Bloom. °˖✧✿✧˖°
“I said, don’t. Just shut the fuck up and let me have this. Just one more time, please…”
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⚘4. Spring Is Gone
🔞For Mature Audiences Only🔞
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⚘Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x fem!reader
⚘Synopsis: After being granted with “closure”, you try to enjoy your last night with Jungkook. It’s an emotional and fucking steamy mess.
⚘Genre:Forbidden love
⚘Word count: 13K+ 🥴
⚘Warnings: 18+ for mature audiences only, MDNI, emotional, mentions of cheating, active cheating, HEAVY smut, mouth spitting, wine kissing (idk if it’s actually called this but it’s what I have always called it LMAO), crying during sex, emotional sex, EMOTIONAL EVERYTHING YOU WILL CRY I AM WARNING YOU, grief, breaking up (sort of?), panic/anxiety attacks, alcohol, stealing (lol it’s kinda cute you’ll see,) making love (different from fucking), sort of rough, unprotected sex (always be careful, Y/N is on BC!), SAD JUNGKOOK I REPEAT SAD JUNGKOOK!!!! let me know if I miss anything there is a lot in this chapter.
⚘Disclaimer: This story in no way reflects the characters of those who are mentioned. It is pure fiction and for entertainment purposes only. Please don’t take it seriously. Nothing is real in this story.
⚘A/N: The long awaited chapter. This is a long one. I cried. A lot. Holy shit? It’s actually so sad lol but also has some good smut. This isn’t the last chapter, as I said before this is a full on fanfic, I also have it on Wattpad but it gets barely any reads so if you are interested in that let me know. After this chapter, things get very… drama filled? Idk a good word for it lol. I hope you enjoy, and I’m sorry in advance if you cry. I highly recommend listening to the songs, each of them have a place in every chapter which is why I list them lol. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy. Love you.❤️
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↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ :
♪Merry Go - DPR Ian
♪Gimmie Love - Joji
♪The Astronaut - JIN
♪Dope Lovers - DPR Ian
♪sex money feelings die - Lykke Lie
♪Angel - The Weeknd
♪Nerves - DPR Ian
♪505 - Arctic Monkeys
♪I Love You So - The Walters
♪Apocalypse - Cigarettes After Sex
♪Cry - Cigarettes After Sex
✧━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━✧
Since you both agreed on enough of the heavy shit, you spend time together. The mood is heavy for some time, almost awkward, which is why you break out the several bottles of wine you bought this week in an attempt to cope with the end of you and your flower. You’d much rather drink it with him anyway.
You can always buy more.
The wine helps. After you’ve both had a glass, it feels less strained. You continue eating pizza and watching whatever sappy drama is on TV. He picks up on his rant, starts explaining how sex is definitely comparable to pizza; sex creates life, and without sex, we wouldn’t have discovered pizza. Makes total sense. It’s stupid, but he has a point—a very Jungkook thing to think up.
By the time you’re both three glasses deep, you’re a bit wine-drunk. He holds his liquor much better than you do, but you can tell he’s feeling all fuzzy inside. You check your phone as he sits sprawled out on your couch, taking up almost the entire damn thing with his bulky ass. It’s nearly 11:30 pm… around the time he should probably go home.
You glance at him, debating whether to subtly kick him out or not. You don’t want to, god no. It literally makes you sick thinking about it. But you shouldn’t let him stay either, should you? You’re supposed to end this. This was the last night.
But you see how content he looks—like a big, overgrown spoiled dog with a belly full of treats, relaxing next to his favorite person.
You did say one last night… technically the night isn’t over. And he shouldn’t drive in this state, really, if anything, it’s just for his safety…
So you nudge his leg with your foot, and he turns his head lazily towards you, arches a brow, “Hm?”
“Sleep over?”
Oh, he fucking grins. His dimples on show, his eyes crinkling up adorably, and his big bunny like teeth saying hi.
Because what you don’t realize is he wasn’t going to leave. Fuck no. You said one last night, and he was going to milk that for everything it was. No way in hell was he going to go home tonight. If he’s being frank, that’s why he drank three glasses of wine. He didn’t need it. But he knew he could use it as a loophole to staying the night. You wouldn’t let him drive drunk.
He knows damn well what he’s doing, and he’s elated that you offered to let him stay. It means you want him here.
Even after all the bullshit, you still want him here. You want to prolong it, too.
“Hell yeah.”
He winks and then leans up a bit to stretch, causing his shirt to lift and give you the most indulgent peak of his stomach. You shamelessly stare, and he absolutely notices, lifting his arms a bit higher just to give you a better look.
He loves it when you look at him like that.
But then he stands up, casually grabs his car keys from the coffee table, as if he isn’t fucking teasing you.
Fuck. The wine is definitely kicking in. The warm fuzzies in your tummy are spreading elsewhere.
“Gonna go grab some stuff from my car then, make sure it’s locked, I’ll be right back.”
You hum in response and lean back into the couch. Watch him as he walks out the door, and find comfort in the fact that you know he’s coming back… even if it’s the last time.
Jungkook is doing his best not to let his mind wander to the more damning thoughts as he walks out of your complex and into the parking lot. Because he feels the opposite, no comfort at all. His anxiety is spiked now that you’re out of sight. What if you don’t let him in when he makes his way back to you? What if you change your mind about the sleepover? What if you decide you hate him?
Not only that, but he feels like he’s wasting precious time. As if the five minutes he will be away from you (barely) are irreplaceable and he’s just wasting them. It’s literally the end of the world… he shouldn’t be wasting time.
But that’s just his anxiety speaking. In truth, he doesn’t actually need the things in his car… but he packed a few things before showing up unannounced—things he wanted to leave you with.
Such as the little Polaroid camera you bought for him months ago, one that you yourself have used every single time you’re together. You always snap little candid pictures of him, sometimes yourself. He finds your fascination with the thing so fucking cute. He uses it, too, of course. He often takes pictures of you without you even knowing it… and you’ve both definitely taken some more raunchy pictures, pictures that he keeps hidden away in a box for when he misses your touch. For his eyes only. They’re priceless to him, probably some of his most prized possessions.
Speaking of those photos, he also packed a box full of them just for you. Pictures you’ve taken of him, of both of you, of anything and everything. He wants you to have them, wants you to be able to look at them when you miss him a little too much. He went through the photos over the last few days of no contact, greedily picked out his favorites, and put them into his own box for the same purpose. But he picked a generous amount out for you, too.
And as corny as it may sound, he packed a few pieces of his clothing. He knows how much you love stealing his shit, especially his shirts. Several are still missing, but he won’t ask for them back. He’Ll gift you with more, made sure to spray his cologne on them too, so that you can smell him on them. He packed his favorite shirt, hoodie, and something he will reluctantly, but willingly, part with. His denim jacket.
All of them are Calvin Klein branded. The shirt is basic, just a black shirt that’s fitted on him but swallows you whole. It’s the one you often steal when you sleep over at his second apartment, but he never let you take it home because it was his favorite. It’s worn in and soft, that’s why he likes it. But it’s yours now, just like him.
The hoodie is the same, basic black, one that you always tried to steal but never succeeded in doing so. It’ll be like a warm hug when you miss him, he thinks. You’ll love it more than he will. You’ll need it more than him on nights that you feel lonely.
The jean jacket isn’t anything special in appearance. It’s dark denim but is lined in that soft wool that keeps you warm and cozy. He wore it often in the cold months, thought it made him look handsome, but also kept him comfy. He’d rather you have it. He wants to keep you warm forever, hold you in his arms and never let go, make sure you never feel cold again… but he can’t exactly do that. So instead, he’ll give you his jacket.
The last thing is one of his chains. God, he knows you love those damn chains. He almost always wears one, silver or gold, depending on the day. And you always make sure to tell him how much you like them. He never really understood it; it’s something so simple. But you swooned for it. After you guys fuck, you’re always touching it, playing with it. Even when you guys aren’t fucking, you seem to have the impulse to touch it. Maybe it’s a girl thing, he doesn’t know. But he’s giving you one since you liked it so much.
Definitely a girl thing.
He also brought the bottle of perfume you dropped on his floor that night you stormed off… he was going to give it back. Return it to its rightful owner. But as he’s grabbing the bag full of goods out of his car… he impulsively takes it out. Wants to keep it. Wants to be able to smell you, too. He’s sure you won’t miss it.
You won’t miss that perfume as much as he’s going to miss you.
He quickly grabs the bag of stuff, nearly dropping it as he grows more restless because he’s not with you right now. You’re too far away, and every single second counts tonight.
So he rushes back into your complex building, nearly full-on sprinting back to your door.
As he lets himself back in, you’re in the exact same position. Sitting comfy on the couch, eyes on the TV, your wine glass a bit more empty now. Thank fuck.
He wasn’t even gone for more than four minutes. And yes, you did notice, you didn’t like it. But you knew he’d come back. So you waited. Wasn’t a big deal.
He’s just dramatic, for good reason of course. You can see the unease written all over his face as he pads his way back towards you, sets the bag next to your couch. He doesn’t disclose what’s in it and you don’t ask, you just assume it’s the bag he usually keeps in his car for impromptu nights like this.
He doesn’t want to present these little gifts to you yet… because he feels like that’s what’s going to really finalize it. So he’ll wait a little longer.
Would put it off forever if he could.
He takes a seat next to you, obnoxiously close. Your couch isn’t big, but there’s enough for two people to have a comfortable distance from each other. He doesn’t care. He wants to make sure he’s touching you in some way, so he nearly squishes you as he sits down as casually as ever and slings one of his arms on the back of your couch so that his fingertips rest on your shoulder.
He has an almost jittery energy about him right now. Obviously, emotions are heavy; it’s your last night together. It’s kind of hard to act totally ok and normal when you’re both well aware that this is the last night. But even then, somethings a bit off.
You study him for a moment, notice how he’s running his teeth over his lip ring again, how his leg is bouncing up and down a bit even as he tries to mimic a relaxed position on the couch. Maybe he’s anxious?
He is. However, that’s not what this is all about. He wants to kiss and touch you so badly it hurts. But now he’s unsure if he’s allowed. He doesn’t know what’s on and off limits tonight, and he doesn’t want to jeopardize your time together by fucking it up and making unwanted advances.
Overthinking. He wishes he didn’t do that. But he doesn’t even realize it’s happening until after things are said and done, doesn’t know how to stop it.
You assume maybe it’s just nervous energy thanks to the impending sense of doom you both feel. You feel similarly… but you hide it better.
More wine would help, you think.
So you lean forward and grab the bottle which is half empty, this is the second bottle of tonight. You top off each of your glasses as Jungkook watches, and you take a sip.
His eyes stay glued to your lips. He loves your lips. Loves all of you, but especially your lips. He thinks that will be one of the things he misses the most. How soft and pillowy they are, how they’re a bit rosey in color, how they taste, how they pout out a bit when you drink wine, how wine stains your lips so prettily, how they feel wrapped around his—
Yeah. Fuck it. One last night.
“Gimmie some.”
You glance at him and arch a brow, wonder if he’s referring to the wine… or maybe pizza? You literally just topped his wine glass off. He’s being weird.
“I just topped you off?”
He shakes his head, “Nah, I want yours.”
You scoff at him because now he’s just being childish. But he’s looking at you so expectantly, almost stubbornly, as if he’s asking for something more than the wine he’s demanding.
And he is. He doesn’t even really know what though. He’s being greedy, wants your wine because your lips touched the glass, because remnants of your spit might have melted into the wine after taking sips. He doesn’t want his own damn wine.
He wants to be greedy tonight. It’s not like he has anything to lose, he’s already lost it all.
So he reaches over and takes the wine glass from you, gets a bit impatient when he sees you aren’t gonna give it to him right away. He takes a slow sip, places his lips in the same exact spot yours have been every time you’ve taken a drink. It’s ridiculous, really… but he swears he tastes the faintest essence of you on the glass. Closes his eyes, swishes the wine around in his mouth, trying to see if he can taste more of you…
Ok, so, he’s definitely being a bit ridiculous. But fuck, he already feels like he’s going crazy. Can’t really help himself when he is desperately craving any little crumb of you.
You don’t know what to make of this. Part of you is amused, part of you is irritated, because he just stole your damn wine. But you also know there must be more to it, there has to be.
He cracks an eye open, sees you staring at him like he’s crazy, because he kinda is. Only for you, of course. He just swallows the wine and shrugs innocently.
“Yours is better, mine tastes weird.”
You roll your eyes at him because he has the same wine as you do. You can’t figure out what his game is here. So you reach over and take his wine and say, “Yours is literally the same as mine.”
To prove a point you take a sip of his. Just as expected, tastes the exact same as yours. He watches you carefully… gets an idea. An incredibly impulsive,almost intrusive idea.
But again… it’s the last night. And he’s greedy.
You huff at him and point his wine glass (which is now yours apparently) at him as you watch him take a huge gulp out of your glass again.
“Yeah, see, tastes the exact-“
He abruptly grabs the nape of your neck and cups your jaw with his free hand, his thumb coming to rest on your bottom lip and lowering it. He places his lips on yours, waits until your mouth instinctively opens just as it always does for him, and then funnels the wine into your mouth.
Fucking feeding you the wine like a baby bird.
It catches you by surprise at first, causing you to cough a bit and causing the wine to dribble down your chin, but you quickly gulp it down just like he gulps down the little gasp and cough you let out. He kisses you greedily, doesn’t even build up to it before he’s pushing his tongue into your mouth and swirling it against yours, tasting the heady mixture of wine and you. Fuck, you’re his favorite taste.
You don’t protest; of course you don’t. Was definitely a bit bizarre, but also… fuck, that was hot. Was a bit weird but in a super sexy way. You kiss him back, letting out little huffs of air into his mouth as one of your hands also finds the nape of his neck. The other hand automatically rests against his chest, clings to the fabric of his shirt tightly.
You both stay like this as long as possible. The kiss only grows more desperate and aggressive, teeth and tongue clashing beautifully together like thunder and rain. Your soft pants turn into eager breathes at some point, and he knows you need to breathe. But fuck, he wants to stay lip locked with you until he passes out.
This is when you start to second-guess things. Yes, this is the last night together… but knowing it’s ending makes the guilt a bit more prominent. This wouldn’t be ending if it wasn’t wrong, but it is wrong; sleeping with him again just seems so contradictory or maybe even hypocritical.
So you push at his chest lightly, a silent signal for him to slow down. God, he hates the way his stomach lurches. Can’t fathom the idea that you might kick him out right now. Please, god, don’t do this. I’m not a weed, I swear, I’m her fucking flower. I need her one more time, he silently prays even though he’s never been religious or prayed before.
When he pulls back with heavily lidded eyes, you speak up hesitantly, even though you don’t wanna stop, god not at all.
“Kook, we shouldn’t…”
That’s all you say. Because it’s really that simple. You shouldn’t be doing this; you should never have done it at all. But even then, you lack the ability to convince him. Because you want him, one last time. You’re just having a hard time willingly giving in again.
Jungkook knows you well. Knows your body language. He knows that if you truly wanted him to stop, you would’ve been more self assured when speaking. You wouldn’t sound like a meek little mouse, you’d be firm in telling him know. He can see the same thing in your eyes, it’s pure unadulterated want. But maybe you need reassurance, reassurance that one last time is ok, is needed.
You’ve both sinned so much already, one more time won’t change shit.
So his grasp on your jaw firms up a bit, he starts feeling a little too passionate about this. He coaxes your mouth open by smooshing your cheeks a bit before saying,
“Y/N, fucking don’t. Just let us have this, please.”
“But Kook-“
He grunts in frustration. Just as impulsively as he fed you wine kisses, he spits in your mouth. It makes you flinch, makes your pussy clench because fuck it’s so filthy but so hot. So intimate in a sort of fucked up way.
“I said, don’t. Just shut the fuck up and let me have this. Just one more time, please…”
He leans back down and starts kissing you again, licking into your mouth and adding more to the spit he put there moments ago. Doesn’t even give you a chance to protest. He kisses you like he’s going to die if he doesn’t. He’s sure he will. He’ll die a miserable death if he doesn’t love you one more time.
It's a bit harsh, but you know each other enough to know he isn’t trying to be forceful or rude; he’s just desperate. You are too, honestly. You know damn well if you said no and meant it, he would pull away and stop immediately. Your body has always been safest with him. You don’t want to stop, not really. You’re thankful he’s being like this. It’s the push you need to ignore the guilt for a while longer and share your body with him one last time.
When he feels that you’ve melted into him, with no more tension or hesitancy in your body, he pulls away, nipping at your lower lip once and then sucking on it. Then his lips travel down, and he licks the wine staining your chin off before placing sloppy kisses down your neck.
He doesn’t even ask before he starts sucking and licking on your sensitive skin. Not kitten licks, not gentle sucks, no, he’s full-on giving you hickeys, and you know it. You know it’s intentional when you feel him pull back a bit to take a peak, only to lean back in a second later and bite.
The hand on his nape fists into his hair, and your back arches a bit, causing your chest to push against his chest, “Fuck, Kook…”
You should tell him to stop marking you up like this. You don’t like showing up to work or visiting friends with visible hickeys because questions get asked. And as much as you wish you could admit who they’re from, you can’t. No one knows about Jungkook. No one even knows you’re seeing someone right now, and you don’t want to have to come up with some story to cover your ass.
It’s a secret for you too.
But it’s the last night together… and the idea of having his hickeys on your neck, just to remind you a little longer that this was real, he was real, it’s an idea you quite like. Fucking love, actually.
He grunts at you, bites down a little harder, “What? Told you your wine was better…”
You let out a little breathy laugh when he says this, because of course he would play it coy, as if he didn’t just randomly start devouring you. Of course he’d blame it on the damn wine.
That breathy laugh quickly turns into a moan when one of his hands finds your tit, he starts squeezing and groping it through your shirt shamelessly, tweaking your nipple in the way he knows you love. God, he loves your tits. They’re the perfect size for him, he swears. They fit into his palm perfectly, feel like pillows, just like your lips. All of you is just so soft.
He kisses his way down your neck now that it’s all marked up in pretty purple and pink bruises blossoming, much like you do every single time he touches you like this. When he gets to your chest, he looks up at you through his lashes, and then he nearly rips your shirt off of you when he pulls it down.
His eyes leave yours as he looks down at the beautiful pillows on your chest. He just admires them for a moment, as if he’s at an art gallery studying each piece of art. That’s what you are, art. Everything about you inside out is otherworldly beautiful to him, tits included.
At this point, you’re lying down on your couch, legs parted for him. It’s a bit awkward because of how small the couch is, but that doesn’t stop either of you. He doesn’t give a fuck that he barely fits. He’ll make himself fit… just like he’s made himself fit into your life for months.
He wants to fit into your life just one more time, one more night, wants to meld together and tangle your roots so that it’s impossible to untangle them. He knows it’s wishful thinking, but that’s where this is all coming from. He’s not being aggressive and eager and greedy just because he’s horny, no, he’s doing this because maybe, just maybe, if he shows you with his body how much he loves you… how much he needs you… you’ll change your mind one day.
His mouth descends on your left breast, and he starts licking and sucking on your nipple. Your eyes roll back, and your entire body shudders at the sensations, fuck, it always feels like the first time. Before him, men didn’t pay such close attention to your body. Never even had a guy play with your tits before, Jungkook was the first. It was so odd at first, but it quickly became one of your favorite things. Makes you get so wet so fast.
You love how he looks up at you when he does it, his eyes full of asters and stars alike, hearts and moons, lust mixed with love and it’s a dizzying sight. You wonder if this is how you look when you go down on him, if that’s why it unravels him so quickly. You’d understand if so, you wish so badly you could snap a picture of him like this and preserve it.
It’s funny because he’s thinking the same thing. How beautiful you look when he goes down on you, how your eyes mimic his own, and how you have a hard time controlling your facial expressions when the pleasure is too intense. His favorite thing is when you start furrowing your brows and almost pouting at him without realizing it; the little pants and mewls you let out without meaning to, it drives him absolutely insane.
He wants to capture it, too. Fuck, tonight is a night to remember, he wants everything solidified in film. Every single kiss and touch and whisper spoken tonight, he needs to preserve it.
He sucks on your nipple for a few more seconds, his other hand flicking the nipple on your right breast. Wants to get you all worked up for him. he then pulls back, letting go of your tit with a wet pop sound. Lets his hands rest on your thighs and rubs his palms up and down them as he takes you in.
You let out a little whine when he pulls away, but you don’t protest. His pupils dilate heavily as he looks down at you because, holy fuck, you’ve never let him mark you up like this. He doesn’t even like giving hickeys, thinks it’s a bit immature, something meant for college. But seeing you blooming pink and purple from your neck down to your pretty tits? It makes his cock twitch hard in his sweats.
He removes one hand from your thigh, and reaches down to palm himself through his sweats. He squeezes his cock as he takes in your already debauched look. Marked up, tits out, lips swollen, eyes heavy… fuck. You may be what kills him, not heart break.
One last squeeze to his cock to relieve a bit of the pressure, and he lets go of it. He knows you’re getting a bit impatient by how you’re shifting in your spot, but you know he wants to take his time tonight. So you don’t say anything, no matter how much you wanna beg for his dick or his mouth.
He leans over the couch to unzip the bag he brought, grabs the Polaroid, and then readjusts himself between your legs. He sets the camera down on your stomach and brings his hands back to where your thighs are spread prettily for him.
You arch a brow, and he gives you a little smile. He still looks a bit fucked, his eyes black with want and his cock literally tenting his sweats. The smile is much too sweet for what you’re both doing.
“Take as many pictures as you want, there’s a full roll of film in there. Can keep ‘em for when you miss me.”
Now is not the time to cry. Fuck.
You nod at him, grab the camera and keep it close. You wonder if he planned this or if it was a coincidence that it was in his bag. Regardless, you’re thankful. Elated even, that he’s going to let you capture this and preserve it for those nights you doubt he was ever even real. There's no time to be sad now; you can grieve him when he’s gone.
He flicks his tongue over his lip ring as he looks down at you again, there’s so much that he wants to do tonight, but he knows damn well the moment his cock so as much touches you, he’s going to lose control. He needs to lavish you with love and attention first before even thinking of himself.
He grabs the hem of your shirt, gently pulls it over your head. You lay pliant, let him take the lead and do whatever he wants. God, anything for him as long as he keeps looking at you like that, like you’re the reason he breathes.
Next he takes off the pajama shorts you had on, slowly fumbling with them because of the awkward position on the couch. It makes you giggle at him, which makes him giggle at you. Now that you’re both a bit calmed down, not quite as worked up, you realize maybe the couch isn’t the most practical place.
Even then, you take the Polaroid and snap a picture, capturing his bashful smile on camera as he tosses your shorts away. He doesn’t protest; he lets you. Watches as you take the photo it spits out and stare at it lovingly before setting it on the coffee table.
His hands are on your thighs again, and despite the fact you’re nearly butt naked now, his eyes stay steady on your face. He reaches forward, grabs the camera from you, and snaps his photo of you. He focuses the Polaroid specifically on your neck to capture the hickies he left, wants to remember you marked as his. He retrieves the photo after the camera spits it out. He doesn’t look at it yet; just tosses it inside of his bag next to the couch.
At your huff and shy little glare you send him, he chuckles, hands you back the camera, and before you can scold him, he lightly swats your thigh. Then he gets off the couch and picks you up bridal style.
It’s hard to be mad at him when he makes you feel like a princess. You don’t actually mind that he took the picture, as embarrassing as it feels. You know it’ll be for his eyes only.
He easily carries you into your bedroom, kicks the door open, and deposits you on your bed. Wasted no time before he’s taking off his shirt and sweats, and fuck, you swear he’s a Greek god. Perfect, in every way. You could drool every damn time you see any bit of his skin. His broad shoulders, his tiny waist, his subtle and toned thighs, it’s a lethal combination. Any woman who sees him like this surely could keel over at how beautiful he is, how sexy he is.
He gets on the bed with you, and you set the camera on the pillow next to your head. He settles between your thighs once more. He can feel himself starting to get impatient now that you’re both in only your underwear; his cock is still hard. Only getting harder as he stares down at you, looking at how pretty you look with your hard nipples glistening with his spit and your soft thighs spread just for him.
He descends, placing open-mouthed kisses on your tummy. Your hands come to rest in his hair as they’ve done many times because you know you’ll need to hang on. You know where this leads, and anytime he eats you out, it’s an out-of-body experience. The things this man’s mouth can do are unholy, but still feel like heaven.
His eyes stay on you as he kisses his way down to your thighs. He nips at them lightly, causing you to whine. He covers your lower half in kisses, not missing a single ounce of your skin as he lavishes your inner thighs with sweet little declarations of love that just aren’t enough.
You lift your hips ever so slightly, tug on his hair a bit, send him a silent message that says please fucking put your mouth on me before I explode.
He smirks against your skin, looks up at you as he trails his lips upward, “Just feel it, baby, let me love on you.”
You want to roll your eyes at this, but don’t say anything. Just try to regulate your breathing. You know he’s wanting to savor it, savor you. He has every right to.
But he knows what you need; can tell by the way you’re scratching his scalp that you’re itching to feel his mouth on you. And if he’s being honest, he’s growing a bit impatient, too.
So he finally trails his lips past your thighs, onto the mound of your cunt which is still covered by your panties. The moment he sees the wet spot seeping through, smells your arousal, his patience disappears. Suddenly, he’s fucking starving.
He doesn’t even take your panties off before he starts kissing your cunt, sucking on your clit through the fabric. The feeling makes your body nearly jolt, your hips bucking into his face as you tug on his hair and let out an incredibly strained moan. Fuck. So much for taking it slow and dragging it out.
He becomes a man possessed once he tastes you. He’s letting out grunts as he borderline makes out with your panties, suckling the fabric to get every drop of your essence off of them and onto his tongue. It’s genuinely filthy, debauched, but god, it’s hot.
He leans back with flared nostrils and glistening lips, looking like he’s wearing lipgloss. Made specially by you, of course. He nearly rips your panties off and throws them into the pile containing his clothes at the end of the bed.
A coincidence, he tells himself. He’s totally not planning on ‘accidentally’ taking them home with him… not at all.
He leans back down, grabs your thighs, and props them over his shoulders as he maneuvers himself to lay flat on his stomach on the bed, his knees keeping him steady as he presses his face into your pussy.
He inhales you, takes in your scent. So musky and pretty, so uniquely you. He wishes he could bottle it up and wear it as a fucking cologne. He rubs his nose around in it, nudging your clit back and forth, almost as if he’s motor-boating you but instead of your tits, it’s your cunt.
God, it’s lewd. But he can’t get enough.
You already feel yourself becoming a little too turned on but wanna capture this moment. Wanna preserve how fucked he looks when he does shit like this, only ever for you. So you grab the Polaroid with one shakey hand that leaves his hair, and you snap a quick photo. It comes out a bit blurry, but you don’t mind. You place the camera back on the pillow alongside the fresh photo and have to double down on gripping his hair because, holy fuck, this feels so good.
His tongue finds your entrance and starts licking inside, trying to get every last drop of your cream greedily into his mouth. He uses his nose to stimulate your clit, one of the perks of having a big nose. He’s grunting as he licks into your cunt, almost sounds feral doing so. He doesn't even recognize his own voice with the damn noises he's making.
As much as you don’t want to admit it, watching this all unfold has you dangerously close already. Your thighs are quivering on his shoulders, and your toes are curling along his back. The way he’s breathing into your pussy, sucking and licking and nudging it with his nose, fuck, it has you a mess. The noises you’re making you can’t control; you’re starting to sound just as feral as him.
“Mmmph… Koo… gonna cum soon, slow down…”
You babble at him. You wanna cum so bad, but you also don’t want it to stop so soon. If you had one wish at this very moment, it would be that he does this forever. He looks so lovely in between your thighs, licking and sucking you up as if it’s his last meal.
Because it is his last meal. After this night, he’s gonna be starving for eternity without you.
He huffs out a little laugh against your clit, the hot air causing your back to arch and fingers to tighten in his hair; if he doesn’t ease up, your thighs are surely going to crush his damn head.
“Cum then. Fucking give it to me, Y/N. Let me earn it.”
