broodingboysimp

[broodingboysimp]

Storm Warning - pt 4.5 - Conrad's POV

Conrad Fisher x Female!Reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of blood

Summary: After Susannah’s dedication, tensions boil over when Belly announces her engagement to Jeremiah. Feeling overwhelmed by everything unraveling around you, you drive, not knowing what the storm that lay ahead has in store.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Author's Note: A little bonus chapter because this week's episode has me losing my mind heheh

*Contains S3 Spoilers*

I had been avoiding her. Not because I wanted to - God, I wanted to be anywhere near her - but because every time I saw her, my chest threatened to explode with everything I couldn’t say. Every glance, every movement of hers was a reminder of what I’d let slip through my fingers.

And after last week… after what Jere had tried to do? I was fuming. Not just at him for what he did to Belly, though that alone was enough to make my blood boil. No. I was furious that he’d even tried to get with her, the one person he knew was untouchable. I didn’t know if it was some pathetic ego thing for him, a need to prove he could, or just a horrible mistake. I didn’t care. I was done.

But avoiding her felt like cowardice. Every time I watched her move through the house - the way she barely slept, how she skipped meals, how the corners of her eyes were lined with exhaustion - I wanted to throw myself into helping her pick up the pieces. I wanted to hold her and make all of it stop. But I didn’t know if she’d want that. After everything I’d done, after everything I’d left her to handle alone, would she even let me?

Belly had returned to the Cousins house. With Adam’s support, the wedding prep was a whirlwind. I noticed the falter in her smile after the venue visit, the way her footsteps dragged up the stairs. I noticed it, but so did Y/N.

That evening, I found myself on the porch, leaning against the railing, staring at the ocean like it could answer anything.

“She’s upset,” she said softly.

I didn’t look at her. My knuckles whitened on the railing. “I know,” I said, my voice flat, though my chest ached. She needs me to fix this, and I don’t know how.

“I’m here for her.”

“Not enough.” I finally turned, and my eyes met hers. God, I hated myself for letting it come out like that. I didn’t mean it to sting. I just… I needed her to understand, needed someone to fight for her.

“Excuse me?” she snapped, and I felt the heat in her words like a slap.

“She’s your sister, Y/N. And you’ve been… distant. Avoiding her. Avoiding me,” I admitted, the words tasting like guilt. I missed her. I missed everything about her.

Her voice cut through the evening air. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to avoid you if you didn’t make everything so-” she stopped herself, sharp and pointed. “God, do you even hear yourself? You’re acting like you don’t still have feelings for her.”

I flinched. Because I do. I do, in a way that’s stupid and complicated and childish. But this isn’t about that. It’s never been about that. Not really. I wanted to tell her, to scream it, to beg her to believe me, but what if it hurt her more? What if it ruined everything? So I said nothing.

Her laugh was bitter, and it cut deeper than I expected. “Right. That’s what I thought.”

“Don’t twist this into something it’s not,” I said, my voice low, steadying myself. “This isn’t about me.”

“It’s always about you, Conrad…” The words hit me, just the smallest flinch crossing my chest, and I wanted to vanish. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and never let go, but I knew if I did, we’d both break.

So we stood there. Silent. Taut. Dangerous. Until she turned away, leaving me to stare at the fading sun and feel the weight of all the things I couldn’t say.

---

The next day, I had to be out with Jere and dad for the suit fittings. I didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to deal with Jere’s smug grins or Adam talking about bringing Kaleigh to the wedding. I could see it all playing out - their laughter, the ease between them - and my chest twisted with rage. But I had a job to do. I kept my face neutral, my movements precise, while every fiber of me wanted to be back at the house with her, making sure she was okay, making sure she knew she wasn’t alone.

---

The next morning, I limped into the kitchen. I could see the weight in her posture before she even looked up. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Just a wipeout,” I muttered. A lie. My jaw was tight. My leg stung. And worse, the ache inside me was a reminder of how much I needed her. I could feel the crimson trail up the stairs, and I hated that she’d see it - hated that she was already moving toward me before I could stop her.

In the bathroom, I perched on the tub’s edge, trying to make the pain look casual, but I was already undone. She knelt between my legs, hands warm on my thigh, pressing the cloth to the wound. I inhaled sharply when her hair brushed my arm, when her shoulder rested against my temple.

I wanted to reach up, to close the last inch of space, to kiss her and tell her everything. But my chest was raw with fear. Fear of what she’d think. Fear of what I’d do. Fear of ruining her when all I wanted was to protect her.

“Sorry,” she murmured. Her voice steadied me, and yet it drove me insane.

“It’s fine,” I rasped, more than just pain in my voice. My hands trembled, my wet hair sticking to her arm. Every shallow breath she took made it worse. I could feel her heartbeat. I could feel the pull of gravity, of proximity, of something I’d spent too long denying.

“Y/N…” I whispered. The sound of her name caught somewhere between longing and warning. Dangerous.

I almost moved. Almost closed that space. But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. My hands twitched, aching to touch her, my heart hammering in a rhythm that threatened to betray me.

“Thank you,” I said instead, voice low, broken. I pushed myself upright, wincing at my leg and at the ache in my chest.

And then I left.

Every step away from her was agony, every distance measured in heartbeats I wanted to give her. I walked away from the tub, from her warmth, from everything I wanted, because I was terrified. Terrified I’d do something I’d regret, something that might destroy the fragile threads we were clinging to.

As the door closed behind me, the echo of her name followed. Y/N… And it tore through me like lightning in a storm I could no longer outrun.

[broodingboysimp]

Storm Warning - pt 4

Conrad Fisher x Female!Reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of blood

Summary: After Susannah’s dedication, tensions boil over when Belly announces her engagement to Jeremiah. Feeling overwhelmed by everything unraveling around you, you drive, not knowing what the storm that lay ahead has in store.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.5

Author's Note: Y'all knew this one was coming lmfao.... If you need something a little less slow burn, go check out the other Conrad fics I have posted on my page <3

*Contains S3 Spoilers*

You’d been avoiding Conrad. He’d been avoiding you. And you were fine with that - mostly.

The truth was, you could barely stand to be in the same room without wanting to demand answers you weren’t ready to hear.

It was easier this way, easier to pretend the distance was mutual and intentional, and not just the cowardice you felt sitting in your chest.

Belly had returned to the Cousins house, and with Adam’s support, the wedding prep was suddenly running full steam ahead. But you could tell something was off with her. You saw it in the way her smile faltered after the venue visit, the way she slipped upstairs earlier than usual, her footsteps quiet and heavy on the stairs.

Conrad could see it too.

And you knew why.

After what had happened with Jeremiah the other night, you were even less thrilled about his proposal than you had been before, which was saying something.

You found Conrad leaning against the porch railing that evening, the last of the sun spilling over him, gilding the sharp line of his jaw. His arms were crossed, his shoulders set in that stubborn way you knew too well. The ocean behind him was calm, but the air between you already felt like a storm.

“She’s upset,” you said quietly.

“I know,” he replied without looking at you. His voice was flat, but his knuckles tightened on the railing. “She needs you right now.”

“I'm here for her.”

“Not enough.” He turned finally, his eyes pinning you in place.

That stung more than you wanted to admit. “Excuse me?”

“She’s your sister, Y/N. And you’ve been… distant. Avoiding her. Avoiding me...”

You bristled. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to avoid you if you didn’t make everything so—” You cut yourself off, your voice sharper than you meant it to be. “God, do you even hear yourself? You’re acting like you don’t still have feelings for her.”

His expression flickered, just for a heartbeat, and it was enough to tell you that you’d hit something real. But he didn’t answer. That silence was somehow worse than hearing him say yes.

You let out a bitter laugh. “Right. That’s what I thought.”

“Don’t twist this into something it’s not,” he said, low and tense, his gaze unwavering. “This isn’t about me.”

“It’s always about you, Conrad…”

The words hung in the air like a slap. You saw it hit him, just a small flinch, but it was enough to make your stomach twist with guilt. Still, you didn’t take it back. Neither of you spoke again, the silence stretching taut, dangerous, until you turned away before either of you broke completely.

---

The next day, you made your choice - not because Conrad told you to, but because Belly was your sister.

You were surprised to see your mother, Laurel, walk through the door. Even more surprising was hearing her casually mention that Conrad had convinced her to come.

She gave you a look, one that seemed to see too much. “He cares more than he lets on, you know.”

The day unfolded in laughter and games, pictures passed around the table, and clinking glasses of cocktails. Your heart felt full in a way it hadn’t in years - Steven, Laurel, Belly, and you, all together again like the fractures had never formed.

After they’d made amends, Belly decided to stay the night at home with Laurel. You, on the other hand, went back to the Cousins house, your chest still heavy from all the emotions that had been stirred up.

---

The next morning, you were at the kitchen table, hunched over a spread of scholarship applications, when you heard uneven footsteps.

Conrad limped in.

You froze. “What’s wrong?”

“Just a wipeout,” he muttered, brushing it off. “Fin caught me. It’s nothing.”

But the way his jaw was locked, the tight hitch in his breath - and the drops of red trailing up the stairs - told a different story.

You followed him without thinking.

In the bathroom, he was sitting on the edge of the tub, his swim trunks darkened at the thigh where blood ran freely down into the drain.

“Oh my god, Conrad.” You were already pulling open the cabinet for supplies.

He smirked faintly, though it was tight with pain. “You know I’m the med student, right? I can handle this.”

“Yeah? Well, right now you’re the idiot bleeding all over the place, so sit still.”

You knelt between his legs, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin. The smell of saltwater and something metallic hung between you. His thigh twitched under your hands as you pressed a clean cloth to the gash.

He inhaled sharply, his damp hair falling forward until his temple rested against your shoulder.

“I feel pathetic.”

“You’re not.”

“I feel alone.”

He swallowed.

“You’re not alone.”

You stared at him. “Then why do you keep leaving me?”

The memory of that day was playing through your mind. The closeness, the vulnerability.

Your pulse was a drumbeat in your ears. You could feel every shallow breath he took, the way his fingers curled faintly against the porcelain edge of the tub.

He hissed under the pressure of your hand.

“Sorry,” you murmured, your hands steady even as your chest tightened, mind snapping back to the present.

“It’s fine,” he said quietly, voice rough with more than just pain.

When you finally looked up, you were caught, completely, by the weight of his gaze. Dark, unreadable, but raw in a way that made it hard to breathe.

“Y/N…” he whispered, like the word itself was dangerous.

The sound of your name on his lips felt like the start of something irreversible.

For a moment, you thought he might close that distance. That the air between you might finally give way.

But instead, he broke it.

“Thank you,” he said, breathlessly, pushing himself upright with a wince.

And then he was gone, leaving you in the bathroom with the echo of your name in your ears, your hands still trembling over the basin, and the blood-streaked water swirling down the drain like it might carry the truth away with it.

[broodingboysimp]

Careful Hands

Conrad Fisher x Female!Reader

Summary: Tension in the kitchen boils over into an emotional confrontation with Conrad. A slip of the knife turns vulnerability into closeness, and long-held feelings finally break the surface.

Warnings: angst, mentions of blood/injury, smut, NSFW, 18+

Author’s Note: TSITP has been consuming me in the worst way. I’ve never written smut before so please be nice and lower your expectations lol

The Cousins beach house smelled like garlic and rosemary, the sun bleeding amber through the kitchen windows as you stood at the counter, carefully slicing zucchini for dinner.

Your shoulders were tense. Not from the cooking, but from the storm pacing in front of you.

Conrad was silent, his arms crossed and jaw clenched so tightly you could hear his teeth grind.

You spoke first, not looking up.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing like that.”

“I just don’t get why you think it’s a good idea,” Conrad snapped. “They’re rushing it. Jere doesn’t even know what he wants half the time, and Belly…. she's not ready.”

You exhaled slowly, trying to stay calm. “I never said I thought it was a good idea, I just said it’s not your wedding, Conrad.”

“Yeah, but it affects me. It affects everyone.”

You turned around, holding the knife loosely in your hand. “Why? Because you still have feelings for her?”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t do that.”

“I’m just asking.”

“No,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “You’re accusing.”

“And you’re being impossible,” you shot back. “God, why can’t you just be happy for them? Or at least pretend for one night?”

“I don’t pretend,” he said coldly. “That’s your thing.”

That stung. You turned sharply, blinking hard against the burn behind your eyes, and went back to the cutting board, faster now, angrier.

You didn’t realize how aggressively your hands were moving until the blade slipped.

The pain was sharp and immediate.

“Shit,” you gasped, dropping the knife. Blood was already welling up along the cut in your palm.

“Hey-“ Conrad was at your side in an instant, all argument forgotten. “Let me see.”

You tried to pull your hand away, but he caught it gently, his brows furrowed with that look he always wore when he was scared but pretending not to be.

“This is deep,” he muttered, inspecting the wound. “It might need stitches. We need the first aid kit. Stay here. Don’t move.”

You were still reeling from the pain - not just in your hand, but in your chest. “Conrad-”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, brushing hair out of his face before darting upstairs.

You stared at the blood pooling in your hand, suddenly overwhelmed. The sharpness of his words, the sting of the cut- it was too much.

When he returned, he was all business.

“Here, sit down.” He pulled out the chair with one hand, the kit in the other. “This’ll sting, okay?”

You nodded numbly. He cleaned the wound, hands steady but lips pressed tight, like he was trying not to say something.

After wrapping your hand, he didn’t let go. He held it gently in his lap and stared at it like it was some fragile thing he'd broken.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he murmured. “What I said earlier. About pretending.”

You swallowed hard, staring at the clean gauze. “You meant it, though.”

“No. I was angry. And scared. And I lashed out.” He paused. “You’re… you’re the only thing in this house that makes sense to me right now. I don’t want to screw that up.”

“You kind of did,” you whispered, voice cracking.

“I know.” He looked at you, eyes full of regret. “And I’m so sorry.”

The quiet between you wasn’t awkward, it was thick with things unsaid, but it didn’t feel heavy anymore. It felt like space. Like room to breathe again. Conrad still hadn’t let go of your hand, his thumb tracing lazy, careful circles over the bandage.

You broke the silence first, your voice soft. “So… dinner’s ruined.”

He gave a huff of a laugh, his head dropping for a second. “Yeah. But honestly, screw the zucchini.”

You smiled faintly. “That’s slander. I was making something good.”

“I believe you,” he said, leaning back just enough to look at you, still close. His voice dropped an octave. “Can I ask you something?”

You nodded.

“Why does it scare you so much? The idea of me still having feelings for her?”

You looked down, a little embarrassed. “Because I know what you two were. And I’ve seen the way you look at her sometimes… like the past is still playing on repeat.”

He was quiet for a beat. Then he stood, walked over to the sink, and washed his hands: methodical, almost anxious. Then he turned back to you.

“I used to think Belly was the person I’d love forever,” he said honestly. “But she never felt… steady. It was like trying to hold on to something that kept slipping through my fingers.”

He walked back toward you, voice gentler now.

“But you- you don’t slip away. You stay. Even when I’m being an idiot.”

“You were being an idiot,” you muttered.

“Still am,” he smirked. “But I’m yours. Not hers. Not anyone else's. Just yours.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening in that awful, good way. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours,” he repeated, stepping between your knees as you sat on the chair. “If you’ll have me.”

