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charliemwrites · 3 months

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Part 4 of Mafia!Price

There are many things to appreciate about your boss, but one of them is his respect for routine. You’ve gotten him on a schedule and now he seems happily beholden to it; appreciates your promptness with tea and pastries and morning “briefings” each day.

He’ll happily sit back in his big leather chair and listen to you chatter out his itinerary for the day. Meetings, reports, phone calls. Trips to the dock, now, bless him.

You try not to stare between glances at your tablet. For a rich bastard, he is unfairly handsome. Good taste in just about everything, classy and luxurious without being ostentatious. Old money vibes, for sure, though you know better than to do more than idly wonder. Helps that he’s also remarkably gentlemanly with you. You’re not one to buy into old stereotypes or gender roles, even the ones that benefit you — but you’ll take a chivalrous boss over your old one any day.

Besides, it’s not like he’s spouting off about what women should and shouldn’t be doing. Or trying to use you as an example of an “acceptable” working woman. So, yeah, you’ll indulge in the door-holding and offered arms.

“Alright, best for last — your reservation for Muse is tomorrow. The restaurant is twenty minutes from your penthouse, so Simon will be downstairs by 7:30.”

You check that off your to-do list as you continue speaking.

“Do you have a suit picked out yet, or should I order something? Green is in season and it would go nicely with your eyes.”

He hums; you glance up. Leaning back, one arm lax on the arm of his chair, black watch gleaming. The other is propped to press his index finger against his lips. Like he’s telling you to keep a secret. The corners of his mouth are tilted up.

Your tablet dings and thankfully distracts you from staring.

Oh, for the love of— the only person more inconsiderate than Philip Graves is his damn assistant.

“Is that the color you’re wearing, then?”

Will need to call later today — as if!

“Hm?” You ask, not having caught it.

He arches his eyebrows; ah, you must have been making a face again.

“Are you wearing green tomorrow?” He repeats.

You blink. Are you what?

“Tomorrow, sir?”

He nods, once. “To Muse, luv.”

When you continue to stare with pleasant obliviousness, his eyebrows furrow a bit.

“You do know one of those seats is for you, yeah?”

You press your lips together for a moment. Well… shit. You take it back. You take it all back. John Price is a terrible, horrible, awful man who is so rude.

“I do now.”

Across the office, you make wide eye contact with Gaz. He grimaces in sympathy and ducks his head, though it’s clearly just to hide his traitorous laughter.

“Of course you’re coming along.”

“Sir,” you say, pleasant and sweet, “remember when I first started here? And I told you that I’m not a mind reader?”

“Of course,” he answers. “You threatened to spit in my tea in the same breath.”

“Only if you told me to fetch it for you,” you correct, before continuing, “I feel you may need a reminder: I cannot read your mind. How was I supposed to know you wanted me to go with you?”

“‘S your job, isnit?” He replies. You give him a dark look; he puts his hands up with a chuckle. “My apologies love, I thought you’d be in my pocket next to my handkerchief. Like always.”

You set your hand on your hip, proper cross now.

“It’s outside usual working hours, sir. How could I have possible expected to be invited to your fancy man party?”

“‘Fancy man party’?”

“Well, there’s nothing for it, I’ll have to leave early tomorrow.”

You’re already tapping madly at your tablet, looking up a salon willing to do your hair and makeup. God knows what kind of meltdown you’ll have if you can’t get your eyeliner symmetrical.

“Do whatever you need to do, luv,” Price soothes, standing. “I really am sorry for the short notice.”

You wave him off, then pat his arm as he gently guides you towards the door. Absently, you comply, more focused on getting appointments set and rearranging your own schedule for tomorrow.

“I’ll make it work,” you promise, “I always do.”

You let him bring you all the way to your desk, lower yourself into your ergonomic rolling chair.

“I’ll let you know what color I’m wearing by… one o’clock. Yes?”

“Sounds great, luv.”

You glance at the clock. “Also you have a call with the KorTac Group in ten.”

He chuckles and taps your chin. “Cheers, luv.”

—

Simon is the one to pick you up Friday evening. You both pause in the lobby of your apartment complex, staring.

“You look lovely,” he says at the same time you ask, aghast, “what happened to your face?”

He’s got a dark bruises discoloring the skin around one eye. Clearly some ice has already been applied because the swelling is down, but it must be fresh because he didn’t have it yesterday.

He snorts. “My job happened.”

You tut. “I’ve got something for that but we need to get moving. Mr. Price said he needs some help with his suit.”

You grab his arm without hesitation, habit from any of your escorts or drivers always offering it to you. Usually you accept out of politeness, but tonight you could use the extra stability in your heels. Simon doesn’t seem to mind even though this is the first time you’ve done this.

He walks you to the car, holds the door for you. Sleek and spotless, a black Jaguar — your choice for the evening. You hum in delight at the warm interior as Simon slides into the front seat.

“Oh, thank you for the compliment, by the way,” you add as he pulls into traffic. “You look quite smart as well.”

He grunts, but you notice a bit of color to his ears in the passing streetlights. You smile to yourself and busy yourself with your tablet. Double checking the reservation confirmation, answering messages from Farah and Gaz, updating Price on your ETA.

The car stops at a luxury high rise just at 7. You hop out before Simon can get the door and receive a sharp look. He holds up a reprimanding finger; blink in surprise at the sternness of it.

“You pull that shite again and I’ll handcuff you to the door handle, miss.” He warns. “Making me look bad.”

You huff, amused, and take his arm again. “Don’t threaten me, Mr. Riley, I’m meaner.”

But you squeeze his thick bicep good-naturedly as he leads you into Price’s building. Your boss lives in the penthouse at the very top; Simon has to swipe a card for access. He’s also got a key to let you both in the door, holds it so you can enter first.

It’s all sleek and modern; not at all what you would expect of your boss’s more classical style. His office has a sort of 20s Hollywood vibe (gangster, you teased once) but clearly some interior designer was paid far too much for something out of a drab minimalist catalogue.

You don’t linger long, heels clicking on the polished floors.

“Sir?” you call.

“In here, luv.”

You grimace at the flight of stairs between you and the loft, but force yourself up them. The whole floor is the mater bedroom and it’s the size of your entire apartment. Walk-in closet, sectioned off lounge with a desk. His bathroom door is open, mirror fogged. It smells like soap.

“Bedroom to your right,” he calls.

You tip-tap in and your mouth instantly dries. Price is standing in the middle of the room, half dressed. Nothing unprofessional, no. He’s wearing slacks, a belt. But he’s also in socks, a white undershirt. No watch or rings or anything yet.

It feels oddly more intimate than it should. Your face warms despite yourself.

“E-evening, sir.”

He turns and you’re utterly unprepared for just how handsome he really is. Freshly groomed, hair trimmed and gelled, eyes bright.

“Well, aren’t you just a dream,” he rasps. “You’re stunning.”

You clear your throat, know that all the makeup in the world can’t hide how brightly you’re flushing. It’s pure politeness, he’s not looking at you with anything more than friendly appreciation. Mind out of the gutter, now.

“All the flattery in the world won’t save you if we’re late,” you manage, shaking yourself back into work mode. “So let’s see what we’ve got.”

You pick his shirt, a pocket hanky, his shoes. Tell him to get into those while calling Simon up the stairs. He’s there so fast you blink in surprise, then gesture him over. Sit him on an ottoman and extract the little bottle of makeup you’ve started keeping on hand for situations like this.

“Bullshite you had that in your purse,” he scoffs.

“You remember two weeks ago, when Soap came in with that bruise on his jaw?”

They told you it was a “disagreement” at the docks. You didn’t ask further, figuring it was some sort of bar brawl in that part of town. Rowdy boys.

“Ever since, I keep a couple minis on hand for you all.”

They’re so small that you just keep them in a pocket of your purse with the rest of your makeup and the tampons. Good for emergencies like this.

“You sure you’re not a mind reader?” Simon grumbles as you gently dab it over his face.

“How would being a mind reader even help in this situation,” you scoff, patting at it with your middle finger.

Price steps out of the closet with arms out. He’s picked a waistcoat as well that you hum in approval at.

“Which cufflinks are you wearing?” you ask, turning back to Simon. He’s sitting remarkably still and stoic — reminds you of a big dog trying to maintain some dignity while getting fawned over.

“The silver and diamond.”

You make a noise of disagreement. “The gold and onyx would go better.”

A pause. You sneak a glance and are relieved to see him smirking. “I’ll wear those then. Any opinion on a watch?”

You hum again, carding through your mental catalogue. “Oh! The Bulova you wore during that meeting with Kate Laswell. You remember?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He disappears into his closet again while you lightly blend in the last touches of Simon’s coverup.

“There we are, good as new!” You declare. “Oh, and here.”

You set a couple of ibuprofen in his palm as he stands. “For the inflammation. Take with water.”

“Yes, mum,” he mumbles.

You wince. “Sorry! I’m being overbearing, aren’t I?”

He blinks, then puts a hand up. “No, no. That wasnt — I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

You don’t entirely believe him. Know that you can be a bit much when you’re on a time crunch. Especially for something like this — an important business meeting over fancy dinner. You feel like everyone’s appearance is riding on you; this is your job after all. One thing out of place and everything will fall apart and it’ll be your fault.

“Simon, go take those,” Price orders from behind.

You turn as he approaches, a similar apology all set on your tongue. Instead, he gives you a sheepish smile and offers the cufflinks.

“Bloody useless with these,” he explains. “So unless you want to spend fifteen minutes losing respect for me…”

You laugh, amused by the idea of your hyper-capable boss struggling with a bit of jewelry that cost as much as a week of work. You step in close to thread them through his sleeves, fingers nimble and sure.

“You’re not wearing cologne?” You ask, surprised.

Don’t even realize how that might sound until he arches an eyebrow at you.

“Thought you might have an opinion on that too,” he replies. “And you haven’t steered me wrong, yet.”

He shows you his modest, but impressive collection of colognes. You pluck up one, sniff, and make a face, eyes watering a bit. It’s mostly full; clearly one he doesn’t wear often and you’re grateful for it.

“That bad, eh?”

“Sir, why?” You lament, putting it back.

“Gift from an ex,” he explains.

You store that tidbit of information away for further examination. The idea of your boss in a romance. Right now you’ve got a task to focus on.

“Did they hate you that entire time?” You wonder.

He snorts. “Maybe.”

You shake your head and pick a different one. Blink in surprise and sniff again. Feel your stomach flip.

“That one?” He asks when he notices you hesitate.

“No,” you say a little too quickly, setting it down. This is a business meeting, you can’t afford to be distracted by how he’ll smell with that on his skin.

You settle on one that doesn’t make your head dizzy and your panties shamefully damp. Still feel a bit like you’re shooting yourself in the foot, though. He’s going to smell sinfully good regardless.

You leave Price to his finishing touches and have Simon help you down the stairs. Check through the notes you hurriedly collected when you realized you’d be attending this dinner.

Price comes down too soon for your poor, stupid heart. Looks like something out of a magazine or a novel or a movie or… just too good to be real, really.

“Pass inspection?” He asks.

“Barely,” you tease.

His eyes do that thing where they smile more than his mouth; how you know it’s genuine. You try not to fluster, zero in on his tie, a little crooked and loose.

“Goodness, sir,” you murmur, stepping in close. Yeah, you were right. That cologne is going to be a personal challenge all night. “How did you get along before me?”

“With bad cologne and shitty ties, apparently,” he chuckles.

You grin despite yourself, getting it secure and centered, before smoothing his vest over it. Give him a once over. Feel your stomach flip again.

“If I may say, sir, you look handsome,” you offer quietly.

“Should hope so,” he replies, voice dipping in a way that’s detrimental to the state of your panties. “You dressed me.”

You hum, reach for your usual dry, sharp humor. “I have great taste.”

Instead of scoffing, he hums in agreement. Something flickers through his eyes that you don’t dare allow yourself to daydream on.

Simon, bless him, clears his throat and draws your attention. You check the clock above the stove.

“Ah, we need to get going. I can’t walk fast in these heels.”

You slip your arm automatically into Price’s and try not to obsess over how well you two fit together.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #oddly wholesome for a mafia au #mafia!au #mafia boss price #assistant reader

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ashwhowrites · 2 months

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No cash, no problem

Summary- Y/N can't afford to pay Eddie for the night, but he has a different payment in mind

⚠️smut- oral sex and fingering ( age gap but it's all legal )