He nearly growls at you before he dives back in with renewed vigor. He replaces his tongue, which was deep in your cunt, with his fingers. He uses his mouth now to suck on your clit. As you look down at him, you’d swear he was kissing it, making out with it, making love with his fucking mouth. The added pressure of two of his long fingers crooking inside of you is quickly bringing you to your end.
But what nearly makes you cum on the spot is the way he starts fucking humping the bed. Acting like a virgin humping a pillow, he moves his hips back and forth on the mattress just for some sort of stimulation to his cock because it started getting so hard it was damn near painful.
He knows how desperate he looks but doesn’t care. Clearly, you enjoy it, judging by the way you start panting, and your pussy starts pulsating and tightening around his fingers. They fuck into you harder, rubbing up against the spongy flesh inside, all while he makes out with your clit.
His eyes open to meet yours, and you’re done for. Seeing that desperation and love in his eyes mixed with the fact he’s fucking humping your bed makes your pussy throb. You begin cumming hard, tugging on his hair as your thighs clasp around his head. He damn near whines into your cunt, the noise only causing vibrations to make it so much more intense for you.
“Nnngh oh shit! Fuck, oh fuck Koo… oh my god, shiiit…”
Your hips buck up into his mouth eagerly; you can’t even control it. Your feet planted on his back, toes curling, thighs trembling around his face, and your face scrunched up in pleasure. You see stars- no- you see an entire fucking galaxy as you cum all over his face. Full of stars, moons, planets, gardens, all of which are full of him and every single fiber of his being.
All for him, just as he is all for you.
He fucks you through it, does his best to prolong it, but he knows he’ll make you cum again on his cock. He is aching to be buried inside of you. He wants to make love to you, not fuck you, he wants to meld your bodies together and become one tonight.
After what feels like forever, your body relaxes, and the spasming of your clit dies down, causing it to become sensitive. He can tell by the way your legs shake and your body jolts when he applies too much pressure with his tongue.
He reluctantly pulls back, licking your juices off of his lips before placing little kisses all over your thighs and pelvis. He looks fucked, his nose and his lips are glistening obscenely in the dim lighting, and his eyes don’t look brown anymore but black.
When your eyes travel downward, you whine at him. His cock is nearly tearing through his underwear, which you now realize he’s wearing your fav, the purple CK’s. There’s a little stain where the head of his cock presses, so much precum, all for you.
He looks down where your eyes are trained, and he snorts at himself. Jesus fuck, he really is acting like a desperate teenager, isn’t he? But he can’t find himself giving a shit. He wants you to know how desperate and unhinged you make him. He can’t say he’s ever been so horny he borderline fucked a mattress, not until now. And it’s all because of you.
He takes off his underwear with shaky hands and tosses them somewhere in your room. Then he settles between your legs again, rubbing up and down your thighs as he takes you in as if it’s the first time.
Your hands come up to his chest, scraping your nails down it slowly, which earns you the most beautiful groan from his lips. He bites down on them, and his cock jumps upward, begging to be touched. So you trail your hands lower until you find his aching length and take it into your hand, start stroking him lazily.
His breathing becomes labored, and his eyes flutter shut. Even just your hand feels so fucking good. His hips jerk forward, seeking more stimulation. Fuck, he can’t get enough.
One of his hands remains on your thigh while the other reaches for the camera. He boldly angles it directly at your cunt, snaps a photo of it, making sure to capture the way your slick folds glisten in the light, along with all of the purple flowers blossoming on your thighs. His tattooed hand is barely in the shot but is visible enough to make it clear it is him in this photo.
He tosses the photo in the same pile his clothes and your panties lay next to the bed, and then angles the camera towards your face and body to take another. He thinks you’re so pretty like this. Cheeks flushed, lips puffy because you always bite them right before you cum, eyes bright with afterglow. You look like an Angel, especially in this moment.
He’s sure you’re an Angel sent from the God he doesn't even believe in.
He snaps another photo and tries to steady his shaky hands because the way you’re stroking his cock feels borderline painful. Too slow; he needs more. Beads of precum drip down his cock as if it’s crying. It may as well be crying for you.
He quickly takes the photo, tosses it in the same pile, and then does the same with the camera without thinking. Is getting way too worked up with how you’re stroking his dick and looking at him like a Greek god.
Because he is one. You’ll say it time and time again.
He leans over your body and settles in between your legs. You remove your hand and wrap your arms around his shoulders, burying your fingers in his hair again. He grinds his cock onto your pussy, coating it in the remnants of your cum and juices, and starts kissing you slowly.
The kiss isn’t like the one with wine; this one is sweet, loving, still desperate, but more patient. His lips work with you in unison, your puzzle pieces coming together once more. You can taste yourself on his lips, and it makes you moan into his mouth, which causes his cock to twitch against your pussy. God, he loves the sounds that you make. Music to his ears, he’d play it on repeat if he could.
He slowly drags the tip of his cock down to your entrance which is well prepared for him, and even more slowly starts thrusting inside of you. He wants to feel you deeply, feel every ripple and ridge of your pussy, every pulse and throb. He wants to catalog it and replay it over and over in his head for when he misses you.
Jungkook is definitely gifted when it comes to his manhood. It’s not too long, a good seven and a half inches, but fuck he’s so girthy. When you first fucked him, you could barely handle how thick he was. Nowadays, you can absolutely handle it, but that first push always gets you fucking squirming. The pressure and stretch are nothing like you’ve ever felt before.
You let out a stuttered gasp into his mouth when he buries himself to the hilt, his balls flush against your ass, and he stays there for a moment so that you can adjust. You break the kiss, wincing a bit as you turn your face to try and hide the way it scrunches up as it always does the first few moments he’s inside of you.
He doesn’t like that. Not at all.
He pulls his face back from yours and steadies himself on his elbow as one of his hands comes up to grip your jaw. He turns your face towards him, doesn’t let you look away or try to hide.
“Uh-uh, you look at me when I fuck you. I wanna see every single detail of your pretty face if this is the last time I get you like this.”
You whine at him, your eyes fluttering shut and cheeks warming. For some reason, that’s embarrassing, like being called out for talking in class or some shit. But even then, your pussy clenches around his cock, because you love it when he takes control like that, when he makes it clear what he wants.
He shakes your jaw a bit when he notices you closing your eyes, causing them to open instinctively. He looks just as fucked as you do, his nostrils are flared, and he’s sweating slightly, clearly holding back.
“Eyes on me, Y/N. Don’t you fucking dare look away. Look me in my eyes while I make love to you.”
Fuck. It takes every single bit of strength you possess not to cry. There he goes, voicing the fact that tonight isn’t going to be some hard fuck. It’s making love.
That terrifies you.
Making love is something entirely different compared to fucking. Some people disagree, but you don’t. Fucking is mindless, meant for pleasure and pleasure alone. Sometimes, there's intimacy after, but it’s mostly just sex. Making love, of course, comes with pleasure, but that’s not its purpose. Its purpose is to come together with your partner, show each other how much you love them, let all of your emotions run wild and free while sharing the most intimate parts of your body together.
Fucking is like buying a bouquet of roses. You get to see them, water them, keep them on display, but the joy dies quickly because the roses die, too.
Making love is like growing a garden of roses. You can’t make love until you grow that love with someone; nurture it, watch it morph and evolve. And then the flowers bloom. The love bursts, the petals are vibrant in colors made up of you and your partner.
Both are lovely. Everyone loves buying a bouquet of roses, but few get to experience growing their own.
You’ve never made love. Tonight will be the first time.
And it will probably be the last.
You nod at Jungkook stupidly, keeping your eyes on his just as he asked you to. Once he sees your eyes remaining on him, he starts slowly moving his hips. His cock slides in and out of you, your arousal can clearly be heard by the noises your cream coating his cock every time he slides in and out makes. It’s beautiful.
This is beautiful… and so goddamn tragic.
He’s also fighting tears. Because, unlike you, he has made love before… or thought he did. He swore on his wedding night he made love to his wife, but it was nothing like this. You’ve barely even started, and he can feel the stark difference. God, it makes him question fucking everything. He never felt this way with his wife, with anyone, only ever with you.
But now isn’t the time to think of such things, to dissect the fact that maybe what he had with his wife was never actually love, but comfort. Now is the time to share your love together, one last time.
He starts moving his hips a bit faster. His arms reach under your body and wrap around you, trying to get as close as humanly possible. He rests his forehead on yours, keeps his eyes on yours, too. He starts panting, is fighting back tears. He is trying so hard not to cry right now.
“I love you.”
Fuck.
You let out another stuttered breath, and then your breathing picks up entirely as you fight back tears. Your arms are wrapped around him now, nails digging into his back like you’re afraid he will float away. Because you are, you’re so scared that if you let go, he will disappear. You don’t want him to disappear.
He starts pounding a bit deeper, grunting with each deep thrust as he grits out again,
“I love you.”
Fuck he needs to stop.
“Jungkook— nngh… don’t…”
He shakes his head, his breathing heavier, and his thrusts bordering on aggressive now. That’s not abnormal for him; sex with you both is regularly rough. But this is so different. It isn’t the dominating kind of aggressive but desperate, full of passion and love and grief.
“No, Y/N, look at me. I love you. I fucking love you so much, Y/N. I love you.”
And you break.
Crying for you also isn’t abnormal during sex with him specifically. It’s always intense, so sometimes you cry. Not out of sadness or pain; it just happens sometimes. He came to learn that quickly.
But just like how he’s making love to you, these tears are different. You’re weeping for the loss of your lover, but also because you are still so full of love for him. You’re crying because for the first time since this mess started between you, you believe him when he says he loves you. Deep down in your core, in every single crack and crevice of your being, you feel his love for you.
You see it in his eyes as he looks at you, you feel it in the way he touches and kisses you, you hear it in the way he speaks to you when he says it. He loves you so fucking much, and you regret refusing to see it until your last night together. You wish so badly you could have savored his love more seriously rather than deny yourself of it.
You wish things were different.
So you cry for him. The moment the first tear falls, you don’t hold back. You let out something between a moan and a sob as he fucks his cock into you, and his hips stutter when he realizes you’re crying. He didn’t want you to cry, fuck, he doesn’t think he can handle that right now without crying himself. He just wanted you to know, needed you to know that you are loved by him. So fucking loved.
He keeps his eyes on yours, watches the tears fall. He tilts his head slightly and starts kissing the tears away, even as they continue to fall. Greedily kisses them away because they are for him. This will be the last time you water his fully bloomed flower, so he will be greedy. Because he knows that after this, his flower will wilt away, maybe he will, too. So he lets you cry and he kisses and fucks you through it.
He feels himself getting close, his cock starting to twitch and his hips grinding harder into your pelvis. He feels you getting close, too, the way your cunt starts pulsing in rhythm with his cock. You’ve never come at the same time before. He hopes that tonight, he can make it happen.
“Fuck, you feel like home… I love you so much…”
A strangled sob escapes your throat at his words. It’s like he can’t stop saying it, can’t get the words out of his mouth enough. You’ve yet to say it back because you’re afraid his glittery eyes will water, too. But god, you need him to know.
“I love you too, Koo… more than anything…”
And you were right. Hearing you say it amidst your tears, combined with the way your pussy starts rippling around his cock, throbbing and clenching directly after you say it, it’s too much.
He cries. Tries to hide it with a moan, but it’s no use because his tears fall onto your cheeks. You both start crying harder, and he starts fucking you faster. His arms tighten around your waist, and he starts kissing you. Lets you taste your melded tears, his sorrow, his devotion, his love all poured out into this kiss and his tears.
You both water each others flower for the last time.
You feel the familiar pressure building as you kiss him back, your tears mixing with his, the taste addicting. You hate seeing him cry; you know it’s going to haunt you for weeks. But right now, you’re consumed with wanting to be as close to him as possible, and you want to share this moment with him.
You wrap your legs around his waist, and your hips start matching his thrusts. The kiss turns a bit sloppy and uncoordinated because he’s very clearly about to cum; you can feel his cock start twitching and pulsing aggressively inside of you.
“I love you, Y/N. I love you. I. Love. You.”
He groans loudly, his voice sounds strained and distraught. “Come with me.”
You assume he means he wants you to cum at the same time as him. He wants you to cum together, which is definitely going to happen; you feel the string about to snap on both sides.
But really, it had dual meaning. Cum with me, but also come with me. Anywhere, everywhere, please run away with me, please love me forever and ever, please save a piece of your heart for me, please don’t stay away from me forever.
One last thrust and his pelvis grinds into yours as his balls draw up taught. He whimpers into your mouth, and his pelvis grinding into you, mixed with how fucking deep his cock is inside of you, is enough stimulation to your clit to cause you to hurl over the edge a second time. You cream all over his dick, your hips writhing beneath him as you whine and moan into his mouth. His cock jerks hard inside of you, shooting hot ropes of cum that seem endless. Your souls meld together much like your tears do, and you both cum harder than you ever have.
It’s like, in this moment, you are one. You both share a garden, flowers at full bloom, no pesky cages or fences to hinder you from flourishing together. There’s sunlight, and bees, and soil, and plenty of water. It’s peaceful, it’s heaven, it’s home. It’s where you both swear you belong.
Both of your orgasms seem to last eternally. It’s endless, his cock jerking and spurting in rhythm to the way your pussy milks him and pulses around him. He stays buried to the hilt until his cock tires out and your pussy stops milking him.
Even after, he stays like this. You both say nothing as you silently cry together, still connected intimately as you share little kisses between tears.
You made love. He made love to you.
You know damn well you’re ruined for any other man going forward after that.
He exhales a shaky breath and starts peppering your face with little kisses. Despite the tears, he feels lighter than before. There’s still that impending sense of doom, but he knows in his heart that you know he loves you now. That’s all he wanted from tonight…
And despite the sex being pretty vanilla compared to what you usually do, Jesus fuck, that was the best sex he’s ever had.
As he attempts to kiss all of your tears away, he starts whispering the sweetest shit to you, even as he continues crying.
“My baby…”
Kiss.
“My love…”
Kiss.
“My pretty girl…”
Kiss.
“My angel…”
Kiss.
“My heart…”
Kiss.
“My soul…”
Kiss.
“My fucking everything…”
Kiss, kiss, kiss.
Fuck, it makes you swoon hearing all of those sweet words. Not sweet nothings, but sweet declarations. Pure truth. You are and have been his everything despite how fucked up it all is.
You always will be. Fucking always.
You cry a bit harder, nearly blubbering now. He keeps crying, too, not quite as hard as you because he doesn’t want this to be harder for you than it already is… but he knows the moment he leaves you in the morning, he will cry twice as hard.
You realize you’re still clinging to him; there are definitely going to be red marks all over his back. Your legs are still wrapped around his waist, keeping him buried inside of you because that’s where you swear he belongs. He would agree with you.
But you remove your hands from his back and bring them to cup his face, and you feel so fucking drained from the intense sex and crying and the entire goddamn rollercoaster of today… but you don’t want it to end. Fuck, you’re so afraid for it to end.
You place a soft kiss on his lips, “I love you. I really do. Always have, always will, forever and ever…”
He smiles sadly down at you, nods. Because he knows. He never once doubted how much you loved him; every single time he was with you, he felt your love. Even when you were mad at him, you made him feel loved. He wishes so badly that he could’ve made you feel as secure as you made him feel.
You will never know how utterly thankful for you he is.
“I know baby, I know…”
You let out another choked sob and bury your face in his neck. He lifts himself off of you slightly, and he moves himself so that he’s lying beside you instead of on top of you. You cling to him again, refuse to let him go. Can’t. Won’t. Don’t want to. Can’t fucking bear it.
He gently slips his cock out of you and then wraps his arms around you, one hand coming to cup the back of your head and stroke his fingers through your hair, the other rubbing your back soothingly.
You cry and cry and cry. It’s pitiful how hard you’re crying; if anyone saw you right now, they’d be certain someone had died. It really feels that way, as if he’s dying while holding you right now. He feels like he’s dying watching you crumble like this, but he doesn’t dare stop you.
He doesn’t even reassure you because all that would do is give you false hope for something that may not happen ever again. For all you know, after this, you will never cross paths. He may just become a ghost to you…
A flower that bloomed in the spring and died come winter.
There were so many things you wanted to do tonight. You wanted to shower together, wash his hair for him, show him how to bake those cookies you know he loves, stay up and talk about a bunch of pointless shit, rewatch your favorite movies together, fuck a few more times, choke on his dick one last time, kiss him and touch him all over all night. So so so much more.
You didn’t want to stop here. You wanted to stay awake and savor every last second together just as greedily as him. But god, as you sob in his arms, you feel yourself growing so heavy with exhaustion that you can’t keep your eyes open.
“Don’t let me fall asleep, Koo, make me stay awake…”
He buries his face in your hair, his tears making wet patches in your strands. He inhales deeply just to get another whiff of your shampoo, fuck, he needs to figure out which one it is before he leaves so he can buy it and use it. Doesn’t even care if it’s weird. Wants to smell like you. Wants to be surrounded by reminders of you forever.
Like you, he’s been crying this whole time but so quiet that you don’t even realize it. He made sure you wouldn’t realize it. This is your time to get comfort from him, he can’t offer you reassurance, but he damn sure can comfort you through the pain that is his fault.
“Rest, baby… I’m here…”
You shake your head at him, keep your face buried in his neck even as your eyes start to lull shut.
“No, slap me, keep me awake… don’t wanna… sleep… please…”
He can feel your body start to go limp, can feel your tears running down his neck. He knows you’ll be out cold soon. You were fighting a battle you just couldn’t win, and god he wishes he could keep you awake. But he knows you’re emotionally overloaded right now…
And maybe if you fall asleep in his arms, you’ll rest peacefully for tonight. You deserve that, he thinks. You deserve so much peace and happiness.
“It’s ok Y/N… I got you. Just sleep. My baby needs rest, hm?”
You try so fucking hard to respond. But he’s right; you’re fighting a losing battle. Your body can’t keep up with your brain to the point you’re slurring your words. Maybe it’s the after-effects of a fight or flight response because it really felt like you were fighting for your love when making love tonight… fighting to keep hold of his roots as they slowly became untwined from yours. And now, you’re simply too tired.
“I… I love you… so… much…”
He lets out a shaky breath and closes his eyes. Holds you a little tighter. Because, fuck, your last words before lulling into a deep sleep were that you loved him. It’s as it should be, but for some reason, it wrecks him, knowing that this is the last time he will hear them.
When your breathing evens out, he pulls back, stares at you. Your brows are furrowed even in sleep, clearly troubled. But you don’t stir and your grip on him loosens. You are so fucking beautiful. He wishes so badly he could just stay like this, watching you rest, in your arms while you’re in his.
Holding each other, as if you’re both one person instead of two.
He knows he won’t sleep tonight. He’s just as overwhelmed as you, but instead of his body shutting down, his adrenaline has spiked. He’s dreading leaving this bed, dreading leaving you.
He stares for an almost pathetic amount of time. Just lays beside you and takes in every soft detail of your face, traces his fingertips over your features. He finds himself wondering, what if he married you instead? What if you met sooner? What if you lived with him and had his babies one day?
What if… he left his wife?
He has to stop himself there. He makes a pained noise and buries his face in your hair again because he knows he can’t think like that. He could leave his wife; he probably should, but he feels like he owes her his life, his devotion. He married her, for fucks sake.
And even if he did leave, he doubts you’d ever be capable of having a healthy and stable relationship. People in these situations rarely do; it’s a form of karma, he thinks. Husbands who cheat and marry their mistresses often get cheated on, or they end up do it again.
He swears, fucking swears on his life that he would never do that to you. But he knows you probably wouldn’t trust him; any woman in your situation wouldn’t. You’d always be left wondering if he’d turn around and do the same to you one day.
Oh, Jungkook, how badly you’ve fucked up…
He has no idea how much time has passed by the time he checks the little alarm clock on your bedside table. He honestly can’t recall when he got here or what time ‘one more night’ started, but as of now, it’s 5 am.
He wants to stay. Wants to fall asleep holding you, wake up and make you breakfast, draw you a cozy bath and massage your back for you… wants to treat you as a lover would.
But he knows that if he doesn’t leave soon, he won’t leave at all. The moment you open your eyes, he will beg again. He will cry and beg and plead for you to change your mind.
Which is way too selfish, considering he’s still a coward, still unwilling to leave his wife both out of fear and knowing the reality of what happens once he does.
So he places one last kiss on your forehead, breathes you in one last time, and then quietly extracts himself from your hold. Standing up and getting off the bed, he looks down at you.
He swears he can see the exact place you keep his stolen heart inside of you. He doesn’t want it anymore, it’s yours. Always will be.
He slowly starts dressing himself again with robotic-like motions. He isn’t crying anymore; he feels kind of numb at this point, or maybe his tears have just run out.
Acceptance? Or the calm before the storm? He isn’t sure.
He doesn’t bother taking a shower; can’t be bothered right now even if he smells like sex… smells like your sex specifically. He can blame it on being lazy, but he knows it’s because he wants your smell to linger a bit longer. He will shower later.
Once fully dressed he pads his way into the living room, grabs the bag full of stuff he packed for you. He takes it back into your bedroom and sits it at the end of the bed.
He carefully collects each Polaroid he took of you for himself and stuffs them in his wallet for safekeeping. After nearly considering changing his mind and taking the camera greedily, he decides he’ll leave it for you, even though it was a gift you got him. He knows you love it, but also knows you’d never buy one for yourself. And if he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t think he could ever use it again without thinking of you. It would feel wrong to use it without you.
So he sets that on the end of the bed. He opens the bag, carefully takes out the clothing he packed for you, folds them, and arranges them in a neat pile. Next, he takes out the box of Polaroids; he made sure to put a label on it before coming that said ‘For Y/N.’ He sets the box next to the clothes and then carefully places the chain he packed on top of the pile of clothes.
He wants to arrange it almost as a surprise, hoping it’ll feel more like a gift and not so much like a goodbye this way.
Now that the bag is empty, his intrusive thoughts return. He wants so badly to turn into a little thief and take some of your stuff, too. You would have gladly offered it to him, anything he wanted, but you’re asleep. And he can’t stay much longer.
His intrusive thoughts win, and he can’t find himself feeling too guilty.
So he reaches down and grabs the panties you had on earlier, the same panties that he sucked on like a damn popsicle, and he puts them in the bag.
He quietly makes his way into your bathroom, looks around for a moment until he finds exactly what he’s looking for: the star pimple patches. He takes them, noticing that they’re in a cute little case with a face on it. He knows you love these things; they make pimples feel less like some kind of imperfection. He loves them, too. They remind him of a time when you showered him with love.
You won’t miss them, he thinks again. Not as much as he’ll miss you.
He greedily holds onto them, looks around to see if there’s anything else he can steal. He sees your scarf hanging on the back of your bathroom door; it was the scarf you wore one of the first times he took you to dinner. It’s honestly kind of ugly; it’s a dark and muted plaid, but you loved it because of how soft and warm it is.
It smells very strongly of you.
It’s his now.
He takes the scarf and decides that’s enough. He’s greedy, but he’s not an actual thief. Maybe more like a rat. As much as he wants to steal your shampoo, he decides just to make a mental note of the name because he knows you'll need it to shower when you wake up.
He stuffs the patches and scarf into the same bag and stands before you on the bed. Fuck. He doesn’t want to go. He doesn’t want to leave you.
But now is the perfect time; you’re sleeping soundly, dead to the world. If he leaves like this, there will be no hysterical begging or crying from either party.
Still, he finds himself procrastinating. He decides to open the box of Polaroid photos he packed just to make sure none of the ones he kept for himself snuck their way in. They didn’t. He knows they didn’t. But never hurts to double-check.
He comes across one photo in particular… it was a photo he took one night after you both had some very intense sex. He rented a motel that night because he was in Busan for business, and of course, he dragged you along with him. Busan is his hometown, and his wife has always hated it. She was born and raised in Seoul and always claims Busan is too boring, not lively enough. She always refused to go with him, even if it was to visit his parents.
You, on the other hand, you were so fucking excited to go. You talked his ear off the entire ride there, and once you arrived, you were so interested in everything around you. It was so fucking sweet because you told him the reason you were so excited was because it was a part of him. He was born here, which makes the place sacred. It was dramatic, but god, it was precious.
After you guys fucked that night, you both showered together. You got out of the shower before him, and you snapped a few pictures with the Polaroid; he made sure to put those in the box for you. At some point after, you were lying in the bed watching some cartoon on the motel TV, and he was smoking a cigarette. He noticed a vivid handprint from where he was slapping your ass while fucking you from behind. It was the first time he wasn’t really concerned about it, but proud. Because in some fucked up way, he marked you, even if it was temporary. You were his, and even if you doubted it, he was yours.
It was the same feeling he got tonight when giving you those hickeys. Just a little reassurance that you belong to him.
He took the photo to kind of solidify the feeling, preserve it. It was very aesthetically pleasing. One of his favorites, he’s realizing. He almost wants to take this one.
But instead, he decides to leave it with you, and before he does so he grabs a pin from your desk and writes:
I won’t let you forget us
-Kook
It’s cryptic, he knows. Maybe it’s selfish to leave a message like that… but perhaps it’ll keep you open for him. Not that he expects you to wait for him to get his shit together, god never. But maybe you’ll allow him to check on you now and then, maybe you won’t block his number, maybe, just maybe, you’ll save a piece of your heart for him…
He sets the photo down on top of the pile of folded clothes and steps back. He looks at the clock again, sees that it’s now 5:50 am. He has no idea how time passed that quickly because it only felt like maybe ten minutes had passed. He must have been moving slowly; his brain must have realized how much he was fighting this inevitable end.
As he stares down at your sleeping form, he genuinely considers staying. Considers refusing to leave.
And that’s exactly why he chooses this moment to leave. He has to get the fuck out of here before he does something stupid.
He walks over to you once more, leans down, and places a kiss on your forehead, then your cheek, then your chin, and starts peppering your face with kisses all over again. His heart is pounding fast, and he has the urge to run. With one last kiss to your lips, he yanks himself away and grabs the bag now full of items that don’t belong to him.
He wants to take in your space one last time, wants to linger and look around because this has been his safe space for literal months. But he fucking can’t. He feels his resolve weakening quickly by the second and knows one more second here, and he won’t leave.
He quickly makes his way out of your apartment, is nearly panting as he walks out of your complex and down to his car. His hands are shaking, his heart is beating at a scary pace, and he starts to feel fucking sick.
He borderline throws the bag in his back seat, and then gets into his car quickly. His hands shake so severely that he fumbles with his keys as he starts the engine. The moment the car turns on, he’s peeling out of the parking lot.
It wasn’t acceptance. It was indeed the calm before the storm.
He’s never felt like this before. He feels nauseous and almost panicky as he drives robotically down the morning streets of Seoul. His breathing is coming in so fast he gets dizzy.
It all hits him at once. This is the end. FIN. Over.
He swears he feels his flower die at that very moment. It wasn’t uprooted and moved to another garden; someone fucking stepped on his fully bloomed Bearded Iris. One second he was thriving, flourishing, and now he’s fucking dead.
He doesn’t even recognize the sounds of his own choked sobs as he drives down the street. He can’t breathe. He can’t fucking see. He feels like he’s dying, truly, he almost considers calling for help because he feels so full of despair and grief.
But who would he call? His wife? That's a fucking joke. You? He can't call you anymore. He can't call his friends either because none of them know. He's on his fucking own now.
Nothing could have prepared him for what it feels like to grieve the death of a love who is still alive.
He ends up pulling into a random parking lot once he’s a safe distance from your apartment. He slams his palms on his steering wheel and just fucking bawls. Tears fog his eyes, and he sounds almost childish because of the force in which he’s crying.
He knew the day he lost you would be the day that that he died. And right now, he is dying for you.
It isn’t until 10 am that you stir awake. You instinctively reach for him, but your hands only find cold sheets, meaning he left a while ago…
You didn’t expect him to leave so soon. You expected to be able to wake up to him one last time, so you’re disappointed when you realize his clothes aren’t on the floor anymore, and you don’t hear the sounds of him awake and making coffee in the kitchen.
But you suppose that was a smart move. If he had stayed, it would have just made it harder for you both, most likely.
You feel oddly… numb. As of now, no sadness. The only thing you feel is almost like a little zap in your chest; it’s subtle, to the point you aren’t even sure if it’s really there.
It’s off. Somethings not quite right.
