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strangersteddierthings · 6 months

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Childhood friends AU Idea

Steve and Eddie are best friends who make plans to learn the elvish alphabet from The Hobbit so that they can pass notes without worrying about other people reading them.

The end of the school year (Eddie in 6th, Steve in 5th) brings a sadness to the two. Eddie's going to middle school and Steve's not yet, but they can hang out on weekends, and they have all summer so no worries. (Also, it gives Steve a little more time to learn elvish, since it'll be a whole year until they're in the same school again.)

Except yes worries because two weeks into summer, Eddie vanishes. When Steve bikes to his house to investigate, the whole house is empty. Packed up and gone. Steve goes to Wayne for answer and all he gets is a smile that doesn't really reassure and words of "his dad got a job opportunity, had to move on short notice. But don't worry, kiddo. I'll get you the number to their new place so you can call."

He learns elvish anyway. It's harder without Eddie to help but he's determined. Eddie might return, or maybe he'll get an address one day. Send a letter to Eddie in full Elvish.

Steve never gets a number or address. Summer ends and sixth grade comes. He doesn't want to forget all the elvish he's learned, just in case. So, he decides to keep a journal. He can write all about everything that's happening and when he sees Eddie, he can give it to him. It's a double win. Eddie will know everything he's missed out on AND it'll help Steve practice elvish.

Sixth grade ends. Eddie doesn't return. Steve did make friends with Carol Perkins though, so he's not as lonely. He hopes Eddie made a new friend, too. But not a new best friend. That's Steve's position, always.

Seventh grade brings Tommy Hagan, but still no Eddie. It brings a growth spurt and sports. Steve likes the easy camaraderie that comes with sports teams. It's like having a lot of friends, which Steve will only admit to needing in his journal. Needing many little connections of friendship to hold together the big hole Eddie left behind.

The summer between seventh and eighth grade brings him a Bruce Springsteen concert. He'd never thought of a boy kissing another boy until he'd witnessed it on stage but he thinks about it a lot after. The end of that summer brings an awaken he refuses to shy away from even if he has to hide it

Eighth grade brings popularity. Steve's good looking, rich, and liked among his peers. It brings the first (and last) time his dad says he's proud of him.

(Steve will spend the rest of his high school career chasing his father's approval.)

Freshman year brings Eddie back, but he's different. His hair is longer and his clothes are darker and he's distant. Defiant and angry. Steve would recognize him anywhere, dressed in anyway.

Eddie doesn't want his friendship anymore. Avoids him in the halls and cafeteria, but Steve is nothing if not persistent. He writes a full letter in elvish to slip into Eddie's locker, but Eddie catches him. Shoves the letter back, unopened, unread, with a harsh whispered, "Don't you get it Harrington? I don't want to be your friend. Fuck off."

Steve doesn't understand why. Not until the table top rants start. Conformity and jocks and brain-dead rich kids who get by on favoritism.

It hurts. Steve feels his heart break the day he finally gets the not-so-subtle messages drilled into his mind. Eddie hates sports, and rich people, and stupid people. Eddie hates all the things that Steve is.

Eddie hates him.

Sophomore year brings Steve a lot of things. It brings the acknowledgment that he was probably in love with Eddie, the way his heart twists the day he sees Eddie flirting with a girl in the hallway, the way he wants the lights out when hooking up with someone so he can imagine a different person pressed against him, the way he gravitates towards brunettes with brown eyes and the flickering hope it might make Eddie jealous. (The way he'd said the wrong name when Brent went down on him, too absorbed in the fantasy of someone else to get it right. Brent hadn't been offended by it, he'd been thinking of someone else, too. Steve finds solidarity for a little bit, until the school year ends and Brent leaves Hawkins.)

Junior year turns Steve's life upside down (pun intended) with monster's coming out of walls. There's probably a lot more he should write about but his journal's pretty empty this year. Too traumatized to document. (Too afraid of what Eddie would say because Steve still writes in his journal like he plans on sending it to Eddie one day. Better to write nothing than sound crazy.)

And halfway through his senior year (don't think about how he's in it with Eddie, about the 4 classes they share, about how Eddie still won't meet his eye) he wants to fade into the background. Nancy and he break up. She's with Jonathan and he hears the whispers of how pathetic he is to be eating lunch with his ex and the guy that 'stole' her. Steve knows that's a lie, Nancy made her choice, and no one can say otherwise, but it hurts to hear. He can't be bothered to try and make new friends. How would he explain the nightmares? The skittishness. The fear of the dark, of pumpkin patches, of his own damn pool now that he's had time to process last year?

Then, the next year brings him Robin. Well. First it brings him an embarrassing uniform and then Russian torture (don't think about it. Don't think about how he'll shorthand the stock list by writing it in Elvish sometimes. Don't think about how the Russian's almost believe they just work for Scoops until they find the stock list in his pocket. Don't think about how they don't believe that the strange script they can't identify isn't proof he's a spy), but in the end he gets Robin. A Platonic Soulmate who understands the hidden side of him. She asked if he was ever in love, and he thinks of the Eddie he used to know, longs to know again, and describes her instead. She rejects him in the softest way possible and then confesses about Tammy, and he confesses about Eddie in turn.

1986 brings Eddie back into his life in the worst way possible. With a bottle to his neck and them both acting like they've never spoken before. It brings twisting guts as Steve lies awake thinking about Eddie alone in a boathouse instead of sharing a bed with him like they used to in elementary school. It brings Steve leading them to Skull Rock (popularized as a make out spot but started as a set of boys' favorite place to play pirates during the summer). Dustin and Eddie make references Steve pretends to not know, despite his own copies of The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings and the numerous amounts of notebooks turned journals with elvish scrawled throughout.

There's a trek through the Upside Down. In another universe, Steve imagines he and Eddie talk. In this one, Robin sticks to his side like an extension of him (which she is), and glares at Eddie every time he looks in Steve's direction. Robin knows everything, knows it all, because there are no secrets between them.

They make plans to stop Vecna, once and for all, and Robin confesses she has a fear. That it won't turn out okay this time, but they have to try anyway. Steve clinks his bottle against hers and looks across the field to Eddie and Dustin. The stakes feel so much higher this time.

"I'm going to talk to Eddie if we survive. Make it right," he says.

"No. He's going to make it right because you didn't do anything wrong," Robin says, which is more support than he thought he'd get given the grudge she holds in his favor.

Eddie said make him pay and Steve does. Nancy advances, shotgun shot after shot and Steve's bounding down the stairs. Vecna beats him to the ground floor but not by much.

A hatchet's not the best tool to remove a head with but he manages. When he looks up, Nancy and Robin are looking down, both approving.

They find Dustin sobbing over Eddie and- and-

Steve's certain he's broken several of Eddie's ribs but he's breathing again, Nancy finds his pulse beneath all the blood, and Robin's retrieved the cut sheets to make bandages out of. Nothing is clean in this world, infection could kill him later, he might not save Eddie like he wants, but fucking Christ, at least if death claims him, it'll be on the right side of the world in a hospital.

Dustin, Robin, and Steve are at Eddie's side when Nancy leads Wayne into the room. They knew she went out looking for him (Steve was going to but Nancy had shoved him back in the chair with a look that left no room for argument) but even so they're startled by him.

Wayne has always been stoic and reserved, so it's no surprise to Steve when he just lets out a low whistle and says, "of all the people I might see here, you weren't one of 'em."

Steve swallows thickly and says, "well. I am. Here, I mean."

And Wayne gives him a watery smile and crosses the room. Pulls Steve into a hug that Steve thinks he probably wants to give to Eddie instead, but Eddie's not awake and standing and Steve is. But then Wayne says, "I told Eddie he couldn' chase ya away. That if he just talked to ya, you'd understand. He tried so hard to make ya hate him, and for what? For ya to be at his bedside anyway."

And Steve sobs. Loud and ugly and suddenly Dustin's there, and so are Robin and Nancy, and it's probably the most awkward hug for all the others but it's the best hug Steve's had in years. He doesn't even care that he's crying because how can he? Wayne's all but confirmed that Eddie doesn't hate him, maybe never hated him. That Eddie has an explanation, a reason for it all, and all he wants is Eddie to wake up and tell him.

Steve finally gets his apology two days after Eddie's release. It's the first time they've been alone together since- well, since elementary school. Wayne drove him here then lied about needing to check on something and said he'd be back in an hour or so before abandoned them to the awkward silence in Steve's living room.

"I'm sorry, Steve!" Eddie blurts out loudly, then looks startled by his own yelling.

"I know. I forgive you."

"You shouldn't."

"I know. Still do anyway. Would like to know what happened, though."

And Eddie tells him. How his father's debts came calling and they ran. How his mom got sick real fast, and his father's crime spree and prison sentence following her passing. How Eddie discovered the same thing about himself that Steve did but didn't have the same acceptance of himself. Hated that another thing marked him as Other. Freak.

He tells Steve how he couldn't let Steve back in because he was afraid of losing him again if he ever learned.

"I didn't think you'd be okay being friends with a faggot," Eddie spits the word out, dirty and mean and directed at himself.

Steve makes a decision then. "Follow me." And he helps Eddie up the stairs and into his room. Eddie sits on the bed and watches as Steve digs out notebook after notebook after notebook, until they're a tower on his bed. Then he topples them over in his search for the first.

Eddie takes the offered notebook with confusion on his face, looking from the cover, where 1978 is written on it. The summer Eddie vanished from Steve's life.

"Open it."

Eddie does and gasps. "Steve. Is this-"

"Every single one of these notebooks was written to you. For you. About you. I read The Hobbit for you. The Lord of the Rings. I learned elvish for you. I think I've been a little bit in love with you since the day we met on the playground on my second day of first grade."

"Steve," it comes out breathless and awed.

"Eddie," Steve repeats back to him, just as breathless as Eddie tosses the notebook aside and reaches for Steve instead. Hauls him in to kiss him senseless amongst the proof of Steve's devotion.

#steddie #fic #this was supposed to be a paragraph or two #why am i like this #steve has a complicated relationship with his parents #but they arent terrible #the picture descriptions have translation for the elvish if you wanna know what Steves been writing in his journals

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juiles · 11 months

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Why me?

Summary: y/n is Wanda and Natasha’s partner. After a misunderstanding and 3 months of pain, they finally break through.

Tags: angst and then fluff

Warnings: self harm, pain, fighting, kinda angsty Nat, insecure reader, intrusive thoughts, yelling.

A/N: here’s an angsty wandanat x reader fic that i’ve wanted to read for a while but can’t seem to find any with this plot so if you know of one let me know.

Masterlist here!

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Y/N pov

When i walked into the kitchen, I wasn’t expecting to see Natasha and Wanda wrapped up in each others arms, even though i should have, but i definitely was not expecting to hear Wanda utter the words that shattered my heart.

“You, and you alone, are my entire world and I couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend…” She had muttered into Natasha’s neck, neither of them noticing me in the room giving me the chance to walk out in silence.

I should have expected that, the last few months they have slowly started separating themselves from me. Busying themselves in their work so much I never saw them anymore, anytime they weren’t busy, they seemed to find a way to ignore me and when they were around me they weren’t necessarily nice.

This interaction had given me that last needed push to finally give up. I pulled all my clothes into a bag and went back into my old room down the hall, haphazardly throwing the bag in the corner of my room. I felt a sob build up in my throat and with a quick lock of my door and telling Friday to sound proof my room and not let anyone in, i collapsed into a ball in my room and allowed myself to sob for 30 minutes before picking myself up and dusting myself off.

I decided then and there that I would push myself into my work. I wouldn’t let them ruin my life, at least not my life with the avengers.

It had been 3 months since that day, of course Natasha and Wanda hadn’t even noticed i had left or started avoiding them. None of the teams seemed to have noticed anything different about me which just pulled me further into my shell. I had a very simple routine, wake up at 4, train for 2 hours making sure to be in a private room. Grab something for breakfast if i was feeling it, which lately I hadn’t been. Be in the labs by 6:30 to start work. Skip lunch, working the whole day with my headphones on. I managed to avoid ground dinners a lot but sometimes i got sucked in, not like anyone even noticed if I was there or not.

Wanda’s POV

I guess Natasha and I hadn’t noticed how we had been distancing ourselves from y/n but in the last month or so I noticed how different things had been. Maybe we had been too caught up in our work or our lives but somehow y/n had managed to distance themselves from us even more. They had moved out from our shared room and we almost never saw them during the day.

“She’s probably just being petty that we have lives other than her.” Natasha said as we discussed what was going on. “They’re not being adult about this. They should have spoken to us rather than just leave.”

“I don’t think we ever gave them the chance Nat… we’ve been really distant… the day we we’re practicing what to say to them when we proposed… i think they heard us… i don’t think they realized it was about them… and up until then we had been finding ways to avoid them to not make the engagement noticeable.” I said, tears threatening to fall from my eyes. “We really messed up…”

We both looked up when we heard the kitchen door open and to both our surprise we saw y/n standing in the doorway. They had an unreadable look on their face before they quickly turned on their heel and stormed out of the room, towards their own room. My eyes widened and very quickly my body was racing after their own without a thought in my head.

Before I even got the door, it slammed in my face making me screech to a stop staring at the dark brown wood in front of me, tears now falling from my eyes. “Y/n… please open the door.” I all but whimpered before leaning back into Natasha’s arms who had followed behind me. “Please… we just want to talk…”

I heard a smash and a scream so loud it almost hurt my ears more than my heart. Another smash happened before Natasha made the decision to kick the door down revealing y/n in a very panicked state throwing items around their room. Glass and paper already scattered around the floor.

“FUCK OFF.” They screamed throwing a vase at my head, i barely dodged it, a small piece that shattered on the wall behind me, lodged into my arm making me gasp in pain. The gasp must have shaken them out of their frenzy as they stopped and slowly turned to face me, eyes drawn to the small amount of blood trickling down my arm. “Wanda… oh god… oh my god i am so sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” Their head snapped up to look at me before they backed away, arms being held up defensively. “I’m sorry… please don’t hate me… please…” They pleaded staring at my eyes, a look of pure fear in their eyes.

“Detka… I would never-“

“DON’T. DON’T SAY THAT. ITS A LIE! YOU DID!” They screamed at me before going back to the fear and they cowered again when Natasha took a slow step forward, tears falling down her face.

“We never meant to hurt you… we swear… we love you more than anything… please… let us help you…” She finally made it to y/n’s trembling body and managed to pull them into her arms. “We want to help you…”

I kneeled in front of y/n’s sobbing form and held their hands as they sobbed and screamed into Natasha’s chest.

After what felt like hours, their sobs and screams disappeared into soft sniffles, their face still buried deep into her neck. That’s when I finally took a good look at them. They were shaking, their body looking very frail and skinny, as they pulled their face out of Nats neck, and I noticed the dark circles under the eyes, how pale they were, how lost their eyes are. “Oh detka…” I murmured cupping their face. All they did was stare at me. “I am SO sorry that we ever made you feel like we don’t love you… we love you so much it hurts. It hurts to know that we hurt you. It breaks our hearts because not once did we even step back to notice we were hurting you, that we were so engrossed in our plans that we failed to notice what we were doing to you.”