You reached up with your good hand, fingers curling into the hem of his shirt to pull him closer.

“I’ll always have you. That’s the problem. I’ve wanted you for so long, Conrad. God….”

He tilted your chin up, searching your face. “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart stuttered. “You’re really asking?”

“I just made you cry and bleed in the same hour. Thought it was polite,” he whispered.

You didn’t answer with words, just leaned in and kissed him like you’d been waiting months, years. His hands found your waist, then slid up your back like he was memorizing the shape you.

Eventually, breathless, you pulled back, forehead pressed to his. “That doctor voice you slipped into earlier? Kinda hot.”

He laughed quietly. “Don’t even start with me. You’re injured.”

“And whose fault is that?” you teased.

“I’m making it up to you,” he murmured, kissing your jaw, then your temple, then the edge of your mouth. “One inch at a time.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t stop him. “Maybe after you clean the rest of this kitchen.”

“And what do I get if I do?” His eyes were locked on yours, his voice practically dripping with hunger.

His gaze dropped to your lips again, slower this time, like he wasn’t in a hurry to get anywhere but still couldn’t resist imagining the way. His hand moved, careful not to touch your injured one, and brushed your hair back, fingers lingering at your jaw, then lower.

Neither of you spoke. You didn’t have to. The air between you was already shifting: pulling tighter, charged like the seconds before a summer storm.

He leaned in again, this time slower, deeper. And when his lips met yours, something gave way inside you, not pain, not tension, just surrender.

The chair creaked beneath you as you shifted forward, closing the last bit of space, and he caught you by the hips like instinct.

Steady. Certain. Like he’d been waiting for this moment, and maybe you had too.

“You sure you’re okay?” he murmured against your mouth, breath warm.

“Just shut up and kiss me,” you breathed into him, fingers curling in his shirt, tugging him closer.

His eyes flickered, dark and hungry and sweet all at once.

You didn’t realize how close you were to unraveling until his hands were on your waist like he meant to hold you together.

“Come upstairs,” Conrad said, voice low - not a suggestion, not a tease. A need.

Your breath hitched, and you nodded, heart pounding hard enough to echo in your ears. He laced your fingers with his, careful with your bandaged hand, and pulled you gently toward the stairs, but there was nothing gentle about the way his jaw was set, or the way he didn’t look back.

The second you crossed the threshold into his room, something shifted.

The door shut behind you with a quiet click, and then it was just you and him and the tension you’d been swallowing for months finally breaking loose.

He turned to you, and the look in his eyes - hungry, conflicted, like he was two seconds from losing control - made your knees weak.

“You drive me crazy,” he said, almost like it hurt. His hands found your hips again, firmer this time. “You know that?”

You barely had time to respond before his mouth was on yours, all heat and teeth and desperation.

It wasn’t soft anymore, it was months of holding back, of arguments and almosts and nights pretending you didn’t want this.

You gripped the front of his shirt like a lifeline, tugging him closer until there was no space left between you. He groaned against your lips, the sound low and rough, like he’d been trying not to let it out.

“Jesus…” he murmured against your skin, the word hitting low in your stomach. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I don’t,” you said instantly, breathless, already backing toward the bed. “I really, really don’t.”

He kissed you again like he believed it - like he needed to - hands roaming, grip tightening like he wasn’t sure how else to say what he felt.

The room was getting hot, full of heavy breaths. “Take off your dress.” It wasn’t a suggestion, it was a demand.

Anxiety began to pool in your stomach now. You’d wanted this, wanted Conrad, for years. Why now was the thought of being so close scaring you so much?

He must have seen the hesitation on your face, pulling away slightly and meeting your eyes.

“Hey… hey…. We can stop whenever you want, okay? But let me help you…”

His words were so sweet, but his eyes never lost their hunger.

He started slowly, kissing gently across your chin. The air in the room was still thick, but a shiver went down your spine.

He kissed his way down your jaw, your neck, sucking gently and prompting a soft moan to escape your lips.

His lips were on your shoulder now, and you felt his fingers slowly slide the strap of your sundress off, then the other. With a gentle tug, you felt the cloth fall to the floor around your feet, leaving you there in nothing but your panties.

Conrad stepped back and looked at you, really looked at you.

“Fuck, (Y/N)… I mean… fuck.” He was breathless.

Before you could respond, his lips were already on your nipples. He pushed you back onto the bed, taking no time to remove his own shirt before he crawled on top of you.

Now it was your turn to feel breathless. You’d seen him shirtless a million times. But here, now, so close, the ripples of his muscles were enough to make you feel weak.

He went to work on your breasts, nipping and sucking in just the right ways that had your toes curling and your fingers digging into his hair. He moaned in response, the vibration shooting pleasure between your legs.

He kissed his way back up your neck, his lips meeting yours desperately. His hand was trailing lines around your chest, then your stomach, until finally he reached the hem of your underwear.

His callused fingers ran along the edge teasingly, hands doing one last pass across your stomach.

“Take these off.” Not a suggestion. A command.

So you did just that, pulling your panties off and tossing them to the side.

Your breathing was deep. Conrad dared a look down.

“God… I’ve wanted you like this for so long…,” He said, kissing down your neck again, “You are so fucking beautiful, (Y/N).”

You felt his hands grab your inner thigh, breath hitching.

“Open your legs,” You obliged. Suddenly the heat of the room had escaped, replaced by a chill running over your exposed body, “Good girl.”

All you could do was whimper as his fingers touched you, eyes rolling back in your head as he pushed inside you.

Conrad moaned against your neck, “You’re so wet, baby.”

He started to move faster, pumping in and out of you as whined in pleasure.

“Connie…” You let out breathlessly, the sound of your voice bringing him close to the edge.

He removed his hand abruptly, shocking you out of your dizzied pleasure as you watched him fumble to take off his belt and pants. He dropped his underwear, his member now fully on display.

“Jesus-“ You sucked a breath in, not expecting Conrad to be so huge. So ready.

He crawled back on top of you, hands pinning your wrists down, careful to avoid the bandage across your palm. His eyes were staring intensely into yours.

“You’re on the pill, right?”

“Yes, Con, you already knew-“

But before you could finish your sentence, he was in you, the shock of his size knocking the wind out of your chest.

He hissed in pleasure. Your ears rang, feeling every inch of him in you. He started rocking gently, giving you time to adjust to his pace.

He peppered kisses on your neck, your breasts, your chin. His increased his pace, and you matched it, raising your hips to meet him. Every movement sent pleasure down your spine.

“You take me so well, baby.” You moaned in response.

The two of you become messy breaths, sloppy kisses, and roaming hands as you worked your way towards climaxing.

His hand found his way to your clit, rubbing circles that had you seeing stars. You whined out his name.

“That’s it baby,” The sound of his voice was enough to send you over the edge.

You screamed his name, nails digging into his back as you shook with pleasure. The feeling of your walls closing was enough to send Conrad over the edge, feeling his warmth spill into your stomach.

He practically collapsed next to you, the sound of both of your breathing filling up the room.

After a moment, air finally settling and bodies feeling drained, he turned to you, resting his forehead against yours, hand on your cheek like he couldn’t believe you were real.

“Still mad at me?” he whispered.

You gave a breathless laugh, too spent to answer properly. “Ask me again in the morning.”

His lips brushed your temple. “Okay. But I already know the answer.”

[broodingboysimp]

Desperately need a Conrad x Belly fic for this song…

[broodingboysimp]

Storm Warning - pt 3

Conrad Fisher x Female!Reader

Warnings: Angst

Summary: After Susannah’s dedication, tensions boil over when Belly announces her engagement to Jeremiah. Feeling overwhelmed by everything unraveling around you, you drive, not knowing what the storm that lay ahead has in store.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, Part 4.5

Author's Note: This is a safe space for all Jeremiah haters <3

*Contains S3 Spoilers*

You couldn’t tell if Belly was more upset that you weren’t on her side, or that you hadn’t picked one at all.

Days had passed since you’d come back to Cousins. In theory, the house was supposed to be a refuge, a place where everything settled. But lately, it felt more like a war zone with white walls and summer air freshener. Tension crackled in every room. Every conversation seemed to carry hidden meaning. And at the center of it all was your sister - bright-eyed, stubborn, engaged - still waiting for you to say something, anything.

But you hadn’t. You didn’t tell her congratulations. You didn’t tell her she was being reckless. You didn’t tell her you were happy or devastated or even confused. You just stayed quiet. Neutral.

And Belly hated you for it.

You felt it in the clipped way she passed you in the hallway, in the way her questions had sharp edges now, how she rolled her eyes like she couldn’t even look at you without feeling disappointed. But it wasn’t your job to validate a decision you didn’t understand. You were too busy trying to figure out your own life - how you were going to pay for school, where you were going to live in the fall, how you were going to fix the mess your own world had become.

The last thing you expected was for Conrad to throw himself into the chaos. But maybe you should’ve seen it coming.

It was a casual offer at first, just a passing suggestion while everyone was milling around the kitchen. Belly had asked someone to go shopping with her, some last-minute wedding errands Jere was supposed to be helping with. You were half-listening, expecting her to huff and leave solo, when Conrad, out of nowhere, said, “Yeah, I can come with you.”

You didn’t say anything. You just blinked at your coffee, heart thudding.

Maybe it shouldn’t have bothered you. It wasn’t like the two of you were together. Not really. Not at all. But the thought of them alone - wedding dresses, registries, bouquets - was like swallowing something sharp.

You buried yourself in work to keep from spiraling. Bills, spreadsheets, loan applications. Anything to distract yourself from the slow-burning jealousy inching up your spine. You didn’t have a right to feel this way. You reminded yourself of that over and over, even as the sun dragged across the sky and your phone stayed silent.

You thought you’d be prepared when the front door finally opened.

You weren’t.

Your head jerked up, expecting to see them, Belly and Conrad, maybe laughing about something they used to do together, some old inside joke you wouldn’t be part of. But it wasn’t them.

It was Jeremiah.

He looked exhausted, shoulders tense, arms full of bags and work folders, like he’d just come from the longest day imaginable. He paused when he saw you at the kitchen table.

“Hey,” you said cautiously. “Belly’s not with you?”

He blinked at you, confused. “She said she’d meet me after work.”

You hesitated. “She already left. With Conrad.”

Jeremiah went still. His jaw tightened just slightly. “Oh.”

He didn’t say anything else, just dropped his bags by the door with a little more force than necessary and walked straight to the cabinet. He pulled down a bottle of wine and grabbed two glasses.

“Work’s been hell,” he muttered. “Let’s just… take a break. Celebrate the holiday weekend.”

You could’ve said no. You probably should’ve. But you didn’t.

He poured a generous serving and handed it to you.

One glass turned into two. Two into three.

Before long, the sun had begun to dip below the horizon, casting golden shadows across the living room. You and Jeremiah sat on the couch, shoulders touching now, the wine softening the hard edges of the day. You laughed about stupid things from your childhood, old parties, awkward teenage memories. It felt easy for the first time in weeks. Light. Familiar.

You’d always been close with Jeremiah, in that affectionate, orbiting kind of way. He was warmth, always had been. You never saw him as yours. How could you? When Belly had always been the one his eyes followed across a room.

But tonight, something felt different.

He sighed after one story, rubbing his hands over his face. “Do you ever wish we could go back?”

You tilted your head. “Back to when?”

“Back to when it was just summers,” he said. “Before we all had to grow up. Before everything got messy.”

You gave a small nod. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

His gaze shifted to you, more focused now, the edges of his smile fading. “You were always the one who saw me. Not for who I was supposed to be. Just me.”

You stiffened.

“Jere…”

He kept going. “I’ve been thinking about the wedding. About everything. About you...”

He leaned in slightly. His knee was pressed fully against yours now.

You could feel the hair raise on the back of your neck.

“I think I’ve been trying to pretend I didn’t feel this for a long time,” he said. “But I do. I really do.”

“Jeremiah,” you said again, firmer this time. “You're drunk.”

But he wasn’t listening. His hand reached for your thigh, fingers trailing up, warm and familiar and completely wrong.

You pulled back. “Stop. I’m serious.”

He didn’t. His hand slid higher.

Your brain went blank. Your ears started to ring. You couldn’t move.

You hadn't heard the front door open.

It all happened in a blur. One moment, Jeremiah was next to you. The next, Conrad had crossed the room in a single breath, grabbing him by the collar and hurling him backwards so violently he slammed into the wall. The hanging photos seemed to rattle.

Jeremiah didn’t fight. He barely spoke.

Conrad’s voice was cold. Controlled. “Belly’s outside. She needs help unloading the car.”

The message was clear. A warning disguised as a command.

Jeremiah didn’t argue. He adjusted his shirt and walked out without another word.

The silence that followed was deafening.

You couldn’t breathe.

Conrad turned to you. “Y/N-”

“Don’t.”

It came out harsh, too loud, too raw. But you couldn’t help it.

You stood quickly, blood rushing in your ears, and bolted up the stairs before he could say anything else.

Once in your room, you slammed the door and leaned against it, shaking.

You didn’t know what had just happened. You didn’t know if you should cry, or scream, or throw something. Your mind was running in circles.

Was Jeremiah serious? Would Conrad tell Belly? Should you?

Your heart was pounding for a dozen different reasons, none of which made any sense.

Outside, fireworks had started. Loud bursts of red and gold exploded against the night sky. You watched them through your window, detached and dazed. They felt like they belonged to someone else’s summer.

Your phone buzzed once on your nightstand.

It was a message.

Conrad

Are you okay?

And just like that, something inside you cracked open.

Because you didn’t know how to answer that. You weren’t okay - not really - but the fact that he asked, that he reached out at all, made your chest ache in a different kind of way.

The fireworks lit up your ceiling in flashes of color as you stared at the screen, his words echoing in your head.

And for the first time in days, you let yourself feel everything.

[broodingboysimp]

Storm Warning - pt 2

Conrad Fisher x Female!Reader

Warnings: Angst

Summary: After Susannah’s dedication, tensions boil over when Belly announces her engagement to Jeremiah. Feeling overwhelmed by everything unraveling around you, you drive, not knowing what the storm that lay ahead has in store.

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4, Part 4.5

Author's Note: Didn't intend for this to be a series of sorts but after tonight's episode I HAD to. Maybe I'll keep up with this final season as much as I can! Anyways, thanks for all of the love on part 1! I am always open for any fic requests/ideas <3

*Contains S3 Spoilers*

two weeks later

You couldn’t tell if Laurel was more upset about the engagement or your crashed car.

The headache from the accident had faded, replaced by something worse: all the fighting.

The house had become a pressure cooker. Screaming matches ricocheted off the walls like live wires, and you were caught dead center every time. Belly and Laurel went at it almost daily. Laurel’s voice sharp with heartbreak, Belly’s full of desperation. And always, always, Belly turning to you like you were the deciding vote in some court case you never agreed to judge.

“Please,” she’d say, eyes glassy, “just be on my side.”

But you didn’t have a side. You didn’t even know how you felt about any of it. You were still recovering from the crash, from that quiet, shattering moment in Conrad’s car. From the way he looked at you like he knew exactly how close to breaking you really were.

Eventually, one particularly brutal fight was the final straw. You slipped Laurel’s car keys into your hoodie pocket and drove.

You didn’t even pack a proper bag. Just threw a few clothes in, grabbed your charger, and left.

