#and why would he trouble the one person he trusts since

[cheianimatez]

Doubts (Gaming x GN!Reader) (SAGAU IMPOSTER AU)

(Might be a bit OOC, pls correct me 🥲)

"G-Gaming...?"

Gaming's body froze, you knew his name. He lowered his weapon, his doubts coming back to his mind. Ever since everyone was given an order to kill the "imposter" by their "Divine Creator", he thought "Why the heck would we hunt someone just because they have the same face as them, that's a bit cliche 🫤", but he can't defy his god, for he fears punishment.

But you, you knew his name, like you personally knew him, unlike the one on the throne.

"You're not going to kill me...?"

His thoughts got interrupted by your voice, sensing fear in it. He sighed.

"Honestly, despite everyone claims you impersonated Our Grace, you never did anything wrong at all. You also knew my name, unlike the one on the throne who didn't knew me at all, or maybe anyone else"

You looked at him, your fear dwindling down but still kept your guard.

"Yeah, probably that. In fact, I literally appeared here, then everyone started hunting me, like bro, do I look like I'm going to do some heinous crimes that they don't think their Grace or whatever the heck they call them would do?"

Gaming tried his best to hold his laugh. Somehow, even in tough times, you surprisingly have humor (even speaking his language /j). Maybe that kept you sane while you're being hunted down or something.

Then they heard voices. It's the Milileth. Gaming looked at the "imposter", suddenly feeling bad for them.

And that's when he decided to be against the order, deciding his own fate by himself

"Hey, what are you- UHH WHAT THE F--"

Gaming them immediately gave you a glare to shut you up.

"Oi, quiet! I'm going to help this time because who the frick would order people to kill someone just because they have the same face as them?!"

You looked at him in disbelief. He's helping you? But I guess you should be grateful this time, the last time someone helped you is Bennett, Fischl, Razor, and Mona helping you to escape Mondstadt, then you got killed by the Acting Grandmaster Jean, returned home to your world, then managed improved your life there until you fell asleep at the end of the day, only to find yourself you respawned in Liyue, and now the Milileth, the Qixing, heck even the Geo broke ahh grandpa Archon started chasing you! And I guess I could say it's enough for you to slowly develop distrust against anyone. Until this guy started to help you.

"I'm going to take you to my house. My father will probably understand my doubts of this... order..."

You stayed silent as Gaming carried you on the back away from the hunters, safely hidden from them.

"You know, I really wanted to go home. I had known these types of events that would happen in this world when I came, but I half didn't expect this sht would happen to me. I don't want godhood, I don't want to become a god higher than the Archon, I don't like how really submissive but blind these people are when it comes to faith on their beloved "Creator". All I wanted is a perfectly normal life, here in Teyvat, and now I wanted to go back home because of what I suffered..."

Okay, now he felt really bad. You didn't deserved this! He felt thankful for following his guts.

"Anyways, Gaming, did you know I actually laughed at your voiceline about your troubles? Like the way you said "How much?!" and "I'm not paying for a few extra wet wipes!" got me rolling! Oh, and your thoughts on Qiqi, it's so wholesome! I'm glad Qiqi gets the respect she deserves..."

To be honest, when he brought you to his house, he is already flustered about how much you knew him, praised him, heck even he heard you said a lot people from your world liked him because of his personality. Gaming could feel like jumping to the atmosphere, he felt being recognized.

Meanwhile, you feel your trust coming back again, and it's directed towards the guy whom everyone in the fandom called him the "sunshine boi".

And you're quite thankful that he's not blind like those rodents (blinder than Dora the Explorer lol 💀)

"You know, I feel... happy about how much you knew me and praised me. I feel recognized unlike Our Grace for not answering our prayers."

ISTG THIS GUY IS MAKING OUR DAYS BETTER 😭😭💖💖💖

"Anyways, want some dim sum? 😃"

Yo, this is my first time writing a one shot in Tumblr. I usually write the stories on my notebook at school, and maybe sometimes post in Wattpad (I'm barely active there anymore, just only used it for reading purposes-)

[inkskinned]

she's three years younger than i am, and i put on cascada as a throwback, cackling - before your time! i've been borrowing my brother's car, and it's older than dirt, so the trunk is like, maybe permanently locked. when the sun comes through the window to frame her cheekbones, i feel like i'm 16 again. i shake when i'm kissing her, worried i won't get it right.

in 2003, my state made gay marriage legal. where she grew up, it wasn't legal until 11 years later - 10 years ago. if legal protections for gay marriage were a person, that person would be entering 5th grade. online, a white gay man calls the fight for legal marriage boring, which isn't kind of him but it is a common enough opinion.

it has only been 9 years since gay marriage was nationally official. it is already boring to have gay people in your tv. it is already boring to mention being gay - "why make it your entire personality?" i know siblings that have a larger age gap than the amount of time it's been legally protected. i recently saw a grown man record himself crying about how evil gay people are. he was begging us, red in the face - just do better.

i am absolutely ruined any time my girlfriend talks about being 27 (i know!! a child!), but we actually attended undergrad at the same time since i had taken off time to work between high school and college. while walking through the city, we drop our hands, try not to look too often at each other. the other day i went to an open mic in a basement. the headlining comedian said being lesbian isn't interesting, but i am a lesbian, if you care. as a joke, she had any lesbian raise their hand if present. i raised mine, weirdly embarrassed at being the single hand in a sea of other faces. she had everyone give me a round of applause. i felt something between pride and also throwing up.

sometimes one thing is also another thing. i keep thinking about my uncle. he died in the hospital without his husband of 35 years - they were not legally wed, so his husband could not enter. this sounds like it should be from 1950. it happened in 2007. harassment and abuse and financial hardship still follow any person who is trying to get married while disabled. marriage equality isn't really equal yet.

and i don't know that i can ever put a name to what i'm experiencing. sometimes it just feels... so odd to watch the balance. people are fundamentally uninterested in your identity, but also - like, there's a whole fucking bastion of rabid men and women who want to kill you. your friends roll their eyes you're gay we get it and that is funny but like. when you asked your father do you still love me? he just said go to your room. you haven't told your grandmother. disney is on their 390th "first" gay representation, but also cancelled owl house and censored the fuck out of gravity falls. you actively got bullied for being gay, but your advisor told you to find a different gimmick for your college essay - everyone says they're gay these days.

once while you were having a hard day you cried about the fact that the reason our story is so fucking boring to so many people is that it is so similar. that it is rare for one of us to just, like, have a good experience across the board. that our stories often have very parallel bends - the dehumanization, the trauma, the trouble with trusting again. these become rote instead of disgusting. how bad could it be if it is happening to so many people?

i kiss my girlfriend when nobody is looking. i like her jawline and how her hands splay when she's making a joke. there is nothing new about this story, sappho. i love her like opening up the sun. like folding peace between the layers of my life, a buttercream of euphoria, freckles and laughter and wonder.

my dad knows about her. i've been out to him since i was 18 - roughly four years before the supreme court would protect us. the other day he flipped down the sun visor while driving me to the eye doctor. "you need to accept that your body was made for a husband. you want to be a mother because you were made for men, not women." he wants me to date my old high school boyfriend. i gagged about it, and he shook his head. he said - "don't be so dramatic. you can get used to anything."

the other day a straight friend of mine snorted down her nose about it, accidentally echoing him - she said there are bigger problems in this world than planning a wedding.

[happy74827]

hey pookieeee, how about mike and reader are like new to dating and mike just got his job at freddy’s fazbears pizzeria as night guard. and he has trouble paying the bills and stuff and taking care for abby. and reader is like lemme help you. and mikes like no i got it. just rlly angsty to fluff? if you get what i mean? thanks xo

Resolute Hearts

[Mike Schmidt x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: All you wanted to do was to save him from drowning.

WC: 2883

Category: Angst to Fluff, Happy Ending

I absolutely adored this request. I hope you were serious about the angst, because it is there and it is heavy 🫠

『••✎••』

Tears…that's all you could feel. You felt them running down your cheeks, and you could feel your lips trembling as you sat on the tile floor, hugging your knees to your chest. The surrounding air was thick, a suffocating feeling. It was hard to breathe. Your head felt light, and your vision was a blur. You took in deep, shaky breaths, trying to hold back the sobs you desperately wanted to let out.

You never thought you would feel this way. It was like everything you had worked for your entire life had fallen through. It was like nothing meant anything to you anymore. Your life, your family, your friends. They didn't mean anything to you. You didn't care about them. You were alone, and the only person you cared about didn't seem to care about you back.

The apartment was dark and quiet. You sat in the bathroom, the door locked, the lights off, the fan running to block the sound of your tears. Your roommate had left hours before, saying she had an early morning class. You didn't know why they even had classes so early in the morning.

It felt like decades had gone by since you sat there on the bathroom floor. The bathroom tiles were cold and uncomfortable. You were cold and uncomfortable. You didn't feel like yourself. You weren't the type to get so worked up about anything. You weren't the type to sit on a bathroom floor and cry over things you couldn't fix. You were the type to keep your head held high. To smile through everything, even if the situation was tough. To be the rock for your friends to lean on.

But, you felt alone. You felt so alone.

Michael, Mike. Michael was the one who made you feel alone. You loved him. God, you loved him more than anything. You loved him so much. You loved how caring he was. How sweet he could be. How considerate he was. You loved every inch of him and every inch of what he did for you. He was so considerate of your feelings; he never pushed you to do things you weren't ready for. So, why did his words hurt you so much? Why did his actions make you feel so small and worthless?

Why?

It had only been a few months since you started dating, and everything seemed to be perfect. He was charming, sweet, and an all-around amazing guy. You were so happy with him. He was everything you wanted in a boyfriend, and you were over the moon with how everything was going. He even seemed to care for you; at least, that's what you thought.

He had been distant for the past few weeks. You found yourself seeing Abby more often than you did Mike. You would wake up, and he wouldn't be there, only to find him passed out on the couch or working on a late project in the kitchen.

He said he was fine, but you knew he wasn't. You could tell he wasn't okay. You knew something was bothering him, but he never opened up to you about what it was. You thought about telling him it was okay. That he could talk to you about anything, he didn't need to keep it bottled up. He didn't need to worry you like that.

You did eventually open your mouth to say something about how he was feeling, but before you could even get the words out, he shut you down. He said he was fine that you were overreacting. That you needed to worry about yourself more and stop thinking about his feelings all the time. You just needed to trust him.

You believed him. You foolishly believed him until it all came crashing down. During one of your many late nights babysitting Abby for him, you accidentally stumbled upon papers that he left on the coffee table. One of which was a delinquency notice dated back to last week. He was behind on rent and had a couple of other bills that were due soon. You didn't want to add to his stress, so you figured it wouldn't hurt to try and help him with those.

Apparently, it did hurt. It hurt enough to make him snap at you when you decided to approach him the night before about it. Abby was tucked into bed in her room for the night, so you decided it would be a good opportunity to talk to him just as he was about to leave. How stupid you were. How naive. You didn't know what he was going to say, but you had no idea he was going to get so angry. So angry, in fact, that it ended up waking Abby up.

You felt your stomach churn at the memory of his voice getting louder, your name getting harsher, the tone of his words getting angrier.

"I said I can take care of myself, just like I've always done." He was livid, his face red with anger. He was trying to keep his cool, but it seemed that it was just too much for him. "Why do you have to get involved? Just butt out, alright?"

"I just want to help, Mike. You shouldn't have to pay for everything on your own. I just want to be there for you, like you are for me," you said, reaching out for his hands, but he pulled away from you.

"I don't need you to take care of me. I can handle this on my own. I've been doing this on my own for a long time," he told you, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn't want to be touched, you could tell.

"You're right," you admitted. "You're an adult; you've been taking care of yourself for a long time, and I shouldn't try to change that. But I'm here, okay? I'm here for you and for Abby. And I'm not trying to take care of you; I'm just trying to help you. Just let me help you."

"What the hell do you think this is?!" Mike practically screamed at you. "You think this is easy?! You think I don't want to get out of debt, huh? Do you think I like being in debt? I don't! But it's my fault, and it's my job to take care of it!"

"Mike, calm down! Abby is sleeping in the next—" You tried to reason with him, but he didn't want to hear any of it. He was too mad. He was too angry. He turned and grabbed his car keys, turning back to look at you, the hurt and anger evident in his eyes.

"Abby isn't your concern; she's my responsibility. She's my sister, not yours. You're just—" Mike stopped himself, not wanting to say the next thing that came to his head. But you were right there, in front of him, looking up at him with eyes full of hurt. You were so close, so close he could see the tears glistening in your eyes.

“I'm just… what, Mike?" You asked him, your voice hitching. The tears that you had been holding back began to fall. You were at a breaking point; you didn't know how to feel anymore. You didn't know what you were feeling. All you knew was that your boyfriend just screamed at you and hurt you with his words.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and looked over your shoulder to see Abby standing there. She looked up at her brother with wide eyes and a confused expression. She looked from Mike to you, then to her hand that was on your shoulder. You felt numb. You couldn't believe what was happening.

"Abby…" Mike took a deep breath. "Abby, go back to bed, okay? I'll be back soon." He gave her a soft smile. The one he always gave you when you needed it. She looked up at him, giving him the same sad look she was giving you. She rubbed her eyes and walked back into her room, closing the door behind her. Mike turned his attention back to you, but he didn't say anything. He looked like he had more to say, but the words just didn't come out.

And that was the last time you saw him.

You spent the next couple of hours curled up on the floor, crying until you couldn't cry anymore. You tried to sleep in the own comfort of your bed, but every time you closed your eyes, you would see his face. His angry face. The face he made at you the last time you spoke. The face he made when he screamed at you. You hated it. You hated everything about it.

It was around six in the morning when you decided to finally leave your room. It was cold outside, but you didn't care. You needed some fresh air. You needed to get out of there for a little bit. You needed to get away from the suffocating apartment, the suffocating situation. You needed to get away from everything that reminded you of Mike. You walked down the hall to the patio, and you were almost to it when you heard the faint knock on the door.

You stood at the entrance to the living room, listening to the faint knocks. It was the first time in hours that you heard a sound other than your own voice. Your eyes were glued to the door, your hands in fists as you listened. And listened. And listened. It felt like an eternity before you finally decided to get the courage to walk up and answer it, reaching for the knob and pulling it open.

There, standing on the other side of the door, was your boyfriend. Michael was standing there, staring back at you. His face wasn't angry. He wasn't mad anymore. He didn't look sad either. He didn't look like anything at all. He looked blank, empty. Like he didn't have any emotions, his eyes were void of the emotions that you loved so much.

He wore his security vest, the little medallion dangling in front of his chest. He had his name tag attached to it, and you realized he came straight from work. He had bags under his eyes, and his hair was a mess, sticking out at the side. His posture was slouched, his shoulders hanging low. He looked exhausted. But he was there, and he was standing right in front of you like he was the one who had been waiting for so long. Like he was the one who was worried.

"Hi," he spoke quietly. He almost whispered. It was soft, and it was quiet. His voice was scratchy and dry. He was trying to smile, but he was trying so hard to force one that it hurt you to see it. You felt a sharp pain in your chest at the sight of him. "Can we… Can we talk?"

"What are you doing here, Michael? You need to be home for Abby." You felt the lump in your throat rise up as you spoke. You could feel the tears coming back to your eyes, and you knew he saw them. He was always good at seeing through you.

"I couldn't go home knowing we're not okay." He looked at you with the saddest look you had ever seen. The look made you want to cry again. You didn't want to cry anymore.

"I… I can't right now," you said, moving to close the door in front of you. "I need some time to think." You started to shut the door, but his hand was quick to stop you from closing it. He put his foot in between the door and the frame and held the door open.

"Please," he begged, practically whining. He was so desperate. You knew he was desperate. You could see it in his eyes, the way his eyebrows were furrowed, and how he was clenching his jaw. "I know I shouldn't have said what I did last night. I was just… I was just angry. I didn't mean what I said, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I don't want to lose you because of my shit."

"Mike…" you started, but he cut you off.

"I'm just not used to having someone around all the time… Having someone help me. I know I get angry easily; Fuck, I know I'm stubborn. I know that I get mad at myself a lot because I'm not perfect, but I'm trying. I really am. For the longest time, it's just been Abby and I and no one else. I never really had someone who was willing to take care of me… and I've always been fine. I'm fine." Mike shook his head. "But I don't want to be just fine anymore. I want to be happy, and I want to be happy with you."

You felt a fresh set of tears fall from your eyes. You couldn't help it. The words were too much for you to handle. The sincerity in his voice, the way he was looking at you with his big hazel eyes, and how his voice cracked as he spoke. He looked like he had more to say, but he didn't. He just looked at you. He looked like he was searching for something. And you realized it was your forgiveness. He was waiting for your forgiveness. He was waiting for you to give him another chance.

You thought about all the times he opened up to you. All the times he let you in, and you helped him out when he needed it. You thought about how he was there when you needed him to be. You thought about how he would smile at you when you needed him to, how he would make you smile even on your worst days.

"I think you owe a dollar for the swear jar, maybe more," you spoke softly, looking up at him with your red, puffy eyes. He gave you a confused look, but he soon realized what you were talking about. He chuckled as he wiped the tears from your eyes.

"Yeah, I guess I do. Sorry, Abby," he apologized, acting like he was talking to his little sister. She wasn't here right now, but you knew he still felt like he needed to apologize to her for his actions, too. He always felt the need to apologize. He felt the need to try and be a better brother. To try and be a better son. He looked at you with those big eyes of his. The same eyes you fell in love with.

"Hug?" you asked, a small smile gracing your face. You didn't know why you asked, but you did. You felt the lump in your throat slowly ease up, and you finally felt the air in your lungs start to flow. He smiled back at you, opening his arms, and you stepped into them, burying your face in his shoulder.

He pulled away and kissed your forehead, resting his on top of yours. He rubbed your back as you wrapped your arms around him. He felt safe and warm. He felt like everything that was missing.

"I still don't want you covering the debt," he told you. "But… I'll take the help. I can take the help. I'll take it as long as it's you." You could hear him smiling, and you squeezed him tighter.

"Of course. Of course."

Everything was falling back into place. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't fixed. There was still so much to work out, but it was starting to feel a little better. You felt a little better. You felt a little more whole again. The ache in your heart wasn't so bad. It was bearable, and you could finally breathe again.

"You can let go of me now." Mike's voice was muffled against the top of your head, and you realized you were squeezing him too tight.

Still, you didn't let go. "No, you're warm," you said, smiling into his chest.

He let out a small sigh, shaking his head. "Is this my punishment? Is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life?"

"It could be worse. I could still be mad at you," you replied, kissing the side of his neck.

"Well, in that case," he suddenly grabbed you by your waist and hoisted you up over his shoulder. He laughed as you yelped out in surprise, flailing your limbs. You felt the world turn upside down, and you screamed as he turned and walked back inside, closing the door behind him. "Let me show you how sorry I am."

He might've ended up causing Abby to be late to school that morning, but it was okay. It was okay because you were laughing. You were smiling, and most of all, you were happy.

You were happy because even though it wasn't perfect, he was trying. He was trying to make things better for himself and for you. And for the first time in a long time, it felt like you were finally home.

[sunniskyies]

𝐁𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 || 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: - 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Your boyfriend Percy has been at camp all summer, and you’re anxious that he’s moved on since you last saw him 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: book!Percy Jackson  x fem!reader 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: - 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Fluff with a dash of pining and a sprinkle of fluff !! 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1k 𝐀/𝐍: Take a wild guess who the woman is (>ᴗ•) ♡

You're picking at your fingers again, a nervous habit Percy always scolds you for. Your hoodie —his hoodie— is soaked through with rain, the weather turned bad now the summer is over.

You've been sitting at the bus stop for hours now, and resorted to pacing to calm your anxious thoughts. It's late now, 9 pm on a Friday. The only other person here is a beautiful woman who has failed to board a single bus in the hour she's been sitting there.

You're on your 467th lap of the ground between two pavement tiles when the woman speaks up.

"What ails you, my darling?" She asks from her perch beneath the narrow lip of the bus stop.

You glance over, hesitant for a second. Is this one of the monsters Percy has talked about? She definitely seems suspicious.

"I'm just nervous to see someone I haven't seen in a while," you say cautiously. The woman delicately raises an eyebrow.

"A boy," you clarify. "My boyfriend."

A smile lights up the woman's face, revealing perfect teeth from behind her soft pink lips. "That's what I thought!" She says, adjusting her floral dress over her knees when a single drop of water hits her ivory skin. She grimaces.

"Please sit in the dry, sweetie. I'll comb out your hair while you tell me everything."

You hesitate again, not wanting Percy's first job after camp to be saving you from a monster. But something in the woman's eyes calls to be trusted. And besides, your hair is a damp, scraggly mess. Do you really want Percy to see you like this?

Of course the gorgeous woman has a literal gold comb in the Prada bag she's stashed beneath the bench, and begins running the fine teeth through your hair when you sit down beside her.

"So? Why are you so troubled?" She prompts after a beat.

You sigh, shifting on the seat. "Well, he's been away all summer at— er, a camp. And, well, I dunno. I guess I'm just worried he's moved on from me," you mumble.

You glance over your shoulder as if seeking approval from the pretty woman. But instead of seeing the blonde ringletted, pale-skinned lady who sat there before, a stunning tan woman (who can only be described as a supermodel) has replaced her.

"Wait— Did you— Weren't you..?" You stammer, eyes wide. The woman just smiles, gently shushing you.

"No, dear. It's just the lighting," she replies.

You want to argue, jump up and run away. But something about her fingers on your hair soothes you like a mother does a baby. You find yourself relaxing, all worries erased.

"So why would he move on from you? You seem very lovely to me, dear. And so pretty," she continues.

You sigh again. "Well, there's this girl. She's gorgeous, I've seen Polaroids." You think back to the scrapbook Percy had shown you last year, a beautiful girl named Annabeth with blonde curls and sun-kissed skin.

"They're like, best friends," you deflate. "And he's really talented, and she is too. I'm just some boring girl from the city he met years ago. He's sure to move on to someone like her. Isn't he?" You fret, looking back at the woman again.

The woman —who now sports luscious auburn curls and crystalline eyes— gives you another sweet, motherly smile.

"No, dear. If I know anything about love," she chuckles, "is that it is not easily swayed by beauty or talent. Love is built on something deeper."

You spin around to face her, drinking in her words. "But what if he has found someone better?" you whisper.

The woman sets the comb aside and clasps your hands with hers, her gaze locked with yours. "My dear, there will always be other people who come and go in our lives. But true love is irreplaceable. If Percy truly loves you, he will see you uniquely and fully— as you."

You nod understandingly, and it’s only later that evening that you realise you had never told her Percy’s name.

Suddenly, your intent gaze is pulled away by the sound of an approaching vehicle, and you watch as a shoddy public bus pulls into the stop with a 'splash' and a 'thunk' as it disturbs a large rain-filled pothole.

Through the window seeping warm light into the dark evening, you can make out the silhouette of a dark-haired boy. He stands from his seat and starts walking down the alley.

"That's him!" You squeak, turning back to the lady to point him out.

But the spot beside you is empty, cold and unoccupied as if she was never there.

But you don't have time to wonder because the doors of the bus are beginning to open. You stand up quickly, the nerves returning to your body.

"Trust me," you swear a woman's voice whispers in your ear, but you're distracted by Percy stepping off the bus and rushing over to you.

He sweeps you off your feet, spinning you around and around till you giggle for him to stop. He sets you down gently, green eyes dilated and sickly sweet when they meet yours.

"I missed you so much!" He says, voice filled with genuine affection, and you feel every shred of doubt leave your body.

You laugh, still dizzy. "Percy! I missed you too!"

You finally get to kiss him, and he kisses you back eagerly. He doesn't seem to care about being soaked out here in the rain, every inch of him turned to you with rapt attention.

