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arieslost · 2 months

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falling for you | op81

oscar piastri x fem!reader

summary: you and oscar should be more than just friends, but neither of you realize it until you’re on vacation… and his girlfriend is there, too.

word count: 2,956

warnings: angsty moments

masterlist — join my tag list here!

PART TWO

shoutout to my dream journal- i got this idea from a dream i had in 2021. also disclaimer, i love lily, she’s so sweet. we’re pretending that oscar is dating someone else here ok thanks <33

For the first time in your life, you were regretting taking a vacation, and it was all Oscar Piastri’s fault.

Your family and the Piastris had been going on vacation together for as long as you could remember, and you’ve been best friends with Oscar for just as long. He was in the background of every defining moment of your life. He could say the same about you— best friends forever.

And then, like the idiot you are, you went and fell in love with him. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint how, or why, or when; all you knew was that you woke up on the second day of your vacation, walked into the kitchen, saw him pouring himself a bowl of cereal, and it hit you like a damn truck.

“Good morning, sweetie,” your mom says, barely noticing your slightly panicked expression as you realized that you were very much in love with your best friend.

“Morning,” you mumble back, unable to tear your eyes away from Oscar.

He notices you staring at him, your eyes as wide as saucers, and frowns. “You okay? There’s still some of this in the box, I saved it for you.”

Great. Of course he has to be so thoughtful all the time.

“Yeah, ‘m fine. Thanks, Osc.” You squeeze his arm as you pass by. He smiles at you, like he always does when you do that, and you want to die a little.

Especially when his girlfriend enters the room.

It’s the first time either of you have a significant other during your annual vacation time, and while you had aggressively lobbied against it (Oscar obviously had no clue), your parents and his parents had agreed to let her come. You were furious about it for weeks and couldn’t figure out why.

Well, now you know.

You can’t even enjoy your cereal, especially not when she kisses Oscar for everyone to see and then makes direct eye contact with you and smirks when he’s not looking. So, you decide to spend the entire day completely Oscar-less, as much as you wish you could just have him all to yourself like you always do when you’re here.

The thing is, you’ve never liked his girlfriend, obvious reasons aside. Even before Oscar started dating her, you’d never gotten along with her. It was like she had a personal vendetta against you, and always tried her hardest to be touchy with Oscar whenever she saw that you were in her line of sight. The most infuriating part is that literally no one else ever notices her behavior except you. Not even Oscar, your so-called best friend. Normally, you’d go to him to vent about something like this, because he’s always understood you in ways that no one else ever will. Now he’s the last person you can go to.

It sucks. You’re angry at your parents, his parents, and especially him for asking if he could bring her along in the first place.

You end up spending your entire morning and most of the afternoon at the beach. You don’t put on enough sunscreen because there’s no one there to make sure you use the proper amount. You hate getting sunburn, but you’d take that over seeing Oscar with his girlfriend. By the time you get back to the rental, everyone is off doing their own thing. Your parents are putting together a puzzle in the living room. Oscar’s parents have the door to their room shut, and you can hear the TV playing. You don’t have the courage to go looking for Oscar himself– once you see that he’s not in your shared room, you know that he’s either out or in his girlfriend’s room. Either way, you don’t want to know.

That was another thing that makes you wish this vacation never happened: Oscar had been allowed to bring his girlfriend, but the only condition was that the two of them had to sleep in separate rooms. That meant the two of you shared a room like always, but that didn’t mean he didn’t take every possible chance he could to go to hers, meaning you’re alone most of the time.

You might as well just pack up and walk home to save yourself the struggle of five more days.

It doesn’t seem like anyone is around to hear, so you let out a loud, frustrated groan as you flop back onto your bed. You look to your right, past Oscar’s bed, at the flowy curtains hanging in front of the doors that lead to the deck outside. One of the doors is ajar, and the slight breeze makes the curtains flap gently.

“You okay, sweetie?” Of course your mom heard you from all the way down the hall.

“Yeah,” you reply in a way that makes it very obvious that you’re not okay.

“Ah, I know that tone.” Your mom says, crossing the room to sit at the foot of your bed. “You need a boyfriend. You wouldn’t be this mopey if you had someone here with you, too.”

Like Oscar does. “You’re telling me,” you scoff bitterly. “I guess I’ll try a little harder for next year.”

“Well, are there any boys you’re interested in?” She asks, rubbing your leg comfortingly.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, turning your head away from her so she can’t get a perfect view of your face heating up as you think about your best friend.

She hums. “Yeah, I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“It’s Oscar, isn’t it?”

You cover your face with your hands. “Ugh! Leave now, and we can pretend this conversation never happened.”

��Nice try.” Your mom pries your hands away and gives you a look. “I just don’t think it’s the best idea that you like Oscar. He doesn’t exactly have the most stable lifestyle.”

“He doesn’t need stability, he’s rich.” You shoot back. “I don’t even care about that, Mom. I’m not exactly interested in him because of his lifestyle.” You consider not saying it, but you’ll feel better getting it off your chest. “And his girlfriend is a bitch.”

“You’re right,” your mom says, and you can’t believe what you’re hearing. “I hate his girlfriend. I’ve always thought that you’re much better suited for him.”

“No kidding. Known him his whole life, everyone thought we were dating growing up, we’ve gone through just about everything together. I guess that simply doesn’t compare to the girl he’s known for five whole months.” You’re being snarky now, and you can’t find it in you to care. It should be you dating Oscar.

Everyone else seems to think so except him.

Your mom laughs, but in a way that you know that she agrees with you, as childish as you’re being. She continues to rub your leg, and the comforting motion has your eyes drooping. The stress of your newfound feelings and the warmth of the sun on your skin is more than enough to tire you out.

“Nap time?” She asks eventually, and you nod slowly.

“Mhmm.”

“I’ll come wake you up before dinner.” She kisses the top of your head, gets up, and then says something that has you wide awake. “Hey, Oscar. She’s sleeping.”

“Ah, okay. I’ll be quiet.” You hate the calming effect his voice has on you, even though now just looking at him has sent your heart racing.

One of them shuts the door, and shortly after you can feel the bed dipping under Oscar’s weight as he lays down next to you.

“Hey,” he whispers. “Missed you.”

I missed you more. Jerk.

“I know you’re awake,” he continues. “But you don’t have to talk to me.”

Good.

“I guess I deserve the silent treatment.”

Your resolve cracks a little, because he sounds genuinely upset. As much as you want to, you don’t open your eyes, but you do turn around to face him and move closer in the process. You can smell the faint traces of his cologne, and you have to fight a sigh of contentment. Damn him for always making you feel so safe. Besides, you’re a little cold now thanks to the air conditioning.

Your eyes nearly fly open in shock when he wastes no time in pulling you closer so you’re properly cuddled into his side and puts his arm around you. He lets out a breath, like he’s relieved, before he moves around a little and leans his head against yours.

The logical side of you is screaming to quit the sleeping facade and confront him right here and now about this rather intimate behavior, but the side of you that just discovered the strong feelings you harbor for your best friend tells you to just play along and enjoy whatever alone time you have with him. It’s not hard to pick which side to listen to.

The two of you stay this way for so long you start falling asleep again, and it only gets worse when he starts rubbing your back. It starts out very subtle; at first, his fingertips just move up and down along the fabric of your shirt. He stops for a moment, like he’s considering the outcomes of his actions, and then flattens his palm against your back and continues the up and down motion. You bury your head in his chest, mostly to hide the fact that you’re turning red but also because you just want to be closer to him. He hums a little when you do it, and you have to stop yourself from weighing the logistics of whether or not you could get away with kissing him right here and now.

You have to fight the urge to sleep, wanting to soak in every moment of his strange but welcome actions. Maybe this is all just an elaborate dream– either way, you’re not going to sleep through it.

The sound of him sighing again catches your attention, but you’re entirely brought back to reality when he starts moving.

You fully give up. You don’t want him to go, so you say his name quietly and look up at him.

He sits up a little to look back at you, and you reach up to smooth away the crease between his eyebrows with your thumb. “We’re on vacation. You’re supposed to be having fun.”

“So are you.” He points out.

Of course he’s picked up on it.

“It’s complicated.”

“Talk to me,” he encourages, shifting so he can keep you close. His little polite cat smile nearly has you spilling your guts to him about how much you wish you were the one he was kissing in front of everyone.

You press your lips together. “I… I can’t, Osc.”

You always hate his crestfallen expression, but you hate it more when you’re the cause of it.

“You can talk to me about anything, you know that right?”

“I know,” you reassure him. “Just… not this. Anything but this.”

He hums again, but not in the happy way that he did before when you were practically trying to crawl into his skin. This is more like a hum of concentration.

You have a moment of hope, thinking that maybe he’ll just let it go, but you know your best friend better than that. It doesn’t change your shock when he speaks again.

“Okay. I think I know what this is about.”

“I seriously doubt you do.” You can’t help but laugh a little. How could he possibly know about something that you yourself only just discovered?

He gives you a specific look then, a look that you have always despised being on the receiving end of. It’s a look that tells you he’s expecting you to explain yourself and see if he’s right. He usually is right, which only makes it worse.

“No.” You shake your head, starting to try and find a way to get up. “No, Oscar, don’t make me say it.”

He isn’t having it though: his arm stays snug around you, and he puts one of his legs between both of yours, hooking his ankle around yours so you can’t escape.

“Oscar,” you whine. “No fair, with your stupid reflexes.”

He whines your name back in the same exact tone. “Shouldn’t try to get away from me, then.”

You let out a groan of frustration. “I’m not telling you anything.”

Someone walks out into the hallway, and the sound of the footsteps coming towards your room makes the both of you freeze. The two of you are in a rather precarious position, with your limbs tangled and Oscar practically on top of you. Not that you necessarily mind, but if anyone walked in right now, eyebrows would be raised.

Oscar seems to be thinking along the same lines as you, meeting your wide-eyed stare with his own but not making any effort to move away. It clicks in your head at that exact moment, just as it did in the morning when you walked into the kitchen.

He does know.

“How?” You whisper, too wrapped up in your disbelief to even be embarrassed.

“I know you better than anyone,” he whispers back, head whipping towards the closed door when you hear a creak, like someone’s weight is shifting on the floor.

The footsteps recede. You both let out a breath, turning to face each other again. You’re close. Too close. Close enough that you could count his eyelashes if you wanted to.

You remember the last time you were this close to him— you were both 14, playing hide and seek at midnight at a friend’s birthday party. He’d accidentally chosen the same hiding place as you, a desk with a rolling chair in front of it, and you’d been forced to squish together underneath the desk in order to conceal yourselves well enough. You were mad that he chose the same spot as you because it raised the likelihood of being found, and he’d just giggled at you every time you glared at him. You remember how much you loved his giggle, and how you’d wondered what it would be like to kiss his smile.

Well. You really have been in love with him this whole time.

You want nothing more than to crawl under the bed and stay there for the rest of the vacation so you don’t have to look him in the eye. You never want to speak to him again. You want to tell him everything. You want to push him away. You want to hold him closer.

“Tell me I didn’t ruin our friendship.” Is all you can think to say, and Oscar reacts immediately, brushing your hair out of your face and hugging you tightly.

“Honey, you could never ruin this.” He presses his nose into your hair, brushes his lips against your head. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not the one who should be sorry,” you grumble into his chest.

He doesn’t answer, instead choosing to alternate between playing with the ends of your hair and drawing shapes on your shoulder with his fingers. He’s always been affectionate with you, but this is a whole new level, and your overthinking has you worried that you’ll lose it entirely as soon as the two of you have to leave this room and face the reality of the situation. You close your eyes, trying your hardest to soak up every little detail of this moment in the event that you never get another like it.

You know Oscar thinks you’re asleep when, much to your dismay (and maybe his, too), he gets up and gently lays you back against your pillow.

“I really shouldn’t be doing this,” you hear him say, and then you feel his lips press firmly against your temple, his hand leaving the most featherlight touch on your cheek. “I’m sorry, baby.”

The soft material of a blanket covers your body, and the door opens and shuts. Your tears waste no time in soaking into the pillowcase.

You’re regretting this vacation, but it isn’t Oscar’s fault.

He’s not the one who fell in love with the one person he can’t have.

Things change, but not at all in the way you expect. Oscar still throws an arm around you for every picture and hoists you onto his back without hesitation for the obligatory piggyback photo that has been a vacation tradition since forever. His girlfriend still looks at you like you’re the pebble she can’t get out of her shoe, but for every dirty look and intentional display of affection, Oscar is there to make up for it. He goes to the beach with you and makes sure that you apply enough sunscreen, he goes to the amusement park with you even though he hates most of the rides, he takes you to breakfast at the risk of his girlfriend throwing a fit when you get back. She does, but he doesn’t care. He does it every year, and he tells you that he’d be damned if he didn’t keep up with it.

Maybe he pities you. It doesn’t matter. You can live with never even having a chance with the boy you think you’ve always wanted something more with, so long as you can continue to call him your best friend.

He leaves for his next race on the last day of vacation, and his girlfriend goes with him. You support him from home. He calls you every single day.

Oscar has never been able to go more than 24 hours without hearing your voice. He’s never been able to fully express just how much he needs you, and now he has to face the obstacle of breaking up with his girlfriend before he can even try.

note: this fic was low key my personal everest and i changed the ending at the last second because i hate angst. if anyone is interested in a part two, let me know because i’d be happy to write it at some point!

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are always appreciated <33

beautiful dividers by @/saradika !

