#and every time those walls just go up a little bit higher
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#And she is back to rant in her tags#me stuff#men really do be trash lately#it’s like they can’t just hurt you#they have to fuck you up massively#The worst ones are the ones that make you believe they are different#to hear about the times you’ve been hurt and they promise you they different#only they just fuck you over anyway#And what hurts the most is you actually believed them because you really wanted somebody to be different#you really wanted the ending to not suck this time#and you try your best#you make so much effort#and they still stab you in the back#and every time those walls just go up a little bit higher#and then you’re honestly not sure if you can do it anymore#literally all I want is somebody who will marathon Lord of the rings with me with multiple breaks to fuck#and also take our kids to Disney World#Plus like somebody who puts in the same level of effort as I do would be good#failing that I will adopt two black cats and go live my best witch life
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ateez as pirates who fall for you (maknae line)
read hyung line here
genre: pirate!ateez x gn!reader (fem!reader for jongho), fluff, angst, continuation of the pirate trope brainrot (but i must say i went all out for the plots this time)
length: 14.4k
c/w: heavy and mature themes - mdni, explicit language (swearing), death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, illegal acts (piracy, attempted murder), alcohol, near-drowning, angst bc i mean angst, specific c/w for mingi’s au: hurt/comfort, allusions to depression
a/n: i’m very sad i never got to use this joke somewhere so - why are pirates called pirates? because they just arrrr 🙈🙉🙊 also to those who like connecting dots and whatnot there are a few easter eggs related to hyung line 🥚 big thanks to yumi @sorryimananti-romantic for getting me through the last three months of trying to work and write bc it’s been a ship time ha ha 😬👍
taglist: at the end
san
pov: you run away with san and the cromer
through your waning breath, you reach a trembling hand up to cup san’s jaw
“s-san, don’t do it”
he lets out a racking sob as he shakes his head, expression marred with agony and torment that you can physically feel in his white-knuckled grasp that covers your own hand
the tears that drip off his jaw become lost to the ground, which is damp from moisture and your blood
you swallow the metallic taste in your mouth, “the cromer isn’t meant for changing fate.” it hurts to take a breath and you wince as you stutter. “it never goes th- the way you want it to…you know that by now”
san’s voice is broken and pained, “i don’t fucking care. it’s not going to stop me from trying”
he grips your hand even tighter when he starts to feel it fall away from his cheek
it’s becoming tiring to keep your eyes open
maybe you can rest…just for a little bit
san will forgive you, right?
you close your eyes
just for a little while
just until the pain stops
faintly, you think you can feel your body being jostled against something warm
but it’s far away
far away
far
san clutches your limp body as he lets out a primal wail of anguish
you cannot die
you will not die
he snatches the glowing hourglass and flips it with desperation screaming in every cell of his body
and then his world goes white.
you don’t notice when the footsteps behind you suddenly fall silent
you’re too busy reasoning with the captain, whose back you are facing as he walks ahead and leads your crew further into the dim tunnels of the cave
“it’s much safer if we go over the mountain. we’ll have the advantage of higher ground to ambush the horizon”
your captain, taesung, doesn’t look at you when he answers over his shoulder, “it’s much quicker through the tunnels. we don’t have the luxury of time if we want to attack their crew before they leave the island”
“and what if they attack - the horizon can easily ambush us as long as they’ve got the cave’s exit guarded”
you immediately turn around to look at san, knowing that he’ll support your argument
only to find that he’s not there
he’s several metres behind the back of the group and frozen to the spot
even in the shadowed darkness of the musty cave, you can clearly see the ashen and shaken features of his face
approaching him slowly, your fire torch held out in front of you, you gently call, “san?”
at the sound of your voice, his eyes lock onto yours
he looks terrified
san is lost in a distorted warp of visions
he can’t make sense of nor connect what he’s seeing
but there is blood
there’s so much blood
it’s everywhere
you’re there
it’s your blood
there’s someone screaming; raw with despair
he’s screaming
the ground digs into his knees and he feels wet and sticky from your blood but also his tears and there are so many tears and the walls are cold from moisture and it’s so dark and musty even with the smell of iron in the air and god you’re dying
you’re going to die
“san?” you repeat, now in front of him and tenderly cupping his jaw
and san has to stop you from dying
his pupils focus on you once again before he desperately tries to gain his bearings
he looks around with increasing franticness
he’s in a cave and the only light he can see comes from the torch you’re holding and the others shared amongst the crew
water drips from the ceiling and along the rugged walls towards the damp ground, filling the cave with a stale and mouldy smell
all his senses scream the same thing to him
it’s just like when you died
his own voice sounds foreign to him when he manages to choke out, “let’s listen to captain”
your eyebrows pinch together at san’s sudden compliance, especially more so when he lowers the volume of his next words so that you’re the only one who can hear his soft don’t argue with him
there’s something about the way he silently pleads with his eyes that makes you nod numbly
you slip the hand that isn’t holding the torch into his and prompt him to walk again with a light tug forward towards the rest of the crew, who are not too far ahead
when the both of you have nearly caught up, san readjusts his hand in your grasp so that his is atop of yours
and so you two walk, san leading you with a sturdy hand; a line of defence between you and the rest of the crew…and the depths of the cave
the thin sheet of cotton that you lay upon does little to soften the discomfort of the cave’s floor as you and the crew prepare for a few hours of sleep, but your pillow makes up for it
your head is cushioned by san’s thigh, who’s seated upright against the wall after offering to keep watch
he’s gazing down at you with a tender smile as he slowly runs his fingers through your hair like a soothing lullaby
your eyes scan his, still trying to catch any changes in his expression that could possibly explain his strange demeanour from earlier
you want to ask him what’s wrong but there’s only so much privacy you can get in a cave with the rest of your crew
instead, you give his hand a squeeze
san’s smile fades a little and you wonder whether it’s the illusion of the light and shadows from the torches that makes his face look so gaunt
his eyes flicker around guiltily and then he looks at you whilst reciprocating your squeeze
he’s mouthing something, you realise
do you trust me?
you tighten your fingers around his in reassurance
with my life
the dimpled caverns return to san’s cheeks, and then he’s whispering to you softly, “sleep”
you don’t recall dozing off, but you must not have been asleep for very long before you’re woken by a light shake to your shoulder
the groggy mumble that starts to leave your lips is hushed by a warm kiss on your forehead
you’re met with the sight of san holding a finger against his lips when you open your eyes and your brain struggles to comprehend what’s happening
there’s a faint glow coming from under his bulging shirt, which could only be one thing
the cromer
as your neurons start firing again, you come to the realisation that apart from you and san, nobody else is awake yet
quietly, he helps you up to your feet
the silent question he asked before you fell asleep replays in your head, and although it does nothing to clear up your confusion, it helps to ease your anxiety because you meant it when you mouthed your response
you trust san with your life
so you turn away from your crew members and start walking, each step deliberate and careful, your hand clutched safely within san’s while he retraces your steps from today
and when san deems you two far enough and out of immediate danger of being caught, he pulls the cromer out of his shirt to use as a makeshift torch
you both make a run for it
when you emerge out of the cave’s entrance hours later, thighs burning from the strain, you almost stumble to your hands and knees from the blinding brightness of the afternoon sun
san tightens his hold on you and urges, “this way, love”
together, you climb the outcrop on the left and disappear further into the mountains because you can’t afford to rest near the cave
few words are exchanged as san nimbly navigates the rickety ledges and overgrown roots, muscles flexing as he pushes forward and helps you with an extended hand
you realise soon after that whilst he leads you two away from the cave, he travels parallel to the edges of the mountain trees - a guideline that keeps the long port of the island just within sight
“san,” you finally break the silence to point towards an overhang you spot, “we should take a break”
he’s sweating from exertion and lack of sleep, so he nods with a grateful smile and leads you towards it
the rock provides a decent amount of shade and conceals you two well enough with the surrounding greenery
only when he sits with a sigh does he finally let go of your hand after hours of holding on
you know that he’s one for constant physical affection, but this…this feels different
it’s like he’s afraid that you will slip away the moment he lets go of you
you turn to look at him
“san, what exactly is going on?”
he’s quiet
he doesn’t know how to tell you - is there even a way to package his next words prettily?
letting out a stuttering breath, san puts it blankly on the table, “i saw you die in my arms”
you’re stunned into silence and your throat feels even drier than before
“was it…” you dare to ask, “was it going to happen in the cave?”
he nods, “i just suddenly saw it and it felt so real. it- it was dark and wet and the smell - the smell was just awful and-”
“hey, hey, san. it’s okay, we’re not in the cave anymore,” you soothe, pressing your forehead to his
you feel him relax under your touch before he tilts his head to kiss your lips
“yeah,” he sighs against you, “you’re right”
when you pull away, the faint glow under his shirt catches your eyes
“why did you bring the cromer?”
if it had only been you and san missing from the crew, taesung might not have bothered going after the two of you
but with the missing cromer too, the captain will spend the rest of his life tracking it down - tracking you two down - if that’s what it will take
taesung isn’t stupid enough to just let go of the cromer and the inexplicable power it holds to travel between dimensions
san shimmies the hourglass out of his shirt and holds it carefully in his hands, “i need a fail-proof safety net, just in case something goes wrong and…i still don’t end up saving you”
“a safety net?” an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach, “san? what are you not telling me?”
he runs his fingers along the metal casing over and over again as he avoids looking at you
“i…i’ve used it before,” san finally admits, “i used the cromer to bring you back to life”
without thinking, you blurt, “it’s only meant for travelling between dimensions. nobody knows what the repercussions are if you try to mess with fate!”
“well, i did it.” he snaps, “you’re here, alive, and i would do it again and again to save you”
at his words, you soften
because san didn’t just see you die
he lived through seeing you die
you can’t even begin to imagine if you had been the one to experience san die in your arms
“i’m sorry,” you apologise. “thank you for saving me, and for loving me”
san’s eyes are red when he looks at you, “i’m sorry, too, for snapping at you. i know this is a lot for you to process”
you shake your head with your own watery smile
“i’m alive, and i promise i’ll stay alive”
“and i promise i’ll keep you alive,” he nudges your cheek with a playful peck
you laugh, because san makes you happy even in the most uncertain of times, and you ask, “what’s the plan now?”
“find a ship that’s willing to get us the hell out of here”
he makes a move to stand and you place your hand on the ground to push yourself up to your feet too
except your hand shifts with your weight and you end up cutting your palm open on the sharp edge of the rocks
hissing, you draw your hand back towards your chest
“shit, let me have a look,” san drops to his knees and takes your hand in his
he gently blows away the soil and rubble around your wound as you wince
it’s nothing too serious, but it’s deep enough that blood immediately begins to pool in the broken skin and seep further out onto your palm
the glow of the cromer pulses
“san,” you start when you see the cogs moving in his head
he removes one hand to pull the cromer out and presents it to the both of you
“i’m not losing you to infection from a cut, not after everything that we’ve done so far to get to here,” he quips
there’s only time to let out an exasperated sigh before he’s taking your good hand to turn the cromer together
your world goes white
the next moment when you open your eyes after blinking, you’re still there resting under the overhang in the mountain forest
san’s sitting next to you, the only sign of the cromer a faint glow under his shirt
and your hand…
there’s no cut
your head whips towards san and his eyes widen when he sees the unbroken skin of your palm
san makes a move to stand, but this time, he gathers your hands and pulls you up with him
“it worked,” you breathe out once you’re on your feet
“it worked!” san repeats, engulfing you into a crushing hug
the amount of relief he feels is uncontainable, because the cut is reassurance that he can change fate with the cromer
in high spirits, san tucks it back into the safety of his shirt after wrapping it in a length of sash and then he secures it snugly under his belt
you two need to look the part of inconspicuous travellers, and a glowing hourglass would most definitely draw unwanted attention
you and san cut through the back streets and alleyways of the small village that separates the mountain and the coast, keeping an eye out for not only your crew members - or ex-crew, you suppose - but also the members of the horizon
“remember,” san whispers into your ear as you both approach port, “if anyone asks, i’m your husband and we’re travelling merchants”
you’re too nervous to answer but you nod anyway, letting san take the lead once again
with the confidence of somebody most definitely not lying, san strides up to a sailor who is yelling at his men to load the crates faster and spins a story right out of his ass
somehow, san manages to concoct a convincing recount of how your goods were stolen by thieves, leaving you both without any means of making money, so now you are left with no choice but to go back to your hometown which happens to be on the way to the ship’s destination, which you know because you overheard the sailors talking earlier
when the sailor glances in your direction, you try to nurse your expression into one of simultaneous distress and gratitude in hopes of selling the story even further
he simply stares at the both of you and you think that he’s going to turn down your request, but then the sailor gives a sweet smile and extends his hand out in greeting, “daeho. welcome aboard”
that’s how you and san find yourselves in the ship’s hold, legs crossed side by side on the wooden floor and surrounded by a multitude of crates and barrels
neither of you realise that you’re holding your breaths and it’s not due to the stale air in the poorly ventilated hold
only when the shout of “anchors aweigh” is heard and the ship slowly starts to pull away from the dock do you finally relax, the feeling of hope slowly seeping into your bodies
because all that’s left now is to wait for the ship to dock at the next port and then you and san can disappear and start a new life
at the notion of safety, your stomach finally calls for attention with a grumble
san teases, “sounds like someone needs a bit of food,” just as his stomach answers with a growl of its own
you break out into laughter and pull him up with you to snoop inside the crates for something edible
lifting the lid to one of the crates, you peer inside to find what looks like a layer of burlap
you reach down with a hand to remove the covering and dig deeper, only to jerk your arm back when you feel the burning pain of a cut
“oh fuck, what?” you hiss as you look into the crate again, “why the hell are there so many knives?”
san is beside you within a split second, already turning you around to cradle your hand in his
the cut extends across your palm and there’s something sickening yet eerily familiar about the way the blood rapidly starts to pool and seep past the broken skin
goosebumps spread across your body when it hits you
“san,” you look up at him with a trembling voice, hardly audible over the pounding of your heart, “it’s the same cut”
his eyes bore into yours with reflected horror when your words sink in
because if it really is the same cut, then that means-
san’s attention suddenly shifts to behind you and that’s the last thing you register before your head explodes with blinding pain
your world turns black.
there’s a ceaseless hammering in your skull when you regain some semblance of awareness and it takes all of your willpower not to let the throb drag you back into unconsciousness
you open your eyes with a groan, trying to clear your vision, only to find san still out cold on the floor beside you
you scrabble closer towards him and brush his fringe out of his eyes
“san,” you shake him a little, “san, wake up”
his mouth tightens into a grimace as he’s slowly brought back to consciousness at the sound of your voice
“fuck…they hit hard,” he props himself up with another curse before he asks you in a panic, “are you hurt?”
you start to shake your head but then think better of it, “my head hurts like a bitch, but i’m okay”
san pulls you into his chest and wraps his arms around you
you let yourself sink into the safety of his embrace, pretending that everything is okay even if just for a moment
“i’m sorry, i’m so sorry,” san repeats the apology into the crown of your head
you can’t do anything but return hushed whispers of comfort and hug him tighter
a sudden clang draws you out of his arms as you both turn in the direction of the sound
that’s when you realise you’re no longer in the hold
you’re in a cell
the brig of the ship is much darker and the air is suffocatingly musty from the lack of ventilation and the perpetually damp floors and walls
damp from what exactly, you really don’t want to know
you hear the heavy thud of boots amplifying as the person approaches your cell, your eyes straining to make out their face in the dark
they squat in front of your bars
the sweet smile on daeho’s face makes him look crazed now and you shrink back to put some distance between you two
“did you have a good rest?” he asks, sounding genuinely curious
at san’s seething growl of anger, daeho raises his hands up in faux surrender and states, “i just want the cromer”
“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” san glowers
the other man wriggles his fingers at san’s waist, “you’re not very good at hiding it in your shirt”
almost as if it knows it is being talked about, the cromer flashes from under the layers of cloth
“why didn’t you just take it from us earlier,” you bite out
daeho clicks his tongue with a disappointed smile, “but then where’s the fun in that?”
he stretches a hand out and waits with his palm upturned just outside of the cell bars
“now give it to me,” he demands
san stares in retaliation, not once looking away as he slowly reaches for the cromer
he takes it out of his shirt and unwraps the sash from around it, then starts to extend the hourglass out towards daeho’s hand
as you watch with bated breath, you notice the subtle tightening of san’s grip around the metal casing and you realise he intends to flip it
except you’re not the only one who comes to the same conclusion
you see the exact moment the facade drops from daeho’s face and is replaced by his true derangement
the hand by the pistol at his side starts to move
but so do you
this time, everything turns red as the scorching heat of pain paralyses your entire body
the cromer falls to the floor at the same time as you do
from outside the cell, daeho laughs viciously, but it’s drowned out by the agonising cry that comes out of san’s chest
san desperately gathers you in his arms, hands pressing against the bullet hole to stem the blood flow
but there is so much blood
it’s everywhere
the ground digs into his knees and he’s wet and sticky from your blood but also from his own tears and there are so many tears and even with the pungent smell of iron in the air he can still smell the mustiness of the cell and he can’t get enough oxygen into his lungs because god you’re dying
and he’s suddenly struck with the heart-wrenching thought
did he unwittingly condemn you to your own fate?
or is it like the cut on your palm - is he unable to change fate no matter what decisions he makes differently?
the sob that wrenches itself out of san hurts you more than anything
“i love you,” you say, because your words are numbered and you want them all to be san’s
he shakes his head furiously, “shut up, you’re going to be fine”
your words come out effortfully, “please, i want to hear you say it one last time”
“fuck,” san buries his face in your shoulder, “i love you so, so much. i can’t live without you”
he pulls back heartbroken, “i can still change this”
through your waning breath, you reach a trembling hand up to cup san’s jaw
“s-san, don’t do it”
he lets out a racking sob as he shakes his head again, expression marred with agony and torment that you can physically feel in his white-knuckled grasp that covers your own hand
the tears that drip off his jaw become lost to the damp ground
you swallow the metallic taste in your mouth, “the cromer isn’t meant for changing fate.” it hurts to take a breath and you wince as you stutter. “it never goes th- the way you want it to…you know that by now”
san’s voice is broken and pained, “i don’t fucking care. it’s not going to stop me from trying”
he grips your hand even tighter when he starts to feel it fall away from his cheek
it’s becoming tiring to keep your eyes open
maybe you can rest…just for a little bit
san will forgive you, right?
you close your eyes
just for a little while
just until the pain stops
faintly, you think you can feel your body being jostled against something warm
but it’s far away
far away
far
san clutches your limp body as he lets out a primal wail of anguish
you cannot die
you will not die
he snatches the glowing hourglass and flips it with desperation screaming in every cell of his body
and then his world goes white.
mingi
pov: you're the crew's surgeon
you have all the time in the world to yourself
the recent raid was successful - the other vessel had surrendered quickly without putting up a fight and your ship is now well stocked up from the loot of supplies
hongjoong has promised the crew shore leave, a vacation of sorts, and so you and the crew are travelling to port malthov, a haven island for pirates
it’ll take about a week to arrive
and without a foreseeable raid or run-in with enemy vessels, there is no need for your medical duties
which is a good thing, really
but it also means that you have a lot of time
and time is your worst enemy
time is time alone with your own thoughts, time alone with your internal demons, and right now, your mind is a sinkhole of them and you are the very thing being pulled into its depths
you’re sprawled out on the upper deck, arms and legs splayed like a physical manifestation of your efforts to reach the edges of the sinkhole and hold on
you think to yourself that it’s reassuring when you can see blood
because it’s visible, physical, and you can fix it
step one, rinse the area with clean water
step two, disinfect the wound
step three, remove any foreign objects or dead skin
step four, suture as required for nastier injuries
step five, wrap a clean cloth over, under, over, under, then fasten
there’s a procedure and it makes sense
but when it’s invisible, what do you do?
there are no medical diagrams, procedures or journals that teach you how to heal your own hurt
you may be the crew’s surgeon, but you wonder how qualified you truly are if you can’t even fix yourself
the skies are clear today and the sun shines down directly on your exposed skin
it’s uncomfortable but you don’t move, limbs feeling just a little too strung tight to cooperate
you don’t think you have the energy to do much more than to just lie there and exist
and the burn of the sunlight is kind of nice
it tells you that you’re still alive - even if the feeling of living is pain
that’s where mingi finds you twenty minutes later, his face upside down as he leans over to look at your face-
only to very nearly drop a block of wood right onto you
“oh, shit,” he fumbles as the multitude of items he is carrying to his chest falls and clatters onto the deck around your head
you jolt up to save yourself from a bruised forehead and eye him, curiosity well and truly piqued
with a huff, he piles everything in front of you, followed by himself as he sits cross-legged in front of you
he looks suspiciously hopeful and expectant
“can you carve me another dolphin?”
months ago, you had tried carving ornamental animals out of small scraps of wood left over from a hull repair
most of your carvings had turned out hideous and you had tossed them overboard, but mingi had not stopped following you and begging until you gave him one
you could barely even call it a dolphin, but for some reason, he has kept it since like it’s something valuable
“i already made you one,” you start
but he protests, “i lost him!”
you blink
nevermind. maybe not so valuable
“...you lost it?”
you’re not sure whether you’re disappointed or relieved that it’s forever gone to the void
“i lost him, yes. so can you please carve me a new one?”
you blink once more and he looks back at you with wide, pleading eyes
“fine, pass me the knife,” you finally relent
he grins, handing something that feels quite familiar into your outstretched hand
“are these my scalpels?!” you clutch them defensively to your chest. “mingi, i am not carving wood with these”
mingi breaks out into pleased laughter, crescent eyes and gaping mouth as he produces a pocket knife that you can actually use
“you’re ridiculous,” you tell him, setting your medical instruments safely to one side, but you don’t really mean it
you bring the blade of the pocket knife to the edge of the wood and start whittling away
you expect mingi to get up and leave you to your devices, except he doesn’t
he stays and asks you question after question about the carving
which part are you working on now?
how do you shape the tail?
what was the first thing you tried to carve?
if you could carve something else after this, what would it be?
and it goes on for hours - as the wood gradually takes shape of the animal, as the harsh sun lowers and is replaced by the cool breeze of evening
…as mingi fills up your sinkhole and you are no longer grasping at the edges to stay afloat
it happens without you even realising, but he lets you take refuge in him from your own thoughts
and later that night, when the crew are preparing to sleep for the night, mingi will place the newly-carved dolphin at the head of his hammock
he will itch to rummage through the small chest that holds his personal belongings and treasures
he will want to unwrap the small object he has hidden away at the very bottom of his chest and put it side by side with the dolphin
but he won’t, because otherwise you’ll see the two dolphins and realise that he was lying about having lost the first one, so he’ll opt to keep it hidden
mingi thinks that he might even ask you to carve him something else tomorrow
he’ll say that his dolphin needs somebody by its side
what he won’t say though, is that he knows you need somebody by your side
and if he can offer you a few hours of mindlessness while you carve with him beside you, then he’ll ask you to make him a whole aquarium of animals
but that’s tomorrow
for now, he lets you rest on him, and you find that it doesn’t seem quite as hard to exist anymore
because sometimes, even surgeons need their own healers
you don’t have another bad day that week
technically, they’re all still bad days, but they aren’t as bad
but as it is with your luck, it all comes back to drag you underwater when the arriba pulls into port malthov and lowers its anchor
of all days, your head feels foggy, your body feels empty and your lungs feel laboured
you’re not even sad
you’re just…hollow
and the worst part is that you have absolutely no reason to be feeling this way
being up in the crow’s nest for once has given you the perfect vantage point to watch as the majority of the crew precariously run off the gangplank with whoops and hollers, splitting off to explore the town
their excitement is infectious - to everybody but you
instead, you had offered to take over yeosang’s lookout duties so that he could go to the town’s tavern
you’ve already rotted the morning and most of the afternoon away and your stomach grumbles in protest at having skipped both meals
it knows that you probably won’t be eating dinner either
“y/n,” a voice calls out to you from the deck, “are you not going into town?”
you peer over the edge of the nest and find mingi’s small form, his head craned upwards in your direction
“lookout duties,” you simply say
but mingi calls your bluff
“the whole point of shore leave is that we all get time off. captain’s still on board to make sure our ship doesn’t catch on fire or some shit, don’t worry”
when you still don’t make a move, mingi starts to climb up the rigging and you startle to your feet
“heavens, okay, i’m coming down”
he’s banned from rigging duties for a reason
when you land on the upper deck, he looks awfully smug with himself
he asks, “can we go eat seafood? not fish, but like the good stuff”
“since when did you like seafood?”