Their face contorted u to pain when i softly grabbed their wrist making me pull back their sleeve before they got the chance, my heart falling even further into my stomach. There on their wrist were bloody cuts scattered around. “Please let me clean these… baby they look infected. Even if you don’t want us around, i want to make sure you stay safe.” They glanced down at their own wrist before looking at Natasha before looking back at me and they nodded. I shot up and ran into the bathroom before coming back with the first aid kit.

“It will sting but you grip my arm as tightly as humanly possible, it will help.” Natasha murmured into their ear, they nodded staring down at their arm, their good hand gripping onto Nats. I started cleaning the wounds, y/n barely made a sound but I could see the pain in their eyes so i did it as fast as possible, wrapping them up before showering the bandages with kisses. “All better…”

“You… my… I’m sorry…” They muttered squeezing their eyes shut.

“No. No you don’t need to apologize. We do. For the rest of our lives we will be apologizing for ever causing you pain. You are our world y/n. The three of us against the world.” Natasha stopped them quickly holding them tighter. “Detka… you’re too skinny… have… have you not been eating?”

They tended up before I stroked their cheeks gently. “We’re not mad baby… but we need to know… we need to make sure your taken care of so let’s get some food in you baby…” They bit their lip and started shaking their head before Nat cleared her throat and they took a deep sigh before nodding gently.

Nat scooped them up into her arms bridal style and carried them down to the kitchen before placing them on her lap as she sat on a stool. “What do you want to eat detka…?”

It was silent for a moment before a small whisper was heard. “Wanda’s alfredo…?” Was hushed but my I couldn’t fight the smile growing in my face. “Of course baby.”

I instantly started flitting around the kitchen doing what was needed. It was silent for at least 10 minutes before they spoke again.

“I never wanted to upset you guys… before you stop me let me speak. I’m just so used to being used, hurt then dropped as if I’m garbage…” They’re eyes welled up slowly. “I just… i just needed to pull myself away before you could hurt me and I ended up hurting all of us… I’m sorry i didn’t talk to you guys before and assumed the worst…” My heart shattered even more. “I love you guys so much it made me want to go numb so I couldn’t get hurt again…”

“We love you baby… we love you so much and these last 3 months have been torture but it was our own fault.” Natasha said running her calloused hands through y/n’s hair. “We will spend the rest of our lives making it up to you. Now eat so we can go snuggle in bed to sleep my love.”

Y/n stared at the bowl, their bottom lip wobbling. “I’m scared…” They whispered.

“Baby… me and you and Wanda are going to do this together. Understand?” They nodded with a small sniffle. “Now open up so you can eat.” They opened their mouth and slowly we made our way through the bowl.

After they ate, we made our way back upstairs to our bedroom and settled them in between us, pulling their bony body into ours. “Why me?”

“Because you are our world detka and no matter what we say or do nothing will ever be able to make up for what we did to you.”

Y/n sniffled before snuggling back down into us with a small content smile on their faces they fell asleep.

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delcakoo · 1 year

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hey ema I dunno if your requests are still open but I was wondering if you could make a scenario in where reader is studying at a café for her periodic exam, and jungwon is a barista if that made sense haha. so like barista!jungwon x fem!reader ehrejerje

how are you? how's school? currently studying😔😭

helloo love, i have a cold rn but i’m alive T-T ty for asking jsjndjs, my requests are closed but since i need a distraction from blowing my nose every 5 seconds.. here u go <3 and good luck studying! me and jungwon are cheering for you!! (SOFT HOURS ARE CLOSED!)

9:51PM — you simply refuse to take a glance outside the small cafe’s window. it would only be a reminder that you’d just spent your entire, precious saturday afternoon studying things that were, frankly, a bunch of nonsenical bullshit.

but either way, this was the school system — you had no other choice but to continue copying notes onto your cue cards and sighing at the low humming emitting from your laptop, the poor device practically screaming, ‘give me a break you lunatic!’.

the only thing keeping you sane throughout the whole night spent in the now dreadfully empty cafe was the cute boy who’d been serving you since you arrived, and perhaps your cup of coffee that was sat depressingly on the table in front of you.

when you finally look up from your notes, you realise it’s only the two of you left in said coffee shop. jungwon, his name tag read, was now wiping down the tables, sleeves pulled above his elbows and coal shaded hair bouncing everytime he strokes the wood clean.

he seems to be at peace and strangely satisfied with what he’s doing, taking his sweet time to wash every corner, contrary to most employees who’d probably be doing a half-assed job by now in hopes of closing up quicker.

it seems he must’ve felt your staring; soft cat eyes with a hint of exhaustion raising to meet your own equally as tired ones.

jungwon sends you a smile, so you offer him a perk of your own lips in return.

before you can greet him, he catches you off guard in the worst way possible, “what’s the political ideology with one dictator that controls the lives of—“

“fascism!” you blurt before he can even finish, immediately flushing in embarassment. the boy swiftly bends over in laughter, nose scrunching adorably and a dimple poking through the apple of his cheek.

“oh my god, you’re crazy!” he cackles, leaning on the table with a disbelieving gaze in your direction.

you giggle as well almost painfully, resting your head in your palms. “stop, i’m going insane. all i can think of is politics now,” you wince. “how’d you know i was studying that?”

jungwon gives you a smirk that makes your heart flutter involuntarily, “dunno, maybe ‘cause i’ve been watching you sit there since what.. three, two pm?”

you groan, “don’t remind me.”

the raven haired boy sends you a sympathetic glance before picking up his washcloth, continuing to scrub the table in front of him. despite the fact his arms must be aching by now, jungwon puts just as much effort into his duty as before. your eyes shimmer with admiration, watching him bite his lip in concentration.

“once i’m done with these last tables, i can help you go over it one more time before closing.” you jump slightly at his sudden suggestion, almost getting lost in the comforting sight of this stranger.

you raise a hand in disagreement, “oh, no, you must be dying to go home, you don’t have to do that.”

“true,” jungwon admits, “but.. i don’t wanna say bye to you yet.” an unreadable glint is in his eyes as he stares down at you from across the cafe, the ends of his lips perking up in amusement at your gaping expression.

what does that mean? your heart pounds faster in your chest, gulping down an incoming burst or butterflies.

“o-oh. in that case, me neither.” you find yourself fidgeting like you’re back in high school, talking to your first crush.

he beams at your words, “great, give me five minutes.”

at that moment, you decide that you’ll definitely be coming back to this cafe, exam or not.

if you enjoyed, reblogs n’ comments are always appreciated!

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poohbea · 2 years

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𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐭𝐨𝐨.

eren yeager | angst (because i want to see y’all suffer), fluff | aristocrat!au

PART ONE

wordcount: 5k

content: dramatic argument, depression (not in a clinical sense), miscommunication, momma comes to comfort you, very light suggestion of alcohol abuse, fluff all round

— synopsis: tired of eren's sour attitude you're finally about to get to the bottom of it

note from pooh: you see what i did with the title there? huh? did ya? hehehehe im so funny. but on a serious note, thank you all so much for all the love and praise SYLM 1 received, at the time of releasing this it’s almost hit 2k notes 🤯 unbelievable. so sorry i kept you all waiting for so long, life had other plans. additionally thank you to all those who responded to my poll and helped me create something that y'all would enjoy.

Hope you enjoy ♡ reblogs are greatly appreciated

The sound of water beating against itself came to a steady halt as Eren turned the faucet closed. Steam clouded the pristine white and cream tiled room, painting an almost heavenly scene under the warm light of the small crystal fixture.

You watched him through the mirror, his naked form glowing with a layer of perspiration that accumulated the longer he remained in the heated room. Your own reflection wasn’t much better, matted hair that refused to stay tame and purple marks that littered your skin in a random fashion. Faint traces of his hand prints still kissed your skin a rosy hue, others with speckles of violet.

He dips two fingers into the steaming bath, filled all the way with bubbles and essential oils just how you liked it. The aroma of lavender folding in the air with the steam as it rose. One that seemed to you before even stepping foot into the water.

With a satisfied hum he shakes the excess foam from his hands and looks to you in the mirror, still running a hand over the marks he’d left as a reminder. The ones he would continue to leave for as long as you let him. “C’mere.” He beckons you with an outstretched hand.

You approach him silently, one arm wrapped around yourself while the other accepts his touch. He pulls you into him, eyes soft but face unreadable as his arms slip around your waist, fingers splaying out on your lower back. “Warm enough for you?” He questions, mentioning the bath but his gaze still locked with yours.

You lean over slightly to feel for yourself, smiling at the heated water touching your fingertips. “Perfect.” His lips touch yours in a chaste and prolonged kiss that had his arms tightening around you, enough to force you onto your tiptoes.

“Go on then.” With your hand in his he guides you into the club footed tub, letting you sink into the frothy bubbles that blanketed the surface.

You miss the glint in his eyes as a soft moan escapes your lips, eyes closing with the onset of relaxation that overwhelmed your tired muscles and sticky skin. If not for his lingering touch you’d probably have fallen into it completely, submerging yourself whole. “Mm, how is it that you always know how to run my baths?”

He crouches and pecks a tender kiss on your knuckles. “Practice makes perfect.”

“In our situation I’m not sure that’s a good thing, ‘Ren.” You chuckle, leaning against the back of the bath, suds sticking you your hair.

He doesn’t respond, instead giving you that sad look he’s been harbouring the entire night. It was still beyond you what the real issue was. Why his actions and expression were so contradictory it made your head spin. In all honesty it was growing tiresome, this roller coaster he involuntarily put you on.

After a long and muted staring contest he finally speaks. “I’ll leave you too it then.” As he moves to stand and make his exit your hand tightens around his desperately.

“Wait, ‘Ren… stay.” You plead softly, anxiety panging in your chest as his back still faced you. What made you think he was going to accept? You weren’t a couple. He didn’t owe you his company.

“Why?” He responds plainly, looking at you over his shoulder.

You didn’t really have a good answer. Maybe it was a heat of the moment thing. But something inside you wanted him there. Needed him to stay with you. The thought of being left alone with your own subconscious after everything that just happened terrified you. Recalling the history of depressive episodes that had you overthinking time and time again in his absence. But you couldn’t tell him any of that.

“It’s late.” You produce the first thing that comes to mind. “And I’m sure this tub is big enough for two.” It was a lame excuse, you were very much aware of that fact, but you still had hope it was enough to convince him.

He puffs out a chuckle, turning to face you fully. “What are you trying to do, princess?”

“Just… stay. Please.” You whine, pouting your bottom lip playfully and batting your lashes.

When you watch his eyes roll and a faint smile upturn his lips you knew you’d won this battle. His foot breaches the bubbly veil as he sinks into the water slowly, making it rise before letting his long legs rest on either side of your hips. The tips of his hair dance in the cleared patches of placid water, floating gracefully on the surface as his eyes lock with yours. Brow raised in question.

“Happy now?” He rests his arms on the edges of the marble tub, leaning back into it with a sigh.

“Almost. Just…”

“Y/n…” The nervous tone in his voice was evident as you climbed into his lap, resting yourself against his chest. He eventually laid an arm over your lower back, giving up on trying to push you away anymore.

You remained like that for a long time, soaking up the aromatics and warmth of the steam emanating from your skin. Hair hanging over your respective shoulders, bodies sunk deep into the water, soaking away the trials and tribulations from the past few hours. It was proof you could be cordial with one another, relaxing quietly like this. As a glimmer of hope made itself visible, your thoughts began to spiral out of control, plaguing the peaceful atmosphere with doubt.

The events of the night replayed in your mind, overthinking the actions you witnessed. There was a pull inside you, inside your heart, one that demanded answers to the questions that refused to dissipate.

You watch him through your lashes as your head rested on your arms on the side of the tub. He sat there unmoving, bar the steady rise and fall of his chest. His face was relaxed, eyes closed and mouth slightly agape, cheeks flushed with the warmth enveloping his body.

As if sensing your stare, his brows furrow. “If you have something to say to me, spit it out.” He says nonchalantly, peeking down at you through a squinted eye.

It was now or never. “Why… do you hate me?” The question lingered in the air, his eyes opening fully to look at you with an expression that held offence.

“What?”

“You heard me, Eren.” Your gaze doesn’t waver as you answer but your rapidly beating heart was a dead give away.

“I don’t hat-“

“I thought you said you didn’t like lies, ‘Ren. Yet here you are spewing one.” His mouth sets in a hard line when you cut him off, jaw clenching tight when you proceed further to call him out.

“It’s not a lie.” He answers honestly with a dry laugh. “I don’t completely hate you.” The joke didn’t make you laugh.

“Oh, so you do hate me a little bit then.” You answered sarcastically, your tone drawing an eye roll from the man.

“It’s not as simple as that, y/n.” His wet fingers comb through the chestnut strands that fell around his face.

It was your turn to frown. “So then explain it to me, Eren. Because I’m tired of this,” you gesture between you both. “This back and forth, hot and cold bullshit. What is happening here? You act like you hate me in front of others, like being in my presence pains you. But in private you do things like this.”

He scoffs softly, head shaking in disbelief. “The pot calling the kettle black? What about you, huh?”

“What about me?“

“Don’t act like you don’t do that exact same thing to me. And also weren’t you the very same one who initiated this relationship?”

“If I recall correctly it was a mutual agreement, don’t you blame this all on me! It takes two to tango, Eren. You also kept coming back after the first time.”

“Mm and look where that’s gotten me?” You eyed him with confusion.

“What are you talking about?”

His lips pursed. “No. We’re not doing this.” He breaks your heated staring match by shifting his attention to the bathroom tile. That only pissed you off more.

“Why?! Why whenever I try to get you to communicate with me you just shut me out?!”

“Y/n… don’t.” As his eyes darkened you could see the anger threatening to burst from within. You didn’t care.

“No! I want an answer. Why do you hate me?”

His eyes close as he lets out an exasperated nasally sigh, trying to remain calm in the midst of your heated conversation. “I don’t. How many times do I have-“

“So then what is it, Eren?! What makes you go around spreading bullshit about me? Meddling with my suitors, ruining my chances for a relationship with them and god forbid my business relationships.” You watch his jaw clench tighter and tighter with each passing word, his expression brewing wrath. “What is your problem with me?!”

“It’s because I’m in love with you, y/n!” There it was, that explosion, the one that he’d been shielding you from since he first became aware of it all. He watched your expression change, anger melting into shock, then into confusion.

You move off of him, putting a breathable distance between you both. “You… you what?” So many feelings rushed over you it was beginning to make you dizzy. Love? How? Why? When could this have happened? You wracked your brain for any sort of answer. Any form of reason to all this.

He shys away from your scrutinising gaze, embarrassment and trepidation settling in the pit of his stomach. “…I love you.”

A small chuckle escapes you in disbelief. “W-why? You… I don’t understand. Are you joking with me again…?” As his gaze locks with yours your heart sinks at the tears pooling in those forest green eyes of his.

Before you could get another word out he’s stepping out of the bathtub, water trailing down his skin onto the pearl ceramic under his feet as he strides to wrap a towel around his waist.

“Eren!” You call after him, fumbling with your own towel that you haphazardly covered yourself in.

He was already in the bedroom, buckling the belt of his slacks he’d previously abandoned. “Eren stop! Hold on!” You begged finding purchase on his forearm that tensed under your touch.

His eyes search the floor before he picks up his shirt, freeing himself from your grasp as he moves to put it on. “Eren!” You plead, on the verge of tears. “Please wait, talk to me.”

