over the papers in my hand, as if evaluating my every move. The call on the other end seemed to escalate, but his attention never wavered from me.

“I need this deal settled as of yesterday. Don’t make me fly out there,” he snapped into the phone. His voice was lower now, even more commanding, his frustration evident as he cut the call short with a curt “I’ll handle it myself,” before slamming the phone down.

The office went silent, save for the hum of the air conditioner and the heavy weight of his stare. I stood there, unsure of what to do next.

He didn’t speak right away, just looked at me with a distant, unreadable expression. His posture was stiff, his jaw clenched, the usual air of authority that had once been reassuring now felt like an impenetrable wall. I could feel my heart beating loudly in my chest, a stark contrast to the stillness in the room.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he broke the silence. “You still working with Zeke?” His voice was flat, almost too casual, but I could sense the underlying tension.

I nodded, trying to keep my voice steady. “Yeah, Zeke gave me this to drop off for you.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his eyes scanning over the paperwork in my hands again before he let out a small sigh and stepped toward the desk. “Put it on the table.”

I placed the papers down carefully, then turned to leave, but before I could even make it halfway to the door, I heard him speak again.

“You know, you could’ve dropped these off any time in the past six months.” His words hung in the air, heavy with implication. He wasn’t asking a question. It was a statement—a reminder of the space that had grown between us.

I paused, caught in the moment, and turned slowly to face him. “I didn’t think you wanted to see me.”

He didn’t reply right away, his gaze lingering on me for a long moment before he spoke again, this time softer, almost like he was speaking to himself. “I didn’t want to see you like that.”

I didn’t understand what he meant at first. But the tone, the way his voice cracked slightly at the end, it was enough to make me pause, to make me reconsider everything I thought I knew.

I swallowed, taking a step closer again. “Eren... what happened?”

For a second, his eyes flickered with something—anger? Regret? But whatever it was, it was gone just as quickly as it appeared. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. “Nothing happened. Everything happened. But that’s not the point.”

The tension in the air thickened, and the silence stretched between us. I could feel the familiar ache in my chest, the one I had been trying to ignore for months. The same ache that told me things weren’t as simple as they seemed. That maybe, just maybe, we weren’t as done as we had both convinced ourselves we were.

I stepped closer again, this time determined. “Then what is the point, Eren?”

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, I thought he might say something—anything that would make sense of this mess we were both tangled in. But instead, he took a step back, his expression shutting down again.

“I don’t have time for this,” he muttered, his voice hardening once more. “You’ve done your job. You can go now.”

I stood there for a long second, my heart pounding. Everything about this felt wrong—his coldness, the distance, the way he was shutting me out like he had done months ago. But I didn’t have the words to bridge that gap, not anymore. So, I nodded quietly, turning to leave without another word.

I did something out of character and stepped closer and he stepped back.

I stepped closer, feeling the space between us grow heavier with every breath. Eren, for the first time, took a step back, and I could see it—he was afraid. Afraid of what would happen if I kept closing the distance. His eyes flickered toward the door like he was looking for a way out.

“Y/N,” his voice was strained, as though he was trying to push me away without actually wanting to.

I didn’t stop. I needed to understand what had changed, why everything felt so off. "What’s with the cold shoulder?" I asked, my voice quieter now, laced with confusion and hurt. I wasn’t going to back down. Not now.

Eren didn’t look at me, his eyes glancing toward the door again. I took another step, moving closer, but every time I did, he pulled back, like I was something to avoid. It was so unlike him, and it confused me even more.

“Y/N, please leave,” he said, the words harsh but with an undercurrent of something I couldn’t name. Maybe it was a plea.

“And if I don’t?” I challenged, my heart hammering in my chest. I wasn’t going to let him push me away without understanding why.

“I’m not doing this, Y/N,” he said, his voice cracking. “You told me you didn’t want me. I backed off. That’s what you wanted, right? I’m out your hair, out your way.”

I stood there, feeling the tension in the room tighten, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. Eren was backing away, his walls back up, that familiar coldness in his eyes. But it wasn’t the same as before. There was something raw in his expression, something deeper. I could feel it, like an undercurrent I couldn’t quite grasp.