“always?”
mingi did not always like seafood but you let it slide
he guides you across the gangplank and towards the bustling streets of the town, keeping you tucked closely into his side
almost like he knows you’re feeling more fragile than usual
you two come across a market and he tells you to find a table in the outdoor seating area
when he returns to you after a while, both his hands are stacked with platters of shrimp, some crabs and even a lobster
“mingi, what-?” you break out into an astounded laugh
you can’t even find it in yourself to finish your sentence because it looks like he’s bought enough food to feed half your crew
he sets the plates down in front of you, one by one, until you can barely see the table itself
and you watch, still incredulous, as he picks up a steamed shrimp, meticulously peeling off the shells that he discards onto his plate
…before placing the peeled shrimp onto the plate in front of you
“eat,” he encourages
mingi picks up another shrimp to peel, looking away from you so as not to pressure you
but he can’t help but look and smile widely when you do eventually bring the food up to your mouth and take a bite
it tastes good
shrimp has always been one of the things you miss the most when you’re sailing and as the salty taste of the ocean spreads across your tongue, you start to feel your appetite returning
by the time you’ve swallowed, there’s already another shrimp on your plate, peeled and ready for eating
mingi smiles knowingly when you groan around your next bite
the sun may have already started to disappear into the horizon, but right now with mingi’s plate piling up with discarded shells and yours with juicy shrimp meat, the hollow cavity in your chest slowly filling with warmth, the sun is only just starting to rise for you
and mingi will keep filling your plate until your sun has fully risen into the sky
because sometimes, healing needs the help of an extra pair of hands
the day before your crew is scheduled to leave port malthov, you find yourself sitting on the sandy shores of the coastline, far away from where the arriba is docked
the wind tugs at your hair and the hems of your clothing in the direction of the ocean
you wonder what it would be like to just let yourself go and float along with the wind
your thoughts are interrupted by the soft squeaks of bare feet in the sand approaching you and mingi lowers himself down to sit by your side
no matter where you hide, he somehow always finds you
you give him a small smile when he calls your name in greeting, but it’s all you can really manage to do
it’s hard for you to talk today
but he already knows that
“can i tell you a story?” mingi isn’t really asking you
without waiting for a response he knows you can’t give, he starts to talk
“i don’t think i’ve told you about the time when yunho and i went skinny-dipping at night. i swear we saw the kraken that night”
he has told you this story before
more times than you can count on your fingers and toes combined - to the point where you have some of his exact phrases and expressions memorised
mingi knows he’s told you this story before
but he drones on anyway, adding his usual touches of dramatic flair and exaggerated details - words that he hopes keep you grounded to the spot so that you don’t disappear with the wind
(“did you know that yunho’s chest goes red when he screams in fright?”)
you want to make silly little comments about his silly little story
you want to laugh in harmony with mingi’s own rumbling sounds
except you can’t
it’s like whatever you want to say goes through a paper shredder right before it comes out of your mouth
and mingi knows
but he is willing to take all the time in the world to tape your words back together, shredded piece by shredded piece, until he can make you feel heard and seen
and even if you don’t talk, he is there to do enough talking for the both of you
some things don’t need to be said - he understands either way
because sometimes, healing looks like walking backwards on any progress that’s been made and that’s okay
after all…mingi’s been there before, too
the arriba sets sail again and hongjoong allows the crew one last night of rest before your usual duties resume
the stock of fresh produce and meat won’t last for longer than a couple of days anyway, so you all feast your stomach’s fill of food and alcohol
someone brings out an accordion and you all gather together on the upper deck as jongho sings to the music, background filled with the lively rattling of shared plates and mugs being passed around
the air is chilly but it’s crisp and fresh whenever you take a breath of it into your lungs
where being with the multitude of your crew usually makes you feel lonely, tonight, it feels okay
and from beside you, mingi sings along quietly to the music
his voice is not like jongho’s, which is soulful, emotional and powerful
mingi’s voice is deep, honest and raw as he sings the lyrics to the song of a man who is drowning and yearning to be saved
he looks at you during the last bridge, when the key changes from sorrowful to hopeful and the words tell of a man who is saved by his lover
you smile back at him, genuinely content in this moment
and even if it is only briefly, even if you will still have bad days in the future, you think that today is a good day
because healing takes form in all different ways, and being loved is one of them
maybe one day, mingi will be able to confess that he loves you
when he’s confident that you’ll be able to accept his love
not in the way where he expects you to reciprocate the same feelings for him, no
but in the way where you are able to accept the fact that you are worthy of being loved
there are no medical diagrams, procedures or journals that teach you how to heal your own hurt
but you have mingi and he is making one for you
it’s written with the ink of love on the very pages of his own heart and he will not stop writing until the day you are well and truly happy
and even if it takes forever?
well
mingi’s got a huge fucking heart
and it’s all yours
wooyoung
pov: you find a stowaway on your ship
“we’re headed off course again”
“again?” you look at your helmsman with furrowed brows
yunho nods, sighing out his next words, “i can’t get a read on north. the needle keeps flickering”
you look at the compass that’s mounted at the helm and true to his words, the tip of the arrow seesaws back and forth over the cardinal point
a quick glance down tells you that the newer compass you’ve got in your pocket is also behaving in the same manner, needle twitching despite the practised steadiness of your hands
so you know for sure that it’s not a fault in the instrument at the helm itself
but even if it were to be faulty, you would never replace it
not when it’s one of the only things you have remaining of your parents after they perished at sea
“maybe we should ask him,” yunho suggests, beckoning his head towards the deck
although seonghwa hums thoughtfully, having joined you both at the helm mid-conversation, you look at him incredulously
“you trust that person?”
yunho shrugs, “it’s not like he’s given us a reason to not trust him”
well
considering said man had been found stowing away in the cargo five days after your ship had left alcarres, who then also tried to plead for mercy by reasoning that he was ‘valuable’, you think that there’s plenty of reasons to not trust him
yunho rectifies his argument once he sees the pinched expression on your face, “as in, since we’ve found him on board”
you close your eyes and exhale
admittedly, yunho has a point
and there’s been one too many times where the man has flippantly suggested navigational changes or casually observed shifts in the winds and waters - which all turned out to be accurate - for it to be sheer luck
you open your eyes and call out to the upper deck
“stowaway”
yunho winces as seonghwa chides you with a slight elbow to your side at your choice of name, or lack thereof
said man looks at you from where he’s helping san and yeosang swab the deck, mouth tightening with wariness
the last time you had spoken the same word, it was along with an order to throw him into the brig with his wrists bound behind his back
but considering that that was the extent of his punishment for stowing away on your ship and he is now mingling amongst your crew with minimal security measures on your orders too, really, he’s gotten off scot-free
the stowaway approaches the quarterdeck with hesitant steps
you jerk your head towards the helm, “help yunho navigate the rest of the way to vlasgar. just until we can dock and work out what’s wrong with the compasses''
despite the curtness of your order, his face scrunches up into an enthusiastic grin
“of course, captain!”
you’re taken aback by his demeanour because you’re trying to find a reason to distrust him
but he’s not giving it to you
you watch as the stowaway makes himself comfortable against the helm rails and easily slips into conversation and banter with yunho amidst intermittent pointers to adjust the rudder
seonghwa nudges you from behind, “give him a little credit”
you scratch your neck awkwardly before calling out to your helmsman
“keep me updated on the ship’s course”
yunho nods and then you clear your throat, quickly glancing at the stowaway
“and thanks…wooyoung.”
you turn and leave the quarterdeck before you can fully catch a glimpse of the delighted smile the man beams at you
because if he’s not giving you reasons to dislike him, then you’re going to ensure he doesn’t start giving you reasons to like him
except…wooyoung attacks when you least expect it
it’s the night before your crew reaches vlasgar, and true to his claims when he was first discovered onboard, wooyoung has proven his value by navigating your ship through the waters without the aid of the malfunctioning compass
his innate sense for shifts in the wind and waters, combined with his understanding of celestial navigation and use of dead reckoning has meant that he is extraordinarily precise with his route
honestly, he’s freakishly accurate to the point where it’s a little unsettling
at least that’s what you tell yourself
you and hongjoong have given the crew the night off from their usual duties in preparation for a few busy days of maintenance and intel-gathering once your ship docks at vlasgar
wooyoung offers to cook in the galley and whip up a meal as fancy as he can from the select ingredients on board
you don’t have a good reason to deny him, not when the rest of your crew looks at you with eager faces at the thought of a meal that isn’t just the usual salted meat, so you send mingi along to help him locate the ingredients
also to keep an eye on wooyoung to ensure he isn’t using this as an opportunity to poison your crew, but you’re not about to admit that aloud
and that’s exactly when wooyoung chooses to attack
he attacks your heart with his cooking
granted, the standards are rock bottom, but wooyoung utilises a deadly combination of rosemary, thyme and bay leaves to prepare a hearty broth with preserved beef
he serves hardtack on the side to be softened and eaten with the broth, and jongho even manages to catch a few fish that wooyoung then scores and grills with lemon slices over the fire
mingi must also be in good spirits because he takes out the reserve of dried fruits and nuts that he’s usually pedantic over and allows wooyoung to arrange them artfully in a wooden bowl as nibblers to go with the profusion of rum that will inevitably be downed tonight
the impressive spread of food is placed on the upper deck where the entire crew sit in a rough circle together
you take one bite into the beef and curse without realising
“fucking hell, what did he put in this?”
wooyoung freezes mid-spoonful across from you in the circle
realising your words sound petrifying without context, you awkwardly amend them with your eyes glued to your bowl, “i could eat this every day,” before shoving another spoon of broth into your mouth to shut yourself up
there’s a chorus of teasing oooh’s at your words and somebody sing-songs, “captain likes youuu-r cooking”
“i don’t,” you scoff, completely ready to bite the bait and engage in this childish argument
but it’s him who comes to your defence
“it’s not my cooking, it’s just the spices that make a difference,” wooyoung insists
then he’s gesturing to the grilled fish and telling everyone to try, diverting the attention away from you
you accidentally make eye contact with him and initially flicker your eyes away out of embarrassment, but when you chance a peek back at him he’s still looking at you, his expression uncharacteristically calm and gentle when usually all you can hear these days is his raucous laughter bouncing across the deck
…not that you can recognise his laughter or anything
you stare at each other for a few more seconds before you lift up your bowl of beef broth and give him a little smile
you leave it up to him to interpret it however he wants
and just before you look away, you see the apples of his cheeks rounding with elation
wooyoung’s potentially earned himself a few points with his cooking (and perhaps with his unfailing happiness too), but maybe you’re just looking for excuses as to why you’re allowed to like him now
when you decide to take a walk in town long after midnight, your quarters having felt stuffy ever since you’d docked at vlasgar, you’re surprised to find that you’re not the only one still awake
“i’m going out for some air and maybe a drink, did you want to come?”
hongjoong shakes his head, “hwa’s gone out too, i’ll stay behind”
you pause, wondering whether it’d be rude if you didn’t extend the invitation to wooyoung, considering he’s literally two feet away
“what about you?” you end up offering
wooyoung excitedly hops up to his feet, “yeah, i’ll come with”
to your own surprise, you find that you’re not particularly disappointed by his response
the streets of vlasgar are empty, considering the late hour, and your leather shoes clack in unison against the cobblestones as you walk together
you’re not really sure what to say to fill the silence but wooyoung easily talks about anything and everything and you’re content to just listen
your feet eventually take you towards a small alehouse and you both settle down at one of the tables further away from the live music playing
the oil lamps flicker dimly along the wall, casting small dancing shadows on the surface of your mugs of ale
“my father never liked the taste of ale,” wooyoung suddenly muses after a swallow
you note the use of past tense
“is he…still around?” you ask tentatively
he makes a noise of refutation, the quietest he’s been tonight, before he reveals, “he took his own life”
“oh, wooyoung,” you breathe out
he curls his hands around his mug, “it’s already been two years, but it still hurts”
in a moment of empathy, you gently place your hand over his
your tone is bitter when you reply, “time doesn’t mean that it hurts any less, it just gets easier to pretend that it doesn’t”
he looks up at you, surprised by the touch of your hand but also by the sorrow reflected in your eyes
“have you also lost somebody?”
you nod at his question
“my parents,” you hesitate before adding, “their ship got swept under a rogue wave, the same night it turned into a tidal wave that destroyed the city of light”
wooyoung looks at you with wide eyes, “the one along the north coast? six- no, seven years ago?”
there’s not a single person who doesn’t know about it; when an apocalyptic wave had wiped out an entire city overnight
he places his other hand over yours when you nod again, creating a sandwich of comforting hands in the shared experience of loss and grief
you smile wistfully and he returns it
“well now that we’ve exchanged childhood trauma, care to tell me the real reason why you were on my ship, stowaway?” you half-joke
wooyoung laughs, each breath a pronounced cackle of joy, and you find the corners of your lips pulling themselves upwards too
“i’m being chased by a lunatic who’s out for my blood,” he deadpans
“that would have been nice to know before i let you join my crew”
wooyoung grins wickedly, “i’m part of your crew?”
“i’m definitely rethinking it,” you banter before you add on seriously, “only if you want to be”
he pulls his hands back to salute you loudly, “it would be my honour to be your human compass! jung wooyoung at your crew’s service!”
“shut the fuck up!” you hiss in embarrassment, but there’s no bite to your words and you’re laughing into your own hands
you tip back the remains of your ale and then beckon to wooyoung, “let’s head back, shall we?”
“yeah,” he gives you a dazzling smile
he pushes his chair back to stand up and you head towards the doors together
just as you walk past one of the tables, a man abruptly stands up and knocks into wooyoung’s shoulder harshly
your hand flies out to steady him as the man stares at wooyoung, then turns to leave without another word
“what’s his problem,” you mutter angrily. “are you okay?”
wooyoung reassures you with a placating squeeze to your arm before leading you out of the alehouse
as you retrace your steps back to the ship, you pass by a rickety stall that makes you falter
the wood of the table is rotting and standing on its last legs and there’s a roughly thatched roof propped up above its goods
even though the stall is enshrouded by the shadows of the clouded moonlight, you still wonder how you missed it on your way to the alehouse, considering it’s the only stall along the empty street, and with a vendor, no less
there’s an old woman bearing the burdens of living across her skin and in her posture, sitting hunched on an equally as weathered crate beside the table
you’re drawn towards it - by its ambience, seller or the familiar instruments lain on the table, you don’t know
the woman’s head is covered by a dusty shawl but you don’t miss the way her eyes bore beadily into wooyoung as you both approach
you reach out and skim your fingertips across the cool brass of the compasses on the table
a frown adorns your face when you notice there’s something strange about all of them
like the compass in your own pocket and the one mounted on your ship’s helm, the needles all swing indecisively over the north point, as if some unknown force is meddling with the magnetic field of the earth itself
you let out a little scoff of disbelief, “they’re all useless”
with a final glance at the table, you and wooyoung start to walk off
but then a raspy voice beckons at your backs, a ghost of a hand that tickles the hair on the nape of your necks, “the only time a compass is useless is when you have something better nearby”
unable to ignore the sensation, you look over your shoulder, “what do you mean by something better?”
a toothless smile; one that appears to know a secret that it doesn’t want to let you in on
“true north”
her cryptic answer alone is enough to tell you that you’re wasting your time
she doesn’t say anything else when you walk off for good this time after bidding her a tight-smiled farewell, not that you would have stopped either way if she did
wooyoung hurries to catch up to you
as he falls into step with you, he asks, “do you believe what she’s saying?”
“of course not, it doesn’t make any sense,” you glance at the tavern you’re walking past, telling you that the port is close now. “how can you have true north?”
wooyoung’s brows knit together, “well, there’s that old legend that says true north isn’t actually a direction, but a-”
he’s cut off by an amused voice behind you both
“so it really is you…jung wooyoung”
when you turn around, you’re met with the sight of a man donning a long, velvet coat and buckled shoes - articles of clothing very obviously pirated from the wealthy
it’s evident that he and wooyoung are acquainted in one way or another, but from the way wooyoung’s face loses its colour, they’re acquainted in a bad way
immediately, your hackles are raised
the man’s tone is saccharine as he continues, “when one of my men said that they had spotted you, i didn’t believe him”
“what do you want?” you snarl at the same time wooyoung murmurs next to you, “it’s the lunatic. jang hyunsoo”
hyunsoo cocks his head as he stares you dead in the eye, “i want him. dead.”
your face darkens, unwilling to back down, “and why are you so intent on killing him?”
“oh?” he raises an eyebrow in delight at your answer. “you must not know who he truly is”
sick of his bullshit, you reach down towards your belt to unsheath a throwing dagger and hold it in front of your body, “i don’t care who the fuck he is. he’s my crew member and that’s all that ma-”
“he’s the man that the legends speak of. blessed by the sea gods, bearer of the oceans’ wisdom - jung wooyoung is true north”
those two words again
you don’t understand why everyone you come across today seems to be so fixated on the idea of…
suddenly, you remember.
legends tell a story of true north - not a direction pointing to the earth’s axis, but a person
a man blessed by the gods of the sea with the power to be all-knowing when it comes to the waters
he possesses the innate ability to navigate without use of any instruments or celestial bodies; the wisdom of which passageways and courses to sail; the subconscious understanding of mother nature and her elements
the powers are passed down through his bloodline for generations, but the blessing does not stay sacred for long
human greed and coveting eventually lead to the murder of the bearer of true north at the time, and the powers are transferred to the murderer, permanently staining the bloodline and commencing the paradoxical cycle of sinning for a blessing
however, this does not go unpunished
the gods of the sea are enraged and in their uncontainable wrath they cause-
your memory ends there no matter how hard you try to recall the rest of the legend
wooyoung interrupts
“if you kill me, there’s no guarantee you’ll survive the consequences,” he tries to reason with the other. “just have a look at how close we are to sea”
you’re lost but hyunsoo sneers, “it’s not your power that i’m hungry for. it’s only fair that i spill your blood, after your father spilled the blood of my family”
at the mention of his father, wooyoung growls, “what the fuck do you think you’re saying”
“how do you think your father became true north? or better yet, let me jog your memory,” hyunsoo’s expression becomes hauntingly blank, “what happened seven years ago that wiped out a whole city because the sea gods had been angered?”
your breath hitches as you involuntarily whisper, the remaining piece of the puzzle slotting into memory, “...a tidal wave”
“yes,” he acknowledges your words but keeps his eyes drilling into wooyoung, “because true north - my father - was killed”
as were your parents by extension of the consequences
“killed by my father,” wooyoung concludes, voice frail as everything rapidly starts to reveal itself
one more revelation makes him look at you with a face of horror and remorse, “y/n…your parents…”
without hesitation, you push aside your own anguish for him
“wooyoung,” you warn, “it’s not your fault”
because you see it
the very moment his eyes start clouding over as he willingly takes on the burden of guilt wrongfully left behind by his deceased father - the same guilt that eventually took the man’s own life
wooyoung, who, with a heart and soul too pure, would rather take the blame himself than to push it onto somebody else
you step in front of him, knife raised in protection
because despite your best efforts, wooyoung had not only secretly stowed himself away on your ship but has also secretly stowed himself away in your heart
“what are you doing?” he tries to tug you behind him
there’s a teasing lilt in your voice as you stand steadfast, “stowaway, you’ve ruined navigating for me now - made it too easy for me and the crew. so you better fuckin’ take responsibility and be my compass for as long as i sail”
“how touching,” hyunsoo coos patronisingly before he draws the cutlass from his sheath, “looks like i’ll just have to kill the both of you”
you don’t stop wooyoung this time from stepping up to stand by your side, his own hands armed with dual daggers and his demeanour now iron-willed to fight
because if you’re prepared to fight for him, then wooyoung is prepared to fight twice as hard for you
tonight, either hyunsoo dies, or you both go down trying
the tension in the air is punctuated only by the slight scrape of your soles as you and wooyoung lower your stances and shift further onto your front feet
you had never believed in the sea gods until now, but you pray that they’re watching over you both
and indeed they are
they answer your prayers in the form of a deafening gunshot in the nearby tavern
hyunsoo flinches at the sudden commotion - only slightly, but the distraction in attentiveness is more than enough
now.
as you and wooyoung leap forward together in unison, weapons raised, the needles in your hearts’ compasses waver for one final time before they settle and point resolutely in one direction
your needle at wooyoung; wooyoung’s needle at you
because compasses will always point at true north and that’s exactly what you are to him and him to you
each other’s true north
jongho
pov: you're a mermaid who saves him
you follow the shadow of the ship’s hull, gliding effortlessly through the waters
you know that you shouldn’t be following so closely but it’s hard to refuse the temptation that comes hand in hand with storms
there’s a chance that vessels will toss cargo overboard as a last-ditch effort to save their ship from sinking
and if you’re really lucky, the vessel might sink entirely and you’ll be able to spend the next few days rummaging its ruins, scavenging for shiny treasures and intriguing objects
besides, what’s the worst that could happen?
no sailor or pirate in their right mind would think to cast a fishing net in this weather
you only have your carelessness and recklessness to blame, but regret won’t change anything about your current situation
you feel the strange lurch in your stomach as the fishing net you’re trapped inside is pulled out of the water, up along the side of the ship’s hull, until it levels with the gunwale
there’s someone standing there waiting
his face is still rounded and limbs still gangly with the telltale signs of youth
the fish around you jerk around desperately, a physical manifestation of your terror, while you lock eyes with the young teenager and grip at the net with white-knuckled fists
you are at his complete mercy
he stares in shock at your form, until you beg a single word
“please”
immediately, he draws a small pocket knife and starts to frantically cut through the net
there’s another questioning voice from somewhere on the deck that you can’t make out the words to, but from the way the boy in front of you picks up speed, you’re seconds away from being discovered
“come on, come on, come on,” the boy mutters through gritted teeth
there’s a slight jerk as he cuts through the strands of flax and a few fish slither their way out, the hole starting to become bigger
he lets out a hiss of pain when he accidentally slices through his own hand in his haste
but even then, he does not stop or falter
and then you hear it
the ripping of the material when the weight of yourself and the other fish tear the remainder of the net
you plummet into the ocean
and the last thing you see before the world above becomes blurred by the waters is the boy’s wide eyes peering over the ship’s edge as he watches you fall
jongho struggles to adjust his centre of gravity as the ropes stutter underneath him
he chances letting go of the rigging briefly with one hand so that he can wipe the rain out of his eyes, which is pouring down incessantly and obscuring his vision
overhead, the top sail continues to billow and flap in an angry dance as the rapidly shifting winds tangle it further
he swallows thickly and grips the rigging once again
he needs to climb up and untangle the damned sail, fast
one hand extending outwards to grab the running rigging, jongho supports himself on shaky legs so that he can unfurl the twisted edges of the sail from around the ropes
it’s difficult enough having to chase the mocking flits of the canvas in the gale, but it’s fucking hellish with the added lurching and pitching of the ship as it’s battered by the swells of the sea
he finally manages to get a good grip on the sail and tugs hard, feeling it give way and flush full as it catches the wind properly now that it’s free
except the force of it sends the material swelling right in his face and he slips
by some saving grace, the combined movement of another colossal wave sends his body careening through the air in a wide arch
he does not land on the upper deck in a heap of broken bones
instead, he plummets into the ocean
and the last thing jongho sees before he loses consciousness is the shimmer and flick of a tail
your body reacts instantaneously to the sudden intrusion of something plunging into the waters in front of you, your tail swishing to increase your distance
for a brief second your heart seizes up in fright at the thought of a harpoon
but then you see it - see him
apart from the young teen who had freed you years ago, you have never seen a human up close before
and certainly not one in the ocean; in your home
there is something about the man before you that is beautiful yet haunting
it is as if time and gravity have warped his very existence
you see a weak flail of legs, a desperate hand reaching for the surface, floating tendrils of hair, but even in the face of approaching death, his movements appear slow and graceful in the water
as the pockets of air and bubbles of foam dissipate from around him and cruelly escape upwards without him, the man stills - grand and slow as his form steadily starts to make a descent towards the sandy bottom of the ocean
in folklore amongst your merpeople, humans are as swift, sure and savage on land as they are aboard their monstrous vessels
and yet, watching the ethereal existence of this man before you, you realise that once humans are underwater, they are at the complete mercy of mother nature and her beings
you gingerly swim closer
when you wrap your arm around the man’s limp body, his skin is warm under your fingertips
you’re reminded of the fact that he is at your complete mercy
and so you swim.
