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rvp32 · 9 days

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Whisper of uncontrollable desire. Part 2

My first time writing in a very long time so please show some mercy. Also, this entire story was written in 2 days after seeing the request. Please enjoy and as always any feedback is appreciated.

Giving out punishments was something Eunbi enjoyed immensely. The thrill of asserting control and seeing her obedient girls submit brought her a sense of satisfaction that was hard to match. Tonight, it was Chaewon’s turn. Being the good and obedient girl that she was, Chaewon willingly let herself be stripped and tied up without any resistance. She trusted Eunbi, even though she feared the severity of the impending punishment.

“Mommy, please don’t be too harsh on me. It slipped my mind because of all the activities we had,” Chaewon begged, her voice trembling. Her precious, wide pupu eyes looked up at Eunbi with a pleading expression, hoping to melt her stern demeanor. She knew Eunbi’s punishments could be intense—so intense that they had once led to the cancellation of schedules for two entire weeks after Sakura’s ordeal.

Eunbi’s gaze softened momentarily as she looked down at Chaewon, taking in the sight of her trembling form and tear-filled eyes. She could see the genuine remorse and fear in Chaewon’s expression. Yet, the power she held in moments like these was intoxicating, and she relished the thought of pushing her limits.

“Chaewon, you know I can’t go easy on you just because you’re my favorite,” Eunbi said, her voice firm yet tinged with a hint of warmth. She stroked Chaewon’s cheek gently, the contrast of her touch and her words sending shivers down the younger girl’s spine. “You have to learn to be more careful.”

Tears began to well up in Chaewon’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, Mommy. I promise I’ll do better,” she whispered, her voice breaking. She knew that begging might not help, but she couldn’t help but try. The memory of Sakura’s punishment haunted her, and she dreaded enduring something similar.

Eunbi smiled softly, enjoying the mix of fear and anticipation in Chaewon’s eyes. “We’ll see about that, my dear,” she said, her tone a mix of teasing and seriousness. She reached for her tools, each movement deliberate and unhurried, savoring the growing tension.

Chaewon’s heart raced as she watched Eunbi prepare, her mind filled with a chaotic blend of fear, anticipation, and trust. She knew that despite the harshness of the punishment, Eunbi cared deeply for her. That thought was her only solace as she braced herself for what was to come.

“Now, let’s begin,” Eunbi whispered, leaning close to Chaewon’s ear, her breath warm against her skin. “Remember, this is for your own good.”

Chaewon looked to you, “Daddy, Please ask Mommy to show some mercy. I will never forget to take my suppressants again!”

Being the alpha meant that you also had to supervise all the punishments a duty that you didn’t particularly enjoy every time it happened but knew it was necessary. “I am sorry princess but rules are rules.”

And with that last plea, the room was filled with a mix of soft whimpers because of the tool present in Eunbi’s hand, it was a clit focused vibrator, a really strong vibrator that Chaewon loved to use when she got horny but one issue was that this vibrator is too strong.

Not caring for Chaewon’s whimpers, with the press of a button the toy comes to life. Eunbi places it on the Chaewon’s sensitive bud causing a loud scream. “Mommy!”

Eunbi’s face had a smirk, one so evil that it sent shivers down Chaewon’s spine. Eunbi’s sadistic needs were clearly being satisfied with all the screaming and begging Chaewon was doing. As the punishment intensified, Chaewon’s cries echoed through the room, each one a mix of pain, regret, and a twisted sense of devotion.

“Mommy, please! I’m sorry, I really am!” Chaewon’s voice cracked as she pleaded, her body straining against the restraints. Every word was soaked in desperation, her fear palpable.

Eunbi’s smirk only widened. “I know you are, sweetie,” she said, her tone condescending and cold. “But you have to understand the consequences of your actions.” Her hands moved with calculated precision, each motion deliberate and unyielding.

Chaewon’s body trembled as the pain and pleasure surged through her. Despite the agony, a part of her clung to the belief that this was all for her own good. She trusted Eunbi completely, even in this moment of torment.

“Do you remember why you’re being punished, Chaewon?” Eunbi’s voice was calm, almost soothing, a stark contrast to the intensity of her actions.

“Yes, Mommy,” Chaewon whimpered, her voice barely audible. “I-I wasn’t careful enough… I forgot my suppressants… I’m so sorry…”

“That’s right,” Eunbi said, her hand pausing for a moment as she cupped Chaewon’s cheek gently. “You need to be more responsible. We can’t afford mistakes, can we?”

“N-no, Mommy,” Chaewon stammered, tears streaming down her face. “I’ll be more careful, I promise.”

Eunbi leaned in closer, her breath hot against Chaewon’s ear. “Good girl,” she whispered, her voice sending a chill down Chaewon’s spine. “But promises aren’t enough. You have to prove it.”

The room was filled with the sound of Chaewon’s sobs and Eunbi’s steady, commanding presence. Each whimper and cry only seemed to fuel Eunbi’s sadistic pleasure, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

As the minutes ticked by, the punishment continued relentlessly. Chaewon’s body was pushed to its limits, her mind teetering on the edge of exhaustion and pain. Yet, through it all, she clung to the belief that this was for her own good, that Eunbi’s harshness was a twisted form of care.

The room was filled with the smell of sex and the floor coated with Chaewon’s overstimulated pussy juice. The whimpers now turned into screams begging for mercy with incoherent words and sentences.

“Are you learning your lesson, Chaewon?” Eunbi asked, her voice softening just enough to offer a sliver of comfort.

“Yes, Mommy,” Chaewon gasped, her voice hoarse from screaming. “I-I’ll be better… I’ll do anything to make you proud…”

Eunbi’s expression softened slightly, a hint of warmth breaking through her stern facade. “I know you will, my dear,” she said, her hand stroking Chaewon’s hair gently. “This is all for you, remember that.”

“I-I will, Mommy,” Chaewon whispered, her voice trembling. “I’ll remember…”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Eunbi’s harsh ministrations began to slow. She took a step back, her eyes still fixed on Chaewon’s trembling form. The room was thick with the aftermath of the intense punishment, the air heavy with the scent of sweat and tears.

Eunbi untied Chaewon gently, her touch surprisingly tender now. “You did well, Chaewon,” she said softly, pulling her into a comforting embrace. “I’m proud of you for enduring this.”

Walking up to Chaewon you embraced her after Eunbi let go. Chaewon clung to you, her body weak and trembling. Despite the pain and pleasure, a sense of relief washed over you. She had endured the punishment, and in some twisted way, it made you want to fuck her and completely break her mind such that it only ever listens to you.

“Thank you, Daddy,” Chaewon whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’ll do better… I promise…”

You smiled a genuine warmth in her eyes now. “I know you will, my dear,” you said, holding Chaewon close. “I believe in you.”

Chaewon was exhausted and desperately needed rest, so you took her to your room and gently helped her into a warm bath. The soothing water and your tender care slowly washed away the physical and emotional strain from the punishment. Chaewon’s eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into your touch, feeling safe and cherished despite the earlier ordeal.

After the bath, you dried Chaewon off with a soft towel and dressed her in comfortable pajamas. You guided her to the bed, pulling the covers over her and ensuring she was snug and warm. As you turned to leave, intending to give Chaewon the rest she desperately needed, you felt a gentle tug on your hand.

“Daddy, please stay,” Chaewon whispered, her voice barely audible and filled with a childlike plea. Her eyes, though heavy with sleep, held a deep yearning for comfort and security.

Your heart melted at the sight of Chaewon's vulnerability. You couldn't bring yourself to leave. With a soft smile, you sat beside her on the bed, your fingers gently running through her silky hair. The rhythmic motion seemed to soothe you both, the tension of the night slowly dissolving into a peaceful calm.

Chaewon’s breathing steadied as she fell into a deep sleep, her face relaxing into an expression of tranquility. You continued to stroke her hair, watching over her with a protective gaze. The room was silent except for the soft sounds of your breathing, a stark contrast to the chaos and intensity of earlier.

You felt your own eyelids grow heavy as you continued to watch over Chaewon. The exhaustion of the night caught up with you, and soon you found yourself lying down beside her, your hand still gently tangled in her hair.

******

Since Lesserafim was taking a break now, the girls had a lot of free time, and you also decided to work from home. After Chaewon’s punishment and her subsequent heat, she had become excessively clingy to you. Not that you minded; she was so cute and always made it fun to be around her. Her presence, even in her clinginess, brought a lightness to your days that you cherished.

As you sat at your desk, trying to focus on the work in front of you, Chaewon was perched comfortably on your lap, her attention divided between her phone and you. Every so often, she would look up at you with a soft smile, her eyes sparkling with affection. Her closeness was a constant, warm reminder of the bond you shared.

What you failed to notice was the jealous gaze cast toward you from across the room. Sakura, who had been watching the two of you for a while, couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy. She remembered her own time in your arms, the comfort and attention you had lavished on her, and now she felt a sense of longing for that same affection.

Sakura’s eyes narrowed slightly as she observed Chaewon snuggling closer to you, a soft giggle escaping her lips as she showed you something on her phone. The sight stirred something deep within Sakura, a mix of jealousy and a yearning for the same intimacy.

You were blissfully unaware of Sakura’s growing discontent. You chuckled at something Chaewon had shown you, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her as she shifted on your lap. Chaewon’s presence was calming, and her happiness was contagious.

Sakura's plan to forego her suppressants had seemed foolproof in her mind. She was certain that without the medication dulling her heat, your attention would naturally gravitate towards her. But as the day of her heat arrived, her anticipation turned to disappointment when she realized you were absent.

With each passing hour, Sakura's discomfort grew more pronounced. The familiar ache of her heat intensified, and she found herself writhing in pain, desperate for relief. She needed you desperately, but you were nowhere to be found.

In a haze of agony, Sakura stumbled to your room, her mind clouded with the need for your presence. She rummaged through your belongings, searching desperately for anything that might bring her solace. Finally, she found a circle of your used clothes and clutched the one you had worn most recently to her nose, seeking the faint trace of your scent.

As the familiar fragrance enveloped her, Sakura felt a momentary reprieve from the torment of her heat. Your scent, though distant, offered a semblance of comfort, easing the ache in her body and calming her racing heart.

In the solitude of your room, surrounded by reminders of your presence, Sakura found a fleeting sense of peace amidst the turmoil of her heat. But deep down, she longed for more than just the memory of you. She yearned for your touch, your warmth, and your soothing words to chase away the agony and loneliness that threatened to consume her.

However, that peace didn't last long as Sakura's heat intensified, and her body began to release a potent scent designed to attract any alpha nearby to satisfy her. The air grew thick with her pheromones, her scent a desperate call for relief.

Luckily for Sakura, there was an alpha currently in the manor, but this alpha happened to be none other than Kazuha. Kazuha was known for her calm and gentle demeanor, often mistaken for a beta due to her docility and non-aggressive nature. Despite her alpha status, she rarely displayed the dominant traits typically associated with it.

As Kazuha moved through the halls, the scent hit her with unexpected intensity. Her senses sharpened, and her normally placid nature was momentarily overridden by the primal urge to respond to the call of a distressed omega. Following the scent, she found herself drawn to your room, where Sakura lay surrounded by your clothes, her body wracked with the torment of her heat.

Kazuha entered the room cautiously, her eyes widening at the sight of Sakura. "Unnie," she called softly, her voice tinged with concern. "Are you okay?"

Sakura's head snapped up, her eyes glazed with desperation. "K-Kazuha," she whimpered, her voice breaking. "Please... I need help."

Kazuha hesitated for a moment, her usual calm exterior faltering as the scent overwhelmed her senses. She stepped closer, her instincts urging her to provide the relief Sakura so desperately needed.

"Unnie, I... I'm here to help," Kazuha said gently, kneeling beside her. "What do you need?"

Sakura's hands clutched at Kazuha's shirt, pulling her closer. "I need you," she pleaded, her voice barely more than a breathless whisper. "Please, Kazuha, I can't take it anymore."

Kazuha's heart pounded in her chest, the gravity of the situation sinking in. She knew she had to act, to provide the comfort and relief Sakura was so desperately seeking. Leaning in, she brushed a strand of hair away from Sakura's face, her touch tender and reassuring.

"Okay, Sakura," Kazuha whispered, her voice filled with determination. "I'll take care of you."

With gentle care, Kazuha wrapped her arms around Sakura, pulling her close. Her presence, though different from yours, offered a new kind of solace. The room filled with a mix of their scents, Kazuha's alpha pheromones blending with Sakura's desperate omega call, but this wasn’t enough for Sakura, she needed something more intense.

“Kazuha, it’s so hot down there please do something!” Sakura pleaded. Kazuha being the innocent alpha that she is didn’t know what to do but the overpowering pheromones were clouding Kazuha’s ability to think.

“O-okay, unnie,” Kazuha said before gently pulling down Sakura's shorts to reveal a pair of completely drenched panties. It was a sight that Kazuha was shocked by but also desperately wanted a taste.

“Fast, please it hurts,” Sakura whined, not wasting any more time, Kazuha dived into the the awaiting cave. The touch of her tongue caused a massive relief for Sakura.

“Nghh, it feels so good,” Sakura moaned, as her fingers got tangled in Kazuha’s hair. The continuous ministrations of Kazuha were increasing the pleasure Sakura felt.

Though it was the first time that Kazuha had ever been intimate with a woman, she was doing an amazing job, most probably because of strong Pheremones that were controlling her. Sakura tastes so sweet almost like a drug, addictive and Kazuha was enjoying every single second of this drug.

“Keep going baby, you are eating Unnie so well.” Sakura moaned as her back arched signalling the impending orgasm. “F-fuckkkkk!” Sakura screamed as she came all over Kazuha’s face, being the good girl that she is Kazuha licked up every single drop.

This was not enough to satisfy Sakura and to make the situation more interesting Kazuha had a hard-on. “Baby, please take off those pants and come fuck unnie,” Sakura said while staring into Kazuha’s eyes.

Kazuha however was nervous and scared. It was not only because it was her first time but also because Kazuha was very insecure about her cock and didn’t want anyone to see it.

Fear and anxiety were written all over Kazuha's face. She didn't want to get teased or judged for stepping into a role she rarely embraced, so she instinctively began to move away from Sakura. However, Sakura's desperation overshadowed any sense of decorum or restraint. Her mind was clouded with the overwhelming need to satiate the immense heat building up in her body.

As Kazuha tried to back away, her heart pounding in her chest, she found herself pressed against the wall, trapped by the intensity of the situation. Sakura, her eyes filled with a mix of pain and yearning, crawled toward Kazuha with a single-minded determination.

"K-Kazuha," Sakura's voice trembled, thick with need. "Please... I can't take it anymore."

Kazuha's breath hitched as Sakura closed the distance between them. Despite her fears, she couldn't ignore the primal pull of Sakura's distress. She hesitated, her body tense, but the sight of Sakura's pleading eyes and the raw desperation in her voice stirred something deep within her.

"Unnie, I..." Kazuha stammered, her voice faltering. She wanted to help, but the fear of what this moment represented held her back.

Sakura reached out, her fingers trembling as she touched Kazuha's arm. "Please, Kazuha. I need you," she whispered, her voice breaking.

“Unnie I will do anything but that, please,” Kazuha begged. But Sakura was not interested in listening. Sakura pulls down Kazuha’s pants along with her underwear to find Kazuha’s cock in all its glory.

Sakura was surprised. What she was currently faced with was different from what she was expecting. Kazuha was not packing a huge cock like she expected in fact it was probably one of the smallest that Sakura had ever seen, this also explains why Kazuha is such a docile alpha. But lucky for Kazuha, Sakura couldn’t care about the fact that her dick was only 4 inches because she desperately needed something inside of her and for now Kazuha’s cock should be enough.

Without any words being said, Sakura pushes Kazuha onto the floor and mounts her. Shocked by the sudden action Kazuha lets out a small yelp, she still tries to get Sakura off her because she doesn’t know what to do but Sakura overpowers her and she got she wants. Sakura starts to ride Kazuha like there is no tomorrow and this makes Kazuha’s life very hard. She is holding on for dear life, trying her best not to cum inside Sakura and breed her.

“Unnie, please get off!! I am going to cum!!” Kazuha screams, but it is to no avail as Sakura continues to bounce on Kazuha’s tiny cock. No matter how much strength Kazuha uses she is unable to push Sakura away from her before she cums.

All of a sudden a savior appears. You manage to pull Sakura off Kazuha just before it’s too late. Sakura whines at the loss of body contact and pleasure but you hold her down and turn to Kazuha to notice that you may have just ruined her orgasm.

Kazuha notices you staring and immediately covers herself with her hands. “Kazuha baby, you should leave before this wild one gets to you again,” Heeding your warning Kazuha grabs her clothes and runs out of the room.

After the room is empty with just you and Sakura, you turn your attention to the girl who has begun to rub herself on your leg. But a stern look from you makes her stop all her movements. "Princess, how is it that you forgot to take your suppressants?" you question Sakura.

Too shy to tell you the actual reason, Sakura stays silent and hides herself behind your leg, her face flushing with embarrassment. You gently lift her chin, forcing her to meet your gaze. "Princess, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I know how much pain you are going through and I will take away all that pain if you be honest with me here," you say, trying to convince her to answer.

Sakura's eyes flicker with uncertainty, her breath coming in short, quick gasps as she struggles with her confession. Finally, she mumbles, "Y-you."

"Princess, you have to be more clear," you say, with a touch of sternness in your voice to encourage her.

Sakura's face turns a deeper shade of red, and she averts her gaze, whispering, "I wanted your attention. I thought... if I didn't take my suppressants, you would spend more time with me."

Her confession hangs in the air, her vulnerability laid bare before you. Your stern expression softens as you take in her words, understanding the depth of her need for your affection.

"Oh, Sakura," you say, pulling her into a gentle embrace. "You don’t have to put yourself through such pain just to get my attention. I'm always here for you."

She clings to you, relief mingling with her lingering discomfort. "I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice muffled against your chest.

You stroke her hair soothingly. "It's okay, Princess. Let's focus on making you feel better now. But promise me, next time, you'll talk to me instead of putting yourself through this, alright?"

Sakura nods, her arms tightening around you. "I promise," she murmurs.

"Good girl," you say softly, kissing the top of her head. "Now, let's take care of you."

Sakura nods her head and hugs you tightly. You pat her head, playing with her hair but soon the wholesome moment comes to an end as Sakura starts to grind on you.

“Princess, look at me,” you say, gentleness in your voice. Sakura looks at you, her eyes filled with expectation and need. Both of you maintain eye contact for a few seconds, the air between you thick with anticipation. Slowly, you lean toward each other, and finally, your lips meet in a kiss filled with passion and care.

Sakura's lips are soft and warm against yours, and she melts into the kiss, her desperation and longing pouring into the embrace. The kiss deepens, your arms wrapping around her to pull her closer. Sakura's need to be closer to you becomes overwhelming, and she jumps onto you, wrapping her legs around your torso. You support her effortlessly, one hand on her back and the other cradling her head.

The intensity of the kiss grows as you hold her, each of you savoring the connection and the relief it brings. Sakura's fingers tangle in your hair, her body pressed tightly against yours. The heat of the moment seems to erase all the pain and anxiety she felt earlier, replaced by the comforting and exhilarating presence of you.

You move to sit on the edge of the bed, Sakura still clinging to you. The kiss breaks for a moment, both of you breathing heavily, foreheads resting against each other. "I've needed this," Sakura whispers, her voice filled with emotion. "I've needed you."

You gently stroke her hair, your eyes soft with affection. "I'm here, Princess. Always."

This time, the kiss is slower, more tender, as you take the time to explore each other's emotions through the connection. You can feel the gratitude and love radiating from Sakura, her body relaxing into yours as the last remnants of her heat begin to subside.

You hold her close, savoring the intimacy and the bond you share. The world outside seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of warmth and affection. The room is filled with the quiet sounds of your breathing and the soft rustle of clothing as you hold each other.

After breaking the kiss, Sakura leans in and places soft kisses on your neck, her breath warm against your skin. Each kiss sends shivers down your spine, and you feel her growing boldness as those kisses slowly turn into gentle bites. You can sense her need to express her desire and the remnants of her heat driving her actions.

Wanting to keep your promise, you let her do whatever she wants. Your hands rest on her back, providing a comforting presence as she explores her feelings and desires through her actions.

"Sakura," you murmur, your voice soothing and filled with affection. "It's okay. I'm here for you."

Encouraged by your words, Sakura continues, her bites growing a bit more assertive, leaving small marks on your skin. Each bite is followed by a tender kiss, a mixture of passion and tenderness that reflects her complex emotions. You can feel her anxiety and need for reassurance in every touch, every kiss, and every bite.

As she nips at your neck, you hold her closer, your hands gently stroking her back to provide a sense of security. Her breaths come in short, quick gasps, her body pressed tightly against yours. You can feel her heart pounding, matching the rhythm of your own.

"Sakura," you whisper, lifting her chin so she looks into your eyes. "You don't have to hold back. Just be yourself."

Her eyes, filled with a mixture of desire and vulnerability, meet yours. She nods slightly, her lips parting as she takes a deep breath. "I need you," she confesses, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I need to feel close to you."

You smile gently, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "I'm not going anywhere," you assure her. "You can have all of me."

Sakura's eyes soften with gratitude, and she leans in to kiss you again, this time with a tenderness that speaks volumes. The bites on your neck become more deliberate, a way for her to mark her territory and express her deep-seated need for connection.

You feel the intensity of her emotions and respond with equal tenderness, holding her close and allowing her to take what she needs from you. The room is filled with the quiet sounds of your breathing, the soft rustle of clothing, and the occasional sigh of contentment as you lose yourselves in the moment.

Slowly, you begin to take off what little clothes Sakura has left, your movements careful and tender. She helps you out of yours, her fingers trembling slightly with anticipation and excitement. As each piece of clothing falls away, the intimacy between you deepens, a silent communication of trust and affection.

With a gentle nudge, you both move toward the bed. The soft sheets feel cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat of your body. Pulling away from the kiss, you hear a small whine escape Sakura's lips, her eyes fluttering open with a mix of longing and frustration.

But before she can voice her complaint, you place her gently on the bed, and another deep, passionate kiss quickly muffles her whines. Your lips meld together, the urgency of the moment heightening the connection between you. Sakura's hands grip your shoulders, pulling you closer as if afraid you might disappear.

You respond by deepening the kiss, pouring all your affection and reassurance into the embrace. Your hands roam her body, tracing delicate patterns along her skin, eliciting soft gasps and shivers from Sakura. She arches into your touch, her body responding instinctively to every caress.

Breaking the kiss for a moment, you look into her eyes, your voice soft and filled with love. "Princess, you're everything to me."

Sakura's eyes shine with emotion, her hands cupping your face. "Daddy you can do anything you want," she whispers, her voice trembling with sincerity. "I just need you."

You place your hard member on her entrance teasing it a little before lubing it up with all the wetness from Sakura’s drenched pussy. “Daddy please don’t tease!” Sakura whined.

Not wanting to keep her waiting longer, you slowly insert your cock into her tight pussy. Sakura occasionally let out moans as you pushed into her. Once you bottomed out you were still letting her adjust and also enjoying how tight her pussy was.

“Daddy you can move now,” Sakura said. The missionary position lets you control your pace well and also hit spots that have never been touched.

“Harder, Daddy, pleasee,” Sakura begged and you obliged increasing your pace and the strength of your thrusts.

“Nghhh you are filling me up so well, Daddy,” Sakura moaned

“Fuck, Princess, you are doing such a good job taking my dick. Your pussy is so tight and perfect.” You compliment Sakura causing her pussy to tighten a little.

Increasing your pace, you ask “Who does this Pussy belong to princess?”

Sakura was in a realm of her own, her mind completely filled with pleasure and unable to comprehend anything you were saying. So you stop

“No no no, Daddy why did you stop!!” Sakura screams.

“Answer me, princess, Who thrusts Does thrusts This thrusts Pussy thrusts Belongs to thrusts?” You ask

“You! Daddy, this pussy belongs to only you!!!” Sakura screams as your thrusts get harsher. The tightness pushes you closer to the edge.

“Princess, Daddy is going to cum soon and you are going to lick up every single drop of it right?” You asked as you continued to fuck the living crap out of Sakura.

“Yes, Daddy. I will make sure not to waste a single drop of it.” Sakura replied. Her movements are in complete sync with yours. Both of you were chasing the peaks of your orgasm.

“I’m cumming princess,” you announce and try to pull out of her pussy but are unable to do so because Sakura has managed to wrap her legs around you.

“Cum for me Daddy, breed me, let me have your children, please. I need them so fucking badly!!” Sakura screamed as her legs gripped tighter around your body.

Unable to hold on much longer you end up cumming inside of Sakura. “Fuck!!” You moan as you release all your cum deep inside of Sakura’s pussy.

“What the fuck Sakura, you are going to get pregnant!” you said.

“Yes, Daddy, maybe then you will pay more attention to me than the other girls!” Sakura replied with a smirk on her face.

Not wanting to argue further, exhaustion took over both of you, and you soon fell into a deep sleep. The warmth of the moment and the emotional intensity had drained you completely.

Hours later, you were awakened by a sudden weight being placed on your chest. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you looked down to see none other than Wonyoung sitting on you, her expression a mixture of curiosity and annoyance.

This was probably the worst situation in which you could get caught by Wonyoung, who was extremely possessive. The fact that your neck was covered with marks and Sakura was sleeping next to you was going to be the death of you. Wonyoung's eyes darted from the marks on your neck to Sakura, her jaw tightening with barely contained anger.

“What the hell is this?” Wonyoung’s voice was sharp, her tone dripping with jealousy and hurt.

You could feel the tension rising, and you knew you had to tread carefully. “Wonyoung, it’s not what it looks like,” you began, trying to sound as calm as possible.

“Really?” she said, her tone icy. “Because it looks like you and Sakura had a lot of fun without me.”

Sakura stirred next to you, her eyes fluttering open. She immediately sensed the tension in the room and sat up, her smirk from earlier fading as she took in Wonyoung’s furious expression.

“Wonyoung, it’s not like that,” Sakura said softly, trying to defuse the situation. “I just... I needed Daddy last night. It was a tough day.”

Wonyoung’s eyes narrowed, her possessive streak flaring up. “And you think you’re the only one who needs him? We all need him, Sakura. You can’t just monopolize him like this.”

You reached out to gently touch Wonyoung’s arm, hoping to calm her down. “Wonyoung, please. Let’s talk about this calmly.”

She pulled her arm away, standing up and crossing her arms over her chest. “Calmly? How am I supposed to be calm when you’re covered in her marks?”

Sakura looked genuinely remorseful, and you could see that she regretted the way things had escalated. “Wonyoung, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel left out.”

Wonyoung’s eyes softened slightly at Sakura’s apology, but she was still visibly upset. “It’s going to take a lot more than just a verbal apology from the both of you,” she said, a smirk plastered all over her face. This spelled nothing good for the future, but you had no choice but to listen because this brat doesn’t take no for an answer and is also way too cute for you to say no to.

You sighed inwardly, knowing that Wonyoung had the upper hand. “What do you want, Wonyoung?” you asked, trying to keep your tone calm and collected.

Wonyoung's smirk widened, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, I have a few ideas,” she replied, her voice sweet but with an edge of playful menace. “But first, I want both of you to admit that you were wrong and that you’ll make it up to me.”

Sakura shifted beside you, looking a bit nervous but also curious. “Alright, Wonyoung,” she said, her voice soft but sincere. “I’m sorry for making you feel left out. I promise to make it up to you.”

You nodded in agreement, meeting Wonyoung’s gaze. “I’m sorry too, Wonyoung. I didn’t mean to hurt you. We’ll both make it up to you, I promise.”

Wonyoung’s smirk turned into a genuine smile, though a hint of mischief still lingered in her eyes. “Good. Now, let’s start with something simple. I want you both to pamper me today. I get to be the center of attention, and you two will do whatever I say. Deal?”