You just wanted quiet.

What you didn’t expect was him.

The beach house was still, like it had been holding its breath all summer.

You stepped into the foyer with your duffel slung over your shoulder, inhaling the sea air filtering through the open windows. The hush was a comfort. Until-

“Y/N…”

You turned.

Conrad stood at the bottom of the stairs, his chest still rising and falling from his run, shirt clinging to him, damp and sun-warmed. Hair pushed back, cheeks flushed. He looked just as startled to see you.

You blinked. “You’re still here?”

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah.. uh.. job at the clinic doesn’t start for a bit. Still need to book my flight back.”

The thought made your stomach twist. You nodded, trying not to let it show.

He looked you over. “What about you? Everything okay?”

You gave a hollow laugh. “If you consider screaming matches over a teenage wedding ‘okay,’ then sure.”

He winced. “That bad?”

You just nodded, too tired to explain.

There was a beat of silence before he said, “C’mon. You need a break. Night swim?”

You gave him a look. “Connie, I just drove four hours.”

He gestured to his running gear. “And I just ran five miles. What’s your point?”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He took your bag off your shoulder like it weighed nothing. “Be down in your suit in twenty.”

You hesitated, but he was already heading upstairs with your stuff, and something about the ease of it - the way he knew what you needed before you even said it - made you follow.

Twenty minutes later, you padded barefoot down the hallway, expecting to find Conrad rummaging in the kitchen. Instead, you stepped onto the deck to find him already in the pool, cutting through the water in a smooth lap.

The breeze kissed your skin, raising goosebumps. You leaned against the doorway, watching.

He didn’t notice you at first. But when he did - when he popped up and pushed his hair from his face - his mouth dropped open just slightly.

“You really took the twenty-minute rule to heart.” He remarked, huffing a laugh.

You rolled your eyes. “The breeze would be a lot more bearable with a liquor blanket.”

He smirked. “Help me out of the pool, and I’ll go find where they hide the good stuff.”

You snorted. “You’re not tricking me, Connie. I know you’re gonna pull me in.”

“I won’t. Swear.”

“You liar,” you laughed, staying right at the edge. “You always do this.”

“One chance. Promise.”

You stared him down. He extended his hand. You almost believed him.

Cautiously, you reached...

The second your fingers touched his, yank.

You shrieked as he pulled you into the water, your body colliding with his under the surface. Your chest brushed his, arms scrambling. When you came up for air, sputtering, you were laughing.

“You promised!”

He grinned. “My fingers were crossed. Rookie mistake.”

You shoved water at him, but he just swam backward, taunting you.

The playfulness shifted after a while. The splashing faded. The quiet returned, soft and thick, only the sound of water lapping and distant crickets filling the air.

You stood in the shallows, chest rising and falling.

He was closer now. Closer than you realized. You could feel the warmth of his breath, the stillness between you.

Conrad's gaze dropped to your forehead. His fingers came up slowly, brushing against the thin scar that lingered from the accident. His thumb lingered there, and your breath hitched.

“You scared me,” he said softly.

His hand drifted down, cupping your jaw. Your heart pounded.

The water moved around you both, current swirling. It felt like you were being pulled toward him.

Closer. Closer. Almost...

“Oh great,” a voice cut through the air like glass. “They’re BOTH here.”

You turned in time to see Belly storming out onto the deck, Jeremiah trailing behind her.

Venom dripped from her voice.

Your eyes met Conrad’s one last time, frozen in place.

The moment shattered.

And just like that, everything was spinning again.

[broodingboysimp]

Do You Miss Me?

Conrad Fisher x Reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Months after Susannah’s funeral, life has dulled to routine and avoidance. But one night, a call from Conrad changes everything.

The campus party was loud. Too loud for a Saturday that already felt heavy on your skin.

You barely remembered the name of the guy whose arm hung lazily over your shoulder, his laugh a little too cocky, his eyes a little too empty. But you laughed anyway, just to hear something drown out the low, constant ache in your chest. It had been months since Susannah’s funeral. Months since you saw Conrad standing with Belly, both of them fractured and quiet and too young to look so old.

You had watched from a distance, felt your sister’s grief collide with his, and you hadn’t interrupted. She needed him more than you did, you told yourself.

You’d been telling yourself that a lot.

Your phone buzzed in your hand. You looked down, half-ready to ignore it, but stopped cold when you saw the name light up the screen.

Conrad.

You blinked. Once. Twice. The room spun a little, but this wasn’t the alcohol.

“Give me a sec,” you muttered to the guy beside you, already slipping out from under his touch. You ducked into the hallway, heart racing.

You answered. “Hello?”

There was silence on the other end. For a second, you thought maybe it was a mistake.

Then his voice: slurred, quiet, almost childlike.

“Do you miss me?”

You froze.

“What?”

Conrad exhaled, like he hadn’t meant to say it, like it slipped out and now he couldn’t take it back. You didn’t know what to say. You weren’t even sure what he meant by it.

“I… never mind,” he murmured, and then the call ended.

You stared at your phone for a long time, like it might explain things to you.

He hadn’t called in months. You hadn’t spoken since the funeral. And now this?

The next morning you skipped your usual hangover routine. You couldn’t stop replaying the sound of his voice. How sad it had sounded. How lonely.

You were still curled on the couch, hoodie on, coffee half-drunk and cold in your hands, when the knock came.

You didn’t move at first. Maybe it was someone delivering a package. Maybe it was...

Another knock. Firmer this time.

You opened the door.

And there he was. Conrad. Standing in the gray light of morning like he didn’t belong anywhere else.

His hair was messy. His hoodie was half-zipped. He looked like he hadn’t slept, like maybe he couldn’t sleep. His eyes flicked up to yours.

“Hey.”

You blinked at him, heart thudding.

“...Are you okay?”

He nodded once, then again. “I meant it,” he said.

Your throat tightened. “What?”

“Last night. When I asked if you missed me.” He looked down at the ground, then back up, blinking hard. “I meant it.”

The silence stretched.

You stepped aside, let him in. Neither of you spoke until the door clicked shut.

He didn’t sit. He stood there in your living room like he might run.

“I’ve been trying not to feel anything,” he said. “About my mom. About everything.”

You swallowed. “You don’t have to say anything, Conrad-”

“No, I do.” His voice cracked. “The thing is, nothing makes sense anymore. The world keeps spinning and I feel like I’m stuck in one moment and I-I don’t know how to get out of it.”

He rubbed at his eyes roughly, and you realized then that his hands were shaking.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything after the funeral,” you said quietly. “I didn’t want to make it worse.”

He finally looked at you. “You never made it worse. You were the only thing that made it better.”

Your breath caught.

He took a step closer. “I didn’t mean to stop talking to you. I just didn’t know what to say to you."

Your heart beat wildly. “What are you talking about?”

His eyes met yours, and for a second it looked like he might say it. That thing you’d both buried in sand and time.

But he didn’t. He blinked, and the moment passed. “I just… missed you.”

The weight of everything sat between you.

Then your hand reached for his, instinctively, and he caught it. You didn’t know who leaned in first, but the space between you closed until you were forehead to forehead, your breaths shallow and mingled.

“I missed you too,” you whispered.

[broodingboysimp]

Storm Warning - pt 1

Conrad Fisher x Female!Reader

Warnings: Angst

Summary: After Susannah’s dedication, tensions boil over when Belly announces her engagement to Jeremiah. Feeling overwhelmed by everything unraveling around you, you drive, not knowing what the storm that lay ahead has in store.

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 4.5

*Contains S3 Spoilers*

The menus had barely been cleared.

The table still smelled like lemon water and rosemary when Belly said it:

“We’re getting married!”

For a moment, no one spoke.

You felt the silence hit your chest like cold water. It wasn’t the kind of quiet that came from joy, or shock, or even disbelief. It was heavier than that. Like someone had yanked the air out of the room.

Laurel was the first to blink. “What?”

Belly smiled, small, uncertain. Jeremiah sat beside her, nodding, hand on hers like he could anchor it all.

“We didn’t want to say anything before we were all together at the dedication,” she added quickly. “But we're here now and it just feels… right.” Her smile was shaky.

Mr. Fisher set down his fork. Steven leaned back in his chair with a sharp exhale, muttering, “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Conrad didn’t say a word. His jaw was tight. His eyes never left his plate.

You felt it in your body before you could name it: the spinning, the pressure, the way your throat clenched like it was closing. You looked down at your napkin, trying to steady your breathing.

This was supposed to be about Susannah. About remembering. About family. And now your little sister was dropping this bomb like it was casual.

“You’re engaged?” you finally said, voice barely audible.

Belly nodded. “I thought you’d be happy for me.”

Happy?

You didn’t know what to feel.

Everyone at the table was unraveling, and somehow they still expected you to keep your spine straight and your smile fixed.

“I need some air,” you said, standing too fast. Laurel called your name, but you were already walking. You didn’t stop. Didn’t look back.

---

You were behind the wheel before you realized where you were going.

The sky had darkened fast, clouds rolling in like they were summoned just for you. Wind lashed against the trees, bending them low. Rain hit five minutes later. Hard. Loud. You turned up the wipers, but it didn’t help.

Your phone buzzed on the passenger seat: Steven. Then Laurel. Then Belly.

You didn’t answer.

You could still hear her voice. “I thought you’d be happy for me.” Like your exhaustion was a betrayal.

Your hands shook on the steering wheel. You weren’t even crying yet, just gasping, dry and soundless. You could feel it building in your chest, like thunder.

Engaged. She was engaged. And you were... what?

Working a job you hated. Barely affording rent. Trying to parent your parents and fix a family that kept splintering around you.

You didn’t see the branch.

The car jolted hard as the tire blew, swerving on the slick road. You lost control, skidded sideways, and veered off into a shallow ditch. Your head snapped sideways - pain flashed white - and then all you could hear was the rain.

You sat there, shaking.

Your head was spinning, panic and dizziness combining. Fumbling with your phone, your fingers slipped twice before you could hit his name.

“Y/N?” Conrad’s voice was immediate, sharp. “Where are you?”

“I.. I crashed,” you whispered. “It’s raining, and I hit something, I couldn’t see…”

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

You touched your temple. Blood on your fingers.

“I think I hit my head.”

“Jesus... okay. I’ve got you. I’m tracking your phone. Don’t hang up.”

“I didn’t know who else to call.”

“You don’t need anyone else,” he said.

The call didn’t even end properly. It dropped. But you didn’t need it. You knew he was coming.

---

He found you twenty minutes later, parked halfway into a ditch, shivering in the front seat.

His door slammed. Then he was there, pulling yours open. Rain poured in, but you didn’t care. You barely registered it. You only registered him.

“You’re bleeding,” he said, kneeling beside you. “Shit. Okay, let me see.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

You flinched as he touched your face, but you didn’t stop him. He peeled back your hair gently, touching around the wound.

“Does this hurt?”

“No more than everything else,” you said, voice hoarse.

Conrad stilled.

You finally looked up at him: soaked to the bone, hair plastered to his face, eyes wild and worried.

“I feel like I’m drowning, Conrad...” you whispered. “I can’t fix anything. My mom’s falling apart with guilt. Steven’s angry at everyone after his accident. Belly’s getting married and I’m… nothing. I can’t do anything right. I’m so tired of pretending I can.”

His face twisted. “You’re not nothing.”

“I feel pathetic.”

“You’re not.”

“I feel alone.”

He swallowed.

“You’re not alone.”

You stared at him. “Then why do you keep leaving me?”

That stopped him cold.

He opened his mouth, then shut it again. His hands were shaking now.

Then he reached up to wipe a streak of red from your temple with his thumb - and froze.

So did you.

The air between you shifted, heavy, like the storm had followed you inside.

His hand lingered at your cheek, thumb still ghosting over skin. You could feel every breath, every heartbeat.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said finally, quietly. “I just… I didn’t know how to be around you. Not with how I felt.”

You blinked at him. “What are you talking about?”

His eyes searched yours, like maybe this was the moment he was finally going to say it.

But he didn’t.

He looked down instead, dropping his hand.

“It’s just… easier to stay away sometimes. That doesn’t mean I wanted to.”

You were quiet. Your heart was loud.

“Then don’t,” you said.

He nodded once. Still not looking at you. But his thumb brushed your knee, just once, and didn’t move away.

“Come on,” he said, quieter now. “Let’s get you home.”

---

You sat in silence the whole drive back, rain still pouring like hell outside.

When he parked in your driveway, you didn’t move right away.

“Thank you,” you said finally.

He nodded, eyes on the steering wheel. “Anytime.”

You opened the door.

He didn’t stop you. But he didn’t drive off, either.

And as you walked back toward the house, blood drying on your skin, heart still breaking in too many places to count, you could feel his eyes on your back.

Watching. Waiting.

Still not saying the one thing you needed him to.

[broodingboysimp]

Chapter 5 - Glass Houses

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

You weren’t supposed to be here. Not in this house, not on this coast, and definitely not under Eren Jaeger’s eyes.

Eren Jaeger x female!reader

Summary: After a sudden move into your estranged father’s newly acquired beachside home, you’re thrust into a world of champagne-soaked parties, whispered secrets, and a friend group that feels too close for comfort. You’re carrying a past you’re desperate to keep buried and wearing a smile you’re still learning how to fake. Then there’s Eren. Sharp-tongued, unreadable, and dangerously magnetic. He sees too much, says too little, and makes you question everything you thought you wanted. What starts as curiosity spirals into something darker, tangled in loyalty, longing, and the kind of silence that cuts deep. In a world of polished smiles and fraying edges, not everything soft survives. Salt always finds its way into silk.

Warnings: angst, underage drinking, abuse, grief/loss, violence, smut, 18+

Author’s Note: Bro I've been watching the new season of TSITP and it is REALLY setting the vibe for this fic lol. Idk how I would feel about writing fics for that fandom though because in my eyes Connie and Jere are just babies... idk lmk

Song Suggestions:

Champagne Coast - Blood Orange

Super Rich Kids - Frank Orange

Texas Sun - Khruangbin

Summer Girl - HAIM

After Dark- Mr. Kitty

The morning sun filtered through your curtains, gentle and golden. You’d barely slept, mind tangled in flashes of the night before.

Eren’s lingering gaze, the quiet calm between you, the heat that buzzed just beneath the surface.

But now, the house was silent. Too silent.

Your father had left early. You weren’t sure where. You were used to that by now.

A slip of paper was left for you on the counter: Arlert family social tonight. 5PM. Look decent.

You rolled your eyes, not wanting to play into your father’s delusions of happiness any more than necessary. But you knew your friends would be there, and there would be booze. That combination was enough to get you into the shower and shave your legs.

By the time the sun began its slow descent, you were dressed. The outfit was simple. A sundress, light and airy, with a soft pattern and delicate straps. Not revealing. Not scandalous. But flattering enough that when you looked in the mirror, you didn’t hate what you saw.

You arrived at the Arlert’s house just as the party buzz was peaking. Adults with wine glasses, college kids lingering on porches, kids shrieking over lawn games. A golden haze settled over everything, the sky still bright, laughter carrying on the salty air.

Jean spotted you first, raising a glass in greeting, already flushed from drinking. Sasha waved you over enthusiastically, and Eren – Eren looked at you the way someone looks at something they can’t decide if they want to touch or run from.