the moment jongho regains consciousness, his chest involuntarily contracts in an attempt to take a huge, stuttering breath
he curls onto his side instead, one hand scrabbling in the wet sand and his other arm crushed between the ground and his upper body as he hacks up his lungs with retching motions
the salt water burns even more coming back up than it did going down and his eyes sting with tears
when the convulsions cease, jongho closes his eyes and rests his forehead against the cool sand, trying to regain his breath-
and bearings
the jarring clarity has him sitting up abruptly as he tries to recall where he is and what he’s doing
there was the storm
the tangled sail
him climbing up the riggings
falling down, down, down
and then…
you
your eyes widen when the man’s unfocused gaze suddenly sweeps the waters and lands on the small part of your face that is exposed and peering at him
instinctively, you duck underwater, the notion of hiding your existence from humans ingrained into you
but even though he only sees a glimpse of you, jongho would recognise you from anywhere
it’s hard to forget when he’s kept his eyes peeled on the waters since that day, hoping to see you once again
he can’t believe that the mermaid he once saved would end up being his saviour
but he guesses that’s what people call fate - an alignment of miracles
he glances around at his surroundings to find himself in the safety of a small cove
you dare to emerge your curious eyes again when you see the form of the man stand up with his gaze on the sand, seemingly in search of something
he fumbles along the edge of the coast, reaching down several times to grasp things too small for you to discern
it seems that he becomes satisfied with what he has found, because he then sets them all down in the wet sand - right where the tide kisses the shore in a teasing game of chase - and takes several steps backwards so that he is no longer close to the waters
the man scratches the back of his head as he gestures vaguely to the pile, appearing to want to say something before thinking better of it and turning around to pick at the driftwood further inland
you wait, trying to gauge his actions
but when it becomes clear to you that he is not attempting to catch you off guard, you cautiously swim closer to shore
you are able to rest your forearms comfortably on the shoreline’s sand from how close you get
and then you see it
a small pile of glossy pebbles and patterned shells
a peace offering of pretty things he could find that he thought you might like
you duck under the water again, but this time to hide your shy smile as opposed to an act of instinctual self-preservation
jongho looks at the hefty pile of dried wood that he has gathered in the meantime, deeming it enough to keep a fire going for the inevitable night he will have to spend at the cove
he’s tried his hardest not to look out to the waters, wanting to gain your trust
but he can’t help it this time when his eyes are drawn to the little mound of his sincerity in the sand
…only to find it untouched, and you nowhere to be seen
he tries not to feel disappointed
after all, you have no reason to trust him
so he sets his mind on starting a fire before the sun sets completely instead, trying to ignore the growing dryness in his throat
when he finally nurses a spark into a flame an hour later, jongho almost misses it in his fatigued state
but it’s unmistakable when he walks closer
gone is his own pile of pebbles and shells
in its stead is a jumbled collection of broken combs, rusted locks and a glass bottle
a peace offering of peculiar things you had found that you thought he might need
jongho doesn’t know it, but as he bends down to carefully gather every gift and safekeep them closer to his fire, he is not the only one with a bashful smile on his face
you tell yourself it’s purely curiosity and displaced familiarity that makes you linger and return to the cove the very next morning
you’re well aware what the risks are if you fall in love with a human
how many stories have you heard of mermaids and mermen alike, falling for a human, only for their love to be unilateral or rejected?
their tails slowly lose their lustre as gradual paralysis takes over until they lose complete control
quite literally drowning within their own body, they eventually sink to the bottom of the ocean to perish with the decaying wreckages of sunken ships…
and the countless corpses of sailors, pirates and other unfortunate souls alike
it’s ironic
no matter how much folklore makes out humans and merpeople to be different, you all end up the same in the face of death; buried in the soil of the earth or buried in the sand of the ocean bottom
side by side
jongho stands in that very ocean right now, sleeves and pants rolled up to keep them as dry as possible as he crouches over with the water up to his thighs
he would try to fashion a fishing hook or harpoon of some sort, but with the possibility that you may be close by in the waters, he doesn’t want to risk using anything that could hurt you
so he resorts to using his bare hands
you’ve been watching from the safety of the water for well over half an hour now, curious and slightly endeared by his clumsy attempts to grab at something
you’re not sure what, but you can see the fish as they dart teasingly through his legs and from out of his reach
for beings that are supposedly apex predators, this human doesn’t seem intimidating at all
so, very cautiously, you swim up closer to him
jongho feels himself freezing at the sight of you approaching - not because he’s afraid of you, but because he’s afraid he’ll scare you away
he holds his breath as you hesitate and linger just out of his reach, then swim up and bump his leg playfully with your tail as you circle around him once
he’s reminded of a puppy wanting to sniff out somebody unfamiliar and his eyes follow your form with rounded fondness
“hi,” he breathes out softly, “i’m jongho”
your tail swishes with sudden movement, splashing him with water and he giggles
you can hear it clearly even from under water and your heart nearly stops
if this man - if jongho - was a siren, the sounds of his happiness would be his song of calling
you want to hear it again
jongho sucks in a breath when you dare to emerge from the water’s surface, presenting him with a fish held carefully between your lips and one more in each of your hands
he’s a little dumbfounded at how easily you managed to catch them as he gently takes the one from in between your teeth
the still-flailing fish in his hands is peppered with two tiny neat rows of puncture holes where you had carefully bitten into it
he finds it so fucking cute, especially when you continue to peer up at him with expectant eyes, wanting to know if it was the fish that he was trying to catch this whole time
he wants to thank you, and not just for the fish
so he fumbles through his words when he asks, “would you like to eat with me? unless…” he trails off, “unless you don’t eat fish because…”
are mermaids technically fish?
did he really just offer you the mermaid equivalent of human flesh to eat?
before jongho can panic and try to salvage the situation, you give him a shy smile and nod
jongho makes a fire as close to the shore as possible without the wood at risk of becoming wet
as he spears the fish onto sticks so that he can hold them over the flames, you gather the courage to slide out of the shallow waters so that you can lay on the damp sand closer to him
whilst you can for short periods, you rarely ever fully emerge out of the waters because you leave yourself vulnerable without the full mobility of your body
but jongho makes you feel safe enough to do so
and he must at least partially recognise the amount of trust you are placing in him because he looks at you in awe, the unveiled beauty of your tail now in full display
your scales are a kaleidoscope of cerulean, mauve and periwinkle, reflecting onto the sand below you in a magical dance with each of your slight movements
he notices that the gradient peters out into shades of salmon and coral the closer the scales are to your waist and he cannot tear his eyes away from you
jongho thinks to himself that you were created by the hands of the sea god, who then named the word beautiful after you
and even then, the word does not seem to do you justice
“why are you staring?”
your voice is simultaneously bashful and teasing, yet jongho is utterly mortified that your first words to him are ones exposing his smitten behaviour
his brain kickstarts in panic and he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind
“if your tail gets too close to fire, will you start smelling like grilled fish?”
for a split second, your expression contorts into one of pure horror, before the absurdity of his question breaks down the remainder of your reservations and you lose yourself in laughter
a pretty blush settles over the round of jongho’s cheeks and then he is also laughing with you
together, where the land and sea unite, the sounds of your shared happiness fill the air
his song of calling chimes melodiously in your heart even as you swim away for the night
but the dangerous thing about a siren’s song is that you don’t realise you’ve become captivated…
until it’s too late
you’re looking down at the object in your hands as you swim for the cove
it’s cream-coloured and smooth to touch, with several blunt tips extending from one side
you’ve always wondered what it is and so you decide to see if jongho will know
you don’t notice the large rock formation jutting out of the seabed until it’s almost right in front of you and at the last second, you flex your tail to manoeuvre yourself around it
except you must miscalculate your distance because you end up grazing yourself on the sharp edges of the rock
it doesn’t puncture your scales but it certainly catches you off guard - your organs and senses work in a way that ensures you never collide into anything so long as you are underwater
so then, why?
you look down and your heart drops
tentatively, you spin around once, eyes never leaving their focus
you realise it’s not a trick of the lighting or the water
your scales have started to lose their shimmer
jongho is beginning to think that you won’t show up today when you finally do, one of your treasures cradled in your hands and a smile on your face that doesn’t quite reach your eyes
(you weren’t going to show up, not after realising that you need to stop yourself from falling further in love with jongho if you want to live, but you decide to be selfish one last time and say goodbye, even if you’re the only one who knows it’s a goodbye)
“what’s that?” he gestures towards your hands with his chin as you slide your upper body out of the shallow waters, leaving your tail to be submerged when the waves come in
you uncurl your fingers with a shrug
“it’s a comb,” he answers his own question as he turns it over in his hand, “made out of animal bone, i think”
you look at him curiously as he sits down, unbothered about wetting his clothes, and you ask, “what’s a comb?”
jongho brings it up to his head and pretends to move it up and down
“you run it through your hair to untangle it”
he pauses as his eyes flicker to your hair then back to your face
“i can…show you how to use it…if you want?” he offers
just once, you’ll allow yourself to get close to him just this once
when you nod and sit up, jongho shifts himself so that he is behind you
you try not to shiver when you feel the heat of his chest enveloping your back as he reaches forward to gently gather the hair from around your face and neck
he steadies your head with one of his hands, the other bringing the teeth of the comb through the slight waves of your hair
his touch is soft and loving in the way he tries not to tug too hard when he encounters a knot
his fingertips skim against you intimately but with an innocence that betrays the fact that he has never brushed somebody’s hair before
you feel your shoulders relaxing into his touch and your eyes close, blissfully - and perhaps deliberately - ignorant to the fading radiance of your body
“are you feeling okay?” jongho’s voice sounds even more alluring when it’s right next to your ear and you can’t help but shudder this time. “you seem paler than usual”
he brings a hand down to your waist and turns you towards him so that he can see you better
you try to formulate an answer, “i…”
i think i’m in love with you
of course, you would never tell him that
but before you can tell him that you’re fine, you become distracted by the glimpse of something on his hand that’s still resting on your waist
a scar
“is that- how did you get this?”
you run your thumb lightly over the taut, white line that runs from his wrist to the knuckle of his index finger
as you’re suddenly reminded of the familiar memory of a teenager with rounded cheeks and gangly limbs, the man beside you with those very same eyes looks at you fondly
“i cut myself trying to free a mermaid from a fishing net”
your gaze is unfocused as you process the information
the effects of the shattering revelation are immediate and a terrifying numbness starts to creep up your tail
because what you didn’t know - what nobody in folklore knew - was that the effects of paralysis and onset of death are accelerated when you fall in love with someone again for the second time
years ago, your heart had been claimed by the young man who had freed you at his own expense
you had managed to survive the heartbreak due to the briefness of your encounter, your paralysis fading and tail regaining its beauty when you never saw him again
but the effects of your unilateral love have not vanished entirely as you and your merpeople have believed it to
they have simply lay dormant like a disease, waiting for the right time to resurface when your feelings are rekindled
and so now it snowballs and gains traction at a speed that cannot be stopped, racing to catch up on the numerous years that you have cheated death where you thought you did not love jongho
“why is your tail turning grey?” the voice of the man you love is pinched with muted panic
you never thought you would ever be afraid of your own tail; your own body
yet, when you look down to see the monochrome advancing up each layer of your scales, you are absolutely petrified
your tail is starting to look like a stone statue and you know it won’t be long until that’s exactly what you become - motionless and unmoving
“y/n! why is your tail grey?!” jongho repeats with a shout, in full blown panic due to your lack of response
you can’t- won’t die in front of him
your lower body is almost deadweight with immobility and you bite back tears as you’re forced to crawl pathetically towards the water with your arms
jongho scrabbles to his feet as he hovers next to you, hands wanting to help but not quite touching you because he’s not sure what’s happening and he doesn’t know what he can do for you and you look like you’re in pain but he doesn’t know why-
“don’t!” you bark out sharply
he freezes in shock
you’re frightened and angry and you want to yell at something, someone, but…
you could never yell at jongho
with a much softer, albeit shaky voice, you tell him, “don’t look for me”
and before you can hear the pained noise that escapes jongho’s lips, you drag yourself back into the water
except a few metres after you’ve submerge yourself, the unthinkable happens
you. cannot. breathe.
you’re drowning.
jongho doesn’t care if you’ll hate him forever, doesn’t care if this is the last time you’ll choose to see him, but he will not just stand and watch when it looks like you are leaving to die alone
his body moves with the decisions of his heart before his mind tells him otherwise
he dives into the water after you
the world distorts around him; a moment of weightlessness as the waters easily shift to accommodate his body; the bubbling sound of air pockets reverberating inside his very skull; the shock of cold that overrides every other bodily sense
jongho forces his eyes open with numerous blinks until he can see you
your form is eerily still, and yet, you remain bewitching
he kicks his legs desperately with one arm outstretched and as soon as you are within reach, he tugs you into his chest
you’re limp to touch, lips slack and parted as if the very essence of your soul is escaping through your mouth
jongho will not let you die
lungs starting to burn and heartbeat pounding in his ears, he presses his lips against yours
a kiss of life-
he closes his eyes
-and love
but you don’t respond
jongho ignores his instincts even as his body screams to part from you and kick upwards for a breath
instead, he moves his jaws to kiss you even harder
and then he feels it
he almost sobs into you when your lips twitch weakly against his
with renewed vigour, you’re sealing your mouth around his bottom lip as you respond, capturing him in a real kiss
below your joined lips, your scales start to bloom with their full brilliance once again
your tail shimmers brighter than before, reflecting intricate patterns of fractals with each slight ripple of the water as you open your eyes to the sight of jongho’s face, beautifully swathed in the incandescence of the rainbow
you can move again
you flick your tail, jongho’s arms still firmly around your waist and you both burst upwards, breaking the water’s surface with spluttering breaths
he desperately treads you both backwards towards the shore even though you can easily hold your own now
“jongho, you-”
he takes one look at you before he cuts your words off and plunges himself back underwater, stunning you into stupor, until he re-emerges with another splutter
“your tail!” he yells with overwhelming relief, face still scrunched as he tries to sweep his fringe up and wipe the water from out of his eyes
“yeah…” voice muted as you process the fact that you’re still alive, “my tail…”
“fuck, you scared me”
jongho’s eyes are bloodshot as they stare into yours, and you know for a fact that they aren’t just red from the irritation of salt water
you bring up a hand to rest it on his chest, right where his heart still thumps rapidly under your touch, and you apologise with a small smile, “sorry…i scared me, too”
he huffs a little before looking at you earnestly
“don’t ever do that again”
the water is now shallow enough that jongho can stand, but it’s deep enough that you can still drift effortlessly
it’s the perfect harmony where land and sea unite; where a human and a mermaid interact
where you, the enchanter, and jongho, the enchanted, find a balance of love
“i won’t,” you promise
on land, humans tell a story of a mermaid who falls in love with a man
a mermaid who is ready to give up her voice in exchange for her happily ever after
but in the sea, merpeople tell a story of a man who falls in love with a mermaid
a man who is ready to give up his life in exchange for his happily ever after
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can you write a smut fic with mike x reader where he eats you out?? thank you!!
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Eating In (It's good for you)
pairing: mike schmidt x afab!reader
summary: mike is a munch always why would i write anything else???
warnings: 18+!!! NSFW!!! MDI!!! oral sex (f!receving), fingering, squirting (kinda?)
word count: y'all already know 1.3k+
authors note: you guys really speak my language. the beginning of this got a lot fluffier than i was expecting lol still filthy though. 18+ content mdi!!! hope you love it anon mwah <333 also pretty sure i flipped flopped between perspectives sorry babies i'm dumb
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it's no secret that mike lives for eating you out. he could live between your thighs if it was up to him, spending hours drawing out those desperate noises from your lips when he does that thing with his tongue that you love.
the feeling of your hands tugging his hair and your thighs tightening around his head because you just feel so good make his eyes roll back in his head every time he thinks about it.
tonight was no exception, but it was a little different.
as soon as the two of you put abby to bed he was on you. pinning you to his bed as you lazily made out, grinding against each other in slow relaxed motions.
“baby,” mike breathes between kisses, “can you do me a favor?”
you hum in acknowledgement, not wanting to pull away from kissing mike enough to reply.
mike chuckles against your lips, breaking the kiss to nip teasingly at your lips. “i want you to ride my face.” he whispers dirtily, licking a stripe over your lips.
mike watched as his request sinks in, your eyes widening and mouth dropping open just a bit. “mike…” you whisper, he can hear the hesitation in your voice. he can’t have that.
“come on baby, please?” he pleads, moving his hands to rub soft circles into your hips. “you’ll love it, baby. i’ll make it so good for you.”
mike can see the moment your pupils completely dilate, fully swallowing your iris’. your chest heaving as your adrenaline kicks up.
after a beat, you nod slowly. your soft “okay” barely audible, mike grins like he just won the lottery.
“well hop on baby,” mike says, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “we don’t have all night.”
mike pulls away, falling on his back on the bed. laying his laced hands on his stomach, waiting patiently for you to give him what he wants.
he waits as you take a steadying breath, gathering up the courage before you rise up and start to shuffle over to him. mikes hungry eyes watch you swing your leg over his lap, making your way up his body.
you stop short, sitting on his stomach with a timid look. mike places two grounding hands on your hips, squeezing them reassuringly.
“you have to tell me if i’m smothering you or something. i don’t need to accidentally kill you.” your hands fidget with the waist of mikes pants nervously.
“what a way to go.” he says wistfully, a dopey grin on his face.
you let out a small laugh, trying and failing to hide your smile. “you’re such an asshole.” you reply, pinching his chest teasingly. your tone is too fond to hold any actual malice. mike laughs back.
finally, you start to shuffle higher up his torso, but he stops you holding your hips in place. “other way, baby.”
it doesn’t take a lot of brain power to understand what he means. you let out a soft moan, a shiver wracks your body. pleasure zings up your spine at how filthy this is.
it’s a little awkward, but you manage to swing your legs around so you're facing the rest of his bedroom, not just the wall. from this angle, you can see how his dick is tenting the front of his loose sleeping pants, a wet spot forming near the tip.
you still only hover over your boyfriend's face instead of truly sitting, scared of hurting him. mike decides not to say anything, too preoccupied with the view directly in-front of him.
“fuck,” mike whispers hotly, staring up at your clothed pussy makes his dick twitch. baby pink lace darkened by how wet you are. he leans up slightly, running his tongue over the rough lace still covering you.
"shit...mike," you shudder, legs trembling on either side of his head.
mike takes his time, laving his tongue over the soaked lace a few times, reveling in your familiar taste, but his patience wears thin. soon enough he's tugging your panties aside to get at what he really wants before returning them to your hips.
mike moans at the sight of your slick pussy, already so wet from his mouth. he can't help but softly run his pointer finger through your folds, gathering your wetness and using it to circle around your clit.
you moan softly, trying your best to be quiet so abby doesn't wake up.
mike stops his fingers assault on your clit, too eager to chase the sight of your convulsing pussy with his mouth, the tip of his tongue sliding easily through your folds. he groans, rubbing his face between your thighs, no doubt covering his nose and chin in the copious amount of wetness leaking from your pussy. he quickly gets lost in the feeling of tasting you, of licking and sucking at your clit making you moan and whine.
"shit!" you exclaim, pitching forward to steady yourself with your hands flat on his chest. the rough feel of his stubble scratching your inner thighs, most likely leaving red marks on the skin there. you hope it'll leave marks, that you'll be able to feel it every time you walk tomorrow, a reminder of what the two of you did tonight.
by now you're white knuckling the front of his shirt as you frantically circle your hips against his face, the bed squeaking quietly under your movements. mike spurs you on with small smacks to your ass, groaning into your pussy with every pass of his tongue over your fluttering hole.
you can feel the vibrations in mike's throat as he fucks you with his tongue, guttural groans making your thighs shake in an attempt to stay upright.
but it's just too much, the onslaught of his tongue making you forget all about your earlier insecurity, and you fully lower yourself onto his mouth too caught up in your pleasure to even hold yourself up anymore.
mike's eyes widen in surprise at you seating yourself on his face, moaning way too loudly at how hot it is to see you lose control.
"fuck! feels so good, mike," you slur, head hanging down to your chest, hair falling around your face. "mph- mike - ah, ah, ah,"
you realize you're going to come like this, riding mike's face like you're starved for it. you can feel it, the warmth settling deep in your belly. flames licking there way up your body.
mike realizes it too apparently, because he latches his mouth over your clit and plunges two fingers into your clenching pussy, thrusting them in and out quickly.
the lewd squelching noises that fill the room make your cheeks burn in embarrassment.
“holy fucking shit! mike fuck!” you moan, trying desperately to control your volume. “i’m gonna come, oh fuck.” mike moans in respines, speeding up both his tongue and fingers.
the combination of mike’s tongue rapidly flicking over your clit and thick fingers expertly hitting your g-spot every thrust pushes you over the edge. one final suck to your clit has you coming all over mike’s face. drenching the lower part of his face in your juices and soaking up the dirty groans mike makes as he sucks up every last drop.
mike pulls away from you clit, and takes his fingers out of your pussy to let you come down from your orgasm. kissing across the inside of your thighs as you shake and tremble above him.
after a few shuddering breaths, you lift up and off mike’s face to collapse onto the mattress next to him. the two of you lay next to each other staring up at the ceiling, panting out wet breaths as you come down.
you turn to mike, his lips are slick and red. lower half of his face shining with your come, eyes half-open and hazy. you lift your hand to trial your finger down his body, making your way to the waist of his sleeping pants riding low on his hips showing off his dark happy trail. your hand slides lower to the ever still present hard-on tenting his pants obscenely, rubbing over his erect dick with purpose.
“your turn?”
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taglist!
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#natalia writes!#natalia cant write anything under 1.000 words#fnaf#fnaf movie#mike schmidt#five nights at freddy's#micheal schmidt x reader#josh hutcherson#mike schmidt x reader#mike schmidt smut#mike schmidt x reader smut#josh hutcherson smut#mike schmidt imagine#mike schmidt x you#fnaf smut#smut
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if ur still taking requests could u do dbf!miguel? :3
he would be a brat tamer, change my mind.
DBF!Miguel O'Hara
(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist
DBF!Miguel O'Hara x fem reader
summary: fucking dbf!mig in a closet at a christmas party <3
warnings: Minors DNI. 18+. Brat taming, PIV, oral (f receiving), semi-public sex. established relationship? idk, this isn't the first time y'all are fucking
a/n: if you squint this is christmas themed. happy holidays everyone!
wc: 1k
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Dbf!Miguel but he has some semblance of a conscience. He has just enough self awareness, the wherewithal to feel guilty as he fucks you - sighing into the crook of your neck as you whine.
And God, do you whine… simpering, breathy little moans that go straight to his cock. The way you squirm underneath him, legs shaking and shivering so he has to dig into the meat of perfect thigh just a bit more; lapping at that dip below your jaw in a frenzy.
“Quiet.” He hisses, grinding his pelvis against yours, pushing your body flat against the wall.
“F-Fuck, Mig… can't–”
When your head tips back, and it will - he's been fucking you long enough to know your tells, to catch every shiver and creak of bones before you come - he'll lick up those moans too.
You keen, fucking back on his length, and Miguel shifts his hips just so - hiking up your leg even higher. With one swift movement, you've wrapped your arms around his shoulders, hand in his hair. He's pulled out, tip of his cock kissing your hole, and then he slams himself back in - a delicious curve that hits just the right place.
“Look at me.” He says it soft, tilting your chin so your noses graze against one another, lips barely a hair's breadth away. “You're close, baby.”
He says it like a statement, so attuned to you in that little coat closet, batting away fur trim and padding. And it's intimate, tits pressed up against him, spilling out of a push up bra under an itchy jumper you wore specifically for him - but of course, you wouldn't dare say as such.
The way your lips press against him is enough, desperate and breathy. He presses the flat of his thumb - deliciously rough, with just the right amount of pressure - against your clit, and your legs buckle under the pleasure that it brings.
“Look at me.” He says it again, crooning and gentle. “Want you to look at me when you come, hermosa.”
Like a dog in heat, what he says, goes; and you're brought to the edge by just his words. Quiet, like he said you should, and you nip at the juncture of neck peeking out from that thickly knit sweater, biting down a moan. It rips through you, bubbling up at your chest, causing you to clamp down on his length.
“Needy girl…. O-Oh fuck….” Miguel whispers it into your ear, holding you close.
Eyes lidded, you trace cheekbone and deep furrows, addicted to the way his dimples look in the low light. And when you tug, hand in his hair and pulling him closer, deeper, milking his cock; he rewards with you with hot cum and a sloppy kiss.
Hips stuttering, eventually he pulls out; tucking his cock back into loose slacks. You're breathless, slumped back onto cool. wall.
“Give me a second…” You huff.
“Here,” He says, wrapping the limp limbs around his shoulders even tighter. “Don't be a brat.”
It’s said without any real venom, quiet protests kissed into skin. He sinks to his knees, using his thumbs to open up your cunt, marvelling at the way you glisten. It makes you hot under the collar, batting him away. Regardless, Miguel persists, swiping his tongue at your pretty hole and taking a careful taste.
You squirm - half-heartedly, with a hand in his hair - as he presses pretty kisses, eating out his cum with a nose at your clit. You're close, tugging That second orgasm, ever elusive, is snatched away.
“Fuck you.” You spit, watching him wipe a hand across stubble as he gets up.
“Watch the attitude. S'why we're here in the first place.”
“No.” Adjusting your skirt, you step forward. If looks could kill, Miguel could give you a run for your money, you realise with a grimace. “We're here because you're a dirty old man.”