Single milf!reader x babysitter!Eddie

~~~

Eddie struggled to find a job, he did his dealing but he also wanted a job so Wayne could know where the money came from. But based on his appearance and reputation in the town, not many gave him the opportunity.

Then he met a stressed-out mom in a store. Way in over her head and struggling to keep her three kids in check. He helped that day and now months later, he found himself their babysitter.

Eddie adored Y/N and her kids. He met her ex, he was a total dick and a shitty dad. The kids loved him, he got along the best with the two boys. They talked about movies and video games. He got along with everyone and he had a good relationship with Y/N.

Eddie had all the kids down for bed by the time Y/N arrived. He sat on the couch as he watched the TV low. He watched as she bent over to take off her heels. She sighed deeply and ran her hand through her hair.

"Stressful night?" Eddie asked, his voice causing her to jump and turn around. A relieved smile as she noticed it was Eddie. He muted the TV as she walked over. He eyed her dress, the way her body looked amazing. Her curves are more at notice with the tightness of the material. Her perfume smelled amazing and she looked gorgeous.

"You have no idea," she groaned, she began to dig around in her purse. Eddie assumed for cash for the night.

"Tried a date, right? Complete asshole, who didn't even pay for dinner. Then doesn't drive me home so I had to take a cab," her voice got more stressed as she dug around in her purse faster. "Which now I realize I gave the last amount of my cash to the driver and now can't pay my fucking babysitter." She groaned, throwing her purse on the floor.

Eddie held back a small laugh at her mini meltdown. "It's alright, Y/N. Don't worry about it." He said.

"No! You do so much for us and deserve to be paid. I mean you got Ben an A on his project, and Kasey won't shut up about you. I think she's in love. And Jack adores you. I mean you do more than their father." She ranter, steering away from the topic. "Can I double it next time? Or I can write a check?" She struggled to find a solution and she was so frantic about it. Eddie couldn't help but watch her fall apart.

"Those are all fine. Or honestly, it can be on me. It sounds like a shitty night." Eddie offered, he stood up, his body up close next to hers. He felt his fingers inching towards her before his brain knew.

"I need a bath then I'll be fine. But I'm still paying you some way." She smiled gently at him as she touched his arm. A short way to show her affection and a promise. She went to move away but Eddie moved faster. His hand grabbed her arm, and he brought her hand up to his mouth. He watched as she froze and sucked in the air. Her mouth slightly opened.

"I think I know a way you can pay me. A slightly different method." He whispered, then he took her ring finger, one that used to have a band around, and slowly put it in his mouth. He was crossing a huge boundary and he prepared for the slap across his face. But instead, she moaned and zoned her eyes in on his mouth as he sucked her finger.

"What's that?" She whispered, her voice cracked and she coughed to try to fix it. Her eyes never left his mouth as he let her finger go with a pop.

"Let me eat," he started, yanking her arm to bring her body smack against his. She stumbled into him but he kept them in balance, "that pretty pussy, momma." He whispered against her lips.

She wasn't sure if she got drunk off her glass of wine or if Eddie was truly hitting on her. He was an attractive boy, but he was just in his twenties and she was ten years older than him. It was way too wrong to feel this turned on.

"The kids." She mumbled, turning her head to look up the stairs. Eddie grabbed her chin and brought her face against his again. His lips were right on top of hers.

"Then you'll have to be quiet then, huh?" He smirked, raising his eyebrows as he challenged her.

"But..." She trailed off. She tried to wrap her brain for an argument but she felt like her brain shut off.

"You say stop, and I'll stop. Let me make you feel good, take away your stress. Feast on you like you've never felt. Not by that loser ex-husband and not that loser from tonight." His dirty words made her submit. A little pleasure wouldn't kill her and he was of age. And based on the hardness she felt against her thigh, it was something he wanted.

She nodded and allowed his lips to smash on hers. She gasped as he slammed her against the wall and his hands immediately slipped under her dress. She moved her tongue into his mouth and her hands went in his hair. She was rough and tugged. Harder each time she heard the growling sound he made.

She moaned against his tongue as his fingers moved her underwear aside, and his fingers fucked into her. Her head fell back and his mouth latched on her neck. She cradled his head as she began to ride his fingers. She bit down on her bottom lip to keep quiet, not trying to scar her children for life.

She gripped his hair harder when his thumb rubbed her clit and his teeth sunk into her flesh.

She got her breath back when he pulled away, but her break didn't last long. He dropped to his knees and pulled her leg over his shoulder. He growled at the sight of her wet pussy, pulsing and asking for more. He didn't need the extra wetness, but he still spit right on her clit. A way to mark her as his.

She threw her hand over her mouth the second his tongue was on her clit. He knew just how to suck and flick. He made her knees shake. His fingers were back inside of her as he sucked on her clit.

Eddie loved the taste of her on his tongue. She was sweet and way better than he imagined. He couldn't deny the amount of times he thought of doing this. And the many nights he craved to taste her just like this.

He didn't care to be clean, he was messy and sloppy. His tongue moved between her folds to taste every inch, removing his fingers just to circle his tongue inside. Her body arched off the wall and he could feel her digging at his roots.

Eddie moved his tongue back up to her clit, and his fingers entered her again. He went fast and slipped in three fingers, and then slipped in a fourth one. He felt her snapping before she even made a sound. Four fingers deep as he fucked her and spelled his name with his tongue on her clit, sucking harshly at the very end as she came.

Her body slumped against the wall but he kept his mouth on her, shoving her against the wall and he held her up as he finished tasting her. She was sensitive and shaking but he made sure to lick up every single drop.

She tried to catch her breath when he gently placed her leg back on the ground, he moved her underwear back in place and pushed the underwear against her sensitive clit. She bit back the whine, the material soaked up her wetness. He pushed her dress back down and cleaned off his mouth.

He smirked as he took in her fucked off state. "no cash, no big deal."

Tags!

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson smut x female reader #eddie Munson smut x reader #babysitter! eddie Munson x milf!reader #babysitter eddie x reader #eddie munson x older!reader #ashwhowrites #ashwhowrites original idea

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aethes-bookshelf · 2 months

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let me be your shelter || astarion/gn!tav

This is the result of an especially hectic exam season. I started writing this fic instead of having a meltdown lol Now that I have more time again, I decided to finish it :) I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: hurt/comfort (mostly comfort), gn!Tav (can be read as a self-insert), Tav/Reader is the one being comforted

Pairing: Astarion/Tav, Astarion/Reader

Wordcount: 1.5k

Summary: You’d always tried to be the strong, reliable one — a leader through and through, a shoulder to cry on for everyone else. Even after everything you'd been through, you put on a brave face. All the way up until you couldn't.

Luckily, Astarion's always there to pick up the pieces.

ao3 link

The sun was setting outside when you finally closed the front door of your house behind you, cloaking the entrance corridor in darkness. The straps of your pack were digging quite painfully into your shoulder, no doubt leaving angry marks on your skin. You threw it to the floor with a huff and closed your eyes for a moment,

The day's exhaustion rolled off of you in waves; hours worth of dust and grime stuck to your clothes and skin. Rebuilding the city after the Battle of Baldur’s Gate was a noble cause. It being noble, however, didn’t make it any less exhausting.

You tried running your fingers through your hair, but your hand almost got stuck in it instead. The firm tug against your scalp made your eyes water. Your back was on fire, your legs were on fire, your face was tacky with drying sweat. It was all so much, too much.

Curling up in a corner and staying there until the sun fell out of the sky seemed worryingly appealing. I still have to go back out there tomorrow, though, you thought. The ugly, choking pressure in your throat got tighter and tighter. Your eyes, still clenched shut, brimmed with tears.

‘Darling?’ called a familiar voice from somewhere on the other side of the corridor. ‘Why are you just standing there? At least light a candle or something. It’s not like you can see like this,’ the voice continued, getting closer.

There was the hiss of a match being lit; one, two, three candles lit up the darkness.

‘Well, not that you can see much with your eyes closed, anyway,’ said Astarion. All snark left his voice when he saw the first tears roll down your cheeks. ‘Oh, I wasn’t that mean, was I? Why are you crying, love?’

‘I-I’m sorry.’ Your voice broke. ‘I don’t- don’t know why, I’m just- just so…’ you trailed off as the first sobs tore out of your chest.

Just a few months ago, Astarion would be looking like a deer in headlights right about now. He still remembered the very first time you broke down after the whole Absolute-tadpole nonsense was over. After everyone else went their separate ways and you chose to stay to help rebuild the city and he chose to stay with you. Naturally.

The breakdown happened soon after. The second night the two of you slept in your brand new bed in your brand new house, the dam inside you just broke, shattered into pieces; and you were swept up in the current of the build-up grief and fear.

Astarion, as much as he loathed to admit it, panicked. He had no idea how to comfort people; after all, it wasn’t a skill necessary for survival for most of his life, so he never really bothered to learn it. He still hadn’t even after whatever the two of you shared at first turned more serious. You’d always tried to be the strong, reliable one — a leader through and through, a shoulder to cry on for everyone else. The stable one. The stable one never gets to cry, so you didn’t.

As ashamed as Astarion was when he realized it, he hadn’t even thought you could cry. It just never really crossed his mind.

Luckily for the both of you, he loved you far too much not to learn from his mistakes after that very first night of the rest of your life. He’d like to think he got comforting you down to a science.

‘Would you like a hug, my sweet?’ Step one was almost always physical contact. And not just because holding you became one of his favorite pastimes; rather, it was grounding for you to have something to hold onto when you got like this. Astarion would gladly volunteer to be that something whenever he could.

You didn’t trust your voice enough to answer, so you just nodded instead. You were starting to tremble; rarely a good sign. Whatever stress-induced breakdown was happening would probably be a big one.

Astarion knew better than to try to wrestle you from the spot you were standing in. It would do nothing except agitate you further, so he simply walked up to you and gathered you into his arms.

The moment you were close enough to hide your face in the crook of his neck, the sobs that had been building up inside you this entire time wrecked your body. You were wailing loudly; so loudly you’d be embarrassed if you had enough energy left in you to care.

Astarion winced slightly at first — you were close enough to his ear for it to hurt. Still, he held you closer, firmer. Just enough pressure to help you calm down.

Eventually, your wailing died down to sobbing, and sobbing turned into soft sniffling. He tried to run a hand through your hair; his fingers nearly got stuck in it, just like yours before.

‘Would you say no to a bath, darling?’ he said, voice soft and quiet. ‘I got some new scented oils a few days ago. I even paid for them this time.’

That got a small chuckle out of you. Your throat was raw and your face was even more sticky now; a bath sounded wonderful.

‘I’d rather like a bath, I think.’ Your voice was all scratchy. You’d probably have one hell of a time trying to speak tomorrow.

‘Come on, then.’ Astarion kissed the top of your head and gently pried you away from his neck.

Usually you were the one leading him everywhere; he supposed in moments like these it was his turn to lead you instead. He walked you to the bathroom, holding your hand. And he didn’t even comment on the snot you left on his shirt, which was a great show of understanding on his part — as far as he was concerned — although he did take it off and throw it in the laundry basket as soon as the two of you entered the bathroom. All his love for you didn’t mean he’d be okay running about in a snotted-up shirt.

He sat you down on the floor near the bathtub and filled it with water. He smelled each of the new scented oils with great consideration. The last thing you probably wanted at the moment was having to pick which oil to put in your bath, so he wanted to make the choice for you — and to make the right one.

After the bath was all prepared, Astarion helped you out of your clothes and walked you to the corner of the bathroom, where he washed most of the dirt off your skin. Making sure you could properly relax also meant making sure you wouldn’t be soaking in dirty water, after all.

Soon enough, you were sitting in the bathtub with your eyes closed. Right after helping you inside the bath, Astarion ran off to grab your favorite hairbrush. And now, he busied himself with detangling the mess your hair had become over the course of your day. He talked and talked all the while — about his day, about this awful thief he managed to thwart the other night, about the shopping trip he went on the day before — about everything and nothing, just to keep talking. Just to fill the silence with noise that would drown out your screaming, tired mind. He didn’t expect you to answer; it was enough that you listened.

After your hair was brushed, washed and conditioned, Astarion dried you off and brought you a freshly washed set of pajamas.

‘You need to sleep, darling,’ he said, handing you the clothes. He knew you were far too tired to argue with him on that. As endearing as your usual desire to stay up with him for as long as possible was, you needed rest — badly.

‘Will you stay with me?’ you said. You felt much better now that all the grime was off of you, but the thought of laying in bed alone made you want to cry all over again.

‘As if I’d ever leave,’ scoffed Astarion as he took your hand again, leading you out of the bathroom.

The coldness of his bare chest was a much needed comfort. You nuzzled closer to him as he threw a thick blanket over the two of you. He reached over to his bedside table.

‘I could read for you, if you’d like.’

You mumbled out a ‘yes’. Your eyelids were so very heavy, but the idea of hearing Astarion’s voice rumble in his chest right against your cheek sounded lovely.

He chuckled to himself. ‘You’re adorable when you’re tired.’

He started reading. You weren’t really paying attention to what he was reading, rather to the sound of his voice itself. The individual words and sentences blurred into one, continuous rumble. Listening to him speak felt like falling deeper and deeper into a pile of the softest pillows.

You were out before Astarion could finish the first fifteen pages of the book. He noticed by the end of page twenty. When he did, he gently put away the book and held you tighter against him. And he may or may not have left a few kisses on your forehead, but that’s neither here nor there.

Astarion got comforting you down to a science. And he was damn proud that he was the one you trusted to comfort you in the first place.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #gn!reader #gn!tav #unnamed tav #fluff #domestic fluff #hurt/comfort #fluff and angst #bg3 #astarion #my writing #bg3 astarion #bg3 x tav #bg3 x reader #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 astarion #second person pov

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thefreakandthehair · 8 months

Text

The tile floor is disgusting.

Not Starcourt disgusting, but disgusting all the same. Grime build-up colors the grout lines, the back of his head is damp from condensation that drips down the sink he’s resting against, and there’s a damp spot beneath his left calf that he sincerely hopes is just the aftermath of someone washing their hands. A single lightbulb hangs in the center of the ceiling, dim but not flickering.

Thank God, it’s not flickering.

It’s not the place to have a meltdown— he knows it’s not— but rationality is just the latest in the ever- growing list of things fighting the Upside Down took from him. After all, the dingy basement bathroom of a stranger’s house party is better than the densely populated living room of a stranger’s house party.

He wishes Robin was with him, but he can’t bring himself to tear her away from the first real party she’s enjoyed. It’s not her fault that crowds set him on edge these days, or that he can’t stand the feeling of unfamiliar bodies pressing against him anymore, or that small talk about how humid it’s been lately makes him want to rip his hair out because how can anyone possibly give a fuck about the weather when the world nearly ended six months ago? No one outside of the group he’s come with gets it and he wonders if even in that group, even with the people he’s bled with, if he’s an outlier.

No one saw him sneak down here.

He’s not expecting anyone to come looking for him.

He should’ve known better.

“Steve?” A voice whispers from outside the door. “Steve, it’s me. Open the door.”

Robin. Of course.

Steve drags a hand down his face, hovering near his nose where his fingers tremble at the bridge, and lets out a deep exhale before reaching over and unlocking the door.

Wordlessly, he rights himself against the sink again as Robin locks the door behind her and sits cross-legged next to him. Silence sits with them, a welcome guest now with Robin’s comforting presence, her head tipping to lean on his shoulder and his falling to rest on hers.

They sit like this for long moments, silence and the scent of Robin’s strawberry shampoo grounding him in the present. There’s no emergency, no threat, not when Robin is safe and clean and warm right next to him.

Finally, he breaks the stillness. “You don’t have to sit here, you can go back to the party. It’s fucking gross down here.”

“It’s way more gross upstairs without you there.”

“Oh c’mon, everyone’s up there. Eddie, Nancy, Argyle, Jonathan. Vickie.” He looks down and grins, one eyebrow quirked up.

Robin rolls her eyes playfully and gently elbows him in the side. “Shut up, oh my God. She’ll be there when we go back up or I can call her tomorrow. Besides, she’s with Nancy and Jonathan looking for you.”

“Looking for me? Fuck, I didn’t think anyone would notice—”

Robin pats his thigh and cuts him off. “It’s fine, they all know you’re okay but we just didn’t wanna leave you alone in the Brain Tornado.”

“Brain Tornado?” Steve asks.

“Argyle’s words, not mine. But it’s fitting, don’t you think?”

Steve contemplates for a few seconds, considering the years worth of fighting and hoping and living that spin him around in untethered and unpredictable circles.

“Yeah, yeah it is.” Steve sighs. “How’d you know where I was anyways?”

“I know you.” Robin says, simple and matter of fact, as if it’s not the best response he could’ve gotten. She readjusts her position to stretch out both legs in front of her and Steve reminds himself that they’re both in jeans and not Scoops uniforms.

“I just don’t know how to fucking relate to people anymore, Rob. And the crowds, if something were to happen and I couldn’t get to the bat in my trunk fast enough, or get to you or Nancy or Eddie—”

“Hey, it’s okay, we’re all okay,” Robin rubs her thumb in soothing circles into his bicep with her opposite hand. “We’re safe. We won. It’s gone.”

She says this like an oath and Steve wants to swear to it. It’s just hard.

“I know. But it’s still… I don’t know. This huge thing happened and no one else knows, so we’re in this sea of people who have no idea we all nearly died six months ago? And they look at me like I’m still Party King Steve Harrington when that guy did eat it three years ago.” His heart begins to slow and he sighs, less anxious and more confused.

“I’m not gonna pretend I know what to say to that because you’re right, but there are at least five other people here right now who get it. And we’re the lucky sons of bitches, getting to know the Real Steve Harrington anyways.”

Steve can’t help the delicate thing that blooms in his chest when he’s reminded of the odd little family he’s built around himself. Or, in some cases, that forcibly built themselves around him.

“Besides,” Robin smirks and Steve immediately knows what’s coming, telepathic communication and all. “Some people upstairs really like the Real Steve Harrington. And he might be going a little insane looking for you outside with Argyle.”

“Shut up, oh my God.” He mimics her tone from earlier and drapes an arm around her shoulders, his voice softening. “We’ll go up in a few minutes?”

He doesn’t need to say it. Steve knows Robin hears what he means.

Just a few more minutes with you, and then I can face the world.

happy (sorta belated) birthday to @stobinesque! I know I already sent this so it's not technically late but the last couple days have been a little wild so I'm just late to posting. <333

#steve harrington & robin buckley #steve harrington #robin buckley #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #st fic #steddie #myblurbs #platonic soulmatism my beloved #stobin

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steddiealltheway · 11 months

Text

@steddie-week day 1: hunger / pining / Somebody to Love by Queen

"I'm going to murder Steve if he tries to flirt hopelessly with another girl when he likes Eddie," Robin says with a groan.

"Keep your hands still," Nancy gently reminds Robin as she paints another black layer on her nails. "Does Steve know that he likes Eddie?" Nancy asks with a laugh.

Robin resists the urge to use her hands to speak. "No! But even you have seen the pining. I thought he was going to have a meltdown when he saw Gareth jokingly flirt with Eddie."

Nancy blows on Robin's nails before frowning and scraping off some polish that got on her fingers. "Maybe Gareth is in love with Eddie," Nancy jokes.

Robin laughs. "He's been asking me if you're single for months now."

"If only he knew..." Nancy says with a wide smile before laying a kiss on her girlfriend's hand. "But hey, I'm dealing with Eddie who is hopelessly trying to get over his crush on Steve. He would be willing to be set up with anyone, I swear."

Robin throws her hands up. "That's it!"

"Robin your nails-"

"We set them up on a blind date. Steve has been trying to get me to find someone for him forever now, and Eddie wants the same thing from you! It can be operation... Find Them Somebody to Love."

"You just got that from my Queen tape."

"But it's a great plan!" Robin says with a victorious smile. She holds out her hand to shake on it.

Nancy rolls her eyes and shakes Robin's hand. "If this works, I'll repaint your nails."

Robin's brow furrows. "What do you mean..." she trails off as she looks at them.

"There's some in your hair," Nancy says with a wince.

Robin starts to scrape the paint off. "You call Eddie while I get this off."

Nancy watches her struggle for a moment before handing her some nail polish remover. "I hope this works for our sake."

-:-:-:-:-:-

