#part 5 was about how apparently i go missing and they figure out i was kidnapped by some guys the 141 helped arrest/kill or whatever | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nsfwruru · 2 months ago

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pussydrunk manon from katseye x reader??

idol!manon x surfer!reader

oh my days brother, just think about how much of a fiend she is when it comes to surfer!reader she met while filming the music video for “debut” in Columbia. like she leaves abruptly during her part of the MV, just so she can be between your legs. just absolutely devoting her time to you— oh and don’t you worry that won’t be the last time!

cw: obvious smut (r!receiving, cunnilingus, semi!public sex, foul mouth reader, fingering), porn with some plot, fem!reader, reader is somewhat a tan queen, reader is a Spanish speaker, not proofread

There was just something about you to Manon, it wasn’t anything extraordinary, you just happen to catch her eyes constantly, maybe it was the Columbia air, or something about you just looked so good. Even when her other members tried to snap her attention off of the beach where you stood, zipping up your wetsuit ready for another casual surf on the beach, Manon was unable to pull her gaze away.

It had been about maybe, 6 even 7 reshoots of one specific part, give or take, where she constantly messed up her part of the choreography, because she was still hung up on you. At every moment she got, she trailed your body as you came out of the sea soaking wet, your hair damp, and your skin glistening, it made her miss every single beat. Truly, it wasn’t until her leader, Sophia, had quite literally knocked her to her senses, for her to actually get her part right. It was so bad to the point Sophia had to pry Manon away from the camera’s to scold her, telling her that if she didn’t get her act up, that someone would have to eventually cut her out of the MV.

“Come on’ Manon. We are all trying here, so whatever is going on with you and the beach you keep looking at— just get it together alright? You know what, just take 5’ alright, get your thoughts together, and then we’ll call you over okay?” Sophia spoke sullenly, it was clear to Manon that her poor leader was exhausted, and it made her conclude that there was only one way to solve this issue! If she were to be able to talk to that person who’s been catching her attention for hours at this point, maybe she’ll forget about the whole ordeal and focus.

Biting the bullet, and reassuring herself that she would miss all the shots she doesn’t take, she scurried her way over towards the beach. Searching around to see your figure whom was walking out of the communal showers after getting out of your wetsuit, and your regular dry clothes, it was apparent you were about to leave. Manon, who had no intention of letting such a bronze beauty go, pounced over to you, her face lighting up when she inched ever so closely.

“Ah wait— you! You there!” She called out, pointing her hands over to you as she ran closer, of course, since you really just came here to surf, you where taken aback by such a beautiful woman strutting her way over to your vicinity. “Ay— I mean… Tú ahí! Ven aquí!” The woman spoke in her very clearly broken Spanish.

Pointing at yourself, you looked around the area to see if she was referring to anyone else, but it was mostly likely directed at you as it seemed like she was running towards you. “Ah, me? You…you’re talking to me?” Manon nodded at your inquiry when she finally caught up to you, with your surfboard still gripped in one hand, and your other equipment in one hand, you tried your best to wave back at her.

She was out of breath, like she ran a marathon, Manon let out a long winded sigh, before fixing herself up. “Oh you— you speak English!”

“Well yes, but may I ask why you’re calling for me? Did I forget something on the beach, mi meil?”

Manon, who was now dancing circles in her head, regrading her composure after being completely whipped for you, not wanting anything more, (not to be crude or anything) but to be between your legs right now. She doesn’t waste anytime, knowing that sooner or later she’d have to back on set filming the music video that quite frankly, she didn’t care about right now.

“No it’s uh, it’s not that. You’re just so stunning I couldn’t get my eyes off you for awhile now and…”

Abruptly cutting her off on that comment with a light chuckle, finding it quite humorous that’s all she had to say, but quite in awe at her lethal face card, you too, unknowingly didn’t want her to leave your sights so soon. “Well thank you so much pretty girl, I could say the some about you! So, you, your single?”

“Yea!— I mean, yes I am, why may you ask?”

“You look, interested in me? Ah I mean— sorry that may be wrong, but people here are very straightforward, so I assumed you may had intend the same.” You admitted, not wanting to come off as snarky or insensitive, but truly meaning no harm to your words. Luckily for you, Manon was an expert at picking up social cues, and somewhat understood what you were putting down.

“No your completely right, your gorgeous, I wanted to just get your number so like, I could have some way of contacting you. You catch my drift?”

See that’s how it started, it was innocent, and you hadn’t minded spending your time with a beautiful woman for a few days in a row because she could only stay in Columbia for so long. Everything was slow, until it wasn’t, from what began as a friendship turned out to be nothing but a way to relieve her stress after another day of shooting.

Manon was so sweet in the beginning, offering to bring you over to the set while she was filming, showing you the inside and outs of the music industry. Even letting you be a backgrounder for a main shot which included her and her other 5 members, always making it apparent that she wanted to be near you every waking moment. Which was both endearing and suspicious as you’ve only met her for maybe 5 days at maximum.

It was all friendly really until you offered to stay with her alone at the backstage during her one off break, where things truly took a turn. She had finished a shoot and wanted to have another lighthearted conversation with you, without all her nosy members butting in, which had lead you to be in the makeup room that was all the way in the back of the building the company she worked for rented.

Manon, who knew her time was limited with you, had grew tired of waiting for you to make the next move again, and wanted to hurry this up so she could regain into her focus once more. As you spoke about your tales at sea, and dangerous waves you conquered by sheer luck, you dismissed the way her hands slithered around your inner thigh.

You tried to wave it off like it was just your hormones talking, but sadly you were unable to deny the heaving in your chest as she brought her face closer towards yours. It wasn’t long until you were sitting on one of the vanity desk, pinning up against a mirror and Manon, kissing her lips hungrily like it was the first meal you’ve had in days. Both of your hungers consumed each other, as suddenly you allowed entrance of her tongue into your mouth, dancing with hers as fisted a bundle of her shirt.

She needed to feel every inch of you so badly, she wasn’t even trying to pry off your jeans as this point, she just swiftly slid her fingers to unbutton and unzip as best she can before gliding her fingers into your undergarments. She rubbed your bud for a bid, creating a decent amount of slick from her fingers. “Hah, you’re a lot more easy than I imagined you’d be.” Manon giggled to herself before prepping you for her fingers, slowly inserting two, in a very agonizing pace, almost as if she was teasing you.

Gripping onto her shoulders in a mix of discomfort and anticipation, she could’ve swore you were digging so far deep into her skin to either leave cute or dents from where you held yourself. She found the way you winced your eyes in pain almost like a spectacle to her, finding it more amusing as she slowly, but surely made her way into fucking both her index and middle finger into you.

The sounds of your moaning and squelching of her fingers gliding in and out of you so easy was music to her ears, she wanted to hear more, she needed to feel more. She quickened her pace at unbelievable speeds, being a dancer and singer really did something to her stamina and speed as she didn’t slow down one bit. Fucking her fingers into your delicious tightness, she didn’t know where to focus, whether it be the way your hips buckled and grinded to the rhythm of her fingers, or how your body arched more and more when you came undone. (Maybe even when your body writhed whenever you’d suck her fingers up so quickly.)

It was all too much, it would be an understatement if you said it was just good, “Yeah good girl baby, you can come.” She would whisper foul words just like that as she’d let you unravel yourself all over her digits, fucking you through your high continuously as she wanted to see how tour faced looked again while she fingered you towards your high.

But knowing her, that wasn’t enough, she needed more, to taste how delectable you were. Manon, who had the stamina of course, of a dancer, didn’t even let you calm down from your high as she slid her fingers out of you with a sharp pop, reaching over to her fingers seeing the mess you made all over her.

Putting her fingers into your mouth to muffle your quiet mewls, she brought her face down at your bud, and gave it gentle kitten licks. Loving the taste of you as you just finished, making it all the easier to taste you, as your hips buckled by the sensation of pain from the previous high, you tried connecting your thighs together to stop her from licking. To no avail as she dug her nails into your plush thighs and spreader you open once more.

It took her no time to eat you out as your gripped onto the edge of the vanity to form some sort of stability between the both of you. Grabbing her knotless boho braids, trying to pry her off of you gently, but not enough to mess up her newly done hair, knowing you’d be told off by her from how long she spent getting it done. You pleaded with her to stop as you felt tingly and it hurt a lot, and that you were sore or whatever.

“Wait— hah— Manon! Stop, I can’t—“

She had no regard for your soft feelings, her mind was absolutely drunk on the taste of your pussy, she needed every drop you could give her, and wasn’t leaving until she got what she wanted. Her tongue exploring the deeper into you, feeling like you were about to burst as she had no indication of stopping. She even went as far as to reach her hands out and cover your mouth with her index and middle finger, and rub your bud once more, letting you come undone quicker.

To her surprise it actually worked, she watched as your face twisted from sheer discomfort to immense euphoria, feeling like you where on cloud 9. The way her tongue swirled all around as she rubbed her thumb across your lower region, it was once again, all too much. Causing you to arch your back and release another wave of pleasure, this time atop her tongue.

She couldn’t believe the sight that was in front of her right now, pulling away from your sweet cum dripping cunt, she didn’t want to leave so soon. She wanted so much more, but noticing how the time flew by so quickly, she probably had maybe 2 minutes before Sophia, or maybe even Megan would burst inside and interrupt her. Finally deciding to pack it up as she left you a mess on the desk, picturing seeing you in different places with the same expression, she sighed as she spoke.

“Shit girl, you taste fucking good, I’ll meet you at your place after shooting. I can’t get enough of that.”

You nodded breathlessly at her comment before trying your best to put everything back onto your body, your legs in a complete state of soreness, comparably worse to when you first started surfing. She was amazing at what she did, and god did you both enjoy every single moment you got together before she had to go back to Korea.

god manon twin, I’m sorry if you ever have the indecency to ever see this😪 this was my most shameless moment I hope you forgive me anyways lol… i love tan!reader 😫😫

#katseye x reader #fem!reader x idol #manon x reader #manon bannerman #manon bannerman x reader #katseye smut #Manon smut #This was literally so shameless of me I cannot #female idol x reader #katseye #gxg smut #gxg imagine

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estrellami-1 · 1 year ago

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If I Should Stay

Y’all are the best. Seriously. I love y’all. One quick note: if y’all reblog, please include the tag “#if I should stay” (mind the capital i) so people can find the rest of the parts! Thanks so much!!! ❤️

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Eddie does end up following Robin because he does not, in fact, have a death wish.

Even if, apparently, he dies in the future. Go figure.

She instructs him to grab his guitar. “Why in the fuck,” he starts, then reconsiders when Robin whips around to stare at him. “Anyone ever tell you you’re terrifying?”

Robin shrugs a shoulder. “Not as much as they should.”

She stashes her bike in the back of his van and directs him to the Harrington residence, where Steve’s waiting, arms crossed, wondering smile on his face. “Miracle worker,” he calls, and Robin laughs as she grabs her bike from the back.

“Hate to break it to ya, Dingus, but you’re just not scary.”

“I’m plenty scary. I’ve got a nail bat.”

“Right, because that would beat Nance’s sawed-off in a fight.”

“Hey, it could! You never know! They’ve got different ranges!”

Robin rolls her eyes at Eddie, like she’s asking if he can believe it, which. No. No he can’t.

“Sorry,” he says, regretting everything when they both look at him. “What the actual fuck is happening?”

“Come inside,” Steve says, suddenly all business. “We’ve got a lot to discuss.” His eyes find Robin’s. “One of ‘em took Barb last night.”

“Fuck,” Robin whispers.

“Yup. Will’s been missing for two days. Maybe, if we get down there soon enough…”

“Let’s hope so. Which one of the rugrats found El?”

“I think they all did? But Mike’s the one who took her in.” He shakes his head, mouth a grim line. “I saw Dustin today. They’re kids, Robs.”

“So are we,” she reminds him, heaving a tired-sounding sigh. “A buncha kids fighting real-life monsters.”

“Monsters?” Eddie parrots.

Somehow they end up inside while Steve goes to pick up the Party. Who the party is, Eddie doesn’t know. Just like he doesn’t know why he’s in Steve’s Harrington’s house with someone who isn’t Steve Harrington.

“Who’s the Party?” He asks Robin. “And why am I here again? If I die, doesn’t that mean I shouldn’t be here? Should be somewhere far, far away instead?”

“The Party’s a group of kids Steve babysits. They’re the first ones to go through this whole mess. And admittedly, you’re here partially because you can help, and partially for selfish reasons.” She offers him a lopsided grin. “Believe it or not, watching you die was kinda traumatic.”

“Right,” he says slowly. “And you and Steve? How do you know each other? He and Nancy Wheeler are the talk of the town, and if he’s stepping out-”

“He wouldn’t,” she says harshly. “Ever.” She takes a breath. “Two years from now, or a year ago, he and I work together in a mall. Long story short, we get captured and tortured by Russians. High on truth serum, I tell him I’m a lesbian in the bathroom, we help take down the big bad, and boom. Instant platonic soulmates.”

Eddie gapes at her. “What the fuck.”

“Just about,” she nods. “Oh, and the kids love D&D, so you’ll have plenty to talk about. They’re little shits but they’re also kinda great once you get to know them.”

Eddie stares at her. The front door opens, and Steve walks in, followed by a gaggle of preteens and Nancy Wheeler.

“Robs,” Steve says, not slowing his stride as he begins taking the stairs two at a time. “Bathroom. Now.”

Robin grimaces. “Breakdown time,” she murmurs to Eddie, then follows Steve, leaving everyone else staring at each other.

“So,” Eddie says. “I heard you like D&D?”

A dark-haired kid who looks suspiciously like Nancy narrows his eyes. “You play?”

“Play!” Eddie repeats. “I don’t just play, my young friend, I am the greatest Dungeon Master this side of the Mississippi.”

A curly-haired kid begins to grin. “I think we should put that to the test.”

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @local-writers-corner @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

@paperbackribs @ninjapirateunicorns @bisexualdisastersworld @hiscrimsonangel @lolawonsstuff @xo-r4e @thedragonsaunt @l0st-strawberry

Fic Taglist: @blondlanfear @do-you-want-something-more @little-gae-shit

#if I should stay #eventual steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #he’s the curly-haired boy at the end #in case it wasn’t obvious lmao #time travel au #fix it fic #starambles