He continues to dress himself, avoiding your gaze entirely. Tears fell feely down your cheeks, dripping down your jaw sporadically onto the surface of your chest.

As he makes his way to your door you rush to find a nightgown, tying it around yourself before making chase. He’s halfway down the hallway when you reach him, clutching to his arm for dear life.

“‘Ren!” He stops at the sound of his nickname leaving your lips. By this point you were a sobbing mess, breath tightening your throat with each intake, tears staining your skin. “‘’Ren please. Please don’t leave me like this.” He mimics the same stance as in the bathroom, turned away from you, refusing to meet your teary eyes. “You can’t do this to me! You can’t just say you love me and leave! It’s-it’s cruelty!”

“Cruel?” He ponders, voice hoarse. There was a long pause between his words, like he was contemplating what to say next. “You don’t feel the same way… do you?”

The question had you at a loss for words. You didn’t even know yourself. All of this was so sudden, you barely had time to actually think, to process his confession. Fuck, what we’re you supposed to say? If you said yes would it be the entire truth? If you said no it’d be a complete lie.

“I don’t know ’Ren. Fuck I don’t know! This is so sudden, I don’t know what to think.” He peers at you through his lashes over his shoulder and you finally see the streaks of tears glittering in the low light.

“You can’t be that dense y/n.” He spits. “That for so long, you never once realised any of it. You wanna know why I made those fucked up rumours? Because I see the way they look at you. Every man that comes through this house, every fucking suitor that comes to court you. None of them, not one is going to love you like I do.”

“‘Ren.”

“I’ve known you for practically all your life, I know you. From how you like your liquor to how you like your baths. Fuck, I know you better than you know yourself, princess.” The laugh he lets out is pained, struggling through hitched breaths and watery eyes. “And I hid all of that. Behind this facade of bitterness and petty insults. I hid it from you because I knew…”

“No, no, Eren please. I-I didn’t know.” He watches you fall to your knees, hands clutching his shirt he didn’t even bother to button up all the way.

You tear soaked skin, flushed pink. Lips a deep dusted shade of rose, eyes pleading, hair partially wet from the bath you’d left to chase him. The subtle scent of lavender lingered on your both, filtering through the corridor.

His heart was breaking, piece by piece the longer he stood in your presence. He didn’t know what came over him sharing that bathtub with you. All the accusations you’d thrown just pushed him further and further to the edge. His emotions got the better of him; they somehow ended up verbalised. Screaming at you, just so you would finally wake up and maybe he would too.

After suppressing them for so long, bottling them inside over and over again, the cap finally burst. And he couldn’t stop the truth from spilling out. He felt like an idiot. Seeing your reaction, your laughter and denial. It was like a punch to the gut. How could he have read you so wrong? Thought that you’d reciprocate his feelings after all the bullshit he put you through?

He only had himself to blame.

“I can’t do this with you anymore.” He pulls his arm from your grip, taking one last look at you before starting again down the hallway.

Your chest was so tight it was hard to breathe. Every inhale set your lungs aflame, pain searing into your chest repeatedly. It was never ending. You watched through blurry vision as his dark figure disappeared from sight, leaving you on the carpeted floor, sobbing and alone.

“Y/n!” Your mother calls for the second time behind your bedroom door, a light knock echoing from the thick wood.

You laid beneath the covers, gazing into the darkness you’d enveloped yourself in for who knows how long. Hiding yourself away seemed like the most logical option, you didn’t need to give anyone more fuel to feed the raging fire that was your emotional state. The dread and guilt weighing on your chest just refused to go away, even after all the tears and self isolation. The image of Eren’s face haunted you, his words even more so.

The creak of hinges sounds and her soft footsteps follow before there’s a weight near your foot. “Baby.” She calls softly, placing a hand on your covered shoulder. You continue to stare into the abyss, eyes closed, trying your damnedest not to let your feelings surface. “Y/n, speak to me sweetheart, what happened? You’ve been up here for four days.”

“He loves me, momma.” You groan, the emotional dam beginning to crack at just the mention of the topic.

She pulls the duvet back to uncover your head, a soft smile on her lips as she takes in your puffy eyes and dishevelled hair. “Who, baby?” The look in her eyes told you she already knew who the person in question was, but you weren’t going to argue with her.

“Eren.” You peaked at her through your hair, frowning at the smile she was trying to stifle with the back of her hand. “It’s not funny!” She snorts slightly at your outburst, not bothering to hide it anymore.

“It’s a little funny.” A quiet gasp leaves her when you pull the blanket back over your head, fed up. “Oh, come on y/n.” Her hands tug at the sheets and so do yours, but her’s proved to be stronger. She tucks herself into your side, laying an arm over your waist which causes you to snuggle into her instinctively. With a forgiving sigh she places a kiss to your temple that was buried in her chest, fingers playing with your hair absentmindedly. “Tell me what happened.”

“S’nothing, Ma.” You lie, another crack forming in your calm facade.

“I saw the poor boy running out the door half in tears. And here you are hiding away from the world for the last four days. I’m pretty sure it’s not nothing, y/n?” Her gaze weighs on you like a tonne of bricks, scrutinising but valid.

Her words resonate within your mind, imagining a distressed Eren pushing through a crowd of people, eyes curiously watching the eligible bachelor hold back tears as he excused himself for the night.

Boy did that scene sound familiar.

“He told me he loved me…” The admission was met with silence, one that told you to continue. “And I… I thought he was messing around, like he usually does. Trying to get a reaction out of me. You know Eren, he never takes anything seriously. But you should’ve seen his face, mom… I broke his heart.”

Your mother hums in thought, nails tracing lazy tracks into your scalp gently. “And how do you feel?”

“I don’t know how to feel about it. I never really thought it’d actually happen given everything he’s been doing. Pushing me away, the rumours, the teasing.”

“Mm and the whole friends with benefits thing.” She adds casually, finally making you come out of hiding.

“Wait, you knew?”

“I’m your mother, y/n, of course I knew. You think I wouldn’t notice you two disappearing in the middle of the night, over and over again? I wasn’t born yesterday.” Her thumb traces your cheekbone as she spoke, still tender and understanding.

“Mmm,” She laughs as your face dives back into her chest bashfully, groaning loudly as you did so. “Don’t even get me started about that.”

“Well, what did you think was going to happen, baby?”

The sigh you exhale makes your face heat up. “I don’t know, Ma. I thought that with the mutual disdain it could work. That that’d be enough to hold off the emotions that came with it.”

“And what emotions are those?” She shifts your face so you meet her gaze.

You stared at her for a long time, searching yourself for the answer to the question that’s been eating you up for so long. Truth be told you did feel something for Eren. At one point it was so strong it scared you enough to hide it away, afraid that he might not feel the same. That fear was only solidified by the growing dislike you’d developed overtime as he proved you right, but unbeknownst to you he was doing the same thing.

Bottling up everything and projecting it in the form of ridicule and pettiness. But physically he showed you his intentions, behind closed doors and between silken bedsheets. That was the real Eren, always taking care of you, making sure you were warm and cleaned up. Running you a bath almost every night when you were together. The kisses, the smiles, the sadness that lingered in those emerald irises. He was silently telling you how he really felt.

But was what you were feeling really love? The safety you experienced laying in his arms for the first time. Listening to the lullaby of his heart as you drifted off into sleep at the end of every weary and sex-filled night. He was familiar, comfortable, and addictive. No one could rile you up like he did. Make you so utterly frustrated like he did. Knew you inside and out like he did. You didn’t know what pissed you off more, realising that he was right or the fact that you’d been blind for so long.

“Let me ask you something, y/n.” Your mothers voice interrupts your thoughts. “Do you think you’re ready to admit what you feel? To take that next step with him?”

“I don’t know.” You answered honestly. “Not right now, anyway.”

“And that’s okay, baby. You don’t always have to reciprocate someone else’s feelings right away.” Her compassionate nature emanated from her in a glow that made you warm inside. Easing your nerves just that little bit more.

“But I do have feelings for him, mom. All of this is just happening too fast.”

“Well did you tell him that?” She questions with a raised brow.

You shake your head, embarrassment settling in your chest. “I didn’t get a chance to. After I asked him if it was a joke he stormed out on me.”

Her sigh wafts the strands of hair laid on your forehead. “You kids and your inability to communicate…” You couldn’t help but laugh, remembering all the lectures she and your father would give you about communication growing up. “You know you’re going to have to talk to him sooner or later.”

“I know..I’m just scared.”

She pulls you closer, letting her warmth envelop you. “We’re heading over there tonight for dinner, maybe you can have the conversation then.”

The silent agreement was made as soon as you stepped foot over the threshold of the Yeager residence not only a few hours later. Greeted warmly by Carla and Grisha before being ushered inside their home.

The scent of disinfectant and citrus floated through the grandiose hallways and sitting rooms, an aroma you’ve long since associated with the Yeager household considering their medicinal ties. The place was spotless as per usual, but homely nonetheless in it’s neutral shades of cream and white.

They guide you into one of their many sitting rooms, a teapot already brewing on the marble coffee table. “So how have you all been, we missed you at the ball, y/n.” Grisha asks, taking his place beside his wife on the loveseat across from your own.

Your parents glanced at you knowingly on either side, the attention making you gulp. “Oh, I had to retire a bit early, too much champagne I’m afraid.” You chuckled coyly, fiddling with your fingers as you spoke.

They both laugh, Carla reaching for the teapot to offer you some tea. “Mm, we know how much you enjoy your liquor, sweetheart.” She frowns, looking to the staircase in thought. “Speaking of… Eren’s been drinking a lot more lately. Would you have any idea why? He hasn’t been talking to us much lately.”

You mother sips her tea with a curious side eye, your father entering a separate corporate conversation with Grisha. Swallowing your own tea you place the cup back onto the saucer on the table with a shaky hand. “No, I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t aware he’d even been drinking as of late.”

Carla lets out a heavy sigh, fingers playing with her hair. “Would you be able to speak with him? Grisha and I have tried everything, but he’s shut us out. You’re his closest friend, maybe he’ll listen to you.”

The awkward smile that graced your lips went over her head as she gave you a hopeful look. You just couldn’t say no to her, she was like your second mother after all. “Sure. Where is he?”

“Oh, thank you sweetheart.” Her whole demeanour changes with your answer, becoming brighter, more cheery. “I’m sure he’s up in his room at this time, he came home just before you got here.”

Finishing the rest of your tea you excuse yourself and make your way to the staircase, stopping as you hear the hearty chuckle of the couples in the room adjacent. Upstairs was dim, save for the lights littered irregularly through the long corridor, those being your only savour when you threatened to bump into a table or one of Grisha’s many display cases full of trophies and certificates.

Running around this place for most of your life, you knew exactly where to go, soon finding Eren’s bedroom door looming over you in an intimidatingly protective nature, sealing the man inside. You let your knuckles tap against the wood softly, ear raised to hear no reply. Hearing the same upon doing it again.

“Eren.” You call, hand on the door knob. “I’m coming in.” As you crack the door open you notice the room empty. The only indication of life being the tossed about bedsheet and the light that shone beneath the door frame of his bathroom door. Shadow danced in the space at foot of the door, soon opening to reveal his half naked frame.

He dries his hair with a smaller towel roughly as he strides out, stopping as his gaze settles on you in the doorway. “Well, look who it is.” He smiles mockingly before continuing into the room. “Come to fuck up my mood even more have you?”

You watch as he tossed the hand towel and flops onto the ruffled sheets, damp hair scattering around his head like a broken halo. “Your mom wanted me to come talk to you.”

“My mother?” He chimes with a sarcastic undertone. “And here I was hoping you’d come of your own free will.” His gaze fixed to the ceiling as he spoke, towel dangerously low around his waist. You were fully aware he was drunk, it was evident in the way his words half blurred into each other as he mumbled them out.

“Eren-”

“Don’t fucking say my name.” He snaps. “Hearing it come from you… it just makes it worse.”

“Can we talk, please?” For the first time since he left you he meets your gaze, a bored expression painted on his features as he gives you a once over.

“What is there to talk about, y/n?”

You shut the door behind you, starting on your approach to his bed. “About the night of the ball.”

A huff leaves his chest as you sit beside him, careful not to touch him. “You made yourself quite clear.”

“That’s not fair, ‘Ren.” Hearing his nickname made his jaw tense. “You never even gave me a chance to talk.”

“Okay.” He paused for a moment to shift himself to face you, brow raised expectantly. “So talk. What more could you possibly have to say to me?”

A deep breath stutters from between your lips as you muster the courage to finally speak, to finally unlock the chains you’ve had so tightly wrapped around your heart. “I like you, Eren. As much as you piss me off and make life difficult, you somehow always still find a way to make everything better.” He listens to you ramble silently, green eyes boring intensely into yours. “When you told me you loved me that night… I didn’t know how to respond because for so long we’ve had such a weird and complicated relationship. I mean, can you blame me for reacting the way I did?”

You were right. After all the pettiness he subjected you to it was no wonder you were hesitant, it still didn’t make the rejection any less hard though. In all honesty if it weren’t for the alcohol drowning out the pain he’d been in for the last four days he’d probably have told you to get out of his sight. But a deeper part of him wanted to hear your side, to listen, most of all to understand. It was only fair after all.

“I guess not.” He mumbles aloud, the sound bringing a hint of a smile to your lips. “So what are you trying to say?”

“I like you, Eren. Maybe even love you. But I need you to be patient with me.”

His head nods slowly in agreement. “Okay, I can do that.” There was hope and that was all he really ever wanted to hear. To know that there was some kind of chance, an inkling that you’d like him back. Your words somehow managed to lift a lifetime’s worth of weight off his chest, one that seemed to be burdening you as well.

He chuckles as you flop beside him with a soft groan, your scent melding with his own in close proximity. “Why did we go through all this bullshit?” You question, feigning exasperation.

“Because feelings are scary.” His heart swells at the sound of your bubbly laugh, your contagious smile upturning his own lips.

“You can say that again.”

“I’m sorry.” He adds. “For everything. I’m an asshole for putting you through all that. All because I tried to hide my feelings for you. I just ended up projecting my insecurities onto you.”

“Wow, the great Eren Yeager apologising? Is hell freezing over?” You squeal as he playfully smacks your thigh, shifting to tickle your side.

“I’m trying to pour my heart out here and you're taking it as a joke? Huh, am I a joke to you?” He grits teasingly through his teeth, not letting up at your waist. Your hands clawed at his own, trying desperately to pry them away from your sides.

“Okay, okay!” You cry.

He watches you writhe beneath him in amusement. “Okay, what?”

“Okay, I’m sorry! You’re not a joke!” You manage between breaths, stuck in a fit of uncontrollable laughter. “Eren, stop my tummy hurts!”

Per your request his hands cease, slowly trailing their way up your arm before settling on your cheek. His gaze locks with yours for a prolonged period of time. “I’m serious, y/n. I don’t know how you can ever forgive me.”

"I forgive you, 'Ren." You draw him in by his hair, lacing it between your fingers as your lips brushed against his. “But I do know a few ways you can make it up to me.”

tags: @getosarea, @gardenof-venusenus, @sintiva, @sailewhoremoon

additionally thank you to @satorhime for helping me get through my overthinking rut, talking with you literally eased my stress. thank you for keeping me company at 1 am lmao

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broskiblurbs · 11 months

Text

One-Time Thing {T.H}

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader Words: 1.6K Summary: You wake up in Tom’s bed after a drunken night. You’re confused about how you feel. Oh, also, you happen to be his little brother’s best friend. (I am making this a series) Disclaimer: Mild cursing and mention of smut.