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @littlemiss-arabella @notturlover @verstappensrealwife @oliveisunstable @hauntedphotographybookstaco @maddie-bell @hood-jabi @jupiter-je-taime @uzisplanet @akiraquote @average-f1-enjoyer @xo-mya1 @beth-712 @bingewatche @alex15marie @ana2delusional @tomhollandfics @cixrosie @simpluvrs @meko-mt

#full fic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x you #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #op81 x reader #op81 imagine #op81 fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #oscar piastri angst #op81 angst

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yoohyeontual · 2 years

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I’m so damn tired and lost lately that for once I remembered to put my ac on an hour before I go to bed so my room is nice and cold,but I actually never done it 😑

#i guess I got distract and moved the curtain but didn’t open the damn ac !!!!#i fucking hate myself so much #now I’m exhausted but I gotta wait because it’s too hot for me to go to sleep 🤪#and I can’t sleep cause my ac make so much fucking noise even with earplugs I hear it perfectly 😭#so no guys I can’t do anything about it :’)))))#I’m sorry that I come back just to complain #My mood is just really bad lately so I’m not in the mood for social #but I actually was busy yesterday all day I went to my aunt’s and spend the afternoon in her pool for the first time this summer #it was fun I actually rarely go with them cause my aunt likes her pool water really hot and it makes me dizzy and nauseous #but this time the temperature was nice #but I got a bit sunburned 😭 I don’t go outside often and I did a million thing before going in I forgot to put on sun cream Jfjdbdj 😭#but it’s not bad just hurt a little bit but nothing uncomfortable at least #but today my annoying aunt came with my uncle and I was feeling like shit cause I had a terrible night so she exhausted me 😭#i gave her the painting I made for her last minute call to be sure she would ask me too much questions cause she wanted to leave fast <3 #she loved it a lot even gave me a hug i was like in my head you don’t derserve it but I promise I would do one so whatever JFKDJKXBDJD #last night was rough I slept on my arm and I woke up to it being numb but it hurt terribly !!! it usually hurt a little #but it hurt like 10x more it was a bit scary and it hurt all night I had to take Advils so it stopped that never happened not as bad 😭#i also cried really hard in my dream and woke up crying which I never cried that hurt waking up since my dad was in a fight with my brother #for like 3 years and I dreamed about him and I missed him so I woke up bawling dkdbjdbdjs #it may have happened dreaming about THAT friend too but I’m not sure maybe not at that point but I have a feeling it did #ANYWAY it so fucking weird waking up crying #i woke up like 3 times in a hard way my night was disgusting and I’m tired #it’s been 20 minutes now I hope it’s cold enough so I can sleep cause I’m so damn tired #I’m blaming on the period coming too I’m sure it as a thing to do with that too #I’m not that exhausted after a 7h of sleep usually even a weird one like this like I was falling asleep this afternoon it’s rare it happen #i hate my life and myself so much lately #i Need something to calm me down everything is going wrong since a while it’s crazy #alex.txt #tw negativity #<- in case cause it’s kinda negative fkbsjdns

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theragethatisdesire · 1 month

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

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

pairing: eren jaeger x reader

wc: 10.4k

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

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

without further ado...

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t forget. Find something.”

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, you wish he’d stop talking.

“Well, do you go to Oxford?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s your brother?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Peaches?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I said I didn’t say that.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Eren, you’re going to scare her off,” Armin says with a roll of his eyes, peering around Eren’s broad shoulders to look you up and down. The way his eyes drag over you makes you feel like there might be a stab wound somewhere on your person that you don’t know about yet, the adrenaline of the moment keeping you numb.

“Back off her, Eren,” Historia echoes, “she’s fun, I don’t want you to make her leave.”

“She’s not going to leave.” Eren looks directly at you as he says it, something in his smile growing imperceptibly darker. A dare. How much will you let me get away with?

You stare and stare at him, ignoring the continued bickering of Armin and Historia in the background. He’s golden and blood-red, oil smeared on his forehead and a crown of thorns nestled in his dark thatch of hair if you look close enough. If you’re not imagining it, his hand might be tightening around your shoulder, maybe he’ll leave a purple bruise on it.

“Of course not,” Sasha interrupts your thoughts, thumbing at your cheek affectionately, “she belongs here. With us.”

“She’s our little fairy,” Historia giggles dreamily, referencing the long-winded fairy tales you drunkenly make up every night, casting each other as heroines and knights and dragons.

“Right,” Eren agrees, not breaking your gaze, “our little fairy.”

The only thing that comes to mind is your childhood friend, Emma, looking on at you sadly with her muddy toes, watching the wings sprout from your back.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Days lug themselves by, barefooted and dragging their heels, and most of the time, even the monotonous rise and fall of the sun doesn’t help to differentiate one calendar block from the next. Like a bat, or maybe a slinky, silvery fish in an underwater cave, you rely on your other senses to track the passage of time.

For example, today, you know it’s a Wednesday because Maria, one of the three house chefs, brings fresh peaches up from the co-op down the hill every Wednesday. Sasha’s spent the last thirty minutes hand feeding you peach flesh as you lounge by the pool, insisting that you suck her fingers clean of juice and feeding you little sips of champagne each time you sober up enough to tell her that that’s lewd. Historia swats at you and giggles at the smacking and slurping sounds you make around Sasha’s fingers, oiled-up palm landing on oiled-up hip with a wet slap; Armin admonishes her quietly from his seat beside her, insisting the girlish noises emanating from the three of you are tearing him from his book. You can feel Eren watching, too– that’s all, though. Always just watching.

You wonder how opaque the lenses of Armin’s sunglasses are, perched haphazardly on your nose, wonder if they’re doing a good job of masking the slow lick of your gaze over Eren’s skin, wonder if you care. Maybe the champagne is finally getting to your head.

“We should go in soon,” Historia sighs, a hand tossed across her forehead. She’s a little movie star, built for the golden age. “It’s so hot.”

“It’s always this hot,” Sasha argues, and you can practically hear the furrow in her brow, not willing to take your eyes off of the trickle of sweat running down Eren’s chest to see it for yourself. You’re really getting the hang of it, this opposite-sense thing. Everything’s upside down here in the heat.

“She’s getting hungry,” Armin supplies, wiping the sweat off his palms to reach up and turn the page of his novel. Brideshead Revisited. A little on the nose, isn’t it?

“I am not!” Historia hates when people point out her appetite, but not really. She kicks up a fuss because it’s “ladylike”, and she’s advised you to do the same.

“You are,” you sigh, really feeling the heat sink into you even with the heavy, lazy movement of lolling your head to face her, “you always get hungry around this time.”

“What time is it, then?”

You don’t reply– you don’t know the answer.

“I think we’re all hungry,” Eren, ever the peacemaker when he can find the time to be so, sits up, letting the shirt that’s been shading his face fall into his lap. Your eyes track its descent– even that seems slow. He says something to you, managing a crooked grin while he squints in the heat of the sun, but you don’t hear it.

“Huh?”

“Everyone except you, anyway,” he repeats himself, reaching over Sasha and smearing his thumb through the peach juice collected on your chin. Eren’s thumb disappears between his pink lips, and when he sucks on it with a satisfied hum, your jaw clenches hard enough to hurt.

“I guess it’s getting close to dinner,” Sasha says regretfully, picking her wristwatch, a priceless Braus family heirloom, up from a puddle of orange juice and tanning oil. “We should probably clean off.”

“I might even shower twice,” Armin rubs a hand over his belly with a grimace, “this tanning oil makes my skin greasy.”

“I feel disgusting,” Historia agrees, sliding red toes into her sandals and standing with a dramatic stretch.

“Filthy,” Eren murmurs in agreement. He’s still staring at you.

“I’ll be in soon. I’m so close to the color I wanted for today– I just need, like, ten more minutes.” You peel down the strip of bathing suit stretched over your hip, showing off the distinct mark of yesterday’s color and today’s tan.

“You’re crazy,” Sasha scoffs, throwing some designer sarong her mother lent her over her shoulder, “I’m melting.”

Armin and Historia pause their bickering over who gets to wear Armin’s Cucinelli belt to dinner—Armin wants it for his trousers, Historia for her maxi dress—just long enough to offer a momentary goodbye, breezing along into the house with Sasha. You settle back into your chair and take a deep breath, letting the sun sink into you just long enough to forget that you’re not alone.

“Open up.”

You’ve been enjoying this game of trading one sense for another, and you keep your eyes shut firmly, letting your jaw fall open and your tongue hang out. A piece of peach, fleshy and dripping with juice, finds its way onto your tongue, pinched too roughly between strong fingers. When you close your lips around the fruit, the fingers stay with it, frozen in their pinched position and forcing you to suck the peach from them, to swallow around them, to run your tongue along them and get as much of the meat as you can. When the fingers withdraw from your lips, you open your eyes and gasp quietly.

Eren’s leaning over you, a solar eclipse that smells like tan skin and sounds like Campari, and in the silhouette of the sunlight, you think he’s smiling.

“You’re still hungry,” he says, a question that’s left its punctuation mark behind. You think of Historia, of the improper shame of revealing your appetite. You dodge.

“I’m never hungry.”

“Never?” Eren crawls over you to kneel between your legs, propping one of your ankles up on his shoulder. The game you started is ripped out of your hands, chess pieces flying into the pool, scattering across the table, knocking over bottles and matchbooks. It’s so silent out here in the sun it hurts, and you almost miss the constant buzzing horseflies of early summer.

“Never.”

“If you’ve never been hungry,” Eren muses, tilting his head so that his cheekbone fits into the sensitive arch of your foot, reaching a hand down to splay it wide on your belly, “you’ve never been full.”

“How do you figure?” Your words come out throaty, waterlogged.

“Can’t have one without the other.” Eren shrugs, turning his head to the side. His lips brush against your heel, your Achilles’, the swirly seashell dangling from your anklet. You dig your teeth into your bottom lip, toes twitching behind his ear. “I don’t believe you, anyway.”

“No?” You try to tilt your head coyly, like your heart’s not clawing and scratching against your throat to get to him. Hungry, indeed.

“You wouldn’t stare like that if you didn’t want to.”

You’re taken aback, but not enough to fall out of the moment– Eren’s lips closing around the knob of your ankle slowly, like the pit of a fruit, make sure of that.

“Didn’t want to what?”

Eren’s hands meet the cushion on either side of your head hard enough to rattle the chair, his long, tanned body stretching over yours. He’s close enough to brush his nose against yours, but you can still see the hazy green of his eyes flicking here and there on your face: from your eyes to your lips to the beauty mark on your cheek. Your poolside lounge feels more like a butcher’s block under your taut spine.

Sasha’s told you about the wolves in these hills, that they howl murder at night, but they’re sleepy and indulgent in the heat of the sun. One of Eren’s canines catches the light and glints at you as he grins.

“Eat yourself sick.” He practically spits it into your mouth, one thigh pressed into where you’re sticky and sinful, and he chuckles under his breath when you shudder under him, feverish in the late-afternoon heat.

Before you can even think of biting back, Eren’s off of you, picking your sandals off of the ground and sliding them gently onto your feet, stopping to run his palm from your ankle to your kneecap with an appraising hum.

“We should head inside,” he says evenly, offering a hand to pull you to your feet, “I’d hate for us to miss dinner.”

You don’t have anything to say back to him, letting him lace his fingers through yours like lines in a play, interspersing seamlessly with the summer scenery. Eren leads you through the kitchen, waits patiently for you to take your sandals off, and waves you on your way up the stairs, saying he needs a cigarette. As the distance between you grows, your mind grows clearer, and you turn on your heel, calling down to him from the top of the stairs.

“Eren? Eren? Where are you, Eren?”

“Call me something else,” Eren pokes his head around the corner, smoke pouring from the grin on his face, “whatever you want, really. Make your own name for me.”

“You stare at me, too,” you say, tearing through his impishness. Eren cocks his head, unperturbed, smile growing wide as he nods.

“I do.”

“So you’re…” You can’t bring yourself to say it, not where it might echo in the cavernous hallway, where it might take the form of a confession. You scamper down the stairs, nearly sliding on bare feet, almost crashing into Eren when he appears at the foot of the staircase, catching you with two broad palms on either side of your ribcage. You pluck the cigarette from his mouth, stick it between your own teeth, narrow your eyes accusingly, and whisper: “You’re hungry too.”

“For every man hath business and desire, Such it is.” Eren takes the cigarette back, pulling on it and making a clear show of trying to hide a smirk.

“Hamlet?”

“A woman with teeth and a brain,” Eren tilts his head at you, “aren’t you something?”

“Do you always quote Shakespeare when you want to fuck somebody?”

“Only when I want to fuck you.” Eren stubs the cigarette out on the ancient oak of the staircase railing, grins up at you brilliantly, smiles brighter when he notices how obviously flustered you are.

“I need to go take a shower,” you say hurriedly, choking on the remnants of your shame and your confidence as they burn out in your throat, making an attempt to back up the stairs away from him. Eren laughs at your attempted escape, catching you by the wrist and pulling you close to him, close enough to dizzy you on the tendrils of smoke still sticking to him. Your breath stills, your heart slows as Eren wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you together, skin on tacky skin.

“Oh, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” Eren coos to you, mouth moving against your cheekbone. “C’mon, just one bite.”

“He that is proud eats up himself,” you hiss a quote back at him in response, ripping yourself from his grip and scrambling up the stairs, heart pounding and cheeks burning. You can hear a lovesick sigh follow you up to your room, and hope that the slam of the door behind you is enough to keep it from touching you.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

The murky waters of your vision ripple out into clarity, and you’ve found yourself in a forest. You’ve been here before, you recognize the tall, thick trunks and the bed of fallen leaves under your feet. You’ve been coming here since you were a little girl, been wiggling your toes in the greenery since before you could remember. You never come alone.

It appears just as you remembered: a blinding glimmer of light, a flame for a head, and ribbonlike wisps of energy that beckon you like arms, like love. One step towards it, and it disappears, vanishing into nothing with an echo that might be laughter. You think it’s happy to see you.

When it reappears a few feet away, you take your first steps, sighing at the feeling of the wild enveloping you, of the prickling of your skin, kissed by the chill winding through the trees. You wish you could explore this place, so familiar and so strange all at once, but you know you have to keep moving, keep following the lights as they lead you deeper and deeper into the forest. They won’t hurt you; you aren’t sure why that’s true, aren’t sure why you keep moving. You just know better than to stop.

They lead you over a familiar path, winding past a creek, over a bed of flat stones with an ice-cold creek running over them. You never tire here, legs pumping and arms working to push yourself faster. You’ve never caught the lights, and you aren’t sure if you ever will, but again, you know better than to doubt. It feels like hours, feels like minutes, feels like purpose, chasing these lights through the forest, but suddenly, something’s new.

There’s a little chirping sound, almost conversational and too high-pitched for you to understand; you’re not even sure if you recognize the language. It ricochets around the bones in your body, touches something ancient in their marrow. You almost jerk your head to the right to find the source, but you resist, pushing ahead on your path as the lights lead you deeper. You get the feeling that you’ve gone off-script somewhere, that this is a part of the forest you haven’t seen before, but the warmth in your bones shoos your doubts away. You’ve never been this far, but it feels like home.

A growl curls around the shell of your ear, plants fear right in the center of your chest. Your eyes widen at the light before you before it disappears; you frown at the next one, not daring to speak but demanding an answer anyhow. The lights will save you, won’t they?