When you pull away, Percy reaches up to brush a wet strand of hair out of your face, his fingers lingering on your flushed skin. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice brimming with adoration. "I missed this face."

You lean into him, settling into the arm he wraps around you as you begin to walk back to his place. "How was camp? I got your letters— how many people did you kill?" You ask, holding one of his bags with a spare arm.

He laughs, beginning from the start of this year's adventure. You stare up at him attentively as he talks, taking in every detail. He's right, you've missed this face.

As the two of you walk away, you can't help but look back to the bus stop once more, wondering if the woman had been a figment of your imagination.

There, on the seat, lies a gold comb.

© sunniskyies 2024, do not repost or translate my work

[blckbrrybasket]

ᯓ★ 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

MDNI

SFW

- Listens to She Wants Revenge and Rob Zombie

- With some of his jokes one of his favorite ones to pull is on new recruits. When someone asks what his story is or why he wears a mask he loves looking into the distance and saying, “It all started after the incident.”

- You know those tik toks of how someone’s boyfriend sleeps like a dead victorian child? Ghost sleeps like a plank of wood. Even in his sleep he looks like he hasn’t known a day of rest.

- Ghost’s laugh is thick, raspy, and broken up between coughs that only make him laugh harder. It’s full of life.

- If you watch Ghost for awhile you’ll notice the random faces he makes when he doesn’t have the mask on. He’s so used to people not seeing his face that he forgets to mask his emotions, sometimes blatantly making a disgusted face at someone. He has no idea why they fucked off somewhere else but he wasn’t going to ask

- Wears socks to sleep. No one in the task force has let it go.

- Will know he’s wrong in a non-serious argument, however, instead of admitting defeat he’ll say increasingly confusing things until the other person is too confused to keep arguing. It doesn’t do anything for him, he just thinks it’s funny.

- After drinks Ghost becomes a poet with how he talks about the people he loves.

- Ghost is so good at reading lips and has a scarily amazing hearing - Soap or Gaz will whisper something to each other about him and he’ll lean over them to go “what’d you say,” knowing full well what they said. He finds it hilarious watching them stumble on their words.

SFW (serious)

- Ghost isn’t violent in his day to day life. He has moments of anger like anyone, but he would never hurt anyone he loves. He knows exactly how that feels and would never do that to someone else. Ghost takes pride in how far he’s come.

- Ghost doesnt normally wear his full mask in public, as it would draw way too much attention to him. Instead he wears a black face mask. He was sort of thankful for covid since he could blend into the crowd with his mask for once.

- Ghost is not heartless. No matter how much others try and sell it, he is not a heartless monster. At the end of the day he’s human and he hates that the most. He hates emotions, specifically sadness. It’s hard for him to deal with. Ghost tries not to close himself off, but he naturally deals with things on his own. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you to hold him though.

- He doesn’t understand crying over things people can’t solve or adverse reactions. If he sees someone have a ‘irregular’ outburst he has trouble gripping why. Ghost’s brain works very logically and though he struggles to grasp it he tries to understand. He won’t ever be the person who bursts into tears over a movie, but he works hard to understand where someone may be coming from.

- When Ghost talks about feelings he’s usually really blunt with it and says what he feels. He doesn’t like to drag his feet in the emotion and tries to move on from it as fast as he can. Unless he’s drunk then see above. (He’s a laid-back lovey drunk.)

NSFW

- Contrary to popular belief, Ghost is pretty tame in bed. Every other part of his life is rough but with you in his arms he wants to savor how you feel. If you ask him to be rough he may be depending on his mood but he never does too much and always checks on you.

- It takes awhile of building trust, but Ghost eventually lets you ride him on top. He knows he’s a strong man and stop anything but it takes him a bit to be okay being on the bottom. At first his muscles are nervously wound tight until he feels himself enter. Imagine the universe zooming out dramatically, that’s how his brain feels when he experiences this for the first time with you. He ends up a drooling, groaning puddle.

- Always has a protective hand on you in public. His large palm spreads over the small of your back, sliding to cover your thigh when you sit in a chair. Ghost doesn’t even realize when his fingers instinctively draw circles on the muscle, missing how close they are to your crotch. When he plucks at the fabric of your bottoms and hears your shaky breath he realizes how much he’s riled you up. Don’t worry, he’ll always take care of you.

- Ghost doesn’t tend to jerk off much due to lack of time and not having a high sex drive. He honestly couldn’t care less whether he has sex or not. It’s never crossed his mind as an issue on either side of having it or not. When he does have sex he makes sure it’s fucking good. Ghost’s a thorough guy and he’s very thorough with you.

- Usually in the middle of the scale of preferring receiving or giving. After hearing your sweet noises he leans more towards preferring giving. He would never turn down a blowjob from you though.

- On the quieter side when fucking. Low groans, huffing, and sighs of relief. If you edge him for awhile, however, you can pull a few broken moans from him.

- Doesn’t wear the mask during sex unless you explicitly ask for it. It feels reassuring to bare his full self to you when having sex.

- Has to hide his smile when he sees the scratches down his back. He takes pictures and proudly sends them to you.

- Before getting into aftercare Ghost likes to sit there with you for a bit. He makes sure never to lay for too long so he can clean you up, but he always lays there with you to let the love seep into his bones. Ghost loves replaying the scene in his head to memorize your beauty.

[spiteless-xo]

╰┈➤ my first kiss. ⋙ Embarrassed that you're falling behind your peers, you decide to have your first kiss with someone you meet at the party, but your childhood friend, Eren, really doesn't like that idea. Why would you want to learn how to kiss from some stranger when he can teach you?

ft. eren/reader, minor jean/reader wc. 17.9k cw. explicit content - minors do not interact, fem!reader, smut, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, oral sex, multiple orgasms, unsafe sex, creampie, dirty talk, alcohol, loss of innocence, corruption kink, loss of virginity, first kiss, friends to lovers, pining, jealousy, praise kink, second person POV

“How far have you gone with a girl?”

Eren chokes on his spit, glancing over at you from the road. “What?”

“How far have you gone?” you repeat. “Y’know, like hand stuff, mouth stuff—“

“No, I know what you mean,” he says, gripping the steering wheel with both hands until his knuckles turn white. “I dated my ex for like three years, so…”

“So…?”

“So, I fucked her,” Eren finishes, feeling his cheeks heat in embarrassment. “Why are you asking that?”

“Because I haven’t done that,” you admit, turning to look out the window, hiding your face from him. “I haven’t done anything with a guy.”

“Ok.” Eren doesn’t know when you’re going with this. 

“I feel like I’m so behind everyone else.”

“Because you haven’t had sex?”

“I haven’t even kissed anyone.”

Eren jerks to a stop at the red light, shaking his head in confusion. “What? What about high school?”

“I was too focused on my studies—I never went out with you to parties or anything, remember?”

“Shit, yeah… I guess not.”

“Right!” you whine, turning back to look at Eren. He spares you a glance from the corner of his eyes as he picks up speed, seeing your eyes wide and your lower lip jutted into a pout. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nobody’s going to want to date me if they find out I’m so inexperienced. It just gets worse the older I get!”

Eren snorts, “The right guy isn’t going to care about that.” He feels his heart beat a little harder in his chest as the two of you drive back to his place—are you trying to hint at something? Do you want him to be your first kiss?

“I’m hoping I can meet someone at the party tonight,” you continue, immediately crushing Eren’s hopes. “There’s going to be a lot of your friends there, right? Maybe I can kiss one of them.”

“They’re all idiots,” Eren says quickly. “You don’t want to kiss them.”

“I kinda just want to get it over with.”

Eren bites his tongue from speaking. Are you serious? You’re going to bring this up and then not ask him to be the one to do it with? “You should do it with someone you trust,” he says finally, throat tight. “Someone you’re comfortable with.”

“I don’t have any other guy friends except for you.”

Exactly! Eren wants to scream. “So, you’re just going to pick one of my asshole friends and mack on him tonight?”

You shrug, “That’s the plan.”

Eren makes a strangled noise in his throat as he pulls into his driveway, shifting the car into park before rubbing at his face with his hands. “I don’t get it,” he says, voice muffled. 

“I thought it was pretty straightforward,” you say before getting out of the vehicle. Eren watches you walk past the front of the car to the door of his house, hauling your overnight bag with you as you head inside. 

Eren waits a few minutes for his heart to stop beating against his ribcage before he follows. 

The two of you have been friends since you were kids. You grew up a few houses down from one another, so you spent your childhood running around the neighbourhood with Eren and getting into trouble. You had a bit of a falling out in high school because Eren’s aforementioned ex-girlfriend had an issue with him spending so much time with you, but now that they aren’t together anymore, the two of you have rekindled your friendship—entering your second year of university. 

When Eren gets into the house, he sees you chatting with Zeke in the kitchen and immediately scowls. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you here, brat,” Zeke says, smiling warmly. “What trouble has Eren gotten you into, now?”

You laugh, “Eren is taking me to a party tonight.”

Zeke whistles lowly, “Wow, your parents are ok with that? Aren’t they pretty strict?”

“They don’t know.”

“Atta girl,” Zeke hums, gaze shifting over to Eren as Eren leans on the island next to you. “So, she’s spending the night?”

“Yeah, Mom set up the guest room for her already,” Eren says.

“Cute,” Zeke says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He turns to look at you, “You’ve grown up quite a bit since I last saw you.” Eren feels a flare of anger at Zeke’s comment and the way he punctuates it by leering at your breasts—but you don’t even notice, your head is down as you dig through your bag. "You're not a little brat anymore."

“I think the last time I was over was when I was like sixteen,” you say. 

“Did you get tired of Eren teasing you all the time?”

You chuckle, “More like, he got tired of me.”

“That’s not how it happened,” Eren says.

He never told you the reason why he stopped talking to you was because of his ex, so of course he never told you that the reason why he started talking to you again was because she was gone. So, you’ve decided yourself that Eren just thought you weren’t cool enough to hang out with him these past few years.

“Childish,” Zeke tsks, finally shifting his gaze to Eren’s and catching his venomous glare. Zeke looks away, feigning innocence. 

“I was a child,” Eren says through clenched teeth. 

“You’re still a child,” Zeke says with a scoff. 

“I’m nineteen.” Zeke hums in consideration, gaze shifting back to your breasts, and Eren decides he’s had enough of his brother’s shameless leering. “Let’s go to my room,” he says, grabbing your bag from the counter and stomping down the stairs to his bedroom, with you following close behind with a huff. 

Eren chucks your things onto his bed, waiting for you to walk into his room before slamming the door shut. “Keep the door open when you have a girl in there!” Zeke calls from upstairs, but Eren ignores him. 

Just like upstairs, you take a seat on his bed and start rifling through your bag, brows furrowed in concentration. “I need your help deciding on an outfit.”

Eren's whole body feels hot all of a sudden. “Ok,” he says, sitting in his desk chair and spinning it around to face you. “What’ve you got?”

You pull out a tiny, black dress that looks like it was made for a toddler. “I think this one is really sexy, but I’m worried it’ll give off the wrong impression.”

Eren hums and haws in mock consideration. “It’s hard to tell what it’ll look like when you’re just holding it like that… can you put it on for me?”

“Oh, yeah—duh!” you laugh, as if you’re silly for not suggesting the idea yourself. You stand up, curling your fingers underneath the hem of your shirt, moving to pull it up, but then pause and look at Eren with narrowed eyes. “Don’t watch me.”

He thinks about protesting—saying something like, how are you gonna kiss someone if you can’t even undress in front of me?—but he calms his hormones and spins around in his chair until he’s facing the wall. He can hear the drag of your zipper as you undo your pants and the sound of clothing falling to the floor as his face starts to burn.

Eren’s ex had an issue with his friendship with you because she felt like you always came first. If you called, Eren would come running. If you needed something, Eren would already have it for you. Plain and simple—she was jealous of how close the two of you were.

She broke up with Eren because, even though she made him cut you out, he still wouldn’t shut up about you. “If you like her so much, why don’t you date her instead?” she said. And that’s when Eren realized that his feelings for you were more than just platonic.

Was it unusual that he wanted to hug you for a little longer each time? Or that he wanted to hold your hand when the two of you walked alongside each other? It’s completely normal for friends to want to cuddle up together during movie night, and maybe if those cuddles turned into kisses, that would be ok—right?

No. Eren just had a big, fat crush on you and it took his ex-girlfriend’s suggestion to make him realize it.

“Ok, I’m ready,” you say, and Eren spins around to see the dips and curves of your body covered up by a tiny, little dress that barely falls past your ass. “So? How does this look?”

Eren clenches his jaw tightly, taking slow, measured breaths through his nose as he tries to bring some blood back up to his brain. “Slutty,” he says, and you frown. 

“That’s what I thought,” you huff, directing him to turn around again to switch outfits. “What about this one?” You pull the second dress over your head quicker than the first. This one is more modest with small flowers decorating the fabric, it falls just above your knees with thin straps resting on your shoulders and a modest neckline. 

“This seems more your style,” Eren says after clearing his throat, “I like this one.”

You hum, unconvinced. You take a look at yourself in Eren’s full-length mirror, spinning around gently to watch how your dress lifts as you do. “I’m not sure… it feels too cutesy to me.”

“What’s wrong with cutesy?”

“Boys don’t like cute girls.”

Eren snorts. “What?”

You shoot him a measured look, crossing your arms over your chest and jutting out your hip. “Hitch wasn’t cute. She was a bombshell.”

“Why are you so concerned about my ex?” he asks, hopeful. 

“I’m just using her as an example,” you say. “Same with Mikasa and Annie. They’re all hot.”

“Pieck is cute.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“She’s one of the girls in my program,” Eren says, adjusting himself in his seat—discretely tugging the fabric around his crotch to alleviate the strain in his jeans—he feels like a teenager again with you in his room like this. “She’ll be at the party tonight.”

“Do boys like her?”

“She gets a lot of attention,” Eren shrugs. 

You sort through your bag again with your back to Eren. This time when you bend over, Eren doesn’t avert his eyes. The bottom hem of the dress rises to mid-thigh, and somehow just this small sliver of skin has Eren sweating under his collar.

“So, she’s my competition,” you say, pulling out a small bag.

“She… uh… what did you say?”

When you turn around Eren quickly looks away, but he catches the way you roll your eyes at him. You settle yourself cross-legged on the floor in front of his mirror and Eren rolls his chair over until he can see your face in the reflection, watching you as you apply makeup.

“Eren, you’re acting weird today.”

“I just think this idea is stupid,” he says, and his heart beats faster in his chest. “If you wanna kiss someone, just kiss me.”

You snort, “Don’t make fun of me.”

Eren rolls his tongue against his cheek, eyes narrowing as he looks at you through the mirror. “Whatever.”

Eren tries to talk you out of going to the party for forty-five minutes before you finally just take his keys and storm off to his car. 

“Hey, come on—“ he yells, right on your heels. “I’m just saying, the party’s gonna be stupid. We can just hang out and watch a movie instead.”

“It might be stupid to you, but I’ve never been invited to a party before,” you say, thumbing his fob to unlock the doors. Before you’re able to reach forward for the handle, Eren grabs it first and squeezes his way between you and the car. “Besides, I already got all dressed up.”

Eren looks down at you as sternly as he can muster—lips pressed into a tight, thin line with his brows furrowed—but you look so cute and eager to go, that he concedes. “Fine, whatever. Give me the keys,” he holds out his free hand and you drop them into his palm with a grin, “but as soon as you want to leave, you tell me, ok?”

“Got it!” you cheer, practically skipping around the front of the car and crawling into the front seat. You’re so giddy with excitement that you can’t stop bouncing in your chair.

“You really haven’t been to a party before?” Eren asks, rolling out of his driveway and onto the road, already mourning the memory of you in your underwear in his bedroom. 

“Who would I have gone with if not with you?”

“What about Armin?”

“Armin?” you ask, tilting your head. “You really think he’s the type to go to parties in high school?”

“I don’t know,” Eren scoffs, dismissive. “Hey, why don’t you practice kissing with him instead of some random at the party?” Eren teases, kissing the air as you groan in annoyance. 

“Armin knows less about kissing than I do. I want to be with someone more experienced—someone who can teach me.”

“You’ve got really specific criteria for this guy. Are you sure you’re gonna be able to find someone?”

“Once I have a few drinks, my standards will lower,” you joke, gesturing to the six-pack at your feet. “Do people really play Spin the Bottle at parties? Or Seven Minutes in Heaven?”

“Not really.”

You sulk in your seat, whispering a quiet, “Aw, man.”

Eren clenches his hands around the steering wheel, rolling his palms back and forth until they squeak against the leather. “Look, there’s going to be a lot of bad guys at the party—guys that might try to take advantage of you—so let me know who you pick for your Big Kiss before you lock lips,” he says through clenched teeth. 

“What do you mean: take advantage of me?”

“I mean, they might make you do something you’re not comfortable with.”

“Like, tongue?”

“Like hand stuff,” Eren says, shooting you a glance from the corner of his eyes, “or mouth stuff. Or maybe even all the way.”

“At a party? But there’s people there!”

Eren clicks his tongue, “If someone asks you to go somewhere private, he probably wants to do more than just kiss you.”

You bring your hand up to your lips, ghosting your fingers across your mouth as you stare wide-eyed out at the road before you. “Wow, so I could lose my virginity tonight, too?”

“Take this seriously,” Eren snaps.

“What makes you think I’m not?”

“I think you’re making a mistake giving away your first kiss to some stranger.”

“Who cares, Eren? I’ve decided I’m going to do this, so I’m going to do it—stop being so weird about it.”

Eren groans, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to calm himself down.

“Ok, fine,” you whisper. “I’ll run my choice by you before the Big Kiss.”

Eren’s grip loosens around the steering wheel. “I’m just looking out for you after being a jerk for the past few years.”

“Yeah, I know, Eren,” you say. “Thank you.”

Connie’s parents own property just outside the city. It’s about a thirty-minute drive from Eren’s house, down a dirt road with no street lights. If you’re unfamiliar with the road, it can feel very spooky—and Eren senses your unease by the way you chew your lip and wring your hands together. 

“We’re almost there, don’t worry,” he assures you, and you hum in acknowledgment. “Just be grateful you got invited to a house party and not a pit party.”

“What’s a pit party?”

“It’s when we all get drunk in a gravel pit outside of town.” You look over and Eren in disbelief and he laughs. “We get some of the guys with trucks to drive out pallets so we can burn them for warmth.”

“Really? Isn’t that dangerous?”

Eren shrugs, “Probably.”

“How do you get home?”

“I don’t. I usually tent overnight.”

Your jaw drops. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not. There’s not many pit parties because the cops always shut them down if they catch wind, but they’re a blast.”

“You’re insane,” you laugh, and it makes Eren grin. “So, that’s what you were doing instead of studying during high school.”

“Hey, I did ok,” he says with a chuckle. “Are you nervous about the party?”

“A little,” you admit, biting your lower lip. “Not so much about the party itself, but more about… well… you know.”

“The Big Kiss?”

“Yeah,” you nod, exhaling shakily. “I’m worried I’m going to embarrass myself.”

“Then don’t have your first kiss when you’re drunk at a party with some stranger,” Eren scolds, brows furrowing. 

“I wish you’d be more supportive about this.” You cross your arms over your chest with a huff, pouting in Eren’s seat like a child. 

Well… at least you don’t seem nervous anymore.

Eren pulls into Connie’s long, gravel driveway that’s already filled with cars. He parks behind Reiner’s truck and gestures for you to follow him as he leads the way up to the house. 

From outside, the music and voices of the people inside are muffled, but Eren can see a group of people chatting in the living room by the window, and when they catch sight of him, they all start cheering. 

He opens the door to the cry of, “Eren!” from several nearby guests. Arms pull him into hugs, palms slapping his back, and suddenly he has a cracked drink in his hand as the crowd sweeps him away. For a split second, he forgets about you—but then he turns and snatches your wrist, dragging you with him as he’s steered into the kitchen. 

“I’m so glad you came, man!” Connie says, a joint hanging from between his lips. “I thought you weren’t going to make it out tonight.”

“Jaeger never misses a party,” Jean scoffs, clapping Eren in the back.

“Just running a little late, that’s all,” Eren shrugs. 

“Reiner was looking for you, he wants to play beer pong against us later tonight,” Jean says. “He’s convinced that this time he’s actually going to beat us.”

Connie laughs, puffs of smoke spilling from his mouth as he does. “Reiner would win if he didn’t always make Berthold his partner—that guy can’t aim for shit.”

“You’d think he’d have some sort of advantage because of his height,” Sasha chimes, giggly, “but it just makes him even more uncoordinated.”

You clear your throat softly and Eren watches as Jean and Connie’s attention shifts over to you—as if in slow motion, he sees the way their eyes scan your face, down to your chest, and then your thighs, before back up to your face. 

“Who’s this babe you’re with, Jaeger?” Connie asks, brows raising. Jean runs his tongue across his lower lip and Eren feels his jaw tensing. 

Eren wants to step in front of you to shield you from their lecherous gaze, but you stand a little taller from the attention, smiling wide as you introduce yourself. 

Connie extends a hand out to shake with yours and Eren thinks about swatting it away. “Connie Springer,” he says. 

“I know who you are,” you smile, but you shake his hand. You nod over at Jean, then Sasha, “And you’re Jean Kirstein and Sasha Braus. Eren talks about you guys all the time.”

“We’ve been friends since we were kids,” Eren explains. “We grew up together, so I’ve known her forever. She goes to school with us, but in a different program.”

“Oh, ok!” Sasha says, pleased with the explanation. She cocks her head to the side, lips pursed as she surveys your appearance. “You’re like, really pretty!”

“You go to the same school as us?” Jean asks, looking down at you curiously. “I think I’d notice someone like you.”

“I’m pretty shy,” you say.

“You don’t look shy.” You giggle, ducking your head slightly behind Eren’s shoulder and Jean shifts his gaze up to Eren’s face, eyes narrowing. “Are you two together?”

Eren doesn’t get a chance to respond before you chirp, “No, we’re just friends!”

“Oh, so he was trying to keep you for himself,” Jean says, and Eren feels his anger flare up. “Very childish, Jaeger,” he teases.

“Shut the fuck up, Kirstein,” Eren mocks, and Jean scowls at him. 

“Do you know how to play beer pong?” Connie asks, nodding toward the free table in the living room. “Wanna play?”

“I’ve never played before, but I’m happy to learn!”

Connie leads you over to the beer pong table with Jean and Eren close on your heels, leaving Sasha behind in the kitchen to raid the Springer’s snack cabinet. He arranges the red solo cups into a triangle shape as Jean and Eren do the same on the opposite end of the table. “The point of the game is to sink your ball into one of the cups on the other side,” Connie explains. “If you get it in, then the other team has to drink.”

You nod in understanding, watching closely as Connie dunks a ping pong ball into one of your cups, coating it in water before handing it to you.

“Give it a shot,” Connie smiles. 

You stick the tip of your tongue out in concentration, squinting one eye shut before throwing your ball toward the opposite end of the table. You completely undershoot, hitting the table instead, and the ball dribbles toward the cups without any hope of getting in. 

“That wasn’t bad,” Connie says encouragingly, “but you need a little more power and a little more arc.”

“Arc?” you repeat, curious. 

“Here, let me show you.”

Eren’s vision clouds as he watches Connie step behind you, wrapping one arm around your waist while the other ghosts over your hand. He whispers something into your ear as he guides you through the motions of tossing the ball, and whatever he says has you giggling and squirming in his grip. 

Connie guides you through tossing the ball and it hits one of Eren’s cups, swirling around the rim just above the water. Jean sticks his fingers into the cup and flicks the ball out and onto the floor. 

“Did I get it?” you ask, hopeful. 