To say Steve is surprised when Robin excitedly calls him to set him up with someone is an understatement. He may be a bit clueless and naive, but he knows when she's up to something. But maybe she's excited and thinks it's just a really good match, but he thinks that's just the hopeless romantic in him talking.

He also thinks it's strange that the date is at a burger joint that Eddie really likes, but maybe Eddie helped Robin with the date? He really hopes not but doesn't know why. He also knows that maybe the burger joint is a coincidence and the Eddie thought is just because Steve can't stop thinking about him.

It's weird. He's never really had a friend like him before, but he thinks it's part of the trauma bonding that makes Steve feel so intensely about him. But it's different from Robin it's... he doesn't know.

But he doesn't have much time to think about it as he parks outside the food joint. Time to lay on the Harrington charm.

As he walks in he notices only one table that has one person at it. The girl is facing away from Steve in a booth, her long dark curly hair being the only thing visible. She's definitely Steve's type.

As Steve approaches the table he runs a hand through his hair and tries not to think about how she has hair like Eddie's. As he turns to the girl with his most charming smile, it quickly turns into a real smile. "Eddie?" Steve asks.

Eddie's head snaps up and multiple emotions cross over his face as he takes in Steve. "Steve? What are you doing here?"

"Blind date, and you?"

Eddie replies, "Same here, man. Nancy set me up."

Steve tries to ignore the way his heart seems to break. He gives Eddie a smile but it's too tight and entirely fake. "Robin set me up, but hey, that's great, Munson." Steve goes as far as patting Eddie on the back which makes him internally cringe. What's happening?

Eddie slowly glances at Steve's arm and gives it a confused look as his hand still stays on his back. "Right, sorry," Steve apologizes and feels entirely not like himself. Why is he so damn nervous? "But hey, what if I waited here with you until our dates come and we can keep each other company?"

It looks like Eddie wants to say no, but Steve is already sliding into the booth. Eddies just continues to stare at Steve as if he's the last person he wants to see at the moment. Steve ignores those signs and continues talking, "So a blind date? I didn't know you were looking for someone."

Eddie huffs and looks down at the table. "I'm not really looking for someone, I'm just trying to get over someone."

Steve feels that familiar pang in his chest. "Someone I know?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," Eddie mutters. Steve just nods because he has no idea what that means. Eddie continues, "I didn't want to like this guy, but it just kind of happened. And they're incredible and way out of my league, so here I am. But they're somehow just always around..." Eddie trails off staring at Steve.

He almost feels like Eddie is trying to hint at something, but he isn't sure what. "I've been there. It took me a while to get over Nance, but eventually with time it happened. But hey, I don't know how someone could be out of your league, man. I mean you're really uh... well," Steve takes a moment to really look at Eddie and he weirdly feels his cheeks heat up, "You've got really nice eyes, and hair of course, and nice... lips."

Eddie squirms a bit in his seat and glances away. "You don't have to take pity on me, Harrington."

"I'm not!" Steve insists a little louder than he intends to. He lowers his voice and repeats, "I'm not. I'm just stating the facts. You're a really attractive guy. Plus, you're really smart and creative, and you can play the guitar well which I'm sure other guys dig, and you're also uhh really funny and kind-"

"Please stop, there's only so many words of affirmation I can receive in a day before I combust," Eddie jokes but there's a light flush on his face.

Steve holds his hands up and says, "I'm just saying you're a catch. Anyone who doesn't see that isn't good enough for you anyways."

Eddie narrows his eyes at Steve for a moment then glances over his shoulder. "So, uh, doesn't look like our dates are here yet."

Steve glances around and notices no one is sitting alone and no one else has walked in. Weird.

A waiter walks their way and takes their drink orders and gives them a few more minutes to look over the menu. As soon as he's out of earshot, Steve asks Eddie, "Do you think it's rude to put in an order when they're not here?"

Eddie glances around and his eyes settle on the wall. Steve looks over and notices the clock. "If they're not here in the next ten minutes which is fifteen minutes after the date start time, then we can order," Eddie states.

Steve smiles but suddenly his stomach makes an obnoxious growling noise. Eddie's eyes widen. "We can make that five minutes if you'll last that long."

"I can last ten minutes it's alright," Steve replies.

Two minutes later, Steve is already giving in, "Okay, what if we just ordered when the waiter comes back?"

Eddie smiles at him for the first time that evening. "You're weak, Harrington," he jokes.

"Hey, I was strong enough to lug your body around."

"If only I was conscious for that."

Before Steve can think of a response their lovely waiter interrupts them and asks for their order. Steve ends up ordering the same thing as Eddie which has Eddie scoffing, "I thought you thought my taste in food was bad."

"If putting strawberry jelly on a turkey sandwich is your idea of food, then I stand by what I said."

"I'm going to make you try it one day," Eddie says with a wide smile.

Steve leans forwards. "Is that a threat?"

"If you want it to be," Eddie says with a wink.

Steve laughs and has the sudden thought that he really doesn't want his or Eddie's dates to show up. He just wants Eddie to himself.

What?

"What, are you traumatized by the thought of it or something?" Eddie asks after Steve has gone silent.

Steve looks up and really takes in Eddie again. You're a catch. Anyone who doesn't see that isn't good enough for you anyways.

Oh shit.

Steve glances towards the door and outside and doesn't see any cars approaching. He looks back to Eddie and says, "If our dates don't show up in the next five minutes, what if we agreed to be each other's date."

Eddie looks at him for a moment with narrowed eyes. "As in... we're just like... hanging out or...?"

Steve takes a deep breath and says, "A real date."

Eddie's eyes widen and he looks around. "The kids didn't put you up to this, did they?"

"No, Eddie, I- I would really like to go on a real date with you."

Eddie stares at him again then asks, "You swear that this isn't a joke?"

"On Dustin's mother," Steve jokes then holds out his pinky.

"You know how much a pinky promise means to me."

"I know, it's a promise that can never be broken," Steve says.

Eddie hesitates then wraps his pinky around Steve's. "I hope our dates don't show up then," Eddie says with a big smile.

"Me neither," Steve agrees.

-:-:-:-:-:-

"I can't believe it's working!" Robin excitedly shouts from the passenger seat of Nancy's car.

"Me either," Nancy agrees as she watches Eddie rant while flailing his hands and Steve laughs. After a moment, Steve rests his hand over one of Eddie's and gives it a squeeze. Eddie flushes enough that Robin and Nancy can notice from the slight distance.

"Do you think they're going to kill us when they see us?" Robin asks.

Nancy scoffs, "No, they'll probably be over the moon thanking us. I'm just surprised that they agreed to go along with the date without thinking we were pranking them or something."

"Maybe the dinguses just finally sucked it up and admitted they liked each other when they figured out the plan," Robin says with a shrug as she watches the two get up. "And it looks like it's our time to leave."

Nancy shakes her head and looks at Robin. "Wouldn't that draw more attention to us though? We should just let them go first while they're so absorbed in each other's company."

"That's a good ide-" Robin stops as she looks back at the pair. "They've spotted us. Shit."

"Like I said, they're probably going to thank us," Nancy says, praying she's right. She rolls down the window as they approach.

Steve waves with a big smile. "Hey! We thought it was you, but we just wanted to let you know that your dates for us stood us up, but that's okay. Great really because Eddie and I decided you know..."

"I finally confessed that I've been pining after him," Eddie says nearly bouncing up and down.

Steve turns to look at him. "Wait, the person you said was out of your league, that was me you were talking about me earlier?"

"Steve, I thought you realized that after I told you I've had a crush on you for years now."

"Oh. Hey, I'm not out of your league at all, if anything you're out of my..." Steve trails off and seems to realize Robin and Nancy are still there, "Well, we're going to make up for lost time, but it was good seeing you. Thank you for attempting to set us up!"

Eddie and Steve wave as they leave, laughing about something moments later.

"Oh my god, did they just...."

"Holy shit, do they really think..."

Robin and Nancy look at each other and nod. "Dingues," they agree.

They look back as Steve and Eddie seem to argue about what car to take back and Robin sighs, "They'll eventually realize, right?"

"I doubt it," Nancy says.

Steve and Eddie walk towards their own cars seeming to realize that they don't have to drive together. "Gosh, they were made for each other."

It's years down the line when Steve and Eddie are telling the story of their first date when Nancy and Robin finally get fed up and tell the truth, but Steve and Eddie still don't believe them. Once a dingus, always a dingus.

#steddie #steddieweek2023 #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #stranger things #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #ronance background #dinguses to lovers

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seeingivy · 5 months

Text

the new romantics

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

content: la la la. good old usual clown angst show UNTIL it isn't.

an: happy thanksgiving! I recommend relishing on all the words in this one, this chapters a big one! <3

previous part linked here

Three days later, Levi walks into your room (Colt’s room) with a box tucked under his arm. You’re caught off guard by his presence, as he sits flat on the ground next to you.

In the four days following your meltdown, you were lucky enough that the scenes they were filming had nothing to do with you. And that Colt and Porco - who might be your new favorite person - were more than willing to bring you food so you wouldn’t have to leave the safe confines of their room (that you were ambushing).

“Hi kid.”

“Hi Levi.” you respond, hiking your knees to your chest and crossing your ankles over each other.

Levi’s quietly sitting at your side, and by the look on his face, you can tell that he’s simmering. There’s something on the tip of his tongue, that he won’t quite say.

That was always the thing with Levi. While you were easily able to discern what he was feeling, a skill that took practice throughout years, you could never quite figure out why. Why he was sitting here in your room with you, why the two of you were arguing, why he’s got this dusty box placed in between you.

You give him a strange look, before he opens up his little box. It’s filled with different cassettes, pictures, and letters - ones you had sent to Levi over the past few years.

You swallow hard, leaning against the back of the bed, as you flip the little leaflet in your fingers. Two little golden envelopes, with your name in big italic letters printed on it.

Best Actress in a Leading Role

Y/N L/N - Attack on Titan

“Didn’t realize you kept this.” you murmur.

“You were just so excited. All over the place that you forgot to take it. Figured you’d want it someday.” Levi murmurs.

You flip the second one over, mouth dry when you read it.

Triple Threat Commendation - Y/N L/N

“Why are you giving this to me?” you ask.

Levi looks over, steely gray eyes peering into yours.

“I want you to think about why you’re here.” Levi states.

You swallow hard, the tone in his voice biting.

“You were here before, for this. And now I need you to sit there and think really hard about why you’re here right now.”

You lean back, against the back of the bed, as you flip the little leaflet in your hand. And run your fingers over your italicized name, a sight that you had been waiting to see for years. Quite literally, the only thing you wanted.

“I don’t know, Levi. I don’t know why I’m here.” you respond.

It’s embarrassing. So embarrassing, that you’re crying straight onto the envelope, smudging the paper, as it courses through you.

That you don’t know what you’re doing, that you hate it here, and that really everyone else must hate that you’re here too.

“I’ll ask you again, Y/N. Really think about it.” Levi murmurs..

You look over at him, at his eyes fixed so neatly on the picture in his hands, one of the ones he plucked from the box. You scoot closer to him, only to catch that it’s a picture of him, Marco, and Eren, smiling right into the camera.

“Levi-” you start.

“I’m not trying to punish you. I just need you to think about it. It’ll make things easier for you too.” Levi states.

“I know you’re not trying to punish me, Levi.” you murmur, embarrassed that you had even said that to him in the first place.

Levi smiles, placing his hands over your closed ones and squeezing.

“I know. You’ve just got a shitty attitude problem.” he states.

“I get it from my dad.” you respond, nudging him in the shoulder and smiling.

Levi stands up, leaving the box and its content on the floor next to you. He shoots you a smile, one that you relish in, as he reaches for the door. Except he stops halfway on his way out and murmurs something that ignites the warmth in your chest.

“Y/N.”

“Yes, Levi?”

“I am not your father.” he responds, before shutting the door on his way out.

You’re staring at the door of the set, the tiny pebbles crunching under your shoes, as you nervously teeter on your heels. You can hear everyone in there, the cameras moving around in the air, Levi’s voice animated and louder than everyone else’s, and the pounding footsteps of the crew marching in unison.

“You okay?”

You turn your head over your shoulder to find Eren standing next to you, his script and notebook tucked under his arm.

“Oh. Hi Eren. Yeah, I-I was just taking a second I guess.” you murmur.

The thought of having a repeat of the other day, of being so overcome with that feeling that you could barely even function, scares you. And the possibility of it happening, it’s so probable that it makes your stomach hurt.

And it pokes at those deep fears that you had. About coming back, about doing this again. Because you’re filming Sasha’s death scene and…and you need to give a performance. A real one. And if you can’t do this, if you aren’t up to the par of your standards, you’re just…

Setting yourself up for that criticism. The ones that echo in the farthest corners of your brain, whispering into your skin and making you doubt every little move you make. You’ll get a shitty review from The Elms, while everyone else gets glowing ones. You’ll be the lackluster lead while everyone shines, before everyone once and for all, forgets you.

If they even remember who you are in the first place.

“We aren’t filming Sasha’s death scene today.”

You turn your head, eyes wide at Eren, as you beckon for him to explain. Because you were sure, almost positive, that this was the day you were going to do this. And you spent all night, trying to visualize it, how it would feel to have her staring at you lifelessly, in efforts to make the scene more palatable, the entire thing easier.

You barely lasted ten minutes before it all went crashing down.

“I requested that Levi switch the schedule. I just don’t think we’re ready to film that scene yet.”

The wave of relief takes over you in full flesh, that block of feeling in your throat suddenly clearing, as you take the deepest, crispest breath of fresh air in. And the new set of problems come rushing in.

You’re an actress. You can face anything, and-and the fact that they had to change the entire filming schedule for you just proves it. That you’re unprofessional. That you aren’t meant to be here, that this isn’t a place that you should be when you’re all but a fraud next to everyone else.

“I-I could have done the scene, Eren.” you murmur, not even giving yourself the full conviction to prove you believed what you were saying.

Eren gives you a soft smile, before responding.

“I’m sure you could have. You were always stronger than me in that sense. But, I-I really don’t think I could stomach it today. I’ve been anxious since we watched them.”

You pale, the embarrassment coursing through you. At the fact that you let Eren comfort you yesterday, till you could at least stand on your feet, just for him to be suffering in his own silence.

You reach for his elbow, squeezing hard on his skin.

“Eren. You could have told me.” you murmur, burrowing your eyes into his green ones.

“You shouldn’t worry about me, Y/N.” Eren states, making the motions for you to walk into the set.

The two of you walk in tandem, your footsteps lining up with one another's, as you walk into the chaos of the set. You and Eren get a few hello’s, which you happily return before walking up to the board and taking note of the scene lined up.

The table scene.

At that point, you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist, as you look down to find Gabi looking up at you, with a bright smile on her face. You return it in full, resting your face against her cheek, as you smile.

“Hi Gabs. How are you?” you ask.

“I’m great! I love your new haircut.” she states.

You absentmindedly reach up to tuck your hair behind your ears, a slight shade lighter and the smallest bit shorter. Levi was increasingly serious on the fact that you were all getting makeovers for the season and you were no exception to the rule.

“Thank you, sweet girl.” you respond, pinching the skin on her cheek.

“Hi Hobo. How are you?” Gabi asks, turning her head to Eren.

Eren rolls his eyes, reaching forward to flick Gabi’s forehead, followed by her swatting him off in protest. Which is only followed by Eren making moves to tickle her and Gabi getting ready to attack him, as the two of them start laughing and moving around each other. The sentiment of it makes you smile, that Eren’s the same as he was before.

Always popular with the kids.

Hange walks up, slinging an arm around your shoulder, and squeezing as they call for Gabi and Eren to stop.

“Hey. Are you two ready?” Hange asks.

“Yeah. We’ll head over right now. Thanks Hange.” Eren states.

You watch Hange link their arm in with Eren’s as the two of them walk straight onto the set and settle into the chair. And you can tell that Hange’s teasing Eren about something, because they’re both lightly shoving each other and smiling.

You swallow hard, as you take your seat at the table across from Eren. He’s nervously shaking his leg, as he flips through his script and cracks all the knuckles on his fingers. It’s the first scene you’re filming after coming back, the anxiousness pooling in your stomach under the lights.

“Eren?”

“Hm?”

“Do you still make notes in your script?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to switch? Like we used to before?”

Eren nods, sliding his set of pages over, as you hand him yours and start pacing through his notes. They’re largely incoherent, the meaning entirely lost to you, as Eren quickly realizes and looks over.

“Sorry. They’re not scene specific, they’re kind of…mental reminders for me. I didn’t realize we were still going to do this, but I-I’ll make sure I have good notes for the rest of the scenes.” Eren says.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to.”

“No, no. It’s what makes us the best, right?”

You give him a polite smile, as you read through Eren’s lines. They’re all highlighted in light green, with the tiniest bit of ramblings scribbled on the side. Silent reminders, he’s giving himself.

To breathe.

“Are you ready?” Levi asks, hands firm behind his back.

“Yeah.” you and Eren respond.

“Eren, go get Armin then.”

Eren nods, standing up from his chair, leaving you and Levi under the bright lights. He pulls the empty chair, leaning back and crossing his arms across his chest as he glares at you.

“Are you actually ready to film this scene?” Levi asks.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” you ask.

Levi rolls his eyes, leaning forward on his forearms, as he brings his face closer to yours and whispers.

“There is nothing wrong with admitting you’re not ready for this yet. This isn’t a particularly easy scene to film, especially for you, and I don’t want-”

“I’m fine, Levi.” you respond.

You can tell from the look on Levi’s face that he doesn’t quite believe you, disapproving of your response, before he stalks off and starts setting the cameras into place. Armin and Eren walk up, followed by Gabi, as you each take your respective seats in the chairs.

Levi’s still stuck adjusting the cameras and the lights, which leaves the four of you awkwardly simmering in your seats. You shoot Gabi a smile, which she returns, before you tuck Eren’s script under the table and Eren does the same with yours.

“Eren.” Armin states.

“Hm?”

“I heard you’ve been writing some of the scenes with Levi and Hange now.” Armin states.

“Really? That’s so cool, Eren!” Gabi states, reaching forward to squeeze his tightly shut fists.

“Yeah. Thanks Gabs.” Eren responds.

“This one must have been real easy for you to write, huh?” Armin asks, all but glaring at him.

Eren sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, as he swallows hard and shuts his eyes.

“Save it for the scene, Armin.” Eren murmurs, nervously cracking all of the fingers in his bones, as he nervously looks over his shoulder and waits for Levi to finish.

It’s the smallest bit of solace you suppose. That you’re not the only sore thumb here. That Eren too has people who can’t stand to talk to him.

“Okay, Eren. On your count.” Levi states, giving the four of you a thumbs up.

You all shift in your seats, adjusting your hands on the table, as Eren all gives you a meek nod before starting.

“The things I do and choices I make are all decided by my own free will.”

Eren’s dropped his voice an octave, the tone in his voice more gravelly and hoarse as he speaks. And it immediately reminds you of that shitty argument the two of you had in the moonlight outside of the house in Seattle.

So that’s what Armin meant.

You can immediately feel your throat drying, rough as sandpaper as you’re suddenly too aware of the lights shining onto your skin above. The warmth of them singeing the ends of your skin.

“So your actions after meeting Yelena were all you?” Armin asks.

“Yes.” Eren responds.

“No. You’re being manipulated.” you respond.

You look up to find Eren looking at you, the emotion in his eyes so devoid, so far away that it makes your skin sweat. That it makes you deeply uncomfortable, like you’re talking to a version of him that’s somewhere else entirely.

“You-you wouldn’t get kids and innocents involved, even if they were enemies! Plus, I know you care about us more than anyone.”

You swallow hard, the words burning on your tongue.

“Don’t you? The reason you saved me in that cabin…the reason you gave me this scarf is because you’re kind, Eren.”

“I said keep your hands on the table.” Eren states, his voice so unrelenting that it sends tears sprouting down your eyes.

An entire five lines early. You fight down the urge to vomit, that disgusting acidic feeling accumulating in your mouth, as Eren continues, the gravel of his voice making the hair on your arms stand up.

You ball up your fists, as you mutter out your lines - knowing damn well they weren’t loud enough or with half of the fevor Levi wanted - as you reach the part you were dreading the most. The mere anxiety of it, of Eren’s grating voice saying those words, has you breaking skin on your palms, as you look up at his green eyes.

“Your family was made to forget who they are and live only to protect. In other words, slaves.”

“Enough, Eren!” Armin screams, slamming one of his fists on the table.

“Do you know who I hate more than anyone? Those who aren’t free. Just like livestock.” Eren states, the tears warm and burning as they start flowing down your cheeks, with no means of stopping this time.

“Eren!” Armin screams, again.