Shrieks from overhead, guttural, animalistic calls, howls and chatters of excitement; you never presumed to be alone in this forest, but you never presumed to be in danger, either. The lights urge you on, vanishing and regenerating at an alarming rate, your feet drumming against the forest floor faster and faster. A sliver of moonlight begins to glow from the trees a ways off, an indication that there’s a clearing ahead, and you shove the bile in your throat down, swing your arms faster, ignore the frantic fluttering of your pulse in time with the bestial chorus ringing clearer and louder from the trees with each passing second.

You do, against all odds, manage to launch yourself into the clearing, and the moment you feel the soft cushion of moss under your feet, as opposed to the branch-littered, crunchy path of the forest, you nearly stumble to your knees as your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness of the clearing. The grumblings of the woodland entities have quieted, an almost awestruck silence settling in the open space around you.

“There you are.”

Your head snaps up comically fast– “You?”

“Me,” Eren says, that razor-sharp, moonlight smile lighting up his face. He looks…right here, as if the forest is extending a sense of belonging, as if he’s been here longer than the ancient trees themselves. Even the little crown nestled atop his head is fitting: a tangle of brambles and thorns and leaves tucked into his dark locks. Is that a throne under him, that mass of branches and leaves and some silvery metal you can’t place?

His eyes glow in the starlight, illuminated with a certain hunger that you can feel reverberating through your bones. It should be frightening, but it’s enticing. You feel welcome.

“What are you doing here?” Your tongue is slower on the uptake than your mind, and you can feel the suspicious expression folding your facial features, hiding the thrum of anticipation the sight of him brings.

Eren cocks his head pityingly, smiling at you in a way that would seem predatory if it wasn’t so entirely disarming, so entirely inviting. Your feet are bringing you closer before he even speaks— you know why you’re here before he says it.

“I’ve been waiting so long,” Eren beckons you onto his lap, firmly grabbing your shoulder and silently demanding you straddle him when you try to turn away from him, “you’re beautiful, so…alive here.”

He takes a bit of your hair between your fingers and rubs it, satisfaction flickering over his face. It’s then that you realize how little fabric covers you; really, it’s only a thin, wispy excuse of a dress, hanging in tatters around your body and leaving your skin free for the taking. Taking notice of your dress leads you to take notice of another pressing matter: Eren’s naked beneath you.

“Where are we?”

“Does it matter?” Eren reaches up to toy with your hair again, smiling gently. He tilts his head up, asking you for something you can’t identify, but that you already know you’re willing to give. Your soul, maybe.

Your lips meet his in a tentative brush, a motion that feels shy, but practiced. It’s a reflex, an instinct, to kiss him this way. Eren groans gutturally against your mouth, pressing into you deeper, digging his fingertips into your bare skin. The chorus of inhuman chatter erupts around you both again, and you jump, almost pushing away from him before he stops you with a firm hand against the small of your back.

“Sh,” he whispers, nipping at your chin, “don’t pay them any mind. You’re with me, remember?”

It’s difficult at first with the ever-growing hum of life around you, but it grows increasingly easier to melt into him, to lose yourself in the rhythm of him. He’s thick and hard underneath you, pressed right where you’re already slick and ready for him, and he’s got a tight grip on your hips, working you against him to make sure you feel it and oh– do you feel it.

A debauched gasp pours from your mouth to his; Eren sinks sharp teeth into your bottom lip with a grunt of approval, pulls you up to situate you over his twitching cock. You can feel the lecherous eyes of the woodland creatures, spirits, monsters, whatever they may be around you, looking in on the sticky, tangible arousal building between your bodies. The steady glow of Eren’s eyes, the prick of the thorns in his hair under your fingertips, the insistent weight of him pressing against the wet heat of you: all of it keeps you grounded, keeps your hips rolling into Eren like your life depends on it, like it’s what you were born to do.

“Are you ready?” Eren murmurs, quiet as the grave, stilling your hips and lifting you.

“I’m not sure, I–”

“I’ve been waiting so long,” Eren interrupts, “so long for you– you’re ready for me, I know you are.”

And with that, he’s sliding you down onto his cock, splitting you open, dropping your jaw. The cacophony from the forest grows deafening, but the glowing eyes in the brush streak and blur as your eyes flutter closed, a stuttered moan falling from your lips.

“Oh–”

“Knew you were ready,” Eren sinks his teeth into your collarbone, lets you wiggle and roll your hips until he’s situated comfortably inside of you. “You were born for this. For me.”

You can’t even bring yourself to disagree, to refute, to question. It’s godly, the way he fills you, the twinge of pain in the pit of your belly that doesn’t waver, no matter which way you squirm. The longer you sit, perched upon him– you feel something akin to divinity, akin to prophecy ringing through your bones. You were born for this.

“Eren…” It’s more of a sigh than anything, a confession and an admittance of guilt, a repentance. He likes the way it tastes, you can tell by the way his hands grip you harder, roll you along his cock faster with an urgency that betrays his calm, adoring gaze. He’s sinking his claws into you, bit by bit, and you’re better for it. You belong here, with the night on your skin and Eren nestled inside of you.

“Don’t ever leave,” Eren smiles gently, as if it’s a choice, “stay with me forever.”

The pleasure’s beginning to peak in your stomach, the howls swirling in the air around you start to feel more like a blanket, the moonlight like a crown. His hands are so hot they almost burn, his tongue licking up your neck feels like a baptism. Your back is arching, your blood is rushing, the stars are speaking to you– what are they saying?

Your fingernails have left angry indents in your throat where you’ve clutched into the skin in a desperate attempt to regain your breath, shooting up out of your slumber with a vicious jolt. Your head spins with the sudden movement, the antique furnishings of the room bleeding into candlelit blurs as you heave for breath.

“Sleeping?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the gravel of Eren’s voice, having believed yourself to be alone. Some instinctual part of your mind almost remembers falling asleep on the loveseat in the glass-enclosed sunroom earlier, one too many martinis to thank for that, but you can worry about that later– Eren’s your priority now, shirtless and leaned against the doorframe with one eyebrow raised and a very telling flush rising to his cheeks. The chilly wetness between your legs brings your dream to the forefront of your mind. Had he heard, somehow?

“What are you doing down here?” You do your best to narrow your eyes into something convincing enough to pass for annoyance, unsure if you’ve managed to pull it off with the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

“Water,” Eren says simply, raising a glass you hadn’t noticed he was holding, “but it seems like you might need it more than I do.”

“I don’t–” He ignores you, crossing the room to hand you the ornate glass. Your throat is dry, and so you drink, eyeing him suspiciously as you sip.

“Dreaming?” The corner of his mouth twitches almost imperceptibly.

“Nightmare.” You push yourself up to sit, crossing your arms defensively over your chest. “How’d you know?”

A long pause, Eren’s eyes dragging over you slowly, your skin burning. “You were squirming.”

“It was disturbing,” you say truthfully, looking over your shoulder and half-expecting to see some horrible monster leering at you from the doorway, salivating over you and Eren, “but I’ve had this same dream since I was a kid. Part of it, anyway.”

“Need company?”

“No,” you say quickly, shaken by the dream and how low Eren’s pajama pants hang on his hips, “I just need to get to my real bed. I’m sure sleeping outside had something to do with it.”

“That’s not true.” Eren’s scooping you up into his arms before you can open your mouth to argue, as if you even would. This isn’t unusual for him; you’ve grown used to his tendency to touch you, to hold you close to his chest as though you belong there. It echoes in your head, you were born for this. A shudder wracks through your body. “Cold?”

“Mhm,” you hum, not trusting your own voice. Eren nuzzles your head deeper into his shoulder, lets you get a noseful of the scent of him. Dewdrops, mankind, a rotting forest floor. It gives you a disconcerting sense of deja vu.

“Sleeping outside is good for you,” Eren goes on, scaling the stairs with impossible ease, “my mom used to tell me that.”

“Is that so?” It brings a sleepy little smile to your face, despite yourself: the image of a messy-haired, fussy baby Eren, curled up in his mother’s lap and looking up at the night sky.

“Sure.” You can hear the nostalgia in his voice. “The stars can talk to you that way, through your dreams. They show you where you’re supposed to go.”

Your blood runs cold at that– does he know? How could he? He’s a man, not a mind-reader, not a mystic. Right? You let him carry you to your door in silence, the only noise being the padding of his bare feet down the Turkish carpet runner in the hall. When he gets to your door, Eren finally starts to move to let you down, and your mouth moves without your permission, voice small and echoing in the still nighttime air.

“Eren?”

He freezes, muscles locking you in place against his chest. “Yeah?”

“Was I talking in my sleep?”

Eren settles you on your feet before answering, leaving one lingering hand on your hip and bringing the other up to brush at your cheek. Your eye must have been watering– his thumb catches a stray tear. His smile is a little too sharp when he answers.

“No, why?”

“Just wondering.” Relief courses through your body, but your muscles stay taut under his touch.

“Okay,” Eren looks you up and down one more time, as if he’s making sure you’re all there, “goodnight, then. I hope your dreams get better.”

When he turns to go, the broad silhouette of him growing darker as he retreats, you remember something fragile underneath the floorboards.

“Wait, Eren! You forgot your water.”

“My what?” When he turns to face you, he’s still grinning– baring his teeth, more like. You think you’re imagining the glow in his eyes, too fresh from that dream.

“Your water. I think I have a cup in my room if you need it.”

“Oh.” Eren waves a hand nonchalantly through the air, catching a stray stream of moonlight. You can see the dust particles dancing around his hand, enchanted by his movement. “Wasn’t thirsty."

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

It’s a slinky, dazzling dress; Elie Saab, Spring 2005, maybe? 2006? Sasha had lent it to you, insisted upon you taking it, really. It’s got to be worth at least your years’ rent payment, dripping with Swarovski and cut low and square across your chest, and easily the most decadent thing you’ve ever worn but– it’s family dinner night. No expense is spared.

Historia sits across from you, reaching one dainty hand out for Armin’s negroni, nearly dipping the massive drop-pearl charm on her bracelet into the first course: a cold, cucumber soup. Armin nudges her meaningfully, scowling and handing his glass to her, glancing apologetically at the stiff-backed butler across the room, who wasn’t looking anyway. Sasha’s at the head of the table, working on Historia’s serving of the cucumber soup, dunking focaccia bread into it in a voracious manner that you’re sure wasn’t outlined in the etiquette courses she’d endured as a child. And he’s next to you, naturally.

His dinner jacket looks out of place on him, oddly enough: angular and overly formal, as well-fitting as it is. You wish it was a little greener, a little more playful, something to match the Eren you’ve gotten to know under all the glitz and glamour. It’s too human for him, really, but that thought makes you shudder faster than you can shove it to the side.

“Wasn’t that the girl from Luxembourg?” Sasha asks through a giggle, finally leaning back to allow the butler to collect the remnants of her first course. Historia frowns at her, gulps back nearly half of Armin’s cocktail.

“No, the girl from Luxembourg was a slut. He wouldn’t have touched her.”

Armin and Eren exchange a look that implies that, whoever the slut from Luxembourg might have been, she didn’t escape their clutches unscathed. Historia notices the guilty smile dimpling Eren’s cheek and smacks Armin in retaliation.

“Ouch, Stori!” Armin scowls right back at her; if you didn’t know about Armin’s father’s remarriage to Historia’s mother, you’d think they were actually related.

“She was a slut,” Historia sniffs, finishing the rest of Armin’s cocktail in a second swig.

“It was Eren’s idea– you’re always punishing me for what he does.” When the staff place the second course, some sort of ceviche, in front of him, Armin crosses his arms over his chest and looks away like a huffy child. Sasha laughs and swats at his shoulder.

“Don’t pretend you don’t have your own hand in things. You can’t blame everything on Eren.”

“Maybe he can,” you shrug, the champagne going to your head. You’re feeling impish, feeling like one of them. Wildly, you reach a hand up to pinch at Eren’s cheek, smiling to yourself when you feel it turn warm under your fingers. “I mean, just look at him. He’s a devil.”

“Am not,” Eren scoffs, slapping a hand on your leg and shaking it playfully, “you weren’t there anyway. Min’s very convincing when he wants to be.”

“I am.” Armin smiles at you, head tilting intrepidly. “I can get Eren to share anything I want, I bet.”

It feels loaded, like a challenge, and Eren’s fingers tighten where he’s gripping your leg. When you chance a glance to the side at him, his jaw is tense, gaze focused on Armin like a threat, like a predator.

“Not anything,” Eren says, voice low and dangerous, more somber than you’ve ever heard him. Armin’s face falls for a millisecond, scrunching his nose at the murderous glint in Eren’s eyes, before he clenches his jaw and glances between the two of you with a haughty smirk.

“Est-ce vrai? En êtes-vous sûr? Tu l'as dit toi-même - je suis convaincant quand je veux quelque chose.”

“Ne commencez pas avec moi, pas pour ça.” It’s hardly louder than a murmur, but the threat carries all the same. You look to Sasha with widened eyes, hoping for a translation, but she’s chewing slowly on a bite of her ceviche, looking at Armin, Eren, then Armin again with a strange expression you’ve never seen before.

A heavy silence settles over the table, Eren’s fingertips leaving sore spots through your dress where they’re digging into your thigh, and Armin’s eyes dancing over Eren’s face, that same smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Daring.

“You two are so in love,” Historia gripes with a roll of her eyes, smashing the carefully-cubed ceviche on her plate into a mush. You eye the smear of meat on her fork disdainfully and set down the bite you had been about to pop in your mouth, opting for your glass of bubbles instead.

The jokingly grumpy lilt of Historia’s comment seems to cut the thread of tension that had grown taut between the two men, as Armin allows Sasha to pull him away from Eren and back into his corner of the table with her and Historia. Their conversation drones on, the ethics of Eren and Armin’s tendency to tag-team women fading into the background as you wait for Eren’s hand to slip from your thigh. It doesn’t.

His thumb rubs idly over the slit of your dress, brushing it back and forth over your bare skin for just long enough to get you used to the pressure of his palm beaming heat through the thin fabric, get your guard down. And then his fingers slip underneath, grabbing into the hot flesh of your thigh.

You jump ever so slightly, flighty as a fawn, and Eren chuckles under his breath beside you when you choke a bit on your champagne. He’s cool—stoic, even—as he bashfully bats away the scandalous insinuations of Sasha and Historia’s storytelling, the lewd raise of Armin’s eyebrows at the mention of a certain leggy redhead in Prague. His hand stays steady, possessive and permanent on your leg. When Armin and Historia start arguing over yet another of Armin’s alleged missteps with one of her college friends, Eren takes the opening to lean into you, murmuring into your ear.