“Nah, I fingered it out,” Jean says, “doesn’t count.”

“I fuckin’ hate that rule,” Connie groans, stepping away from you and back into position in front of the table. “Fingering is so hard.”

“I don’t want to play it either,” Eren says, relaxing now that Connie’s put some distance between the two of you. 

“Let’s let our new guest decide,” Jean suggests, extending a hand out for you to speak. “What do you think?”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, glancing between each of the boys. “Um… what’s fingering?”

Eren hears the sharp inhale Jean takes from your comment and watches how he stands up a little taller before speaking. “It’s when you put your fingers into the cup—like this—and flick out the ball.” Jean makes a show out of it, running his fingers along the rim of the cup before dipping them inside, gently flicking the water before pulling out his dripping fingers. Eren can see you gulping nervously from across the table from the sight. 

“Oh,” you say. 

“But girls can’t do that,” Jean continues, “you have to blow.”

“Blow?”

“Yeah. Just lean forward and blow into the cup—why don’t you try it?”

“No!” Eren snaps, crushing the ball in his hand. “Let’s just play the fucking game, stop fucking around.”

After swapping out the ball Eren ruined, the four of you continue to play—and it’s not a close game. Eren and Jean are incredibly good at beer pong, Connie is too high to function, and you can hardly hit any cups. You and Connie quickly drop to four cups while Jean and Eren still have all six.

“You guys really need to land a shot,” Jean says, feigning sympathy. “Otherwise you’re going to have to do a naked mile.”

“What’s that?” you ask, turning to Connie. 

“Exactly what it sounds like—run a mile naked.”

You frown from his response, looking across the table at Eren for sympathy. “Nobody’s going to make you do that,” he assures, but Jean scoffs at his side. 

“Hey, can we get a rearrange?” Jean asks, gesturing to the wonky formation of the remaining cups. “Give us a rhombus.”

Connie leans into your side but whispers loud enough to be heard across the table. “What the fuck is a rhombus?”

“It’s like a squished square,” Jean says, and he directs you as you move the cups into place before throwing his ball into the upper left cup. 

After you fish the ball out, Eren lines up his shot and sinks his ball into the same cup. With a cheer, Eren can't resist high-fiving Jean as Connie groans. He fishes out the ball, removes three cups from play, and rolls the ball back across the table, gesturing for you to do the same. 

“What happened?” you ask. 

“If they both sink it into the same cup, it’s three cups out and balls back,” Connie explains, sighing as Jean lines up his shot. “They’re gonna win this.”

Jean misses his shot with a loud, “Fuck!” and Eren intentionally overshoots. He’s trying to give your team a chance to get a cup so there’s no chance of you doing a naked mile, but it’s no use because you and Connie both miss your shots.

Eren rolls the ball between his palms, wishing for the first time that his partner will flub the shot—but Jean’s got great aim, and he manages to sink it. Eren intentionally ices the ball again to give you and Connie a chance for redemption.

“Did we lose?” you ask, looking over at Connie as he hands you a ball.

“We get two chances to get it in. If we do, then we’re in the clear, but if we both miss, then it’s game over.” You frown at his explanation, looking down at the ball in your hand before glancing across the table at the six cups lined up in front of Eren and Jean.

“I just wanna get it in,” you say.

“I bet you do,” Jean whispers under his breath, hiding his mouth behind his beer, and following it up with a slow sip.

“Why don’t you take both shots?” Connie offers, handing over his ball to you as well. “I’m not much better, and that’ll make your odds a little better.”

You smile at him gratefully before lining up your shot. You follow all of the instructions that the boys gave you throughout the game: line up your arm with the edge of the table, hinge at the elbow instead of throwing with your arm, arc it into the cup…

But you miss.

Jean runs his tongue across his teeth, chuckling as he catches your ball. “If you miss this one, you’re gonna have to do a naked mile.”

“No, you don’t,” Eren says through gritted teeth.

You shake out your limbs, loosening your nerves. You bounce a few times on your feet to get out any extra energy and Eren watches the way your tits jump with every hop. After a long, slow breath, you line up your second shot.

“Oh, shit! You got it!” Eren cheers, watching the ball perfectly arc into the air and into one of his cups. “Great work!”

You throw your arms up in the air with a cheer, twisting to the side to wrap them around Connie’s shoulders as you pull him in for a tight hug. Connie’s arms wrap around your lower back, squeezing you tightly before gently lifting you off the ground.

“Ok, cool it,” Eren hisses, “you guys only won redemption.” But Connie spins you around like the two of you just won the game. 

When he finally sets you back down, it’s Jean and Eren’s turn, and Jean easily gets the final ball in again. This time, you aren’t able to get a successful redemption shot, so you and Connie lose the game.

“That’s a naked mile!” Jean hoots, clapping his hands.

“No, it’s not. She got the ball in—they’re fine,” Eren argues.

Jean gestures to the six cups arranged in a perfect triangle on the table. “What do you mean? I don’t see any missing cups.”

“She got the redemption shot.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Yeah, it does.”

“Hey, it’s my house, and I decide that it counts! No naked mile!” Connie yells, and the small group of people that had gathered around the table to watch start booing. “Oh, fuck off!”

Eren breathes out a sigh of relief knowing that you won’t be running around the house naked, but when he turns to look at you, he sees that Jean has already made his way over to you. He’s shaking your hand, whispering into your ear, and rubbing your back with his free hand.

Oh, hell no.

Eren starts charging over to you so he can pull Jean off of you when his path is blocked by a big, broad blonde. “Eren! Let’s go, it’s our turn to play you,” Reiner says.

“Dude, I can’t right now,” Eren says, trying to push past him, but suddenly Berthold is standing there, too, blocking Eren even more. “Hey, can you guys move aside—”

“Come on, Eren. Don’t be lame, let’s play!”

“Yeah, ok—just give me a sec—can you get out of the way?” Eren ends up pushing his way past Berthold and Reiner to find Jean’s face in your neck and his arms wrapped around your waist. You’re pressed up on your toes to wrap your arms around his neck, leaning your body into him completely. 

He sucks in a sharp breath at the sight, trying to calm his anger, before reaching forward and ripping Jean’s arms off of your body. Jean stumbles back, frowning down at Eren. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” Eren feels hysterical—this isn’t happening. “I’m just—”

Just then, your arms wrap around Eren’s waist, tugging him into a tight hug and Eren feels like all the air has just been sucked out of his lungs. You bury your face into his chest with a happy sigh and Eren finds himself carefully resting his arms around your body, holding you close and pressing his nose against the top of your head.

The two of you have never touched like this before—it’s always been strictly platonic—despite his desire to be more physically affectionate. The most physical contact the two of you have ever had was probably just a high-five, so Eren’s shocked to suddenly feel the warmth of your body against his.

He can feel you murmuring something into his chest, but he can’t quite hear you. Eren cups the bottom of your jaw in his hand, tilting your face out of his chest until your chin rests on his sternum. You smile up at him drunkenly. “He’s the one I want,” you say, and Eren feels his world crashing around him, “Jean.”

“No, you can’t,” he says. “He’s not—don’t do it—he’s not the one you wanna do this with.” Eren looks down at you with furrowed brows, holding you tight against his body as if he can physically restrain you from doing this—from kissing Jean.

“I want to,” you giggle, and you turn your head to look over at Jean, resting your cheek on Eren’s chest.

Jean’s still standing right there—grinning right next to you and Eren as Eren holds you close. Eren shoots Jean a deadly look, to which Jean responds by taking a step back. “Hey, come on, Jaeger. Let’s play with Reiner.”

Eren only agrees because playing beer pong with Jean means that he’s not taking you somewhere private and stealing your first kiss—so the two boys return to their spot to play against Reiner and Berthold while Connie and Sasha keep you company.

Connie is still openly hitting on you, but he’s stoned now, so he’s not talking as smoothly as he thinks he is, much to Eren’s relief. And Sasha is feeding you chips she found in the cupboard, which is helping to sober you up after the drinks you had during beer pong. A few other people come over to introduce themselves to you throughout the game, but nobody sticks around to chat.

Jean and Eren are cleaning the floor with Reiner and Berthold in this game of beer pong. They’re down to just one cup and there’s a good chance that Jean will get it on his next shot, but rather than taking the shot right away, Jean whistles for your attention and then beckons you over.

“If I get this one in, what do I get?” he asks, leaning down to speak into your ear. Eren feels his shoulders and neck tense as he watches you giggle into your hand.

“Um… I don’t know, what do you want?” you ask, batting your eyelashes up at him. You’re not even doing it on purpose—but with the height difference, you have to tilt your head almost all the way up to look at Jean’s face. It makes you look small and innocent, especially compared to Jean’s almost sinister smirk.

He runs his tongue across his lower lip, passing the ball between each of his hands as he pretends to think it over. “Hmm… what about a kiss?”

Eren watches your throat bob as you swallow nervously and he considers stepping between the two of you—but this is what you want. You’re his friend, he should be supportive of you and your decisions, even if he likes you—especially if he likes you.

You tug your lip between your teeth to bite back your grin as you nod up at Jean. “Ok—yeah, I’ll give you a kiss.”

“Perfect,” he purrs, standing up tall again. He wraps one arm around your waist to hold you close at his side while he raises his hand to take the shot. It’s no coincidence that Eren happens to lose his balance at this exact moment and stumbles into Jean, causing him to fumble the shot with a groan. “What the fuck, man?”

“Sorry,” Eren says, not sorry at all. He takes his final shot and sinks it into the final cup, and Berthold and Reiner don’t have a chance at redemption.

The crowd cheers, Reiner demands a rematch, blah, blah, blah—none of that matters when Eren realizes that you (and Jean) have disappeared from his side. He frantically looks around the room, alarmed at how quickly the two of you were able to sneak away from him, but he catches Jean’s signature mullet disappearing into the kitchen and Eren charges after him, knowing that he’ll find you there, too.

And as expected, he sees you giggling into Jean’s chest as his hands reach down to your hips, lifting you off the ground and onto the kitchen counter, “So, where’s my kiss?” Jean hums, leaning toward your face. Eren loudly clears his throat and Jean’s entire back tenses with annoyance before his eyes shift over to Eren. “Can I help you?”

“Reiner wants to play again, let’s rerack.”

“I think I’m done with beer pong for tonight.”

“Come on, double or nothing.”

“Eren, I’m good.” Jean makes a point of jerking his head in your direction as he stares at Eren with a stern expression.

Eren pretends like he doesn’t get the hint and steps closer, hopping up to sit on the counter next to you and swinging his feet. “What do you think of the party so far?” he asks as Jean steps back with a huff.

“I’m having a lot of fun,” you grin, holding your drink in your lap with both hands. “It’s not like the movies, but it’s still a lot of fun—it’s nice meeting everyone.”

“Some of my friends are really nice,” Eren says with a strained smile.

Jean clears his throat loudly, reminding the two of you that he’s still standing right there. “Hey, Eren, I think I heard Reiner calling for you in the other room.”

Eren tilts his head to look at Jean, his expression blank. “I didn’t hear anything.” Then he returns his gaze back to you, “So, do you want to play any more games? We might be able to get a round of Flip Cup going or something.”

“Ooo, what’s that?”

“Ok, fuck this,” Jean huffs under his breath before taking a step forward. He cages you against the counter with his arms on either side of your hips as he steps between your parted thighs, blocking Eren out of the conversation. He leans forward to whisper something into your ear, so quietly that Eren can’t hear, and you giggle in response when he leans away. “When you’re done talking with Eren, come find me upstairs,” Jean says with a wink before walking off.

“Upstairs?” Eren can’t hide his shock. “Upstairs?!”

You giggle again, kicking your feet in excitement before hopping down off of the counter. “He says he wants to kiss me.”

“Oh, he wants to do a lot more than that,” Eren spits. “You’ve known him for like two minutes, what the fuck?”

“I told you, I wanted to kiss someone at the party tonight.”

“But Jean?”

You shrug, “He seems nice.”

“He’s not. I heard from one of the guys from his hometown that he used to be a real fuckin’ bully in high school. I mean like, stuffing guys in lockers and stealing their lunch money, type shit.”

“That sounds made up,” you say, frowning. “Besides, he’s been nice to me all night.”

Eren sputters around a response—shocked. You’re not seriously going to go through with this, are you?

You hold your hands up in surrender. “I’m obviously not going to do anything I don’t feel comfortable doing with him, ok? You don’t have to worry about me. If he gets too pushy, I’ll tell him to stop.”

“How far do you plan on going? Are you going to lose your fucking virginity to him, too?”

Your eyes widen in alarm and you reach forward to clamp your palms over Eren’s mouth. “Hey! You don’t have to broadcast that I’m a loser to everyone at the party!”

He swats your hands away easily. “You’re not a loser for not having done anything with anyone—stop saying that. Don’t be in such a rush to have these experiences with some random person when you can wait for the right guy and have all of your firsts with him. It’ll be more special if it’s with someone you trust—someone you love.”

“I didn’t realize you were such a romantic,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “The whole concept of virginity and purity is just a social construct, anyway—none of it matters. But I’m tired of feeling like I’m less than just because I’m in university and I haven’t done things that other people have done in high school.”

“Who’s making you feel less than?” Eren asks, brows furrowing. “Don’t let what other people think dictate your actions.”

You sigh, relaxing your shoulders. “You’re right, I shouldn’t… but I am—so, please let me do this.”

Eren presses his face into his palms in frustration. He rubs his face harshly before running his hands up and through his hair, taking a long, deep breath. “I’m sorry. You don’t need my permission to do anything—go for it.” He forces a smile and shoots you a double thumbs up, and he can tell by the look on your face that you’re not quite convinced.

“Whatever, Eren. I’ll come find you later, ok?”

Eren nods, clasping his hands together and stuffing them between his thighs as he curls forward into himself, defeated.

He doesn’t know exactly how to communicate the way he feels about you and it’s freaking him out. You’ve always been the most important person in his life and the years he couldn’t be with you because of his ex were easily the worst years of his life. He’s angry that you want to waste your first kiss on one of his asshole friends because he wants you to be with him. And at this point, he knows he’s already making a fool of himself from how he’s been going out of his way to sabotage things between you and any guy that looks at you for longer than two seconds.

How much worse could things get if he was just honest with you? If he chased after you and told you explicitly how he felt and why he’s been acting so weird tonight—maybe you’ll take pity on him and just kiss him.

He could be ok with that.

Eren hops off the kitchen counter, determined to stop you before anything happens between you and Jean. He climbs up the stairs two at a time and is faced with a hallway full of doors—you and Jean are nowhere to be seen. Did you two really have that much of a head start on him? But it doesn’t matter, Eren knows which room is Connie’s, so he marches down the hallway and swings open the door—

But there’s no one there.

He sucks in a sharp breath through his nostrils, gazing around the room in case the two of you are hidden away somewhere, but no luck. Eren steps out of the bedroom and walks instead into the bathroom, swinging the door open to find an unfortunate party guest curled up in a ball on the floor next to a toilet filled with puke. Eren wrinkles his nose at the sight, stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him. Where else could you be?

Through some stroke of luck, Eren hears the sound of giggling from the room behind him—your giggling. He swings open the door to Connie’s parent's bedroom to find Jean laid out on the bed with you straddling his lap.

The two of you jolt when the bedroom door swings against the wall and Jean sits up on his forearms, visibly annoyed. “What the fuck!”

“Eren? What are you doing here?”

“Yeah, Eren, what are you doing here?” Jean asks, holding you firmly down on his lap when you make a move to crawl off—the action turns Eren’s vision red.

“Jean, you—um—” Eren flounders around an excuse, taking another step into the bedroom as he watches the way your hands reach for Jean’s—have the two of you kissed yet? “Uh… Floch’s in the bathroom upstairs, he’s asking for you.”

“Um, ok? I’m a little busy.” Jean gestures to you perched on his lap—like it’s obvious—before rocking you down onto his lap. Your eyes widen in surprise and you lose your balance, falling forward with your palms on Jean’s chest.

Eren wonders if he’s capable of getting away with murder.

“We have to leave, Zeke’s on his way to pick us up,” Eren says, reaching forward and grabbing your wrist. 

“Already? We haven’t been here that long,” you protest, glancing between Eren and Jean with your lip between your teeth.

“Yeah, he said it’s now or never,” Eren says, and you start to crawl off of Jean’s lap. “I don’t want to pay for a cab.”

“Eren, what the fuck is going on?” Jean groans, sitting up fully and grabbing a pillow to cover his crotch when you climb back to your feet next to Eren.

“So sorry, Jean,” Eren sighs, relieved that you’re coming with him. “We gotta go—have a good night!”

“Whatever,” Jean hisses, flopping back onto the bed just as Eren walks you out into the hallway with him.

He tries to sneak you out of the party as best as he can—avoiding Reiner and Berthold so he doesn’t get dragged into another game, avoiding Connie because Eren knows he’s interested in you too, and just avoiding as much of the crowd as possible before slipping you out of the back door.

He has your wrist in a vice grip as you walk down Connie’s driveway back to Eren’s car. You stumble over your feet and you struggle to keep up with him as Eren charges down the road. “Eren! You’re hurting me! Let go!”

Like he’s been jolted with electricity, he drops your hand and pauses, staring at you with wide eyes. “Oh—shit, I’m sorry. Are you ok?”

You frown up at him, rubbing your wrist with your opposite hand. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I told you—we have to go.”

“No, Eren. You’ve been acting weird all night—just tell me what’s going on.”

He balls his hands into tight fists at his side, scrunching up his face as he tries to think of what to say—how to explain himself. He was so riled up in the kitchen about telling you how he felt, but now that you’re standing here in front of him—furious he cockblocked you—it’s hard for him to put his thoughts into words.

“Zeke said he’s on his way. I didn’t want you to get left behind,” he says, mentally kicking himself for chickening out.

The two of you walk in silence for the remainder of the way back to the car (where Eren texts Zeke to come pick you both from the party), grabbing a couple of bottles of water from the flat in his trunk before settling into the car. He turns on the ignition just to get the heat going while you curl up on the seat beside him, nursing your bottle of water.

“I didn’t kiss him,” you sigh, and Eren feels his body relax for the first time tonight. “Mission failed.”

“That’s ok,” Eren hums, drinking from his bottle of water. “There will be other parties.”

“Yeah,” you sigh again, resting your head on the backrest as you look over at Eren beside you. “You were right though, it was a really stupid plan. I was so excited when Jean and I were flirting at the party, but when we were alone in the bedroom together I felt kinda… scared.”

Eren frowns. “Scared? Did he hurt you?”

“No, no, of course not,” you dismiss quickly, shaking your head. “I just… I felt like I didn’t really want to be there anymore but I felt bad because he was, um…”

“He was what?”

You gesture vaguely at your lap, refusing to meet Eren’s eyes. “Um… he was… hard.”

Eren snorts, rolling his eyes and taking another drink from his bottle. “He’ll survive. You don’t owe him anything just because his dick got a little excited.”

You laugh around the bottle as you take another sip. After a few loud gulps, you put the now empty bottle in one of Eren’s cupholders and brush away the spilled water on your chin with the heel of your hand. “I just… I don’t know, I woke up this morning and I decided that I was tired of being so inexperienced, but you were right, I shouldn’t have tried to rush it.”

“Did you have fun, at least?”

“Oh, yeah—I had loads of fun,” you grin up at him and Eren feels his heart rate quicken. “Thank you for bringing me with you, I had a really good time, even though I never got to kiss Jean.”

“I hear he’s a bad kisser anyway,” Eren says, and you snort.

“I wouldn’t have known.”

“I guess not.”

You sit up in your seat and look over at Eren. You scan over his face, his chest, his hands on the steering wheel—it makes him a little uncomfortable to sit with your gaze like this, and he shifts awkwardly in his seat. “What are you looking at?”

“I never feel uncomfortable when I’m around you.”

He chuckles anxiously, lowering his gaze down to his lap. “Uh, I would hope not. We’ve been friends forever.”

“Well, I mean, even around Armin I feel a little awkward sometimes… but I’m not like that when I’m around you.”

Eren fiddles with his rings, spinning them off of his fingers and then twisting them back on. “Yeah, I always feel comfortable when I’m around you.” Except for right now. His heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest from the attention you’re giving him right now. There’s just something about the way that you’re looking at him that’s getting Eren’s hopes up.

“Who was your first kiss?”

“My ex,” he says, risking a glance over at you, “why?”

“How did you know what to do?”

“I don’t know… we kind of just figured it out together.” Eren feels uncomfortable talking about her with you like this. 

“Do you think about it a lot?”

He snorts, running a hand through his hair. “No, I don’t think about it at all.”

“So, your first kiss wasn’t special.”

“I guess not,” Eren says as he looks over at you with a frown. “Her and I aren’t really friends anymore and I don’t wanna get back together with her, so I don’t really think about her anymore.”

“Do you regret it?”

He laughs nervously, running his palms across his thighs as he tries to stretch out in the confines of the car. “You’re asking a lot of difficult questions.”

“I’m just trying to understand.”

“I didn’t regret it at the time, but now, I kind of wish I had done it with someone that was more important to me.”

“Like who?”

Eren looks over at you. You’re perched in your seat, leaning forward onto the centre console with wide eyes and plush, moist lips. He feels his face soften as he looks at you—as he imagines his first kiss with you—but he doesn’t say anything. The tension in the car is thick as the two of you sit there staring at one another. He can hear each soft breath you take and if he looks closely, he can see the way your pupils dilate as you look into his eyes. 

“Can I kiss you?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. 

He sucks his cheeks into his mouth, making quick, little nods as he tries to keep his cool while his heart threatens to burst out of his chest. “Thought you said you didn’t want to.”

“I thought you were just making fun of me earlier… but… if you’re into it—”

“Yeah, I’m into it.”

“I trust you more than anyone,” you say, as if trying to justify it but Eren’s already sold.

He tosses his empty bottle into the backseat and then quickly leans forward on the centre console, toward you—but you jerk back and away from him. “Shit, sorry,” he hisses, sitting back in his seat.

You laugh nervously. “Uh, no… it’s ok, I’m just—I’m new to this, right? So, I just need you to be…”

“Slow,” he finishes for you, and you nod. He swallows thickly, leaning forward again—slowly this time—and rests there for a moment until you lean toward him. He can tell you’re nervous, too. Little beads of sweat dot your hairline and your breathing is quick and shallow. Not that Eren is the picture of composure right now, either. He can feel the burn of embarrassment in his cheeks and his back feels slick with sweat—but he tries to hold it together. “Do you want me to lean in or…?”

You raise your hands to his face, ghosting around his head before pulling them back against your chest. “I don’t know where to put my hands.”

Eren reaches forward to grab your wrist—slow and gentle—and guides your hand up to his face, cupping his jaw in your palm. “Hold me like this, and then with your other hand, uh…” he guides it to his chest, pressing your hand right over his heart. “Here, see? Can you feel my heartbeat? I’m just as nervous as you are.”

You laugh and lean in a little further. “Why are you nervous?”

Because I like you.

“I don’t know,” he says.

Eren cups your opposite jaw with his hand, tilting your face slightly to the side, and running his thumb across the warmth on your cheek. He leans in a little further, brushing his nose against yours, and he hears your breath catch in your throat. “Are you ready?”

“I… I think so,” you whisper, eyes fluttering shut.

Eren closes the gap between the two of you, pressing his lips against yours in a soft, chaste kiss. You’re a little stiff—a little awkward—as you lean into the kiss. Your lips are so rigidly puckered that there’s almost no intimacy in it at all. He holds like that for a moment—despite every muscle in his body urging him to try to deepen the kiss—before pulling away just enough to speak.

“Try to relax your lips a little bit.” He tilts his head until his lips are pressed against the palm of your hand and he demonstrates the motion by softly kissing your hand, “Like this.”