You ignore the weird hollow feeling as you sit up and stretch; you realize you never showered, and you smell heavily of sex. So you get out of bed, and you make your way into your bathroom. You start the shower after using the bathroom, and as you wait to warm it up, you look at yourself in the mirror.
Fuck.
You are literally littered with marks. Your neck, all the way down to your chest, all the way down to your thighs. Purple and pink love bites all over you. He seriously fucked you up.
You feel that zap again.
You shake your head and tear your eyes away from the mirror, don’t notice how your star patches are missing from your skincare tub on your bathroom counter yet. You step inside the shower and spend a good while letting the hot water wash over your body, washing the remnants of sex and sweat off of your skin.
After about half an hour, you step out. Dry off. Get dressed. That’s when you walk back into your bedroom and notice the pile of clothing sitting on your bed. Clothing that isn’t yours.
You slowly approach it and quickly recognize the strong scent lingering on it: his cologne. You unhurriedly pick up each piece of clothing, see the shirt and hoodie you often attempted to steal from him, accompanied by one of his favorite jackets.
He left pieces of himself for you.
Zap.
You set them aside and pick up the chain and photo. Fuck, you love his chains. You always loved them because, one, they’re fucking hot, and two, you loved how they would dangle above you when he was fucking you. You doubt he realized it, but sometimes you’d bite it as he was fucking you, tug on it like a damn dog playing with their favorite chew toy just to see if it would break. It never did, and you never stopped being fascinated with his jewelry.
Zap.
You look at the photo and immediately recall the memory. Busan, now one of your favorite places, all because of him. It was such a good little trip. You tried a lot of street food you never had before, saw a lot of pretty things, and he fucked you beautifully that night. It was rough, passionate, and he left hand prints on your ass, and much like him, you loved it. This was one of your favorites, for sure.
But then you read the note.
I won’t let you forget us.
Zap. Zap. Zap.
You drop the photo and the chain on top of the clothes, let out a shaky breathe. Still, you aren’t really feeling much, maybe a bit of nostalgia accompanying the zaps… but no despair, no yearning or grieving…
Calm before the storm.
You decide you need some coffee and painkillers. You have a lingering migraine from all of the wine and crying last night, so you leave your bedroom and make your way into the kitchen.
You start making your coffee and swallow the painkillers dry. You lean against the counter as your coffee brews, then freeze when you look at the floor.
The purple wild flower lays there, stepped on by he-who-shall-not-be-named’s boot. Wilted and destroyed, the petals disconnected from the stem.
The flower is dead.
And now you break.
Those zaps you were feeling, you suddenly understand. It was your fight or flight kicking in again, and instead of your brain responding to it, it blocked it out.
Can’t fight it now.
You drop to your knees, start breathing heavily because you feel like someone placed bricks on your chest. Your heart aches, literally, it hurts, it feels like it’s going to explode and you feel like you can’t breathe at all.
You start crying again… no- you’re fucking wailing. You’re crying out for the loss of your flower, for the death of a lover who isn’t even dead, much like Jungkook had earlier.
It finally hits you that he isn't coming back. He's gone, and now, you're expected to move on. Your heart aches for him. Without him, do you even have a heart?
No, you really don’t, not right now anyway. The moment he stepped out that door, he took it with him. He fucking stole your heart just like he stole your pimple patches and perfume.
All you can do is cry for him, except right now, you don’t have him to cling to for empty comfort. Instead, you reach for the dead wildflower, hold it in your palm, bring it to your chest, and cradle it close as if you can somehow bring it back to life.
Bring him back to you.
Little do you know, he’s currently curled up in his bed at his second apartment. He hasn’t stopped crying since he left. He went back home, took the stolen perfume, and sprayed it all over his damn bed, and now he’s hugging a pillow as if it’s you. Imagining that it’s you, that this is all just a horrible dream, and he will wake up soon.
Both of you are lovers, stars who collided, planets who aligned, flowers who grew side by side.
But it was at the wrong time. And now you’re paying the consequences of your paths crossing when they shouldn't have.
So far away in the matter of hours when you were once so close, yet you’re both doing the exact same thing; clinging to shreds of each other and wishing so fucking badly that things could be different.
Both of you left each other without returning your hearts. Both of your flowers got stepped on instead of uprooted and re-planted somewhere safer.
Spring has passed, no longer bees buzzing and flowers blooming, but the cold harsh winter is coming.
It will be a while before either of you bloom again, if at all.
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okay so I think I have maybe like 2 mutuals who are ffxiv enthusiasts, but I gotta yell into the void about my warrior of light and the fact that, in true oc fashion, she went and did her own thing without my consent and now I gotta deal with all the feelings it is giving me
so, my partner finished endwalker last year and Had Many Emotions about it and afterword I said, sure, put me in Character Creation For Fun I Won't Do Anything About It
but then I made a cute little Au Ra and named her Cimorene to reference my fav childhood book series and I was like, oh no I love her I guess I'll have to put her through The Trauma that is this whole game
(I know there is much trauma, again, because I witnessed my partner finishing endwalker and she also would tell me things about what was going on, vague enough - and long ago enough - that I'm not like SUPER spoiled on what I have ahead of me, but like, enough that I know shit is Sad)
but ANYWAY I was still pretty casual about this because, friends, I am not a Gamer. The last game I played, that wasn't a Mariokart/Mario Party/Smash that I've played at a friend's house, was like... on my family game cube 15+ years ago. I want to be a gamer but my brain can't find time for it... until now
so I'm casually trucking along through a realm reborn doin my little white mage quests and meeting the characters my partner has cried about, especially this one guy called thancred - of whom I had heard quite a lot about and my brain had already decided, I want that one.
(he's voiced by Taliesin Jaffe at first, he's a pretty white haired anime boy with trauma, he's got horrible coping mechanisms, what was I supposed to do? to quote Richard Gansey, "Crushed and Broken, just the way women like 'em")
so that was like in the back of my mind because obviously my little baby wol has to go through a lot and he has to go through a lot (most of which I am well aware of) before that's going to take off and even then I already imagine it's going to be a sort of background tension they refuse to actually speak on but both just Know for like, ever (yes my favorite ship is Roy and Riza from FMA why do you ask)
but then I'm like a little over halfway through this first installment and a bunch of awful things happen to my baby for the first time and I'm kinda invested in how she's having a kind of terrible time and the first group of people she'd felt some kind of belonging with are in danger and she feels lost and helpless -
and my partner is sitting next to me watching me play and starts getting excited about the fact that I'm close to meeting another character
that character is haurchefant
and I had never heard them talk about him before so I didn't really know who he was, but he's the first person to be genuinely kind to my warrior after several very bad days. they're in a fortress in an eternal winter and he's still the warmest person she's met in a very long time...
and I thought, oh that's so nice I'm glad she got someone in her corner now after all that shit, anyway moving on
but then, like for the following few days I kept. thinking about it. about how much that would have meant to her, about how lonely she had been feeling before meeting him and how, now that she's found that, she kind of just, wants to be around him
and it hit me that, without my own consent on it, Cimorene had said, I want that one.
so now I have to deal with my baby's first love (which, judging by my partner and her friends reactions when I told all of this to them, is going to be a fucking tragic first love) when I hadn't expected to deal with that at all and now I'm like really really invested in this dumb game
(this got way longer than expected, I just had to Yell. also this is probably a precursor for things to come. I may be reblogging Final Fantasies up in here before long)
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Chapter 4.5: The Ackerbond Learns
Pairing: Canon!Levi x F!Reader
Warnings: SMUT x2, will there ever be a chapter where they don’t fuck? heavy depictions of physical and mental abuse, subconscious coping mechanisms, kinda just some cute hurt/comfort tbh
A/N: so much for a mini chapter this is 15k words goddamnit. BUT, huge thank yous to both @peace-for-levi AND @levmada for beta-reading this chapter. and i apologise for what i have planned next :”)
Taglist: @levmada @awesomeness1679 @purplecandygerl @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory @pluvio-pluto @midnightbarnes97 @aresclouds @imkumichan @xxpadfootxx @cmjh3 @justa19 @notgoodforlife @leviackermanmyhero245 @kaea-peverall @jakillski @macaronnv @natalie-skz @oldtownwonderland @snailsposts @lunardeiity @clusiesuzie @hi-imkaiya @isabellawigginss @ackermandick @orionsalos @disaster-writer @temariskadi @nariko1989 @elizaack @dixie-chick @death-by-bullseye @leviackermanst @poisonpeche @arcticcashew @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored
“You want me to take in your… offspring?”
A woman Levi didn’t recognise sneered in disgust at the two young children and what he could only describe was a girl almost half his own age –maybe younger– dressed in a peasant’s finest clothes. Which didn’t look like much.
He would know, after all.
“Ma, please. They’re too young to survive this famine. You have more than enough here, I beg of you, please.”
The two children – a girl and a boy – huddled closer to their mother, the boy chewing on a small necklace of dull brown beads. He didn’t look like he had teeth yet.
The girl, on the other hand, looked a little older. Her hair was tied back in an uncomfortably tight looking ponytail. She couldn’t have been any older than eight.
“What am I supposed to do with them? That one looks like he’s still suckling from your breast. I have no use for a child that age. This one on the other hand…” Her aged eyes slid from the boy to the girl. “This one I can teach maid duties. Washing, cleaning, cooking, that kind of thing.”
Their mother looked uncertain, glancing between her daughter and the older lady. “Well? Hand her over and stop dirtying my doorstep. We don’t appreciate filth here in Mitras.”
So that’s where he was. Although, taking in his lavish surroundings, Levi could have guessed as much. The ornate chandelier, the deep crimson curtains with gold embroidery… His nose wrinkled. He fucking hated high society.
The girl crouched before her daughter, taking her little wrists in her hands. Levi was startled to hear her say your name. This must have been a dream he’d conjured up in his exhausted state. Maybe a product of his suspicions after the incident yesterday. Then why didn’t this happen–
Then it dawned on him.
The bond.
Was that it? Was he seeing into your memories? But you’re so young here, how could you possibly remember this?
Regardless of his confusion, your mother continued.
“You have to stay here, okay? You have to be brave, and you have to be strong. You’ll be alright here. You’ll be safe here. Do you understand?”
He saw little you nod your head shyly, your hair bobbing with the movement. Even this young, you had that fiery conviction in your child-like eyes – that same determination he saw in you now.
Your mother pulled you into her arms and squeezed you tight. “I love you so much, okay? Remember that. Your mother loves you dearly.”
When she pulled back, Levi’s heart shattered with the confusion in your eyes. You didn’t understand. How could you? You were only a kid.
He vaguely wondered what age you realised your mother most likely wasn’t coming back for you. What age you realised she had most likely passed in the famine, along with your brother.
How didn’t he know any of this? How had you kept this so close to the chest? And why? Why hadn’t you come to him? Why hadn’t you told him any of this?
He could have helped you. He could have eased whatever you felt.
Fuck, it hurt to know you’d kept this to yourself, suffering in silence for so long.
He thinks you understand when your grandmother roughly tugs you back by the shoulder, not bothering to steady you when you almost fall.
However, pride flared in his chest when you steadied yourself and remained standing, As sure footed as ever.
To his further pride, though slight concern, you didn’t cry as you watched your mother turn away, your brother in tow.
Your grandmother showed no remorse for sentencing a young woman and her toddler son to their deaths.
He hated her instantly.
The large oak doors echoed closed as the crone’s wicked eyes pinned you down. “So, rat, you have a name?”
Levi knew there was nothing he could do, this being a memory, but fuck, the urge to scoop you up in his arms and take you away from here was ridiculously strong.
Though, he supposed that if this was what you were doing when you were this age, his situation wasn’t much better.
You uttered your name quietly, though instantly winced at your grandmother’s interruption: “Speak up! I can’t hear you squeaking down there like that. Hold your head up!”
You did as she said, stammering your name louder.
“Hmm, and how old are you?”
“Six and eight months. Nearly seven.”
“I know you’re nearly seven, stupid girl. Has your useless mother taught you anything? To read, write? Cook and clean, to sew and darn? I have a few pairs of stockings that need–”
“She didn’t teach me any of this stuff. I didn’t want to. It’s all boring. But I did learn how to–”
The crack against the side of your face could have silenced the screaming dead. You fell backwards, clutching your cheek with both palms.
Your grandmother looked at you impassively, as if you were nothing but dirt that needed wiping with a wash-cloth.
Levi found his instincts coiling in his gut, a threatened viper baring its fangs.
“Get off the floor. You look ridiculous crumpled in an undignified pile like that.”
To Levi’s continued surprise, you actually stood. Still no tears lined your eyes as you looked up at her, your palms falling from your slightly swollen cheek.
“Things work differently here. I am not your mother. That worm was about as useful as a paper fireguard. No, here you will be taught manners, duties, and above all else, respect. You will not speak unless spoken to. You will not eat until all of your chores are done. You will do as you are told and answer to the housekeeper when I am away. Am I understood?”
You stayed still for a moment, and Levi could feel you fight with yourself whether or not to submit to her.
But she raised the back of her hand again, and you nodded. “Yes.”
“‘Yes, Ma’am. I will teach you respect, rat. If it’s the last thing I do.”
She once again pinned you with a glare so foul Levi shivered despite himself. Who the fuck did this bitch think she was – In her velvet dress and her striking emerald brooch, her hair pinned in a tight bun.
You did this to her, he realised; It was your grandmother who had you cowering that day.
His hatred burned like a living thing.
“Laudna!”
From the door on the right came a dignified looking maid, her apron pristinely pressed, not an inch of dirt to be seen.
He’d almost be impressed if she didn’t have the same sour look as your grandmother.
“Yes, my Lady?”
Laudna looked down at you in the same vein as the old crone, with distaste and disgust.
Her eyes scanned you from head to toe, seeing through the flat attempt to make you, a peasant girl, look presentable in front of nobles.
“Get this urchin washed and clothed properly. Tailor her a new frock from the rags if you must. I can’t stand the sight of her in those clothes. Then take her to the kitchen and put her to work. Scrubbing the dishes until she can see her grubby little face.”
The housekeeper nodded artfully.
“Yes, my Lady. Anything else for you today, ma’am?” she asked, a voice like fool’s gold as she gripped your forearm with a strength that surprised him.
He saw you struggle slightly, but dropped the attempt as soon as you learnt how iron her grip was.
“Yes. I’ll have my supper in the east wing this evening. And make sure the terrace is ready for this afternoon’s tea. We have a guest coming over. The Commander of the Scouts is paying us a visit. I think he’s trying to garner favour in order for some of us with money to help pay back his debts. I have no intention of such a thing, but I do like seeing a powerful man on his knees.”
Fucking Walls, this woman was insane.
“Very good, Ma’am.”
He watched as you were dragged away, and found himself following without a choice.
This was a lot to take in. Your mother gave you up when you were a kid to your foul grandmother who had already hit you within the span of the few minutes you’d been thrown into her care.
It didn’t exactly give him hope for the rest of your childhood.
Levi’s heart only bled more as he saw you scrubbed raw and tossed into clothes that were far too big for you. The housekeeper took a pair of fabric scissors to the dragging hem, not caring about the frayed edges.
She measured you in front of an apron, her mouth quirking to the side when she saw it was also much too large for your small frame.
Taking the same liberties as she did with the frock, Laudna roughly set her scissors to the off-white apron, cutting it to size and forcing the strap over your head. It hung far too low to be of any use, but at least it wouldn’t drag along the floor now.
You were dragged down several flights of dimly lit, narrow stone stairs, Levi following behind before the walls opened up into a scullery, lit by surface level windows along the top of the walls.
“You see those? They need to be spotless by this afternoon. You heard the Lady. Some Scout Commander is coming ‘round and she wants them for their meeting. Clean them and arrange them on the tray. Eva, the scullery maid will come and check your work once you claim to be finished. Until then, work silently and work diligently.”
Levi saw your determined face, and though you needed to drag a stool to stand on just to reach the basin, you didn’t waver in your task. Your little hands worked around the sponge diligently, fingers carefully turning ornately patterned china teacups, ones he would envy did they not belong to a tyrant.
Obediently, you didn’t make a sound, only the sloshing of water and the gentle tink of china against metal softly echoing in the empty chamber when you set the freshly dried cup against the metal of the shining tray.
For someone who hadn’t been taught this before, you were doing remarkably well.
Though he guessed he understood. Coming from dirt, it was an impulse to want to see things clean. He guessed you were no different.
When the lid to the teapot was placed delicately on the rotund piece, you called out proudly, “I’m finished!”
But nobody was around to answer your call.
Dread pooled in his gut as he saw the familiar urge to prove yourself.
With the clumsiness of a young kid, you stepped from the stool and reached up to the metal tray.
Though the china was fine, your arms had yet to build any muscle. Already slightly malnourished, you simply couldn’t bear the sudden weight in your outstretched hands.
Losing balance, you fell back, and the shattering of china burst his eardrums.
That pool of dread grew heavier as the silent aftermath lingered on.
Maybe nobody heard. Maybe you were alright. Maybe you could run and hide somewhere, wait until nightfall and escape through the servant’s entrance.
But you were naïve. You tried to pick up the pieces, resulting in a sharp cut on your finger.
You hissed as you drew back, cradling your hand in your chest.
That was when footsteps came rushing down the stairs and three women stood before you: Laudna, the housekeeper, a younger looking woman who he assumed to be Eva, the scullery maid, and your thunderous grandmother, a thin cane in her hand.
“Back on the floor. Must be a rat’s instinct to be so close to the ground. What happened?” she sneered, looking at the broken china, her granddaughter, and your cradled hand.
“I-I was trying to bring the tea to you… I was finished but nobody was here, so I thought I would just take it up myself. But it was too heavy and I dropped it. I’m sorry…”
You looked so earnestly remorseful it physically hurt to see you bend before such a witch of a woman.
Your grandmother lifted your chin with the end of her cane. “Well, as long as you’re sorry, that’s all that matters. Accidents happen, don’t they, little one?”
Levi was instantly on edge. He knew these types of people. He knew what they were capable of.
And he knew a false comfort when he saw it.
Every fibre of himself screamed at him to intervene, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t move, despite throwing his whole body weight in any direction.
This was a memory, and he couldn’t change the past.
“Just pick it up and all will be well.”
“I can’t… the pieces are sharp. I’ve already cut my finger, look.”
You held out your hand, falling into that net of faux-assurance, the strings holding you fraying.
But that look of innocent concern didn’t fade from your grandmother’s face. “It’s alright, just be more careful and you won’t get hurt.”
With the reassurance given, you reached down again to take a larger shard into your hands.
Your scream speared Levi’s heart as the woman in front of you stepped forward, and pressed the sole of her boot against the back of your hand, forcing it into the razor-like pieces scattered across the floor.
She let you try and tug your hand back, knowing it would only earn yourself further lacerations against the flesh of your palm.
“That china set,” she continued monotonously, clearly unbothered by your agonised cries, “was a gift from the Prince himself. Would you like to be the one to kneel before him and apologise for destroying it?”
Levi once again tugged on his own body, his voice too stuck in his throat as you wrapped your other hand around your wrist, trying desperately to pull it from beneath her boot.
She ground her heel tightly, and you yelped again.
“Answer me, little rat.”
“No! N-no! I’m sorry it was an a-accident! P-please! Please stop, it hurts!” you begged, still trying to wrench your palm from the floor.
The moment she lifted her foot, you scurried back, your hand once again cradled in your chest. Only this time white pieces of china stuck out jaggedly from your palm, the front of your apron now stained as crimson as the curtains in the hall.
You quivered as she stepped closer to you, curling in on yourself.
It broke him.
“Accidents happen, but not in this house. You will learn to be perfect, or you will be nothing. And stop snivelling, or you’ll end up in the sty with the other pigs.”
You dried the tears down your cheeks, doing your best to top the wracking sobs in your chest.
Relief filled Levi’s lungs as your grandmother turned to leave.
But he could see the sudden surge of bravery in your face, and he mentally pleaded with you not to.
It was too late.
“I hate you!”
The room stopped.
Laudna and Eva shrank away to the sides of the room as the crone stalked back.
Bending down to you, she took both your wrists in her own hands and brought you to your feet, her face centimetres from yours.
She said nothing, but surveyed you the same way Levi had seen cats survey a mouse in their claws, deciding whether to play with them or sink their canines into the poor rodent’s neck.
Without another word, she brutally dragged you back up a flight of stairs.
You fought back this time, digging your heels into the stone, only to lurch forward when she tugged you particularly hard.
You screamed. You cried. You begged for her to let go, only to shout how much you hated her the next moment.
All of it was taken in stride by your grandmother, who kept her steely look of grit as her hold on you didn’t waver.
Unbolting the steel lock on a small wooden door in the side of the wall, she tossed you inside like a ragdoll, and you fell amongst buckets and mops, broom handles clanging on the stone floor.
You managed to tuck your scarlet hand somewhere safe before you landed heavily on your shoulder.
Just watching this had Levi’s echo in pain.
The broom closet stayed lit for a few moments as your grandmother stood and looked at you.
“Learn respect,” was all she said, before the door slammed shut and you were blanketed in suffocating darkness, the sound of the bolt sliding across again prompting you to throw yourself against the door.
Levi watched, soul twisting, as you pounded against the door, the excruciating pain in your hand suddenly fading to nothing.
Your voice broke with every scream, the door shuddered with every punch. Until you finally ran out of energy, and slid to the floor.
Your knees curled into your chest as you steadily removed the shrapnel from your palms, whimpering with each searing pull.
You placed the bloodied china in the corner, where you knew you wouldn’t sit for fear of cobwebs and spiders.
Wrapping your hand in your apron, you set your forehead on your knees, and wept, unknowingly into Levi’s phantom embrace. He’d taken a seat next to you, now free to move, and though he couldn’t interact with your memory, he’d set his arm around you.
Maybe you felt his comfort, maybe you didn’t.
Levi liked to think you did.
The rest of your years there blended into one long stream of echoing slaps and slams of the broom closet door.
Your feisty determination faded as you became used to the endless beatings and blinding insults from your grandmother.
That fire only returned to your eye on your fourteenth birthday, when you left to join the Scouts.
You didn’t even say goodbye. Didn’t even tell her where you were going. You just packed what little things you had into a small saddlebag, and took off.
He smiled inwardly as you stole one of her horses.
Seeing you grow up like that, in a timeline of nothing but terror and pain, he knew he understood you so much more.
This was the product of the bond, he knew it was. It can’t have been anything else, not to be so specific like that.
Stirring from his sleep, he found to his content relief you snuggled into his chest. You’d slid down into his embrace during the night, your nose pressed into the hollow of his throat. As much as he adored seeing you curled up in his arms, you were both still filthy from before.
Levi cringed, torn between not wanting to leave your side after what he’d just seen, and leaving for a few moments to fetch some kind of damp cloth just to get rid of the worst of the mess.
His fingers idly sank into your hair as he debated, gently scratching soothing caresses before he made up his mind. He would only be gone for a few minutes, and he doubted you would wake in that time.
Slowly separating from you, he felt a pang of heartache at the loss of your contact, and at the way you tried to follow his warmth, your brows furrowing, perturbed. Even in sleep you were charismatic.
Pressing a kiss to your forehead, Levi slid from the sheets and stood, stretching his back.
He didn’t know what time it was, but honestly, he would place it anywhere between twelve and two in the morning. You both still had a few hours left.
Looking back at you, he had to physically stop himself from putting his fingers against your pulse, just to make sure. He’d seen you move not moments ago. You weren’t dead.
But he couldn’t help himself. The urge wouldn’t leave him until he checked anyway.
The pads of his fingertips pressed gently just below your jaw, feeling the faint but steady thump of your heartbeat, matching the same one in his chest.
Yes. Good. Still alive. Obviously.
Cursing himself for being overly worried, he turned back to the discarded clothes on the floor.
Oh.
Oh.
Levi forgot he’d cum in his briefs last night.
His cheeks heated slightly at the thought, and angled his eyes to the ceiling so he didn’t catch sight of himself. He knew he was littered with little marks from your wandering teeth.
He vaguely wondered if you had even eaten yesterday evening before devouring his fucking body. Maybe you were part titan or something.
He was all too happy entertaining these thoughts before another pushed them from his mind.
He didn’t have any clothes here. Neither of you had clothes here. This was just one of the spare bedrooms. It only had fresh linens because he demanded they be put on during the cleaning.
Wait, if this room had linens, maybe it had–
Levi silently but urgently padded over to the cupboard, and quietly twisted the knob open.
Well, at least he wouldn’t have to wander around a castle full of his sleeping squad naked. Four neatly folded white towels greeted him with silent amusement. Two bath towels, and two hand towels.
Slipping out the bigger one, Levi wrapped it around and secured it at his waist. It would be good enough for now, and if he happened to meet anyone they would naturally think he’d just come from a shower.
He didn’t want the squad to know about his newfound relationship with you. Not yet.
Snatching up the two smaller hand towels, Levi sent one last look in your direction, smiling to himself at how peaceful you looked, before nipping out to gather a few things: a spare uniform for himself, a spare uniform for you, and to dampen the hand towels.
What he wasn’t expecting upon his quick return, was you sitting up in bed, softly illuminated by the silver moonlight.
You were staring at him, your gaze unwavering, and he only realised why when he closed the distance, setting down the spare clothes and damp cloth on the end of the bed.
You were crying. Silently. Not the wracking sobs he’d seen from you the other evening; silent tears slipped down your cheeks.
You must have seen it too; you must have remembered your own past.
He understood coping mechanisms. He understood how the brain could simply erase something from your memory, force you to forget anything even happened in order to preserve your mental state.
Maybe that’s why you never brought up your childhood. Because you simply didn’t remember a lot of it.
Without a word, you reached for him, and he didn’t hesitate to open his arms to you, his hand instantly soothing your hair.
Breaking the silence felt wrong, even though he wanted nothing more than to reassure you. It just felt wrong. Not until you wanted to talk about it.
He wouldn’t bring it up unless it was on your terms. Talking about something like that wasn’t easy, he had some idea himself.
Levi shuffled a little closer to you, wrapping his other arm around your waist and letting you softly cry into his shoulder.
He understood. He really did. He understood the agony of remembering a childhood like that. He understood more than most what you were going through.
Until he didn’t.
“How old were you?”
He barely heard the question muffled into his shoulder, and even when he did it took a moment for his brain to process.
Suddenly it felt like you were holding him.
“How old was I?”
“When he left you… how old were you?”
Levi blanched. How the fuck did you know about that? How could you possibly–
Then it clicked.
When he was seeing your past, experiencing your memories, you were watching his.
This was the worst possible situation.
He hadn’t told you for a reason. He hadn’t told anyone other than maybe Erwin.
He didn’t want you feeling like this. He didn’t want you to look at him with sympathy, or with any kind of pity or sorrow. He didn’t want you to feel like you had to comfort him, because his past was his own burden to bear.
And now it was yours.
With no small degree of guilt, Levi buried his face in your hair.
“Fourteen,” he responded quietly.
He wasn’t about to lie to you. He was never about to lie to you.
But he fucking hated that you knew. You knew everything now. Knew what he had done back down in the Underground. Knew the crimes he’d committed, the people he’d killed, the shit he’d been through.
Fuck. Fuck.
You drew back from him, and he reluctantly pulled his face from your hair.
But even when you cupped his cheeks with your palms, he didn’t look at you. All shock from your own past had been replaced by guilt from his.
You were crying for him. You were crying because of him. It was his fault you were upset. His fault you felt the need to hold him like this. His fucking fault.
“Levi, stop.”
He froze.
“Are your thoughts always so damn loud?” you asked, tilting his head so he had no choice but to look at you.
The echo in his chest steadied his heartbeat and slowed his breathing; he was getting ahead of himself. Though the guilt still hurt, he knew you would never blame him.
But that didn’t stop him from blaming himself. He gazed at you, wondering when the tables shifted so dramatically to the point where you were now comforting him.
“I don’t want you to shy away from me knowing you, ‘Vi. What happened back then… you did what you had to do to survive. I can’t say I would have done any differently,”
It would have been worse for you. You would have ended up like my mother.
It was a thought he couldn’t voice without choking. He didn’t want to think about that; his mother, or you in her position. He couldn’t think about that.
“I sliced a man’s hand open for harassing Isabel. I slit one’s throat for touching her. I settled one of Farlan’s debts by beating the shit out of the men who wanted his head. I’ve killed. I’ve hurt. I’ve left scars on people I will likely never see again. You said my reputation didn’t reflect who I was. Now you know it does.”