Sakura and you exchanged a glance, both of you knowing that you had little choice in the matter. “Deal,” you said in unison.

Wonyoung clapped her hands together, her mood brightening. “Great! First, I want a nice breakfast in bed. And then, we’ll see what else I can come up with,” she said, her tone almost teasing.

You couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm, even though you knew she was taking full advantage of the situation. “Alright, breakfast in bed it is,” you said, getting up and pulling on some clothes.

Sakura followed suit, giving Wonyoung a small, playful glare. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Wonyoung giggled, the sound light and infectious. “Maybe a little,” she admitted. “But it’s only fair, right?”

You couldn’t argue with that, and as you made your way to the kitchen to start preparing breakfast, you felt a sense of relief that the immediate tension had been diffused. Wonyoung might be a handful, but her playful nature and the bond you all shared made every challenge worth it.

As the day went on, you and Sakura did your best to pamper Wonyoung, catering to her whims and making her feel special. There were plenty of playful moments and laughter, and by the end of the day, it felt like the balance had been restored among the three of you.

Wonyoung lay on the couch, a contented smile on her face as she looked at you and Sakura. “See? This wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Not at all, I was expecting a lot more work.” You replied.

“Because the worst part is yet to come. The both of you are going spend the entire night with me.” Wonyoung said as she took off her skirt.

To be continued…

#kim chaewon #le sserafim #chaewon smut #izone eunbi #mommy eunbi #eunbi smut #le sserafim x reader #ive wonyoung #wonyoung #sakura #miyawaki sakura #a/b/o dynamics

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greatstormcat · 5 months

Text

Of Wolf And Man - Part 1

Poly TF141 x f!reader Werewolf AU

Series Masterlist

TW: MDNI 18+, suggestive themes

Spring

It had broken your heart when you got the news that your Great Aunt Annie had passed away, but the shock came when you learned that she had left everything she had in the world to you in her will. This included, most significantly, the little cottage that she had spent her entire life in. It was a place you knew well, and loved dearly.

The process of taking over her estate took months, but finally the day came where it was officially yours. You took a year’s leave of absence from your job, sadly helped by a recent incident that had taken its toll on your mental health, and uprooted yourself to move to the cottage. The goal was to spend a year doing the place up and then return to your normal life.

Getting there wasn’t easy, the tracks through the forest to reach it were narrow so only a small moving van could reach it while you stopped in the nearby town in your crappy little car to stock up on supplies. You remembered the town from your childhood visits, and nothing seemed to have changed in all these years. You headed into the small supermarket, loading up with food and cleaning supplies.

“You’re not from around here, sweetie,” the lady at the till says to you as she takes payment for the bags of food, cleaning products and other items you’d purchased.

“No,” you smile back kindly. “I’ve just moved here, I am living in my aunt’s cottage as she left it to me in her will.”

“Oh! You’ve taken over Annie’s cottage! I remember you when you were little, haven’t seen you in years. I’m so sorry for your loss, she was a good woman. Good for you moving in there though, getting back to nature’s good for your health,” she chuckles and makes idle chat about your aunt while you finish up. You can’t help but feel this is a good omen of things to come as you load everything into the back of your car, heading out of town into the watery afternoon light as you head to the cottage. You hadn’t been here in a long time, and you felt guilty about that. The single track road winds through the forest, over small streams and twisting back on itself several times until you drive into a clearing.

It is a little thatched roof cottage built so long ago no records existed of when it first appeared. The rough hewn rocks making up its walls are dusted with moss and make it look as though it had been grown from the earth rather than been constructed by human hands. There were two low beamed floors inside, with a bedroom and small bathroom upstairs and a living area with a small kitchen and open fireplace downstairs. In front of it a beautiful wild flower meadow stretched out like a soft blanket.

Beyond the meadow was a dense and gnarled forest of oaks and sycamores, leading up to rolling hills beyond. There was electricity and running water now, both recent additions, but no phone line or internet. It was perfect.

The chill of winter still hung in the air as you waved away the last of the removal vans, and you stood on the simple porch at the front of the single story building on your own for the first time. The silence once the noise of the engine receded was heavenly.

You spent the rest of the day unpacking and arranging your belongings, working around your Aunt’s furniture inside, until the light faded outside and night fell. Memories come back as you move through the building, times when you’d stayed here for weeks during the school holidays as a child, running across the meadow, picking flowers and climbing the trees. It was a happy time and you look forward to reclaiming that feeling again.

As evening darkens the sky you settle down by the fire. The logs in the fireplace crackle and snap, the warmth and light filling the space around you is as far away from the harshness of your old flat in the city as possible. There’s almost total silence outside the cabin, save for the odd rustle of the trees and the calling of an owl in the darkness. You pull the blanket around your shoulders and shuffle further down into the softness of the sofa, sipping at the hot tea in your mug.

The bubble of peace is pierced sharply by a mournful howl in the distance, and you sat bolt upright, nearly spilling your drink everywhere. With a huge grin you bolted to the front door, throwing it open and standing there, blanket draped over your shoulders and holding your breath hoping to hear the sound again. Sure enough, the howl drifted on the breeze once again. Wolves. There were wolves out there in the distance.

You faintly recall your aunt telling you stories about witches and werewolves when you’d visited in the distant pass. She had quite a thing for wolves and it had rubbed off on you as you grew up.

As the chill of winter warms into spring you spend time digging the soil outside the cottage to reclaim the overgrown garden, making trips into town to get seeds and tools to replant it. It turns into an intense labour of love and ends up with you heading into town again to get bags of compost to enrich the soil when you decide a vegetable patch is needed. You’re sweating despite the chilled air as you try to heave the heavy bags you’ve bought into the back of the car, dropping the last one onto your foot with a curse.

“You need a hand there?” a friendly, Scottish voice calls. Before you can turn to see who has spoken, the heavy bag is taken from your hands and dropped with ease into the back of the car.

“Wow, thanks you’re too kind,” you exclaim and turn to thank your hero. Before you stands a huge, muscular man with piercing blue eyes, his brown hair cut down short either side of his head to leave him with a shaggy mowhawk of hair across the top. His blue shirt is pulled taut over his chest and shoulders, the cold clearly not bothering him. But it’s the wicked smile in his face that stuns you into silence.

“It’s nothin’ lass,” he winks, and then sniffs deeply. “I’ve not seen you around here before. I’m Johnny,” he declares and holds out a huge hand for you to shake. You tell him your name and explain you’ve just moved here recently. “Oh, you bought the cottage?”

“It was my aunt’s, she left it to me. You know it?”

“Sure I know it, we have a place up there too,” he replies, his eyes sparkling as listens to your story.

“Oh, who is this we?” you ask, trying to suppress the wave of disappointment at the possibility he isn’t single after all.

“Ah, come with me and I’ll introduce you. As we’re neighbours and all, yeah?” You find yourself towed along by his charisma, as though you were on a lead being pulled along by him as he heads into the pub across the road. It’s the first time you’ve been in here, and it’s a low ceiling, cozy space full of dark booths and horse brasses on the wooden beams. Johnny leads you to a far corner where three other men are sitting. Four pint glasses sit on the table indicating that Johnny was either here before, or expected. The men are as big, or even bigger than Johnny and you feel a sudden wave of trepidation as he presents you before them. Three pairs of eyes look at you with suspicion as you approach, and Johnny wraps his arm around your shoulders protectively.

“Who’s this now, Johnny?” One of them asks, sounding a little weary, as though you’re an annoyance already. The man has thick mutton chops on his face, and a dark beanie hat and dark jacket.

“This is our new neighbour, she’s Annie’s great niece and has taken on the cottage,” he says to the bearded man, making it sound as though they had recently been discussing the matter.

“Oh really?” he says, eyebrows raised and suddenly looking much friendlier towards you. “I’m Price. This is Kyle and Simon.” He indicates the other two men in turn. Kyle gives you a beautiful smile, his dark features managing to be even more gorgeous than Johnny, but Simon just looks at you coolly and nods. This man has scars on his pale skin, his top lip snarled slightly giving him a dangerous look, helped by the fact his hood is up on his black jacket.

“Yes, I just moved in last week and I’m doing the place up,” you explain.

“Well, we will have to get used to seeing more of you then. We helped your aunt out and have been keeping an eye on the place since she passed away.” Price raises his glass to you and smiles warmly.

A drink is bought for you, and you’re quickly seated between Johnny and Kyle having a genial conversation. Despite their slightly intimidating appearances they’re very warm and friendly towards you, and you suspect it’s the fact you are their neighbour that does this.

“I heard wolves the night I moved in,” you say excitedly, sipping at your glass of coke. “Do you ever see them as you live further up the hills?”

“Yeah, we see them regularly,” Price replies with a broad grin. “You gotta watch out for them though, they’re bold and they aren’t scared of humans.”

“Really? Then I’ll see them again?” You say with undisguised awe.

“I’d say that's a certainty,” Kyle states firmly. “You live on their territory, so they’ll be around your cottage regularly when they patrol and hunt.”

“Best security you’ll ever have,” Simon says, his voice gravelly and eyes fixed on your almost unnervingly.

“That’s… that’s good to know,” you gulp, slightly nervous of the sudden intensity in the air between the four men, feeling as though something unspoken is being agreed.

After spending time getting to know your new neighbours you return to the cottage and decide to leave the heavy compost bags in the back of the car until tomorrow, not bothering to lock it. As the light fades you change into your sleepwear and eat infront of the fire until you hear howling outside the window. You hurriedly pull your coat on over your thin clothes and hurry outside hoping to catch a glimpse of them this time. As soon as you get outside you see four shapes run from the tree line on the right hand side of the meadow, picked out under the light of the half moon in the clear sky above.

You sit on the bench by the door and watch as the four wolves move across the far edge of the meadow, pausing briefly on a small mound which gives you the perfect chance to see them. Two of them seem determined just to run and fight, knocking each other over and snapping playfully at the other. The other two move more carefully, watching their surroundings and sniffing the air. Your breath catches in your throat as you sit there watching them. Eventually the smaller two bowl over one of the larger ones and they end up getting chased, making you laugh at their antics.

The sound must carry as the breeze changes direction as they stop and turn to look towards you. For a moment you hold your breath as they see you, and you fear they’ll bolt away. Instead, something magical happens, one of them throws back its head and howls, soon followed by the rest. The sound makes the hairs all over your body stand on end, and you feel your throat tighten as tears well in your eyes at the spectacle before you.

All too soon they stop howling and one by one they trot back into the forest beyond.

In the morning you find the compost bags are laid neatly beside the vegetable patch, and you spend a while standing and staring at them, trying to work out what’s happened.

A few days pass before a knock on the door makes you jump out of your skin, who on earth would be knocking on your door in the middle of nowhere? You peer through the window and see Johnny outside, shuffling his feet as he waits for your answer. You bite your lip, trying to fight back a smile and hurry to open the door. His face splits into a wide grin when he sees you.

“Ah, I was worried you were nae gonna answer,” he laughs and rubs the back of his neck.

“Why wouldn’t I do that?” You chuckle and invite him in. He looks around as you walk through to the kitchen to put the kettle onto the range to make tea.

“You’ve settled in then?” He asks politely.

“Yeah, I’m keeping Annie’s things as much as possible. It doesn’t feel right to get rid of them. I miss her and want to keep the feeling of her around.” Johnny nods in approval.

“Aye, she was a special lady, we really liked her. It’s right to honour her memory, but it’s nice to have you here now,” he grins, that sparkle in his eyes again and you feel your face warming at his words.

Conversation flows easily between you, and Johnny is an obvious flirt. You hope desperately that he isn’t just another fuckboy, like you’ve fallen for before, but it hardly seems the case for someone who lives such an isolated lifestyle. Plus your aunt would have been furious if he behaved like that, and would have nagged him out of such behaviour while she was alive.

As night settles outside the cottage you find yourself sitting closer to Johnny on the sofa, the blanket draped over both your laps, knees touching under the fabric. You can’t tell if your feeling warm because of the blanket or him, the feeling of security he brings filling the empty ache you’ve been ignoring in your chest for so long.

“I take it you’ll be staying permanently?” He asks suddenly, clear blue eyes searching your face.

“I haven’t decided yet actually,” you reply thoughtfully and see a flicker of something cross his face. “I have taken a year out of my job to come here and… well,” you pause and clear your throat. “The timing of this place coming into my lap is pretty good, I need time away from some bad things back home.” Your voice catches slightly as you speak. Johnny frowns and leans closer to you, an arm falling over your shoulders in a comforting gesture.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he coos softly, his breath warming your cheek. “We won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

You look up at him, his words almost taking your breath away and the feel of his arm around your instantly calming.

“You’re safe here with us now, ya ken?” He says, his eyes searching your face and he leans into you a little more. Without thinking you lean back under the gentle pressure from him, laying back against the softness of the sofa. Your heart thuds heavily in your ears as you find yourself looking up at him, and you force yourself to remember to breathe as the air thickens to treacle in your lungs.

He is almost on top of you, his thick arms either side of your head braced against the arm of the sofa. Your body floods with heat, and all you want is for him to touch you more. The look in his eyes is almost frightening, as though he wants to eat you alive here on the sofa, and you can’t help but want to know what that would feel like. His lips part, and you catch a glimpse of the tip of his tongue as it skims his bottom lip before the plump flesh gets caught on his incisors. A tiny part of your brain registers that they are longer than they should be, sharper than they should be, but all you want is to taste those lips.

As though he hears your thoughts, Johnny leans down tilting his head slightly and you part your own lips willingly. Outside the wolves howl and Johnny pulls back from you with a grimace.

“Shit, I better go,” he mutters with a shake of his head, as though clearing his mind. “Sorry, hen.” He speaks with a tone of disappointment that mirrors your own feelings.

You blink as he stands up, confused by the sudden change and mourning the loss of the almost kiss. He heads to the door, and you follow behind him, aroused and yearning.

“Do you have to go?” You ask, wincing at the needy sound of your voice and feeling a touch of shame at throwing yourself so readily at your hot neighbour. He gives you a wink and touches you cheek gently.

“I do, sorry,” he leans down and kisses your cheek, inhaling the scent of you hair as he does so and you hear a soft moan in his throat. “I will be back though, dinnae worry about that.”

You watch as he walks outside and down the path, disappearing into the forest. Later that night as you lay in bed, replaying the encounter in your mind you pause and wonder how he finds his way home in the dark.

——————————————————————————————————-

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highvern · 3 months

Text

Patterns II

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: smut (18+), eventual fluff/angst

Summary: Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. So what does it mean when you find yourself in Wonwoo's bed over and over again?

Chapter Warnings: exhibitionism, fingering, hand job, dry humping, oral (face sitting), lots of teasing/minor degradation if you squint, overstimulation, breath play

Length: ~9.9k

Note: part 2 is here, let's goooooo! thanks for being so patient and thank you @millennial-fangirl and @idyllic-ghost for beta-ing!

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

m.list + support my work

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Avoiding Wonwoo post D-Day, as Amina calls it, proves to be surprisingly easy. An entire week of back to back meetings leaves you blocking off parts of your calendar just to use the bathroom. And according to the grapevine, there’s been zero proof of life from Wonwoo’s end either which has caused Mingyu to break out in hives.

But as the weekend draws closer you’re given the greatest gift the universe can bestow.

“Monday is a disconnect day for the client which means all of us are on black out. No emails, no phone calls, nothing.” Mona announces in the team huddle.

Tears of joy bead in your eyes at the news. However, it's short lived.

“We’ll need to hit the ground running when we come back so make sure everything is done Friday. Even if you have to stay late. Understand?”

Your laptop pings with a message in the corner.

Gerard: how does she make free PTO sound like hell?

Y/N: i think she said it was her special talent when we did ice breakers at the beginning of the project

Gerard: oh yeah right after she said she hates puppies

Y/N: and joy

Mona slaps her own computer shut, sending you ten feet in the air before continuing, “If there isn’t anything else. We can wrap this up. Shoot me a message if there are any questions.”

“And how will you be spending your new found free time?” You ask.

Gerard holds the door open as you walk past, “The way the universe intends. In bed, sleeping. Maybe I’ll finally unpack my suitcase from the last trip Mona dragged me on.”

“Wasn’t that like, a month ago?” You ask.

“And?”

The rest of the day is a blur, rushing from meeting to meeting with barely enough time to breathe. It’s only the end of the day that grants you the next glimpse at the world outside the dreary office walls. Albeit through the bright screen of your cell phone.

Once back at your desk, you unlock your phone to find several unread messages. Several from Amina document her jealousy that you and Lisa have long weekends. Lisa offers to kick Mingyu off the long planned trip to the adorable bed and breakfast she found for their anniversary.

Amina 🍑💗: FREE ME FROM THE SHACKLES OF CORPORATE AMERICA

Y/N: Your honor free her!!!

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: Girls trip! Girls trip! Girls trip!

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: mingyu will understand

Y/N: I am begging you to go have gross emotional sex somewhere other than our apartment

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: we’ve done it plenty of places that arent the apartment :)

Y/N: whore

But a separate thread unleashes a coldsnap in your veins.

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): forgot to give these back…

Attached is a photo. A familiar swatch of cotton contrasting with the rich navy of his blanket in the background. His long fingers grip the hem, involuntarily jolting memories of them curled around your body.

Upon realizing you’re sitting out in the open staring at a picture of your panties, you hastily lock your phone and shove it into the deep recesses of your purse. Thank the stars no one else was around to glimpse the crude picture or the sudden sweat along your brow. How dare Wonwoo’s first attempt at speaking to you post hook up be a picture of your underwear in the middle of the work day. Who did he think he was?

Overcoming the initial embarrassment that floods your system, you decide to ignore his bid for attention. If you ignored him then he wouldn’t know the power he held. Plain and simple.

—

The next few days fly past without incident. Wonwoo remains silent and allows you to fall back into forgetting his existence.

As Friday hurdles forward, the usual shenanigans of bar hopping is replaced by plans for a movie night. You aren’t the only one suffering from sleep deprivation; Amina’s job ran her into the ground, and same with Lisa’s.

The idea fills you with dread, spurred by yearning to spend every moment of free time to catch up on sleep. But knowing your friends, the probability of successfully ditching is on the negative side of zero, especially since you’ve barely spoken to one another all week and they’d both be out of town for the weekend.

The atmosphere of the office is sullen. Late Friday afternoons are reserved for pretending to work and gossiping. Unless you work for your team. In which case, you’ve spent the past hour agonizing over different powerpoint transitions and if they convey professionalism yet approachable.

A throat clearing behind you breaks your trace.

“Okay, I need to go home.”

Looking up from your laptop, an aura of visible graveness radiates from Gerard. His theater minor really came in handy.

“Why?” You ask skeptically.

Gerard was nice. But he wasn’t that nice.

“Because I’m already going to be stuck here all night.” He sighs. “And there’s no point in both of us suffering. You have the report ready?”

“Yeah, I just need to make a new powerpoint and get it finalized.”

“Then let me handle it. Mona wants me to re-do the other report you need for the deck so I’ll make it when I’m done.”

Hands moving of their own volition, you shove your scattered belongings into your purse. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He groans. “If I need something I’ll call. Now go. Be free.”

He shoos you without another word, diving into his own computer. Before Gerard can change his mind you’re in the elevator and own your way home.

Thirty minutes later, you find Amina and Lisa already in the midst of a full apartment clean up. A 2000s playlist blasts from the speaker on the counter while Amina shoots daggers at the furniture in the living room.

“Do you think we should move the couch?” Amina shouts at your entrance.

Her lips move but you can’t hear anything over the blasting noise. “Huh?”

“The couch!” She repeats after cutting off the sound.

You nod before realizing you're still in work clothes. Rushing to your room, you quickly change into something more presentable.

When you return, Lisa is in the kitchen putting away dishes. You and Amina descend on the living room, heads bobbing in sync to the music while you work. Under combined efforts, the space shifts from wild disarray to sparkling clean in no time.

Moving in sync, you both work to tetter the furniture into different arrangements. It takes four attempts before she throws her hands up, accepting defeat and moving to the counter to join Lisa. You fail to silence a half hearted cheer before flopping down onto the soft cushions of the sofa.

“Who said they were coming again?” Amina asks, her head resting on her arms crossed in front of her on top of the cool marble.

“Mingyu, Soonyoung, Eva,” Lisa pauses as she scrolls through her texts to find confirmation. “Wonwoo.”

Both Amina and Lisa snap their necks to pointedly look at you.

Much to your own disappointment, your cheeks heat. Avoiding the scrutinous gazes of your roommates, you roll off the couch and busy yourself with replacing the pillows and blankets Amina tossed aside earlier.

“Have you talked to him at all?” Amina questions, walking over to reorganize the coffee table, sweeping their trinkets and books away for the drinks and food that would soon be spread atop it.

“Nope.”

“He hasn’t texted you or you haven’t responded?” Amina’s eyebrows furrow, as if Wonwoo’s silence is the most confusing thing between you two.

“He hasn’t texted.” You lie, pulling at a frayed thread at the corner of the pillow.

Lisa joins the effort, folding blankets and organizing them in piles. “Well that’s lame.”

“I’m sorry? Weren't you the one who threatened to kill him?”

Lisa rolls her eyes. “So? A girl can’t be dramatic?”

“There’s dramatic and then there’s you.” Amina chimes.

“Whatever.” Lisa scoffs before looking at you. “Wonwoo’s cool but if he ghosted you then he’s a loser.”

You shrug before responding, “It was just a one time thing. It’s not like I was reaching out to him either.”

“I thought you said he was good?” Amina asks with round eyes.

“He was but it was just a one time thing. Let’s not make it weird, okay?” You wait until they both nod before continuing. “What time is everyone coming?”

“Around seven, I think?” Lisa throws the question to Amina.

“Yeah, seven.” Amina answers, eyeing the furniture again.

Glancing at your phone you spot the time, 4:46PM. Perfect.

“I’m gonna shower and take a nap,” You call, heading down the hall.

Once in the bathroom, you undress as the water warms to a tolerable temperature. Finding it suitable, you make to enter but the dig of your phone distracts you. The screen illuminates and you spot a familiar name.

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): I was planning on coming with mingyu tonight but if you don’t want me to I'll hang back

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything

Strange as it may be, you're oddly endeared by his consideration. But his last messages sit on the screen just above and cut the warmth short.

Y/N: and yet there’s a picture of you holding my panties that says the opposite

Y/N: im not spooked so easily

Locking your phone, you jump in the shower. The hot water lulls away the anticipation flooring through your veins. It didn’t have to be weird. Tonight would prove it.

The short nap leaves you disoriented but the laughter of friends draws you out from the covers. Bravely, you change out of pajamas into more presentable pajamas consisting of sweats and a sweatshirt. Once settled, you slide into the hall and meet company.

Turning the corner and entering the kitchen, you scan the group. Eva and Soonyoung sit across the counter, both of them smiling your way. Amina is fussing about, attempting to organize the drinks spread across the counter into some kind or order. An expensive bottle of liquor Mingyu no doubt supplied sits in the middle like a prize, however he’s nowhere to be seen along with his roommate and girlfriend. You try to assist Amina but the space between the island counter and the stove is barely large enough for one body, let alone two. Amina shoos you away after barely a minute.

A trio of voices echo down the hallway.

“Every project he doesn’t want to do just gets thrown on me.” A deep voice complains. “I don’t even know what his actual job is.”

The timber sends electricity down your spine. You try not to stare as Wonwoo steps into the light of the kitchen trailing behind Lisa. Apparently Wonwoo, Mingyu, and Lisa were tasked with food duty; however, Lisa's hands are completely empty. A stark contrast to Wonwoo and Mingyu behind her balancing several stacked boxes between them.

You exchange a brief friendly smile with Wonwoo, before he continues with Mingyu. Shoulders sagging, your relief is only momentary. The weight of your friends watching the interaction is unbearable, despite everyone being wrapped in their own conversations. Lisa and Amina argue over the best order to organize everything while Mingyu sets about actually arranging the boxes. Soonyoung and Eva exchange gossip at the counter, their own laughter slicing through the air above them.

Pouring yourself a drink, you snatch the pitcher next to Eva, no doubt containing one of her deadly concoctions. Filling the glass halfway, you take a sip. Fruit and spicy sweetness tingling on your tongue followed by the warmth of cinnamon. The slight burn is masked with a deceptive tang of citrus. It goes down much too easily for the amount of alcohol Eva includes in her drinks. You estimate it’ll take two servings before you’re asleep against the arm of the sofa. Empting the glass, you pour another helping and cast off from the counter.

Heading into the living room, you beeline for a spot on the sofa before anyone can object. Despite Amina’s attempts earlier, a few people would have to take to the floor and you refuse to be one of them.

“Alright everyone, come eat.” Amina calls in the small space.

You forgo the pizza for now. There would be plenty after everyone settled. Wrapping in one of the large fleece blankets, you burrow down into the sofa. Bending your knees, your legs cross while you lean back into the seam between the plush cushion and armrest, head perfectly positioned to see the television.

Your cup empties before anyone comes to join you. Lisa and Mingyu squash into the recliner on the other side of the living room, the shabby chair groaning any time their weight shifts. You hope it's enough of a deterrent for their determined wandering hands. Many movie nights had been ruined because of their less than family friendly activities. Amina settles in front of the coffee table amongst the pile of cushions and thick blankets. Eva and Soonyoung curl up on the loveseat against the wall.

Wonwoo crashes down into the space next to you, sending a tight lipped smile at your responding frown. His legs spread apart as he leans forward to eat. Your shin brushes against his thigh through the blanket but fatigue prevents any sort of reaction beyond registering the presence of his body.

Someone knocks out the lights and your eyes cement shut. The horror movie Lisa chose begins, lights from the screen dancing across your eyelids. It's a shallow rest at best, allowing you to catch snippets of dialogue from the characters and muffled whispers from your friends. But it’s like being underwater, senses dull as you experience it all from far far away.

You even forget about Wonwoo until he leans back into the cushions. The contact from his thigh breaking when he props his legs on the coffee table. A particularly loud scream comes from the TV but it's Wonwoo’s voice that startles you.

“Mind sharing?” He whispers, asking for permission despite already lifting the corner of the blanket draped over your knee.

You shake your head, nuzzling further into the armrest and away from temptation.

Wonwoo untucks the fold of the blanket from under your legs, stretching it across his lap. The heat of his side radiates into you even more. Even in your lethargic state the hyper awareness refuses to fade. It stokes a part of you wishing to move onto his lap and work you both back into the blissful high of a few nights ago. But you refuse to acknowledge the craving to dive into him, press your face into the front of his sweater and allow the beat of his heart to lull you into a rest.

You're fully aware all you need to do to get the first thing is let him give it to you. You were the one who ran away, shunned his attempts for a repeat, ignored him. Wonwoo provided several opportunities for a repeat of Friday night, now it was up to you to accept his invitation.

But try as you might not to care, the dread of what your friends will think rears its head. It's a cop out; no one really cares that it's Wonwoo, only happy you’re finally getting laid again.

You need to act before your nerve fades but in a room packed full of watchful eyes you’re unsure how to proceed. Feigning a yawn, your eyes pry open to lazily scan the room. Soonyoung has Eva between his legs, her back resting against his chest.. From where you are sitting it's evident they both have their eyes glued to the screen, Eva takes movie night too seriously to allow any funny business. Amina slouched down enough you can no longer see the top of her curly hair. Cautiously swiping at Lisa and Mingyu, it takes only a second before you look away. Thankfully Eva insists on blasting the TV volume to a deafening decibel.

The movement of Wonwoo’s chest, lulled by the shallow rises and falls, clarifies in the fliting light of the screen. More memories of flushed skin shuddering with ragged breaths come to the forefront. Following the curve of his throat to the arch of his jaw, you find Wonwoo already staring back from the corner of his eye.