“Ok,” you whisper, breath hot against his cheek.

The second time he moves in to kiss you is already significantly better than before, your lips are soft when Eren presses against you, but you’re not quite kissing back. He tries to deepen the kiss by pressing into you a little harder, moving his lips against yours, and breathing in your scent, but you’re giving him… nothing.

“Try to copy what I’m doing,” he whispers, lips brushing against yours as he speaks. “Like you’re trying to kiss my lower lip, over and over again.”

You hum in response and awkwardly start to follow his motions and this—this!—is exactly what he wants. He applies a little more pressure as the two of you move together and the longer you kiss, the more comfortable and soft you become. You lean more into Eren’s body, clutching his t-shirt with one hand while the other curls around the back of his neck. Eren slides his hand to the back of your head to pull you closer and he’s rewarded by a soft moan that jolts electricity straight down his spine.

“Can I—can I use my tongue?” he asks, breathless. Right, he’s supposed to come up for air every once in a while.

You take a few deep breaths, lashes fluttering as you look up into his eyes, and then back down to his lips. You brush your nose against his, eager. “Yeah—please.”

This next kiss is hungry—Eren’s quickly beginning to lose his composure. Although you’re a little uncoordinated at first, you’re a quick learner, and soon Eren’s hand is gripping the hair on the back of your head, tugging gently and drawing out louder and louder moans from you. With the addition of his tongue in your mouth, it’s all too easy for him to imagine things going further with you. 

He pictures looming overtop of you in the backseat of his car, your thighs on either side of his hips. He pictures sliding his hand up the bottom hem of the dress he helped you pick out, fingertips brushing against that soft, wet spot between your legs while you whine into his mouth.

The thought has him groaning into you, shifting his lips away from yours to pepper kisses along your jawline. You’re panting heavily in his ear, still clutching his shirt tightly as you struggle to catch your breath. Eren presses his lips just behind your ear before trailing his mouth down the column of your neck and with his lips against your pulse point, he can feel how quickly your heart is beating.

You squirm in your seat, “Eren, that… it feels good.”

He hums against your throat, gently sinking his teeth into the skin to the sound of your moans before swiping his tongue across the mark. “Is there anything else you want me to teach you,” he asks, breathless.

“Yeah, um…” you pull away from this kiss, looking up at him with hazy, half-lidded eyes. You drag your hand down his chest, resting on his belt as Eren holds his breath. Your gaze drops to Eren’s lap—to the strain of his cock against his jeans.

“You can touch it if you want,” he whispers, and your hand shifts to his thigh. He feels like he’s the virgin here, as your hand gently ghosts across the bulge in his pants. He’s desperate for you to touch him, but at the same time, he’s worried that he’s going to immediately lose it.

You hesitate, looking down at Eren’s cock with shaky breaths. Just as Eren thinks you’re going to pull your hand away, you gently lower it onto his cock and he groans from the warmth of your palm.

“Oh!” you squeak, surprised. “It’s hard.”

Eren laughs, “Yeah, that’s all because of you.”

You wrinkle your nose at him but gently squeeze him through his jeans before softly moving up and down his length. Eren throws his head back, gritting his teeth as his hips buck against your hand—he’s about to fucking cum from an over-the-pants handjob.

“Does it hurt?”

“Definitely not,” he responds through clenched teeth. 

“Can I see it?”

Eren sucks in another sharp breath, quickly moving his hands to his belt buckle as he works on undoing it. “Yeah, yeah—of course, you can,” he says, fumbling with the strap as he tries to free it from the clasp.

HOOOOOOOOOONK!

The two of you jolt in surprise, jumping against either end of the car when you hear a loud car horn from nearby. Annoyed, Eren wipes his palm across the window to clear the steam on the glass and is met with Zeke grinning at him from the car beside Eren’s. He makes a point to wave before he lays on the horn again.

HOOOOOOOOOONK!

“We’re coming! We’re coming!”

He turns back to you with a huff, running both hands through his hair to try to calm himself down as he looks at you apologetically, but you’re already working on the door and heading out—leaving Eren alone in the heat of the car, and Eren has to sit with his forehead against the steering wheel until his boner goes away.

“You got here fast,” he huffs, slamming the door behind him as he crawls into the backseat of Zeke’s car.

“When my brother calls, I answer,” Zeke says, smirking at Eren from the rearview window and he backs out of Connie’s driveway. “What were the two of you doing in the car? I thought you were here for a party.”

“I got a little too drunk,” you lie easily, smoothing your dress over your lap, keeping your head down. “Eren got me a bottle of water and we were just hanging out until the spins went away.”

“Ah, that’s right—it was your first party, so your first time drinking, too?”

“I’ve had wine for special occasions with dinner, but I’ve never gotten drunk before.”

Zeke hums in approval, “And Eren took care of you? That’s surprising.”

Eren’s knee bounces in the backseat, gently rattling the car as Zeke drives through the country and back to the highway. If Zeke hadn’t arrived, you could be holding Eren’s cock in your hands right now. He could be teaching you how to stroke him—show you how to spit on it to get it nice and slick.

But instead, Eren’s stuck in the backseat with sore balls while you’re sobering up in the front. You’ll probably run up to bed as soon as you get home, leaving Eren to jerk himself off in the basement while he thinks about how soft your lips felt against his.

He rests his head against the cool window pane and watches the trees rush by as you and Zeke talk to one another quietly in the front seat. Eren wonders if you had gotten as worked up as he did during your makeout session, or if it was all just for the sake of learning.

Were you still thinking about the way his body felt against yours? The way your breath hitched when Eren kissed down your neck or how much you loved getting your hair pulled? Did all that kissing make you wet for him, squirming in the front seat to hide your discomfort from Eren’s older brother as you tried to hold a conversation about school?

He hopes that you can forget about this all in the morning—that the two of you can just go back to the way things were before and pretend it never happened. Maybe you’ll end up messaging Jean and kissing him the way Eren taught you.

The thought makes him bristle, but he tries to push the feeling away.

When Zeke parks the car at the Jaeger residence, he gently reminds you both that the guest room is upstairs with a knowing smirk. Eren just rolls his eyes—not like anything is going to happen between the two of you.

“Goodnight, guys,” Eren says, whispering in the darkness of his home as you follow Zeke upstairs. He lingers by the base of the stairs until you disappear around the corner, and then with a frustrated sigh, Eren makes his descent into the basement.

He flops face-first onto his bed with a groan, already feeling the ache in his cock from the memory of your lips against his. Eren rolls over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling of his room as he works on the buckle of his belt, finding it much easier to undo without the added pressure of your heavy gaze on him.

He palms at his crotch through his underwear, hissing at the pressure as the tip of his cock leaks against his leg. He imagines you laying in bed in the guestroom above him, your own hand drifting between your thighs to the same memory of tonight.

He resigns himself to a night of jerking off to the lingering smell of your perfume on his shirt, but then he hears the familiar buzz of his phone on his nightstand—the designated heartbeat vibration that you set for yourself as a joke—and he jolts out of bed.

You: I think I need more practice

Eren feels his heart jump into his throat from your message. His thumbs hover anxiously over the keys, unsure of how to respond, but then he sees a second message come through.

You: Can I come downstairs?

Eren: Do you think you can without Zeke noticing?

You: I don’t care about Zeke

Eren: Yeah Eren: Come here

Eren climbs to his feet and immediately starts cleaning up his room. He shoves clothes that he had thrown across the ground haphazardly into the closet, tidies up his desk of any garbage and old dishes, and sprays a bit of cologne onto his neck and crotch—just in case.

Sure, you were in his room earlier today, but now things are different. Everything feels electric and he doesn’t want something like his dirty laundry to ruin the mood.

He is midway through trying to force the doors of his closet shut when he hears the gentle tap tap of you knocking on his bedroom door. He pauses immediately, feeling his heartbeat in his ears as he shifts his gaze over to the closed door. Standing up tall, he runs both hands through his hair to smooth down his brown locks before stepping over to the door and swinging it open.

“Hey,” you smile, breathless. You’ve changed into your pyjamas, a cute set with a short-sleeve cotton button-up and matching shorts.

He grins, reaching forward to loop his arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Hey,” he says, right before pressing his mouth against yours.

You return his kiss with fervour, hands reaching up to wrap around Eren’s neck as you jump up and wrap your legs around his waist. Eren grunts into your mouth, hands shifting to cup your ass as he carries you into his room and onto his bed.

He lays you out on your back on his mattress, pulling away only to admire the way your skin looks against his bedsheets. He’s already breathing hard with flushed cheeks, just from kissing, but you look just as wrecked as he does as you squirm beneath him on the bed.

“I’ve never done this before,” you whisper, a quiet reminder as Eren runs his palm along your waist. “Be gentle with me.”

“Of course,” he promises, leaning down to kiss you again. “We’ll go at your pace, ok? Tell me what you want.”

You swallow hard when Eren’s mouth trails down your throat, your hands twisted in his hair as you tug him closer to your skin. He presses more of his weight against your body, kneeling between your spread-open thighs on the bed as his arms wrap around your waist. “You look really cute,” he says, nipping at your neck and you moan. You squirm against him, needy for something you’ve never felt before, and Eren feels his mind grow hazy.

“Can you touch me?” you ask, an airy whisper against Eren’s hairline as he kisses across your collarbones.

“Where?” He moves his hands from around your waist, sliding up and down your sides, and gently tracing the curve of your breasts. You tug your lip between your teeth, eyes half-lidded at you look up at Eren, nodding slightly when he moves his palm across your chest.

He squeezes your breasts softly and your legs squeeze around his hips in response, making his breath catch in his throat. You’re not wearing a bra under your pyjamas, he can feel the absence of it through the thin cotton, and as he brushes his thumb across your already pert nipples, you whimper.

“Like that?” he asks, and you nod furiously. He moves his hands to the centre of your chest and starts to work on the buttons, watching the way your chest heaves with every breath and he moves down your stomach.

Eren pulls your shirt open and groans at the sight of your exposed breasts—rising and falling with each breath that you take. He brings a hand up to his mouth, licking his thumb, before bringing his hand back down to grab you, and he uses the slick digit to slide across your hardened nipple.

“Eren!” you squeal, arching your back into his touch as he flicks his thumb forward and back over the nub. He can see the small goosebumps across your skin from the cold at the same time that you darken in arousal and it drives him insane. 

Hovering over the opposite nipple, he lets a long line of drool spill from his lips until it lands on your nipple. You squirm from the feeling, gasping again when Eren’s opposite hand reaches out to pinch it between two fingers. 

“Oh my God, Eren,” you whimper, biting your lip hard as your head twists against the pillows. Your body is rolling against him, hips bucking up and seeking friction to alleviate the need as he plays with your chest.

He reaches down to shove his half-undone pants off of his hips so he can press his barely-clothed cock against you, instantly feeling the heat of your arousal against him as he does. With a deep groan, his head falls forward against your shoulder as he struggles not to fuck into you just like this—he’s so turned on it hurts.

“Where else?” he urges, desperate. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

You struggle to speak as Eren gently pinches and pulls at your nipples, his mouth salivating at the thought of taking you into his mouth, but he’s trying to take things slow. He’s trying to let you set the pace, lest he completely ravages you.

You reach a hand down from Eren’s hair, grabbing the wrist of his hand and he stills his movements completely. He lifts his head from your shoulder to look up at your face as you gently pull his hand off of your breast. Holding eye contact, you drag his hand down your body until it rests firmly between your thighs.

“I need you here,” you say, like you have absolutely no idea what those words will do to him.

“Have you ever touched yourself before?” You shake your head from side to side and Eren feels like he’s just been gifted the greatest thing in the world. “Have you ever had an orgasm?”

“I think so.”

“Ok, so you haven’t,” Eren chuckles, running his tongue across his lower lip. “Sit up for me,” he says with a nod, standing up onto his knees and making his way over to your side.

You shrug your pyjama top off as Eren settles onto the bed behind you, scooching the two of you back until he’s lying back against the headrest and you’re lying back against his chest. He can’t help himself from grabbing and palming at your breasts and he makes himself comfortable with his chin on your shoulder.

“I’m going to show you how to do it, so you can do it yourself,” he explains, and your breathing stutters.

He slides his hands down your stomach to your thighs, gently running his palms down to your knees before dragging them back up to your hips, using his thumbs to press into your inner thigh as he does, dragging up the hem of your shorts.

“I’m not an expert at this, so I’ll need you to tell me if it feels good, ok?” he hums, brushing his lips against the bare skin on your shoulders. You let out a shaky breath in response, nodding jerkily as Eren’s hands come up to the waistband of your shorts.

He hooks his thumbs under your clothes, nudging for you to lift your hips as he drags them down past your knees, where you kick them off to the side, leaving you in just a pair of black, lacy underwear. The sexy thong you have on contrasts harshly with your innocence and does something to Eren’s brain that makes everything feel fuzzy.

Eren spreads your thighs open by laying them across his legs, keeping you open for him, even when your knees try to cave together. With one hand on your stomach, holding you in place against his chest, he moves his other between your legs to cup you through your underwear. And just like he suspected, you’re soaking.

He groans against your skin as he moves his fingers against the slick, wet mess seeping through the fabric of your underwear. From over your shoulder, as he pulls his fingers away, he can even see the strings of your arousal stretch and snap against him.

“You’re so horny,” he whispers, throat tight. “You need it bad, huh?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, voice low. “Eren, can you please—?”

He smiles, petting your entrance softly with his fingers before dragging them up to your clit, and the contact makes you jerk immediately. “Does this feel good?” he asks, applying gentle pressure in smooth, circular motions.

Your hips squirm against him as you breathe out sharp puffs of air. “Yeah—yeah, that—it’s good.”

“This is where all your nerves are,” he explains, listening closely for each hitch in your breath as he increases—decreases—the pressure of his fingers, trying to find that sweet spot that has you mewling in his ear. “This is what you’re gonna wanna do if you’re touching yourself.”

You bite your lip so hard the skin around it turns white, your eyes clenching shut as you focus on the feeling, but Eren tuts and gives you two soft slaps against your cunt. “Open your eyes, I want you to watch me.”

Blinking your eyes open, you look up at Eren with hazy, tear-lined eyes, your lips plump and swollen from kissing and biting—and you look nothing like the sweet, innocent girl that was here in Eren’s room earlier today. Your gaze swings from Eren’s face to down between your legs, sucking in a sharp breath at the sight of Eren’s hands on your body.

“Take over for me,” he hums, sliding his hand onto your thigh. You whimper and lurch your hips forward to chase him, but his other hand keeps you firmly in place against your chest. “Show me what you learned.”

Your chin drops to your chest as you move your hand between your legs, copying Eren’s motions from before as you find your clit and rub gentle circles through your underwear. He can feel the muscles in your thighs tensing beneath his hand as your pleasure builds and your head falls back against Eren’s shoulder.

“Does it feel good?” he asks and you moan softly in response. He trails his hands across your body, moving to the waistband of your underwear as he starts to tug it down your hips. “Now, take these off.”

Your skin is hot to the touch, breathing fast and shallow, and your hips twitch and keen up against Eren’s touch as he moves both hands to your inner thighs, spreading you open for him as he looks down at your pussy from between the mounds of your breasts.

“Eren, you’re better at it—can you please—?” your words are choppy and airy as your hands reach out to grab at his wrists, trying to pull him toward your aching cunt. Eren imagines a world where you can’t figure out how to get yourself off—where you have to come to him to find pleasure.

“Ok,” he coos, teasingly, “but you have to pay attention, ok?” 

This time, when he touches you, he presses the pad of his thumb flat against your clit, leaving his fingers open to toy and play with your pussy. You’re so wet, he’s just slipping his fingers against your skin, collecting the slick on his digits while his tongue grows heavy in his mouth—he wonders if you’ll let him taste you.

“I’m going to go inside you now,” he says, shifting his free hand to grab your chin, making sure you're looking down between your legs. “It might hurt a little, but just try to relax.”

He tries to pick his thinnest finger to push inside of you, but they’re all thicker and longer than yours. He opts for his ring finger, pushing past the slippery folds into your entrance to the first knuckle, groaning at the wet warmth of your walls as they squeeze around him.

“How’s that?” he asks, carefully working it in and out of you, pushing deeper each time.

Your hips squirm against him, rubbing his cock between the globes of your ass as you do. “I want more.”

He pushes deeper and deeper, meeting no resistance as he slips his entire finger into you. You squeeze around his digit in tight, little pulses that has Eren’s cock throbbing against your back—you’re so tight.

Eren starts to fuck you with his finger, pulling in and out while his thumb maintains pressure against your clit. Your arousal coats his finger, dripping down between your legs with each pump of his hand, but slowly you start to loosen up around him as you begin to relax.

“Look at how wet you are for me,” he groans, pulling out until just the tip of his finger remains, showing how slick and shiny his skin is from you. “I’m gonna do another one, ok?”

You moan loudly when Eren pushes a second finger into you—hands clawing at Eren’s thighs as your back arches hard off of his chest. “Oh my God, Eren!” you cry, body trembling, “That feels so good—that feels so good.”

He moves his palm to cover your mouth, shushing you as his fingers curl against that spongey bundle of nerves inside of you that has your toes curling. “My family is upstairs,” he reminds you, but he picks up his pace just to hear more of your muffled moans against his hand.

The wet squelch of your cunt around his fingers has him breathing hard into your neck—all he can think about is how perfectly your pussy is moulding around his fingers, how easily you’re able to take him with how wet and eager you are. His cock is making a mess in his underwear, leaking precum and soaking through the fabric as his hips grind against your ass. He wants to be greedy—he wants to stuff his cock inside of you—but he has to keep reminding himself that this is your first time, you’re just learning.

Your legs start to shake on either side of him and Eren can feel you squeezing hard around his fingers as you moan into his palm. “Does it feel good?” he asks, even though he can already tell, and he grins when you start to nod. “You’re close, I can tell. It’s ok to cum—just let go.”

Your stomach flexes and tightens under his arm as your pleasure builds and you start squirming in his grip—fuck, your first orgasm! Eren feels lucky to be the one to give it to you.

He keeps his steady pace of fucking his fingers into your cunt as his thumb presses against your clit, and soon he feels your chest tighten as you hold your breath—one, two, three—and with a muffled moan, you cum on Eren’s fingers.

“Oh, fuck,” he hisses, breathing hard as you tighten around him, clenching and squeezing his fingers as you body shakes and your eyes roll back into your head. Eren works you through it, listening to your breathing and waiting for your body to relax against his before he stops moving. With great delight, he looks between your breasts as he pulls his fingers from inside of you, groaning at the sight of the creamy, white ring around his knuckles.

Your hands are still shaking when you reach out to grab his wrist. “I’m s-sorry, Eren,” you say inbetween breaths.

“Why are you apologizing?” Eren asks, voice strained. His other hand has shifted down from it’s hold on your mouth to your chest and underneath his palm he can feel the rapid beating of your heart in your chest. “You did really good, I’m so proud of you.”

Your thighs tense from his praise, moving to snap shut but Eren still has your legs hanging over his own to keep you open. And while you’re still catching your breath, Eren brings his fingers up to his lips to suck the sour taste of your pussy off of them.

Removing his fingers from his mouth with a wet pop! he laughs and presses a kiss into your cheek. “You taste really good, did you know that? I can show you how to cum with my tongue, next.”

“I need a break,” you sigh, dramatically wiping the back of your palm across the sweat on your forehead.

Eren allows you to shift, sitting up off of Eren’s lap and instead on your knees between his thighs, facing him as Eren pulls off his shirt. Despite it all, he feels a little exposed in front of you like this—thighs spread with his cock hard against his thigh—especially with the way your eyes seem to devour every inch of him.

“I never got to see your dick,” you remind him, eyes lingering on the tent in his boxers.

“Do you still wanna?” he teases, hiding his excitement behind a devious grin, and you shock him by reaching forward and hooking your fingers under the waistband of his underwear.

Eren lifts his hips as you tug them off, dragging the waistband across the length of his cock until it springs to life against his stomach. It’s slick with precum and red from neglect, and you stare at it with wide, curious eyes.

“It’s so big,” you say, and Eren tries to keep his ego in check by reminding himself that you’re a virgin.

“Do you wanna touch it?” He grips his cock by the base, lifting it upright from where it lays across his abs, and there’s already a thick string of precum connecting his stomach to the tip of his cock.

You nervously reach out to touch him, delicately wrapping your fingers around him and—ok, wow, he looks really big in your hands. Your touch is still faint, even with him in your grasp, he can hardly feel you.

“Squeeze it a little harder—it’s not gonna break,” he directs, and you shoot him a hesitant look before redirecting your attention back to your hand and squeezing it a little harder. It would be cute if Eren wasn’t so fucking horny.

He reaches out with his free hand, covering your hand with his palm as he shows you how hard he likes to be squeezed and you squeak in alarm. Now with his hand around yours, he slowly starts to move your palm up and down along his length. You’re still looking at him like he’s some sort of science experience as he shows you how to jerk him off—eyes full of wonder—but he can tell this is turning you on by the way your thighs press together.

“This feels good,” he says, stroking along his length, “but it feels better if you touch up here.” He slides your palm all the way up to the tip of his cock, using your hand to squeeze another fat drop of precum from his tip before working your grip around the head. Eren groans from the feeling of your soft hand rubbing along the ridge of his cock and you tug your lip between your teeth in delight.

“I can do it, Eren,” you say, swatting his hand away from yours before grasping him now with both hands. Eren throws his head back against the headrest with a dull thunk! and a deep moan as you start to work along his length.

“You learn quick,” he says through gritted teeth, looking down his nose at his cock in your hands. There’s just something about seeing his pretty, little, best friend like this that has his cock leaking all over your knuckles.

You run your tongue across your bottom lip and start to inch back, lowering your face down toward Eren’s dick. At first he thinks that you’re just trying to get a closer look—but then your mouth falls open and Eren watches a line of drool spill from between your lips onto the head of his cock.

“Fuck,” he hisses, hands balling into fists at his sides as his cock throbs against your hand. “Where did you learn that?”

“From you,” you say, flashing him a smirk. “You did it to me, remember?”

Eren’s having a hard time thinking about anything, right now, but he just nods—not wanting you to stop. “That feels really fucking good—keep going.”

“Can I put it in my mouth?”

Your words have Eren’s hips bucking up into your hands, groaning loudly as his cheeks burn in arousal. “What? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you reply sheepishly, looking up at Eren through your lashes. “Feeling you in my hand like this is making my mouth water—I really want to taste you, Eren.”

“Holy fuck, yes—yes! Put it in your mouth!” he can’t contain his excitement when you bat your eyelashes at him like that. Do you even realize how sexy you’re being right now? Eren’s having a hard time believing that you’re really a virgin—where did you learn this?

You break out into a smile that’s so big, Eren’s sure your cheeks hurt, but then he watches you shimmy a little further back on the bed, lifting your ass up into the air and planting down onto your forearms. You lick your lips, hands slipping down to the base of Eren’s cock as you direct it toward your face. Eren watches your jaw fall open, lips stretching to accommodate his girth, before slowly taking the leaking tip of his cock into your mouth.

You’re warm and wet as you wrap your lips around him—just the tip—but you experimentally suck on his cock while your tongue flicks against his slit.

“Shit,” he hisses, hands moving down to cup your face as he curls forward. “That feels good—keep going.”

Your eyes crinkle in amusement, but you keep a tight seal around Eren’s cock as you start to take him deeper into your mouth. Eren’s own jaw hangs open as he watches you gently bob up and down around the tip of his cock, drool leaking down his length and pooling around your hands as you hold him upright.

“Take a bit more.” His voice is strained when he speaks, moving one hand to the back of your head as he starts to push you down on his length. He keeps his movement gentle, never pushing you too much, and giving you the space to pull back when you need to, but with his direction you’re able to fill your mouth with his cock until the tip is pushing against the back of your throat.