He rolls his eyes, arms crossed in the tiny space.
“Someone needs to teach you some manners.” He grunts.
…by fucking you in a coat closet? You raise an eyebrow.
“Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
He doesn't crack a smile, opting for a hand snaked under your skirt instead. Squeezing your ass, he presses you against him and gulps down subsequent moans. You both separate with a wet pop.
He goes to bed with a hand down his pants, fucking his hand to the pictures you send him late at night. But you already know that.
Miguel sighs, watching as you slip out of the little room, smoothing out the wrinkles in your skirt, adjusting a crinkly paper crown. After a reasonable amount of time, he follows the path you must have taken, across the hall and into the dining room, met with a dozen faces milling about.
There you are in the corner, pressing manicured nails to a screen; ignoring the way half the people in the room ogle you: the boss's kid. His chest puffs up, protective. There's a line drawn in the sand, between him and them. When he looks you up and down, traces the curve of thigh disappearing under a too-short skirt…. it's different, he thinks.
As if you can hear his thoughts, you look up. Catching his eye, he doesn't miss the way your thighs squeeze together, nor how you shift your red sweater to hide a blossoming bruise.
Good. You're learning.
Your dad asked him to take care of you - preening and dithering despite the fact you were grown; definitely not his wide eyed little girl. Spoilt rotten, sure. But Miguel will do anything to keep you safe, even if that means a few... corrective measures.
_
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#miguel o'hara x reader#across the spiderverse#miguel o'hara#miguel o hara x reader#spiderman 2099#kat_writes😼#miguel o'hara smut#dbf!miguel
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"ʙᴀʙʏ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ"
⋆˚ Sat at the dining table with both families, normally they would be arguing but they finally agreed on something, that they needed a heir to carry on the bloodline, being only child's of the respected families, you two had the duty of it. You would've objected but you couldn't deny that having a child with your husband wouldn't be so bad, especially the process of making them. - S.Gojo
Smut. M.list. 1.1k Words
"Get off me Satoru" kicking the man's head off your breasts, he was so worked up in the idea of making you a mother he had forgotten how to act. Always swinging an arm around you just to grope your breasts, fortunately he only did this inside the house, but it was bad enough that servants were there. Back to the point, he was begging for your consent to allow him to breed you, he wanted to feel your womb filled up with his seed, excruciating the feeling as he poured more into you, that was his dream. Already pussy drunk as you sat on him, grinding your small frame against his, only creating less friction between you two, the material getting wetter and wetter as your slick folds rubbed against his cock, battling which one of you would loose it first. Breasts smashing into his face as you held onto his shoulders. "Keep your hands to yourself" treating him as a kid as you felt his hands creep towards the hem if your panties. "Come on wifey, We've gotta start somewhere" you hated the nicknames he gave you, 'wife' or 'wifey' it pissed you off, it was like a tick biting into your ear each time you heard those words splurt out of his mouth. A crooked smile appeared on his face as he saw your reaction, a mix of disgust and annoyance.
Ignoring his words as you knew he wanted a reaction you carried on, lips rubbing against length, practically getting every inch and vein since your underwear was so soaked, wanting to get it off at any second. The sound of tearing filling the room, sitting up slightly as you looked down, realising he had just ripped your underwear clean off, the material now in two, sat in the corner of the room. "Satoru!" Slapping his undercut, you knew that would get him going, he was always so sensitive back there. "I'd thought I'd help you" grinning so eagerly, he knew exactly what he was doing. Pushing your hips further down till they reach his pelvis, guiding your body along his dick. "You feel good Satoru" complimenting him before you bit your lip, making sure not to let a moan out. Hands creeping close to your ass, feeling his cock slowly creep up, along with your body, only preparing you for the start.
Tip rubbing against your lips, leaving traces of precum as it leaked all over you, already dribbling down towards his sack, leaving a cooling mess onto your privates. 'Mhmm' hands gripping onto his shoulders, feeling his tip being engulfed by you, only made him want to release already, slowing you down as your body adjusted. His penis taking control as he shoved it through, feeling your walls rapidly take him in only caused some mild aches. "Dumbass" slapping his shoulder again, leaving a pink mark on it, soon to fade but still. Sat fully ontop of him, taking his full width in. His cock was little bigger than average when it came to width, but that was compensated for the length, a good few inches higher than average. "You good?" Smiling at you, the words leaving his mouth only made your nails dig further into his shoulders. Nodding in response, body jerking upwards as his hips moved, hands snaking around your waist, bringing your torso closer, always giving your ass a small slap as some of his dick was revealed.
Bed creaking from how quick he was going, tits smashing into his chest, rubbing all against his chin as he pushed further in, laying down to get a better angle, leaving you sat up, hands resting on his pecs, stroking his nipples, wishing you could put them in your mouth for payback at the start. Fingers creeping close as you nipped it with your nails. A sharp breath relieving from his mouth. "Fuck off Y/N" grabbing your wrist before you tried again. Giggling in his face soon after you saw his reaction. Apologizing with a kiss to his forehead. Head resting onto his shoulders as you felt him, cock rubbing against your walls since he was slightly curved. 'mhmmphm' moaning into his ear, feeling him dig further inside of you. Balls slapping your wet cunt in response. Hands kneading into the fat of your ass, making it jiggle with each slap. "Ya like that?" Teasing you, fingers tracing the handprint left on your ass. "Shut up Satoru" "Yes ma'am" focusing his body back onto his movements, body jerking into his, hand gripping some of your ass to give him better access, oh how much he wanted to stuff your poor cunnie with his seed. Lips wrapping around his base, feeling some of the specks of hair since he was too lazy to shave down there.
"Let's swap positions" throwing you off him as he got up, dick still inching up, hitting some of his happy trail. Dragging you by your ankles till they were off the bed. "You know what to do" you two had done this so many times that it should've been a reflex to wrap your legs around his body. Tip rubbing once again over your lips. Stuffing himself inside, making your body bounce backwards. Feeling his tip rubbing against the top of your walls, leaving a noticeable bulge. Thrusting inside your small hole, giving him a better angle towards your womb. "You sure you want to get pregnant?" Hands rubbing your hips, feeling your walls clench around him, only making him climax sooner. "Cause I feel close" balls slapping your slippery pussy as he sped up.
"I'm sure" confirming as you felt him, quickening his pace to the point that your lower half was starting to hurt, bound to leave bruises by tomorrow. Hands loosing its grip on your body, focusing more on his twitching cock, white liquid pouring out of him. Coating your insides with his seed, only to make it's way up to your womb, filling it up fully as he removed himself, watching it seep out of your poor cunnie. Catching his breath as if he ever lost any, it would only be the first round of many. He had stamina for days, he was the strongest after all, which also applied in the bedroom.
#satoru gojo smut#satoru smut#gojo x y/n#gojou x reader#satorugojo#jjk satoru#gojou satoru x y/n#jjk gojou#jujutsu satoru#gojo smut#satoru gojo#gojo satoru#gojou satoru x reader#gojo x reader#jjk gojo#jujutsu gojo#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚
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Romancing Pandora 1
🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞
A/N: Another event! They just keep coming lol. Anyways, this is my first time writing for this kink so I hope it's good. Pervy Lo'ak is just so fitting. All characters are aged up.
Pairing: Lo'ak x Fem!Na'vi!Reader
Warnings: Somnophilia, Fingering, Masturbation (M)
Lo’ak has this…habit. He’s not sure how it really grew into this. It started off innocent enough. When you would sleep, he would just admire you. Your face that looked so peaceful and precious and your body that would be sprawled out bare and on display in a way that always framed you like a piece of art. He could, and sometimes would, stare at you for hours on end. You were like this untouchable, ethereal being. But he could touch you. And those started innocently too, honestly. It started with just a simple brush of his fingers along your jaw that had finally unclenched. Running his hands over the flawless skin of your thigh. Everything about you was perfect in his eyes.
In all of his admiring, he caused you to stir a bit in your slumber. You roll onto your stomach and hitch one leg up, putting your puffy, slick pussy in full view. Lo’ak can feel his mouth filling with saliva with the scent of your subconscious arousal filling the air around you. The internal battle starts almost immediately in his mind. Is it too far? Would you be angry with him? Should he even be thinking something like this?
“Hmm, Lo’ak…” you half mumble in your sleep.
His ears flick and twitch at the sound of his name. You were dreaming about him and you were practically dripping. It made his dick achingly hard. Just a little bit will be alright, right?
He goes slow. He starts at the back of your knees and runs his hands up the backs of your thighs and higher and higher to the cup of your ass. His thumbs tease and spread your exposed lips. He gathers some of your slick on his finger and raises it to his lips. The taste of you has him biting his lip to choke back the moan bubbling up his throat.
His breathing is getting heavy in his chest as his fingers continue to play and tease your eager hole. He can’t stop himself from wrapping his free hand around his cock that’s been steadily dripping precum. His eyes roll back and his mouth falls open finally feeling some relief. He decides to push the envelope a little more when he carefully pushes one finger into your pussy. You let out a long, deep breath before you settle again. Lo’ak’s dick twitches in his palm feeling how tight and wet your walls are around his finger. His grip tightens around his dick trying to mimic how you feel.
“Oh fuck, baby…” he mumbles as quietly as he can. He knows he won’t last long with how hard his dick is. His hand squeezes around his tip that was oh so sensitive right now and he exhales a shaky breath.
Unbeknownst to Lo’ak, you smile silently to yourself. You had woken up a few minutes ago, but decided to let him have his fun with you. You figure, you should have a little fun too when you adjust your hips a bit so that his finger slips deeper into you. You’re choking back a small moan, but Lo’ak is behind you panting hard.
His fist pumps faster and faster on his dick until he finally spills his load over his hand and stomach. His thighs tremble and his abs flex with every new spurt of cum. You can feel his finger twitch inside of you and you savor the feeling until you finally feel him relax himself. He carefully slides his finger out of you and he eagerly licks it clean. He looks at you to make sure that you’re still asleep before he quickly grabs a nearby cloth to clean himself off with.
Lo’ak gently brushes a braid out of your “sleeping” face and settles himself back down on the mat finally ready to get some sleep.
You secretly smile feeling satisfied with yourself. Despite feeling a little needy now, you know that you’re going to have him make it up to you in the morning.
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#avatar#avatar the way of water#awow#avatar smut#avatar fic#lo'ak#loak#loak x reader#loak smut#loak sully#atwow loak#loak fic#avatar loak#loak fanfiction#avatar twow#atwow#romancingpandora2024
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If you’re taking requests, morning sex with Robert Fischer..he just gives that vibe idk
jfc you're so right for this actually??
warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY, honestly just really fluffy??
You were only half-awake when you felt him pull you closer, burying his face into the back of your neck. You hummed a little, adjusting yourself against him and clutching tighter to the nearest pillow you could find.
The sun was out, but the heavy curtains blocked most of the light-- it turned the whole room a soft grey kind of color, and you pulled the soft blanket and sheet up a little higher to shield your eyes as if it were the middle of the night again.
Robert stirred again, running his hands over your body as you smiled at the warmth of his touch. A little smile crept across your face as those strong hands settled on your hips, pulling them into his as he rocked his erection up against your ass. You thought he might have just been getting comfortable, but then he did it again, and you sighed at the feeling pleasantly.
Nuzzling his face against your shoulder, he made you moan under your breath with lazy kisses that trailed across your skin. He sighed your name, so perfect that you had to shudder and arch your back even more-- a wordless invitation to take you, if he wanted you.
And, as he said often, he always wanted you. You hadn't even really opened your eyes yet, and he was already pushing up the oversized t-shirt you had on and tugging down your panties.
As he slid inside you slowly with a deep groan, you reached back to run your fingers through his hair, your back arching gently. "Fuck," you mumbled, but it came out all hoarse and scratchy, and both of you laughed before you cleared your throat. "Sorry..."
"It's fine," he promised, his own voice quite deep and rough with sleep-- but of course, in his case, it was incredibly arousing. "I just need you."
You couldn't help but moan louder at that, rocking your hips back against him as you realized you might be even more desperate than he was. But desperate wasn't the right way to describe the whole thing-- no, it was sweet, and slow, and sleepy in a sexy kind of way. Neither of you ever really woke up, but you certainly weren't asleep... you were just moving gently with each other, gasping and panting quietly, letting the pleasure slowly wash over you both.
He wrapped his arms around you and held you close, mumbling praises against your ear as you came-- it wasn't one of those earth-shattering, leg-shaking, name-screaming affairs that Robert had put you through many times before, but it was no less perfect.
He moaned deeply as he filled you, heavy gasps over your skin as you bit your lip and soaked in every beautiful sound he let out. You could even feel him pulsing inside you, flexing against your spongy walls-- all of it felt like one big, warm, gooey moment of ecstasy, and even your hazy, half-asleep mind realized you'd never felt quite as comfortable and safe as this.
He hummed in satisfaction as he relaxed behind you, going a bit limp but still managing to keep his arms wrapped around you. At some point, though it was impossible to know when, you both drifted back into your dreamless abyss-- together.
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I DONT BITE! — EJIROU KIRISHIMA X FEM!BLACK READER
ʚ 🍓ɞ summary: you were having thoughts about going a bit further in your relationship with Kirishima, who got a cute little surprise later on for being such a good boyfriend <33
ʚ 🍓ɞ including + warnings: modern!au, aged!up characters, kiri is a sweetheart, reader is shy but secretly a freak, thigh riding, makeout session, kinda vanilla at first, blowjobs, somnophilla
Kinktober masterlist . Jersey Luv
YOU SAT COMFORTABLY NEXT TO EJIROU ON YOUR COUCH AS A CRIME SHOW DIMLY LIT YOUR LIVING ROOM; your parents would have never allowed a boy over, let alone for him to sit so close for his hand to be on your waist. Though as they were away on a cruise you were able to sneak him over for as long as you wanted to without worrying about getting caught. Though the thought of being completely alone with your sweet boyfriend made you feel a little nervous yet curious? You and Kiri have been together for a couple months and have made out various times but the feeling of his big calloused hand rubbing your side up and down comfortingly, and the faint smell of his cologne wafting through your nose was starting to get to you. You tried to tune out your not so innocent thoughts by mindlessly watching tv, but it had been a week since you touched yourself and every glance at your hunk of a boyfriend had your mind racing with dirty thoughts.
You pressed your thighs tighter subconsciously, as you tried to not let your eyes dart down at his great sweatpants. Noticing this kiri dediced to tease you with a random kiss to the cheek. Snapping you out of your thoughts, “You were dazed out for a second there babe, whatcha thinking about?” His flirty voice always managed to drive you up the wall, alongside his cute sharp teeth that would show every time he smiled at you. You told him that you were daydreaming but he didn’t buy it, your mouth was saying one thing but your body was very clearly saying you wanted something. You let out a sigh before revealing the truth, “You know how we always make out but never go the full way? I was thinking about doing something..with you.” It’s amazing how adorable you could be without even realizing it, a soft smile tugged at the redheads lips. “Is that why you kept squirming so much baby?” Kiri held in a chuckle as he saw your gaze drop to the floor, “Maybe.” You muttered as you fiddles with the string of your shorts, the heat between your legs growing more needy by the second. “Cmere baby.” He patted his lap for you to come sit on, hesitantly you did. Your your legs now on either side of his thighs, and your hands on his shoulders.
As you sat on his lap, kiri could see your nipples through your thin v necked shirt and the crease of your breasts from the top of your shirt. Your pretty brown doe eyes were just the cherry on top, they looked at him with such love yet shyness it made him want to ruin you. “Have you been wanting to do something with me for a while now?” One of his big hands snuck up your sides and rested on your waist while the other went up further going under your shirt higher and higher. You shyly nodded yes, eyes flickering to his lips briefly then back up to his red ones. “Can I kiss you kiri?” Your sweet voice was music to his ears, who was he to deny such a pretty thing like you? Kissing those plump soft lips was heaven every time, and hearing your cute moans was a added bonus. He could never say no to you. “You don’t have to ask yknow you can just kiss me.” You muttered a soft ‘okay’ before cupping his cheek and pressing a kiss to his lips, your heart fluttering in your chest as he kissed you back.
The kiss started out soft and sweet but then as minutes passed it turned, hot and needy as your tongues fought for dominance whilst kiris hands roamed all over your body. The feeling of him squeezing the fat of your ass causing a mewl to fall fast your lips, without thinking you grinded your clothed cunt against his thigh. Apologizes were being spewed all around soon after, “Baby, it’s okay. I want you to feel good,” As he peppered kisses on your neck sighs of pleasure filled his ears, “So if you wanna grind on my thigh then you can.” His soft assurance and the further guide of his hands on your hips rocking you back and forth on his thigh, eliciting gasps and moans from you despite your slight unsureness. “Are you sure it’s alright- mfh!”
Capturing your lips in a sweet kiss, your thighs began to shake as your clit grinded on his sweats in just the right way that made your eyes roll back into your skull. Despite the problem poking your thigh Kiri was determined to see your fucked out expression when you cum. Seeing you who was normally shy and quiet, to be: shaking, whimpering, begging quietly for more was such a fucking turn on. He needed to see you cum, he needed to see you loose your mind. So when he sucked hickeys into your brown skin and sucked on that one sensitive spot below your ear you let out a high pitched whine into his shoulder, kiri fought the urge to take you then and there and instead focused on you and not the bulge in his sweats as you started to grind more desperately on his thigh.
An unfimalriar knot in your stomach begin to unfold as your body grew hot and your clit started to throb, the crotch of your shorts now damp as you whined out for kiri, “wan you to kiss me when I..cum.” The sight alone was enough to make kiri loose it, your eyes glossed over with need and lust, your lips puffy and pink- an adorable mess just for him. “God your so cute- cmere.” You pulled yourself flush against body, kiri’s tongue invading your mouth and bouncing his thigh to push you closer to your climax. Which worked because with a few more bumps to your clit had you coming undone in his lap, your vision turned white as you soiled his sweats. Whines and whimpers filled the living room as you rode your high, “Feel good princess?” You hummed in response your head buried in his neck, your shaking legs causing him to let out an airy laugh. “You’re so damn cute, ‘love you babe.”
♡ ♡ ♡
Later that night you lay awake in your bed as kiri slept soundly besides you, thinking about how you didn’t tend to him. Coming up with an idea you pulled the covers off and positioned yourself in between your boyfriends thighs. Thank god he was a heavy sleeper, you adjusted his boxers to be lower enough to allow his cock to be free. Softly you took the length in your small, kissing the mushroom tip before licking stripes up the shaft of his dick. The smell of his musk flooded your nose and you felt your underwear begin to dampen once more. Kiri stirred in his sleep, soft moans and sighs leaving his lips occasionally but never fully waking up.
That’s when you decided to take him in your throat, relaxing it as you took him inside. Using his thighs to support your weight, you began bobbing your head up and down on his shaft once you got used to his girth and length. The taste of his precum was salty yet somewhat sweet? Definitely not that bitter taste your friends seem to describe, “mm baby what are you- oh shiiit.” His eyes widened slightly as they adjusted to the darkness, making out your cute figure between his legs sucking him off at 1am. “You don’t have to do this f’me- mm fuckk.” A whimper left his throat which made you even more set on returning the favor. Sounds of sucking and soft groans filled your bedroom, you pushed yourself further down on his cock until you gagged despite your slight lack of experience. The way your hole clenched around nothing when kiri let out the most pornographic moan you’ve heard, was damn near sinful. You originally were doing this to please him but at this moment of bliss you were doing it to hear more pretty sounds come out of your sweet boyfriend.
“Baby fuck, if you keep sucking so- hah m’ gonna cum soon.” You couldn’t care less about wanting to take it slow at the moment, if you knew he sounded this good when you’d suck him off you’d surprise him sooner. So when you took your hand off if his thigh, and took his and buried it in your hair signaling that you wanted him to pull it a little he lost all composure he had that night. “Baby you sure? ion wanna hurt you.” Nodding you, looked up at your red haired boyfriend who’s lips tugged into a smirk when your eyes practically were begging him to fuck your face. “If that’s what ya want baby, but take it all in your mouth f’me okay?” You nodded once more, moaning on his dick as you felt him grip your curls and force your head up and down on his dick. Curses and groans filled your ears as you toyed with your clit through your panties, your eyes cloudy with hunger as they formed into hearts at the sight of the hot yet adorable mess Infront of you.
#🌸. 𝐀 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍 𝐁𝐘 𝐊𝐀𝐌#mha smut#kirishima smut#kirishima x black reader#kirishima x fem!reader#kirishima x y/n#kirishima x you#mha x black female reader#mha x black reader#mha x black reader smut#mha imagines#mha kirishima#kirishima x reader#ejirou kirishima x black!reader#kirishima eijirou#mha x female reader#mha x y/n#mha x fem!reader#mha x poc!reader#mha fanfiction#mha x reader
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Secret Love, My Escape
Lucifer x Fem!Angel!Reader
If nothing else, Lucifer was beyond faithful to his lover. He would do anything for the person he's devoted himself to. He would even risk death, all for the one he loves.
And in turn, his love would do the same...
You knew this was a foolish idea, terrible even. Sneaking out of Heaven to meet with the demons of hell. If you were ever caught, who knows what punishment you would be given? But you didn't care. You weren't just meeting with any demon, but Lucifer himself.
The love of your life.
He knew it wasn't the best idea, it would end so horribly if Heaven ever finds out. But he couldn't help himself. His love for you was far stronger than his worries.
It wasn't bad to worry, far from it in this situation. But, he couldn't let someone as wonderful as you go. He may live on forever, but he could not go an eternity without you.
He would do anything to see you, even if just for a little while.
Even if it happened like this.
This wasn't the first time you two had done this either. You've went down to Hell quite a few times, it was practically routine at this point. And you were excited every time you got to.
You loved Lucifer more than anything. You cherished him, you never wanted to go a moment without him by your side. The time spent apart, was heartbreaking.
You two are from two separate worlds, after all. Heaven frowns upon the demons and sinners in Hell, but for an angel and the king of Hell to be together like this?
You both knew what Heaven's reaction would be. And it wasn't good for either of you...
But you didn't want to think about that. Right now, you just wanted to enjoy Lucifer's company, in the little time you were granted to visit him.
This time, the two of you were having a bit of a lazy day. Normally, Lucifer would try to keep you entertained, while in the privacy of his palace walls, of course. But today, the two of you just lay together in each other's arms.
You both would talk about nothing in particular, though, you always liked hearing about his daughter Charlie and the hotel, as well as her friends, as weird and wild as they could be.
And of course, there was never a day you visited, that Lucifer didn't talk about his latest duck related creations. You didn't mind at all. You loved seeing his face light up with joy and excitement whenever he talked about them.
"So, I was thinking about making a new rubber duck. One that shoots fireworks from like, a little hat on it's head." Lucifer explains. "There have been some previous attempts, each resulting in a few tiny fires, but! I think I'm getting pretty close to perfecting it!"
You giggle. "Well, I'd love to see it once it's finished." Lucifer smiled, though it quickly vanished as he noticed the time. He sighed, you knew what that meant.
"Already?" You mutter. Lucifer nods, frowning. You sit up and breath a sigh of your own. "It seems our visits just go by faster and faster."
"Yeah..." Lucifer sits up as well. You put your hand on his. "I wish there was a way I could just stay here." As much as Lucifer would have liked to have you with him. He could not bare the thought of you having to be in this terrible place. You were better off in Heaven where you belong...
"Come on, let's get you home before the others notice." Lucifer says. You begrudgingly agreed, your chest already aching, and you haven't even left yet.
If only there were some other way...
Heaven was nice. No one could deny that. But to you, it never felt more empty without Lucifer. But that's not all. Heaven was nice. On the surface that is. You knew about what the higher ups were hiding though.
Lucifer had told you about the extermination, and the angels that Adam lead down to Hell, in attempts to destroy his daughter's hotel and kill those who called it home.
Speaking of Adam. He was dead, killed in that attack he lead. And of course, Heaven covered that up as well. So long as the citizens of Heaven were happy and unaware, there would be no chaos. No panic.
No questioning...
You knew better than to try and reveal Heaven's lies. You were only one person, after all. Though, the people of Heaven deserved to know just what kind of "paradise" they were living in.
That would only result in you being placed on trial, and eventually being forced out of Heaven.
However, speaking up would not be what caused for such a thing to happen.
No, unfortunately, you would be placed on trial, for something you'd hope you'd never be accused of.
"Y/n, for your sake, you'd better speak only the truth in this courtroom."
The head seraphim's eyes were cold and unforgiving as she looks down at you. You could only look back at her with panic, and a terrible twisting feeling in your chest.
"Have you been sneaking off down to Hell?" She asks. You open your mouth to speak, but your voice would not find you. Instead, you nod. The seraphim's eyes narrow. "And how exactly have you managed this?"