“Just seeing you has pissed me off, and now I finally know why. I can’t stand the sight of a slave who obeys orders without a question.”

You take a deep breath in, holding it in your chest.

“Ever since I was little, I’ve hated you, Y/N.” Eren states, the tone in his voice definitive.

Armin, right on cue, climbs on to the table and screams.

“How could you say that to her, Eren?”

And you miss your cue, to get up and tackle Armin onto the table, because Eren’s suddenly crying, his hands balled into fists as he stands up.

“I didn’t fucking mean it!” Eren screams.

You look over at Gabi and then Armin, as Eren quickly realizes what he’s said. And then he all but storms out of the set, almost like he’s embarrassed, as Levi calls for a fifteen minute break and Hange rushes out after him.

You and Armin share a weary look, as you help Armin off the table, and feel a tugging on your sleeve. You’re entirely thrown off by the outburst, his words hanging in your ears, as you readjust the table cloth on the table with shaky hands.

“Is Eren okay?” Gabi asks, a fixed frown on her face.

“He is. I’m going to go check on him, okay?” you state, giving her a pinch on the cheek before you stand up and make your way out to the set.

The pebbles are crunching loudly under your feet, as you pace around and look for Eren and Hange. Only to find them slightly to the left, Eren hanging with his head in his knees as Hange rubs circles into his back.

You swallow hard, before you walk up and clear your throat. Eren looks up, eyes teary and red, as he stares at you in disbelief.

“Hange. Can I talk to Eren?” you murmur.

Hange looks over at Eren, before giving you a smile and standing up.

“He’s all yours. Shout for me if you need me, yeah?”

You give Hange a nod and they lovingly ruffle Eren’s hair, before walking off. You take the seat next to him, sitting flat on your hands. He’s still crying, the tears falling straight into his hands as he hiccups.

“Eren.”

He clenches his eyes shut at the sound of your voice, almost like he’s wincing at your presence, as he starts shaking his head.

“Go away,” he murmurs.

You swallow hard, swallowing the nervousness in your throat.

“No.”

“What are you doing here? Like seriously, just-”

“You would do it for me.”

He looks up, his green eyes staring at yours in his confusion. His tears have momentarily stopped, the wetness spread all over his cheeks and his hands.

“You would do it for me. You did it the other day and at the funeral and I just- I owe it to you. You’re there for me and…”

“You think you owe me something? Do you even hear yourself?” Eren asks, tone biting.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Of course he thinks it’s okay for him to comfort you, but not for you to comfort him. You wrack your brain, trying to think of the best way to word this - or the best way to get him to listen to you - when it hits you.

You should take a page from his book.

“You’re not you and I’m not me.” you state.

“Huh?”

“You’re Bruce and I’m Margaret. Now talk.”

Eren scoffs, wiping the back of his hands on his cheeks, as he coughs.

“Y/N. Don’t be stupid.”

“Who?”

Eren stares at you, green eyes peering into yours, as he sighs.

“Are you going to let this go?”

“No.” you respond.

Eren sighs, leaning back on the heels of his hands as he looks up at the sky.

“I just had a long day. And I don’t really like this scene.” he states, leaning back into the grass.

You follow suit, the blades of grass tickling your skin, as you both look up at the cloudy sky.

“Sometimes, I can tell that the anxiety is like…bubbling. It’s not enough to make me freak out, but enough for me to notice it’s there. Like I’m hypervigilant, just-just waiting for it to come out.” Eren states.

You beckon for him to continue.

“Like I wake up late. It throws off how I get ready for the day and then I’m at set. I say the wrong things to everyone, say something weird or awkward, and then when I’m filming I know I’m not doing it right. That it’s all wrong and I try to take breaths, try to fix it, but that deep seated wrongness just doesn’t go away.” he responds.

“Does anything help?” you ask, looking over at him.

“Connie. He’s always good about this kind of stuff. He-he knows the right thing to say. And Hange’s comforting to be around.”

You wrap your hand around his wrist, sliding your hand down until your fingers are locked together. Your skin is burning from the touch, as you feel Eren’s hand tighten and his eyes shift over to you.

“What are you doing?” he whispers.

“I don’t know. It just felt right.” you whisper back.

Eren’s fidgeting with your hands, before he’s cracking every last knuckle on your hand. A nervous tick he’s had since you two were younger.

“Don’t crack the smaller ones.”

“I remember. You don’t like how those feel.” he responds, voice soft.

You hum in response as you absentmindedly give Eren your other hand, as he fidgets with every last knuckle of yours, waiting till he hears that satisfying pop before he stops. And then he’s holding both of your hands in his, his breaths calm and even, as he runs his hands over both of your knuckles.

And you both stay there, you completely dry of any words that could help him and Eren - the look on his face blank as he stares up at the sky. Eren was always better at this type of stuff than you and that much is apparent still.

“Thank you, Margaret.”

“You’re welcome, Bruce.”

And when you and Eren stand up - him brushing the smallest blades of grass out of your hair and you wiping the last of the wetness off your cheek - you curse yourself.

For falling back into it so easily with him. And for wanting to let yourself fall the entire way.

You cry almost the entire night.

You tend to avoid them when they all congregate in big groups. You’re not sure what it is exactly - maybe the fact that you've been living like a hermit crab for a better part of the past few months - but whenever you find yourself with them, it’s too awkward for you to stomach.

Except for a few situations, like this one, where you find that you have to be there.

“Y/N! Come here!” Jean screams.

You peek your head out of the little doorway, to find them all sitting around in a circle in the living room. There’s an obscene amount of flowers covering every square inch of the living room, a sweet smell in the air.

“Hi Jean. I was just going to go to bed.”

“And now you’re not!” Connie replies, giving you a smile which you can’t help but ignore.

You frown, as you feel someone join you at your side. And you look to your left only to consequently back straight into the wall behind you and hit your head.

“Jesus fuck, Eren. You scared the shit out of me.” you pant, rubbing the tiniest little spot on the back of your head.

He reaches forward, hands secured around his head, as you look up at him. And swallow hard.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Oh my god, Eren. What’s on your face?”

“Huh?”

You reach forward, fingers on his chin as you move his face to the left and to the right.

“Are you trying to grow a beard, Eren?” you state, disgusted.

Eren rolls his eyes, before swatting your hand off, and settling in next to Connie.

“I told you Y/N wouldn’t like Hobo Eren.” Gabi states.

“Well, I could have told you that. Y/N’s never really been into facial hair.” Eren states.

“You can barely even grow any, Eren.” you deadpan.

“Who wouldn’t like Hobo Eren? Look at him! He’s just so dreamy.” Reiner states, shaking Eren’s entire frame in his hands as Eren smiles.

“Yeah, he smells a little. But he’s got that….wet dog charm to him.” Connie states, smiling brightly.

You snort, as you settle in between Porco and Colt, the two of them shooting you polite smiles.

“I just got a bit…scared, that’s all.” you respond.

“I think Jean has the best look.” Mikasa states, twisting one of the sets of bouquets in her fingers.

“You’re like literally biased. He’s your fiance.” Porco states.

“It’s very hard to pull off a mullet.” Mikasa states, glaring at him.

“Who do you think has the best new look, Y/N?” Gabi asks, tugging on the ends of your ankles. She’s seated right by your feet, directly next to Falco, as they play a very tame game of cards. Falco has yet to acknowledge you, since the day you first got back, and you have yet to try either.

“Probably, Reiner. I couldn’t even recognize him.”

“Not seeing me for two years will do that to you.” Reiner states, earring a fit of laughter from the group.

You smile, cheeks burning with embarrassment, as the rest of them laugh. They all move along, but you’re stuck on that, as Colt gives you a reassuring smile. But it does little to curb the tears that are collecting in your eyes, the unease that’s coursing through you.

“That’s right! I was wondering what you were doing here.”

You look up to find the girl, seated right by Mikasa, looking straight at you.

“I swear every time I look up there’s like a new cast member I don’t know.”

The group of them laugh, as you bite the soft tissue of your cheeks and look back at her.

“This is Amy. She’s Mikasa’s cousin. She’s going to be the maid of honor at the wedding, which is why she’s here. With this god awful set of flowers.” Sasha states.

“I didn’t realize you would all have such strong opinions about the flowers!” she states.

You look around the sets at the table, with a new eye. And not that you’re biased (because you totally are), but the flowers really are…awful. A bit too gaudy, too artificial for people like Jean and Mikasa. You ease off of the couch, as you twist the vases in your hand.

“Do you guys mind?” you ask, looking up at Jean and Mikasa.

They both shake their heads, as you start sifting through each of the vases. You pick out the flowers that make the most sense to you, as Connie makes it a point to make fun of Porco’s British accent for the next twenty minutes.

When you’re done - a mix of violets, daisies, and baby breath - you snag the ribbon off the little box they came in and tie it around the stems. And then hand it to Mikasa, who's running her fingers over the petals.

“It’s daisies and violets. Those are both of your birth flowers and the baby’s breath just kind of brings it together. The ribbon should definitely be white instead of pink, because it seems too loud when you add a color like that in. And you can easily make boutonnieres out of violets for the groom's party and have the girls wear corsages with daisies on them.” you state.

“I love that idea. Thank you, Y/N.” Mikasa states, handing the flowers to Jean as he twists them in his own fingers. He gives you a big smile, which is enough to curb that sense of unease in your skin.

“That’s what your name is!” Amy states, smacking her hand against her forehead.

And it’s back.

“Yeah, it’s nice to meet you.” you state.

“Wait, didn’t you like…quit acting?” she asks.

You swallow hard.

“Yeah.” you state, laughing awkwardly.

“Oh. So what are you doing here, then?”

You absentmindedly look over at Eren, before pinching your lips together.

“Just back for the final season.” you respond.

“Oh. Was it like a PR type of thing? To build up hype around the show? You celebrities do things like that all the time, right?” she asks.

You can feel the group of them looking at you, steely eyes staring into yours, as you set the last of the flowers down on the table. You knew that this would happen eventually, that you would get berated about what you did in your two years off. That some people wouldn’t understand it, that those whispering rumors of everything you do being fake would come back, but it was too early for this. The tears are warm and hot, the regret even hotter, as you stand up.

“No. It wasn’t. But that’s besides the point. It was um, really nice to meet you and I hate to cut this short and all but I have to wake up early tomorrow, so…”

“Right! I’ll see you at the wedding.” she states, extending her hand to yours as you begrudgingly shake.

And shuffle straight into Colt’s room and cry straight onto his pillow.

It gets easier to place yourself into the pacing on the set. Most of the scenes that Levi’s chosen to film are around Gabi, Falco, and Kaya, and it’s easier to be there and watch them than be in the house with everyone else. And it seems that’s someone’s always lingering around, an open ear to talk to.

“Are you enjoying your time here?” you ask.

“Yeah. It’s a nice environment to be in.” Niccolo responds, giving you a polite smile.

The two of you are playing solitaire, an invitation that he extended to you after you were content scribbling through the ends of your script for Eren.

“Levi and Hange always made it a point. To make it that way.” you murmur.

“I can imagine. Especially for Hange, all the scrutiny that came their way back in the day, it’s…” Niccolo states.

“The funniest part is I didn’t even know any of that had happened when I got here. Mikasa kind of had to tell me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I-I looked up to Hange a lot. Idolized her even. And all I saw was someone who was so…true to themselves. They said whatever they wanted and they came out on top anyways. Turns out, they were suffering almost the entire time. And they wouldn’t have even made it out if it weren’t for Levi.”

“Same could be said for you, no?”

You look up at him, at his brown eyes wide and peering into yours.

“Sasha talks.”

“And what does she say?”

“It doesn’t really mean much and I don’t want to rub salt in wounds or anything or-”

“Being here is a big salt in the wound regardless.” you respond.

Niccolo frowns, the look on his face fixed.

“She said that in the earlier years, people gave you a horrible time. For reasons that were out of your control, like Hange. They hated them because they were queer? Because they supported things that were right but weren’t mainstream? And they hated you just because your family wasn’t famous. Because you were a successful, self-made woman. You didn’t have any of that industry etiquette, when things seemed wrong to you, rightfully so, you called shit on it.”

You roll over the thought in your head.

“What?” Niccolo asks.

“I never really saw it that way.”

“But it’s true isn’t it? Historia all but got groomed by a guy, you didn’t let him get away with it. You had no ins with the industry, but still made it out on top like you did. The Lucky One basically immortalized you as a pop star forever.” Niccolo responds, setting his cards down flat on the floor.

“I guess. It just seems like at the end of the day, it wasn’t even worth it.” you respond.

“Well, you’re talking about it like it’s all over.”

“Huh?”

“Things are far from finished. For you, especially. I have a feeling you’re just getting started.” Niccolo responds.

You and Niccolo look up, to find Gabi and Falco at your sides, fresh off of the set. They’re both crossing their legs and taking their seats next to you as Eren walks up and joins you. He always seems to be here, since he is writing this all with Hange and Eren now, always giving the two of them pointers and leading them the right way.

“Hi guys.” Gabi says.

“Hi Gabs. You did great. You too, Falco.” you respond, reaching forward to ruffle her hair.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Falco responds, giving you a halfhearted smile.

“What are we talking about?” Eren asks.

“Sasha. And how much Niccolo loves her.” you respond, giving him a smug grin.

“Our favorite topic of conversation.” Eren responds, nudging Niccolo in the side, as a pink flush crawls up his neck.

You deal a set of cards to everyone, ignoring your awkwardly shaky hands when you hand Eren his and zone out through the rest of this conversation. Because all you can hear in your head is Niccolo, and Levi asking you what you’re doing here, and every tiny fractal of a memory playing in your head.

And really, it’s almost jarring how different everything is because you can barely bring yourself to get out of your head about everything. Because that god awful, damper of your thoughts brings ruin to everything. You thought you’d have Mikasa and Levi when you’d get here, that they’d walk you through this, only for them to be miles away from you.

You figure you’d fight the urge to throttle Eren every time he looked at you, but his presence seems to be one of the only things that puts you at ease. That he’s quiet, that you’re both not you and that it’s easier that way, that nothing happened.

That eventually, things would work themselves out. You’d all come back here and things would fall back into place again. That Connie would make a joke and you’d all laugh, that Armin would take a few pictures, that you and Eren would just be something again, no matter what it was.

But you sit here, stuck in how none of that is true. That you’re at the end of a bottomless pit. That things are going to stay this way, that this is how they are, that this is what happens when you make the wrong choice.

“Well, the convenience store is closing on Friday, so you better get a move on if you want something, Falco.” Niccolo states, setting his cards down.

“What?” you ask.

“Huh?” Niccolo repeats, looking up at you.

“The convenience store is closing? The one on Scott Street? With….with the slushie machine?” you ask, eyes wide.

“Yeah. The one run by that really old guy, with curly hair.”

You set your cards down, irritation flaming, as you turn to Eren.

“Did you know?” you ask.

“Yeah.” Eren responds, twisting his cards in his fingers.

“And you weren’t going to tell me? Or do anything about it?”

“What could we do about it?” Eren asks.

You roll your eyes, bending the cards as you set them down and storm out of the set. And look for that god awful bike, because god forbid that this is one of the things that changes too. That really everything else can change - that you’re going to hate each other, that the one place you love is going to be different - but god, if you can throw any money at someone to keep that place open, then so be it.

You find the bike in the shed, wheeling it out towards the front door when Eren runs in front of you, grabbing the handles and stopping you in your tracks.

“What are you doing, Y/N? You can’t ride this thing by yourself.”

“Well, watch me.” you respond, trying to wrestle it out of his grasp.

“It’s a tandem bike. You need someone to push the back. And you’ve always been shit at steering.” he responds.

“And you have a shitty personality, Eren. I guess there’s some things we just can’t really control, can we?” you spit, finally wrestling out of his grasp and moving past him.

Eren jogs up to your side, trying to stop you in your tracks again.

“Quit trying to stop me, Eren.”

“I-I’ll come with. Steer for you.” he states, reaching for the handles.

“No. I want to do this on my own.” you respond.

“Well, some things you just can’t.” Eren responds.

“I’m going to the convenience store.” you respond.

“To what? Stop it from closing?”

“Yes. I have money. I’m going to use it. It’s like an investment, basically.”

Eren frowns, stopping at your side again.

“Y/N. Maybe we shouldn’t go.”

And the irritation bubbles right to your head and you’re screaming at him in the middle of the pavement.

“I want to go! I want to make sure this thing stays here, that people get to enjoy it because it’s the only thing I can keep. I can’t get my brother to stop being mad at me, my best friend moved on and picked a new maid of honor, Levi’s ten different levels of disappointment in me, and you…you left me! I know you don’t give a crap about this place, I just want this place that made me happy to stay there.” you shout.

Eren swallows, before climbing onto the head of the bike and bracing his legs against the pedals. You oblige, climbing on and wrapping your arms around his torso as he starts pedaling. And when you reach there, he’s holding his hand out and helping you off, as you walk into the store.

The smell is still entirely the same, but the store is heavily hollowed out. Almost all the shelves are empty, the buzzing of the refrigeration turns off and you turn to find your culprit. The owner of the store, that’s been giving you and Eren free slushies since you were fifteen.

Michael.

“Y/N! Eren! My little movie stars.” he states, opening his arms wide and enveloping you two in his embrace.

You sink into the smell, the soft cherry wafting off of him, as he gives you a bright smile. His hair is significantly longer than when you saw him last, the years he’s lived hanging off of his skin. In wrinkles, in the permanent smile lines by his eyes, and his dimples - large and indented into his skin, as opposed to Eren’s. That really only come out on occasion.

“We’re in a TV show, Michael.” you deadpan.

“Same thing.” he responds, giving you a bright smile.

“Are you really closing your store?” you ask.

He sighs, giving you a smile.

“Yes. I’m sure that much is obvious.” he responds, placing more items into the box.

“Are you bankrupt? You should really stop giving free stuff to every kid who walks in here.” you murmur.

“I’m not bankrupt. It’s just time.” he responds.

You push yourself up on the counter, dangling your feet off the end as you turn to him. You’re toying with the ends of the tape on the counter, peeling it off as you rack your mind on the right thing to stay. To get him to stay here. And that insurmountable loss - that follows you everywhere - reaches this place too and you can’t handle it.

“Do you need money to keep it going? We can hire and staff and-”

“Y/N.” Michael states.

“We’ll invest. Me and Eren, we-we’ll keep it going. Make sure it’s in good hands. It should-” you mumble.

Michael sighs, setting the box down, as he glances over at Eren.

“Always the same, you two.” he states, before walking out of the store.

You give Eren a weary look, as you pad out of the store, to find Michael opening up the door of his car. You run up to his side, fists curled together.

“Where are you going?”

“We are going to the lake. I have something to show you.” he responds.

You angrily march over to the passenger seat and buckle your seatbelt on, only to find Eren standing at your side of the door.

“Well, get in.”

“I’ll stay. Fix up the store for you, yeah?” Eren says.

“Thank goodness. You god awful children know how to waste my time. And my money.” he responds, giving Eren a smile as he pulls out of the parking lot.

You glare at Eren as the two of you drive off, the ride not even a full ten minutes, before he pulls into the little meadow. There’s a tiny little lake at the center, expansive enough that you can’t see the end and green grass surrounding the edges. There’s large willow trees, basking the entire place in a shade, as the two of you walk out to a bench and sit on it together.

“You like the store, Y/N?” he asks.

“I love the store. It’s-it’s why you can’t close it.” you respond, crossing your legs onto the bench and fidgeting with your hands in the space in between.

Michael takes a deep breath, before smiling to himself and looking out at the water.

“I spent my entire life in that store.”

You look out at the lake, at the little ripples keeling through the water as the tiniest wave hits the shore.

“My mother passed away when I was very young. I don’t remember much, but…she was very fond of nature. Flowers, greenery, lakes.”

You smile.

“But my father. He….he spent his entire life in that store with me. And…he was an unrelenting man. Disciplined, principled, habitual. I didn’t know much about him, besides his name. That he worked at the store, that keeping it running was important. That he didn’t say quite much, that sometimes he would when he was angry.” he states.

You swallow hard, immediately thinking of Eren and Zeke.

“I moved away, the second I could. I turned eighteen and I-I went running for the hills.”

“To?”

“College.”

“That’s nice. Surely something entirely different, after all that.” you softly add.

“I was curious. So curious that I wanted to know everything. Every major was one I wanted to do, every class left me with a thousand questions instead of answering them, every person I met was a person I wanted to unravel, to know, deep in their bones.”

“And did you? Meet someone like that?” you ask.

Michael turns to you and smiles.

“Always the romantic, weren’t you?”

“Who said anything about being a romantic?”

“Picking up bottles on New Year’s Day is quite a romantic sentiment to me.” he responds.

You roll your eyes and he laughs, as you beckon for him to continue.

“Her name was Evangeline. She had ivory hair, long eyelashes, and the tiniest bit of freckles on her skin. Two dimples, one on each side, that were hard not to notice whenever she smiled at me. Smelled like strawberries, never walked on the cracks in the sidewalk, dreaded getting gas to the point that her car would stall and run out.”