He watches you wince slightly from the feeling, eyes pricking with tears and Eren coos at you softly. “You don’t have to take it all—it’s ok, just whatever you can.”

You pull up along his length, following your mouth with your hand as you smear his length with your spit. You let the ridge of his cockhead slip between your lips before lowering back down as much as you can, twisting your wrist as you do so in a way that makes Eren’s toes curl.

He groans loudly as you work along his cock—sucking and drooling and jerking him off. Your cheeks hollow around his length as you suck and Eren can feel your tongue moving back and forth along the bottom of his cock as you bob your head. “You’re really good at this,” he says, trying to commit this scene to memory.

You keep trying to take him into your throat—you poor thing—but each time you try to press his cock past the tight ring, you clench hard around him as you gag, pulling back quickly with tears in your eyes. “Fuck, if you keep doing that you’re going to make me cum,” he says, breathing hard.

You pull off of him all at once, gasping for breath as strings of spit and precum trail from your mouth to his cock. Inbetween breaths you say, “Wait, no—can we have sex?”

His dick twitches in your hand. “You want to have sex? Are you sure?”

You nod, crawling back up the bed until you’re sitting up on your knees again, sticky palms resting on Eren’s chest. “I’ve never been more sure.”

He laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulls you fully into his lap, straddling your legs on either side of his hips. “You don’t need to be in a rush—you’ve already learned a lot today, we can stop now.”

“I don’t want to stop,” you insist, and you’re pouting, now. “Don’t you want to have sex with me, Eren?”

He takes in a shaky breath, feeling his face soften as he looks at you. Yes, he absolutely wants to have sex with you—

But he wants it to mean something. As easy as it would be to agree to your request and fuck you here and now, he doesn’t want you to leave in the morning and have things go back to the way they were before. It’s bad enough he’s let things go this far. He’s never going to be able to get the image of your lips wrapped around his cock out of his head—or the way you feel when you’re cumming on his fingers.

“I really want to have sex with you,” he assures you, hands moving up and down along your waist, “but I don’t—”

“If we don’t do it now, then we’ll never do it,” you say, interrupting him with an annoyed groan. You cross your arms over your chest as you level Eren with a stern look. “I’m never going to get this chance with you again.”

Your choice of words has Eren tilting his head in confusion. “What do you mean by that?”

You press your lips into a tight, thin line, hesitating. Eren can see the gears in your head turning as you try to put your thoughts into words, speaking after a dense silence. “I like you—I have for a while now, and it’ll kill me if we don’t see this through.”

He wrinkles his nose at you, struggling to contain his excitement. “You like me? Ew, gross.”

“Eren!”

He cackles, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist to keep you close when you try to squirm away. He’s smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt and he feels like his whole body is buzzing. You like him—you like him? Why didn’t you say that sooner!

“Look—I know it’s stupid, but you were right. I want to look back on the night I lose my virginity and feel good about the person I lost it to, so I want to lose it to you, Eren. You’re the only guy I’ve ever trusted like this, and it’s ok if you just want to be friends in the morning because I’ll always have this.”

“What if I don’t want to be friends in the morning?” he asks, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours. “What if I like you, too? What would happen then?”

You return your hands to his chest, sliding them up his shoulders, to around the back of his neck. Carding your fingers through the hair on the back of his head, you look into Eren’s eyes with a narrowed gaze. “Well… if you like me and I like you… then I guess, we should probably date each other.”

Eren grins. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m cool with that,” he says, and then he closes the gap between you both when he sees your lips twitch up into a smile, pressing into you for a soft, slow kiss. “In that case, of course, I’ll fuck my girlfriend.” The word feels like electricity on his tongue.

Girlfriend. Girlfriend. Girlfriend. You’re his girlfriend.

“You’re so annoying,” you groan, but you’re still smiling against Eren’s mouth as he peppers you with kisses. “Why didn’t you tell me you liked me?”

“Dunno. Scared.”

“That’s so stupid.”

“Coming from the girl that almost made out with one of my friends,” he scoffs, and you lean back to smack him lightly across the chest.

“Ok, come on! Are we doing this or not?” You roll your hips forward, smearing your wet pussy across the length of Eren’s cock and he groans—any hardness he lost during your conversation springing back in an instant.

“Yeah, yeah—fuck. Just let me grab a—”

As he leaning over to his bedside table to grab a condom, you reach out for his wrist, stilling him. “No, can we…?”

Eren gulps, his cock twitching against his stomach as he looks at you with wide eyes. “Yeah—fuck it. Let’s do it raw.”

You groan, rolling your eyes, but you allow Eren to lift your hips up as he guides the head of his cock to your entrance. “You’re being weird, now. Stop it.”

“Sorry, I’m just happy,” he admits, and he’s still smiling from before, but then his brows pinch as he rubs his cockhead against your slit, coating himself in your arousal. “Can you relax for me? This might hurt a little, but I need you to trust me.”

“Of course, Eren,” you say, settling your hands on his shoulders for stability.

“Take as much as you can, but take it slow, ok?” Eren presses his cock against your entrance, holding it there with his fist around the base of his cock as you slowly lower your hips and sink down onto him.

He sucks in a sharp breath at the tight pressure of your pussy around the head of his cock as you take him. Eren’s eyes flick up to your face—despite wanting to watch the way he disappears inside of you—to gauge your reaction, and your face is scrunched up in discomfort.

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” you say, but your voice is strained. 

He shifts his hands to your hips, holding you in place as your thighs tremble on either side of him. “It’s ok, take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you take slow, measured breaths. Eren’s biceps bulge and stiffen from the effort of holding you up, but it’s worth it as he slowly watches your face relax and you start to inch yourself downward.

“Try—oh, fuck—try going back up before taking me deeper,” Eren cuts himself off with a shuddered breath as you squeeze around him. He digs his blunt nails into the meat of your hips as he tries to control himself while you cunt drools along the length of his cock. Heeding his advice, you gently lift yourself up until just the tip of his dick is nestled inside of you, before lowering back down again and taking him deeper. 

Your face is still tense and your grip on his shoulders is punishing, but you slowly work Eren’s cock into your virgin hole until he’s completely sheathed inside of you. Eren carefully loosens his hold on your hips and allows you to sink your full weight onto his lap, taking quick breaths through his nostrils to try to keep his composure as he’s engulfed in your warmth.

You scrunch your nose, gently rocking in his lap as you try to get accustomed to his size. “I feel like you’re in my lungs,” you say and Eren snorts.

“You’re really making me feel like a stud tonight,” he laughs. “How does it feel?”

You hum, searching for the words as you squeeze around him. “Unfamiliar, but at the same time… it feels good. Like I’m full.”

“Wanna try moving?” he asks, praying that you do.

“What do I do? Just like—bounce on it?”

You laugh like it’s a joke, but Eren nods encouragingly. “Yeah, just bounce on it. I can help you.”

With a look of concentration, you grip Eren’s shoulders for stability and slowly lift yourself up from his lap with the aid of his hands on your hips. He groans from the drag of his cock through your walls as you sit up, and you moan along with him when you lower back down.

You’re a little jerky and uncoordinated at first, but after a few experimental bounces and with Eren’s help, you’re able to build a rhythm on his lap that has your nails digging into his skin as you whimper. “Oh my God, it feels so good, Eren.”

He nods in approval, breathing hard as he watches your breasts rise and fall with every bounce. You feel incredible—so fucking incredible—and he’s not sure how long he can last with you riding him like this, but he doesn’t want you to be unsatisfied the first time you have sex.

“Can I try something?” he asks through gritted teeth, gripping you a little harder around your hips as he plants his feet into the mattress and his shoulders into the headrest, shifting his hips slightly. When you nod at him, he raises you up from his lap and starts thrusting up into you.

With a stuttered moan, you fall forward into his chest as Eren fucks you—gasping and moaning with your face buried into his neck as Eren bullies his cock into you with every snap of his hips. With the way your nails are clawing into his skin, Eren can tell that he’s hitting you at just the right angle now to get you off.

The sounds between your bodies are wet and loud with every thrust, your skin slapping against each other, and your pussy leaving a mess against the dark hairs at the base of Eren’s cock. Your moans against his neck just send more and more heat flooding to the surface of his skin, beads of sweat rolling down the column of his throat, his chest, and the nape of his neck.

“Eren, I’m gonna cum again,” you say, almost apologetic against his skin as your body tenses around him. “Oh, fuck—Eren!”

“That’s it, come on—cum for me,” he grunts, feeling the lustful haze he’s been trying to fight off finally consume him as he nears his own orgasm. He should be cooing softly in your ear, brushing your hair out of your face as you lose yourself around him, but now—all he can think of is how he absolutely wants to ruin you.

His fingers press bruises into your skin as he starts to force you down onto his lap, meeting each upward snap of his hips. Each breath is harder and harder to catch as he works himself to exhaustion, chasing your high as his own quickly follows. “Let me feel you fucking squeeze me,” he says through each strained breath, “show this pussy what it’s like to cum on a fucking cock.”

You whimper his name when you cum—thighs trembling on either side of his hips and toes curling into his sheets. Your nails dig lines into the muscles of his back at the same time that your sweet, virgin cunt clamps down around Eren’s cock.

“That’s it—fuck—that’s fuckin it, baby!” He’s laughing now, riding the high of his quickly building orgasm. He throws his head back against the headrest, slamming you down onto his lap as he looks down his nose at your trembling body.

You’re still going through the waves of your orgasm and whimpering his name, probably verging on the edge of overstimulation as Eren’s cock pushes against your tight walls. Your words quickly turn into mindless babbling when Eren’s grip shifts to your ass, squeezing you hard as his hips pound against yours.

“This is my pussy now, got it?” He smacks your ass with his palm and you jolt against his chest. “Look how perfect she is for me—how messy she gets. Nobody else gets to feel you like this, not when you fit so perfectly around my cock.”

Eren sits up, letting you fall onto your back on the mattress as he looms over you on his knees. His cock slips out from inside of you in the movement and he grabs himself around the base and slaps at your clit with the head.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he says through gritted teeth, tendons in his jaw twitching as he looks down at your body—sprawled across his mattress in a breathless, sweaty mess. You’re cunt is slick and shiny from your arousal and Eren feels like he’s going to lose his mind.

He runs his cock through the lips of your pussy, nudging your clit before pushing back into you, groaning through his teeth as he watches you squirm from the feeling. “Do you like that? When I stuff you like this?” he punctuates his statement with a snap of his hips that has your hands scrambling for purchase on his sheets.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up with my cum,” he hisses, hands shifting to your hips to hold you in place as he thrusts into you. “That’s what you’ve wanted all night, right? You’ve been begging for it all night—someone to kiss you, touch you, fuck you. Isn’t that right?”

He’s delirious as he barrels towards his orgasm, breathing hard with every movement. The bed is squeaking and scraping against the floor and your moans are echoing off the walls of Eren’s bedroom. He grunts and pants, feeling the familiar tightness in his gut as his nears his orgasm.

“Eren, I’m—” you reach out for him, nails just barely reaching his abs as he pounds into you, and he can feel it—the clench of your pussy around his cock as you start to cum again. It completely sends him over the edge and with a deep, gutteral moan he cums—hot white shooting into the tightness of your cunt with every pulse of his cock.

Eren’s vision goes white and he collapses ontop of you, holding himself up by his forearms on either side of your head as he gasps for air. Your arms and legs wrap around his body, pulling him tight against your chest and Eren feels the slick heat of your sweaty skin against his as he presses into you.

“Oh my God,” he says inbetween each breath. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been more gentle—that wasn’t how I wanted it to happen, I—”

You break out into a smile, breathing hard alongside him, hair clinging to your forehead and the nape of your neck from sweat. “It’s ok, Eren. It was a lot of fun.”

He sighs with relief, lowering his face into your neck to nuzzle against your throat. “Ok, good—shit, I’m still sorry, you’re going to be so sore tomorrow.”

“Yeah, probably.”

He snorts, sitting up just enough to put some space between your bodies, and he moves his palm to your lower stomach, gently rubbing in little circles. “Poor girl, all stuffed full of cum.”

You wrinkle your nose at him and make a weak attempt at shoving him off of you. “Gross, Eren.”

Eren cackles and allows you to roll him off, landing on his back with a quiet oof! as he stares up at the ceiling and tries to process everything that just happened. Beside him, you’re quiet too, gradually slowing your breathing as your body relaxes into the mattress. 

He rolls his tongue against his cheek, trying to find the words to say, but you beat him to it. “So… were you being serious? About all those things you said earlier about… liking me and wanting us to date and stuff.”

Eren nods in response, not trusting himself to speak just yet.

“So… this isn’t just some—” you gesture vaguely between the two of you “—one night stand thing where we pretend like nothing happened in the morning? This is like… for real?”

He swallows thickly, tilting his head to the side to look at you and he sees that you’re already looking at him. Eyes wide with a mixture of hope and fear as sweat dries on your skin and the heat on your skin fades away in the cool evening air. 

“Yeah,” he says, “this is for real.”

“How long have you felt like this?”

“I don’t know. Since the beginning, I think,” he admits. “There was never a moment for me where our relationship felt different, it just… it always felt like this, but I didn’t know—or maybe I was in denial—of how much you really meant to me.”

You hum, “Yeah… I know what you mean. It’s the same for me.” You clasp your hands on your stomach and look up at the ceiling in thought. Eren can see the way your brows furrow gently and your lips purse as you concentrate on whatever’s going through your head.

“That’s why my ex didn’t like you,” he continues, “she said that I cared more about you than I did her, so she made me stop hanging out with you.”

“Ah! So that was the reason. I thought you just thought I was too lame to hang out with anymore.”

“I would never think that.” You shift to look over at Eren beside you and he shoots you an apologetic look as he sits up onto his forearm. He leans over you, brushing away the sweaty strands of hair on your forehead as he looks down at you. “I’ll make up for the years we missed, I promise,” and he seals his promise with a soft kiss against your lips.

You reach your hands up to cup his face, deeping the kiss and putting all those tips Eren gave you to good use—it makes his heart clench with pride at the fact that he taught you to kiss exactly the way he likes. 

When you pull away, your eyes flutter open, gaze bouncing between each of Eren’s eyes as you build up the courage to speak. “Eren…”

“What is it?” he reaches for your hand on your chest, untangling it from your other hand so he can bring your knuckles up to his lips. “You can tell me anything—you always can.”

You chuckle and seeing your mouth twitch up into a smile has Eren smiling down at you, too. “Eren… I think your cum is leaking out of me.”

“Oh, shit,” he sits up, eyes wide as he looks around his room. “Let me get you a cloth or something.”

Eren wakes up to the gentle buzzing of his phone on his nightstand—a text message. He squeezes his eyes shut tight, willing himself to go back to sleep and nuzzling his nose into the crown of your head as he holds you close.

After cleaning you up last night, you decided to stay in bed with Eren. The two of you chatted a bit more about your feelings for one another before falling asleep in each other’s arms, and as happy as Eren is to be awake in a reality where you’re his girl, he really doesn’t want to wake up right now when his head is pounding with a hangover.

His phone buzzes twice more and it almost feels more urgent this time, so with a groan, Eren reaches over your body to grab at it. He squints one eye open as he looks down at his messages to see a text from Zeke.

Zeke: Good morning, Eren. Zeke: I advise that you tread lightly this morning when you see your mother. Zeke: She was not too impressed with the racket you caused last night.

Eren’s eyes widen as he looks down at the message, thumb moving quickly to type up a response.

Eren: Shit. Eren: I thought we were being quiet.

Zeke: Really? Zeke: You really thought you were being quiet last night when you were yelling in explicit detail about when and where you were going to cum?

Eren: How mad is mom?

Zeke: Very. Zeke: You know how much Carla likes that girl, so I don’t think she’s very happy about the way you were speaking to her last night.

Eren groans, covering his face with his hand as he feels his heart sink into his stomach and his whole body break out into a cold sweat. You start to stir in his arms, pulling your face from his chest to look up at him with sleepy eyes.

“Good morning,” he says, feeling his face soften as he looks down at you. Facing his mom doesn’t seem so scary anymore when he knows that he can wake up next to you like this again.

It’s ok, Eren decides. He’ll stay in bed with you all morning until his mom heads out for her regular weekend shopping trip, then he can sneak you out and deal with her on his own. There’s no need to have you present for the verbal lashing he’s bound to get. 

She’s always loved you—she used to tease you as kids about getting married when you got older, so Eren’s certain that she’s over the moon about the two of you finally getting together. But that doesn’t mean she’ll be happy about overhearing Eren taking your virginity, especially if Zeke is to be believed.

“Morning,” you say around a yawn, rubbing at your eyes. “What time is it?”

“Pretty early,” Eren says, shifting his gaze over your shoulder back at his phone. He watches three grey dots appear on the screen as Zeke types out another message. “It’s ok, we don’t have to get out of bed right away. We can just sit here and—”

Zeke: By the way, breakfast is ready :)

[wttcsms]

secrets i have held in my heart are harder to hide than i thought ; simon “ghost” riley.

pairing simon “ghost” riley x f!reader word count 2k synopsis as a last resort, ghost finds himself letting soap stay with him in your shared home. soap is understandably confused as to why there’s a pregnant young woman already occupying this supposed safehouse.  content contains completely sfw, fluff, domestic fluff, soft!ghost, ghost is absolutely whipped for you & is not ashamed of it, pregnancy, pregnant!reader, marital bliss, protective!ghost, soap & ghost bromance notes takes place in the same timeline/au as this fic! 

“We’re fucked if we can’t find shelter anywhere,” MacTavish, ever the optimist, readjusts the rucksack on his back before looking at the other operative with him.

He’s not surprised to find his partner’s expression entirely unreadable due to the mask obscuring the entirety of his face, save for a pair of eerily perceptive eyes.

“We can try to contact Price, see if he knows about any safehouses nearb—“

“Won’t be necessary.” Ghost cuts him off, sounding a bit irritated. “I know a place nearby.”

“How do you seem to always know where every single fuckin’ safehouse is?” Soap finds himself grumbling, but noticing that Ghost is already moving ahead, he shouts out a quick hey! and starts jogging to keep up with the man, afraid to be left behind (but secretly knowing that at this point, Ghost would never, no matter how many times he threatens to do so).

After trekking uphill for several miles and then proceeding to venture further into a heavily wooded area, secluded by tall trees and located near a large lake stands an almost unassuming cabin. The curtains to the house are open, but despite him moving closer, it turns out the glass had been tinted to the point where Soap’s unable to peek inside. He can only assume that whoever stays inside would be able to observe what’s happening unbeknownst to the people outside.

“You sure this place is safe?” Soap asks, glancing around. Sure, it’s isolated, and he trusts Ghost’s judgment, but fuck. It kind of sucks not being in the know for things as simple as safehouse locations.

“I sure would hope so.” Ghost grumbles, pulling out a key to stick into the front door’s lock. “It’s my house, after all.”

It’s silly to assume that Ghost doesn’t have a home. As a matter of fact, Soap has (many times) joked about the fact that Ghost probably lives up to his call name and takes refuge in a mausoleum in between missions. Still, Soap finds it a bit interesting to be inside the “Riley Residence” as he called it.

(Ghost just stared at him with those eyes that reflected nothing but exasperation before mumbling that he was going upstairs.)

There’s a large fireplace in the living room, and throw pillows that look soft to the touch resting on the couches. The whole entire cabin smells of something sweet, like cinnamon and sugar. Maybe looks can be deceiving; Soap didn’t take Ghost as the type of guy to burn candles in his cabin.

Then again… Ghost isn’t dumb enough to leave candles burning in his home especially if he knows that he’ll be gone for an extended period of time. How long has it been since Ghost went upstairs? He didn’t hear anything unusual, but Soap’s suddenly on high alert. Could there be someone else present? How safe is this place, really?

With one hand gripping his knife, Soap enters further into the cabin. He’s never seen a safehouse so decorated; the agents must have had too much free time on their hands when assembling this one. They even went through the trouble of adding faux personal touches to the place, like current magazines stacked on counters and fuzzy slippers left in the hallway.

(He glances at the pair of house shoes, thinking they’re Ghost’s but realizing that they’re much too small to belong to the bloody giant.)

As Soap nears what he assumes to be the kitchen, he catches sight of movement happening within his peripheral, and he’s quick to whip around to confront the intruder.

He’s met with the terrified screams of a woman, and before he can truly process what’s happening, he hears the unmistakable, thunderous footsteps of Ghost. His fellow operative’s got a gun in his hand and a worried look in his eyes as he examines the scene in front of him.

“What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

It’s not Soap that he’s asking; instead, Ghost is immediately by your side, tucking away his gun so he can wrap his arm around you.

Your chest is still visibly rising and falling with every breath you take as you try to recover from the shock of witnessing a man with a mohawk waving a knife around in your own home. You stare at Soap, giving him a weak smile as you reassure Ghost.

“Yes, honey, everything’s fine. I was just caught off guard. I didn’t know I should have been expecting a guest.” You’ve seemed to recover quickly, and this time you offer him a real smile as you introduce yourself.

Your last name is Riley.

And while Soap prides himself on being plenty observant, he still can’t quite piece together the insanely easy puzzle in front of him. Ghost refuses to leave your side. You called the scary masked man honey. You’ve got a thin gold band adorning your left hand’s ring finger, and there’s an unmistakable baby bump protruding from the thin fabric of your nightgown.

It’s not that Soap isn’t able to realize what’s in front of him.

It’s the fact that Soap can’t believe that someone like Ghost could ever possibly have something so… normal.

A nice, cozy little home. A cute, pregnant wife. No wonder he had been so reluctant in taking the two of them here to spend the night! He’s been trying to keep you a secret this whole time.

That bloody bastard.

Ghost isn’t nearly as forgiving as you, and he’s still glaring at Soap.

“Fucking hell, Soap. I let you in my house, and the first thing you decide to do is terrify my wife. What the fuck?”

“Simon!” You gasp out, tugging at your husband’s arm. “It’s not his fault. I didn’t hear the two of you come in. He didn’t know about me because you didn’t even tell him I existed!”

“Why would he need to know? Nosy bastard’s already always in my business.” Ghost grumbles, and you slap his arm.

“I am so sorry, Soap.” You apologize on behalf of your husband (who doesn’t look the least bit sorry whatsoever). “Let me get the guest bedroom set up for you—”

“—I already did.” Ghost says, and his gaze seems to soften when his eyes land on yours and then moves downwards to focus on the baby bump. “You don’t need to be straining yourself.”

For the next few days, they lay low in an attempt to tire out their enemies or at least get them off their backs. These few days have been nothing but a series of revelations for Soap.

For example, who would have thought that Ghost has a lovely little wife at home who he absolutely worships? He’s caught the man massaging your feet, forcing you to let him wash the dishes, and Soap doesn’t even want to know the reason why the two of you so long in the shower. (Ghost would probably kill him if he ever did try to find out.)

Every single morning, the two of you cook breakfast together. He kisses you (forehead, cheeks, lips — just depends on what’s the most accessible at the moment) every time he walks by you. You’ll say, honey, can you bring me a glass of water? but he’s already making his way towards you, glass in hand, because he’s so attuned to you.

Every glimpse of Ghost’s secret domestic life feels too intimate for Soap to watch; he almost feels as if he’s intruding on a private moment, even when the two of you are doing something as simple as being near each other.

(Do you know that every time you move just the slightest bit, Ghost mirrors the action, adjusting his body accordingly so that it’s always shielding yours?)

“You look like you’ve been dying for the chance to ask me a couple of questions,” you set down a mug of hot tea in front of Soap before sliding into the seat across from him. Ghost is out back chopping firewood, and while you usually enjoy watching the way his arms flex and his muscular back just absolutely tighten up every time he hacks up the wood, you know that Soap will never get a chance to talk to you in private.