Still unable to speak, you cast your gaze downward. The seraphim's voice caused you to flinch, as she spoke your name with such venom in her voice.
"Y/n."
You look back up at her, defeated. "Sera. I think you know how..." You say weakly. Sera sighed. "This is entirely unheard of. Lucifer isn't just some ordinary demon. He is the king of of all evil. Risking your place in Heaven for him, is beyond foolish."
Your brows furrow. She speaks of Lucifer like he is some sort of monster. And you will not have it.
"You don't know anything about him." You start. "Not truly. Lucifer may be the king of Hell, but he is nothing like a demon. Deep down, he's still an angel. And you all refuse to see it, all because you do not understand him!"
You were going to be punished anyway. Might as well speak your mind.
"I love him! And I'd rather fall than go an eternity without him, and be stuck here knowing that Heaven is a scam!"
Sera looked at you silently for a moment before turning away. "Then so be it."
Your arms were suddenly being restrained by two exorcist, a third walking up behind you, sword in hand. Then you felt it...
The feeling of your wings being torn from you. You cried in agony, the sound of them falling to the ground with a thud nearly made you sick. Your arms were released, and you began to fall back.
Only you did not hit the floor, instead, you continued to fall and fall for what felt like forever.
Until finally, you collied with solid, hard ground...
When you opened your eyes, pain was the first thing you felt. Your back throbbed and your body ached. But you managed to pick yourself up, just barely keeping yourself standing.
You take a look around, and then up at the blood red sky. Yep, this was definitely Hell. You look back ahead, far in the distance, you could make out a building. Not just any building, a hotel.
You felt a twinge of hope as you start off in that direction. If this was indeed that hotel, you might have a better chance of finding Lucifer than you think.
Lucifer had started spending more time at his daughter's hotel than his own home as of recently. Only being at the palace for when you visited. If you were going to find him anywhere, it'd be there.
You walked for a long while before you finally reached the hotel. Just before the entrance is where you fell to your knees, exhausted. Your body was crying for rest, but your mind was racing. You couldn't give up now. You were so close.
Just as exhaustion started to fully set in, the doors to the hotel opened. And you make out a figure in the door way. Their voice was muffled, but you recognized just who the voice belonged to immediately.
"I'll be back shortly, Charlie! Just have to grab a few more things from home."
You forced yourself to stand, ignoring the new wave of pain and drowsiness that washed over you. Your voice cracked as you called out.
"Lucifer?"
It was indeed Lucifer. He turned his head in your direction, his eyes wide as he noticed it was you. He stood there for a moment, unable to think or speak clearly.
Was his mind playing tricks on him? How were you here? Why were you here?
You smile slightly and take a step forward. "Lucifer...Lucifer!" You cried running towards him with open arms. You stumbled slightly, but Lucifer caught you.
"Y/n...What are you doing here?"
You held onto him tightly, tears forming in your eyes. "I...I just couldn't stay away." You say before pulling away to look up at him. Lucifer stared back at you with concern, but mostly confusion. Just as he went to speak again, you leaned in and met your lips with his.
Lucifer became less tense as he melted into the kiss. He didn't know how this was happening. He was still trying to process you standing in front of him right now.
You pull back, smiling as you look him in the eyes. You move your hand up to his cheek. "I love you."
Lucifer opened his mouth to speak, but stopped as he felt something warm on his palm. He moved his hand off of your back, and his heart dropped at the sight of gold staining his hand.
"Y/n...Don't tell me they..."
You leaned in and rest your head on his chest. "I'm so tired Lucifer...Just, don't let me sleep for too long. Ok?"
"Y/n!?" Lucifer's panic grew as you went limp in his arms. How could he not have noticed right then?
Your wings were missing.
There was no time to ponder it now, he scooped you up into his arms and teleported back to the palace. No one else needed to gaze upon your blood, it would only raise questions and attract unwanted attention.
As soon as you two were behind closed doors, Lucifer stripped away the top of your outfit, grimacing slightly at the sight of the two long tears on your back.
He placed his hands on your back gently and inhaled. A warm glow emanated from his palms that spread throughout your back.
"Come on...Stay with me Y/n." He whispered desperately.
After a few seconds, the glow faded. He moved his hands away, the wound was fully healed. But you were still motionless.
"Y/n, please. Please come back to me." Lucifer holds you close to him, cradling your head with one hand, the other at your waist. "Please...Please don't leave me..."
Lucifer held you for hours after that, refusing to let you go or leave your side for even a second. The only hope he held onto, was the faint breathing that came from you.
He blamed himself for this. He should have just left you alone. He should have never snuck you down here like he did, for as long as he did. He should have just pushed you away.
At least then, you'd be safe.
"I'm so sorry, Y/n." Lucifer said softly. "You were hurt because of me. You fell because of me. And now, you're stuck here. And it's all my fault..."
"I'm such an idiot." Lucifer closed his eyes, tears stinging at his eyes.
"Luci...don't talk so badly about yourself."
Lucifer shot up, looking down at you with wide eyes. "Y/n?" You smile and slowly open your eyes. "Hi."
Lucifer felt the tears rolling down his cheeks. Though, he couldn't stop smiling. He sniffled a few times. "H-Hi!" He chuckles. His laughter was quickly cut short.
"Y/n. I'm so sorry this happened to you. I never meant for you to be damned to his awful place. You should be up in Heaven, in paradise. Not down here with all the evil and scum that Hell has to offer."
"Lucifer." You start. "It's not paradise. Especially not without you. I never would have been happy alone up there. It killed me anytime I had to leave you."
"But now you're stuck here forever." Lucifer says weakly. You kiss his cheek. "We're here together."
Lucifer brought you in a closer embrace. You speak again. "Thank you for healing me, Luci. I'm sorry if I scared you." Lucifer shook his head. "I'm just glad you're alive. But..." Lucifer draws back to look at you. "Are you ok with this?"
"Of course I am. You're here, and now, I'm here. I love you way too much for it to be any other way."
Lucifer smiled and kissed you softy. "I love you too."
The two of you enjoyed each other's embrace that night. Only this time, moments like this would be forever.
#hazbin hotel#lucifer hazbin hotel#lucifer x reader#lucifer morningstar x reader#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer#lucifer magne x reader#lucifer magne#hazbin lucifer x reader#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader
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nerdbf!sunwoo x female!reader
18+ smut warning! mdni.
note: this picture was posted and immediately my brain went 😵💫 so here is this :) also this is my first little story so please go easy on me.😭 this wasn’t really proof read either so if you catch any grammar mistakes, ignore it. also kind of a bad ending bc I had no idea how to end it truthfully🫡 let me know your thoughts! enjoy hehehe
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thinking about nerdbf!sunwoo just fucking you so sensually slow and hard over your desk. he’d have both his hands on your hips, thrusting up into you over and over till you’re an absolute moaning mess. you are holding onto the sides of your desk for dear life as he is abusing your poor little pussy like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, like he has many times before. something was different about this time though. this time, he kept his glasses on. the other moments you guys were intimate like this he’d always make sure to take them off and toss them to the side, much to your dismay. you’d tell him incessantly every time you guys were together that you absolutely LOVED his glasses and thought they were one of the most sexiest things about him, and him telling you off each moment. to sunwoo, he thought you were the craziest person alive when you’d say that to him. he’d often have it in his mind that glasses made him way less attractive, thinking of them as a curse to deter as many women who’d show even a slightest bit of interest in him. until he met you. you who makes sure to tell him almost everyday how god damned good he looks with his glasses on. you who would beg like a bitch in heat for him to not discard them for once every time he fucks you. if it was any other day, he would have told you no.
but when you were in those tiny little cherry printed shorts that he loves so fucking much, and sat all snuggly in his lap, legs on either side of him, spread open with your cunt so close to his clothed cock, looking so intently into his boba eyes with your own e/c ones, he just couldn’t bring himself to say no to you anymore.
so here he was, finally giving you what you longed for in your six months together. him making you fall apart with each sharp thrust of his dick, and each sharp thrust making your body jerk forward nearly having you hit your head on the wall in front of you, but you were too lost in the moment to care. you were on cloud nine right now. after so much failed attempts trying to get your boyfriend to do this simple favor for you, you felt like the happiest woman alive. and not even going to lie to himself, sunwoo was too. he should have done this ages ago if he knew you’d be this fucking tight at the sight of just him and his stupid glasses. the way you were chanting his name like a mantra had him nearly over the edge. with a new found sense of adrenaline, he quickly pulled out ignoring your groan of disapproval and flipped you over, your slightly bruised-red ass now sitting on the wooden table with your legs in the air being supported by his arms that are hooked underneath them. he looks at you deep in the eyes as he starts to steadily snap his hips forward into your throbbing pussy again, throwing his head back for a split second and letting out a deep moan at how you squeezed around him, just by looking at his face. “God…fuck baby, you keep doing that…I don’t know how long I’ll last.” he breathed out. you were too fucked out to care though, your moans getting higher and higher in pitch every time the tip of his thick cock would hit that one delicious spot inside of you. you were in a state of total euphoria, your toes curling as you felt yourself slipping away. and with his pace deliberately getting faster, his face scrunched up in pleasure with those fucking glasses on making him look as attractive and as irresistible as ever, you don’t know how long you’ll last either.
@spidermarkmp, all rights reserved.
#the boyz#the boyz smut#kim sunwoo#sunwoo#sunwoo x reader#the boyz imagines#the boyz x reader#the boyz x you#sunwoo x you#kpop smut#smut
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i know it's all about the lion's den AU rn and as usual I am FEASTING on the content (excuse the crumbs) but there's an idea that won't leave me alone-
what if Peaches was not human, but an immortal from the beginning? How much would change? I know the whole appeal of these AUs - I mean, that's why I love them and I absolutely love this lil corner of the fandom. but I've been kinda diving into the whole immortality biz in Chinese myths for my oc, so now I'm curious.
Peaches could be someone cultivating and practicing Xian (i hope I'm using that right) for years, or consumed pills/elixir of immortality somehow, or a demon who is oddly very kind and empathetic - would the bois still love her just as much? How different is the dynamic now even if Peaches retains her core personality traits?
love your work! and hydrate before ya diedrate
ive been thinking about this, and i kinda like the idea of immortal reader being an attendant of the heavenly peach orchard.
not super high up the ladder, but not at the bottom either. her powers are limited to helping plants grow just a little bit, creating temporary barriers, and being able to float the way all celestials can. the higher-ups figure that since no one is bold or stupid enough to steal from heaven, they don’t need any extra security in the immortal peach groves.
you can take a guess as to how reader meets the monkeys.
they show up to the orchards, ready to fight their way to the peaches, but instead of some overpowered celestial soldiers guarding the orchard, it's....one immortal maiden. just the one. but she doesn't seem all that powerful, soooooo...
...maybe she'd agree to let them take a few without too much trouble?
the monkey bros go the "oh don't mind us we're just a couple of cute lil monkeys, here to cause adorable and harmless mischief" route in their approach to getting reader to let her gaurd down.
they approach her while she takes a break from pruning some dead branches. she's understandably surprised and suspicious about these two seemingly normal monkeys who've snuck in, but... they are pretty cute. and tame; they let her pet them and give them scritches. perhaps they're one of the heavenly official's pets. reader supposes that they can stay for a while.
wukong and macaque play their parts, get reader's guard down, and steal a couple dozen peaches each. reader notices, but there's not much she can do beyond shooing the monkeys out with a broom (and her soft heart barely allows her to do that). she knows that if she reports it, those cute lil monkeys will be hunted down and killed.
she supposes she could put in a request for higher walls around the grove, or more barriers (she still wonders how the boys managed to get through the first ones), but with how slowly things get done in the bureaucracy...it'd be a very, very long time until it was even brought up in court.
besides, even then....they're monkeys. animals. she won't place blame on them for being what they are. those little cuties probably had no idea that the immortal peaches were any different from the ones on earth.
she could never stay mad at their adorable lil faces anyways.
---
reader, despite what you might think, has a pretty laid back job. once all her chores for the day have been completed (those magic trees don't really need much beyond the essentials to do their thing), she has a good amount of free time to sit and, you guessed it—read.
macaque (because of course, he has to be the first one to fall in every au) decides, on a bored whim, to go visit that nice attendant they stole from not too long ago. perhaps he'll collect some intel while he's up there.
he finds her after a bit of searching. reader sits in a secluded corner of the grove, leisurely turning pages and enjoying the shade. macaque, still disguised, sidles up to her. reader notices, seeming surprised to see him before her face morphs into... a rather adorable pout. perhaps she thinks she's being intimidating.
'damn, no wonder the bureaucracy didn't think they needed any more security,' macaque thinks sarcastically. such a fearsome maiden they've chosen to guard the immortal peaches.
while reader takes a minute to admonish him about stealing, it isn't long before she sighs and gives up on her lecture in favor of scratching him gently behind his ears. he churrs low in his chest. her whole demeanor is as soft and sweet as the peaches she guards (her hands as well, he notes, pressing into them).
macaque laughs internally. a fearsome maiden, indeed.
macaque manages to wiggle his way into reader's lap, pulling her attention from her book. she knows she should be trying to scare him off, but...just—just look at him! he's so cute, and she's too pulled in by how cute he is to notice the oddly powerful aura he seems to exude (far too powerful to be a normal monkey). he enjoys her touch for a while longer before he hears the far-off call of his annoying brother, wondering where he is. he bumps his head into reader's hand by way of goodbye before running off to shadow away more secretively.
reader watches him go, sighing. she really should shoo him away next time.
---
macaque keeps coming back. and reader continues to be unable to kick him out.
with very few visitors and no one else to talk to, reader begins to tell him everything that she overhears during the day; the officials don't think anyone is listening when they air out their gossip as they walk by the orchard. she doesn’t know it, but she’s saving macaque the energy of using his powers to gather this intel on his own.
the six-eared demon makes a habit of showing up to the grove to laze around with his favorite maiden and listen to her read, using “spying” as the excuse he gives his brother for why he's been running off so often. reader seems to have accepted that he won't be leaving her alone any time soon, and he takes full advantage. macaque comes to think of reader and the secluded corner of the grove as his own little peice of heaven.
of course, sooner or later, wukong joins in. he's a bit angry that macaque didn't just say he was visiting the peach orchard and it's attendant; he wouldn't have minded, he would've come with! macaque doesn't bother trying to explain that he didn't want to share.
but share he does, seeing as wukong greedily takes all the attention from reader he can get. the monkey king finds himself enamored with the maiden who's hands and heart are as soft as the fruits she tends to. he won't admit it (it may hurt his carefully crafted "ruthless demon king" image if he did), but wukong is a cuddle bug when it comes to reader. everything about her is just so soft, and she's so kind, and she always smells like peaches—he could spend hours laying on her chest as she reads.
he just feels so...peaceful, with her.
the boys are entangled in reader's life, visiting whenever they can and butting into whatever she happens to be doing. they see her day to day happiness (brief conversations with the lower maids she's friends with), and her struggles (the two monkeys bore witness to the officials taking their anger out on reader over something trivial, their rage towards heaven growing stronger). the two grow more and more attached to her as time goes on.
and so they begin to work a small abduction into the grander scheme of their plan.
---
sooner or later, the monkey warlords properly raid heaven. they and their demon army storm the jade palace, murdering servants, footsoldiers, and as many officials as they can. the monkey king and the six-eared macaque lead a massacre so bloody it stains the palace walls red. wukong especially holds back none of his rage, getting caught up in his hatred for heaven and zealously continuing to shed as much celestial blood as he can.
during a lull in the chaos, macaque, covered in vicera, makes his way to the immortal peach grove. with the battle coming to a close and the demon forces being driven back, now is as good a time as ever to snatch up a special “peach” for himself and his brother.
he finds said peach preoccupied with a gallant attempt at protecting herself and a few lower maids from a demon soldier, using a series of barriers. the soldier breaks the barriers almost as fast as reader can make them, rapidly pushing her and her companions into a corner. reader puts up a brave fight, but she's a celestial attendant, not a celestial warrior.
macaque calls out to the soldier, halting their attack and telling them to regroup with the others and prepare to move out. the soldier complies, crassly assuring the women that they’re about to be nothing more than bloody pulp on the garden wall. no one has ever gone against the shadow general of the demon army and lived.
macaque waits until the soldier is out of sight before leisurely approaching the still quivering group of maids and their determined, but exhausted looking guard. reader tenses as he steps closer. she feels a horrible sense of dread crawl down her spine when she gets a good look at him.
the dark fur, the shape of the mask marking on his face...reader feels tears start to bead at the corners of her eyes.
this entire time, she'd been petting and coddling the six-eared macaque. the second in command of the dreaded demon army has been sitting right in front of her and she had no idea. reader can barely keep her breathing steady.
and if this is her dark-furred companion, then the lighter-furred one must be…oh stars.
…she let the monkey king in.
she practically threw open the doors for him. she didn’t report them when she should have, she knew there was something strange about them but she was so sure they were just normal animals—oh stars above, if the jade emperor ever discovered this, she’d be executed.
but…but reader steels herself. she can deal with that later. her friends are counting on her.
now, she’s certainly not expecting the blood-covered demon general across from her to be open to bargaining (he could just kill all of them now, but reader gets the feeling he wouldn't be merciful enough to end it quickly). and he knows exactly what leverage he has over her, she can see it in the smug look on his face.
but she tries anyways.
“let them go, please,” she begs breathlessly, arms shaking from the strain of maintaining her magic. the least she can do is buy her friends a moment more. “do whatever you want with me, but they are blameless.”
macaque chuckles, the sound reverberating lowly between the trees. whatever he wants, huh? oh, sweet peach. she should know better than to give him so much leeway.
“that is tempting. if that’s the case, then perhaps you’ll go with me willingly,” he muses, tail swaying slowly. his fangs glint dangerously when he smirks.
“don’t fight, and no harm will come to them. that, and your secret will be safe with me. honest."
reader doesn’t believe him. she can’t, but she and her friends are so low priority that calling for help would be useless. if the demon army has been as effective as the screaming would lead her to believe, the celestial host has much bigger problems than rescuing a gardener and some lowly maidservants. and with the chance that she’ll be seen through and blamed for every gory death that's happened beyond the walls of the peach groves...
she doesn’t have a choice.
reader slowly, cautiously lowers her barriers, despite the worried cries of the maids behind her. they cower closer together as reader takes a slow step closer to macaque.
with a flick of his wrist, reader is struck by a sleeping spell so potent she falls into macaque's waiting arms like a lead weight. the demon gathers his beloved into his hold with a gentleness that doesn't fit his gory visage.
he sinks into a shadow, leaving the maids to clutch each other and cry at the loss of reader and the near loss of their own lives.
---
reader wakes up days later in the royal bedchambers of the stone palace. she startles at seeing the monkey king and the six-eared macaque laying on either side of her, stripped to just a loose pair of pants each. she herself has been changed to a comfortable silk robe, her own clothing nowhere to be seen.
reader feels a cold sludge in her gut. she scrambles out of the pillow pit, kicking a few into the face of one of her captors as she goes. she checks herself over, looking for bite marks, claw marks, anything to indicate the two demons sharing a bed with her had violated her in any way. she looks, and breathes a heavy sigh.
she finds nothing.
"we figured we'd wait until you were awake to start marking territory," the tired, yet still somehow smug voice of the monkey king chimes from behind her. reader turns to see the demon leveling an amorous look her way. his gold and crimson eyes burn like fire in the low light.
reader ignores him in favor of falling to her knees and burying her face in her hands. now that she has a moment to think, her failure has decided to take centerstage; she was the one who let the monkey king into the jade palace, she let him steal the immortal peaches, she's the one who carelessly shared all the gossip that told them when the best time to attack would be, she's to blame for all the lives lost—
"hey. y'know we would've raided heaven even if we hadn't met you, right? it's not your fault," macaque says, propping his head in his hand to look at her. he doesn't have the decency to hide how he's sizing her up, poison purple eyes glowing whilst tracing her curves. reader shrinks into herself a bit more.
"yep. don't feel too bad, peaches. i was never gonna spare any of those bureaucrats in the first place," wukong adds. "and besides, none of those guys cared about you anyway, so why feel bad?"
reader sobs, pressing her hands to her eyes. she knows. she knows how callous the officials could be, but that doesn't mean they deserved to die. it doesn't mean the servants and foot soldiers who were only following orders deserved their fates.
she hears movement, then feels a set of strong, furred arms wrap around her. wukong rests his head on her shoulder. he nuzzles his nose against her neck. she feels his warm breath and the glance of deadly sharp fangs when he speaks.
"they didn't deserve the mercy you seem to think they did."
---
wukong places a seal on reader's powers. what little defense she had against them is gone with the placement of a brand-like marking in between her shoulder blades (and a few more along her shoulders made with his teeth).
reader can't do anything. wukong won't let her leave, and even if she could, the heavenly court will have her executed if she goes back. so, she remains on the monkey king's mountain.
she didn't think she'd share a fate with the precious fruit she'd failed to protect.
#bad end wukong#twice as bad au#immortal peach au#i guess??? cause shes an immortal???#this got waaay longer than expected#got tired and couldnt figure out how to end it#dialogue is hard
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funeral
actor!eren x f!reader
**part of my method acting fic
content: depictions of grief, talk of addiction/anxiety
an: i am alive (mostly). eat your cake, even though I think it Is bad (this chapter was the hardest to write, right next to the "the third act" chapter
songs mentioned: marjorie by taylor swift
previous part linked here
--
“What are you thinking, Eren?” Hange asks.
The question is stupid. Eren is thinking of the only logical conclusion that he can draw from the autopsy report. The implication of it, of how Marco really died, is sitting right in front of him.
The patient is a twenty-three year old Caucasian male with no significant medical history. Emergency services responded to the scene of a motor vehicle crash around nine p.m. At the scene, responders found that the patient was trapped in the vehicle, upturned on the side of the road, with no pulse at the time of arrival. Patient was declared dead on scene. Autopsy concluded that primary cause of death was asphyxiation, secondary cause being severe loss of blood due to injuries in the extremities.
“I’m thinking that the paparazzi killed him, Hange.” Eren spits.
“Eren.”
“Hange, don’t. Just-” Levi mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Levi’s eyes are borderline gaunt. Eren knows the past few days have sat horribly on Levi’s shoulders and perhaps the past year and a half have too.
The guilt is excruciating. Because all Eren knows how to do is ruin people.
He dragged Levi and Hange into his mess, when he asked them for help. But it had gone too far at that point, the interview, the night on the beach, the fight - he had exhausted all ends and desperately needed someone on his side.
Levi and Hange all but berated him for it. For letting it get so far, for waiting so long when he should have known that they were always there to help. But this reaction, Levi being the one to side with his outburst is proof enough that he made the wrong choice, that he should have stuck with himself. That them bending backwards and forwards to get him out of his mess has truly taken its toll.
Levi and Hange always mimicked him and you. Eren and Hange, he knows they both have a tendency to get so lost in the emotion, to feel it so deep that the response is too loud, too much for what’s called for. That’s when you and Levi would come in, to soothe them down and bring them back to Earth.
In the same vein, you and Levi, you planted your weeds too deep into the ground. Rooted in exactly what he’s not quite sure - perhaps misplaced insecurities, whatever the two of you seemed to hide in those deep inner walls - but it kept you both stagnant, stuck where you were. That’s where Hange and Eren came in, pushing you both to soar a little bit higher than what you imagined for yourself.
But now Levi’s here, all but exhausted and broken, the same way he’s sure you were. That’s why things got so fucked up. Eren didn’t let you pull him down. He didn’t pull you up.
“They killed him, Hange.” Levi states, tone void of any emotion.
“Levi. It’s almost midnight, we’re all feeling emotional right now. We should look at this all with a clear mind tomorrow.”
“They killed him. There is nothing to look at.” Levi says, enunciating every inflection of his words.
Eren knows it for a fact. And from the look on Hange’s face, he knows they do too. His train of thought is cut off by the knocking - rapid, loud consecutive knocks slamming against the wood.
“God, Eren. Go get it now before they run off with our food.” Hange murmurs, gesturing towards the door.
Eren shuffles past the length of the hallway and swings open the door to find not his UberEats bag, but Lana, out of breath and panting on his doorstep.
“Ew. You just left two hours ago. Why are you back already?”
“Eren. Oh my god.”
Lana wraps her arms around him, squeezing hard, as she cries into his shoulder. Her demeanor settles an immediate panic under his skin. The last time she reacted like this, Eren had to watch the most gut wrenching interview of his life while she held his hand. God knows whatever she’s about to tell him now is going to break him.
Eren brings his hands up and grabs her shoulders, applying pressure to stop her from shaking in his arms.
“Lana. What’s wrong with you? Why are you-”
“Eren. I’m so sorry, you- I’m here for you, okay? Whatever you need, just-just say it.” she pants, hiccuping in between her tears.