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earlgreytea68 · 2 years ago

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LOOK AWAY IF YOU DON'T WANT SO MUCH FOR (TOUR) DUST SPOILERS, OKAY?

~~~

Set list:

(1) That Pink Seashell spoken word thing actually opens the show

(2) Love from the Other Side: I assumed they'd play this first, and they did, and they looked very happy with the reception that it got

(3) The Phoenix

(4) Sugar, We're Goin Down: I overheard two guys when I was leaving saying, "I only came to this show for that Sugar song, and it was the third song they played," whatever to those two guys lol

(5) Uma Thurman

(6) A Litttle Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More Touch Me

(7) Chicago Is So Two Years Ago: I know they always play this song when they play Chicago but the way the show is set up, there's this spoken intro that references a light being left on in Chicago, and then they launch into this song, and so I feel like maybe it's permanently in the set list for this tour, we'll see.

(8) Grand Theft Autumn: Patrick told the story again of how he wrote the lyrics while jogging with Pete. Here is exactly what he said, because I recorded it, hahaha: "I wrote this song out here, jogging, trying to figure out the words. This was back when I wrote a lot of the words. And Pete was jogging with me and he was like, 'Eh, maybe change this, maybe change this.' Before we knew it he was writing all the lyrics." And then Pete said, "Imagine us jogging" lolololol

(9) Calm Before the Storm

(10) This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race: They added a little Peterick-y moment in here? I don't remember them playing at each other during this song in previous performances? It was cute, it was during the instrumental part before Patrick leads the singalong, maybe I've just always missed it? They played it each other and kind of did some kind of kick thing with their legs??

(11) Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes: Honestly, always a delight to hear this song, this is one of my favorites <3

(12) Heaven, Iowa: THIS SONG LIVE, I SWEAR

(13) "The Take Over, the Breaks Over": OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS SONG AND I TOTALLY DIDN'T EXPECT THEM TO PLAY IT, I WAS SO HAPPY

(14) Headfirst Slide into Cooperstown on a Bad Bet: <3 Guess they got over being scared of playing this one lol

(15) Fake Out: I CANNOT TELL YOU HOW EXCITED I WAS THAT THEY PLAYED THIS ONE OMGGGGGGG. Also, there was some plan I wasn't aware of to, like, hold up cell phones with pink paper over the lights so the crowd lit up pink???? I have no idea who engineered that but it was CHARMING and at the end of the song Pete said, "Thanks for that, guys, that was beautiful," and the stage was on darkness so it seemed absolutely spontaneous on his part and I think they really did like the effect, so, Idk, future shows, keep doing it????

(16) Patrick did some kind of piano interlude where he played "Don't Stop Believin'"????? It was random but he was super charming, I think the rest of the band used it as a break, it was just SO GREAT. Part of his intro was: "Pete was putting together this show and he said to me, 'Hey, you should play piano.' And I was like, 'I kinda only play songs I wrote. I don't really play piano. I don't know how to play piano.' And he's like, 'Eh, you'll figure it out.'" And then Patrick sat down and played gorgeous piano ugh THANKS, PETE.

(17) Last of the Real Ones: I am glad Mania got some love.

(18) Save Rock and Roll

(19) PETE RECITED BABY ANNIHILATION WHAT. I SWEAR TO GOD. I SO DID NOT EXPECT THIS AND I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE THAT IT HAPPENED. If you're going to the show, pay attention, because I looked away and apparently there's, like, a magic trick at the end of the monologue where he disappears behind a piece of black silk?????

(20) Crazy Train cover: I...don't know what to say about this randomness hahaha but it happened??

(21) Dance Dance

(22) Hold Me Like a Grudge: I think Patrick adores singing this song, I really do.

(23) G.I.N.A.S.F.S.: I KNOW. I CAN'T BELIEVE IT, EITHER.

(24) My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark (Light Em Up)

(25) Thnks fr th Mmrs

(26) Centuries

(27) Saturday <3

The show ends with a little piano version of So Much (for) Stardust played over the sound system, so pay attention for that.

The set is super Alice in Wonderland-y and I adored it, it's playful and fantastical and has all these whimsical touches and interludes and I just thought it was delightful and at one point there were bubbles, and I heard some people complaining after the concert that the fantasy thing didn't suit their style of music and really, I was surrounded by downers after the concert, I thought they were perfect hahaha. Like, ABSOLUTELY PERFECT. They looked so, so, so tangibly happy, all of them. Patrick sounded fantastic and he looked like he was having a blast, he smiled the whole time.

I have a lot of videos but they seem like they're all pretty terrible, but I'll see how I feel in the morning lol

#fall out boy #fob #bandom

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waterfae · 20 days ago

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A Good Pillow [Part 8]

Summary: A glimpse of your budding friendship with Ominis and your growing feelings after the events in the Scriptorium.

Pairings: Ominis Gaunt x Reader, Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Warnings: canon-typical violence, mild language, angst, comfort, fluff, friends-to-lovers, unhinged Slytherins, complicated relationships, house-neutral reader, no use of Y/N, no beta

Word Count: 2.4+ K

Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

|| General Masterlist || Hogwarts Legacy Masterlist ||

You found it almost laughable. When you were trying to avoid Sebastian it seemed as though he was behind every corner, in every empty seat beside yours; always somehow, someway within the vicinity. Now that you were actively seeking him out, he was nowhere to be found. He’d often miss class, skip out on cross-wands meetings, and you hadn’t been able to catch him down in the Undercroft. Ominis had not spoken to Sebastian since the pair of you found the relic in the Feldcroft catacombs, so knowledge of his old friend was as useful as yours. Asking your other schoolmates also proved futile as they too had very little information on his whereabouts, including his housemates.

There was a part of you that found relief in this – the cowardly part that wanted to, if possible, avoid any kind of confrontation with him – while the other part made you extremely apprehensive. For there were only two things you could think of that would cause the sudden disappearance of the Sallow boy: the first, you thought, was that he had found out about you and Ominis and was fuming. The second was that he was obsessing over that wretched relic. Neither option was desirable, but if you absolutely had to choose, the latter worried you the most.

That thought was what prompted you to send an owl to Anne, requesting her assistance to get her brother to see you and finally talk about all the things you had been delaying; hoping he would understand and ultimately put a stop to the dark path he was headed. Because, truth be told, you missed your old friend and how things were between the two of you earlier in the school year.

And so there you were in the dead of night, pacing in the woods just outside of Feldcroft where Anne instructed you to meet Sebastian. The frigid air nipped at exposed skin and it compelled you to wrap your cloak tighter around your body; you wondered how much longer he was going to be. Just as you had the thought, you heard the crunching of snow from behind you. You turned towards the sound and found Sebastian’s familiar figure approaching closer.

“Sebastian.” You called out softly as he neared you.

He stammered yours, confusion apparent in his voice, “Is Anne with you? She’s the one that told me to come out here.”

You shook your head, “It’s just me.”

“Oh.” He paused, “I thought perhaps –”

“I asked for her help.” You explained, interrupting him, “I’ve been wanting to speak with you, but you haven’t really been around and you weren’t answering my owls.”

“Ah, I see.” There was a moment of silence as his gaze locked with yours – just for a second – before quickly looking away, “I’ve been...preoccupied.”

“With?”

“You might not like the answer.”

You wrung your hands nervously, knowing the answer without him having to say it out loud. ‘Definitely the latter.’ You thought. ‘That stupid relic.’ You wanted to say more about it, but there was something you wanted to get out of the way first; you just weren’t sure where or how to start. Time ticked on by as you contemplated, but Sebastian was the one to first break the quiet.

“So what did you want to talk about?”

You drew in a breath, “A few things actually.” You brought a thumb to your lips and bit it a couple times, “First one would be about our last encounter. In the Undercroft?” You watched Sebastian stiffen, but he said nothing, so you continued, “Sebastian, you know how very dear you are to me, but that...whatever that was...I’m sorry, but I cannot reciprocate.” You had rushed the last part so quickly, you weren’t sure how comprehensible it had actually been.

Sebastian smiled weakly, defeated, “I kind of figured.” You blinked. You weren’t sure what kind of response you were going to get, but you didn’t think it was going to be that; it seemed a bit tame. He continued on, “You do this thing when I’ve done something to make you uncomfortable, you tend to avoid me.” You blushed at his observation, “And I made you uncomfortable, didn’t I?” You nodded. He nodded as well.

“I’m sorry-” You began to say, but he held a hand up to stop you.

“Don’t. There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

“I think there is…”

“Just don’t say it’s because of Prewett. Please.” He joked half-heartedly as he took hold of your hands in a pleading manner; he was obviously trying to hide the hurt, which in return hurt you as well, but as Imelda had told you on the Quidditch pitch: just be honest. It would be for the best.

“Prewett? Leander Prewett?” You scrunched up your nose in disgust, “Oh Merlin, of course not! Actually, it’s – ” You stopped, reconsidering what you were about to say, but once again Imelda’s voice came through: just be honest, “It’s Ominis.”

He dropped your hands then – as soon as Ominis’s name left your lips – and his expression went blank, “Now that you’ve said it out loud, I think I might have preferred Prewett.” He didn’t say it any particular way, in fact, his voice had been very much leveled, but it made you flinch all the same, “Of all the people at Hogwarts, you pick my oldest friend.”

You stared down at your feet and said nothing, it’s not like you meant for it to happen.

“I suppose it makes sense though. I don’t know why I hadn’t caught on earlier. He was always asking about you, always listened to what you had to say, and you were able to get him to do things I couldn’t, even though I was his best friend.” His eyes suddenly lit up with insight and took hold of your shoulders, shaking you in order to get you to look up at him, “Wait a moment! Is that why he let us leave the catacombs with the relic?”

You abruptly switched your gaze towards him with brows furrowed, not quite understanding where his conclusion was headed, “What?”

“You said, at that time, that you made a deal with Ominis and that’s why he let us go.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Did he coerce you? Use your feelings to his advantage?”

Your jaw dropped. There it was, you thought. You knew his initial reaction to your revelation had been too tame for one Sebastian Sallow and it was only a matter of time before something unhinged would come seeping through.

“Have you gone mad?!” You wriggled free from his grasp, “How could you say something so wretched? Ominis is not like that at all and you know it.” You stared at him in disbelief, “I’m sorry, Sebastian. I’m sorry for not being more forthcoming and telling you sooner about Ominis and I, but I won’t be sorry for my feelings. I cannot apologize for that. And you cannot fault Ominis for his either. So don’t you go making up these wild claims. There was no coercion nor any taking advantage of the other. We’ve done nothing wrong.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong? Nothing wrong?!” His anger was rising and you could hear it in the way his breath grew heavy, “I can forgive you for choosing a Gaunt over me. In fact, I quite understand it. But I cannot forgive you for conspiring against me. Not when my sister’s life is on the line.”

“Conspiring against you?” Your mind reeled at the accusation. “We’ve done no such thing!”

Sebastian continued on as if he hadn’t heard you, “Ominis has been against all of this since the beginning, but at least I had you. But now – now you won’t even help me. You saw Isidora’s memory. You saw what she could do and yet you stand there doing nothing; waiting for your so-called Keepers. How much longer are they going to keep us all waiting? These keepers are keeping secrets from even you. They’re wasting your time. And mine. All of you are.”

You stood before him, completely aghast and with no words to say, still trying to process everything that was unfolding.

“You don’t care about Anne at all.” He breathed, “And you don’t care about me. If you did, you’d prioritize things a little differently.” He paused before spitting out, “You only care about yourself.”

“Sebastian.” Your voice was low and hoarse, but at least you finally found it, “Do not make the mistake of uttering another word.”

He ignored your warning, “You talk about saving everyone from Ranrok, but what have you really done? No really, what? Where is he? Why has he not yet been stopped? All that power – the things you could do and all the people you could save – and you’re not even willing to use it. To be rid of that goblin or to save Anne. That power is wasted on you.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about!” You finally screamed, body shaking and tears flowing from your eyes, “Do not assume what I’m willing to do because I have used it. I’ve used it plenty and the weight of it – the weight of the responsibility of having it – it is exhausting. I am trying the best I can. For you. For Anne. For the Keepers. Everybody. So please, do not say I don’t care. Please. Not you. Not after everything.”

“Well then, maybe your best just isn’t good enough.”

Your heart broke at his words. Lately, it was all he had been doing and every time a piece of it chipped off, it made it more difficult to choose to stay by his side, “You ask for so much, Sebastian. Sometimes too much.” You gripped at your chest, the pain too much to bear, “I don’t know why you’re saying these things to me now; it’s not like you at all. I want nothing more than to help you, as you have helped me, but if you keep going down the path you’re going, I don’t think I can follow you anymore. It’s dark and it’s twisted. Do you really think this is what Anne wants?”

Sebastian turned his back to you, not wanting to hear anymore, “Then don’t follow, if it’s too much for you. I’ve got the relic and the spellbook; I can figure it all out myself.” He began to walk away, “I don’t need you or Ominis or your silly little Keepers. But Anne needs me and I can save her on my own.”

“Sebastian, wait!” You called out to his retreating figure, but it fell on deaf ears.

Alone now, you collapsed to your knees sobbing. Sebastian was lost to you and you had no idea if there was ever going to be any way to bring him back.

Ominis found you weeping, as you trekked up the path back towards Hogwarts and entered through the gate. He was out of breath, face flushed and drenched with sweat, as if he had been running around all over the grounds. He revealed to you that he had, searching for you once he realized you had gone to meet Sebastian.

“Imelda said if you weren’t with me, then you might have gone to see Sebastian.” He explained, “She said you had been looking for him for days wanting to speak with him.”

You nodded, not saying a word.

“You spoke with him then?” He asked cautiously.

You nodded again and with your voice trembling, whispered a “yes.” There was no need to say much more. Ominis could tell already by the distraught tone of your voice that the conversation had not gone well at all. With a sigh, he opened up his arms to you and without needing to be told, you ran into them, burying your face into his chest and quickly told him everything that had transpired. It was there that you also told him of your secrets, your powers and why you and Sebastian were working so closely together; why Sebastian had been so adamant with your aid, why he had thought your powers had been the key to helping Anne, and why the two of you began to drift apart. Now, after everything, he had gone back to delving more into dark magic.

“It’s my fault.” You whispered as you clutched onto his cloak, “If I had never asked for his help – if I never allowed him into my mess – perhaps none of this would have happened.”

Ominis let out a soft chuckle, “You don’t give that troublemaker enough credit.” He began to stroke your hair, “Sebastian is my oldest friend and I know him well enough to know that he would have found himself in some kind of mess with or without your help.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“Darling.” He shifted his stance to get a better sense of you and placed his hands on your cheeks, “Even before you two met, he was already obsessively researching ways to help Anne and getting into all kinds of trouble. Nothing would have stopped that – as much as I, myself, tried. You asking for his help or not asking for his help wouldn't have changed anything.” He wiped your tears away with his thumb, “Don’t blame yourself. He made his choices.”

You closed your eyes and leaned into his palms. He in turn leaned his forehead against yours and the two of you stood there in the middle of the courtyard for a few more moments as he continued to comfort you.

“Let me to walk you to your dormitory.” He finally said when he felt your trembling stop, “You’ve had quite the evening. We can talk about the other things later.” You allowed him to take your hand and followed his lead towards the castle entrance.

You lost track of the days that passed, every one of them blending together as activity suddenly picked up. There was no time for you to properly mourn your lost friendship with Sebastian. Nor did you have the luxury to enjoy your newfound relationship with Ominis. It was just as you had feared: abysmal timing. However, you were grateful – and also very lucky – that Ominis was so understanding to the situation, although it didn’t stop him from fretting over you, especially now that he knew more intimately the dangers of your mission. You didn’t mind it though. It felt good to be cared for and as he had promised in the beginning, he never pushed, never asked for much. He was simply there at your side, supporting you. How you wished you could do more for him – give more – but with Ranrok keen on making his next move and the final Keeper trial just around the corner, such things would have to wait.

a/n: If you were on AO3 when I first posted this chapter, then you know it has a bit of sentimental value. Thank you for your continued readership.

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated and my askbox is always open. ♡

taglist: @cherry-cola-100 @moonsickness-posts @superblyspeedydragon @plumzlovesfics @costellation-hunter

@drywipes

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy x reader #hogwarts legacy fanfic #🧚🏻‍♀️࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟfaefic

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redflagshipwriter · 8 months ago

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Nest Swap chapter 5 progress

In which Tim flirts with the sad thoughts but is not committed to them.

masterpost

Probably the best thing to do was to make sure everyone was happy with him. If he did everything that everybody wanted, there would be no issues.

So, Tim finished his experiment for Miss Fox and sent her his report. The groceries arrived while he was finishing up. After he put it away, he made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and ate it one-handed while he looked up the address that Jason had told him about.

“That's pretty far away,” Tim mused. Some grape jelly dropped onto the keyboard. He swiped it up with his sleeve. He was a little less careful about the apartment now that he knew it was Big Tim’s place and not someone important or mean.

Huh.

Tim paused mid contemplation. Speaking of important people, where was Mom? (And also Dad.) He turned his head around looking for the most recent post card. He usually kept that on the fridge.

Apparently, Big Tim had lost the habit. The dig post card tacked to the fridge was years old. Tim took it down and read it anyway, smiling at Mom’s handwriting. It was neat and precise, just like her.

He felt better. He'd figure it out later. Tim put a pin on the thought and went back to focusing on his- on Jason's request. He squirmed in his chair while he thought it through.

The address was in a residential neighborhood, the kind with separate houses and not apartment complexes. The suspect himself lived in a duplex. The other half of the duplex was registered to a retiree who Tim didn't find any digital trail of, other than that her Social security checks were being cashed and her bills were paid on time. Oh, neat, she had been part of Gotham’s historical recreation society. She seemed kinda cool.

She had crazy huge electric bills, though. Tim frowned at that. He wasn't absolutely sure. But he thought that most people didn't have electric bills in excess of $600 monthly. How was she even affording that off of her Social security income?

“Maybe the neighbor killed her and is using her apartment for nefarious purposes,” Tim reasoned aloud. “He's chasing her check and concealing the death. Maybe he uses her apartment to store his industrial sausage making machines.”

It was a bit of a reach but it seemed a little more likely than his follow-up idea: her hobby was running every appliance in her house at the same time for all the hours that she was awake.

Focus, Tim! How was he going to surveil this place?

It wasn’t like there were any nice big buildings with dramatic awnings and gargoyles to creep around. It was suburbia.

Tim spun around on his chair miserably, hands on his head to help him think.

Were there any abandoned homes in the area that he could use as a viewpoint? He checked on that. No. No, there weren’t. Dangit. He looked up everyone who lived in the neighborhood, wondering if there might be like, a family on vacation or someone whose second floor was unoccupied. He didn’t see anything useful like that. There were just a bunch of families with little kids.

He spun faster. Maybe the centrifugal force would somehow jar his brain awake.

“There’s nothing for it,” Tim decided ruefully. “I have to go undercover as a child.”

He put on the light up sneakers that he had ordered, washed his face, and made sure he had enough money for the bus. Then he set off on an adventure with a little notepad in his pocket. When he got to the apartment lobby he realized that he probably should have brought Big Tim’s phone, but oh well. It was too far now.

He took three buses and walked twenty minutes. He arrived in the right neighborhood in the early evening, around 5 pm. He looked for rogue groups of playing kids to join in. He’d do whatever game they were playing, then subtly interrogate them.

Unfortunately, it seemed like everyone was inside eating dinner. Tim frowned at one window. He could see a table being set.

Weird.

Alright, new plan. The old lady neighbor was probably dead, so he could just sneak into her half of the duplex, find a place to hide, and observe whatever sick and twisted stuff Jason’s bad guy did. Then he could tell Jason about it later, and he would like Tim.

He tried the backdoor. It was locked. Tim skulked around the house and tried windows until he found one that was open. He had to scramble a bit to climb up the siding to get into the house but he managed it. He hit the floor with a tumble.

“I have a mace!” said a female voice. “I am prepared to use it upon you!”

Tim rolled over to see the retiree. “Oh,” he said. “Hello.” He was a little disappointed that he was wrong about her being dead, though of course it’s always nice when someone isn’t murdered.

Mrs. Henderson yanked open a drawer and withdrew her mace. She pointed it at him steadily over her walker.

“Whoa,” said Tim. “That’s really cool. That’s Gothic, right?”

She looked at her mace. “...I believe so,” she said. “Get out of my home!”

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” Tim said, deliberately not agreeing. He sat up and crossed his legs. “I didn’t realize that you lived here.”

Mrs. Henderson slowly lowered her Gothic mace, which was probably a replica of one from Western Europe and weighed about 2 kilograms. “...Did you mean to go next door?” she said, sounding more confused and less hostile.

“Yeah, I got mixed up,” Tim lied like a champion. “I accidentally locked myself out and no one is home.”

Although that really wouldn’t be true for much longer. Hm. Maybe Tim should have waited until tomorrow to come by.

#red nest swap #dc fanfic

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imaginespazzi · 10 months ago

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Part 1: Don't Be A Stranger

Masterlist - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

But if (my) world was ending, you'd come over right?

(In which UCLA anon's roman empire became this writer's roman empire and we've finally reached the beginning)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, Hurt/Comfort and a little bit of Fluff

Words: 8.4 K (other parts will be shorter....maybe)

TW: Swearing, Alcohol, Injuries, Alludes to Sexual Content

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Gonna keep this as short and sweet as possible but we've finally, finally gotten to the UCLA fic. A huge shout out to UCLA anon, because this is their master idea. Couple of things, I've never been to LA or UCLA and therefore some things are out of whack. The timeline is also a little out of whack but I swear I will try to keep it as consistent as possible. In the mean time, just ignore some of the inconsistencies pretty please. As always, feel free to let me know what's bad, what's good and what else you'd like to see. I hope y'all enjoy this first part and let's get another W today!

August 2021

where are you

i literally have to be at the airport in an hour paige where are you

dude

are you on your way?

you better be driving and that’s why you’re not answering

PAIGE

i’m sorry about last night i shouldn’t have said that

but you said a lot of shit too so call it even?

this isn’t funny where are you?

i have to leave in 15 mins

are you actually not coming?

wtf????

this is actually bullshit

get over yourself bueckers

wow

fuck you

just landed

thought you might like to know

sorry my plane didn’t crash i guess

September 2021

dude enough okay

can you just call me back??

i just wanna talk

i know you're mad i get it but i miss you

November 2021

hi i’mma be in dc over christmas

nvm

idk why i’m trying again

maybe i should block you

this is kinda pathetic of me what the fuck

December 2021

i thought i saw you today but idk

couldn’t have been you cause if it was

would you really not even say hi?

i’m done trying paige

merry christmas i guess

March 2022

i misz you

lyke a wot

love uuuuu pppppp

even if ur a bwtich

pkese pick up

ignore that

people drunk text exes apparently i drunk text you

wait

i don’t need to tell you that

you already ignore it all anyways

August 2022

i heard about the acl

i’m sorry

idk if it means anything, but if you wanna talk

nvm

***

September 2022

When the doorbell rings, on a quiet Thursday afternoon during a rare moment of alone time, Paige expects it to be a lot of people. One of her parents deciding that they actually weren’t going to leave her alone. Someone else in her family showing up out of the blue to provide comfort. Maybe one of her teammates popping up to keep her entertained. She even thinks it might be some random fan who got too invested and figured out the address for her air BnB. It’s the saddest testament to how broken they are, that the idea of it being Azzi Fudd standing outside her door, never once crosses her mind. But there she is, when Paige opens the door, dressed in ripped jean shorts and a light blue tank top, the girl that had been her best friend, and maybe a little bit more.