He arches an eyebrow, challenging and curious. It demolishes whatever resolve you possess to not look away. Instead, you focus back on the movie while untangling your legs and resting them on the coffee table next to his, ankles crossing under the blanket. The sudden motion leaves the entire span of your right leg flush with his left, a comforting warmth spreading between the layers of thick fabric between..

In the haste, the top of the blanket falls down to your lap. You tug it back up swiftly, wanting the layer to conceal your next action from the rest of the world. Satisfied with re-arranganged fabric, your hand doesn’t return to its previous home in your lap. Instead, it rests in the small stretch of space between you and Wonwoo, allowing your shoulders to brush lightly and her fingers to ghost along his thigh.

The heat of his sideways gaze continues to heat your cheeks despite your attempt at playing oblivious. Shifting closer, you pause; Wonwoo doesn’t take the opportunity to move away. Instead, he presses back. Some twisted part inside your mind relishes in victory.

Wonwoo’s left arm slouches down from its place on top of the cushion, joining yours in the space under the camouflage of the blanket. The back of your hands timidly brush before he extends his arm. It's sweet for a moment; shy and coy. But Wonwoo doesn’t allow you to sink into the gesture because his hand rests on top of your thigh and squeezes.

Thankfully you’re far enough back that no one can see unless they turn their neck so far it almost snaps off. Even then, the thick fabric of the blanket doesn’t give away what's happening underneath. The only clues are your labored breath and the shit eating grin threatening to split Wonwoo’s lips. The two couples on either side of the room are in far more compromising positions but with Wonwoo’s hand so high on your leg, you might as well be nude.

Calloused fingertips begin tracing across the inside of your thigh, just above your knee. Without thinking, your ankles uncross, letting your legs part slightly to grant him more space. A wince escapes between Wonwoo’s teeth from your nails digging into his own thigh.

Wonwoo’s hands are lazy in their journey upwards. Fingers massaging firmly against the supple skin, pulling at the flesh with a fraction of the intensity he’s capable of. His thumb kneads into cords of muscle, working out the knots he detects along the way. When he grazes the edge of the large bruise, you stiffen.

Most of the hickies he gifted that night healed, some already disappearing completely. The one he’s prodding now stubbornly remained, much to your mortification. With the irritated skin still sore to the touch, you were constantly reminded of its presence each time you moved. In your peripheral, Wonwoo turns his head. A downward twitch of your jaw motions for him to continue.

The scene on the TV is almost pitch black, throwing the room into a similar darkness. Wonwoo makes use of the cover and creeps his hand past the waistband of your sweats. He lets his palm rest against the lower part of your stomach, the pleasant warmth seeping in, soothing the nerves. The respite is short lived when his long middle finger traces along the elastic of your panties, teasing the skin under the band.

Sweat blooms on your brow and your breath grows stunted. It's embarrassing how worked up he has you. Barely twenty minutes into the movie, less than five of Wonwoo’s touch and yet the distinct wetness between your legs swells. But rather than relief, Wonwoo waits. And he waits. And he waits.

What is he waiting for? You think.

Eventually the movie will end, signaling your friends to get up. The second any of them spared a glance at your corner of the room everything will become clear and exactly what takes place under the blanket will become easily decipherable.

But there is nothing you can do to make Wonwoo’s hand dip lower and feel the dampness he spurred. Attempting to distract yourself from suffering, you switch focus on controlling your breath. Counting slowly to four while inhaling, holding for another four, and then exhaling in the same measure. Even your hand on Wonwoo’s thigh follows the rhythm.

Mouth watering at the tense flex of the muscle under your fingers, you indulge in the visual of his room again. This time, he’s in nothing but his sweatpants, shirt nowhere to be seen. Red nail marks marr his chest and his hair is wild. You’re perched in his lap, completely naked and grinding against the evident bulge, dripping a wet spot on to the gray fabric. Wonwoo would watch while you used his body to get off, his hands tearing into the sheets. Fantasy Wonwoo would beg. He’d beg to kiss you, beg to touch you. Nothing like the devil sitting next to you, forcing you to plead for every once pleasure.

Next time Wonwoo would beg. But patience was never a virtue you took pride in.

Your hand wanders higher, finding exactly what you knew you would. Everything in you fights against grinning like the cat who got the canary. Despite the fact that you haven't really touched, Wonwoo is half hard. Even more satisfying is how he strains against his pants with only a few teasing passes.

He releases a heavy sigh when you push against him a little more firmly. Breaking attention from the movie, you sneak a peek at his reaction.

Wonwoo’s features are void of emotion. No matching bead of sweat at his temple and the heat you feel on your cheeks fails to present itself on his. Not even a wrinkle across his forehead. He almost looks…bored. It's a stark contrast to what you can feel under her palm.

But then you look closer and discover a discrete clench of his jaw and the minute flare of his nostrils. A glimpse at his neck highlights the stiff muscles, taunt like he’s fighting to break out of his own skin. You can’t stop looking. Subtle as the signs are, Wonwoo is just as much of a mess as you are. The only difference being he’s better at concealing it.

Wonwoo continues to play with the band of your underwear, content to pull the elastic and let it snap against your skin, providing no solace. It's maddening but gives you a chance to brace for his next move. He really only has two options, pull his hand away and end the game. Or push his fingers down further and indulge.

When a deafening scream blasts the TV prompts everyone to jump, he strikes. Wonwoo’s fingers wedge in the tight space between your legs. The sudden intrusion makes your thighs clench, a detrimental mistake since it forces the heel of his palm applying pressure to your clit. He wastes no time before prodding against the soaking fabric curiously. Extending his fingers downward, Wonwoo teases at your entrance through your underwear. You could cry at the relief but control yourself, lip nearly splitting from biting back a squeak. You’d sell your soul to the devil if it meant you could be alone, sitting on his lap as he talks you through it, whispering for you to be good while he stretched you over his cock again and again.

But that's impossible. So you’ll settle for this.

Your friends are none the wiser while you build each other up under the blankets. When you stuff your hand under Wonwoo’s waistband, you find out he is certainly not wearing underwear. Immediately you take advantage, letting your thumb graze against the weeping tip. The angle doesn’t allow for a smooth so you play with the head, letting catch on his slit to over and over. Each pass earns you a shudder of his stomach against the back of your forearm.

Wonwoo pushes aside the thin strip of your underwear, two fingers tracing your entrance before dipping inside, curling up to his middle knuckle. It’s hardly enough to get off but the threat of getting caught spawns more and more arousal. At this rate, your sweatpants will be sporting a wet patch if they aren’t already.

She’s so fucking wet. Wonwoo thinks, the revelation sending a shot of want straight to his cock. He curses whatever he did in a past life preventing him from hauling you into your room and burying himself inside your cunt until he passes out. The irony of the position isn’t lost on him. Wonwoo waited all week for a green light and of course you decided to give it to him in the middle of a packed room with a dozen prying eyes and ears. But he isn’t one to shy away from a challenge. If you want him to get you off under the blanket, then he’s more than happy to rise to the challenge.

Wonwoo repositions his hand, allowing his fingers to play with your clit, abandoning the shallow thrust at your entrance. When his fingernail scrapes delicately over the bundle of nerves, a whimper breaks from through your parted lips and almost blows their cover.

The movie, unlike you or Wonwoo, is at its climax. Loud screams and distorted music occupy the attention of everyone in the room. But still, you both pause, frozen and waiting for a sign someone heard. Wonwoo debates pulling away. He’d seen the film before, and while his mind struggles to remember the plot he knows there's simply not enough time left before the credits roll and the illusion is shattered.

Brain riddled with hormones and lust, Wonwoo faces an impossible choice. Call timeout and hope you’re generous enough to give him another chance. Or, he can make the most of the opportunity literally at hand and pray he’s fast enough.

He’d already waited an entire week, what was another day? And if he waited then maybe he’d get to fuck you properly, away from any onlookers. Where you can sing all the noises that drive him crazy.

The way you play with his cock makes confident he’ll get another turn; so, with herculean effort, Wonwoo extracts his hand from your underwear, moves it back on top of her thigh and gives a minute squeeze in apology. He looks down at your face, witnessing the moments of confusion. Your eyebrows knot under his scrutiny.

“Later.” He mouths, hoping you’ll accept his promise to finish what was started.

In an instant, confusion transforms into cold rage. Features smoothing, your chin tips in defiance. Wonwoo already regrets his decision, tempted to go right back to where he left off but you look like you might rip his arm off if he tries. You turn back to the movie and ignore his existence.

The hand in his pants doesn’t leave, and a chill of fear trickles down his spine. You aren’t prone to violence, but having his most prized possession in the palm of your hand, coupled with the sinister coldness on your face doesn’t inspire any faith that he’ll walk away unscathed.

Wonwoo isn’t sure how much time passes before you act. Seconds drag on, forcing him on the edge of his seat with anticipation. The knee closest to him bends, your foot resting on the end of the cushion, providing a tent of space over his lap. A decisive twist of her wrist catches him off guard. The space between his lap and the blanket hides the rough fists of his cock with their friends only feet away. The motion steals his breath; the way you use the slick to slide across his shaft, squeezing tightly to the point stars float in his vision.

With embarrassing swiftness, he’s close. Teeth pinching at his lip barely prevent the grunts building in his chest; praises for the devil next to him dying on the tip of his tongue. Wonwoo’s hips threaten to cant up, matching the rhythm of your hand with his thrusts. The warning signs of his end sizzle through his veins, the fuzzy snaps of pleasure racing up his spine.

Wonwoo takes one last glance at your face, finding he’s already being watched. His eyes scan the mischievous smirk on your lips and realizes a second too late that he fell right into a trap. Without warning, your hand stills.

You smile sweetly as your hand slips out of his pants, snaking it into the bottom of his sweatshirt to wipe the mess of cum against his stomach. When your hand leaves his body and returns to your own lap, Wonwoo he’s been punched in the gut.

He has no time to ponder what the hell just happened because the credits roll and Amina is already up and moving towards the lights. Wonwoo rubs his eyes, thinking about anything that will make his hard-on deflate before he has to stand up. Cold showers, old neighbors morning sex routine, getting hit with a car… he repeats like a mantra.

On his left, you hop up, all but skipping down the hall and into the darkness. Wonwoo wants to chase and finish whatever the hell just happened given that his cock is soft enough he can tuck it up in his waistband. But his phone buzzes before he can. The screen lights up with a new message from the minx herself.

Y/N (lisa roommate): maybe next time :)

The next morning, Wonwoo wakes with utter disbelief at his life. Your texts burned into his skull.

Y/N (lisa roommate): maybe next time :)

Wonwoo: Next time?

Y/N (lisa roommate): you can think of this while you wait

The photo haunted him in his sleep. He stared at it for so long he’s sure he could draw the details from memory.

On your knees facing away from the mirror, your ass is on full display. Wonwoo doesn’t know it is better or worse that you’re lent forward with a lewd curve to your spine. Better because he can see everything. Worse because he received it minutes after you fled to your room, which means the wet cling of your panties to your folds was his doing.

More effective than the picture is the fact you were all but twenty feet away in the privacy of your room, taking nudes while he pretended everything was normal. The entire time he helped tidy up, the walk back to his apartment, and long before he fell asleep, Wonwoo wondered if you were touching yourself. He wanted to ask; ask if you were thinking about him while you did it and if you weren’t, could he give you something to think about?

But every time he opened the thread to message you his finger refused to type. Wonwoo remembered what it was like to have you on your knees. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it. But now he has an idea what you look like from the back and it might end his life.

Instead of spending the night with the subject of his desires, Wonwoo found himself the subject of torture. Lisa came back to their apartment so the couple could leave first thing in the morning to some rural bed and breakfast outside the city to celebrate their anniversary. Apparently, they decided to start their celebration early. Hours of Lisa and Mingyu going at it across the hall stretched on with no end in sight.

Their usual antics would piss Wonwoo off but he’d deal with it. However, last night it only reminded him how much he is not getting laid and he has no one to blame but himself. Crushing a pillow over his head, Wonwoo attempted to make up for the sleep he is already desperately missing.

His efforts were hopeless. Barely five minutes passed before he turned fitful, tossing and turning without finding comfort. Every trick he knows failed; counting his breath, meditation, relaxing music, turning off his phone. Nothing works. He gives up after an hour.

When dawn came, Wonwoo’s bad mood set in to plague him the rest of the day.

Sheltering down in his room, he remains hidden until he is certain Mingyu and Lisa are long gone. When he does finally leave his bed, the choke of storm clouds outside have darkened the skies to the point that if not for the clock on his phone he would think it's closer to midnight than it is to noon.

When he decides to step out to grab food, his mistake doesn’t hit him until he’s already shut the door.

Wonwoo’s keys are still on the kitchen counter. Next to his wallet. And his will to live.

Several streets over, your day is going much much better; refreshed from a full night sleep and the thought of what Wonwoo’s face looked like opening the picture.

Lisa and Amina granted clemency last night, cleaning the mess from the evening before abandoning you for the weekend. Lisa off with Mingyu while Amina joined the college friends on their annual retreat (re: party weekend at the coast). Leaving you all to your lonesome for the next two days, nothing but rest and relaxation dancing on the horizon.

The murky darkness of thunder and rain outside the window is staved off by the warm glow from the floor lamp in the corner of the living room and the dancing lights of the TV as a random show whispers quietly. The warm air is clogged with the sweet smell of vanilla and bergamot from one of Amina’s large candles that rests on the coffee table. And bundle on the couch in the same blanket soiled from the night before, you doze off like a house cat.

A rogue buzzing pulls you back from the shallow slumber, eyes cracking open lazily to search for the device lost in the cushions. By the time you find it, the call has gone to voicemail. The notification on the screen means you must still be dreaming.

MISSED CALL: Wonwoo

A flash of panic tightens your chest. A million thoughts race by, all regarding what could prompt Wonwoo to call you. He doesn’t call you. In the year and a half you’ve known each other there isn’t a single instance of it. The complete uncharacteristic nature of it has you calling him back before giving it a second thought.

“Are you home?” Snaps through the speaker after the first ring.

He sounds pissed. It’s not the usual sarcastic lit that graces his interactions. It’s dry and pointed and already grating your nerves.

“Well, hello to you.” You sneer back.

“Hi.” He deadpans. You can feel the eye roll through the phone. “Are you home?”

“Why?”

It’s 9pm on a Saturday night and both your roommates are out… of course you’re home.

“I’m locked out and I know Mingyu gave Lisa a copy of the key.”

“You’re locked out?” You parrot. It’s not that it’s an impossible situation, it’s just ridiculously unlucky timing.

“Good to know you’re listening.” He bites.

“Actually, come to think of it, I’m out of town.”

“Y/N…” He interrupts, voice clearly exhausted.

Normally, you would goad him until blue in the face. His stunt last night doesn’t warrant patience. But you know he’s had a week from hell too based on what Mingyu and Lisa shared.

“Yeah I’m home. But Lisa took her keys with her so I doubt the spare is here.”

“Great, just fucking great.” He erupts.

You wince, “Sorry.”

Wonwoo doesn’t respond immediately. The measured cadence of his breath echoes through the line. When he finally speaks again he sounds calmer.

“Not your fault,” he murmurs. “Timing is just shit given the week I’ve had.”

“Your landlord can’t let you in?”

“Not answering his phone.”

“And Mingyu?”

“Also not answering.”

After that, words fail you. But given Wonwoo truly seems to be on the verge of a mental breakdown, you throw him a bone.

Readjusting the phone on your shoulder, your hands pick at the frayed hem of the blanket. “Look, if you want to sleep on the couch here, be my guest.”

Silence.

“If you’d rather call a locksmith go ahead.” You rush. “Just thought I’d offer.”

“If you wanted a slumber party you could have told me.”

Apparently, even poor luck can’t prevent Wonwoo from being a complete smartass.

“Have fun sleeping outside!” You croon sweetly, looking for the button to end the call.

“Wai—”

Phone locked and tossed to the floor, you burrow back into the nest of pillows and blankets. Any prior drowsiness transforms into irritation.

Less than a minute passes before your phone begins ringing once more.

It's your turn to snap at him. “What?”

The pause on the other end of the line is heavy.

“I was being an ass.”

“You’re always an ass.” You respond with a deep sigh.

“The locksmith won’t come till morning so…”

Despite your better judgment, you take pity on the poor man.

“Come over.” You concede, cringing at the implication of the phrase. Wonwoo is coming over because he’s locked out. Not for any other reason. He’s desperate and needs somewhere to crash until his landlord can let him in.

“…Thanks.”

The call ends.

Wonwoo knocks on the door twenty minutes later. You can’t believe what you see through the peephole. He’s soaked down to his skin, hair matted to his forehead despite the hood of his jacket. The chill of the hallway makes him shake like a leaf in a windstorm. When you finally open the door to face him, he’s somehow worse than he was through the glass.

If it was under any other circumstances the cling of the hoodie against his broad chest would stir something inside you. But Wonwoo has never looked so… pitiful.

“Oh my god,” You manage, choking on laughter.

“Are we just gonna stand here or can I come in?”

Shouldering open the door, you snicker as Wonwoo steps around. At least until he starts abandoning his wet clothes once inside.

“Wait, let me get some towels.”

Running to the bathroom, you snag whatever towels can be spared. You catch yourself in the mirror before exiting. Messy hair with an indent on your cheek from the crease of the pillow is the least of your problems. There's stain on the front of your sweater from the leftover pizza scarfed down for lunch and you aren’t wearing a bra.

It doesn’t matter considering Wonwoo looks like a drowned cat but you’re still self conscious. The best you can do is splash cold water on your face and remember he is worse off than you.

Wonwoo waits right where you left him by the door, dripping more water with each second. His bare chest glistens in the dim light. When he looks up from his phone you chuck a towel at his head.

“You can wait in the bathroom while I find some dry clothes.”

Wonwoo trudges behind as you lead him back the way you came.

Once again, he immediately unbuttons his pants without regard for your presence. Deft fingers make quick work. You remember where you are when he goes to force them down.

Wonwoo meets your eyes in the mirror, “Staying to watch?”

“I’m just gonna…” You mumble, looking anywhere but at the show he puts on.

The door latch clicks just as the heavy thuds of his soaked clothes land in the sink. Leaning against the opposite wall, your head gently rests against the cool surface. A deep sigh leaves your nose.

You’ve seen Wonwoo naked. Your hand was down his pants less than twenty four hours ago. A picture of your ass lives in his text messages for Christ sake. Seeing him shirtless and wet shouldn’t have you blushing like some virgin.

Ruminating on your momentary lapse of dignity will get you nowhere so you start hunting for the collection of Seungcheol’s clothes from the bottom drawer of your dresser. A few months ago the sight would have sent you to tears. Now, it’s comical. The fleeting memory of Lisa’s bewildered face when you choked down sobs after Amina threw out your ex’s toothbrush rears its head. Crazy how things can change so quickly from hurt to nothing.

You're in and out of the bathroom in a flash, collecting wet clothes in exchange for dry ones. Thankfully, Wonwoo doesn’t jest from behind the current.

While he continues to shower, you’re busy with making the couch habitable. Knowing you can’t deal with another of Wonwoo’s uncouth comments, the blanket you previously used is exchanged for the one draped on the armchair. Rather the blanket Mingyu and Lisa sullied than the one tainted by yourselves.

Wonwoo comes down the hallway just in time, toweling at his damp hair.

“Well, this is it.” You say, avoiding eye contact. “There's a charge plugged in near the TV you're welcome to use. Um, good night.”

“Gonna make me sleep all by myself?” He plops on the couch, arms crossed behind his head. Wonwoo’s too cocky for someone who looked like he drowned on dry land twenty minutes ago.

Wonwoo’s triumphant smirk doesn’t last when you plop a heavy knitted quilt over him. He scrambles free but you’re already halfway to your bedroom.

Scoffing, you respond,“What? Are you scared of the dark?”

“If that's the excuse you need to come over here, sure. I’m terrified.”

“Awww,” you coo sarcastically. “You’ll cope.”

In the confines of your room, you manage the first deep breath of the night. You won’t be able to sleep. Not with him so close. Not when temptation is just beyond the door and down the hallway.

How dare he ask you for a favor and then act like an ass. Of course, he’d use something so unfortunate to get his dick wet.

More steam pours from your ears as you ruminate. Pacing back and forth you scoff at his audacity until it boils over and you're stomping back into the living room.

“You know I’m doing you a favor by letting you stay here.” You fume, stopping a few feet away from where the biggest pain in your ass rests. “I could have let you go to Eva and Soonyoung’s and deal with their bullshit but I didn’t.”

Wonwoo lifts on one elbow, eying you silently.

Faltering under his gaze, you continue to ramble. “How dare you ask me for a favor and then act like a pig.”

“You’re right.”

“What?” You choke.

“I’m sorry.” Wonwoo concedes.

You falter for a second in disbelief, mouth gaping over silent words. It couldn’t have been that easy.

“I shouldn’t have believed you giving me a handy meant more than it was.”

Huffing, you stop and turn back to your room. “You’re insufferable!”

“And yet, you still sent me a pic of your ass.” He snorts, collapsing back into his pillow. “Pick a lane, Y/N.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Flinging your hands in the air, you return back to your room to stew until morning.

“So that picture was all talk?” Wonwoo yells in your direction.

He wants a reaction and that's exactly what he gets. Pivoting, you storm back in front of the couch.

“Oh! I’m all talk? You’re the one who can’t even finish what he started.”

“And what did I start?” He sneers, sitting up.

You know what he’s doing. Attempting to rile you up until there's no choice but to give in. And it’s working. Wiping that stupid smirk on his face is as simple as swallowing his cock until he’s nothing more than a twitching mess. But if Wonwoo wants you, he’ll need to try harder than goading a response out of you.

Biting back you prod his chest, “Nothing worth my time, that's for damn sure.”

“Really?” Wonwoo asks, rising to his feet. “Didn’t seem that way last night.”

Chest to chest, he’s more intimidating but you won’t falter. Instead, you switch gears. Your finger skims dangerously close to the waistband of his pants.

“I’m a really, really good actress.”

A battle of wills ensues. Wonwoo stares you down, unflinching at your smirk. He’s pissed at the implication. It's clear in his body language; tense shoulders, shuddering breath.

Your fatal mistake comes when his tongue peeks out to wet his lips. The memory of what they felt like jolts an ache in your bones.

A tilt of his chin is all the invitation you need to drag his mouth to yours.

Wonwoo has you perched on his lap in an instant, legs splayed over his spread thighs and his hands pulling you forward. It's clumsy but eagerness blinds you both to anything beyond the powerful drag of your core hips against the tent in his pants.

Twisting a hand in the short hair at the base of Wonwoo’s neck, you tug hard enough to move him how you want. A throaty moan is the only response he gives, easily following your demands. But the way his large hands grab at the curve of your ass move you how he wants.

He groans into the curve of your shoulder with the next cant of your hips. “God, you’re so hot. Shit.”

Despite the chill that has creeped its way inside the apartment, you’re burning up; skin flushed and hot to touch. The hand not tangled in Wonwoo’s hair slips under his shirt, nails skating up the taunt muscles of his abdomen. His own hands echo the path, finding their way beneath your sweater.

Wonwoo lifts your sweater and swiftly drops it to the flooring, busying his hands with cradling the soft skin he’s uncovered. He leans away to break the kiss, but you manage to drag him back.

“W-Wonwoo, fuck,” you curse, clinging tighter when he breaks the contact and drops his mouth to your chest.

His teeth scrape against your collarbone, leaving you dizzy and desperate. Head in the clouds, you fold and bend as he tortures your breasts. The rough pad of his thumb leaves goosebumps in its wake, skating across your nipple until it pebbles. One reflex you twist the fist of his hair harshly when he pinches and are rewarded with a moan and rush of his cock into your covered cunt.

A hot trail of sloppy kisses sends your heart into a tailspin. Wonwoo must feel it with the way he licks and sucks your nipple; pulling until it pops out of his mouth before he leans back to repeat the motion once more.

Eventually, Wonwoo’s borrowed sweatshirt is abandoned on the floor as well but neither of you find the rush present from your previous romp. You follow when Wonwoo leans back, flat against his chest.

Hazy fatigue swells around the edges. The feeling of skin on skin, lips on lips, and roaming hands brings everything to a calming lull. Without the fog of alcohol or the threat of nosey friends, you explore each other with feather light touches that turn into gentle gropes, and hot wet kisses that transform into drags of teeth and lips. From shared exhaustion, running on nothing less than minutes of sleep and a near lethal dose of caffeine, you sluggish trapeze through the motions.

Taking advantage of the moment, you discover exactly what Wonwoo likes. When you rake a hand through his hair, nails pulling through the damp locks to scratch against his scalp, then Wonwoo shudders and sucks at your chest with more enthusiasm than before. He likes when you bite him, his hips rutting up harshly with each nip at his throat.

Each breathy sigh you release spurs him on. Melting into a needy mess, you can’t find an ounce of embarrassment; even as Wonwoo massages your cunt through your sweatpants and pathetic whimper after pathetic whimper pours from your throat.

Having his focus on you makes you crave him more. A never ending cycle of want.

“Please,” you beg. The second the word is out of your mouth, Wonwoo is ushering you towards your room.

You trip through the living room with Wonwoo’s mouth still latched to your chest. Pinned between the back of the couch and his body, he sucks until your shoulders cave and you force him from his hiding place.

“What?” he smirks into your jaw. “What do you want?” His hand sneaks its way under your pants, squeezing a palm full of your bare ass before slipping down further. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He nips at your chin, fingers dipping into your entrance. “So messy for me.”

Your hands scramble for something to comfort from the onslaught. Wonwoo is already back between your breasts, humming around the flesh every time you shudder from his ministrations. He twists his fingers into your core, the noise loud despite the cover of your pants.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you rasps under the prod of his thumb against your clit. Rather than succumbing to the mind numbing assault, you jolt into action.

Wonwoo angles his hips just right when he realizes your aim. It’s too easy to force your hand under the fabric and find him hard and waiting just like last night. But unlike last night, you don’t have to hide. And the freedom dooms him from the start.

Anchoring one hand on his chest, you push until he’s upright. He’s a wreck; eyes half shut behind the lens of his glass and lips a delectable shade of red. You pull your hand out of his pants and lap away the evidence of his arousal, delighting in the way a vein on his neck jumps when you give them a lewd suck.

Turning, you saunter down the hallway, shedding the rest of your clothes as you go.

“Coming?” you call over your shoulder, pinning Wonwoo in place as you bend to slip off your sweatpants, flashing him the barest peak of your cunt, before continuing to your room.

You don’t hear him following until you're at the threshold. A rush of footsteps and then he’s emerging from the darkness, eyes taking in your naked form. Wonwoo looks like he’s been starving and you’re the first meals he’s about to have in years.

Wonwoo pins you to the wooden door, one hand finding your jaw while the other bats your legs wide before roughly swiping at your sensitive clit.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” he rasps into your ear.

Two fingers tap against your lips. Without hesitation you present your tongue, lapping the digits like you would his cock. Wonwoo watches with so much heat in his gaze you can’t stop a moan from slipping free when he puts pressure on your tongue and causes you to drool. He makes to pull away but stops when you grab his wrist and force him in place.

You suck his fingers deeper, eyes never leaving his the entire time. The pressure against the inside of your cheek leaves you reeling. Pure desire inks your brain and makes you desperate.

Both unsatisfied, you let Wonwoo go. He’s quicker than you imagined. A force full grab of your jaw tugs you away from the door and into his mouth. The slide of his tongue against your own verges on pornographic but you're too busy focusing on the same fingers you’d just been sucking on splitting your folds before stretching your walls.

Slowly falling to his knees, Wonwoo shoulders under your leg until your pussy is splayed for him to enjoy. The trail of hot kisses across your hip do nothing to comfort you. Not with the swift pace of his hand.

“Are you gonna do something or just stare all night?”

The strip he licks up your core, tongue flat and heavy, makes you double over. Wonwoo remembers exactly what buttons to push to shut you up, overwhelming you with his mouth and hand buried in your cunt along with the hand continuing to tweak your nipples.