“Was I that obvious?” He grins, feeling more relaxed whenever you laugh. You’re an awfully nice person; too nice to survive in their world, and probably too nice for the city, too. No wonder Ghost keeps you tucked away in this cabin.

“I’d be more surprised if you didn’t have any questions about our relationship.”

“I guess that’s true, huh? So, uh, how’d you two meet?” Soap can’t exactly picture a teenage Ghost with a high school crush.

“He saved my life.” There’s a healthy glow to your skin; it might stem from the pregnancy, but you simply seem to brighten up even more when you talk about your husband. “You know, you were there too!”

“I was?” He takes a closer look at you, but he can’t recognize you in any of his memories. You’re certainly beautiful, and he’s sure that if he really did meet you, he would at least remember you by now.

“Don’t worry, I think Simon will prefer it if you didn’t know me at all, anyway.” Your fingers wrap around your own mug, warming up your cold hands. “Don’t let him fool you, though. He’s such a big softie.”

Soap has watched your “big softie” stab men to death quicker than he can blink his eyes. If it was a rescue mission where the two of you met, he’s almost certain that you must have seen his less-than-sweet side as well.

“You think he’d kill me if I started tellin’ everyone what a big softie he is?”

“He’d let you get away with it. You’re one of his friends, after all.”

“Wait, what?”

“C’mon, Soap. You and I both know Simon pretty well. He’s not above sleeping in the woods. He wouldn’t have brought someone here he didn’t trust. And you might not have known I existed, but we talk about you sometimes.”

“All good things, I hope.”

“It’s Simon.” You say, simply shrugging. “I’m sure he saves the worst for when the two of you are face to face.”

“Has he ever taken the mask off with you?”

You beckon Soap to lean forward just like you, and with your elbows on the table and both of you with your heads low, you whisper conspiratorially, “I take it off for him.”

The two of you are still laughing when Ghost walks in.

You pack both of them lunches before sending them back on their way, waving farewell from the front door, one hand resting on your stomach. You and Simon already had a private sendoff; away from the prying eyes of your visitor, Simon kneels down to give a gentle kiss to your belly, staring in wonder as he feels the slightest kick in return.

“Be a good boy for mommy,” is what he whispers before returning back to his full height. It’s hard to hug you with all his tactical gear getting in the way, but he’s stubborn.

Walking out the door and leaving you and his child behind is always hard. You tell Soap to come back any time (Simon’s stare told him that that invitation would not be valid under his watch).

Soap promises he will, and Ghost just has to respect that because he’s already been kind enough to turn a blind eye to the obvious longing in Ghost’s eyes as he leaves you.

“So, Lt., tell me. I must be your favorite, eh?”

“Favorite what? Pain in the fucking ass?” Ghost retorts. The two of them have a long walk ahead of them.

“Am I the first on the force to meet your girl?”

Ghost’s silence is confirmation enough.

“I knew it! I am your favorite on the force.”

“Shut up.”

(Ghost doesn’t necessarily dispute the claim, though.)

[corrodedcorpses]

Milkshakes

Eddie x reader

Summary: You're being a brat and Eddie puts you in your place in a nice way

Warnings: this is not smut but there are some sexual themes so still 18+!!, reader is a brat, Eddie is a cute dom, light choking, they don't exactly talk about boundaries fully, reader has trouble eating sometimes

Word count: 1.5K

a/n: Idk where this came from but it's completely self indulgent and I've been in a weird mood recently and would love my own personal Eddie to take care of me like this! Hoping this gets me out of my writing slump

Eddie runs his fingers through his messy hair, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips as you stalk past him to the bedroom, slamming the door as you go. You have been in a foul mood since you came over to his trailer. Yesterday you seemed fine, excited even to spend the afternoon with him even, but since you showed up today, just after lunch time, it’s like every little thing he does annoys you. 

You were weird when he hugged you hello, like you couldn’t think of anything worse than his touch, then you complained that he hadn’t been cuddling you enough while you were on the couch together just before. Then he was talking too much about his latest campaign even though you asked about it and then he wasn’t talking enough and it was like he was ignoring you. 

Whatever he did it just got under your skin, he couldn’t win. 

You’ve gotten into these moods before, usually when you want something from him. These moods usually end with you collapsed on the bed, sore and glistening with sweat. Throat and pussy swollen from taking Eddie so well. But he knows this mood is different. 

He leans his forehead against the door you just slammed. Wracking his brain for what to do to get back on your good side. Thinking of all the things you usually like, a lot of them would involve you letting him into the room first… but he does think of one thing, you love going out for milkshakes with him. 

That’s it, he thinks. He’ll take you to your favourite diner and share some milkshakes, maybe even get some food, you could also be cranky if you were hungry and Eddie knows you struggle to eat sometimes. 

Eddie bursts through the door suddenly, excited by his ingenious idea, startling you on the bed momentarily before you plaster the scour back on your face. 

All of Eddie’s excitement seems to vanish as he sees the look on your face, still he pushes through, determined to still have a good afternoon with you.  

“Get your stuff, we’re going,” Eddie says, almost cheerily. 

“What?” you question, unamused. 

“We’re going out,” he reiterates flatly, “get your stuff.” 

“No,” you respond, crossing your arms with a huff. “I’m obviously not in the mood, I’m not going.” 

The action made you look like a spoiled kid. Jesus you could be a brat. 

“Come on, I know you’re not in the mood but can you just trust me?” he was getting frustrated at this point, all afternoon he’d be trying everything just to make you smile, to make you happy and you couldn’t just do this one thing? This one thing he knows would make you at least a little bit happier?

“No, why would I? Your idea is stupid how is going out supposed to make me feel better? You obviously don’t know me at all.” You snap back. 

He shakes his head at you, a mix of a sigh and a laugh leaving his throat. There's no humour behind it. 

“I know you better than you think, princess.” He spits the last word like an insult, it has you seeing red. 

“You don’t know shit Munson. You’ve done nothing but piss me off all day, can you just fuck off?”

Eddie’s not sure what came over him, he was fed up with your attitude, your words reminding him of how much of a brat you would be in other situations, although those were a lot more playful. Still he takes his chances, striding over to you. 

He kneels in front of where you’re sitting, crowding into your space placing his hand gently against your throat. You move away automatically, lying back on the bed as Eddie follows until you’re trapped under him, his fingers giving your throat a light squeeze. You stare into his eyes, usually warm dark orbs now black and hard. 

You’ve seen this look on his face before, just never in this kind of situation. 

“I said,” he tried a again through gritted teeth, “get your stuff.” 

When he’s met with silence he studies your expression. Your mouth is slightly open, your eyes softened and slightly glazed over. You don’t seem alarmed so he continues. He applies more pressure before continuing in a firm tone. 

“I’m getting really sick of this bratty little attitude you’ve had all day and I feel like a milkshake,” he says nonchalantly, “so get your stuff. Now.” 

He keeps his hand on your throat, his eyes darting back and forwarth between yours. You seem to be enjoying this, although you do seem a little surprised. For his peace of mind he has to check, has to make sure he hasn’t crossed a line by taking the dominance he has sometimes used into a more casual setting. 

“Colour?” He asks softly, domineering act faltering slightly. 

“Green,” you breathe in response. Sounding much smaller and submissive than you had wanted. Fully intending to keep up the annoyance that had settled over you all day. 

“Good,” Eddie responds simply, before suddenly standing up again. You feel the loss of his body heat immediately and scurry to grab your things, fulfilling his request before your brain can even comprehend your movements. 

Eddie watches you with a smirk as you slightly stumble around, mind slightly hazy as you gather your things. Once you have your bag slung over your shoulder, you stand up straight in front of him, smoothing out your bottoms as if you’re trying to look presentable for him. 

He grabs his keys and walks outside silently, revelling in the way you follow, hot on his heels. You mentally curse your body for giving in to him so easily. 

Eddie hops in his van as you try to not feel so hurt by him not opening the door for you like he usually does. 

The drive to the diner is quiet, one of Eddie’s tapes playing softly is the only thing cutting through the silence. 

When you arrive you both find a quiet booth, not many people in the diner at this time of the afternoon, the lunch rush having already passed. 

The waitress passes both of you menus but Eddie takes yours from you before you can even spare it a glance. You look at him with a mix of anger, confusion and sadness on your face but he doesn't meet your eyes, he just continues to study his own menu. 

When the waitress comes back over to take your order you’re pleasantly surprised when Eddie proceeds to order most of your favourites from the menu as well as two large milkshakes. 

You continue to sit in silence, Eddie doodling on a napkin while you try to ignore the nagging pain in your stomach. You hadn’t realised just how hungry you were until you knew there was food on the way. You do this sometimes, it’s not like you mean to not eat, sometimes it was just hard to remember to. And you don’t realise how sad and cranky it makes you. 

Your stomach also twists with regret, you feel bad for the way you’ve acted all afternoon, taking all of your weird emotions out on Eddie. And now here he was, taking you to get all of your favourites just to try and make you happy. 

You thankfully don’t have to wallow in self pity for too long before the food arrives. You both thank the waitress before trying your best to not inhale everything in front of you, knowing you'll hurt your stomach if you eat as fast as you want to. 

You’re both about halfway finished when you speak up, guilt and silence becoming unbearable. 

“Eds?” You mumble quietly. 

He looks up at you, finally, with an unreadable expression on his face as he pops another fry into his mouth. 

“I’m sorry,” you say sincerely. 

He sighs, a small smile creeping onto his face. “S’okay sweetheart, you feeling better?” He asks in a tiny teasing tone. 

You nod, blushing. 

You take another bite before asking “hey, how did you know I was hungry? I didn’t say anything.” 

“Well, you were a brat, acting cranky all fucking afternoon,”  he says matter of factly “and you only do that when you’re hungry… or when you wanna fuck.” He adds the last part with a wicked smirk. 

You roll your eyes at him with a smile on your face, but you know he’s right. 

“Next time though, just tell me yeah? You know I love taking care of my girl.” 

You lean forward across the table, looking up at him through your lashes. 

“Oh yeah, well I can think of a couple other ways you can take care of your girl.” 

Eddie leans towards you too, “hmmm you’re pushing your luck a bit there babe.” But his tone isn’t serious. 

You continue to stare at him with a smirk on your face, you know you have him. 

“Tell ya what,” he continues, leaning back, “be a good girl and finish all of this and I’ll think about fucking you silly in the back of my van, hmm?” 

You quickly pop a couple of fries in your mouth, earning a chuckle from Eddie. “Okay, master,” you say through a mouthful of food and a cheeky smile on your face. 

Tagging a couple mutuals: @andvys @wroteclassicaly @pxrxcxa @usedtobecooler @eddiemunsonfuxks @parkermunson @translatemunson @hammity-hammer @littledemondani @prettyboyeddiemunson

[bby-deerling]

I LOVED the one where op men react to you being jealous. But what if like-- reader flirts as well to another person as a retaliation since they're flirting with other women to make them jealous.

i'm gonna jot down just a few quick thoughts for these if that's okay! (based on scenarios from these jealousy headcanons!)

masterlist

i think this would cause a fight between you and zoro for sure. he isn't really aware that he's being flirted with in the first place, and when he realizes why you're behaving this way, he thinks it's childish. he is a fairly good judge of character, and it takes a lot of trust for him to enter into a relationship in the first place; he has trouble vocalizing it, but he is hurt that the trust didn't extend both ways. he'll probably get annoyed, bottle up his frustrations, and then argue with you about it later, when you're not in public.

you can do no wrong in the eyes of sanji, and flirting with someone else is a quick way to snap his attention back to you. always absolving his perfect angel of any guilt, he focuses on snarling at and possibly beating down whoever you were flirting with, and probably comes off as delusional since you were the one flirting with them. then, the groveling begins, apologizing for not giving you enough attention and affection. he really does mean well, he just has to be put in his place once in a while.

if you decided to choose the secret third option and get even with law, he might be momentarily stunned, and irritated, even though he was just doing the exact same thing. seeing you with someone else makes him sulky and mopey; he'll likely abandon the woman he was toying with and sit beside you, looking like a pathetic wet cat until you pay attention to him, even if it's to start up another round of arguing. if you make him feel guilty enough, and if the stars align, he might even offer you an apology.

[criminalamnesia]

Alive

warnings: angst, sad Simon Riley, reader dies, gender neutral reader, no pronouns used for reader, mentions of death, no use of y/n, proofread but I’m human and might’ve missed something

summary: Simon loses you.

author’s note: simon deserves the world.

Simon Riley understood the risks of enlisting. He understood that he was one small cog in a machine, and although valued, he wasn’t crucial. He was a soldier, just like thousands of others that decided to put their lives on the line for something they believed in. If he had to lay his life down during his service, so be it. Maybe his sacrifice would make the world a little bit better.

Simon didn’t know what he believed now.

You were like him in the way that you understood the risks, but that’s where he thought the similarities ended. He was quiet. You were outspoken. He was harsh. You were empathetic.

He was your lieutenant. You were one of his sergeants.

It was against all logic for him to fall for you, yet he had. From the moment you’d been invited to join Task Force 141, Simon knew you would cause him trouble.

He knew by the way you threw your head back and laughed at one of Soap’s cheesy lines. Knew by the way you bested Gaz at pool. At the way you’d tried Price’s drink of choice, bourbon, and swallowed it down without any fuss.

He knew by the way you saw him as he was— not just as your superior or as ‘Ghost’— but as Simon. Simon, who cared deeply for his teammates, his family, beyond what his title required. Simon, who made shitty jokes at shitty times. Simon, who bickered with you over how to properly prepare tea.

He didn’t understand why you’d shown interest in him at first. He surely thought Soap would be the one to sweep you off your feet— but you shut the Scotsman down. You only had eyes for Simon.

He found out later that it was because the two of you were more similar than he’d previously believed. You were fiercely loyal, just like him. You never backed down from a fight, just like him. You dealt with shit quietly, just like him.

You understood him, and you didn’t push. You trusted him so completely, too. Fuck’s sake, you took a bullet for him.

“Ghost, move!” You had shouted, diving out of cover to shove the Brit behind a wall.

“What the fuck?!” He yelled at you, drawing his breath in shallow pants as his eyes narrowed at you from under his mask.

“You don’t listen for shit sometimes, LT,” you were shouting to be heard over the gunfire surrounding you. “There was a fucking sniper— you were gonna be shot!”

“He was a shit shot, Sergeant. I knew he was there—”

“Ghost, just say thank you,” you rolled your eyes and straightened.

“Bloody hell,” he grumbled as his eyes scanned you, and you looked at him with confusion.

“What?”

“Maybe tha’ sniper wasn’t shit after all. Gotta get you to a medic, c’mon—” he began, reaching a hand out to grasp your arm and tug you away from the firefight.

You furrowed your brows in confusion, you had no clue what he was talking about. You looked down at your body as you allowed Ghost to drag you along. That’s when you saw the crimson peeking out from the edge of your vest, and the first pang of pain finally hit you.

“Oh, shit. Didn’t even notice,” you grumbled, and you could hear Simon grunt ahead of you.

“Adrenaline. An’ the fact tha’ you were mad at me.”

“If I was mad at you, you’d know it. Just think you should show more gratitude since I saved your life and all.”

“I’ll show gratitude when you ain’t bleedin’.” He huffed.

Fiercely loyal. It was a blessing to the team and a curse to you. Loyal to the men you called your family. Loyal to the cause. Loyal to the mission, no matter the personal cost.

Simon wished you would’ve let him take that bullet. Maybe then he wouldn’t be here with the remainder of the 141, holding the urn containing what was left of you. The gold-colored metal felt cool against his bare hands. It was almost soothing, but it would soothe him more if you were still by his side.

He knew that he’d never get the image of you laying there lifeless out of his head. It had been quick. Shot right in the fucking head, execution style. Simon hadn’t even realized what had happened until the gunfire had subsided and Soap was yelling.

His heart had nearly stopped. He knew this happened all the time— a soldier’s death. But he never expected it to happen to you.

The task force had been on so many missions together. You’d all survived so much shit, and Simon realized that up until the moment he saw your lifeless body, he’d felt that the team was somewhat invincible. Yes, he knew the risks, but all of you had gotten out of worse before. It was naive to think nothing would happen, and Simon cursed himself for it.

He knew that the abruptness of your death was the reason he couldn’t quite comprehend it. One second you’re there, warning him of a shooter to his left, and the next you’re on the ground with a bullet in your skull.

“Bravest fucking soldier I ever knew,” Price’s voice is gruff with emotion as he speaks. One of his hands rests atop the urn. “Most loyal, too. Took a bullet for all of us, one time or another.”

The other men nodded their heads.

“Kindest person I knew,” Soap spoke with a soft voice. “Outspoken, but kind.”

“Fought until the end,” Gaz said with a frown. “Rest easy, love.”

Simon knew it was his turn to say something. Tears glistened in his eyes, threatening to spill and smudge the black paint around them. He knew how to be alone. He’d spent years alone. But this wasn’t just being alone— it was being alone without you.

He didn’t think he could go back to the way things were before he met you. He didn’t want to go back to the way things were. He wanted to fight and yell and get you to come back, but it wasn’t possible.

The hand he had in the pocket of his hoodie curled into a tight fist. The hand he had on the urn didn’t waver.

He didn’t want to say goodbye, to make this final. To close the door you’d opened when you stepped into his life and turned things on its axis.

“Rest in peace, love.” He spoke at last, his voice full of barely contained emotion.

There were too many things to say, but those were the words he settled on. ‘Rest in peace.’ He truly hoped you were at peace. Simon didn’t know what he believed came after death, but he hoped that wherever you were now, you were serene.

‘Rest in peace.’ It wasn’t goodbye, not explicitly. You’d always be with him— a dagger in his heart he couldn’t bear to remove. He’d carry the pain for the rest of his service, the rest of his life.

It wasn’t goodbye. You’d always be with him.

Price removed the lid of the urn. The men slowly removed their hands from the object, allowing Simon full possession as he drew his other hand out of his pocket.

He held the metal as delicately as he would hold you. You’d always laughed and told him you weren’t glass— you wouldn’t break. Simon knew that. Of course he knew that, he’d witnessed firsthand how tough you were.

But you were precious to him, and he treated you as such.

His fingers shook the slightest bit as he turned his body to face the edge of the cliff. It was a truly beautiful place, and Simon knew that if you could’ve seen it, you would’ve loved it.

A breeze picked up as Simon slowly tipped the urn. He watched the last bits of you flow through the wind. The other men of Task Force 141 turned and walked away quietly.

Simon remained there, rooted to the spot, until he could no longer see the scattered ashes of you floating in the breeze.

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

11:37pm | Hwang Hyunjin

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Reader

Request: No.

Synopsis: Hyunjin wants to spend the last thirty minutes of his birthday with his love.

Warnings: Established relationship.

Word Count: 754 - this turned out longer than I expected.

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©️ No one has permission to copy, translate and/or repost my fics on here or any other site. Likes, Comments & Reblogs are welcomed and appreciated. 

Hyunjin rushed straight from his birthday live to Y/N's apartment, eager to spend the last thirty minutes of his special day with his beloved. Despite exchanging texts and calls throughout the day, it simply wasn't enough for him. Their plans for tomorrow didn't suffice either. He longed to see her, to be in her presence. Due to their hectic work schedules, it had been a whole week since they last met in person. All he wanted for his birthday was to be with her. He made sure to arrive at her apartment by 11:30pm. He would have come sooner, but cutting his birthday live short would have caused some trouble.  

The moment he stepped inside, Y/N found herself enveloped in his arms, causing her to almost drop the small cake and flowers she held in her hands.  

"Happy Birthday!" she exclaimed with excitement as he released her. "I know you've probably had enough cake, but I wanted to get a small one just for you," she rambled on. "I also got you some flo-"  

Her words were abruptly cut off as Hyunjin lips clashed against hers.  

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice brimming with gratitude as he pulled away from the kiss. "But you didn't have to."  

"I know, but I wanted to do something special for you," she replied, beaming from ear to ear.  

"Being with you right now, is all I need,” he says and takes the cake and flowers from her. 

Placing the cake and flowers on the table, he notices a large canvas facing backwards leaning against the wall. Curiosity piqued his interest. He takes a step towards the other end of the table. "What's this?"  

"Nothing!" Y/N exclaims, a hint of panic in her voice. She hurriedly rushes towards the canvas, snatching it from the table before he can get a hold of it. "It's nothing. You don't want to see it."  

"Did you paint something for me, baby?" he asks, his heart swelling with joy at the thought of her creating something special for him. She has always been incredibly supportive and interested in his artwork. She never gets upset when he immerses himself in his makeshift art studio (her spare bedroom) to draw and paint. She encourages him in every way possible, and that's one of the many things he adores about her.  

"Define painting something," she cringes, glancing at the painting in her hands.  

"I really want to see it," he insists, reaching out for the canvas, only for her to step back, shaking her head.  

"Trust me, you don't want to." 

He can see the conflict between wanting to show her painting to him and the fear of what his reaction might be. He takes a step closer, gently placing a hand on her arm, trying to reassure her.  

"Y/N, you know I love everything you do. From cooking me food to how you paint my nails and everything in between" he pleads, his voice filled with genuine curiosity. “You did it for me right? Please let me see it.” 

She hesitates for a moment, her grip on the canvas tightening. Finally, she takes a deep breath, and nods letting him know she did paint it for him. Slowly, she turns the painting around, revealing it to him.  

As his eyes fall upon the artwork, his face lights up. She’s unsure why. On the canvas is a mess of colours, some blended together to make other colours. In the center is a giant outline of a heart in black. In the middle of the heart is their initials ‘H.H + L/N Y/N’.  

“You did this for me?” he asks, once again. “Baby, this is the best gift I’ve ever gotten!”  

“I doubt it’s better than the gifts you got from Versace,” she mutters more to herself. “I could have done better.” 

“What are you talking about?” Hyunjin says letting her know that he heard what she said. “This is perfect and so much better than the gifts I got from Versace. You painted this with your own hands. You made it with love. It is by far the best gift I’ve ever gotten. As soon as I get back to the dorms, it’s going on my wall.” 

He places the painting back on the table, the canvas facing the right way, so the painting is on display. He pulls Y/N back into his arms and presses another kiss to her lips. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Y/N replies, kissing him back. “Happy Birthday, my love.” 

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[r0-boat]

Alrecchino as your husband part 2 (sfw)

Since y'all loved the last one I made a part 2

Her drip marketing is today so I thought we should celebrate!

Feel free to give me as many Genshin requests as you want I'm feeling a little burnt out of pokémon for the moment without further ado.

You are designated as mother lovingly by the children. With your little apron as you take care of all the house of hearth chores. The children can't do all their tasks by themselves, Arlecchino trusts no one to take care of the children but you. It is only natural they call you mother as their motherly figure

Weather it be you were from the fertility stationed here or someone desperately looking for a job, Don't you think it would be cute if the head of the house slowly started to fall for you because you are so good to her children?

Her empty heart is sick of love at aches when you keep your distance from her, she understands; Arlecchino not have a pleasant reputation, and she can't help but feel solely responsible when she waggles her finger for you to come close only to play with your hair when her mind is being numbed with paperwork. You're not sure if it's true or not when she tells you that she just enjoys her company when you ask why you call her so often to her office... And... Is that a pout on her lips you see when you try to leave her so fast?

She can't help but notice when your eyes are on her when she's in her suit she can't help but tease you getting close to you or watch you flush your when her eyes meet yours.

All her children knows to respect their 'mother'

Just as much to respect 'father' when they see you sad they do everything to see that smile of yours and lighten your day when you have trouble with tasks; they fight tooth and nail to help you. A pat on the head from you or a smile is like 'father''s praises. Arlecchino thinks you're as cute as a kitten when you're angry at her, telling her that You don't need any guards and you can go into the city just fine by yourself or run tasks alone. Arlecchino agrees just to stop your bickering, only to turn around to her most trusted three to keep a watchful eye on you like a child on its first errand.