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The sunlight shining in the window was what woke you up. The satin sheets underneath you begged you to stay in bed, and you want to. You had a pounding headache, signaling you had one too many drinks last night. You can feel your stomach twisting and turning as it tries to process the remaining alcohol. Not to mention, the bed was so comfortable. You wrap your arms around the pillow to cuddle it, and that’s when you noticed it. This wasn’t your pillow. Whose pillow is it? Then, you turned over and saw him. Tom Holland.

He was awake as well, making sure to not make eye contact with you. Judging by his facial expression, he has come to the same realization as you. You are both naked and laying in his bed. Probably both hungover as hell. If the headache wasn’t enough to tell you drank too much, the fact you slept with your best friend’s older brother definitely was. Oh no, Harry.

Harry Holland has been your best friend for two years now. You were in New York City one day taking pictures for your photography class. You saw a flock of pigeons in Rockefeller Center and felt inspired. You took a couple pictures from different angles and you were satisfied. You noticed a boy about your age taking pictures of you. This made you feel uneasy, understandably.

“Hey, creep,” you call out. “Why are you taking pictures of me?” Harry’s face turned bright red.

“I-uh-I can explain,” he stuttered as he stood up straight.

“I’m waiting,” you demanded. He started to shake due to the nerves. He pulled out his camera.

“I was taking pictures of y-you taking pictures of the pigeons,” he explained and showed you the pictures. You had to admit, they were breathtaking. You have been into photography for years and couldn’t achieve this amount of mastery. “I promise I was going to show you before you caught me.”

“These are beautiful,” you whisper as you look through the photos on his camera. “What camera do you have?”

“Nixon D850,” he answered, studying you carefully. You examine the camera like it was a diamond.

“Wow.” You were so entranced by the camera and his skills, you almost forgot about the whole incident. “Say, can you help me take some pictures for my photography class and I’ll consider this whole thing forgotten?”

“Deal.”

You and Harry were practically inseparable ever since. You got an A in that photography class thanks to him. The two of you party a lot. You were his wing woman and he helped you get out of sticky situations with guys. Something told you he wouldn’t be thrilled to help you with this mess you were in. You were on your own for this one. Last night’s events flooded your mind as you laid as still as possible next to Tom, afraid the whole world would collapse if a sound was made. You glance at him. He was staring at the ceiling with an unreadable facial expression.

“Well, that happened,” He spoke, breaking the nerving silence.

“We can’t tell Harry,” you uttered. You sat up, making sure the blanket was still covering you, and rushed to find your clothes.

“Agreed,” he put on his boxers and turned around so you could change.

“My god, what if he already knows? He’s going to kill me. How could I be so stupid,” you panicked as you quickly put your shoes on. It came out a lot harsher than you intended. It wasn’t that you regretted last night. In fact, you thoroughly enjoyed yourself, which scared you even more. Drunk or not, you had sex with your best friend’s brother.

“Hey, hey.” Tom gently grabbed your arm so you would pay attention to him. “You’re not stupid. We were drunk and made a mistake. I mean, I had a good time last night. It’s a one-time thing.” He gave you a reassured smile. You nodded in agreement. “Do you want some coffee? It might help with that headache.”

“No, thanks,” you responded. “I better call Harry. He’s probably freaking out. Um, bye?” Tom laughed at your awkwardness. As you open the door, you are met with another face: Harrison.

“Oi, Y/N, what are you doing here? Harry is going bonkers because you’re not answering your cell,” he exclaimed. You stalled like a deer in headlights. What other reason would you be at a man’s apartment in last night’s attire, hair all messed up, and ruined make-up? It seemed that Harrison was placing the pieces together as well.

“Mate, it’s not what it looks like,” Tom tried.

“Oh, I think it is what it looks like,” Harrison laughed with a smirk. “Look at you, you have no shirt on. I can practically smell the sex in the air. Am I right or am I right?”

“Seriously? It’s not like that,” Tom tried once more, but it was no use. You hold up your finger at Tom and turn to Harrison.

“Please, don’t tell Harry,” you pleaded.

“Y/N, I don’t-”

“Harrison, please,” you interrupted, giving him puppy dog eyes.

He let out a groan, “Fine, but you should tell him.”

“Thank you.”

“Just so we are clear, you two did the deed, right? The birds and the bees?” Harrison asked. You just rolled your eyes and left the apartment, so he looked at his best friend for confirmation.

“Yes,” Tom answered no louder than a whisper.

You open your phone to hundreds of texts and missed calls from Harry. Judging from the texts, it doesn’t seem that he suspects anything. He’s just worried about you while you were off fucking his brother. You didn’t deserve Harry.

“Are you okay?” Your best friend’s voice booms through the phone, causing your head to pound more.

“Shhh, I’m fine. Just hungover as hell,” you respond, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“What happened to you last night? You and Tom just vanished into thin air.” He asked. You stiffen at the mention of Tom’s name.

“Just ended up in some guy’s bed,” you answered. You weren’t technically lying.

“It’s just usually you call me when stuff like this happens.”

“I just decided to give you a break for once,” you stated with not as much confidence as you hoped. You put him on speaker phone so you could wash the old makeup off your face.

“I guess as long as you’re okay. I’m about to stop by, want me to bring you anything?”

“No, I’m okay.”

After your phone call with Harry, you decided to take a shower to rinse off the events of last night. You could not believe all that happened in the span of 18 hours. You barely could remember everything that took place.

Last Night:

You and Tom were sitting at the bar. Harry and Sam were playing a game of pool and Harrison was flirting with some girl. You ordered another drink, knowing you were five too many in as it is, but you didn’t care.

“So, have you and Harry ever…,” Tom asked, making obscene gestures with his hands.

“What? No. Just friends,” you answered.

“I swore I heard him moaning your name one time while watching porn,” he mentioned. You weren’t sure if he was joking or not, but you decided it was better not to ask.

“How often do you watch porn?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Eh, once in a while. Don’t really need it.” Tom finishes his drink.

“Right, forgot. Everyone wants to sleep with Spider-Man,” you joke, causing Tom to chuckle.

“Trust me, there’s not much sleeping involved.” He gives you a wink. You wave him off.

“Please, I’ve had sex with my share of men and none of them was able to make me orgasm,” you admit. Tom looks at you shocked.

“Really?”

“Well, if I like finger myself while they fuck me then, maybe I can manage an orgasm,” you continue your confession. You weren’t sure why you were telling him this, but you felt turned on already by the conversation.

“You must have poor choices in men. If anything, they should be fingering you to help you orgasm. You shouldn’t have to help them,” he stated.

“Like you could do any better.” You smirk while finishing your drink.

“Is that a challenge?” His voice dropped an octave and was now husky.

“I’ll give you ten bucks if you can make me orgasm,” you challenge, feeling your crotch starting to get wet.

“Now, is that for every orgasm? Cause darling, I could pay rent when I am through with you,” he whispered seductively in your ear causing chills to go down your spine. He placed his hand on your thigh and slowly slid up. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” you practically begged. He gives you a lustful smile and turns to the bartender.

“Uh, yes, we would like to cash out.”

The next thing you know you were in his bed moaning his name. Let’s just say, you probably, in fact, owe him a month’s rent. Just thinking about it turned you on. You tried to quickly push those thoughts away. You couldn’t think of Tom like that. You were drunk and it was a one-time thing.

Part two here

#fanfic #my writing #spiderman #marvel #peter parker #celebrities #fiction #reader #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fanfiction #broskiblurbs

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welldonebeca · 3 months

Text

Uncertain Ground (8)

WC: 2.1k words Warnings: 1970s, angst. Hurt/Comfort. Tension.

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and I promise you won’t regret it.

Masterlist

Abby took in a deep breath, keeping herself straight as she went up the lift of Vought Tower.

Ben had gotten her this meeting and it was nerve-wrecking.

She was in her best superhero suit - the one for show, that isn't for fighting at all because a single kick or jump would get her tits out.

She was halfway there when the elevator stopped and it opened, revealing Black Noir.

The silent assassin of Payback.

The sheer sight of him made her freeze, and Abby quickly looked down, not wanting to annoy him, but was surprised when he actually greeted her.

"Hey! I don't think we've met?"

She looked at him with wide eyes.

Wasn't he quiet and mysterious?

"Oh, hm... hi!" she greeted him back. "I'm Abigail. Abby. I'm going up for a meeting with Stan Edgar."

"Nice to meet you, Abby," he spoke, and it sounded like he was smiling. "I heard him talking about doing some interviews, yeah. Normally, people gotta jump through a lot of hoops to get his far in the process, but maybe things are changing. It's good to see people like us succeeding and having an actual chance for a change, right?"

She frowned, a little confused, but soon realised what he meant.

Wait, Black Noir was black?

She wanted to ask, but she knew the answer already.

Show Business.

So that was why he was so covered up.

"Thank you for telling me," she smiled at him.

Black Noir just shrugged.

"Just don't go telling the press, and we are cool," he chuckled. "Can't ruin our very inclusive branch."

She laughed, relaxing for once, and the door opened, revealing Ben standing right there.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

She swallowed down. He didn't look too friendly.

Black Noir didn't answer, and she just lowered her gaze.

"Hi, Ben," she spoke softly.

They walked out of the lift, and Ben smiled at her before his face cooled, and he turned to Noir, who was back to his silent stance.

"Go find Mindstorm," he commanded.

Noir left, not questioning anything, and she looked at her boyfriend again.

Ben watched him walk away and close the door before moving to her and kissing her lips.

"Now look at you," he purred, smirking as he looked up and down her body. "This should be your official uniform."

She snorted, shaking her head.

"It's not practical," she reminded him. "My boobs are barely covered."

"Exactly," he winked at her. "Come on. Edgar is waiting for us."

He took her hand and guided her down the hallway to a pair of double doors.

"Now," he stopped, looking at her. "I can't come in with you, but are a show, because you are my girl, and my girl is perfect."

She felt her cheeks flushing.

"Thanks," she whispered. "I hope it goes well."

"It will," he assured her, giving her lips a little peck. "Now go there and make them fall for you the way you made me."

She smiled, feeling a little more confident as she opened the doors and stepped inside.

Two men were sat inside, side by side, with one looking like he didn't want to be here as he drank from his flask, and the other with a face so cold and unreadable it made her whole body tense.

Abby had heard about Stan Edgar from his features on TV, showing himself as the proud president of Vought, but while he was young, he didn't seem too friendly.

"Miss Galanis," he greeted her.

She stepped into the centre o the room silently, and he didn't move.

"Introduce yourself," he instructed.

Abby found her voice quickly.

"I'm Might Abby. Abigail, normally," she told them. "I'm 26 and my powers are weapon creating, superstrenght of over 1500 pounds, and telekinetic binding abilities."

She refrained from explaining what it meant. They probably knew.

They were fucking Vought, of course they knew

“And when did your powers show, Miss Abigail?”

She tried not to shift on her feet, her skin warm as she started to sweat a little bit.

“They showed when I was 8. I had gotten myself locked in a closet and my mother wasn’t home.”

Mum had locked her in the closet and left, because she was too angry at her.

“I was so scared that I just kept banging on the door for the next... maybe 40 minutes?"

Four hours. She got hurt doing it, the side of her right arm started bleeding at some point when she cut herself on a loose nail, and her other arm was bruised for days after.

"And then I remembered the lock on the other side. I remember hearing all the locks synch into place and as I replayed it over and over and over…"

The two locks that mum had turned to keep her there.

"And the door came open.”

It shattered in front of her from just her mind.

She kept up a smile while Edgar wrote something down.

"And what are your expectations if you were to join Payback?"

She looked directly at him.

"I want to be a hero, of course," she affirmed. "I'm used to just performing, but actually helping people... that is my dream."

He didn't say anything, and she spoke up again.

"I do community work as my passion too. It's always good to help those fortunate."

"Now, was this before or after your relationship with Soldier Boy?"

Her heart stopped right there and then, and she could feel all the blood leaving her face.

"Pardon, sir?" she tried to recover.

"Answer my question, Abigail."

Abby swallowed down, clenching and unclenching her jaw. Don't leave them waiting.

She could recover from this.

"Before, sir," she told him. "I was already doing it since long before I even met him."

The man didn't even react.

"How long has your relationship existed?"

She tried to remember.

"Almost a year, I think," she told him. "Maybe 10 months?"

"I assumed such from what I heard about his event last Summer."

Abby swallowed down silently.

Herogasm, pretty much one year ago.

Had he been watching them that long?

He looked up at her, not moving from his seat, and yet it felt like he held all the power in the world at that moment.

“Soldier Boy is a fine spokesperson of Vought. He’s been with the company for decades and his image is of the utmost importance. But sometimes he forgets his position,” his face grew even colder. “Especially with those who enable him.”

She didn't move.

"Enable?" I don't-"

"Do you believe you are the first woman he has become obsessed with?" he asked, not giving her space to speak. "His personal relationships I will let pass through the cracks, but only if he plays smart. If he remembers what is important for Vought. And you know what is important for Vought, don't you?"

She swallowed down.

"Yes, sir."

He shut her folder, and then looked at her again.

"We have decided to take Mosquito as the newest member of Payback," he informed her. "You will leave this room and cease all contact with Soldier Boy. You will receive compensation for your time, and if you would like to renew your contract with us, we can set you up into another team in your district."

Instructions. Not options.

"Thank you..." she swallowed down. "Thank you, sir."

She turned around and left, keeping her posture.

The moment she stepped out of the room, her heart picked up speed, and all she could do was rush to the elevator as her throat closed and her vision blurred.

Fuck, not here, not here.

She pressed te lobby button frantically, but the lift just did a slow steep before stopping.

"Well, ain't this a sigh," a woman's voice grimaced.

"I'm going to vomit," Abby couldn't stop confessing, gasping for air.

Someone grabbed her and dragged her somewhere before she realised she was in a restroom, and only had time to hurry to the toiler before it was too late.

Her breakfast went down the toilet, until her stomach was empty, and Abby rested her forehead on the cool stone before flushing.

When she turned around, she was shocked to see Crimson leaning against the wall beside a long line of sinks.

"Fun interview?" she asked, but there was no malice in her voice.

Abby forced herself to her feet, adjusting her clothes to look at least presentable.

"You can say that," she mumbled.

“You’re not the first person to vomit after speaking to Edgar,” Crimson said simply. “But I can only assume what he said to you shouldn’t be taken lightly.”

She didn’t say anything, washing her mouth.

Countess was right and she knew it, but how could she say that when she loved Ben and he loved her?!

How could anyone even ask her to leave him?

Countess looked into her eyes through the mirror.

"Trust me," she told her. "You'll save yourself a lot of pain."

Finally, Abby turned to look at her.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, voice hoarse and throat a little sore.

Countess looked at her as if she was stupid, but her face softnened with pity.

"He loved me once," she told her. "When we first started dating. It wasn't Vought who set us up, Ben looked for me."

What was she talking about?

“We were happy for a while... but then he grew bored," she continued. "He got tired of the pattern, found other girls to fill his time, and I let him, because what else could I do?"

Her eyes were full of pain as she spoke, but she didn't stop.