“Fuck,” you mewl. “You can do—shit—better than that.”

The raze of his teeth on your clit is punishment enough for the outburst. But Wonwoo loves to prove a point. His pace becomes slower than ever, still hard but the tempo of his hand is reserved. It makes you hot all over. Choking on air, your brain melts and bones jelly under the lashing of Wonwoo’s tongue.

Just as he finds the perfect angle, he falls back.

You snap. “What the fuck?”

He doesn’t answer. Wonwoo pulls away his hand and rises to his feet. Once nose to nose, he smiles. The sudden change is disorienting. Even more so when he leaves a gentle peck against your cheek and heads for the bed.

Perching on the bed, he leans pack on to his palms and presents his lap like a throne. “Come here,” he commands.

Scrabbling into his lap, Wonwoo catches you off guard. His hands strike across your waist as he leans back, shuffling you up his chest until your knelt over his face.

Your hands steady on your thighs, brushing his. In an uncharacteristic act of sweetness, he tangles his fingers with your own.

The gesture leaves you reeling. “Wonwoo?”

His hands curl around your thighs and force you down onto his waiting tongue. There's no build up, only hunger. Wonwoo points his tongue and uses it to trace hard circles around your clit before suck so harshly you buckle in half.

If Wonwoo minds he makes no show of it. Instead, he pins your tangled hands in place and licks deeper, tracing anywhere he can reach. Every muscle in your body jerks from the sloppy way he eats you out.

Sweat blooms on your skin. Each breath stilted and you’re drooling when cracks open an eye to take him in. The flex of his biceps when you lurches against a vulgar suck of his mouth. Even the mop of his hair buried between your thighs makes you whimper.

One hand leaves your, reaching around and pinching your ass punitively.

“Work for it,” he hums into your pussy.

Not needing to be told twice, you rock where your bodies meet. Your free hand tangles in his hair and uses the leverage to grind against his tongue. Wonwoo’s hand continues to follow the curve of your ass until he’s able to tease your entrance.

Foul noises radiate from where he works you, from his hand and your mouth. Spit and arousal smear on his cheeks and you can feel it against your thighs bracketing his head.

You want to see his face. The heat in his eyes when he’s focused on something, focused on you, making you cum. You pull Wonwoo’s hair again.

“Focus,” His muffled voice is thick and broken, like he’s getting off just as much as you are.

Whining from the vibration against your clit, tears threaten to fall from how tight you pinches your eyes shut from the onslaught.

“Wonwoo, I’m—” you sob. “Please, fuck. Please, I’m gonna cum.”

The world holds its breath. And then it shatters into a million pieces.

You’re whole and not. No more than a supernova. Whine after whine claws its way out of your lungs until you choke on them.

Wonwoo pays no mind, continuing to work you until you try and fall away. But he expects it, moving with you and staying between your thighs like you haven’t cum at all.

“Too much,” you gasp when he spits on your ruined cunt.

Flashing the pink of his tongue, he sneers your own words back with acidic sweetness. “You can do better than that.”

Tossing your legs over his shoulders, he digs in again.

It hurts. Wonwoo isn’t easing you into a second orgasm. If anything, he’s bullying it out of you.

And you take it.

“I can’t,” you plead, dipping your chin to meet his eyes and beg your case. “Too much, Woo. I—”

Wonwoo leans back and slows the three fingers buried inside you. The hand pressed to your stomach rises to cup your face, his thumb tracing the bow of your lips.

“You can.” He coos. His thumb slips into your mouth a second before he spits on your clit and uses his soiled hand to slap.

The scream ripping its way out is silenced by the digit in your mouth. Wonwoo dives back in, taking zero mercy. Your hips buck into his mouth involuntarily and the bastard laughs.

“See? You want it so bad, don’t you baby?”

His thumb pops from your mouth but not before you manage a quick nip. The look on Wonwoo’s face tells you it was the wrong answer to his question.

Your breath falters when the faintest amount of pressure ghosts along your throat, waiting for your okay before committing.

Spreading your legs wider and tucking your hands behind your knees, you nod, “I want it.”

Pupils blown wide, Wonwoo goes rigid before exploding into a frenzy.

He sucks your folds into his mouth, hastily laving you in his spit before forcing another finger inside your tight hole.

“C’mon, you can do it for me. Give me one more.” He demands while coming up for a breath. “Such a fucking mess for me.”

Your hips snap harshly, nails digging into his wrist resting on your chest. “Oh my god, oh my god!”

Feet planting onto the mattress, you rock against his face with more force than before. A cacophony of vulgar squelches and desperate whines fill the room. He squeezes until stars dot your vision from the lack of blood flow only to release with a rush of lightheaded bliss. Using your hands to tug at your sore nipples, you finally give Wonwoo what he wants.

“W-Wonwoo, so good.” You pant.

He cleans up the mess the same way he made it but with a gentler touch. It doesn’t stop the quivers of overstimulation from wrecking your nerves but he whispers an apology for each one and rubs it into the crease of your thigh when you wince.

With a final peck to your clit, he releases you.

Wonwoo’s chest heaves, eyes drooping in lust or fatigue, you don’t know. Maybe both. When he rises from his spot between your legs, you scramble for his face. Mouths meet in a slow kiss, nothing more than a languid press against one another and a few deep breaths. You taste yourself but ignore it. You’re too tired, too sated, to care.

You try and palm his cock, eager to return the favor but Wonwoo shifts away. He crowds you up to the pillows, pulls you into his chest, and sends you off to sleep with his lips against your forehead.

You simply lay there, curled around one another until sleep claims you.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @lovelyhachi

Series Taglist: @aaniag @sdoulc @wonvsmile @jeonwonwooscutie @wonrangwoo @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @yogurttea @4cheezflatbred @fragmentof-indifference @p-dwiddle @icedearlgreytea @cottoncheol @hoshiskimchi @listxn @kwonshiho @kyeomofhearts @beananacake

#ksmutsociety #kvanity #svthub #jeon wonwoo #jeon wonwoo smut #wonwoo #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt fanfic #svt smut #🫡 highvern

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bomberqueen17 · 4 months

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RIP to the OG

Alas! Broadway star and legend Chita Rivera has died aged 91.

My cat is named for her, and it's a funny story I feel I should share. See, in 2007 or so, Dude was working for the local alt-newsweekly (remember those?) and during the time he was there, Chita Rivera was scheduled to come to Buffalo for a show. The theatre editor was so excited about this that he insisted on having a 52-week countdown on the theatre page, which annoyed the graphic design department enormously because that page otherwise had a static header.

But it became a running joke. "ONLY FORTY-NINE WEEKS UNTIL CHITA RIVERA!"

The theatre editor was so excited he commissioned a mural of her to be painted on his dining room wall.

I'm not sure how this came about, but somehow she was offered and accepted an invitation to come to his house to dine on the night she was in town. I cannot imagine painting someone on my dining room wall and then inviting her over, but I also have never been the theatre editor in an alt-newsweekly; there are many things I have not experienced in life.

In the midst of this, that's when Dude and I got our kitten. It was like-- of course we had to name her Chita. So we did. But not just Chita. She's Chita Rivera, which confuses the vet enormously, because neither of us have the last name Rivera. "She's not related to us," Dude explained patiently to the vet receptionist, who did not find this enlightening.

Anyway-- she was apparently a wonderful guest to dinner, the show she came to do was delightful, it all went swimmingly. She apparently was not at all disconcerted by the mural of herself, which I suppose if I were a legend I might also not find that disconcerting.

And while she was there, she told them her margarita recipe. I have made this recipe on several occasions and please serve it over a lot of ice because it will kill you otherwise. It is refreshing and actually really delightful to drink. It does not taste as strong as it is. It is incredibly strong.

Lo: The Chita Margarita, in memory of the realest of them all.

Take 1 can of limeade concentrate and empty it into a pitcher. Refill the empty can with tequila, and add that to the pitcher. Now refill the empty can with cheap beer-- Corona will do, something pale-- and add that to the pitcher.

Voila! No, this cannot be scaled down. Please serve it over ice.

Rest in peace, legend!

#chita rivera #dolores conchita figueroa del rivero #obituaries #cocktail recipes #a life well lived

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readychilledwine · 2 months

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Lost Bonds pt 4

Summary - The last thing Tamlin planned to have happen was a bond snapping between him and Y/N Archeron. Now the big question becomes, is it too late to fix what has been broken?

Warnings - stereotypical happy ever after, grudges, cutting ties with family, rhysand being a decent brother in law, divorce, children, babies, pregnancy, reader's powers are yin to Nesta's yang, loosely edited (squint away any mistakes💕)

A/n - I know some people might be upset with the direction this ended in, but it felt... right? Forgive me.

✨️Tamlin Masterlist✨️

Lost Bonds: Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

The Fire in Spring *can be read as a bonus Calanmai smut scene*

Rhysand was eerily calm as Azriel approached his office with Feyre. For the first time since her arrival here, Feyre would be in a seat he typically only forced the Inner Circle to instead of at his side.

Rhys sat and waited, hands laced together as they entered. “You are probably wondering why I asked you two to come in. Sit.” He motioned to the chairs across from him, not missing the look of confusion on Feyre's face. He waited for them to settle before saying the one thing he knew would begin the fight he prepared himself for, “I sent y/n to Spring yesterday. For Calanmai.”

Azriel's hands instantly twitched, and the fight began.

Three weeks had past with you and Tamlin and Tamlin and you. They were spent deep in the throes of passion. In need and want and want and need and every lingering emotion in between.

He had worshiped you. Truly and fully. He explored every inch of skin, tasting and kissing it every time like it was his last meal, like these were his last moments and he would rather spend them nowhere else than between the thighs he had become obsessed with.

It had taken 3 weeks for the bond to cool down enough for him to attempt to go back to his duties. He still ached for you and the completion that came with being yours, and you ached as well. You were like air to each other. Something so simple, yet so vital to life.

He sighed as he entered his office and sat in front of Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel. “You selfish-”

His hand went up. “If you're going to start throwing names around, shadowsinger, I have several for you. Be silent and allow me to discuss this with your lord and lady.”

Rhys was the first to speak after the blatant dismissal. “Where is she?”

“She should be resting. She's had a long morning already. She spent the morning with other Ladies of the Court discussing the upcoming Summer celebrations. I believe she is still socializing, though. I do not keep track of her constantly. She is a grown adult.”

Feyre scoffed and Tamlin raised his brow at her before she instantly looked down. “Is she happy?”

“Happier than I've been in a long time,” you entered the room, long hair falling in waves, an apricot colored dress swaying as you did. The colors of Spring made you even more radiant, your skin glowing, eyes dancing with light that had been missing for several years. “I assume you brought papers for me.”

You moved to Tamlin, standing behind him and holding a hand out for his. Feyre was shaking, refusing to look at you. “If you sign this, if you choose to stay, I never want to see you again.” The words should have cut like a knife, but all you could do was sigh.

“Would you like me to stay in Night then?”

Azriel glared towards Tamlin. “Its where you belong. Where your husband is. Where your family is.”

“Where your mate is,” you began to trail on for him. “Where you can have your cake and eat it too. Where your family has spent the past 4 years letting you make a fool out of me. Fond memories, yes.”

“Our marriage wasn't always unhappy, y/n.”

“No. But it became unhappy the second you had an affair. Sign the papers, Azriel.”

Rhysand stayed oddly silent, as did Tamlin, the two high lords were in a silent conversation regarding the scent only they seemed to be able to detect. You were not leaving Spring, not when you, albeit unknowingly, were carrying its salvation inside of you.

Tamlin pointed to the line that would grant you your freedom. Tapping it twice in a silent message to you to sign and stay at his side as he watched Azriel. He had no doubt the male planned on grabbing you, upset that he was losing his own claim to a made sister, upset that the Cauldron had paired him with another.

Tamlin knew his look. The look of a male who wanted everything with no compromise. He remembered being there. Being that male. He knew the pain that came with it, the anger. He watched you sign, signature so flawless and soft, curling the page that gave you freedom and you stepped back. Hiding that joy that was flooding him as you did.

“I won't stop fighting for you.”

You shook your head as you laid the ring on the desk and slid it to him. “You will. You will realize this was best for both of us in time. You will find happiness, peace, and what you are looking for.”

“I won't sign.”

Rhysand pinched his nose and then picked at his jacket, a nervous habit now instead of obsession. “Azriel, sign the papers.”

“I won't-”

“You will because I have tolerated every moment of this bull shit knowing it is against every law we have honored for thousands of years.” Tamlin was oddly calm, hand still in yours. “I tolerated it for her happiness.”

“She was happy with me.”

“Until 4 years ago, yes.”

You turned to Rhysand, eyes pleading. “Please.” Her brother in law nodded, taking her side and owning his error another time.

“Sign the papers, Azriel.” Feyre and Azriel seemed to freeze. It was a set command, one the shadowsinger would not be able to push. “Sign the papers.”

“I will never forgive you for this.”

Rhys shrugged. “I'll add it to the many times I was doing what was best for everyone else but made the bad guy. Sign the papers.”

Azriel stared at Tamlin as he signed the papers before taking the ring and standing. He left without saying goodbye, without looking back at you one last time. Without even so much as a sign of the love you two once shared.

“You will never see Nyx again.” Tamlin tugged the bond, sending you his love and support regardless of what you picked but silently begging you to stay.

Your throat tightened as you looked to Feyre, “Are you truly that selfish? Without Tamlin, you would not even have Nyx. You wouldn't have a mate.” She glared at you, chin head high as you continued, “you were never met to be Tamlin's, Feyre. Imagine a world where you would have just let me go, where I came here as the person who was supposed to.” She suddenly looked away, eyes squeezing shut as she did. “If that is the road you would like us to go down, consider it done. You are no longer my sister, no longer my other half, no longer part of me. If my happiness means this little to you, then we need to part ways.”

Feyre just nodded, standing and holding her hand out to Rhysand. Your brother in law shook his head, nodding for her to go. He sunk further into the chair he was in before looking to you and Tamlin. “Congratulations,” in was sincere, soft. Rhys grabbed your hand, kissing the palm. “You will always have a home in Velaris.”

10 years later

Tamlin sighed quietly next to you, bouncing your third child and daughter, Willow, on his lap as the other two sat. Oakland, your oldest son, was reading with his back leaned against your legs. Fleur, your middle daughter, was sitting by the glittering fish pond every court was circling.

High Lord's meetings were now quarterly. A way of holding each other all in check and accountable. Each one was more of a bitchfest than productive, but it had allowed relations between several courts to improve.

This one had been called due to Helion stepping down. With Beron gone, Autumn stable, and his mate and son finally at his side, the High Lord decided there was no better way to celebrate than relinquishing his powers to Lucien and enjoying the lost time he should have had with Andromeda.

Lucien looked to Tamlin, a little lost on the question Rhysand was asking before clearing his throat to answer, “I will not be enforcing rank and class if that's what you are asking. Fae are fae. Lower or higher does not matter to me. Laws will be enforced, tax will be enforced, and opportunities will be fair.” Rhys seemed content in that answer, looking at Feyre and Nyx before nodding.

You two knew you were next and Tamlin sighed as he handed Willow to you, much to her protest. “Spring is fully rebuilt and has implemented a version of Tarquin’s laws that work best for us,” the mentioned high lord smiled and raised his bubbling wine. “Our army is young, growing, but eager.”

He looked to you, “We would appreciate the spies being removed from our court, though. We are willing to answer any questions someone may have. We feel the use of spies in unnecessary. We have opened our boarders and home to anyone."

“The mortals,” Eris began slowly. “They are?”

“Part of our court as of two months ago,” you answered for Tamlin. “We are the only court they agreed to form a pact with. Jurian and Vassa will remain ruling over them as a better connection point.”

Eris hummed. Satisfied with the answer.

“Will they be asking to travel?” Kal watched his daughter, stopping her before her snow pale hand touched the pond with a soft no. “There are concerns over them coming to Winter. They were not made for such temperatures.”

Tamlin nodded, “We had hoped to discuss that with each court one on one. They are… beautiful, curious creatures. They want to travel the courts and experience different foods and lifestyles. Provisions will need to be made for that to happen, though.”

You couldn't help but smile, hearing what you used to be called beautiful by the most stunning male you had ever seen. His hand moved to rest on your thigh, squeezing softly as the next question came.

“The growth in Spring, the herbs, the medicinal plants, the food, flowers,” Thesan took a short pause as he and his mate communicated silently. “How did that happen?”

Tamlin squeezed your thigh again. “Nesta was blessed with the powers of death. Y/n was blessed with the powers of fertility and live. Her presence alone has brought light and growth back to Spring.”

“And children,” Kal murmured. You chuckled softly. You knew your every growing family was a source if jealousy from several other High Lords and Ladies.

“Yes, and children. The increase of faelings in Spring has been our biggest blessing. We are averaging 20-25 babes a year instead of the standard 3.”

You watched Rhys smile behind his hand as Feyre still refused to look your way. “And how many more do you two plan on having?” The question came from Cassian. He had taken to his nieces and nephew like they were second nature to him. He was their favorite uncle, and Nesta was fighting Elain hard for favorite Auntie.

Tamlin looked at you. “Perhaps we will be done after this new one arrives.” You shook your head quickly, lip pouting out. “I promised her 12.” Eris and Lucien both spit out their wine. Having grown up with many siblings, the two of them both looked shocked as Helion and Lady Autumn both smiled wide. “We will decide here in a month or two.”

Your hand absentmindedly moved to your very swollen stomach. This one was a boy. You felt it in your soul, and new Tamlin was secretly excited over the idea of another beautiful son.

The meeting came to a close as soon as Summer finished their updates. Tamlin helped you stand, moving his hand to your lower back as he walked you and your three toddlers out of the room. You could feel both of their eyes on you. A lingering cold Hazel gaze, a heartbroken blue one.

He tugged the bond softly before winnowing you home and immediately taking you to bed as the children's nannies all came to collect them for nap time.

“She looked regretful,” Tamlin unlocked your dress, kissing your shoulder softly. “She will approach soon.”

“It doesn't matter if she does.” The acceptance came so easily now. “We have each other, our family. We have this,” you tugged the bond. “Nothing will come between our happy ever after.” You held your pinky to his, and he wrapped his much larger one around it. “To us and our happy ever after then.”

“To us, petal.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria

Lost Bonds Taglist:

@impossibelle @fxckmiup @applerubyy @awkardnerd @sleepylunarwolf @macimads @esposadomd @stormhearty @starcrossedsan @justasillylittlegoofyguy @thisblogisaboutabook @ohemgeewhat @mybestfriendmademe @isa1b2h3 @b0xerdancer @forever-paramore28 @circe143 @ancientbeing10 @disgruntledturtleduck @fandomarchiveilyd

#acotar #acotar x reader #tamlin x reader #tamlin x archeron!reader #tamlin x yn #tamlin x y/n #tamlin x you #tamlin acotar

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lady-rose-moon · 6 months

Note

I would love to see how you write Loki X shy reader. Like she’s obviously so into him and he just loves to watch her get all flustered

Meet me in the elevator || Avenger!Loki x Reader ||

↣ MASTERLIST

𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓒𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 3.7k

Since moving into Avengers Tower last year after being rescued from HYDRA, you’ve developed close friendships with the main Avengers, loving to spend most of your time around Wanda or Natasha. They all knew that you didn’t handle well in public settings, talking with new people - hell, it was difficult to just talk to them sometimes, never mind people you’d never met before.

You were settled into a room on the twenty-fifth floor, alongside Thor. It stayed that way for a while before Thor returned from Asgard one day with Loki on his arm. For Loki’s credit, he looked as pleased to be there as the Avengers were to see him there. You, on the other hand, stayed very quiet through the argument that came next, taking moments to just admire the new addition with curiosity. Something inside you told you that you weren’t supposed to be intimidated by the highly intimidating God before you.

“But shouldn’t he be sent to S.H.I.E.L.D? Or- maybe whoever we are supposed to send him to should he return,” Steve was asking, your mind bringing you unwillingly back to the present, your eyes straying away from the man who appeared to be the person at fault for New York 2012.

“If he is handed over to them, they will waste no time in attempting to experiment on him and his power,” Thor answered, his eyes serious and focused on not just Steve but everyone in the room, “Father has ordered his imprisonment here within the tower where we will keep him subdued. Should you turn him away, I am to find alternative lodgings.”

The Avengers took a moment, unspoken arguments crossing around the room before Tony relented, hanging his head and uttering the damning words, “fine, give him the room next to yours, Thor.”

Your admiration stopped within a millisecond. The room next to Thor’s was exactly opposite yours! Slowly, you slid down the sofa until you were fully laid down and silently groaned to yourself. Of course, you’re shacked with a Thunder God and his Godly terrorist brother.

Following Loki’s sudden appearance within the tower, you spent more time avoiding the 25th floor. You avoided it as if it were the plague, going so far as to fall asleep in the common room of the tower just so that you wouldn’t be on the same floor as Loki.

The God didn’t look happy when Thor forced him down to meals every day, claiming that getting Loki into such a routine would be good for his mental health and would help his ‘healing’. You watched every day as Loki sat opposite you, emerald eyes downcast and his posture closed off, unwanting of any attention. Perhaps, you thought, he was like you these days?

You didn’t stick around long enough to actually find out if your theory was correct, however, as once you were done eating, you excused yourself and quickly fled to the library on the 16th floor.

The library was your safe space away from the ruckus of the Avengers and their mission discussions, the quiet of the library calmed a part of you that you never realised needed to be calmed. Since you had woken up in your cell within the HYDRA base with no memory of your life before, your social skills had been severely affected, only opening up after weeks of people trying to get you to open up.

Finding the library after being rescued by the Avengers shortly after the Sokovia incident was a breath of fresh air. From the moment you stepped into the two-floor library, Friday had made sure to play classic music as soon as you entered, easing the stress within you as you scoured the shelves. Since then, you have been happy to visit the library to escape the Avengers and lately; Loki.

The sun shone through the floor-length windows as it reached its peak for the day, the warmth enveloping you as you happily walked through the multiple shelves, your fingers absently brushing against the spines. Perhaps I should try to bring someone here, you thought, recalling speaking with Wanda about the library and smiling at the fascination on her face at the prospect of advancing her magic through books Thor had brought from Asgard.

The silence reigned in the tower during meal times for weeks after Loki’s arrival, it was a statement that everybody was uncomfortable with the God being around. Loki, for the most part, seemed as if he didn’t give a shit about their opinions about him. You’d begun to differentiate his movements from the others, seeing how he got up to get his Asgardian tea prepared exactly three minutes after Banner had poured his coffee and walked away. How Loki would reach for a sandwich shortly after Barton had grabbed six of them, handing three to Natasha to prevent poisoning. How, even though he looked unbothered, there was that subtle glint of loneliness.

It had been weeks since your magic had surfaced, weeks since you’d been able to delve into somebody’s mind. Wanda had taught all of the Avengers how to block themselves mentally against your powers so that not only you could have a better night's sleep but so they could as well.

However, you did not expect to fall into Loki’s dreams.

One moment you were in your own dreams, the next you were standing in a golden throne room. You hid behind a pillar to avoid being discovered, fearing that you’d been snatched by someone.

“What do you want?” there was a voice ahead of you, your view obstructed by the pillar you were hiding behind but when you peeked past it, you saw Frigga, Thor’s mother and therefore Loki’s too. She had a soft frown on her lips, her head tilted slightly as she approached her son, her hand reaching up to caress the terrorist’s cheek.

Your heart stuttered in shock at the discovery. You hadn’t imagined Loki would allow someone close to him but then again, she was his mother, it made sense in a way.

“I…” Loki began and your heart stuttered again but it wasn’t shock, it was a feeling you’d never felt before. You’d never heard his voice before other than the scary videos you were shown when you joined the Avengers, discovering their past. He sounded British, yet he was Norse along with Thor, then again, Thor had a sort of Australian accent when you focused enough.

“I want my brother back,” Loki admitted, his head hung, vulnerability radiating off his body language as he admitted the weakness to his mother. You watched as Frigga’s face swiftly changed into an understanding smile before pulling him in for a hug. Still, Loki continued, his voice coated with grief, “I’m alone there, Mother, I do not want to be alone.”

“It was better than the punishment Odin had planned for you, Loki,” Frigga whispered, her eyes shining with tears, “infinitely so.”

You took in a sharp breath and that was all it took for Loki’s sharp eyes to meet yours and the room disappeared, replaced with a bedroom that looked almost identical to yours in Avengers Tower.

“What are you doing here?” Loki snapped, his eyes hardened and his guard back up. He studied every fraction of your face, looking for the malice he knew you’d have, looking for the blackmail to begin, looking for the taunting. Yet, he found nothing.

Since his arrival, he had taken note of your presence, never once considering you’d be anything like the Witch or Vision. Yet here you stood, in his dreams. Loki grimaced as you stayed silent, his head tilting ever so slightly, mimicking Frigga’s previous actions. “Answer me,” he snapped after a few moments, annoyed by your ignorance.

You trembled as you stared up into Loki’s eyes, your nerves taking control of your body and preventing you from speaking up. Your eyes scanned his face, taking in the wet tear tracks that slid down his face, shining in the light that was coming in from the open curtains. Then your eyes fell to Loki’s decorated tunic, noting the hints of gold woven into the threads and the green accents everywhere.

“You’re staring, pet,” Loki purred, stepping closer to you, intrigue apparent in his features. He’d never seen someone take this much interest in his appearance before. Sure, he’d had wenches back in Asgard to quench his need but never had they admired him the way this girl was doing. It stirred something in Loki, a challenge.

You stammered, attempting to find a way to plead your case before realising it was futile. You wouldn’t be able to find any way to explain this, not with your tongue being tied and your fears rising. So, instead of speaking, you snapped away from his dreams and sat upright in bed.

Brushing a hand through your hair, you took a deep breath before retreating into your bathroom. Since it was the early hours of the morning, you’d abuse the silence of the tower and roam how you wanted.

As you left the room, you were unaware of the emerald green eyes following you from the doorway of the room opposite your own.

You seemed to run into Loki a lot more after accidentally stumbling into his dreams a month ago. Whenever you’d step into the library, your eyes would be drawn to the floor-length windows where Loki was lying on the sofa with a book in hand, lazily turning pages. He gave you no mind, he didn’t even acknowledge you were there yet you still felt his eyes on you constantly.

He was in the gym when you were trying to get some training done. Dressed in just a simple tunic and pants, going up against Steve, he looked the epitome of the female gaze. His hair was pulled back in a bun and his tunic was slightly wet with sweat. You huffed, trying your best not to get distracted by the alluring God fighting against the supersoldier but damn you couldn’t help getting a few glances at that ass. Definitely Asgard’s ass, you thought to yourself with an amused grin.

“Y/N!” Steve called from the ring, running over to the edge as you turned to stare at him, your eyes wandering over his shoulder to meet Loki’s heated gaze and your body warmed, alight with need and interest but physically unable to say anything.

“Yeah Steve?” you spoke up quickly, your eyes quickly shifting to meet Steve’s again.

“Spar with Loki, I need a break,” the soldier spoke. He said it so casually, as if he wasn’t condemning you to at least fifteen minutes of torture in the ring with the object of your desires. Then again, Steve seemed to be oblivious to all the sexual tension happening within the Avengers. He didn’t even know about Wanda and Vision until he saw them kissing in the breakfast room!

You sighed and nodded, getting into the ring and facing Loki. The God’s lips quirked up into a half-smirk as he took you in, his eyes hungrily roving over your body. The tank top you wore barely hid the sports bra below it, your leggings clinging to your legs sparking an interest deep in his abdomen. You drove him mad. You hadn’t visited his dreams since that night but damn, you haunted them still!

“Are you ready, darling?” Loki purred, his voice sinking deep into your bones as he flexed his muscles, grinning to himself when he watched your eyes wander down his form, “you’re staring, Y/N.”

Your body jerked up straight, freezing with nerves as you were caught in the act before you shook your head and got into position.