Silence stretches between them as Azzi fidgets with her hands and Paige continues to stoically stare at her. It’s been almost a year since they’ve seen each other, even longer since they’d last shared a happy smile. And you’d have to go back to before she’d told her about her future plans, to find the last time Azzi had properly looked Paige in the eyes.

“Hi,” Azzi says finally, mustering up a small smile. Paige doesn’t know if hearing that voice, soft and subdued but still so familiar, fixes a crack or breaks her heart even further. She wills herself to be polite in response, to match Azzi’s polite greeting with a greeting of her own. But there’s clear discord between her mouth and her head, because her words are harsh and hollowed.

“What are you doing here?”

Azzi swallows, smile disappearing as she immediately digs her fingernails into her palms and Paige feels the guilt settle into her stomach. It’s like the night before all over again. If she closes her eyes, Paige can still hear her voice loudly echoing in Azzi’s childhood bedroom. She can hear the angry words that she’d hurled at her best friend, each one like a well-aimed arrow piercing the other’s girl's heart and tearing into Paige’s own soul. Some would call what she’d done self-preservation. She’d call it her biggest mistake.

“I um-,” Azzi sucks in her bottom lip, “I was in the area and thought, maybe I’d check in.”

“How did you even know where I was?” Paige hates how cold and accusatory her voice sounds. It’s a version of herself she doesn’t quite know how to deal with, one that hasn’t ever appeared for anyone other than the girl in front of her, “I know I didn’t tell you.”

Any semblance of calm is gone from Azzi’s face, as she seems to realise that she’s not going to be getting any cordiality from her old friend.

“And we’re off to a great start,” she mutters under her breath before replying to Paige’s exact question, “no you didn’t. Your dad-”

“You talked to my dad?”

“Yeah. I mean you know Drew looks up to Jon and José so much and they still talk and stuff and he came over- Drew I mean- and then your dad was there and we just got to talking and you came up and yeah. He told me and well I live here, kinda, so I thought- well I thought maybe you’d like some company?”

As Azzi’s rambling explanation comes to an end, Paige doesn’t miss the tinge of hopefulness in her voice at the last bit. The younger girl shuffles her feet, as she stares at the blonde expectantly.

“I don’t-” Paige struggles to draw in a breath as the voices in her head argue, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Her words are met with silence as Azzi stares at her blankly.

“I- you,” she blinks rapidly, clearly at a loss for what to say at the blatant rejection, “I can’t come in?”

“It’s just- I’ve had a lot of people visit you know,” Paige bullshits, suddenly feeling very exhausted, “and my family were here a couple days and my friends are coming soon and-”

“And I’m neither of those things,” Azzi says, her tone low and breathy.

“That’s not what-”

“It is,” Azzi closes her eyes for a brief second, when she opens them, the flash of hurt in them feels like a dagger through Paige’s chest, “it is like that and it is what you meant and it’s- it’s fine.”

“Az-” Paige chokes out, feeling her lungs collapse when the other girl moves to leave, “please,” and she’s not even sure she’s asking for, but it’s not this. It’s never been this.

Azzi stops and when she turns back around, there’s a determined look on her face.

“I just-” she rubs her face, composing herself before focusing her eyes on Paige, “you’re the strongest person I know. And you’re going to come back from this, better than ever. I know it. The whole world knows it. Because you’re Paige Bueckers. You’re something else. You’re the hardest worker, you’re just- you’re the best.”

“You don’t-”

“Just- just let me finish okay and then, then I’ll go or whatever but Paige, you’re all of those things you know? Strong, brave, the best fucking player- but, it’s also okay if sometimes-, if sometimes you aren’t. It’s okay because this- this is hard, I know it is. So if sometimes you’re not strong or-, or brave- or not feeling like working hard- it’s okay. And if there are moments where you- where you want to give up, that’s okay too. It doesn’t make you- it doesn’t make you any less than what you are. It just makes you human, and it’s okay you know- to be human. It’s okay if- if you hurt and it’s okay if you’re not okay. It’s- it’s okay.”

The two girls stare at each other, eyes shining with tears, as Paige let’s Azzi’s words wash over her. She’s been told a lot of platitudes about her injury, from her coaches to her teammates to her family. And she knows she has plenty of people in her corner, who root for her and who genuinely do believe she’ll have the greatest comeback ever. But the motivational speeches get draining after a while and all she’s wanted to do for the last couple of weeks is wallow. Then she felt guilty about wallowing, that little voice in her head yelling at her to be productive and work on getting back to herself because that’s what everybody expected. Paige hadn’t even realised how badly she needed someone to give her permission to not be okay, not until the only person who’d ever known that part of her, had finally said the words she so desperately needed to hear.

The thing is, when she was younger, Paige used to keep everything bottled inside. She’d always been hyper aware of her privilege and her problems had always just seemed so insignificant in front of her parents’ or her friends. So she’d kept them to herself, trapping herself in a web of her own burdens that sometimes threatened to strangle her. And then she’d met a girl at a USA basketball camp when she was 15, a girl who had gently flicked her fingers and Paige’s walls had fallen like dominoes. She hadn’t even known she was drowning, until Azzi had shown up with a lifeboat.

“I just-,” Azzi breaks Paige out of her trance by breaking the eye contact between them, “I didn’t know if anybody had said that to you yet and I just- I wanted you to hear it.”

In the span of a minute, a thousand and one phrases take birth in Paige’s mind and then die on the tip of her tongue. She opens and closes her mouth, trying to express even one of the myriad of emotions that are swirling like a tornado in her brain. But nothing comes out except a litany of incomprehensible noises. And Azzi seems to find the wrong answer in the silence, giving the blonde a timid nod.

“Take care of yourself P,” her voice catches on the familiar nickname, as she shoots Paige a sad smile, before beginning to walk away. When Azzi chose UCLA, she’d lit Paige's heart on fire. So, Paige had drowned their friendship. And while all this time Azzi has struggled to breathe, Paige has burned but god, is she so fucking tired of it.

“Fuck, Azzi wait,” Paige curses, hobbling to catch up to the brunette, who stops with a sigh but doesn’t make a move to return. Stubborn as always, Paige thinks, continuing her way over. When she does catch up, she’s not fully sure what to say and so, “I uh- I’m out of milk.”

Azzi raises her eyebrows in question, crossing her arms protectively around her chest.

“I can’t drive,” Paige explains slowly, “or walk obviously.”

Realisation dawns on Azzi’s face, “you’re asking me to drive you to the grocery store?”

“I guess,” Paige shrugs, trying to be nonchalant.

“Seems like the kind of favour someone asks of their family, or their friends,” Azzi emphasises bitterly, never one to let go of an opportunity for sarcasm.

Paige flinches, “right, I kinda deserved that one.”

She gets a raised eyebrow in response that very much says “ya think?”

“I’m trying here,” she says quietly, and Azzi’s hard demeanour softens, “I’m raising a white flag Az, calling a truce or whatever but it kinda needs to go both ways.”

“What do you think me coming here was supposed to be?” the younger girl says exasperatedly, but she’s smiling again. It’s the third one Paige has gotten out of her today, and finally, she smiles back. They look a little foolish, standing in the apartment hallway, cheshire-cat-grinning at each other like idiots, but it feels like something has clicked into place again.

“I’ll go grab my wallet, you go heat up the car.”

“It’s like 110 degrees dude.”

“Bro shut up, you know what I mean,” Paige huffs and when it makes Azzi laugh, she feels like she’s floating. It’s not as if she hasn’t been happy in a year because won’t you look at that, her world did keep turning after that one decision. But this is different. She feels airy and light, like she could jump off a cliff and fly instead of fall.

“Well hurry up, I have things to do outside of just being your chauffeur.”

“Poor passenger princess, how the roles have reversed,” Paige mocks and it earns her an ever so familiar fond eye roll and for the first time in a year, she feels free.

***

When she gets downstairs, Azzi’s leaning against her car door, a pair of sunglasses shielding her eyes. The hot California sun shines brightly against her tan skin, and Paige’s heart stutters because fuck, Azzi is golden. She looks every bit reminiscent of the girl Paige still has memorised and yet, every bit the promise of a girl Paige wants to learn by heart.

“Nice car,” Paige smirks, alerting the younger girl of her presence.

“It does the job,” Azzi says, looking up with a smile of her own, opening the passenger door for Paige to get in, “not all of us are raking in NIL deals to get the big guns, but we make do.”

“Steph Curry brand ambassador say what now?” the blonde girl teases as she slides into the car. When she looks up, Azzi’s frozen in place, “what?”

“Nothing I just-” she’s wearing sunglasses, but Paige knows Azzi's trying to avert her gaze, “I’m kinda surprised you know that.”

It’s Paige’s turn to look away, their newfound comfort giving away to that old awkwardness, “I keep up with most basketball news.”

To Azzi’s credit she doesn’t push. Instead, she makes her way into the driver seat without another sound. She’s about to connect her phone to the aux but Paige beats her to it.

“Hey,” Azzi squeals, making grabby hands, “my car, my rules, my music.”

“Nuh-uh injury privileges,” Paige gloats, sticking out her tongue.

“That’s not a thing.”

“Is too.”

“Fine, we’ll listen to your crap music.”

“I resent that,” Paige retorts, as Drake blasts through the speakers. The sound of it makes Azzi groan, and she dramatically bangs her head against the steering wheel. Paige spends the rest of the car ride singing at the top of her lungs. Azzi spends the rest of the car ride alternating between shaking her head and joining in with the singing. It’s like they’re back in 2020 all over again, back before they found themselves in the whirlwind of life, back when they were just Paige and Azzi.

***

Their trip inside the grocery store takes less time than the ride to get there, even if Paige takes her time dilly-dallying in the dairy section, pretending she’s going to get anything other than just regular milk. She’s overly conscious of the fact that their time together might be coming to an end, that this time she might actually have to deal with saying goodbye. But she’s not ready to go back to missing Azzi just yet.

“Maybe you can show me your dorm,” she says quietly, once they're both back in the car, playing with the hem of her shirt. Beside her, Azzi draws in a sharp intake of breath, clearly not having expected Paige to want that of all things. In all honesty, the idea of stepping into the world that had stolen Azzi from her is not all that appealing to Paige but she wants to hold onto this moment just a little bit longer.

“You wanna see my dorm?”

“A chance to see how the non-blue blood peasants live? I’d never pass it up.”

“Non blue blood,” Azzi scoffs, "Ever heard of John Wooden?”

“I was talking about women’s basketball but yeah I have heard of him. I won the award last year. Over you,” Paige smirks, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Not everyone’s a phenom their freshman year,” Azzi retorts fondly, unable to mask the hint of pride in her voice.

“Well we’ll see this year-” Paige stops herself, cold seeping into her lungs, as she remembers why she’s in the stupid state of California in the first place. The lighthearted mood in the car goes tumbling out the window as her words hang like a dagger in the air.

“Paige,” Azzi whispers, trying to wrap that one syllable in comfort. She reaches out to touch the blonde’s shoulder but must think better of it because her hand hovers mid-air for a second, before she pulls it back. Paige is suddenly hyper aware of the fact they haven’t touched yet. It’s a reminder of the fact that whatever progress they’ve made today, there’s still so much they haven’t even begun to unpack.

“It’s fine,” Paige’s voice is steely, “just drive.”

Azzi opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, before simply nodding and starting the ignition. She’s clearly holding back and Paige doesn’t know how to feel about it. There’s a part of her that wants Azzi to push her to talk like she would before, but there's another part of her that knows this new rope they’re trying to string between them is fragile.

They ride in silence to Azzi’s apartment, both of them too caught up in their own thoughts to bother with music this time. As the UCLA campus nears, Paige can’t help but hate it just a little bit. She’s aware she’s being petty. Acting like Storrs, Connecticut is some hub of beauty is probably a stretch of the imagination for anyone but she’s determined to dislike this place out of principle.

“Hmm not too shabby but like where’s the fucking cows?” Paige jokes, as the car comes to a stop in front of Azzi’s apartment building. She steps out gingerly, pretending to inspect her surroundings, making tsk-tsk noises at the most random things.

“I’ve seen your apartment Bueckers, don’t even try,” Azzi retorts.

It shouldn’t surprise Paige to see one of Azzi’s teammates when they enter her living room. It’s just like UConn really in the sense that there’s always someone there when you walk in but something about seeing Charisma Osborne just chilling in Azzi’s space suddenly makes it more real that the younger girl is definitely a UCLA Bruin.

“Oh,” Charisma gives Paige a once-over, clearly not having expected to see her, “hi Paige.”

Paige waves, shuffling her weight on her crutches, unsure what to say. It’s not like she doesn’t know Charisma, they’ve literally won a gold medal together for USA basketball. She’s even met the girl a couple of times after and she likes her, she does. But her bitter brain is focused on the fact that this is one of those girls who had gotten Azzi as their teammate, one of the girls who got to see Azzi everyday. All things Paige had not gotten.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing company Az,” Charisma says pointedly, looking at Azzi and Paige bristles at the use of the nickname. She’s being all sorts of ridiculous but at least she’s self-aware of it.

“Last minute decisions,” Azzi replies airily. The two girls lock eyes and Paige can tell they’re having some sort of unspoken conversation and now the green-eyed envy monster is out in full force.

“I insisted on seeing her dorm,” she says finally, breaking into whatever staring competition the two UCLA guards are having.

“It’s not a problem,” Charisma reassures, standing up from her position on the couch, and coming over to give Paige a tentative hug, “I just didn’t know you were coming. But it’s good to see you, Paige.”

“Yeah,” Paige tries to muster up a proper smile as she leans in to return the hug but it comes out more like a grimace, “you too.”

“We’re gonna go chill in my room,” Azzi says, beckoning to one of the doors in the hallways and Paige obediently follows her, waving a half-hearted goodbye to Charisma. She’s secretly pleased to have Azzi back to herself.

The room is nothing out of the ordinary except it has Azzi all over it. She’s in the pink comforter that is thrown haphazardly over a clearly not made bed. She’s in the unicorn plushies laid delicately over a dark blue couch. She’s in the little flower stickers that outline the mirror on the far side of the room. There’s a wall dedicated solely to pictures and fairy lights on one side and Paige is immediately drawn to it. A familiar ache reverberates in her chest as her eyes flicker over the pictures of Azzi’s family. She’s missed them. Then there’s the photographs of Azzi in her UCLA uniform, her teammates surrounding her and Paige has to resist the dangerous urge to rip those off the wall. Be happy for her happiness, the logical part of her brain yells, not seeming to realise she’d left any chance of that in the dirt a year ago. As she tears her eyes away from those offending pictures, they land instead on a whole other set of photographs and she feels her heart catch in her throat.

It’s a set of three images of her and Azzi, taken at various moments. Paige brushes her thumb against the one of the two of them with their arms around each other at the Minnesota state fair. Azzi’s beaming at the camera and Paige is beaming at Azzi. They look so young, so naive, so happy.

“I’m on your wall,” Paige breathes out, turning to face her best friend, “Fuck, I’m on you wall.”

“Of course you are,” Azzi affirms, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world but she shuffles nervously, giving away the reality behind her stable demeanour.

“I never answered your texts. I didn’t call you back,” Paige lists quietly as the first tear falls from her eyes; she’s been holding them back all day, “and I’m on your fucking wall.”

Azzi looks away, unsure how to deal with the fact that apparently they’re no longer tip-toeing around the past. She doesn’t know how to tell the blonde that there had never really been a second thought about whether or not those photos were going up on the wall.

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs finally, “you’re my best friend. You’re always gonna be my best friend. Ride or die right?”

“Ride or die,” Paige repeats in a whisper before she all but throws herself at Azzi, practically moulding herself into the younger girl’s body. Caught off guard, Azzi stiffens for a second, before relaxing into it. It’s late outside and the sun has set, but in this moment, the world shines the brightest it has in a year as two stubborn girls finally find their way home to each other.

***

That night, Azzi asks her tentatively if she wants to stay over and of course Paige agrees. Lying awake next to a familiar stranger, she lets herself finally remember the day things had first started unravelling.

November 2020

“You’ll probably get one of the upstairs apartments, so we probably won’t actually be living together which is good because can you imagine if I had to see your goofy ass 24/7?” Paige puts a dramatic hand to her forehead, as she leads Azzi into her room.

She’s too caught up in her excitement having Azzi at UConn, and planning what’ll happen next year, to notice that the girl in question isn’t participating at all in her enthusiasm. Paige has been waiting for what feels like a year (in reality it’s only been a few months) to finally have her best friend come visit. The minute the car had pulled up, she’d taken it upon herself to start her sales pitch all over again, missing the sympathetic smiles she’d gotten from the rest of the Fudd family as she pulled Azzi away to show her the glories of the campus.

“Did you see my assist to Christyn today?” Paige gloats, falling onto her bed with a smirk.

“It was pretty great,” Azzi concedes.

“It was fucking perfect thank you very much. I set her up perfectly, exactly how she likes it.”

“Right.”

“And then did you see how excited the team was for her? For everyone? Never gonna find a greater group of girls.”

“They seem wonderful P.”

Paige furrows her eyebrows as she catches Azzi still lingering by the door instead of joining her on the bed. The brunette fidgets with the sleeve of her sweater, chewing on her lips.

“Are you allergic to my bed?” Paige waits for some smartass response. When she doesn’t get one, she frowns, instincts going haywire, “Az, you good?”

“I- '' Azzi looks away, swallowing nervously, “I need to tell you something and I- I’m not sure how you’re gonna react.”

“You get a boyfriend or a girlfriend or something in the last few months that I don’t know about?” She says it light-heartedly enough, but the thought of it sends a sharp sting through Paige’s heart. In hindsight, she thinks maybe she could have dealt with it having been that.

“What? No. Just- just don’t- dont take it personally okay. Like you can be upset about it but- but don’t hold it against me yeah? My parents- they said- they said you’d get it. You’d be upset but you’d- you’d get it because you- you get me right?”

Paige’s chest hammers as she watches the younger girl draw in a deep breath, “you’re scaring the shit out of me right now.”

“I’mcommittingtoUCLA” Azzi says all in one breath, the words blending together.

She’s sure she’s heard it wrong. There’s no way. After all this time, after all their conversations, all the pitches, how hard she had worked, there was no way this was going to be the end to all of Paige’s efforts.

“What?” she whispers, crossing her fingers that she has in fact misheard.

When Azzi averts her eyes, she knows she hasn’t, “I’m committing to UCLA.”

The first time Paige and Azzi met was somewhat awkward, what with Azzi’s shyness and Paige being slightly overeager to make a new friend. When they’d become bus buddies, they’d progressed to being casual acquaintances who could small talk and share smiles. And then the flight back to Minnesota happened and everything had changed. Every moment after was filled with conversation or laughs or a comfortable silence. Until this one, where the sudden silence between them foreshadows an ominous future.

“Say something,” Azzi says finally, her voice shaking.

Paige stares at her for a second before, “you named your dog Stewie.”

“What?”

“You named your dog Stewie. After Breanna Stewart who played at UConn. It’s not-” Paige wracks her brain, hands flying animatedly “it’s not Meyers or something, after someone who played at fucking UCLA. You named your dog after a UConn great. How are you going to take him to UCLA with you?”

Azzi stares at her, clearly not having expected that level of questioning of all things. Who could blame her when Paige herself feels a little insane.

“This is a joke right? You’re fucking with me? Ha ha ha very funny,” she claps deliriously, “hilarious prank seriously, like hats off you’ve outdone yourself but enough okay? Say sike right fucking now.”

Azzi makes a strangled noise, “it’s not a joke Paige. That’s- that’s my decision.”

“Then change it,” Paige yells, catapulting off the bed.

“Paige-”

“Have you told UCLA yet?”

“I wanted to tell my family and you first.”

“Oh wow, how kind of you. How fucking generous of you to do that Azzi,” Paige bites back sarcastically and Azzi flinches.

In a flash, Paige’s expression goes from angry to desperate, “you still have time to change your mind . Please just- just think about it again okay? You still have so much time and you know what, stay here for a couple more days. Spend time with the team, with the coaches, with me and you’ll see-. UCLA just sounds nice you know? California, the sun, I get it, of course it’s tempting. But just- just stay here okay? And you’ll see this is where you belong,” she leaves the, with me, unsaid.

“Paige,” Azzi’s voice cracks. She takes a step toward her and then pauses. It’s the first time in a long time that Azzi’s hesitated when it comes to Paige. It won’t be the last. And when she looks at Paige through her long eyelashes, tears threatening to fall from her dark brown eyes, Paige knows she’s lost.

“No,” she’s pacing now, chest heaving up and down in a combination of frustration, anger and misery, “this is not fucking happening. We’re not doing this. I made you a whole recruitment video. Did you watch it? Do you know how long it took me to make it? Has the last year been a fucking joke to you?”

“Of course not-”

“Don’t even. Because clearly- clearly it has. Must’ve been hilarious watching me beg and plead with you when you already fucking knew you were going to committ somewhere else.”

“That’s not fair,” Azzi’s voice rises at the accusation, “I had no idea where I was going until a couple of weeks ago. You can’t seriously think that low of me.”

“Not fair? You know what’s not fair, Azzi? We’ve been talking about playing together, about finally being on the same team, the same fucking state, for years. What’s not fair is you throwing all of that away on a whim.”

“I’m not committing to UCLA on a whim. This is my whole future we’re talking about. You don’t even know how much thought I’ve put into it. And I’m choosing what’s best for me. You can’t hold that against me Paige. You can’t.”

They stand on opposite sides of the room, taking in harsh staggered breaths and glaring at each other. The tension in the room is electric as the string connecting them frays. Paige and Azzi bicker, they don’t argue. Or at least, that’s how it used to be.

“Az?” their stare down is broken by a knock on the door as Katie Fudd lets herself in. Immediately, as she stares between her daughter and the girl who’d become just as important, Katie knows what has happened, “we’re going back to the air BnB, are you staying here?”

The answer should be obvious, like it used to be. Of course she would stay here. It was meant to be a no-brainer. But before Azzi can say that, Paige intervenes and the string snaps.

“She’s going with you,” the blonde says firmly, before turning her back. She won’t let Azzi see the tears, she won’t. For her part, the brunette stares at Paige’s back silently for a couple of seconds, before a mask of determination slips on.

“Fine. If that’s what you fucking want,” Azzi sneers before brushing past her mom, eager to get away and hide her own tears.

When Paige turns back around, Katie is already looking at her. The older woman walks the length of the room and pulls the younger girl into a hug that she readily melts into. Paige sniffles as Azzi’s mom soothingly rubs her back.

“We’re driving back tomorrow morning,” Katie whispers quietly into Paige’s hair, “I know you’re mad sweetheart but come say goodbye okay?”

And she does. She shows up with only half an hour or so remaining before Azzi leaves, but Paige shows up. They hug stiffly, exchanging maybe a sentence or two but in that moment it’s enough. They’ll call later when Azzi gets home and it’ll be awkward for a little bit but they’ll break through. They’ll figure out a way to go on without having to talk about the “big thing”. They’ll hold on as long as they can, until they can’t anymore.

***

September 2022

After the night Paige stays over at Azzi’s apartment, they're attached at the hip for the next few weeks, just like old times. They’ve fallen into a routine of sorts. Azzi shows up without fail every day after practice to pick Paige up from her rehab, and then the rest of the younger girl’s time is Paige’s. The first time she’d seen the brunette leaning casually against her car, Paige had had to stop herself from jumping into her arms. She’d played it as nonchalant as possible, joking about Azzi being stalker, but inside, she could feel it again, the dangerously familiar tap of this is all I’ll ever need.

On days Paige doesn’t have rehab, Azzi still shows up right on time on her doorstep with a board game or food or something. It’s gotten to the point where every time the doorbell rings, Paige opens it expecting Azzi. The couple times it’s not, she tries and fails to hide the disappointment on her face. It earns her an eye roll from the delivery guy but it’s worth it for the laugh it elicits from Azzi when she tells her the story. They fall back together as if they’d never fallen apart. And what’s more terrifying than finding out that she’d never truly gotten over old Azzi, is realising how easy it would be to fall in love with new Azzi.