He saw that realisation reflected in your eyes, and felt the need to pull away. You didn’t need someone as filthy and disgusting as him near you. You didn’t deserve that. You deserved the world, and he couldn’t give you anything.
His eyes widened as you sat up on your knees, and planted a kiss to his forehead.
“But you have also saved. And you have healed. You have spent your entire life fighting, whether it be for survival, or humanity. You think I wouldn’t snap the necks of anyone who touched any of our squad like that?
“Levi, the situation you lived in never made you a shitty person.”
He thanked your existence when you wrapped your arms around his head, letting him keep some of his dignity by hiding his tears in your chest.
Fuck, he hadn’t cried like this in a long, long time.
–You’re too good for me–
–I heard that–
Levi tore his head from your embrace, suddenly uncaring about you seeing him fall apart.
He’d heard you. Your voice, clear as day, in his head.
He knew he hadn’t said that out loud. In fact, he made the conscious effort not to say that out loud.
But still, you just looked at him tenderly, using the pad of your thumb to brush away the tear from beneath his eye.
“Did you just…?”
You nodded, though a little shyly. “I, uh, yeah. I didn’t wanna say anything because I didn’t really know for certain or not but, uh, yeah.” You smiled sheepishly.
Levi didn’t really know how to react.
How much could you hear from his head? Could you hear everything?–or just some things? Did you hear what his subconscious wanted you to hear? That felt a little convoluted, honestly.
“But I do know it wasn’t your fault, ‘Vi. You’ve blamed yourself for so long, but you couldn’t have known the outcome. Or what would have happened had you stayed with them. It’s likely you wouldn’t be here either.”
You paused, looking downcast. “I wouldn’t have known you.”
“They could have survived.”
“And you could have died.”
He already sounded resigned. “Wouldn’t that have been better?”
“That’s a selfish way of looking at things.”
“I’m a selfish man.”
You sighed, once again taking his face in your hands. “No. You’re not. You’ve spent so much of your life dedicated to other people. How is that selfish?”
Levi looked at you. Really looked at you, and found his heart conflicted by the lack of deception.
He wanted you to be lying. That would be so much easier. He wouldn’t have to change his opinion of himself then.
“Isn’t wanting this…wanting you, selfish? So much death I’ve caused. So much pain, and I get to be happy. That doesn’t seem fair.”
You smoothed his hair back. “Think of it as life finally paying its debt back to you. You get to spend the rest of your life with a really hot soulmate. That’s me by the way, hi.”
You grinned, and Levi fell in love all over again.
His hand covered one of your own, thumb swaying gently over your fingers.
“What did I do to deserve you?” he asked, though he looked a little more convinced that he did deserve you now. He felt it too.
“I don’t really– mmph!”
He cut you off with a searing kiss, your lips instantly parting to taste his tongue.
With utter, delicate care, Levi laid you back down amongst the pillows, his mouth still connected to yours, savouring your muffled whimpers into his lungs.
–Can you hear this?– he asked, reaching out through the now open doorway between you.
–Yes–
Levi groaned into your mouth. Fuck, even in his head your voice was breathy.
–I love you–
It was the only way he could tell you without his heart bleeding. The only way he could say it without his fears getting in the way. Without his voice shaking.
He would say it to you one day. Out loud.
But for now, his soul shuddered with your gasp against his mouth, briefly pulling back to study him wide-eyed. He could see the way slivers of silver lined your lower lashes, the soft quiver of your lip.
He thought for one terrifying moment you would respond with your voice, until you tugged him back down against you and your tongue danced with his once more.
–I love you, too–
Even with his lids shut, he could still feel the way his eyes burned with unshed emotion.
It had crossed his mind once or twice, the idea that you might just love him back, but hearing it from your, well, own mind, was something else entirely; the confession brought with it a flood of unfamiliarity that he never wanted to let go of.
He felt a push against his shoulder, and slowly fell to one side, his brows pinching as you straddled his already growing manhood.
How the fuck he still had the ability to go another round after the night you’d both had, he had no idea. All he knew was that he needed to be inside you again. To feel you again. He needed to feel you squeeze and shudder around his cock as you reached your peak. He needed you.
And just when he needed you most, you pulled back again.
“This seems familiar. Now I know how you felt the other evening. Were you really this aroused just from sitting in my lap?”
You rocked your hips, trapping his hard length between his pelvis and your sopping heat. Levi mewled as you took his hands from settling on your thighs and held them above his head, your eyelids fluttering with each drag against his leaking tip.
“Please.” Levi simmered, the thundering throb returning to the underside of his marble cock.
A shiver played down his spine as you lifted your hips from his, fed his wrists through your one palm, and used your other hand to slowly sink onto him.
Your head fell back, a guttural groan pulled from your lips as Levi arched into his pleasure, jaw unhinged. The slide was easy, your walls being slick enough from your combined arousals.
It would take a bit for Levi to understand the synced sex drives, only just coming to terms with the way you started to gush when he hardened.
You secured your hold on his wrists once again, keeping them pinned above his head as you ground his tip against that spot inside you.
Your clit echoed in response, and you smirked as Levi’s eyes rolled up into his head, cracking a long moan to the sky.
Everything felt like an aphrodisiac: the slick squelch of his cock inside your cushiony walls, the air thick with scented arousal, your biting hold on his wrists… It all fucked with his head.
“You weren’t very specific last time ‘Vi. Wh– oh fuck, where do you f-feel that?” you stammered as he bucked his hips into you, seemingly without control.
Had he not been so aroused, he would have thought twice about showing you. But you were bound to him, you knew him. And he felt no shame in freeing one of his hands, having to sit up slightly to reach behind where you sucked him in.
“Th-there. F-feels good… there. In-nghaa! Inside!”
You rocked against him again, and Levi fell back against the bed with another stuttering moan.
“Well,” you panted, “I wasn’t expecting that.”
Leaning forward, you pinned his arms again, before slowly rising from his cock, savouring the delicious drag against your walls, and sinking down again.
Picking up a rhythm, Levi was defenceless against his own writhing. Bringing his feet up for leverage, he managed to put all his effort into pounding into you from below, meeting your increasingly desperate rhythm as you started to ride him hard and fast.
He didn’t think he would ever get used to stimulation like this. A carnal concoction of whining gasps left his throat with each thrust, watching your face slacken with molten pleasure.
Using your pleasure as a distraction, Levi freed himself from your hold. As fucking hot as it was to be held down like that, at this moment, knowing what he knew now, he just wanted to feel your skin against his.
His arms wrapped around your middle, pulling you down and into him. You cried out at the shift in angle, joining his wanton moans as he pummelled your g-spot with each stroke.
“Fu-aahah! R-right there ‘Vi! Right there…! Oh fuck, fuck y-yes!” you crooned in his ear as you clung to him, nails biting the muscles in his shoulders.
Levi felt nothing but ecstasy, your tight, pulsating walls dragging him up to cloud nine as he felt his balls draw up without warning.
“G-gonna cum! Gonna f-fucking cuahaaah! Mmnaghah! Fuck fuck FU–”
Levi’s eyes flew open as he crested his high, slamming up into you a final time before exploding inside you, painting your throbbing walls ivory. His hold on you tightened as his muscles clenched, hips humping erratically into your soaking velvet.
Your walls held him in a vice-grip as you reached your simultaneous orgasm, your juices flooding around his spasming cock you all but screamed into the pillow by his head. Your nails dug crescents into his flesh as you convulsed atop him, your thighs trembling around his own.
The room settled as you came down, panting arduously into his ear, akin to that of running a marathon.
Levi thought for a terrible moment you were crying, you uneven breaths fanning against his ear. Only to find, to his tremendous relief, you were laughing. With a tender grip on your shoulders, he gently pushed you upright, raising a sweat slicked brow at your apparent amusement as he softened inside you.
“Something funny?” he asked, with no small degree of soft humour. He could happily drown in your smile.
“Nothing specific. I just have a feeling these next coming weeks are going to be specifically tiring for us,” you giggled, sliding off his lap with a hitch of your breath.
Levi sat up, reaching down the end of the bed for the damp rag he deposited there earlier. “Why do you say that?”
He felt you shiver slightly as he swiped the now cold towel between your thighs, cleaning you up from both your messes.
Though he stopped when he felt your foot against his shoulder, arousal already short-circuiting his brain.
“Because I already want to go again,” you drawled, trailing your foot down his bicep and digging your toes into the muscle there.
Levi snatched at your ankle, and you cackled, high and loud.
“Walls, you really are insatiable. I’m starting to worry if I'll even survive the next few weeks.”
You grinned wildly as he threw the dirtied towel towards the far side of the room with the rest of your discarded clothing, before lying back down facing you.
Goosebumps prickled his skin as your fingers trailed along the marks you’d left behind with your teeth, your digits playing dot-to-dot with the dark blossoms.
“If you die, I die. So try and stay alive, Ackerman,” you murmured, drawing your nail across his collarbone.
He took your hand up to his lips, placing a kiss on your knuckles.
How such a small gesture could fluster you after literally riding him into oblivion, you would never understand.
“Do we know if that’s how it works? You could go on to live a long and happy life.”
You scoffed. “Without you? Like a jaded lover, Levi, I would rather dramatically throw myself off the top of Wall Rose.”
Levi huffed in amusement. “If you’re not wearing a flowing white dress, I’ll be disappointed in you from the afterlife.”
“How many romance novels have you read?!”
He both loved and hated that shit-eating grin when you know you’ve called him out on something.
“Enough to know a jaded lover must wear a white dress when she kills herself. Otherwise, there’s no point.
“And a well-prepared monologue about how you simply cannot go on without me. If you stumble over your words, I’m not associating myself with you in our next life.”
You jabbed him in the ribs, your own side jolting at the sensation.
“Someone’s been planning. Do I get to prepare myself for your heroic death or do you go away on a mission someday and leave me forever pining upon your return?”
Under usual circumstances, joking about death isn’t something Levi did. He saw it enough to know it’s nothing to laugh about. And nobody becomes desensitised to the screams of those being eaten alive. It’s simply not possible.
Though, somehow, he found himself at ease with this conversation. Most likely because there wasn’t a single circumstance where he’d let you die. It simply wasn’t a possibility.
And it never will be.
“Maybe you’ll find a letter in my desk one day addressed to you after not returning. And only after you dramatically kill yourself, do I return.”
“Oh, you’ve definitely read Frederik and Jules. There’s no way you came up with that on the fly.”
“It’s a good story, what can I say?” Levi shrugged, his heart blooming with this most honest of conversation topics. Not once had he ever told anybody he actively enjoyed reading a few romance novels. He usually labelled them as folk-tales just so Hange would get off his back.
It felt strangely liberating to actively admit this.
“What did you think of the twist-end? Where the poison didn’t actually kill her?”
“Predictable.”
You almost shoved him off the bed. And you would have done, had he not instinctively wrapped his arms around you. Damn bond.
“You cannot have predicted that, I refuse.”
Levi tightened his hold on you, refusing to let go even as you tried to push him off. “Just because you couldn’t predict the twist doesn’t mean other people couldn’t.”
“Did you just call me slow?” You gaped in mock offence.
But Levi’s expression dropped entirely, and you felt the spear of guilt in his chest.
You tilted your head in confusion. “‘Vi?”
How could he be so fucking careless? He’d just seen an entire childhood of insults and abuse and he just threw a quip like that at you?
“I–” He felt so lost staring into your quizzical gaze, too heartbreakingly innocent to set him at ease. “I’m sorry, I didn’t–”
Levi clenched his jaw as you gently touched your knuckles to his cheek in reassurance. “I saw your childhood,” he mumbled guiltily.
Though it didn’t seem to clear anything up for you.
“Oh! Anything interesting?” you asked, a clueless smile pulling at your lips.
You really didn’t remember, did you? Was he really about to force those memories back into your head…?
“You… How much of it do you remember?” he asked with no small degree of trepidation, and he watched your face fall into contemplation.
“Honestly, not much. I remember my mother just, abandoned me with my fucking grandmother, and I remember her being kind of a bitch. Oh, and that she would lock me in a cupboard when I pissed her off but, that’s about it. I left when I’d just turned fourteen so, yeah not much,” you explained, way too lighthearted to fully grasp the weight of the situation.
Levi’s lips pressed into a thin line, avoiding your searching eyes.
“‘Vi…?” You pressed lightly, and he sighed heavily in response.
“You really don’t remember any… abuse? Physical, mental, emotional. Anything?”
His chest throbbed painfully with your dismissive scoff.
“Abuse? God no, sure she was a bitch but she… she didn’t…” He saw your expression shift as you started to doubt your own unreliable narrative. “No. She never… right? I didn’t… no, she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t have… I…”
You looked down at your hands, littered with tiny scars, and the newer, darker scabs, putting the pieces together. “I just thought… I thought I was just careless. I didn’t…” your breath picked up, tears lining your lashes as he watched you remember. “That never… this isn’t… what did you do?”
It was your accusatory tone that struck him. So terrified of your own past, he saw everything in your petrified, wide eyes.
And he felt that agonising guilt. Because those memories were fresh after being dragged out for him. Because with his knowledge now, came your remembering.
And it fucking hurt.
“Nothing. I couldn’t do anything. I tried. But I couldn’t interfere with them.”
He held you as tear after tear slipped down your cheeks, until your sobs became inconsolable.
You hadn’t faced this. Your mind had locked these away behind an iron door, and now you were experiencing everything again for the first time. Memory after memory of years spent in fear and pain.
He could do nothing but soothe you. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know, but you’re okay now. You’re safe now. She’s gone, I promise you. They’re all gone. You’re alright, you’re safe.”
He didn’t know how long he’d been soothing you, didn’t know how much time had passed before your wracked sobs became mere hiccups, but he didn’t stop.
He wouldn’t stop. He would never stop.
You were under his protection now. Completely.
Levi stroked your back, his hand caressing soft scratches into your hair as you calmed slightly, enough to stutter out a few words. “How could I forget any of this…?” You sounded so meek your voice broke him.
He doubled his efforts, tightening his arms around you.
“To cope, most likely,” he responded, knowing all too well what that was like.
“Do you remember everything? From the Underground?”
Levi thought for a moment. There were definite gaps in his memory, but since this was happening to you, he didn’t doubt he’d suffer under the same pain soon enough.
“Not all of it, no.”
You pulled back from the hollow of his throat, peering tearily into his concerned gaze. “I’ll be here when you do. I promise. But I need you to promise me you won’t shut me out.”
Levi honestly didn’t know what to say. Nobody had ever asked him to promise something like that.
Under usual circumstances, he dealt with things his own way, usually by drowning himself in paperwork or training extra hours through the night. Not to mention the fact it was a little hypocritical coming from you, but now didn’t feel like the right time to mention that…
“I– I'll try,” he whispered honestly. He couldn’t promise what you asked of him, and he wasn’t about to make a false one only to break it later on down the line. He couldn’t live with himself if he did that.
You seemed to accept the answer anyway. “Sorry for crying all over the sheets.”
You smiled a little sheepishly, and Levi swept a lingering streak from your cheek. “Not like we didn’t need to change them anyway,” he responded, tucking you back safely into his embrace. Home.
“Mmmm, can’t say I disagree.”
He felt you relax in his arms, sleep weighing in on your body.
He couldn’t blame you for being utterly exhausted – fuck, he felt it too. Emotions have always been tiring as shit for him, and with you now settled comfortably, it was impossible not to feel the pull of dreams once again.
A smile pulled at his lips as he heard your sleepy voice.
–I love you–
–I love you too–
“Sooooo, you and the Captain finally managed to uh, blow off some steam huh? It certainly sounded like f–oomph!”
Eld doubled over after a well-placed kick to his stomach.
After the tension of yesterday, Hange wanted to see what kind of results they could pull from Eren when experimenting one-on-one, meaning your entire squad had the day off.
You wiped a bead of sweat from your brow, bouncing on the balls of your feet as you waited for him to recover. The day was sweltering, but perfect for some extra training, and Levi had arranged a sparring practice session in the morning before the sun reached its peak. “Concentrate, and maybe you won’t get your ass kicked,” you retorted, fixing the gauze around your knuckles. You were already aware he knew, so there was no point denying it. Although the rest of your squad looked blissfully ignorant, only Petra gave you strange looks from across the dusty training field.
An earth-shattering crack briefly halted the session, the burst of fiery lightning split the sky before you all heard the echo of a triumphant roar.
“Seems like Hange is actually getting some good results. Most likely because you’re not there to behead their test subject.” Eld grinned mischievously as he straightened up, holding his fists just in front of his face as a stony block to your vicious kick.
“I didn’t even go to behead him! It was just a warning.”
“Slit his throat then. I’m pretty sure the purpose of a warning is to keep the victim alive so they can heed it, no?”
He ducked beneath another viper strike, before having you skilfully twist away after an attempted jab to your middle.
“For the last fucking time, I wasn’t going to kill him!” you huffed, exasperated with the conversation.
–Do you ever stop talking?–
You almost missed Eld’s next sweep at your legs, barely backstepping far enough to exit his range.
You didn’t even spare Levi a glance; asshole knew he was distracting you. He was most likely doing it deliberately.
–Do you ever stop eavesdropping?–
You heard him snort down the bond, a vocal representation of his little upturned smirk. Poor Gunther; you pitied the man for being up against him today. Despite the two of you fucking like rabbits yesterday, he seemed absoltely fine energy-wise.
Though his walking was a little funny whenever you put pressure on your thighs. So, naturally, you would do it deliberately just to watch him squirm in discomfort.
Levi managed a quick look in your direction, before masterfully feinting to the right of Gunther’s punch. The man was good –not the best– but not terrible. He just needed to clean up his footwork. But it didn’t require much of his attention, which is why he was able to watch you as closely as he was, and interrupt at the worst times.
The corner of his lips pulled up ever so slightly.
–It’s ironic. You tell him to concentrate and yet here you are, distracted.–
You clenched your jaw, trying in vain to push him from your head. Naturally, he remained like a strangely lovable leech.
With a deliberate stretch, you lunge forward, sweeping your leg high over Eld’s head. Personally, you enjoyed the burn it brought to your thighs. Your bond, however, didn’t share the same satisfaction.
–Fuck you.–
–Why do you think your legs hurt so much, sweetheart?– You crooned back, Eld looking at you with utter bafflement as you grinned wickedly at him.
“Yeah, you see that look? And you’re telling me you weren’t about to kill him when you’re capable of smiling like that?”
Flattening Eld with a glare, you raised your fists again, almost tempted to let him land a particularly harsh blow just to see Levi react. It was tempting, if only it wouldn’t hurt you, too.
–You can’t say shit like that…–
Sweetheart? You called him sweetheart? Levi’s heart stuttered in his chest, to the point where Gunther’s foot almost collided with his face.
Everytime he thought he got the better of you, you would do something like this and throw him for a complete loop. But he couldn’t help himself: –You look really hot like that…–
You baulked, footwork faltering slightly. Taking advantage, Eld managed to land a solid hit to the side of your thigh, your leg buckling as you rolled away.
–Levi.–
Oh. A mental growl should not have done that to him. That should not have made him shiver the way it did.
He clenched his fists when you noticed. –Oh? That was an interesting reaction.–
–Fuck off.–
You managed to stifle your smile this time, and save yourself one of Eld’s concerned looks.
–You want me to growl in your ear like this?– you purred, and you were one hundred percent sure that it was arousal stirring in your gut.
This man…
–Thought I told you to fuck off?–
Now it was you who felt a resistance, a vain attempt in pushing you out of his mind. It was adorable. But you decided to play nice, focusing briefly on your sparring session with Eld before you naturally broke away again, sweat beading down your back.
You sighed. –What I wouldn’t give to be sucking you off right now…–
You almost groaned aloud with the spark of heat that ignited in your core. You bit your lip to stop yourself from smirking, before a sharp pain exploded in your shoulder.
A gasp flew from your mouth before you could stifle it, though you were fucking thankful Eld wasn’t looking, too distracted by the triumphant cry from Gunther.
It didn’t take a genius to put the two and two together. You rubbed your shoulder, throwing your bond an accusatory glare. He shot one straight back.
“Seems the Captain’s a little distracted today… I wonder why,” Eld snickered, elbowing you lightly.
You failed to stifle your knowing smile, knowing you’d been caught out.
“I tried to tell you I heard you, you weren’t exactly trying to be quiet.”
It was your turn to physically abuse your best friend, returning his elbow jab with one of your own. “As long as it was just you, I don’t care about keeping you up. But the rest of them look completely unaware so that’s all I care about,” you responded truthfully.
You genuinely didn’t give a shit if Eld knew. He knew everything else about you, there were no secrets between you two. Besides, it wasn’t like you hadn’t heard him and Georgia have sex when she would stay at the barracks. Turns out communal showers aren’t as private as they both thought.
“Not that I know of. Works out well that we all have our own rooms though, especially for you.”
You could tell that wasn’t a jab. He was being genuine at that moment. And that was why you loved the shit out of him.
“Take a break, be back here in ten!”
You pursed your lips to stop yourself from laughing when Levi called for a break. The rest of the squad visibly relaxed.
–You alright over there?–
Fucking hell, Levi couldn’t tell if he wanted to throttle you or kiss you. Maybe both, at the same time, with his cock buried deep in your cunt. Fuck’s sake this was humiliating.
–Does it look like I’m fucking alright? You cannot randomly say shit like that.–
As much as he did adore the banter you shared, there was a small part of him that really, really didn’t want to get hard in front of the rest of his squad. And he was already halfway there.
Feeling even that grain of seriousness, you looked genuinely remorseful. –Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.–
It was a half-assed apology, but he knew the truth within it.
–Tch, just… give me some warning next time.–
–Next time?–
Levi threw a deadpan look across the training ground at you. –You can make it up to me later.–
–Oh? What did you have in mind?–
That fucking tone was going to be the death of him. Your sultry, smooth-velvet voice like that was carnal enough, but in his head? Where he was the only one privy to such a performance…? It melted his insides.
–Wouldn’t you like to know?–
Your mental laugh had him looking away, trying his best not to smile.
–Levi, I think you forget I can feel everything.–
–Yeah, now I have to deal with this for the rest of the fucking morning– he all but whined in complaint, and you rolled your eyes.
–Order a partner switch up, I can take you with a hard-on.–
–FUCKING. PHRASING.–
You snorted aloud, and suffered one of Eld’s ‘what the fuck is wrong with you are you okay?’ looks.
“Allergies.”
He looked unconvinced. “To what? The sun?”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re a prick?”
“Yeah. You. Multiple times.” You folded your arms defiantly, eyeing the rest of the group until you saw Petra once again floating around almost nervously—Which is not Petra-like at all. It was almost scary.
“You know what’s up with Pet? She’s been acting off since this morning.”
To your surprise, Eld actually looked a little sheepish on the girl’s behalf. “Yeah actually… I do. It’s about yesterday evening. She sort of… had her own agenda throughout the game. Things haven’t been going well with Oluo apparently and she wanted to make him jealous, which is why she didn’t strip. But then she saw your face and kind of put the pieces together with uh… with some help.”
Before you could even open your mouth to respond, Eld was already jumping into an explanation, fiddling with the collar of his tee. “I was just trying to help, I swear! She was already feeling guilty enough and it was the not knowing that was killing her. I just sort of nudged her in the right direction, but she came to the conclusion by herself. I didn’t—”
“Eld, it’s fine. It’s more than fine. Just… let’s try to keep this under wraps, okay? I don’t really want it becoming a big thing in the squad or in the group, and I really don’t want this getting back to people like Hange or Erwin. Not yet anyway. It wouldn’t be fair on him. But Petra knowing is fine.”
He looked visibly relieved after that, and you gestured Petra over, who had been sparing nervous glances your way for the last five minutes. The redhead scurried over, looking between you and Eld.
“Look… before I say anything, I just wanted to say I had no idea about you and the Captain. I mean, I had some idea, but I didn’t think it was anything serious! And I’m so sorry about yesterday. I did it to get back at Oluo, not because I actually wanted to kiss him, I promise.”
You didn’t interrupt her. She’d clearly been thinking about this the entire night, planning what she wanted to say to you. It would have been a bit of a kick in the teeth to tell her all that stress and worry and planning was pointless.
Plus, the more she talked, the less worked up she looked.
“But then I saw your face when we kissed and I felt fucking awful and Eld helped me figure it out. He didn’t tell me, by the way, he told me to say that but he seriously didn’t tell me—”
Okay, now you were going to cut her off. The girl was turning blue. “Pet, take a breath for a second. It’s fine, seriously. I’ve been meaning to ask what happened between you and Oluo anyway. Things seemed so good a few weeks ago, what changed between you two?”
Eld stiffened beside you, and you eyed him suspiciously.
“I, uh, have to go take a drink… over there… away from here… bye.”
Eld strode away before you could interrogate him any further.
Petra rolled her eyes, and you knew then and there something had happened not only between her and Oluo, but the boys were involved as well.
You turned back to Petra, who seemed to have folded her arms defensively in the short time you were distracted by Eld’s awkward shuffle away. “So? What happened? Vent to me, girl.”
She sighed heavily, tucking one of her auburn bangs behind her ear. “I’ll keep it quick so I don’t break down and punch him.”
–Respectable–
“Basically, I was talking to Gunther about maybe taking the squad to the tavern one evening, and somehow that turned into a conversation about relationships and he asked me about Oluo and what was going on with us so I answered truthfully and said, ‘oh we’re actually just starting to realise we like each other’ and he said, ‘huh that’s weird because I swear Oluo was comparing you to his mother the other day’ and I was like, ‘what do you mean?’ and he said that apparently Oluo thinks I’m constantly nagging him, always on his back for one thing or another.
“I chastise him for, like, being rude and stuff and I’m just, like, ‘well, why are you with me then’, you know? Like, you knew I was like this, you knew I don’t really take any shit and stuff, so why did you ask me out?”
That was a lot more than you were bargaining for. Though, you failed to stop yourself from gaping.
Petra sighed again. “Yeah, I know. What’s more is that he doesn’t even know I know. Like he thinks I’m just on my period and, like, acting funny because of hormones and stuff. Like he hasn’t even considered that maybe he’s just behaved like an ass and I’ve found out.
“At the end of the day, he’s still my teammate and this isn’t going to affect how efficiently we work together in the squad but, like, that doesn’t mean I'm not going to go extra harsh on him when sparring. If he wants me to be a bitch, like, I’ll be a fucking bitch, you know what I’m saying?”
You placed your hands on her shoulders to steady her, attempting to stop her from getting too fired up. “I mean, don’t people say men tend to go for women who remind them of their mothers? Maybe he was only mentioning the parts of his mother that, like, piss him off because he’s an ass.
“Think about it: Is Oluo the type of guy to honestly gush about the person he likes? Because if you ask me, he’s got a stick so far up his ass, he’s like a puppet. He’s not about to go and tell the guys that maybe he actually likes it when you make sure he’s eaten and put him in his place cuz that would seem like he’s some kind of lovestruck fool,” you tried to explain, though she looked like she wasn’t having any of it.
“Look, Levi’s going to change up partners. Let me know who you want to be with and I can suggest pairings,”
Petra raised a brow. “‘Levi’? Since when were you on a first name basis with the Captain?”
You looked away, swiping your tongue over the front of your teeth in faux irritation.
She laughed lightly, and she knew she was just teasing you. “If Eld’s free, I wouldn’t mind being paired up with him, honestly. I could do with a laugh.”
Nodding once, you turned away to put in a good word for her with Levi, who you knew had been watching that entire time.
You widen your eyes at him, blowing out a grimacing breath as you walk over. He seemed to have somewhat calmed down from before.
“The fuck was that about?” he asked quietly, glancing at Petra one more time before his entire focus was on you.
“Not eavesdropping this time?” You all but smirked at him, and he sent you a look in return.
“No, because when you tell me to stop doing something, I actually stop.”
You snorted in amusement, folding your arms and looking to where the rest of your squad had gathered, noting the sizable distance Petra had set between her and Oluo.
“Oluo’s been an asshole basically. You know about them, right?” Levi nodded in confirmation, and you continued, “Apparently he kept comparing her to his mother or some shit and she heard about it through Gunther, who can’t keep a secret to save his life.