Sparring with Loki brought out that inner calm that you didn’t know you had. Your mind was always whirring with ‘what if’ scenarios, pulling you under the waves if you allowed yourself to think about it for too long. Inside the ring, mirroring Loki’s movements, keeping eye contact and ignoring the hammering of your heart, you felt more like yourself than you had for years.

When Loki grabbed you and pushed you to the floor, arousal streaked through your body as you were held firmly beneath him, his emerald eyes searing into your own, your heart racing and your mind racing a mile a minute trying to find a way that this can be explained platonically. He was just fighting you, he didn’t want a real reaction, totally not!

Loki, for the most part, kept his attraction to you a secret but as you became a true competitor for him in the ring, he licked his lips at the challenge and eagerly fought back. When he pinned you to the mat, he saw the spark of arousal in your eyes and his grin morphed into a smirk. “TKO, darling,” he whispered seductively, watching your eyes flutter before you seemed to come back to yourself, bring yourself to your feet and scurry away.

From behind him, Loki heard a groan and he chuckled to himself. “Is there a problem, Agent Romanoff?” he asked with a pleased hint to his voice, rolling his head and groaning at the satisfying cracks that could be heard.

“Whatever you’re doing to her, Loki, I suggest you stop,” Romanoff warned, her eyes aflame as she stared at the God of Mischief, “she’s a good asset.”

Innocently, Loki flashed a smirk at Romanoff before striding out of the training room, his bag and towel following after him surrounded by a green glow.

After that, no matter where you were; somehow Loki was too!

Even if you’d checked that he was in his room before heading out anywhere, he just appeared and soured your day. Well – not really, but you acted like it did. In the library, the gym, the kitchens or even out in the city as you got very stir crazy.

Now, you're back in your quarters and you get your first real chance to relax for a moment with Loki constantly following you around. After a rough day, your mind is going a mile a minute as you go through all the different ways he's interacted with you lately. Sure, he could just be friendly and interested in getting to know someone new, but the way he looked at you... the way his eyes locked onto yours... was there something more? You refused to believe it. Loki, the God of Mischief, could never be attracted to you.

Now that you had a moment to think, your stomach growled and you sighed at the realisation that you'd need to step out of your room yet again to get food. You could order but the temptation to get pizza or McDonald's would be too strong. Clicking the lock of your door, you stepped out into the dark hallway and made haste to the kitchens three floors below. Only when the elevator doors dinged open, you were greeted with the heated green gaze of the one God you did not want to see right now.

"Loki," you whispered in shock before calming your racing heart and stepping into the elevator, pressing the 16th floor button, "how convenient that you are here."

He flashes that grin at you that always seems to make your heart skip a beat. Loki casually leans against the opposite wall of the elevator and gazes at you with those enchanting emerald eyes. "Hardly, I just needed food. I suspect you did too?" he asks with that slight smirk.

"That's a very nice outfit you're wearing, darling," he adds. His smile shifts slightly at your blush, that blush that is totally just a natural response and not from him teasing you at all.

You stammered as the elevator descended. Those three floors feeling as if they take an eternity to get past in order to get to the common area. It wasn't really a nice outfit you were wearing, in all honesty. Just simple green joggers and a black shirt. Something you'd simply thrown on to venture downstairs. You weren't aware that you were wearing Loki's favourite colours, didn't know that you were blatantly displaying your affections for him through your clothing.

"Thank you," you murmured so you didn't seem rude, hugging your arms before you gazed up at him and the red that tinted your cheeks deepened when you saw that Loki had not once looked away from you, even if you'd turned your head to the ground.

He stares at you, trying to hide a grin at your evident embarrassment. He likes seeing you blush, and your shy nature certainly makes it easy to do so. Loki decides that he will have a little fun with this. "Tell me, darling," he asks. "Do you happen to like the colour green?" he asks, keeping that smile on his face, just waiting to see your reaction.

Oblivious to the double meaning to his words, you eagerly nodded and grabbed at your joggers, proudly displaying them to the God of Mischief.

"Yeah," you gushed, a goofy grin on your lips that pulled at Loki's heart, your eyes full of innocent pride, "always has been a favourite, always will be."

He raises an eyebrow at you, his smile growing slightly with that innocent pride you have for what you're wearing. Loki decides to play along with your innocence and go to the next step.

"Why, darling," he says, his voice full of mock surprise. "You're not trying to signal that you like me, are you?"

Heat once again rushed to your cheeks at the suggestion. Why would he ask that? Where had that ever been a signal that you liked him? Unless... no- it couldn't be. You remembered a conversation from months ago, Thor had suggested that women who wore red would always be seen as representing him in a way with their colour. Did Loki hold that belief too?

Loki watches the way you react with great interest, and is amused by that adorable blush of yours.

"Oh, darling," he replies. "I simply love a woman who knows how to show off their affection for a man. It's the ultimate form of respect."

His expression shifts slightly, and he takes a small step closer to you. "What, does this little outfit you're wearing mean that you think of me so much that you don't mind the chance that others might see as you trying to court me?" he asks in a playful tone.

"I- I- I didn't mean to-" you stammered; your cheeks flushed bright red by now yet again - though you supposed they'd never stopped being so since entering the elevator-. Your pride for your outfit faded, replaced by nervousness and a little bit of arousal for the God before you. His gaze seared into your soul, laid you bare before him, helpless to even process the fact that the elevator had long since stopped, the emergency stop button being pressed by Loki minutes ago.

"You didn't mean to?" the God asks, feigning innocence despite knowing exactly the effect he's having on you. He takes another small step closer, still keeping that charming grin on his face as he looks at you with those enchanting eyes.

His hand comes up to your throat, and he leans in closer, whispering in your ear. "Maybe you should come back to my room, darling," he says in a soft voice, as if that suggestion is the most natural thing in the world.

Your eyes widened in shock, your body trembling as if processed his request. He said it so naturally! How could he say that so casually?! So many questions raced through your mind as you stared up at him, your lip trembling as you struggled to find words to portray the whirlwind in your mind. Suddenly you realised you were trapped in this elevator with Loki for who knows how long, and you were ultimately playing a game of cat and mouse with the God of Mischief.

"I don't- I can't- we- we're partners, Loki, what will the others think?" you whispered, trying to hard to shy away from the handsome God before you.

He grins at you, amused at the sudden confusion you're feeling. He leans in even closer, his warm breath on your ear as he slowly leaned in closer to you. "Who cares what the others think?" he whispers. "They don't matter. Only we matter here. Don't you want me, darling?" he asks, his voice husky and full of the most hypnotic desire.

Loki's breath catches in his throat as he looks at you, lost in your beauty. "Give in... we have both waited too long, have we not?" he whispers.

Biting your lip, you tried one last time to shy away from his affections but your movement was prevented by a large hand encompassing your throat and pulling you closer to him and soft lips were pressed to your own. Shock rippled through your body as you took in this sudden action before your mind became quiet and you melted into the kiss.

He holds you close, a passionate grip with one of his arms wrapped around you so that you can feel the warmth of his body and his muscles as your lips mingle with his.

As he pulls back from the kiss, Loki is visibly panting. "I can feel your heartbeat, darling," he whispers. "You like my presence all the more." You can't deny it. Loki seems to make your heart jump even more now.

"I have wanted..." you hesitated, shame filling your body at the realisation that Loki had at least been interested in you for a while and you'd be avoiding him. "Since you came here, I have been intrigued by you then... one day... it was feelings and then... I tried to hide it," you whispered with a soft laugh, shaking your head and avoiding his gaze.

Loki wraps you in a warm embrace, running his hands over your hair. "Darling, you're so adorable. Why ever would you try and hide this from me?" he asks, looking directly into your eyes. "Let me show you just how interested I am in you."

Loki's eyes shift to something you hadn't expected: hunger. His eyes were always beautiful, but now they were filled with raw desire. And it was focused entirely on you.

Food forgotten, you pressed the button for your floor and wrapped your arms around Loki's neck, awaiting the arrival of your floor four floors above you.

@lokisgoodgirl @lokisninerealms @slpnbty2001 @jennyggggrrr @hahaha12123445 @ozymdias @holdmytesseract @itsybitchylittlewitchy @lovingchoices14 @xorpsbane @huntress-artemiss @muddyorbs @nerdy-fangirl-65 @lonadane @silverfire475 @chantsdemarins @iamsherlocked1479 @kittiowolf210 @just-someone11 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @loki-laufeyson-1054 @fictive-sl0th @coldnique @anukulee @eleniblue @asgards-princess-of-mischief

#loki #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #tom hiddleston #loki fluff #loki laufeyson x reader #mcu loki #jotun loki x reader #reblog please #tom hiddleston character x reader #requests open #loki hurt/comfort #loki x you #hot loki

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goldsbitch · 4 months

Text

Just don't talk---

-to me.

p4 to Just don't talk

summary: Enemies to lovers on steroids. Y/N unknowingly crosses a line, making it impossible for Lando to continue their little affair.

warnings: cursing, typos

Sometimes, the world of F1 really required one to grow up fast. Y/N had noticed strange looks from few of the team members during meetings and sessions for the whole week. She tried not to give it much thought - that was until her manager called, on a late Wednesday evening and broke the news. There were serious talks of her being replaced by someone, who used to drive for her team before and wanted back. She, as an average rookie, couldn't stand a chance and couldn't possibly play the "female driver" card (which she hated anyway). The phone call with her manager was a hard one, nothing seemed to be confirmed, but her pro active guardian angel worked on having enough close friendships around the team to know the news before it got to be known around the paddock. Her heart was racing for life, hand shaking, mind running wild. This couldn't be happening. They can't just drop her out of nowhere, she tried to convince herself.

She lived in this uncertainty for three days, constantly in contact with her own team, focusing on not failing at her job, completely ignoring any texts or calls from people outside her comfort zone. Yet, she didn't hesitate to schedule a hook up with Lando. A break though came when her manager called, informing her that she currently in negotiations with another f1 team for potential transfer, she called it a "just in case" back up, but sounded a little too excited for it being a back up team. Even when Y/N begged to know what team that was, her manager did not cave in, saying it was just too early stages.

What a perfect waste of time. Every evening in her busy life was a calculation, a plan to keep or alone time prescribed by herself. Tonight they were suppose to meet up with Lando, in the morning they'd texted about it, he even cracked a joke and appeared to be in a generally easy going mode. But 8pm rolled in and no text, call or even a doorbell. After a half an hour of pacing around and pretending to be busy, she found herself in a completely clean kitchen, finished emails and painted nails. Lando was rarely ever late without a note beforehand. She was not going to text him. That would be too needy. Few episodes of some sitcom, which she had to rewind several times as her attention span lasted about two minutes. Minutes rolled in like a cruel indicator of how much she took as a given that they'd see each other. How much it wasn't on the table that he would ditch her. At some point, she had to come to terms with it. But nobody was there to force to admit that she felt a strange hollow feeling in her stomach. She pushed all thoughts into the back of her head and focused on her next racing plan. That's what she was suppose to be anyway. She might face being replaced out of nowhere, she had to be at her best game. Only when she lost the option of the only distraction that seemed to work in the form of Lando's smirk, she realized how much tension she held within her. It wasn't a night filled with much sleep for her. The late night loneliness crept in, loveless mornings had pilled up over time into a tower blocking the sunshine in. She sat on her bed, second guessing every choice she ever made - was the racing even worth it all? She could have been married by now? What a strange concept. Was she ever going to do so? In a man's world, was there an option to find a lover who would not challenge her and only induce her anxiety? She circled back to her first and only love and wasn't even sure if she had the privilege to call it that as the memory of the slacker guy from her hometown literally slept through their break up. Often she'd watch her colleagues hop on the first plane to spend as much time as this lifestyle allowed with a loved one. She had yet to find out what that kind of a flight felt like.

A whole week had passed since that night. They saw each other on numerous occasions and both of them avoided each other's looks, as if they would turn to stone if their eyes had met. It was good for their public image.

Y/N was excited when her manager finally met up with her in person to tell her about a potential team transfer, should the silly season kick in hard. "I'm not saying anything is set in stone. There have just been few meetings, lawyers checked up your contract again for potential breach causes, so we did some work in the meantime," she stated dramatically over a coffee date they'd set up at Y/N's hotel room. Her manager seemed unusually giddy, excitement poking through her professionalism. "There is a possibility, now, hold your horses, just a possibility, that there might be an open seat at McLaren soon." This came as a shock wave. Y/N always admired her manager, who was always three steps ahead of everyone. Her mind started to race in many conflicting directions. McLaren was an exciting team, definitely a promotion. So was this why Lando ghosted her? Because she might potentially become his teammate? That was just a little too childish of him, she thought, judging her own choices in a hook up "buddy". "So does that mean that Oscar is thinking about leaving the team?" "Well, not exactly. Technically, nobody is thinking about leaving the team. Also, it's not Oscar, but Lando." And the penny dropped.

Lando had been in this business for years. He knew well enough what was up. Made sure to have people at the right places, faithful souls who loved him a little too much and were willing to breach their NDA for him. Of course he knew that Y/N's managers were speaking to McLaren. And also why. It took him by surprise, that was for sure. He was a great racer with a big potential. When he learned in secrecy that the reason why McLaren is thinking of changing up their driver line up, it wasn't exactly because of the actual racing, but more of marketing and appearing as a young hip team, it made him furious. Lando had started to become an old news for the marketers. Oscar and Y/N pairing had intrigued them. Of course he wasn't going to keep on with their little love affair. She was becoming a threat, more so outside the track than on the track. He was mad when he found out. Of course he had always kept his distance from Y/N. But this felt personal. She truly was a ruthless bitch, as his gut had told him from day one. It probably wasn't even attraction what he felt towards her, just his subconsciousness telling him to keep his enemies closest physically possible. He tried to hold of thinking about their glorious sex. There were bigger things at stake. He didn't feel threatened. Just little bit betrayed. He had to take action.

Once her manager left, she found herself pacing around her room yet again. Thoughts jumping one over another. Excitement skipping over anxiousness, joy being overrun by a sinking fear. She was always going to put her career first. So why was there a sudden urge to run to wherever Lando was and explain that she had no idea this was being set up in her name.

It was a strangely bittersweet feeling, standing at a photoshoot for her contract renewal. There was an unspoken tension between her and the team leaders, nobody willing to talk openly about the fact that they were about to drop her and she was talking about running to different team. But there she was, faking smiles, staying with the team for another two seasons, hating this industry more than ever before. In the end, she gave her everything just to stay in an environment that made her feel just like another clog in the all too big entertainment machine. McLaren calls were getting postponed and everyone knew what that meant, so her own personal team decided to jump for the first option that offered some security. With that, she smiled and posed again. Merely a shell of the fiery girl that bit Lando's arm just weeks ago. All this stress, loneliness and self-doubt had changed the course of her energy.

"Oh, you're taking the same elevator?" Lando asked, shooting arrows at Y/N as he pressed the close door button. He had imagined many times that he would slam a door in her face and this was the closest her could get to that. She put her hand into the door gap, giving him a strict eye roll. Finally, faith brought them into a place where they were alone again. "Really?" she said walking in the elevator. Lando tried to be the bigger and mature person. Being around her was making it impossible. He was angry and frustrated. "So...how are you?" she tried to break the ice. "You have never asked me that before. Are you sick?" "No, I'm just...we haven't spoken-" "-ever. No reason to start now," he said, acting as if this was all passing him by. Scrolling on his phone without a care in the world. "I didn't know..." "What..?" "I didn't know that my managers were having these talks," she said softly. There was an apology on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't bring herself to actually say it. "And are you looking for my advice on how to keep the people who you pay in check? Or what is the purpose of this conversation?" "I'm just...I never wanted to try and push you out of..you know." Lando laughed. "That's some severe delulu vibe you're giving off." "Sorry?" she reacted, genuinely confused. "The audacity you have! Thinking you can manipulate the situation better than I do. Princess, I've been in the game years more than you and survived bigger shitstorms - do you really believed I'm here only because I'm a good driver? No, these games are half of the work. So no, I absolutely do not believe that you didn't know about this. And the fact that you're trying to convince me of that is highly disrespectful." Y/N was taken back, processing several conflicting reactions at the same time. The always calm Lando got pushed over the edge. And he was not done. "Next time you're drowning, don't reach out to drag me down too. You should be grateful, you got to keep your job and certainly no thanks to the shitty managers of yours, so you're welcome. I'm genuinely surprised that you landed the job you now have in the first place."

It was a lot of information blurted at her. But she got a hold of the important part. "Lando? What did you do?" He took a deep breath. He said too much. "You will never find out. Now stop talking."

Y/N hit a pause on the elevator. Not that it would help, she figured they had only few minutes extra before someone would be over to run the machine again. "The fuck are you doing," Lando exclaimed and tried to stop her. His hand grabbed her arm and Y/N got an instant flashback to the night he tied her to her own bed frame. "Did you help me?" she asked, anger spitting out of her lips. "Let's not dive into that, shall we? Now, get the elevator running." "I don't need your help, Lando." "This was not any help, I'm trying to keep you out of McLaren, so don't read into it." While that did sound reasonable, Y/N knew there was more. With that, the fire she'd been missing for weeks entered her system again. "Stop helping me, Lando," she said in a serious tone, stepping closer to the guy still holding her arm. She quickly pushed it away. "I don't need your help." She was really pushing it, he thought and bursted. "Is that so! I saw that last week. Your weak strategy and poor results nearly got you dropped. " "No, not dropped. Replacing you." "It would take the hell to freeze over for that to happen, Princess naivité. It was a straight path back to f2 at best. Get your shit together and get a grip over those who act in your name and grow up. Nobody is going to save you next time." She wondered what exactly he did, but knew that there will be a time and place for that conversation. Lando cursed himself for saying it all at once. He was there, lecturing her on strategy, while not being able to follow his own for a second when she was around. Said things he planned on keeping for himself forever. She stood in front of him and he could read the surprise on her face. Anger left her body and suddenly she never looked so innocent. Just a scared girl standing in front of him, trying to navigate their complicated world. The only reason he helped her was because he felt sorry for her. Nothing else. Definitely. "How can I repay you?" she asked, humbled by the newly found information. He took his time to respond. Prolonging this moment just a little. Knowing that soon enough, the innocent face he stared at would soon turn to its usual pseudo-tough-cool-girl mask. It was as if he saw the real Y/N for the first time. "You could stop whining and get this elevator running," he said slowly, as if his body was rejecting these words. Without any other comment, she obeyed his wish. They both turned away from each other and continued in silence. Lando had secretely hoped that she would question him more. She let out a little thank you when exiting the elevator. He watched her leave and forgot for a moment into which floor he was supposed to originally go. She paced away from his as fast as she could. These past few days have pushed her to the limit and the conversation with Lando was the last straw, the word "Princess" screaming in Lando's voice in her head.

part 5

_________________________________________

@scopeiguess @multifandomwhore-003

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estapa-edwards · 2 months

Text

I MISS YOU, IM SORRY PT 2 - J. HUGHES

paring: Jack Hughes x fem! reader

word count: 3.7k

requested? yes -i NEED a pt 2 to i miss you, im sorry! 🤍

warnings: use of y/n.

pt. 1

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As I stared at the glowing screen of my phone, Jack's message seemed to jump out at me, stirring a flurry of conflicting emotions within. It had been a few weeks since we last spoke, and despite my efforts to move on, his presence still lingered in the corners of my mind like an echo that refused to fade.

"I miss you."

Those three simple words carried a weight that threatened to pull me back into the depths of nostalgia, where memories of our time together danced in the shadows of my thoughts. I never knew I could miss somebody this much, I reflected, feeling the ache in my chest intensify with each passing moment.

A few weeks ago, I stumbled upon a photo on social media – Jack with his new girlfriend. She bore a striking resemblance to me, with her long dark hair and piercing blue eyes. It was as if he had found a replacement for me, someone who could fill the void I had left behind.

At first, the discovery had filled me with a strange mixture of jealousy and resentment. How could he move on so quickly, as if I had never meant anything to him? But as I scrolled through their pictures, I realized that perhaps it was for the best. He deserved to be happy, even if it meant finding happiness with someone else.

And so, I made the difficult decision to keep my distance, to refrain from responding to his message. It wasn't out of spite or malice, but out of a sense of self-preservation. I couldn't bear to reopen old wounds, to subject myself to the pain of seeing him move on with someone else.

Despite my resolve to keep my distance from Jack, there was one connection I couldn't sever – my friendship with his brother, Luke. We had formed a bond that transcended the complexities of Jack's love life, spending countless hours together sharing stories, laughter, and the occasional pint of ice cream.

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Despite living under the same roof, Jack's presence in our shared space had dwindled in recent weeks. His busy schedule and newfound relationship kept him away more often than not, leaving Luke and me to our own devices. It was during these moments of solitude that I found solace in Luke's company, grateful for his unwavering support and understanding.

As the days turned into weeks, my visits to Luke's room became a regular occurrence – a sanctuary where I could escape the chaos of my own thoughts and find solace in the familiar warmth of his company. We would spend hours talking about everything and nothing, laughing at inside jokes and sharing stories from our past.

But no matter how much I tried to bury my feelings for Jack, there were moments when his absence weighed heavily on my heart. Sometimes, in the midst of our conversations, I would catch myself drifting off, lost in a sea of memories that threatened to pull me under.

It was during one of these moments that Luke caught me staring off into the distance, a concerned expression etched upon his features.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.

I forced a smile, pushing aside the ache in my chest as I nodded in response. "Yeah, just lost in thought."

But Luke wasn't convinced, his piercing gaze seeing through the façade I had erected around myself. He knew me better than anyone, could sense when something was weighing on my mind.

"Is it Jack?" he ventured, his words hanging in the air between us like an unspoken truth.

I hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. But in the end, I knew I couldn't keep it bottled up inside any longer – not from Luke, my confidant and closest friend.

"Yeah," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I miss him."

There was a sadness in Luke's eyes as he reached out and squeezed my hand in silent understanding. He knew all too well the pain of unrequited love, the ache of longing for someone who was just out of reach.

"I know it's hard," he murmured, his voice filled with empathy. "But you're stronger than you think, Y/N. And no matter what happens, I'll always be here for you."

His words brought a sense of comfort, a reminder that I wasn't alone in my struggles. With Luke by my side, I felt as though I could weather any storm, no matter how fierce.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

I was just about to leave Luke's room one afternoon when I heard the sound of footsteps approaching from down the hall. Before I could react, the door swung open, revealing Jack standing in the doorway, a surprised expression on his face.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice tentative. "I didn't realize you were here."

I felt a pang of discomfort at the sight of him, memories of our past rushing back to the surface with a vengeance. It was as if time stood still in that moment, the weight of our shared history pressing down upon us like a heavy blanket.

"I was just leaving," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

There was an awkward tension in the air as I gathered my things and made my way towards the door, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere that surrounded us. But before I could make my escape, Jack spoke up, his voice filled with uncertainty.

"Y/N, wait," he called out, his words stopping me in my tracks.

I turned to face him, my heart pounding in my chest as I braced myself for whatever was to come.

As Jack's words hung in the air, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. The anticipation that had built up inside me came crashing down like a wave, leaving behind a sense of emptiness that threatened to consume me whole.

"Actually, never mind."

With those three simple words, he shattered the fragile hope that had flickered to life within me, leaving nothing but a hollow ache in their wake. I stood there in stunned silence, unable to comprehend the sudden shift in our interaction.

Before I could gather my thoughts or muster a response, Jack turned on his heel and disappeared into his room, leaving me standing alone in the hallway, my heart heavy with disappointment and regret.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I struggled to make sense of what had just happened. Had I imagined the connection between us, the unspoken bond that had once held us together? Or had he simply grown tired of playing games, choosing to retreat behind the walls he had built around himself?

I wanted to scream, to lash out at him for the pain he had caused me with his thoughtless words. But deep down, I knew that it wouldn't change anything – that the distance between us was a chasm too wide to bridge, no matter how much I longed for things to be different.

With a heavy sigh, I turned away from his door and made my way down the hallway, each step echoing the rhythm of my broken heart. It was a painful reminder of the harsh realities of love – that sometimes, no matter how much we wish for things to work out, the universe has other plans in store for us.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

No matter how hard I tried to avoid Jack, it seemed like fate had other plans in store for us. No matter where I turned, he was there – a constant presence in my life, a reminder of the love we had shared and the pain we had endured.

It felt as though the universe was playing a cruel joke on me, taunting me with his presence at every turn. Whether it was bumping into him in the hallway, catching a glimpse of him across the crowded room, or hearing his laughter echoing through the walls of our shared home, there was no escaping the inevitable.

Each encounter served as a painful reminder of what could have been, dredging up memories of happier times and igniting the embers of longing that still smoldered within me. No matter how much time had passed, the wounds he had left behind remained raw and tender, refusing to heal in his absence.

And yet, despite the pain it caused me, there was a part of me that couldn't help but be drawn to him – to the warmth of his smile, the kindness in his eyes, the way he made me feel alive with just a simple touch.

But I knew that giving in to those feelings would only lead to more heartache in the end. I had made a promise to myself to move on, to let go of the past and embrace the possibilities of the future. And even though it was difficult, I knew that I had to stay true to myself, no matter how tempting the allure of Jack's presence may be.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

I stood in the kitchen, lost in the comforting routine of chopping vegetables and stirring simmering pots on the stove. The rhythmic clatter of knives against cutting boards filled the air, a soothing melody that helped to drown out the noise of my thoughts.

But just as I was beginning to lose myself in the familiar motions of cooking, a sharp knock on the door shattered the illusion of calm, jolting me back to reality with a start.

My heart skipped a beat as I glanced towards the entrance, a sense of apprehension knotting in the pit of my stomach. It couldn't be, I told myself, my mind racing with a million possibilities.

With cautious steps, I made my way towards the door, each footfall echoing the rapid rhythm of my heartbeat. As I reached out to grasp the doorknob, a sense of dread washed over me, the weight of uncertainty pressing down upon my shoulders like a heavy burden.

And then, with a trembling hand, I swung the door open – and there he stood, Jack, his presence filling the doorway like a looming shadow against the fading light of dusk.

For a moment, neither of us spoke, the silence stretching between us like a taut wire. His eyes searched mine, a mixture of emotions swirling within their depths – regret, longing, and something else, something I couldn't quite name.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice soft and tentative. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me as I struggled to find my voice. "No, not at all," I managed to reply, my words coming out in a breathless whisper.

There was a tension in the air, palpable and charged with unspoken emotion. It was as if time stood still in that moment, the world narrowing down to just the two of us, suspended in a fragile bubble of uncertainty.

And then, without a word, Jack stepped forward, closing the distance between us in a single stride. His presence enveloped me like a warm embrace, his scent familiar and intoxicating all at once.

"I've missed you," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "More than you'll ever know."

His words hung in the air between us, heavy with unspoken implications. I couldn't deny the surge of conflicting emotions that washed over me at his confession. Part of me wanted to believe him, to hold onto the hope that our connection was still strong despite the obstacles that stood in our way.

But another part of me couldn't ignore the bitter reality of his words – he had a girlfriend. The thought stung like a fresh wound, reopening the scars of heartache that had barely begun to heal.

"Did you actually miss me, because you had a girlfriend?" I asked, my voice tinged with a mixture of hurt and disbelief.

There was a flicker of guilt in Jack's eyes as he met my gaze, a silent admission of the truth I already knew deep down. "I did," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it wasn't the same. She's not you, Y/N."

His words cut through me like a knife, reopening old wounds and igniting a firestorm of emotions within me. How could he expect me to believe him, to trust in his feelings when he had chosen to be with someone else?

"I don't know if I can do this, Jack," I confessed, my voice trembling with emotion. "I can't be just another option, waiting for you to decide if I'm worth choosing."

Jack's words hung in the air between us, a fragile bridge spanning the chasm of uncertainty that had grown between us. His confession stirred a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within me, tearing at the walls I had built around my heart in an effort to protect myself from further pain.