Eren frowns, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her out of the cold Seattle air into the kitchen where Hange and Levi are cooking by the stove.
“Hi Lana Bear! How are you, kid?” Hange says, all but bouncing over to wrap their arms around Lana.
This only upsets Lana more, the discomfort worsening in Eren’s chest as he can’t help but stare at her, at her brown eyes turning almost red from the downpour of her tears and the tension sitting in her shoulders.
“What is it? Who died?”
The question, when Eren asks it, is entirely rhetorical. A figure of speech, meant to emphasize that Lana’s reaction was extreme, too obscene for whatever it is she must be talking about. But when she doesn’t respond and swallows hard, the look on her face so crestfallen, Eren’s chest settles into a panic.
His first thought is you.
“Lana. Is she dead? What are you-”
Lana scrambles for the remote on the counter, switching from the Disney Channel to the first news report she can find. The image is of an overturned car, the metal crushed and steaming in the front, accompanied with words that burn Eren’s ears. The first hit is relief - that it’s not you. The second hit is painful, like the air’s been sucked out of his lungs.
Because it’s Marco.
“What?” Levi says, taking his eyes off the stove to glance at the screen.
Eren can feel his phone incessantly buzzing in his pocket and he reaches for it immediately, Lana leaning into his side as she continues to cry into his shoulder. Levi and Hange are moving closer to the television, like that’ll somehow make the sound better, the image clearer, like they’ll be able to find falsity in it.
jean: the bodt’s said the funeral is going to be near the old house. ask levi and hange if we can all stay in the townhouse together.
bertholdt: reiner and i are heading over tonight.
sukuna: Let me know if you need anything. Give the paparazzi hell for this one.
connie: i’m coming back to seattle. i-i don’t know if i can do this.
Eren’s quick to respond to that one.
eren: i’ve got you man. meet us in new york as soon as you can, we’re all going to stay at the townhouse. don’t leave sasha’s side until you get there okay?
connie: alright. okay, thanks.
eren: phone is on.
“This is bullshit. How do they know it’s him?” Levi says angrily, hands crossed over his chest.
“Levi.” Hange says, voice nearly cracking.
“No, I’m being fucking serious. How do they know that this guy is our Marco? There’s no proof. Call the Bodt’s right now.” Levi says, pacing the kitchen for where he left his phone.
Eren frowns, his head racing as Levi walks the length of the kitchen and Hange settles into their immediate panic.
“Eren.” Lana says.
“Hm?”
“I have to tell you something. You’re going to hate it. I-”
“Just tell me, Lana. No-no beating around the bush.”
“The paparazzi…got to him first before the police.” she whispers.
“What?” Eren says, through gritted teeth as his head all but short circuits.
“They knew it was his car, he’d been driving it around that part of Nashville for a while. They were probably just following him to get pictures wherever he was going. But then he-he crashed and-”
“And what? They took pictures of it? Of him?” Eren asks, squeezing Lana’s shoulders too hard.
“Yeah. They-they only called the police when they were done, Eren. I-”
The tears fill Eren’s eyes as the implication cuts deep. It all but sears the air in his lungs, the tears welling so fast that it’s already obstructing his vision. All he can feel is Lana’s hands, squeezing his biceps, as he tries to control the heaving in his chest.
“How long?”
“Eren.” she says, tone so pitiful it makes his blood boil.
“How long, Lana?” he asks, voice cracking.
“It took them forty-five minutes to get there. They would have been there in fifteen.” she whispers.
And now, the autopsy report tells him enough. With a definitive resolve that the paparazzi killed Marco. Because he died from asphyxiation, from being twisted in the metal, not getting any air. And if the police had gotten there maybe a moment earlier, a second faster, they could have gotten him out, could have at least made sure he was breathing.
They wanted a picture. Marco died for it.
The anger surges through Eren, tenfold when he remembers the paparazzi lining up Jean and Mikasa’s engagement party, Falco’s school, his house the day his grandpa died. When you walked into his garage, drenched from the rain with a deep cut on your face and skidded knees, scared to death.
“I’m done sugarcoating, Hange. Eren is right. They killed Marco.” Levi responds.
Hange sighs, leaning against the counter as Eren walks up to them, resting his head against their shoulder. They all stand there in silence, not even seventy-two hours after the fact, and it still hasn’t hit Eren.
In full flesh, that Marco is gone.
The rapid knocking on the door, real this time, breaks him out of his thoughts.
“Probably Zeke or Armin. I’ve got it.” he murmurs.
“Thanks kid.”
Eren watches as Levi sinks into Hange’s arms, sighing as he shuffles to the door and flicks on the porch light. He swings it open and immediately feels his throat tighten, fully constricted, at the sight of you standing in the lamplight.
You’re looking up at him, swallowing hard, as you stare into his eyes and all Eren can do is wonder if your brain is short circuiting as much as his is. Surely, it isn’t. Eren has every reason to be embarrassed, to be ashamed. And you don’t.
For posterity, he fights all instincts, every urge in his body, to reach forward and hold you. To let your sweet flowery smell take over his nose, to settle his face into that crook in your neck, to have your soft, soft touch running over his skin. To let the mountain of emotions he’s been carrying fall, because you’re here.
But he can’t.
“Hi Eren.”
“Y/N.”
He can’t help but inspect every micro-movement, every gesture you make. Your eyes are nearly glassing over with tears and you’re nervously fidgeting with your fingers. You’ve dropped your gaze to focus on the ground, a habit you always had when you were sad, as your voice breaks into the air.
“Can I ask you something? Please?” you whisper.
He reaches forward, hands on your shoulders, squeezing once and praying to god you remember what it means, as he nods.
That he’s here and he’s got you.
“Anything. What is it?”
“Is he dead?”
Maybe not anything.
He can’t be the one to tell you. You of all people that Marco died, at the hands of the paparazzi. The same paparazzi who in your very pointed words, gutted your first love like a fish. Who were partly to blame, who drove you out of here alongside him.
“Y/N.”
“Is he?” you repeat, voice smaller.
“Okay. Let’s go inside, you-”
“Is Marco dead, Eren? I’m asking you a question.”
Your anger in your voice is enough to make him stop in his tracks, the second time your voice is laced with that animosity that it scares him into responding. He hears it, in his worst hours, echoing in his mind.
How many times are you going to keep breaking shit without any care in the world? The camera, the fucking award you picked over me, Connie’s fucking livelihood, my heart. God, Eren. All you’ve ever cared about is yourself. From the start.
He swallows hard.
“Yes. Marco’s dead.”
And you don’t even know the half of it.
He watches your glass tears, the ones sitting right on the edge of your eyelashes, fall in full force, onto your cheeks as you immediately start hiccuping, hands clasped against your chest.
“I-I saw it on the news. I-I didn’t believe it but I- They always lie about stuff. I thought it was the same as that and-”
“Y/N, come ins-”
Your panic sets in so fast, so quick that Eren doesn’t even register it. Because one second you’re panting and the next Eren’s watching you retch onto the grass Connie mowed this morning. Eren pushes you into the house the second you stop, straight to the kitchen where Levi and Hange are still standing in their spots.
“Wait, is that-”
“Do you guys know if we have something like…anti-nausea? Is that what you do when someone throws up or-” Eren asks.
“Is that Y/N?” Levi asks.
“Yeah, she-she was on the porch, I-”
Levi’s quick to walk up, hands on your shoulders as he talks, voice quiet and calm when he speaks near your ear. Hange moves to Eren’s side, her face wearing that concerned look she gives him too much these days, as they both rummage through the cabinets for anything that could help.
“Y/N. You okay?” Levi asks.
“I-I threw up on the-the porch. On the g-grass. So-sorry.”
“It’s just grass. What’s-”
Eren tries to still it - that pounding in his heart - as he walks over with the glass of water he filled up for you. Your hands must be wobbling too much because Eren doesn’t let the glass go, instead tilting your head up softly with his hands and pouring the water into your mouth.
“Hey. Drink some more for me.” Eren states, voice soft as he instinctively reaches forward to fix the hairs sticking to the sweat beading your forehead, feeling your skin burning under his touch.
“We should take her temperature.” Eren says.
Levi and Hange dart out of the room, to the drawer upstairs where the thermometer is, as Eren takes breaks between helping you drink the water and rubbing circles into your back.
Eren can feel every muscle in his body tense, his skin burning when you lean forward, forehead resting against his chest as you groan out in pain.
“Hey. You with me?” Eren asks, murmuring straight into your hair.
Eren feels your breathing still against him, his hands intuitively wrapping around you this time, cradling the back of your head in his hands. You hum in response to his question, which is a good enough answer for Eren now.
“Found it.” Levi says, all but speed walking as Eren spins you around, watching as Levi meticulously pushes your sweaty hair out of your face and holds the sensor against your head. You’re all standing there in silence, craning over the little plastic as the two consecutive beeps go off.
“98.6. You’re okay, Y/N.” Levi mutters, setting the thermometer back on the table.
“Thank you, Levi.” you respond back, rubbing your arms on your biceps as you stare at the two of them, withdrawn and withholding from you.
Granted, you’d do the same. You wouldn’t rush to their arms either if they ignored you for two years.
“You can take this for nausea. If it happens again.” Hange says, placing a bottle in your hands.
“Sure. Thank you, Hange.” you respond.
The silence hangs in the air between the four of you as you stand there, each of you racking your heads for the right thing to say. Eren wants to tell Levi and Hange to stop being so rude, that they were the ones who were begging you to come back and now that you’re here they won’t even talk to you. Levi and Hange are debating which one of them should yell at you first, for being withdrawn from them and not asking for help the way Eren did. And you’re figuring out who you should apologize to first, between the three of them.
None of you break. Because it’s not the right time. Because Marco is dead.
“Everyone is sleeping together upstairs. There should be an extra air mattress up there, Eren will get it for you….knock if you need something.” Levi says, tone exasperated as he shuffles away.
“Welcome back, kid.”
Hange gives you a full smile as they follow him, leaving you and Eren in the kitchen. The distance Levi is putting in between you and him stings, but you swallow the burn and remind yourself that you’re the one who inflicted it on yourself.
At the time, after the interview, the rationale made more sense. Nonsensically, you decided that you were done with the industry and that, by proxy, meant that you were done with them too. You did your interview and stuck to your word, never looked back.
It’s humiliating now. Debilitating thinking about how much you must have hurt them. Because each of them, they continually reached out until it stopped. Mikasa made every effort to have you come to her engagement party, that she would even stop the press from coming for Vogue the way they had planned for you.
And when you didn’t show, all she did was send you pictures, of her and Jean cutting the cake and of the dress she had bought for you to wear. Hange and Levi were so vigilant about it, on making sure that you were okay, that you had security details, that people really were leaving you alone. You didn’t heed any of their efforts, because for all intents and purposes, you were leaving the girl you were behind.
Her dreams, the love she held, the friends she had.
It seems stupid now. It seems incredibly and gut-wrenchingly stupid that your last words to Marco were over two years ago because you were punishing him for something that wasn’t his fault. That you can’t go to any of them for comfort because the thing that they need comfort from is you.
All you know how to do is ruin people.
“Are you hungry? Or do you want to go to bed?” Eren asks.
“I can go to bed. Levi said air mattress?”
“Yeah, we’re all sleeping together in the loft upstairs.”
“We?” you ask.
“Mikasa and Jean are here. Ymir and Hisu, Bertholdt and Reiner, Connie and Sash. Everyone else should be getting in tomorrow.”
Eren pads towards the stairs and you awkwardly follow, crawling up the stairs behind him. You can hear the loud chatter of voices, talking over each other, as you try to catch the ends of their conversation.
“But where do they go when you pee?” Sasha asks.
“Fuck do you mean, where do they go?” Reiner says, voice incredulous.
“Like in the bowl? Because if you’re sitting on the toilet, they have to go somewhere?” Sasha repeats.
“Sasha. It’s almost one in the morning. Please stop talking about balls.” Ymir groans, earning a good amount of laughs from the group.
“Eren, tell them all to shut the fuck up.” Jean groans, forearm over his eyes as he and Mikasa roll around on their mattress.
Eren looks at you, eyes weary, before he turns to respond to them.
“Y/N’s here.”
They all peek their heads up, curious eyes falling on you, as you give them a halfhearted smile, trying your best to wipe your sweaty palms on the back of your dress.
“Hi guys.”
The silence is deafening. You can’t pick what’s worse - Reiner and Bertholdt squinting their eyes at you or Mikasa and Jean refusing to look at you.
Mikasa and Jean.
Historia stands up, strutting over from her air mattress, to wrap her arms around you, the pressure of the hug so hard you can barely breathe. You breathe in her smell, spicy and sharp the way it’s always been, as she pulls away. Her warm hand is resting on your cheek, the smile on her face so genuine that it untangles the smallest parts of discomfort on your chest.
“Hi princess. Missed you.”
“Thanks, Hisu. I missed you too.”
That’s always been the thing about Historia. That she’ll pick up, even when you haven’t called her in two years, and run to your aid.
“How’d you know we were here?” Jean asks, hands resting on his knees.
“I asked Historia.” you respond.
“Told you I was her favorite. She reached out to me before you.” Historia mutters, flopping back onto the air mattress she’s sharing with Ymir.
“You’re so arrogant, Historia. And full of shit.” Jean responds, rolling his eyes.
“You’re so right, Jean-Boy. This is just like what we fought about earlier.” Connie responds.
The group of them break out into an argument, Historia looking like she’s full on about to wrestle Connie as he only instigates her on. Mikasa’s already resting with her eyes closed as Jean turns pink in the face from his irritations.
And you can’t help but laugh, warm tingling in your chest at all of them, wholeheartedly the same. You look over at Eren and smile, which he returns. But despite it all, that stillness, that outsider feeling sits in your skin. Because despite them being the same, the striking differences in the room tell you things are wholeheartedly different too.
“Okay. Where’s the extra air mattress?” Eren asks.
Connie turns, eyes wide, as he gives the two of you a sheepish smile.
“Really funny story. Sooooo….”
“God. What did you do?” Eren groans.
“Long story short, I was thinking about waterbeds. If you pop a water bed, it should be like a waterfall right? So if it’s an air mattress, it should be like an inflatable air balloon thing. Like the weird noodle guys at the car store? Right? So, I tried to pop it. And succeeded.” Connie responds, rambling.
“Was it cool?” you ask.
“Ugh. Not at all, princess.” Connie responds.
You smile, perhaps bigger than you should at Connie using your old nickname, as Eren starts yelling at him.
“You should be the one to sleep on the floor since you’re the one who ruined the mattress.” Eren states.
“She should sleep on the floor. She got here last!” Connie responds.
“She just threw up. And she wasn’t going to sleep on the floor regardless.”
“Is she contagious?” Connie responds.
“Connie!”
Eren rolls his eyes as Mikasa stands up, shuffling to your side and lightly tugging your arm. You look at her, taking her shorter hair in, as you give her a smile.
“Hey. Want to go change? Your old clothes should still be here, don’t know how well they’ll fit.”
Eren breaks out of his conversation, leaning forward to where the two of you are talking, to interject.
“What’s mine is yours. Take mine if you need to.” he says, before returning in full flesh to the argument he’s having with Connie. You can tell they’re both joking from the way they’re trying not to laugh as you start to walk away.
The two of you quietly pad down the length to the two doors, directly across from each other, as you take in the scribbled signs switched. Your old room now reads Jean and Mikasa with Connie’s handwriting scribbled underneath inscribing please fuck quietly on the door. And consequently, Eren’s room now reads Eren and Y/N with Sasha’s handwriting scribbled underneath reading yall are fucked UP for this.
You turn to Mikasa and give her a weird look.
“Right. We’ve been here for a week, actually. Table reading season four stuff. Jean and I want to share a room so we moved all of his stuff to your room and your stuff to Eren’s room. We’ll put it back.” Mikasa states, pushing open the door to Eren’s room as she starts rummaging through your old drawers in the closet.
“No, no. It’s okay. I wouldn’t want to impose on you guys when you’re almost about to be newlyweds?” you ask.
“Yeah. Yeah, next year. And we just moved it because we thought you weren’t going to come back. And Eren didn’t want to toss your stuff and all.” she responds. She pulls out a shirt, most definitely from when you’re fifteen, as you both snicker at the size and she keeps digging.
You walk around Eren’s room, your room too now, as you eye all the boxes filled with your things, tangled in with Eren’s clothes lying around on every open surface. You take a seat at his desk as you start inspecting his little bulletin board, the pictures underneath the pins.
One of him, Lana, and Sukuna - the three of them smoldering at the camera. Eren and Connie smiling, Eren and a little kid with short curly hair, and two pictures of you. The first one is of you and him sleeping on set and the other is the two of you with Falco, both of you crouching down to his height and hugging him from behind.
And hanging around both of the pins are your friendship bracelets, which you take off the hooks to inspect.
So that’s where it went. In all of the fire of moving around so much, jumping from one place to another, you always thought you lost it. But you must have left it here all along.
You run your hands over the beads, yours and Eren’s names, as Mikasa gives you a head shake, indicating she didn’t find anything.
“S’okay. I’ll look through Eren’s stuff I guess.” you murmur.
Mikasa nods as she leans against Eren’s desk, hands crossed over her chest, as the silence hangs in between the two of you. She takes one of the bracelets from your hands, twisting the beads in her fingers, as you do the same with yours.
You find solace in the fact that Mikasa is still wearing her engagement ring - a constant in the sparring mix of changes you just witnessed in the room.
Connie sober. Ymir and Historia sharing a mattress. Eren and Connie getting along. Mikasa and Jean even tolerating being in the same room as Eren. In the same room as you. And the jarring absence of Marco.
“How are you?” Mikasa asks.
“Okay, Mika. How are you?”
Mikasa sinks down, sitting flat on the floor as she hikes her knees to her chest. You follow suit, dropping from your chair to sit next to her, lacing your arm through hers as you both blankly stare at the floor ahead of you, picking what topic to broach first.
I missed you. I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you in two years. Our friend is dead. Eren is here.
“The engagement party looked beautiful, Mikasa.”
She smiles, leaning her head against yours.
“Thank you, Y/N. It was quite nice actually.”
“I watched it on Vogue. Cried quite a bit.” you respond.
She laughs, rolling her eyes at you as she lightly shoves you.
“Should’ve come then. Cried in real time.”
You swallow hard, cheeks warm, as you squeeze her hand. You know she’s joking, but the guilt runs too deep.
“I’m sorry for not coming. I-I really wish I was there. And I know there’s no justification for it but-”
“We aren’t mad at you. Jean and I.” she clarifies.
“I’d understand if you were. I’m your best friend. I’ve-I’ve been with you guys since the start and-”
Mikasa’s hands are soft on your shoulders, tears gathering in her eyes, as she looks at you, eyes pinched in pain.
“You had every right to not come. To be done with this. What they did to you, to Eren- Y/N, god.”
You swallow hard.
��It didn’t warrant me not coming to you-”
“It did. You don’t even know the half of it. You-you and Eren. You just-”
There’s a knocking at the door and Eren pads in, eyes wide as he sees you and Mikasa on the floor, tears gathered in her eyes and your limbs tangled together.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I can come back.”
“No, no. It’s okay, Eren. Her clothes are too small. I can go grab mine for her if you two want to talk-” her words pointed, the emphasis on the last words hard.
“No, don’t bother Mikasa.” he responds, disappearing into his closet to find a pair of clothes for you.
Mikasa turns back to you, giving your cheek a pinch.
“I’ll make Jean sleep on the floor if Connie doesn’t give up his mattress. It’ll be like old times.” she responds, shuffling out of the room as you stay on your spot on the floor.
You hike your knees to your chest as you twist the beads in your fingers again, Eren’s name that you used to wear on your wrist almost every day foreign in your fingers.
“Eren. We’re going to be late.” you groan, impatiently tapping your foot on the ground as you wait for him by the door.
The two of you are already thirty minutes late to Erwin’s going away party, the last car waiting to take the two of you, Marco, and Annie out to the little soiree that Erwin is throwing for himself - in celebration of him being killed off.
“Sorry, sorry. Looking for my bracelet.” he responds, darting back and forth from different corners of the room.
“Well, hurry up. Annie’s getting pissed.”
“I found yours! But where is mine?”
You look down at your wrist to find the pink beads on your wrist, spelling out your name against your pulse point in your wrist.
“Oops, sorry. I’m wearing yours.” you respond.
Eren’s quick to walk over to where you’re standing on the door - giving you enough time to groan at how haphazardly he got ready for the party. His tie is loose against his neck, hair all messy as you reach up to fix it.
“God, Eren. At least brush your hair.”
“Quit moving your hands.”
Eren takes his hand in yours, quickly sliding the bracelet off your wrist and switching it with the one in his hand.
“Well, get ready properly. Your tie isn’t even on right.” you respond, irritated as you reach forward to tighten the fabric and smooth down his collar.
“And if I told you I put it on wrong just so you would fix it, what would you think?”
“That you’re asking for a death sentence from Annie for wasting time.”
He rolls his eyes, reaching up to lift the hand he just placed the bracelet on. His thumb is straight against your pulse point, blood pulsating under the spot, as he lifts his hand to leave a kiss right there.
“And that it’s cute that you did that.”
He gives you a wide grin, locking your hands together as you both rush out the door.
Eren shuffles out, sitting across from you as he puts the stack of clothes between you and hikes his knees to his chest. He holds his hand out and you place the bracelet in his hand.
“You left it in the bathroom.”
You nod as you try to steady your mind - still running a hundred miles per hour and overstimulated from seeing everyone again. From how familiar it all feels, how easy it all is to fall back into this despite how different things are.
How you and Eren are miles apart, how you haven’t talked to them all in months, how Marco is dead. That Marco’s death is suspending all of you in a weird state of reality, that every angry word spoken and every bit of harshness seems miniscule now.
“Do you want me to leave?” Eren asks.
“No.” you shrug.
“Do you want to talk?”
“No.”
Eren nods, counting each of the beads on the bracelet, as you both sit there in the silence, letting your eyes float around the room as you let your mind wander.
Marco and Colt playing chess everyday when he visited you in Canada, Marco falling for every stupid joke that Connie played on him, the way you all cried when Marco died in the show, Marco at the awards show.
“Eren?”
“Yes, Y/N?”
“Do you remember the first time we kissed?”
The question takes Eren off guard. He debates it then and there - telling you the truth full and whole - on the basis that he can’t handle the way you’re looking at him. At the fact that you even asked that, at the implication that you thought he could ever forget.
“Of course. On set, in the-”
“No, no. I mean, for real.”
“At the awards show.” Eren responds, without a beat.
“Yeah.”
Eren leans forward, wrapping his hands around your neck and pressing his lips to yours. You can still feel people moving around you, setting up things for the closing part of the ceremony, but the only thing you’re paying attention to is Eren. And his lips. And the way he’s pulling you closer, like he can’t get enough of you.
When you pull apart, you’re both panting, smiling at each other.
“Thank god. If I got cock-blocked from kissing you a third time, I was actually going to commit a murder.”
“You want me so bad.” you say, sarcastically.
“Obviously.”
You both smile and turn to the left, to a very smiley Marco staring at you two. And then you cringe, remembering that you and Eren are literally backstage and there’s like seven people who just watched you suck face. Marco walks up, wrapping his arms around both of you and hugging hard.
“I love you guys.”
“Marco. Don’t-” Eren starts.
“I’m not going to tell anyone. You need time to figure whatever is going on, without Connie and and Sasha up your ass the entire time. But I’m really, really happy for you.”
“Really, Marco?” you ask, leaning into Eren’s touch.
“It’s always been you guys. You guys better not break up or else I’ll come hunt both of you down. And if I’m dead, I’ll come back to life just to haunt you guys.”
“Do you think he’s haunting us?”
Eren frowns, the memory refreshing in his head. One he thought of a few days ago, lingering on the fact that Marco’s probably turning in grave right now. Granted, Marco was very vehement about his stance on you two - your interview and what Eren did, making Marco so agonizingly and uncharacteristically angry that it bothers him now.
For not listening to him. That if he does ever get to cross that bridge with you, at least be your friend again, that Marco won’t ever know.
“I just don’t understand why you won’t just go out there and tell her. You know where she lives.” Marco states, irritated.
“Because I just can’t, Marco! You watched the interview!”
“The entire song was about how she forgave you. How she isn’t holding a grudge against you. And-and the way she was talking about it, some part of her knows that other people had something to do with this, Eren. She knows deep down.”
“The interview was fucking horrible. This entire thing, this thing that I did, fucked her up so bad that she isn’t even doing this anymore. This was all she wanted, ever since she was a kid, she-she was so determined and she gave it up because I said all those things, because I did what I did.”
“Eren. It’s more compl-”
“No, it’s not. And she fucking hates me. You should have seen how upset she was at the awards show…..I-I ruined it for her. I ruined her entire dream, Marco.”