“It won’t affect their coordination with each other, but best keep them separate for now until they either reconcile or she kills him.”
“Unprofessional, but whatever.”
You blinked. “But bonding with and fucking your Second-in-Command is totally professional?”
Levi tensed his jaw, refusing to acknowledge the heat rising to his cheeks. “That’s different.”
“Is it now?”
“Yes.”
You laughed quietly, brushing your hand against his—as small a gesture as you could manage to get away with when in the line of sight of your squad.
You still felt his small shiver at your touch, and suddenly it was impossible to take your eyes from his.
–Look away,– he pleaded down the bond.
–Why?–
–Because I’m going to kiss you if you don’t.–
That had you looking away and taking a deep breath. How the fuck were you supposed to spar with him when you could barely look at each other for five seconds without feeling the overwhelming urge to clash your lips onto his? This was torture of the worst kind.
“Break is almost over. I hope you’re not expecting me to go easy on you just because I can feel every blow I land.” Levi threw you a cocky smirk, and every instinct in your body was telling you to wipe it from his face.
“Whatever you say, Ackerman.”
He would never admit it, but he genuinely loved it when you called him by his last name. It sparked something surprisingly playful in him, something he hadn’t felt until he’d met you. It sent his heart blooming to know this feeling would always be associated with you.
“Oh, but pair Petra with Eld this time. Despite enjoying beating the shit out of Oluo, she genuinely can’t stand to look at his face anymore.”
He had to actively stifle his smile when calling out to the rest of the group; “Break’s over! New pairings, Gunther you’re with Oluo. Petra, pair up with Eld.”
The redhead threw a grateful glance your way, though Eld looked at you as if you’d just betrayed him to his worst enemy. A hand dramatically placed on his chest, his mouth agape.
You laughed at his display.
He sent you a cheeky wink in return, before turning his attention to Petra. Whatever conversation they jumped into, it looked a lot more low-key than the one you just had with her not five minutes prior.
“Well, if it wasn’t obvious before, it is now. Although I guess this could just be taken for—!” You yelped in surprise, barely managing to snap your head backwards and avoid his leg sweeping just over your nose. You stepped back nimbly, about to chastise him before you feinted to the left, avoiding yet another sudden attack.
Okay. You could play dirty, too.
Raising your fists, you parried, dodged and manoeuvred around his flurry of blows. It was only until there was a brief lull in the combat did you realise why you were able to avoid his strikes so effortlessly.
You could predict them. The slightest buzz around the area of potential contact alerted you to each blow, giving you those extra split seconds to plan, execute, and follow through.
Sweat dripping down your temple. You watched his every move like a hawk, forming your own attack plan.
Levi couldn’t tell if he was impressed or frustrated; every single one of those blows should have landed. It wasn’t that he wanted to hurt you, of course not, but you reacted with such insane speed it was hard not to get slightly irritated. Every connecting impact he anticipated never followed through, and it was becoming more and more apparent that there was something else at play here.
It clicked when you lunged forward with a sweeping kick to the side of his head. The slight buzzing pulse seconds before the impact alerted him to the immediate danger. Raising his forearms, he blocked the surprisingly vicious swipe, absorbing the impact before backstepping.
“You’re cheating.” There was no other word for it, not as you started to square up to him again.
“How am I cheating? Clearly you can feel it as well. Just gotta try a little harder.”
You winked. You fucking winked at him.
Whether or not you knew you were riling him up was beyond his realm of understanding. Levi blew out a breath, releasing the tension in his shoulders, before levelling you with a steely glare.
One you returned before leaping back into an impossible duet of punches, kicks, lunges and blocks.
It was a spectacle. Like two dancers locked in a forever tango, the rest of your squad started to break away from their own sparring partners to observe. A loose, wide-eyed circle gathered around the two of you, though too concentrated on each other to notice. Sliding low to the right, avoiding another jabbing kick, you reached out to snag his ankle.
Levi felt the anticipation and sidestepped, aiming another kick for your side.
You rolled backwards, using your momentum to flip back to your feet.
This was never going to end at this rate, dodging and feinting wasn’t getting anywhere, so you switched up your tactics.
The next punch Levi aimed, you locked your arm around his elbow and hooked your knee around his leg. Surprise shocked his system as you used his weight and momentum against him. Falling was inevitable, he realised that, but if he was going down, you sure as shit were going down with him.
Using your lock, Levi secured your hold on him, and realisation flashed in your eyes.
–Oh, fuck you.–
It took all his strength not to laugh as the world flipped upside-down quicker than he was expecting, but not too quick that he wasn’t able to loosen your footing with a hard kick to the back of your other knee.
Falling onto his front would have been a major disadvantage, so Levi used that extra push to land on his back, the wind knocked from his lungs twice over as you landed seconds after him.
He thought there was a mutual understanding that, for a second, you could both catch your breath.
Within the next minute, he realised that the understanding wasn’t mutual at all—not when your knee pressed into his sternum, hands gripping his wrists either side of his head with a strength he had no idea you possessed. Your face, now half caked in dust and dirt, lowered until it was inches from his own.
You wanted to kiss him.
“Thought you weren’t going to go easy on me?”
This feeling of helplessness towards you was becoming addictive; the feeling of being completely at your mercy, without a damn thing he could do about it was unbelievably liberating. You could render him utterly blank with naught but a few words, or a single action.
The urge to lean up and press his lips to yours was overwhelming.
“Who said anything about going easy?”
You had all of two seconds to comprehend what that meant before the sole of his boot pushed against your side. You’d forgotten just how flexible he was –a deadly error– because within those two seconds the positions switched completely. The back of your head hit dirt as you now stared up at your partner, sweat slicked visage framed by the clouded blue sky beyond.
Oh, you were definitely painting this later.
–I look that good like this, huh?–
–...You were not supposed to hear that.–
His grip relaxed to a gentle hold on your arms, the knee that was previously positioned on your breast-bone moved to beside your waist. An incredibly familiar position for both of you.
“So, wait… who won?”
You were both broken from your reveries by Gunther’s voice. You hadn’t even realised one person was watching, let alone your entire squad.
“I think this one was a draw…”
Eld’s drawl had heat spreading across your cheeks, strangely missing Levi’s presence as he removed himself from your lap, trying his best to pass off the obvious blush as just rosy exertion. You took his extended hand, pulling yourself to your feet with his help.
Everything hurt all of a sudden, but nothing hurt more than the desperate pounding of your cunt.
A quick glance down at your partner told you this one wasn’t your fault.
“Training’s over. Clean up and take the afternoon off.”
He didn’t take his eyes from you. That burning gaze filled with nothing but heated lust. It seemed your physical break wouldn’t start for a while.
It took all of two seconds for Levi to pick you up and pin you against the shower wall, his teeth tearing at your lips, rough hands groping at your thighs already tightly wrapped around his hips.
You sucked on his tongue and he released a long, needy groan into your mouth as your hand idly fiddled with the shower pressure, drenching you both in warm water and washing away the sweat and dust from the morning.
Levi didn’t know how he’d lasted so long whilst being so close to you. His hands on your body, your face so close to his, it took all of his strength not to pounce on you in the session.
“Levi…” you breathed his name as he trailed biting kisses down your neck, reigniting the faded green bruises from the night before, suckling the rouge back into your skin.
You squirmed against him, grinding your hips into his raging cock, gasping as he sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, circling the sensitive bud with his tongue.
His moan vibrated into your chest, and you mewled as you rolled his own between your thumb and forefinger.
Trailing back up your throat, Levi recaptured your lips, thrusting his hips against your heat.
You were as wet as he was hard, water barely keeping up with washing away your slick as his fingers skirted down your front to where you were desperately bucking against him, his mouth falling open with a pitched whine when his fingers brushed over your pounding clit.
Your brows pinched, unable to take your eyes from his as his fingertips rubbed you perfectly, catching your hooded nub with every swipe.
Levi’s tip pulsed clear fluid along with your pleasure, the echo between you getting stronger and louder until it felt like he was just teasing his cock with his own hand, panting heavily against your cheek. He ached to be inside you. Every fibre of his body alight with the anticipation of feeling your walls around him again.
He was addicted to you. Addicted to this. This feeling of complete worship he could give you. It felt so fucking good to make you feel good. He’d wanted to for so long.
“J-Just fuck me a-aah! Already! Stop messing around… Cock. In. Now.” You punctuated your words with three blinding thrusts against him.
You reached down before his next teasing rock of his hips, aligning him with your soaking walls and savouring the delicious stretch when he thrust forward again.
Taken by surprise, Levi’s mouth dropped open with a slew of carnal groans, cursing under his breath as he adjusted to the feeling of your scorching silk.
He held you firmly as you squirmed in his grip, making vague attempts at getting him to move. Each of which were extremely successful everytime his tip caught your g-spot and pleasure cascaded through his veins.
It took far too long –in your opinion– for him to actually start moving, your brain having already melted by the time he pulled out and steadily pushed back in, drawing a long, pitched whine from your throat.
His cock throbbed with each draw back, shivering with ecstasy as his pulsing vein dragged against your soft, tight cunt. The sound of the shower barely drowned out your shared sounds of bliss, panting into each other’s mouths like animals in heat.
Levi threw his head back, gritting his teeth when your fingers clamped down on his nipple again, his length surging inside you as he had to slow his increasing pace, simply to last longer than two seconds.
It was your prime opportunity to attack his neck with your teeth, nibbling lightly on his sensitive pulse point. You didn’t want to leave a mark. Well, you did, but for the sake of saving grace, you kept your bites light against his skin. Though the second you ventured below the collar line of his shirt, you no longer restrained yourself.
“Fuck! Y-yeah, ngh– shit…! Always… always feel s-so fucking–! Good!” His mindless babbling dissolved into incoherent simmering as you suckled against his collarbone, whimpering against his flushed skin when his pace picked up again, thrusting mercilessly against your bundle of pleasure.
Your nails dug crescents into his back, dragging lines of fire down either side of his spine as you abandoned his chest in favour of simply taking in oxygen.
“L-Levi! Gonna… gonna cum! Do-ah’’nghahaah! Don’t s-stop! P-please, fuck Levi please! So close, ‘m s-so fucking close!”
Heat accumulated at the apex of your thighs, the coil in your gut tightening and tightening before Levi bit down against your neck, and everything snapped.
Your thighs shook around his waist, silky walls holding him in a vice grip as you throbbed and convulsed through your high. Every desperate gasp for breath accompanied by a high-pitched moan. Your heels dug into his lower back, keeping him close as you clung to him tight.
Levi’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he felt your orgasm as his own, heavy balls twitching as he released his pent up tension into your waiting cunt. Rope after rope of ivory painted your walls as he lost control of his hips, barely able to hump deeper into your pussy with the tight hold you gripped him in.
A gravelly, drawn-out wail fanned your neck, your ear tingling with his completion.
With the last twitches of his cock, you held each other as you simultaneously came down, breathing heavily within the now steamed shower block. Your forehead pressed to his, sweat and fluids combining with the raining water.
Your hand came up to thread through the back of his wet hair, gently angling his head so you could easily access his lips.
Smiling against your mouth, Levi slowly pulled out, letting the streams run down your body and wash away any remnants of the mess on your thighs. He adored the slow, languid kisses after the whirlwind sex with you, bringing his heartrate and head back down from the clouds and grounding him with your slick tongue.
To be so spellbound by you, to be so completely wrapped around your finger, it was a feeling like no other.
“Mmm, ‘needed that,” you murmured, pulling back to actually start the process of showering.
Levi chuckled, snatching the bar of soap from the side, his bar of soap, before you could reach it.
You gave him a look of ‘seriously?’ until he turned you around, and started to lather up your back. You couldn’t say it was unwelcome, your muscles having seized up both from training and fucking. Your shoulders tense and riddled with knots, you sighed contently as his thumbs dug through the muscle, easing the painfully packed tissue.
“I think ‘need’ is a bit strong, in light of recent events,” you snorted in amusement, and he felt you relax completely into his touch, the back of your head resting atop his shoulder.
It was strange, though. As much as he could feel your pain, your pleasure, and everything in between, there was no effect on his own tense muscles as he kneaded yours. No such relief as he moved down your back. This would, admittedly, be much easier if you were lying down, but he was honestly just using it as an excuse to keep his hands on you. Not that he needed one, he just felt more justified in himself if he had one.
“Out of interest, was you sex drive always this high?”
Levi wondered when questions such as these became commonplace enough between you two that he was no longer flustered by them. Sure, you’d both been fairly open with each other even before bonding, but never to this extent.
“Not even close. So it’s completely your fault.”
You gaped lazily, too relaxed to even pretend properly. “If I wasn’t enjoying this so much I’d push you out the shower,”
“No you wouldn’t.”
You sighed through your nose in defeat. “No. I wouldn’t.”
“What about yours? Have you always been so insatiable?” he asked with a small smirk, hands travelling back up to the nape of your neck to massage slow circles.
“Not like this. So I guess it’s your fault, too.”
Levi didn’t need to be looking at you to know you were talking through a cheeky grin, the one he loved so damn much.
His hands lathered soap in the limp, soggy strands of your hair, washing away the dirt and grime from the sparring practice.
“I still can’t believe you just threw me to the ground like that,” you grumbled tiredly, leaning back into his soothing caresses as he took the showerhead from the wall and hosed down your soapy hair.
“‘Ever heard of the phrase: pot kettle black?’”
Levi dodged your swatting hand as he mocked your words from the other day, placating you with a kiss to your head.
You had half the mind to headbutt him.
“I’m allowed to. I’m not Humanity’s Strongest Soldier. You just so happen to hold that title.” You turned round, taking the showerhead and placing it back on the wall.
You briefly regarded him tenderly, eyes flitting to the various scars and marks about his body. Most of the marks were from you, but those scars…
“I’m fine.”
You didn’t know you needed reassuring until he said it. Until his placating tones wormed their way through your worry and into your heart.
Instead of saying anything, you slowly leaned down to a prominent, jagged scar on the left side of his chest, and pressed a kiss to the smoother, raised skin. Water parted around your lips briefly before you pulled back again, glancing up to his awestruck expression.
“Sorry, I didn’t—”
He cut you off by taking your hands in his own, lifting them to his chin and brushing his lips over the various scars upon your palms.
You looked away bashfully, shivering slightly despite the warmth of the water.
“Don’t apologise,” he murmured against your hands, dropping them only to cup your jaw and capture your lips in a fleeting kiss.
You barely managed to regain your composure before manoeuvring him beneath the water flow. He didn’t realise you intended to do the exact same thing as he had done for you until you turned him to face away from you, and you lathered your hands in soap.
It was at this moment Levi decided you must be some kind of ancient witch. The second your hands touched his marked up back, he swore he melted, his muscles turning molten in your palms.
“Walls ‘Vi, when was the last time you got your back seen to?” you asked, digging your palms into a particularly stiff knot just left of his spine.
Levi hissed, feeling the release in his muscles as you worked in a circular motion. “Can’t remember. Never had the time.” He could only answer with short sentences whilst you switched from your palm to your elbow, managing to dig through the hardened tissue. “I just take hot showers. Does the job.”
“Clearly not, I feel like I’m trying to break through the damned Walls here, fucking hell.”
It was that tone of concern that made him feel a little guilty. Worrying you was never his intention. Ever. But looking after himself properly was never his strongest suit. He would always forget something or other, or just settle for whatever caused the least trouble.
“Shame you’re not the Armoured,”
“Don’t even joke about that.” Levi smirked against the audible battle with your own smile, hearing straining amusement trying to escape your self control. A losing battle, from the sounds of it.
Your fingers thread back through his hair, mussing up the obsidian locks and coating them with the foamy white soap. His accidental groan pulled at your lips, and you all but held the entire weight of his head as it dropped back into your hands.
You slowed your movements, scrunching the longer strands of hair in your soapy fists.
It was excessive, you knew it was, but you couldn’t help yourself. Not when he was so obviously enjoying it. Your arm was reluctant when you reached forward for the showerhead to rinse through his hair, though you kept up the soothing strokes even when the last of the soap had been washed away.
The similarities between him and a cat were uncanny. Especially the way he leant into your gentle scratches to his undercut.
For how long you held him like that, your front pressed against his back, hands in his hair, you wouldn’t have been able to tell. It was only when the water started to naturally cool down did you start to move, and with a sharp turn of the dial, the water shut off.
It was sort of a wake-up call for Levi, who swore he’d almost fallen asleep standing thanks to your hands.
He turned his head, greeting your soft smile with one of his own. He tucked a strand of loose wet hair back from in front of your eyes, brushing his knuckle against the edge of your jaw.
It was moments like these. Quiet, unspoken adoration that made his heart sing. Had his soul dancing with yours. An intertwined waltz between kindred spirits.
Fuck, you were beautiful.
–Why thank you.– Your smirk told him everything he needed to know.
Levi rolled his eyes, contrasting the slight blush dusting his cheeks. Now he understood how he’d heard you earlier. Kind of.
“Shut up.”
“I technically didn’t say anything.”
He threw you a look and you giggled wickedly, finally stepping from the shower block to retrieve your clothes and get on with the rest of your day. Though it seemed your partner had other ideas, made obvious by the way he stepped out after you, only to wrap his arms around your waist.
Levi pressed a kiss to your damp shoulder, unwilling to release you from his embrace quite yet, his hold strengthening as you attempted to pull away and collect your filthy clothes.
“Leave them with me, I need to do a wash anyway.”
“I wonder why,” you sniggered, and he huffed into your neck.
Your arms held his around your waist, savouring the warmth he brought after stepping out of the steamed shower. You don’t know why you did it, but you started to sway in his arms, just a gentle rocking side to side.
And to your surprise, he joined you. You stood there, slowly swaying to a silent melody only you could hear.
“What did you have planned for the afternoon?” Levi asked, finally removing his arms around you and retrieving the two towels he barely managed to remember to bring.
Wrapping one around his waist, he handed you the other. Even this kind of domesticity was thrilling.
“I was thinking about going on a ride honestly, maybe start on that painting.”
If Levi could bottle your smile, he would without a second thought.
“You’re actually going to do that?”
“I’m thinking about it.”
“Want some company?”
You turned round with a grin, hooking your arms around his neck after securing your towel. His hands instantly dropped to your waist.
“A romantic ride to bathe in the dappled sunlight of the forest after a steamy shower? You really have read Frederik and Jules haven’t you?”
He gave your side a squeeze, reacting with a small jolt. He really had to remember that he would feel it himself.
“You really love bringing that up don’t you?”
The question was rhetorical, but of course you were going to answer anyway. “How could I not? The tough, stony Captain Levi having a soft spot for romance novels? That’s poetry in and of itself.”
He pulled your face into his chest to shut you up, his arms tightening around your head in an attempt to stifle your mad giggling.
“You’re a fucking menace,” he muttered over his own chuckling amusement. It was weird to be so seen. To feel so open. To not cringe away from the raw vulnerability of knowledge.
Because you knew everything about him, and still chose to love him. Still chose to share a bed with him, to hold him and kiss him. You opened your heart to him, and he gave you his in return. And he knew without a doubt, even without the bond, he would still love you like this.
You started to muffle something into his skin, and though your hot breath was pleasant against him, he pulled back to allow you room to speak. “What did you say?”
“I was asking if you were gonna get hard everytime we spar together.”
You didn’t bother trying to dodge the pile of clothes flying toward your face, allowing them to fall at your feet after having the desired effect he was looking for.
Though nothing dampened your crooked grin. “You’re so easy.”
Levi snatched up the clothes from your feet, glaring at you as he did. “If you keep pinning my fucking wrists, then yeah.”
“Interesting.”
“Weren’t you the one going to paint me towering over you?”
If only he hadn’t sounded so flustered when he said that, it would have been a pretty solid comeback.
“Would you like me to?”
“Tch, do what you want.” He could do nothing to tame the furious heat in his face. So much for not getting flustered anymore. Fuck’s sake.
Folding the pile of clothes under his arm, he made a mental note to gather the rest from your shared room before heading out to wash them. “Give me roughly an hour or so and we’ll head out, sound good to you?” he asked over his shoulder, only pausing when you didn’t respond to find you gazing at him. “What?”
“Nothing, I just…” –I love you.–
Levi rolled his eyes to stop himself from beaming wildly. “Tch…” –I love you too.–
Your smile really was worth all the gold in the world.
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i. i um. made a beavis and butt-head playlist.
(reasoning for each song is under the cut bc i have. a lot of thoughts.)
1. "Lullaby to Nightmares" by They Might Be Giants
(BOTH) This song is meant to encapsulate the veerryyy beginning stages of their friendship,,,like when they were gross toddlers/little kids fucking around in the summer heat of their stagnant town. only the faintest implications of them being n e thing more than friends.
2. "Adam" by Alex G
(BUTT-HEAD) Butt-head is a little pissy elementary schooler who doesn't know how to handle his weird new emotions for his friend so he just beats the shit out of him. get it together, man.
3. "Hold Me Down" by The Happy Fits
(BEAVIS) Beavis is a very unstable elementary schooler who values Butt-head's company and role in stabilizing him. he doesn't really understand much of anything at this point he just knows he likes his friend a lot.
4. "I Get A Kick Out Of You" by Frank Sinatra
(BUTT-HEAD) Man Butt-head doesn't really get why but Beav is like his only source of genuine entertainment and human connection. he's a massive loser but he's HIS massive loser and he values the time they spend together. but no he's definitely not gay its not like that.
5. "The Red Means I Love You" by Madds Buckley
(BEAVIS) Beavis loves violence and his favorite violence comes from his interactions with Butt-head. It's not inherently romantic but there's absolutely something weird going on that no one really wants to unpack right now.
6. "You're My Best Friend" by Queen
(BOTH) Quoi??? They're getting over themselves and actually appreciating the genuine friendship they have without hiding behind a thousand insults and beatdowns???? It's a miracle! Let's hope no drastic event occurs to completely throw a wrench into their life and relationsh-
7. "How Am I Supposed to Live Without You" by Michael Bolton
(BOTH) Of course I had to add this song are you kidding? Some kind of wrench has been thrown into their lives (the extent of which is dependent on the timeline) and don't know how to cope with such drastic change and the possibility of losing each other permanently.
8. "The Wheels Fell Off" by The Hoosiers
(BEAVIS) Beavis is pissed off as hell bc he can kind of get over himself emotionally but Butt-head has padlocked himself within the closet and has reverted to being a little bitch. At this point he feels like they're probably broken irreparably and has kind of given up. he's leaving.
9. "Something About Us" by Saint Motel
(BUTT-HEAD) BUT WAIT!! Butt-head realizes he will probably die without Beavis and goes to stop him from leaving and confesses and Beavis confesses back and all that. its all very sweet and gay and im happy they're finally done being incredibly stupid.
10. "I Got You Babe" by Sonny & Cher
(BOTH) YAAAAY THEYRE CORNY N IN LOVE. its cute i imagine theyre just chilling in the honeymoon phase completely unphased by the actual shock and horror the rest of highland is feeling about this new development. they're made for each other.
11. "Boyfriend" by The Hot Freaks
(BOTH) further on into da relationship n they r still going strong!!! theyve been boyfriends 4 a while n they r sickeningly sweet in their own putrid, lovely way. they really just want to be togther for the rest of their lives.
12. "No One Knows" by Stephen Sanchez and Laufey
(BOTH) both a little bit older and waaayyyy out of the honeymoon phase. they have had their fair share of problems and arguments (see: AN INSANE AMOUNT), but at the end of the day they love each other and should not split up bc imma be real no one else wants them.
13. "Love Song" by AC/DC
(BUTT-HEAD) OF COURSE I HAD TO ADD A SONG EACH FROM THEIR T SHIRT BANDS. Butt-head you corny bastard.....he is a middle aged dude in gay love and he knows Beavis is in gay love and he wants to be that way with him forEVA.
14. "Nothing Else Matters" by Metallica
(BEAVIS) Beavis's turn!!!! his aging ass is sooo happy to be with the one person as repugnant and gross and mean and interesting and funny and perfect as him and he doesn't give a single shit what other people may think of them. they're happy.
15. "Museum of Idiots" by They Might be Giants
(BOTH) They r old farts and they r still going strong. good for them!!! they've been in highland all of their lives and they have no plans of leaving ever or splitting up ever. they are going to live and die in this town and they are perfectly content with this because they have each other. this is their perfect life.
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Soldier headcannons
Soldier Headcanons!
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I'm going to sob. I had to look up how to spell both words right. How am I supposed to be a writer if I can't write. Anyways, mutual appreciation comment time! Thank you for being mutual and correcting my spelling 😭
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I don't write enough for him, so I'm worried but excited to try!
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I stand by the fact that this man is the typical American dad, but... he's also such a fucking crazy?
Like one day, he'll be grilling steak in an apron that says "Gold bless America" on the tits, six pack half gone, (it's 10 am) telling you the story of how he went out and killed it with his bare hands only about seven minutes ago. Then, the next day, you'll see him eating half a bag of potting soil and rocks for breakfast. Like???? And he's still in good health, so I guess whatever he's doing is working?
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Nearly shit himself when he found the bombpop vodka. Nearly killed himself, mixing it with the bombpop Mt. Dew.
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I don't see enough content with Soldier and Pyro, which is sad because, like, they're both sweet and would totally be friends.
Let's be honest, Soldier would sit and tell Pyro every piece of American history he knows, and Pyro would sit and listen. Dare I say Pyro might even enjoy listening about the history of America.
But I do think that Pyro and Soldiers friendship is different from Engie and Pyros' friendship. Pyro and Soldier are like brothers. Engie and Pyro are like father and child.
I think Engie keeps Soldier in line, too. I think them as a group would be really cute.
(Also, I think him and Scout have a father and son bond. Please it would be so sweet.)
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Speaking of history! He has one of those tables where you can reenact a war with like plastic tanks and mini figures. (I can't for the life of me remember what it's called.) He's memorized every war, every move, every anything. Tell him a specific date, and he can set it up to match what happened that day perfectly.
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While this man does act goofy and al aot playfully criminally insane. I do think he has very real issues. He is super on edge most of the time. He can't deal with sudden loud noise without a warning. He's protective over anyone and everyone. (He would take a bullet for any of his teammates).
I don't know if I'd say he has PTSD but something happened to him, and the whole loud, proud American man! Is a persona, a way to cope and find a distraction from the bad times.
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You'd think for a man who's so pro America he'd be unaware of the world around him, but you'd be wrong. This man loves other countries too, it's just happens to be the U.S., which is his everything.
He knows about the culture and life in other countries because he learned about them after he met Medic, Heavy, Spy, and Demo. He wanted to get to know them and understand their country because he just assumed everyone was as proud of their home as he was, so he wanted to be able to talk about it with them in the same way he talks about America.
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I think he reads Jane Austen and the Brontë sisters books. I can't really explain why? I just get the vibe that he likes them.
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Fourth of July is obviously his favorite holiday. But considering half the base isn't American and the other half isn't too keen on celebrating, he always thinks he's going to have to celebrate alone. But NOPE. You bet your ass the Mercs celebrate with him.
He loves his teammates, and they love him.
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Love marine biology! A huge fan of sharks and whales. Cried when he found out about whale sharks.
"ITS JUST SO BEAUTIFUL! THE BEST OF EVERYHTING!"
His favorite sharks are hammer heads, and his favorite whale is a beluga whale.
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I don't care if he has a set home state in canon. THIS MAN IS FLORIDA CODED!
He's wrestled an alligator and fucking won!
One time, the team took a vacation to Florida. I imagine this happening with him and Scout. Like vividly.
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Okay so that was really fun! I hope you liked this because I was super worried halfway through that they weren't going to be good 😭
I think he's actually a really neat character, I'm glad I got to write for him!
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Okay listen I know A Day Of Fallen Night came out in like January and I did buy it then but then life stuff happened but I’m finally sitting down to read it and I’m gonna put all my thoughts here and post it when I finish it
Okay that was just the PROLOGUE? It slaps but also that was like a story of its own
Okay so I’m like a quarter through now and I have thoughts
Kanifa is adorable and Samantha Shannon if you touch one hair on his head you will be hearing from my nonexistent lawyers
Is Wulf actually the child of Kalyba? That would be wild
Also, I genuinely have completely lost track of all the people in Wulf’s storyline apart from his Inys family and Regny I don’t know who the fuck the rest of these people are and I’m not sure if I’m supposed to
The conclusion I’ve come to is that Hroth is fantasy Iceland. Am I wrong?