"You know how much you mean to me. The whole time I was with her, I wished it was you instead."

His words echoed in the depths of my soul, resonating with a truth that I couldn't deny. Despite the hurt and betrayal I felt, there was a part of me that longed to believe him, to cling to the hope that our love was still worth fighting for.

But the wounds he had inflicted ran deep, leaving scars that would forever mar the landscape of our relationship. Could I truly trust him again, knowing that he had chosen someone else over me?

"I want to believe you, Jack," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I don't know if I can. Trust isn't something that can be easily regained."

There was a heaviness in the air as we stood there, caught in the gravity of our shared pain and regret. For a moment, it felt as though time stood still, the world narrowing down to just the two of us, suspended in a fragile bubble of uncertainty.

And then, without a word, Jack reached out and took my hand in his, his touch gentle yet filled with a quiet determination.

"I understand," he murmured, his voice tinged with regret. "But please, just give me a chance to make things right. I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust."

Tears glistened in my eyes as I listened to Jack's plea, his words reaching deep into the recesses of my heart. Despite the pain and uncertainty that still lingered between us, there was a part of me that wanted to believe him – to believe that we could find a way to heal the wounds of the past and move forward together.

But as much as I yearned for reconciliation, I knew that I couldn't ignore the doubts and fears that gnawed at the edges of my resolve. Trust wasn't something that could be easily regained, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to take that leap of faith just yet.

"I appreciate your honesty, Jack," I replied, my voice steady despite the storm raging within me. "But I think we need some time apart – time to figure things out on our own."

There was a flicker of disappointment in Jack's eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the reality of our situation. He knew as well as I did that our relationship couldn't be repaired overnight, that it would take time and effort on both of our parts to rebuild what had been broken.

"I understand," he murmured, his voice tinged with regret. "But please, just know that I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

I nodded, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "And I'll always be here for you too, Jack. But for now, let's just focus on being friends."

There was a sense of relief that washed over me as I spoke those words, a weight lifting from my shoulders as I embraced the possibility of a new beginning. It wouldn't be easy, and there were sure to be challenges ahead, but I knew that as long as we had each other, we could weather any storm that came our way.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

In the weeks that followed our heart-to-heart conversation, Jack and I embarked on a journey of rediscovery – one that would test the boundaries of our friendship and pave the way for a new chapter in our lives.

With each passing day, we grew closer, our bond strengthened by shared laughter, heartfelt conversations, and moments of quiet companionship. We spent hours exploring the city together, revisiting old haunts and discovering new ones, each adventure bringing us one step closer to understanding ourselves and each other.

There were moments when the pain of the past threatened to resurface, old wounds reopening with a raw intensity that left us both reeling. But instead of turning away from each other, we leaned in – offering comfort, support, and a shoulder to lean on when the weight of the world became too much to bear.

Slowly but surely, the walls we had built around ourselves began to crumble, revealing the vulnerable hearts that lay beneath. We shared our hopes and dreams, our fears and insecurities, laying bare the pieces of ourselves that we had long kept hidden from the world.

And in those moments of vulnerability, we found strength – strength in each other, in the unspoken understanding that bound us together, and in the knowledge that no matter what the future held, we would face it together, as friends.

As the days turned into weeks, I found myself grateful for the opportunity to rebuild our friendship from the ground up, to forge a connection that was deeper and more meaningful than anything we had ever shared before.

Amidst the hustle and bustle of our daily lives, there were moments when Jack and I found ourselves drawn together by an invisible force – moments of quiet intimacy that left us both breathless with the realization of just how deeply we had come to care for each other.

It was in the small gestures – a lingering touch, a shared glance, a smile that spoke volumes – that our bond grew stronger, weaving a tapestry of connection that defied explanation.

One evening, as we sat side by side on the couch, engrossed in a movie marathon, I felt Jack's hand brush against mine, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through my veins. It was a simple touch, yet it spoke volumes – a silent reassurance that we were in this together, no matter what.

In that moment, I found myself leaning into his touch, craving the warmth and comfort it offered. And as our fingers intertwined, a sense of peace washed over me, filling the room with a quiet serenity that spoke of the deep bond we shared.

There were other moments too – moments of shared laughter and inside jokes, of stolen glances and secret smiles – each one a testament to the depth of our connection and the growing affection we held for each other.

And as the weeks turned into months, I found myself falling for Jack in ways I never thought possible, his presence a constant source of joy and comfort in my life.

But amidst the growing closeness between us, there lingered a sense of hesitation – a fear of crossing boundaries that had long been established, of risking the fragile equilibrium of our friendship for the sake of something more.

And so, we treaded carefully, tiptoeing around the unspoken tension that simmered beneath the surface, content to bask in the warmth of each other's company while keeping our true feelings carefully guarded.

But deep down, I couldn't help but wonder – what if? What if we took a chance on love, risking everything for the possibility of something beautiful and true?

As the days passed and our friendship continued to blossom, I could sense a shift in the air – a tension that crackled with unspoken emotions, threatening to burst forth at any moment. And it was during one quiet evening, as we sat together on the balcony, that Jack finally found the courage to speak the words that had been weighing heavily on his heart.

"Y/N, there's something I need to say," he began, his voice soft yet tinged with a hint of urgency. "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I realize that I owe you an apology."

I turned to face him, my curiosity piqued by the solemn tone of his voice. "What for?" I asked, my heart racing in anticipation of what was to come.

"For everything," he replied, his gaze never wavering from mine. "For hurting you, for taking you for granted, for not realizing sooner what you mean to me."

His words washed over me like a wave, stirring a whirlwind of emotions within me – surprise, disbelief, and a flicker of hope that threatened to ignite into something more.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he continued, his voice tinged with regret. "I know I messed up, but I want you to know that I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right."

I felt a lump form in my throat as I listened to his heartfelt confession, the weight of his words settling in the pit of my stomach like a heavy stone. Could I trust him again, after everything we had been through? Did I dare to hope for a future where we could be more than just friends?

And then, before I could form a coherent response, Jack took a deep breath and spoke the words that I had longed to hear.

"I want more, Y/N," he confessed, his voice filled with quiet determination. "I want us to be more than just friends. I want to explore what we could have together, to see if there's a chance for something real between us."

A sense of relief washed over me as I heard Jack's heartfelt confession, his words echoing the silent desires of my own heart. For so long, I had yearned for something more – something deeper and more meaningful than the platonic friendship we had shared.

"I agree," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, the weight of his words settling over me like a warm blanket. "I want that too, Jack."

There was a flicker of hope in his eyes as he reached out and took my hand in his, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. It was a simple gesture, yet it spoke volumes – a silent promise of the journey that lay ahead, filled with uncertainty and possibility.

And as we sat there, bathed in the soft glow of the evening sky, I knew that no matter what obstacles we may face, we would face them together, united by the bond of our shared love and the hope of a future filled with endless possibilities.

#hockey #nhl x reader #new jersey devils #nj devils #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes imagine

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jams-sims · 3 months

Text

Because its so late, I think I can say this. As much as I fucking hate purgatory. As a DM to a story I think its the most natural out for characters and Muns. Oh! my character can have either lived or died on the purg island? Do I feel like coming back? If the answer no. Easy out, no over the top feeling, no need to do a final stream if I dont want to. Just a stark sad tragic exit that leaves it mark. Because no one expected people to die on this silly fucking island. But deaths, mark very important and poignant moments. The island is curel and its consuming its islanders.

Max's death is one of sacrifice for his friends and the eggs. He was in a hole of loneliness, I think that loneliness took him as well. But I think qMax's death was a simple stepping stone while q!jaiden death will be a full on turn. See-

Jaiden death is probably the most fitting for her character because it is the most tragic. Q!Jaiden died when bobby died. She speant her days in a home just cluttered with his images and his likeness. She was being used by the Feds and I think deep down she knew that. Her connections were severed do to grief, her platonic husband while also spiraling found hope. He got married had a new kid and while he made sure people put some respect on her name when it came to Bobby. He had moved somewhere she could not get to him.

An in a way, I think that's all she truly needed. Her last connection, Roier was happy living his full life in a castle. An what did she have to go back to? A sunset in a house full of memories in a field of flowers surrounded by nothing. The week spent in purgatory felt like a century of suffering.

Something in her finally broke and maybe she didn't make it to the final part where everyone else was. Maybe she walked slowly, legs and feet numb. An she got to a clearing, the world is doused in chaos once again. An her ears are rinning with sirens. An all of it fades away as she stops, she stops limping along, she falls back into sitting on the cold earth.

She realizes their nothing waiting for her back on the island. What was the rush for? What was all the screaming and crying, the begging the longing. She's tired. She so tired of it all. All of it and what was it for? A new start that would never truly be hers.

She relax for the first time in a long time and the sunset looks beautiful. And she hopes that roier stays happy that all the eggs get to live happy and healthy lives.

She doesn't even hear the explosion. She closes her eyes. An when she opens them she in the air, weightless and flying. She has food she hasn't eaten in a long time. She tells Bobby not to worry, she happy now. Only to feel a swift kick to her shins. As Bobby takes her hand and she gets to tell him about all the thing she did after his passing.

She finally get to go back home.

#qsmp #jaiden animations #qsmp roier #fucking sobbing while writing this #qsmp jaiden #roier

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kikyo-bnha-imagines · 9 months

Note

Reader with a memory loss condition, any character, hella angst 🙏

BAKUGOU KATSUKI | MEMORY LOSS

Katsuki thought he’d lost you for good. The sight of you covered in blood, eyes squeezed shut, and barely even breathing... it was almost too much to bear. If he couldn’t even protect the person he loved most, then how the fuck could he call himself a hero?

But against all odds, you survived. The universe decided to have mercy this time, even though he’d failed to protect you. He’d fucked up, and the guilt would follow him forever, but at least he was being granted a second chance.

Unfortunately, your life had come at no small price.

“I have to warn you, Bakugou,” the doctor frowns. “She’s... different now. All of the healing and surgery have taken care of her life-threatening injuries, but she suffered severe head trauma, and it’s put her in a state of disorientation.”

Katsuki clenches his jaw. “What are you trying to say? I know it’s gonna take her a while to recover. It’s not like I expect her to be up and running right away. As long as she’s safe—”

“I’m referring to her brain. Well, more specifically, her memories. We did an initial screening, and it’s quite clear that she’s suffering from amnesia.” The doctor offers a sympathetic smile. “I just wanted you to know, so that you can prepare yourself.”

“...oh.”

Katsuki doesn’t know what else to say. Really, what can he say? You’re alive. That simple fact alone is worthy of celebration. He's just grateful that you’re still here, living and breathing. He doesn’t have to say goodbye to you. He’ll never, ever be ready to say goodbye to you.

“This is still a very early diagnosis,” the doctor reassures. “Following a traumatic event, some patients suffer memory loss for a few days, weeks, or in rarer cases, months, but it’s not guaranteed to be permanent. In fact, temporary amnesia is far more common. It just takes a while for the brain to repair itself.”

“I get it,” Katsuki nods. Right. It’s all going to be fine. You’ve just come out of a life-threatening battle, so it’s no wonder if your mind is in disarray.

There’s no need to panic. Katsuki loves you, and you love him.

As long as you’re together, whatever it is, you’ll get through it.

“If you’re ready, then you’re welcome to go see her now,” the doctor encourages.

Katsuki doesn’t need to be told twice. He steps into the hospital room without sparing a breath, and sure enough, there you are. Sweet, lovely [Name]. The love of his life, all covered in bandages, but looking just as beautiful as always.

Katsuki swallows his tears. He already cried his heart out when he first thought you were a goner, and he cried even more while you were in intensive care. There’s no point in crying anymore, not when you’re alive and well. Seeing him with a weak, broken expression won’t do you any good.

For your sake, he needs to be strong.

“[Name],” Katsuki mumbles. He walks over to your bedside and pulls out a chair so he can sit close. He isn’t normally much of a smiler, but being next to you like this—something he thought he’d never be able to do again—makes his lips curl up at the sides and tremble in relief.

You’re alive. Your injuries have been healed, for the most part, and there won’t be any lasting damage. There’s no reason why you won’t be able to keep enjoying life, just as you've done up until now.

Overwhelmed with emotion and the desire to feel the warmth of your skin against his, Katsuki reaches out to grab your hand.

You recoil immediately, and in that moment, Katsuki’s heart shatters.

“Sorry,” you swallow. “Um. I don’t... I don’t know who you are.”

He feels like he’s about to throw up. The doctor mentioned amnesia. He did mention amnesia. But... isn’t this way too extreme? This is like the kind of stuff that happens in movies, or when elderly patients are in the advanced stages of Alzheimer’s.

You blink, searching his expression for a clue. “I’m sorry,” you frown. “I feel like I should know you. It sounds like you know me. But it’s just hard. It feels like my head is all foggy. I’m really, really sorry...”

And then you start crying. You cry and cry, even though you can’t possibly be to blame, and all the while, Katsuki is helpless to do anything but watch.

“It’s not—” He swallows hard, wiping his eyes so that he doesn’t start crying too. “I-It’s okay,” he chokes out. “It’s not your fault, [Name]. I’m Katsuki. Bakugou Katsuki. Does that name sound familiar at all? It’ll come back to you. I promise it will.”

“I don’t know,” you sob. “I don’t know. I just don’t know...”

He’s never wanted to hug you more in his entire life, but how can he? From your perspective, he’s nothing more than a stranger. You wouldn’t even let him hold your hand. All of those years spent together, all of those incredible memories you’d shared... they’re gone. Just like that.

“It’s not your fault,” Katsuki mumbles brokenly.

He says it again and again, but he’s not even sure you hear him over the sound of your own cries.

The past few months have been the hardest of Katsuki’s entire life, and regretfully, the days ahead aren’t going to get any easier.

Your amnesia is permanent. Or, at the very least, the odds of you making a recovery at this point are so small they may as well be zero.

Katsuki isn’t the only person you’ve forgotten. You forgot a good chunk of the classmates you went to U.A with, major life events, and even certain encounters with villains—including the very incident that nearly claimed your life. The doctor said it’s very common for traumatic events to be forgotten, and while Katsuki is glad that you don’t have to remember something so horrible, why did you have to forget all the good stuff too?

It’s just not fair. Katsuki knows he should be grateful. He still gets to see your pretty, smiling face, he still gets to talk to you and hear you laugh from time to time. None of that would have been possible if the doctors hadn’t fought tooth and nail to save your life. At least you’re still young, your body is in healthy, functional shape, and the personality he fell for is still largely unchanged.

Katsuki doesn’t want to complain. He doesn’t want to take what he still has for granted.

But it just really fucking hurts.

He hasn’t been able to hold you in months. He hasn’t been able to kiss you either. Even though he’s told you that the two of you used to date, you’ve forgotten all the reasons you fell in love with him in the first place. It’s taken time for you to let your guard down, especially since everything’s so difficult to make sense of.

You’re friends. At the very least, Katsuki is still a part of your life. But every time he cracks an inside joke or accidentally makes a reference to something that happened in the past, and he sees the confused look in your eyes, a part of him breaks.

Still, he refuses to stop trying. He’ll never stop trying. The doctors said that certain memories can trigger other ones, and in rare cases, even patients with severe memory loss were able to make a miraculous recovery.

Katsuki never used to be the type of person to hold out hope for a miracle, but nowadays, it’s all he ever wishes for.

“It’s pretty here,” you say, sighing happily. Your gaze flickers towards the beach’s shoreline, and you admire the gentle, rippling waves as the sun descends through the sky.

Katsuki just stares at you. “You’re prettier,” he replies.

“Oh, pfft,” you brush off. “Quit hitting on me.”

He wants to do more than just hit on you. He wants you wrap his arms around you and slam his lips against yours, meeting you in the most desperate, passionate kiss he can muster. If it was up to him, the two of you would already be rolling around in the sand right now, bodies pressed together so close that you could feel each other’s heartbeat.

But he can’t. You’re not ready yet. You’re not ready, and... you’ve forgotten. You’ve forgotten the happiest moments of his life.

So, he’ll wait. There’s nothing else he can do but wait. Starting over from the beginning is painful and gut-wrenching. It’s an endless cycle of despair. You might never remember. There’s a chance you might not even fall in love with him again.

But at least you’re alive. At least you’re here with him right now.

Katsuki will never stop trying, no matter how much it hurts, no matter how much he cries. He’ll form new memories with you, and even if those disappear one day too...

He’ll just start all over again.

#bnha imagines #mha imagines #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha headcanons #romance #mha headcanons #bakugou katsuki x reader #angst #boku no hero imagines #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #bnha oneshots #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou

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loveliestlovelygirl · 3 months

Text

divine temptations | 222

you're such an angel, and i'm gonna hurt you

fallenangel!anakin x nun!reader | lore 🪽 | playlist

synopsis: after the meeting with the high council, anakin is imprisoned publicly to shame him. in his hatred for your guardian angels, he destroys them, causing chaos to overcome both heaven and earth.

w.c: 2.6k+

highlights: {minors dni} dark content, heavy religious themes and imagery, inspiration taken from catholicism primarily, sexual themes, corruption kink, light sexualization of the reader as a nun, fem!reader & use of she/her pronouns, attempted sexual assault {mentioned}, rape {mentioned}

table of contents | 333 {coming soon}

The memories of his assault of your vessel were visceral and disturbing weeks after the event. Your neck was left bruised, and it ached for several days. Sometimes, you couldn’t sleep because every time you closed your eyes you were sent back to that moment where you were at your weakest, helpless against that tree. Almost raped. Almost.

Almost is a taunting thought

You believed that, since you hadn’t been defiled, you shouldn’t be bothered by the occurrence for long. You shouldn’t have these nightmares of being raped over and over again. You shouldn’t feel vulnerable. You would simply return to your beautiful life here at the convent, your sanctuary. A place where you never have felt unsafe or threatened in any way. You loved the women here, and they loved you.

The last time you were vulnerable like this was your past life when you were a part of the world, before you had found the monastic way of life. Never did you believe you would have to feel pain like this again.

Hatred lights the path of the fallen. But you hate that man for what he wanted to do to you. How could someone be so wicked?

And every time you thought of his face, you cried and sometimes wished for death. These were thoughts that haven’t scathed your mind since you entered the convent. But perhaps contact with that despicable man left you tainted. Maybe you needed to be cleansed and prayed over, bathed in the holy waters.

What other recourse did you have?

When you explained to your sisters why you required the service, they were more than happy to pray over you. They prepared the bath for you too. Sister Agnes remained with you the entire time to help guide your prayers. The water must have risen an inch from your tears. After the bath, Sister Agnes walked you back to your private chamber.

She broke into a sob. “Oh, my dear,” the elderly woman wiped her tears, “We shouldn’t have allowed you to go near the road alone.”

You drew her into a hug. Of course, they should have sent you with another. But all you could say to the heartbroken woman was, “Don’t worry about it. I feel much better now. Our Lord protected me.”

Sister Agnes cried harder when you said that. The new expression upon her wrinkled face was one of relief. She truly believed you. And you were happy that she would not share your pain.

You bid her goodnight and went inside your room to pray. When you wanted to feel closer to the Creator, you opened your window to let the moonlight in and knelt before your window seat, setting a pillow under your knees, a makeshift prayer bench. While it was not the proper way in which to address Him, you were not so sure He minded.

For the first few minutes, you sobbed, thanking Him for the lightning that only struck your assailant and not you. The electricity only touched your skin momentarily. It was as if there had been a barrier between you and Death. You should have both died from the lightning, but only that man did. The miraculous occurrence saved you from an even greater pain.

But the thought did little to comfort you. Why you? What made you so special that you deserved a supernatural rescue and so many others didn’t? The thing that should have brought you to your knees in gratitude and praise of your savior made you... question everything, including how heavenly justice worked?

Although, the whole incident could have been some cosmic joke.

And despite spending the whole day in prayer with your sisters, you felt the same. You were still terrified about what happened. So much so that sleep was an impossible feat. During all your time at the convent prior to the horrific event, you embraced solitude and found contentment. But this night, you wouldn’t have hated companionship, someone to hold you tight and tell you that you were safe here.

“You can’t say that, Anakin! Do you understand the gravity of this situation? Do you?” Obi-Wan had never shown his anger so outwardly before. Anger marked his brow, his furious stare, his clenched jaw, and his haunting tone.

Anakin could sense his fear, despite the rage his friend used to hide it. They both understood that what Anakin had done was enough to have him sent to hell for all eternity. Their father was not so lenient of the angelic hosts as he was of humans. The humans were free to sin, and forgiveness was offered to them at every turn. And yet somehow, they still missed the chance to ascend to the heavenly realms. Most chose to trade their vaporous lives for eternity. And the Creator allowed it because of free will.

“But it’s true, Obi-Wan. There’s nothing you can do,” Anakin said emotionlessly. The chains of light were clamped tightly round his ankles, keeping him grounded. Nothing can break them except for the Creator’s Will.

He was chained to the platform right outside the chambers of the High Council, like he was an animal on display. And to the rest of the heavenly host, Anakin was a creature of anomaly. Seraphim were respected for their unbreakable devotion to Him above all else, yet Anakin wished for nothing more than to leave his place of honor. He wanted to be able to visit the Earth realms. He wanted to seduce you.

“I will try to change his mind,” Obi-Wan said to him with all hope. “He is more understanding than you give him credit for.”

With that, Obi-Wan disappeared. His wings were so quick that he moved almost at light’s speed. And Anakin was alone again in his humiliation. But he didn’t mind because now he could give you all his attention. He watched you as he always did. But this time he was not pleased by what he saw.

Never had he seen you so unhappy. He’d never witnessed you cry for anything but joy. The visions you saw in your sleep. You believed they were nightmares, but he saw the demons torturing your mind as clearly as he could see you below. Your good-for-nothing guardians were evidently too busy to cast them away. Anakin would do that for you, but he was in a bad place as it was. Interfering with your life again wouldn’t be prudent. If the Creator did not eliminate him, Obi-Wan certainly would. So, this time, he did as he should, and he merely observed from a distance, watching you cry your eyes out and writhe in pain only felt by your spirit.

The more he watched the heavier his own spirit weighed. If your guardians had served you faithfully, then you wouldn’t be left understandably traumatized from the event. It was almost too hard for him to watch you this way. But he couldn’t leave you alone like this. Even if you didn’t know he was there. He couldn’t let you out of his sight.

And as your pain grew deeper, so did his hate for those who failed in their calling to protect you. Unlike the other angels, Anakin struggled to contain his hate. No one who harmed you was free of his wrath. Certainly not your guardian angels.

The heavens erupted into chaos. Anakin had lost himself to his own wrath. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. He had been punished for saving you from being violated, and those who failed in their duty to protect you were left completely unscathed. And for someone who already, secretly despised the entire heavenly host and whose hatred was like a forgotten thorn in one’s side festering for ages, obliterating your five guardians in one hailstorm of fiery rage was as simple as taking a breath for him.

Instantly, he was reprimanded by the Creator directly. In a single moment, ejected from the heavenly realms, banished to dwell upon Earth until the end of time. Hell, where he would now spend eternity, was his final destination. The mercy of the Creator saved him from being sent there first. Earth was to be his Sheol, a temporary hell.

But did they forget that his interests lie only with you. Did they fail to notice that this might be what he wanted all along? Even if he only had until the end of time with you, he knew that it would be worth it. Though you were unaware at this time, nothing would keep him from you. The laws of heaven no longer applied to him. He was free to torment the earthly beings, though that wasn’t nearly as alluring as possessing you.

Banished from Heaven and sent to Earth, he lost his heavenly title, and his name was written among the fallen. He kept his beauty in full, but now as an angel of light. And despite having wanted this to happen, being reprimanded so heavily over what he saw as the right thing to do irked him. And the pain that he felt you living through as a result of your guardians’ inadequacy ignited his fury in ways devastating to the Earth.

His rage awoke nature’s spirits. Thunder, Lightning, Rain, and Hail terrorized the inland villages. He disrupted the seas, wreaking havoc on coastal cities, leaving them destroyed in his wake. And nothing was put in place to stop him.

The voices of the High Council rang in his ears as they pleaded with him to end his madness. But Anakin was drunk on power, the lack of restraint he now possessed, for the fallen were given domain over the Earth for a time of unknown length. He didn’t believe in redemption. His thought was why not enjoy it here. The earthly realms were to be his last Heaven.

For weeks, the destruction by Anakin’s fury continued.

Obi-Wan was sent to stop and contain him. But Obi-Wan believed, perhaps foolishly, that Anakin’s heart could be changed.

The cherub appeared before him, glory to glory, withholding nothing. And yet the majesty of the fallen one was still unmatched.

“You know why I am here,” Obi-Wan announced, wielding his fiery blade, directing its point to the enemy.

Anakin could not cower in the presence of the threatening blade. That was beneath him. “Do I?”

“Given more time, Earth and its surrounding realms will be destroyed. This lust for power has consumed you.”

He was not blind to his own faults. But under his own authority, he could do as he pleased. Destroying this realm would be good. Nothing good has come from mankind. Not in his eyes. From his view, he could see the suffering humans enacted upon each other and upon the Earth, the very thing which provides them life. The only good in this world was you. And he had plans to sweep you away. Far away.

“The one that you love. You’re going to kill her. She will hate you.”

Anakin gave him a biting glare. If Obi-Wan knew... then that meant so did He. And the rest of Heaven. “I’d never hurt her. I can see her now. She’s sleeping. She doesn’t know what’s happening.”

“What do you think will happen when you destroy her life? Everything and everyone she cares for? You don’t think that would hurt her?”

“Obi-Wan, you have no idea! Did you see what happened to her? What almost happened? I live through her pain. I want to save her from evil. Can you not understand?”

The cherub refused to back down. His blade was still held high. “This is not up for debate. I have been sent to put an end to your insanity one way or another.”

Anakin smiled wickedly. “Oh... by killing me?”

“That depends on you, my friend.”

Anakin did not understand.

“Our Father wishes to offer you a deal. He has changed his mind on your punishment. But...” Obi-Wan sighed and shook his head, “only if you put an end to your anger now. It is not the Creator’s Will for the Earth to be done away with yet.”

In order to declare his interest, Anakin immediately paused his merciless pillaging of the surface. “I am listening.”

In return, Obi-Wan sheathed his blade of fire. “He knows how strongly you care for this human.” His voice was coated with disgust for the lesser being. “He knows exactly what she means to you and what you’re willing to give up for her. In his divine grace, He is willing to make an exchange with you. Give up your dominion over this realm, and he’ll allow you to be her guardian, though not an angel. But your eternal status, depends on how well you serve her.”

This offer was... merciful.

Beyond what Anakin knew he deserved. Not only was he being offered a chance for redemption, but he was being offered the one thing he craved most in the entire universe. As your guardian, he would have unbridled access to you and your beautiful mind. At his discretion, he could even appear to you, making his existence known to you.

Being known by you...

The thought of that was more than even he could process in all of his great understanding.

He was used to being veiled from you completely. Contact had been forbidden. But with this offer, you would be in his grasp. He could travel between dimensions and allow his glory to be witnessed by your perfect gaze. Anakin could not stop his curiosity at what it might feel like to be seen by you. Would he prefer it? Or would he dislike the contact? His intuition whispered that he would like it very much and that he might even find it addicting.

How could he say no?

“I... accept.”

Obi-Wan did seem surprised in the slightest. “I see. I will inform Him of your decision. You will feel weakened very soon. I understand that... you wanted this. But I don’t understand why. You-you, Anakin, held the position of the highest honor. Why would—”

“I never wanted any of it. I wanted to be free to pursue my singular interest.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “I would be cautious in your new role, Anakin. More than ever before. Because this is a test. Did you believe that you were truly going to get everything you wanted without a cost? If you serve her faithfully all her life, an eternity with us is yours. But the temptations you will face as her guardian, I’m not sure you can handle it.”