“What’s got you so jumpy?” His breath puffs out hot and sensual against the shell of your ear, and you can feel your earring lifting with the movement of his lips. He’s so close.

“Not jumpy,” you answer under your breath, trying to keep your composure.

“Hm,” Eren hums, leaning back just enough to study your profile, “wasn’t sure if you’d dozed off, started dreaming again.”

Your head whips towards him in what is surely an uncouth accusation of insinuation, borne of shock, but luckily, Armin’s too busy being hand-fed ceviche by Sasha and scolded by Historia to notice. Other than his eyes, Eren’s stiller than death, watching over the antics with the littlest smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. His eyes, though, flick down to you, glinting like a dare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means something?” It’s a challenge, and you realize too late that the rope around your ankle has cinched, and you’re caught in his trap.

“No,” you say, hoping for more conviction in your voice, but it comes out as a breathy whisper. The corner of Eren’s mouth twitches, and it pulls an irritated huff from you.

“Tell me about your dream. The one that woke you up the other night.”

“Tell you– w-what? Here?”

“Yes, here,” Eren repeats you, quiet and calm, keeping one eye on your bickering friends to ensure you’re kept all to himself, “unless it’s something you can’t share.”

The blanching of your face tells him everything he needs to know, and that sickening admission almost overshadows the fact that he knows. He undeniably knows, now; maybe not the specifics, but enough to know that you had woken up sticky and gasping after a sinful dream. Maybe he even knows it was about him.

You’ve given up on trying to understand the otherworldly elements of Eren; the way he seems to appear at inopportune moments and know what you’re thinking at every turn, but this is too much. You quickly realize that while you’re not sober, you’re certainly not drunk enough to deal with him, and you finish your glass of champagne in a single gulp.

“You’re one to talk about sharing,” you hiss at him, trying to will away the goosebumps prickling your arms as his fingers inch higher, skating along soft skin. Eren’s demeanor falters, if only for a moment– he looks frustrated.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Eren leans into you, brows furrowing. “I don’t share just anything, and especially not just because ‘Min wants a taste.”

“Am I yours to share?” That heavy swig of champagne has gone straight to your head it seems, as you turn your face up to him defiantly, finally saying the quiet part out loud. The weight falls off your shoulders like a head, and you can almost feel the itch of the guillotine at your neck as the words leave your mouth. Eren, ever the gentle executioner, only lets the calm fascination return to his face, brings his fingers further up your thigh.

“Tell me about your dream, hm? They’re not listening, it’s just you and me.”

He’s only inches away from where you’re already beginning to grow hot and wet– he hasn’t even done anything, and you want to chastise yourself over the undeniable need beginning to bubble inside you. Eren’s smiling so sweetly, as if he’s lulling you into a sense of complacency, and your tongue hangs heavy in your mouth, eager to spill your secrets.

“I…I’m scared.”

Eren’s eyebrows raise and his smile grows a bit toothier, disbelief written plain on his face. “Of me?”

“Sometimes,” you say, small and honest as the grave, “it’s like you aren’t real.”

“I’m very real,” Eren insists, two fingers pressing against the damp silk of your panties, his eyes lighting up when you stifle a gasp, “doesn’t that feel real?”

“Wait–”

“The dream,” Eren says again, increasing the pressure of his fingers, “were you scared of me there, too?”

“Yes,” you whisper, ashamed and painfully cognizant of the feel of him between your legs, “I was in a forest, running after the little lights, they– I’ve seen them for a long time.”

“Since you were a child,” Eren repeats your confession from the other night. He’s reading you, you realize, not like a book, but like a poem. You couldn’t put the difference into words if you had to, but there’s a certain melody to the flickering of his gaze over your hot face.

“They’ve never led me anywhere before,” your words hitch in your throat, stopped dead when Eren’s fingers start rubbing circles over your swollen clit. The silk is thin and soaked, and his fingers slide over you in a way that feels god-given. Your jaw hangs ever-so-slightly, the butlers coming to change the course. You wait for Eren to slip his hand out from under your dress, fearful of the staff watching as he toys with you, but he only nods encouragingly.

“Keep going.”

“Um,” you stammer, swallowing thickly and glancing at the plate of bleeding, rare filet in front of you, “they took me to a clearing in the forest. There were creatures, ones I’ve never seen before.”

“Did they hurt you? Any of them?” A furrow appears between his eyebrows, deep and concerned. Some small part of your brain, muted since Eren’s hand slid beneath your dress, worries itself with why Eren seems so disquieted with your dream– it’s not like you actually could have been hurt, it was only a dream. Wasn’t it?

“No, they stayed away. They just made a lot of noise, but they all got quiet when…”

A knowing smirk. “When?”

“When I saw you.”

Eren pats your thighs gently, urging them apart; he looks relieved, exhilarated, unreal. If you didn’t know better, you’d think his eyes were glowing in the candlelight. Armin, Historia, and Sasha’s clamor across the table grows louder with each passing second, but as soon as you begin to wonder if you should be doing a better job of hiding what’s very clearly happening under the slit of your dress, Eren’s fingers have wiggled their way beneath the fabric of your silk thong. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, eyes widening.

“I was glad to see you,” Eren says quietly, “in the dream, I mean.”

“You said you’d been waiting for me,” you whisper, keeping your voice low to hide the whine scratching at the back of your throat, “that you’d been waiting a long time.”

“I bet I was,” Eren hums thoughtfully, grinning viciously when he sinks a finger into you, clearly relishing the way your fingernails tighten into his wrist. “I never lie.”

“Even in a dream?” You feel fuzzy and warm, blinking moony, worried eyes up at him. Eren shakes his head in confirmation, curling his finger and making your thighs clench. “You put me in your lap, and–and, you had a crown. It was nighttime, I think, and the moon was really bright. You were inside me.”

Eren slides another finger in to match the first, and you’re hardly able to stifle a moan when it comes fluttering through your teeth, a breeze of a sound compared to what you’re struggling to keep captive in your chest. Eren’s other hand reaches forward to grab a small piece of the carved steak, brings the meat up to your mouth and brushes it over your lips.

“Eat,” Eren instructs, smiling placidly as you mindlessly obey, biting into the red meat, “but keep telling me.”

He waits patiently for you to chew around the bite of steak he’s offered you, eyes searching you for something– what it is, you can’t be sure. Your mind is wobbling around the flashes of memory of your dream, distracted every few steps by an overwhelming rush of pleasure from between your legs, Eren’s fingers curling incessantly against your walls. You swallow, never taking your eyes off of him.

“You fucked me.” The confession is breathless when it leaves you, and even through the haze of what you pray isn’t a rapidly-approaching orgasm, you don’t miss the way Eren’s shoulders stiffen, the way his eyes flash.

“Did I fuck you, or did you fuck me?” Eren murmurs back to you, mischief in his eyes and a tense gravel to his voice. “You said you were in my lap, after all.”

“I—oh, god—I don’t know,” you’re barely able to keep your voice low, a little whimper interrupting you, “Eren–”

“Keep going, it’s okay,” Eren’s fingers don’t slow– in fact, they begin to move more harshly, “you’re safe with me, you know that. I showed you in the forest, didn’t I?”

“Mhm.” You can’t stop your forehead from falling onto his shoulder, teeth digging into your lip so hard you aren’t sure if that coppery taste is from the steak, or your own blood. The conversation in the room, despite being made by only three people, feels like a deafening rush in your ears.

The realization hits home that Eren’s going to make you cum all over his fingers in front of your friends, the staff, and your dinner, and he’s going to wrench it out of you in a matter of seconds, if the tightening of your gut is anything to go by.

“What else?” Eren practically growls in your ear, low and hoarse. “Is there anything else?”

“You asked me– fuck, you asked me something.” Your hips are canting forward into his palm, your face tacky and warm thinking about the couture fabric under you, now drenched in your cum and sweat. “Eren, you have to slow down, please–”

He’s merciless, pumping his fingers into you ceaselessly, rendering you a lost cause. “What did I ask you?”

“You asked—oh, my god—asked if I, if I would stay with you forever.”

“What was your answer?”

You can’t respond, not with the way you’ve stopped breathing to swallow down the debauched moan bubbling in your chest. Your entire body tenses, strung tight as a bow around Eren’s fingers as the knot in your stomach unravels, cool, inevitable release finally crashing over you. Eren works you through it, murmuring little hushes into your hairline, and placing a comforting hand over your fingers that are digging into his wrist, smiling against your forehead as you slide your hips back and forth over his hand.

You manage to pull the whole thing off impressively subdued, no more than a tinny whimper leaving your lips, only to be absorbed by the sleeve of Eren’s dinner jacket. When you dare to sit up, to meet Eren’s eyes, he’s still looking at you expectantly, as if that wasn’t enough.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” you whisper, waiting for Historia to chastise you, or Armin to make a lewd comment. The three of them are still arguing, Sasha stealing bites from Armin’s plate each time he turns to snap at Historia, who’s now sitting amongst a crowd of empty crystal glasses.

“What was your answer?” Eren says again, pulling his fingers from you and smirking at the glisten that stretches down into his palm.

“I woke up,” you say with shaky conviction, trying to glare at him.

“Are you still scared of me?” Eren asks innocently, picking up a piece of his steak with his hand and feeding it to you again. Your cum mixes in with the flavor of the steak, gives it a certain tang and salinity that makes your heart beat faster, even though you’ve just floated back down to consciousness.

“I– I don’t think so, but…” you trail off, looking down at the plate. Eren brings another piece to your lips, letting you bite half and giving the rest to himself, not missing the opportunity to suck on the tips of his fingers. Your thighs press together when his eyes flutter shut, knowing what he’s tasting and watching him revel in it.

“But what?”

“I don’t think I understand you,” you confess breathlessly, “I think that’s what scares me. I spend all day looking at you, and I never feel closer to understanding you, to really touching you. It’s like you’re not…” you trail off in search of the right word.

“Real?” Eren cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Human,” you say without entirely meaning to, widening your eyes at him in apology. “I’m sorry, not in a bad way necessarily, but– you feel…like you’re above me. In a sense.”

“Above you?” Eren frowns, forgetting his dinner entirely and looking straight at you with rejection written all over his face, wrinkles you want to smoothe over with your thumb.

“I just…” you sigh, finding it harder to meet his gaze by the second, “I don’t understand what you want with me.”

“Still?” Eren tilts his head. “Even after that?”

“The dream?” You nearly chuckle in exasperation. “It was just a dream, that’s all.”

Eren frowns a little, reaches for your glass of champagne– oh, god, when had that been refilled?– and hands it to you. He watches you take one sip, and then another, that concentrated pull of his eyebrows never ceasing until you reach a shaky hand out for your fork, beginning to feed yourself small bites of steak. His perplexed expression ripples out into one of contentedness, smiling gently as he watches you take care of yourself.

“All days are nights to see till I see thee, and nights bright days when dreams do show me thee,” Eren finally says, looking at you very much like you’re supposed to be parsing something out from his quote.

“On to the sonnets now, are we?” You cock a playful eyebrow at him, despite your tired, slouching posture and your repeated attempts to keep your guard up. Eren grins mischievously, leaning in as if he means to press the tip of his nose to yours.

“I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say–”

“If it be love indeed, tell me how much?” You’re quicker than him on this one, a vicious little smirk cutting across your face when you manage to cut him off. Eren’s eyebrows raise, impressed, but you don’t keep him down for long.

“There’s beggary in love that can be reckoned,” Eren finally says, twirling the ring on your pinky absentmindedly. You don’t even remember when he laid his hand atop yours, but it feels heavy and comforting, and so you let it lie there, just for the time being.

Your post-orgasm exhaustion hits you like a train, the temptation to slump against Eren’s shoulder winning out over your propriety. You’ll sit back up by the fourth course, you tell yourself, nibbling on a large piece of parsley that had come as a garnish on your plate. Eren doesn’t seem to mind the weight of your fuzzy head nodded into the cotton of his shoulder; in fact, he seems to adjust himself so you can nuzzle closer, eyes blinking owlishly as you reach for your glass of bubbles. You’re teetering dangerously close to the edge of unconsciousness, and you almost wouldn’t care, until something catches your eye.

Over the rim of your glass, Historia is staring at you. It’s not a look of admonishment, but more…caution? Concern? Pity? All you can discern for certain is that Historia must have seen everything Eren did to you, everything he’s still doing to you, taking a caviar bump off the back of his hand and laughing at Armin, shoulder shaking under your cheek. Historia’s brows furrow at you, her bottom lip wavering slightly.

You sit up suddenly, ignoring the way the room spins with the speed of your action. Eren turns his head to you, surprised, only to follow your gaze across the table to Historia. You’re trying to keep from looking at him, but you can’t help yourself, watching his expression crumple into something stern and disparaging.

Historia withers for only a moment, before narrowing her eyes at him threateningly. Eren squeezes his hand around yours. Sasha shoves Historia admonishingly for not listening to her joke. Armin’s eyes focus in on where your fingers grip your champagne flute hard enough to turn white.

You think you see a few pairs of familiar, glowing eyes in the bushes outside, peering in on the scene at the table. You think you need to go to bed.

#eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger fanfiction #aot #aot fanfic #eren jaeger x you #eren yeager x you #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #that's all for now folks!!!!#more to come in part 2<3

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withoutyouimsaskia · 2 months

Text

Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

GIF: Originally posted by @sassycherryblossomtree

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Threat. Dubious/non consent. Physical intimacy.

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: What a full on week! I've had a job interview. Got turned down for said job. Went to a Sandman filming location (Natural History Museum) and watched Dune Part 2 (cannot recommend enough). It took away from my writing time a bit but part 3 is here now, and I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think. Part 4 will be coming soon. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

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"Y/N, I claim you as my soulmate."

The sentence is a catalyst, fuelling the physical and emotional reactions in both the surroundings and your body.

The wind is gone, leaving a claustrophobic air that crackles with untameable energy. The streetlight above violently flickers and flares, the unmistakable noise of a circuit about to overload emanating with each surge.

You feel these surges within your chest too, stoking the warmth radiating through you to an uncontrollable blaze. The ferocity of the sensation makes you whimper.

The man's hands are still touching you. Cradling your face and holding your hand; he feels the tremble that couples with your vocalisation.

"I understand. I feel it too," he whispers. "Though I imagine it is much more intense for your mortal heart to bear."

He eyes are raven black as he strokes his thumb back and forth over your cheek, before strengthening the hold he has on your face.

"Let me kiss the pain away."

He gives you no time to respond. He leans in the last few centimetres and puts his lips firmly against yours.