Sasha and Connie pulled you into the conversation, and soon you were laughing, genuinely, your body relaxing in the golden warmth of the evening. At some point, Eren said something low under his breath, something dry and unexpected, and it made you laugh harder than you meant to.

The party was in full swing, laughter and music spilling out into the night as you stepped away from the crowd. You needed a moment to yourself, something to drown out the hum of the event. Your third glass of wine was running dangerously low. You turned toward the house, heading for the kitchen to grab a refill.

But before you could get far, you felt a presence at your side.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Your father’s voice was tight with irritation, cutting through the music and chatter.

You stopped short, forcing yourself not to flinch. “Just getting a drink,” you replied, your voice even. You kept walking, hoping he would drop it.

But he followed.

“You think you can just waltz around here acting like that? Flirting with all these boys, making a fool of yourself?” He was talking low, but his words stung with the kind of venom you had come to expect. His breath reeked of whiskey.

“I’m not doing anything,” you said, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. “I’m just here like everyone else.”

“You’re just like her, you know?” he spat, eyes cold and accusing. “Always showing off, thinking you’re better than everyone else.”

The words hit harder than you expected. Your mother. That subject was always a landmine.

You turned to face him, your jaw tightening. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, low but firm.

“That’s exactly what you are doing,” he snapped back, shaking his head like he was trying to make sense of it. “Flaunting yourself. Disrespecting me and my house.”

The last thing you needed was a scene at a party where you were already feeling out of place, so you held your tongue, even though every inch of you wanted to scream. Instead, you simply headed to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water.

“I’m going back to the party,” you said, your voice sharp. “Leave me alone.”

Your father didn’t reply. He gave you one last bitter look before turning on his heel and walking off.

You exhaled, letting the tension melt off you as you closed the fridge door, trying to push the interaction out of your mind. 

As you turned around to head back to your friends, you nearly collided with someone.

“Sorry,” you muttered, looking up to see Eren standing there, drink in hand.

His gaze flicked briefly to where your father had just stormed off, but he didn’t say anything about it. 

“I was just getting a drink,” he said, raising his empty glass to show you, as if he needed proof. His voice was quiet, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Don’t mind me.”

You blinked, slightly caught off guard by his presence. You had expected him to have heard something, to maybe say something.

“Okay,” you replied, your voice coming out a little more breathless than you intended. You weren’t sure if he’d actually heard what your father said or not, but something about the way he stood there, not pressing you for an explanation, made you feel oddly relieved.

Eren grabbed the wine and refilled his glass slowly, eyes flicking briefly to the crowd before back to you. “You okay?” he asked, a hint of concern in his tone.

You nodded quickly, forcing a smile. “Yeah. I just needed a minute.”

Eren seemed to accept that, though his eyes never fully left you. He wasn’t pushing for any details. He just stayed there, a steady presence, the kind of quiet support that felt different from what you were used to. You didn’t know if that made you feel better or worse.

“I’ll head back out,” you said, turning toward the door.

Eren hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll join you.”

You walked back out into the crowd, the buzz of chatter and music wrapping around you again. But this time, there was something different. You couldn’t shake the feeling that Eren had seen more than he let on, but he wasn’t asking about it. And somehow, that made it easier to breathe.

As you moved back into the party, you noticed Mikasa standing off to the side, watching you both with narrowed eyes. She sipped her champagne slowly, her gaze lingering just a bit too long on you. You weren’t sure what she was thinking, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t pleased to see you with Eren. 

The night carried on, and you did your best to push aside the lingering tension from earlier, laughing along with Sasha and Connie as they teased you about the drink you were holding. You leaned into the moment, letting the carefree energy of the party wash over you. But even amidst the chatter, you couldn’t help but notice Eren’s eyes on you from time to time, though he never said much.

As the party began to dwindle, and people slowly started trickling out, you decided it was time to call it a night. You offered your goodbyes, feeling the exhaustion creep up on you. But just as you were about to slip away, a familiar voice called your name from behind.

“(Y/N), hey!”

You turned to find Eren standing by the door, his drink still in hand, but his expression more serious than before. You hadn’t expected him to stop you.

“I’m taking the boat out tomorrow morning,” he said, his tone casual, though there was an underlying purpose in his words. “Everyone’s planning on going. I think they’d like it if you came along.”

He seemed to be ignoring everything that had happened last night, but you almost doubted he remembered anything. You decided to accept his olive branch.

“Sounds like fun,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant, “I’ll be there.”

Eren gave you a small nod, but before you could turn away, his voice stopped you again, his tone shifting to something more teasing.

“One thing,” he started, his lips quivering into a grin. “Don’t wear that black bikini again. There’s no escaping the guys while we’re out on the open sea.”

His words were sarcastic, playful, but there was something underneath it, something that made your heart skip a beat. His eyes lingered on you for a moment, a knowing glint in them.

You raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “I’ll take that under consideration,” you said, the playful challenge in your tone matching his.

Eren’s grin widened for a second, before he gave you a short nod. “Goodnight,” he said, turning away and heading back into the house, leaving you standing there, a slight flush warming your cheeks.

You watched him disappear inside, still feeling the pull of his attention lingering in the air. Something about the way he said it, sarcastic but sincere, had your pulse racing in a way you weren’t entirely sure you understood yet.

And as you walked away, you couldn’t help but feel that tomorrow might be a little more complicated than you first thought.

[broodingboysimp]

Klaus + holy trinity The Umbrella Academy: 1x01 | 2x03 | 3x04 | 4x02

[broodingboysimp]

Chapter 4 - Don't Waste the Champagne

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

You weren’t supposed to be here. Not in this house, not on this coast, and definitely not under Eren Jaeger’s eyes.

Eren Jaeger x female!reader

Summary: After a sudden move into your estranged father’s newly acquired beachside home, you’re thrust into a world of champagne-soaked parties, whispered secrets, and a friend group that feels too close for comfort. You’re carrying a past you’re desperate to keep buried and wearing a smile you’re still learning how to fake. Then there’s Eren. Sharp-tongued, unreadable, and dangerously magnetic. He sees too much, says too little, and makes you question everything you thought you wanted. What starts as curiosity spirals into something darker, tangled in loyalty, longing, and the kind of silence that cuts deep. In a world of polished smiles and fraying edges, not everything soft survives. Salt always finds its way into silk.

Warnings: angst, underage drinking, abuse, grief/loss, violence, smut, 18+

Author’s Note: lowkey don't know why these posts are getting absolutely no views but it's fine because I'm having so much fun writing them. It'll just always be here for me to read :)

Song Suggestions:

Young, Dumb, & Broke - Khalid

Miami - Will Smith

West Coast - Lana Del Rey

bad idea, right? - Olivia Rodrigo 

Electric - Alina Baraz ft. Khalid

The sun shimmered over the water as you and the group wandered downtown. The town was the kind of place that smelled like sunscreen, sea salt, and old money. Yachts bobbing in the harbor, flowers spilling over whitewashed fences, boutique shops lining the walkable streets like something out of a vacation catalog.

You wore a silk sundress.Thin straps, cut just right to catch the light when you moved. You didn’t wear it for anyone, but you weren’t blind to the way heads turned as you passed. 

Drinks started early. A frozen cocktail at a pier bar. A couple of beers at a dockside shack. The group split after brunch, girls and guys peeling off in opposite directions with promises to meet again later. You wandered the boutique district with Sasha, Historia, and Mikasa, weaving through shops where everything smelled like jasmine and marked-up leather. You pretended not to flinch at the price tags.

At one storefront, Sasha grabbed your arm, eyes lit up. “Ooh, this one looks fancy. Maybe they’ll have something white and summery. You’re gonna need a dress for my party.”

You followed them inside through racks of linen and silk. You touched a few dresses, one with tiny pearl buttons, one with a structured bodice that looked like it belonged on the runway, but couldn’t bring yourself to try anything on.

You didn’t belong in a place like this.

Sasha noticed you hesitating, “You’d kill in white. I’m not kidding.”

You gave her a smile. “Maybe.”

Eventually, the four of you ended up in the dressing room hallway. The boutique was quiet, the music soft and ambient as you slipped into a stall by yourself. You didn’t realize Mikasa and Historia had taken the one right next to you until you heard your name.

“She’s so fake,” Mikasa said, her voice low but clipped. “Don’t act like you don’t see it.”

There was a pause. Then Historia: “I think she’s just trying to fit in. She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

Mikasa gave a dry laugh. “She’s messing with all of them. Jean, Eren, even Connie. She knows exactly what she’s doing.”

You stayed completely still, your pulse fluttering.

“She’s not like us,” Mikasa continued. “She shows up in her little sundresses and plays innocent, but she’s not. She doesn’t care who she hurts. And Eren—Eren’s too stubborn to see it.”

Historia’s voice was soft, apologetic. “Maybe she’s just lonely. You don’t have to like her, but you don’t know what she’s been through.”

“I don’t need to,” Mikasa snapped. “Girls like her always leave a mess.”

You swallowed hard, blinking up at the ceiling light. Your chest felt tight, like the air was getting thinner.

A few seconds later, they left the stall, giggling about something unrelated as if none of it had happened. You waited a beat longer before stepping out.

In the mirror, you fixed your smile.

By the time you found Sasha again, she was holding up a white halter dress to her shoulders. “What do you think? Too much?”

You nodded absently. “It’s perfect.”

You exited the boutique with the others, the sun still high but beginning its descent toward late afternoon. Sasha had bought the white halter dress, giddy about it the whole walk down the street. Historia carried a little bag with gold heels she didn’t need, and Mikasa trailed behind, sunglasses on.

Just as the group paused outside a gelato shop, Sasha’s phone buzzed. She checked the screen and lit up. “Connie,” she announced, then answered on speaker.

“Yo,” his voice crackled over the line, “we’re heading to that cocktail place by the art gallery. The one with the gold lights and the freaky-expensive glasses.”

“You mean the one Jean tried to steal a glass from last summer?”

“That’s the one,” he confirmed. “Get your asses over here. We’re already ordering rounds.”

Sasha laughed. “We’ll be there in ten.”

As she hung up, she looked at the three of you. “Guess that’s our cue.”

Historia looped her arm through yours. “Come on,” she said gently. “You’ll like this place.”

—

You found yourself wedged between Connie and Eren at the table. Eren’s knee brushed yours every time he shifted, and his elbow was an inch from yours as he nursed a smoky-looking drink. The two of you exchanged no words, seemingly talking to everyone at the table but each other. But no one else seemed to notice. The group was loud and reckless, the kind of loud that only comes with being young and wealthy and tipsy in a place that lets you be all three without consequence.

Someone ordered shots. Then someone else ordered more. The conversation drifted toward crude jokes, teasing jabs, the kind of chaos that comes from years of shared summers. You admired the group dynamic, feeling your heart ache at times when an inside joke was referenced that you would never be a part of. 

At some point, someone pulled you all onto the dance floor. The music was nostalgic, synth-heavy and loud, and it loosened every part of you. You danced with Sasha, with Connie, even with Jean, who spun you once before pretending to dip you dramatically. Everyone was laughing. You felt light.

Jean twirled you once more, hand at your waist, his grin wide and teasing. “You’re surprisingly graceful,” he said, mock-serious. “Didn’t take you for a dancer.”

You laughed, breathless, just about to respond, when another hand cut between you.

Eren.

He didn’t touch you. He didn’t even look at you. He simply stepped between you and Jean like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he hadn’t just disrupted the rhythm. The music kept going, but the moment stuttered.

Jean’s expression soured. “What the hell was that?”

Eren didn’t flinch. “Relax.”

“Oh, I’m relaxed,” Jean bit out. “You just have a way of ruining shit. It’s kind of your specialty.”

Eren cocked his head, unmoved. “Maybe I’m just tired of watching you slobber all over someone who clearly isn’t into it.”

That landed hard. Jean stiffened. His jaw clenched.

Then came the hit below the belt. “God. No wonder you act like this. Your mommy probably spent her whole life cleaning up after your messes.”

The music kept pulsing behind you, oblivious to the shift in the air. You felt the tension ripple through the group like a spark waiting to catch.

Eren didn’t say anything right away.

Just blinked. Slowly.

“Say something like that again, Jean. See what happens.” His words were cold, sending a shiver down your spine. 

Before Jean could retort, Eren turned and headed for the door, making sure to grab a half-empty bottle of champagne off of a nearby table on his way out.

You moved to follow, but Armin stepped in your way.

“Eren’ll be fine,” he said. “He gets like this sometimes. He just needs some air.”

But your gut twisted. He was drunk, and clearly intended on drinking more.

So you slipped away and followed.

The night had turned cool, a breeze brushing against your arms as you stepped into the streetlight glow. You spotted him stumbling down the sidewalk, not watching where he was going, too close to the edge of the road. A car honked somewhere in the distance. 

He took a messy swig from the bottle. Champagne dripped sloppily down his chin and onto his black linen button up, the sleeves of which he had rolled up to his elbows. His hand, adorned with thick silver rings that matched the chain he always wore, gripped the neck of the bottle desperately. Strands of his hair had started to slip from the updo he always insisted on wearing. 

Even drunk, stumbling and reckless, he looked like he’d been torn from the pages of some heartbreak story. You hated how handsome he still was.

You were snapped out of your daze when he took a step off the sidewalk, now walking unsteady along the side of the road.

“Eren!” you called, running after him. “Eren, wait.”

He turned, unsteady, jaw tight. “Go back inside.”

You stopped a few feet away. “Jean didn’t mean it.”

“I don’t care what Jean meant.” His voice was sharp. “Why are you following me?”

“Because you’re drunk and walking into traffic.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

“Why does it matter to you?” he snapped, slurring slightly. “You don’t even know me.”

He smirked at that, mocking your words from the night before. You pressed on.

“Doesn’t mean I want to watch you get hit by a car.”

He huffed a bitter laugh and turned away, swaying as he walked. You took a step forward and reached for his arm.

“Come on, Eren, just—”

But he stepped back, instinctive and fast. A car whooshed past just inches from where he’d been. The headlights flared, the sound of the horn rang in your ears, the rush of air hit your face. The moment went by so fast but moved in slow motion at the same time.

Your breath caught.

So did his.

For a second, it was dead quiet.

And then he started laughing. Full, breathless, hysterical laughter that didn’t sound right. It echoed off the buildings like it belonged to someone else entirely.

“You’re insane,” you said, heart pounding.

He grinned at you, wild and reckless. “And you’re worse. Chasing after me like that.”

You opened your mouth to respond, angry at his indifference towards almost getting killed, but stopped.

Because he’d stepped closer.

There was something in his eyes. Not the usual indifference. Not the smug glint. Something hungrier. His gaze dropped, and for a fraction of a second, you were sure he looked at your lips.

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

He leaned in slow, like the moment might break.

And then—

“Yo! Eren! (Y/N)! Uber’s in two minutes!” Connie’s voice rang out down the block, followed by Sasha’s laugh and Jean yelling something incoherent.

You stepped back like you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to. Eren’s face didn’t change, but something in his eyes shifted. 

You turned toward the group, smiling like your pulse wasn’t still racing.

“Coming!” you called, falling in step with them.

You avoided Eren the whole drive back. He didn’t try to speak to you, sitting as far as he could from you in the back seat. But when you glanced at him once under a passing streetlight, you thought, maybe, you saw regret in his eyes.