When Caroline, Nika and Piath come to visit the weekend after, all three of them can immediately tell that something's changed. Their teammate seems lighter, as if she’s finally found a sense of calm. But their incessant prodding and raised eyebrows are only met with shrugs from a tight-lipped Paige. It isn’t until Azzi calls, and Nika snatches the phone out of Paige’s hands, gasping at the callerID, that they finally figure out why their point guard has a new kick in her step.

“You should invite her out with us tonight,” Caroline is the first to speak, giving Paige an encouraging smile.

“Carol,” Nika hisses, “we can’t just invite the enemy.”

“She’s not the enemy,” Paige defends immediately, “we don’t even have a rivalry with UCLA.”

Nika scoffs indignantly, “of course she is. She picked a different school over us. Over UConn! That’s weird. Who even does that?”

“Lots of people do,” Caroline, who occasionally texts Azzi (albeit she’s kept that somewhat of a secret), supplies helpfully, shrugging when the Croatian glares at her.

Piath nudges Paige when she notices the other girl has gone quiet, “ignore Nika. She doesn’t mean it, you know that. If you wanna invite her, invite her.”

And she does, she wants to so badly. It’s insane really because it hasn’t even been a full day since they’d last seen each other but Paige swears something inside her has been missing since. There’s something awfully terrifying about letting Azzi back into the UConn version of her world, the world that the younger girl had once rejected. Still, if they’re going to try this again, she supposes sooner or later, it’ll have to happen.

“Put her on speaker,” Nika orders when Paige grabs her phone back from her.

“Nika,” Caroline, younger only by age, warns, pulling the other girl away, “we’re supposed to be cheering her up, not making life harder.”

Azzi answers on the third ring, her voice teasing “miss me already?”

Yes, Paige thinks, sometimes I think I miss you even when you’re right here next to me, sometimes I think I’ll miss you forever. But she doesn’t say any of that.

“Not a chance,” she scoffs instead, “besides you called me first.”

“Butt dial.”

“Mmmhmm I’m sure.”

“Shut up,” Azzi laughs and Paige is glad her teammates aren’t here to see the goofy grin that appears on her face at the sound of it, “I just wanted to see if we were doing something tonight?”

“Yeah- umm- you remember I told you about the girls coming down this weekend. They- uh- they wanted to go out tonight and uh- you could come along?”

There’s a pause on the other end and Paige knows Azzi’s going through the same thought process as her.

“I don’t wanna intrude on your time with your team P-”

“You wouldn’t be intruding,” Paige cuts in immediately and although she figured her teammates were definitely eavesdropping, Nika cursing about her being “pussywhipped” followed by in-sync shushing from Piath and Caroline, gives them away.

On the other end of the line, Azzi’s quiet again, “it’s okay P, you go have fun with your friends. We don’t have to spend every night together. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

What she doesn’t say is that maybe they need to learn how to live like that again, how to live apart again. Paige is almost done with the LA part of her rehab, something both of them are still in denial about. It’s only a matter of time before they return back to their two separate worlds and neither of them are sure they’ve managed to repair their friendship enough to not slip back into their foolishness again.

“But I wanna see you tonight,” Paige whines, her tone teetering on the edge of sounding like a desperate girlfriend, “please.”

“Paige-”

“Pleaseeeeeee. I’m literally injured and begging Az, it’d be mean to say no.”

“What does your injury even have to do with any of this?” Azzi sighs exasperatedly, “but yeah okay fine calm down Bueckers. Send me an address, I’ll be there.”

“You don’t wanna come pregame here?”

“Dude, let's not push it, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah okay see you,” Paige pauses, “hey Az?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m really happy you’re coming tonight.”

“I’m really happy you’re happy P.”

***

Azzi Fudd is a menace. See, people often get fooled by her soft-spoken nature and shy demeanour, but Paige has been around her long enough to know the truth. In the beginning it was the witty quips the younger girl always had ready whenever they were having some ridiculous argument. After that, it was the direct pranks that wreaked havoc on Paige’s life. But tonight, in Paige’s opinion, tonight is Azzi’s worst offence. She had to have done it on purpose, had to have known the sheer effect it would have on Paige to see her dressed like that. The red criss-cross tank top fits her like a mould and the way her ripped jeans shorts cling to her hips leaves little to the imagination. Her diamond belly button piercing shines against her skin, taunting Paige. She wants to touch, she wants to feel, she wants to do all the unspeakable things in her mind but she’s forced to just watch.

What she hates most though, is that everybody else is watching too. Since Azzi’s walked into the club, Paige has had to fight the urge to strangle every stranger who had given her best friend an appraising once-over. Some of them let their eyes linger long enough to give her time to plot out the perfect murder strategy (it’s the only way she can stop herself from actually committing a crime tonight). And, as Azzi dances with Caroline, hips swaying to the beat and holding the other girl a little closely, Paige has the irrational urge to hit sweet, kind Caroline of all people.

The thing is, Azzi’s been a little too attached to Caroline since she got here in Paige’s opinion. And she gets it. Piath, bless her soul, is trying but has always been a little awkward around new people. Nika is definitely not trying, loyally holding onto a grudge on behalf of Paige. Which leaves Caroline, who’s already familiar territory and the younger girl has grasped onto her like a lifeline. But enough is enough Paige decides, as she slips out of her seat with a determined look. Smoothly, she cuts right in between Caroline and Azzi.

“Nika’s a little wasted and I don’t want to deal with,” it’s a blatant lie but Paige knows appealing to Caroline’s more motherly instincts will get her what she wants. She gets a raised eyebrow in return, her teammate clearly catching her ruse because Nika looks visibly fine. But it works anyway and Paige gets Azzi to herself. She reaches for the other girl’s hand, twirling her just so she can hear that stupid silly laugh, and then pulling her back so she’s facing Paige.

“You having fun?”

“Always have fun with you P,” Azzi replies. She’s clearly tipsy but there’s no hint of insincerity in her voice. It makes Paige’s breath hitch.

“Yeah?” she whispers, taking a step closer, “more than with Carol?”

Azzi giggles, “more than anyone.”

The song in the club changes and as the crowd adjusts to it, someone jostles Azzi and immediately Paige grabs at her hips to steady her. As she finds her balance, Azzi’s giggles subside, realising just how close she is to the blonde now. They’re stuck in slow motion as the world dances around them. The combination of adrenaline and alcohol pumping through her veins is what convinces Paige to test the limits. One hand still squeezing at Azzi’s bare waist, revelling in finally getting to touch, she brings up her thumb to trace around Azzi’s lips. The younger girl gulps, but when she doesn’t try to move away, confidence pulses through Paige. Her heart is beating frantically out of her chest, years and years of want and need that she’d shoved as far away as possible, desperately fighting to get to the surface.

Pushing herself closer, so their chests are now pressed to each other and Azzi’s hands have no choice but to latch onto her biceps, Paige places a delicate, teasing kiss to the corner of Azzi’s lips. She wishes she could record the whine it elicits and listen to it on loop for hours. Smirking, she moves to place another one on the other side, this time pressing her lips a little harder, a little longer. Azzi’s eyes are closed shut, hands gripping onto Paige so tightly, she knows there’ll be a mark on her biceps tomorrow. She cups Azzi’s face with both hands now, her own eyes shutting involuntarily, as she finally, finally brushes their lips together.

This time, the strangled noise that leaves Azzi’s throat, is one Paige wishes she could forget as the younger girl rips herself away from Paige, the force of it creating almost a foot of distance between them. It doesn’t take long for the familiar sting of rejection to make itself home in her heart. Azzi’s eyes are brimming with tears as she manically shakes her head. Without a word, she rushes through the crowd, making a beeline for the exit, leaving Paige confused and craving for another taste.

***

It takes Paige a second to gather her thoughts before following the brunette. She ignores the confused glances from her teammates, making some bullshit excuse about fresh air as she fights her way outside. When she gets there, Azzi’s leaning against the wall, eyes closed as she takes in long deep breaths.

“That’s not usually how girls react when I try to kiss them,” Paige says after a second, trying to make light of the situation, even if her heart is heavy with anxiety.

It’s the wrong thing to say because Azzi scoffs, “you kiss a lot of girls don’t you.”

“Yeah and most of them kiss me back,” Paige bites back.

She’s taken aback by the fire in the darker-skinned girl’s eyes as Azzi finally opens them, heaving herself off the wall.

“I won’t be one of your groupies Paige. I won’t be one of your desperate one night stands. I won’t be just some other hookup. I won’t!”

Frankly she’s a little offended Azzi would even think that of her. She’s aware of her reputation. In fact she’d probably fed into it a little bit, exaggerating her escapades to Azzi on the phone her freshman year, when they had been on the verge of combusing and she’d been desperate to get a rise out of the younger girl. Last year though, last year was different. But Azzi doesn’t know that.

“I don’t want you to be any of that,” she replies feebly.

“Then what, do you want me to be?” Azzi’s voice rises with each syllable.

Paige stutters, the words getting stuck in her throat. The truth is she wants Azzi to be everything. The truth is, Azzi already is everything. Except there’s too much between them and she just can’t say it. They stand in silence until Azzi finally breaks it.

“I think these last few weeks of summer might have been the best of my life,” she says miserably, “and that might be the worst thing ever you know? Because it’s not real. You’re gonna go back to your world and you’ll- you’ll stop replying to my texts and you’ll stop- you’ll stop calling me and I- I don’t know if I can do that again.”

“That’s an awful lot of assumptions you’re making about me,” Paige is on defensive mode now, feeling a fight brewing.

“Because that’s what happened. Go back through your fucking phone Paige. Look at all the times I tried. And all the times you never did. You just- you cut me out Paige.”

“That’s not fair. You chose fucking UCLA. Over me.”

“No,” Azzi corrects immediately, anger seeping into her tone, “I chose UCLA over UConn. You made it about yourself.”

Paige swallows back a bitter response in favour of trying to prevent a full-fledged argument, “okay, okay let’s not- let’s not do this okay. It’ll be better this time- I- I won’t ignore your calls or texts or you okay? Just- can we just go back inside please?”

“That’s the thing,” Azzi’s anger is gone, replaced by a sad wistful smile, “I don’t know if I believe that you will,” a single tear rolls down her cheek, “I- I don’t fully trust you and you haven’t fully forgiven me. So where do we go from here?”

It’s a lie what they say about the truth setting you free, Paige thinks as Azzi’s words squeeze at her heart, because all it’s done is unleash shackles of despair that holds them both hostage. It had been easy the last couple of weeks, to pretend the last year had never happened. It had been easy for Paige to pretend that she was over what happened, to ignore the part of her brain that still felt so utterly betrayed.

“Azzi, what are you saying? You don’t- you don’t wanna be friends?” Paige feels nauseous even saying it.

“No I-” Azzi chews at her bottom lip, “I’m saying this- us- we’re too fragile to complicate even more. I barely- fuck- Paige, I barely survived losing my best friend. I don’t think I could survive losing something more.”

The worst thing about it all, is that it makes sense. And really, Paige doesn’t know what she’d expected to happen if Azzi hadn’t pulled away when she did. They’d kiss, maybe give in and do more and then what? Shake hands and walk away? Or make false promises that would ultimately lead to resentment? No, Years and years of something deserved better than either of those masochistic endings. It makes sense, it does but it doesn’t mean Paige has to like it.

In front of her, all the fight evaporates from Azzi’s body, as the younger girl leans back against the brick wall of the club, sliding down and pulling her knees to her chest. She looks every bit as miserable as Paige feels and all the blonde wants to do is wipe away the stress lines creasing against the younger girl’s beautiful phase. She moves to sit down next to her best friend, shuffling so their shoulders are pressed together and intertwines their fingers together. A sigh of relief escapes her when Azzi doesn’t immediately pull away. Instead, she squeezes their hands tighter, as if she’s scared that if she lets go, Paige will disappear.

“You didn’t lose me you know,” Paige says softly after a second, nudging Azzi’s shoulder when the other girl lets out a noise of protest, “I know, I know it feels like you did. It felt like that to me too except- every time something good or bad happened to me, I heard your voice or- or maybe I just really wanted too. We got lost a little bit but I didn’t- I didn’t lose you and you didn’t lose me. There’s a difference. I don’t think we could ever lose each other like that. Not really.”

When Azzi turns to look at her, the golden glow of the street lights illuminate the emotions in her eyes. She gives Paige a soft smile, “well Bueckers, if basketball doesn’t work out, maybe you have a future in poetry.”

“I could do whatever I wanted,” except what I want to do the most.

It doesn’t take long for the Uber Azzi’s already called to start pulling up and that familiar ache of longing creeps into Paige’s spine. She knows tonight isn’t their final goodbye; they still have a couple more days. But those days will be spent ignoring and pretending, unlike tonight and the firm grip they have on reality. They rise off of the cold pavement together, dusting themselves off. It takes a second of awkward glances before they’re surging into each other’s arms, squeezing each other so tightly that it’s hard to breathe. Paige wills herself not to cry, hiding her face in the crook of Azzi’s neck.

“We’ll be okay,” she whispers, unsure if it’s more for her benefit or Azzi’s.

The unwanted beep of a car is the only reason they reluctantly pull away, hurriedly wiping away unshed tears, they pretend the other can’t see. Azzi musters up a brave smile, before slowly moving away and it takes everything in Paige not to crumble and begs her to stay. Azzi’s halfway to the car when she turns back and it feels like Paige can breathe again. The brunette’s face is conflicted for a second before turning determined, as she starts walking back up.

“Az-”

Paige’s confusion is stifled as Azzi fists her shirt, pulling her into a searing kiss. It’s desperate and needy and it’s only a few seconds before the dark-haired girl is pulling away again, but it sets Paige’s entire world off balance.

“I just-” Azzi’s breathing is rapid and uneven, “I’ve wanted to do that since I was fifteen and- just- fuck- I just-,” she blinks up at Paige, “I hate- I hate leaving things unfinished and for fucks sake if you don’t call me back this time Bueckers- just- don’t be a stranger.”

Paige doesn’t get time to answer, she doesn’t think she could even if she did, because Azzi scurries away almost immediately. She stops when she gets to the car, turning back to give Paige one final look, a look that will haunt Paige forever, before getting into the backseat. As Paige watches the back of Azzi’s uber gets smaller and smaller, her tongue darts across her lips as she tries to memorise the faintest taste of Azzi’s strawberry-flavoured lipstick. And she knows, she’s so utterly and completely and terribly fucked.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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soulfulazrael · 23 days ago

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Haven't watched Mastermind episode (and wont), but will talk about stuff I saw from it and heard about it

So... I as you who follow my ramblings here probably know (all 2 of you probably). I do not watch this show anymore because I don't care about it's story. Apparently this new episode is BEST OF THE SEASON, but since rest of the season at best gave me a feeling of pure apathy and at worst INCREDIBLE disdain and lack of faith in humanity I say good middle ground is talking about pieces I saw because at this point I don't think I can stand watching this show for longer than 5 minutes at a time.

I make my own story for HB/HH so I will make some comparisons to my own story and plans... Maybe one day I will do bigger post about how my versions of Sins and other things look. No arts though... no talent on my part. Eh... Or maybe... Eh we will see. Probably not, but... Maybe... I dunno.

Comparisons will be mostly about Sins. And the thing I reference is a fic called Song for the Quiet Bird that for now is center of my AU where I make things of Hellaverse in my own way.

So first off. Stella moment. Probably the first thing I saw from it when I heard about it. When I saw that scene I was like: Wow. Actually proper moment where Stella shows more of a character and maybe nuance aAAAAAAaaaand the smirk...

You are amazing at failing every expectation aren't you HB? YOU KNOW SHE LE EVIL!? YOU KNOW SHE BAD!? YOU KNOW STOLAS GOOD!?

Yes I do. I am deaf from the amount of SCREAMING you are throwing at me about this every other minute. Thank you. I am not a 5 year old. She evil. What you do with it? Also apparently NOW she has a brain compared all other times besides season 1 where she had more of a peanut there? What is it? Also incest with her brother? Great... Keep on going with this. I am sure at some point even completely blind AND deaf people will understand how evil she and Andy Magic are. I sadly missed the part where I am supposed to find them interesting. But HEY at least it gives such a great explanation of why Octavia sees Stella as better parent than Stolas which is clearly shown in some of that promotional material... entire one scene... that is not a minute long even and has no dialogue between them. No chemistry or anything... Let's be honest though. For most fans that's probably enough. Just slap one or two scenes later of Andy Magic and Stella saying how bad Stolas is and you are golden... Fuck my life as it is not even a joke. Jesus.

Okay. Besides that... tragedy? I dunno. There is also SINS! Leviathan and Belphegor...

Well... that's just amazingly underwhelming. You know there is a problem when I cannot tell if a character is even meant to be someone special. Because what the Hell (get it? HELL!) is this? They look like about nothing Demons. They are barely more interesting visually than any other shmuck we saw in this world. Ozzie keeps being the best design out of all of them with most distinct and accurate one and I am starting to feel like it is only because Viv took years in making it before hastily making ones for everyone else. Seriously, would you even be able to tell they are meant to be important characters? Because they look like everyone else in this world.

Now funnily enough I have my own concepts for those in my AU. Not exactly more interesting visually as again... not an artist and it is still more concept thing as I keep figuring things out, but this is the current form I want to get them across. I think they do the job on some level in terms of what they are meant to be. One is Leviathan. It is... interesting to portray it with 2 heads... a reason for that kind of eludes, but who am I to judge? But I know in my version it will just honestly a large beast swimming across endless waters of Envy. A giant sea monster that keeps itself in a giant form among domes of Envy where cities are with immeasurable wealth and power, a creature meant to be envied. But also a creature that envies deeper than any other over the loss of their partner at the hand of God, not being able to be close with anyone or even be understood. A creature who's deep resentment and pain created entire Ring around them.

If I made a scene like that with 'sins' meeting I think it would be with a High Demon that serves as a high priest/priestess of the Leviathan faith. As all very high rank demons like Sins, certain Goetia Kings and other VERY important figures have their own religion that Hellborn MUST adhere to, in a way choose their deity and in this case it would be a Demon from said church of Leviathan that interprets them... cluelessly.

While Belphegor would not be much different as a creature that also is a larger than life being. But this one being like a giant, anthropomorphic crocodile like being similar to SCP 682, but more... static. Basically giant center point of a garbage heap that is Sloth in my AU. In some ways beautiful, but also incredibly toxic and dangerous to everything wasteland. Very bottom of Hell. Horrible place where you can be killed by some horrifying monsters with no real mind that prey on the helpless. As Belphegor itself (dunno if it even has gender) exudes aura of sloth where most Demons that come to sloth will be at some point forced to lay down and stay in place. "Bask under non existent sun" which is a term used in that version of Hell a bit to call someone lazy and it comes from that which can spell someone's horrid death.

Those are my ideas for those. But next one is the big boy himself. The Big S. Adversary. Satan.

He looks alright. Nothing you would not imagine a Satan to be. He looks dragon like, buff (even if he skipped leg day) and has funny horns of Imps. Also he has little therapist... which is funny because in my fic I also have a trial with the main judge there (in that case Lucifugus or Lucifuge Rofocale) who also has his own little therapist thing (alongside some other annoyances... and far more misery). It is funny how I guess both me and Viv kind of agree people in high political power in Hell would have their own therapist. In my version though he keeps them deep within the tower he resides in. But either way. Can't say his design or personality is something I did not see coming.

As for my version I will go with... yeah it will be quite different. Better or not. Your choice. A centaur like being that has 4 big arms, molten lava in his veins and skull on top of his body looking like a goat or dragon like being (still thinking on that). A demented monstrosity who's head went awry due to their perpetual rage who can now think of nothing, but drowning everything in so much blood that he will one day swim on that tide of gore to the Pearly Gates and smash them open in ultimate showing of their superiority over all of creation. Something his kin the Imps for the most part also believe and praise. A promise of sea of gore and glorious war. Not the kind of creature that would hold a trial. In that world it's more of a Lucifuge thing... or Lucifer if he is mood for jokes and tormenting some poor souls for their amusement.

Also I hear Stolas lost all his wealth and power over... NOT the shitty things that he did, just that he was forced to lie for the sake of I.M.P.... Eh... The avoidance of responsibility continues. Even when characters face consequences it can NEVER be over their own actions. It has to be something that can be proven wrong and goddamn will that probably be true with Via as well. Because let me tell you they are most likely going to make her be in the wrong for hating poor little Stolas baby and I hate it already. I know making assumptions is not good, but by GOD were they good at making those expectations of nuance low so far...

Actually what expectations? I don't watch this show anymore. But I am passionate about it's ideas... and that hurts me. A lot. I made this entire post because of those... and make a fic that has now few HUNDRED THOUSAND words. Damn. No idea if my version is better or worse... but it is one I prefer. It is different definitely. Even though in certain ways it's weirdly similar.

#hazbin hotel #helluva boss #helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism #helluva boss critique #helluva boss rewrite #rewrite #fanfic

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bookworm551 · 1 year ago

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Take the Edge Off | Part 8 | Pillow Talk

You finally get a quiet moment of quality time with Miguel.

A/N: wooooooow It’s been a hot minute. I feel like I’m coming back to my neopets after abandoning them for years. Tbh I just needed to take a break, I’ve been working and going to school, so it’s been a lot. Anyways, I’ve come back to feed you before disappearing again for an unknown amount of time. Also, this is pretty self indulgent ngl, so this is for the praise kink girlies. Enjoy <3

Warnings: smut, overstimulation, the usual

Word count: 6.8k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 9 Part 10

You woke up slowly the next morning. The soft light that flooded into the room caused you to stir lazily from your dreamless sleep. You stretched with a deep yawn, feeling a dull a soreness in your arms and shoulders that reminded you of all the things you had done with Miguel the night before.

You shifted under the covers and blinked your bleary eyes open. As your vision adjusted, you registered the figure of Miguel asleep next to you. He was positioned on his stomach with his face half-way buried in his pillow, and his back moved up and down slowly with his deep, even breaths. He had his arms tucked under his pillow, and there were some loose strands of hair that had fallen over his face. It took every ounce of your strength to not brush it aside for fear that you would wake him and break this quiet moment together.

You watched him for a second with a soft smile. Laying on your side, you admired his resting face. This was the first time you had ever woken up with him still there next to you. Every other time he had either left immediately or after you had fallen asleep. It was a nice change, and as you lay there quietly, you couldn't help but wish you woke up like this every day.

"I can feel you staring," Miguel grumbled quietly, startling you out of your reverie. You smiled sheepishly as he blinked his eyes open to look at you. They were still bleary with sleepiness, and his soft gaze warmed your chest.

"I didn't realize you were up," you stated, your own voice hoarse from sleep. He let out a little huff before closing his eyes again, not saying anything in return. "How long have you been awake?" You asked quietly. He sighed, not opening his eyes. "I woke up with your tossing and turning about 20 minutes ago," he replied finally.

You hummed and offered softly, "Sorry." You had gained a reputation in your life as a restless sleeper, and apparently, it didn’t matter how much he had worn you out the night before. "It's fine," Miguel grunted as he shifted and rolled onto his back. "I should've been up earlier than that."

You smiled. You were glad he had chosen to stay here, to let you see him like this. Knowing he was a busy man, it meant a lot to you. "Full schedule today?" you asked.

Miguel sighed, running a hand down his face. "The briefing for our mission is at noon," he said. "After that, I've got a stack of reports I need to review." That sounded boring to you, but you couldn't help but grin at his words: our mission. You had almost forgotten that he added you to the team, and the notion of working with Miguel again excited you.

"Who else is on the team?" You asked casually, fighting a lazy yawn as you stretched out next to him.

"I don't think you know all of them," he stated. You hummed and replied, "Well, who would I know?" He paused a second to consider. "Me, a handful of Peters," he began. "Malala, Jess, and she's been asking to bring Gwen, too."