“Eren…” I started, my voice faltering. “What happened to you? You look… different. You've changed.”

He glanced at me briefly, his gaze flicking to the door again, but he didn’t respond. It was like he was shutting me out completely, unwilling to even acknowledge what I had said.

I took a step closer, ignoring the instinct to back off. He took a step back too, but I wasn’t going to let him distance himself like this. Not again.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, my voice more desperate than I meant it to be. “Why the distance? Why pull away now?”

“Yn,” he said, his tone tight, almost pained. “Please, just leave. I’m not doing this with you anymore.”

I couldn’t accept that. I couldn’t just walk away when there was so much left unsaid between us. I stared at him, taking another step forward. He didn’t move this time, but his jaw tightened, like he was fighting with himself.

“And if I don’t?” I asked, a challenge in my voice.

Eren’s eyes flashed with something I couldn’t place, and for a second, I thought he might snap. But instead, he stood his ground, shaking his head slightly. “Then you’re just making it harder for both of us.”

I couldn’t understand him anymore. The distance he put between us—physical and emotional—was suffocating, and it was tearing me apart. I had told him I didn’t want him, yes. But that wasn’t all of it. That wasn’t everything.

“I never said I didn’t want you,” I whispered, stepping even closer now, my heart pounding in my chest. “I just didn’t know how to deal with everything... with you, with me. But this... this doesn’t make sense, Eren. What is this really about?”

His eyes softened for a fraction of a second, but then his expression hardened again. He took another step back, his body language tense, like he was holding back something—something that was just about to break free.

“You told me you didn’t want this,” he said, his voice quieter now but still carrying that weight of finality. “You told me you wanted me to back off. And I did. You’ve made it clear. I’m not going to keep pushing when you don’t want me around.”

I opened my mouth to respond, to say something that would change his mind, but nothing came out. The truth was, I didn’t know what I wanted anymore. I didn’t know how to fix this mess. He was right—he had backed off, he had given me the space I said I needed. But now, it felt like I had been left with nothing. I wasn’t sure if I could walk away from him again.

I stood there, frozen, the words I needed to say stuck in my throat. Eren just stood there too, his eyes still avoiding mine, his body turned slightly away as if trying to create a barrier between us.

Finally, I took a deep breath, my voice steady despite the ache in my chest. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to you, Eren. I never wanted you to just… disappear. But you’re right. I didn’t know what I wanted either. But I do now.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, clearly not expecting me to say something like that. “What do you mean?”

I swallowed, stepping closer once again, this time with purpose. “I mean… I’m not ready to walk away from you, Eren. But I need you to stop running from me. Stop running from whatever this is.”

He didn’t say anything, his eyes still guarded, but his shoulders visibly relaxed. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give me hope. Maybe we hadn’t completely destroyed what we had. Maybe it was still there, buried underneath all the walls we had both built.

“Just… talk to me, okay?” I whispered, feeling the weight of the moment crash down on me. “Let me in, Eren.”

He hesitated for a long while, and then, just when I thought he might shut me out completely, he finally nodded, though his gaze was still distant.

“I’m sorry, yn. I really am.” His voice was barely a whisper, but it carried so much weight. “I just… I don’t know how to do this anymore.”

I reached out, a small gesture, but enough to bridge the gap. I didn’t want to give up on him. On us. Not when it felt like there was still something worth fighting for.

“I’ll help you figure it out,” I said softly. “But I need you to be honest with me. About everything.”

Eren looked at me for a long time, his expression unreadable. But eventually, he sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little.

“I’ll try,” he finally said, his voice a little stronger. “But I can’t promise it’ll be easy.”

I nodded, offering him a small, hopeful smile. “I know. But we don’t have to do this alone.”

If you guys want a part two with just smut imma write it and drop it. this was already 21.3k words

[moonstruckme]

soft sirius x reader pleasee 🙏🙏 either established relationship or fwb/friends to lovers vibes you decide

Thanks for requesting!

modern au

fwb!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

“You ought to start locking the door,” Sirius calls out as he enters your flat. You tug out one earbud to hear him better. “I could be a serial killer.” 