At first, contrary to his intent, the pain amplifies. He grunts, indicating that he has felt this spike also yet begins to move his lips regardless. It's like your heart is a balloon and it is being overfilled with air, close to exploding and obliterating you from existence. You then feel as if you are about to black out and want to pull away, and are about to try when the agony starts to subside.

The seduction begins.

The fire is mellowing with each press of his mouth, transforming into a restorative, yet sensuous energy. It's alleviation akin to calamine on a sunburn.

It awakens a primal need in your soul. This man is fundamental to you. He is the only one who can truly protect you from harm. You must remain with him. Give yourself to him.

You act on this revelation and kiss him back with a hunger that you didn't think you were capable of demonstrating.

Your reciprocation sends him into a frenzy. He cages you against the damp wall of the building and kisses you with unyielding, dangerous passion.

His skill is impressive, changing technique frequently to keep you guessing. Smothering kisses, bruising kisses, slower kisses to give you time to breathe. The hand that was cupping your face is now stroking down your side; breasts, waist, hips and back up again.

Tentatively, you raise your free hand to the back of his head and run your fingers through his wild hair. He makes a noise in the back of his throat, a satisfied vibrating sigh of sorts that encourages you to dig deeper into the silken locks.

He escalates things by slipping his tongue into your mouth. You feel his lips curl into a smirk as you moan in response. His taste is a potent blend: a smoky base, herbaceous core and ambrosial top notes. You are drunk on it, and him seconds after exposure.

Logic has left you. Schedules and duties cast aside.

The juxtaposition between the present and minutes prior would be frightening if not for how correct all this feels. You had been disgusted and alarmed by his conduct, ready to bring in reinforcements and then all of it had dissipated like dust under a short, sharp breath.

It is not a ridiculous change in behaviour; you were supposed to be doing this. This stranger is all you want.

He pulls back when even his slower kisses are unable to calm your elevated respiratory rate, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth as he does so to draw another moan from you.

The blue of his eyes shimmer with a myriad of emotions. Lust stands out the most along with awe and relief. Your cheeks prickle with a light blush as he continues to stare and document every detail.

"I have been waiting to do that for thousands of years, my precious soulmate," he eventually says in reference to the kiss after absorbing your image for a while.

There's that word again. Soulmate. You hadn't exactly been allowed a period of contemplation when the man first uttered it, too swept up in the fire and his touch, but now with the semi-reinstation of coherent thoughts you begin to assess. It proves difficult. Your cerebral matter feels like a mixture of treacle, sap and epoxy. Trapping words and slowing down your processing power. It would be so simple to let yourself live in this mental mire and be carried along by his whims.

No. You scold inwardly. Ask a question.

"What do you mean by soulmates?" You force yourself to speak.

He guides your palm to rest on his heart and sets up a mirror image with his hand on your chest. "It means that we are bound together, made for one another."

The next question is easier to form. "And what now, given that you've found me?"

"Now," His hips grind into yours. "I will continue with the ritual of awakening you to the metaphysical connection between us, stripping back the shrouds and glamours that have been protecting your mind from the gravity of this gift."

That explained why everything shifted when he first touched your skin.

"Are you going to do that here?" Your brain is really starting to break free of its trappings and you need to ascertain his plan for it sounds like his intentions are of a sexual nature and you are in a public place.

"No, your time in this world has reached its end. I will take you to my realm, lead you to my chambers and I will not stop stimulating you until I have taken residence in your every thought, every cell."

The speed and confidence with which he is pouring forth all of these sentiments, and the near-full recovery of your mental faculties triggers a wave of nausea. Perspiration forms on your nape and ears and your core temperature feels off; warning signs that you get when you are about to vomit.

He still hasn't let go of your hand. You hone in on the softness of his skin, hoping you can use him as an anchor as you wade through the icky symptoms.

Recent events are starting to catch up with you. You replay it all.

Soulmates. Mortal. Thousands of years. Metaphysical. Realm. The unexplainable environmental manifestations. The strange shifting qualities of his eyes. What kind of supernatural devilry had you managed to become ensnared in?

Was he in fact the devil?

You are so conflicted. This being, for you are convinced that 'man' is no longer the correct term, is telling you things that threaten your entire way of life and your heart is pushing you to seek comfort from him!

Then the voices start.

Your sense of balance tilts and you instinctively grasp his forearm for stability. He says your name and you drag your focus from your thoughts to his face. He is looking at you with deep concern.

"Tell me," he commands gently.

"I feel dizzy... And I can hear voices."

"How many?"

"What?"

"How many voices?"

Your eyes are wide as you struggle to understand the relevance of his question.

You stammer out a couple of syllables.

"Breathe," he encourages.

You obey and concentrate on the hubbub.

"Three. Everything is being repeated three times."

The frown lines smooth and he is smiling faintly. "It seems The Fates are vying for your attention."

"The Fates? Like in Greek mythology?"

"The very same."

Was this being a God then?

"They're telling me to close my eyes," you relay as soon as the instruction is delivered.

He nods. "That will be the trigger that transports your mind to their location."

"Will I pass out?"

"No. It will be a temporary connection that keeps your body frozen for mere moments."

"I feel so dizzy though."

"I can hold you while you converse with them should you wish."

You nod somewhat frenetically as a sliver of fear creeps into your mind. "Yes, please."

He lets go of your hand for the first time since you tried to go back in the building, slips his arms around your waist and he pulls you close with a satisfied sigh. The neediness with which you are clinging to him lessens your apprehension just a little.

"How does that feel?" His voice rumbles deliciously through your chest.

"Good, thank you."

"You should close your eyes now. It is best that you do not keep them waiting."

"Okay."

"I'll see you in a few moments."

You shut your eyes.

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

The scene you awaken in is all lemon yellows, blush pinks and pastel blues. There's no landforms or structures. Just a never-ending stretch of bedrock, topped with a horizon that is beginning to show a sumptuous sunset.

You squint a little and then notice that there is a actually a point of interest. A lump of rough rock, waist height. There's a divot worn into the top that makes the obtrusion look like a font. For a moment you see a single figure standing at it.

A figure that appears to have three faces.

But then you blink and the number has tripled.

Maiden, Mother and Crone.

The trio block the worst of the sun glare, and the light that isn't obscured is highlighting the translucent layers that overflow from their intricately constructed and adorned outfits. Their curly hair, like the fabric of their clothes, flows freely in the gentle breeze.

You walk towards the group, thinking back to that term in school where you studied Greek mythology. Under no circumstances did you ever think that any of it could possibly be true, yet here you were.

You stop a respectable distance from them and quickly avert your eyes downwards to look at the ruby ring on your right hand.

One of them speaks, "You need not be intimidated by us, sweetness."

"I only wish to pay respect to you, your Graces."

You chance a peek at the Fates and see amusement in their eyes.

"Oh, you are going to fit in very well in his world," the Mother says with a smile.

You don't know what to feel about that comment however you don't have time to dwell on it for the eldest addresses you.

"Come closer. Let us look at you."

And look they did. Their resolute gazes are just as discerning as the stranger's but unlike his, where you knew he was soaking you in, you feel like the Fates are seeing through you.

You don't know what exactly it is that they are looking for but their smiles give the impression of being appeased.

"Has Morpheus told you how this will go?"

"No..." You hesitate before speaking his name, "Morpheus has not."

"He didn't tell you his name, did he?"

"We didn't get a lot of time for small talk," you admit sheepishly.

"We can see that from the state of your lips."

"He always was rather forward with his physical affection."

"Touch starved," the Crone finishes.

You are beyond embarrassed. How swollen were your lips for it to be that obvious? You can almost feel his touch now, it tingles like phantom caresses on the skin of your neck, chest and waist. You swallow hard before further lust can thicken your throat.

The Fates then speak in turn again, explaining the context of your rendezvous.

"You will have the opportunity to ask three questions."

"That is the custom when meeting with us."

"There is no need to rush."

Choosing only three questions will be tough when there are hundreds you could ask. Were you losing your sanity? Was Morpheus a demonic envoy from the underworld sent to corrupt your mind?

You suppose all you really want to know is whether this is real.

"Is he telling the truth about us being soulmates?"

The Maiden answers in a musical voice, "He is. The confluence of yours and Morpheus' lives has been written for millennia. Your souls have been intended for each other since he came into existence. You were never meant for anyone else but him."

You feel like you are about to cry. That last statement cuts deeply.

"All those times that potential partners lost interest or ghosted me. It was because of this soulmates thing," you murmur the statement, aware that you don't need to ask them to know if it is true.

Years of heartache and confusion had been for nothing. The nights spent wondering if you had done something wrong, the days where you threw yourself into your work to distract from it.

You cannot regret all the good things you managed to create as part of your team at the charity yet it is hard to look past the personal torment that countless unexplained rejections caused. You are human after all.

Selfishness rears its head and pushes the next question from your mouth with a tone of indignation.

"Why am I only finding out about this now?"

The Mother takes over, tone caring and brown eyes cordial, "It was not necessary for you to know."

Ire disintegrates into frustration. "But I could have been preparing. Not building a life that I was clearly going to have to give up."

"You would not be the person you are had we given you warning. You needed to live as a human, not as someone who was fated to be with the King of Dreams and Nightmares. Besides, there was no possibility of you being together. For 106 years, Morpheus was the prisoner of a human, and it was the recent end of his captivity that allowed fate to take its intended course. Reaching your potential on Earth gives you a strong foundation from which to guide and influence him in how to best serve humanity, and learn to trust in them once more after what he suffered at the hands of one."

The amount of information you have just received is like a freight train. One after the other, the revelations barrel into you and you take refuge in your mind.

The King of Dreams and Nightmares; not a title you had heard of before. Yet there is a strange sense of recognition. A forgotten memory that barely flickers with life. You ignore the niggling thought and focus on the more devastating one.

This King, your soulmate was held against his will, subjected to suffering. You cannot bear the idea of it regardless of how few details you have at present. Your chest aches and you know your soul is the source.

Fury twitches in your fingers, as fiery as the now burnt oranges and bloody reds of the ever-progressing sunset. You want to know who could do such a terrible thing but you realise that it is not the most important question you could be asking.

You look back to the Fates. You note their proud smiles at your restraint.

"What role am I expected to play in his future?"

The Crone moves to centre stage, "You are to be his everything. Muse. Lover. Queen. Advisor. Confidant."

Your stomach twists.

"Are you ready to return to him?" The Maiden asks, taking you off guard.

You feel like you a patron being kicked out at closing time with half a drink left. A fizzy one that you can't knock back easily.

What you've just been told honestly scares you. It's a mountain of expectation, the sort of thing that could birth an inferiority complex. There's also your self-preservation instinct starting to scream. You've seen darkness in his eyes, felt his physical strength and heard how resolute his statements are.

You have to say something.

"I'm worried about what would happen if I disappoint him, if he would hurt me."

The trio step closer, the scant remnants of sunlight reflect off their perceptive eyes and the metal of their matching earrings.

The Crone speaks solemnly, "It has been well-documented that Morpheus has a ruthless nature. As one of the Endless siblings, he is among the most powerful beings in the universe; equal parts creator, and destroyer."

The Mother touches your cheek with a warm hand. "But you have just as much power to hurt him, sweetness. We have provided you with it."

The Maiden nods in agreement, and takes your hand.

"He deals in fears, yes but his domain also lies in fantasies. He will be able to furnish you with yours. He has been made to be perfect for you."

"But -"

"This is not a loss of agency or an act of surrender. Put aside your qualms, listen to your soul and ask yourself this: do you find him attractive?"

"Yes." He's the most attractive person you've ever seen.

"Do you care for him?"

"Yes." Your reaction to his imprisonment is evidence enough of that.

"Do you want to a chance of happiness?"

"Yes." Deep down beneath all the doubt and overthinking and catastrophising, it's exactly what you want.

You want Morpheus.

"I'm ready," you say calmly.

You take a step back from the Fates and bow.

"Thank you for your time, your Graces."

The sky is an inky violet with daubs of dark blue, the sun is a thin line on the horizon. It sets, signalling the end of the meeting and your time as an ordinary mortal.

"Fare you well," the Fates' voices echo in unison as everything fades to black.

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

Tag list: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt @littleblackcatinwonderland @1950schick @lollipopsandlandmines

"Deep in my heart, deep in my mind. Take me away, take me away. This is my word, dream maker, life taker. Open up my mind."

114 notes · View notes

rainylana · 2 years

Text

“Nobody’s fool.”

Eddie Munson x reader

summary: inspired by the song nobody’s fool by cinderella. requested by @rhoads56 <3 includes a slip n slide’, trailer park toddlers and love confessions:)

warnings: language, strictly fluff it’s just so damn cute, eddie and reader are head over heels in love lmao, wayne being a mood, mentions of panic attacks and nightmares, weed and pornography, little bit of tears and some sexual tension, but not graphic. just a little smut, but again, not graphic. ultimate fluff i can’t. like really- i love this so much<3

a/n: also! thank you guys very much for the kind messages these past few days:) i really do love you all so much.

taglist!

@ariesl0ves3ddiemuns0n @eddiemunnson @eddiemania @supercalifragilisticprincess @imdoingbetternow @antigoneidk @blowing-mikey @chaos-incorp @ches-86 @avobabe87 @mic429 @averysblog @justaproudslytherpuff @livasaurasrex @ultimate-sdmn-trash @underthebatcape @delilahtaylorsverson @no0neknowsm3 @kellysimagines @cosmic-lavender @flowers-and-tsukki @bellasfavoritesweatpants @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @catherinnn @imangy @ahzysauce @softyutae @rovckwells @ohlovelyhollow @tessiemessie @xx-hospitalforsouls-xx-blog @tripthlightfantastic @noturmom15 @lexthemess21 @imabadarsebard @fionnthebandersnacc @heeyitsg @kaqua @getbillzoned @genuine-possum @nothisispatric @fvcking-gxddess @lillianofliterature @kneelforloki @actuallybarb @edzmunsonswife @itiscj @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @grace--03

Wayne leaned against the railing on his back porch, elbows resting on the old wood with a cigarette dangling between his lips. He chuckled every now and then at the scene set in front of him. All of hellfire was in his backyard, shirts off with bright, sunburned skin as they played in the neighbors hose, colorful swimming shorts that stood out like a sore thumb. They stuck big long trash bags to the wet grass, making a slip n slide’ to entertain themselves in the 96 degree weather.

What was most amusing to the man was, however, was how differently his nephew treated you than everyone else. He watched you scream and carry about as Mike directly sprayed the water in your face, Eddie picking you up by the thighs to toss you both down the slippery tarp. He knew damn well that you were both head over heels in love with each other, especially Eddie. He’d tried time and time again to get him to talk about it, but the boy always turned beat red and chalked it up to nothing.