You rolled over onto your side, resting your head on your hand with a smirk. "Me," you added smugly. Miguel rolled his eyes. "You," he conceded. "And I think that's it."

You gave a short, thoughtful hum. There was one name you noticed was missing from the list, someone you thought deserved to be on the team as well. You knew trying to change the roster would upset Miguel, but you couldn't ignore the gut feeling you had telling you that there was one more person who should be added to the mission.

Miguel seemed to notice that you were thinking about something. "What?" He questioned, an eyebrow raised suspiciously. You looked up at him and smiled reluctantly. "You're not gonna like it," you told him. His dark eyes narrowed. "What?" He repeated, sounding even more suspicious than before.

"Promise you won't be mad?" You asked. "No," he responded evenly. "You probably piss me off more than anyone here."

You chuckled at that. "That's probably true," you admitted, moving closer to him as you did. He had a few faint scars that were littered across his shoulders and chest, and you began absently tracing your fingers over them.

After a quiet second, he prompted gently, "What is it?"

You didn't reply for a moment as your fingers danced over the faint lines on his skin. Finally, you looked back up at his face and found he was gazing down at you expectantly. With a sigh, you finally said, "You need to add Ben to the team."

Miguel's face hardened immediately. "No," he replied sharply. You sighed again. "I already know what you're gonna say," you stated. Miguel huffed an irritated breath. "He's the reason we're in this mess. He's the reason this anomaly has been able to cause all that damage."

"That wasn't his fault," you defended gently. "It could have happened to anyone, and I know how badly he wants to make it right." Miguel scoffed, and he sat up from the bed. "Nothing he can do will bring back Earth-2319," he stated sharply. "All those lives are gone forever."

He turned his body to step out of bed, and you sat up with him, allowing the covers to slip off your bare torso. You had known he would to be upset by your suggestion, but you didn't want this to turn into an argument.

Reaching a hand out, you gently grabbed his shoulder to keep him from leaving. "And don't you think he knows that?" You pointed out softly. "Can't you imagine how terrible he feels?"

Miguel felt tense under your palm, and he didn't reply. You were afraid that he was going to shrug you off, and you wouldn't have blamed him. You could still remember his haunted gaze when he came to you after the loss of Earth-2319. This mission was personal for him, and you knew Miguel wasn't going to do anything he thought would jeopardize it.

After a silent second, he sighed heavily, and his stiff shoulders sagged under your hand. "I don't have to imagine," he muttered quietly.

A taut silence followed his words. The air around you suddenly felt fragile, and you were afraid of breathing for fear of breaking it. You didn't know what he was referring to, and you wanted desperately to ask, but it seemed almost disrespectful to do so. So instead, you waited.

Miguel seemed to sense your curiosity and breathed out another sigh. "When I first traveled across the multiverse," he began slowly, "I found something I wanted—badly. I thought it was harmless, so...I decided to take it for myself."

You closed your eyes regretfully, understanding that what he was implying broke the canon of that universe. You shifted your body closer to the edge of the bed so you could see his face. His eyes were downcast with the memory replaying in his head, a faraway look on his face.

"I didn't know what would happen until it was too late," he finished softly.

You let his words hang in the air for a moment before taking the hand that was still resting on his shoulder, raising it up to cup his cheek, and turning his face toward yours. His eyes were still fixed downward, but he allowed himself to be guided by your hand.

"You didn't know any better," you said finally. "You can't blame yourself for what you didn't know." He let out a small huff and turned his face away from you again, pulling away from your hand. "It was reckless and stupid," he muttered. "I was stupid."

"You weren't stu—"

"I destroyed a universe," he snapped, his eyes finally flashing up to your face. Grief and anger were etched in his face, and in his eyes, you saw the same pain the night after Earth-2319 was lost. You realized now how much worse it must have been for him that day, and your chest ached for him.

"I understand," you whispered softly. "And I’m sorry, I didn't know." He scoffed. "It's not exactly something I brag about," he stated darkly. "And it's not something I ever plan on repeating. I can't afford to be wrong. Being wrong costs lives."

You didn't say anything for a moment, and Miguel’s shoulders slumped in defeat. There was that quiet openness again, the subtle vulnerability that seemed to be showing more and more. He obviously meant what he said, and you understood that his words came from painful experience.

Your hand raised up to rest on his bare chest, and your thumb brushed his skin gently. "You can't put it all on yourself," you whispered to him. "Nobody is that strong." Miguel didn't reply for a second before whispering back, "I have to be."

You sighed quietly and shook your head. "No, you don't," you insisted. "That's why you have all of us. Jess, Peter, me, everyone—we're all here for you."

Miguel had been staring at the ground as you spoke, but his eyes moved up to meet yours at your last sentence. His gaze was piercing, almost overwhelming. It made you almost nervous to say what you were going to say, but you held his stare as you emphasized your next words: "I'm here for you."

Your statement hovered in the air, leaving the silence that followed to rest heavy around you. Your chest tightened anxiously as Miguel stared at you wordlessly. His eyes were impossible to read. Had you gone too far? You knew he didn't want a relationship. Were your words too close to a confession?

Finally, your worries were allayed when Miguel leaned in and pressed his lips to yours in a tender kiss. It was different than the passionate way he usually made out with you when you were fucking. This was slow, like he was taking his time just to appreciate how your lips felt against his. It almost felt like a token of gratitude.

"You make it easier," he whispered when he finally broke away from your mouth. Your chest swelled as you smiled softly at him. “Good,” you replied quietly. “That’s what I’m here for.” A small smile cracked the grave expression he wore, and you kissed him again.

When you pulled back again, he studied your face for a second. “You still want me to add Ben, don’t you?” He guessed.

You sighed softly and nodded. “Wouldn't you do anything to make it right?” You asked him quietly. His eyes were still fixed on your lips, but you could tell he was thinking about your words. Without replying, he simply nodded his head.

“So would Ben,” you continued. “Please let him come.”

He still didn’t say anything for a moment. He sat quietly for a few heartbeats before letting out a deep sigh. “I'll think about it,” he said finally. You smiled at him, knowing that even him contemplating your plea was victory enough. “Thank you,” you told him, closing the space between you with a kiss. He hummed against your lip before murmuring, “You know, I thought I said I don't want you to talk about Ben around me.”

You smiled mischievously. “Well, we're breaking my rule about not discussing work in bed,” you pointed out. A faint smirk appeared on his lips. “Well, maybe I don't care about your rules,” he stated with a hint of humor in his voice.

“Then why should I care about yours?” You shot back. Miguel shifted from off the edge of the bed to lean forward over you, forcing you to lay down slowly under him. “Because there are consequences to breaking my rules, remember?” He said in a low voice, his eyes darkening with desire.

Your heart began to race as he trapped your body under his. “No,” you replied coyly, “I think I forgot.” Raising a hand to his head, you pulled his face down just above yours. “You'll have to remind me,” you whispered to him before pulling him down into a hard kiss.

You brought your hand around his head to run your fingers through his hair as he deepened the kiss. After a second, he moved his lips down to your neck while one of his hands traveled up your stomach to palm your breast, earning a quiet moan from you. Even after all the things he had done to you last night, you were ready for more.

You pushed yourself up off the mattress, forcing Miguel to roll back over onto his back as you straddled his waist. The seriousness from his face had disappeared when you settled on top of him. A smug grin pulled at his lips as the covers slipped off of your body, and his eyes drank in the sight of your bare body before him.

"Not too tired after last night?" He asked in an amused tone. You leaned forward and planted your hands on either side of his head as you brought your face close to his. "Baby, I could go all day," you purred before pressing your lips to his and slipping your tongue between them.

Miguel's hands gripped at your thighs, and his breathing deepened as he shifted under you. You brought one hand up to run your fingers through his hair, and when you broke away from his mouth, you moved your lips down to kiss under his jaw. He tilted his head back with a soft sigh to allow you better access to the soft skin of his neck.

Before you could go any further, Miguel's watch began beeping, disturbing the growing anticipation you both felt. You groaned, and he sighed regretfully as he raised his arm up to read the message he had received. You lifted your head up slightly to look at his face. He was clearly irritated by the interruption, and his eyes flicked back and forth as he quickly read the message.

"It's Jess," he explained. "She's asking about the meeting later." You rolled your eyes. There was always somebody or something that demanded his attention, and you were sick of it. You didn't want to let him go this time.

"You know," you began slowly, "there's this cool feature on these gizmos." You grabbed his arm and raised it up so you could see the screen. Miguel watched in amusement as you pressed the screen until you found what you were looking for.

"There," you said proudly, pressing the 'silent' button in his watch's configuration. "Much better." His eyes moved from your face to the watch and then back to your face with a raised eyebrow. "Is that why you never respond to my messages?" He asked suspiciously. You gave him a sly smile. "I just like it better when you tell me in person," you defended innocently.

"Mhmm," he hummed in response, a subtle smirk pulling on his lips as you kissed them again. You were eager to pick up the momentum you had lost to Jess's message, and you quickly returned your mouth to his neck again.

"We can't," he murmured, the bass of his voice vibrating against your lips. "I need to get up."

You hummed softly before whispering against his skin, "No."

You heard him breathe out a chuckle, and his hands came up to pull your arms gently off his body. "I know," he replied, sitting up as he did. "But people are going to notice I'm missing."

A spike of determination shot up in you, the frustration at his constant leaving finally showing. With both hands, you shoved him back down against the mattress by his chest, using most of your weight to keep him down. "Let them notice," you told him. "You're not going anywhere."

Under your hands, Miguel's breathing deepened, and his eyes flashed with lust at your assertion. His desire for you was clearly painted on his face, but with a clenched jaw, he sighed regretfully. "I can't stay," he insisted. "There's too much to do."

Despite his words, his fingers were gripping at your thighs, and he shifted under you restlessly. His resolve was hanging by a thread, and you knew exactly how to snap it.

Your mouth curled in a wicked grin as you lowered your face to hover over his own. "You're gonna stay right here with me until I'm through with you," you whispered to him. "You know why?"

Miguel was obviously fighting to keep his breathing steady, and his eyes were fixed on your lips when he managed to ask, "Why?" You lowered your face just above his, your eyes locking and noses brushing against each other. Then, softly, smugly, you said, "Because this pussy is yours, and I know how much you love it."

Miguel's jaw clenched at your words, and when you pressed your lips to his again, he was no longer holding back. His tongue pushed its way into your mouth aggressively as his fingers dug into your hips. From beneath you, his body shifted as he propped himself more upright and pushed your hips down to where his hardened cock was waiting.

You smiled deviously as he kissed you. The feeling of power rushed to your head at being able to distract him from his work with only a few words. Your heart was pounding in anticipation, and with the soft breathy moans you were both making, the ache between your legs was growing almost painful.

You allowed yourself to be guided back by his hard, gripping hands. A thrill ran up through your body when you felt his cock brush against your hot entrance. You could see the unfocused look in Miguel's eyes, like the only thing he could think about was being inside you.

To be mischievous, you teased your pussy around his length. Miguel groaned ever so softly, and his eyes burned with lust. "I don't have time for your fucking teasing," he growled. You smirked, always enjoying getting him riled up. He was even better when he was frustrated.

"You're so impatient," you observed with an amused voice. "I'm gonna have to teach you how to wait nicely one day." Miguel wasn't so amused. "I don't have time for this," he replied, shifting under you to try and align himself to you. You laughed. "That's the point," you said. "You need to learn how to—"

You cut yourself off with a sharp gasp. Miguel clearly had enough of your lecture and finally slammed himself into you, causing you to fall forward so that your head rested against his. The sudden feeling of him stretching you out so unexpectedly had made your mind freeze, and for a second, you couldn't speak.

"You were saying?" Miguel muttered smugly when you opened your eyes again. You couldn't even remember what you were saying. The only thing on your mind now was how badly you needed to fuck him.

With Miguel's hands still on your hips, you began moving eagerly along the length of his cock. You rocked your hips against his, grinding your pussy hard against him. Quiet whines began to rise up from your throat as you raised yourself up and down, slowly at first, but you soon increased your pace as he began grunting from the feeling of you riding him.

Miguel was gripping your waist tightly and gasping quietly as he helped you move up and down his length. You fell forward, planting your hands on his chest as you moved your hips against his. His eyes met yours with an electrifying gaze that only encouraged your movements.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his eyes fixed on your face with a lustful sort of reverence as his hands slowly slid up the sides of your torso. "You're so fucking pretty."

Damn him and his words that sent your heart fluttering. Even there, in the midst of riding him, you felt your face grow warm from his praise. Of course, you had heard him say things like that before, but for some reason, it hit you in a different way that turned you into a blushing mess on top of him.

Miguel apparently noticed the effect his praise had over you because his lips twisted in a half-smirk, and he sat up off the bed to bring his face up to yours. "My pretty girl," he murmured, his voice deep as he spoke the words against your lips.

You seemed to forget how to breathe. Your heart was pounding furiously in your chest as you locked eyes with him. His dark, piercing gaze that once seemed like an impenetrable wall was now soft and warm. The way he was staring at you made you feel like he could see into your soul, like he knew what you felt for him, what you wanted from him. And in his eyes, you could almost swear that you could see it, too.

His strong arms wrapped themselves slowly around your torso to hold you against him, and his lips pressed against yours gently. You didn't even realize that he was rolling you over until you were on your back beneath him, and he began driving his hips into yours.

You let out a soft moan and broke away from his lips. Miguel's head fell to your shoulder as he moved steadily inside you, his cock pumping in and out of your soaking cunt. His hot breath fanned against your collarbones, and you could hear how he grunted softly with each thrust.

"God, I can't get enough of you," he panted, his voice hoarse and quiet. "Fucking you is—it's like Rapture."

You nearly came apart right there. His words and his cock had you completely at his mercy. One of your hands gripped at his muscular back while the other slid up the back of his neck to run through his dark hair. It took most of your effort to even form a coherent thought, and speaking felt next to impossible.

"Only you—," you started, cutting yourself off with a moan. "Only you can m-make me feel like this. You fuck me so good."

Miguel groaned quietly at your words. Lifting his face up from your shoulder, he rested his forehead against yours. "You know why?" He asked quietly. You opened your eyes to meet his, not even bothering to respond. "Because you're my pretty girl," he asserted. "And this pussy is mine." As he spoke, Miguel's hand slipped down between your bodies until he found your clit with his thumb.

You cried out in ecstasy as he circled his thumb around while still driving his cock deep inside you. Your hand moved from his back to grip the headboard above you as he fucked you relentlessly. The sounds of his hips slapping against yours were in-time with each whining moan you made. You barely had time to register that you were cumming until it took over your whole body.

You were practically screaming his name as your body shook uncontrollably. You pulled him close to you while his hips continued thrusting into you ceaselessly. Bliss completely overtook your every faculty, and the only thing your mind could process was Miguel.

His eyes never left your face as he watched you completely unravel under him. He gave a long, deep moan at the feeling of you clenching around him. His lips brushed against yours as he slowed down his pace for you, aware of how your body was beginning to grow overstimulated, and he murmured your name under his breath softly.

As you finished riding out your high, your body was still alight with pleasure, and your heart was still beating wildly in your chest, but you finally managed to breathe properly again. Blinking your eyes open, Miguel's dark gaze was hypnotizing. He was clearly proud of how he had caused you to come so undone, and he whispered, "You're so pretty when you cum."

All you could do to respond was moan softly. He never failed to get you off, and he never failed to praise you when you did.

With one hand still entangled in his hair, you pulled his face down to yours in a sloppy kiss. As Miguel's tongue danced against yours, he pulled himself out of you. You were still breathing hard when he sat up off your body. Taking advantage of the fact that you were still recovering from your high, he turned you over so that you were on your stomach and lifted your ass up to him.

Even if you had wanted to resist him, your mind was still hazy from all the pleasure buzzing through your body. Following his prompts, you obediently propped yourself up on your knees, your back arched as you held onto the sheets.

"What a good girl you are," he murmured, running his hand down your back. You hummed softly at his touch and turned your head to look at him from the corner of your eye. "Only for you," you whispered. You heard him give a heavy sigh, and you felt the head of his cock teasing the entrance of your soaking cunt.

"That's right," he purred. "You're my good girl."

That was the last thing he said before slamming his cock back into you. You gasped sharply, startled by his sudden movements as he picked up an eager pace. Still sensitive from your orgasm, you whimpered softly against the sheets.

"It's too much," you whined, gripping the comforter to try and pull yourself forward to escape the sensations overpowering you. "You can take it, babygirl," he assured you gently, his cock moving faster and harder inside you. "I know you can."

You couldn't say anything in response. You were high on his words and drunk off his cock. Your eyes were clenched shut as he pounded into you. The sound of his hips slapping against your ass filled the air, and with each thrust into you, he hit against your G-spot over and over again. Your body felt weak, and you were completely at his mercy.

"Miguel," you moaned, unable to say anything else. He cursed softly under his breath, and his hands gripped your hips tightly to keep you steady. "You're doing so good, cariño," he told you, his fingers digging into your skin. "Just a little more."

His gentle tone contrasted sharply against the almost savage way he was fucking you. Your breathing came in shallow gasps, and your legs started to give out from under you. Miguel dropped one of his hands to support himself on the mattress. His large body seemed to envelope yours, and you could feel the heat from his skin warming your back. His panting breath tickled your ear as he continued ramming into you relentlessly.

You turned your face toward his, your noses brushing against each other. His lips were grazing the corner of your mouth in feather-light touches. Your eyes, blurred and unfocused, met his, and in that moment, a three-word phrase entered your mind that you had sworn to yourself you would never say to him.

"Miguel, I-I—"

You couldn't finish your sentence before your body was racked by another orgasm. You hadn't expected it, and it hit you hard and fast. A strangled cry emerged from your throat as your body trembled under his.

Miguel became desperate when he saw you were cumming again. With each thrust, he grunted loudly, overpowering the sound of your quiet gasping. Your whole body was shaking, and just when it was getting to be too much for you to handle, Miguel grew still with a ragged moan as he came inside you.

For a moment, there was just the sounds of your rapid breathing as you were both lost in the intoxicating feeling of finishing together. His head rested against yours, his skin hot to the touch. The sounds of his panting still tickled your ear while his hand slowly roamed from your waist up your back. Finally, with a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he pulled out of you.

Your hands released the vise grip they had on the sheets as you slumped down against the bed. Your mind was still flooded with the pleasure you felt, and you didn't have the capacity to do anything besides lay there and try to recover your breath.

Turning onto your back, you looked up at Miguel. His hair had fallen into his face in a messy way that made him even more handsome. Raising your free hand up to his face, you brushed his hair back so that you could see him clearly. His eyes seemed unfocused as his mind was clouded with pleasure. After a quiet second of staring at each other, he lowered his face to place a lazy kiss on your mouth.

God, how you wanted this to last. You wanted him to fuck you senseless every day. You wanted him to kiss you every hour, to think of you every minute, to be with you every second. Being together like this, open and vulnerable and comfortable with each other, it was the first time you felt a sense of connection with another person since you became Spider-Woman.

When he broke away from your lips, he slumped down beside you with a deep sigh. You glanced over at his face, a faint glimmer of sweat shining on his forehead, and admired for the millionth time just how good he looked.

As your breathing was finally evening out, you closed your eyes and felt like you could fall right back to sleep next to him again.

"Don't even think about it," Miguel mumbled, breaking the silence between you. "Hmm?" You questioned, opening your eyes to look at him.

"You're not falling asleep again," he said with a pointed look.

You groaned, rolling onto your side to face him better. "Why not?" You asked innocently. Miguel stretched his arms before answering, his muscles flexing in a way that made you crave another round with him. "Because I need to go," he sighed. "And that means you do, too."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "You can't just fuck me like that and expect me to be able to get up and leave after," you told him wryly.

Miguel huffed out a laugh, a cocky smile on his face. "I'm serious," you insisted, unable to suppress your own grin. The rare sight of Miguel's smile paired with the high you were still feeling made you giddy. "I'm sure you are," he replied, "but I'm also serious about needing to go."

You rolled your eyes. "Then go," you told him theatrically. "I won't beg for your company." Despite your words, you did indeed want to beg for his company. Every time he left, it was harder and harder for you to let him go.

He huffed again. "I'm not going to leave you alone in my room," he replied dryly.

You smirked at him. "Afraid I'm gonna steal your stuff?" You joked. Miguel's eyes turned to you with an amused gleam. "It's a possibility," he said evenly. "You still haven't given me my shirt back." You closed your eyes for a moment with a sigh. "Oh, yeah," you mumbled as you stretched out like a cat. "I definitely meant to do that."

Miguel hummed his disbelief, but there was humor in his subtle smile. "If I didn't know any better," he began slowly, reaching over to wrap his arm around you and pull you closer to him, "I would say you're lying."

Your own smile widened as you looked up at him mischievously, and you rolled over so that you rested on his chest. "Oh, you think you know better?" You asked in a sly tone, hovering your face over his.

His mouth was pulled in a crooked grin as his fingers brushed lazily across your bare back. "I know I do," he replied with a deep voice, his eyes fixed on your lips.

You hummed thoughtfully. "Well, maybe you're wrong," you asserted.

"I'm never wrong."

"I don't believe that."

"Name one time."

You paused, trying to think of a time when he did or said something incorrect, but unfortunately, nothing came to mind. You rolled your eyes. "I don't know," you admitted finally, earning a smug look from Miguel. "But one day, you'll have to admit you were wrong about something," you insisted, "and I'll make sure I'm there to see when you do."

"You may be waiting for a while," he remarked. You hummed thoughtfully, tracing a finger over the outlines of his face. "I’m a patient person," you stated simply. "And you never know. That day could come sooner than you think."

He stared up at you in amusement. "If you say so," he replied. "Though, I wouldn't use 'patient' as a word to describe you." You raised an eyebrow in interest. "Oh? And what would you use?" You asked smoothly.

Miguel pretended to think as he slowly stroked his fingers up and down your back. "There are a lot of words I could use," he began. "Stubborn is probably at the top of the list." You rolled your eyes, trying and failing to suppress a smile. "And?" You prompted, feeling genuine interest in how he perceived you.

"And..." he thought for a second, "passionate."

You smirked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah?" You said smugly. Miguel's lips also turned upwards in a subtle smile. "Not just sex," he clarified. "You're passionate about being Spider-Woman, and you care about the people around you. You're...kind."

Your stomach fluttered a little bit. You could tell he wasn't just saying that. The sincerity in his voice as he spoke was perfectly clear.

You smiled softly at him. "Keep going," you urged, though you were still trying to seem aloof at his words. He hummed thoughtfully. "You're strong," he listed. "You're fast. You're smart."

"Don't forget funny," you added.

Miguel gave you a skeptical look. "I didn't," he said. "It's just not on the list."

You couldn't stop yourself from laughing at that. "Shut up," you chastised, lightly smacking his chest as you recovered from his joke. His eyes gleamed as he stared up at your laughing face. There was a brief moment of silence as he looked up at you with half a smile on his lips before he murmured, "You're beautiful."