Or maybe you imagined it.

Either way, you didn’t sleep that night.

[broodingboysimp]

Chapter 3 - Burn Notice

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

You weren’t supposed to be here. Not in this house, not on this coast, and definitely not under Eren Jaeger’s eyes.

Eren Jaeger x female!reader

Summary: After a sudden move into your estranged father’s newly acquired beachside home, you’re thrust into a world of champagne-soaked parties, whispered secrets, and a friend group that feels too close for comfort. You’re carrying a past you’re desperate to keep buried and wearing a smile you’re still learning how to fake. Then there’s Eren. Sharp-tongued, unreadable, and dangerously magnetic. He sees too much, says too little, and makes you question everything you thought you wanted. What starts as curiosity spirals into something darker, tangled in loyalty, longing, and the kind of silence that cuts deep. In a world of polished smiles and fraying edges, not everything soft survives. Salt always finds its way into silk.

Warnings: angst, underage drinking, abuse, grief/loss, violence, smut, 18+

Author’s Note: This chapter makes me kick my feet and giggle teehee. Enjoy!

Song Suggestions:

What You Need - The Weeknd

Lost - Frank Ocean

Talk Show Host - Radiohead

Teen Idle - MARINA

Wait a Minute! - Willow

You woke up late, sun already pouring through the cracks in the blinds, heat licking at your skin. A notification lit up your phone.

Sasha: Pool day at Eren’s. Noon. Dress cute (;

You stared at the text for a moment, a hesitant smile tugging at your lips. Something about the winky face made your stomach twist. You weren’t stupid. Sasha wouldn’t say that unless she knew something. Maybe the guys had said something about you. Maybe Eren had.

The thought lingered longer than it should have.

You rolled out of bed, the unfamiliar walls of your new room swallowing you whole. You’d been there for about 3 weeks now and still hadn’t unpacked your suitcases. You didn’t care, you didn’t plan on staying forever.

As you began pulling things from a suitcase, frantically searching for a specific bikini you remember packing, you paused. A framed photo of your mother. Her smile caught you off guard. You sat back on your heels, staring.

You didn’t hear him come in.

“Why are you unpacking that?” your father asked, sharp.

You didn’t answer right away.

“It’s just a picture.”

“Put it away,” he snapped. “She’s gone. That’s your fault. Don’t make me say it again.”

The words sliced clean. You didn’t argue. You never did. You tucked the photo back in the box and sealed it shut.

It was easier to pretend it didn’t exist.

Your relationship with your father had always been strained. Even when she was alive, he seemed jealous of the way your mother’s eyes lit up for you. Like he resented how much of her time and love you had taken. After she died, it got worse. Everything got worse. The yelling started. Then the accusations. He blamed you for things you didn’t even understand. For her absence. For the silence in the house. For every bad thing that followed. All you could do was try your best to keep moving forward. One step, then another.

Even if it felt like walking through glass.

—

By the time you arrived at Eren’s, the heat was sweltering. You couldn’t wait to get into the pool, maybe sip on one of Historia’s famous margaritas while you lounged. You had found the bikini you were looking for: black, high-cut, the kind that looked expensive and felt even better. It hugged your curves in all the right ways, and as you stepped into the backyard, you felt the heat of more than just the sun.

The boys noticed.

Reiner looked you up and down not so subtly, his brows lifting in obvious approval. Bertholdt blushed immediately and quickly looked away, pretending to be very focused on applying sunscreen to his knees. Connie let out a low whistle, nudging Sasha, who simply rolled her eyes but smiled. Armin blinked, startled at first, but then offered a soft smile, the kind that wasn’t flirty, just sweet. 

And then there was Eren.

He was already reclined on a lounge chair in the shade, sunglasses on, but you felt his gaze the second you stepped out. He didn’t say anything, just watched, unreadable behind the dark lenses. But you noticed the way he shifted slightly, the way his jaw tensed and his fingers curled once against the armrest.

Jean was already drifting toward you.

“If it isn’t the girl of the hour,” he said, holding out a drink. You took a big sip. God was Historia the master of a frozen margarita.

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“It means we’ve been talking about you.” He smirked.

You sipped slowly, heart thrumming. “Is that so?”

He leaned in like he was going to say more, but a voice cut through the tension.

“You know, not everyone here dresses like they’re auditioning for a music video,” Mikasa said, lounging with her sunglasses on, voice disinterested but biting.

You turned your head slowly, locking eyes with her. The other girls laughed under their breath, but Sasha gave you a reassuring smile.

“I think she looks hot,” Sasha said loudly.

Jean agreed, too quickly.

You could play this game, too.

You lost count of how many drinks you had, but your body buzzed just enough to feel loose, warm, and golden under the sun. Laughter echoed around the pool, shouts erupting from cannonballs and near-wins in chicken fights. Reiner carried Connie on his shoulders, Sasha teamed up with Mikasa. Although Mikasa looked like she’d rather be anywhere else.

You floated on a pool lounger, drink resting on your stomach, eyes closed behind dark sunglasses.

“You gonna tan or actually socialize?” Sasha’s voice snapped you out of your daze.

You smiled. “Why not both?” 

She frowned at you, wiggling a joint in front of you and just out of reach. 

“You smoke?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

You pulled yourself out of the pool and sat on the edge, feet dangling just beneath the cool surface.

You took a long pull, exhaled smoothly, and let the moment melt around you.

Laughter continued to echo across the backyard, music low and thumping from the speaker. The sun had started its slow descent, casting a honeyed glow across the water. You felt untouchable. Weightless. Like nothing bad could touch you here.

Then Eren’s voice cut through the hum of the afternoon.

“Alright,” he said from where he leaned against the patio door frame, shirtless and barefoot, “we’re heading inside. Pool table’s open.”

No one questioned it. Just like that, the group moved, drinks in hand and still dripping from the pool. You stood last, blinking slowly. The joint had hit harder than expected. Maybe it was the sun, maybe it was the high, but you felt like your body was floating just a half-step behind your brain.

Crossed as hell. And loving it.

You grabbed your towel and followed the sound of laughter into the house, a grin tugging at your lips. Inside, the air conditioning kissed your sun-warmed skin. The living room gave way to an open den with a sleek black pool table at the center. Everyone circled around as Jean chalked his cue dramatically.

“You any good?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

You shrugged. “Better than I look.”

“Impossible,” he grinned.

You racked the balls. The first shot was yours. You leaned down to aim, but Jean stepped in behind you.

“Here—let me help.” His hand settled over yours. He bent you lower over the table, his front pressed against your back. You didn’t stop him. You didn’t need help, but you liked the way the room got quiet. You liked knowing how you looked, knowing that every guy in the room was looking. Watching.

Sasha sipped her drink with a smirk. Connie nearly choked on his beer. Armin flushed and quickly looked away.

But Mikasa’s stare sharpened.

“You know,” she said, her tone deceptively casual, “some girls don’t need to try so hard.”

You lifted your head, turning slowly toward her, still bent halfway over the table. “You’re right,” you said sweetly. “Some girls don’t try at all, and it shows.”

Jean barked out a laugh, and Connie howled. Mikasa’s mouth tightened.

Eren sat in the corner nursing a drink, his expression unreadable. But his eyes—his eyes were burning into you like he was barely holding himself together.

You straightened up, brushing past Jean, and crossed the room like you owned it. You weren’t subtle. You felt like a live wire. Like the prettiest girl in the room, and maybe you were.

You didn’t know what game you were playing exactly. But you knew Eren was playing it too. And you were both just getting started.

The party carried on around you, voices thick with liquor and heat. Someone suggested another game. Someone else spilled tequila on the floor. Mikasa had retreated somewhere, and Jean was passed out half off the couch.

The room was sticky with the smell of liquor. You needed air.

Outside, the night had cooled just enough to let you breathe again. The moonlight painted silver across the sand dunes. You didn’t expect company when you stepped barefoot onto the patio, arms crossed over your chest. 

But a shadow shifted to your left.

Eren.

He was sitting on the back steps, a cigarette between his fingers and beer hanging loosely in hand. He didn’t look surprised to see you.

He didn’t offer you the cigarette, but he moved over, just enough to make space. You took it.

The silence stretched thin between you, taut with things unsaid. You both looked out at the dark ocean instead of each other.

“Didn’t peg you for the shy type,” you said finally.

“I’m not.”

You glanced sideways. He didn’t meet your eyes, but the corner of his mouth curved slightly.

“You’re quiet.”

“So are you,” he said. “When it counts.”

That caught you off guard.

You opened your mouth to ask what that meant, but he instead handed you the cigarette. His fingers brushed yours deliberately. Just long enough to feel warm.

You inhaled, exhaled, passed it back.

“Does Jean always throw himself at girls like that?” you asked, light but pointed.

Eren didn’t answer right away.

“Jean’s an idiot.”

You laughed. “I got that.”

More silence.

Then he said, quieter, “But he’s not wrong.”

“About what?”

Eren looked at you now. Really looked. His gaze felt like it reached inside you.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he said, “Or maybe you do. Doesn’t matter. You’re messing with people.”

You blinked. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

His jaw tensed. “I don’t know what I think.”

Truthfully, you didn’t even know what to think.

You stood then, arms wrapping around yourself. “Well, thanks for the chat. Real soul-cleansing.”

You started your stride towards the door.

“I didn’t say stop,” he murmured.

You paused.

The air felt charged, thick with something heavier than the summer heat. 

“I notice things,” he added. “Like the way you don’t answer questions about home. Or how you clench your jaw every time your dad texts you.”

Your heart twisted. You swallowed.

“You don’t know me,” you said, almost venomous. A warning. 

“Not yet.”

He didn’t say anything else. Just flicked the cigarette into the sand,stood, and walked back into the house.

[broodingboysimp]

Chapter 2 - Storm Songs

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2, Chapter 3 Chapter 4, Chapter 5

You weren’t supposed to be here. Not in this house, not on this coast, and definitely not under Eren Jaeger’s eyes.

Eren Jaeger x female!reader

Summary: After a sudden move into your estranged father’s newly acquired beachside home, you’re thrust into a world of champagne-soaked parties, whispered secrets, and a friend group that feels too close for comfort. You’re carrying a past you’re desperate to keep buried and wearing a smile you’re still learning how to fake. Then there’s Eren. Sharp-tongued, unreadable, and dangerously magnetic. He sees too much, says too little, and makes you question everything you thought you wanted. What starts as curiosity spirals into something darker, tangled in loyalty, longing, and the kind of silence that cuts deep. In a world of polished smiles and fraying edges, not everything soft survives. Salt always finds its way into silk.

Warnings: angst, underage drinking, abuse, grief/loss, violence, smut, 18+

Author’s Note: Sue me for not using the Death Cab for Cutie version okay. I promise the suggested cover is amazing and fits the vibe wayyyy better. Anyways this chapter makes me gag teehee enjoy.

Song Suggestions:

Peach - Kevin Abstract

I Will Follow You Into the Dark - Miya Folick

Linger - The Cranberries

Night Bus - Lucy Rose

Only Love Can Break Your Heart - Saint Etienne

The days after the bonfire blur together.

Sun-soaked pool days, casual dinners, and late-night hangouts. Everything more lavish than you’re used to. You become more familiar with the group, gradually blending into their rhythm. The laughter, the inside jokes, the way they’ve all known each other for years, it’s all new to you, but somehow comforting. 

Sasha, always the instigator, invites you to everything, and Armin, Connie, and even Jean fall into step, making you feel more a part of the group with each passing day. Jean flirts persistently, but you brush him off with playful teasing, not letting his attention get to you. Mikasa stays reserved, throwing barbed comments when she thinks no one’s listening, but you notice. 

Eren keeps his distance, not outright cold but not warm either. He watches you laugh with Sasha, catches your eye across the pool during a game of Marco Polo, and looks away as soon as you notice. 

One particularly stormy afternoon, the group gathers at the Jaeger mansion, seeking shelter from the heavy rain. The house is huge, the kind of place you’ve always imagined in your daydreams. The high ceilings, the glass walls looking out onto the ocean, the extravagant furniture. All of it seems out of place for the casual, down-to-earth vibe of the group. Still, you make yourself comfortable as you lounge in the large living room. Sasha and Connie are sprawled out on the couches. Armin, Historia, and Jean are playing a game of cards on the floor. Mikasa, Reiner, and Bertholdt scroll on their phones lazily. Eren must’ve gone outside to smoke while the rain was temporarily subdued. 

You excuse yourself to find the restroom, wandering through the halls of the house. Every ornamental detail felt so opposite of what you expected out of Eren Jaeger’s home. The walls were too white, the rugs too floral, the photos too welcoming. You get distracted by the sound of rain tapping against the windows and follow the noise, curiosity leading you into a grand room. A piano sits in the center, polished to a shine, with its dark wood gleaming under the soft lighting. You stand there for a moment, hesitant. 

You haven’t played in years and truthfully didn’t care to pay much attention during the lessons your mother insisted you take. You sit at the bench, fingers brushing the keys as you remember the way it felt, the way it used to be.

You start playing the one song you know all the way through. Your mother’s favorite. The song your mother used to hum around the house. 

Love of mine, someday you will die. But I’ll be close behind, I’ll follow you into the dark.

Your fingers glide over the keys with ease, the music flowing back to you as if no time had passed. You hum the tune softly to yourself, the lyrics you know by heart echoing in your mind.  

No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white. Just our hands clasped so tight, waiting for the hint of a spark.

The room feels smaller, warmer, as the sound of the piano blends with the soft patter of the storm outside. You're lost in it.

If heaven and hell decide that they both are satisfied. Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs...

You don’t notice the quiet footsteps at first, the way the distant chatter in the living room fades out one by one.

If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks...

Then I'll follow you into the dark.

You play the final chord and let it ring, only then becoming aware of the silence behind you. You turn, startled, to find the group gathered just beyond the doorway. 

Armin leans on the frame, arms crossed, a quiet smile on his face. Connie peeks from behind him, grinning. Sasha’s nearly buzzing, bouncing on her toes like she’s about to explode. Even Mikasa stands there, unreadable.

And just behind them, half-shadowed by the hall light, is Eren. 

His posture is relaxed, arms folded, but something in the way he watches you roots you to the bench. He’s not smiling. Not quite. But he’s listening.

Sasha’s the first to break the moment. “You have to play it again,” she says, practically breathless. “And sing it this time! You will sound so good.”

You laugh nervously, standing up and rubbing the back of your neck. “It’s just something I know. I don’t play much, and I definitely don’t sing.”

Connie chimes in, “You’re amazing. Don’t even try to downplay it.”

“Seriously,” Armin adds gently. “That was great.”

Your eyes flick briefly to Eren. He hasn't said a word. But he hasn’t looked away, either.

“Thanks guys, but really, I don’t play,” you insist.

Sasha groans dramatically, displeased with your resistance. Everyone begins to shuffle back into the living room. But Eren lingers for a second longer, his gaze heavy. Then he turns, hands in his pockets, and follows the others without a word.

Boredom sets in, and Sasha, with a mischievous grin, suddenly has an idea.

“Let’s go to the dive bar!” she announces. “Karaoke roulette! It’s gonna be awesome!”