“Quite the lady.”

Michael smiles.

“The first love. Always comes with impossible odds. There’s a sweetness, almost a purity to it. That feeling that there is no one else in the universe like this. There’s fumbling, there’s pining, there’s awkward and ugly mistakes.”

“But you think it’s going to work. You want your love to be real.” you add.

“Precisely. There’s always a first time for everything, right?” he adds.

And from that somber tone in his voice, grating in his chest, you feel the tears spill down your eyes. Because you know what happens next.

“How?” you ask.

How did she leave him.

“Accidental drowning. It seems she….she tripped over the ledge on a boat. Must have hit her head or something because when we got her out, she was…was already long gone. Didn’t fight her way back up, just…sank down.”

You feel a hiccup escape your chest, the feeling so disgusting. That this shitty loss, that it permeates everywhere. That everyone feels it. That no one is safe from it and that truly, nothing stays.

“I returned to the store. Worked with my dad for some time. It was nice to see the monotony of those types of things. Ring up the items, place them in a bag. Give two unrelenting kids a free drink here and there. Close the shop up until the next day.”

You frown, your eyes burning, as he smiles at you. He taps on your forehead, on the wrinkles from your frown.

“I was so deep in it. That feeling. I dug myself into that hole. And I stayed there. That I had experienced everything that I had needed to in life, that things were perfect that way and that nothing else was going to compare.”

He takes a beat.

“I was holding onto the memories. And they were holding on to me.”

“But-”

“Holding onto memories is a good thing. But not when they drag you into the abyss. And that’s where I was - in that store, doing the same thing everyday. Ringing up the items, placing them in boxes and closing up for the night.” he responds.

You swallow hard.

“My father talked to me one day,” he states.

“He was still there?” you ask.

“He met my mother in that store. That she was reaching for the gum at the same time as him. That their fingers brushed across one anothers, that they split the pack of gum because there was only one left.”

“And?”

“That he spent his entire life in that store, because she thought she would come back.”

You wipe your snot on the back of your hand, looking up at him. And at the fact that he’s still smiling.

“It made sense then. Why he was so untouchable”

“Because he was waiting for something that wouldn’t ever come back?”

“Because he was stuck in that store. Sitting in his little corner that he haunts.”

You swallow hard.

“When you sit inside, you seem to forget that the sun does rise again. That it falls behind the skyline, but it comes back. The moon follows the same - disappearing and reappearing to be a light in the night. The ocean pulls away from you just to come crashing right back.” he states.

“But-”

“I don’t want to live in the hole anymore. I don’t want to haunt that corner, I don’t want to shy away from the water just because it is deep. It’s cold, it bites your skin, but you feel free in the water. The possibility is there, to let your self fallin the abyss, but you can also choose not to.”

You can feel the tears falling in full flesh, the pain so palpable when you understand.

The convenience store is the stagnant spot. And he has every intent to destroy it.

“You cannot live life when you are so untouchable, Y/N. Living your life requires you to be vulnerable,” he states.

You feel a hand on your shoulder and look up to find Eren standing at your side, the bike laying in the grass next to you. You scoot over on the bench, as the tears fall out even harder, the pain of it all so aching.

At Eren. Holding a slushie, with two straws in the hole. Sitting right at your side.

You take it in your hands, securing both of your hands around the cup, as you sip the drink. And that familiar mix - of the soda and the cherry covers your tastebuds - sending a chill down your spine.

Michael sighs, smacking against the skin of his thighs before he stands up. He turns to give the two of you a smile, a hand on both of your heads.

“You’re just going to leave?”

“I’ll let Eren tell you the rest. I’ve got a wife waiting for me at home.” he states, walking off with a content smile on his face.

You almost drop the entire drink over your legs, as you watch him walk off and turn to Eren. He’s got a soft smile on his face too, his head angled up as he watches the clouds move across the sky.

“He has a wife?” you ask.

Eren slides the smallest bit away from you and taps on the inscription on the bench.

For Zola. You let the light in.

You look up at him, confused.

“Living your life requires you to be vulnerable. What’s more vulnerable for him than loving again?” Eren responds.

You nod, turning your head back to the lake. To the waves, pulling away just to come crashing right back.

“I do care about the convenience store.” Eren states.

“Hm?”

“Earlier. You said you thought I didn’t care about it….I basically did the same thing you just did now a few weeks ago when I got back and found out.” Eren responds.

“Oh.”

Eren looks over at you.

“This was one of the hardest things I had to learn when I went to therapy, Y/N.”

“What?”

“That you have to hold space for your hurt, to let yourself feel it, but not let it bog you down either.” Eren responds.

You swallow hard, looking down at the slushie - the colors mixing together into one.

“The wound is the place where the light enters.” Eren states.

You swallow hard.

“Marco gave me a poetry book. And months after he died, I stumbled across it. And it was open right on that page.”

“He did love his poetry books, didn’t he?”

“Turns out Michael loves them too. He seems like a Marco type.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” you respond.

Eren stands up, brushing off his palms on his shirt, before he turns and extends his hand to you. You place your hand in his, warm and soft, before you hold it in the air. He makes a move to let go, but you clench harder.

“Eren.”

“Yes?”

Your mind is blank. You can’t think of what to say. Or more appropriately, what to say first. Because he sends your mind into a spiral, that he overwhelms any normal sense, any rationale.

Because you loved him. And he looks like the person you loved. Feels like him too.

It’s why you can’t shout at him. Why every rational thought goes out the door, why that unyielding feeling that he’s still the person you knew is there.

“I know, Y/N. It confuses me too. We'll figure it out." Eren states.

You and Eren pick the bike up and make your way back in silence. But the air is somewhat lighter.

When you walk into the townhouse, you make it your first point to find Levi. To the point where you march up to his room and pound hard on the door until he answers. All disheveled and the slightest bit of annoyance in his face.

“Yes, Y/N?”

“I’m here for the right reasons, Levi.” you state.

Levi’s eyes go wide, almost in curiosity, as he looks up at you and leans against the door. Gesturing for you to continue. You sigh, before reaching forward and wrapping your arms around him.

For trying to push you to this spot, days earlier. By asking you the question.

“I’m here to make amends. To move forward.” you state.

“And?”

“And that….that requires work on my part. With you and Mikasa. Falco and Eren and-”

“Eren?” Levi asks, raising his eyebrows.

You smile.

“Always his biggest hater, weren’t you?”

“Naturally.” Levi responds, closing the door behind him before linking your arms and walking down towards the kitchen.

"Yes, even Eren. I-"

You take a deep breath in.

"I'm done feeling sorry for myself. And I'm done being so...so far away. This is where I'm meant to be. And it's where I'll stay until we're done." you respond.

Levi smiles at you for the first time since you've returned. And you know you'll win him over.

When you walk down, you and Levi move around each other in silence. He’s fixing the food while you drag out the plates, until the music starts blaring. Splitting both of your eardrums.

You give Levi a motion to wait, as you pad into the living room to catch the sight responsible for the sound. Only to find your heart swelling, burning at it.

They’re all dancing. Almost every single one of them, standing on their feet, hands pressed together, and screaming.

The lyrics to your song.

Baby, we're the new romantics Come on, come along with me Heartbreak is the national anthem We sing it proudly We are too busy dancing To get knocked off our feet Baby, we're the new romantics The best people in life are free

And maybe, just possibly, it draws something in you. That you wrote this song, years prior, to sick it to them. Because you were going to prove everyone, who had doubted you, that you were above them.

That you'll always rise above.

Falco and Gabi have their arms linked together and are swinging in a circle, while Connie tries to horribly swing dance with Armin. Niccolo’s spinning Sasha in circles, holding her flesh against his chest, while Mikasa and Jean - who are most certainly drunk - are excitedly screaming the lyrics in each other’s faces. Pieck and Porco are doing a very weird rendition of the original dance from the music video, while Colt tries desperately to teach them how to do it the right way.

Your presence silences them all entirely, each of them stopping from their dancing to look up at you wide eyed. But you clear your throat and sing the lyrics of your song - for the first time in years.

Please take my hand and Please take me dancing, and Please leave me stranded It's so romantic (it's so romantic) (Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah)

You hold your hand out to Mikasa and Falco, who are all too happy to oblige. And scream the lyrics into each other's faces and dance on your feet until your soles hurt. You let Jean spin you and Mikasa in one arm, Connie’s screaming she’s back for a good five minutes, and you’re trying to let it happen.

To let the light enter the wound. To keep moving forward.

Eren and Levi pad into the room forty five minutes later, to find you all nestled on the floor, a tangle of limbs, and fast asleep.

“Levi.”

“Yes, Eren?”

“I finally figured it out. The scene we’re missing.” he states.

When you come to, you make it a point to destroy your convenience store.

You take the lighter and burn that golden piece of paper. And it’s a sweet satisfaction, to see the letters go up in flames.

Y/N L/N - Triple Threat Commendation.

Reduced to ashes.

next part linked here

an: the emo y/n cannot come to the phone rn!!! she is letting the light in!!! she is about to build a castle out of all of the bricks that were thrown at her!!

(and for those of you worried that y/n has not rocked eren's shit yet, trust. trust. this poor guy getting the scolding of his life but all in good time)

taglist:

@k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygff @cocomellxn @princess-ackermann @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi @najaemism @ilovekimchi123 @youraggedybitch @xoyumiqls @leafguitar

pls comment on this post or any of the chapters if you want to be added to the taglist <3

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sunlightmurdock · 3 months

Text

The Odyssey | 1.1 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

One step forwards, two steps back. You’re just not on the same page.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), swearing, infidelity, making out, honey has a meltdown every time she thinks Bradley wants to have sex with her but very much wants him to want to have sex with her, bradley dislikes her fiancé, deception, also inaccuracies in the timeline of Pompeii and the telling of Greek mythology, 18+ minors dni, wc: 4.7k

…

It’s the last day of June. Under the table, his hand is on your knee and above it, you’ve started to memorize the delicate pattern his smile lines cast around his temples. A bottle of mostly empty Malbec sits between you, the centre of his lips is tinted a sweet red.

His fingers curl into your thigh, eyes widening in mock offense as he leans in close enough for you to inhale that honey, amber, cedar medley of his cologne. You’ve been meaning to ask him which fragrance he wears; it’s classic, it could be too strong but he seems to have hit the perfect balance when applying it. It makes you want to turn your face into the curve of his neck and fall asleep right there.

“Okay, now you’re just trying to upset me,” He taunts with a grin on his face, shaking his head in dramatized disbelief. His thumb has been trailing a complex pattern around the curve of your knee for the better part of ten minutes. “Come on — I taught you this two days ago.”

Something about the age of Cicero, the supposed master of Latin prose. You remember the lesson — well, you remember being present for it. He’s right, two days ago. Right after arriving in Florence.

That first afternoon, Bradley had seemed restless. Leaving Natasha behind, you had presumed. Being cooped up in a hotel room trying to study was the last thing he had needed, and you know that he likes showing you around. As soon as you had asked, he had once again found the perfect spot for your lesson.

The corner of your lips twitch as you think of being nestled away in that corner of the library with Bradley. On a beautiful day in late June, it was practically deserted beside the two of you.

He stares at you across the table, seeming to enjoy the show of you trying to think back to what exactly it was he had been talking about.

The smile tugging at his lips that afternoon in the library as he had kissed down the column of your neck, lips grazing the collar of your polo shirt, fingers bracing against your thighs politely. His voice deep, and low, respectful of the library’s standards, “His philosophical works were the basis of moral philosophy during the Middle Ages.”

You swallow softly, crossing one knee over the other.

Across from you, that brown hued gaze flickers briefly downwards. It’s hardly a scandalous dress. A soft pink colour, cowled in the middle, dipping just lower against the centre of your chest than you would normally allow. The summer heat, or this newfound feeling in your stomach — one of them has you practically glowing. From the second you stepped out this evening, Bradley has been admiring this dress.

Either way, when he looks back up, he knows that you think you just caught him staring at your chest. He might have taken a glance in that direction. Unashamed, he smiles again, more candidly this time.

“Is this why you were late back this afternoon?” His fingers stray from the safety of your knee until the chiffon material is curling between his fingertips.

Caught. The look spreads itself so quickly across your face that you couldn’t lie to him even if you wanted to. The class was given an hour to roam the city today after the morning lecture — you had been a short measure later than everyone else.

And here you sit, in your reason for being late, staring back at him like he just caught you with your hand in the cookie jar.

His gaze flickers down again, the conversation about your lack of attention and the dull topic of the golden age of Roman literature long forgotten, and brushes at the hem of your dress with his thumb.

“I like it,” Though the look on his face has already given that away, it makes your mouth tug at the corners anyway. “Should I have worn a tie?”

Malcolm would have worn a tie, and a jacket. You would have expected nothing less from him. Bradley is sitting opposite you in a faded yellow shirt made of something comfortable and not stiff — probably a linen blend. He has skipped the top three buttons and from your seat beside him, you’ve got a faint glimpse of the gold cross necklace he wears.

As well as the dip between the muscles on his chest, dusting of brown hair covering his golden skin and the constellation of sun-kissed freckles you’re growing ever-familiar with.

“No.” You answer him decidedly, tearing your eyes away from his tanned chest to look him in the eye. This time, he caught you right back. His lips tug at the corners, and he almost fights it, and then he lets his mouth stretch into a smile.

His lips are a set pink. You’ve never liked facial hair but him without the always neat dusting above his lip is unthinkable. Tonight, the two of you shared that bottle of Malbec. His mouth will taste of the notes of cherry and blackberry.

His fingers brush the underside of your knee, featherlight. “Let’s take a walk.”

It’s late already, now that the two of you have finished your dinner. Bradley’s already regretting making group dinners mandatory now that he finds himself having to wait until afterwards to take you out, but in this moment, he doesn’t mind. It just means that there is even less chance of running into someone that you know.

The city is quieter by the time he slips his palm into yours, an instinctual move that neither one of you will address. Your fingers squeeze against his. It’s not until afterwards, when he turns his head to look down at you quickly, that he remembers it shouldn’t all feel this normal.

He should be ashamed of himself; afraid of being caught with you. He’s far from it. He’s arrogant enough to know that his students will be getting drunk on cheap spirits in the taverna he left them at, and that he’s got you all to himself.

“What do you want to do?” He asks you. He’s got an idea in his head already, that he’s not so sure you’ll find as interesting as he will.

“You’re the expert.” You answer calmly.

He smiles like that was the answer he was hoping for, then pulls you closer and lets go of your hand to wrap his arm around your almost bare shoulders. His lips press softly to the top of your head.

“I walked by a place earlier that I thought maybe we could stop by,” He explains as he starts to walk, looking up at the waning crescent centring the stars over the city. He doesn’t mention to you that there’s a little more to it than that. You follow his lead, looking up at the stars above these ancient rooftops. “Counts as school work in my book.”

You make a sound of complaint beside him, leaning your head back against his bicep and exhaling with a dramatic sigh. Without having to look, you know he’s grinning beside you as he curls his arm tighter around your neck and drags you closer.

“Be nice, honey,” He whispers jokingly into your hair. “Just give it a chance.”

At that point, you should have guessed that he was up to something. Tucked under his arm, wondering exactly which undertone in his cologne makes it so entrancing, you’re hardly jumping for joy when he leads you up the steps and into an art gallery. It’s the kind of art gallery that you don’t need a suit or tie to get into — so can’t be that impressive.

Pompeii is one of the few words on the poster board that Bradley whisks you past that you understand.

“We’re going to Pompeii in a couple of weeks, isn’t this cheating?” You turn your head to look up at him and he just shrugs, taking you in his stride as he leads you right up to the first floor. Despite this being a temporary exhibition, he seems to know exactly where he’s going.

He rounds the corner and tightens his hold on your shoulder as you’re met with a canvas featuring a rather blurrily drawn woman bent over some kind of seat, and a man standing behind her.

To the right of that is a woman pictured straddling a man, his head thrown back against the sheets. Bradley lifts his hand from your shoulder and tucks it safely over your eyes.

“That’s not what we’re here for.” His tone is almost soothing, like he’s expecting you to turn and run for the door as he uncovers your eyes again. The opposite actually, you frown slightly and tip your head to understand the angle of the oil painting. He guides you swiftly onwards.

As you pass by, you can see that this room is filled with similar art. Some of it is weathered, not quite preserved, or outright broken. All of it is erotica.

All too quickly, he leads you into the next room in the gallery and swiftly off to the side. This room is already filled with people sitting in chairs, and at the front there’s an older lady with hair down to her waist and glasses that cover most of her face.

“She’s a classicist at Cambridge.” Suddenly his lips are brushing your earlobe and he’s nudging you back against the back wall of the room. “I think you might like her way of explaining things a little better than mine.”

He turns his head towards the front, you turn your head to look at him. His way of explaining things is just fine. Still, you turn your head back to watch the lecturer, and lean against Bradley’s side.

“As many of you know, during my team’s ongoing works in Pompeii, we are constantly able to determine more and more about the neighbouring cities of both Pompeii and Herculaneum. On a visit this past March, my team worked primarily in a building: the lupanar, or brothel.”

You shoot a look up at Bradley. He drops his hand down to your waist and pinches playfully at your skin, making you jolt into him.

“Pay attention.” Bradley whispers to you, smiling towards the front.

“Lupanar in Latin translates almost directly to ‘wolf's den,’ and lupa, she-wolf, was a common term for female prostitutes at this time.” The lecturer goes on.

She’s an interesting woman, maybe around your mother’s age, talking about sex and phalluses and erotica with a level of candor that you simply weren’t expecting. The people in this room are hanging on her every breath.

She goes on to explain more about what sets Pompeii and Herculaneum apart from other Augustan era Roman cities. As Bradley’s textbooks prove, Augustan Rome could be somewhat prudish in the major cities. Essentially, with their seaside location and their distance from the eyes of the emperor, modern theories tend to lean towards the abundance of erotica being simply a result of the Romans getting hot and heavy in their summer homes.

Bradley would scold you for phrasing it that way. You’re cutting corners and leaving things out, but that’s the gist of what she’s saying.

As much as you’re enjoying the fact that he wants you, specifically, to stand here and see this with him — you must admit that you’re waiting for the point to hit you a little bit.

Brothels quite clearly aren’t your kind of thing.

Then, she gets to the point. “So far in the study of Rome, we have tended to interpret erotic decorations in rooms to be signals of a brothel. The discoveries we are making now, tell us even more so, that there was a safe space for sex inside regular homes.”

Is that what he’s trying to tell you?

You turn your head and look up at him, watching the way he listens to the lecture. He hasn’t even noticed you staring just yet, he’s so interested.

Exhaling softly, you push closer to him. Heat courses through you, uncomfortable like an itch. If he wants you to feel safe having sex with him, if that’s why he brought you here — you’re not so sure that’s a good thing.

When you close your eyes and ignore the speech being given, and picture yourself in that library two days ago, with that dark look in his eyes and his lips sucking at your neck… it’s a nice feeling. It felt good. You would do it again in a heartbeat.

When you think further back, to the night he knelt beside your bed and buried his mouth between your legs, it makes you shiver, but not in a bad way. In a cold and hot all at once, conflicted kind of way. That felt good too.

He feels good. His arm on your shoulder, his weight in your bed, the way it feels when he grins at you. It all feels good.

Maybe that’s not such a good thing.

After all, he may only want one thing in return. With this ring on your finger, what he wants is no longer yours to give away — you’ve promised it to someone else.

You turn your head and rest it against his chest, your cheek hugging the soft linen of his shirt.

“By 79 C.E., by the eruption of Mount Vesuvius, Christianity had begun to usurp the formerly polytheistic Roman Empire. With the rise of Christianity came a clear shift in the way sex was viewed culturally. With conceptions of red becoming more obscene into the 19th century—“

“Bradley, can we go?” You tug at his shirt and break him from his focused listening.

He unwraps his arm from your shoulder and gently touches your hair, cupping the back of your head. “Sure. You okay?”

“Mhm. It’s just getting late.”