Two words and your heart was beating furiously in your chest. You were struck dumb, unable to think of what you could say to appropriately respond to him. He had called you pretty a dozen times, and you logically knew that he found you attractive based on your many encounters, but it wasn't just the words he spoke, it was how he said it—softly, earnestly, like it was something too precious to be said aloud.

And there was that three-word phrase again whispering in your mind. You could never say it, you knew that. It would be awkward, uncomfortable, and even potentially ruin your standing in the Society, but none of those reasons could stop you from thinking it when he was gazing up at you with his soft, brown eyes with a subtle smile on his full lips.

Miguel must've realized you were having trouble coming up with a response. Breaking the half-awkward silence around you, he said, "But you know what word I would use to describe you right now?"

You were pulled out of your stupor by his question, your face growing warm in embarrassment. "Hmm?" You hummed curiously.

"Treacherous," he replied simply.

Your eyebrows scrunched in surprise. "Treacherous?" You repeated. "How so?"

He lifted his head up just enough so that your lips were barely touching before whispering, "Don't think I don't know what you're doing right now."

You blinked down at him innocently. "What am I doing?" You whispered back, your lips grazing his softly.

He let you place a ghost of a kiss to his lips before finally replying, "Stalling." With that, he began sitting up off the bed, forcing you to roll off his body. "We have to go.”

You draped your arm over your eyes with a groan. He knew you too well. You had hoped he wouldn't notice you trying to drag on the pillow talk to keep him there with you. Now, it seems you’ve run out of time.

Miguel sat up off the bed and stretched. You watched how the muscles in his back flexed tightly before he stood to get dressed. Sighing, you also sat up, grabbing your underwear from off the floor where Miguel had discarded it the previous night before walking to the bathroom.

When you came back out, Miguel was already dressed in his suit, his hair slicked back in his typical fashion. He noticed you emerging from the bathroom and tossed you your web shooters. Catching them, you placed them on your wrists and watched as your suit enveloped your body.

He must’ve seen the wonder on your face because he said, “I told you it’s cooler than nanotech.” You smiled at him. “It is,” you conceded, stepping over toward him. “I don’t think I ever said thank you.”

He smirked down at you, his gaze flickering back and forth between your eyes and your lips. “I don’t recall that you ever did,” he replied. You placed one hand on his chest and let it wander up to his neck. Even on your tiptoes, he was too tall for you to kiss, so he had to follow your prompting hands and lean over to kiss you.

When you broke away from Miguel, you whispered, “Thank you.” He wore a soft smile on his lips as he whispered back, “You’re welcome,” before pressing them back to your mouth. Kissing him was so addicting, and you regretted having to leave once again.

Pulling away from you, Miguel sighed. “Listen,” he started, “finding the anomaly needs to be our first priority now.” You nodded in agreement, but you could sense there was more he was going to say. “That means,” he continued slowly, “no distractions.”

You studied his face for a second before you understood his implication. “You mean this?” You asked, your stomach tightening anxiously as you thought about him cutting you off. “Yes,” he replied before quickly adding, “until the anomaly is caught.”

You frowned. You had no idea how long that could take. The anomaly, ‘Ghost’ as he had been nicknamed, had already been at large far longer than any of you could have guessed, and he could stay in hiding between universes for far longer.

Miguel apparently could tell what you were thinking, and he raised one of his hands up to hold your chin gently. “You are a distraction for me,” he told you. “Now, I put you on the team because you can be useful, but I can’t be here lounging around with you when I need to be preparing for this, understand?”

You sighed in resignation. It made sense. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, it made sense. He was trying to run this whole operation by himself, and even though you wanted him to stay with you, you knew that you were just being selfish.

“Yes,” you replied reluctantly. He nodded, his thumb running back and forth along your chin gently. “Good,” he said. “I’ll see you at the meeting at 12.”

You sighed again. “Alright, I’ll see you there.” You turned to walk toward the door, but when Miguel called out your name, you paused and turned back around. He stepped toward you purposefully, and your heart leapt as you thought he was going to let you stay a while longer.

With his body hovering close to yours, he reached a hand out to grab your arm gently. You let him lift it up, your eyes never leaving his face as you noted how close his lips were to yours, but he wasn’t looking at you. He was looking down at your gizmo and was tapping away at the screen.

Confused, you looked down to see what he was doing. You watched as he pressed the button marked ‘silent,’ effectively disabling the setting you had it on. “No more of that either,” he told you with pointed look.

You gave a guilty smile. “Fair enough,” you conceded, taking back your arm. “But just so you know, I think this new rule of yours is a good idea, because now I’m going to catch this anomaly so fast, it’ll make your head spin.”

He smiled in amusement at your statement. “If you do,” he said, “I’ll fuck you until you can’t speak.” You raised an eyebrow at him. “You already do that,” you pointed out. He shrugged. “Not anymore,” he countered evenly. You shrugged back at him and replied casually, “But soon enough.”

With that, you turned back to the door with a smirk on your face and the determined notion that you were going to be the one to catch the anomaly.

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seeingivy · 1 year ago

Text

new year's day

actor eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting fic, masterlist here

content: reader mentions insecurity, connie and reiner teasing you, smooching, levi being a dad for ten minutes straight, sukuna cameo

an: I MISSED YOU POOKIES SO MUCH. SO SO MUCH. war (my 9-5) is over. this ended up at 9k, I hope it can compensate for the wait. ALSO VERY IMPORTANT WE'VE REACHED OUR FIRST TAYLOR SONG OF THE FIC. you can listen to new year's day from reputation before reading - it'll make the end part make more sense <3 (me furthering my turning people into swifties agenda, I saw her last night and my brain chemistry changed)

previous part linked here

“Go outside and look at the moon.”

“No. I’m really comfortable in my bed.”

“Oh, come on Y/N. Just go outside.”

You grumble some nice profanities at Eren over the phone as you shuffle out of your sheets, pushing open your window to stick your head out. The breeze in the air is cold, the frigid atmosphere invading your already freezing room.

Erwin won’t justify turning on the heater. There are only four people in the townhouse right now - you, Levi, Hange, and Erwin (which is totally not your worst nightmare) - and apparently, that doesn’t justify heater use at all. Luckily enough, Eren and his very convincing angry face will arrive tomorrow to save you from your eternal winter.

“S’cold, Jaeger.”

“Yeah, yeah. Do you see the moon?”

You crane your head up, twisting back in the window to look at it. A small crescent pressed against the sky, just slightly hidden beneath the clouds.

“Yes, Eren. I see the moon.”

“Okay. Now look to your right.”

“Are we playing Simon Says?”

“STOP SASSING ME AND JUST DO IT.”

You’re thrown off by the irritation in his voice, and you turn over, peeking your head entirely out to look to the right.

“Very exciting views, Eren. It’s literally pitch black.”

You don’t see much, just the tandem bike you set out for tomorrow - when Eren would be here and not berating you through the phone - and the small patch of flowers that are by the front door.

“I meant your other right, Y/N.”

You shift your head to the left and see Eren standing there, his green hoodie pulled over his head and a cheeky smile pressed into his face.

You drop your phone flat on the floor, running (falling) down the steps out into the cold air, your socks against the cold pavement as you run out to greet him.

He’s already holding his arms open, which you run into, as you burrow your face into his shoulder, his warm arms squeezing around your frame and his laugh in your ears.

“You were supposed to come tomorrow, Eren.”

“And yet I’m here today, Y/N.”

“Shut up. You know what I meant.”

“Flight got moved up. And maybe I just wanted some time in the house where it’s just you and me - you know, without Mikasa interrupting us every two seconds.”

You laugh as you and Eren sling your arms around each other’s shoulders, trudging out of the cold and into the kitchen.

Before you can even mention it, Eren’s pulling out two bowls, and you’re grabbing the ramen packets, the two of you leaning against the counter as you watch the water boil. As excited as you are to see him and actually to be near him, there isn’t really much to talk about.

You guys literally talk every single day.

“How’s the song coming?”

You groan, leaning into his shoulder as he laughs, his hand coming around your shoulder to rest in your hair. But it’s better. Because you can see him with your own eyes, hear him with your own ears, feel him with your own hands.

“Bad. I’m never going to finish it.”

“You’ll finish it. Plus, Armin’s coming soon, and he knows how to rhyme and stuff.”

“That’s not the problem. I feel like the lyrics work when I can figure out the backing tracks and the music. But I keep getting tangled up because I can’t figure out the piano.”

He reaches forward, opening the packets of noodles and dipping them into the water as you start chopping up the vegetables on the side.

“I play piano, Y/N. I can help you if you want.”

“No. That would just be more embarrassing. I get super frustrated when I’m writing. It would be infinitely worse if you were there watching me fail.”

He rolls his eyes as he takes the knife from your hand, lightly pushing you to the side to watch the noodles.

“You’re not going to fail. Let me help you. No one gets a hit on the first try, stupid.”

“Don’t call me stupid, idiot.”

“My bad, dumbass.”

“Language, Eren,” Levi says from behind you two.

You watch a smile spread across Eren’s face as he moves, running past the side of the counter to give Erwin, Hange, and a now-annoyed Levi a hug. Hange and Erwin are ruffling his hair, Hange cooing about how their little stars are back together again.

Eren joins you again at your side as you're dishing out the food, Erwin pulling out a stack of papers as you and Eren start eating at the counter.

“Business.”

“Go ahead, Erwin.” Eren says, handing you the hot sauce before you can even reach for it.

“So. Final scripts. As you’ll see, there aren't too many big scenes for you this season. It’s mostly focusing on this whole Utgard Castle arc, which you’re both not in.” Erwin explains.

“Okay, that’s-” you say.

“That doesn’t mean you both can slack off. There are more scenes for the rest of them because we need you two to nail the scenes you are in. Eren - this whole Colossal Titan reveal, you need to put everything you’ve got into it. If you think I’ve pushed you hard before, you’re in for a whole different playing field this season.” Levi says, glaring at Eren.

You watch Eren roll his eyes, grumbling under his breath as he agrees and starts flipping through the script.

“And you too, Y/N. This whole “Thank You” scene at the end - the majority of the dialogue falls on you. But you need to deliver in all ways. You better be acting with your eyes, your mind, your entire being. This is the type of scene you both could get nominated for as awards that’ll get you more roles. Take it seriously.” Levi continues.

At the mention of awards, you and Eren both perk your ears up, flipping to the end of the script to the scenes tabbed at the ends with your name on it. You quickly run your eyes through the scene and the staging and feel your throat constrict at the staging lines right in the middle, bolded.

Y/N leans forward, grabs Eren by the collar, and presses the softest kiss to his lips. It’s not overly passionate or sensational, but to the two of them, it’s a simple message. One they’ve known all along, maybe since they first met - in that cabin all those years ago.

I know how you feel. You don’t have to say it.

You feel your eyes widen as you look up at Hange and Levi, the words spilling out of your mouth.

“You want us to kiss?”

“Huh?”

At your words, Eren’s leaning over into your space, reading the line marked, and suddenly your cheeks are both burning pink. You both give each other a glance, which only makes it more awkward, as you shuffle as far away from each other as possible.

“Yeah. It’ll fit the scene. It’s just one kiss, maybe two if we don’t get it on the first take.” Hange says nonchalantly as they start flipping through the rest of the highlighted script.

As Erwin, Hange, and Levi start milling through their own conversations - discussing sets, costumes, that scene - you squeak out something that stops them in their tracks.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

Hange’s eyes light up as they nearly jump to your side, taking your cheeks into their hands and teasing you. They flip you around so you’re facing Eren, which you’ve been avoiding this entire time, and start whispering into your ear.

“Aw, isn’t he so sweet? It’ll be so nice to have your first kiss with your best friend, someone you trust.”

“Uh, I-”

“Cmon. Eren won’t bite now, will he?”

Eren awkwardly pads to the other side of the room, shoving his face into his script, as Levi comes over and yanks Hange by the hair, muttering something about how they need to stop teasing you.

“Another thing. While they’re filming the Utgard Castle scenes, you’re both not really in, you’re both going on a press junket. We’ll all be there as well.”

“The rest of the cast too?”

“No, just you two, Eren. They’re all going to finish filming so we can maximize time and all that. You’ll return on New Year’s Day to film that last scene.”

“Can we come back earlier? Y/N’s birthday is on New Year’s Eve. She should be here to celebrate with everyone and not on a stuffy plane.”

“Fine. You’ll come back that day. And then the scene is the day after.”

Hange, Erwin, and Levi give the two of you a curt nod as they pad back upstairs, leaving you, Eren, and your two bowls of ramen in the kitchen. You and Eren take the bowls and place them on the table, eating silently.

It’s still hanging in your mind. In a little less than a month, you’re going to be kissing Eren.

“Y/N.”

“Yeah, Eren?”

“I haven’t kissed anyone either.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I just mean, it doesn’t have to be awkward. We’ll just…figure it out together. And it’s you and me, so it won’t be weird.”

You smile, watching the last of your noodles swirl around the bowl as his words seep into your head. Right. It is just you and Eren. You’re best friends. It’s just one kiss. Or maybe two. It’s not a big deal.

“Yeah. You and me, Eren.”

He smiles in response, the awkwardness lifting off of you as you both finish eating.

The second Connie, Reiner, and Ymir make it back on set, their incessant teasing starts. They read the scripts. Kissy faces, smooching sounds, purposely pushing you and Eren into corners together just so they can tease you.��

“Eren. Are you excited to kiss, Y/N?”

“Shut up, Connie.”

“Is this your first kiss together? You must be sooo excited, Y/N.”

“Okay, Reiner. Are you excited for your weird pervert lines about Historia?”

The entire room laughs, Historia and Mikasa coming over to yank you out of the corner and sit at the table with them as you all catch up. Armin’s going around - taking pictures of everyone for our first day of filming with his Polaroid - as he starts labeling them all.

There’s one of Reiner and Bertholdt - in their iconic fists to each other’s back poses - labeled “pervert and giraffe” by Connie.

Another one of Sasha sleeping face first on the table from her jet lag while Connie and Jean are spraying whipped cream into her hair, labeled “connie springer, ultimate menace”

And another one of you and Eren, fist-bumping each other, labeled “l/n-jaegers, season two”

Connie films his first incriminating video ten minutes after that. It's Eren tucking your hair behind your ear.

You yank your earphones out as you crunch the pebbles under your feet, rubbing the sleepiness from your eyes. When Armin walks up next to you, he’s immediately leaning his head on your shoulder, his eyes sleepily shut as you wait for everyone else to join.

It’s five in the morning. And you really, really hate Hange for this.

You’re all supposed to be filming a scene two hours away, in the snowcaps. It’s meant to be a flashback scene, primarily for Ymir and Historia, which is why you’re pissed that you had to wake up this early anyways. The light is barely peeking into the sky, the hues still a dark navy as everyone strolls out of the townhouse.

Jean’s grumbling profanities, Mikasa’s dragging Connie out, and Sasha's the only one who’s really awake. Erwin slides open the bus door, and you trudge in, sliding into the first seat.

You're leaning your head against the glass, ice cold, as you try to flutter your eyes closed again to rest a little bit on the drive over. You feel a shifting in the seat next to you and two hands on your head, moving you through space.

You peek your eyes open to find Eren, placing your forehead against his shoulder instead of the glass.

“Huh, what-”

“Sorry, Y/N. Didn’t mean to wake you. Just figured it would be more comfortable this way.” he whispers, lightly pulling the hood of your jacket back over your head.

You nestle more into his shoulder, letting the weight of your head fall entirely onto his shoulder as he readjusts under you, his arm splayed across your back. You feel his head resting on top of yours, your breaths in tandem as you both shut your eyes and drift off to a very unrestful and bumpy sleep.

You wake up two hours later to the flash of a camera. And when you open your eyes, Armin and Connie are smirking at you, holding up the Polaroid of you and Eren sleeping in front of your face and then running out the bus.

You frown as you rub your eye sockets with your knuckles, readjusting your hair and cracking out your neck.

"Fuck Erwin for getting Armin that camera."

“I really hope they’re not there when we have to kiss each other, Eren. They’re never going to let us hear the end of it.”

“You and me both.”

He holds his hand out, helping you up from the chair as you both pull on your jackets and join everyone else in the snow.

“Sleep well?”

You and Eren turn your heads to find Marco standing beside you, a shy smile on his face. You and Eren both reach forward, pulling your arms around him as you start talking at the same time, shocked at his presence.

“Marco. What the fuck? What are you doing-”

“You didn’t even tell us you were coming! That’s so messed up. You bitch.”

He pulls back, a hand resting on both of your shoulders as he smiles, the look soft.

“Sorry, guys. I wanted it to be a surprise. I’ll be here after you’re back from the press junket, too, Y/N. For your birthday.”

You smile at him, giving him one more hug as he ruffles your hair, the two of you linking arms as you wait to film the scene at hand. After you film the aforementioned extremely short scene - which just makes you more aggravated at Levi and Hange because why the hell did you have to come out here for that - the lot of you head into the cabin, peeling off your snow coats and settling into the seats.

Armin and Eren settle at the window, the two of them teaching each other card tricks while Bertholdt follows Sasha to rummage for snacks. Mikasa and Reiner run off to explore the upper level of the cabin as you and Marco sit flat against the wall, watching everyone walk around.

“How are you, Y/N?”

“Okay, Marco. How are you?”

“I meant. Regarding everything we talked about last time and all that.”

“Oh. Right.”

The last time you saw Marco was when he came to visit you and stay with your family for a week. It was an impromptu trip after you mentioned to him that things weren’t going so great. Granted, he was only an hour away from filming a short film and had the time to spare, but it still meant the world.

He places a hand on the top of your knee as you look over at Eren, his eyebrows scrunched in concentration as he starts talking.

“You doing okay? Seriously?” he asks.

“It feels better when I’m here. With you guys. Especially you, now that you’re here. I feel most normal here and wildly out of place when I’m home.”

He sighs, squeezing your knee as you watch Eren place his card down, a victorious screech leaving his mouth as Armin rolls his eyes.

“I can’t say I understand. We all went to the SHWA when we were so little, and I guess there was always some understanding that we’d be…in the spotlight. Scrutinized. No grocery stores or going to the beach, or any of that. Those things wouldn’t be normal. There was really no…normal to go back to.”

You reach down, holding his hand, as you tilt your head back on the wall.

“I don’t know. It’s weird. Sometimes it feels like I can’t even be normal without people picking apart everything I do. I knew this was something I wanted badly but never figured it would be like this.”

“Yeah. I know the feeling.” he responds.

Eren looks over from his spot on the windowsill, eyebrows scrunched together in frustration now as he mouths the words.

You okay?

You nod, albeit halfheartedly, as Marco pulls you up, the two of you scooting into the kitchen.

“Did you tell him about any of this?”

“No.” “Don’t be silly, Y/N. The first thing they say at the SHWA is to rely on the people around you. The ones who understand.”

“I do rely on the people around me. I’m talking to you right now.”

He reaches forward to flick your forehead, the spot stinging.

“Ouch, asshole.”

“I’m not a series regular anymore. And he’s the person you should tell. He’d want to know.”

You roll your eyes at him as Sasha comes up, splitting half of her chocolate bar with you. Armin and Eren amble in a little while later, the lot of you all standing in the kitchen, watching Connie shove as many marshmallows as he can into Reiner’s mouth.

Armin takes a picture. Labels it “chubby bunny gone wrong” when Reiner’s choking over the sink.

The press junket is insane. You and Eren are spending three days, all at the same convention, doing panels together. All while trying to memorize the lines for your kiss scene. Levi and Erwin said to meet as many people as the two of you could socialize as much as you can. Answer questions about the show for fans without letting Eren spoil the show.

The first interview was a get-to-know-the-actors test. You and Eren are tasked with asking each other simple questions and talking about them. It should be easy. As the camera beeps red for recording, Eren turns to the side and starts.

“My name is Eren Jaeger, and I’m one of the cast members of Attack on Titan.”

“And I’m Y/N L/N, and I’m also from the cast of Attack on Titan. We’re going to be doing an interview today for you to get to know us better!”

Eren leans forward, giving you a warm smile as you talk. He reaches forward, reading off the question on the first card.

“Y/N. Did you take anything home from the set?”

You turn to the side, making a fake warning face into the camera.

“Levi, if you’re watching, stop.”

Eren laughs as you turn back to him, trying to ignore the lights blaring in your eyes.

“Um. I totally accidentally took one of the scarves home. But that was an accident. Did you take anything?”

“I stole one of Armin’s polaroids from the wall. I keep it in my wallet. And I totally stole one of the ODM gear swords.”

“Huh? What do you even do with that?”

“Threaten my brother.”

“Oh my god, Eren. Jesus. Which polaroid did you take?”

“I have it, actually.”

Eren smiles at you as he yanks his wallet out of his pocket, handing the shiny white Polaroid over. You smile as you remember the day, the picture being of you and Eren with your ramen bowls. Armin’s inscription says, “sosuke and ponyo.” You hold it up to the camera before handing it back to Eren, making a mental note to steal one of Armin’s Polaroids too.

“Okay, Eren. Your question is…who is the first person you call when you get good news?”

His cheeks turn pink as he pinches the bridge of his nose, rolling his eyes at the camera.

“This is kind of cheesy.”

“Huh, Eren?”

“The person I call is you.”

You smile, twiddling with the end of your braids as you respond.

“My answer is you too.”

He smiles back, the two of you getting through the rest of the questions and thanking the crew team in the filming room. As you and Eren swing out of the door, he pulls the tiny little sheet Levi had made for the two of you out of his pocket, looking where to go next. You’re leaning so close into his space to read the little sheet that you can smell his minty gum, the smell filling your nose.

You’re going to the networking event.

You and Eren slide into the hallway, a big expensive conference room filled with people milling around. Almost everyone is nursing a glass of red wine in their hands, all adults talking over and around you as you both awkwardly stand at the front. You instinctively reach down for Eren’s hand, the two of you locking fingers as you move forward.

You both naturally lean against the wall, watching everyone walk around as you enter the room. All men. Well, almost all men. But from what you can tell, the only other women in the room are actresses - the producers, directors, screenwriters - they’re all men.

“Does it feel weird to you here, Eren?”

“Kind of. I can’t really place what it is, but it doesn’t really feel like we’re allowed to be here.”

You’re both significantly younger than almost everyone in this room. And they’re all drinking. Talking about god knows what. You try to scan the room - looking for Erwin, Hange, or Levi but come out dry from your search. Eren must be sensing your unease because he’s leading you toward the doors, ready to yank the two of you out of the situation.

But before he can, a man stops him, tapping him on the shoulder to talk to him. You both stop in your tracks, half turning around to look at him. He’s extremely tall, looming over the two of you, and you feel infinitely small in front of him. He looks at Eren, a self-assured smile pressed on his face as he introduces himself.

“Scott Clarkson. I’m a producer for Stone Studios.”

“I’m Eren Jaeger. This is-”

“I know who you are, Eren. I was invited to see one of the first cuts of the latest movie you just filmed and-”

Before you can even understand what’s happening, he has his hand on Eren’s shoulder, and they’re walking down the length of the hall, the end of their conversation lost to you. Eren looks back, and you give him a halfhearted smile as he tries to turn back before getting stuck in a larger group of people.

You make your way back against the wall, sliding into one of the farthest chairs and swirling a cup of lemonade in your hands. You watch the pulp of the lemon dissolve into your cup as you aggressively swirl, the drops landing on the black of your skirt.

It’s moments like this where you feel like you don’t belong. Marco’s words swirl through your mind, that this type of stuff is normal for them because they have no normal to return to, but you can’t help but feel other to them even if they are where you feel most comfortable.

Eren’s on the other side of the room, now stuck in a big group and laughing with producers and casting directors and talking about movies he’s filming and what he has lined up next. You’re on the other side of the room, sulking against the wall - you’d be shocked if they even knew who you were.

You’re not jealous of him. If anything, it’s everything Eren deserves and more. He’s always been phenomenal. But that’s just the thing, he’s everything and you’re not even on the same playing field.