When she returns from all corners of Tayvat, she never forgets to lavish you with all sorts of gifts. Some of them really pricey; she gives you soaps, hoping for your skin to feel soft and smooth the next time she brushes her fingers against you, and she provides you delicious perfume in hopes she would catch a whiff of it on you the next time she passes you. She probably even gave you an apron and played dumb when you hesitated when asking her about the uniform she gave you.

If it went for the fact she thinks the Fatui rather dangerous, she would bring you to their gatherings and parade you around as if you were a little trinket of hers. But then grab Childe by the throat if he is rude or tries to touch you.

they may look but they may not touch.

You've lived in the house of hearts for a while and can't help but notice that a lot of your clothing that person you've been working for sort of matches with them. It is something that you are too afraid to bring up to The Knaive herself. She knows she can't stay angry at you, so she must be even more strict when you decide to put yourself in danger or disregard her wishes. Hopefully, she wouldn't have to do that, but she would be lying if you said she isn't excited when you do disobey her.

Her touches are gentle, filled with longing, but she knows that giving in is dangerous even though you yourself pose no threat to her. She knows that you are defenseless without her and her children. Maybe she should teach you how to wheel the weapon?

[djarinterstellar]

Safe Place

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: What starts as a night off alone escalates into some trouble in town. Luckily, when you’re employed by one of the fiercest warriors in the galaxy, backup is never too far away.

Tags/Warnings: category is- MUTUAL PINING[!!] they just don’t know it. mostly comfort/fluff. some violence in the beginning + 1 minor injury. mentions of alcohol and spice (cannabis) use. Reader is fadeddd most of the plot lmao. Protective/Soft Din 🥰 mentions of Force-sensitive Reader. also no Grogu today, it’s past his bedtime :(

Word Count: 8.6k

a/n: not me posting this on the cusp of season 3 finally premiering 💀 also this was supposed to be shorter but honestly, this thing got so out of hand so fast, idek why it drags on for as long as it does. but i was inspired by this very stoned prompt i thought of months ago with my favorite tin can babygirl and decided to finally finish it so. here we go. ✨

ps: i’m still trying out the 3rd person pov thing so lemme know if you hate it or not. also to settle any confusion amid the new szn, this takes place between s1 and 2 :)

Translation: Sen’ika = little bird

*

*

It’s supposed to be an easy night.

Mando is on a hunt and she’s been left in charge in his absence. Normally she would’ve argued coming along and you know, making herself useful as she’d originally agreed upon. But the Crest could only land so close and the additional foot travel was too long and treacherous for the Child to follow along. Plus Red trusted her enough to leave her alone with his foundling without making off with his ship and she had no other choice but to agree.

A few days had passed now since he’d departed. He estimated he’d return in about a week, so she was in no rush in waiting for him. Mando had settled them on the outskirts of town, far enough where they could lay low in peace but still close enough for her to make any emergency supply runs in town. She was left with everything she needed to care for the kid. And with specific instructions not to leave the Crest unless it was absolutely necessary.

Which is exactly what she decided to categorize this as.

The pair of double doors leading into the local cantina burst open and she stumbles back out into the streets, giggling to herself as she cradles a pair of warm cider bottles to-go in her pouch. She hadn’t planned on lingering at the bar but three drinks and a pair of shots with a group of local girls later, plans were changed. She was even invited out back to share a round of their spice joint, a generous offer she simply couldn’t refuse. She was now blissfully intoxicated and felt lighter and happier than she’d been in weeks.

The kid had finally settled in earlier and if his recent patterns served her correctly, he’d be down for the rest of the night. She was finally alone, a privilege she found extremely rare these days since joining Mando’s crew, which gave her ample time to wander into town. Was it responsible of her to leave the Crest and the kid alone? Most would argue it wasn’t, Red most of all. But he wasn’t here to say no! Plus, she had locked the ship down to keep the kid inside and protected from any potential stragglers. All goes well, she would be in and out before he woke up.

And she was confident about this because she’d already gone out just last night. Sure, she hadn’t been out this long, but again, Mando wasn’t expected anytime soon.

She liked exploring towns. It gave her a reason to not only scope out her environment, but to familiarize herself with the locals and figure out which spots in town were traveler-friendly. It was easy to wander when she was on her own, but now that she was a full-time employee, it had become somewhat of a rare treat.

It was week’s end for these particular folks, which meant most of them were out in droves tonight. She could still hear the fits of laughter and drunken serenades belting out of the cantina behind her as she walked away. The air was far cooler at night and the refreshing taste of it in her lungs gave her cloudy head the clearance it needed.

She was delightfully drunk and probably just as high, but she was conscious enough to know she needed to get back. Leaving the kid alone for a couple of hours was fine, but stretching it out any longer than that was far too much of a risk. Live music was playing somewhere from around the corner, locals dashing around her as they hopped from one cantina to another.

The energy buzzed around her like an electric current, yet she walked with a familiar ease. She felt oddly safe within the center of town. But as she drifted further into the outskirts, the street lamps dulled and the crowds thinned out. A pair of fraternal moons became her guiding light as she willed herself to remember the path back to the Crest.

And for a while, it was fine. Despite the silence, she couldn’t help but feel a bit more on edge out here alone than when she was surrounded by a bunch of drunk miners. She ignored it though, trying to tell herself it was probably the spice making her antsy. But the farther she walked, the longer her paranoia festered and itched and scratched until she realized it wasn’t the libations talking to her.

It was the Force.

She realized too late she was being followed until just before she was confronted. A Balosar male slinks out from an alleyway behind her, long and slim with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his oversized coat. She wills herself to keep her eyes straight ahead but she could hear him glide over to her side to match her stride.

“Where ya goin’ sugar? The party’s that way!” he drawled, sending an immediate chill up her spine. Shit.

“I know where I’m going,” She doesn’t look at him as she attempts to brush past him. “Have a good night.”

He reacts by slipping around her once more, this time blocking her path directly ahead. “Whoa whoa, take it easy!” His accent is thick and laced in what she can only describe as mock-innocence. “Relaax, nobody’s gettin’ hurt here!”

Her facial expressions remain unmoved, glancing up at him boredly. In reality though, her heart was hammering against her ribcage. The last thing she needed, especially right now, was unwanted attention from anybody, let alone from this total stranger. She moves to step forward but he cuts in her way, a sly grin stretching across his face.

“It’s okay baby,” Her stomach internally caved in at the pet name. “just tryna find where the cool people hang out.”

“Wouldn’t know where to point you to.” she replies flatly, straightening her back. “Excuse me.”

She attempts to move around him again, but his arm comes up to lay on the wall next to her and he leans forward to cave her in. “Where’re you from then? I’ve never seen anyone this pretty so far out here.” His free hand inches towards her face but she’s quick to turn her cheek, her jaw clenching behind her lips.

“And you never will.” she snaps back, already inching backwards.

This only prompts him to step closer, a frown crossing his slimy face. “Ey, you don’t have to be a bitch.” His tone switches almost predictably and her hand slips behind her cloak to reach for her holster.

��Back off.” she snarls him a warning with the coldest glare she can make.

He tries reclosing the gap between them again. “C’monn honey- ”

“NO.” Her fight-or-flight instinct kicks in and she fully pushes her weight on him to shove him down. Her stand off is cut short though when he finds his balance and pushes back. She’s thrown back against the wall and before she can even process it, a pocket knife is jabbed against the skin of her neck.

Shadows move over his shoulder in her peripheral vision and when she follows them, 3 more Balosars creep out of the dark, hovering behind the first one in a sort of half circle around her.

It’s at this moment that she realizes 2 distinct things. Firstly, she doesn’t recognize them. In her 4 or so days since they touched down, she’d observed the villagers in her down time and gathered a very broad consensus of who was who— and in that time, she hadn't seen any Balosars in this town, which told her they were also just passing by. Secondly, she thinks as she watches the other 3 close in, she’s tangled herself in a very complicated web here. It was 4 against 1, with a notable size difference amongst all of them. She couldn’t see straight, was hilariously underprepared for a fight given the company she was currently keeping, she was fucked up and only growing more inebriated as her vices soaked into her bloodstream, and she was alone. No baby, no bar friends, no civilian witnesses.

No Mando.

Fuck.

A strangled little noise escapes her throat when the knife is pinched further into her skin and she curses herself at how whimpered it comes out.

“Fine, since you wanna do this the hard way..” the first Bathosar sneers almost mockingly, his frame towering over her own.

She’s curling into the overcast of her cloak when her fingers finally find the handle of her blaster, skin digging tightly into the cool of the metal. She looks into his eyes and sucks in a deep breath before the tension snaps.

Fuck it.

In an instant, a shot zaps out, aimed directly at his foot. He cries out when it makes contact, and she smashes her blaster across his temple when he folds over in distracted pain, his knife clattering to the ground. Despite her inebriation, she can sense the others jumping into action and she points her gun at the closest one, shooting him right in his chest before he can get any closer. She doesn’t have time to watch his body crumple to the floor as she turns to shoot at the other two, a rapid succession of plasma bolts whizzing out almost desperately. Her second target barely misses her line of fire and as she follows his trail, she fails to block the third Balosar from tackling her into the wall. She cries out as he harshly elbows her wrist to disarm her, the blaster forced out of her hand.

“Grab her!” She hears her attacker hiss from above her before she’s suddenly snatched from behind. Her arms are pinned to her sides as she’s grabbed and lifted several inches off the ground.

Her heart is pounding, blood pumping into her ears as she yells out. Her feet start kicking furiously in an instant, every functional instinct left in her telling her to fight back. “Get off me!” she shrieks, flailing until her boot finally connects with a knee. She hears him yelp behind her, his grip slipping. She jabs her elbow fully into his nose, sending them both tumbling.

Two separate voices are shouting incoherently above her in a blend of confusion and exasperation. She can see her blaster just feet away and she starts crawling, scrambling in a desperate effort to reach it, until she’s yanked backwards by her ankle.

“Pin her down.” she hears one of them growl maliciously from above.

Her stomach turns as she’s dragged back into her assailant’s grip, trails of her fingernails digging into the dirt floor. She feels her brain short-circulating in its panic so she resorts to one last defense tactic.

She starts screaming.

And it’s a shriek that’s piercing and raw and louder than she was planning it to be. But she screams anyway in hopes that anyone within the block can at least hear her, even if it’s another drunken villager on their way home.

“Shut her up!” A second voice hisses hastily, hands scrambling to smother her.

“NO- ” She bites down on the first hand that touches her face and only squeals louder, her pitch jumping another octave in her hysteria. She starts kicking again, nails scrambling in the dirt for a spare rock, a glass shard, anything physical to grab in her defense. When her palms only fill with clumps of dirt and sand, she clenches her fists around them anyway.

What started as a dreamy, whimsical high has quickly soured into a debilitating panic trip. Rather than floating in euphoric bliss, she feels tranquilized, her focus and motor skills severely hindered and overpowered by these 3 much larger adversaries. Her stomach is turning over under her ribs, waves of nausea churning with her rising panic. Her heart is pounding too fast she feels, and her lungs are tightly clenched despite how fast she’s gasping for air.

She doesn’t realize she’s crying until she’s flipped on her back, the welling tears spilling down her temples. Before she can scream again, a balled up handkerchief is forced into her mouth. Two of them meanwhile, are putting their full weight down on her to pin her limbs to the ground. The first one is limping over to them, his knife recovered in his hand while patches of fresh blood trail behind his injured foot. She audibly whimpers now, wriggling in their grasp like a drowning fish.

“You know.. I was gonna let you go after all this,” he starts, turning his blade over in his hand as if to inspect it. “But that was before I believed the rumors.” He pauses here, and the dread is only momentarily overwhelmed by her instinctive curiosity. “I mean- we all knew the bounty’s primary target was a Mandalorian with a green pet- ” Her stomach drops. “ -but there was no mention anywhere about his pretty little accomplice.”

She rustles again as he looms over her. “And I gotta tell ya, I didn’t think it was true at all. I mean, a Mandalorian with a business partner? And a girl at that!?” He almost laughs before he pivots. “But then we sees’ you in town, carryin’ this little guy around, and we think, maybe there’s some truth in all this, ya know?” Her stomach sinks even lower at the realization that they not only spotted her with the kid, but that they’d been watching her this whole time too.

Double fuck.

Suddenly, he’s kneeling in front of her, his injured foot tucked behind his knee, and she’s roughly sat up to face him by the snatch of her hair. “So here’s what’s gonna happen,” She grunts helplessly when his blade is pressed deeper against her neck as the three men crowd around her. “you’re gonna point me in the direction of the gremlin, you’re gonna watch us shoot his kidnapper, and then, and only then, will I finally kill you myself.”

Her brows crease in pain as she tries to pull away from his blade, but the hand twisted in the back of her hair only pushes her into it. The handkerchief is yanked out for her to answer and his head tilts to catch her eyes. “So?” he snaps. “What’s it gonna be? Now or later?”

Her eyes harden, nostrils flaring. Honestly, right now, she just wants to tell him to fuck off. It’s not like this was her first time being mugged and/or threatened, and unfortunately not while inebriated either. But this one felt pretty damn close to getting got. Her brain is already scrambling between scattered half-assed theories on how to get her out of this.

Fw-ip !

A whizzing sound passes under her and it’s so subtle, she almost doesn’t notice it. Then there’s a pause of silence that’s almost too heavy to be coming from nothing before she notices that the first guy’s eyes have blown wide open. They make eye contact and she squints, almost confused.

Suddenly, he’s thrown back and he starts screaming before she realizes he’s being yanked into the shadows by his wounded foot. She can hear the mechanical whizzing again as he’s dragged, even over his friends’ shouting, and it takes another split second for her to realize it’s a whipcord. And just like that, the Force alerts her that she’s not alone again. But instead of dread, something else flutters in her gut.

The Balosar’s screams are cut short by a single blaster shot, and she inhales a gasp of air before a chill crawls up her spine.

Two heavy, familiar boot steps clunk in front of them as its owner steps into the dim lighting.

She exhales and pure euphoria blooms in her chest.

He’s towering over them, broad shoulders stiff and gloved hands clenched into iron fists, his armor gleaming like a beacon even in the cover of night.

She can’t stop the smile that’s spreading across her face. “Mando..-”

“Kill him!” One of the Balosars yanks her back into his chest as his friend scrambles to his feet, blaster already in hand. She squeaks and the sound seems to snap Mando into full action. She’s yanked to her feet as his arm wrangles itself around her neck.

From here though, she can see her Mandalorian in his full glory. She watches him stalking towards his prey, blaster bolts bouncing off his beskar like raindrops as the other guy empties his clip into him. And of course, when that doesn’t work, he headbutts him to stun him before striking. Despite the weight of his armor, Mando moves like a viper and is just as deadly.

She feels herself being dragged away and she grunts in protest, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. It’s then she remembers one hand is still clenched. Without a second thought, she swings backwards, smacking the guy right in the face as she temporarily blinds him with a fistful of dirt.

“Agh- !” He shouts and she slips out his grip. She starts towards Mando, but then she’s grabbed by her hair and is yanked backwards with a cry. “Fuckin’ bitch- !” She hears him snarl before the back of his hand strikes her directly across her cheek.

She drops against the brick wall behind her, his body towering her, but from the corner of her eye, she spots Mando. The second guy is now motionless on the floor and his helmet is fully trained on the last one. And based on the swell of his chest and how hard he’s breathing now, she doesn’t need to gauge anything else; he just saw what he did and he’s furious.

He crosses the space between them and drags him backwards and away from her. The Balosar starts fighting back but he's quickly overpowered as he’s disarmed with an unnatural twist of his wrist. Mando spins him around and lands a punch directly into his face once, twice, thrice and then a final fourth blow before the guy falls to his knees. And it’s there that he goes for the kill, grabbing his head with both gloved hands and snapping his neck with an enraged grunt and a sickening crunch.

She watches the final body crumple to the floor with blown out eyes and her jaw fully dropped. She’s physically shaking, she realizes, and can barely breathe, let alone stand on her own. But when Mando finally turns to her, his chest rising and falling, she clings to the wall behind her to gather herself back up.

“What the hell happened??” Mando’s tone is harsh and agitated, even under his modulated panting. “You weren’t on the ship when I-”

He’s cut off when she runs straight into his arms. She all but collapses into his chest, arms coiled around his neck and her face smothered into his cowl. Before he can even process what’s happening, she pulls back to look up at him. “You’re earlyy!” She’s practically beaming up at him, one of her hands tracing the cheekbone of his helmet.

He’s speechless. First, a hug. And now she’s.. glad to see him? Not to mention how she’s smiling up at him with those big, adoring puppy-dog eyes. She’s never been this nice to him before, not even around the Child. “I- ” he hesitates before clearing his throat. “ -Yes. The target uh, took less time than I thought.”

This only makes her smile wider before she buries herself in him again. This time, her arms slip around his back, her cheek leaning into his chest plate. She could care less about how the edges of his armor were pinching into her skin, or how his fully loaded bandolier was pressed very uncomfortably into her collarbone. All that mattered to her right now, was this. “I’m so happy you’re here.” she all but whimpers, closing her eyes to savor the coolness of his beskar and the familiar scent of metal and gun smoke.

Now Mando was really stunned. But he can also feel the physical tremble in her muscles and the speed of her pulse, so he relents with a long sigh before a single arm drapes around her back. “Are you okay?” he asks, his tone much softer this time.

She nods into his chest before pulling away again. “Y-Yeah I just- ” she takes a deep breath and lets out a shaky exhale. “ -that was.. too close..”

“What happened?” He decides to ask again. “Are you hurt?” His hands quickly pat her down as if checking her for any other injuries before one of them comes up to gently cup her chin. He carefully tilts her face to get a better view of her red cheek and it doesn’t go unnoticed when she refuses to make eye contact. His helmet tilts ever so slightly. “Sen’ika..”

Her lips press together and her brows furrow as she flinches. “Well..”

“Did they kidnap you?” He asks, his other hand gesturing towards the 3 bodies behind him.

This makes her head snap back up. “No! No, they had no idea where I was staying. They were just trying to follow me back t..” she trails off the moment her brain catches up to her lips, and now that she’s face-to-face with him, she can practically feel Mando’s visor burning a hole into her forehead.

The pause between them stretches out uncomfortably before he finally speaks. “Where did you go?” His voice makes her insides squirm, like a teenager getting caught out after curfew.

“Uh..” She starts and suddenly she’s become hyper-aware of how hot her face is. She can’t remember the last time he was this close to her, and the realization of this somehow makes her self-conscious. She’s also still remarkably faded, too faded in fact to fake any semblance of sobriety. And if he’s already here, there’s really no point in lying to him, he’s way too smart for that. “..the bar.” she finally finishes meekly.

His shoulders slump as he exhales. “You got drunk?” he asks incredulously.

Her face brightens in embarrassment. “Okay, look- ” she starts and she can practically hear him groan under his helmet as he looks up to the sky. “-to be fair, I only went after the kid passed out, cause I knew he wouldn’t wake up.”

When she looks up, his helmet only tilts to the side, a silent move that only prompts her to keep going. “Ok, so there’s this pattern I’ve noticed, so when you give him a full meal and a glass of warm milk, and then you just let him play with his toys and get him to make them float around the room, after a certain time, he’ll get super tired and, like, fully sleep through the night. And I know that sounds like the most basic excuse in the book but I swear I tested this three nights in a row and it worked every time, okay so I wasn’t being totally stupid..”

She doesn’t realize how long she’s been rambling until she glances up again. He’s now leaned in closer to her, and for a moment she thinks he’s examining her cheek again. What she doesn’t realize is how carefully he’s looking into her eyes. He can tell she’s been drinking by now, and despite the trauma of the attempted assault on her just now, her eyes are still way too bloodshot to just be the liquor. Not to mention the hint of another smell on her..

She inhales sharply through her nose when she feels his gloved hands slip over her own. She gazes into his visor, as if straining to look for a pair of eyes behind it and leans in ever so slightly. She’s never been as curious to see what his expression looks like as she is right now. Her face softens as she stares up at him. “Mando..?” Her voice is just above a whisper and oh-so delicate.

She can feel his thumbs gently press into the pulse points of her wrists as he stares at her, and the surprising warmth of his touch makes butterflies flutter in her ribs. And just before she can open her mouth to call out to him again, he leans directly into her eye level.

“Are you high?” He’s audibly confused.

Her eyes turn into saucers in silent panic and it’s here that he can see her pupils are blown wide open.

“…Uhhhh…”

He sighs heavily as his head drops in defeat. It’s the only answer he needs.

“Okay,” he relents as he lets go of her. “Get your stuff. Let’s go home.”

He immediately stiffens once the words slip out. Oh, fuck fuck fuck.

No Din, no! This was temporary, remember?? She’d only made that abundantly clear the day she stepped foot on the Crest with a single bag and 2 datapads. It was always a mutual agreement though: she was to join him on the Crest to work full-time on tracking down a Jedi, with a deadline of at least a couple of months before he was to drop her off at a new planet of residency of her choosing. After all, she’d only just begun resettling her life and it was a path she intended to follow through on her own. Din understood this partnership was fleeting and it was unfair of him to call this ‘home’, yet for some reason, he insisted on slipping up in little moments like this again and again.

Though based on the glazed, clueless look in her eyes, she didn’t notice at all. “Okay.” she simply says, turning around to scan the alley for her belongings. As she skirts off in one direction, Din sees her blaster laying just a couple of feet away. He picks it up for her when a loud clanging catches his attention.

“Hey!” She calls out, straining to pull her bag out from under one of the bodies. Once she rolls him off with a kick of her foot, she holds up her bag and pulls out one of the sources of the noise. “Look, the cider survived!”

His helmet tilts almost disapprovingly, but he does nothing else as he holds her blaster out to her. “C’mon.” he all but huffs impatiently.

“Okay okay, sorryy- ” she slurs, stumbling over the same body as she returns and accepts her blaster. “One of these are yours ya know!” Mando is already walking away as she’s throwing her up bag over her shoulder, and she has to scramble to keep up with him, a move that makes her trip on her own two feet.

His helmet tilts over his shoulder at her. “Can you walk?” She’s not sure if it’s meant to sound demeaning or not, but it makes her puff her chest as she pouts at him.

“Of course I can walk!” she shoots back. “You’re just going too fast.” He grunts in response, helmet facing forward again and continues his pace. She’s not sure if it’s the spice but his strides feel more rushed than usual. His shoulders are also still fully straight, she notices and something tugs in her chest as she tries getting a sense of what his body language is telling her. She’s only a step or two behind him, and her eyes wander to the floor in front of her, the words spilling out before she can stop herself. “..are you mad at me?”

She almost sounds like a child, remorseful and heavy with guilt and she already hates how it comes out. But what punches harder is his response. Or his lack of it. Because he simply keeps walking at the same pace, fully ignoring her. No grunt, no hum, not even a sigh. And for some reason, this makes her ache. She stumbles over her own feet again and almost instantly she can feel tears threatening to well under the skin of her cheeks. She wants to curse herself for getting emotional, but it has to be liquor making her moods swing so drastically, she tells herself. Not that this thought doesn’t stop her from speaking again.

“I’m fired aren’t I- ”

Before she can blink, she runs face-first into a wall of beskar as he stops abruptly. She can’t help but yelp as she clutches her now-throbbing nose and when she looks back up, he’s turning to face her again. He stares at her until the silence frays at her nerves, and just when she can feel her face burning up to her ears, she hears a soft exhale from his modulator.

“C’mon,” his voice is soft as his right arm slightly pokes out towards her. “I can hear you tripping around from up here.”