He seems content enough with that answer, taking your hand once again and letting you lead him down the steps. Each step you take, you know that you’re just one step closer to inviting him into your hotel room.

“I know I kinda threw you in at the deep end just then,” Bradley starts to talk, seeming not to notice the way you’re panicking at his side. “I just wanted you to see how impressive she is.”

“Yeah. She was cool.”

“Cool? — She’s a legend,” Bradley cranes his neck to get a look at your face, frowning as he feels you speed up and tug at his hand to bring him with. “Her studies into Greece and Rome won her a Nobel prize, baby.”

“That’s… impressive.” You wobble over the words, trying to give him what he wants in an answer. Bradley stops abruptly and tugs hard at your arm to make sure you do the same. You’re spun towards him sharply, stunned as you blink up at him.

“I know I probably should have warned you about the paintings, but—“

“Do you want to have sex with me?” You ask him.

Bradley notices the elderly couple passing behind you turn their heads and curses them silently for being just about the only ones around that would have even understood the absurdity of that question, then looks back down to you.

He stares, focused and unwavering for a moment.

“Yes,” He answers you calmly, still holding your wrist in his hand. “But that’s not going to happen, honey. Now, what’s the matter?”

“It’s not?” He’s surprised by the surprise in your voice. You see it on his face. He’s practically tracing his steps in front of you, trying to figure out at which point the two of you stopped being on the same page.

“I… baby, Your first time shouldn’t be with me.”

“I was going to say the same thing.” You exhale quietly, without missing a beat, feeling the panic in your chest start to drain finally. A different feeling pinches at your nerves, tingling in your chest that makes you fidget. Bradley stares back at you.

“Good.” He answers curtly. Maybe a little too quickly. He’s still holding on tight to your wrists.

“Yeah, good.” You try back, heat creeping along your skin and making your ears burn. You push onto your tiptoes and back down again, glancing down at him still holding you captive in his big paws.

He seems to notice at the same time, and swiftly drops his hold on you to instead hook a finger under your chin. “Okay, so you’re alright now?”

“Yeah.”

He swallows, then nods. As he turns away, he sticks his hand out for you to grab once again. For him this doesn’t change things — he has wanted to sleep with you and known that he can’t since the day you kissed him back in Verona.

For you, this is the first time you’ve ever heard him admit that he wants you. You knew, of course, by the way he touched you last week in Venice.

You slip your hand into his. Across cobbles, under the stars and string lights, he leads the way the short walk back to your hotel somehow without the need for a map.

This hotel doesn’t have an elevator, you climb three flights of stairs beside him and start towards your door. Heels along aged, dark wood floors. This time, your sole occupancy room isn’t at the end of the hall or on a different floor — it’s right in the middle. Sandwiched between the common bathroom, and Robin’s room.

As you open up your bag and dig for your key, you wonder how he’s going to say goodnight. After the time you had, you don’t want the end on this tone.

“Can I come in?” He asks softly, fully prepared to hear you tell him no. His hand reaches once more for the pale chiffon of your dress, his thumb familiarly trailing the seam at the small of your back.

“Yes.” You turn your head and meet his gaze over your left shoulder. He’s relieved to see you smile. A smile spreads across his cheeks, warm and flushed as the old door clicks open with a pained but compliant creak.

It almost looks like room service came. If Bradley didn’t know any better, he would say they had. The bed is meticulously neat, and all of your belongings are packed neatly ready for your travel day tomorrow.

“I feel like I need to explain why I took you to that exhibition.” Bradley closes the door behind him and sticks to it as you cross the room and sit on the edge of the double bed.

“Okay.”

“It’s not because I’m trying to fuck you.” Bradley wracks his hands through his hair, his back pinned to the door, his eyes searching the floorboards like he’s looking for his point. “I’m a little bit offended that you think I can’t do better than Roman erotica if I was trying.”

Bradley hasn’t tried to make any of this happen. It’s not like he sought you out. And yet, it all keeps happening — like puzzle pieces falling into place.

Still, his joke is enough to earn him a smile and a soft giggle at the same time. You lean back on your palms as your smile fades into an apology of its own.

Bradley takes a step away from the door and crosses the room to sit beside you. He opens his palm.

“If we had stayed, the end part of that seminar is about Greek influence on Roman culture — specifically Pompeii,” He watches as you rest your hand in his, looping your fingers through his. “I thought maybe seeing her talk might convince you to stay in school… in my postgraduate program.”

His fingers close around yours, squeezing softly as he turns his head to gauge your reaction. His worst case scenario was that you freak out — and that doesn’t happen, so his pitch is a success in his eyes.

“I didn’t even know you ran a postgrad.”

“It’s a research programme. It’s relatively new — I ran it a year ago, we didn’t get enough people enrolled to run in this year. Next year I have forty places and a waitlist. Mythology and Art; Poetry in Greek Culture.” You still haven’t told him no, it feels like that’s building to a yes.

Instead, your brows knit together slightly.

“I don’t know anything about mythology.”

“Yes you do,” Bradley argues. It really bites at him when you pretend to know less than you do. “Look, it doesn’t have to be my class. I just wanted you to think about what comes after this.”

“My wedding.” You remind him quietly. Now you aren’t looking at him, staring at your hands in your lap. He’s kicking himself for ruining the night but god, everything you say makes him want to argue even more.

“And after that?” He skips over the idea of letting you go entirely. It’s easier that way, to pretend that he doesn’t care that you’re still planning to get married.

“After that I’ll support Malcolm and—“

“Christ, is that what you want? — You want to spend your life picking up his dry cleaning and cooking his dinner?” Bradley stands up from the bed and paces away from you. Instantly, you throw your face into your hands and growl in frustration.

The thought crosses your mind like a camera flash. The alternative; seminars and art galleries, nights like this with Bradley. He probably doesn’t even get his clothes dry cleaned, probably just drops them all in the washer.

Your brows draw together. Bradley hates how often he has seen that wounded look on your face.

“I don’t have to want the same things that you want.” You croak out.

“No, you don’t, you’re right,” He won’t come any closer, he’s just standing there and dwarfing the doorframe behind him with his broad shoulders and long legs. He runs a hand roughly across his mouth. “But you should want something for yourself. Something that’s just yours. Something you care about, you know?”

There’s a beat of silence between you. At first, he thinks he has really ignited the fuse and that there’s a big argument coming. Then, all of the anger fades from your face and you throw yourself back against the bed, facing the ceiling and letting out a deep sigh.

“You think too much.” You mutter grumpily, draping an arm over your eyes and finally taking away the ugly warmth of the yellow-orange mismatched lampshade above your head.

Bradley agrees, in principle. This doesn’t stop him, though. He thinks again as he’s watching you lay there in the middle of the bed, with your arm covering your face, about how different things could be.

Even with your eyes closed and your forearm acting as a makeshift blindfold, you expect that he’s still standing by that door and planning out your future for you. It’s tiring.

With all of the thinking he’s doing, you expect him to have plenty to say by the time he’s done. Another lecture.

The air is sucked out of you as he plants his knees on either side of your thighs, grabs your forearms and pins then above your head. Eyes blown wide, you must look crazy. He looks beautiful. Smiling softly, inches from your face, his cross necklace spilled forwards from his shirt and dangling above your lips.

“I’ll stop.” He swears, eyes pooled with sincerity as his head dips with a soft nod. Your heartbeat thurs between the two of you; his thumb strokes at your wrists. “I’ll stop, if you just make me one promise.”

The playing field isn’t exactly level, here. You could be convinced to promise him just about anything when trapped with him looking down at you like this. Your lips twitch, but you won’t smile at him. One of his hands leaves your wrists, coming down to trail an index finger along your cheek.

“You’ll think about it. While you’re here, you’ll think about what comes next for you.” He’s gentle with you, leaning in close and kissing your lips chastely.

It’s just too tempting to roll your eyes at him.

Bradley abandons his hold on your wrists all together and grabs at your waist instead, pinching playfully as he scowls down at you. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me.”

“Fine, fine — you win.” Your lips crack into a smile, taking advantage of the newfound freedom to drape your arms around his thick shoulders and guide him in closer. Compliantly, he kisses your mouth.

Your tongue pokes out from between your lips and wets the flesh of your bottom lip, coating it in saliva, capturing Bradley’s total and absolute attention.

He lets his thumb follow the same path your tongue had, your saliva coating the rough pad as he trails it downward and catches hold of your chin.

The doe-eyed look on your face, the silk of your skin and the soft sheen of saliva sitting on the pad of his thumb has his mind reeling with possibility. You’re studying him too, recognising that same dark look in his eyes, trying to place it.

“You’ve gotta stop looking at me like that.” He whispers finally, his chest inflating with a deep breath, his throat tight as he finally swallows. Heat prickles at the back of your neck. Your eyes dart downward from his face, at his knees bracketing your thighs, and back up swiftly.

That’s it.

“Will you teach me something Greek, then?”

Teaching is truthfully the furthest thing from Bradley’s mind. The thought of grading bad papers isn’t even enough to stem the sudden rush of blood flow headed to his dick. He exhales above you, practically itching with the need to touch you.

The thing about Bradley is that he isn’t a stranger to casual sex, but he doesn’t sleep around. When someone has captured his attention, they’ve got all of him. He can’t imagine going out and finding someone to hook up with, but at the same time — he can’t keep spending the morning work time thinking about you with your hand shoved into the front of his jeans.

“Sure, kid,” He leans forwards and kisses your forehead, then rolls off of you and settles against your pillows with an arm tucked behind his head. “What do you want to know?”

You push off of your back, wrinkling your nose at his choice of pet name as you turn and settle at his side, laying your head on his chest.

“I don’t know. A myth.” You close your eyes and turn your face towards his neck. After waiting all night to do so, the first inhale is exactly what you wanted. You hum and pull closer to him. His hand finds a spot safely, almost platonically at the small of your back.

“Okay, uh…” He takes a moment to think, trying to remember his study material instead of the way your bare leg is brushing against his thigh. “I’ve got one. It’s from the second century… by Apuleius, in…”

You let him figure out the publication details, absently toying with the loose button in the middle of his shirt. It would be a quick fix, beyond easy to sew back on. You could fix it for him.

“So the myth is right in the middle of his book, and it’s there as an example of mise en abyme—“

You turn your head quickly, frowning disapprovingly back up at him. “Bradley, I just asked for a story.”

“Right,” He hums, shifting slightly and closing his eyes as he scratches awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Fine. The context might have been helpful, but fine… The story starts with a king, and the king has three very beautiful daughters. The most beautiful of his daughters is called Psyche, and she’s beyond beautiful — rivaling Aphrodite kind of beautiful.”

Right before your head settles against his clavicle, fitting perfectly against the curve of his broad shoulder. Your fingers follow the wrinkles in the linen on his shirt. Your leg is hooked just slightly over his thigh. Glancing upwards, he’s already watching your fingers dance across his chest. His lips pink, his cheeks warm, his eyes flicker up to yours.

…

Tags: @thedroneranger @batdanceq @cassiemitchele @himbos-on-ice @wkndwlff @bradshawsbaby @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666 @krismdavis @sheisanangell @sugarcoated-lame @kmc1989 @cherrycola27 @ahoyyharrington

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #top gun smut #professor bradley #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader

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neochan · 2 years

Text

THAT ONE NIGHT (M)

PAIRING | jaemin, jeno, haechan x reader

SYNOPSIS | drinking with your three favorite boys leads to a discussion that challenges you to find out who's the best at fucking

WC | 5.2k

WARNINGS | alcohol, explicit conversations, mentions of sex (more clearly: filming, threesomes, squirting, oral male receiving, choking, spanking, slapping), haechan stares at your boobs, jeno and jaemin kiss as a joke, kissing between mc + which boy? read to find out!

A.N | this is the introduction fic for my series 'the pick me chronicles'! i hope you enjoy and look forward to hyucks part next!

“I wasn’t staring at your boobs! I mean, I was, but I was trying to be subtle about it.”

Haechan smirks and throws his head back to down another shot. That had to make his fourth one this evening, not to mention the cans of seltzers that littered around his spot on the floor – he was drunk or headed that way at least. If it weren’t for the permanent rosy blush tickling his cheeks and sparkly, glazed over eyes, then the comments were a dead giveaway.

“Alright that’s enough for you.” Jaemin snorts and snatches the bottle of liquor that sat in front of the swaying boy, waving him off when he protests and tries to grab it back. Haechan resorts to throwing a middle finger at him before crossing his arms and pouting.

“Is this what you want? You want this?” Jeno mocks, stealing the liquor from Jaemin and taking a swig straight from the bottle. He wiggles his eyebrows and shakes the bottle in front of Haechan as if to taunt him.

“I’m blocking the both of you after tonight” Haechan grumbles, hands pushing at the empty aluminum cans surrounding his cross-legged figure in hopes that one would have a drop more of drink. When he realizes the search is pointless, he throws two hands up, exasperated, “Since I can’t drink anymore thanks to Jaemin,” he sends a pointed glare his way before continuing, “let’s play a game or something. Spin the bottle?”

“You do realize that playing spin the bottle means there’s a high chance of you kissing me or Jeno.”

Haechan slowly turns his heads towards Jaemin, rapidly blinking, “The only thing I want you kissing is my ass for taking away my precious liquor Mr. Na.”

This was usually how your weekly game nights went. Haechan would drink most of the liquor, leaving him drunker than a skunk, while you, Jeno, and Jaemin settled on a comfortable state between sober and tipsy. He’d normally suggest a more sexual game, even though the four of you were only friends, and then he’d pass out before getting to play the actual game that Jeno brought over from his dorm. Usually, it was something like monopoly or cards (you were exceptional at blackjack), but sometimes the three of you just relaxed on the sofa and talked about your week while Haechan snored away on your living room floor.

These nights were a reprieve for you; a way to let go and forget about the stresses of sophomore year, if only for a little bit, and the boys made sure of that. Game nights were a mandatory thing that they wouldn’t allow you to cancel or skip, no matter if you were having an imposter syndrome meltdown, or family troubles, or boy troubles.

HA!

What a fucking joke that was. You didn’t have any boy troubles because you were completely and utterly invisible to them. At this point you’ve given up on the idea of a boyfriend. Why else were you spending Saturday night with three boys who saw you as nothing more than another one of them.

Your bestfriend Jennie was convinced that they liked you, or you liked them, but you told her time and time again that definitely wasn’t the case, and anyways, they weren’t your type.

Jeno was too quiet for your liking. Being on the hockey team might have upped his popularity with the females, but you knew him. He was a big old nerd that rarely talked and smoked more weed than snoop dog. Every time you went over to his dorm, he was rolling up and offering you a few hits that you respectfully declined. But it wasn’t like Jeno smoked and then fucked a couple chicks… he smoked to study better. He said it ‘enhanced the way he grasped school concepts’. The only downside of this was when he needed drug free piss to pass the tests administered by the hockey team, he came running to you. The dude has seen your literal piss in a cup. There was no way he’d have a crush on you.

Jaemin, on the other hand, might act like he has a crush on you… but then you realize he flirts with everyone and will fuck anything that walks. The boy hasn’t held a relationship longer than a week, and while most girls hated you because they thought you were secretly dating him, there was no way you’d ever. He was sweet enough, taking care of you when you got the freshman flu, and giving you tutoring lessons for free when in reality he was supposed to charge you fifteen bucks an hour, but he was a whore. A good friend, but so, so slutty.

Now Jennie seemed to think that if any one of them were to date you it’d be Haechan since the both of you bicker like an old married couple and he constantly saw you in a sexual light, but you would never, and you mean never, get with him. He stayed tucked away in his dorm room most nights (and days) playing video games religiously, and you were pretty sure he was failing most of his classes. Not to mention the diet he has. Redbulls and cherry flavored lollipops that his good friend Mark supplied him. In fact, you’ve never seen him eat real food. How could you date a man that hadn’t touched a vegetable in years???

The whole idea of dating one of them seemed ridiculous, and while Jennie teases you about it every day, not once has she shown up to game night to confirm (no matter how many times you and Jaemin invite her. You know he’s just trying to get in her pants, but like, having another girl there would be nice sometimes). So, you show up alone to game nights, and are subjected to the immeasurable amounts of testosterone that threaten to strip you of your identity as a woman.

Especially after the bottles of alcohol are gone and they begin arguing.

“No thanks Hyuck, I’d rather kiss Jeno’s ass.” Jaemin smirks and throws a half-hearted kiss towards the dark-haired boy and before you know it, Jeno is climbing over you to grab at Jaemin’s face, lips puckered and going for the kill.

“I didn’t order a live action porno, my god.” You groan, covering your eyes with a weak hand. You could feel the booze starting to get to you, but thankfully you didn’t drink too much.

“Would you rather we film it and send it to you for later?” Jaemin had such a way with words, didn’t he?

“I think I’d rather play a game since this is game night.” You insist, while Jeno detangles himself from Jaemins grip and goes back to sitting in his spot in the circle. Jaemin was on your right, Jeno on your left, and Haechan directly in front of you, who, at the moment, was staring at your chest again. “Lee Donghyuck!”

“I’m sorry, they just look so pillowy.” He pantomimes swooning and flutters his eyelashes.

“This is why you get no more liquor.” You deadpan and turn your attention to Jaemin who’s messing with his hair, “What game do you wanna play?”

Jeno sat picking his nails, but he pipes up, “I didn’t have time to pick up a board game because practice ran late, so how about something old school? Truth or dare?”

Truth or dare was such a simple kids game, but with the right circumstance it could prove to be a very fun adult game, especially on your campus. You’ve seen firsthand what truth or dare could do… people streaking through the campus, stealing security vehicles, and even jumping into the fountains.

“Let’s do it.” You and Jaemin say at the same time.

“Me first!” Hyuck screams, grinning mischievously at you, “Y/N, truth or dare?” You already knew he was up to something, so you carefully review your options and choose truth, the look of disappointment crossing his face when he hears your answer. “Is it true you slept with Mark?”

You almost choke on your own spit. How did he know about that? It was back in freshman year, and you swore Mark to secrecy. Not because you were embarrassed, but because you never wanted Haechan to find out. Seems like that didn’t work. You make a mental note to obliterate Marks kneecaps after lecture tomorrow.

Gritting your teeth, you spit out your answer, “True.”

Jeno and Jaemin’s eyes snap to you and the latter gasps, slapping a hand over his face, “When did this happen???”

“Freshman year. Science building bathroom.” You grumble, burying your head in your hands. Great. Now your friends knew.

“I’m shocked. I didn’t think little miss innocent had it in her.” Jeno grins when you snap your head to him and raise a fist, “I’m joking…mostly.”

“Whatever. My turn next.” Your eyes scan the circle and while you wanted to get Hyuck back, you turn to Jaemin, “Truth or dare?”

His response is instantaneous, “Truth.”

“Is it true you’ve slept with more than one girl at a time?” You’d heard stories, but none that you knew were true, and if your friend was being a monumental slut, you wanted to know. This could be potential blackmail. You were joking…mostly.

He hesitates for a split second, eyes jumping from you to Jeno and Haechan, “…Yes…”

“Jaemin!” you shriek, falling in to a fit of giggles, “Who??”

He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, “Jennie and Yeji.”

You stop laughing. “Jennie. As in my bestfriend Jennie. That Jennie?’

For the first time you see him downcast his eyes and a blush cover his cheeks. He was embarrassed or nervous, maybe both. He knew how protective you were over your bestfriend. At least you knew why she avoided game night now.

“Oh shit!” Haechan yelps, laughing and pointing at Jaemin, “No way you boned Jennie and Yeji at the same time.”

“That’s… a lot, even for you Jaem.” Jeno says quietly, but a loud smile stretched from one ear to the other, obviously showing he was proud.

Everyone was waiting for you to blow up and go off on Jaemin, but you had other plans. “You must have weak dick game because I’ve never heard the stories, and she tells me everything.”

“Hey! We were all drunk, and anyways this was last year, before we even met.” His brows furrow, his freshly dyed pink hair falling into his eyes, which he blinks away. “It’s fine to be upset but don’t insult my dick game. That’s just inaccurate. Every girl you ask can tell you I fuck the best.” A confident smile breaks out on his face, even when Haechan throws up his hands.

“Now hold on just one second. You may have fucked the most, but you definitely don’t fuck the best. There’s literally no way.” The drunk boy seemed to sober up the minute his masculinity was threatened, and now he sat on his knees, one finger outstretched towards Jaemin who just rolls his eyes.

“And you’re saying you do?”

“Well, I’m certainly saying I fuck a lot better than you.” Haechan nods like he made a valid point, and slides his eyes to you, “Don’t you agree Y/N?”

Jeno and Jaemin gape at you.

“Woahhh,” You laugh nervously, “I’ve never touched Hyuck, much less fucked him. I wouldn’t know.” You try defending yourself, but you can tell the other two boys don’t believe you. Great. First the Mark thing, and now this.