Sometimes, it feels like Eren’s too good to be your friend. Your co-star. Someone you’re around. You can feel your knuckles turning white against the plastic of the cup, crushing against your hand.

“You know, if you do that any harder, you’re going to spill it all over yourself. Then I’ll have to take my pants off so you don’t look like an idiot.”

You look up to find Sukuna smiling at you, with Nobara and Maki rolling their eyes at him. You hop up, crushing Nobara and him in a hug and physically feeling the unease untangle in your chest.

“Hi. I’m really glad you’re here I-”

“This shit always sucks. I have no idea why we’re forced to come to these things.” Maki says, sliding into the seat on your left. Sukuna sits to your right, his arm resting across the back of your chair as the four of you whisper, well, more like the three of them explaining who all the producers in the room are, as you sit there.

“Hey Sukuna.”

“Hm, doll?”

“That guy. The one talking to Eren. Who is he?”

He squints his eyes as he cranes around the room, trying to find where you’re pointing at Eren. And when he does, you watch his eyes widen before he talks again.

“Ah. That’s Clarkson. He’s kind of an asshat.”

“What? Why?”

“No, he’s just a dick. A really great producer makes super cool movies, but he’s…not the best. All that shit you hear about the industry running people dry, taking advantage of people. They’re talking about him. And his lot.” Nobara explains, glaring daggers at him.

“Not his entire lot, Nobara. His daughter is fine.” Sukuna says, reaching over to you and Maki to flick her cheek.

“She’s a bitch. You’re just saying that because you’re dating her.” Nobara responds, flicking him back.

“Who's a bitch?”

The four of you break apart, still leaning over each other, to find Eren, Levi, and a short girl with brown hair staring at you.

“No one, Hyla.” Nobara says, grumbling as she and Maki stand up. Levi gets side-swiped into a conversation. He looks like he’d rather be five feet under than whatever he was talking about as the six of you stand up. You hold your hand out, introducing yourself to Hyla.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hyla Clarkson. Your dad was the one who acted in Interstellar, right?”

“No. That’s Historia’s dad, but I get the confusion. We’re just from the same show.”

You watch her eyebrows pinch up in confusion as she crosses her hands around her chest.

“Oh! Was your mom the one in Moonrise Kingdom?” she asks.

“Nope. I-”

“So what film were they-”

“My parents are dentists. They’re not really in the industry like that.” you ramble out, trying to spare yourself from any more embarrassment.

She smiles, the expression not meeting her eyes, as she reaches down and links her hand with Sukunas.

“That’s really sweet, actually. Humble beginnings and all that,” she says.

“I think it’s pretty cool. Like yeah, we all land roles because our parents kind of help us get them in some way. But, Y/N worked her way to the lead of the show, sans famous parents. It’s a testament to true talent. ” Eren says, his voice firm.

“I agree. L/N has always been badass, especially on the screen.” Maki says, glaring at Hyla altogether.

She rolls her eyes as she reaches into the pocket of her dress, taking out a shiny silver card and handing it to Eren.

“Eren. This is my dad’s card. He wanted me to give you another one unless you lost it.” Hyla says, giving Eren a hug before she walks away.

You both wait outside for Levi to join you, quietly standing against the wall. You watch Eren turn over the card in his hands before ripping it up, slashing right through Scott Clarkson’s shiny name in the middle.

“That’s a bit harsh, Eren. He’s a really good producer from what I’ve heard,” you say.

“Don’t care. We’ll get there on our own - we don’t need leg-ups from guys like that.”

You smile as you lean your head on Eren’s shoulder, the anxious feeling still tingling in your chest. Levi makes his way out, giving you two a smile as you both get dragged to your next panel, individual interviews.

You go first. The interviewer is a pale blonde girl with a stack of cards in her hand.

“Y/N. Who's your favorite male co-star on set?”

“Oh, um. That’s a hard question to ask, we’re all friends.”

You can tell she’s not satisfied with your answer by her uptight posture, the irritation rolling out of her mouth.

“Oh, don’t pick a cop-out answer. Who's your favorite male co-star? Is it Eren?”

“Um, sure? He’s my best friend on set. But I like everyone.”

She smiles, switching to her next card.

“Fans have picked up on matching bracelets you and Eren have been wearing during this press tour. Can you comment on the story behind them?”

“Oh, sure! It was last year, at the Savant Awards TV show awards. A pair of sweet fans gifted them to us.”

She doesn’t comment any further on the story, switching to the next card as you swirl the bracelet around on your wrist, concealing Eren’s name on the beads against the inner part of your wrist. You have a feeling that what you just said will already get twisted into something it’s not, which in the worst way, distorts the entire thing for you together.

“Okay, well, that’s all I have for you.”

You give her a smile as you switch seats, taking Eren’s previous seat. Hange places a hand on your head, and you watch them share a look with Levi as Eren takes the seat.

“You’re a phenomenal actor, Eren. What gets you in the zone on set?”

“Thank you so much! I usually have to take a second before I start filming a scene just to get in the right headspace. Especially for scenes that I film with Y/N, I usually need her to be right there next to me just so I can…feel the scene before we film it.”

The interviewer smiles, sliding to the next card as she asks Eren the questions. She couldn’t be this cheery and enthusiastic for you?

“Do you have any pre-filming rituals before you get on set and start filming?” she asks.

“I need to eat a bowl of ramen with Y/N before we start. It’s not like a good luck thing or anything, but we’ve just always started our day like that and now we just have to do it before we go on and film.” Eren responds, looking over to give you a smile.

You give him a thumbs up as he keeps going, trying not to pay too much attention to the fact that all of Eren’s questions are about his upcoming roles, his acting techniques, his favorite parts of acting, and how yours were all about him. Granted, Eren somehow brings you up in almost every question he answers - even if it’s not explicitly related to you - which only makes the entire thing fester in your mind more.

What are people going to say about it? This would just make what everyone says about you guys worse.

Not that it’s bad, but they just…say things. Granted, everyone had been saying things since the start, but you’ve always chalked that up to the fact that you and Eren are closer than everyone else is. And you know how the two of you are, but everyone else seems to have their own opinions about it. And maybe you should try to stop it? But if that’s how you are, who are you to change and-

“You okay?”

Eren’s taken the seat next to you, leaving Erwin to get interviewed next. You’re both slumped into the chairs at the back, Levi and Hange whispering in hushed voices in front of you. You can’t help but wonder if they felt this way when they were filming La La Land, but then again, they had no reason to deny anything that anyone said. They were actually together.

“Yeah. Just want to go home.”

He frowns as he brings a hand to the top of your head, leaning it to rest on his shoulder again. His cold fingers are in your scalp, pressing against the pulsating headache you’d been ignoring for the past hour, soothing the feeling.

Should you guys really be sitting like this if there are cameras five feet away? And what if-

“Do you want to take a walk? We can go look for lemonade or something.”

You nod as you both stand up, giving Hange and Levi a wave as you walk off. You’re slowly ambling behind Eren as he looks around for the drinks, the entire day replaying in your mind.

You just want to go back to set. Have Mikasa tell you goodnight, eat breakfast with Sasha, play cards with Armin. None of this press junket, stupid interviewers, uncomfortable producers business.

You feel a tugging on your arm, and you look back to find two girls looking at you. They can’t be much older than you, maybe eighteen or nineteen, with matching Attack on Titan shirts. With your face on it.

“Hi. We’re Sarah and Sofia. We’re really, really big fans of the show. We were wondering if we could get a picture with you?”

“Oh! Yeah, of course. I’d love to.” you respond.

You take a few pictures with them before handing them their phones back.

“Are you guys enjoying the panels?”

“Yes! We’ve gone to every single one of yours, you’ve been doing really well.”

You can feel your cheeks burning at their praise, reaching forward to hold both of their hands as you talk.

“You guys are too kind. And I really, really love the shirts. Did you make them yourselves?”

“Yeah! We also drove down two hours just to come watch, it’s been such a good weekend. We really, really admire you for what you’ve done. It seems like we hardly ever see “normal” people in the media. But every time we watch you do an interview, you always bring up our favorite songs and slang that we use, it just…makes it feel like there’s someone like us on the screen.”

You squeeze their hands, the tears welling in your eyes as you fight them down while responding.

“I promise, I’m a thousand times more like you than any of them, in more ways than you’d think. And…you could do it too. It’s like you said, we’re one and the same.”

They’re smiling so brightly at you that it’s making your heart squish in your chest, the feeling all warm and gooey and self-soothing. Right. You can do it. Who gives a fuck if a stupid reporter or these people think you’re lame - the people who watch your show are the ones that matter.

“We love you so much. You’re so, so sweet. You’re literally the nicest celebrity we’ve ever met. I’m sure you have to run soon - I can see Eren back there staring bullets at us - but we hope you have a really good birthday tomorrow, and we can’t wait to meet you again.” they say.

You wrap your arms around both of them as they both run off, excitedly talking, as you see Eren coming up to join you. He has a cup of lemonade in his right hand, the left hand reaching forward to wipe away the one tear that escaped your eyes.

“Sure you’re okay?”

You look over at him, green eyes looking into yours, and reach down to take his hand.

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Let’s go home, yeah?”

You nod, the two of you shuffling off to where you came from.

When you get on the plane, your impending panic of the “Thank You” scene comes back. You’re both landing on set on New Year’s Day - which is your birthday, so you won’t be filming. Levi and Hange granted you the night off, and Eren says the two of you can go get slushies when you land. But then you’re filming the scene the next morning. You’re both still stuck on the plane for another seven hours running through the lines.

“Listen, you’ve always been at my side...thank you.”

You drop the script onto the table and groan loudly, to which Eren laughs in response.

“It-it’s falling flat. This scene is too serious, I-we’re going to have to do a million takes.”

“It’s fine- we’ll just practice a lot.”

You switch seats so you’re right next to Eren, the two of you looking down at your scripts and switching. You read each other’s stage notes - you both have a habit of writing notes to help remember lines and blocking - which you’ve found helps reading each other's notes helps you stay in line. Like you’re in each other’s head.

You read through his little scribbles - keep eye contact, start crying here, practice this.

“Eren.”

“Hm?”

“When you say practice this, you mean…”

He leans over, eyes going wide as he snatches his own script back, face burning. The arrow saying “practice this” was pointing to the line referring to the two of you kissing.

“Were you going to practice kissing in the mirror?”

“Shut up.”

“I think a pillow would be more sanitary. Maybe you could find a video of it on the internet or-”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to practice with me,” Eren responds angrily.

You can feel your throat drying, eyes met with Eren’s burning stare.

“Um.”

“I just thought it-it would be worse if we did it wrong. And had to keep trying, and you know that everyone’s going to come to watch us and-”

“I guess, but-”

“You don’t have to, Y/N. I was just thinking about it, and I was going to ask. Just so we don’t…have to do it for the first time in front of cameras.” he mumbles, turning his head away to look out the window.

You sit there for a second and think about it. Eren does have a point. Having Ymir and Reiner stand there while you kiss Eren, or anyone, for the first time would be horribly embarrassing if they were actually standing there. And it would be weird to have your first kiss for the first time in front of someone, maybe it would be a better memory if it was more isolated and someone else.

“Okay, Eren. That actually makes sense.”

He turns back, a shocked expression spreading across his face.

“Really?”

“Yeah, just…don’t be weird or something if it’s bad. I’ve like never really done this before, Eren and-”

“It’ll be fine. We can figure it out together. It’s just…kissing. Can’t be rocket science.”

You nod, albeit apprehensively, as Levi and Hange join you and Eren in the seats across from you.

“You guys doing okay?” Levi asks, pushing bottles of water toward the two of you.

You both nod as you take in their expressions, the two of them more stern or serious than normal. Well, Hange being more stern - Levi has resting serious face.

“We wanted to talk to you about something,” Hange says.

“Okay. Is everything okay?” you ask.

“The press junket. You both were exposed to many different things you really haven’t been to before and we just…want to give you our own advice before we let you go on and about in your careers.” Hange says.

“We care about you both, and there are just some things you should know. We don’t care what you do because you’re your own people, but we just want you to be warned about things you…might see.” Levi continues.

You and Eren give each other a weary look, halfheartedly nodding at the two of them.

“There are some producers in the industry that don’t have your best interest. I’m sure you guys have heard rumors before of what the industry is really like and what it can do to someone - we’re trusting you both to keep your heads when dealing with situations like that.” Hange says.

“I don’t give a shit if it ruins your reputation. You don’t let them ruin you, control you, whatever. Your safety and what you’re comfortable with comes first.” Levi says.

“Have you guys ever been....near stuff like that?” Eren asks

Levi and Hange give each other a weary look before nodding.

“Yes. That’s why we’re telling you because no one ever told us. They’ll make you do things you don’t want to, make it feel like they control you, and take away the things important to you so they’ll know you’ll stay. Some of them are also very deep in some very, very illegal shit, so again. If you value where you are, you won’t interact with them.” Levi says.

You both nod, reaching for each other's hands as Levi and Hange study you with their eyes.

“Eren. Y/N. Did you notice anything weird about the press junkets we did today? Or what the media says?”

“Not really,” Eren responds.

You look down at your hands, focusing on the way your knuckles look when they’re flexed, from clenching so hard, as they all wait for your response. But you guess your silence is enough of an answer because Hange takes that as their sign to start talking.

“I had a feeling. What have you been thinking?” Hange asks.

You can feel your voice getting tangled in your throat and the tears coming to fill your eyes when it comes time to explain, to tell the three of them something they might entirely reject. Or just not understand.

“I just-the press junket was weird. It seemed like the interviewers were all asking me questions about Eren or Connie, or my other co-stars while they were asking Eren questions about his acting and what he does to get ready on set. It just feels like-that’s the only thing they care about when it comes to me. How I interact with other people.”

Eren’s squeezing your hand - three times - as the tears are freely spilling out of your eyes. Right with the words because now that you’ve opened this can of worms, it seems like you won’t stop until they’re all out on the floor.

“And. At the networking event, everyone wanted to talk to Eren and not to me. And it’s not that I’m jealous of him because I want Eren’s dreams to come true just as much as mine, but it…just feels like I’m less than. Like I’m stupid for even trying because my parents are just dentists in a small town, and the only acting I’ve done before this was in a very shitty small-scale production of Hamilton at my middle school.”

Hange and Levi scoot into the seats at your sides, Hange’s arms around you on your left and Eren’s around you on your right. Hange and Eren are squeezing your hands, Levi’s hand softly running through the strands of your hair as you sniffle through all the tears.

“I’m sorry, kid, but this part doesn’t go away. Especially because you’re a girl, something about that makes people think they have the right to the most heinous things about you. They’ll criticize anything and everything you do. You’ll learn to roll with the punches because, at the end of the day, you’re here to make art. Let that do the talking for you.” Hange says.

“I know. I just have to ignore them. Plus, there are nice people out there who really care about the show and what I do so-” you respond.

“More than just care about it, Y/N. People love you. The ones around you and people out there.” Eren says.

“Another thing. Eren, the type of scrutiny you’ll face is nothing compared to what she’s going to face, just on principle. It’s your job to not be the asshole who turns a blind eye to that and it’s your job to defend her if it calls for it. And if anything, it should infuriate you enough anyways that-” Levi mentions, looking over the tops of your heads to look at Eren.

“It already does infuriate me. Who gives the people the right to say anything about her when she’s one of the best ones on the show?” Eren responds, the anger spilling out of his mouth.

Levi and Hange give your hands one last squeeze before walking away, muttering something about how you should just focus on enjoying your birthday tomorrow and the scenes, leaving you and Eren in the seats again.

“What were we talking about before?” you ask.

“Everyone is stupid. You know that, right?”

You sigh, leaning against the chair so you’re looking up at the top of the airplane, the white lights shining on the two of you.

“I know that logically. But sometimes, it just kind of sits in my head. Repeating, and I try to convince myself it’s not true, but-”

“I’ll convince you.”

“What?”

“Just tell me. I’ll convince you. You could have told me before too and whenever you want. I’ll drop whatever it is I’m doing for you if this is what you need me to do.”

You nod, thinking of the best response. Because how do you tell him that he’s the best person you’ve ever met, and this only furthers the fact that he’s just too good for you. Because you’ve never had someone defend you or be so ready to come to your aid before that you don’t know what to do with it?

“I know how you feel. You don’t have to say it, Y/N.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes at him.

“Are you quoting the stage directions from our kiss scene?”

“Maybe. But it’s true. And also, that’s what we were talking about before. Practicing kissing.”

“Maybe after we go to get slushies for my birthday later?”

“Yeah.”

You both smile as you dig your noses back into your scripts, waiting for the plane to reach back to set.

You guys land on set the next day, around three pm. Eren and Levi woke you up on the plane with a little mini-cupcake and a candle to surprise you. Hange then smashed almost all of the frosting onto your face, which just earned them a good amount of scolding from both Eren and Hange. When you land, you and Eren head to the townhouse together, to change before getting slushies.

“Why do you have your phone out, Eren?”

“What? I always have my phone out.”

“Not when you’re like…walking somewhere. And there isn’t even any wifi outside the townhouse, so I don’t even know what you’re doing on that.”

“Can you just walk into the house, please? Do you have to question everything I do?”

You pretend to scratch your temples, like you’re pondering his questions, as Eren rolls his eyes and lightly pushes your head, gesturing you into the house. And when you walk inside, they’re all waiting for you - the foyer of the townhouse decorated for your birthday and little party hats on all of their stupid little heads.

They’re all singing Happy Birthday off cue - Reiner singing opera again, Connie screaming cha-cha-cha off cue, and Historia singing like she’s the next contestant of America’s Got Talent. Mikasa and Sasha bring over a cake with seventeen green candles, each of them giving you a tight hug as you blow out the candles.

“Surprise!” Armin says, flashing the camera in your face.

“This is so sweet, you guys. Thank you,” you say.

“We have gifts. Come on, let’s open them.” Jean says, grabbing you by the hand and leading you to the center room.

They each hand you their gifts, excitedly watching you rip off the wrapping paper. And you get why because it seems like everyone put so much thought into their gifts that it makes your heart squeeze. Mikasa gives you a nice, leatherbound notebook so you can stop writing song lyrics on napkins, and Armin compliments her gift by buying you a nice set of green guitar picks.

You take the time to squeeze everyone in a hug and press a kiss to Ymir’s cheek, much to her dismay, because she writes you the sweetest little birthday note that makes you cry, and Reiner buys you a vinyl player to use for when you make your own record. And when you go all around the circle, you end up back at Eren, who is seemingly empty-handed.

“Did you get me something? You don’t have to, I just-”

“Shut up. Of course, I had to. I just can’t really wrap my gift.” Eren responds, grabbing you by the hand and leading you to the closet near the front door.

The rest of them all follow suit, watching you guys from a little distance.

“Wow, Eren. I love it. I’ve always wanted my own closet.”

“Shut up and open it.”

You reach forward for the handle and swing it open, only to be met with your brothers - Colt and Falco - springing out of the closet and wrapping their arms around you. You’re squeezing the both of them so hard, so excited you’re crying because it’s literally been months on end since you’ve seen them, and you never dreamed they could even be here.

“What are you doing here? Coco, you literally have class in like two days, and Colt so do you and-”

“Eren flew us out for your birthday. We’re leaving at the end of the day tomorrow.”

You turn around, and you know you’re all teary-eyed and pink in the face, but you reach forward and squish Eren into the tightest hug known to man, eliciting cheering from the rest of them still watching you - that you entirely forgot about.

“Eren. I love you so much. Thank you. I’ll pay you back for the plane tickets, but this really means the world to me, and I-”

“You don’t have to pay me back. This was a gift for you, birthday girl,” he says, pinching the side of your cheek.

Nine hours later and the whole new year in the flesh, you’re scribbling lyrics into the little book Mikasa bought you. The party they threw you - fully set with games, karaoke, and a pinata that Bertholdt procured out of thin air - turned out to be so tiring that they all passed out in the foyer, sleeping on top of each other on the couch and the floor.

“Writing a song?”

“Yeah. I think it’s done, actually, I just need to go play it now,” you say.

“Want me to come? I can help with the piano.” Eren asks.

“It’s three in the morning. Aren’t you tired? And I don’t even know where the key to set is where we can access the piano.”

Eren reaches for the closest drawer, pulling out a shiny black key and dragging you out by the hand. You both pull on jackets and run out into the dark to the tandem bike, pushing towards set while shivering in the cold air.

And when Eren opens the set door and turns on the lights, you immediately scream and duck behind him.

“What the fuck is that?”

“Ymir’s prosthetic titan.”

“God. Do they need to leave it at the front door? That literally scared the shit out of me.”

He laughs, locking his hand in yours as he drags you to the piano near the back of the set. You yank your hoodie off your head, placing the lyrics on the front of the piano.

“Okay, so. Sing it. I’ll see what chords make the most sense after.”

You nod, going through the first verse.

There’s glitter on the floor after the party Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor You and me from the night before, but

Eren starts playing the piano around the chorus, a light piano tune filling the air. And he’s watching you so intently as you sing the lyrics, change words around with your messy handwriting, and he thinks at this moment, with your forehead all scrunched up in concentration and your sweet voice in the air that you might be his favorite person to be around.

Don’t read the last page But I stay, when it’s hard, or it’s wrong, or we’re making mistakes I want your midnights But I’ll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year’s Day

And when you finish, he’s wrapping his arms around you, his voice so soft when he whispers in your ear that it makes the hair on your skin stand up.

“You are…amazing. You know that?”

“Eren. You’re so-”

He cups your cheek in his hand, his thumb rubbing back and forth as he looks into your eyes, the look so warm, so sincere that it makes your chest tingle and your heart pound. Any denial of the fact will be met with pushback, so you drop it.

“Thank you, Eren.”

He smiles, dropping his hand to play the chords again and write them in the book.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Is this song about me, Y/N?”

“What?”

“Well, the line. You squeeze my hand three times in the back of a taxi? Isn’t that kind of our thing? Squeezing hands three times.”

You can feel your cheeks burning as you focus on the lyrics. And god, maybe the song is about Eren. You didn’t intend to write it that way, but he’s right. The candle wax, and the polaroids are mentioned in the song.

Those are all things you associate with him.

“I guess so. I mean, I didn’t mean to really write it that way, but I guess that’s how it came out.”

He smiles, a smirk on his face as he starts teasing you.

“Am I your muse?”

“Shut up. You’re so fucking stupid, Eren.”

“You and me, forevermore huh?”

“Eren. Stop.”

“I’m teasing, Y/N. I like the sound of that. And the entire song, it’s really good. You should submit it to perform for the Savants.”

“No. I could never do that.”

He rolls his eyes as he shuts the book, swinging on the other side of the piano bench to lean against the now-closed piano. You’re both sitting silently, taking in the set when it’s so empty. Everyone’s ODM gear is labeled in the closet with their names, Eren’s prosthetic titan arms lying nearby, and Levi’s cleaning supplies.

Eren clears his throat, breaking the silence.

“We-um. Were supposed to get slushies yesterday.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I just got so distracted.”

“Yeah. And.”

“And?”

“Weweresupposedtopracticethekiss.” he mumbles out, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck.

You feel your eyes widen as the recognition hits you. You’re supposed to kiss Eren tomorrow morning.

“Oh, shit. That’s literally tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

The silence hangs between the two of you as the pit in your stomach starts burning.

“Do you want to practice now? Just so we’re good for tomorrow morning?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess.”

You both awkwardly shuffle on the piano bench facing, splitting your legs between each side so you can both scoot closer to each other. And you can feel your heart beating really fast at being this close to him, all alone.

He must sense it, because he puts his hand in yours, squeezing three times, before talking.

“You okay? We don’t have to.”

“No. We should. I-I want to.”