Oh great, the perfect setup. Well played Sasha…

The group groans at first, but the excitement in Sasha’s voice is infectious. Historia and Connie, both already a bit tipsy from the afternoon, are enthusiastic about the idea. Despite the reluctance of the others, the group agrees to go. The storm rages on outside, but you all pile into the Uber and head for the bar.

The local dive bar is a far cry from the upscale spots the group is used to, definitely more your speed. It’s worn-down and filled mostly with townies, the air thick with the smell of stale beer.. 

The karaoke roulette rules are simple: one person goes up, and the rest of the group picks a song for them to sing. The catch? The person has no idea what song they’re singing until it starts.

You do shots, the alcohol loosening everyone up. Armin, Sasha, and Connie are the first to go up, choosing songs like “Dancing Queen” and “Thrift Shop,” much to the amusement of the crowd. Even Mikasa is reluctantly coaxed into singing, entertaining with an unexpected rendition of “I Will Survive.” Jean and Historia please with a duet. Everyone takes their turn, even Eren, who steps in with a less-than-stellar performance of “Linger” that has the group doubled over in laughter. 

Then, it’s your turn. Deep down, you had known this moment was coming ever since Sasha suggested karaoke roulette. Sure enough, when the music starts, it’s your song.

 Your stomach drops, but you’re almost too drunk to care. You know the words by heart, and you don’t even look at the screen. You sing, your voice steady but slightly tipsy, weaving through the lyrics effortlessly. The other bar patrons might think you’re crazy, but you don’t care. Your friends don’t seem to care either, the entire group entranced by your performance. 

The song ends, and the bar goes quiet for a moment before erupting into applause. The group cheers, praising you. Mikasa stands behind, arms crossed, looking irritated.

“I only perform when I’m drunk,” you joke, trying to downplay the performance.

As the night winds down, and the group makes their way home through the now-clear streets, drunk and feeling untouchable. Eren lingers behind, walking beside you.

He’s quiet for a long beat before he finally speaks, his voice low and a little hesitant.

“That song you played earlier…” he starts, “Was it—like, I mean—is it your favorite?”

You glance at him, surprised by the question. He’s looking straight ahead, not at you, like he’s not sure he should’ve asked.

You hesitate before answering. “It’s the only one I really know how to play. It was my mom’s favorite, so she insisted I learn it by heart,” you laugh softly at the memory of the two of you at the piano together. 

Eren nods slowly, his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t say anything right away, but you notice the subtle way his jaw tightens when you say “was”.

“…It’s really beautiful,” he says after a moment, almost under his breath. “The way you played it.”

You both fall into a gentle silence and continue that way the rest of the walk home. No more words, just the soft sound of your footsteps and the fading buzz of laughter from the others ahead.

You finally reach your front door and say goodnight to your friends, drunken hugs coming from the girls before they continue down the beach strip towards home. Stepping inside, you glance back—and Eren is still standing there, hands in his pockets, looking up at the house like he’s trying to figure something out.

After a moment, he turns and heads towards his house next door, watching him as he slips in through the back entrance.

You walk quietly upstairs toward your bedroom with a strange ache in your chest. Nostalgic, but not heavy. Like something old had been acknowledged. Like something new was quietly beginning.

[broodingboysimp]

Chapter 1 - Gloss Over Bruises

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

You weren’t supposed to be here. Not in this house, not on this coast, and definitely not under Eren Jaeger’s eyes.

Eren Jaeger x female!reader

Summary: After a sudden move into your estranged father’s newly acquired beachside home, you’re thrust into a world of champagne-soaked parties, whispered secrets, and a friend group that feels too close for comfort. You’re carrying a past you’re desperate to keep buried and wearing a smile you’re still learning how to fake. Then there’s Eren. Sharp-tongued, unreadable, and dangerously magnetic. He sees too much, says too little, and makes you question everything you thought you wanted. What starts as curiosity spirals into something darker, tangled in loyalty, longing, and the kind of silence that cuts deep. In a world of polished smiles and fraying edges, not everything soft survives. Salt always finds its way into silk.

Warnings: angst, underage drinking, abuse, grief/loss, violence, smut, 18+

Author’s Note: omg hey it’s been literally 3+ years since I published a fic… my bad… Anyways, the sudden return of fratboy!Eren on my feed had me dying for some angst. Summer setting obviously to usher in the season! I’m gonna include 5 songs at the beginning of each chapter that set the tone/vibe for that chapter. I like to listen to music while reading so maybe some of you will enjoy that. This fic is going to be super angsty and highkey intense so be forewarned. Hope you all enjoy <3 Maybe I’ll actually finish this fic for once…

Song Suggestions:

Coastline - Hollow Coves

I’m on My Way - Vance Westlake

Highschool Lover - Cayucas

Sea, Swallow Me - Cocteau Twins & Harold Budd

Motion Sickness - Phoebe Bridgers

The house felt too big. Too empty. Even with the ocean breeze flowing through the wide-open windows, it lacked the warmth that should’ve filled it—something that could make it feel like home. But it wasn’t home. Not to you. Not yet, anyway.

It was your mother’s inheritance that had bought this place, something she would’ve hated. A grand beach house. You had grown up well off, but your mother never flaunted it. She made sure bills were paid, your house was well kept, and that she had put enough away to cover your college tuition. She would’ve hated the large, marble encompassed windows that showed a view of the pool, desk, and beach access. It was gaudy, loud. And now, it was just a reminder of all the things lost—your mother, your life before everything changed. Your father had been thrilled when he bought it, having begged your mom for years to make the investment. You? You couldn’t help but feel like a stranger in it. A stranger to the house, to your life, to your family. You wished your college dorms were open year round, but with spring semester coming to an end you found yourself with nowhere to go but home. Well, here. 

You stepped outside, the salty air almost suffocating in its richness, but you couldn’t ignore it. It was the kind of air you could taste, thick with the ocean’s salt. You followed the stone path down toward the beach, the sand soft underfoot as you walked closer to the shoreline.

There was a group of people ahead, spread across the beach, laughing and enjoying the warm afternoon. From a distance, you could make out the shapes of girls lounging, their bodies stretched out on towels, their laughter punctuating the rhythmic sound of the waves. They wore bright colors, sipping drinks, their carefree energy contagious even from far away. You could tell they had not a care in the world, and you envied that feeling.

A few guys were tossing a football between them, and you couldn’t help but watch them for a moment. There was something easy about the way they moved. They were athletic, confident, happy. One of them had blonde hair, his body lean but toned, making quick, graceful movements to catch the ball. Another had darker hair, shorter, with a kind of reserved energy to him, eyes scanning the horizon as if deep in thought. A third had a smile that could charm anyone, his laughter filling the space around him as he joked with the others.

But as your eyes moved past the others, they landed on him.

He was tall, his tan skin almost glowing in the sun, muscles defined and sculpted. There was something about the way he moved, fluid and effortless, but also like he carried some kind of weight. His dark hair caught the light as he threw the football, and his eyes, when they met yours for a split second, were intense, as if he could see right through you.

You quickly looked away, trying not to make it obvious that he’d caught your attention. You had no reason to focus on him, or anyone for that matter. You didn’t belong here, not really. But the pull, that subtle feeling, wouldn’t fade as you walked along the edge of the beach.

You were just about to turn back toward the house when something came flying through the air. A football slammed into the sand inches from your foot, sending up a puff that hit your ankles. You jumped back instinctively, caught off guard.

“Oh, shit,” came a voice, low and a little amused.

You looked up, and there he was. The same guy who’d caught your attention from afar, jogging toward you with an easy stride. His hair was messy from the wind, sun catching on the sharp lines of his jaw. He didn’t look sorry in the slightest.

“My bad,” he said, picking up the football. His voice was smooth, a little rough around the edges. “Didn’t mean to almost take your head off.”

You gave him a wry look, brushing sand off your legs. “No worries. I’ll consider it a beachside welcome.”

That made him smile, just a little. He twirled the football in his hands. “You new around here?”

You gestured vaguely behind you. “Yeah. Just moved in. That house up there.”

He paused, like he registered something in that sentence. The way you said it. His smile faltered just for a second, his jaw tightening subtly before he masked it with a shrug.

“Huh. Nice place.”

You weren’t sure if he meant it or not.

“I’m Eren, by the way,” he added, holding the football loosely at his hip.

“(Y/N),” you offered confidently in return.

For a second, it was just the two of you, the sound of waves crashing behind you and the smell of salt in the air.

But then the rest of them started approaching. The same group from earlier. The guys and girls now circling around, curious and easygoing. Someone with long blonde hair gave you a bright, almost dazzling smile. Another girl with jet-black hair looked you over carefully, saying nothing at first.

“Who’s this?” one of the guys asked, a grin tugging at his lips. He was tall and undeniably attractive, with sharp cheekbones, confident posture, and warm brown eyes that flicked over you with curiosity.

“She just moved in,” Eren explained simply, gesturing to the previously vacant house. He tossed the football to one of them without looking away from you. “With her dad.”

Again, that strange edge to his voice when he said that. No one else seemed to notice, but you did.

“Oh my God, we’ve been watching that house all summer wondering if anyone was moving in!” said one of the girls. She had brown hair and sun-kissed skin, already eyeing you like she’d claimed you as a new best friend. “I’m Sasha, by the way. You have to come to the bonfire tonight. It’s kind of a big deal. It’s Eren’s ‘first night of summer’ thing. Total tradition.”

Your mouth opened slightly, the sudden attention making your heart race. They were all looking at you now. Friendly, sure, but curious. Like you were some exotic animal that had wandered onto their turf. You tried to smile, but your voice came out soft.

“Oh, um… I don’t want to intrude…”

Sasha waved you off with a dramatic eye roll. “Intrude? Please. We practically live for new faces.”

The tall boy throws an arm casually around Sasha, his grin returning. “Yeah, don’t make us beg. It’s just a bonfire. Drinks, music, sand. You’ll regret it if you don’t come.”

You hesitated, glancing between the expectant faces and the sky behind them turning gold with sunset. Your legs still felt like jelly.

“Okay,” you said finally. “Sure. Sounds… fun.”

Sasha clapped her hands. “Yesss! We never get new people. Especially girls. It’s usually just us,” she gestured between herself, the black-haired girl, and another blonde, “surviving testosterone hell.”

The group laughed, the mood light, but Eren was still watching you. Not in a creepy way—more like he could sense the tiny flicker of panic you were trying to hide behind your cool, collected mask.

“No pressure,” he said softly, barely loud enough for even you to hear. His eyes were steady on yours. “If you don’t wanna come, no big deal.”

You held his gaze for a moment. There was something calming in it.

“No, I want to,” you said. And for the first time all day, it was true.

By this point, the girls were already talking about what they should wear, who brings the best drinks, and how you had to try roasted marshmallows their way. As they pulled you into their orbit, chattering around you, you glanced back at Eren.

He wasn’t smiling this time. Just watching you with a strange softness in his eyes, like he already saw something in you that no one else did.

And even though your world still felt like it had been ripped out from under you… for the first time in a long time, you weren’t completely alone.

—

The bonfire was massive.

You could see it from the moment you stepped onto the beach. Orange flames licking up into the night sky, casting shadows across the sand, music thumping from a speaker someone had rigged up nearby. It wasn’t just the friend group anymore. There were dozens of people now, some sitting on faded blankets, others dancing barefoot, red cups in hand. The smell of salt and smoke filled the air, blending with the distant laughter and the sound of waves in the distance.

“Now this is how you do summer,” Sasha said beside you, pressing a drink into your hand. Her grin was infectious.

You sipped something sweet and deceptively strong, letting it burn a little on the way down. You had taken a while to pick your outfit for tonight, wanting to make a good impression. You decided on a cropped tank and a flowing skirt that caught the breeze just right. Judging by the amount of eyes on you, it had the intended effect.

You stuck close to Sasha at first, who introduced you to Connie, the two of them effortlessly dragging you into their orbit of jokes and gossip. The blonde boy from earlier introduced himself as Armin, warm and welcoming, his presence more calming than chaotic. The three of them made you feel less like a stranger here already.

People asked questions, of course. About where you were from, how you ended up here. You gave vague answers. Half-truths. Most people didn’t notice. You’d gotten good at that, keeping things on the surface.

Someone did notice, though.

“Pretty and mysterious,” the tall boy from earlier said with a lopsided grin, leaning a little too close. He smelled faintly of liquor. “Gotta say, that’s a dangerous combo.”

You didn’t flinch, just tilted your head with a smirk. “Dangerous usually means stay away, you know. Or do you make a habit of ignoring warning signs?”

He raised a curious eyebrow, not expecting your confidence.

“Also,” you added coolly, “if you’re going to flirt with me, you could at least tell me your name.”

The boy blinked, then let out a short laugh. “Touché.” He offered his hand, still smiling but with a new glint of respect. “Jean. Jean Kirstein.”

You took his hand, offering a wicked smile in return. You didn’t mind his attention. In fact, you kind of liked it. The way his eyes lingered, the way the other guys watched you when you walked by. It gave you something to hold onto. Control. Power. Confidence.

Still, none of it mattered as much as the fact that he hadn’t come over to you yet.

Eren sat near the fire, his elbows resting on his knees, head tilted slightly as he listened to Reiner and Bertholdt argue about something stupid. His silhouette glowed in the firelight. Jaw sharp, hair a little damp from an earlier swim. He hadn’t even taken off his shirt until just before the sun dipped below the horizon, but when he did, the ripple it caused was undeniable. He was fit, lean, and sun-kissed, and every girl within a 5 mile radius noticed. 

But he hadn’t noticed you, hadn’t even glanced in your direction. Not really. 

Except he had.

You caught him a few times. When Jean got a little too close. When you laughed too hard at something Armin said. His eyes would flicker toward you for just a second before darting away, pretending he hadn’t been watching. But you saw it. Felt it.

And still, he said nothing.

You were surrounded by people, the night buzzing with music and movement and heat. But your attention was always slightly off-center, pulled toward him like a magnet. Even from across the firelight, you could feel the weight of his gaze every time it landed on you.

And god, you wished he would just say something. Anything. Because all the boys at the bonfire could flirt with you, praise you, want you, and they did.

But it didn’t feel like enough. You didn’t feel satisfied. 

Not if Eren kept watching you from across the fire like he already knew you were going to ruin him.

Eventually, the night began to blur. The fire burned lower, the crowd thinned, and the cool breeze rolling off the ocean began to cut through the warmth of the alcohol in your veins. You weren’t drunk, not really. But you felt loose, a little foggy. And tired. God, so tired. You hadn’t realized how much the travel had worn you down until the adrenaline faded and the weight of the day returned. New house, new town, new faces.

Too many eyes. Too many questions.

You found Sasha on a blanket, cross-legged with a half-empty drink in one hand and her phone in the other. She looked up when you approached.

“You heading out?” she asked, already pouting like she might convince you to stay longer. You nodded. “Yeah. I’m beat. Still recovering from the move.”

“Totally fair.” She stood and wrapped you in a quick hug that felt surprisingly sincere. “You better come out again though. No disappearing.”

You smiled. “I’ll try.”

“Not good enough.” Sasha shoved her phone into your hand. “Put your number in. I’m making sure I can harass you directly now.”

You laughed, obliging. She grinned as you handed it back, and with a playful wave, you turned to go.

You didn’t say goodbye to anyone else, didn’t want to make a big deal out of leaving, not that anyone else would even care. But you glanced toward the fire as you passed, just a glance, and you caught him looking again.