“Right, sure,” you snark lightly, washing dishes double-time. “And you ought to start calling before you come by, but we both have our bad habits.” 

“Like you’d pick up if I did.” He saunters into the kitchen, taking in the mess and then pretending not to notice. He leans against the counter beside where you’re working. “I just thought I’d drop in and see if you have a bit of free time.”

“A bit?” you laugh. “Looking for a quickie, Black?” You stack more dishes on the drying rack, jolting forward to steady them when a bowl on the top threatens to tumble. “Sorry, no time. The kitchen’s been a mess for days, I have to clean up before my flatmate gets home from class and murders me.” 

“But she seems like such a nice girl,” Sirius muses, taking the precarious bowl and drying it with a towel. “Anyway, doesn’t your flatmate’s last class end at, like, six? It’s hardly three.” 

“It’s weird that you know that.” It’s not, really. You know a freakish amount of details about his life, too, but it’s easier to keep up the casualness of this arrangement if you pretend you’re not quite as close as you are. You go into the living room, collecting dirty dishes and talking whilst you walk. “She does, but I have to revise my essay, and if I don’t get this done before I start on that, it won’t be finished before she gets home. I’ll forget, I know it.” 

“Hm.” Sirius takes the kettle down from its cabinet, nudging you aside to fill it from the tap. “Why do you have to revise your essay tonight?”

“Because it’s due in three days,” you explain, taking his place at the sink as soon as he’s out of the way to dunk more dishes in the soapy water. “And I have another essay due in four days, so if I don’t work on this one now, I won’t have enough time to finish that one. And besides those, I’ve got my regular work to keep up with.” 

Sirius is quiet for half a second, which is unusual enough that you look over to check that he’s still here. He’s giving you a look you know too well, one dark brow and one corner of his mouth quirked up suggestively. “Sounds like you need to blow off some steam,” he says. 

You try to scoff, but it comes out a snort. “Oh, fuck off. And quit looking at me.” 

You don’t look up from your task this time, a particularly stubborn piece of food requiring your attention, but you can tell Sirius is pouting at you from just his voice. “A cruel demand, and one I can’t abide by. Sorry, gorgeous.”

“Freak.” You continue scrubbing at the dish. Finally, you give in, using your fingernail to attack the crusted-on piece of mystery food and doing your best to ignore the grossness of it. It comes off, but your nail breaks. “Damn it!”

“Hey.” The teasing tone drops from Sirius’ voice. “Take it easy, dollface. You’ve got time.”

It doesn’t feel like you have time. There’s been alarm bells going off in your head since you’d woken up on Monday morning and realized all you had to do this week, and there’s no time for any of it. There’s a dangerous pressure building behind your eyes, but if there’s one thing you definitely don’t have time for, it’s a breakdown. You force a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. 

“I know,” you tell Sirius. “Thanks.”

“Maybe you should take a break,” he suggests lightly. 

You cut a knowing look his way. “I do not have time for a shag right now, Sirius.”

He grins, showing his teeth. “Not what I was thinking of, but as always, let me know if you change your mind.” You roll your eyes, and his smile drops. “Just, like, an actual break. You seem kind of stressed.” 

“I am,” you say, like duh, “but I don’t have time for a break either. I’ll be less stressed when everything is done.” You just have to make it until then. 

Sirius goes quiet again, but you don’t bother wondering about it this time. It’s fine if he’s worried about you. You want him to be, a little bit. You want someone to see how hard you’re trying, even if it doesn’t look like your efforts are producing much. You’ll wash the dishes, and your flatmate will still be annoyed you’d let them pile up in the first place. You’ll turn in your essays, and they’ll be just okay enough to pass. You can work all day, from the second you wake up until you fall dead asleep, and sometimes it feels like it’s for nothing. But what’s the alternative? Stop, and watch your barely-together life fall apart completely? No, you just have to get through this week. Just this week, and then you can rest until the next hard week. 