Y’know I was expecting Dumai’s story to be a whole thing of the Emperor being evil and trying to kill her for being an illegitimate heir or something but my expectations have been subverted and now I love him
Update
Hot damn like half of this book’s side characters just bit the dust in about half a page
Listen I know their deaths were mentioned in Priory and I knew it’d happen but Glorian’s parents dying still hurts
Poor Glorian
Also where is Wulf? Is he dead? Lost at sea? Is he okay? I need him to be okay
Siyu’s run away again
That girl is a Grade A flight risk
I honestly did not see Nikeya as a love interest coming but its clearly heading in that direction and I think its gonna cause all kinds of chaos
Update
KANIFA NOOO Samantha Shannon what did I just say
This is almost as bad as when Kit died, all these poor loyal friends dying for dramatic effect
I love Wulf’s family so much. Mara gives me Meg vibes
Glorian is a badass and her and Wulf are suprisingly cute together
Okay I do not trust Canthe at all, I feel like she’s lying about everything
I’m trying to figure out who she is. I’ve got a running theory that she’s Kalyba (the Lady of the Woods) which I know is kind of insane but hear me out: who else do we know that’s seemingly immortal and ate from the hawthorne tree, who can also shapeshift into whatever form, who has been married and has lost a child? Plus they keep drawing attention to the loveknot ring (which is gold which Wulf said is for royal marriage) and I feel like that can’t be just a coincidence. The only question is why she’d be helping the priory. Maybe she wants to earn their trust so they’ll let her eat from the orange tree? That’s what she wanted from Ead in the first book.
I’m trying so hard to figure this out but I think I’m losing my mind
Aaaand the Emperor is dead
Someone should keep a kill count going on the number of dead leaders/royalty and authority figures in this book, if you took a shot every time like a drinking game you’d be hammered by this point
Or dead
I’ve said it before but I love Wulf, he’s so earnest and sweet and he’s just trying to be friends with everyone
He had every reason to refuse to believe in the priory or be suspicious but he just welcomed them as family with open arms
Y’know I wasn’t that invested in Nikeya and Dumai earlier but they’ve really grown on me, they’re super cute
I WAS RIGHT I WAS RIGHT OH MY GOD I WAS RIGHT MY PREDICTIONS ARE NEVER RIGHT SHE’S THE LADY OF THE WOODS!!!!!
AAAAAAAAHHH
I literally almost threw the book across the room in excitement
I’ve never felt more alive that was insane
Should I become a detective?
I feel like a genius
Update
God these battles are brutal
SUZUMAI???? SHE’S NINE HOW COULD YOU
I’m distraught
That bit where Wulf is talking to baby Sabran is so cute I might die
Dumai better not be dead, I won’t cope
Okay well I’m interpreting that epilogue that she’s completely fine living her new life on the mountain and Nikeya can go and visit her and everything is fine
In conclusion, this was amazing and also I read about half of this book in the past few days reading as much as possible and now I think I need to like sit and stare at nothing for a bit
Or maybe a nap
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Country Girl(Eddie Munson x Fem!Country!Reader)
word count: 1.1k
pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Country!reader
warnings: bullying, mentions of blood, some swearing, fluffiness
a/n: I cannot tell you how happy I am that you enjoy my content! Thank you so much for requesting!!! I also understand what it is to have an accent that people make fun of me for. This isn't so much Eddie with a country girl, but more of a fic about Eddie defending the cute new girl with a sweet accent. I hope you enjoy! Send in more requests if you'd like!
Your first day at Hawkins’ high was a disaster. You dreaded the fact that you had to move because of your father’s work. It wasn’t fair that you wouldn’t be graduating with your best friends. Instead, you had to graduate with a bunch of strangers. How were you supposed to make any good connections during your senior year? It wasn’t a good first day; no, not one bit.
It didn’t help that everyone stared at you, and lots of people gave you funny looks. You barely could find your way around the school. Nobody wanted to sit with you at lunch. Your classmates would all make fun of your accent too. You tried to conceal it a little bit, but it wasn’t hard for them to tease it out of you. You felt like crying and just running away. It was becoming so fucking tough to even just cope with this being your first day.
But it’s when Jason and his goons come around at the end of the day, that’s when it all hits you. You are different from these kids. They don’t care about you and none of them will.
“Hey there, darlin’.” Jason mocks your accent, and you look down at your feet.
“Leave me alone. I didn’t do anything to anyone.”
His goons laugh, and soon Jason is continuing to mock your accent. You wish you could just disappear. It’s so unfair to have to deal with this. You figured that someone who was of so much importance to this school would try to be nice to the new kid. Tears stung your eyes and you fought back the rage that was building up in your gut. It really kills you inside to know that you’ll never have any more connections.
“Hey, dickhead! Don’t you have anything better to do?” A voice calls from down the hall. You all turn to see who’s calling out.
You weren’t sure if this man was an angel, but all you know is that he saved you. Jason backs off and immediately goes up to the guy in question. You can’t take your eyes off the guy, who has such big hair and big eyes. He eyes you for a moment, then he smirks when Jason comes over to him.
“Ahhh, you two would make a perfect couple. The freak and the country bumpkin.”
“Why don’t you just piss off and go throw your dumb balls? She didn’t do anything to you, and neither did I.”
Jason frowns at the guy’s words. He thinks about it for a moment before deciding that neither of you are worth his time. He calls to his goons and they all walk off. You get up from the bench and decide to leave the school, but your name is being called. You turn to see that it’s the guy who stood up for you.
“What do you want? You want to lay in on me now too?”
He smirks, “Of course not. I want to make sure you’re okay.” He walks over to you and he places his hand on yours. There’s immediately an electric feeling between the two of you.
“I’ll be okay. Thank you.”
“No problem. You’re in a few of my classes, right? I’m Eddie Munson.” His smile was so infectious.
From that moment on, you and Eddie became inseparable. He would take you everywhere in Hawkins and show you the best places to hang out. He even showed you how to play D&D and you became a member of the Hellfire club. But you never expected to fall for Eddie. He had just been a kind soul to stand up for you, but the more you spent time with him, the more you found yourself falling for him.
Today was hard. It reminded you of your first day. You were trying so hard to hold it all together when Jason stopped you in the hall. His goons are all around the two of you, and you wonder if this time Jason will actually hit you. You’re a little scared considering he had been leaving you alone for the most part.
“Look guys, it’s our little country bumpkin. I guess you lost your accent, didn’t you?” His tone is teasing and mean.
“Get bent, Jason! I’m so sick and tired of you!” You shout, pushing him away from you. Jason scowls and soon he’s pressing you up against the wall.
“I’m not done with you. You think just because that freak is your friend that you’re safe. Well you’re not,” Jason explains, his hot breath hitting you in the face. He couldn’t be any closer if he even tried.
“Get off of me!” You cry out, hoping to catch someone’s attention. It’s no use, Jason is going to have his little fun right here.
It’s not long before he’s slamming you harder against the wall, and his hand comes out to slap you. But before it even hits you, you feel the weight of Jason being pulled off of you. His goons are all howling at the scene unfolding before all of you. Eddie is on top of Jason, and he’s laying into him. Your eyes grow wide as you realize that Eddie is beating up Jason just for you. Your heart swells at the bravery.
“Just get lost, Jason. Leave us both the fuck alone!” Eddie finally spits out, his knuckles a little bloody. Jason looks shocked.
“Whatever. You’re both freaks! You deserve each other!”
Jason’s goons help him up, and they all leave. You’re left there, speechless at what’s going on. You never thought that Eddie would hit Jason, but you’re happy he was here to save you once more.
“Hey, you okay?” Eddie asks, and he comes up to you. His hand cups your cheek and he’s inspecting your face.
“He didn’t hit me. I’m okay.”
Eddie smiles so sweetly, “Good. I’m glad. If he would have hit your pretty face, I would have killed him.”
You blush, “Come on, Eddie. It’s no big deal. You know Jason hates me because I’m a country girl. These kids don’t understand me.”
Eddie’s eyes are so filled with different emotions. But you can tell there’s a lot of pain there. He sighs softly before cupping your face and pulling you closer.
“You have no idea how much you mean to me, do you?” You try to protest, but he only quiets you with a simple, sweet kiss.
Your knees feel weak and your mind is swirling with all kinds of thoughts. You swear your heart is about to burst out of your chest. You try to steady yourself, but Eddie wraps an arm around your waist to pull you forward.
“Baby, you drive me crazy.” Eddie breathes when he finally pulls away.
“Don’t tease me like that,”
He chuckles, “I am not teasing you. You drive me crazy, my little cowgirl.”
And with that, Eddie takes your hand in his and he walks you out of the school. It doesn’t matter what happens next, you think to yourself, because you’ll always have Eddie there with you.
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Omgggg i frikin love your work!!!
i’m from the south and was raised on a farm and have a strong southern accent and got teased for it a lot in school, do u think you could do eddie x a country reader
word count: 1.1k
pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Country!reader
warnings: bullying, mentions of blood, some swearing, fluffiness
a/n: I cannot tell you how happy I am that you enjoy my content! Thank you so much for requesting!!! I also understand what it is to have an accent that people make fun of me for. This isn't so much Eddie with a country girl, but more of a fic about Eddie defending the cute new girl with a sweet accent. I hope you enjoy! Send in more requests if you'd like!
Your first day at Hawkins’ high was a disaster. You dreaded the fact that you had to move because of your father’s work. It wasn’t fair that you wouldn’t be graduating with your best friends. Instead, you had to graduate with a bunch of strangers. How were you supposed to make any good connections during your senior year? It wasn’t a good first day; no, not one bit.
It didn’t help that everyone stared at you, and lots of people gave you funny looks. You barely could find your way around the school. Nobody wanted to sit with you at lunch. Your classmates would all make fun of your accent too. You tried to conceal it a little bit, but it wasn’t hard for them to tease it out of you. You felt like crying and just running away. It was becoming so fucking tough to even just cope with this being your first day.
But it’s when Jason and his goons come around at the end of the day, that’s when it all hits you. You are different from these kids. They don’t care about you and none of them will.
“Hey there, darlin’.” Jason mocks your accent, and you look down at your feet.
“Leave me alone. I didn’t do anything to anyone.”
His goons laugh, and soon Jason is continuing to mock your accent. You wish you could just disappear. It’s so unfair to have to deal with this. You figured that someone who was of so much importance to this school would try to be nice to the new kid. Tears stung your eyes and you fought back the rage that was building up in your gut. It really kills you inside to know that you’ll never have any more connections.
“Hey, dickhead! Don’t you have anything better to do?” A voice calls from down the hall. You all turn to see who’s calling out.
You weren’t sure if this man was an angel, but all you know is that he saved you. Jason backs off and immediately goes up to the guy in question. You can’t take your eyes off the guy, who has such big hair and big eyes. He eyes you for a moment, then he smirks when Jason comes over to him.
“Ahhh, you two would make a perfect couple. The freak and the country bumpkin.”
“Why don’t you just piss off and go throw your dumb balls? She didn’t do anything to you, and neither did I.”
Jason frowns at the guy’s words. He thinks about it for a moment before deciding that neither of you are worth his time. He calls to his goons and they all walk off. You get up from the bench and decide to leave the school, but your name is being called. You turn to see that it’s the guy who stood up for you.
“What do you want? You want to lay in on me now too?”
He smirks, “Of course not. I want to make sure you’re okay.” He walks over to you and he places his hand on yours. There’s immediately an electric feeling between the two of you.
“I’ll be okay. Thank you.”
“No problem. You’re in a few of my classes, right? I’m Eddie Munson.” His smile was so infectious.
From that moment on, you and Eddie became inseparable. He would take you everywhere in Hawkins and show you the best places to hang out. He even showed you how to play D&D and you became a member of the Hellfire club. But you never expected to fall for Eddie. He had just been a kind soul to stand up for you, but the more you spent time with him, the more you found yourself falling for him.
Today was hard. It reminded you of your first day. You were trying so hard to hold it all together when Jason stopped you in the hall. His goons are all around the two of you, and you wonder if this time Jason will actually hit you. You’re a little scared considering he had been leaving you alone for the most part.
“Look guys, it’s our little country bumpkin. I guess you lost your accent, didn’t you?” His tone is teasing and mean.
“Get bent, Jason! I’m so sick and tired of you!” You shout, pushing him away from you. Jason scowls and soon he’s pressing you up against the wall.
“I’m not done with you. You think just because that freak is your friend that you’re safe. Well you’re not,” Jason explains, his hot breath hitting you in the face. He couldn’t be any closer if he even tried.
“Get off of me!” You cry out, hoping to catch someone’s attention. It’s no use, Jason is going to have his little fun right here.
It’s not long before he’s slamming you harder against the wall, and his hand comes out to slap you. But before it even hits you, you feel the weight of Jason being pulled off of you. His goons are all howling at the scene unfolding before all of you. Eddie is on top of Jason, and he’s laying into him. Your eyes grow wide as you realize that Eddie is beating up Jason just for you. Your heart swells at the bravery.
“Just get lost, Jason. Leave us both the fuck alone!” Eddie finally spits out, his knuckles a little bloody. Jason looks shocked.
“Whatever. You’re both freaks! You deserve each other!”
Jason’s goons help him up, and they all leave. You’re left there, speechless at what’s going on. You never thought that Eddie would hit Jason, but you’re happy he was here to save you once more.
“Hey, you okay?” Eddie asks, and he comes up to you. His hand cups your cheek and he’s inspecting your face.
“He didn’t hit me. I’m okay.”
Eddie smiles so sweetly, “Good. I’m glad. If he would have hit your pretty face, I would have killed him.”
You blush, “Come on, Eddie. It’s no big deal. You know Jason hates me because I’m a country girl. These kids don’t understand me.”
Eddie’s eyes are so filled with different emotions. But you can tell there’s a lot of pain there. He sighs softly before cupping your face and pulling you closer.
“You have no idea how much you mean to me, do you?” You try to protest, but he only quiets you with a simple, sweet kiss.
Your knees feel weak and your mind is swirling with all kinds of thoughts. You swear your heart is about to burst out of your chest. You try to steady yourself, but Eddie wraps an arm around your waist to pull you forward.
“Baby, you drive me crazy.” Eddie breathes when he finally pulls away.
“Don’t tease me like that,”
He chuckles, “I am not teasing you. You drive me crazy, my little cowgirl.”
And with that, Eddie takes your hand in his and he walks you out of the school. It doesn’t matter what happens next, you think to yourself, because you’ll always have Eddie there with you.
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...
how do i even start.
Miss Dork, do you realize you make me miserable?
how am i supposed to wake up everyday and deal with the fact that i'm deeply in love with a man that doesn't exist.
How am i supposed to cope with the fact I will never hold him on my arms or hear his voice say my name? I will never be able to ask him how his day is and ask wtf he meant when he uses his nerd words.
Having said that
EPIGUOHJG0IPDS´JD´SOMIG{ÑSJOKGBJNDFBUÑOIHSDJKOVDSI{GNJDS´PJDSPIDSNGÓIDSONGDSJNSD{LFL{FKÑASO{ÑJSAFHDSJLGJDSLF{DSFJDSLFNSDOÍJDS´GJDSOGI´DNHGIÓSF{KMLÑMSF{LKDSFNASPFOJFÓSDHFJ
1-SHELLDON SHELLDON SHELLDON SHELLDON SHELLDON
HE IS SO CUTE, I WANNA PUT HIM IN MY POCKET I WANNA SLEEP WHILE HEARING HIS DRONE FANS
HE DESERVES THE WORLD
THE INTERACTIONS BEETWEEN THE 3 OF THEM WERE SO AMUSING
2. AH YES, READER GIVING DONNIE A TIME OUT IT'S WHAT I NEEDED TO INCREASE MY LIFE EXPECTANCY
3. THAT FUCKING BITCH HID HIS IMPLANTS!!!!! MAKES SO MUCH MUCH SENSE OMG!!!!!!!!!! I NEED TO HUG HIM SO BADLY (had to look up for that on the google, i've been reading the chapter with the browser and traductor open as always lmao)
4. POSSESIVE DONNIE YES I LIVE FOR THIS
5. Reader: "didn't u said u named urself?"
me: HELL YEAH READER ASKING THE RIGHT QUESTIONS I NEED TO KNOW SO BAD
donnie: *ptsd*
me: MISS DORK WHY DO U DO THIS TO ME
(splinter splinter splinter splinter??????????????? i can smell daddy issues, I KNOW THAT SMELL SO WELL)
6. tbh donnie is so lucky to have reader. can a person fall in love with the reader? well, seem like it's possible, look at me. Theyre so sweet.
7. "If all of this hasn't finally cemented your decision otherwise..." YOU WISHED BITCH UR NEVER GETTING RID OF US
8. "it will aide my explanation and give me achance to itemize all the individual apologies necesary" fucking nerd i love u so fucking much for that you have no idea i will kill for you.
9. I love mikey but "orange oaf" sound really fitting. At least coming for someone who doesn't entirely understand the weight of the insult sdgjh´guj.
10.All of the conversation about the bastard's three (i'm starting to have question about this name) is just so sdhgusdghhsfhdfhusg
11.YEAH FREE CONTEXT FOR OUR POOR READER
12. Donnie: "fucking botched bullshit rescue attemnt. He's utter scum. I'll"
Me: u///u
13. "Sort of.. kicked him off the roof?" "Oh and I called him carrot cake and told him to get lost"
"kiss me"
I HAVE- I CANT EXPLAIN-
YEAH I WILL LITERALLY TEAR APART EVERY PERSON YOU DON'T LIKE IF THAT MAKES YOU FEEL HAPPY AND PROUD AND LOVED. I DON'T CARE IF THEY'RE "THE GOOD ONES" AND GOD I WILL COMMIT ALL THE WORST ATTROCITIES IF IT MEANS YOU WILL LOOK AT ME THAT WAY AGAIN URGGGHHHHHHHHH
14. NO PLEASE DONNIE DON'T LEAVE ME I LITERALLY NEED YOU FOR MY BRAIN TO GIVE ME THE HAPPY JUICE
15. BIG ASS APOLOGY WALL TEXT I'M GONNA TATTOO IT IN MY OTHER FVCKING TIGHT I SWEAR TO GOD
YEAH BITCH APOLOGIZE FOR EVERYTHING SO I CAN FORGIVE YOU WITHOUT A SECOND TOUGHT AND THEN HOLD YOU IN MY HANDS BECAUSE YOU DESERVE THE WORLD IDC YOU CAN KICK MY MOM AND ILL SAY "AWW NO BIGGIE BBY"
16. OF COURSE HE HAS LOTS PROPERTIES ALL LOOKING THE SAME YEAH READER HE IS INDEED A STUPID RICH IDIOT
IT'S SO SAD BUT SO FUNNY THAT HE CAN'T GET ATTACHED TO ONE PLACE SO HE HAS TO DO THAT HE CAN LEAVE IN MY HOUSE NOBODY WILL EVER FIND HIM IN MY SHIT ASS TOWN (jk i love my town)
17. Donnie being seduced by reader insulting his (not) brothers
18. "I had made it to 30" the exact moment I started to cry.
19. "I will never be more than a deplorable villain." YESYESYESYESYES IT'S HAPPENING
THE CONVERSATION- ITS HAPPENIGN
DONNIE EVEN IF THAT WERE TRUE I WOULD LOVE U FOR THAT DONT EVEN WORRY ABOUT IT
20. "Your blind eye will get you killed and I will decimate this planet for even considering bringing harm to you" THIS EXACT MOMENT FREAKING DORK, THIS EXACT MOMENT MADE MY BRAIN STOP FUNCTIONING.
LITERALLY, THIS FANFIC IS A COCTEL OF ALL THE STUFF I LOVE AND THIS IS THE FUCKING CHERRY ON TOP. I CAN'T EVEN BEGIN TO EXPLAIN HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS SINGLE LINE. I WILL SCREENCAP THIS PART OF THE FIC AND IT GOES TO MY WALLPAPER.
21. the final scene is so touching. I really love those two and I know they'll be together again but part of me feels so bad for them for having to be apart for so much time ("at least a few weeks" it's a fvcking lot). I wonder how will reader process al this information when she's away from all of this.
I wonder what will happen with dispute of donnie and his (not) brothers.
I WONDER IF THE BASTARD IS SPLINTER OR IT'S THE TURTLES. I GOT THE DOUBT AND LOOKING IT UP IN GOOGLE TRANSLATE ONLY CONFUSED ME MORE.
-
My asks are getting longer and longer BUT THERE WAS SO MUCH I NEEDED TO YELL ABOUT I SWEAR TO GOD
I've decided chapter 19 was my favorite yasterday but now you blessed us with this one. THIS IS MY TOTAL FAVORITE, I DON'T EVEN HAVE TO THINK TWICE, IF EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED IN THIS CHAPTER WASN'T ENOUGH TO MAKE IT MY FAVORITE THAT LINE, YOU KNOW WICH, ABSOLUTELY BOUGHT ME.
i hope you have a good day bye!!!!!!!
You miserable? I'm the same way! It's excruciating to be in love with a purple turtle. He is both everything and some how nothing when he is so real in my dreams 😩😩😩😩
S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. is the best white noise machine. There, i said it.
Daddy issues, huh? 👀👀👀
Mr. Alliteration over here has a color insult for each brother. Oaf is a little lighthearted overall, but from Donnie it's straight hate.
Ahhhh!! I'm not commenting on every item, but you highlighting them makes my heart swell!!! I can't thank you enough! This really made me smile!! You have a wonderful day as well!!!
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Goddamn, Shit-Sucking Vampires Ch. 16 | Poly!Lost Boys x OC (18+ ONLY)
Vera is an unusually vicious bloodsucker who’s never stuck in one place for very long…until a mysterious feeling pulls her right to the murder capital of the world: Santa Carla, California. Now, she needs to figure out why exactly she’s there, where she fits in amongst the boardwalk’s nighttime denizens, and how to cope with her own personal vampire-related problems. Poly Lost Boys/OC, starts just before the movie *MULTI PART SERIES*
MASTERLIST
CH 15 | CH 16 | CH 17 |
Tags: @americancowgirl19 @ilikechocolatemilkh @siennanoelle01 @iloveslasher @sylum @reese-bowie
“He’s still following us. I can hear him.”
Star glanced back over her shoulder. “I know.”
“Don’t be so obvious about it!” Vera hissed.
“Why not?” the other girl laughed, looping their arms together as they weaved through the crowd. “I think he’s kinda cute.”
Cute? Ugh. Vera needed another look.
When she turned, the guy from the concert was still there, pushing past boardwalk patrons as he desperately tried to keep Star in his sights. He was…fine, she supposed, handsome in a Morrison sort of way. He was following them like a lost puppy, his eyes always focused on Star, even when he saw that Vera was staring.
She felt a twinge of annoyance at how persistent he was, and part of her wanted to get in his face and tell him to leave her pack alone and fuck off, but she shoved the urge away and tried to focus on how entertaining he was. Human boys were so desperate it was almost endearing.
Almost.
“What exactly do you plan to do once he catches up to us?” Vera asked.
Star paused. “I…don’t know. What would you do?”
Vera gave her a look. “I would eat him, which is what you should be considering.”
Star paled. “Oh, no, I don’t know…”
“Why not?”
“It’s just…” she bit her lip anxiously. “Sorta soon…”
“Star.” Vera pulled her to a stop. “It’s the 1980s. You can eat a boy on the first date if you want to. That’s what modern feminism is all about.”
“…I don’t really think that’s what that—“
“Hey,” They both turned to see that the boy had caught up with them and was looking at Star hopefully, his eyes full of absolute longing. Vera resisted the urge to scoff and wrinkle her nose.
Star cleared her throat and smiled, pulling Laddie closer so that he couldn’t get swept away in the crowd. “Are you following us?”
The guy offered a lopsided grin that made Vera think he was trying too hard to look cool. “Yeah. I am.”
“Did you wanna talk to us?” Star asked, her smile widening.
“Yeah.” the guy’s confidence seemed to be growing, like he thought he had a good chance now. “I do.”
“Well…talk,” Star laughed quietly.
And then it became clear that this boy had absolutely no game plan, because he simply replied with a smooth “How are you?” That had Vera wanting to bring him back to the gang just so that they could teach him how to hit on girls properly.
Star gave him a funny look, but before she could respond, a blond boy was suddenly approaching her would-be suitor. Vera could see the similarities in their faces, especially their eyes, and even though the boardwalk was busy and there were a million scents in the air, she felt confident in her guess that they were related to each other. The blond was shorter and looked a few years younger, dressed in a shirt sporting a very loud pattern that suggested he was some kind of designer mall rat who kept up with all the latest trends.
The first guy–his older brother, probably?--glanced at him and then chose to ignore him, tensing to step forward. Yeah, he definitely gave off older brother vibes. He was totally ready to ignore his younger sibling in favor of talking to a girl, but before he could actually move, the blond held out a hand to stop him.
“Mom’s here,” he said.
The first one made a dismissive sound, trying to get him out of the way so he could continue what he was doing, but if he actually spoke, Vera wasn’t listening. She was too busy looking at the comic in the blond boy’s hand, its familiar glossy blue cover and Vampires Everywhere! Suddenly seeming a lot less innocent and entertaining than it had when the Frog brothers handed her a copy.
So those two really were preaching about bloodsuckers to everybody who came into their shop, huh? Maybe she needed to rethink her whole ‘no killing kids’ policy.
She glanced down and saw that Laddie was also staring at the comic, his head tilted slightly. Vera knew that he knew what the boys were–and what he almost was–but she didn’t need him around some human who had the potential to find out, too. Even though she was sure the Frog brothers came off as weirdo kids who watched too many scary movies, she didn’t need Laddie getting exposed to their vampire hunter rhetoric and ending up scarred for the rest of his un-life.
“Come on,” she nudged Star.
She took the hint, grabbing Laddie’s hand and smiling over her shoulder at the boys. “Nice talking with you.”
“Wait–”
But they were already disappearing into the crowd, leaving Michael behind to do nothing but stare.
He turned towards his brother with a glare. “Sammy, come on.”
“What?” Sam asked, following as Michael took off again.
“She was right here!” Michael said as he pushed past boardwalk patrons. “You scared her off!”
“What? Me? No way!” Sam protested. “What makes you think she’s even that interested in you? She ran!”
Michael turned to fix him with another glare. “You probably made it awkward.”
“Mike, come on. Mom is waiting with the car–”
“I just wanna talk to her again. Maybe get her number or something, at least.”
“You’re really gonna chase this girl all over the boardwalk, aren’t you?” Sam asked as he struggled to keep up. “I can’t believe this. I wanna go shopping, but I’m a good kid, and I told Mom I was gonna find you and bring you straight back to the car–”
“Sam?”
“Yes, Michael?”
“Shut up.”
“He really is kinda cute,” Star laughed as she and Vera each held one of Laddie’s hands.
Vera huffed. “I guess in a dumb puppy dog kinda way…”
“Why’d you say that like it’s a bad thing? Isn’t that just Paul?”
Vera paused, thought about it, and then barked a laugh. “You’ve got a point, actually. I guess he is kinda cute.”
“More than kinda!”
“Yeah, well…I bet you could have some fun with him. Just don’t get attached, y’know?”
Star sighed. “Yeah. I know.”
“Hey, why the long face?” Vera asked as they slipped through the crowd towards an ice cream cart. “This is fun! We’re having fun. Boys are stupid and they’re entertaining.”
“I know, it’s just…” Star chewed on her lip. “It’s nothing. He’s probably gone, anyways. Come on, Laddie. What flavor do you want?”
“Chocolate!” The little boy said excitedly, stepping up to the cart eagerly.
“You think he gave up?” Vera asked, craning her neck to look for the human.
“Do you see him?” Star asked, handing Laddie some money to pay the vendor.
It was Vera’s turn to sigh. “No. I kinda hoped he was more persistent than that.”
“Maybe you scared him off,” Laddie said, grabbing his ice cream cone and reaching for her hand.
“What?” She gasped dramatically as she took his. “Me? Scary?”
“Yeah, no way,” Star mumbled sarcastically.
“You are a little bit,” Laddie nodded. “You’re even scarier than David sometimes. And that guy hasn’t even met David!“
“If I’m so scary, why aren’t you scared? Huh?”