"He made it clear that this team was his," she pointed out, "Everyone, only here to suit his whims. That could’ve been you if Edgar let you join. You should be thankful that he didn't."

Abby shook her head.

No. This...

No, just no.

It couldn't be...

"He wouldn't..." she tried to argue. "He wouldn't do this to me."

But if felt like a lie.

Because she knew it was one.

Crimson just watched her before sighed.

"We are all fucked up here," she told her. "We just want our moment. We want to be loved. And he wants your love, because there's an empty pit in his stomach that will never be filled. Not by me and not by you, because you won't ever be enough."

She looked away, and her voice faltered and trembled briefly before she sighed.

"No one will."

Countess raised her eyes to her face again.

"Just leave now," she told her. "Don't worry about being in the blast zone, there are enough easy targets around him for him to take out on when you break it off."

She turned around and left, and Abby was alone again.

It was hard not to believe her.

The way Ben slammed her against the wall and choked her without even thinking...

What else had he done to Crimson that no one saw?

Or worse, what had he done that everyone saw and didn't speak on?

She took in a deep breath, ready to leave the bathroom, she heard a loud grunt after the sound of the elevator.

"Where is she?"

She closed her eyes.

Had Ben been looking for her?

Abby wanted to hide. To say in there and out of his way like she always did with mum.

How would he react?

What would he say?

But she had to do something. She couldn't run away.

So, she stepped out, and he instantly saw her, running to her and taking her face in his hands, so protective it almost melted.

"What happened?" he asked. "What did they say to you?"

"He said I should leave," she whispered, not brave enough to elaborate. "Break off contact."

Ben's lips curled in anger, and she knew he was furious. Still, she couldn't let him just go into another spiral.

"Ben, please," she cradled his face, whimpering. "You know they are right. We both know I'm not worthy enough, we both know-"

"That is not true!" he shouted interrupting her, and Abby flinched. "You are the strongest person I know and sweet and beautiful."

He walked slowly with her.

"You drive me insane every time I see you. Every second I'm not around you I feel like I'm dying," he huffed, emphatic. "You've changed me."

She swallowed down, realising she was now pressed against a wall.

"Ben, this is Vought," she argued with him. “We know what they can do.”

But he wasn't listening to her.

"Baby, we can-"

Still, Abby slowly pushed his hands away.

"Please. I don't want to hurt you," she stepped aside to him, and held back her own tears. "Trust me. Just let me go."

She squeezed his hand before pulling away, and walked out.

Thankfully, Ben didn't follow her.

…

“Uncertain Grounds” was fully posted on my Patreon on 2022. If you like Soldier Boy and other Jensen Ackles characters, and like the idea of having early access to my work, consider checking it out. It’s just $2 a month and I promise you won’t regret it. (link takes you to the public masterlist)

…

Forever Tags: @emoryhemsworth @amythyststorm33 @shaelyn102 @yknott81 @letsdisneythings @maximofftrash @kgbrenner @thefridgeismybestie @magpiegirl80 @mogaruke @shadowhunter7 @musicalcoffeebean @megasimpleplan4ever @deemoriarty @05spn18 @malindacath @kdcollinsauthor @random-fandom-fangirl2112 @widowsfics @frozenhuntress67 @averyrogers83 @notyourtypicalrose @nerdypinupcrystal @giruvega

#Welldonebeca's Uncertain Grounds series #soldier boy #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy fanfic #soldier boy x you #the boys season 3 #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy smut #soldier boy angst

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so-sures-blog · 1 year

Note

Hey so like I recently started getting into ikarishipping and I found your stuff and like???? It's so good???? I need more???? I wanted to request more fluffy hcs and stuff for them, but I totally understand if you don't wanna

listen

Ok, I know this isn’t a headcannon but I was inspired to write this little fic about them, so hope you don’t mind. This was sitting in my drafts for so long now until I finally worked up the courage to get it done.

º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º º

Dawn places the finishing touches on Piplup’s outfit, clapping appreciatively as her starter proudly strikes poses in his little cheerleader prince uniform.

“Let’s go show everyone your outfit!” Dawn picks up Piplup and beams as he chirps his agreement.

Dawn exits the room, heading out to meet Ash, Barry, and Brock to talk about the match today. It was the early morning of the Pokémon Sinnoh League, with Ash and Paul finally facing off. After a full year of battling and insults the two were about to meet in the semifinals.

Dawn makes her way down the hall, footsteps echoing. Ash against Paul … it would certainly be a battle to be remembered. It had been a long time since Lake Acuity. Since their very first battle. Ash and his team have only grown stronger since then, and so has Paul.

They all had.

“… I have one last thing to tell you,” a voice suddenly cuts across the lobby and turning around, Dawn gasps and ducks before Paul sees her.

Piplup turns around with a questioning “Pip?” and Dawn claps a hand over his beak. Piplup releases a silent squawk of rage before pecking her hand indignantly. Dawn shakes out her hand with a quiet hiss before pressing a finger to her lips and glaring in a ‘be quiet’ motion. Piplup glares right back before he settles down to eavesdrop. Dawn pokes her head over the counter to watch.

“Paul? Win this. Don’t underestimate Ash’s skill — then win the whole thing!”

Paul’s lips curve into a smile. “I will.”

Reggie hung up with a “Later, Paul,” before Paul turns around — only to meet Dawn’s startled blue eyes.

Dawn froze in embarrassment, a pink blush staining her cheeks once she realizes she’s been caught staring. Paul looks taken aback, staring at her with surprised onyx eyes.

Say something, stupid, her brain says as silence starts to creep between the two.

“Umm …” Dawn laughs nervously, and Paul turns on his heel and begins walking away. She nearly facepalmed herself. Really, that’s what she comes up with?

“That was Reggie you were talking to, right? So, is he coming here today?” Dawn hastily tries to cover up her lack of verbal skills by asking him a question, but she must’ve said the wrong thing because Paul begins walking faster.

Dawn felt stupid. Of course Reggie wasn’t coming, Paul was just on a phone call with him, and Veilstone City was too far to make it in an hour. Before she could wallow in her own self-pity, Paul spoke up.

“So, how’s he doing?” Paul practically sneers.

“Uh, you mean how’s Ash?” Dawn asks. She exchanges a questioning look with Piplup before realizing Paul is almost at the door. She runs after him. “Wait! If you ask a question, don’t you want to hear the answer?”

Dawn catches up with him, falling in a step or two behind him. The brisk morning air hits her face and clears her head. “Ash is doing some last minute training with his Pokémon. Want me to get him?”

“Please don’t. No need.”

“Why did you ask about him then?”

“ … I don’t know.”

Oh great, Dawn thinks sarcastically. Dawn realizes she’s fallen behind him and hurries to catch up.

What do we even say to each other? She thinks nervously. The awkwardness is probably one-sided as she doubts Paul cares about that sort of thing, but it’s all Dawn can think about.

As a coordinator, Dawn prides herself on being able to entertain the audience and appeal to the judges. Her entire career depends on people’s opinions and how they view her.

But Paul? Paul was unreadable. She had no idea what he was thinking, much less feeling.

Should she just peel off, say she forgot something? But they were walking in the same direction. Should she ask him about his Pokémon, if he was ready for his battle? But would Paul get defensive and snap at her? Would Paul even notice if she fell back and walked by herself?

“I just don’t like him,” Paul says suddenly. Dawn’s head whips up. Was Paul actually talking about his feelings? Verbally expressing how he felt? In front of her?

Dawn suddenly felt like she’s walking on a live wire.

“He talks just like my brother. Friends, trust … my brother says those things all the time too.”

“But Paul, Ash isn’t Reggie. Ash is Ash, and that’s that.” Dawn protests.

“PAUL!”

“Hey Dawn! Paul!”

The two look up to see Barry and Ash racing towards them with bright grins on their faces.

“Look, Ash is like any other trainer I’d have to battle in the quarter-finals … and I’m going to have to beat him if I want to win the Sinnoh League.”

Dawn stares at Paul with an open mouth. Wow. She had no idea Paul felt those things — that he is even feeling things at all. She knows Ash, his nervousness for the battle manifesting in his training and his determination. But Paul is feeling things about the battle too.

Dawn feels his determination, his strength for what is ahead. The way he speaks and how his eyes focus up ahead — past her, past Ash — as if there is more waiting for him to achieve.

It makes Dawn realize that being the Sinnoh Champion isn’t just Ash’s dream — it was Paul’s too. The way Paul trained his Pokémon and how he let go of Chimchar — it was ruthless and wrong, but suddenly Dawn realizes it was for a purpose. Paul wasn’t power-hungry for no reason.

Paul is ambitious and determined and focused and level. His strength to push past things and focus solely on his goal is what makes him powerful, not his Pokémon. His ambition drives him to do better and his determination is what forces him to never stop. This battle with Ash is a stepping stone to something greater, and Paul is going to do everything he can to beat him.

And Dawn could respect that.

***

Ash and Paul’s battle is as heart-pounding as Dawn expects.

She’s cheering for Ash, calling out encouragement as Piplup cheers and Brock yells. She is rooting for him because she’s his friend, and one little conversation with Paul won’t change that.

But still, between Barry screaming in her ear and the roaring audience, a small part of her thinks she wouldn’t mind it if Paul won.

#pokémon #pokémon fanfic #ikarishipping fic #ikarishipping #pokemon diamond and pearl #ikarishipping headcannons #pokemon hikari #pokemon shinji #dawn pokemon #paul pokemon

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degenderates · 9 months

Text

ok fuck it. ranking covers of a home at the end of the world by michael cunningham because guys some of these covers slap and some of them are the ugliest shit i've ever seen. this is the kind of post i would have used to make back in my tiktok days but there's no way im opening that app by my own will again. so mutuals read this post.

last place/ugliest cover first.

the stock photo. literally what is going on here. the font is practically unreadable and makes no sense. the image itself looks like someone pulled it right off shutterstock. its giving my middle school vsco account. why are there three women on the front? the story is primarily about two guys and one girl. i mean there is a second female pov but she's not part of the polycule. font is clean but ugly. bye.

the movie poster one. i have so much beef with this cover, even as a movie poster. they literally took three screenshots of the movie and overlayed them into a weird collage type thingy. why is colin farrell standing like that?? why is the character jonathan in the back?? it's giving disney channel. it's giving early 00s--in a bad way. no rights at all. 🍅🍅🍅

the perks of being a wallflower one. i guess there was a craze for late 90s books to have typewriter font in the middle of a minimalistic cover?? i hate minimalistic, abstract covers. you could choose to tell us something about the book but no. here is an orange circle and a black circle. okay.

the modern cover (i assume). i like the watercolor and how it's not too busy but there's still a discernable image (unlike a CERTAIN cover i just discussed...🙄). the font kind of fucks up the whole thing though. it doesn't match the vibes of the book at all. it's very new-adult-romance and just feels off. because yeah technically the book is about new adults and their relationship drama but it's not this...cute.

the uk cover (?). the quality of this image sucks but i literally could only find it on abebooks.co.uk so. it's not bad, just really busy. the font has a shadow so it can be readable but that makes it feel even more cluttered. i like how the angel statue makes an appearance, but all the colors and how bright it is just makes it feel like a little too much.

the color burned one. honestly while i like the vibes i'm not quite sure who this lady is supposed to be. that looks like a wing so she's probably the white angel statue, but she looks too human. and angels aren't different colors like that. i like how this is simple and black, very classy. but ultimately it doesn't really make a lot of sense.

the grey one. this is simple, but nice. it's dark but with light shining behind the house--a nice balance of hardships but also hope, which fits the story. there's a swingset, which makes sense given the story is about growing up, in a sense. and there might have been a swingset at the actual house in the book. can't remember. the font is clean. a little sci-fi/futuristic for my taste but that's alright i guess. this is the cover i have. i guess i should be lucky it's not one of the previous ones but i really wish i had the next one...