You stack the last of the dishes on the drying rack, and your hand has barely left before the three on top slip off. You lunge forward on instinct, like you think you can catch them. You can’t. The crash is loud, but you barely hear it. You bring your hands to your face, cupping your mouth between your palms. Your horrified exhale blows hot air back onto your chin. 

“Okay, it’s okay.” Sirius’ voice is soft, as is his touch on your shoulder, encouraging you back from the glass shards. “You’re alright, just be careful, yeah?”

“Fuck,” you say, and you try to laugh, but what comes out is a dry sob. “Oh my god, fuck me.”

“I think we’ve agreed now’s not a good time,” Sirius jokes, taking a dish towel and using it to scrape together the bigger pieces. “Do you have a broom, love?” 

You shake yourself out of your stupor. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll grab it.” 

You step over Sirius, and he makes a half-suppressed sound of alarm when you come too close to the glass but takes the dustpan when you hand it to him. You sweep up the glass, going farther than necessary from the site of the damage to ensure no one ends up with an impaled foot later on. Sirius dumps it in the trash. 

“Thanks,” you tell him, trying to reorient. “Okay, I need to—”

“Oh, would you look at that,” Sirius cuts you off, going to the stove. “It appears I’ve put the kettle on. Must be habit. Sit and have a cup with me, doll?” You give him a look that says you know what he’s doing, and he shrugs like he doesn’t care. “Just for a few minutes. Please.” 

You relent perhaps too easily, picking out mugs for the both of you and accompanying him to the living room. You curl up against the armrest of the couch, and Sirius settles in next to you, his thigh touching your hip. They’re your usual spots, but what’s not as routine is the arm he wraps around your shoulders, drawing you into his side. You sip at your tea as if you don’t notice. The warmth is soothing as it goes down your throat and seeps into your insides. Sirius turns on the TV, and it’s obvious by now that you’ve been lied to, he doesn’t intend to let you go after a few minutes, but you’re losing the will to hold him to it anyway. You let your head lie on his arm as he begins to trace slow, smooth shapes into your shoulder. 

And though it feels nice, you say, “I don’t need you to coddle me.” 

You feel Sirius shift to look down at you, and you tilt your head to meet his eyes. “But you’ll let me,” he says, “won’t you?” 

You don’t know how to answer that. Sirius doesn’t seem to be waiting for one, pressing a casual kiss to your head and then focussing back on the screen, his doodles on your shoulder never faltering. You rest your head on him again, and you suppose that’s answer enough. 

[koophoriakiss]

evenings with him

↬ jungkook x fem!reader

↬ established relationship, fluff / wc: 1151

↬ warnings: none

—

“koo?” she called softly, walking into her shared bedroom with her boyfriend, where he was lying on the bed, scrolling through his phone.

“mm, what is it, baby?” he asked, turning off his phone, placing it on their nightstand, and looking up at her.

“can you paint my nails for me? pretty please? my hands are sore from signing all those posters for the fan meeting.” she mumbled, giving him a sweet smile as she walked towards him, taking a seat beside him on the bed and brushing his hair back.

“of course i can, but don’t you usually get them done at the salon?”

“i do, but my nail tech went on vacation and it’s been hard to find any nail techs taking new clients, so i figured i would just do them on my own.”

he nodded, leaning into her touch. “alright, i’ll do them in a bit. lay down for now though, hm? you look tired.”

she was about to protest and deny his observation, but she held her tongue. she was tired, and even though she wanted to paint her nails as soon as she could, a small part of her was glad he was so attentive and noticed her exhaustion.

“okay,” she relented. “just a few minutes, though.”

“just a few minutes,” he repeated with a grin, knowing damn well it wouldn’t be just a few minutes.

he gently grabbed her waist, positioning her so she was lying on top of his chest. he placed one hand on the back of her head, pulling her closer to him, then began to slowly rub her back, occasionally applying pressure to loosen her muscles.

“koo, don’t do that, i’ll fall asleep,” she murmured sleepily into the soft skin of his neck.