“Because Laddie is super brave and tough. Right?” Star smiled, nudging his shoulder.
“Uh huh!” He said through a mouthful of ice cream. “And because I have the meanest big brothers on the planet. They always beat up anybody who messes with me.”
“Not that anybody should be messing with you in the first place,” Vera said, giving Star a very pointed look as she remembered what the boys had said about Laddie being left on his own.
“Don’t look at me like that!” Star exclaimed. “Surf Nazis—“
“Are the worst. I know.” Vera growled. “And that’s why the guys get so mad when Laddie’s on his own.”
“I know. I messed up a couple times.” Star said, looking at the ground. “David made sure I know. It won’t happen again.”
“Well…good,” Vera nodded. Honestly, she wasn’t really sure how to handle the whole friendship thing with Star still. She couldn’t just growl and snap at her when she was pissed, could she? That sort of thing worked on the boys, but that was only because they needed a more direct approach. And also because Max made sure that they were raised with a firm hand, and they didn’t know how to respond to anything less.
Star wasn’t like them, though. She had her issues, sure, but Vera had the feeling she couldn’t treat her the same as she did the guys. So…how did she go about being nice while still making sure Star understood things? Maybe…just…go with the flow, and see what happened? Vera wasn’t used to that. She was used to having at least some semblance of a handle on things.
But maybe winging it was the move.
“So…what else do you like to do?” She asked as they walked.
Star perked up a bit and looked at her. “Well, I like swap meets, and Laddie and I spend a lot of time trying to win prizes on games…and I go to concerts on the beach, a-and sometimes we go shopping…”
“Okay, so…maybe we can do some more of that soon?” She suggested.
Star’s eyes lit up. “Really? You want to?”
“Well…yeah. Sure.” Vera nodded. “Why not?”
“I’m glad we’re on good terms now,” Star smiled, taking her arm. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a friend.”
“…Me too, honestly,” Vera frowned. “It’s…nice. I think.”
“So we can be friends?”
Vera paused, looking at her for a moment. Could they? Star was looking at her hopefully, her eyes big and earnest. Was she just hoping that friendship with Vera could protect her from David’s wrath? It probably could, after all; he would have to be in an especially foul mood to try to off one of Vera’s friends, and she didn’t think he was stupid enough to try now. Besides that, though…did Star honestly want to be her friend?
And did Vera want to be hers?
…shit.
She kinda did.
“Yeah,” she finally said. “I think we can.”
Star gave her a wide smile, and as the two ran down the boardwalk with Laddie in tow, Michael Emerson was just about nearing his wit’s end trying to follow them.
Why did girls have to make it so hard?
“Mike, come on,” Sam said. “Give it up, I don’t think—“
“I just wanna get her number or something.” Michael glanced back at his brother.
“Look, just because you miss Laurie—“
“Why don’t you go back to the comic book store?”
“No way!” Sam protested. “You know how hard it was to find you in the first place? You’ll totally run off if I leave you alone! And then I’m in trouble, and—“
“Fine. Just can it, okay?” Michael looked ahead towards the brunette he had been so focused on. “I gotta really impress her.”
“Whatever you say,” Sam rolled his eyes. “The scary one isn’t gonna let you even get close.”
“What? Come on,” Michael scoffed. “Get real, Sam. They’re just girls. It’s not that complicated.”
Except, as he reached the edge of the crowd and he could finally breathe again, he saw that they weren’t just girls—they were girls who hung out with guys.
A gang of guys, to be exact.
There were four of them, Michael noticed, sitting around custom motorcycles that made his look like it belonged to a little kid. And speaking of kids, the boy he had seen with the girls was running up to the gang, totally squashing any hopes Michael had that maybe they had just been passing by and didn’t really know them.
Well, just because they knew each other didn’t mean that the hot brunette was off limits, right? Michael wasn’t above joining a mysterious biker gang for a girl. He’d do it if he had to. Was that bad? Probably, but he didn’t know anybody in town besides his brother and mom, and yeah, Sam was right—he did miss Laurie, the girl he’d gone on a few dates with back in Phoenix, and he was pretty desperate to get a girlfriend.
But shit…the guys this one hung out with looked like bad news. Two were sitting on the fence while the other two sat on their bikes, all looking like they regularly got themselves into trouble. They wore clothes that were either dark and intimidating, or bright and loud and threatening, and if the rest of Santa Carla was anything to go off of, these guys probably got up to all sorts of illegal shit that Michael had no business getting himself involved with.
But the hot girl was there, so he was there.
“Hey, chickadee,” Paul greeted Vera with a whistle.
“Hey, handsome,” she replied as she and Star walked up.
The boys were a sight for sore eyes, even though David looked extra contemplative as he sat on his bike and smoked. Whatever they had talked to Max about, they were keeping to themselves for the moment, especially David. He didn’t even look surprised to see Star and Vera walking arm in arm, he just gave them a once over to make sure they were in one piece and left it at that.
Laddie ran straight to Dwayne, who jumped down off the fence to examine the smears of ice cream on the boy’s face. He tried to squirm away as Dwayne licked his thumb to clean it off, looking very much like a cat trying to bathe its kitten, and Vera was expecting at least some sort of snappy remark about how she should have paid more attention to him and done it herself. None came, though, because as Dwayne was busy with that, David was glaring past Star towards someone in the crowd.
“Is that the guy?” Marko asked, slipping his arms around Vera’s waist protectively and looking over her shoulder towards the human.
“Yep.” She said without glancing back, running her fingers through his golden curls.
“Damn, he’s determined,” Paul commented as he jumped down.
Let’s go. David growled in their heads.
He flicked his cigarette away, reaching for Star’s hand as she approached him. He noticed that she didn’t seem as put out as usual, holding onto his shoulder as she climbed on behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist in a way she hadn’t in weeks, if not months.
When he glanced back at her, he saw that she was distracted by the brown haired boy who still stood there staring at them, and a smirk crept onto David’s face. Oh yeah. This was definitely the one. The guy looked totally hopeless and totally clueless, standing there with a forlorn expression, absolutely bummed to see Star on the back of someone else’s bike.
“C’mon. She stiffed ya.” The blonde boy next to him said with a laugh.
And David’s smirk only widened.
Yeah. Star wasn’t his in the way that Vera was, but she was still his. He wanted this goofy looking human to understand that.
“Babe,” Paul actually growled, tugging Vera with him towards his bike. “Let’s get outta here.”
She complied and he pulled her on behind him, glaring at the brunette stranger to make sure he wasn’t looking at her. He kicked his bike into gear, revving it for extra measure, Marko doing the same thing next to him.
“Easy,” Vera murmured, running her hands up his sides. “He’s just after Star.”
Instead of a verbal reply, she received a sloppy kiss as Paul tilted his head back. She could feel the possessiveness rolling off of him in waves, something that she was much more used to from David. Paul was the fun one, the one who was always down to try anything at least once…but apparently, a dude following her around all night crossed the line for him. That was probably a good thing, in all honesty.
Let’s go. David growled again.
And so Paul took the lead, tearing down the steps to the beach with Marko close behind. Star had a tight grip on David as he followed, her cheek resting against his jacket as she looked back at the cute new boy. She didn’t know if she wanted to kiss him or bite him, but either way, she wanted to see him again.
And he wanted to see her, too.
Michael really was bummed to see the girl of his dreams riding away with some Billy Idol-looking biker. Maybe Sam was right, and she had totally stiffed him. That was probably her boyfriend, right? And the other girl was with one of the other guys, and they were some sort of dangerous Santa Carla gang who beat the shit out of people and left graffiti everywhere.
He should stay away from them, he told himself as he and Sam walked back to the car. They were bad news, the kinda guys he really shouldn’t piss off or even associate with. But that girl…he couldn’t stop thinking about the way she smiled at him as she climbed on the back of that bike. It made him feel a little hopeful, knowing that she had been looking at him. If she really was dating that blonde guy, wouldn’t she have kissed him or something? Maybe Michael had a chance to get to know her, after all.
-0-
Back at the cave, Star was busy being interrogated.
“Who is he?” David demanded.
“I don’t know,” she mumbled, looking away. “I didn’t get his name.”
“Well why not?”
“Because I was interrupted!” She snapped, glancing back at him. “Why does it matter, anyways? You’re just going to kill him—“
“You are going to kill him,” David corrected. “Not me.”
“Big difference,” Star said sarcastically.
“It is a big difference,” he growled, looming over her. “Because you are going to kill him, and you are finally gonna join the rest of us.”
Star shrank back slightly and bit her lip to stop its trembling.
Vera looked on from the couch, where she was sitting with Marko’s head in her lap. Paul was playing on the fountain with Laddie, Dwayne was relaxing with a joint, and David…well, David was being himself. He was absolutely delighted at the prospect of Star finally chomping on someone, and that delight was turning into something a little bit nastier as he sneered and hissed at her. As he laughed at Star’s discomfort, Vera scoffed, pulling his attention away from his prey for a moment.
“Somethin’ the matter, Sweetheart?” he drawled.
“I think she gets the point, darling,” she said as she ran her fingers through Marko’s hair. “Give it a rest.”
David’s lip twitched with the beginnings of a snarl. “She’s been avoiding the point for a long time now. She needs it drilled into that pretty little head of hers.”
“You’re such a guy sometimes, David.” Vera rolled her eyes.
“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” he bristled.
“Maybe you should get more in touch with your sensitive side,” Marko barked a laugh.
“Don’t you start,” David snapped at him before turning back to Star. “You’re gonna lure that guy in, and you’re gonna kill him. End of story. Got it?”
Star nodded quickly, backing up a few steps. “Y-yes. Got it.”
“Good.” he huffed. “Vera. Come with me.”
Vera looked at him in confusion. “Where?”
“Just come on.” he turned, making his way back to the cave entrance without so much as a glance back at her.
She looked down at Marko to see that he was just as confused as she was. David wasn’t revealing much with his thoughts, leaving her no choice but to slip away from the couch and go after him, even if for no other reason than to sate her own curiosity. She found him at the top of the cliff, already sitting on his bike as he waited for her to catch up, a cigarette in his mouth and a distant look in his eyes.
“What’s your deal tonight?” Vera asked as she approached.
He exhaled a puff of smoke and looked at her. “I wanna go talk to Max.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanna know what the deal is with the woman he found tonight.”
Vera faltered for a second before recollecting herself. “So you saw someone?”
“Yeah.” he tossed his head, beckoning her forward. “C’mon. I’ll tell you on the way.”
She reached for his face before climbing on behind him, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Alright.”
He didn’t tell her on the way. Not really. The ride was spent mostly in silence, Vera enjoying the alone time with David even though he was in a weird mood. He was tense, but also buzzing with energy…though not necessarily in a positive way. He felt a little manic, like his mood, whatever it was, was just elevated, and he needed the roar of his bike and the smell of blood.
He had the former. Maybe he would get the latter sometime soon.
“There was a woman at the video store.” He finally said as they reached the road leading to Max’s house. “And Max was…acting like he was in love with her already.”
“Do you think she could be his special person?” Vera asked.
“I don’t know.”
“What was she like?”
He thought for a moment, mulling it over. “She was nice. She was in the store because she needed a job. Max hired her on the spot, of course, and he wouldn’t tell me anything. Just kicked us out.”
“So…what are you gonna ask him?”
“I wanna know who she is and what he intends to do with her.” He growled. “If he wants to bring her in, I want to find out if I actually like her first.”
“David…I don’t think you have much say in that, do you? That’s kind of Max’s choice…”
“Max doesn’t get to decide who joins us,” David sneered.
“Doesn’t he?” Vera asked. “He’s in charge. What are you so afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid of anything,” he snapped. “I just…can’t have Max shacking up with someone I don’t like.”
“With someone you don’t think is good enough,” Vera corrected. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
“Guess so.” He grunted.
She was quiet for a moment, cheek resting on his back. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet. “You really are a good leader, you know.”
David glanced back at her. “Think so?”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “You care about the boys. You even care about Star.”
“I do not,” he scoffed.
“But you do. You won’t let her feed on just anyone. You’re just as possessive of her as you are with the rest of us. I don’t think you would have killed her even if I hadn’t insisted that you give her a chance.”
“I would have.”
“No, I don’t think so.” She shook her head. “I’m getting to know you better, and I can see that you want everyone to be taken care of. You’re the leader of the Lost Boys.”
They rode in silence for a few minutes before he spoke again. “Yeah. Guess I am.”
He hit the brakes as the familiar shape of Max’s house came into sight. His car was there, which meant that unless he was hunting, Max was there, too. As Vera stepped off the bike, she heard the pounding of paws and the barking of a hellhound, Thorn popping up on the other side of the gate to give David a piece of his mind.
“Yeah, yeah,” David hissed at him, keeping his distance. “Go tell your master that I’m here.”
Thorn just growled, not budging an inch.
“Why don’t you tell Max we’re here?” Vera asked David as she passed him. “Hi, Thorn. How’s my big handsome boy? Huh?”
“That’s the same voice you use on Paul.” David snorted.
“Yeah, well, it works on him,” she said, reaching down to pet Thorn’s ears.
The dog quieted down, whining and licking her hands. Just a few moments later, she saw the front door open, revealing Max. He was still wearing one of his weird, trendy dad outfits, but he looked happier than she had ever seen him, an easy smile plastered across his face as he saw Vera and David at the end of the walkway.
“Ah, hello, kids.” He greeted. “What brings you here this time of night? Shouldn’t you be causing untold mayhem out on the boardwalk?”
“Need to talk to you, Max,” David said gruffly.
“I imagined you might. Come in, I suppose.”
David appeared at Vera’s side and reached down, unlatching the gate and then leading the way past Thorn. He stopped halfway down the walk, standing with his hands at his sides and looking like he didn’t entirely know what to do.
“Who was she?” He asked bluntly.
Max’s smile softened. “Her name is Lucy.”
“What are you going to do with her?”
“Won’t you come inside and sit down, David? We can talk better—“
“No.” He interrupted. “Tell me now.”
Max sighed, putting his hands in his pockets. “Well…I hope to make her mine. My bride, if you will, although thanks to Dracula I suppose that’s a bit cliche, isn’t it?”
“Is that all, Max?” David sneered.
“You boys need a good mother. I believe Lucy will fit that role perfectly.”
Vera felt David stiffen at her side, and when she looked up, she saw that his eyes had widened slightly.
“What?” He asked in disbelief.
“Don’t you think she’ll do a fine job?” Max asked. “She’s kind, she’s intelligent, she’s a mother…”
“She is?” David asked coldly.
“She is.” Max nodded. “She mentioned tonight that she’s recently divorced with two sons. That’s why she needed a job so badly.”
“Two sons?” David sounded disgusted. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to give me new stepbrothers, old man.”
“And what if I am?” Max raised an eyebrow.
“I’ll kill them.”
“I’m sure you will, David.”
“I will!” He snapped, sounding a bit like a petulant child. “The boys and I don’t need a mother. We’re fine just like this.”
“Your attitude is telling me you are in desperate need of a good mother.” Max said bitterly. “You should be thanking me. After all…how long has it been since you’ve had a mother, David?”
His nostrils flared angrily, and Vera could hear his teeth clicking together as he squared his jaw.
“I don’t need a new mother.” He hissed, his voice absolutely scathing.
“You do, David. You forget that you’re my son.”
“I’m not your son.”
“You are.” Max growled. “Whether you like it or not. And Lucy will be your new mother, whether you like it or not. So I suggest you get used to the concept, because I have no intention of letting her slip past me now that I’ve set my sights on her. You of all people can appreciate that, I’m sure.”
David snorted angrily. “You really think she’s the one?”
“I know she is.” Max said softly. “And I know that once you give her a chance, you’ll see that I’m right about all of this. We’ll finally be a proper family.”
Vera watched David’s throat bob as he swallowed. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. He knew Max was right, and there was no arguing with him anymore.
“Fine. What do you want me to do?”
Max smiled. “I’m going to court her properly. In the meantime, perhaps it would do you some good to get to know her boys.”
“Yeah? What are their names?” David asked.
“Sam and Michael Emerson, I believe.” Max said. “I also believe you’ve already met them.”
-0-
Rather than go straight home, David took a detour to the beach.
He sat down in the sand, looking out at the only black waves as he turned a shell over in his fingers. He had been quiet ever since leaving Max’s, lost in thought as he drove, leaving Vera completely in the dark.
“Hey,” she sat down next to him, her shoulder brushing his.
“He wants to replace her.” He said quietly.
“Who?” Vera asked.
“My mother.” He looked down at the small shell in his hand. “He wants to give me a new one. I don’t want a new one. I want her.”
Vera felt her heart lurch as she heard the wavering in his voice.
“I haven’t had a mother in decades.” He continued. “She died when I was still a human.”
“What happened?” Vera asked.
She was walking on eggshells, waiting for him to either snap at her or clam up again. But he didn’t, for some reason. For some reason, he just kept staring out at the sea, a distant look in his eyes as he spoke.
“Tuberculosis.” He said. “They would call it a good death because it gave you time to get your affairs in order. But there’s nothing good about how it took her from me.”
Vera didn’t know what to say. How could she? She had managed to survive long enough as a human that she ended up not needing to worry about plagues and disease after being turned. She had grown used to watching scores of humans die because of them. Maybe it had desensitized her to it. By the time she was wandering the world again, she didn’t have anyone close to her that she needed to worry about, and she definitely didn’t have any human friends or relatives who were susceptible to those things. She just knew that it happened, and she knew that she was glad she didn’t have to worry about it.
But David did. Not for his own sake, but for the sake of someone he could never get back.
“She was young.” He said. “It shouldn’t have happened. I was fifteen and my father was nowhere to be found. It was all alone until I met Max. If it had happened just a few years later, I could have turned her and she’d still be here.”
“Nobody can replace her,” Vera said.
“No, they can’t. And they shouldn’t try.” He sighed. “I don’t want another mother, because I can never have another mother. Max doesn’t fucking understand that.”
“It seems to me like Max just wants a family. And…if this Lucy lady really is his mate, then we just have to…keep an open mind, I guess.”
David finally looked down at her. “We, huh? What’s this we about?”
“What do you mean?” She furrowed her brow.
“Unless you’ve got dead mommy issues, I don’t see why you have to deal with this, Sweetheart.” He shook his head. “Probably better if you don’t worry about it. It’s my shit to handle.”
“Why do you have to handle it by yourself?” She asked.
“Because I always have.” He shrugged. “Because…I’m in charge. Because it won’t change, and I’ve got other shit to worry about.”
“David…you’ve sat and listened to my burdens. So let me help you bear yours, too.”
He looked at her for a long moment, the two of them sitting in a silence that was broken only by the waves.
“Dunno what I did to deserve you.” He mumbled. “But I’m not gonna question it.”
“Hey, I feel the same way about you,” she laughed, resting her head on his shoulder. “And between the two of us…I could probably use a good mother figure, too.”
“They are nice,” he commented, dropping the shell and leaning back on his hands. “Guess none of us really had any parents left when Max found us. Or if they were alive, they didn’t give a shit. That’s how we ended up together.”
“Makes sense.”
“Lucy was…nice.” He looked back out at the ocean. “Outside the store, she stopped and helped a lost little kid. Laddie’s age. He was standing there, cryin’ for his mom…and she was the only one who stopped. Whole sea of people, and they all just stepped around him and kept going.”
“Would you have stopped to help?” Vera asked.
“I was keepin’ an eye on him. I wouldn’t’ve let anything happen.”
Vera smiled up at him. “You really are sweet, you know.”
“Don’t go around tellin’ everybody.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”
“It makes me love you a little bit more.”
He looked down at her in surprise. “Come again?”
If she had the extra blood, she would have been blushing. Instead, all she could do was avoid his gaze and look away shyly, already wondering what exactly had compelled her to say the L word out of nowhere like that. But she had to back it up now, didn’t she? She had dug her grave. Time to go lie in it.
“I love you,” she said, looking at the water. “I think.”
David smiled, pulling her up against him and kissing the top of her head. “I think I love you, too.”
Vera sighed in relief. “For a second there, I was worried.”
“Why?” David chuckled. “Worried you were gonna scare me off? I’m tougher than that, Princess.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” She grumbled. “Wanna go get a bite to eat? All this emotional turmoil has me starving.”
He grinned dangerously. “Let’s round up the boys. I’ve got the perfect couple in mind.”
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A Court of Frost and Starlight - Sarah J. Maas
2½ ⭐
CW: mention and brief discussion of SA
Sadly, this one was a total miss for me!! It was a book. I read it.
Here's the thing: I really like this series overall, but there's a lot about it that I am not a big fan of. Typically, the stuff I find interesting and fun outweighs the stuff I find cringe in a not-fun way or just not relevant to my preferences. Because this book is kind of a slice-of-life, tying loose ends kind of thing, it was, like, 90% the stuff I don't care for and 10% the characters being cute and celebrating Christmas Winter Solstice. Worst of all, it bored me!
I don't have anything against slice-of-life, but for the characters in these books, a LOT of day-to-day life is spent being horny. I just don't really get it. Rhysand is the worst for it. That man can't go five minutes without getting a raging boner because he glanced at Feyre out the corner of his eye.
You know, for a series with the effects of trauma as one of its primary themes, Rhysand only really tells us that he's traumatised from being a sex slave for 49 years. I'm not saying that his horniness contradicts his trauma in itself - plenty of people who have experienced abuse become hypersexual, in fact - but he generally doesn't show any indication whatsoever that it's impacted his relationship with his body and/or sex. You'd expect, say, a scene where something that should be innocuous - a phrase or a position or way of movement - completely takes him out of it and he has to stop because he's panicking. Not just in this book, I mean, just in general. I know that Rhysand is supposed to be a Wish Fulfilment Boyfriend but the guy's been through hell.
Related to that, but on a positive note, it was sad to see Nesta so isolated and coping so badly, but how very Nesta of her. Of course she doesn't want help or love or anything like that. I am looking forward to seeing her development in the next book, at least.
However, we've already put a damper on her relationship with Cassian. I'll admit, I adored their dynamic in Wings and Ruin - her spikiness that didn't hide the fact that she'd grown so fond of him, and him teasing her about it, it was all so cute. But then Cassian trailing her home when she told him to fuck off? My guy, I get you're worried, but take no for an answer. Don't be a creep. And throwing her Solstice present in the river out of rage was a BIG ick. I hope that's a one-off and he doesn't get all possessive and weird in the next book but I'm not holding my breath because I think the possessiveness might be intended to be hot?
Part of why I think this is because of that sex scene, which was bizarre. They had sex but then they also had sex with their minds? Double sex? And then Feyre showed him a picture of their future son right before he nutted???????????? Surely that'd be off-putting, right? Like, oh, great, I was about to cum, but you showed me a picture of a kid and now I feel a bit uncomfortable, actually.
Sadly, very little Lucien in this book. I like Lucien :(
The art studio story arc was sweet, although it did feel like it fell into Feyre's lap a little too easily, I don't know. She's always a bit of a Mary Sue but it was hard to ignore in this book. She has more money than God and people are just like "oh my dear High Lady, please take everything I own for free". Still, I liked Ressina and I think the whole thing of free art therapy for the kids is nice.
The multiple POV didn't play to Maas' strengths at all. The characters all have distinctive voices in dialogue, but she clearly can't write from their perspective consistently, so instead we get first-person chapters for Feyre and Rhysand (who have almost identical internal monologues - the only difference is Rhysand thinks about sex a bit more and describes himself as "drawling" more often) and then third-person for everyone else. When the first Cassian chapter came up, I thought he was just referring to himself in the third person like a caveman and didn't even bat an eye, so that was funny, at least. But it's a shame, because there was the opportunity for us to get a more intimate look at the side characters and we just… didn't. Multiple POV isn't something that often works for me - it usually reminds me of bad fanfic I read growing up - but it can be done well and this would have been a nice book to have that mix of personality put into it.
Highlights of this book were the Illyrian warrior snowball fight and the discussion about how none of them can be trusted not to investigate wrapped presents like excitable children. That was very cute. I do hope that Silver Flames is an improvement.
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Saw this back when it dropped, never finished an Anime movie so pissed that 2 hours were spend on what should’ve been 30min.
The movie overall could've been a cute short film, without the time skip and unnecessary side characters. Just self indulgence on full display.
And funny how I (a detractor) am talking about the film, thus bringing back into minor 5sec of relevance, when people who liked the film, (so far as I’ve seen) forgot it even existed.
When pure raw emotion/ hype is your reason for liking something- when the emotions & hype fade, that’s the hill what you liked dies on.
Hype & emotions do not last forever. Same goes for relationships.
Anyways,
The bullying aspect was executed “OK”, very mean stuff.
Though the entire thing was just a huge play on your emotions. Rarely have any female designs that stray from the “stock cute girl design”, no pronounced nose, heavy set, burns that don’t look like tattoos, overbite, sloped eyes, nope just 24/7 the cutest possible iteration. Because how could you feel empathy for someone that isn’t appealing to your Darwinian biases.
Typical presentation, the "insert your tears here" moments were cringeworthy (because you can tell they really, REALLY want you to feel something), didn’t work for me. Worst parts of the movie because it’s so extra and over the top.
Neon Genesis Evangelion had hard to watch scenes because in context they were supposed to be actual larger than life problems. But they were not this pedantic.
Same with that stair climax scene in Garden of Words, with the crying, and leaping on him & shit, the music swell, all over a misunderstanding. Just melodrama stupidity.
You’d think a mother fucker died or something.
This is what most Anime movies are, just unintentional Rom-coms taking themselves too goddamn seriously.
Cause the easiest road to 5 stars from Otaku’s is make a mf cry, that’s all it takes.
The voice acting was good, from all the cast. (SUB)
The titular couple had little in common as people, let alone a would be couple, she was a blank slate of nauseating innocence, but she was cute.
He remembered her & kept hounding her out of curiosity, guilt, intrigue and because he’s tall & endearing and she’s short & cute- we’re supposed to want him to succeed in re-entering her life.
Pure superficial aesthetic.
If she had a temper or something, an ugly laugh, sore loser, something/ anything resembling a flawed human being, that would be better. Hell if she went through a transformation and became like a UFC badass, that shit would be fucking badass, and funny given she was bullied so that's how she'd cope.
The joke would be you'd expect exactly what you got in the movie, someone whose ripe for romantic crap, but she ends up being the exact opposite, because why not.
But you see, this only works if she’s frail, “cute cute cute” and vulnerable 24/7- ya know the Japanese’ peak standard for a domestic infantile pet, Errr i mean a “WAIFU” guys, my bad. Got the two mixed up...
Otherwise how could the movie possibly end without some kind of contrived romance thread that realistically shouldn’t exist.
And all that time she & has no partner?
If they had any balls they’d made her like girls, instead of some side characters being subtly lesbian, so bold guys, very brave.
So him getting with her is an impossibility and him making amends can be genuine in isolation outside romantic motivations, thus removed from the fact that he’s obviously guaranteed her hand after the bullshit drama is done. Because that’s the agenda of the events, not actual redemption.
Predictable.
Him grown up, he was more vulnerable & apologetic due to him being bullied to balance out her innocent nature and that alone was enough to get them to develop feelings. Zero chemistry, just well drawn/animated/colored scenes of being in the same vicinity and being wholesome.
Wholesome isn’t chemistry, that’s the problem with Deku and Ochako, & it took me a while to figure that out cause it’s easy to think just being cute means that’s a recipe for success.
And because he became a victim of bullying like she was, another indicator that we’re supposed to want them together. Despite the fact that he deserved that shit, she didn’t.
You don’t get rewarded for suffering consequences of your own actions. Stock syndrome is cute because the girl is cute, the movie.
Could've been better but could've been worse. never watched it again, but unfortunately the good animation burned it’s existence into my mind.
It was a nice/ “sweet” film for what it was.
Overly drawn out, melodramatic; The entire story could've been wrapped up as a more concise short film. Under an hour.
Just watch Spirited Away, Mirai, “Flavors of Youth”
or the underrated Dareka no Manazashi (A good short film people forgot existed because it’s not highschool Tween melodrama bait)
Gets the point across without holding you hostage for 2 hours.
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I never did a rant about a ship before bc I always thought someone else could do a better job defending it but, considering how this fandom is...maybe I should give my 2 cents for shigadeku
Note: please. I’m note here to cause any ship war. You ship what you want. If you dont like shigadeku then that’s fine.