Grass stuck to your bodies, glued to your torsos from sweat and water. You were wearing a bikini, and your skin was marked red from how many times Eddie manhandled you and tossed you both down the hill. Your stomach hurt from how much you were laughing, the kind of laugh where you got stuck in silence and almost broke your insides.

Summer vacation was here, and it was hotter than hell, so Dustin had brilliantly came up with the idea for the trash bags and water hose. Even some of the neighbor kids waddled over in their swimsuits and rubber duckies. Tommy, his five year old neighbor, dragged his plastic kiddy pool over and filled it up. The Munson backyard was filled with life, and it warmed Wayne’s heart to see the sight.

“Look at my knees, you asshole!” You a screeched through laughter, pointing down to your red, scratched knees. “You’re gonna kill me if you don’t quit throwing my down this mountain!”

He sputtered our laughter, slipping on wet grass as he tried to stand up. “It’s- oh, god, it’s hardly a mountain, y/n.” He panted, hair sticking to his firm chest and making swirling designs. “Wanna go again?”

“My turn! My turn!” The little neighbor girls chanted, running up to Eddie with open arms. You laughed and stepped back, ushering Eddie to play with them first.

He wiggled his brows at you and clapped his hands, gathering the girls in his arms before he started down the slippery slope. You screamed again when Lucas sprayed you with the highest mode of the hose, backing away quickly as you threw a plastic floaty at his face.

You couldn’t see him, but from down below the hill, Eddie’s eyes had morphed into hearts, watching you. You looked absolutely beautiful, soaking wet and covered in clips of grass and mud. The kids pulled at his arms trying to get him to play with them, but he couldn’t look away from your beauty. He was mesmerized, and Wayne smirked, not missing the action.

Everyday he fought urge to kiss your lips, to tell you just how much you meant to him, how often you visited his dreams, but it was too complicated. You were best friends, and he was terrified of ruining what you had, and so were you. You both were too damn awkward to express your feelings.

Hours later when the sun began to set, the neighbor kids went home and so did the hellfire crew, besides you. You helped clean up the yard and made sure the kids got home safely with their toys, cleaning up the trash that Mike kept forgetting to throw away. Eddie helped, but his eyes always scanned over your figure, not being able to help himself. You stole your own glances, too, dazing off at the smooth, toned muscles of his chest that were scuffed in dirt.

“You kids hungry?” Wayne stepped outside to the back porch, beer in hand with a cigarette behind his ear. “I ordered a pizza. Y/n, why don’t you stay for dinner, hmm?”

You smiled, panting out a breath from the work your did, wringing out a beach towel in your hair. “Sure! You think maybe I could use your shower?”

“You know where it’s at.” He nodded toward the door, setting down on a lawn chair and kicking his legs out.

“Hey, Eddie!” You turned, calling over to him as he rolled the hose back up to return. “Can I borrow some of your clothes? I’m gonna take a shower!”

He almost dropped the damn thing, growing hot at the idea of you in his clothes. “Oh- oh, yeah! Sure!”

Wayne rolled his eyes. You disappeared inside the trailer, leaving the boys to themselves, and the older man watched with an amused look as Eddie trodded up to the porch. “So,” He raised a brow. “You had a nice day, huh?”

Eddie stopped immediately, eyes narrowing in curiosity. “Yeah? What’s that..that look for?” Water dripped from his hair, big puddles staining the wood beneath his bare feet.

“Nothin’.” Wayne shrugged his shoulders. “Just like watching a damn romance movie when you’re round’ each other, is all.”

“Shh, shh!” Eddie panicked, flapping his hands in a rush. “Jesus- Wayne, come on!”

The older man laughed, holding up his hand in apology. “Okay, okay, sorry. Shit, kid, you don’t hide it very well, though. Them boys were whisperin’ all day about how you kept starin’ at her.”

“Who?” His eyes widened, stepping closer to his uncle. “Was if that shithead Wheeler? I swear to god, I’m gonna ring his neck.” He gritted his teeth, taking a shallow breath.

“He’s one of ‘em, yeah.” Wayne nodded, taking a quick sip of his beer. “Him and that Henderson kid. They got a point though, bud. You’re both clearly crazy about each other.”

Eddie gulped, freezing at his words. He always grew extremely uncomfortable when he talked about you..well, potentially sharing feelings. It scared him too badly to think about it. He knew he could never act on them. It wasn’t worth the risk, was it? He couldn’t risk ruining what the two of you had. He loved you too much for it.

“Shut up, old man.” He grumbled, plopping himself down on the porch step, placing his head in his hands. He sighed with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Come on, don’t freak out.” Wayne smirked, noticing the shortening of his breath. It had been a while since the boy had a panic attack, but it didn’t take much to overwhelm him. “I just don’t get why you’re so scared to talk to her.”

Eddie groaned into his hands, the night cold against his wet, exposed skin. He reached out to grab your pink towel, wrapping it around his torso. “Because we can’t be more than friends.”

“I didn’t know you could read the future.”

“Wayne,” He pleaded desperately, running his hands through his wet curls. “Drop it, already.” He fiddled with the rings on his fingers, biting the inside of his cheek in attempt to ease his frustrations.

“Okay, bud,” His uncle sighed amusedly. “Sorry.”

A total of thirty seconds passed.

“You want me to tell her?”

“Oh, my god, Wayne!” Eddie wailed, turning around to glare at him.

“Well, shit,” His uncle scoffed, holding up his hands. “It’s getting old watching the two of you stare into each other’s eyes all…all romantic and crap.”

“We don’t!” He jumped up. “We..we don’t!”

“Okay, okay, just…tell my why you’re so scared of telling her how you feel, huh?” Wayne sighed, widening his eyes in close frustration. Eddie may have been twenty years old, but he acted like he was seven.

“Because!” He groaned, flinging water in every direction. “Because, Wayne! She’s my..she’s my best friend. She might not feel the same way and I- I can’t risk loosing her. She’s too important to me.”

It was like talking to a brick wall, and Wayne knew that no matter how much he tried to persuade him to open up to you, it would be damn near impossible. That was just how Eddie was. He was an over-thinker. Wayne knew that better than anybody.

“Can I say one more thing?” He sat up, resting his elbows on his knees, placing down his beer bottle. “Then I’m silent. Swear.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, leaning against the railing. “You are whether I wanna hear it or not, so sure.” He squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge between his nose.

“Listen, kid, I love ya’,” Wayne raised his brows, smirking subtly. “But, you’re a damn mess, you know that? I raised you, so I can say it. All I’m saying is that…well, you’ve never had a girl in hellfire before she came along. You never even hung out with girls. Remember that kid who punched you in middle school when you tried to kiss her?” He chuckled, warning a cringed look from Eddie. “She feels the same way, bub. Trust me. I’m old, so you have to. We all know she does.” Wayne stood up and gave his nephew a reassuring squeeze before he went inside, leaving him alone to his thoughts.

Maybe his uncle was right, but that didn’t change anything, did it? It wasn’t worth the risk. He loved you too much for it. He’d rather have you as a best friend than to not have you at all, even if it meant he’d be living a lie.

•

“You should stay the night.” Eddie said to you over his shoulder, peeking out of his bedroom curtain. “Looks like rain. You shouldn’t drive.”

“It’s only rain.” You smiled, flipping through one of his dirty magazines on his bed.

“Yeah, but still,” He pursed his lips. “I’d feel better if you stad.” He turned to look at you, and smirked coyly at the sight of you holding his beloved copy of busty ladies. “Find something you like?”

You chuckled and shrugged. “Was just curious.” You said before tossing it to the end of the bed, smiling up at him. You were wearing his black sweats and his red, corroded coffin tee, hair still slightly damp from your shower. Eddie no longer was covered in grass clippings anymore, now wearing great sweatpants, his chest bare and muscular. His hair was dry and frizzy above the muscles, eyes slightly red rimmed from the joint he’d been smoking.

“I’ll stay.” You blinked tiredly, curling up with his soft blanket.

He hummed, satisfied with your answer. “Good.” He muttered, crawling on the bed up to where you were, settling back on a pillow against the headboard. “Smoke?” He offered you the joint.

You rolled onto your back, neck propped up from the pillow. You took the joint from his slender fingers, taking a small inhale and closing your eyes. You passed it back to him.

“Today was fun.” You blinked slowly, relaxed. The room was glowing in a soft, orange tone from his bedside lamp. You always loved sleeping over.

“It was.” He agreed, resting an arm behind his head. “Kids wore me out, though. Kept throwing those stupid toys at me.”

You giggled, chest vibrating with the sound. “They like you.”

“Everyone likes me.” He looked at you smugly, and you smacked his shoulder playfully.

“Uh, huh.” You scoffed, taking the joint back and placing it between your pink lips. “You’re a real casanova.”

He narrowed his eyes at the foreign word, giving you a weird look. “Casanova? What’s that mean?”

You past the blunt back and rolled your head to the side to look him in the eye, snorting once in his face. “A charmer.”

He smirked. “So you think I’m charming, huh?”

His high eyes twinkled in orange glow. He looked angelic, and it almost made you sad more a moment. He was so insecure of himself, despite what he said. You only wished he knew how beautiful he was. You wished he knew how much you loved him. But you’d never be more than friends.

“It also means a man who has a lot of lovers.” You raised a brow, smiling coyly.

He squinted his eyes, lips parting. “What makes you think I have a lover?”

You gave him a deadpanned look. “Eddie. You have a whole stack of porn under your bed I pretend isn’t there. I’m sure you have a few ladies around town that you like.”

He widened his eyes slightly, giving you an incredulous look. “If I wasn’t mistaken, y/n…I’d say you just called me a whore.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes. “No, I did not call you a whore. I’m just joking you big baby.”

He smiled at your smile, nodding. “Whatever, baby.”

You both giggled until a comfortable silence ensued, the high slowly making you tired. You yawned quietly, turning to face him and curling up against the pillow. He did the same, only a foot of length between your shoulders. You stared at each other with red eyes. “I hope I don’t have any nightmares tonight.” You said softly.

You were prone to them, always had been. Eddie knew this. He also knew that they weren’t as bad when you had someone with you. He closed the distance by wrapping an arm around your back, pulling you into his chest and cuddling you. You nuzzled your face underneath his neck, hand placed on his waist. He pulled the quilt blanket up to your shoulders, hand softly playing with your hair. “I’ll be here if you need me. Try and sleep.”

There was so much more he wanted to say.

•

For some reason unbeknownst to him, Eddie was awake four hours later, the room pitch black besides the white glow that the moon peeked through the curtains on the window. Your body was pressed against his ever so tightly, limbs entertained with blankets tangled at your meet. You must have gotten hot, he figured.

He was staring at you, studying and memorizing all the details of your face while he could. He knew this wasn’t right, feeling the way he did about you, but he couldn’t help it. It was driving him crazy. He wanted to love you with everything he had, but nothing was worth the risk of losing you. You were too precious to him.

And for some reason, yet again, unbeknownst to him, your eyes fluttered. He stilled fearfully, but it wasn’t quick enough. Your lids open, but you did not jump away from the pair of brown eyes that were glued on your face. You smiled softly, and Eddie wondered if you were actually awake. Your fingers twitched up and you wrapped a digit around a dark curl, tugging on it lightly.

He swallowed roughly. “Are you awake?”

“Mhm.” You said hoarsely, eyes still blinking sleepily. Your nosed almost touched by the tips, just barely, and he gulped at how…how intimate this felt.

Maybe it was the fact you were extremely tired, but you couldn’t help but stare at him, just like he was doing with you. Maybe it even made you feel confident. You had the urge to look at his lips. Eddie’s heart started to race, feeling guilty for looking at you with such longing, but he couldn’t look away. Your faces melted away with the comfort you had just felt, morphing into…nervousness and…lust.

He took his hand off your back, gulping as he tried to pull away. “Don’t.” You said meekly, making his eyes widen.

“Don’t?” His voice was unsure.

You blinked nervously, licking your lips. “I like..I-I like when you hold me.”

His heart dropped to his toes, face burning red. His eyes scanned yours, switching back and forth. “You do?”

You nodded.

Staring at his hand in mid air, he slowly, slowly placed his hand back to the plates of your shoulder blades, your knees pressing together. “Like this?” He kept looking at your nose, not being able to hold your stare.

“Yeah.” You whispered. “Yeah, like that.”

He was so pretty. You could stare at him forever. During hellfire meetings you always got caught in daydreams just watching him sit in his throne. At school you got caught multiple times by teachers just ogling him. Your heart would swell ten times larger at his wide smile, the way his shoulders would brush against yours in the cafeteria line. You wished so many times to hold his hand, to build up enough courage.

But you could never be more than friends. It just wouldn’t work. You were too awkward to pursue such a thing, and Eddie- well, there was no way he felt the same way. Did he? If you were honest with yourself, some unconscious part of yourself knew. It was just too obvious, but you were in denial.

It was painful how much you loved him, and it pained you that it couldn’t be anything more.

“Hey,” He noticed the pull down of your lips, eyes misting over your irises, and his eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?”

Had you had a nightmare?

You shook your head and looked down embarrassed. “Nothing.”

He saw a single tear fall past your lid, and he looked at you unsurely. “Y/n,” He dipped his head down to level with you.

You wanted to kiss him so bad it was making you cry.

His thumb lifted your chin and brought your shiny eyes up to his chocolate ones, flickering over your face for evidence of what was wrong. He waited for you to say something.

“It’s stupid.” You gulped bashfully, not able to hold his stare.

“Tell me.” He said gently, hand dropping to your shoulder.

All sense of nerves from him went away at the sight of your discomfort, and it was only you that was left feeling uneasy and scared. “I’m afraid of what you’ll say.” You sniffled, and his eyes narrowed slightly, lips parting.

You were terrified of loosing him. Was it worth it? To lean over and kiss him? Was just one little peck worth loosing him? Was it worth ruining what you had? It wasn’t. You had to be stronger than that.

A loud clap of thunder made you jump clean out of your skin, whimpering under your breath that made his heart shake. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He closed the distance and wrapped his arm back around you, pulling you close to his chest.

You buried yourself as close as you could to him, allowing yourself to shed quiet tears that he couldn’t see, though he could feel them against his bare chest. “Just a storm.”