“What?” Anakin spat. “Protecting a human is practically a mindless affair. That’s why it’s given to the lowest of all angels.”

“Realize that even that group is superior to where you stand currently,” he added humorously.

“I won’t be able to physically harm humans in this form. So, don’t worry. I won’t kill anyone.”

“That was not the temptation I was referring to.”

Anakin realized what his friend meant. So he quipped, “Lust is a human feeling.”

“Is it?”

“What do you mean, is it?” Anakin said mockingly.

“Do not be quick to assume anything. You’ve never been in the earthly realms before. It’s much different. You may find yourself desiring things that seemed unnatural to you before.” Obi-Wan turned, signaling his departure. “Remember the laws of Heaven. Despite your fallen state, if you wish for eternity in Heaven, where she will most certainly end up, you must abide by our laws.”

Eternity in Heaven with the one he craves. There was hardly a better fate in mind even if he never ascended to the honor he once claimed.

add yourself to my taglist!! @hanasnx @princessswifie @doblasftcisco @multifandermissesanakin @jadegmfu @coldkiss @mysteriouslydelightfulcloud @karei009 @anda-the-valkyrie @vinushkka @avoxzy @edclynns @ter-luer @anakinniesluv @purelevna @forets-noyees @zvjezdapadalica @anisgirl7 @reine-lalune @ssskywalkerrr @anakinsbbgirl @sweetcheesecakesblog @rozastarz @moonlight-kr @anonymous1996s @luvanaise @ziggystarduzzt @gwdnsqal @lonelywitchv2 @tembud @obsessedrebel @c-losur3 @just-here-to-readd @slut4ani @abaker74 @anakinbbg @ellebunnie @sandymorgan12 @ultraviolenceticket @emotionallybruisedx @ririszn @itsoneofusworld @pheonixfucu @kittycai @mushy-mushroom04 @crack240 @emotionallybruisedx

@ejs398 @anakinsgirlfriendreal

#best viewed in dark mode :)#loveliestlovelygirl #lovely fics #divine temptations #fallenangel!anakin #nun!reader #anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin smut #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin fanfiction #anakin x reader smut #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x you

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chubsonthemoon · 1 year

Text

Last Binderary book is DONE!!!! This is the incredible Maybe sprout wings, by @moorishflower.

This post is going to be a doozy, so gonna just skip straight to the cut!

INTERIOR

INTRODUCTION

I really wanted to model this bind after my own copy of the Odyssey, (which is all highlighted and bookmarked and annotated to hell from my Great Text courses in undergrad ehe, so this bind was such a fun trip down memory lane!). But beyond just the cover/general aesthetic, I also wanted to give the book a similar feel to these kinds of editions of classics--there's usually an introduction, translation notes, and other supplementary materials, right? Like, a physical manifestation of the work of many, many people, all having conversations with one another across time and space.

So that's what I did! I wrote a short introduction (I will also probably post it to my AO3/my blog as well, in the name of preservation etc. etc.) and began reaching out to folks in the fandom who I knew had created art and meta for the fic. The result? 18k words of analysis, comments, and meta, and nearly twenty pages of art!

And this is what I love most about this bind, I think! This book is the work of several people--truly a collaborative work by the fandom--all of whom I will now be shamelessly calling out below :D

CHAPTER HEADER ART

First and foremost, this book would not be what it is without the gorgeous header art by @fancy-rock-dove! Thank you so much Dove for letting include your work, and for being so supportive and kind these past few weeks about this bind <3 You in particular have contributed so much to this book (which I will be getting more into in the next section ehe), and I'm so psyched I get to hold your art and words, too!

NOTES ON THE TEXT

This section was divided into four parts: Asks and Answers, Meta, Selected Comments, and Chapter Heading Art: Process

For Asks and Answers, I trawled Heather's blog for meta she had written in response to questions and other meta about the fic. Asks came from @fancy-rock-dove, @quillingwords, @kulapti, and myself! (I THINK I got all of them--tumblr's search function is finnicky even on its best days, so so sorry if I missed something T_T) I first got hooked into reading this fic because of one of these asks, so I'm very fond of this section in particular :D

For Meta, I included two wonderful essays written by @pastrypuppy (also known as @kulapti) about Hob as an author figure and the Disrupted Fisher King narrative in MSW. Her analyses were so fascinating and I just had to include them in the book! (And thank you as well for your permission, friend!) (also hello fellow Renegade comrade 🫡)

For Selected Comments, I owe everything to (once again :3) @fancy-rock-dove, whose insights are the epitome of transformative fandom at work. I'd look for their comments after I read every chapter to see what their takes were on this or that element of the story, and every single time I would go "!!!!! I didn't even realize!!!" or "OOOOOOOH I hadn't thought of that!!" It was like being in a lecture hall and always whipping your head around when one of your classmates raised their hand, because you knew they were going to say something fascinating that you hadn't considered before.

Aside from one of my own comments, Dove's comments make up the entirety of this section (for which I owe you my life--your long-form responses to fics are a gift to this world) but GOSH was it also so much fun going through the comments section while typesetting and seeing all the keyboard smashing, yelling, and crying from the other commenters. Communal nature of storytelling and ongoing meaning-making of fanfiction, babey!

And finally for Chapter Heading Art: Process: once again Dove coming in clutch with some wonderful insights into the design of each of the chapter heading art pieces! This kind of stuff is honestly my favorite: meta about art for a fic which is, in turn, a transformation of an existing story (not even to mention that The Sandman is its own kind of fanfiction of existing mythologies and histories)--I just!! Think it's all really, really neat :'D (for more coherent/polished thoughts on this pls see my introduction asjdfkls)

ART

The art gallery!!! A million thanks to @fishfingersandscarves, @honeyseller, @jazzpsych, @doctor-rainbowfoxey, and (HI AGAIN DOVE) @fancy-rock-dove for granting me permission to include all of your beautiful pieces!

As usual for artworks in my binds, I printed each piece out on specialty photo paper to really make the colors pop, then sewed each page separately to the text block! Behold, everyone's beautiful beautiful pieces!

The art gallery also satisfies the certain "oooh shiny" part of my brain that always activates when I see pictures in a book, so am also very fond of this section :3

CONSTRUCTION

And now on to the nitty gritty stuff! I used the German Bradel binding technique again, my second time using it. Even though it's more complicated than the case bind, I really love how it gives you the full board space for the cover designs (~it's free real estate~). Keep it a secret but I kiiiiiiind of made a small goof in the last few steps (I did the turn-ins a step too early and so had to paste an extra sheet of cardstock to secure the spine to the boards, whoopsie), but it's a pretty small difference, aesthetically speaking, so it wasn't the end of the world XD

Edges are once again fake gilded, but this time I tried something new with the colors! I did two layers of acrylic paint--one watered down shade of red for the base, then one metallic gold on top of that. I really like the red/gold effect! I'll have to keep experimenting with this kind of layering:

ALSO. Y'ALL! I think I'm finally getting the hang of endbands!!! Many thanks to the folks at Renegade who hosted all the endband workshops last month--I'm still working through them, but even the few sessions I've seen have been TREMENDOUSLY helpful. I learned that tension is Very Important, as well as thread thickness, so I tried doubling my thread and keeping a Very Close Eye on how I was holding the threads while doing the beads. And behold! I still have a ways to go (and one day I would LOVE to do the fancier designs), but I'm v happy with the progress I've made so far!

And finally the covers!! ARCHIVAL MOD PODGE MY BELOVED. I printed on the same matte presentation paper that I used for the art, then did several coats of archival matte mod podge + a pass of gloss mod podge over the title strip to make it ~shiny~. Then once those had dried and I'd adhered them to the boards, I sprayed two layers of matte clear acrylic sealer (also mod podge!) to finish it off. I had some issues with the paper tearing when I handled it before it was fully dry, but luckily the blemishes were small enough that it was easy to do spot corrections with my black acrylic paint. And now I know to be more patient next time LOL

(some non-photoshoot shots that show the shine a little better!)

FINAL THOUGHTS

I had a lot of thoughts while I was binding this book--about Sandman fandom, about Dreamling fandom, about the Odyssey, about storytelling, about fanbinding, about Binderary, about Renegade, about my friends--but really what came to mind the most was gratitude!

Simply put, I'm so grateful to everyone I've met both in this fandom and throughout the years I've been active online--this is SO fun, y'all. It's so much fun to love stories together--to talk about them, to write them, and of course to bind them! I hope I've adequately conveyed that gratitude.

But of course, this book would not exist without the wonderful words of @moorishflower. Heather, thank you so, SO much for sharing your stories, thoughts, and time with us--it is always a happier, better day when I get an email notif from you and when I see you on my dash. I love your work so much, and I'm so happy I finally get to put it on my shelf! So thank you so much again, for everything <3

and OKAY THAT'S IT FROM ME FOLKS!!!!! Binderary 2023 is officially a wrap! I had SUCH a blast--will probably write up a reflection post on it uhhhh after I take a very long nap ajslkdfjslk _(:3」∠)_

all my love! <3

#the sandman #dreamling #Moorishflower #Maybe sprout wings #binderary2023 #bookbinding #fanbinding #ficbinding #not my fic

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seeingivy · 3 months

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style

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

previous part linked here

an: this is 10k. I decided to leave the what am I to you scene for the next chapter bc of it...apologies....also I jsut wanted to post it bc I promised this at the beginning of the week and yday and now its been a long time coming

songs mentioned: style by taylor swift and glimpse of us by joji (minor mention of peace by taylor swift too)

“Wait, so. I don’t get it. You’re basically…acting like a couple on purpose?” Zeke asks.

Eren spares a weary glance to his parents, matching apprehensive looks in their eyes, as he slides the salt and pepper shakers towards Zeke.

Leave it to him to bring up the elephant in the room.

One mention of attending an award show or a red-carpet event had the three of them dropping everything to come to New York at the drop of the hat. Especially when Scott Clarkson was going to be attending.

Levi was more than happy to oblige them at the hotel they were all staying at, much to Eren’s dismay, which left him in his current predicament.

That unlike his friends, who were secretly letting him indulge in something he probably shouldn’t and turning a blind eye, the three of them were never going to let it go.

Eren knew that part of what he was doing was wrong. That he was walking a very fragile line and that their concerns, in some sense, were very valid.

He had promised you a show. The problem was that it wasn’t just a show for him. It wasn’t even the slightest bit difficult for him to give the public exactly what they wanted to see – to go above and beyond to prove that the two of you were better than ever.

He wanted that deeply – for it to be true. Fervently, desperately. It wasn’t hard to pretend when Eren had spent a majority of his life thinking about you, about what this would be like, anyways.

It started out simple. Eren offered to accompany you on your first walk out in public that morning – after watching you stare at the people through the window the entire morning. There was a big crowd lingering outdoors, supplied by rumors that the group of them were staying in the hotel, and he was positive that some part of it was making you feel green.

That and the fact that as much as you could front, some part of this had to be some level of nerve wracking to you. You had put on a brave face very well, but Eren’s deep rooted fear is that this’ll just send you deeper into that cave you retreated into last time – and that you’ll leave him waiting outside again.

So he offered to do your first paparazzi walk with you. Cited that it would have been the perfect thing to build up more publicity, give them a greater chance of stealing the morning headlines about how today was Hyla’s birthday and the buzz around what she was going to wear tonight.

It gave him an excuse to make sure you didn’t run off this time – that he’d be able to catch you if something happened.

Except Eren took it too far. He had given you the permission to pump the brakes whenever you felt like it was too much and the fact that you almost never did made it impossible for him to stop. So he pulled you close whenever the paparazzi were near, brushing his nose against yours as the two of you smiled sunshine into each other’s faces.

It was a disaster waiting to happen. Though from Eren’s expert point of view, he couldn’t fall any more than he already had.

The problem would come later – when it would just become another memory that he cherished, had to relive after he was finally denied the promise of your company and friendship for good.

When the show ended in two months and when you would have no reason to talk to each other again.

Eren shakes the thought from his head as he looks back up at them.

“Yeah. But trust me, it’s actually working. The record label dropped Ricky James and now that Y/N promised them her new album, they’re going to sever ties all together.” Eren states.

“I just don’t see what that has to do with pretending to date. You know, especially when you’re still in love with the girl.” Carla states.

“It’s sadistic. Even for you.” Zeke states.

Eren shoves him in the side. With his parents' eyes averted, he takes the chance to knee Zeke this time to catch his attention.

Could you just back me up? Eren mouths.

Zeke rolls his eyes, before quietly mouthing his response back.

Okay, fine! Just relax.

Eren turns back to the two of them, mustering his best smile. And hoped that deep down, that fleeting flare of hope that’s been burning in his chest won’t go to waste this time – that there are real grounds behind actually bringing Scott Clarkson down.

“There’s a certain publicity that you can’t buy with people who have…such a drama filled history like us. We’re aiming for a solidified deal with Ethan Cole by the end of the Met Gala.” Eren states.

He flinches when his dad drops the fork against the ceramic of the plate.

“Ethan Cole? Are you crazy, Eren? He’s never going to agree to a deal with you guys.”

“Maybe a little. But I think that we could do it. I spent years being played by idiots like Scott Clarkson – it’s not hard to tell that’s how he keeps people around. And…we have an idea of exactly how to do it.” Eren states.

“I don’t know, Eren. I don’t exactly like this idea. I wouldn’t exactly put your hopes on this.” Carla murmurs.

Eren gives her a smile, reaching to tangle his ankle with hers under the table.

He gets it. Deep down, he does. Because the last time Eren did this – with the court case and Connie and Lana at his side – Eren was downtrodden when Scott Clarkson’s life virtually stayed the same. Almost everyone knew, or had some semblance of an idea, that Eren had sued him, that Scott had terribly wronged him.

He had gone through the lengths of an entire court case, just for it to amount to nothing.

He still had his career. He still had the movies, a beloved producing company, and the godawful tabloids that ruined Eren’s life. People continued to work with him despite everything that had happened.

“I won’t be like last time. It…it almost feels better this time around. I have everyone around me and I don’t feel alone, so.” Eren adds.

“Well, you weren’t exactly alone the last time.” Carla states.

“You know what he meant. It’s different.” Grisha murmurs.”

“I do think she can do it. These people only care about what makes them money or…or moves their business forward. No one can do that for them like her. And even besides that, she’s really earnest in the way she moves. I feel like people could even become more aware of this type of thing if she spoke out about it.” Eren finishes.

Eren looks over, looking to his mom’s brown eyes hoping for her approval. He doesn’t exactly find it, but there’s a nod. He understands it all the same – that he’s the one who gets to make the calls here, regardless.

“Oh, let’s all relax! If Eren wants to kiss her and run around doing god knows what, that’s his business! He’s a grown man.” Zeke adds, sliding one hand around his shoulder and using his free one to pinch his cheek.

Eren seethes, stomping hard on his foot under the table.

“I don’t kiss her.” Eren defends.

“Not yet, you don’t. That’s for next month, right?” Zeke responds, with a wink.

Is this what Zeke thought backing him up was?

Eren can feel his cheeks burn. Leave for the empty spots in the script – that Levi had stated he had some special plan for – the last part of the show was almost finished. And much to Eren’s dismay, Hange and Levi overrode his opinion in the writers room and included a kiss in the script.

He’s just hoping for his own sake that they end up cutting it before the day comes like they did the first time. There were only so many things that he could stomach.

“That’s filming, Zeke. That’s different.”

Zeke rolls his eyes.

“Right.”

Eren’s thrown out of the loop when the door swings open, with Connie and Mikasa barging in with you at their heels. The three of you look particularly disheveled – sopping wet from the rain outside, giggly smiles on your faces – as Connie and Mikasa shake their hands at the group of them.

“We ran out of toothpaste over there, Eren. We’re just gonna take some.” Mikasa states.

“You needed three people to get one tube of toothpaste?” Eren asks.

“Well, I was going to come. Then, Connie decided he wanted to accompany me. And then Y/N realized we were going to get it from your room, then decided to come.” Mikasa responds, dragging Connie off to the little bathroom at the side.

Eren lifts his head to find you standing at the door, with…an almost awkward look on your face. The big smile that he saw seconds ago was virtually gone.

“You know what! I think Falco’s actually calling me…so I’m just going to…”

“You should sit. Eat breakfast with us.” Carla states, gesturing to the empty seat at her side.

That’s when Eren realizes it – and it sends an overwhelming amount of relief through him. That you didn’t feel awkward around him but around his family instead.

Eren racks his mind trying to remember it – when you were with them last. And if his memory isn’t deceiving him, it was the last Thanksgiving that you guys were together, a snowy November years ago.

And he gets it, the immediate nervousness. God knows he felt the same way around Falco and Colt when they arrived – after Levi hadn’t listened to his advice to not cast the two of them in the show. Just to spare him some torture.

Levi, obviously, refused to listen.

You always had your guard up around Zeke and if he knew you half as well as he thought he did, he knows for a fact that you must feel embarrassed to show your face around his parents now after everything that happened.

“Mom, it’s okay. You can go see if Falco’s good, Y/N.” Eren affirms.

Eren watches as your eyes meet his, slightly faltering before you shake your head and drag yourself to the table. From his peripheral, he can see that Zeke’s already too delighted for his own good as Zeke quickly offers you the seat at Eren’s side and sits directly across from the two of you.

“Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Jaeger. I appreciate it.” you respond, smoothing the little cloth over your lap as you knit your fingers into knots.

Eren busies himself with filling your plate, carefully sectioning small amounts of each dish, before he puts his hand in between yours. You welcome the touch, linking your fingers in with Eren’s under the table, as you shoot them all a smile. And Zeke’s godawful delighted smile back almost makes you sweat.

“Eren. You should go check on Falco, since he was calling Y/N.” Carla states.

“Huh? Oh, I-I’m sure he’s fine. Colt’s here and Gabi too, you know.” you mumble.

There’s no way you’re sitting alone with his family.

“I think Eren should check on him. That way, it won’t be in the back of your head while we talk.” Carla responds.

Eren shoots you a questioning look at your side, as you release his hand, and give him a nod. You can tell that he’s hesitating, his movements painstakingly slow as he exits the room and closes the door behind him, leaving you with the three of them.

“I apologize for that. He wasn’t going to leave unless you gave your approval.” Carla murmurs, as the three of them relax with his presence missing.

Zeke takes the opportunity to take the seat at your side, filling the empty space Eren left. He leans closer, voice quiet as he whispers and nearly makes your heart drop in your chest.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got your back. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to hold your hand under the table like he did.”

You fight the urge to spit the water in your mouth straight into the glass – but swallow the shock and battery acid sensation down as you spare the two of them a glance ahead of you.

There’s a twinge of regret – that at one point, you used to be like their chosen family and now it feels like you’ve allocated a lifetime of hurt to their son.

“I want to start by apologizing.” you state.

The two of them look up at you confused.

“For?” Grisha asks.

“Everything I did to Eren. I…I care for your son an awful lot, though it may not seem like that at times. And I hope that you know that even causing the smallest bit of pain is something that I have to carry with me everyday. Something I’ll spend a lifetime trying to rectify.” you state.

Carla sighs, setting her fork down in her plate and crossing her arms against her forearms. You can tell that Zeke’s priming some sort of response against her just from the almost enraged look in his face and you make it a point to spare him a warning glance not to.

Whatever wrath she had prepared for you was what you deserved. And just like Eren and Mikasa, you’d spend your entire life fixing it till it was better with her too.

“I’m not going to pretend to understand what it was that happened between you and Eren. I can read news articles and watch interviews and documentaries but…it doesn’t exactly make sense to me. I can admit that. I don’t know why you broke up with him and…and I surely don’t know why Eren thought it was okay to say everything that he did to you.”

“Oh. That’s nothing, really-”

“I don’t understand how you guys can make these big, love confessions without even confronting each other in the first place. Because…you’re not together, right?” Carla asks.

You bite down on your cheek.

“That’s right. It’s just for the paparazzi, trying to build up the hype around-”

“No, I get that part. But the interview, the documentary. You guys did that for each other, on some level. So I’ll ask again. You’re really not together?” Carla asks.

You sigh.

“No. I’m sorry. I…I haven’t thought much about that because I want everything settled before I even consider it. Being careless ruined everything last time…and I can’t afford to do that again. I want to be careful with his feelings this time around.” you state.

Carla pauses, before standing up and joining you at your side. And you’re caught completely off guard when she wraps her arms around you, pulling you up until you’re nestled in her arms and she’s rubbing at the sides of your biceps.

You forgot – she used to do this to you all the time.

“You…you’re a good girl. We’ve always loved you, always loved how Eren was around you, but…just be careful with our son, okay? I don’t want him to be hurt again and he’s sensitive, if that much wasn’t obvious at this point.”

“I appreciate that. Really, I…I don’t think you guys understand what it means to me. And I won’t, I’m making my sincerest promise that I’ll try not to. He’s….he means the world to me. He’s been my best friend as long as I can remember and…no one is going to be who Eren is to me.”

And for the first time, the two of them spare you a glimmering smile.

“He feels the same way.” Grisha states.

You sigh, offering the two of them a smile. And right on cue, Eren barges right through the door, the worry on his face melting as the two of you offer him a smile. You can tell that he’s a little confused – as he settles back into his seat and gives a questioning look to Zeke.

The two of them return to eating, as you dig your own fork into the food and push it around. That’s when Zeke slides his arm around the back of your chair, leaning forward as he gives you a smirk.

You can’t help but feel annoyed. Not in the genuine, hatred way, but in the same way you did when Colt used to tease you when you were a kid.

“So…family that I chose now that I see your brother as my brother? That is about me, right?”

You roll your eyes, sparing him a laugh, as you elbow him in the side.

“I’m so sorry to break your heart here, Zeke, but that line in peace was about Eren and Falco. Not about you and me.” you state.

“Yeah, dumbass. She doesn’t even like you.” Eren mutters.

Zeke feigns hurt as he clutches his right hand to his chest and groans. You watch as Grisha rolls his eyes in front of you and Carla fights the urge to smile at his theatrics.

“You’re a bitch.”

“Language, Zeke! God.” the two of them cry, rolling their eyes at Zeke. Eren rolls his eyes as he stands up, stacking all the plates and placing them at the island as you turn back to look at the group of them.

You shake your head, laughing, as you thank your lucky stars at how comfortable it is, that you’ve floated right back into the ease that you always seemed to be in when you were around them. And Zeke too, for the first time.

Zeke spares you a genuine smile this time, as he gets closer to you.

“I think that you and I could be really good friends. We both love Eren and…and maybe we haven’t always done right by him but…”

You can tell that he’s getting tripped up by the words, that the sentiment that’s underlying is something the two of you have never really shared before. A closeness that brings you together. Because for you, Zeke was always something you needed to protect Eren from and for him, you were positive now, knowing what you did now, that maybe Zeke felt robbed of some part of that.

Getting to meet his little brother’s first girlfriend. Tease him about it, give him some brotherly advice – the way Colt did with you. That maybe he wanted the relationship that Eren and Falco had with each other with you, if things were different.

“Yeah. But…we’re going to do right by him this time. We’ll make sure of it.” you whisper back, averting your eyes to where he’s standing.

Zeke breaks out into a smile, extending his closed fist out to you as you push your own against his.

“One thing?” Zeke states.

“What’s that?”

Zeke has a nearly murderous glint in his eye when he says it. And it fills you up with a searing feeling of warmth.

“You give that asshole Scott Clarkson hell. For all of our sake.”

You give him a smile back.

“That’s a promise, Zeke.”

Eren can feel himself sweating on the opposite side of the red carpet. The stickiness of the hairspray is sitting heavy in his hair, the collar digging into his neck, and palms embarrassingly sweaty as he stares at the group of people around him.

Lana and Sukuna are fussing over fixing Connie’s outfit, Jean and Mikasa are taking shots at his side, and you can tell that Suguru Getou is truly cutting his losses at this point.

Satoru’s wearing an outfit with literal, raw meat on it.

“It’s camp!” Satoru whines.

“That was the theme last year, dumbass. And it’s not camp, you’re just a nuisance.” Megumi grumbles, pinching his nose as he joins Eren at his side.

Eren gives him a nod in acknowledgement, as he watches Yuuji at Satoru’s side, snapping excited pictures of Satoru’s meat hat and pokes his fingers into the red flesh.

“Can you believe you’re dating that guy?” Eren asks.

“Everyday I question my sanity.” Megumi mumbles.

“Could be worse. You could be married to Satoru.”

“Don’t remind me.” Suguru groans at his side, the two of them sparing a laugh.

Megumi chooses to keep the comment to himself. He swallows, pointing out that you had said the same thing to the pair of them when Satoru dressed up like that godawful cat years prior. Megumi figures that he’ll keep this thread of your invisible string to himself, for the time being – that it might not exactly be productive for right now.

Eren catches Levi’s head shifting towards him in the peripheral, as he looks over and tries to follow Levi’s line of vision. And feels his throat constrict as Ricky and Hyla walk past, the two of them sparing him and Lana a sickly sweet smile, and take their spots at the end of the line.

Eren notes that despite the fact that you had side-swept all of her designers to work with you, naturally she still put together an outfit. He was hoping that it would be worse than it actually ended up being. Though he supposed the birthday girl would always get what she wanted in the end.

“I’m ready to wipe that smug smile off of their fucking faces and I’m so serious.”

Eren nearly jumps as he realizes you’re now standing at his side, your eye nearly twitching as you watch the two of them. But all he can feel now is his own throat itching, Ricky and Hyla the least of his problems as his skin ignites at the sight of you so close to him. Your flowery perfume is invading his senses, as he fights the urge to ogle your dress full on.

“Y/N.” he whispers.

“Do I look stupid? The underslip they had for the dress didn’t fit me because Hyla’s so much taller that they just…told me to wear this matching set. I feel like I’m going to be flashing everyone.” you mumble.

“Better for you. You look fucking hot. And apparently, Hyla stole her dress from a piece that was already in the museum. I’m sure she’ll ruin it by the end of the night.” Lana states, as Sukuna joins her at the side and links his arm through hers.

The two of them have matching stitching on their outfits, wedding rings sparkling on their fingers. Eren clears his throat, your eyes expectant as you wait for a response, and his head nearly spinning from the overstimulation.

“She’s right. You’re beautiful.”

“You can say she's hot, Eren. It won’t kill you.” Sukuna complains.

Eren watches as your eyes widen, a soft pink blush running up your neck, as you avert your eyes. And Sukuna, naturally, ruins the moment by making gagging noises only to get smacked by Lana after the fact.

The two of them shuffle off, giving you a thumbs up behind their backs, as you turn to each other. Eren links his hands in with yours, giving you three squeezes, as he looks down at the dark makeup smeared around your eyes, making your eyes appear even bigger and brighter.

Eren gestures his head to the left, snaking his hand around your bare skin in the dress, and lines up directly behind Ricky and Hyla. And the two of you wait for them to walk out and follow directly after.

It goes exactly how it thought you would. You haven’t walked a red carpet since the last awards show – and from what Eren told you – it had been years since he had too.

It was simple.

Seeing Hyla and Ricky at a carpet together was almost a given, almost too predictable. It would hardly spare a headline in comparison to you two – together. Years after the fact, with Eren’s documentary behind you.

The clicking and the flashing immediately throws you off your guard, coupled with the screaming of your name, that you almost fall off the stiletto of your heels. But Eren’s quick with it, hands looped around your waist as he held you up against him.

“Thanks. I-”

“Don’t look at them. Just look at me.” Eren whispers, voice almost gravelly.

“What?”

“It’s better that way. Just act like you’re above them. Like you and I are the only people in the room.” Eren murmurs.

You give him a nod, catching his drift as you follow his lead. And it almost works too well – easing your red carpet nerves when you literally don’t have to acknowledge them and just have to hold hands with Eren all the way down the carpet.

Eren stops dead center, right before the steps, as you spare a glance over your shoulder. The group of them are following – Satoru’s raw meat causing a commotion at the start – and you turn back to him.

“Ready?”

“Yeah.”