Eren.

Still seated near the flames, still quiet. But this time, he didn’t look away. Not right away. 

You held the stare for a breath longer than was polite, then offered the faintest nod before breaking it off.

You didn’t know him. Not yet. And he certainly didn’t know you. But something about him pulled at you. Curious. Intrigued. Like you were standing at the edge of something you didn’t understand yet.

No words were exchanged. No real moment to cling to. But still, something?

And that was enough to carry you up the beach and back toward the house you still didn’t think of as home.

[broodingboysimp]

Is It Really for the Best - pt 7

Azriel x female!reader

Summary: The mating bond between the reader and Azriel clicks into place, but with the potential war with Hybern on the rise, the risk of having that bond fall into the enemy’s hands has the reader and Azriel questioning their partnership.

*takes place after the events of ACOTAR/ACOMAF*

  Warnings: angst, violence/blood, smut 

Author’s Note: Yayyy happy stuff…. Maybe…. Also please forgive me, I should’ve tagged this as an asshole!Azriel fic because damn lol. This fic is also like slightly inaccurate to the actual books, i’m using most of the plot just not in the same order/occurrence please forgive me. I also have like no clue how to work Tumblr and the formatting confuses me so sorry to everyone asking questions/messaging me, I am trying my best to figure it all out !

Everyone sat around in the living room of the townhouse, talking of their plans when they arrived at the Summer Court, Cassian holding a slight scowl. But their meeting was interrupted by the thud of your landing, the weight of Azriel’s limp body combined with the unbearable pain in your thigh causing your legs to buckle as soon as your feet hit the ground. 

Rhys was the first to reach you, lifting your chin to his eyes. You felt tears prickling the sides of yours as you were washed with relief. You had made it home. 

“I’m fine,” You choked out, turning now to face Az’s limp body that you held close to your side, and Rhys understood.

Cassian and Rhys had to practically pry you off of his body to carry him to his room, your veins still coursing with panic that it feared letting go meant letting go of a lot more. You simply stared as the two Illyrians carried their slumped friend down the hall, the High Lord ordering Mor to retrieve Madja immediately. 

You sat on your knees, bloody hands cradled in your lap, as Amren and Feyre kneeled at your side. Shock had begun to take over your body, the loss of blood from your wound a lot more intense than you had originally realized. You registered nothing as your two friends grabbed you under the arms and sat you down in the nearest chair, and you heard nothing but ringing in your ears as they patched up your wound. Your mind felt empty. Painfully, achingly empty. 

Once the bleeding had stopped and color started to freckle your face once more, Feyre and Amren left to assist the others with whatever Azriel might need. You sat for a long while, your body feeling grateful for the lack of movement. It wasn’t until you heard the voices from down the hall that you were dragged from your trance. You couldn’t bear any bad news, so you quickly slipped out of the room and made your way to the roof. 

It was dark now, the sun finally having set. This day felt like an eternity, you noted, but it still wasn’t over. You took a seat near the edge of the balcony, the view of Velaris sparkling in the distance, and once again your mind fell empty. 

Cassian was the one to interrupt your mindlessness, having slipped up to the roof without you noticing. 

“He’s doing just fine,” he said from behind you, causing you to jump slightly. Cassian frowned as he took the seat next to you, “He got a taste of his own medicine for once, but he’ll be fine.”

Tortured. Cassian meant he was tortured. All because you foolishly turned your back on him.

Cassian sensed the guilt you held, “It wasn’t your fault, Y/N. These things happen, and thank the Mother you were there to step in when you did.” 

“It didn’t have to happen…” you held your gaze strictly on the city, “I broke my own rule, I let these feelings get to me. Perhaps the farthest thing from smart that a warrior could do.” 

“Feelings are important,” You let out a small snort at that, and Cass rolled his eyes, “You know what I mean, dumbass. What I mean is it’s important to feel things, even bad things, because it makes the good feel that much better,” He offered you a small smile.

“I would’ve never pegged you for the philosopher type,” Cassian again rolled his eyes, smiling amusingly, “Doesn’t this war stuff ever get annoying to you? The constant tension of conflict?” 

Cassian just sighed, “It’s all I've ever really known, plus I’m pretty good at it if I do say so myself.” His voice oozed with arrogance. 

“Well I’m pretty good at sitting on my ass, but you don’t see me doing that all the time.”

“I beg to differ,” Cassian smirked, and you gave him a light slap on the arm. “These things come to pass, and the time to enjoy the good things will have its moment.” 

“Honestly you should publish a book at this point,” You smiled, and Cassian seemed happy to see it. 

“Whatever, dumbass,” He pushed off his chair and made his way towards the stairs, “Az is resting, but I’m sure he would want to see you when he wakes,” You wanted to scoff at that, doubting every word, but deep down you held a sliver of hope that it was true, “We’re all going to the House of Wind to prepare to leave tomorrow, so you two better behave,” He tossed you a wink, and you gave him a mocked gag in return. 

✦✦✦

The breeze on the roof had finally become too much to bear, so you made your way inside. The others had left some time ago, no one else having bothered you on the roof. No doubt Cassian had spoken on your behalf that you were all well and good, and you were grateful for it. 

You crept down the hall silently, your wound having fully healed from your Fae magic after the poison had run its course. You passed by Azriel’s door, holding your breath, as if even that would wake him up from his healing sleep. You heard nothing from his room, but as you neared your door down the hall, you swore you felt the bond tug you back in his direction. 

The bond felt strong again, the main reason you felt eased enough from the turmoil of the day to try to get some sleep. Azriel was okay, that’s all that mattered, you would deal with everything else tomorrow.

The silk sheets of your bed brought a welcome relief to your back that had been held stiff in a chair for far too long, and the loose fitting nightgown you wore let your skin finally breathe. You felt safe again.

But that thought didn’t stop you from tossing and turning. You could not get comfortable, every position you tried causing tension in one area or another. Along with it, you inevitably couldn’t stop your mind from running. 

Running to Azriel. 

You should’ve moved faster, done more.

Your stomach churned once more with guilt, but you shoved it down, once more recalling Cassian’s words. Instead, you turned your thoughts to other things. 

Seeing Az half naked today, as beat and battered as he was, had you remembering old occurrences between the two of you. Hundreds of years later, and his physique still made your breath hitch. You missed the feeling of his skin on yours, holding his hand today made you recall that, too. 

Recollections of moments with Azriel, moments filled with lust and intention, danced across your mind. Your skin prickled with sensitive desire, and before you knew it, your hand had found its way between your legs. You felt guilty once more, finding pleasure while he suffered so close by, but you again pushed it down, your stomach filling with a new sense of warmth. 

You worked yourself gently, not realizing how much time had passed since your last release. You back arched, and you could almost feel Azriel’s hand on your spine where it would lay as he buried himself deep within you. As you moved, the coil in your stomach winding even tighter, you whimpered with need. 

“Az…” A breathy moan escaped from your lips as you pictured him there, his hands replacing yours. Your eyes were shut with pleasure as your body neared its climax. You continued with your movement, hand faster and faster, and as the threat of pleasure was about to overtake you, you opened your eyes. 

You froze, dropping your hand immediately as the black shadows that surrounded your room recoiled with your realization. Your nightgown fell down your body once more as you jumped off your bed and lunged for the door, yanking it open with a furious force. 

“Az you PERVER-” 

The words barely made it out of you before his lips crashed into yours, hands ferociously digging into your hair. Your eyes widened with shock as you used both hands to shove him away, his bare chest adding even more surprise. 

“What the FUCK do you think you’re doing?” You screamed at him, but you noted that his wounds had begun to heal, practically nothing but a scar at this point. You didn’t let the relief alter your fuming expression. 

Azriel didn’t seem flustered in the least. No, he seemed almost cocky, “You called,” He gave you a sinister smile, combing his hands through his dark curls.

Your cheeks burned red. 

Damn this fae body and damn fae hearing.

It has its perks, I think, Azriel’s voice echoed in your mind for the first time in weeks. A shiver crept down your spine. 

Get out of my head, and get out of my damn room, you angled a scowl at him. He merely smirked in return.

“Is that really what you want?” Az purred, stepping closer once more. You could practically feel his breath. 

You could feel your body burning with anger, but the burn was strong with desire too. You had no words, body frozen as your mind went blank and all reason seemed to leak from your body. He once again threaded his hand through your hair, this time more gently, his other hand finding its way to rest on your hip. 

His lips were softer as they met yours once again, and this time you didn’t push back. He was moving slowly, sensually, as his free hand messed with the lace that lined the bottom of your nightgown. His tongue reached your bottom lip, and you parted them, allowing him to search every inch of your mouth. You felt like jelly beneath him, barely holding on to your senses.

The kiss deepened, passion directing your every move as you now ran your hands along his chest. The grip on your hair tightened as the pad of his thumb brushed across your breast, releasing a stifled moan into your kiss. You felt Az grin wickedly. 

“How bad do you need me?” He whispered into the kiss, and all you could do was whimper in return as his hands continued to explore, now moving closer to your thighs. You couldn’t think, the thought of release the only thing moving your body. You needed it, needed him. 

He released your lips, now plump and red from his mouth on yours, and started moving down your neck, peppering you with kisses. He found the sensitive spot just below your ear and sucked, causing a moan from you in response. 

“I said,” Az huffed into your skin as he continued to work, his breath sending chills over your body, “how bad do you need me?” His tone was demanding. 

You let out a small whimper as his lips searched closer to your breasts, “Az, please…” You let out in a breathy moan. He trailed his kisses back up your next until his lips meant yours again. 

“Please what?” his hazel eyes bore into yours, and his voice was rough, almost feral.

Your whole body was melting under his touch, skin burning. You felt the ache between your legs at the lack of his presence. “I-I need you,” you practically choked out.

His eyes seemed to burn with fire at that, his wicked smile once more crossing his face.

“That’s what I thought.”

And then he was gone. 

His shadows had taken him out the door within seconds, and you barely had time to find your footing on the cold floor before you could register that he had left. You stood, staring at your door, trying to gather your thoughts at what had just happened. What you had just done. 

✦✦✦

To your relief, you wouldn’t have to confront your demons any time soon. Azriel had left the house at some point during the night. Even with all the restless tossing and turning that had kept you from sleeping, you still hadn’t heard the silent shadowsinger make his exit. 

The house seemed eerily silent as you made your way to breakfast. Everyone was gone, and you weren’t entirely sure when they intended on returning. But you didn’t mind. As much as the silence was eerie, it was welcome. 

You spent the next few days in a routine: training, reading, sleeping. Anything to keep your mind silent. You hadn’t realized how much you were enjoying the simplicity of it all until a letter appeared on your desk one morning. Rhysand and the others were back from the Summer Court and requested your presence at the House of Wind. 

You opted for a tight fitting floor length dress, not quite ready to dawn your fighting leathers after a few days of enjoying life without them. You tucked your hair loosely behind your ears and took a look at yourself in the mirror. A few days of rest had done you good, the darkness that normally sat under your eyes almost completely gone. 

Days in Velaris had started to bring on a cold edge, the temperature made your eyes water as you winnowed in above the House. You heard chatter as you walked down the steps of the roof, the immediate warmth welcoming you. Everyone sat around the large dining table, and you noted an empty chair waiting for you next to Cassian. The farthest seat from Azriel. Conversation halted when you took your seat. 

“Alright, now that everyone is here, we have business to discuss,” Rhysand took over the room with his authority as he ran through what he had to say. You only half listened, trying your best to focus on not looking in Azriel’s direction. Something about the Book of Breathings, about Amren having to decode it, waiting to hear from the queens about some meeting. You realized then how out of the loop you really were, how you’d been far too caught up in your own stupid business to truly awknowledge the looming war. 

Conversation passed in a flurry of words, but you kept to yourself, clearly not having anything valuable to add as you were hardly informed yourself. All you knew for certain was that all to do now was wait, and you knew how much waiting put everyone on edge. 

“Feyre will continue to train with the assistance of all of us, especially Y/N,” the mention of your name brought your thoughts into focus, “She needs your help to master her Made abilities, anything you can offer her will be useful.” She gave you a small, thankful smile, and you returned the same, excited to share some alone time with your friend. 

Once conversations halted, you were quick to remove yourself from the room before you had any chance to potentially run into Azriel. Thankfully, no one was in a hurry to stop you. You winnowed yourself back to your room, needing to soak in a few more moments of alone time before life resumed its usual controlled chaos. 

✦✦✦

You were the first to the training ring the next morning, the sun beating down and providing a relatively warm day. Feyre and Rhysand were the next two to show up, the former looking slightly intimated to once again be surrounded by fully trained warriors. Cassian and Azriel were the last to show up. 

The group was fully clad in Illyrian leathers and ready to run through warm ups. You placed yourself farthest down the line from Azriel as the group began its lunges and stretches. Cass, who was the next person over from you in the group, noted your intentional placement and chuckled to himself. 

“Can’t the two of you just kiss and make up already,” Your cheeks reddened at the recollection of the other night. 

“Already tried that,” You rolled your eyes at him. 

“Ahh, I see. Az has always been one to think with his head rather than… other parts,” You choked on a laugh in response, causing Cass to grin widely. 

The rest of the group seemed to take note of your amusement, as Rhys commented down the line, “Are we done flirting on that end, or do we have to separate the two of you.” Once again your cheeks burned with red, and you noted that Feyre now bit back a laugh. Azriel continued to work through his stretching, face unwavering. 

“Don’t be so boring, Rhys,” Cass mused, and he laughed in response. 

“If anyone is being boring it’s Azriel,” The sound of his name from your mouth had him meeting your gaze. The others seemed to slow down their warm up as they noted the challenge.

Az had stopped moving now, as did yourself, as he held his stare intensely, “You want fun? Then let’s play.” He didn’t so much as crack a smile as he headed over to the racks of Illyrian weaponry and snatched up two midsized daggers. 

Feyre seemed to catch her breath at the insinuation of a knife fight, but you just smiled wickedly. Az knew daggers were your specialty, what an idiot. 

The others cleared the ring as you grabbed the blade from his hand, making extra care to brush his hand lightly. He didn’t so much as falter as the two of you fell into your places. 

“You know the rules,” Rhys commented from the sideline, and you could hear the layer of nervousness that laced his tone, “nothing is off limits. Except outright murder.” 

Azriel grinned at that, his mouth turning into a sinister smile that sent your toes curling. But you returned the smile back. 

The two of you began circling, two predators, neither willing to be the prey. Every step was carefully placed, neither opponent willing to make the first move. That was until you got bored of circling and decided to charge headfirst, using your momentum to your advantage. 

A flurry of movements ensued, dodging and swinging in each other's directions. You dragged your blade down Azriel’s arm in a swift movement, causing him to curse under his breath. From the side of the ring you heard Cassian huff out a laugh, causing Az’s anger to grow. He rushed you, catching you off balance, twisting you around so your back lay on his chest, your bladed hand now snared in his while his dagger lay across your throat. You couldn’t determine if it was the cool metal of the weapon or his deep breathing against your neck that sent shivers down your spine. 

The fighting movements stopped as you stood close, too close, Azriel determining his next move. You smiled slyly to yourself. 

“I’m sure there are plenty of other things you’d like to have around my neck,” You said, quietly enough that only Azriel could hear. You felt his breathing skip a beat, faltering. You acted quickly, shouldering him to the ground and pinning his hands above his head, your bodyweight straddled his midsection to hold him down.