Storms didn’t even scare you, but tonight you were extremely worked up. The feeling of your soft breath warmed his pale skin, and your fingers lightly traced the shape of the tattoo on his chest. His chin laid against your shoulder, hand against the back of your hair and stroking your locks comfortingly. Soft rain hit the tin rough, calming your anxieties and allowing you to relax against him.

And as more seconds melted away, the more aware you were of the position you were in. You stiffened slightly in his arms and he felt it, making him aware of the close proximity. Your eyes locked, pulling away ever so slowly, audibly gulps and nervous licks of the lips, fingers freezing on bare skin. Your breath started to come out in pants.

Wayne’s words started to run through his head, like a loud alarm that he couldn’t turn off.

“I’m afraid of what you’ll say, too.” He whispered, words soft against your ears as he blinked across from your, his eyes still slightly red from his previous high.

“What do you mean?” You squinted in the dark.

He took a breath. “What I’m thinking about.” It came out in mumbles, twirling the fabric of your shirt between his middle and index fingers.

You looked down at your fingers that rested just below his hipbone, picking at your skin nervously. He could feel your knuckles barely ghost over his navel. Years and years of silence was what you both held, a heavy secret that weighed greatly on your shoulders.

“I’ll tell you if you’ll tell me.” Eddie cleared his throat, the words coming out despite really wanting to be spoken or not.

Your eyes widened slightly, peeking up at him, the tips of your noses touching, your hips against his own. “I- okay.” You stuttered.

A single minute passed. You staring at him, and him staring at you, hearts in your throats and stomachs bubbling with nerves. Eddie thought he was going to pass out, and he had the urge to get up and run away in the thundering rain. As much as he wanted to kiss your lips, he was too afraid, so he did the only thing he could think of.

He took his hand from your shoulder blades, bringing it between the two of you. He took his index and middle finger and pressed them to his lips, puckering just ever so slightly. Keeping his eyes on you, he placed them on yours, making your breath hitch in your throat. He kept them there for just a few seconds before sliding them down your chin and to your neck.

“Was- uh, was that okay?” He said breathlessly, staring at his ringed fingers against your neck.

“Yeah.” You nodded, gulping audibly, heart pounding in your ears. You wanted to burst into tears, honestly. You weren’t sure what you had planned to do, but you found yourself pulling back up his hand, placing the fingers back to your lips. You kept eye contact, placing a soft, delicate kiss to the tips. His lips parted, and you opened your mouth very subtle, your teeth grazing his callused pads. “Is this okay?” You blinked hazily.

He nodded quicker than you had. “Uh- yeah.”

The movements of your lips came to abrupt, and you choked on a breath. The room filled with a tension that you had not met before.

Sexual tension.

His thumb went to your jaw, and through some will of his own, he pushed his middle finger into your mouth, and he gasped when the tip hit your tongue, making you stifle out a moan.

Your eyes both tripled in size, face burning immediately red. Oh, god. He felt his cock harden underneath his sweatpants, and he began to panic slightly, knowing damn well you could feel it against your thigh. And then it was like you’d both been switched on with frenzy.

Eddie couldn’t help it. He pressed his soft, thick lips against your own. The desire was too strong. It was no where near as…messy and sloppy as he imagined. He didn’t have enough courage for that. It was just a hard, forceful peck that made your noses scrunch together, your body pushing back slightly at his weight.

You gasped when he pulled away, eyes blinking rapidly and lustfully. Your stomach tightened at his taste, and you reached up, as he was know slightly above you, and pulled him back atop of you. Your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, and his forehead collided with yours as your lips attached once again. It was more forceful, needy this time, and he rolled you both over so he could tower of you. His curls hung above your cheekbones, settling his legs between your thighs. His hands cupped your cheeks, and it was like you both sucked the soul out of one another.

Lips nipped and bit, tongues licked and danced. Your teeth cracked together. You were whining into the kiss because it just felt so good.

“Oh, god,” He groaned into your mouth, tilting your chin up to kiss you deeper. You were eating each other alive. “I love you so much. Fuck- fuck, I love you, baby.”

You nodded against him, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Oh, I- Eddie, I love you.” You pushed your pelvic bone against his cock, whimpering at the euphoric feeling against your virgin body. “I love you. I love you.”

Breath was hot against your faces, and before you could make any further moves, the sound of Wayne’s alarm blared from the living room, making you both still immediately. You both gasped and pulled away, looking at each other with wide eyes. It was like you’d been dunked with cold water, and you blushed three million shades deeper than your pale complexion.

Eddie strained his ears, listening as he heard the sound of his uncle’s boots against the floor. Boy, he knew his uncle would be proud. He swallowed, looking down at you in a slight panic, adrenaline coursing through his body.

You took your legs off of him, fixing your hair away from your face. You sniffled up at him. He wanted to back away and cower now that he had lost his momentum, but he wouldn’t allow it, and he didn’t want you to go back into your shell. He leaned back down and gave you a silent peck, pressing you back into the pillow, hand gripping your waist. “Y/n,” He pulled away in a whisper, looking at you through his lashes, forehead pressed against your own. “I..I do. I love you.”

You nodded, leaning up to kiss him again. You pushed your tongue into his mouth, making him groan and send vibrations into your lips. “I love you more.”

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson series #eddie munson blurb #eddie the brave #eddie the freak munson #eddie the banished #eddie x you #eddie x y/n

1K notes · View notes

sunshine-theseus · 4 months

Text

Slow | Chloe Logarzo x Reader

Words: 1.9k Summary: despite a rough relationship with your parents, your closeness to your sister brings you Chloe, the only girl for you. Warning: NOT PROOF READ I have no clue if this is any good and I’m so sorry I think it might be one of my worst ones😭, I know the WBBL started in 2015 but who fucking cares, I changed it – no COVID but Olympics still postponed for some unknown reason :D Requested by - @charligrantismygirlfriend - not happy with this one at all i'm genuinely so sorry

Sport wasn’t something I was unfamiliar with. In fact, it was my favourite thing. As a kid, my mum and dad put me through many different clubs for different sports, from tennis to AFL. We always landed back at the same lush green cricket pitch in the western suburbs of Sydney on a Saturday morning, surrounded by other girls of all ages who shared my passion.

On Sundays my younger sister would play her soccer games, so we’d spend the weekend in a hotel in the city, then go to each other’s games, pretending to do our homework as we watch.

Not long into Ellie’s soccer journey, our parents decided the move from Cowra to Sydney was necessary for her to develop. The hours long trips to and from training in the depths of Sydney every afternoon proving to be more difficult as she progressed in school.

I no longer lived with them when they made the move, but I resented Ellie for a while. I’d been playing cricket before she could walk, albeit poorly as a 6-year-old, and had moved up through the stages into the best group in the academy by the age of 14. My parents insisted nothing much would come of it, so there was no reason to make such a drastic move and leave the farm and small-town life behind.

I started playing professionally for Sydney in the Twenty20 Cup at 17, the same year I got my first call-up for the women’s national cricket team. We, or they, still didn’t live in Sydney, so I dropped out of high school my senior year, and lived with one of the older girls who was also on the national team. I made my national debut a couple months after in a test match against England. My parents didn’t come, Ellie had some important game on that was simply impossible to miss.

At 15, when they finally joined me in the city, Ellie joined her first W-league team, and had her first senior team call-up. I made sure to be there for both debuts, avoiding my parents who sat in the crowd nearby. I cried the moment she first touched the pitch in a Matilda’s jersey, and rushed down from the stands to pick her up and hug her when the match was over.

That’s when I first met her… Chloe. My age, a beautiful brunette in the midfield who celebrated with my sister after their 9-0 win against Vietnam. We introduced ourselves and exchanged numbers but nothing much came of it. I can’t deny the many nights I spent awake dreaming of the girl.

The next time I saw Chloe in person was a Sydney Derby. Naturally I’d come to support my sister, but I couldn’t help but cheer whenever the older girl got a touch on the ball. I met up with her and Ellie again after the game, shouting them both dinner. That’s when Chloe asked me out on our first date.

It was somewhat rushed. Her departure for Newcastle was pending and it limited our options, leaving us to grab some shitty take away and dance around in a field down the road from where I lived. The sun was bright, but her smile was brighter. I stumble on my own feet whenever she looked at me, her beauty beyond compare. The beginning of a sunburn kissing my cheeks only provided me so much of an excuse as to why I was so red.

“I’m going to come to every single one of your games.” She whispers in my ear as we lay on the picnic blanket, beneath the over looming gum tree, me playing with her hair as she rests a hand beneath my loose linen shirt.

“You have your own training. And you can’t drive 2+ hours back and forth once a week. Also we have away games you can’t possibly make...” Despite my desperate want for her to be there every game, I begin to list all the reasons it wasn’t logical.

“I’ll find a way. And if not all, most home games.” She gives me a satisfied smile, one that tells me she knows she’s won whatever little argument we had.

Chloe keeps her promise, and I join her in my own. We both attend each other’s home games as often as possible, and very rarely, we managed to catch an away game. It usually happened when we were both playing a game in the same city, but we took whatever we were given.

Things went down hill when she moved to Sweden.

She hadn’t been the one to tell me. Ellie was spending a week with me after returning from the Olympics, which I had managed to attend most of, and asked me how I felt about the move. Chloe and I had been dating for a year, so the shock that she hadn’t told me was bigger than the shock at the news.

“What do you mean? She would tell me if she was moving to Sweden.” The pity in my little sister’s eyes is enough to break me. She pats and rubs my back as I sob into her shoulder. My whole body shakes as I moan and weep, and by the time I stop my eyes burn and there isn’t a dry spot on her shirt.

“So this is it? You’re breaking up with me because I’m moving?” Chloe looks at me like I’ve got 2 heads as I stand on her front step.

“No, I’m breaking up with you because I had to find out from my little sister, by accident, that you’re moving. Were you ever going to tell me? Or was I just going to have to find out when The Jets removed your name from the squad list?”

“I’m going to come back for the A-League season anyway! It’s not like I’m never coming back, I’ll barely be gone 8 months. And I was going to tell you!”

“When? Once your plane touched down in Stockholm or wherever you’re going? In 5 months when I called you so you can explain why you didn’t come to my game? When were you going to tell me Chlo?” I’m met with silence.

“That’s what I thought.” I turn and walk away, never expecting to see her again.

I can hear her shouting something at me as I continue to walk down the road, droplets of rain beginning to fall on the pavement in front of me. Nothing really registers until I’m standing in front of my sister’s apartment door, clothes heavy with rain and a face void of any other emotion except heartbreak.

I don’t see Chloe for years to come following the tragic end of our relationship. Despite her coming back during the summer to play for Sydney, I had no reason to watch her games, Ellie having moved to Portland to develop her career.

Then Ellie moved to Lyon, and I decided to move with her, putting a pause to my cricketing career. Further away from Chloe and closer to Ellie seemed like the perfect deal.

So I helped Ellie move and meet her new teammates. Every morning I’d make her breakfast and then walk around the city, usually finding myself in a café or museum and writing a book. Something I never planned on doing anything with, but found a solace in.

That’s how I found myself in the same café I go to every Saturday, typing in the same document I have been typing in for 5 months. Desperately pressing the backspace as I sip the now cold coffee, I don’t notice someone sliding into the seat across from me.

“Fancy seeing you here.” I’m surprised I didn’t get whiplash at the speed in which my head snapped up to look at the girl across from me.

She looks different. Not really, just… older. And her hair is bleached, skin just a fraction more tan, eyes still that shimmering blue. Still beautiful

“Chloe- what the fuck are you doing here?” the words nearly get caught in my throat as I try to process what’s going on.

“Well, I’m playing for Bristol now, in case you didn’t know. Only spent 2 seasons in Sweden then went back to Sydney, went on loan to Washington for a season, back to Sydney, now I’m in England. We have a small break so I thought I’d come see Ellie. Planned everything around you, knew you wouldn’t want to see me. I didn’t take into account you might still like coffee as much as you used to.”

“How’d you even know I’m with Ellie?” it’s a dumb question but I ask it none the less.

“You think I stopped tracking your career because we broke up? I have to say, when I read the “renowned cricketer Y/N Carpenter taking a break for an unforeseen amount of time to help her little sister, Matildas star Ellie Carpenter, settle into the big leagues at Olympique Lyonnais.” headlines, I was shocked.” I finally managed to meet her eyes, the crow’s feet that crack at the corners making her ever the more pretty. It’s aggravating.

“Thought it’d help me get away from Sydney.”

“Sydney? Or me?” I almost want to grab her by the shoulders and scream at her how much I miss her, but I stay sat and silent. A satisfied hum escapes her lips and a smile graces her face.

“I miss you.” She says what I’m thinking, and I begin to think how much of a coward I am. It was so easy for her, why am I struggling?