“Whatever, point is, I leave every girl drooling and barely remembering her own name. The only thing they crave is my cock. Girls fuck you because it’s basically an initiation, Jaemin.”

The harsh words radiating off of Haechan has you and Jeno cringing but the both of you remain quiet.

“Yeah right. What girls are you talking about? E girls from your video games? ‘Cause those don’t count.” Haechan throws a middle finger towards Jaemin and huffs, crossing his arms across his chest and narrowing his eyes. “I fuck real girls, and I fuck them good. Why else do they keep coming back to me? I’m the king of fucking. I can make any girl squirt,” Jaemins eyes skirt yours and you can’t help but feel like the comment was directed at you, “I could even teach Y/N.”

Jeno snorts but Haechan just keeps glaring. You on the other hand don’t find the comment funny, “Haha. You can leave.”

“Oh, so Haechans the only one who gets to make jokes at your expense?” Jaemin deadpans.

“Yes. Because I know he’s just joking, you’ll try and fuck anything that walks.”

Jaemin’s eyebrows shoot up, “No offence Y/N, but you would be the last girl I’d fuck.”

You knew he was joking because the corners of his lips lift into a subtle smile, but the comment still stung a bit. Maybe you weren’t the prettiest girl on campus, but you definitely didn’t think bad of yourself.

“Well, my dick is bigger.” Haechan sneers. You find it funny that he went from performance to size, but…boys will be boys you guess.

“Literally no way.” Jaemin spits back.

“It’s bigger than yours. Remember when I walked in on you –”

“OKAY OKAY!” Jaemin panics, ready to lunge at Haechan if he spoke another word about his roommates late night escapades.

You take a peek at Jeno who has been unnaturally quiet, but he’s just watching his friends bicker back in forth, both of his hands propped up behind himself so he could lean back comfortably. The white t-shirt he was wearing lifted a bit at the bottom to expose a flat abdomen, tiny veins popping out closer to his waist band, and for some reason you wonder if his dick is also veiny.

“What about you Jeno?” You ask quietly, silencing Jaemin and Haechan who were also extremely curious to hear the answer.

Jeno’s face turns a bright shade of pink, but his voice is calm and composed, “I leave my girls satisfied.”

“That’s code word for; he’s vanilla” Haechan jokes and all Jeno does is shrug.

Jaemin pipes up, reaching for his phone in his back pocket, “Well I don’t believe any of you, so prove it. Come on.”

“How the fuck are we supposed to prove it?” Haechan splutters.

“I’m sure you’ve got pictures or videos on your phone. Come on, you need evidence to back up your claims!” Jaemin is rapidly tapping his phone, and so is Hyuck, but Jeno merely pulls his out and sets it in his lap.

The argument grabs your full attention when you hear an obscene sound erupt from the speakers of Haechans phone. He’s grinning down at the screen cockily before handing off the device to Jaemin who watches with narrow eyes. When the video stops, Jaemin hands it to you and you’re absolutely struck by what’s splayed out before you.

It’s a downward angle of Haechans lap, his cock hard and red, an overwhelming amount of spit covers his tip and drips down his shaft while the girl – whoever she was – leaned down and sucked on his balls. With surprise, you note that Haechan was right, he has a big dick. The biggest one you’d seen before, actually. The girls mascara is running, and you watch as Haechan’s hand snakes in her hair and pulls so that she’s no longer swallowing his balls, and instead hovers over his tip. You watch as his fingers tighten so hard his knuckles turn white and the girl cries out in pain. One second later Haechan is pushing her head down so far a very loud yet stifled gag blares from his speakers. He continues using the girls mouth to his advantage, pretty much face fucking her without lifting his hips, and when you hear a single whimper from behind the camera, you toss the phone to Jeno.

Seeing your friend all fucked out with a random girl wasn’t on your ‘must need to see’ list, but the air was beginning to grow thick and hot, and maybe taking a shower after they left was a good idea.

Jeno watches with half lidded eyes, almost bored.

“That didn’t count though, that wasn’t you fucking anyone?” you whisper and Jaemin laughs.

“Yeah, that doesn’t count.”

“Sorry I’m not a whore and take videos during sex.” He frowns, grabbing his phone out of Jeno’s hands and shoving it into his pocket.

“My turn. Here you go.”

Jaemin hands you the phone first and immediately you notice how well the quality is, “Was this taken on a real camera?” you ask incredulous.

“…Yes…” He chuckles.

You could make out every ab, every bead of sweat on his forehead, and the arousal that was leaking from the girl Jaemin was hovering over top of. His pink hair is plastered to his forehead from the exertion of holding himself up by only on hand, the other perfectly wrapped around the girls throat. He’s rolling his body fluidly, like a professional dancer, and with each wave, his cock disappears between the girls thighs. She’s not very vocal, but that couldn’t be due to the lack of stimulation because almost forty seconds in, Jaemin abruptly pulls out and a rush of fluid leaks from her cunt and sprays Jaemins abdomen. You hear him groan, ‘God you’re so fucking hot. NaNa did that, didn’t he? Mhm…come here pretty girl.” You can feel your face growing hot and decide that maybe that was enough NaNa for you, and hand the phone off to Hyuck.

So, Jaemin could make a girl squirt. He wasn’t lying … but making a girl scream? Now you weren’t sure about that.

The other boys watch the video with nothing but amusement and some part of your brain, maybe the drunk side, wonders if they were getting hard at watching their friend fuck someone, but no matter how hard you stare, you can’t see any outlines.

“Told you I fuck like a God.” Jaemin smirks, tugging his phone out of Haechans hands, the boy just staring with wide eyes at the way the girl squirts.

Haechan waves him off, “Yeah, yeah.”

You’re speaking before you realize, “What about you Jeno? What dirty secrets does your camera roll hold? Ya know… since we’re getting up close and personal.” The truth was you wanted to see why Jeno wasn’t jumping at the chance to prove himself to the other boys.

He chuckles and reaches into his lap, withdrawing a dark red iPhone and tapping in his password, “I have quite a lot of evidence. Anything you want to see in particular?” He looks up through his lashes at you, smirking, and handing you the phone, “How about you pick?”

Jaemin and Haechan try peering at the screen as Jeno passes it to you, but you quickly snatch it up and almost drop it on the ground when you catch sight of the treasure trove Jeno had been hiding this whole time.

With a delicate finger you start to scroll past hundreds of photos and even more videos. The thumbnails are sometimes blurry, sometimes vivid, but each one displays Jeno in a nasty light. From solo shots to girls, you’re seeing more of Jeno than you ever thought you would.

You must have accidentally gasped because Jaemin and Haechan start shouldering each other to grab a spot beside you in hopes of getting a glimpse. Jeno just sits back and smirks, folding his rather toned forearms across his chest.

“No fucking way.” Hyuck whispers.

Jaemin points to a twenty-minute video, “That one. Wanna watch that one.” The shock is evident in his voice; probably because it looked like his bestfriend got more pussy than him, but hesitantly, you press the video and turn up the sound.

Immediately you notice the way the camera is set up in the corner of his room, or maybe on a tripod, you weren’t sure, but either way it allowed you to see everything. You can see the way Jeno’s hips sharply thrust into whoever he had bent over his bed. One of his hands is threaded tightly in her hair, pulling her head up so that her face was towards the camera. Her face was tear-streaked, running mascara smeared underneath her eyes. Jeno looks lustfully down at the top of her head, “Love the way I’m fucking you baby?” He groans, and you feel Haechans hand land on your thigh. His nails slightly dig into your skin, and if you were in the right mind, you would have told him to stop, but right now your focus is on Jeno, and Jeno alone.

The girl cries out something unintelligible, and Jeno leans forward to grip her jaw with his other hand whilst still hitting the most brutal backshots you’d ever seen. “Can’t hear you baby… Have I fucked you so good you can’t speak? Fucking pathetic slut. That’s why you’re bent over my bed while your boyfriends at a party. Mhm, Daddy fucks so good you’ve gotta sneak behind his back to get some, yeah? Fucking slut.”

“Oh shit!” Jeno leaps up and snatches the phone out of your hand, fumbling to turn off the sound, “Maybe not that video…wasn’t my finest night.”

“You fucked a girl with a boyfriend??” you splutter, taken aback that your friend would do such a thing.

“She came to me because they were in a fight, and we had a thing beforehand…I think they’re back together now.” He recalls, shoving the phone in his pocket, “Of course you had to pick the one and only video of me doing something I swore to never do again.”

“Why do you have so many tapes?” Haechan pipes up, his hand now removed from your thigh, but you can make out small crescent shapes from where his nails were.

Jeno shrugs, “I don’t know. I like to keep record I guess.”

“I feel like a proud father,” Jaemin cries, wiping underneath his eyes at fake tears, “You’re finally learning.”

“Yeah…Learning.” Jeno smirks and turns his eyes to you. “So…?”

Looking around you wonder if he had asked a question while you were daydreaming about those backshots you had just witnessed, “So what?”

“So, who fucks best? You’ve seen the evidence, now tell us.”

Jeno’s picking at you, but he loves to watch the way your chest and neck and face flush at his question, how you nervously look away and start biting your nails. How the gears in your head start turning to get you out of answering at all, because if you gave one, it meant you paid too much attention to the boys.

“Well…” You start, feeling the gaze of all three men, which makes you want to revert to your bedroom and cry the horniness out, “I think it’s pretty obvious.”

Hyuck claps his hands together, “I told yall it was me.”

“No. It’s Jeno. From the sheer amount of personal porn he has stored away, I’m sure he fucks better than the two of you.” You’re prepared to hear the arguing, but Haechans the only one who whines. Jaemin accepted the defeat, his bestfriend got a lot of pussy, good for him, “And you didn’t even have the right kind of video Hyuck.”

The boy whines and slaps his hands on the ground, “Well that’s not fair! All girls are different!! So literally the only way for you to tell who fucks best, is if you fuck all of us and then decide who the winner is…” His gaze slides over to yours and soon Jenos and Jaemins follow suit.

He didn’t mean it like that. You knew he didn’t mean it like that, but you also knew what everyone was thinking.

You were a girl.

All of you were drunk.

And you just saw their dicks.

This could happen. Could this happen? This couldn’t happen.

An overt awkwardness settles over the entire room before all three of them drop their eyes. Jeno goes back to picking at his nails, Haechan kicks at the aluminum cans around his body and Jaemin clears his throat, “Alright this game went south… let’s uh… let’s play something else.”

“I think I have a stack of UNO cards around here.” You suggest and Haechan jumps up from his spot on the floor.

“I saw them the other day, they’re on your desk. I’ll get them.” He filters off, leaving you and the other boys to sit in silence.

For the rest of the night everything seemed tense, rounds of uno being played in silence, not even Haechan perking up and cracking jokes. You felt bad, not because of what was said, but because you felt yourself growing hot under the collar at the thought of it.

It was dirty, lewd, vulgar, an impulsive thought, but one that you found yourself wanting to go for. You liked the idea of the challenge a little more than you probably should have, and you can’t help but formulate a plan in your mind on how you’re going to complete it.

The rational side of your brain is screaming at you to shut up and shut down the drunk fantasies stirring in your mind, and somehow you end up listening, and immersing yourself in the way Jaemin flips the stack of cards over in his hand.

“We should be getting back. It’s getting late.” Jeno speaks up, avoiding eye contact with you and simply getting up from his spot on the floor and grabbing his hoodie off the arm of the couch.

Haechan and Jaemin follow suit, quick goodbyes and promises of seeing each other later filling the tense air with a sense of relief.

When the door slams shut, and your dorm is finally enveloped in a peaceful yet odd silence, you think back to what was said moments before the awkwardness started.

‘The only way for you to tell who fucks best, is if you fuck all of us and then decide who the winner is.’

Haechan was right.

Challenge accepted.

His lips trailed down the side of your neck, as soft as the plush blanket beneath you. Shivers ran up your spine, igniting the desperation that had been clawing at you all night. Your skin felt hot, the cool night air drifting through the open window offering no consolation.

He moves down your body slowly, his lips and nose brushing along your skin, painting a trail of kisses with each movement. “You’re getting restless baby.”

In truth your legs were rubbing against him, and your hands endlessly caressed his shoulders. Your head was cloudy, and you could barely speak. “Want you in me.” His teeth graze the point right above your navel, making you arch up against him.

“How badly?” He looks up with his precious doe eyes, a smirk playing gently on his lips. The light pouring in from the streetlamp across the road shone dimly on his face, illuminating the soft curve of his jaw, making him seem that much more boyish.

You lift your head up and reach out for him, wanting him to hold you and make love, but he grabs your hands and pins them to your side, now hovering over top, “How badly do you want me?”

You let out a breathless whine knowing that Lee Donghyuck was only going to fuck you if you begged. “Very badly, please.” He leans down and gives you a kiss, his soft lips rubbing against your own drove him crazy, a low moan rising in his throat.

“I need you to tell me exactly what you want me to do. I need to hear you.” He looks directly at you, his soft brown eyes pleading with you. He moves one hand off of your arm to cup your face, his thumb moving against your cheek.

He was so fucking hot; you swore you’d do anything he asked.

You move your hand up to grasp the wrist that was stroking your cheek, “I need to feel you inside me, please Hyuck, I need you to fuck me.” You close your eyes, the embarrassment of saying such things weighing in.

He pushes your thighs apart with one hand and presses another kiss to your lips, “Hey,” He taps your cheek with his thumb making you open your eyes, “Only because you asked so nicely.”

“Y/N!”

A sharp pain bursts in your shoulder and you groan out, Haechans face slowly disappearing from above you.

“Y/N!”

Another bout of pain surges through your arm when all of a sudden you jolt up in bed, disrupting the dream your mind was playing out before you in real, incredible detail.

You look around your room and your eyes land on Haechan.

“Good morning sleepyhead.” He chuckles and takes a step back.

“Did you just pinch me awake?” You rub your arm, taking into account the fact that your top was so low, and Haechan had prying eyes.

“I called your name three times, and you didn’t wake up. You know the rule.”

You groan and furiously rub your eyes, clusters of sleep sticking in the corners. “Why are you even waking me up this early? It’s a Sunday.”

“Oh that’s easy.” Haechan walks around your room, touching all your little knickknacks and knocking over a few of them by accident, “Jeno has a game today and he wants all of us to get breakfast as a good luck thing. I don’t know, you know how superstitious he can be.”

“Yeah…” You trail off, admiring the way Haechan’s back muscles looked in his white t-shirt.

The dream.

The dream of Haechan kissing you… of him touching you, making you tell him that you wanted him to fuck you.

Uh oh.

“Okay. I’ll meet you at his dorm. You can go now.”

He turns around from where he was messing with the rubiks cube Jennie had given you as a birthday gift, “What’s the rush?”

“Get OUT” you squeal, chucking one of your pillows at him.

He dodges the attack but moves towards the door, “You’re fucking grumpier than me in the morning.” Closing the door, he calls over his shoulder, “Fifteen minutes. Don’t be late.”

Rolling your eyes, you slam your head in your hands.

That was just embarrassing.

The best thing you could do for the day was meet them for breakfast, go support Jeno at his game, and forget about the dream entirely… and the challenge from last night. The one where you fuck all of them and rate them at the end to determine which one was the best? Yeah, that one little challenge. So much for blaming it on the alcohol.

“Fuck.” You mutter.

When you move to push the thick comforter back and climb out of bed, you can’t help but feel the overwhelming wetness between your thighs. It was uncomfortable to say the least, especially when you clench around nothing and your mind drifts to what would have happened if the dream continued, if you had continued the discussion last night.

The challenge flashes across your mind again and the place between your thighs begins to ache.

You knew exactly who you were going after first.

Get ready Lee Donghyuck, I’m about to take you for a ride.

TAGLIST | @tatakaee @feb-ruary14 @hyuckrec @jaeminsbebu @hchanlvr @vamandav @l4vagrll @erikyoong @cosmicwintr @creampi314 @jaeymark @chewychews-blog @sunnybeannie @kaislinging-slasher01 @staeryjaems @x-veex @graykageyama @renjunniex @asjkdk @melaninjhs @cscpolariod @thefullsungirl @2centlove @fairybr3ad @fullbitchsun @rainyjeno @angelicmark @peachjaem00 @whippedforhongjoong @neoarchmyback @cuteejeno @leaz-kpop-life @onceuponateenagetrash @lov3nha @got-sum-badhabits @jenojammin @saintlyhyuck @sunshinedhyuck @bellepluie @bundleleeknow @donutswithjaminthemiddle @allaboutthedongs @cabaretyun @aliceinwhateverland @nctflix @multislut @n0hyuck @luvdroids @tarosprincess @jsjcue

NOTE | i'm sorry to the others that wanted to be tagged! apparently tumblr has a tagging limit </3

#nct dream smut #nct smut #haechan smut #jeno smut #jaemin smut #jaemin x reader #jeno x reader #haechan x reader #nct haechan smut #nct jeno smut #nct jaemin smut #nct 00 line smut

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paperbackribs · 3 months

Text

for the 'Eddie freaks out over How to Survive a Werewolf Attack' post and those who missed the upload on Ao3, this is the second part of the chapter from Steve's POV, with a little protective stobin to delight

🦇🐺🦇🐺🦇

Steve leaves the pulse of the woods behind him as he emerges from the trees that abut his backyard. He’d smelled Robin long before shifting back into his human form, the sharp mint of her shampoo mixing alongside the sweet earthiness that he now attributes to family. Never having had one, he nevertheless knows that the combination will always mean sister.

Circling the pool, its night lights cast an uncanny, rippling blue across the surface, he heads to where she sits under the warm yellow lights, propped on her elbows against the wrought-iron patio table. In her cupped hands rests a book with an overflowing tree protectively sheltering a dog and her pups, Woman and Nature carefully inscribed above them.

She stirs as he approaches, inserting a receipt between the pages to save her place and resting it beside her. Looking into her concerned eyes, Steve grimaces. “Well, that went well,” he says lightly, feeling the need to inject some humour into the memory or he may be tempted to dwell on the ache that wants to rise instead.

Robin’s face softens and he knows that she can feel his hurt even without him saying it. They’re so connected sometimes that he wonders if his wolf forged something with her when they’d sat there, bound and interrogated by Russians, only able to depend on each other. “He was a little freaked out from the unexpected is all and he just needs to get used to the idea before…”

She trails off and Steve finishes her sentence, “Before he can be in the same room as me? Robs, the guy practically had a panic attack on my mother’s Giorgetti rug. I could smell his fear: he was terrified that I was going to eat him or something.”

Robin’s lips firm as she drums her fingers over the book cover, “Yeah, well, that’s his problem. After you left, we gave him the rundown; that you’re just a normal wolf—”

Steve snorts: there’s nothing normal about his transformations at all, but Robin ignores him to continue, “—and hopefully if he’s affected by the bites then it’ll turn him into a normal bat too.”

“And how’d he take that?” Steve asks curiously.

“Oh, another meltdown,” Robin says blithely, “He’s now convinced that he’s going to turn into Bela Lugosi and will be prowling the night for his victims before we know it.” Steve laughs despite himself, already able to imagine Eddie making exaggerated gestures in the middle of the group.

“Did he hiss like a vampire?”

“Nah, but he did do that thing, you know with the cape?” She shields half her face with her forearm as if hiding menacingly behind it. Fond amusement fills Steve, as if often does when faced with Eddie’s dramatics only for it to quickly drain away at the reminder of how drastically he had taken Steve’s shift.

Robin notes his change of mood and scowls at an absent Eddie. “Scaredy-cat,” she mutters darkly, “Should have called him a scaredy-bat to his face.”

Steve chuckles and leans forward to gently tug on a lock of her blonde hair, “And then give him my nail bat…”

“So, he’d be a scaredy-bat with a nail bat that lost his bat-le shield.”

Steve waggles his hand in a so-so motion, “Could use some work.”

“Oh, screw you, buddy, I did all the work,” Robin’s eyes dance with humour even as she pokes him with a sharp finger at his ribs. Steve squirms away, “I gave you the nail bat!” He mock protests before the image of Eddie’s wide and terrified eyes crosses his mind again. He sighs, “Do you think I should avoid him for a while? Let him get used to the idea before springing myself on him again?”

Robin leans back with a too wide smile, its awkwardness immediately transparent. “What?” Steve asks suspiciously.

Her brow furrows in an apology that gives lie to the smile, “We’re meeting back here tomorrow. El thinks that she might be able to lead him through a change if he’s got it in him, and we all thought it better to get the potential of it all out of the way before Eddie devolves into one big puddle of fear.”

Rubbing the bridge of his forehead, Steve sighs, “So, not only is he freaked out by the sight of me but I’m going to see him in the next twenty-four hours.”

Robin looks at her bulky men’s watch with a grimace, “More like twelve. We figured that we should get it over sooner or later, and this way he can work out whether he wants to freak out over being a bat or a vampire.”

“Or neither,” Steve points out.

She shrugs, “It seems unlikely, right? Correlation doesn’t equal causation, and you may be the outlier, the one cool weirdo out there.”

“Thank you,” he says dryly even though he does appreciate her positive spin on his furry little situation.

It had been months after the events over Halloween, when he’d been bitten by a demo-dog, that he’d started to notice the first few small changes. At first, he’d been convinced that it was the world that had transformed: smells becoming deeper, sights becoming sharper, but after one night where he had been panicked to find that his feet were no longer so far away, and suspiciously clawed, that he’d come to the realisation that it was his senses that had evolved, not the sun or the trees or the perfume of his history teacher.

The kids, while excited, had been very little help, but their encouragement had made him feel less alone. He took Dustin’s attempt to turn him into a science experiment in stride and as an extension of the little butthead’s support. But it was when Robin had been brought into the Upside Down fold that he’d felt truly embraced.