That’s out of the way, lets talk about this ship. Now, Hori is a bad writer but even in his bad canon...shigadeku does have interesting and “strong” foundations.
I put “” here bc any ship headed by Hori will be bad written. I know this.
Both are different sides of the same coin. Both are outcasts, both have quirks that caused them pain.
And both are alone.
Now, what we know about shiggy is that he is being manipulated by AFO since a young age.
* I want to mention here how...in the hands of a better writer, the name deku could mean smth omen and AFO could call shiggy deku either in front of him or to his back to add more paralels and development for the 2 like, Izu stood up and says/make bk stop calling him deku is great but imagine him defending shiggy?*
oK think with me. In any sci fi/fantasy movie when a character is being mind controlled or groomed...what would stop him to finished the task is seeing the hero/loved one bc would be the begin for the character to.set free.
“I was supposed to kill this person but I dont want ....for now” and develop from there.
Now, when we meet Shiggy is into the hate AFO spill. He has 0 reasons for wanting AM dead.
“Ahhh but AM represent how this society is bad”
Great answer and idea for a fic. But in canon he never gives a real answer. “I hate AM” is his get go....no further explanation.
But how funny he saw Zuzu and staet wanting to talk to him. No one put this idea in his head.
No AFO.
No Kotaro.
Its all Shiggy.
He, still under AFO’s bullshite, went to see Zuzu. And yes we get the mall scene but what many fans oddly refuse to admit is how...he went to Zuzu on his own free will.
THAT IS HUGE. Especially considering SHIGGY IS GROOMED (that is not fanfic that is canon and I do hate hori’a canon)
He has a photo of Izu...who by the time was just a student.
Like this has a HUGE potential. And I dont get why people refuse to reconize that?
If this stoey was headed by a competent writer shigadeku would be a more prevalent relationship.
They arent mortal enemies...they are two hurt boys stuck in this stupid war and decide to stop the feud.
God this line above is more romantic.
For those wondering...I did watch boku already liking IzuOcha but...Hori sideline Ochako and her feelings so much.
“Ah and the cute moments? Izuocha will be canon, not shigadeku”
I Know. And I have no problems with this ship- if we compare with naruto’s canon ship- but it doesnt change how underveloped it is. Also, Izu could have cute moments with Mina too and no one will say they are endgame.
Not sure if my point is clear. All I’m saying is that Shigadeku has such romantic potential and you dont need to turn Izu into “soft cinnamon roll” or change Shiggy into “playboy” to make it work.
“Ah gross. Shiggy is older than Zuzu”
3 or 4 years isnt a big deal. I mean, Shiggy was a 17 years old when the story begins and that didnt stop anyone to ship shiggy witb dabi or eraserhead who are older than him.
Plus why equate a romantic relationship with sex right away? Zuzu and Shiggy are traumatized and while yes, some people can cope differently...I doubt Shiggy will go “welp time to fuck some bitches”
Shigadeku can be a slow burn. Two souls who meet each other, who are healing and learning to trust again and...then comes sex.
Or they can fuck too. This is fiction. I promise you the shipping police is not real.
“Ah but shigadeku is abusive. He tried to kill zuzu”
In the bs of war arc? Yes. But note how a dude who is seeting to kill Heroes and was groomed for this...never decayed Zuzu in that mall.
BUT HEY WANNA KNOW WHO TRIED TO KILL HIM 2 TIMES AND THE FANDOM SHIPS ZUZU WITH? 🙃🙃
“Izu is not gay”
They are fictional, plus, you know what? After the bs of Mineta...Zuzu is the Bi king we deserve.
“Shiggy would abuse Zuzu”
Actually ....nope. Take how Shiggy treats LoV for example, i know therw are fics who make Shiggy be EVIL and awful to his found family but in Hori’a canon...he is pretty nice to them.
HEY WANNA KNOW WHO IS ABUSIVE TOWARDS ZUZU AND THE FANDOM STILL SHIP ZUZU WITH THIS PERSON?🙃🙃
“Why you hate hori’a canon so much?”
Bc this relationship was dropped and wasted. Like when the mall scene happened on my first watch I thought “oh they will interact again after that” NOPE AND HE TRIES TO RECRUIT BK AND EVEN THROUGH HE IS CRAZY ABOUT ZUZU AND HAS A PHOTO OF HIM...NEVER TRIES TO LEARN ANYTHING ABOUT HIM.
Some call that bk’s redemption arc ...excuse me
🤢🤮
Lets call bs arc to not ruin the redemption arcs’s name.
Not only it make Shiggy seem a bit dumb (and still a better option tham bk) bk DIDNT CHANGE AT ALL.
A reason for me to like this ship, aside the paralels and enemies to lovers, is the idea of someone truly caring and protecting Zuzu...someone who can understand his pain and help him.
“And yoi think shiggy could be that person?”
I do. We saw how he cares for LoV and while yeah Shiggy and Izu wouldnt be cassanovas here...it would have a great deal of caring and trust.
(I know shigadeku writers like to dumb down zuzu so he can be Shiggy’s sexy toy and...I say....write what you want but what a way to waste great characters and what a way to be boring)
Overral, wish this ship get more consideration in this fandom but...if we are in a fandom where some say “trash boy is the best boy” 🙁😔
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in which... y/n is just trying to put on eyeliner and harry is bored pt. two
a/n: when she’s back from a six month hiatus after making only ONE fic. wow, do i suck. for anyone who cares, school has been pretty rough. i’m actually procrastinating studying for an exam to finally upload this. it’s been pretty hard to balance both school and writing but oh well. anywho, here it finally is. it took so long to write because i wasn’t feeling very inspired by this. a lot of people asked for a part two and even though i kinda wanted to leave it on a sad note, i am a sucker for giving the people what they want, so sorry if this is a bit shit- i definitely don’t like this one myself. i guess i’m not one for fluffy endings. well, at least for this one i wasn’t. i really hope you enjoy it! more stuff to come, if school doesn’t mind fucking off for a little while (or maybe just forever?) xox -(a) bug
pairing: best friend! harry styles x reader
summary: Harry is worried about Y/n. Y/n is worried about Harry. Harry is solving it by thinking of ways to check on her, while Y/n uses cheesy pasta and the Fresh Prince of Bel Air as an excuse to not think. But what will happen when someone is at her door, and it’s not her delivery man?
warnings: angst, swearing, y/n and harry being idiotos, fluffy end, kissing
word count: 5.3k
It had been a week.
One gruelling, painfully long week.
Harry was biting his nails, staring up at the ceiling as he laid in his bed, worrying about her.
About how he fucked up.
He didn’t think that she would be upset for this long. He thought she would scream at him and then text him the following day, wanting to hang out- a silent “I forgive you”, he supposed.
But after two days of radio silence on her end, he decided to call her. The only problem was that her last words to him were “leave”. She wanted space. She needed to think things through- what things? Harry had no clue. But he had to respect her and her choice to not want him around. So with that, he put down the phone.
But a small part of him (okay fine, a big part of him), wanted her to just show up at his house so they could cuddle again, talking about the stupidest of things while they made cupcakes in his kitchen. They would be listening to groovy music and now and then, they’d stop mixing bowls and sifting flour to dance- well, they were horrible dancers, so more so just wave their hands, hips and shoulders around. It would be fun and would always end up with them laughing at one another. He would lick the batter and she would berate him, telling him that “one of these days, you are going to get salmonella and I’ll just laugh at your stupid ass” and he would retort with something witty and a bit flirty like “don’t worry darling, we both know you would be right at my side if I got sick. I know you can’t stand being apart from me” with a wink and a cheeky smirk. He just wants to see her in her oversized Space Jam hoodie and little basketball shorts. Or her short flower shirt and his sweatpants that she has to cuff at the bottoms because they’re too long. Or even-
He’s gotta stop thinking about her, or his brain will soon explode. But he just can’t stop. He tries to think of the happier moments, like her showing him a tour of her very healthy houseplants that she prides herself in, but every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is her teary face telling him to leave. So no, if he was given the choice to think of her flailing her arms around in his kitchen to dancehall tunes while making sweet treats or crying at something that he provoked, you bet your ass he’d choose the former.
But after the seventh day, he knew that something wasn’t right. This was too much “thinking time”. For all he knew, she could be fine, but she could also be positively bawling. She could be living for this free time, but she also could be waiting for him to make the first move. She could be wanting Harry out of her life for her benefit forever, but she also could be feeling lonely and counting the seconds for their makeup, just like he was.
That was it. He had to go see her and make sure his best friend was okay.
He practised what he was going to say to her in his car on the way to her apartment. “Y/n, I’m so sorry for how I acted. I didn’t stop to think about how you were feeling and didn’t take your emotions into account which was unbelievably wrong of me. I’m truly sorry. It’s just that I really care about you and you’re my best friend and I can’t see you choose a tinder fuck over me and if I saw him in the street I would knock his lights out and I just want to kiss you, can I kiss you, oh god please let me kiss you I just want to-“
Fuck, what was wrong with him? Why was he so upset? He had been on plenty of dates with other celebrities and models and she was always on the sidelines, cheering him on. So why was he getting so touchy-feely about a single tinder date? Maybe he was just in desperate need of attention. He hadn’t had a girlfriend for almost one year and casual fuck arounds also stopped about four months ago, so maybe he just needed to fuck someone quick. That would explain why he sees his best friend’s kindness and natural flirty nature as something more romantic. Every laugh at his jokes, every look in her eyes, every graze of her hand on his thighs as she leans over him to get her drink on the side table next to him, he becomes more switched on and awake. She leaves him feeling giddy and excited at every conversation. “This can’t just be because I’m horny right?” he cannot believe he would ever be that horny. What the hell was he going to do?
*
This is pathetic she thought.
I’m pathetic.
She let out a huge sigh before shoving another forkful of cheesy pasta into her mouth.
What am I doing?
The answer?
Eating carbs upon carbs upon carbs, lounging on her comfy sofa in the most comfortable, yet daggiest pair of pyjamas ever while watching reruns of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air for the fiftieth time, actively avoiding all commitments, housework and jobs that involve moving further than to the kitchen, which even then was an embarrassingly burdening trek on its own.
But she let it slide. How could she not? She was upset and this was how she coped. That’s what she kept reminding herself as she boiled more and more pasta watching the days pass her by without realisation, but now, she’s beginning to question if this was the best idea. Pushing all thoughts of him out of her mind by not looking at her phone just in case he called or texted. But she was beginning to struggle.
It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know what inner turmoil she was facing. He seemed genuinely hurt when she snapped at him. He truly didn’t understand why she took so much offence to the playground ribbing, it seemed. And she had to go be a dick and ignore him. He was probably worried sick. How many times would he have called to check up on her? 10? 15? The more she thought about it, the more she wanted this stupid feud to be over and just be in his arms again, even if it’s just as a friend. So she caved. Turned on her phone, expecting there to be at least a call or a text asking if she was still alive or not. And although she did receive a message of that likeness, it wasn’t from Harry, no. It was from her daily water tracking app, pleading her to fill in her daily intake of water so as to not die of dehydration after she was suspected to have not drunk any for the entire week when in reality, she was just too in her head to open her stupid phone and log her water.
Wow, she thought.
Now not only has Harry chosen to not speak to you, but you also look like a huge idiot right now. Of course, he wouldn’t want to talk to you! You got pissed at him for absolutely no reason and now he hates you. He’s gonna ask for his cardigan and track pants that he keeps at your house in case he wanted to sleepover. He’s going to take back all of his little knick-knacks that he leaves over, like the cute diffuser that he leaves because he knows you need it for your constant hay-fever that blocks your nose and then he’s going to declare that you aren’t friends anymore and then you will never get the chance to tell him how you feel and then-
Her panicky brooding is interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Who the hell could that be?”, she thinks. It was too late for it to be the postman with her package containing her entire Amazon wish list that she bought on the third day of mourning to make herself feel better. But it couldn’t be Mrs Xiao asking her if she had any holes in her shirts that needed stitching. The sweet old lady fell asleep at 8:37 pm sharp after her medicine that she’d take at 8:30 pm would kick in (which she learnt after spending nights over at her apartment where her niece, Mei, took care of her. Y/n would learn traditional recipes like baozi and watch movies with her two friends all the time). It couldn’t be Mei either, she was always in online uni lectures from 8:30-10:30 pm, locked away in her little study, so as to not bother or be bothered. So now, a little panicked, Y/n wondered who was truly at her door?
Another two knocks come, echoing off the walls of her little apartment as she turns down the volume of the program she was watching. She stares at the door from her couch, debating whether she should risk getting stabbed by a possible murderer or not, before ultimately deciding that life was too short. She was also getting sick and tired of the knocks that kept arriving in threes. She swings her legs off the couch and onto the floor, pushing them into her slippers so that her feet wouldn’t touch the cold floor, waddling her way to the door before shyly opening it, peeking at who it could be through the tiny crack in the opening, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t mind her current state: belly filled with pasta, hair knotty, giant shirt with sweatpants on and Harry’s patchwork cardigan hanging off her shoulders- which she had been wearing all day, cherishing the pretty piece of clothing and his scent imbedded in it, taking it all in just in case he asks for it back. She peeps at the torso of this mystery person, realising that Harry owns the jumper worn by them, before looking up and locking eyes with a worn out and tired eyed Harry, one hand in the pocket of the familiar hoodie and another extended out near the door, ready to knock again before freezing when it opens up all the way to show herself to her best friend. He doesn’t eye her up and down cheekily like he normally does when she is wearing pyjamas, wolf-whistling at her relaxed state, claiming that “You look runway-ready, my love! Do a twirl for the crowd, will you?”. Instead, he stares her right in the eyes with what looks like almost relief, before smiling a weak and broken smile.
One of them needed to break the silence or both would have just stared at each other in her doorway until the world exploded. So she starts.
“Hi.” her voice hovers a tinge above a whisper, almost as though if she dared to speak louder, this probable illusion of the one she loves would fade away. He lights up a little bit, probably relieved that she started the conversation.
“Hey,” his soft voice matched her volume and tone as if he too didn’t want this to be a dream. “May I come in?” The words sound awkward to her coming out of his mouth. Harry never had to ask for permission to be invited in- he usually just strolled in without so much as a holler to indicate he was present, finding amusement in scaring her instead while she was doing whatever she was doing, whether that be reading, watching a movie, cooking or napping. They were the best of friends and never had to inquire about entry to each other’s domains, along with other small things like if they had anything in their kitchens to eat or if they could sit somewhere, so hearing it was a little disheartening and provoked Y/n to think about how serious this situation was.
“Okay”, she replied after the pause of contemplation, opening the door fully so that the lanky boy could follow along behind her, like a little puppy. She didn’t like how awkward the situation was. She just wanted things to go back to what they were.
But then you wouldn’t be able to tell him you love him... her inner voice argued. And she agreed. She knew that yes, this will be awkward, but it’s an opportunity for him to listen to her and know that she isn’t joking.
“Would you like some tea?” She enquires. They’ll need to handle this like proper grown-ups (which in all honesty, isn’t their dynamic- it’s more like first-year uni students who are mature enough to have deep conversations but still laugh at dad jokes and anything remotely serious, like a painting with boobs), and from what she knows, or has seen in movies when the characters are being serious, is that you need tea or a drink of that sort and a sit down on the couch where you talk stuff out. So that’s exactly what she does.
“Yes please,” Harry’s soft voice replies as he toes off his boots that most definitely cost more than her apartment. Y/n nods and heads to the small kitchenette and flips the switch on the electric kettle before going into her cupboard that housed the mugs. Harry stood awkwardly near the sofas, and to save him the embarrassment of waiting while standing, Y/n invites him to sit with a small, “You can take a seat,” and a quick glance at him before returning her gaze to the mugs to make herself look busy. She didn’t want to look him in the eyes for more than three seconds in fear of bursting into tears and the worn out and tired sight of him. She shakes the thought out of her head and begins to prepare the mugs.
Y/n put two teabags in her mug while putting one in Harry’s. She was raised in a household of avid tea drinkers and she inherited her strong tea quirk from her father who would always keep two teabags with only a dash of milk, and the only difference between her tea and her fathers was that Y/n wasn’t strong enough to take her tea without sugar, unlike her father, who thought that drinking unbelievably concentrated leaf juice with milk was a fun and relaxing time. On the other hand, Harry liked to keep one tea bag in his mug while he drank it, but just like her father, he too took little to no sugar with his cup, being the health freak he was. And early in their friendship, when she mentioned it to him, Harry chuckled and chirped, “Your father is a smart man. He has to be for raising amazing and talented people like your siblings. I’m not sure what went wrong with you though...” while booping her nose as they laid together under a tree for a little picnic. And though she rolled her eyes at him and punched his shoulder for the sly dig at her, she was practically beaming at the fact that he thought her family was smart. Harry had no idea how much that meant to her. Y/n loved her entire family, and she was unbelievably close to them, so it made her entire week to know that Harry, someone she respected and loved so much, recognised how talented and smart each of her family members were. Don’t get her wrong, she didn’t need the validation to know that her family was amazing, but she felt so special knowing he took the time to notice. He did that a lot though. Doing things that meant a lot to her without batting an eye. Saying things that only a person as observant as he could notice, like complimenting her eye colour in the light and asking her to read for him because he constantly mentions how much he loves her voice.
Y/n looked over to the same sweet guy she fell head over heels for, who was sitting on her couch, fidgety as ever, and wondered if they would ever be the same after the very next moments to come. She didn’t want things to change between them, but she was dying inside knowing that he wasn’t hers. And getting over him was not in the question, after the fiasco that happened last week. She just wished she could get inside his head to sate her painful curiosity.
What is he thinking about?
**
What is she thinking about?
It’s the million-dollar question running through his mind. What was she pondering over as she made them tea? Did she want to talk to him? Was she mad that it took him so long to find the balls to face her? Was she as nervous as he was? Was she worried that they would never be the same again like he was?
He was going into panic mode, questioning everything, while probably looking stupid as ever. As much as he regretted how awkward things were now, and the fact that he instigated her to lash out at him a week ago, he was realising that he was not regretting the fact that he did it. He didn’t want her to go out with someone else, and she didn’t. And yes, of course, he feels bad-beyond bad, in fact- for making her cry, and wishes he could take it all back, he also sees this as an opportunity to tell her how he feels about her. He could finally tell her that he thinks about her all the time. About her soft smile, her bright eyes, her melodic laugh, her speaking voice that brings butterflies to his stomach. He could tell her about how he loses himself at work, the grocery store, fuck- even at events- thinking about what she was doing at her house. Was she under her blankets on her couch, watching some corny tv show? Was she baking her signature choc chip cookies that taste like the gods blessed every single biscuit on the tray before they were put in the oven? Was she knitting her cat, Chesnut, another rug to plonk herself down on, with her feet up on the ottoman as she listened to the 7 o’clock news on the radio? Was she writing a paper for another deadline? Something so sophisticated, like the exploration of white and male privilege and how it is ingrained in our society? Something that Harry tried to understand and research so that he could stay in the loop with his smart girl’s interests, but he always struggled with.
It was a huge insecurity of his. Not that his best friend was smarter than he was, no way. He treasured the fact that she could and would whip his ass at a debate on things like the state of the world, or human rights. She could school him on global politics, languages, maths, science, history and literally anything else, and he would be cheering her on. What he was insecure about was her realising that he was probably slowing her down in life. Y/n was well within her rights to kick him out of her life for being nothing but a freeloader and stopping her from reaching her full potential, what with him constantly stopping her from her own life to help him go through shit happening in his. Whenever he was sad, or confused, or upset, Y/n was the first person he would talk to and he feared that she would realise that he was probably taking advantage of her and stop talking to him. And that scared him. It scared him because he knew that she didn't need him at all, but he needed her to do anything in life. Every major and minor decision in his life has been approved by Y/n first, and not because she was a controlling friend who didn’t trust him with his own life, but because Harry needed her validation. Harry Styles, a world-famous superstar, had girls, guys and non-binaries at his feet, following his every beck and call. Harry Styles, who was on the cover of every magazine, known by every celebrity, dated only the most perfect of women, required validation from Y/n, a psychology major at a small university. Y/n, who liked to plan her day out on a to-do list, end up not doing anything on that to-do list and cry about it afterwards. Y/n, who breaks it down to “Murder She Wrote” by Chaka Demus & Pliers like it’s her last 4 minutes and 5 seconds alive on this Earth while making pancakes. Y/n, who cries more when she’s laughing while watching Tik Toks than she does during sad movies.
To celebrities, Y/n was nothing but a regular. But to Harry, she was all. She was the warmth of a sweater that you toss in the dryer for a few minutes to make it extra toasty. She was the pad of butter that you spread onto your pumpkin sourdough toast and it ends up being exactly the amount you wanted. She was the feeling when you are driving home from a long day of interviews and premiers, and you’re on the freeway and the windows down and you just… exist. She is the feeling you get when you watch Pride and Prejudice, and the relief of when you find the perfect word to end a lyric. She is when your shoes fit perfectly, and when you finish a book so utterly fulfilling that you lie there in a trance, looking up at your ceiling at 3 am, wondering how you could have been so lucky to be able to be blessed with an ending like the one you just read. Y/n was all those things and more.
And that’s why he had to tell her he loved her. No matter how scared he was.
***
The electric kettle is finished boiling the tea all too quickly as the bubbling comes to an end and the distinct click of the switch turning back off echoes around the silent apartment. Y/n had poured the scalding hot water into the two cups she had prepared stared into them.
It was time. She had tried to avoid this for as long as possible, but now it was the moment to face the music. She picked up the two mugs of tea and brought them to her lounge where Harry was sitting on her worn in green sofa, staring at her coffee table, eyebrows scrunched, pouted lips, deep in thought, before looking up at her with wide green eyes, and followed her to where she stood in front of him. She passed his mug to him before sitting on the comfy chair a few feet away from the sofa and from him, putting some distance in between them for her sake, so that she wouldn’t try to hug him and say sorry without saying what she needed to say first. Which she needed to start talking about now, so as not to sit in the awkward silence created by the two.
Say something!!
“So…’
Jesus fuck…. was that all you could think of? Wow. I am going to lose my best friend.
Y/n was choking.
“I am so sorry,” Harry’s voice intercepts, raspy from the lack of use, looking up from the coffee table he seemed so interested in. “I am so fucking sorry Y/n. I have no excuse as to why I was making fun of you that day. I pushed too far and I am a shit friend for not noticing that you were already on edge. It was so wrong of me and I am so sorry.” He stopped himself before he started to ramble, looking at her with eyes filled with an emotion she couldn’t decipher.
Y/n felt… unsatisfied. Why did she feel this way? He apologised, right? So why does she feel unfulfilled? Why does she want him to say more? He hit all of the points he had to for a standard apology, so why did she think he hadn’t done enough? Was it that little optimist in her brain hoping he would maybe reveal a slight attraction to her? Maybe tell her that he loves her, and has loved her forever and ever? Confess that she has bewitched him, body and soul so that she didn’t have to? God, was she an idiot. But a lovestruck idiot at that. She bites her tongue and replies.
“Harry, I forgive you. Although you were annoying as ever,” She rolls her eyes and smirks, while he lets out a breathy, half-assed chuckle, showing his acknowledgement at her attempt to ease the lowered yet still prevalent tension. She continues. “ I understand that you were just trying to have fun. I guess I was the one who irrationally lashed out . I am always okay with you poking fun at me, but I was just frustrated and tired and I took it out on you. I’m sorry for the improper communication and I’m sorry for pushing you away when we should’ve just talked…”
“I forgive you too. I think this was just miscommunication on both parts.” He stared into her eyes, almost as if he could sense the discontent in her, but chose to ignore it.
“I guess so.” She halfheartedly answered, not really knowing where to take the conversation next. They had both apologised, but evidently still had things to say. Well, Y/n had things to say, that’s for sure, but she was pretty sure that Harry wanted to say something too. He had that look on his face where he wanted to say something but was forcing himself not to.
What does he want to say? Why can’t he say it to my face? I mean, sure, I’m also hiding shit I wanna say, but I have an excuse. This could ruin our friendship. What does he have to say?
“Great,” Harry replies, trying to fill the awkward pauses and conversation that is being held. He still looked like he had something to say, but seemed like he was not budging.
Well, if he’s not saying anything, I’m not either. Why do I have to confess my feelings and put our friendship on the line if he isn’t even going to say what’s on his mind?
“So, are we good?”
“I don’t know. Are we? I mean, I forgive you and you forgive me, right?”
“Right… No yeah, we’re alright. We’re completely fine!” Y/n replies quickly. Why the fuck would you say that? You’re not fine.
There is a pregnant pause and Y/n has half a better mind to just get up, walk to the bathroom again with her head down and lock herself in there till he leaves again, because she cannot take this awkward conversation. Not with him. She shifts, ready to stand up to get some water, when Harry looks at her, confusion and slight panic setting into his face.
“Wait. I don’t think I’m fine…” She looks up at the boy sitting in front of her, reading the words from her mind like they were scribed on a piece of paper in the blackest of ink, permanent and bold. Her heart stuttered. What else did he want?
“Is everything okay, H?” she tentatively asks. He loses eye contact with her, gaze lowering towards the table in front of him
“I-” he pauses, trying to collect his thoughts while simultaneously trying to explain to her why he wasn’t okay. “I just- fuck” his head falls down, his face inches away from the hot tea in his hands, the humid steam billowing out of the mug and warming his elegant face as he takes a deep breath and tries once more to convey his thoughts. “I don’t want us to be friends again.”
Her heart stops. This could go one of two ways. He could either be confessing his hatred or his adoration for her, and either one would probably end with her imploding. She tries to take a neutral tone when she replies.
“What does that mean, H?”
He looks at her once more. “It’s not enough, Y/n... “
“What?” She is confused. Her friendship isn’t enough? How is she supposed to reply to that?
“I want more. I don’t want us to just be friends. I want to be more with you. I want to do more with you. I want to do things that friends… they shouldn’t do together…”
Is he trying to confess he likes her? Why, in all the ways you could speak, would he choose to speak like that?! She has had enough of him dawdling around his feelings. “Harry, stop being cryptic and fucking tell me what’s going on?!”
“I love you, Y/n! I fucking love you, Y/n. So much. And it is eating me from the inside out. I hate that we can’t be normal anymore, and I hate that you don’t love me the way I love you, but I cannot sit here and pretend everything is fine, because I love you.”
Y/n is stunned. Frozen in her spot. Can’t move, can’t speak, can’t breathe. Stuck in space, and stuck in time.
Holy fucking shit… he loves me…
While Y/n processes the life changing knowledge that her best friend loves her, her best friend conveniently sits next to her, wishing that he was dead for the letdown he was about to receive.
“Say something… please, for the love of God, say something!”
****
She looks up at Harry. Not Harry Styles, playboy, whore, singer, millionaire, but instead; Harry, her best friend of five years, reddened face out of embarrassment. She sees the mortality in his eyes. Feels his presence so heavily in the moment. She is in awe. True awe of him, and his ability to love her. And with that awe- and that stupid look on her face, she reaches up and cradles his face in her hands, brushing her thumbs softly over his plush pink lips. He stands just as still as her, barely breathing, as if it would shatter the fantasy to stardust and he would wake up in his bed, cold shivers running down his spine, as has happened previously whenever he thought of this moment, staring up at his ceiling at 3:40AM wondering why he thought of his best friend in such a way. She creeped closer to his face before stopping a breath away from him, and whispered.
“Is this okay?”
She looked into his eyes, and he looked into hers, both never feeling so alive before. He wishes to tell her that she needn’t ask for his permission, and that he wants to kiss her forever. Eternally locked in an embrace that holds their souls together. But all he can muster is a weak and broken whisper back.
“Please,”
She can hold it for no longer, and leans in the rest of the way, their lips moulding together, for the very first time, eyes fluttering close, as his hands reach to grab her by the hips to straddle him, deepening the kiss even further. And when they part for breath, panting for air with slightly moist lips, they touch foreheads, eyes still closed. Words needn’t be exchanged- everything that yearned to be said was useless, as it could never describe how they truly felt for each other. So hopelessly besotted with one another, that all they could do was breathe together before kissing once more, hoping that their actions could provide even an iota of an idea of how much they love one another.
Two best friends, turned lovers forevermore.
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