the first edition. look it's classy. it's gothic. the angel is there. the sky looks like it could be ohio or nyc. there's powerlines. the font is stylish but not over the top. it's not too bright. it's slaying. one of my favorite things about this cover is how it emphasizes the angel, because the book itself was written around michael cunningham's seminal short story "white angel" which i have talked about a lot on this blog. it also is in a similar pose to the actual angel statue it was based on, the black angel of iowa city (shown below). i'm a fan. i wish i had this cover soooo bad<333

~~~

overall thoughts: most of these covers are kind of shitty lol. this book deserves better</3 if one of y'all live in the US, dont care much about covers, and want a free copy of this book i'll send my copy (the grey cover) to you for free just so i can buy the top ranked one on ebay lol. anyways if u got to the end and found this at all entertaining, tell me so. this was fun to do except when tumblr deleted the whole thing and i had to remake the entire post!!! lol!!!! and y'all should read this book because it's very good and very messy queer and i adore it deeply. <3

#a home at the end of the world #michael cunningham #book covers #booklr #litblr #this isnt actually a booklr blog lmao if anyone in the booklr tag sees this #white angel #josiah speaks

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separatist-apologist · 1 year

Text

All Of Me Changed Like Midnight

Summary: When Elain Archeron has one disastrous night with Azriel as a teenager, the long-standing crush she'd been harboring vanishes.

Five years later, Azriel is back, and he wants to redeem that night.

Happy Halloween! It's nice to have this out of my brain.

Beta'd by @the-lonelybarricade! Read what critics are saying: HES AN ASSHOLE AND ITS MAKING ME FALL IN LOVE WITH HIM FUCK and AZRIEL IS SO MUCH BETTER WHEN HES ON HIS KNEES HNNNG

Read on AO3

Elain Archeron took a breath—and then another.

“Did…are you finished?” she asked timidly, raking her fingernails through the dark hair over her.

“I–” Azriel halted, his expression unreadable in the dark.

Oh.

Having spent the better part of a year listening to her eldest sister's soft moans from the bedroom beside hers, Elain had expected…something. More, maybe? She’d sought Azriel out on purpose—he was so handsome, her long-time crush and Cassian, Nesta’s boyfriend’s best friend. She wasn’t the only girl at school who watched him. Azriel was easily the best looking boy at school.

She’d just assumed that like Cassian, he knew what he was doing.

But maybe not.

“It’s fine,” she lied, suddenly embarrassed and frustrated. “It was—” quick? Underwhelming? Not what she expected? “Good.”

He cleared his throat, sliding himself out of her body quickly. Elain watched, rising up on her elbows. How quickly a crush could evaporate, she realized. The kissing had been good—really good, even—but everything else had happened too fast. She thought that was just passion, but she wondered now if this was just who he was. He’d gotten what he wanted, at any rate.

And some little part of her was resentful.

“You should probably go,” she whispered as he trashed that condom. He whipped around to look at her, though if it was relief or frustration, she couldn’t tell. They’d turned off all the lights.

“My dad will be home soon.”

That was a lie. Her dad would be gone all night. She’d be home alone just like she’d planned. Stupid to think Azriel could keep her up for even a third of it. She’d read too many romance books, she chided herself. This was real—he was real, and this was done.

“I’ll uh…I’ll call you?” he whispered with that midnight voice. Elain drew the blankets to her chin.

“Sure.”

She had no intention of repeating this. Once was enough, she decided. Or, some mean voice whispered in her mind, he had no intention of calling at all. Just something he told all the girls to make them feel better.

Elain just wanted him to go so she could turn on the television and pretend the whole thing never happened. He’d taken her virginity, and at least that was done. Maybe the next person would draw those sounds from her. Maybe she’d feel something besides surprise and mild discomfort.

He dressed himself quickly, as if he, too, was desperate to escape. She kept her eyes on anything but him. Even when Azriel came towards her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, Elain didn’t look.

“I’ll see you around,” he murmured, fingers stroking her cheek. Elain very gently pulled herself out of his grasp.

“Sure.” Lie, lie, lie.

And that was it. Elain waited until she heard his bike start up, the bright lights illuminating her bedroom until he pulled out of the drive. Only then did Elain make her way to the shower to clean the smell of Azriel’s masculine cologne off her body.

And forget the whole thing entirely.

[5 years later]:

Elain halted in the vestibule of the church, hands sweating at the sight of the best man. Azriel gazed down at her with cool, hazel eyes. Rehearsal, this was just practice—She didn’t know what to say to him. The last time they’d spoken was the day after their ill-fated night together. He’d asked what she was up to, she’d brushed him off, and that was that. He’d gone back to…whatever it was he did with his free time and Elain forgot all about him.

Five whole years. Had she thought he’d been a man back then? She might have laughed had she not been so nervous. She felt awkward. There had been other men since Azriel—some much better, some a lot worse—and yet he was the first.

“Elain,” he said by way of greeting. Clearly there was no awkwardness on his end. The smirk on his stunning face annoyed her.

Yeah, yeah, we had sex. So what?

She lifted her chin in the air. “Azriel.”

“Long time, no see,” he pressed, coming to stand just beside her. She glanced over at the tall, muscular man just beside her. Her heart pounded against her ribs, though that was just anxiety and nothing else. It was ridiculous how attractive he was. High cheekbones, a full, sensual mouth, and those hazel eyes that had always made her weak—set in his warm, golden brown skin. The light reflected off his inky hair, reflecting blue against this strands. He offered her his arm, revealing hands that were truly massive.

Just my type.

Had she not known what it was like to sleep with him. Elain slid her hand over the crisp material of his suit, and the pair stepped from that linoleum room into the church Nesta would be wed in. No one sat in any of the pews as they passed. This was just practice for tomorrow so everyone knew the whens and wheres.

And most importantly—no one embarrassed Nesta on the most important day of her life.

The walk seemed to stretch on for an eternity, each step aging Elain by a decade. The familiar, masculine scent of Azriel invaded her senses until she was awash in memories she’d mostly forgotten.

Add that to the general aura of danger he’d always exuded, and the tattoos peeking from the neckline of his suit, and Elain practically ran to her place on that dias. Cassain was already there, casual in comparison with his best men. When Azriel approached, her soon-to-be brother-in-law winked at his friend, a smile curling over his face.

It was all forgotten when Nesta stepped in. Dressed in a white, lacy sun dress, Nesta looked stunning.

“Fuck yes, Nes!” Cassian called over the music.

Nesta threw her hands up in the air. “You better not do that tomorrow!” Her narrowed, blue eyes seemed to gleam silver with warning. Cassian only chuckled.

“If I don’t, I’m gonna cry.”

“I think she’d prefer the crying,” Elain offered as Nesta continued her descent towards Cassian. He only looked at her, shrugging powerful shoulders. Elain was reminded that fundamentally, weddings were boring to everyone but the two people getting married, and her feet ached from the shoes she’d chosen to wear.

She kept herself from fidgeting. As the maid of honor, she set the example. If Feyre realized Elain was bored, who knew what sort of shenanigans might erupt? Elain was delighted when the whole thing was over and Nesta began splitting them up to drive to the restaurant. Elain and Feyre had come together, and Elain stupidly assumed they’d go back together.

She ought to have known Feyre never missed an opportunity to spend time with Rhysand.

“I—”

“Elain can come with me,” Azriel interrupted her smoothly, a hand resting on his stomach. “I didn’t bring the bike.”

“Perfect,” Nesta declared, turning back to Cassian. “Meet there in thirty?”

“In thirty?” Elain gasped. “The restaurant is a block away.”

“Read the room, Archeron,” Azriel murmured, putting a warm hand on her elbow. “They want to be alone. I’ll drive around the city…you can tell me what you’ve been up to since we last saw each other.”

Her heart took off again. Anxiety crept up the back of her neck, burning every inch of her skin. He led her into the warm night, vanishing into shadow for a moment. Elain, like she’d done the last time she’d seen him, kept her eyes on the concrete beneath her feet until Azriel pulled open his car door.

She slid into the leather interior, drinking in the rich, spicy smell that seemed to permeate everything he owned. Maybe she should have gone with Rhysand and Feyre. Sure, they would have spent the whole time arguing as some form of strange foreplay. Anything was better than the tension between her and Azriel.

“We could just go early,” Elain tried when he started the ignition. “Order something to eat?”

He didn’t respond to that. Azriel pulled into the hazy night traffic, one hand gripping the wheel, the other resting against his own thigh.

“What have you been up to, Elain?”

Oh God. “Nothing much.”

“No boyfriend?”

She scoffed. “Is that what you wanted to know? All these years—”

“I want another night with you,” he interrupted smoothly. Elain’s stomach splattered at her feet.

“What did you say?”

“A do-over,” Azriel repeated. “To rectify my past mistakes.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Elain lied, forcing herself to stare at the oncoming traffic blurring past.

“No? Did you come, Elain?”

She shivered. “Oh, did we have sex once?” she lied, licking her lips. His dark chuckle forced her knees together. Elain wondered if she was trapped in some sort of incredibly vivid hallucination. Surely no one would be so bold. Certainly not the guy who had made her first time so ridiculously disappointing.

Her words had the opposite effect of humbling him. “If you’ve forgotten, then you didn’t come. Let me settle the score between us.”

“There’s no need,” she insisted, slapping a bright smile on her face. “Seriously. It’s ancient history. I never think about it.”

“You sure know how to make a man feel good about himself. My pride won’t let me forget it.”

“Have you tried therapy?” Elain asked, looking over at him. Mistake! Her brain screamed. Azriel’s eyes were so impossibly dark, that chiseled jaw clenched tight. She clenched her fingers into fists, letting her nails dig into her palm so hard it dragged her back to reality.

Azriel was determined to keep her in that in-between world. His free hand slid over her knee, warm fingers pressed against the fabric of her dress.

“Is this how you want to make it up to me?” Elain demanded, grabbing his wrist when he began pushing her gown up over her leg. His fingers continued pulling at the fabric, revealing inch after inch of skin. “In your car?”

“In my car…the restaurant…and then in my bed,” he agreed softly. “I want you on my fingers, my face, my tongue and then I’ll have you on my cock…” he trailed off as she released her grip on his wrist, half trembling at his words.

“Az—”

“Spread your legs, baby,” he murmured, the word more command than plea. “Let me see how wet you are.”

“I’m not,” she said, though her legs seemed to operate outside of her control. They spread obscenely wide. Azriel chuckled, sliding one of his fingers up the seam of her pussy.

“Liar,” he crooned, taking those wet fingers and smearing them over her lips. “Taste yourself, tell me if it's sweet.”

“Azriel,” she whispered, not daring to respond to that. His fingers were back between her legs, stroking everywhere but where she wanted him. Elain might have laughed—all talk, even after all those years apart. She swallowed, deciding she’d count to one hundred, fake her orgasm, and call it a night. She could take a cab home before he realized she was gone.

The light in front of them turned red just in time for Azriel to slide finger over her clit. Elain’s eyes flew open, head jerking to look at him.

He accessed her with a predator's gaze. “Nice try,” he whispered, leaning over the console between them to lick just behind her ear. “You can’t fake it with me.”

“Azriel,” she began, unsure what she’d even say. Pleasure bloomed low in her gut, drawn with each new circle of his lazy finger. Azriel touched her like he had all the time in the world.

“Just like that, baby,” he praised. “I love the way you say my name.”

The light flickered green, though they might have still been stopped for how his hand continued to work. How he was splitting his concentration, Elain couldn’t say.

Didn’t care, so long as he didn’t stop rubbing. She was utterly indecent, legs spread wider to give him better access to her body. He didn’t react at all—didn’t grab her hand and demand she stroke him, didn’t betray he felt any lust at all.

It was strange, but it put her at ease. She could focus on herself without worrying about him or his pleasure. Elain very much wanted to be selfish. She lifted her hips into his touch, rolling in a mimicry of fucking that she couldn’t wholly control. Instinct took over some of her actions, letting pleasure override whatever common sense urged her to stop this.

“You’re making a mess of my seat,” he chuckled, his voice low and rich—dark, like the night around them. He might have been made of ribbons of shadows, might have been fluid for how he moved against her.

“That’s it,” he whispered when she whimpered, her pleasure undeniable. “Come for me, Elain.”

His fingers sped up, moving in tight circles over her clit. Over and over, inescapable as he pushed her closer to the edge. Vaguely, Elain had some awareness that the car had stopped moving, though in truth the only thing she truly knew in that moment was him. His hands, his scent, his presence.

“You’re such a pretty girl,” Azriel whispered, his face close enough she could smell something distinctly sweet on his breath. “Come all over my hand, Elain. Be my good girl and come for me.”

That did it. Elain arched, hips bowing off the seat as she gripped his arm. Her whole body ignited, fracturing into spools of violet flecked midnight. It was pleasure and it was pain all at once, locking her body as he rode her through it.

She shoved at his hand when pleasure eroded wholly to pain. Azriel lifted his fingers obscenely to his mouth, sucking them clean with such obvious delight.

“Just like I thought,” he murmured, eyes never leaving her face.

It was jarring to see the fluorescent lights of the restaurant right in front of them. They were ten minutes early. Jesus Christ, but how long has he been fingering her? Forcing her heart to settle, Elain shoved her dress back over her knees.

“Where was that five years ago?” she demanded, wanting to humble him.

He chuckled. “What does any virgin know about pleasuring a woman?” he replied. Elain’s heart stuttered.

“Virgin?”

Some of his amusement faded into uncertainty. “Yes. You were my first.”

She had to resist running a hand down her face lest she smear her makeup. “You…but I just assumed…”

“I was eighteen,” he replied, so obviously confused. “Why would you assume I wasn’t?”

She gestured at his face helplessly. “You were so…”

“Shy?” he supplied. “Nervous around girls? Yes, I see how you would confuse that with game.”

“Cassian was—”

“Your sister was his first, and I have it on very good authority he was just as embarrassing. I wanted to rectify that night, but you wouldn’t talk to me. I suppose I know why.” He laughed, like the whole thing was funny. Elain wrenched open the car door, unsure how she felt.

Ashamed, maybe?

But that wasn’t it.

“I’m not done with you,” Azriel called when she stepped into the darkness. She slammed the door in his face, shivering all the same.

It was want. Pure, undiluted want that was flooding through her. Elain was grateful when she saw Nesta’s friends Emerie and Gwyn sitting inside when she arrived. She planted herself between Mor and Emerie, facing Gwyn so there was no room for Azriel to sneak himself beside her and continue his torment. If it bothered him, Azriel gave no indication. He holed up at the end of the table, ordering a drink with a smirk that sent the waitress running to fill his order.

Ass.

Cassian and Rhys weren’t far behind, joining their friend while the rest of the bridal party squeezed together. Elain could almost forget what had happened in the car. Watching Mor flirt with Emerie certainly helped soothe the buzzing between her legs. And the waitress was so shamelessly flirting with Azriel and Rhys that Elain could pretend this was just who Azriel was. He’d gotten to finger her in the car and now he was trying his luck with the waitress, too.

And maybe that was what prompted her to take that first shot of tequila from Mor.

And the second.

And then the third.

Elain didn’t dare do anymore—she was pleasantly tipsy. Any more and she’d be drunk and who knew what she’d do then. Climb into Azriels lap and rub herself against him like a cat in heat was her guess.

She excused herself for the bathroom, phone in hand. She had the app to Uber open when she pulled open the single stall door, intending to slip out before anyone realized she was gone.

That proved difficult when a large, tattooed hand slammed against the wood. Azriel slipped between the crack, locking the pair of them in with amused eyes.

“Give me your phone,” he murmured, holding out his palm. What was wrong with her? She handed it over, letting him see the app open.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, sliding it into his pocket as he paced towards her. Elain stepped back, until she was pressed against the wall just beside the door.

“Home?”

“With me,” he reminded her, dragging his lips over her neck. “Or have you forgotten?”

“I think I forgot,” Elain lied. He lifted his head, nose brushing her own. It was a game—one he wanted her to play along.

“Do you need a reminder?” he asked her, kissing the corner of her mouth. She wanted him to kiss her fully—she remembered how good he’d been at that. Azriel denied her, instead sliding down her body until he was kneeling in front of her.

Elain’s breath caught in her throat. She typically had to beg a man to go down on her. Even when Azriel had said he wanted her to come on his face, she’d chalked that up to the usual male bravado. All men talked a good game—even if they were good with their hands and their cocks, they were typically shitty with their mouths.

Azriel pushed her dress back up over her hips before reaching for her knee and hauling it up over her shoulder. Elain could barely breathe, watching him press feather soft kisses over her sensitive, aching skin. He never took his eyes off her, watching her every little reaction.