The world seemed to fall into silence around you, leaving nothing but your bodies together, as you both breathed heavily. His eyes didn’t so much as falter from yours, his face pale as ever. It was your turn to give him a sinister smile, you had won.  

Perhaps you had stayed in that position for a little bit too long. Rhys cleared his throat, and you leapt off of Azriel’s lap. The two of you proceeded to brush yourselves off, not daring to make eye contact. On the sideline, Cassian could not control his laughter. 

“I cannot BELIEVE you went down that easy, brother,” Cass clapped Azriel on the shoulder, causing him to tense up. But the shadowsinger was having none of it. He scoffed in his brother’s direction, turning to make his exit from the ring. The four of you that remained just stared as he walked off. 

You felt pride in your chest at your victory, but a part of that pride was coming from the fact that you were able to get into his head. After what had happened the other night, you needed to get Azriel back, make him as desperate as he had made you, and this small victory was just the first step. 

Rhys laughed, “now that, Feyre darling, is just the beginning of the tricks that Y/N has up her sleeve.”

[broodingboysimp]

Is It Really For the Best? - pt 6

Azriel x female!reader

Summary: The mating bond between the reader and Azriel clicks into place, but with the potential war with Hybern on the rise, the risk of having that bond fall into the enemy’s hands has the reader and Azriel questioning their partnership.

*takes place after the events of ACOTAR/ACOMAF*

Warnings: angst, violence/blood

Author’s Note: Sheesh long hiatus. I am so so sorry, but I finally finished up with school for this semester and found some free time to sit down and write! 

You woke early the next morning to put yourself back together, a warm bath much needed to ease the stinging that ran through your bones. To your surprise, the house had also been put back together, no doubt by Rhysand’s magic. He stood overlooking the city, eyes distant, as if he too had had a reckless night of sleep. 

“This place looks much better,” Rhys turned to look at you, dawned in your Illyrian leathers, and sighed. 

“I wish I could say the same for you,” You stuck out your tongue as you strode over to share the view with him.

“I’m sorry,” You kept your eyes on the city.

“What is there to be sorry for?”

“All this,” you gestured behind you, “this mess. Other messes,” You sighed, raking a hand through your freshly washed hair.

“I could smell the bond a mile away, I think everyone could,” You didn’t bother trying to fake a surprised look. Rhys faced you now, and you turned to meet his gaze, his eyes swirling with an intense darkness. “Look, Y/N, the mating bond is a deeply rooted occurrence, one that still can’t entirely be defined. Denying that bond can be dangerous-”

“I didn’t deny it,” You interrupted, “just.. Postponed it?” Even you sounded unsure of yourself.

Rhys let out a dry laugh, “Whatever term you want to use, it all feels the same to Azriel. I just need you to understand his motives.” 

“I thought this… arrangement would be for the best. Hybern’s cruelties know no depths, I just can’t risk this,” ‘Can’t risk us’ you said to yourself, “ending up in the hands of the enemy.”

“I know, and I sympathize with you. I just need you to extend some of that sympathy to Az.” 

You stared back out over the city, a mixture of sorrow and frustration swirling deep within. It was silent for a few moments before Rhys spoke again. 

“Do you love him?” His eyes seemed pleading, as if desperately seeking only one answer.

“Of course I love him,” You sighed again, this time sorrow overtaking everything, “but there is always something.” You trailed off, and took the silence that followed as a cue to take your leave and head to the training ring. You peered back towards Rhys as you left, noting how his shadows seemed to surround him slowly, gently, as if they too could sense something heavy in the air.

✦✦✦

Punching something was always a reasonable way to let off some steam. Or at least that’s what you told yourself as you wrapped your wrists in cloth, preparing to spar with the makeshift opponent that was a tree wrapped in blankets. 

Each step through your routine felt good, rewarding, even as the blows to the tree had your wrists stinging. Step by step, your fist swung harder. Each hit bounced off the target, and with it bounced around a new thought in your head. 

Why do I have to be responsible for these stupid mating consequences?

Crack. 

 Yes I feel bad, but I’m being reasonable. 

Crack.

Am I being reasonable? 

Crack.

Why can’t Az just grow the hell up?

The last crack of the bark was louder than the others, breaking you from your trance. You assessed the damage, and took the split in the wood as a sign that your sparring for the day was complete. 

As you continued through the steps of your training, you couldn’t help but feel the thoughts still stumbling around in your head. You felt bad for Azriel, but your choice was justified. 

But even with all the justifications, all of the convincing you had done, you still felt it. Felt that urge, like an invisible tug. Something primal, almost feral, kept you on your toes, and each time you saw Azriel, each time you even caught a second of his scent, you could feel every inch of your body screaming with desire. 

You trained for hours, mind still racing as the sun set over the city.

✦✦✦

Azriel didn’t return back to Velaris for 3 days. During that time, you kept your shields down, occasionally sending words down the bond, hoping for any response to ease your anxieties. But none came, which was why his presence at the dinner table one evening came as such a surprise. 

“Az…” You breathed out as you saw him already digging into his meal as you entered the room. His back stiffened at the sound of your voice, the action confirming a lack of injuries and filling you with slight relief. He kept his eyes fixed on his plate and gave you a slight nod. 

Rhys could feel your sadness from his reaction practically radiating from you. 

He’s had a rough few days, Rhys’ voice jolted you from your frozen stance.

Tell me about it… 

You took your spot at the table directly across from Azriel, trying your best not to stare, assessing for any signs of external injuries. The meal went silently, conversation from your friends lacking as well. After Feyre and Rhysand’s trip to visit the Bone Carver, word of Hybern’s search for the pieces of the Cauldron had everyone in a solemn mood. 

“Our request to visit the Summer Court has been granted,” Rhysand stated to the room, sparking everyone’s interest. 

Feyre especially, who had been tirelessly training her powers and combat skills with the help of you and Cassian for the past few days, seemed intrigued. 

“When do we leave?” She stared at Rhysand eagerly.

“And who does we include?” Amren, to your surprise, also seemed interested. 

“Feyre, Amren, and I will be leaving tomorrow morning,” both women seemed to perk up at this. He turned to face Feyre, still addressing the whole room, “Feyre will be using her new abilities to seek out the Book of Breathings.” 

She flushed, nerves taking over her face, but Rhys gave her a gentle look. You laughed under your breath at the sight of it. 

“As for the rest of you, I have some errands I need you to run.”

The idea of finally having a mission to complete sent an excited jolt through your body. While this extended break had been appreciated and necessary, you were excited to get back out in the field. 

“Cass, I need you to return to the mortal lands and check on Feyre’s sisters, make sure they’re safe and see if they’ve heard anything from the queens.” Cassian didn’t hide the uneasy look that covered his face, no doubt thinking of his next encounter with Nesta. 

“Azriel, I need you to go to Cesere,” The temple where the first leg of the Cauldron was found, you remembered, “See if you can gather any information on Hybern’s methods, moves, anything of importance.” Azriel nodded his head at Rhysand’s request. 

“And Y/N,” He looked in your direction now, “you will be tagging along with Azriel.” 

You stared at him blankly, not quite processing his words. 

“We don’t know what kind of danger could still be lurking at the temple, and I need someone I can trust to keep an eye out for my shadowsinger.” 

His words were laced with irony. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You stated, voice unwavering. The whole table turned to look at you, Azriel kept his face fixed on Rhys, his shoulders now tensed after his friend’s orders. Amren smirked slyly as she glanced between the two of you. 

“I am your High Lord, and you will follow my orders.” His face was unreadable. 

You prick, you seethed, seeing Rhys flinch as you sent white, hot rage into his mind. 

When he didn’t respond, and you had finally had enough of the awkward stares coming from around the table, you pushed back your chair and stormed off to your room. 

✦✦✦

You paced around your bedroom, thoughts racing as fast as your feet moved. 

What the hell was he thinking? He couldn’t have been thinking. Sending you and Azriel on a mission together, a potentially life threatening one at that, even though the two of you hadn’t held a civil conversation in weeks. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by a light knock on the door. You swung it open, a mix of surprise and anger filling you as you saw Rhysand standing on the other side. You sneered at him, but allowed him to push past and enter. 

“Y/N I-”

“Oh, save it, Rhys. I don’t get the big idea, and honestly I don’t know if I want to hear it.” You returned to your pacing to try and contain your anger. 

“I was serious about needing someone to keep Azriel safe, and I trust you to do so.” You stopped pacing and met Rhys’ eyes, which seemed almost pleading, “He’s been stupid lately…”

“Tell me about it…” You rolled your eyes.

Rhys ran a hand through his hair, seeming stressed, “No, not like that. Well, not just that. He’s been… reckless”

“Reckless?” That was never a word you would have used to describe the shadowsinger, always so careful and thought out with his moves. 

“Just be careful out there,” that was all Rhys said as he left you in your room. 

You laid in your bed, eyes shut, trying everything to calm your mind. But the idea of this mission with his Azriel had you feeling nervous, but you couldn’t tell if it was in a good or bad way. 

✦✦✦

The following morning you stood in the foyer next to Azriel and Rhys, your thick Illyrian leathers making the burn of your skin even worse. 

“All I need is information, anything that could get us the upper hand on Hybern’s intentions. We know they have a leg of the Cauldron, but we need to find out their intention for staying.” Rhys looked between the two of you sternly.

Behave, Rhys purred through your mind. 

I wouldn’t count on it if I were you, you mused in return. He gave you a playful smile. 

Az took your hand into his, rough scars startling you out of your thoughts. You concentrated on keeping your palms dry.

He didn’t so much as squeeze your hand before you both stepped forward, enveloped in the darkness of winnowing. 

The darkness was quickly replaced by a thick layer of fog, dense enough that your visual fields were limited to faint glowing in the distance. You could make out what you assumed used to be the temple of Cesere, now reduced to piles of rubble. An ache in your heart formed as you recalled what had happened here, as if the pain was as tangible as the fog. 

Az was scanning his surroundings as well, chin held up as if he wasn’t even aware of your presence next to him. 

“Alright, if we’re going to be doing this together we should at least act civil.” Az just lifted his eyebrows, “Oh, don't act confused. We haven’t had a real conversation in weeks and Rhys expects me to save your ass if you need it. I’ll be damned if I’m saving anyone who is going to act like I don’t even exist.” 

Azriel just turned his head again to continue his scanning. 

“God, you’re such a selfish prick,” You scoffed under your breath. 

“Excuse me,” His harsh tone was jarring, causing you to turn on your heels and meet his drilling gaze “You’re calling me the selfish one?” 

“There you go again, playing dumb. Well your acting is superb.” 

“At least I’m playing my part. If you’re going to be a bitch you might as well commit to the act.”

Your hand made contact with his cheek before either of you could register what happened. It stung your palm, you couldn’t imagine what his face felt like. 

“Don’t you dare,” You kept your gaze unwavering even though Azriel’s words stunned you. He huffed a light laugh in your direction. 

You couldn’t handle the rage that burned up inside you, and you didn’t want to see it released, so you once again turned on your heels, making steps in any direction that was away from him. You were fuming, you could have sworn literally. He had LAUGHED in your face. The anger kept you walking, not sure where you were going. Step by step, you let any hope of reconciliation between the two of you sink into the wet ground with your shoes. 

You finally gathered your thoughts enough to turn around and apologize, not because you felt bad, but for Rhys’ sake, only Azriel wasn’t there. You backtracked a few steps, hoping the fog was masking his figure somewhere, but nothing. The Illyrian was nowhere in sight, no footsteps behind you either. 

Your nerves spiked then, realization kicking in that you had foolishly separated the two of you, but the realization was quickly burned out by a searing pain in your right thigh. You dropped your leg to the ground, noting the ash arrow deeply embedded in the back, quickly yanking it out before its poison could spread any deeper. Adrenaline was the only thing that allowed you to get up and start running in the opposite direction of the arrow, narrowly avoiding another as it flew from behind you. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

You felt like an idiot, but you had to push those insecurities down, had to find Azriel. 

Az! Where the hell are you? You screamed down the bond, but it was weaker than before, nearly a whisper. Something was wrong. 

“Azriel!” You screamed out loud this time, but the fog swallowed up the sound. 

The Hybern soldiers were long behind you now, but that didn’t stop your steady pace as you backtracked, following your deep steps into the mud, until you finally reached the location where you had winnowed in. 

Azriel was nowhere to be seen, the only evidence he had even been there were the footprints he had left, and a fresh pool of blood. As soon as the stinging scent hit your nose, you knew it was his, and the panic in your chest became even more palpable. You knelt down, ignoring the searing pain from your leg, and dipped your fingers into the pool. It was still warm, meaning Az couldn’t be too far off. You noticed two new sets of prints now, leading in the opposite direction you had come from, no doubt left by the Hybern soldiers now dragging Azriel along. 

The poison from the ash arrow was starting to circulate through your body, ailing your ability to follow his scent. You started in the direction of the exiting tracks, a mild pace being held together by pure anxiety pumping through your veins. You had to hurry. Was Azriel okay?

But you had your answer already, the bond between you nearly untouchable, the emptiness in your body a sharp contrast to the pinging of panic. 

It felt like hours before you finally reached the outskirts of the Hybern camp, confirmed by the swarming presence of soldiers surrounding the vicinity. So many, too many. You wished you could call out to Rhys or Cassian, but no help would be coming. 

Assessing the situation, you determined the best choice of action would be to sneak in and sneak out. Your winnowing was impaired by the ash arrow’s poison, so you would have to rely on old skills to get the job done. You carefully made your way around the outskirts of the camp, the searing pain in your leg only growing more intense as you crouched in nearby bushes. 

You knew which tent Az was being kept in as soon as you saw it. 5 soldiers stood outside, large swords in hand. You cursed silently, knowing that in your condition you wouldn’t be able to take them all on, or take on whomever was inside. Your best bet was to wait for the guard change.

Azriel had been hurt too long, and the longer you waited the weaker the bond felt. Too many emotions were filling your body, you had to focus, shove them down. 

An hour passed, and as the afternoon sun finally shifted towards dusk, the 5 soldiers took their leave. You only had seconds to act before the next group took their places, so you didn’t hesitate to lunge towards the tent, stiff legs burning as you sprinted under the fabric wall. 

Relief filled you instantly as you realized no soldiers were inside, but that relief was quickly replaced as you noted Azriel’s condition. He was strung up by thick, black chains, bare chested and knees on the floor. His head slumped against his chest, and blood…. There was so much blood. 

Your heart ached, wanting to hold him and heal him right then and there, but you knew better than to hesitate. His chains seemed to radiate with magic, no doubt spelled to impair the use of his siphons, which meant your magic would be useless against them too. Body drained from pain and mental exhaustion, you channeled all of your strength into ripping his cuffs, your hands bleeding in the process as you tore the metal apart. Az’s limp body fell forward, and you caught him just before he hit the ground. His heartbeat was faint, but it was there. You sighed with relief, but perhaps too soon. The doors of the tent swung open, bringing an influx of soldiers, dozens of ash arrows threatened in your direction. 

You held onto Azriel with everything you could, scraping the last bit of magic from the pit of your stomach, and winnowed back to Velaris. Back home. 

[broodingboysimp]

hot 🥵