“it’s just a few minutes, love. we’re free today, so don’t worry about anything.”

she pouted, but didn’t protest, allowing him to lull her to sleep.

she woke up around two hours later, finding herself wrapped in her boyfriend’s arms. he had his eyes closed, but she could tell he was awake, just deep in thought. “baby?” she called quietly, gently shaking his shoulder.

at her light shaking, he opened his eyes, greeting her with a smile. “good evening, love. did you have a nice nap?”

she nodded, giving him a smile. “thank you.”

“for what?”

she paused, then murmured, “for noticing i was tired and helping me fall asleep. and also… for agreeing to paint my nails. for making me breakfast in bed this morning. for driving me to work after i lost my keys last week. i… i have a lot of things to thank you for.”

he stared at her for a moment, surprised, then smiled, pressing his forehead to hers. “all those things you just said… you don’t need to thank me for any of them, baby.” he paused for a moment before continuing. “all those things are things i wanted to do. i know you can thank someone for those things, but i don’t want you to thank me for those things. it doesn’t make much sense, thanking someone for doing what they want, hm?”

“i know, but… its different coming from you. you’re the person i value the most. i just want you to be happy. i want to thank you for anything and everything, whether it’s as easy as breathing or as hard as boxing,” she admitted.

his smile grew wider at his words, and he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “i love you so much, you know that?”

“i know. i love you too. more than anything,” she promised.

together, they climbed out of bed and headed to the living room, where he spotted multiple bottles of nail polish on their coffee table. “which colour are you doing this time?”

“mm, i can’t decide between baby pink or baby blue.”

“you’re not doing baby yellow?” he teased, knowing she had a tendency to paint her nails baby yellow because she liked the shade.

“hey, it compliments my skin tone!”

he snickered, taking a seat on the ground beside the table. “anything and everything compliments your skin tone, baby. you’re beautiful.”

“don’t inflate my ego,” she huffed, but she was smiling as she pressed a kiss to his lips. she sat down beside him, but he pulled her into his lap, so her back was against his chest. “hey, how are you going to paint my nails if you’re being like this? you’ll get distracted.”

“have some more trust in me, baby,” he chuckled, holding her tightly against him.

she couldn’t be annoyed with him when he held her like that. instead, she sighed, looking up at him with a grin. “i love you, stupid.”

he looked back down at her and kissed the top of her head, gently moving her hands to the table. “i love you too, idiot.”

he rested his chin on top of her head as he began to work. he had the steady hands of an artist, which was good for her because his painting skills were impeccable. he painted her nails perfectly with minimal help from her, only needing to know when to do the next coat.

when they were done, she groaned. “ugh, my hands are so stiff.”

“want me to kiss them better?” he offered cheekily.

she glared up at him, not wanting to ruin her freshly done nails, but it seemed he’d already thought about that, carefully intertwining his fingers with hers as he brought her hands up to his mouth, kissing them.

her eyes widened at the sight, her heart filled with love for the man before her. “you’re so annoying. why’d you ask me if you were going to do it anyways?”

“cause i wanted your permission, obviously.”

“well, did i give it to you?”

“you did, actually, when you told me you liked it when i kissed your hands yesterday.”

she rolled her eyes, smiling as she leaned back against his defined chest. “i hate you.”

“mm, i hate you too. you’re my least favourite person.”

she was about to retort, but was interrupted by the sound of their doberman, bam, barking for attention. “look at bam. he’s whiny, just like his daddy.”

“i thought his mommy was the whiny one.”

“what? how dare you,” she gasped, pretending to be offended as bam jumped into her arms.

“i’m just speaking facts, babe,” he laughed, ruffling the dog’s fur.

“bam, your daddy is the worst,” she complained to the dog. bam barked in response.

“i think he disagrees,” jungkook snickered.

“what do you mean? he’s clearly agreeing.”

the doberman continued to bark, then licked his dad’s face, looking at him expectantly.

“aish, bam,” jungkook scolded gently, wiping his face.

she burst out laughing, grabbing some tissues and helping her boyfriend wipe his face.

“come on, let’s take him for a walk before we eat dinner.”

“after you, princess.”

—