She doesn’t let me reply, getting up and walking out. I get up to follow her but she’s vanished in the crowd, so I sit, letting my coffee grow colder, thinking about her.

~~~~~

“Ellie this is a bad idea.”

“Common. Meeks is bringing Harley and Kirstey. You love Harley. You can babysit!” my little sister is determined, although my fighting is useless as we drag our suitcases through the airport.

“Chloe is going to be there El.”

“Chloe is going to be here.” I nearly bump into her as she stops in front of us.

“And she’ll be your plane buddy.” The cheeky grin I was once so familiar with graces her face and I can feel the corner of my own lips twitching as my heart clenches. Fuck.

“Oh goody.” I try to ignore the sweat that begins to prick through my skin as Ellie stalks away from us to meet Emily Gielnik.

“Real talk.” Chloe’s face is serious as soon as we take our seats on the plane.

“I miss you, and I want to try this again. I get you may not want to but you can’t tell me you don’t still feel even the tiniest bit of love for me still.” Her finger waggles back and forth between as to indicate exactly what she’s talking about and I sigh.

“I miss you too…” I meet her eyes and I can see the hope that grows behind them.

“But if we try this out again, we have to take it slow. Like go out on a few dates to start with.”

“I can do that.” She eagerly nods her head in agreement.

“I’d really like that.” I smile back at her, and that seems to end the conversation.

As the engine rumbles and we begin moving along the tarmac, I rest my arm on the armrest. I gently slide my hand into Chloe’s and rest my head on her shoulder, closing my eyes. Maybe slow wasn’t necessary, I love her too much.

#woso x reader #woso #womens soccer #woso fanfics #wsl #olympique lyonnais #the matildas #chloe logarzo #chloe logarzo x reader #the matildas x reader #2020 olympics #olympics 2020

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lives-in-midgard · 1 year

Note

Can I preeeettty please request Wanda x Reader -

Reader coming home from being out all day is exhausted, also slightly sunburned and Wanda gives them a massage and pampers them with cuddles and kisses because she missed them but also has to continue to remind them to wear sunscreen after she rubs lotion on reader?

You don’t have to write this if you don’t want too 💖

Kisses and Cuddles

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

A/N: Thank you so much for that cute request my dear friend @yelenasdiary 💖 I hope you like it.

Masterlist

You finally stepped out of your car after a day out. You were at an amusement park with your sister and your two nephews. You were really sad when Wanda told you the day before that she couldn’t come with you.

You opened the door to your and Wanda’s shared home. “Finally home” you groaned. While you took off your shoes you heard how Wanda ran down the stairs. She stopped in front of you and immediately saw that something is wrong.

“Baby are you okay?” Wanda asked you while she goes to you and takes your hand in hers.

“Just really exhausted and tired.” You spoke.

“Oh, come here.” Wanda pulled you into a big warm hug and rubbed your back.

You began to sniffle. “At first it was really funny but after a while the kids got so excited and wanted to ride everything and run everywhere. And it was so hot... and so many people and ….and I - I missed you.”

Wanda hold you and whispered “it’s okay, I’m so sorry that I couldn’t come with you. I know how overwhelmed you sometimes get when there are so many people, and the heat probably only made it worse. If I had known that, I wouldn’t have gone to that meeting. And I missed you too. So much.”

“It’s not your fault Wands.” You said as you broke the hug and looked at her.

“I have an idea. I’ll make you a bubble bath and while you relax I’ll make us dinner.” Wanda suggested.

“I love that idea and I love you.”

“I love you too.” Wanda said back and gave you a soft kiss on the lips. You sat down on the couch while Wanda made the bath ready for you.

….

When you walked down the stairs you can immediately smell that Wanda cooked your favorite. You went into the kitchen and saw how beautiful Wanda decorated the table.

“There is my beautiful girlfriend” You immediately smiled.

“And there is that beautiful smile that I love so much.” Wanda goes to you when she suddenly stopped.

“Oh, love it looks like you have a little sunburn on your forehead and around your neck. Does it hurt?”

“A little bit.” You mumble.

“Let’s eat something and then I rub you with a lotion.” Wanda says and you both sat down to eat.

…

After dinner you sat down on the couch and Wanda turned Friends on because she knows how much you love it. Wanda rubbed your forehead and neck with a lotion.

“Next time please don’t forget to put sunscreen on, hon.” You nod and Wanda gives you a kiss.

“Turn around baby, I’ll give you a massage.” You turn around and she started to massage you and placed soft kisses on your shoulder and told you how much she loves and missed you. After a while Wanda got your favorite ice cream from the freezer and you shared it. You love her so much you can’t describe it in words. She is always there for you and never judges you. You were cuddled up on the couch when you started to yawn.

“Come on let’s go to bed.” Wanda said while she gave you a kiss on your shoulder.

“But I’m not tired yet.” You lied.

“I saw you yawing baby.” Wanda chuckled.

“Okay, fine but can we cuddle?” You asked your girlfriend.

“Of course, we can.” She smiled and gave you a kiss. You went upstairs and put your pajamas on and cuddled up on your bed.

“Good night, my love sweet dreams.” Wanda whispered.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff oneshot #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader fluff #soft wanda maximoff #wanda mcu #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader #marvel one shot #marvel fluff #mcu #mcu x reader

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darthpotater · 1 year

Text

Welcome Home

It’s been years since Luke last felt that presence through the force— something he didn’t think he would ever feel again, a feeling that always gets him weak in the knees; a feeling he has missed oh so much.

fem reader insert

Warnings: t*rture was implied once

A/N: hello, i hope you enjoyyy, i needed some luke lovin so. also this got quite long so i apologize for that and im planning on wiritng a sequel for this, to maybe fill in the blanks and stuff but other than that, i hope you enjoy!!!

“I don’t think I could ever get tired of this view. Sure, this planet’s boring and I’d do anything to get off this planet but it sure has it’s perks.” You sigh contentedly as you looked into the distance, watching the twin suns set. Luke chuckled as he looks over at you, smiling at you in awe. “I don’t think the sunsets are the only perks this planet has.” He chuckled before leaning in to leave a soft, lingering kiss on your cheek. You glance at him, a smirk resting on your lips. “Sure, the blue milk’s good too.” You chuckle, making Luke let out a hearty laugh. You felt your heart do somersaults in your chest at the sound, it definitely felt like music to your ears. You’ve been with this farmboy for quite some time now but he still made you feel all sorts of things.

“C’mere you.” Luke smiled as he pulled you closer to him. You immediately snuggled up to him, back against his chest as you both sat on the rocky hill. He wraps his arms protectively around you and places his chin on your shoulder as the two of you sat in silence for a few moments, going back to watching the setting suns. You reach up to lazily play with his hair, smiling when you feel him lean against your touch, snuggling into it. Your smile widened when you felt him leave another tender kiss on your neck, shuddering slightly at the feeling. “I hope you know how much you mean to me, my love.” He mumbled as he stayed there. “You’re the only one I’m holding onto to keep me from going insane, especially on this rock.” He added with a small laugh. “And I promise, one day, I’ll take you and we’ll explore the galaxy, watching every sunset together.” He added as he pulled away, prompting you to look up at him.

His bright blue eyes twinkled under the faint light of day, and when you thought they couldn’t get more beautiful, you were always proven wrong. You turned around in his hold slightly, giving you better access to his face as you reached up to remove a speck of sand from his cheek. He closes his eyes once again at your touch, something he does often and you found it oh so endearing. Your hand remained on his cheek as your thumb lazily caressed his skin. “I love you.” He whispers with a smile as you bring him down to plant a soft kiss on his lips. You smiled when you felt him tighten his hold around you. You pulled away and laughed when you saw his cheeks were now beet red.

“You’re doing it again, y’know.” You giggled. He tries hiding his shy smile as he pretends to not know what you were talking about. “Doing what?” He shrugs as he looks around. “You blush every time we kiss.”

“I don’t.”

“You are, right now.”

“No I’m not. That’s just… sunburn.”

You let out another laugh. “Oh Skywalker, what am I going to do with you?”

His eyes connect with yours once more. “Love me forever.”

You smiled softly, “I can do that.”

Luke opened his eyes and immediately sat up at the sound of Artoo’s whistles. “Oh hey, Artoo.” Luke smiles faintly as he runs a hand down his face. “Yeah, I’m okay. Was just resting. Where’s Grogu? Is he asleep?” He asked as the droid began rolling away. “I’ll head back soon, I’ll just finish up here.” Luke said, smiling as Artoo replied with a series of beeps and whistles. When the droid was out of earshot, Luke lets out a sigh as his eyes focused on the sunset in front of him. He smiles faintly at the dream he had before looking at the empty spot beside him— your spot. “Oh, my love.” He calls out quietly as he lays back down onto the grass. “You would’ve loved this view.” He added as he looked beside him, as if you were there with him. “I’m so sorry.” He added quietly as a single tear trickled down his cheek.

It’s been years since he lost you. After the battle of Endor and when the Empire found out that you were force-sensitive, they made it a point to separate the two of you as their last try at taking down the Rebellion. He tried saving you— he did all he can but it was not enough. Presumed dead, Luke felt like his heart was ripped out of his chest, when he saw you laying there, lifeless. He wanted to run to you, hold you one last time but they had to go; he had to go. Han was pulling him into the Falcon before the Empire could get to them.

“Luke, go.”

“No, I’m not leaving you.” Luke hissed, the Skywalker stubbornness coming out. You shook your head, “I wasn’t asking. Luke— they want you not me. They get they’re hands on you, they win. We didn’t work and fight our asses off for them to win. You know that, more than anyone. We worked so hard to fight and we can’t let all that go.”

Luke shook his head, “No, there has to be another way.” You sighed as you took his face in between your hands. “You know there’s no other way, my love.” You smiled faintly as you examined his face, possibly for the last time ever. “We cannot let them win.” You said before leaning in to give him a passionate kiss. His hands snaked their way around your hips and pulled you close, as close as he possibly could. You felt his tongue swipe over your lower lip as your hand found its way to massage the back of his head. You didn’t want this to end, you wanted to stay in his arms forever. When you two pulled away, foreheads touching, you leaned in and gently rubbed your nose against his, him doing the same. “”I love you, Luke Skywalker. Now go be that Master Jedi we all need. I’m rooting for you. Always.” You smiled as you pulled away, tears threatening to spill form your eyes. He looked at you one last time as Han marched over. “Alright kids, as much as I don’t want to ruin this moment, we have to go. Now.”

You nodded. “Han, please take Luke. I’ll buy you some time.” You said as Han furrowed his brows. “Nuh-uh, you’re coming with us.” Han argued. “Han, I’m not playing games. Take Luke and go.” You ordered, voice firm. Han had become a big brother to you over the years. The brother you never had but always wanted. Sure, he was annoying but you were thankful for him anyways. You could see it in his face that he didn’t want to leave but he knew that this was what needed to be done. “Now go.” You ordered as you unhooked your lightsaber and igniting it. Han grabbed Luke’s arm and escorted him down the hallway.

Luke could remember it vividly. Like it was ingrained in his head forever. He remembers watching helplessly as you graciously sliced through Troopers and deflected their blasters, all on your own. The way you used the force so effortlessly is a sight he will never forget. Between the two of you, you were always the fast learner.

But then everything happened so fast. Luke was still trying to process everything happening around him when the explosion happened. He remembered stumbling forward as the floor shook. How Han was yelling for the rest of the rebels to fall back. Luke didn’t care if his ears rang or if he was bleeding, he was busy looking back to see if you were okay. When he did, his knees almost gave in when he saw you laying there, bruised and bloody. He screamed for you as Han dragged him into the Falcon. His heart broke into a million pieces as Han jumped into hyperdrive. He sat there, staring blankly as he felt like half of himself was taken away; and that's exactly what they did to him.

Luke now stared at the sky, littered with millions of stars, wishing you were right there with him, in his arms once again. Thinking of how much easier rebuilding a Jedi Order would be if you were by his side. He was deep in thought when the loud sound of a starship entered the atmosphere. He sat up and watched as an unfamiliar ship plummeted into the nearby forest. Luke jumped up onto his feet and ran toward the ship to investigate.

As he ducked under fallen trees, he could see the ship in the distance, enveloped in smoke. He carefully approached, lightsaber in hand as he used the force to search for any kind of life forms but felt...nothing. With brows furrowed, he holstered his saber before walking closer to the ship to examine. And that's when he felt it.

His eyes went wide when he felt the familiar presence, the same presence that gets his knees buckling and heart racing and swelling with so much love. Never in a million years did Luke ever think he would feel that again. "No, it can't be." He whispered to himself as he desperately looked around, looking for a familiar face; looking for you, the love of his life.

He turned around and was immediately tackled down, lightsaber inches away from his neck. Unfazed, he looks up at you and could not believe his eyes. There you were, on top of him, alive and breathing, holding a lightsaber dangerously close to his face. He watched as realization hit your face, and your eyes softened as you studied his face. "L-Luke?" You squeaked, immediately deactivating your saber. You got off of him, making him immediately sit up. The two of you sat there, staring at each other, trying to process what was happening.

And without another word, the two of you tackled each other, this time with a tight embrace. Luke immediately buried his face into your shoulder as he pulls you to sit on his lap, trembling slightly as he felt the emotions wash over him. He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist as you rested your chin on top of his head, holding as tight. Luke shook his head, trying to convince himself that this was not a dream but reality. "Maker, I missed you so much." You whispered into his hair as you left a kiss on top of his golden brown hair. He nodded, agreeing as he peppered your shoulder and neck with kisses. You smiled, tears now brimming your eyes as you pulled away to look at him one more time.

"You're alive. How? I don't understand. I saw you that day— If only I've known, I would have—" He started to ramble but was cut off as you crashed your lips onto his. You smiled when you felt him melt into you, hands gripping your waist tightly. You cupped his face, soaking up the feel of him. Your hand massaged the back of his head, gripping his hair ever so lightly, making him whimper in return. Your tongues danced effortlessly with each other as you held onto each other for dear life. In need of air, the two of you finally pulled away, foreheads resting against each other. Luke leans in and rubs his nose against yours lightly, making you giggle as tears now freely fall from the both of you. You pulled away and took the time to examine his face intently. You reach up to wipe a tear as it trickled down his cheek, smiling when you see him lean against you. 5 years have gone by since you've last seen him and although he grew a bit older and some things may have changed, he was still your beautiful, blue-eyed, whiny, blue milk loving farmboy.

He was the reason why you survived all those years with the Empire, the thought of him was what you held onto as they did unimaginable things to you, trying to convince you to join their side. You told yourself that on the day you two finally reunite, you would thank him for being the hope in a time of despair; the light in a time of darkness for you.

"Thank you." You whispered, leaving a soft kiss just above his ear. He shuddered before pulling away to look at you, brows furrowed, making you laugh. "For what, my love?" He asked, "There's nothing to thank me for. I... I failed to save you, to rescue you. I should've returned for you, if only I had known—" You playfully roll your eyes before kissing him to shut him up. "You've done enough, love. You've done so much, please believe me." You added, as you cupped his face once again, giving him a quick peck. The moon now stood high, perfectly hitting Luke's face, giving you a perfect view. "Luke, are you... blushing?" You asked with a smile and he immediately looks away. "No."

"Maker, you still blush when we kiss!" You tease, laughing as you two began to get up from the ground. "I am not! It's just—"

"Don't you dare say it's sunburn, Skywalker." You smiled, wincing as you stood up, the adrenaline beginning to die down and the pain coming back. "Also, you think you have bacta patches to spare? I think I'll need a kriff ton of em." You sighed as you felt that you still could not put any weight on your leg. Luke throws your arm over his shoulder as an arm slid around your waist, pulling you close to him. "Whatever you need, my starlight, I will give. Let me take care of you."

You looked at him, only to see him admiring you with so much love, no point in arguing. You nodded, leaning into him, letting him guide you back.

"Also, where are we?"

Luke smiled as he stopped in his tracks, making you look up at him. You could tell he was still in disbelief that you were right there with him again. Kriff, you were too. "Home. You're home." He continues as he brings a hand up to caress your cheek before leaning down to give you another passionate kiss. "Welcome home, my love." He whispered.

And he was right. You were home, because wherever Luke is, that's where home was.

#luke skywalker #luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker imagines #star wars #luke skywalker fanfiction #luke skywalker fanfic #luke skywalker fluff #star wars fanfiction #mark hamill

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