“This, I remember,” he said, staring at her body through the pair of pink lacy panties. He rubbed his nose over the fabric, teasing her until she couldn’t stand it.

Azriel pushed the fabric aside with nimble, clever fingers. “Look at your pretty, perfect pussy,” Azriel murmured when she was bared beneath his gaze.

“Az—”

“I was trying to find something on that shitty menu I wanted to eat,” he continued, eyes laser focused between her legs. “Looks like I found it.”

“Az—” her soft plea choked into a soft, garbled cry when his tongue slicked over her clit without warning or preamble.

“Spread your legs, baby. Let me look at you,” Azriel ordered, keeping her suspended on one foot. Elain did as he asked, earning a soft swear of appreciation. His tongue slid up the center of her cunt, robbing Elain of all rational thought for the second time that night.

“I thought I’d lose my mind,” Azriel continued, teasing the tip of his tongue over swollen, sensitive flesh. “I was seconds from crawling under that table.”

Elain arched into his face, raking her hands through his thick, dark hair while his own fingers kneaded the soft flesh of her thighs. It only heightened her pleasure. He’d avoided touching anything but her clit and Elain was desperate to know what it would feel like to be penetrated by him again.

Her eyes fluttered shut, giving way to that fantasy. She remembered the thick, long appendage hanging between his legs. She’d been so nervous about it back then.

Now she wanted him to split her open with his cock. If he’d flipped her around, told her to grab the edge of the sink, and pushed into her, Elain would have presented her ass gratefully. He didn’t—instead, Azriel plunged his tongue into her wet, tight channel and Elain had to bite back a scream.

“Open your eyes,” he ordered, his dark voice echoing around her. “Don’t let me catch you close them.”

She couldn’t tell him that she’d been fantasizing about him—not when that tongue slid back up her center, taunting and teasing her clit until she was breathless.

“Tell me the truth about something, Elain,” he murmured, pulling his mouth off her again. Thumbs hooked into the lips of her pussy, pulling her open wider for his scorching gaze. “Are you being fucked well? All these years apart…have you been taken care of?”

She whimpered, arching into him in an attempt to get him to lick her again. Azriel only chuckled.

“That’s what I thought. Criminally underfucked.”

Elain yanked at his hair, dragging him back to her pussy with as much force as she could muster. Azriel laughed, so ridiculously handsome the sight merely heightened her pleasure. Still, he didn’t bring his tongue back.

“Tell me what you want,” Azriel whispered, kissing everywhere but where she needed him.

“Please, Azriel,” she pleaded.

“Please what, Elain?”

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, meeting his gaze. Azriel offered her one slow, languid lick before he stopped again. She whimpered, hating how badly she needed this. How every protest she’d made before now was a proven, bald-face lie.

“You want me to lick your pussy until you come?” he teased, replacing his tongue with the pad of his thumb. He rubbed torturously slow circles, the sort that kept the arousal humming between her legs without doing enough to bring her to the edge. That finger teased down her pussy, pressing against her opening without pushing inside.

Elain wanted him to fuck her so bad she couldn’t think straight.

“Yes.”

“Are you going to come all over my tongue?”

“Yes,” she whined, bucking her hips.

He pulled away his thumb, instead plunging two of his fingers into her body without warning or preamble. Elain had to bite down on her bottom lip to keep from screaming. It was enough to convince Azriel to go back to licking, even as he pumped those fingers in and out of her body. It wasn’t enough and yet it was—it was enough to pretend it was his cock in her body, to get the phantom feel of what it would be like to grip him again.

He groaned, rubbing his tongue over her again and again until Elain was trembling, was losing herself to hot, sparkling darkness.

“Az, please—”

He sucked his lips around her clit and Elain was gone. She clapped a hand over her mouth to keep the restaurant from knowing what they were doing. Azriel’s fingers curled inside her body, rubbing over more sensitive flesh. There was no reprieve—one vicious orgasm became two. He was feral, hungry and Elain was greedy. She was all too happy to let him take what he wanted, to let him keep her pinned against that wall until she was boneless and sated.

He pulled away when she whimpered, her pleasure edged with pain again.

He was on his feet in a blur, his mouth slanting over her own. “I’m not done with you,” he growled, teeth nipping at her bottom lip in order to gain entrance to her mouth. Elain whined at the taste of her arousal on his tongue, the musky sweetness of it invading her senses.

“It’s too much,” she panted, positive there was no way she’d be able to come again.

Azriel’s hand closed around her neck, tilting her head as he squeezed gently. “You’ll take what I give you.”

Elain nodded her head up and down. What else could she say? She wanted him—and he knew it. There was no use pretending, no sense in denying whatever was happening between them. His fingers tightened ever so slightly in direct opposition to the sweet kiss he pressed against her mouth.

“You’re my good girl, aren’t you Elain?”

“Yes,” she panted, sliding her hands up his chest. “Let me prove it.”

She tried to slip to her knees, but Azriel held her by the neck, eyes flashing. “Don’t tempt me,” he warned.

“I want to taste you,” she whispered. Azriel lowered his face, sliding his nose against her own.

“If you put your lips around my cock, I’ll fuck you against the bathroom stall.”

“I don’t see how—”

“I want to fuck you in my bed,” he continued, ignoring her words entirely. “Over, and over, and over,” he added, punctuating each word with a sensual, bruising kiss. Elain was practically dripping down her thighs and she suspected he knew it.

“Now be my good girl and go back out there like I didn’t just eat your pussy within an inch of your life,” he ordered, caressing her cheek. “And when it’s time to leave, you’ll let me drive you home. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

Azriel smiled.

“Good.”

Walking back to the table was hell, though. Elain was certain everyone would know. They’d take one look at her and recognize what happened. She supposed that was the magic of alcohol. Everyone was too drunk and wrapped up in their own world to notice her.

Her chair had been commandeered by Mor, and Cassian and Nesta had rearranged themselves so Elain found herself exactly where she’d once hoped to avoid.

Beside Azriel.

He slid beside her after waiting an appropriate amount of time—perhaps thinking the same thing she had. No one noticed his return, laughing and talking over the televisions blaring and the other patrons.

Azriel reclined in his chair, reaching for his half finished beer. Elain waved away the server when she offered Elain something stronger than water. She wouldn’t risk going numb just for the sake of her friends.

Scooting her chair as close to the table as she dared, she watched Rhys pull out a deck of cards.

“Deal me in,” she agreed, smiling at a doe-eyed Feyre. Azriel, too, nodded as he pulled out his wallet.

“Is it that kind of night?” Cassian asked, scooting closer as he drew out his own money. Nesta merely clicked her teeth, warning him not to lose too much, which earned laughter from both Rhys and Azriel.

Elain had no interest in playing, even when Azriel politely offered her up a twenty dollar bill.

“Thank you,” she murmured, because the table would expect her to. She put her hand on his knee and squeezed, noting how stiff he went. She wasn’t allowed to suck him? Fine. She accepted that might be too much for him—but surely she could tease him through his pants.

Elain was too pleased to find him bruisingly erect. Azriel’s face was impassive, eyes locked on his cards. He gave nothing away, though he did lean his elbows onto the table, concealing her hand further. Elain rubbed the heel of her hand against him, pleased with how he jumped towards her hand.

Not so unaffected after all. Elain folded her hand, unaware of what cards she even held. It wasn’t her money—and she didn’t care if she won or if she lost so long as he didn’t move.

“Read and weep, boys,” Azriel murmured, the utter smug bastard. Rhys and Cassian rolled their eyes, while Elain handed over her money.

“Keep it,” Azriel told her. “Play another round.”

One round turned to three, turned to five. Elain kept her up with her steady, slow teasing while Azriel continued to clean out his friends. He didn’t betray what was happening beneath the table and Elain might have thought he was unbothered had she not felt how his cock pressed against his pants.

It was Nesta who ended the night, declaring herself exhausted. Elain removed her hand, confirmed the details for tomorrow, and then just as she’d said she would, agreed to let Azriel drive her home.

She wondered how he’d managed to conceal his cock as they walked, his hand gentle against the small of her back as she guided her towards his car. Anyone might have thought him a gentleman ensuring Elain remained steady on her feet.

She wasn’t half as drunk as the stumbling, laughing Mor. Elain was perfectly fine up until Azriel got into his car, grabbed her by the back of the neck, and began kissing her like he needed her mouth to breathe.

“Clever little thing,” he moaned, sliding his tongue between her teeth. “Trying to make me come in my pants.”

“Could you have?” she wondered, grasping either side of his face to kiss him back.

More, she needed more—

“Yes,” he groaned, hips bucking against nothing. “You were driving me to madness.”

“No one could tell,” she informed him, disappointed when he released her to start his car. Azriel glanced over at her.

“Are you worried your friends will find out?”

She shrugged. “I don’t want to distract from Nesta’s wedding.”

He nodded. “And after Nesta’s wedding?”

Elain scoffed. “Are you asking me out?”

It was Azriel’s turn to shrug, uncertainty sliding over him like a cloak. How could he have his hand around her neck one minute and then next seem so nervous over asking her out?

“What if I was?”

“I guess it would depend on how tonight goes?”

Azriel grinned. “Start thinking about wedding venues, then, Elain.”

Her jaw dropped. “You—”

“I’m not eighteen anymore,” was his smooth, irritating reply. Elain was tempted to tell him she didn’t want to sleep with him now. That he was far too cocky for her liking—as if that were true. Crossing her arms over her chest, Elain let the pair of them fall into silence. Whatever Azriel thought of eluded her, though she wondered if he wasn’t doing the same thing she was.

Comparing her to all his past lovers. Elain hadn’t had many, and truly none were worth thinking about other than her longest boyfriend.

Graysen.

They’d dated for three years in college, breaking up just in time to graduate. How he’d wrecked her heart with his declaration that despite everything he’d said to the contrary, he actually did not want to get married.

A lie, given the last time she’d peeked at his instagram, he was engaged to some pretty, tan blonde. What a slap in the face, although, in retrospect, maybe it was for She’d thought Graysen was as good as it would ever get. It almost made her laugh.

Almost.

There was still time for Azriel to disappoint her. She thought about it the entire walk into his building. He slid his fingers between her own, holding her hand as they stepped into the elevator, and then his apartment.

Clean, dark, masculine. It was exactly what Elain expected. Her heels clipped over the hardwood, her arm draped over his shoulder as he led her into his large, neat bedroom. The sound of the closed door was loud.

They faced each other, waiting for the other to speak. What could she say?

Don’t fuck this up?

That old crush was back in full force. Tall, dark, handsome Azriel was looking down at her with those beautiful, hazel eyes. She had the benefit of knowing what it felt like to come at his whim, at least. Even if the sex was disappointing, Elain could replaced that first memory with the car and the bathroom.

The score between them was settled, whether he agreed or not.

She went to him, kicking off her heels as she did. He caught her around the middle, holding her against his chest as she kissed him. There was an unhurried quality to the way his mouth moved against her own—like they had nothing but time. That wasn’t quite true. Elain needed to be at the hotel her sister would be staying by six am if she wanted to help Nesta get ready.

Elain slid her fingers up his chest, finding the buttons of his shirt. Azriel didn’t seem to realize she was undoing them until she pulled the rest of the fabric out of his pants. He groaned when her nails raked lightly down his bare skin, prompting him to shuck off his tie, his jacket, his shirt.

She was already undoing his belt. She just wanted to see him like he’d been looking at her.

“Elain,” he moaned when the belt clattered to the floor. She pushed, knocking him against the door. Pressing a sucking kiss against the hollow of his throat, she licked down the length of his body until it was her turn to kneel between his parted thighs. She undid the clasp of his pants with her teeth, just to show off a little.

“Who taught you that little trick?” he demanded, raking his fingers through her hair.

“Jealous?” she taunted, yanking his pants and his briefs over his hips.

“Burning with it, baby.”

She shook her head. He was so ridiculous—so lovely and stupid all at once. Elain licked the underside of his cock, drawing a ragged moan from his throat. It was Azriel’s term to tremble, to be made boneless and needy beneath her touch. There was something erotic about having the powerful man over her need her the way she needed him.

She was tempted to ask him if he was going to be good for her, too. She suspected if she took it too far, he’d drag her to the bed by her hair…and she’d like it far too much to put up any sort of fight.

“Baby, let me take you to the bed—-” his words choked into another moan. Elain licked the precum from the slit of his cock, swirling theatrically. Azriel stroked his fingers through her hair, rubbing at her scalp as he panted. He was loud, here. Loud and desperate and so utterly sexy she had her thighs pressed together in an effort to alleviate some of the arousal she couldn’t get rid of.

Elain took his cock into her mouth, unable to manage more than half of him before she began gagging.

“Just like that, Elain,” he praised, hips thrusting ever so slightly. “Look at how pretty you are choking on my cock.”

It was her turn to moan. Dirty talk was so often cringy and embarrassing—but when Azriel said it, Elain was reduced to nothing but a wet mess.

Azriel held her face in his broad hands, carefully fucking her throat with his cock. Ropes of saliva pulled with each sucking pass, and though she’d meant to be the one in charge, somehow Azriel had wrangled control of the situation.

“Fuck, Elain, your pretty mouth…”

She hummed her approval, earning another loud groan for her effort. If he wasn’t going to make her bob her head up and down, the least she could do was suck and lick as much of his hard, swollen skin she could get into her throat.

He pulled himself out of her with what she swore was a whimper. “I’ll come in that pussy the first time or not at all,” he panted, hauling her up by her elbows. Azriel kicked out of his pants and shoes, tugging her dress until she heard the fabric tear. He didn’t care that she had nothing to wear out of his place, not as she reached around for the zipper he’d neglected and pulled it down.

“Asshole,” she whispered. Azriel pushed her to the bed.

“You like it,” he replied, chasing after her up his neatly made bed. Elain was the one who removed her bra, unwilling to risk the expensive piece of clothing on his demanding hands.

“Fuck me,” he whispered, drinking in the sight of her. Azriel reached for the bedside table and flipped on a lamp, bathing her in hazy, warm light. “Look at how fucking gorgeous you are.”

She spread her legs wide enough to let him sit between them, his gaze a brand against her naked skin. Unclothed, Elain could see nearly every inch of him was covered in dark ink. One day she’d sit him down and make her tell him the story behind each one—though she suspected she’d hear I liked it, more often than she got some cute, well-thought out memory.

Azriel’s calloused hands covered her breasts, lips parted in absurd awe.

“Stop it,” Elain demanded, slightly embarrassed. He tugged at her nipples, drawing a gasp for his trouble.

“I won’t,” he told her, petulant even as he rubbed his cock over her stomach. “I’ve never seen anyone half as beautiful.”

“We’ve had sex before,” she reminded him, using her own hand to grip him as he rubbed against her. Azriel’s eyes rolled into his head.

“Then you understand my desperation to have you again.”

“It was one night,” she whispered.

Explain this to me.

Azriel held her gaze before lowering his mouth to her aching, peaked nipples. “Maybe for you. Not for me. I can’t risk you leaving me again.”

Oh.

“I don’t think I’ll get another chance,” he added, licking her skin. Elain arched into him, just as desperate. She felt wild, out of control. All she knew was if he stopped touching her, she’d fracture into thousands of splintering pieces.

They’d never put her together again. Some little part of her would always be hidden beneath his bed or tucked against his breast pocket.

Elain raked her fingers through his thick, dark hair while Azriel took his time sucking and nipping at her breasts.

“Azriel,” she whined, rubbing her hips against the thigh he had lodged between her legs.

“I know baby,” he whispered, breath hot against her wet skin. “I feel it, too.”

She was trying so hard to get him to slide himself into her. Azriel’s iron control seemed to snap when she dragged her dripping wet pussy over the bare skin of his thigh. He pressed his forehead between her breasts, arranging himself so his cock slicked through her. Elain moaned, gripping his forearms tightly.

“Azriel, please,” she begged.

He pushed himself in and in and in, robbing Elain of what little breath was left in her lungs. The stretch of him was exquisite, filling her until there was no space left—only Azriel. He held himself over her, watching her adjust to accommodate the sheer size of him.

“That’s it,” he praised, careful not to crush her beneath the weight of his body as he kissed. “You take my cock so well.”

Elain dragged her nails down his back. “More,” she panted, pleading for him to give her everything.

Azriel rolled his hips, gripping her waist to hold her steady. Elain locked her legs around him, arching with each new thrust so he could drive himself into her deeper. It was what she wanted, to feel him so completely the memory of him lingered for days afterwards.