Surprisingly, rather than turning to books and research, she’d listened to him instead. Asked Steve what he wanted to be called when he was turned and let him talk about the oddities and freedoms he’d found in this new version of himself.

Steve had already known that the wolf would be a part of him forever, but Robin’s role in his life had cemented that feeling into a bone-deep acceptance, an understanding that he wasn’t weird or wrong for his new transformation, but that it was simply another part of Steve. Or Furry Steve as Robin would gently tease him.

“Are you staying over?” He asks now, watching her smother a yawn and nod in agreement.

He stands, waiting until she walks through the door before flipping the light switch off, the flurry of moths above flutter in confusion at the sudden darkness. “We can practise some more on the way home tomorrow if you like.”

Robin had gained her license a month ago, but with no car to drive Steve was building her confidence by having her drive his. She often teased that their love was a true one since she’s the only one allowed to touch the bimmer.

Wrapping an arm around his waist, they walk through the kitchen and head to his bedroom in unspoken agreement. “That’d be great. Do you want to wolf-out or be on your side of the bed,” she counters sleepily, leaving her book on the counter as they pass.

He hums, thinking. Months ago, after they’d worked out that the Upside Down nightmares were better handled when they knew the other one was in the room, Robin had struggled with having Steve in her bed.

It’s not that he wasn’t welcome, she’d reassured him, or wanted, she’d said with a haunted expression, clearly thinking of having woken up silently screaming not moments before. But having his skin touch hers made her irritable in a way that she had no explanation for. Fur, however, was fine.

Since then, if Steve needed cuddles he was allowed to wolf-out, as they decided to call it. Once transformed, Robin had no problem with Steve’s fur covering her skin; rather, she quite liked the partial weight of his body.

He thinks that tonight he’d like the reassurance that there is one person who is not only unafraid of him but likes the differences that make him not-quite-human.

“Wolf-out,” he responds, letting go and allowing the wolf to unfold. The sweet musk of the kids sharpens, even with them having departed hours ago, as does the appealingly darker scent of Eddie, although it is bitterer than it normally is as if his fear had saturated the small space.

His tail drops sadly at the reminder, but Robin distracts him with scritches behind the ear before leading their way up the stairs to his bedroom. Steve pads behind, happy to have a friend in Robin and determinedly putting Eddie out of his mind for the rest of the night.

If you enjoyed any of this drop me a comment over at Ao3, it'd make my day! (fic now titled Swift Wings and a Brave Heart)

#platonic stobin #steddie #steve harrington #robin buckley #stranger things #paperbackribs writing

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radiant-reid · 10 months

Note

Omg wait these blurbs got me feral for dad Spencer!!! I need one with Spencer and the first time his toddler throws a tantrum or misbehaves

Spencer always insists on doing naptime and bedtime when he's home. It's his chance to read to Matilda, which she loves since she can hold the book because he knows all the words.

Today is no different, except for the fact she's very overtired after spending the day walking around the museum.

Since she was born, you've always been alert to her crying, like the natural instinct, so when you hear her screaming her lungs out, you jump off the couch and rush to her room.

She's standing by the bookshelf, half a dozen books thrown on the floor while she has red cheeks and heavy tears flowing out of her eyes. She's crying inconsolably like something's dramatically wrong in her 2-year-old world.

Spencer holds his hands up in confusion when you enter, clearly also having no clue what was going on.

He squats down next to her. "Sweet girl, what's going on?"

"I can't-" She sobs, hyperventilating. You'd rush in to help, but he's got it handled.

He takes the book out of her hand, placing it gently onto the bookshelf. The books laying on the floor so carelessly are probably killing him, but Matilda's the only thing that's important. "What's wrong? You can tell me. I'll fix it."

"Daddy!" She cries, crossing her arms over her chest. "I can't read!"99

"That's okay." He assures her, brushing her hair out of the way and trying to get her to calm down. You struggling to fight off a laugh, of course, it's upsetting to see her crying, but crying over not being able to read? It's mildly amusing. "I can teach you." He offers.

Her eyes widen. "Really?"

"Yeah. Lay in bed, and I'll tell you the words to the book." In other words, he'll read it to her. "Pinky promise." He assures her, holding out his pinky finger.

She locks her much smaller one with his, smiling and completely forgetting about the meltdown she just had. "Please."

Spencer opens his arms, waiting for her to put her arms around his neck before easily picking her up and setting her back down in bed. He opens up the book, pointing to the first word and clearing his throat before he starts reading.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid blurb

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lou-struck · 30 days

Text

Up All Night

Belphegor x reader

~Belphie gets splashed with Night Cricket essence and is cursed to hear their calling all through the night.

W.C: 3.5k

Warnings: Brief mention of Obey Me Chapter 16, slight angst, Belphie being crabby and kinda mean since he is tired.

Poor Belphegor can hardly keep his eyes open. It may be the early afternoon, but the Avatar of Sloth just arrived back at the House of Lamination after taking a make-up test at RAD. The reason he had to retake the test was not because he got a poor grade or anything; he just was too tired the day off and chose to sleep through all three of his alarms and, subsequently, the exam.

But now that that's over with, he can finally take his afternoon nap,

His head hangs low as he sluggishly trudges through his home. Searching for the perfect place to rest his head. His favorite cow-printed pillow secure in his arms as he pokes his head into your room.

Much to his disappointment, he sees that you are still out running errands or doing something equally as exhausting. Normally, he would have no problem falling asleep in your bed, but today, he is feeling a bit adventurous.

Today, for some reason. He is home alone which means he is presented with with rare opportunity to fall asleep anywhere.

But where should he go?

Lucifer's office?

Leviathan's Bathtub?

That really comfy carpeted spot in Asmodeus' closet?

All this thinking only tires him out more as he wanders into the quiet living room. And when his violet eyes come to rest on the long plush sofa, he knows what he must do.

'I haven't slept there in a while," he says to himself. His legs feel like they are made of lead as they carry him toward the rose-scented cushions. He doesn't even bother to pay attention to the Akuzon package that rests on the little side table that he passes.

His pillow bumps the table and sends the little package tumbling to the ground. The box rolls a bit, and the sound of breaking glass reaches his ears.

'I hope that wasn't important,' he yawns, shrugging off any concerns he had and plopping down onto the couch and falling into a deep sleep.

Unaware of the nightmare he has created for himself.

The front door had just shut behind you when you heard a shrill screech of horror coming from the living room. Your breath hitches as you drop your floral printed tote bag to the ground and rush towards the sound, magic brimming at your fingers, ready for anything.

But as you rush through the doorway, you see the purple-haired Avatar of Envy on his knees, hunched over a fallen Akuzon package. The magic at your fingers fizzles away, and you sigh, seeing that Belphegor still sleeps comfortably on the couch despite his older brother's meltdown.

"Belphie, what did you do to my package?" Levi screeches, reaching over the couch and shaking his youngest brother roughly from his slumber.

He stretches out like a cat and smacks his lips sleepily as he sits up. "Oh, hey Levi. What's in the box?"

Levi sighs and looks down at the open box. Pulling out what looks to be the neck of a broken bottle. "It was the night cricket essence I ordered, but you broke it."

The Avatar of Sloth looks lazily between the box and his brothers. "Oh? I guess I did. I'm sorry, Levi."

"What's night cricket essence?" You ask, stepping into the room and sitting on the edge of the sofa where Belphie's legs are.

"Night crickets are a special kind of bug known to keep demons up at night; I wanted to put a few drops of their magic into my energy drinks so I can stay up all night to play games."

Your eyes widen at Levi's explanation; the Otaku hardly gets enough sleep as it is; he doesn't need some hardcore magical caffeine supplement to keep him wired. "No, you definitely should not do that, ever."

He crossed his arms and huffs, "It's not like I can anymore. He broke the bottle, and the shop I got it from just got shut down."

"I wonder why?" Belphie chimes in, sitting up just a bit more to grab your hand. Even though you are seated on the same couch as him, he feels like you are too far away.

Levi's face is a deep crimson color and he looks like he is ready to burst. "That's not the point. You broke my package and now I won't be able to play through my new game all in one sitting. Everyone is going to find all the hidden items before me, and I'll look like a complete loser on my server."

"Yeah, that is what will make you look lame." The avatar of sloth quips back with youngest sibling-level sass. You bite the inside of your cheek as you try to keep a straight face and not damage Levi's already fragile ego.

"Anyways," you clear your throat, trying your best to desolate this situation. "Levi, you really shouldn't buy things like that. It could really mess you up. And I hate to see you uncomfortable."

Levi looks at you with a grateful smile. "Oh, Mc, you really do care. Even if I am just a pathetic little shut-in. I'm going to make my avatar in the game look just like you as extra motivation to stay alive." he grins, rushing down the hallway, ready to play his game.

Now alone, you look to Belphie, who looks like he is about to fall back asleep holding on to your hand. "Don't you dare," you scold, taking your hand out of his. "You are on dinner tonight, and you are not sleeping through it again and buying takeout."

"But everyone loves Hell's Kitchen." he yawns, looking at you with a pleading expression.

Standing strong you ignore his puppy dog eyes and give him a knowing look.

"Fine, you win Mc." He sighs, taking your hand. "But you have to help me since it's too tiring for me to do it all on my own." You fight the chuckles as he leads you into the kitchen to be his sous chef for the evening."

Hours later, Belphie finds himself in his bedroom. His stomach is full, his teeth are brushed, and he slips on a cool pair of pajamas.

He may be able to fall asleep anywhere, at any time, in any condition, but it always feels better to slip into something cool and soft against his skin at the end of the day.

Beel emerges from the bathroom, a tired smile on his face as he wipes a bit of toothpaste from his lips with the back of his hand. "The Roasted Cockatrice you made tonight was delicious; you should make it more often, Belphie."

He smiles at the taller demon as he slides under his lavender-scented covers. The softness of his quilted down, embracing him like an old friend. "Thank you, Beel; if you like it so much, I can make it again for you sometime, and you can eat as much as you want."

Beel gives him a big, happy smile as he gets into his bed on the other side of the room. "I think I am going to dream about it tonight."

Belphie laughs as he sets his DDD down on its bedside charging port. "Careful Beel, the last time you dreamt about dinner you ended up eating your pillow in your sleep."

He frowns and looks at his mattress, "I really liked that pillow too," recalling the memory foam pillow you got him from the human world. He sighs and slips into his sheets. "Goodnight Belphie."

"Good night, Beel." With a flick of his wrist, he turns the bedroom light on and lets his head rest against the pillow, ready to head off into dreamland.

Minutes turn to hours as his cool sheets heat up uncomfortably, and the enviable sound of Beel's soft snoring can be heard from the other side of the room.

This feeling of restlessness is unknown to the Avatar of Sloth as he tosses and turns, waiting for sleep to take him, but it never comes…

The next morning, you find yourself at the breakfast table sipping on a chilled glass of freshly pressed blushberry juice and basking in the early morning shenanigans of the Avatars of Sin.

Next to you, Beel is devouring a mountain of protein waffles after what you can assume to be an intense early morning workout.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Mammon sneakily trying to pluck all the blood strawberries out of the communal fruit bowl without anyone catching him. And so far, no one has. Especially since Asmo's flash keeps going off as he takes and retakes pictures of the adorable latte art Satan made for him.

At the table head, Lucifer reads the newspaper, the ghost of a smile on his face as he tries to hide his contentment with this family time.

All of a sudden, Asmo drops his phone and lets out a gasp. "Oh Belphie, what happened to you? You look horrible hon."

Your head snaps to the doorway, and your gut fills with concern as you take in Belphie's appearance. His skin is sickly pale, his hair is ruffled beyond what one would call bedhead, and his usually bright violet eyes are framed by deep dark circles.

Had he slept at all last night?

"Shut up, Asmo," he grumbles, dragging himself to his seat and grabbing the pot of coffee from the center of the table.

You could hear a pin drop in the room as everyone watches him pours an impossibly tall mug for himself. He completely ignores the thick wisps of steam that dance on the lip of the mug and inhales the entirety of the dark roast-like air.

Beel swallows the waffle that had been caught in his throat and gently places a hand on his twin's shoulder "Belphie, are you okay?"

"Does it look like I am okay?" he snaps, jerking his shoulder out of his grasp "I heard you stomping all over the place this morning. It's impossible to get any sleep when I have to listen to you all night long."

Your eyes widen. Did Belphie really just say that to his twin? His favorite being in the three realms? Beel's face falls, and he is about to utter a small apology, but he is interrupted by a firm cough from Lucifer, who sets his newspaper down on the polished table.

"Clearly someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," he says, staring down his youngest brother with a gaze of fiery crimson. "You should think about what you are about to say next, Belphegor, or you will deeply regret it."

"Whatever, you guys aren't worth my energy." he gets up and walks out of the room, leaving the room in uncomfortable silence. You glance over to Lucifer and meet his gaze. His jaw is clenched, but he gives you a nod of encouragement that has you exiting the room to try and find Belphie and figure out what has gotten him so upset.

You don't have to go very far. Belphegor's steps are unenergized and painstakingly slow, allowing you to easily catch up to him in the hallway. Gently, you reach for his hand to stop him.

"Belphie, what is wrong with you?" you ask, "You never get mad at Beel like that."

His gaze narrows, and he rips his hand out of your grasp way harder than he usually would. "Well, maybe if he learned how to function without sounding like a stampede of elephants is marching through the room when I'm trying to sleep, I wouldn't have to get mad at him."

"Belphie…"

"And why did you follow me?" He says, his features twist into a cruel smirk that has you taking a hesitant step backward. "Is the nosy little human trying to make themselves feel all important by getting involved in our business? Why don't you get out of my face and get back to the human world where you belong."

Ouch…

Pain flashes in your gaze and he finally realizes that he went way too far. "Mc, I-i didn't mean it~" he tries to come closer to you, to apologize, but it's too late."

Your reply to him is cold and dismissive. "Just go get some rest Belphegor. You obviously need it." You glare at him and turn to walk back towards the dining room.

"Mc, wait." He tries to call after you, but you're gone. And when you sit back at your seat at the table you notice that your breakfast tastes far less sweet than it did a moment ago.

You have avoided Belphie for the better part of the day, and you have tried not to think of his cruel words. You want to give him time to fix his cranky attitude, but honestly, you don't know if you want to talk to him right now.

It is now way too late in the evening you are hunched over at your desk working on something for RAD when you hear a weak knock on your door. You glance at your little clock. It's 3:45 in the morning.

Who would be knocking on your door at this hour?

You pad across the carpet and open the door slowly to reveal the disheveled (and honestly pathetic-looking) Belpheghor.

"What do you want?" you say, tightening your grip on the door, ready to shut it in his face if he says anything rude, but you freeze when you take in his appearance. He looks worse for wear than he did earlier. Clearly, he did not take your advice and rest earlier.

"Please," he murmurs out. "Please let me in"

He looks so pitiful, your cave; opening the door wider to allow him inside. His head hangs low as he drags his feet across your carpet in a zombie-like fashion.

He slowly sits himself down on the edge of your mattress and stares down at his hands as if there is some kind of apology tattooed on his fingers.

"M'sorry." he mumbles at last, his voice raw from frustration. "After what happened last time… I told myself I would never do anything to hurt you ever again. I just wasn't thinking, and it slipped out."

"Clearly," you huff sourly, still licking your wounds from yesterday morning. "If that's really what you think of me, then that's fine, but Beel doesn't deserve to be snapped at either."

He opens his mouth in protest, "It's not like that; you know how much you mean to me, Mc. I'm just not acting like myself." He looks like he is about to cry, and it tugs at your heartstrings. "It's no excuse, but I'm tired."

"Then how about you just go to fucking sleep already then?" you respond. You may just be a human, but the demons aren't the only ones capable of inflicting hurt.

"Because I can't." he raises his voice, and you flinch under the sharp edge to his voice.

Immediately, he steps back for your comfort. This small act of consideration, even in the heat of the moment, makes you see him not as the monster in your mind but as a piece of your heart.

You think about what he is trying to say.

He can't sleep.

How is that possible?

He is literally the Avatar of Sloth.

One time he fell asleep on a rollercoaster because it took too long of a pause at the top before zooming downward.

"What do you mean you can't sleep?" you ask softly. Your feet move on their own, gently closing the distance between your bodies as you sit down next to him on the edge of your firm mattress. "What's going on Belphie?"

Your proximity is like a weighted blanket to him, and he leans in closer to your touch. "I haven't slept at all since that nap I took two days ago by the fire."

"Two days?"

You may not know the ins and outs of the effects that each brother's sin has on them, but you know that Belphie doesn't just sleep all the time because he wants to; he has to. Two days for him must be agonizing.

Thinking back to the other day you try to think of any little details that may lead you to why the poor demon next to you is unable to catch a wink of sleep.

You remember sitting next to Belphie on the couch…

And Levi was screaming about a package…

The Night Cricket Essence!

"I think I know why you haven't been able to sleep," you say, reaching for your DDD and pulling up your browser. Searching for anything you can about the demonic caffeine supplement thingamabob.

The effects pop up instantly, along with several warnings about the consumption of the product. You make a mental note to talk to Levi about his purchase history later, but you continue to scroll about the product.

"What are you looking at?" Belphie asks, leaning over your shoulder. He is so exhausted he slumps into your side, but you don't mind in the slightest.

"The effects of Night Cricket Essence," you reply. "It says here that you should only add a few drops into a drink to keep you awake, but it must've vaporized when you broke the bottle.

"So I inhaled the whole bottle?" he blinks.

"I think so," you muse; it seems to be the only way to explain how someone as powerful as him could be affected.

"When will it wear off?" he groans, leaning back onto the mattress.

"No clue, sorry. I'll keep looking," you murmur, trying to find some kind of a cure.

You scroll and scroll and scroll until you stumble across something that sounds promising.

If consumed in excess, the effects of Night Cricket Essence may be counteracted with a cup of chamomile tea.

Is that all it takes? A cup of tea?

It's worth a shot

"Come with me, Belphie, I want to try something to help you." Despite his restless exhaustion, your soft voice and kinder eyes are able to coax him onto his feet. He follows you out your bedroom door and into the kitchen.

He sits down at the counter as you scamper about the room, grabbing everything you need to make the both of you a nice cup of tea.

For demons, getting ahold of human world tea is next to impossible, but you had just come back from a trip with Barbatos to stock up on some hard-to-find blends. Chamomile included.

It doesn't take long for the tea kettle to whistle as you pour him a cup. You hand it to him carefully before pouring your own.

"Let's hope this works," you mumble, blowing on your own glass, but he wastes no time. He drinks it desperately, and a few droplets strip down his chin and onto the tabletop.

By the time he comes up for air, the cup is empty, and you know this is an immediate difference in his appearance. His eyes droop, and he looks at you with a sleepy smile.

"Thash goose" he stumbles out. You may not have the same twin telepathy that he and Beel have, but you know what he means as he sets the cup down clumsily.

"How are you feeling?" you ask, sliding around the counter and pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of his head.

"Tired," he mumbles, tilting his head up so you would kiss his lips. His movements are sluggish, but the sensation of your lips on his is enough to keep him going a bit longer. “Can I has slee in yer ruum?”

"You want to sleep in my room?" you ask, watching as his lids get heavier and heavier.

"Yesh, wanna cuddle."

You smile as he clings onto wakefulness, waiting to hear your answer. "You can stay with me." Your acceptance brings a smile to his face as he sinks onto the tabletop; his head hits the wood with a thud as he finally dips into his well-deserved rest. His soft breathing fills the room as you finish your tea. Once your little tea break is over, you will have to put him on your back and carry him to your room.

Three days later, you are once again at the breakfast table. When Belphie finally emerges from your bedroom looking extremely well rested. The others, having been made aware of the situation, breathe a sigh of relief when he takes a seat next to Beelzebub.

"Good morning Belphie." Beel smiles hesitantly at his twin through his breakfast sandwich.

"I'm sorry for how I acted earlier; I hope you're not too upset with me to go out for lunch."

The smile that appears on Beel's face makes your heart melt as he nods eagerly. "Can Mc come with us too? Food always tastes better when I eat with both of you."

Belphie glances over to you as you nod and directs his attention back to his brother. "I think that can be arranged."

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