“God, Eren. Your tunnel vision is insane. You’re not even giving her a fighting chance when she doesn’t even know the truth!” he says.
“Maybe haunting is too mean of a word. I think he’d be happy to see us together, right now. Even if the circumstances aren’t the best.” he responds.
You smile, giving him a nod.
“He always did like playing cupid, didn’t he?”
“At the engagement party, he walked around telling everyone that Jean and Mikasa were only dating because of him.”
“That’s a lie.” you state.
“No one believed him.” Eren responds.
The two of you fall into silence again, resting your chins on your knees, as more thoughts swim through your head, pain so palpable it’s sitting in your chest. That if Marco were here, he’d be prancing in and giving you two devious smirks, lovingly teasing both of you. Pulling both of you aside, saying that bygones should be bygones if you still love each other.
You look up at him, watch his eyes flutter open and close, as he fidgets with his hands.
You still love him.
“Can we be civil for the weekend? Like…like you’re not Eren and I’m not Y/N, we’re just-” you sutter.
Your question falls short, hanging in the air as you watch the gears in Eren’s head turn.
“I just mean. So many things happened between us. And I know there’s hurt there, on your part and maybe mine too, but…..I don’t want us to be mad at each other at the funeral. Or after.”
You swallow hard.
“I’d hate for one of us to die being mad at each other. Without having talked in years.” you whisper.
Eren gets it. The guilt that must be wracking you for not talking to Marco, when you were one of the people who was closest to him. He reaches forward, taking your hand in his, as he fidgets with your fingers.
“He knows you loved him, Y/N.”
He watches the tears pour down your eyes, face pink and eyes swollen, as you talk.
“Did he? Because I ignored his texts. For years. He texted me happy birthday, asked how Falco was doing, wanted to know if I watched Halloweentown on October first like I always do, if I was happy, if I wanted to talk and-”
He squeezes your hand, pulling out his phone, as he scoots to the space next to you. He tries to still the pounding of his heart as you lace your arm through his, leaning your head against his.
“He knows, Y/N.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I was with him. I talked to him quite often after….after everything that happened. I promise you, he knows you loved him.”
You shake your head, guilt sitting in your head.
“I have something for you.” he murmurs.
“What is it?”
“It’s from a few years ago. I think he was really, really drunk.”
He hands you his phone, open to a voicemail from Marco, as you wipe the tears on your phone and press play. His voice comes through the speaker booming and giggling and hiccuping as he talks.
“Eren. Eren! Fuck, I love you so much dude. You’re-you’re such a guy. Like I-I just see you and think hmmmm. That’s a guy. Are you with Y/N? Tell her I love her. She’s my best friend. You’re all my best friends. I’m so happy I got to grow up with all of you. Oh, Connie just threw up on the floor, oh Connie- hey, stop! Okay, love you brother, I have to go.”
The voice cuts off abruptly, as you laugh.
“Never could hold his drink, could he?”
“Not everyone can be alcoholics like Jean and Mikasa.”
You both laugh, chest aching from how familiar, how soft this feels. That you’re both sitting in this room, where you grew up, fell in love, slept next to each other every night. Eren can see the tears welling in your eyes, thinking of his best efforts to stop it, at whatever is plaguing your mind.
“So. You said you’re not Y/N and I’m not Eren. So who are we?” he asks.
“I meant that metaphorically, you’re-”
You watch Eren’s eyes flit around his room, scanning till he stops around his bookshelf, and turns back to glance at you.
“Your new name is Margaret.”
“Ew. And I didn’t mean it like that, Eren.”
“Who is Eren? My name is….” he responds, giving you a smile as he elongagates the syllables waiting for your response.
You roll your eyes.
“Bruce. Your name is Bruce.”
“Bruce Wayne!”
“No. Not like Bruce Wayne. Think of someone really boring. Irritating, agitating.”
“Perfect! I’ll just think of you after five shots of tequila.”
You both laugh as Eren stands up, holding a hand out to pull you up. He sets the stack of clothes in your hand as he makes a move to walk out of the room. Except he hangs on the door for a second, voice soft when he talks.
“Does Bruce have permission to say something?”
“Sure.”
“I know he technically just met Margaret because she was born a minute ago, but he missed her. A lot.”
You feel your cheeks burn as you give him a nod, murmuring a quiet me too before sinking into the bathroom to slip his clothes on.
Connie, does in fact, not give up the mattress. Jean and Eren begrudgingly share as you and Mikasa cuddle into the night.
--
You wake up first, to find Mikasa sprawled over your entire frame. Her entire body is burning hot and you send a silent prayer to the world's strongest soldier, Jean Kirschtein, for putting up with this for so long. After you all but free yourself from her grasp, you spare a quick glance to see Jean must be smothering Eren more than Mikasa was you and silently muse that the two of them truly are made for each other.
You pad down to the kitchen, yanking the hood of Eren’s hoodie over your head, to find Connie sitting at the table, scribbling away in a journal, a steaming bowl of oatmeal next to him.
“Good morning, Con.’”
He looks up, one of his hands going instinctively to cover what he was writing as you take the seat next to him, crossing your legs up on the chair. He immediately relaxes, giving you a bright smile.
“Good morning, princess. You can have some if you want.”
“No, no. I don’t want to impose.”
“What’s mine is yours.” he says, mimicking Eren’s voice.
You snort, reaching for his spoon, as you take a bite of the warm food, soothing the stiffness in your throat.
“Sleep well?” he asks.
“Mikasa basically strangled me all night.”
“Ew. Of course she has the cuddle bug. I swear, Jean and Mikasa were always goo goo ga ga, but they’re even worse now.”
“They’re getting married, Connie. It’s sweet.”
He smiles, sliding the string through the pages, as he turns to you giving you a smile.
“Yeah. It is sweet.” he responds, voice quiet.
Connie swallows hard, eyes weary as he turns to you.
“I want to apologize.” Connie says.
The elephant in the room. He’s the first one to touch it.
“Oh. That’s okay, I under-”
“No, no. It’s not okay.” he responds, tone almost harsh.
You and Armin share a look the second he breaks the frame, glass shattering over the length of Armin’s apartment.
“Why the fuck would you guys bring me here?” Connie asks, sweat beading his forehead.
From the way he’s moving, all erratic and nonsensical, it makes you think that it’s out of his system. That if Connie had a chance, this would be when he would sneak off to the bathroom to get his fix. But he’s nowhere near that, instead settled into Armin’s tiny New York apartment, screaming at the two of you.
“Connie. You asked us too.” you respond.
“I was fucking high! Why would you guys even entertain a word I said?” Connie states, voice even more agitated now.
“Connie. You…you need help. We looked at some rehab places while you were asleep and-”
“Rehab? I’m not going to rehab. Are you trying to ruin my fucking career, Armin?”
“No, but we want to make sure you’re okay. They’ll be discrete, we’ll make sure the security detail is good so that you can be better and-”
“I am fucking fine. Do I look like I need help?”
You and Armin share a weary glance, before looking back at him.
“Connie. We love you. We-we just want to help you, okay?” you say.
“Does it ever embarrass you when you do this, Y/N?” Connie says, voice laced with venom.
“Sorry?”
“Does you not think it’s embarrassing to beg like this in front of people who don’t fucking care about you the way you do about them? I figured that Eren putting you in your place like that would set you straight but it seems like you didn’t learn your lesson, did you?”
You swallow hard, eyes and skin burning as Connie waits for your response.
“You don’t mean that. You-you’re just mad because you can’t be high right now.” you murmur.
“Am I, Y/N? Or is it true?”
“It’s not true. This isn’t you, Connie.”
“God, Y/N. Wake the fuck up. We aren’t fifteen anymore. No ones sitting here holding your hand telling you that you’ll be the best anymore. I get that you need that ego boost to move forward but I sure as hell am not going to be the one to give it to you.”
“Connie, that’s enough-”
Connie swallows hard, eyes focused on his fingers as he talks.
“I know-I know that I said it wasn’t true. But I really did say all of those things because I was high. Or because I wanted to be high and was in withdrawal and-”
“I know that, Connie. I’ve never held it against you.”
He frowns, twisting his pen to his fingers.
“You always give grace even when you don’t know the whole story. Me, Hisu, Eren.” he murmurs.
“You deserve it…and I partially knew. I mean, addiction is a disease. It hurt at first but that wasn’t your fault. You just needed to be treated and helped and I’m glad you did.”
He smiles, resting his cheek against his hand.
“Thank you, Y/N. Don’t mind me if I spend the rest of my life asking for forgiveness. I won’t ever feel like I deserve it but I’ll keep asking anyway.” he murmurs.
“I’ll always give it to you.” you respond, squeezing his shoulder.
You silently wonder that if you ever did come back, sans funeral, if things would be like this. If you and Eren could pretend, if Mikasa and Jean could look past it all. Because some parts of it, they feel earnest, truthful. But you can’t tell if you’re all suspended in some disbelief, clouded by your grief and trying to cling onto one of the things Marco loved most. His time on the show, with you all.
“Honey when I’m above the trees, I SEE IT FOR WHAT IT IS.” Connie sings, screams.
“Oh my god, Connie.” you deadpan.
He’s singing happiness. Like the happiness you sang in your interview, when you forgave Eren.
“THERE’LL BE HAPPINESS AFTER YOU. BUT THERE WAS HAPPINESS BECAUSE OF YOUUUU. BOTH OF THESE THINGS CAN BE TRUE, THERE IS HAPPINESS.”
You clamp your hand flat against his mouth, trying not to snicker, as he continues to sing underneath your hand.
“Are you insane? They’re all sleeping.” you whisper.
“Not anymore we’re not.” Ymir responds, immediately smacking Connie against the head.
“You’re going to give Eren a nightmare, Connie.” Historia mutters, dragging her feet into the kitchen as Ymir follows.
“I’m already living it.” Eren grumbles, leaning against the counter as he splits a PopTart with Jean.
Slowly but surely, every one of them shuffles down to the room, the deja vu of the situation hitting deep as each person follows suit. Sasha ambles down after a few minutes, finishing off the bowl of oatmeal that you and Connie were sharing while Reiner and Bertholdt murmur quietly over the coffee cup. Eren’s in hushed conversation with Jean and Mikasa, fixing himself breakfast, as Hange and Levi wander into the room, immediately thrown off by all of you in there.
“Jesus.” Levi says, tone exasperated.
“Good morning, Levi.” Mikasa says, gesturing to the water boiling on the kettle for his tea. He gives her a grateful smile, taking a seat in his corner as Hange talks to the group of you. Connie’s resorted to cracking all of your knuckles since his are all worn out as they go on.
“Good morning kiddos!”
“Don’t….do such a cheery voice, Hange.” Levi says, sighing.
Hange’s smile falters, before dropping all together, and giving a thoughtful nod. Eren shuffles over to your side, taking the seat next to yours as he places a steaming bowl of ramen in front of you.
“Oh. Thank you, Eren.”
“Who?”
You roll your eyes as Eren smiles, reaching forward to flick your cheek.
“Bruce.”
“Bruce, indeed.” he responds.
Eren knows he’s in treacherous waters. That this line you’ve drawn, that you’re not you and he’s not himself, works almost too well for Eren’s purposes. That he can pretend, in earnest, that none of the things he said happened. That you and him are just as you always were, untouched in the bubble you were always in when you lived here. .
“The funeral is tomorrow, as we all know. The Bodt’s have requested that we get there ten minutes before the service, so be on time tomorrow. Bertholdt, Sasha, I’m looking at both of you. ”
You all nod, humming in response, as you start digging into the bowl, switching off with Connie and Sasha who are both trying to monopolize the only real food in a five feet radius.
“That being said…” Hange says, swallowing hard.
They’re pacing back and forth almost, teetering on their ankles, when they talk. And when they finish explaining - autopsy report in hand and the gut punch sticking in your chest - you all sit there, blankly staring.
And wander in silence for the rest of the day.
It was one thing that Marco died. And an entirely different one that he was killed.
--
“Someone go get Eren, we only have thirty minutes.” Levi says, everyone lingering in the kitchen and the living room, in a sea of black.
Almost everyone is here now - Erwin, Armin, even Eren’s parents - all lingering around as you wait to head to the funeral. You give a curt nod to Levi and march out to the pavement, pebbles crunching under your feet as you make your way to set.
Eren’s been in there since last night, never retreating to the room to change into his pajamas before he settled down on the couch downstairs. Despite your protests, he refuses to sleep in the same room as you. Or let you sleep anywhere else besides Jean’s old bed in his room.
You let the pebbles crunch under your feet, ignoring the sting as you pass the tandem bike, and slip onto the set. You can see new costumes designs printed against the walls, storyboards with Levi and Hange’s handwriting on them as you make your way to the back towards the piano.
When you see him, that rage, simmering warm in your stomach over the past twenty-four hours, the deep-seated pain of Marco dying alone, crying out for help, comes to a head when you see Eren. Because he’s sitting at the bench, with his book propped up against the stand, and a bottle of pills in his hands.
You march up to where he’s standing, crossing your hands across your chest as you all but glare at him.
“Oh. Hey, you look-”
“Are you serious?”
You watch his face scrunch up in confusion, that stupid look on his face aggravating you even more. His tie is unkempt, his hair is messy - he’s always so haphazard with these things.
“You’re doing pills in here before Marco’s funeral. Are you fucking serious?”
He looks down, at the bottle in his hand and stands up, and swallows hard when he looks at you.
“Wait-”
“No. No, for once, you’re going to listen to me. You-you’re sick. Marco’s dead. You can’t even give it to him to be fully there while we say goodbye? This means that much to you?” you spit, watching him shut his eyes.
“Y/N.”
“How could you do this? To him? To me?”
He reaches forward, hands on your shoulders as he squeezes, and your eyes burn like acid. And every feeling, building up over the past few days, comes tumbling out.
“Why did he have to leave us, Eren? We didn’t get enough time with him. He was only twenty-four, he didn't even get to grow old. He was supposed to die, years from now, so happy, so-so surrounded by people he loved.”
Eren forgoes the rational thought. He reaches forward fully, snaking his arms around you as he cradles your head into his frame, trying his best to stifle your cries into his shoulder.
“And you. He would hate that you were doing this. I hate that you’re doing this. You-you don’t have to. There are other things that can make you happy or-or fix whatever it is that’s wrong.”
“Y/N.”
“What, Eren?”
He pulls back, reaching for the pill bottle, and placing it in the palm of your hand. You read the label, immediately embarrassed and ashamed of your reaction.
Eren Jaeger
*Lexapro 5 mg
Take one tablet by mouth with the morning meal.
“Oh my god, Eren. I’m so sorry, I-”
You pull back, sitting down on the bench, as you dig your fingers into your temples, trying to stop that pulsating feeling under your skin. The rage, the feeling, coursing through you so hard that you can’t even pick what you’re mad at.
You’re breathing panic in and out, chest heaving, as Eren takes a seat next to you, leaning his elbows on his knees. And the feeling, it lands on feeling overwhelmingly embarrassed. Because Eren’s not doing drugs, he’s taking anti-anxiety pills.
“Eren. I’m so sorry. That was so horrible of me, I thought it was-”
“You thought it was like Connie.” he finishes
“Yeah. And I’m sorry for assuming, I just-”
“I’m not mad at you. You were just trying to take care of me. I appreciate it.”
You groan, embarrassment still coursing through you, as you lean your forehead straight against the piano, the smell of the ink on Eren’s book permeating your nose.
“Do you remember that birthday party of mine I told you about? When I was ten, at my old house in New York? It was when we were in Australia.”
You nod.
“I remember feeling it. A paralyzing block in my chest, like I couldn’t move. And when I was able to move, it was only because it all came rushing to me, so panicked, so fast that I-I didn’t even register what happened.”
He was barely even ten. You lift your hands to his shoulders, squeezing hard, as he continues.
You’re here and you’ve got him.
“I didn’t tell anyone. I thought something was wrong with me. I thought that people feel this way, that it’s normal, but I just felt too much of it. That I just can’t handle things the way normal people do.”
You frown, reaching up to cup the side of his face. Your fingers brush over his dimples, soft under your fingers, as you talk.
“Eren. There is nothing wrong with you. That’s just an anxiety attack.” you whisper.
You’re not sure what it is about what you said but when you look up, there are soft tears flowing down Eren’s cheek, the voice coming out of his mouth so garbled you can barely understand what he’s saying.
“Hey, Eren.” you whisper,
“No. No, no. Stop.”
Eren stands up, retreating to the other side of the piano, where he’s leaning over, his entire frame heaving up and down as you walk to his side.
“Why are you-”
“I don’t want you to help me. You shouldn’t be helping me.” he says, his voice shuddering.
“Why not?” you ask, frowning.
“I’ve been horrible to you. I don’t deserve your help. You-you should be cussing me out, so mad that you can’t stand me, that you want me to suffer and you’re not. And it’s agonizing for me that you aren’t.”
You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around him from the back, as you feel him sigh. You lean your cheek flat against his shoulder, squeezing as hard as you can as Eren continues to cry, fists clenched so tight on the piano that white.
“You’re not you and I’m not me. We agreed on that.” you murmur.
“Y/N. We can’t-”
“Who?”
He snickers, amidst his tears, as he turns around, and you slot your arms under his. You can feel his heart thumping under your ear, loud and fast, as you place your hand over the spot. The two of you stay that way for some time, Eren's tears falling onto you, as you try your best to remedy whatever it is that's burning inside of him.
“Just calm down and breathe. Falco says it always helps to talk about something else, when he feels like this.”
He tenses at the mention of Falco, which you realize was a mistake.
“Why were you in here?” you ask.
“The Bodt’s asked me to write a song for the service.”
The perfect distraction.
“Can you sing it for me?” you ask.
He looks down, green eyes - full and round - as he nods, shuffling towards the piano bench as you take the seat next to him. You can see that the lyrics are scribbled on the book resting against the stand, the paper stiff from blotches of Eren’s tears. He starts playing the piano, his voice echoing on the walls of the set.
And if I didn't know better
I'd think you were talking to me now
If I didn't know better
I'd think you were still around
What died didn't stay dead
What died didn't stay dead
You're alive, you're alive in my head
What died didn't stay dead
What died didn't stay dead
You're alive, so alive
You rest your hands against the keys next to his, slowly following his pace, as he continues to sing, the hum of his voice filling the air. You can’t help but think it. That he’s beautiful. That this is your Eren, miles away from whoever he was when you saw him last.
I should've asked you questions
I should've asked you how to be
Asked you to write it down for me
Should've kept every grocery store receipt
'Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me
You can feel the tears flowing down your cheeks now, straight onto the piano keys and your hands, as you cry.
And if I didn't know better
I'd think you were singing to me now
If I didn't know better
I'd think you were still around
I know better
But I still feel you all around
I know better
But you're still around
When you and Eren get to the service, you walk hand in hand to the piano. And play the song together, for Marco and Marco only.
--
You knock on the door, padding into the room to find Levi, hunched over his computer and leaning his hand on his cheek. You take the seat next to him, crossing your legs against the chair, as he looks over at you, expressionless.
“I’m leaving tomorrow.” you say.
Four days after the funeral and all of them have cleared out. Forced to go back to wherever they were before, to push down the beating pain and move forward. The grief, perhaps it did suspend reality for the rest of you. Leave you to pretend that nothing that happened was real, that you were still teenagers running around on this set together.
That wasn’t how it was for Levi. Because in almost a week of being there, he had yet to talk to you with a straight face.
“What are you working on, Levi?” you ask, cracking your knuckles.
He turns the laptop towards you, one of the old hard drives from the earlier seasons pulled up on his computer. He plays the video, one of Jean sitting in a chair behind the green backdrop.
“Okay, Jean. Tell me your goal for the end of the show.” Levi asks.
The video, Jean must be barely sixteen, wearing one of the old costumes from season one. You remember now, that Hange was insistent on documenting everything - that you all were going to grow up so fast that they should keep videos. Obviously, Hange is too disorganized to do it themselves, so Levi bit the bullet and did it for them.
“I don’t know. That’s so far away, Levi.” he groans, scrunching up his forehead.
“Just answer, Jean. Where do you see yourself at the end of the show, when you’re in your twenties?”
“With Mikasa.” he responds.
You both smile as Levi switches to the next videos, the two of you watching all of them in silence.
“I want to be myself. That’s all I want to be, not embarrassed or ashamed, I-I just want to be me.” Historia says, smiling into the camera.
“I don’t know. That’s a weird question, Levi.” Mikasa grumbles, glaring at him.
“You’re horrible, Mikasa. Jean said he wants to be with you.” Levi responds.
“Well, that’s a given. Of course, I’m going to be with Jean.” she responds, giving one last eye roll to the camera.
“Doing something important. That means something to people.” Connie responds.
You swallow hard, as you see Eren, fifteen and so smiley, as he crawlsl onto the little stool.
“My turn?” Eren asks, giving Levi a bright smile.
“Yes, kid. Your turn. Why else would you be sitting here?”
“Okay. This is a secret so don’t tell anyone.” he says.
“I’m not broadcasting to a news channel, Eren. Just hurry up, I still have to get through half of you.”
Eren nods, reaching up to fix his hair, before he talks - his voice filled with that confident resolve, that one he always sported when he was fifteen.
“I want to get the Best Actor in a Lead role award. And on the same night, I want Y/N to become a triple threat. And then I want us to tell her that I told her so. Me and her, at the top.” he says, giving the camera a bright smile, before jumping off.
The next one is of you, what you said being entirely lost to you in your memories.
“What do I want to do when I'm in my twenties? Hm.” you echo.
“Today would be nice.” Levi deadpans.
“Well, I don’t know! That’s so broad. I want to be doing stuff like this. Acting, making music, To have people enjoy the work I make, and making it with my friends, like Eren and Mikasa and Armin. I want to be here, more than anything. It feels so right to me, that I get to do this. It’s special, it’s a privilege and I’m really thankful I get to do it.”
“Note to anyone watching. This is one of our only kids with manners.” Levi says, setting the camera down to give you a hug.
You bite down on your cheek, looking over at Levi, as he plays the last one. Of Marco.
“Okay, Marco. What do you want to do when you’re in your twenties?”
“Well. I know what I’m going to be doing.” Marco says, crossing his arms against his chest.
“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”
“See. Spoiler alert, but Hange and Levi just killed me off this show. But we made a deal. That I get to be in each season, even if its a super minor role like a flashback or whatever. So in my twenties, I’ll be here. Surrounded by all my childhood best friends, making this show that’s always meant so much to us.”
You swallow hard as Levi wraps his arms around you, the two of you watching Marco’s smiley face disappear from the screen.
“So I’ll see you in four months? For season four?”
“Damn right you will.” you respond.
And for the first time in a week, Levi breaks a smile.
“Good.”
--
next part linked here
an, again: SEASON FOUR ERA (this shit abt to be so awkward when they're not all sad/grieving )
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Small but mighty
Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • It’s adorable watching this short and mighty woman take on 6’ foot men that mess with her. It’s a little less adorable when the archer is being carried on her shoulders • ANSGT/SFW • TW: Injuries
Requested by: Anon
After the war, a lot needed to be done to bring every community back to its former glory without the wrath of Negan coming down on them.
Alexandria had more structural rebuilding needing to be done so that was the priority.
“Ready to pull?”
“Like you need my help, sunshine” Daryl scoffs playfully, ignoring the smirk on Y/N’s face as they were helping a few bring up the new wall.
Once they were in a position holding the wall up and letting those taking care of wielding get the job done. Eugene walked over in hopes to find Rick helping out so he could ask him something but he noticed Y/N holding onto the rope with Daryl behind her as his mind instantly went to—
“Yea sure she’s strong enough to help steady the wall in place for a while?” Eugene’s voice directed toward the archer as he gave him a you’re kidding? look before letting go of the rope. “Wait!—-…wait”
Y/N noticed the rope drop from behind her as she gave Daryl a confused look before fixing her stance to have her more cemented. Daryl crossed his arms giving Eugene an annoyed look.
“She can handle herself. Just didn’t want her to strain so much”
“If she holds this ability, mind if she helps me with somethin’ later?”
“As long as it’s before nightfall or imma have to—-“
“I’m not property Daryl, but yeah I’m not working on shit past nightfall” Y/N interrupted as Eugene respected such before getting one last word in to inform him when she’s done.
After helping with the wall it was onto carrying the tech scraps that Eugene collected that were being unused at the Sanctuary in hopes he could make something useful out of it for all of them. Daryl even helped to make the job faster so he could spend some alone time with his partner.
“You can make a radio with these parts. Have stations at each community but you’re definitely missing a few things that could connect them all” Y/N went on while rummaging through the scraps as Eugene took inventory of everything useful.
“We can also improve the solar system we have here in Alexandria by having a sole source. Then bring one to the Hilltop”
“That’s a lot of heavy lifting you’re going to have to do”
“Thank the higher power we got you” Eugene smiles at her before returning to his work. Y/N laughs to herself with an eye roll to his words.