His soft, slow strokes quickly yielded to near vengeful, furious thrusts.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” he moaned, pulling at her hair to arch her neck upwards. His teeth scraped the sensitive skin, lips sucking near bruising kisses. Elain whined in response, taking everything he gave her, just like he’d said she would.

It was almost enough—but not quite. Sweat dripped from Azriel as he worked, pulling as much pleasure out of her with his cock as he could. He held her gaze, watching each breathless moan, each drag of her nails against his skin.

And when he realized she needed more, he slid his hand between their bodies and began rubbing at her swollen clit. Elain couldn’t help the series of moans that escaped her, each louder than the last. Azriel drew up on his knees, hosting her legs over his shoulder so he could fuck her while rubbing unimpeded.

“That’s it,” he managed, unaware of how close she was. “Come on my cock, baby. Let me feel how bad you need me.”

She clenched around him, his fingers rubbing tighter and tighter circles. It was too much. She’d never come so hard or so often in her life—and this was no expectation. Elain screamed, convulsing around him. Feel planted against his chest, he held her in his hands while she bowed and bucked, trying to both get closer and escape the onslaught of pleasure.

Azriel whined, his own hips erratic. A flop of dark hair shielded his eyes like shadows, hiding the moment he, too, came. He was no quieter, erupting like some long forgotten, dark god. Elain swore she came again at the sight alone. He was so stunningly beautiful.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Azriel struggled to catch his breath, falling over her to clutch her against him. Elain didn’t dare move, still coming down.

“I think you managed it,” she whispered, kissing his cheek.

“Oh? Is this redemption, then?” he half teased. The look in his eyes told her he was still nervous. Elain smoothed his hair from his forehead.

“If you want it,” she agreed solemnly.

“I do,” he whispered, lips against her jaw. “I want it so bad, Elain.”

“Ask me out, then,” she murmured, holding his gaze.

“Let me take you out tomorrow…and the next night…and the next night,” he added, some of his smugness returning.

She flicked his cheek.

But Elain agreed all the same.

“Done.”

#am i allowed to tag this?#it feels like im not #elain archeron #azriel #im just gonna trust the right people to find it #you gotta suffer 600 words of angst to get to the smut #just trust me #anyway #happy halloween!

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cee-grice · 9 months

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it is once again blorbo thursday and now I have a bunch more new blorbos so we're gonna talk about them >:))

Some relevant info:

All the following characters are gonna be essentially Quil's co-workers. They're all part of the same project team which the A plot is about

They've (mostly) all been handpicked by Mistress Silvoir (the Academy's current Headmistress) for being outstanding in their respective field

The Cielle Academy has two major study programmes: magic and medicine

The Research Team (part 1)

Celeste Ekelie

the project's resident pathologist!! she's not a mage herself and is instead a graduate of the Academy's medical course

practically the only non-mage on the team lmao

probably the most Normal™ out of everyone, but that's not saying much, I'll be honest

very sweet and conflict-avoidant, will try to cool things down (but Will stay out of it if the conflict's between higher ranking people than her lol she's sensitive ok :()

a bit of a people pleaser tbh.... also kinda neurotic lol aee

LOVES to gossip and sometimes forgets that maybe she shouldn't around some people uhhh

very passionate about what she does and will talk your ear off if you let her :))

she and Quil may have the most well-adjusted relationship out of everyone LOL

also may or may not have a crush on another member of the team....

36ish, short, has glasses, dark-haired, pretty disheveled because she just. doesn't notice lol, pretty much always has her doctor's coat on, trans gal

quote:

“But they are a bit frightening,” she said, dropping her voice conspiratorially. “Especially Mistress Aukateshka. Oh, the way she can just look at you… Ah, but I shouldn't gossip!” she all but squeaked, her voice once more taking on a nervous tone. “They're all very capable professionals. Yes, very respectable.”

Akhel Yachek

a transfer student from an isolated northern country, currently in his third year

Mistress Silvoir's new mentee ✨✨✨ (Quil's replacement question mark ?..)

MAJOR imposter syndrome vibes lmao, he's been put on this project by the Headmistress as part of his specialized curriculum but he's just a student...and all these people are PROFESSIONALS....yeah idk how he's managing it

an aspiring conjuration mage!! (which is basically portal magic)

is actually very intelligent but is scared to say anything because what if he's wrong and everyone will think he's stupid and then he'll get kicked out and

a walking anxiety disorder basically

is intimidated by everyone and everything

both reveres and is frightened by Mistress Silvoir, qualities that Quil absolutely does not possess, so their convos get a little. interesting

19, tall boy, long, near-white blond hair, perpetually pale, wears mostly Academy-issues clothing, so baby blue robes

quote:

“I'm sure you would, but seriously, don't hesitate to put Akhel to work,” Celeste said, flashing him a grin. “He's like our… communal… personal… assistant. Headmistress's orders. I make use of him the most, though, because the others scare him.” “They do not,” he hissed in protest, and immediately flushed in embarrassment. He mumbled something under his breath, glancing away with a wince.

Avriele Kaelion

an abjuration mage that has a scientific specialization in freecasting (the ability to use magia intuitively without a magia conduit; unique to specific venemagiks)

a venemagik herself 👀 and a bit more on the eerie side appearance-wise...maybe a bit personality-wise, too...

extremely blunt. will not sugarcoat her words. she just says how it is and you can't really be mad even

absolutely unreadable tone. good luck figuring out if she's complimenting or criticizing you

is the most cynical about this whole project and its success. thinks they're trying to play with something they don't and can't understand. still does her job, though

is impossible to intimidate. you'll probably get intimidated yourself if you try

a master at catching you off-guard and making you say what you didn't want to. yeah she knows what she's doing

Quil is both on edge around her and can't seem to stay away, she's just Such an interesting conversationalist to him

43ish, very sharp and bone-y stature (you see bones where you probably shouldn't), jet-black hair cut to her chin, paper-white skin, entirely black eyes and lips, likes to wear pastel colors, though

quote:

“The Headmistress has spoken,” Mistress Kaelion cut him off, her voice fit for a music box with how soft and melodic it was. The marbles between her long fingers started to clink again. “The only appropriate response you may have is amen.”

taglist (lmk if you wanna be +/-): @writerfae, @tate-lin, @iriswords, @sternenmeerkind, @thecrookedwriterspath, @pure-solomon, @moonshinemagpie, @arowanaprincess, @scribe-of-stories, @thesorcerersapprentice, @stuffaboutwriting, @doriians, @sam-glade

#character intros #writeblr #wwcc wip #c: celeste #c: akhel #c: avriele #next week we'll get to the rest >:))#wwcc character intros

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thatweirdoleigh · 10 months

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Author's Choice

A/N: Hi yall. I know I haven't been around. I've been busy and then I got stuck.

This is an incomplete WIP. I'm not sure if ill finish it but I'm posting it in an attempt to either let it go or get more momentum. there are several more and I probably will be posting all of them or at least a "concept" post for them.

A/N#2: I tried/planned a whumptober series as I'm sure some of you remember (I think I posted about it?) I was on a major SoC kick since I had just read the books. Not all of them were SoC but most of them were. This is a part of that series. Enjoy!

Taglist: feel free to ask to be added or removed

@imgoingtofreakoutnow @elijahs-wife @yn-ymn-yln @transgendercannibal @xxwritemeastoryxx @hellotvshowtrash @dizzydancingdreamer

The first thing Kaz noticed as he walked into the kitchen of the Slat was he was the last one awake, which was strange because it was 6:30 in the morning and he was always up first with the occasional exception of Inej. The second thing Kaz noticed was it was quiet; too quiet. And the third and most concerning thing that Kaz noticed was the behavior of his Crows. Matthias was practically cradling Nina who was staring silently at Jesper. Her eyes were worried and calculated, never straying from his face. Directly across from them pressed into Jesper’s side was Wylan. He had a paper in his hand eyes darting between Jesper and the page. His hands shook as he mouthed words that were read out to him. He was doing it with such intensity that Kaz would have thought someone’s life depended on it. Silently moving around the others seemly trying to keep herself moving was Inej making waffles. But what was most unnerving was Jesper, sitting at the table completely silent staring blankly at his hands as if he couldn’t puzzle out what they were.

Kaz never wastes breath on empty words “What’s going on?”

Inej didn’t falter as she shoved a cup of coffee into his hands still hot but the perfect temperature to chug at any moment.

“Jes had a nightmare” was all she said, voice clipped.

“It wasn’t a nightmare,” Jesper said quietly as he rose. Kaz seemingly snapped him out of his stupor.

“it was just a really weird dream” He claimed, eyes wandering before finally landing on the coffee behind Inej. Wylan’s eyes latched onto him. These were the first words he had said since he woke up, all morning. Not that Kaz knew that. Jesper slept a floor below him and while the walls in the Slat were thin, the floors weren’t, save for the vents.

“I’d call it a nightmare,” said Wylan, His voice unsteady and quiet as if afraid to startle the Zemini boy. “You were screaming”

Jesper poured himself a cup of coffee, adding more sugar than cream. His back faced his boyfriend. He visibly tensed at his lover’s words, shoulders creeping up as if trying to protect him from something he couldn’t see. But he turned around with Inej’s plate of waffles, smiling bright and unaffected, “Who wants waffles?”

He asked warmly and placed the stack on the table, possibly more roughly than he would have any other day. He sat down and helped himself to the fluffy food. Everyone dug in.

It wasn’t complete silence. The Dregs start to wake with the rising sun. Members come down the stairs and leave into the cold of the early winter to find warm food to fill their bellies.

The kitchen in the Slat wasn’t big enough to feed the whole gang. Kaz and his Crows were the only ones who ever actually ate within the uneven building. A symbol to the other members, of who was in Kaz’s elite, despite Kaz denying up and down he didn’t pick favorites. The city streets crawl alive outside the doors. It was quiet for a few moments before the gruff of Kaz’s voice rumbled in the silence.

“What was the dream?” Kaz prompted, unreadable like any other day but seemingly interested in the topic of conversation as he sat across from Jesper. Inej is at his left. His cane pressed against her leg.

Jesper shook his head but Kaz took notice of how, he glanced up but wouldn’t meet his eyes. His shoulders curling in on him again, having loosened up while he was eating,

“It was some freaky dream about a dead kid, begging me to give a message to his brother,” Jesper said nonchalantly shoving more waffles in his mouth, not wanting to answer more questions. Jesper hated the dream. Hated that it plagued him every night. Hated that he woke up screaming this time. He hated the gnawing growing pit in his stomach that wouldn’t leave for hours every morning. The damn thing was making him lose his appetite and his sleep. If this continued much longer it would start affecting his shot, and make him unsteady. Kaz would not be too pleased with that. So despite nausea, ignoring the bile that rose up his throat at the sickly sweet syrup contrasting with the bitter acidic coffee and the waffles that swelled in his stomach, Jesper force-fed himself, having learned the danger of not eating, the hard way, on a job a few years back. And every night he pressed himself as tightly as he could into Wylan, begging, hoping, and praying, to whatever saint or god had mercy, he might sleep soundly that night.

“This is what he was writing” Wylan’s voice cut through Jesper’s thoughts causing his sinking dread and anxiety to deepen as the Merchling handed the paper to Kaz.

“Nina read it out to me. I had to grab his hands to get him to stop,” he explained his voice low to keep his voice steady but Wylan’s eyes betrayed his fear. Kaz took the paper from him and read the words in Jesper’s panicked and chaotic scrawl.

I’m sorry I failed you. I love you. I’m watching you from above.

What the Hell? Kaz thought. The words were repeated over and over again getting more frantic as they travel down the page.

“And what is this?” Kaz said interrogatively looking at his best friend.

Jesper swallowed around the lump in his throat, “It was what he said” Jesper murmured. His eyes flickered to Kaz’s face, “The kid. The message. That’s what he said.”

He maintained his façade of being unaffected but he still wouldn’t look Kaz in the eyes. Kaz's eyes flicked back and forth around his face before addressing the room.

“We have a job tomorrow. Do what you need to do today. We’ll discuss the plan later,” Kaz said authoritatively rising from his seat and heading towards the entrance. Swiftly the rest of the crows rose to go on about their day. Jesper followed sticking close to Kaz, body drifting into autopilot as his mind wandered back to the dream.

The sky had swirled with galaxies of green and teal. The stars blindingly bright enough to light the street like it was a cloudy day. The first time Jesper woke up in Kaz’s bedroom in the slat body aching. He had gotten shot on a job. His wounds freshly bandaged courtesy of Nina and Inej. Mine still foggy from the blood loss. As his eyes wander around the room, he flinched at the boy standing at the end of the bed. His eyes were cloudy, swirls of gray and white, the sockets sunken in. He had what was once a head of thick black curls, now falling in out in clumps. Dark freckles dance across his cheekbones and nose bridge, a reminder of something that was tragically human. He wore farm clothes and was all corded muscle, like Kaz, only broader in the shoulders. And his entire body was drenched in water. Dripping from his hair and running down his hollow cheeks and from his cold eyes. A walking corpse that clawed and crawled its way out of the harbor.

“Can you hear me?” the boy asked his voice deep and warped as if he were speaking underwater. Jesper’s eyes widened entire body tensing in preparation for a fight. Fists clenched tight without the familiar weight of his guns, Jesper nodded. The boy was visibly angry but his tone was desperate.

“You will give my brother a message. Word for word. Do not paraphrase or mix it up.”

And then he said, his tone just as desperate but filled with a indescribable grief

‘I’m sorry that I failed you. I love you . And I’m watching you from above .

Jesper bristled. Irritation replacing fear. Who the fuck is this kid demanding he do this for him while he’s bedridden and in pain? “Who are you and why should I do this?” Jesper challenged.

The boy recoiled in surprise. Eyes focusing slightly, as if he were seeing Jesper for the first time. He threw his head back and laughed. A sound that make Jesper’s hairs stand up on edge. Something rabid, vicious, unforgiving; unhuman. It sounded like choking. Like someone choking on water, gasping for air, unable to breathe. And then he said, “ You will do this for me because I am something you cannot explain. As for who I am, my name is Jordie Rietveld and you will give my message to my brother.”

That was how the first dream went. It had followed a job gone wrong. Jesper damn near bled out under Kaz’s hands. The Zemini was too weak to keep pressure on his own wounds. He had woken up in Kaz’s room with Wylan clutching his arms. His fingertips over his pulse even in his sleep. Jesper had chalked it up to a white light hallucination, but after he had the second, the third, and fourth, he couldn’t deny the dream. As the boy and the message began to pound between his ears, day and night, he obsessed over finding this damn kid’s brother but he didn’t know where to start.

Kaz liked to pride himself on being a very observant person. Not that it mattered, Jesper was easy to read unless he was actively lying or bluffing. Anyone who was paying attention would quickly clock onto the fact that something was bothering Jesper. It wasn’t hard to figure out why.

Images flash through Kaz’s mind as someone shoulder-checked him on the street unaware that they were touching Kaz Brekker.

Jesper’s blood, soaked through his gloves, his clothes, coating his skin, as he fought against the waters of his demons to keep the sharpshooter alive. The pale look in Jesper’s eyes contrasted with the little smile he gave as he said it was ok. He begged Kaz, to run, to leave him, if only to save himself. The horrible aching silence as Jesper lurked on death's door, his voice finally draining away with the blood loss. And finally, the bloated corpse of Jordie pressed against him, underneath his hands.

An image from his nightmare.

A violating recreation where Jordie replaced Jesper and Kaz fails them both. Needless to say, Dirtyhands and the little boy trapped within his soul had been very protective of their sharpshooter in recent weeks.

So when Kaz took note of Jesper tailing him while lost in his own thoughts he figured it was the best idea to go to the Crow Club and supply his friend with some alcohol and try to get himself and his brother Sharpshooter back up to par.

As they approached the Crow Club, the big sculpted head mounted above, Kaz breathed a silent sigh of relief when he saw Matthias and Rotty by the door and Nina behind the bar with Anika and the other bartenders. Inej and Wylan were nearby among the crowd. They were all here. All his best men within eyesight. He could relax. Have a drink. I can get Jesper to stop curling into himself like someone is gonna hit him at any moment Kaz thought.

#angst #jesper fahey #kaz brekker #soc #wip #wip stuff #inej gafha #matthais helvar #nina zenik #wylan van sunshine #jordie rietveld #kaz has tramua #im coming back from the dead

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