He nods, lifting his hands in the air as confusion spreads across his face.

“You can put your hands wherever. It’s okay.” you say

“O-okay. Right, Y/N. Sorry I-”

“Don’t worry. I’ve never done this before either.”

He settles for cupping the side of your face with his right hand and leaving his left hand resting against the side of your waist. You place your hands against his hoodie, crumpling the fabric in your hands as you try to limit the sweat gathering on your palms.

“Okay.”

“Okay, Y/N. You ready?”

“Yeah.”

He leans forward and presses his lips to yours, the sensation so strange that you forget to move your lips and freeze up against your face. You both stay there for three seconds - but it feels like an eternity. And when he pulls away, you can feel the embarrassment rushing to your face when you realize what just happened.

You just kissed him wrong. You forgot to kiss him back.

“Oh my god, Eren. Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I was so thrown off by it, and I just made your first kiss wrong, and I-”

“Y/N.”

“Oh god. We’re going to fuck this up so badly tomorrow. I’m going to fuck this up so badly tomorrow. And we’re going to-”

“Y/N.”

“Ymir is never going to stop making fun of me. And then I’ll probably-”

He drops his hands and reaches for your wrists, squeezing hard as he talks.

“Y/N. Stop.” he says, his voice so soft, so earnest that it stops you in your tracks.

“It’s okay. You didn’t mess anything up. I think you’re just…thinking about it too hard. This isn’t the kiss we’re doing for tomorrow or the show. This is just you and me, kissing here and now. So just…relax. It’s just us.”

You groan as you put your hands on your face, murmuring through your fingers.

“How do you always say the right thing like that? It pisses me off.”

He laughs, grabbing your wrists and placing them back on his shoulders where they were before. And when he secures his hand around your cheek and your waist again, his green eyes are shining in the set light and you think he might be your favorite person to be around.

“Ready, Y/N?”

“Ready.”

And when he leans forward this time, you move your lips too, taking notice of how soft, how warm his lips feel against yours. How the sensation tingles all the way down to your stomach, makes your cheeks burn and your brain prickle. You instinctively lift your hands off his shoulders, feeling the softness of his hair between your fingertips and how his hand is only guiding your mouth closer to his like he’s pushing your lips together more than they already are.

And when you both pull away, you’re both staring at each other - dilated eyes and swollen, pink lips. Your hands in his hair and his hands around your waist, breathless.

When he cracks a smile, you can feel your entire resolve shattering. You make no effort to stop beaming at him the way you are, because you know you couldn’t even if you tried.

“Hi Y/N.” he whispers.

“Hi Eren.” you whisper back.

And you both laugh so hard that it makes your chest hurt.

“Listen, Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“You know. We’re practicing. And doing it one time doesn’t mean it’s perfect, so-so we should try again. You know, for method acting purposes and-and.”

You smirk, reaching forward to pinch his cheek.

“You want to kiss me so bad.”

“Shut up. We don’t have to, I just want to make-”

“We can.”

He smiles, leaning forward to press his lips against yours again, his breath tickling the tip of your nose and his lips pressing against yours again, this kiss better than the last. You’ve committed it to memory - how his lips fit perfectly against yours, where his hands feel the best.

For acting purposes, of course.

You and Eren are ready bright and early to film the scene. Seconds before you start, Levi comes over and drops a key piece of information that leaves you and Eren pink in the face.

They’re cutting the kiss from the script.

next part linked here

taglist: @platrom @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @squirrelspoetry @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone

pls comment on this post or any of the chapters if you want to be added to the taglist <3

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libraryofloveletters · 1 year ago

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The Christmas Market

Pierre Gasly x Fem!Reader

Warnings: home sick reader, pierre is trying his best, christmas markets, cheesy couple stuff, pierre is kinda sweet when he's not being an ick, pierre can't skate for shit, cooties as these kids would say.

Word Count: 718

Author's Note: again, my charity of the month writing the man. y'all know I don't fuck with this man like that lmaooo - for @2-fast-2-curious cause this is her pookie

You were missing home quite a bit and Pierre decides to indulge in one of your favourite holiday traditions.

Home sickness was no joke and it was kicking in big time.

You lived in Milan since you had applied to go to University there. You moved during your first year and fell in love with the place and with a certain formula one driver who lived there as well.

As much as you've come to love Milan and Pierre, you always went home for the holidays. For the last three years, you were home for Christmas and in France for new years with your boyfriend, Pierre and his family.

This year was much different, your studies kept you in Milan a lot longer than expected and you would be missing out on a lot of your family traditions.

No tree decorating, no cookie decorating and no Christmas market.

Pierre being the sweet boyfriend he was, was trying his best to cheer you up as much as he could. He usually waited until a week or two before Christmas to get his Christmas tree but this year, he bought the biggest artificial tree one could find and about a million and one ornaments to see if he could improve your mood.

And for a bit, it did work. The 5 hours it took you two to put the tree together, your mood did improve but the next day, it was back to focusing on your exams and the lack of Christmas mood was apparent.

He offered to bake cookies with you but you turned down his offer; you typically baked your mom's famous and secret cookies but you didn't have the recipe, hence the secret part.

Pierre was running out of ideas but then an ad for the Christmas market popped on his Instagram.

He finds you on the couch, finally popping your laptop for the afternoon. "How about a date night?" He asks, reaching for your hand.

"Babe," you groaned, letting him pull you up. "I'm not really in the mood."

"C'mon, some fresh air will make you feel better. You've been glued to your laptop all day."

"Fine," you gave in, the two of you getting ready. Pierre didn't give you any idea as to where you're going other than to dress warm. You figured you'd probably walk to dinner or something but you weren't - he opened the car door for you, driving to some undisclosed location.

To be honest, you weren't paying much attention to him or where he was going until the car came to a full stop, Pierre turning off the engine. You finally look up from your phone to see the sign in front of you; Christmas market.

"You didn't," you turn to face your boyfriend.

The man smiles, nodding. "I know it's not the one at home but, it's still a Christmas market so I hope that counts."

"Of course it does!" You reach over to give him a kiss, your hand resting on his jaw softly.

Pierre gets out of the car and you mirror his action, the two of you holding hands as you walk into the market.

The Christmas trees planted around the place, the lights wrapped around the roof of each stand, the sound of laughter and cheesy Christmas music filled your ears, as did the smell of gingerbread. You two decided to make the rounds.

You walked through the market, taking in all of it. Pierre let you drag him to every booth, buying you whatever your heart desired, even the ridiculously overpriced hot cocoa. You took photos as you went, stopping in at the photo booth; the classic ones of you two smiling, giggling and kissing with the stamp at the bottom - Milan Christmas Market 2023.

The night wrapped up with you attempting to teach Pierre how to skate. His hands in yours as you carefully took him around the skating rink.

He falls against you, you're pinned between him - a man struggling to hold himself up- and the barricade. "Did you have a good time?" He asks and you nod, a smile on your face.

"I did. Thank you for this, baby."

Pierre leans in, almost slipping but he catches himself as he kisses you. There's a little boy skating by, doing better than Pierre you might add, who makes a face at you two kissing. "Ew!"

You and Pierre can't help your laughter.

#holiday extravaganza blurbs 23 #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 blurb #f1 imagine

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seismologically-silly · 5 months ago

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Puzzlemaster Week 1 Recap

we've got lore

Last week started with @puzz1e-master sending a very cryptic message to @potato-lord-but-not. As a result, I, @cr0w-z, @ichorandseafoam, @pandaragons, @willwoodwithadditionalgrapejuice, @get-your-fuckin-star-bitch, and @fruit-c4ke were dubbed "The Involvements" by Puzzlemaster as we became the most involved in helping Potato Lord solve the puzzles. Obviously we are not the only ones, but we are by far the most annoying about it (i say "annoying" affectionately. who knows what Puzzlemaster thinks of us).

The first message was fairly easy, spelling out YOU ARE CLOSE in letters capitalized in the first message. The second riddle took us much longer-- we had to figure out what different colored words meant in a question. The question is still unanswered, but all the colors were accounted for: green = involvements, yellow = Potato Lord, pink = nothing important, black = mystery, red = Puzzlemaster, and purple = power. The question asked was, "The Watchers only Watch, why do the Victims have to Speak?" Helping us solve the colors, Puzzlemaster sent a few of us asks with clues spelling THE ROYALS HAVE ALL THE POWER.

As we were solving the colors, Potato Lord got a new ask, with text originally in Morse code in uppercase:

Aaaaannddddd…go! ALRIGHT, SO I WAS THINKING, Mhm? THE PUZZLEMASTER, WHAT DO ...... YOU THINK HIS DEAL? I'm not sure really. Maybe he just likes doing this? Messing about? I mean… THINK HE IS WEB? Could be. Not really sure though. A little early to speculate really. IS ONLY THE BEGINNING? Seems so. I mean, it's always a larger picture than we think- Oh. You're almost past the halfway. LIKE CAUGHT IN WEB ...... SO SMALL, COMPARING BIG Suppose so. Yeah. What does it make us? WE LIKE TO WONDER What do you think it means? To be a victim? GIVEN SPECIAL LITTLE THING Such as? A VOICE Oh yeah, you must envy tha- Oh. Times up. They can't hear you now. I know, I know. We'll just have to wait until it rewinds.

No idea who sent this. The colors cycle evenly through the lines, except "he" is red and "victim" is orange referring to what we took a week to decode them being. it is the first thing we've seen bolded, and we haven't seen pronouns italicized before. I'll come back to the struck out "They" in a few paragraphs. That's also so far the only thing struck out.

After the colors were decoded, Potato Lord was sent a new puzzle that decoded to YOU'RE PART OF. A few of the Involvements got sent asks as well, with messages so far decoded to YOU THINK TO STOP THEIR PLAN? SOMETHING BIGGER THAN [YOU] WILL STOP THE END THEY CRAVE. Possibly. We're still likely missing some pieces. And it's been confirmed there are two messages to put together. Again, what's with the They?

A few other players have joined the board that aren't the Puzzlemaster, Potato Lord, or the Involvements. One is @the-1t, but they've been quiet for a few days, so I'm not sure how big a player they are. There's @the-r4t-man, who has been teaching Puzzlemaster how to be human by giving them rats and flirting. And there's also been the They, who do not seem to like Puzzlemaster becoming human (again?), and apparently hold power over the Puzzlemaster.

Also, something is happening on 5 August at 12:16 PM. Not sure what time zone.

The whole story so far is spread out over about a half dozen blogs and mainly in replies, so I hope this provides a good first week recap of the main bits. If anyone thinks I've missed something important, add it for the archive!

#puzzlemaster!#panicking in puzzles!#also there's been a lot of art #puzzlemaster likes it so if you want to go ahead #we don't want to make the eldritch entity angry

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eff4freddie · 7 months ago

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2 Sweet 4 Me | Part One

Dieter Bravo x AFAB Reader Words: 3k Minors DNI

Part Two | Part Three | Epilogue

Dieter knows he fucked up, knows he lost you, knows it hurt and that he deserved it. But if its the way things had to be, the way they were always going to be, predestined as he is, apparently born under a vengeful and unforgiving star, then why does it still fucking sting so much?

This is a love story.

Warnings: Drug use, oral sex, M/M, M/F, tiny hint of a miscarriage. Cover image doesn't represent reader. Dieter being angsty and defeated, Dieter beating himself up, Dieter self-effacing and self-sabotaging. Just Dieter.

Dieter had really tried to be good. The problem wasn’t that he got bored easily, or that sometimes it felt like his bones were kind of itchy in an unsettling way. It wasn’t that everyone he knew wanted something from him, wasn’t that they usually got it. It wasn’t that he missed the chemical burn up his nostrils, the glug of the pills caught on the back of his throat. It was all of the above, and a bunch of other stuff his fifth therapist hadn’t yet figured out how to excavate.

He slumped his head back on the couch, his trailer too cramped for someone who won an Oscar, but absolutely the right size for someone successfully snorting it all away. He was in the back row, a long line of trailers all the way down to the highway, such that he had to put on his music to drown out the cars going past, and it was fucking impossible to concentrate on his craft when all he could hear was honking and the drone of the 9-5, of the people coming and going completely unaware that life was supposed to be about creativity and fun and getting your cock sucked by the best boy between scenes.

He had to be careful not to be too loud. Had to hold his cigarette tight between his fingers in case he dropped ash on the head bobbing up and down in his lap. He sighed.

‘I’m not sure this is working for me,’ he said, after a while, his mouth strangely dry, his tongue sticking to the roof his mouth. If you’d been here, you would have told him to drink some water. He tried to swallow down his feelings dry.

The best boy hummed, switching from forcing Dieter’s length down his throat to pumping with his fist while he tongued at Dieter’s balls. That was a slight improvement, Dieter considered. But not enough.

Gently, he took the best boy by the collar, heard the slick of his skin as it eased from the younger man’s mouth. ‘Thanks, though,’ he said, half-hearted.

‘What about if I…?’ the best boy asked, taking two of his fingers and swooshing them upwards into the air.

‘No, no,’ Dieter waved him away. ‘I just need to relax, I think.’

‘I have some edibles in my car, I could go and get them,’ the best boy offered, springing up on youthful knees and sitting, too close, to Dieter on the couch. ‘We could do them together,’ he went on.

Oh, fuck. Dieter could see the look in his eye, had seen it a thousand times. A look like he thought if he swallowed enough of Dieter’s come it’d land him a production assistant gig, a job on a daytime talk show, one of those ones that’s been going for 20 years.

‘Sorry, man,’ he said, standing and tucking himself back into his shorts. The best boy stood with him, hurt crossing his face before a professional veneer slotted over the top. For a moment Dieter stared at him, scared he was going to say something, and not sure what he would say that scared him the most; the offer of more drugs, of more sex, or just to tell him he was due back on set. ‘I gotta pee,’ Dieter said, eventually, scurrying away to the bathroom in the hope that by the time he emerged the younger man would be gone.

He avoided his reflection in the mirror, knew that if he looked, he wouldn’t recognise himself anyway. He could feel the stage makeup settling into his pores, could feel the mascara clumping in the corners of his eyes. Sometimes, when he was drunk enough but not high, when he was jet lagged but not too fuzzy, when he was feeling vulnerable but not unsafe, sometimes then he would look. Study the deepening lines across his forehead, the crow’s feet crinkling his skin all the way to his temples. He’d pull his hairline back, check for any movement, stare into the dark of his eyes and see if the rot was leaking out. He’d wonder why you chose him, husk of a thing that he is, how you stayed for so fucking long.

All of it was just sleight of hand. He’d go out there onto the soundstage, hit his mark and say the words someone else had written, pretend he was somewhere, someone, better. He’d got so good at pretending, at covering up, and making himself disappear that he’d forgotten now how to do the magic trick. It just happened. He won awards for it, the slippage.

On the way back to his rented apartment, because he can’t even commit to a real estate agent let alone to a partner, his driver wound down the window to try and clear the smoke drifting over from where Dieter sat in the back.

‘Sorry, Rudy,’ Dieter muttered, using the butt of one cigarette to light the end of the next. It occurred to him that all he ever did now was apologise. Fuck up. Apologise. Repeat.

That’s what you’d said to him, too, when you’d stood in his kitchen next to your overnight bag filled to the brim and reminded him that ‘sorry is not change’. You were right and you were smart and you were too fucking good for him, had always been. He hadn’t blamed you for leaving. Would have left himself too, if he could.

He wondered what you’re doing, even though it hurt. It’s nearly 11 PM on a Thursday night, so he knows you’re probably taking off your makeup, getting into your sweats to go to bed. He wondered if you’re alone, if that guy from your office, fucking Jonathan, was there with you. For a second, he let himself imagine you’re waiting for him at home, the bedside light still on and a book lying discarded next to you on the blankets as you snooze. He approaches, quiet over the carpet, pulls his shirt off, pushes his pants down over his hips. You smile, but don’t so much wake, as he slides in behind you, feels the warmth of your soft skin on his. ‘Hey baby,’ you say, quiet and half-asleep, and he buries his face in your hair. In the morning he’ll have his filthy way with you but right now he just wants you close, in his arms and under his blankets, inside his four walls. Wants you tucked up safe against him, wants to feel your love.

He looked down at his hands, could still feel the warmth of your skin on them, as if for a moment he wasn’t imagining but conjuring. He believed for a moment that it was possible. Wondered if the yellow stains on his fingertips were from the nicotine or just the orange glow of the streetlights.

His house was quiet when he gets in, because of course it was. He wondered if he should call his weed guy, call his E guy. If he just wanted a whiskey, maybe a little Valium first, maybe just a lobotomy. The silence was making him antsy again, sling-shotting from maudlin to jittery as the silence crept into his bones. He could paint but he couldn’t be fucked. He has a 6 AM call time in the morning. Rudy will be knocking on his door at 5.

He realised he’s too amped up to sleep, but that he needed to if he was going to be in any sort of functional state tomorrow. He really didn’t want to fuck up this job, this little indie shooting on the streets of LA on actual film like it’s the fucking 90s. This was maybe his step back into legitimacy, maybe a chance to show he’s still worth a shot. You were so proud of him when he got it, all those months ago, when even his agent seemed a little misty-eyed at the offer. This was important.

Just Ambien, then.

In his bed, Dieter waited for sleep to take him. He still had the picture of you and him on his nightstand, the one where you’re looking up at him as he holds you by the middle, your smile bright and shining as he stares, warmly, into your eyes. You’d been at some party, and even though he couldn’t remember where exactly you both were, Dieter remembered that moment, the snap taken by a friend who had no idea of its significance. It was the moment he knew he loved you, and felt it without fear. It hurt now, hurt a little then, and he left it there for every time he turns his lamp off. Lets it remind him that there was a golden period of some months where you existed in his life and he was yet to fuck it up.

Sometime around 2 AM he’s woken by his phone, his body moving before his brain registered what was going on. He doesn’t remember setting an alarm, barely remembered falling asleep. He tried to shift some of the fog to the side so he could think.

‘-lo?’ he muttered, his throat dry.

‘Dee?’ you asked, and he could hear in your voice that you were flustered, worried. He sat bolt upright in the bed, pushed over the picture of you as he reached for the lamp.

‘Baby?’ he asked, as he felt his pulse race and the room swim in front of his eyes.

‘Are you OK?’ you asked, and he could hear how tight your voice was.

‘Mm’sleepin’ he said, surprised by how hard it was to get his mouth to work properly. ‘You OK?’

‘You texted me,’ you said, and he felt his stomach drop. Oh, fuck. Oh fuckedy fuck fuck.

‘I did?’ he asked, as he searched his brain for some scrap of memory. All he could now remember was why he never fucking takes Ambien anymore.

‘Yeah, you said you needed me.’

He slammed his hand to his forehead, hoped for a second that he was actually just straight up hallucinating.

You were still talking, and he tried hard to focus on what you were telling him. ‘You said you’d made a mistake, that I was…’ you paused, and he realised you’d pulled the phone away from your face to read his own messages back to him. ‘Too sweet for you, that you broke us, that you are not so much a bull in a China shop as Mengele hanging out in an orphanage.’ He cringed, no matter how poetic it was. And accurate.

‘Then I think you tried to send me a picture-’

‘Oh God, please tell me not of my-’

‘It’s too dark to see, I think its your ceiling. And you’re saying something about falling stars, and comets.’

Despite his mortification, he could hear a tiny bit of mirth creeping into your voice, and he felt it tinkle warm and delicate at the base of his spine. If he waited long enough, sent you enough fucked up texts, maybe he’d even get to hear your laugh.

‘Fuck, I’m so sorry,’ he started, but stopped when you shushed him.

‘Just tell me what you’ve taken so I know if I should call 911.’

‘Just Ambien, I promise, baby,’ he said, and he hated the little surge of something proud and excited that you cared enough to maybe call help for him. Hated that he had been the one to exploit that in you, for the entirety of your relationship, wondered if he’d started to dangle himself off the cliff just to see if you’d still come and save him. Fuck, there was so much to be sorry for. He’d lost track a long time ago.

‘Dee,’ you said, and then you trailed off, and he could hear that you were about to kindly, gently, admonish him.

‘Didn’t even know I was doing it,’ he explained, and he listened to your sad little sigh. He shut his eyes against it, pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Not that I didn’t want to…I mean, not that I wouldn’t have if I…not just because of the meds, I guess, I mean.’

In the silence, Dieter checked his phone to see the damage for himself. There were a couple of messages that had failed to send, gibberish mostly, and he deleted them before his phone attempted to deliver on his garbled words. There was, indeed, a picture of his ceiling. He wondered if his medicated mind had wanted to show you what it would look like if you were with him.

He read, quickly.

Down in mmy sheeps with me.

Brokei t. Us.

2 sweet 4 me

not so much a bull in a China shop as Mengele hanging out in an orphanage

He swallowed, assumed he must have got Siri to dictate that last one.

‘What did you mean?’ you asked him, and he heard the sheets rustle round you as you settled yourself back down in bed. He felt his heartrate pick up, had assumed you would hang up on him having been satisfied he was still alive. It had been so long since you’d talked properly. Since after you left, but also a little bit since before.

‘Well, he did a lot of experiments on kids, twins mostly,’ Dieter began, and you stopped him.

‘No, Jesus, no. Fuck, Dee.’ You collected yourself. ‘That I’m too sweet for you. You really think that?’

He thought about you staying up all hours of the night to chat to him on Facetime when he was on location, sleepless and anxious over some tiny bit part, in another country. Thought about you pulling the router out of the wall and putting his phone in the safe when the first reviews for Cliff Beasts 7 were looking shaky. When you cried, quiet in the bathroom when you thought he couldn’t hear, over the comments left on his Instagram the first time you were papped together.

‘My life,’ he started, rolling out a sentence both his manager and agent had said to him in the aftermath of the breakup, ‘is not a good fit for civilians.’

He heard you take in a sharp breath.

‘That’s not it though, is it?’ you asked him, and his eyes were getting heavy, the Ambien still in his bloodstream, the day, week, month, weighing heavy on his shoulders. ‘You put me on a pedestal, Dee. I was never too anything for you. I just don’t think you could bare it when I was real.’

He thought about that time he’d screamed at you, upended your suitcase onto the floor, while you were packing for a work trip, the hypocrisy of it not lost on him even then. That time when he’d dragged you out to an industry party, his nerves jangling, not able to remember the last time he’d done it sober, only to lose you in the crowd within fifteen minutes of arriving, everyone wanting to talk to him, to rub up on him, his hand slipping from yours in the throng of it, his mind tuning in to the attention of strangers, ignoring or rejecting or minimising that he had all the love he could want in you.

That time when you’d been sick, bleeding on the floor of the bathroom, calling him to come take you to the hospital, and he’d sent his assistant because he was about to shoot a big scene.

He shut his eyes, the shame of it licking at his cheeks. You didn’t come home after that. You returned to his place, stayed in his bed for a few weeks, ate the food in his fridge and haunted his living room, but you didn’t ever actually come home.

‘I miss you,’ he said, because it was all he could say, and because it was true.

‘Dee, don’t,’ you whispered, and he closed his eyes to revel in the sound of it, to ignore what you were saying to him and to just imagine for a second you were saying it with your body pressed to his.

‘Nothing feels real without you,’ he said, and he meant it, meant how he spent all day in clothes that weren’t his, saying words that he didn’t mean, to people he barely knew. That each morning they had to spackle over the hate and the want and the wash out, try to build him back up into a human being. He was so fucking cold without you, in the middle of an LA heatwave.

‘I wonder if you’ll remember this in the morning,’ you said, and it stung him. He felt the hot prickle of tears at the back of his eyes, felt the strain in his jaw as his mouth turned down.

‘I want to remember it all,’ he said, and he heard you huff out a quiet little laugh, not at all what he had been hoping for. ‘Do you miss me?’ he asked, dropping his hand to his chest to try and still his racing, terrified heart.

‘Go to sleep, Dee,’ you said, before the line went dead. He pulled his phone back to check that you were gone.

It was 2:30 in the morning. Rudy would be there within hours.

Taglist (want to be on it? Drop me a message): @dieterbravobrainrotclub

@harriedandharassed

#dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal characters fanfiction

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