Daryl watches the two work from the door way which gave his position. Leading for Michonne to quickly get his attention for help in regard to watching Judith for the night. He could never say no to the small grimes even if he wanted a peaceful night with his partner.
“Of course it’s okay! How could you say no to this face?” Y/N smiles in the comforts of their basement living holding Judith in her arms.
“She’s gonna want those crackers you stash away for later”
“Don’t bring those up!” She laughs which lead Judith to start laughing. “She can have some but after I try and get her to eat whatever a-n-i-m-a-l you caught”
“She loves r-a-b-b-i-t. And Carol sent over some veggies that have started growin’ since the war ended about a month ago. Jude loves that stew yea make”
“Everybody does or at least I hope” Y/N smiles bringing Judith on her shoulders as she instantly reached for Daryl who closed the distance to let Judith grab at him.
A bit of domesticity was nice after a long day and while Judith currently lays passed out in Daryl and Y/N’s bed. The two were enjoying the other’s company in the mini living room not far from the bedroom, the door being open just in case Jude needed either of them.
“Michonne said they’d be back in the mornin’ to grab her. Then we’ll head to the Kingdom”
“M’kay…guess this is our bed for the night” Y/N laughs softly laying against his chest on the couch feeling his hand gently go up and down her arm.
The two fell asleep fast and woke rather early, the usual habit of feeling unsteady after sleeping. Y/N lifted herself up and off Daryl even with his short lived protests on the matter. She went to check on Judith only to be met with a note that Rick came through during the night to pick her up.
“Guess we have an early start with no baby” Y/N smiles kissing Daryl’s forehead on her way to their small kitchenette. “There’s leftover stew from last night if you’re hungry. But I’m gonna pack my bag for the trip to the kingdom”
“Just toss a couple clothes in my pack and then we’re good” Daryl pulled himself up and off the couch heading toward the fridge to grab the jar of jelly Ezekiel gave him. The archer went to open it only for a struggle that Y/N witnessed when she came back into the main room.
“You want—-“
“Nah fuck off” Daryl continued to struggle, turning away from Y/N’s gaze as she rolls her eyes setting her clothes on the couch before getting his pack.
The second she heard the jar hit the counter, Y/N knew that was her cue for her turn at opening it. Once she did, she left it on the counter for Daryl to approach it later to get a spoon full of what he wanted.
“Okay I did what you said but I also included my first aid. Not like we’ll need it but better safe than sorry” Y/N smiles slipping her jacket on and pulling her pony tail out. She relaxed when Daryl brought himself up behind her kissing the spot where her neck meets her shoulder.
“Let’s get going, sunshine” Daryl playfully pats her butt on the way out of their living quarters.
Then two always stop to hunt for a moment before completing the trip to the Kingdom, but the second the gates opened Carol couldn’t help the laugh to erupt from her watching her friend carry in two bucks on her back while Daryl brought his bike to a stop with only rabbits over his shoulder.
“How do you manage to carry those things from wherever the two of you hunted?”
“Don’t ask questions I’ve brought dinner” Y/N laughs walking past Carol to Jerry who helped her take the hunt to their kitchen to prep it. Leaving Daryl alone with his best friend.
“Why didn’t you carry them in? Why make your partner?”
“Funny you think I didn’t ask” Daryl scoffs. “Besides you know—-“
“She’d argue with you. I do know that” She smiles bringing him in for a hug before pulling away to lead to where they’ll be staying for the night. “You would think someone of her stature wouldn’t be able to carry things four times her weight. But look at her go. Freak of nature…respectfully” she clarified when Daryl gave her a glare to that comment.
“It’s adorable.” Daryl states opening the door for Carol. “Sometimes”
“She opened the jar for you again huh?” She smirks getting a groan out of the man. “Ha!”
“Shut the fuck up” He groans once more as he walked through the mess hall to head into the kitchen watching Y/N prepare one of the bucks. “Need a hand?”
A few hours went by and the two got a lot done in the Kingdom, all they had to do left for their agenda was to set up snares and a few trigger points in case herds passed through. Daryl took care of the trigger points while Y/N set up traps but neither of them accounted for old traps that were still placed just that the environment grown over them making it difficult to spot.
So when the sound of a bear trap went off followed by a thud, Y/N thought it was one and hers and retraced her steps. But the obvious scream coming from the archer, made it clear to Y/N it wasn’t one of hers.
“Fucking—-SON OF A BITCH” Daryl shouted staring at the bear trap latched to his left calf. “Stupid fucking shit didn’t warn—-“ Trying to blame someone else for your misstep isn’t going to make this not happen—after it already did.
The quick steps triggered Daryl to grab his crossbow and aim it, forgetting Y/N was out there with him.
“Woah!” Y/N held her hands up alerting her presences as Daryl drops his crossbow with a huff. “What the fuck did you do?!”
“Oh me?! Look at what yea—-“
“I ONLY HAD ONE BEAR TRAP AND ITS OVER ON THE EAST SIDE OF THE KINGDOM——DONT BE YOU AND BLAME SOMEONE ELSE”
“I THINK I CAN WHEN IM IN PAIN. CAROL SAID THERE WERENT ANY TRAPS OUT HERE”
“STOP YELLING” Y/N was last to shout as she quickly ran in a direction that Daryl had to make his head fall back to see what she was doing which was take out the walker coming toward them after their screaming match. But her sense of heat of the moment action, was to kick the walker down and stomp on its head instead of using her knife. Effective but the whole “you bit?” conversation—-
“You gotta stop doing that!”
“It didn’t bite me!”
“The one you fucking threw the other day almost did!”
“I didn’t have my gun or my knife. I had to think fast! Besides—-Can we just agree it was impressive of me to throw a body like it was nothing?!”
“Can yea PLEASE just help me??”
“Right!” Y/N drops her backpack by her side when she knelt down to Daryl’s leg. “Was it just…under a lot of shit? Maybe we need to start be gardeners and check how many are actually under this grass”
Daryl scoffs, wincing immediately when Y/N held his leg to straighten it a bit so she could get the shirt she pulled out around it to use it as a tourniquet.
“Not too tight! Ain’t losing—-“
“Shut up I know what I’m doing” Y/N ignored Daryl because she does indeed know what she’s doing and his anxiety will only stress her into doing something wrong.
After the tourniquet was on just enough to stop the bleeding but not to kill the foot, she took out her first aid kit taking out the gauze and wrap getting it ready for when she unclenched the trap. Daryl braced himself but when he watched his partner take out her journal, his mind went to its intended use before—-
“Seriously?”
“You want to scream a herd over? Bite down, Dar” Y/N held up the journal as he immediately took it in his mouth before gripping the earth when she didn’t even give him a countdown and quickly opened it. Y/N ignored the muffled scream as she felt her anxiety crawl up her shoulders but she focused on what’s in front of her.
Daryl spit out the journal once Y/N finished getting the gauze and wrap onto his wound. Taking a deep breath even when every part of him is screaming internally.
“Okay. I have to carry you”
“FUCK that. I ain’t about to be carried by yea”
“Well you can’t walk on the leg and you shouldn’t put more pressure on it. It needs stitches. This is only a temporary fix”
“I can walk” He scoffs trying to rise to his feet only to fall on his ass. Daryl groans a bit looking up at Y/N who rose to her feet when he tried to stand. The annoyance grew in her face. “FINE!”
Y/N didn’t even wait another second and grabbed Daryl’s arms before pulling him over her shoulders. Adjusting him enough for his weight to be evenly distributed on her shoulders before starting to walk back to the main gate of the Kingdom.
It didn’t take long for word to travel fast as Carol busted into the infirmary they have.
“The fuck happen to you?!”
“Bear trap” Y/N states sitting in the chair beside Daryl’s bed as he’s already been stitched up and now stuck in the bed until he can get back on his bike. Or someone from Alexandria travels with a car.
“Wow. Well you better stay in the fucking bed, Dixon” Carol sighs. “I’ll go get your room set up and I’ll help you move him later” she stated before leaving as Y/N turned to Daryl who’s annoyed look never left him.
“Not like I need the he—“
“Shut up”
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Boy toy ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱
Gojo x black reader, giving oral( Gojo reciving), overstimulation, sloppy sex
Gojo knew how ridiculously horny you got. You were like a succubus always wanting and craving him, and he thought his libido was high oh yours was definitely higher. You were always right on top of him as soon as he came home pressing kisses against his face and clinging to him already. “Sato~ I missed you did you miss me.” You purred in his ear nibbling as his neck and nipping at his jaw.
The blonde could barely even think as he felt you fondling him your nails almost ready to claw through his uniform. “Yea..I did miss you baby.” He breathed out struggling to get any air as you kissed him your lips colliding together your chest pressed against his. You pupils were blown out practically almost all black you couldn’t see that little ring of brown coating your eyes his words music to your ears if you could let him get any out. He’s eyes scanned your body as you pull away from him, and there you were staring right back at him.
Fuck.
He knew what those pretty eyes meant your bedroom eyes had heart coming out of them every nerve in his body knew what that stare meant, and how could he say no. What fool you had to be to say no to the prettiest girl in the world looking up at you like you were a five course meal, and what a fool he was for always taking you up on your offer.
“C-cmon baby slow down ngh! J-just a bit…fuck”
Gojos eyes were rolling the back of his head as you drained him from his 3rd orgasm his grunts and pretty moans fill the room as you get to work. “Maybe you are a succubus?” Gojo tried to think but your mouth was doing wonders to him his eyes filled with tears his teeth gritting as he feels his stomach tightening again. “Ooough! Babybabybaby fuck I’m gonna cum!” He lets out a shuddering moan as tears stream down his face cum painting your throat again. You look up and let go of his dick before pressing a kiss to the tip of it. “Satoru are you ready?” You ask straddling his dick biting your finger with a sly smirk. Before he could answer he felt your sopping cunt swallowing him whole sending a jolt of electricity through his body.
“Mmm Sato your soo big!” You giggled moving your hips in a playful fashion as you bouce on your boyfriend like the boy toy he is. A whimper ripping from Gojo’s throat as he throws his head back. “F-fuck I’m gonna cum!” His hands gripping at your plump ass trying to ground himself. He could feel his orgasm crashing down on him again he was seeing white stars dance in his vision his ears were ringing a warmth running through his body.
He swears everytime you fuck him he’s on cloud nine. Just like that you were ringing another orgasm out of him having him spasming and sobbing. It was just too cute to not ride him some more. “One more Sato I promise.” You bat your eyelashes at him getting him in an open mouth kiss his delicious moans and decadent whines slipping through your lips like there was no tomorrow. Your warm gooey walls holding on to Gojo like it was your last time fucking his eyes glazed over and hazy it was such a beautiful sight making you want him even more. “Sato you look so pretty all fucked out and dumb.” You coo at him before kissing his tears away.
His jaw hanging slack as his hips lazily snap into you before another gush of his seed fills you up. “Please..please baby m’ to sensitive” he babbles feeling your pussy spasming around him more fat tears streaming down his pretty face his white lashes clumped together as he looks up at you he swears he can see demon horns poking out from the sides of you head.
Once things finally calm down you apologize by pressing soft kisses into his neck to replace the bites and hickies you left. Cuddling into him as you run your fingers through his hair. “Can you move or do you need help walking Sato?” You glance at him gently rubbing his shoulders. “To be honest I don’t think I’ll be able to walk all next week if you keep this up.” He says with a chuckle his legs still feel wobbly but he could walk if he rested a little bit more.
He kissed your forehead as he looked down at you. “You’re not gonna surprise me one day and tell your a succubus right?” Gojo muttered as he got more comfortable in bed with you rubbing your back. “Maybe I am you’ll just have to wait and see.” You tease nipping at his neck again.
A/N: this is my first Gojo writing sorry my uterus took over and I had to write this hopefully yall like this it maybe sloppy so sorry for that also my request are open :3
#kota's brain#jjk#jjk smut#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#jjk gojo#gojo smut#gojo x black reader#gojo x you#gojo jjk#jujustu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk fanfic#jujutsu gojo#gojou satoru x reader#subby men mention
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au wherein when sj first got into the sect and went down to the brothel, he runs into a young wannabe rogue cultivator
the rogue was, well, roguish— rough, rule detesting, and flighty. handsome. brown eyes and warm cheeks, most likely a slight sunburn (because of course he doesnt have a hat). he looked around sjs age, if a bit older. more height than muscle, but with time and experience sj reckons he’d grow broader as well. the only thing that caught sj’s eye at the time though… was his terrible spending habits!
what was he doing, getting scammed out of his coins over some sword tassels of all things. atrocious!!!!!!
if theres one thing sj cannot stand and can relate with sqh, its detesting those who cannot use their money right. his shitty day adds onto his anger, so rather than leaving it alone, sj goes over to the pair of merchant and customer, scolding the merchant first and then the rogue cultivator. the rogue, new to this living out of his mansion thing (his previous life as the fourth son with too much freedom couldnt compare to now, he doesnt even have people to fall back on for funds!), decides, ‘hey, this persons nice enough to tell me i did something wrong, why not keep going to him for help?’
the rogue camps out at that town, always there to pester sj once he comes down the mountains. sometimes sj lectures him, sometimes sj scolds him, and sometimes he simply observes how sj acts around the streets and notes down whatever he gleans. it goes on for weeks, until finally the rogue (and secretly sj) feels like he can survive out there—all he needed now was experience, something he cant get with just the knowledge he now has
after that, sj expects to never see him again. when people get what they want, they leave. thats just what happens, simple as that.
but then, to sj’s astonishment, he meets the rogue again! not on accident, mind you.
“well, we’re friends now!” the rogue says, “/and/ i saw an imitation of one of your paintings at an auction and was like, ‘i should visit’”
sj immediately thinks that isn’t true. there must be something else the rogue wants from him.
and so once in a while, at least once or twice every two months, sj continues to encounter the rogue whenever he goes down the 12 peaks. each time, sj’s doubts ever so slightly melt away. and each time they meet again, they both note to themselves that the other has changed.
sj notices how the rogue comes back with a harsher tan, wider now in his frame. hes more confident and mature, more streetsmart and wise. the guy isn’t so prone to impulse, now taking the time to think before doing something. a small improvement, to be honest, since he still goes and does something foolish, just with a backup plan—though sj bets theyre made up on the spot most times (he also finally invested in a cloak— apparently he has a thing against hats? sj’ll find out one day, he’s sure)
the rogue on the other hand notices how sj comes back more refined, more otherwordly in aura. his quips and witty remarks have taken on a new level, he probably needs to go back to reading to get half of the references! he walks smoother, and each step he takes looks as light as a feather—how does he do that! (worryingly, the rogue also notices how sj always looks like he’s being weighed down, and that his walls are higher than ever before. did something happen?)
the day sj realizes the rogue is the first person to not want to take something from him, and who he’s sure wont leave, even if the time spent together is so much lesser than being spent apart, he feels…scared. anxious, as if now that he’s been made aware, the world will now make it its mission to take this one thing away from him. for the first time, instead of driving the rogue away like all the others, he feels compelled to stick as close as possible. being away from the sect is an added bonus.
the rogue likes this change, though is confused as to what brought this on. oh well, the company is nice! now he can show sj all the little things that reminded him of sj he found on his travels. like this one staff being displayed in a shop: it was such a pretty shade of green! or, or this one lake in a cave, the ripples would be nice to paint right? especially when the light from those bioluminescent vines hit the water.
sometimes they get separated on their travels, but they always find each other again. unconsciously, instances like these help heal sj’s fears.
in short the two of them go from strangers, to acquaintances, to friends (in the distant future lovers AAAAA)
sidenote: rogue guy is like, similar to lqg in how he goes about his morals. hes a do good, think about it later, type of guy. while lqg’s a do good, DONT think about it ever, type of guy.
he got disowned by his family because he exposed them for selling counterfeits, tax evasion, import and export of illegal items etcetc to the authorities. while he doesnt regret doing the right thing, he does regret doing it loudly and without a plan. the family members he knew were innocent, who he didnt at least warn beforehand so that they can get away/cut ties before all of it goes to shit, were and will continue to be shamed by everyone they come across for the crimes the rest of the family committed
#original shen qingqiu#shen jiu#original male character#oc doesnt look so stick like bc he put on a lot of layers. dont be fooled.#svsss#mxtx
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Hey I love you and I’m having thots about vampire!Dieter and his hedonistic lifestyle and his lavish parties at his estate and how he invites you up to show you his private rooms and he-
Oh, you mean like when he asks you about your--
Pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader
Warnings: flirting, a bit of blood, maybe dubcon due to The Thrall but i think it's safe to say we all want It from vampire!dieter, unbeta-ed because i needed to write something or someone was going to die
A/N: look at what you've done @sp00kymulderr you've gone and given a perfectly good fic LORE
“Theories.”
“What?”
Dieter’s smirk pulls his mouth and his head towards the floor-to-ceiling windows. He rubs his fingers together, his wrist dangling over the edge of the deep-backed leather chair. The clean lines of his Armani pants and wing-tipped shoes give him the impression of leaning forward, as if he intended to tumble right through those windows and out into the party below. The music is muted, smothered, but the lights illuminate the sky like the sun beneath the waves.
“Your theories. About all of this. About my dad, granddad. Everyone who’s ever walked in here – press or not –,” he lazily drags his gaze up from your ass to your tits for the third time that night, “– has had some wild theories that I just love to listen to. Little bedtime stories to put me to sleep. So let’s hear ‘em.”
You had doubts about this dress when you left your apartment but you have to dig your nails into your palms to keep from tugging it back down over your thighs because you know you have something every time Dieter looks at you. Maybe not for long, but you might be the first person in fifty years to walk out of here with something to say.
Your heart suddenly fluttering higher in your throat, you turn away towards the movie memorabilia lining the walls in glass shelves to give him the angle he’s been inching towards all night. Over your shoulder, you see his eyes drop – predictably. You let the line out a bit more and bend at the waist to examine the original glove from The Natural.
“I’m sure you’ve heard them all, Mr. Bravo. The mystery around your family is nearly as old as Hollywood itself so I’m sure there’s nothing I can say that you haven’t heard before. Which reminds me . . .” You straighten up and, by some miracle, he meets your eyes, gaze no longer wandering. “Why me?”
His mouth curls, but it’s the glint in his eyes that shows razor-sharp teeth.
“I’ve always admired the brevity of wit, but you’re going to have to be more specific.”
Your jacket creaks when you cross your arms, eyebrow arched. “I’ve been with The Mezzanine for five years with half-a-dozen bylines under my belt. There’s a list of more experienced reporters a mile long. Why, after ignoring every press inquiry for the past twenty years, did you ask me to interview you? Oh, and consider this my first official question.”
With an expansive inhale, Dieter draws himself to his feet. He takes a few steps towards the windows, just before the light catches the shine of his shoes.
“Give me a theory and I’ll answer your question.”
You frown at his broad shoulders. Streaks of fuschia and green and gold tangle in his curls, setting the ends on fire. You think of those electric lamps under your grandfather’s porch that drew in moths with dust brown wings. Moths that ended up dead on the wooden floor.
You find yourself inches from his left shoulder.
“That’s not how these things usually go, Mr. Bravo.”
“Humor the old hermit.” He grins and the smell of spice and smoke and lineage blooms in your nose. You school your face, swallowing down your beating heart.
“The mob. So why me?”
Dieter chuckles. “The mob?”
“Happened to Frank Sinatra, didn’t it?”
“I don’t appreciate the comparison,” Dieter sneers. “Blue Eyes was an asshole and an idiot.”
You turn towards him, your turn to grin. “Speaking from personal experience?”
“Yes, actually.”
“Unbelievable.” You roll your eyes and wander back towards the cabinet. It’s now you notice the odd placement of the couch and chairs in front of the memorabilia. As if hours were spent staring at them. “Do you have anything to drink?”
Dieter blinks at you. “Uh. No. Do you want me to call up for one?”
“No, Mr. Bravo, I want you to answer my question: why me?”
“Because you care.”
Dieter turns away from the lights, the music, the night and stares at you. The teasing sparkle, the sardonic grin – they’re gone. A different man stands before you – one with the same beautiful set of curls, with the same soft eyes. But you see something on his face you didn’t think was possible: yearning.
“Everyone who ever came here only wanted a piece of me. Of this. Of my legacy. In fifty years, no one has ever wanted to know the magic in the movies. The magic of . . .” Dieter laughs quietly, joylessly. He looks around and runs his tongue against his upper teeth. “The mob? C’mon, you can do better than the mob.”
You take a step forward. Electric lamps be damned.
“I’m doing a terrible job of interviewing you.”
“Hardly.” His lips pout before pulling back into a grin. “We’re getting to know each other.”
Another step.
“One for one?”
“Of course.”
“Then in debt to the US government for World War II propaganda. Why did your grandfather step out of the spotlight at the peak of his career?”
“Ford was as much a nazi as any of them and no Bravo would ever stoop so low, so no. And Grandpappy Bravo had health issues.”
“He was forty-five.”
“Forty-two, actually. The same age I am now.” He grins down at you and you find yourself staring up at him. Had his eyes always had that golden circle in the center?
“Give me another theory.”
“Drugs – boring but reliable. Why was your father so secretive about his role as a financial backer during the 60s movie revival?”
“He hated the attention, as much as a Bravo can. You’re getting closer.”
“It was drugs?” You tear your gaze that had somehow slipped to his lips back up to his eyes, but Dieter shakes his head.
“A drug of some kind, but not the kind you’re thinking of. A powerful drug. The most powerful.”
“Yeah? And what would that be?”
“Life itself.” Again, you see his teeth and without your control, your heart leaps into your throat. You narrow your eyes against the brilliant light of his mouth.
“Why do you care so much about my theories?”
“Because you’re not asking the right questions. You’re close, but not quite.”
His hand floats against your jaw, fingertips crackling in the millimeter above your skin, and that spicy scent floods your brain in a sudden avalanche that makes your knees wobble. You huff, dizzy, a fog settling across your mind, and you put a hand against his chest to keep you from stumbling. His thumb drags against your bottom lip and that bright sensation becomes a focus point by which the entire universe revolves around.
His eyes are entirely golden now.
“Ask the question you’ve been begging to, darling.”
You swallow through the haze, through the pounding of your heart, through the heaviness of your knees, and the wetness in your underwear.
“No,” you mumble, “I . . . Dieter, you’ll laugh.”
“Try me, sweetheart.” His other hand joins his first, cradling your jaw, dragging you closer. “I want to hear it.”
“I think you’re a vampire.” The words dribble off your numb lips but even through the lag, you know you’ve screwed up. Something has gummed up the crevices of your brain, but that’s not the thing to say to the highly-eccentric social recluse you’ve put your career at risk to interview.
“Dieter, I’m sorry – I-I-I didn’t mean–,”
But he laughs. Laughs and your moth wings get caught in the light of the white gleam of his fangs. His hand slips to your waist as his thumb brushes your cheek, golden eyes anything but angry.
“I knew you were clever.”
Your nails dig into his jacket where you don’t feel a heartbeat. Your knees want you to fall forward into him, but your elbows struggle as the last shreds of a survival instinct.
“Dieter–,”
“Shh, darling, you are smart. Too smart for your own good. You knew the truth the second you walked in here and you did it anyway. But that big brain won’t let you believe it until you see it, so breathe, darling. Breath and it will be over in a minute.”
He lowers his face, his cold breath against your neck cracking through the haze, icing your heart. You whimper, afraid –
Afraid he’s going to kill you.
Afraid that you’ll let him.
A warm tongue saturates the skin of your neck and you realize there are devil faces in the wood carving of the ceiling, your head tipped back and arms wrapped around his shoulders.
“No crying. I will make this very good for you.”
You blink and the ice in your heart melts out the corner of your eyes, tears running off your cheeks.
“Will I die?”
Dieter lets out a noise that’s a whine and a groan all at once. “No. We’re not nearly done having fun.”
And he bites you.
Euphoria erupts across your skin, an electric pulse waking up every sense still left in your control. You shudder, then draw him closer. He groans, not a single drop of blood escaping to the carpet or your shirt or his jacket. He eats well and clean and there’s a part of you that entertains the idea of him losing control.
But as quickly as it comes on, everything fades. Blackness comes on, thick and fast, and you hear him pull off your neck more than you feel it and his tongue is the last sensation you feel.
“No, darling, by the end of this, you’ll be begging me for more.”
His promise is the last thing you hear before the darkness closes in on you completely.
+
#dieter bravo#dieter bravo fanfiction#dieter bravo x reader#dieter bravo x you#dieter bravo x female reader#the bubble fanfiction#dieter x reader#dieter bravo x f!reader#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#the bubble fanfic#the bubble 2016#the bubble fic#pedro pascal#dieter bravo fic#dieter bravo x oc#pedro pascal character#pedro pascal character fanfic#the bubble
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