“I know you just asked me to get you a necklace for the Ricky thing, but I actually did ask them to design a custom one for you.”

You smile. You had made it a point – that you were going to stick it to Ricky for that stupid night that he left you drenched in the rain – but you failed to consider that this would happen. Though in hindsight, you should have expected it.

Eren was always thoughtful when it came to things like this.

“Really?” you ask.

Eren nods, as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the little charm necklace. You take it in his hands, admiring the little charm at the center, of the planet Saturn. You frown, turning it over in your fingers.

“Does Saturn have some connection to Uranus that I don’t know about? I thought that I was supposed to be the moon.” you mumble.

Eren laughs, as he shakes his head and gestures for you to spin around. You oblige, moving your hair to the side and feeling your cheeks heat up as the paparazzi snap what feels like hundreds of pictures – of Eren clasping the necklace and then pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck. His voice comes out as a whisper on your skin as he pulls you closer to him, the two of you posing for the picture.

“I mean, Marco was always a big fan of immature jokes. So I guess it does?” Eren states.

You widen your eyes as you press your fingers to the charm, realizing what it means.

Your braids like a pattern, love you to the moon and to Saturn.

The last time that you were at the Met Gala was when you performed with Marco. You can feel warm tears accumulating in your eyes as Eren cups the side of your cheek, a soft smile on his face. He taps the little pin on the lapel of his jacket, a matching little saturn charm as you bite down on your cheeks and smile back.

“He’s here with us. Haunting us from his grave like he promised.” Eren jokes.

You give Eren a teary laugh.

“Yeah. I think he is too.”

You lean your head against Eren’s shoulder, as the two of you walk straight up the stairs into the venue. There’s a glimmering chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the stage decorated a sparkling silver.

“Do you have a Maya Angelou quote for me? She always was Marco’s favorite.”

Eren smiles.

“I can be changed by what happens to me. But I refused to be reduced by it.” Eren states.

Falco and Colt are the ones by your side backstage. You can feel your hands shaking, throwing the mic from one hand to the other, as the two of them lean their heads against yours.

You’re performing for the first time in years. Since you performed the grudge, at that godawful awards show years ago.

You choose to use the wall of pictures as a distraction. One of your favorite things about performing at the Met was that they took pictures of each of the performers and pasted them to the big walls behind the curtains. People would sign the walls, the pictures themselves – to mark that they had performed here, to immortalize themselves on the wall.

And it takes a few seconds, but you find the picture dead center. Of you and Marco. The two of you are hugging each other, cheeks pressed together with pink, teary eyes, with your names scribbled in Marco’s loopy handwriting underneath.

seven by y/n l/n ft marco bodt

And directly next to it, is a picture you’ve never seen before. Of Eren and Marco – their hands clasped together – and the same loopy handwriting underneath with the song.

“He didn’t want to take that picture. He…he made me do it. Said he should still remember the moment, even if he wasn’t at his best.” Armin states.

“Oh. Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Just checking you’re okay. First time performing and all that. And I was back here with you the last time this happened too.” Armin murmurs.

You smile, lacing your hand through his as you both stare at the pictures of Marco and you wrap your arms around Armin at the first sound of his sniffling.

“Well, this is hardly about me performing, Armin.” you mumble.

Armin gives you a watery laugh, before pulling back and wiping the wetness on his face away.

You frown as you lightly dig your elbow into his side, trying to gesture him into talking.

You were a little harsh when you talked to him last – when you had to convince him to finally forgive Eren. You regretted it after, being so rigid and forcing him into it, but you figured direction was what Armin needed at the time.

“Marco said that even though that moment was bad for Eren, that even though he felt like he was never going to recover, there would be a day that he looked back on it and would relish in the fact that it was never going to be like that again. I hate the fact that Eren’s probably having that moment right now and shit is still so awkward between us that I can’t even tell him that I’m happy for him.” Armin murmurs.

You stare at the pictures.

“I didn’t realize you were…with Eren that day.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I was. I called him a lot after the whole Girlfriend thing, he was kind of convinced that we all hated him. And I did the same when the whole Satellite Port thing happened too.”

Armin pauses.

“I was always there for him, until I wasn’t. And I feel like I’m fucking groveling but things still won’t be the same between us.”

“Well, don’t lose hope about that. Mikasa and I-”

“You and Mikasa are different. You’re…you overlook things easier than we do. Mikasa wanted you to be her maid of honor again after you said you wanted to sleep in her room – just because she realized you still loved her. Even if Eren knew I loved him, I doubt that would fix what happened with us.”

You lean your head against your shoulder.

“Did you finish the script yet, Armin?” you whisper.

“What?”

“Did you finish it?”

“Yeah.”

You look over at him and smile.

“That last conversation? Between your character and his? He wrote that all on his own. It’s obviously a little bit more dramatic than he intends it but…the premise is still there. You and him, still best friends at the end of it.”

Armin looks back at the pictures, running his hands through his hair, and ruining any semblance of styling in his golden locks.

“You think Marco would be pissed at us? All of us?” Armin mumbles.

“No. I know he would have loved to seen us all reconcile. That he would have been really happy for us.”

Falco and Colt give you a gesture over your shoulder, as you shoo Armin back to his seat, and readjust the feathers on the sleeves of your dress. You give Colt a smile as he hands you the last piece of the outfit, the glittery garter belt that you wrap over your thigh as you take your cue.

Eren gives you props for hundreds of things, but this one specifically. It was hard to find something that you were bad at, since it felt that you were naturally skilled at everything, but when he watched you, like this, he couldn’t help but feel like you were born for it.

You really knew how to put on a performance.

It’s pitch black, leave for your purple silhouette against the back of the stage. Of your fingers running across the neck of the guitar, playing the opening notes to the song Maki requested days prior – that you named Style.

Midnight You come and pick me up, no headlights Long drive Could end in burning flames or paradise Fade into view, oh It's been a while since I have even heard from you (heard from you)

And I should just tell you to leave 'cause I Know exactly where it leads, but I Watch us go 'round and 'round each time

Eren watches as you pause, the entire backtrack and music stopping, as the entire crowd jumps to his feet and starts hollering for you when they finally shine the lights on you. Eren watches as you give everyone a little wave, pressing your hands to your cheeks unable to contain your smile before you gesture for everyone to be quiet so you can keep singing.

And feels his chest fill with immense pride as you walk all the way down the stage, fingers fast and smiling from ear to ear as you sing again. He can’t help but feel embarrassed as the group of them – Connie, Reiner, and Jean – start smacking him on the back, screaming about how crazy his girl was.

You got that James Dean daydream look in your eye And I got that red lip classic thing that you like And when we go crashing down, we come back every time 'Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style You got that long hair, slicked back, white T-shirt And I got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt And when we go crashing down, we come back every time 'Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style

When you reach the end of the stage, Eren watches as you slightly trip on your steps, before averting your eyes down to your leg. In the mess of walking and the notches on the guitar, a part of your stockings had ripped.

Eren was impressed that you were still singing, as you reached down and took the halves of the garter belt in your hands, before you started looking out in the audience. And Eren can’t help but feel like in that moment, that some divine power might actually be real.

Because three years ago, it was Hyla’s birthday and he was stuck at a dinner table thinking about you. About how he’d never feel that rush, that thrilling electricity that seemed to thrum in his veins whenever you looked at him.

And he knows for a fact that really, it almost has to be real – a higher power that was looking out for him the entire time. Because years after the fact, he’s sitting here, blushing profusely as you throw the garter belt to him to catch, before you like down on the stage and scream your heart out.

To a song that you wrote about him.

Take me home Just take me home Yeah, just take me home Oh, whoa, oh (Out of style)

Oh, you got that James Dean daydream look in your eye And I got that red lip classic thing that you like And when we go crashing down (now we go), we come back every time 'Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style

“Ethan Cole! You’re just the person I wanted to see.” you state.

Fresh off of the performance, with the little note card tucked in your hand, he’s the first person that you beeline towards.

On first impression, he’s younger than Scott Clarkson by a landslide – beachy, golden hair as he stands from his share to take your extended hand.

“Y/N L/N! Quite the performance up there, my daughter is a huge fan. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Ethan asks.

You give the girl at his side a warm smile, the girl barely above the age of fifteen, as you turn back to him.

“You know, I’ve really missed doing romantic comedies. I’ve heard that’s your forté,” you state.

“Is that right?”

“As fun as Attack on Titan can be, the drama can…be a little draining. I would love to get behind you if you produced a romantic comedy that I could star in.”

You watch as he pinches his smile, eyes strained as he looks around the room.

“I’m not sure how keen…some people at the company would be about that.” Ethan murmurs.

“Who said you had to do it with them?” you state.

“Huh?”

You give him the best, most sickly sweet smile that you muster. “Who said…you have to do it with him?”

You pull the little note card out of your backpocket, with your phone number scribbled over the top, and hand it to him.

“You could easily produce it on your own. And if it was a star studded movie, you could avoid the risks of being associated as a start-up all together.” you state.

Ethan pauses, for a while.

“My own company?”

“That’s right. You’re young, younger than your competition, and with how things have been going lately…I’m doubt they’ll stay afloat longer. If I were you, I’d capitalize on the fact that your own competition is about to be eliminated.” you state.

You can tell that he almost doesn’t believe you.

“I’ll have to think about it.” Ethan states.

“Sure thing, Ethan. If the situation was right, I could even be persuaded to get some of my….friends to join. And I know you’re a smart guy – there’s some publicity that other people couldn’t even dream of buying.”

You spare a glance over your shoulder to Eren at the stage with Lana, as she takes her seat at the piano and Eren begins adjusting the microphone at the stand.

“I look forward to talking to you, Ethan.”

And you give him a sickly sweet smile before you walk away. You settle back into your seat next to Levi and Connie – who had decided to take Eren’s open seat while he performed.

“How did it go?” Levi asks.

“He didn’t buy it.” you state.

Levi gives you a terse nod, as you shake your head and readjust your seat to face the stage. Connie pulls his seat up right next to yours, the two of you giving each other a smile as you link your arms together and lean your head against his shoulder.

“It’s your song!” you whisper.

Connie leans his head on top of yours, voice quiet as Lana starts playing the piano.

“It’s actually not. It’s even worse.”

“Huh?”

You lift your head off of his shoulder to eye him, and he only smiles, deviously, in return.

“Let’s just say if it was my birthday today, I’d commit a murder after this.”

You turn back to the stage, eyeing the little star decals hanging from the little ceiling, and watch as Eren nervously shakes his hands, before placing them on the mic stand. He turns to his left, giving the group of you a smile, before he starts.

“I wrote this song exactly five years ago today when I was twenty. I was stuck at a birthday party, with a bunch of people I hated, and all I could think about was how I just wished that I was somewhere else. And really, I was hoping that the person that I really wanted beside me, had some semblance of that feeling about me too. This is my new song, it’s called Glimpse of Us.”

When you're out of sight In my mind

'Cause sometimes I look in her eyes And that's where I find a glimpse of us And I try to fall for her touch But I'm thinking of the way it was Said I'm fine and said I moved on I'm only here passing time in her arms Hoping I'll find A glimpse of us

Eren always claimed that singing was never his forté and even from the way he moved – you could tell that he clearly felt more comfortable when he was acting. That he most definitely believed that his talents lied on a set rather than on a stage.

And for maybe the hundredth time, it’s clear that Eren’s own visions of himself have clearly limited him.

Because he’s beautiful.

The stage design makes it look like he’s suspended in the sky, in between the moon and the stars, and the lack of production to the song – the fact that it’s just his voice and Lana’s fingers on the piano is chilling.

It reminds you of that song that he wrote for you on the beach.

Eren dislodges the microphone from the stand, tossing Lana a smile over his shoulder, before he walks directly to the edge of the stage that’s closest to you and Connie. And uses his hand to gesture for you to come closer, as he takes a seat and dangles his legs off the edge of the stage.

You can feel the butterflies erupting in your stomach as you pull your chair closer to the stage, right until you’re looking up at Eren from your little seat and he’s looking down at you. And as he sings, he reaches down and places one of his hands on your cheek – the biting cold of the rings on his fingers cooling the warmth on your cheek – but doing nothing to help the burning in your chest from his dark green eyes, filled with such warmth and sincerity that it makes your heart race.

You bring your own hand up to where his is on your cheek and he gives you a dimpled smile in return.

When he finishes, you press a kiss to the top of his knuckles and try to memorize the way the smile spreads across his face.

Your last chance to convince this cowardly idiot Ethan Cole to agree with you guys is at the afterparty for the Met Gala, which coincidentally, you’ve never attended.

The last time you were here, the entire ordeal was so draining – considering it was the first time that you had seen Eren since you broke up and you were here with Ricky – that you just skipped the party afterwards and went home. And you would have done the same thing now, since your hair was feeling sticky and your legs felt like lead from the heels, but you had to give it one last shot before you left.

You had taken Mikasa and Jean’s lead, and decided to take four shots with them, by the time the party was in full swing. And right before the fifth, Eren suddenly materialized after being missing for the first half of the party and slipped it away from your nimble fingers and downed it himself.

“Are you drinking?” he asks, shaking his head from the burn, before handing the glass back to Jean.

“Well, obviously not if you’re taking my glass.”

Eren reaches forward, fingers on the little ribbon around your neck, before you smack his hand off.

“I like the outfit. It’s like the scarf from the show.”

“That’s the point.” you state.

Eren rolls his eyes as you both lean back against the wall, eyeing the crowd of people in front of you.

“You should have told me. I would have matched.” Eren states.

“How are you supposed to match? Your costume on set doesn’t have something as…obvious like the scarf.”

“I would have just done the titan marks and called it a day.” Eren mumbles back.

You nod, mulling over the idea, as you reach for the back hanging around your shoulder. And luckily for you, your lipstick is still in the bag – though most of the time, the bags that you have on red carpets have literally nothing on them – and instruct him to crouch so you can reach. He obliges, flashing you a smile, as you intently focus on drawing the lines under his eyes.

Eren takes the distraction – the focus that you have from drawing on his face – and uses it to observe you.

“Did you like my song?” Eren asks.

“You’re insane. Did you really write that five years ago or did you make that up?” you whisper.

“Nope. I wrote it after the last Met Gala, I think Hyla’s birthday was like a week or two after that.” he mumbles back.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, what you were hoping was actually true. When I was at that Met Gala, I really just wished that I was with you, sitting with the rest of the cast.”

Eren laughs.

“Who said the song was about you?” Eren jokes.

You pause, only to look up to glare at him, before you lightly shove him. And you can tell that he’s joking but it’s still irritating.

“You’re such a dick, sometimes.”

“You were thinking about me?” Eren responds, closing his hand around yours and snatching the little tube of lipstick from your hand.

He lifts his phone up, looking at the reflection from the screen of his phone, as he messily finishes off the marks on the other side, more messy and jagged. And as annoying as he is, it’s extremely attractive when he does it – capping the lipstick and curling it back into the palm of your hand.

“You wish.” you respond.

Eren leans against the wall and you join him at his side, the two of you eyeing Ethan Cole at the end of the hall, with Ricky and Hyla posted up on the other side. You can’t help but seethe with anger as you watch the two of them together, curling your hands into little fists at your side.

“I saw that video that was going around on Twitter a little while ago. Of you and Ricky, last time you were here.” Eren responds.

“What video?”

“It was on the red carpet. He like…grabbed your arm and shoved you.” Eren clarifies.

“Oh! That’s right. He was trying to introduce me to John and I said some crap about him to Historia. Then, he got all pissed saying that I had to be nice to him or whatever since he was nice to you guys.” you respond.

Levi and Hange walk up to the pair of you, arms linked together, as you straighten up. The two of them had weary eyes, focused on Eren, as they look around.

“Eren. He’s here.”

“Who’s here?” you ask.

“Scott Clarkson. He just walked in – guess he’s not deciding to skip after all.” Hange responds.

Eren leans forward, angling his head over the crowd of the people, towards the opening at the front of the hallway and feels his throat turn to sandpaper. Eren clenching his fists so hard that he’s sure he’s drawing blood, the entirety of the conversation almost lost to him as he feels himself nearly losing balance on his legs.

“You’re free to leave, Eren. We have a car ready for you. If you want to stay, we’re here with you.” Hange states.

You look around to the other side of the room to find Connie talking to a group of people, none of which you knew. Mikasa and Jean are a few feet away – but clearly drunk out of their mind – and you can’t seem to find anyone else who could stay with him. You jerk your head back, to the two of them.

“Listen. I’ve got Eren. Could you guys check that Connie’s going to be fine?”

Hange and Levi turn their heads to the side, giving you a nod, as they speed walk to the other side of the room and you link your arm in with Eren’s. He’s still staring at the other side of the room and you lightly tug on his arm to catch his attention, his eyes almost dazed when he looks at you.

“Sorry. Did Hange and Levi say something?”

“Just wanted to make sure you were okay. We can leave if you want to, there’s a car and everything.”

“No…no, we didn’t talk to Ethan Cole yet. And, it’s fine.” Eren responds, shaking his head.

It’s not that Eren’s exactly scared of Scott Clarkson, though there was a point in time that he most certainly would be. It’s more that he’s intimidated by what could go down, because while Eren knows that he isn’t exactly being swayed by him anymore, it’s a debilitating reminder every time he makes a comment that sends Eren tumbling back down.

“Lana and Sukuna are together. I sent Hange and Levi to check on Connie. And I’m here with you, so…so all the bases are covered.” you respond.

Eren smiles.

“You’re here with me? What are you going to do?”

“Punch him in the face.” you respond.

Eren laughs.

“Are you crazy?”

“Do I look like a comedian to you?” you ask Eren.

“You look more like a clown to me.”

You feel your eyes widen, as you turn to your side and find Hyla and Ricky standing right to the left of you and Eren. You’re not sure what it is, but Eren suddenly squared his shoulders back, muscles tense at the sight of them.

“Do you need something?” Eren asks.

Hyla rolls her eyes as she looks at Eren, before turning back to you. And her eyes flicker to the necklace around your neck, before she looks back up at you and smiles.

“Cute necklace!”

Eren grins at your side. They took the bait.

“Do you like it, Ricky? It’s custom Tiffany. I had it made special for Y/N myself.” Eren asks.

You watch as Ricky furrows his brow, slightly clenching his jaw and nearly pink in the face, as he rolls his eyes in response – very clearly understanding the reference.

“I don’t know where the fuck you think you get off, Eren. Need I remind you, that while I was at the top of my fucking career you were cleaning up a baby’s diapers.”

You watch as Eren’s eye twitches, knuckles white at his side as he doesn’t respond. And it only gets more agitating since Ricky clearly gets off on the fact that Eren refuses to fight back, and takes it as an invitation to keep going.

“Seriously, dude. You started at the fucking top of the food chain – your parents are literally Grisha and Carla Jaeger – and yet you’re slumming it with Lana and Sukuna. Lana’s quite literally the biggest bitch I’ve ever met in my life. Don’t pretend like you’re both not trying to get your five minutes of fame by talking about me. And don’t even get me started on how pathetic Sukuna is for what he said in that dumbass documentary the two of you made. Donating to sexual assault victims won’t fix a lack of talent.”

“Where do you get-”

“Y/N.” Eren states, silencing you all together.

“That’s right, Eren. You better keep my sloppy seconds-”

Ricky doesn’t get to finish the statement, because Eren’s punched him in the face. Not once, not twice, but three times to the point where he’s tackled him onto the floor, a bright red decorating his knuckles.

“Y/N. What the fuck? Get him to stop!”

You know that it’s petty. That maybe if you were a little bit of a better person, you actually would have asked Eren to stop. But Ricky James was quite literally the worst person you had ever met and deep down, there wasn’t even a single part of him that didn’t deserve what he was getting right now.

You crouch down on your knees, Eren momentarily stopping to look at you, before you shake your head and look down at him.

“I’m so sorry, Ricky. I don’t think I can do that right now.”

Eren smiles, as he lands one more punch, before a very drunk Jean and Reiner are able to pull him off – Maki and Pieck at your sides as they rub into the softness of your arms. You shake your head, signaling to them that you were fine, as Eren looks over at you over the accumulating crowd of people, and gives you a gesture. You nod, as Eren extends his hand out to you, and the two of you walk to the other side of the room. You eye the blood on Eren’s hand, all Ricky’s you’re sure, as Eren stops at the table and starts filling the cups with the lemonade.

“We need a drink.” Eren states.

“That’s what got you pissed off, Eren? When he started talking bad on my name?” you mumble.

“I love your name.” Eren defends.

You smile.

“Though, I always felt like it’s missing something.” Eren adds.

You roll your eyes.

“And what’s that, huh?”

“My last name.” Eren responds.

Eren watches as a blush creeps over your cheeks and try not to laugh when you mutter something that sounds an awful lot like fuck you under your breath as he passes you one of the glasses of lemonade. Which is right when Lana comes up and snatches the glass from his hand and slams it down on the table.

“Are you a fucking idiot, Eren?” Lana seethes.

“What?” Eren responds, giving her an annoyed shrug back as he takes the glass back and hands you one.

“You promised, Eren.” Sukuna responds.

“You two can get your panties out of a twist. I didn’t break any promises.”

“Do you think I’m blind, Eren?” Lana asks.

Eren rolls his eyes, as he leans down, bringing his face closer to Lana’s. It’s the same thing that Colt does to you – on the rare occasions that he’s able to prove you wrong.

“You made me promise that if Ricky said anything about Teddy or you, I wouldn’t say anything. And Sukuna made me promise that if Ricky said anything about him, I wouldn’t do anything, because it would upset you.” Eren states.

That’s why he didn’t say anything.

“Our princess over here didn’t force me to make any promises like that. So the second he called her sloppy seconds, I did what I had to do.” Eren responds.

Lana’s eyes widen, as she turns her head to you.

“What a dick. Are you okay?” Lana asks.

“I’m fine. He said worse about you guys, I wanted to punch him myself.”

Eren smiles, as he leans down to look at you.

“Too bad. He’s getting escorted out on his ass now, so you lost your chance.” Eren responds, pointing towards the door.

And surely enough, the security are taking him out with his hands secured behind his back – no thanks to the obscene screaming he’s doing – while Hyla looks maybe the most irritated you’ve ever seen before. She spares you one last glance, to which you and Eren respond with glimmering smiles, before she walks out.

Lana gestures towards the bathrooms as Eren follows, presumably to wash his hands, leaving you and Sukuna by the table, nursing the little glasses of lemonade in your hands. And wordlessly, you extend your glass out to Sukuna – and thank your lucky stars that he understands – as he pulls the little flask from the pocket and pours it into your drink and then his.

“Eren’s been waiting for that one.” Sukuna states.

“I’m shocked you haven’t.” you respond.

“Maybe before. But you know, with the kid, you have to be a good role model and all that. Plus, I hate when Lana lectures me because she gets really mean.”

You snort.

“I’d be scared of her too.” you respond.

“Speaking of scared, how many drinks until he falls off?” Sukuna asks, pointing to the left.

You follow his line of vision to find Yuuji standing on top of the bar, tie loosely hanging around his neck and pink in the face with Satoru, as he sings along to the music playing from the speakers.

“Which one are you talking about? I think they’re both well past that point.” you respond.

“Yuuji, obviously. I’m going to stop him before he ends up on a headline.” Sukuna responds.

“You have fun with that. I’ll watch from over here.” you respond, as Sukuna walks away.

When you scan the room for Ethan Cole, you find that he’s already looking at you. You give him a polite wave, positive that whatever Eren just did with Ricky James must have swayed him some type of way, as you lean back against the edge of the table. And the table dips slightly under you, nearly making you spill the glass of lemonade, when you find Scott Clarkson leaning against at your side, his beady eyes fixed on you.

“Y/N. It’s nice to see you.”

“I’m so glad you were finally able to learn my name.” you respond.

Scott clicks his tongue in his cheek, before extending his hand out to shake it at you. You begrudgingly oblige, skin curling with disgust as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, and leans back.

“I’ll admit, I had you pegged all wrong in the beginning. But I’m sure that you can understand, it can be so hard to trust new and upcoming talent like that when you run a big company.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” you deadpan.

“I think we should let bygones be bygones. I even think that we could be useful to one another. If you really wanted full ownership of your albums back, I could get it for you. Just a few movies, here and there, and they’d be back in your hands.”

You feel your throat dry.

“What did you just say to me?”

“I’m sure you know I am well acquainted with Danny and Sareen. I’m sure I could persuade them, after a little give and take.”

You thank the heavens that the stylists had stacked each of your fingers with a perfect set of silver rings. You sure it made it hurt even more when you slapped him across the face.

“You have some nerve, you asshole. Don’t even think about-”

You feel a set of arms on your biceps, squeezing hard, as you turn your head to find Levi at your side. You shake your head, turning back to Scott, who no whas a group of people around him, inspecting the red mark you’ve left on his cheek.

“Levi. Fucking, get off.”

“This is not the time for this. You and Eren are leaving, you’ve had too much to drink.” Levi responds, pushing you out into the cold air outside the hall and near the taxi.

Eren’s leaning against the car door and he quickly jumps up at the sound of your voice, meeting Levi at your side.

“Did you hit him, Y/N? They’re saying that you hit him.”

“I slapped him.”

Eren pinches his mouth into a line.

“Did he hit back?” Eren asks.

“What? No. Levi started yanking me off of him before I could get another one in.”

Eren passes Levi a thankful smile, before ducking your head into the taxi, and tuning back into your rambling.

“He’s such a dick. He fucking had that coming, trying to offer me a career like I don’t know who he is and what he fucking does. Like really, even down to being an opportunist, does he really think I care about my album that was already stolen from me over all of my friends? Over you? I think he’s a psychopath and we didn’t even get to solidify the deal with Ethan Cole or-”

“Okay, Y/N. Relax. It’s-”

“We have to do something to get his attention. Something crazy. I have an idea but…you have to follow my lead, okay?”

Eren’s slightly hesitant. Only because he can tell that you really are tipsy from the light pink tint in your cheeks and the way that you’re shaking your legs. But he hates to tell you no, especially when you’re staring at him so expectantly, waiting for an answer.

And when you drag Eren into a sweaty tattoo parlor, Eren realizes that maybe you’re well past tipsy.

“I technically picked what we did last time, Eren. So it’s your turn. Just make sure it’s something like…fucking crazy. Like iconic.”

Eren has an idea. But he can’t say it. Because you can’t possibly get that tattooed. And he’s sure that it’s showing on his face, because now you’re giving him an excited smile, jumping up and down on your feet waiting for him to tell.

“Oh my god. What is it? Tell me right now.”

“Uh. The moon and the ocean.” Eren responds.

You frown.

“We already basically have that as a tattoo, Eren. With the fish? And I can tell that’s not what you were going to say.” you respond.

Eren sighs.

“Y/N. It’s too much.”

“Nothing’s too much! Come on, it’s you and me that we’re talking about. We got fucking matching tattoos when we were like eighteen and released songs about quite literally fucking each other on the same day! We can get a crazy tattoo!”

“You’re so crass when you’re drunk, Y/N.”

“The word Levi used was homicidal.” you respond.

Eren sighs, as he tells you his idea, and watches your face light up. And after the fact, Eren can’t help but feel like he’s on top of the world.

Because for a second time now – the two of you are running down the streets, bathed in the dim lamplight and laughing into the night. Matching tattoos of each other’s names on the inside of your lips, a confession on the tips of your tongues like you were two soulmates destined to be together.

That’s the moment you’re able to coin it.

You’re head over heels in love with Eren Jaeger. Again. Maybe even worse, more desperately than the first time.

And as the perfect cherry on top, Ethan Cole sends you a message confirming the deal the following morning.

next part linked here

an: are you catching my hint for the songs in our next chapter.....which is an AWARDS SHOW CHAPTER ARE WE READY. and don't worry....scott clarkson and danny/sareen welcome to your tape...this next chapter is for you

(pls tell me someone gets the pussy joke that megumi made and that im not just horrendously chronically online)

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

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