Her brows furrow ever so slightly. “Are you makin’ fun of me?” she asks.

“Does it sound like I am?”

Her eyes narrow this time. “Mayybe.” she coos. But she loops her arm into the crook of his elbow and is silently delighted when he tucks her against his side. She finds it much easier to match his walk now and she can’t help the jump in her pulse as she’s pressed closer to him. In fact, she has to bite her lip to stop the silly grin threatening to spread across her cheeks. They walk in comfortable silence for a while before her spinning brain comes up with another enquiry.

“Mando?”

“Hm?” His response is barely registered under his modulator.

“How’d you find me?”

For a moment, Din doesn’t answer. And it’s not for the lack of one either. He’s just not sure where to begin. Does he start when he first re-entered the Crest to find the kid safe and sound but with her nowhere in sight? Or when he went back outside in hopes that she was on the roof stargazing or fiddling with the ship. Or when he started speed-walking through the nearby alleys because now he really couldn’t find her and just before his panic could bubble over, a single sound just yards away made his heart stop before he jump-started into a full sprint for her.

“I heard you scream.” he eventually replies and it almost sounds like his teeth are pressed together under that helmet.

She smiles at that. My hero. She almost wants to swoon until he speaks up again.

“I’ve warned you about being alone Sen’ika,” His tone is still soft, but firmer this time. She flinches and tucks her face down from him, nodding once.

“I know, I- ” her head swirls at the pang of shame but she swallows the urge to say anything other than what was necessary here. “I’m sorry.”

Another pause of silence. She decides to focus on their footsteps instead. There was something about the synchronized crunch of gravel under their boots that just satisfied every single sense in her. And it isn’t until she looks up and gets a full glimpse of the night sky that she realizes the spice is still very much in her system, unnatural neon lights and shapes bouncing across the stars. She stares in drunken awe up at them for a little too long and when she sees the Crest finally back in eyesight, she practically deflates in relief.

“Hey,” Then, Mando gently slides his arm out of their loop, leather ghosting down the length of her arm until he cups his palm over her fisted hand. “What matters to me most is that you’re safe,” he says softly. His visor turns to her, and he slowly opens her hand to slide his own into her palm. His gloved thumb gently squeezes her knuckles in what she can only gather as reassurance. “Okay?” His tone is so warm, it’s almost tender.

It catches her so far off guard, she’s pretty sure she short-circuited and is only still breathing on emergency autopilot. Her cheeks flush up and her eyes are blown wide open in the same sweet doe-like expression he adores so much, that he can’t help but smile behind the safety of his helmet. She blinks and she almost resets, clearing her throat as she looks straight ahead. She’s still blushing as she smiles and nods once. “Okay.” she replies sweetly.

Even his gloves are impenetrable, thick and almost twice as large in size. But she can still feel a warmth radiating from the other side against her skin. Suddenly feeling brave, she shifts, slipping through his gloves and slowly linking their fingers together. Mando stiffens at first, until her nails sink into the shape of his knuckles, and he internally melts. Before he can process his own reaction, he squeezes back, his thumb gently stroking over her own.

She looks up again, grinning from ear to ear. Clouds are dancing in her vision, stars swelling and shrinking in size across the painted skies. She dares herself to glance at him from the corner of her eye. He’s looking straight ahead thankfully, only semi-lit under the glow of the moons, but his beskar has never been more radiant. The same colors in her eyes bounce off the high points of his armor, illuminating him in an almost ethereal glow. She can’t stop her eyes from wandering. He’s perfectly shaped from every angle. He stands tall and proud, and walks with an effortless swagger so few could replicate. His mere presence can shift the focus of an entire room. He’s daunting and striking and is the picture of discipline and strength. Yet he cradles her hand in his like she’s made of glass. She’s never seen anything past the chiseled cut of his helmet, yet he’s never looked more beautiful in her eyes right now. She knows she shouldn’t be looking at him the way she is right now; with stars in her eyes and the softest, most affectionate little smile spreading from cheek to flushed cheek.

“You’re so pretty~” she slurs out in the sweetest tone. From behind his beskar, Din’s heart jumps into his throat.

“You’re drunker than I thought.” He doesn’t skip a beat though, somehow keeping his tone flat and neutral.

“It’s still truee,” she shoots back, leaning against his side with a wide grin. “It’s always been true!”

He glances at her wordlessly and she smiles back at herself through his visor. He’s not sure what to say to that, if anything, he’s too flustered to think of a rebuttal. He’s never been called pretty by anyone, even as a joke. Eventually he clears his throat and looks away and she only grins wider. Did she just leave him speechless? She can’t help but try to read his body language for any hints.

BONK.

Unfortunately she’s so distracted by the dancing Mudhorn on his pauldron that she fully trips on the descending base of the Crest’s ramp. The only thing that stops her from falling on her face is Mando’s sudden grip on her elbow. His visor slowly turns to her again. And she knows he’s frowning this time. He yanks her back to her feet and they finally ascend to the deck. She sighs happily once she stumbles into the safety of the Crest.

As Mando closes and locks up the gangway behind them, a late thought suddenly strikes her. She turns to him with panicked eyes. “The kid!?”

“Shh-!” He quickly hushes her with a gloved pointer over her lips. She stares into her own flushed reflection as her voice echoes into the cockpit above. She’s hyper-aware of just how loud she’s being now that she’s no longer outside. Along with the scent of sunkissed leather directly under her nose. She doesn’t move until his finger slowly pivots to her right and when she follows his direction, she spots his hover pod, sealed up and safe and sound, just as she’d left him.

She sighs softly and her shoulders slump in relief. Mando leans in pointedly. “You’re lucky you were right.” he whispers into her hair. “He didn’t flinch when I got home.”

As goosebumps sprout up the back of her neck, he pulls away and crosses the room to the ladder. “I’m gonna lock us down. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow.” Just before he climbs, he turns back to her. “Bedtime, Sen’ika. Now.” It's a gentle, but final warning.

She nods wordlessly and he leaves her in the middle of the room, dizzy and flustered. Her ears are also ringing now that she’s swallowed in silence. Eventually, she slowly pads into her designated corner. Her hammock is tucked away in the pocket of an empty storage closet, a thin makeshift curtain the only barrier between her ‘room’ and the deck. The walls hum around her and she realizes the heat has been turned back on, thankfully. She’s too drunk to fully wash up but she’s got enough energy to rip off her tight, itchy outdoor clothes and boots. She grabs the closest pajama-adjacent shirt and lounge pants she can find and wriggles them on.

She opens her hammock and finally allows herself to lay down, eyes turned to the dim ceiling.

How would it have felt if she’d laid her head on his shoulder?

No.

Would he have pushed her away? Or allowed her to stay?

Her brain’s focus shifts to the vision of his arms. His hands. His sweet, soothing voice.

I mean, he let her hold his hand, didn’t he? And hug him. Surely she could’ve gotten away with a little shoulder lean.

Gods, no.

Is he soft under all that armor? Does he run hot or does the beskar keep him cool? Is there a human face behind that m-

No! Stop it!

She physically shakes her head to break her train of thought. This was dangerous terrain. Just because you’re drunk doesn't mean you should be humoring these silly curiosities of yours! Her eyes squeeze shut and as she tries to take a deep breath, she realizes her heart is racing.

This is ridiculous.

Okay, so what if she has a crush on her employer?? It's not exactly a new phenomenon, and it certainly wasn’t the first boss she’d ever fallen for either. What was insane was what she liked about him. Because for the very first time, she couldn’t put a face to it. Instead, it was in his voice. His strength. His unwavering faith in his Creed, in the Way. He was loyal, honorable and resourceful. Stubborn as a Bantha, but quick to strike like lightning. He was also kind and selfless. He had the patience of a saint for the Child and innocent locals and despite his daunting appearance, he never hesitated to help out others, even if it meant pushing back on their schedule. There were actually various reasons why she liked him, and she couldn’t even put a name to a single one of them.

Not that any of it mattered. Because not a word of this would be uttered to anyone, let alone to him. Not to mention that this was a temporary gig, it’s not like she’d be around much longer anyway. The last thing she needed was to complicate this job for herself with her unprofessional schoolgirl behavior.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she shifts her focus to the only other thing clouding her judgment. Her head is still spinning but the heaviness behind her eyes makes it easy to keep them closed. She also focuses on slowing her breath, allowing her limbs to fully sink into the cradle of her hammock. A few minutes melt away and just as she finally feels herself beginning to drift..

“Pin her down.”

She physically jolts awake as the image of her ex-attackers kneeling over her flashes behind her eyelids. Her heart jumps to her throat as that same awful wave of nausea courses through her. Okay so clearly she wasn’t over what happened just yet. Her stomach turns again though this time for far more terrifying reasons.

She leaps to her feet before she can stop herself. She’s not sure what she wants just yet, but she knows whose presence she needs. She whips her curtain aside and almost jumps out of her skin when she sees Mando already standing at her doorway. “G-Geez- !”

He doesn’t flinch. He’s also holding a metal cup that he offers to her when she looks at it. “Drink this before you fall asleep,” he simply says.

“What is it?” she accepts it anyway, peering inside before taking a test sip.

“Just water,” Mando pauses and inwardly smiles when she gags at the aftertaste. “and powdered electrolytes to cut your hangover time in half. You'll thank yourself in the morning for it.”

“Mm, awesome!” she flashes him a pained grin and he almost chuckles. She’s so adorable like this, it’s almost painful.

He lingers for just a moment longer before he nods once. “Sweet dreams.” He starts walking away until a single hand on his arm makes him stop in his tracks. His helmet shoots towards her expectantly and when her eyes meet his visor, her voice suddenly clamps in her throat. She catches the almost-panicked expression in her reflection’s eyes and looks away. She almost starts apologizing, but he turns towards her instead, closing the distance between them. “What’s wrong?”

“I- ” Her face feels warm again despite her growing anxiety and she feels betrayed by the flush burning across her cheeks. She huffs and looks down at her feet. “Never mind, it’s n- ”

“Sen’ika,” He doesn’t even have to say anything else. His helmet ducks to try and catch her eye. “Tell me.” His voice is so gentle and reassuring that she has no choice but to succumb.

Fuck it, right?

“C… can I stay with you tonight?” Her voice is so soft, it’s almost a whisper. Her hand gently squeezes his sleeve, teeth catching on her bottom lip. “I don’t.. wanna be alone tonight..” To be fair, it wasn’t a lie.

It’s so quiet, you could hear a pin drop from the cockpit. In fact, she can’t even hear him breathing. Fuck. Did she fuck it up? Is he weirded out? Is she fired? Again?? Fuck! Take it back!

She has no idea just how startled Din really is though. She can’t hear his heart doing somersaults in his chest or how almost-terrified he looks behind the visor. But then she looks up at him with those frantic angel eyes for just a moment, he knows that despite whatever’s asked of him, how could he ever deny his little bird?

She opens her mouth and he perks up. ”Okay,” he says. It’s just as soft as she asked and almost nervous. He nods to follow up and clears his throat. “Of course.”

Her eyes round and she blinks back at him, almost dumbfounded. Holy shit, it worked? “Yeah?”

He nods again. “Yeah,” he replies lightly before his helmet jerks in the direction of his bunk. “C’mon.”

He crosses the room to his bunk to open the hatch. The kid’s pod is hovering peacefully right by the door where either of them can reach him if they have to. She follows him wordlessly where he steps aside for her. “Pick your spot, I’ll be right back.” he tells her.

Ironically, she was no stranger to his bed. He’d offered his room to her plenty of times before she carved out a spare corner for herself to give him his privacy back. She never imagined she’d actually be sharing it with him for once. She downed the last of her water and put the cup aside before she stepped into the bunk. She decided to slide into the corner facing the wall to give him as much space as possible.

Mando’s only gone for a few minutes, but in her panicked, overthinking state, it feels like ages. She finds comfort in his sheets. After getting so used to this space then moving out for a stretch of time, they felt familiar and almost welcoming to come back to. She acknowledged this was mostly due to their scent, the warm, woodsy musk that she recognized as what was likely the scent of his skin. She nuzzles into his blankets, inhales and sighs into them.

Then his boot steps echo back into earshot. She rolls onto her back and props up on her elbows, watching his shadowed figure fiddling outside. After a particularly heavy sigh, he clicks a light off and steps inside. For a second, he almost looks like a shadow sliding along the walls. It’s then she realizes he’s not wearing his beskar. He's stripped down to his full flight suit, boots, gloves and of course, his trademark helmet. There’s still not a shred of skin in sight but this still gives her a full view of his own figure. She’s dumbstruck at just how broad he truly is even without his armor. Then, it dawns on her that he took off his beskar to make room for her and something flutters under her ribs.

He looks at her and she scoots into the wall. His gloves clench and unclench in a subtle twitch as he slides into the space next to her. It’s a tight squeeze, laying shoulder to shoulder, but it’s a fit that would’ve probably been unbearable with the few inches of additional armor on. She crosses her arms, making herself smaller and fitting around the bigger gaps between them.

They both sigh and for a moment, it’s quiet. Her heart’s weirdly racing and she’s not sure what to say. Or if anything should be said at all. He shifts next to her, and her first thought is that he’s warm, even under his dense flight suit. He sighs again, and it sounds spent. She wonders if his eyes are closed behind that helmet.

Her head cranes towards him. “Long day?”

A short huff cracks through his modulator. “Something like that.” He’s smiling behind that response.

She grins back and looks up at the dark ceiling again. Colors are still swirling in her eyes if she squints long enough, but they're fading, she notes. There’s another short pause before this time, he breaks. “If.. this is too uncomf- ”

“It’s not.” she cuts in sweetly, still smiling to herself. Despite the angle, he’s warm and sturdy and she’d never felt more secure sandwiched between a man and his metal walls. She gently nudges his side. “Thanks again for saving my ass.”

He huffs again and nudges back. “Any time.” he replies.

She giggles and pauses, words pricking at the tip of her tongue. She’s feeling brave again and in her growing drowsiness, she decides to throw caution to the wind one last time. “Mando?”

“Mm?”

She inhales and shifts, her chin gently pressing into his shoulder. “Can I be honest about somethin’?”

His helmet shifts to her expectantly before pointing his chin at her. A silent approval to keep going. “I’ve been surrounded by armies my whole life. For as long as I can remember. Rebels, mercenaries, outcasts. You name it, I’ve met ‘em,” She peers up at his visor, ensuring she’s making eye contact. “And I’ve never felt safer with any of ‘em than I have with you.”

He doesn’t so much as twitch, but she swears she hears his breath seize under the helmet. Once again, his chest blooms and swells and something warm settles in his stomach. He smiles inwardly and before he can stop himself, a gloved hand comes up between them, leather knuckles stroking along the shape of her cheek.

She leans into it for just a moment and then she breaks through, ducking under his arm to curl herself up into his side. She rolls onto her own side, an arm draped across his chest and her head resting below his collarbone. Surprisingly, he not only allows her position shift, but he wraps his arm around her and even pulls her into him. “I made a promise to you,” he says. His hand settles between her shoulder blades, his thumb tracing a single circle into her back. “As long as you’re with me, you’ll be safe from harm. I intend to keep that promise as long as it takes.”

With her ear pressed into his shirt, she realizes that his pulse is racing against her. He also smells nice, like a combination of gunsmoke, the outdoors and the linen of his sheets. It’s woodsy and crisp, but it’s warm and homey and so intoxicatingly comforting.

She wants to say it.

She could get away with saying it if she played it right. But she's too drowsy and delirious and exhausted to keep thinking. He’s draping his blankets over them, tucking her into the ultimate heat source and she wants to soak in it. There’s a cool press against her hair and she realizes that his helmet is leaning into her. “Is this okay?” he whispers to her.

She nuzzles into his shirt and sighs contentedly. Sleep is pulling her into its depths faster than she anticipated but she has enough energy to sweetly mumble, “No. It’s better than okay.”

He exhales through his nose from above her and his hand gently rubs her back. “Get some sleep, mesh’la,” he purrs. “I’m here.”

She doesn’t know what that one means. She makes a mental note to ask tomorrow. Right now, she picks her head up to press a single kiss into his collarbone before plopping back down. “G’night Mando..”

His heart rate picks up again. He pulls her up closer so her head is nestled into the crook of his neck. This allows her to wrap both arms around him. His helmet tilts down and she swears she feels his eyes on her. “Good night.”

She closes her eyes and smiles, allowing herself to sink into his warmth and scent for the first and probably only time. Her words were never truer than in this moment; never had she felt safer than in this tiny bunk, wrapped in her Mandalorian’s blankets. She falls asleep shortly afterwards, her breaths evening out and her heartbeat slowing into a tranquil pace. This time, her mind takes her to more pleasant dreamscapes.

She can’t detect Mando at all, listening to her pulse as she sleeps. She doesn’t feel how long it takes before his gloves slip off in the dim lights and two arms fully wrap around her. She can’t sense his warm palms holding her against him, one across her back, the other coming up to smooth and brush her hair. And she’s long gone by the time he makes the conscious choice to give his helmet a break, telling himself he needs the air and it’ll be back on long before she wakes up tomorrow.

Somewhere in her subconscious, thoughts flash across her eyes; images of the Child, his laugh, his bright brown eyes, and his infectious joy. Repeated images of Mando, his visor, his cape, his arms. His sheets. His voice. His leathered touch. Their hands linked under a coat of stars.

She swears she feels a pair of ghostly lips brush against her forehead, if only for a moment, but she never quite figures out where they came from. Not that it matters. Because for now, this is enough. Even if it is only temporary.

* * *

a/n: stream season 3 only on disney + <3

[vikkirosko]

hi, how about andrealphus, stolas, fizz and striker with a female s/o who has scars on her neck and who always wears a choker and scarves around her neck because she doesn't want them to see.

Headcanons Scars on the neck

🦉 Stolas x fem!Reader 🎩

You and Stolas have known each other for many years. Every time you saw him, he saw a scarf or a necklace around your neck. There was always some kind of accessory around your neck that covered your neck from other people's eyes. Stolas did not know what made you wear something around your neck, because you had never worn such accessories before. You didn't talk about it until one day he saw your neck

You hid scars under your scarf. Your whole neck was covered with scars that you never talked about. Stolas was very concerned about your scars, he tried to ask you about it, but you refused to tell him about it. He quickly realized that these scars were related to some event in your life that you didn't want to remember. He didn't ask you unnecessary questions, realizing that there were things that you might not want to tell

Stolas has become especially attentive towards you. When he noticed that your scarf didn't cover your scars, he carefully adjusted your scarf until others noticed what you were trying to hide. You were grateful to him for this care, realizing that you couldn't notice absolutely everything and you didn't want to show others your scars

He understood that for you, scars were something that you would like to hide and completely remove from your life. He didn't know where you got them from, but he didn't think to try to find out. Stolas was sure that when you were ready, you would tell him about it yourself. He was ready to wait for you to be ready and tell him about everything yourself

🐍 Striker x fem!Reader 👢

Striker came to you every time he didn't have a job. You were close, but even he didn't know what the reason was that you always wore a scarf. You were wearing it at the time of your first meeting, but at that moment he did not pay attention to it, because you had just met. After a long time, he asked you about your scarf several times, but you always turned the conversation to other topics

He found out about what you were hiding under the scarf by accident. He came to your house without warning you and saw you without a scarf and the scars that you've been hiding all this time. Your neck was covered with a large number of scars, the origin of which you did not tell. He understood that it was something very personal and disturbing for you, so he didn't ask you any questions, just asked if the person who did this to you was punished, and he got angry when he found out that he wasn't

Striker had no trouble finding out who left the scars on your neck and getting rid of this person. He didn't tell you about it, not wanting to disturb you and make you remember the terrible events of your past. He understood that if there were things that you didn't want to tell, then there was a reason for it

Sometimes when you were sleeping Striker would run his fingers over your scars. He did it carefully so as not to wake you up, but every time it caused him a lot of thoughts. Striker wasn't going to let anyone hurt you, much less leave new scars on your skin

🎪 Fizzarolli x fem!Reader 💟

From the first day you met, you always wore a scarf around your neck. At first, Fizzarolli was sure that it was just an accessory that you were attached to, until one day he accidentally saw a part of your neck. There were scars under the scarf. Your entire neck was riddled with scars, the origin of which was unknown to him, and when you realized that he had seen your neck, you looked worried

You understood that he was worried about you and you trusted him, so you told him that you got these scars a few years ago and since then you have tried your best to hide it. Your scars embarrassed you and you didn't want anyone to see them. That's why you always wore a scarf, no matter where you were or what the weather was like. Fizzarolli listened to your story, and then decided to tell you what he was hiding from almost everyone

He showed you his old scars and the wounds he got from the accident. Fizzarolli told you about what happened to him and how he hid it from everyone. Only a few people knew about it. He didn't want to be considered weak and inferior, because he suffered much more than you, but he understood what you were experiencing

You were similar in your secrets and it seemed to bring you closer. You were glad that there was someone you could trust, even though you felt sorry for Fizzarolli, who went through something so terrible. Now you both knew that you could entrust something as important as your scars to each other

🦚 Andrealphus x fem!Reader ❄️

Andrealphus noticed every time you saw each other, regardless of whether it was at a public event or at a personal meeting, that there was always a scarf or a necklace around your neck hiding your neck. Your neck was constantly decorated with something, always matching your outfit and you were often complimented on this. However, he only found out the real reason why you were hiding your neck when you became a couple

You hid your neck even from him for a long time, but you couldn't hide it forever. There were scars on your neck. Terrible scars that have been with you for many years. You were shy of them and didn't want others to see them, especially considering the society you were in. Your scars were the result of an attempt to kill you, and for you it was a terrible memory of what happened that you tried to hide from others as well as from yourself

Andrealphus had never heard of anyone trying to kill you, but looking at your scars, he knew you wouldn't lie about it. He hoped that whoever did this to you was punished, but the scars didn't make you any worse. He understood that you might not believe his words, but he really thought so. He really liked you and your scars didn't make you any worse for him

Andrealphus knew that despite all his strength and power, he couldn't rid you of your scars, but he could show you that they weren't a problem. He was sure that scars were a much smaller problem than many others that other inhabitants of Hell had, and he was sure that he would be able to show it to you

[ravenelyx]

I love you in every timeline - Prologue: In Search of Lost Time

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader

Words: 1.9k

Chapter Warnings: angst if you squint, Harry Potter characters appearance, no name appearance (not even y/n dw), some swearing, use of 2nd person for the reader (I know I know but I promise it makes sense for the story)

Summary: "He turned around, and the world seemed to stop around him. She had followed him: into another timeline, into another universe.". In which Sebastian, in his search for a cure in the Dark Arts, finds himself 100 years into the future and meets his most trusted companion's descendant (who looks far too similar to the girl he was once secretly in love with).

A/N: this is the first english fic I've written, so I'm terrified. Anyway, Trimetravel! AU with Sebastian Sallow. Some background info: Reader is not MC; Reader is a Gryffindor, MC was a Slytherin; MC was a Pureblood, Reader is a Muggle Born. Also, english is not my first language so if you find any mistakes, I deeply apologise. Not proof-read (for obvious reasons).

→ Find the rest of the fanfiction here on AO3 :)

"For we are not as faithful to the being we have most loved as we are to ourselves and sooner or later we forget her — since that is one of our characteristics — so as to start loving another." - Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time

If a chasm had opened under Sebastian's feet and swallowed him all the way to the depths of hell, he would have gladly accepted his demise there and then.

Unfortunately, its mercy seemed to be out of business that day — or any other day in his life, really.

Sebastian paced the corridors, a frown adorning his face; he had just come out of the Headmaster's office due to the absolute disaster that had occurred to him just a few hours prior.

After weeks of research, he had finally found something that could help him, a breakthrough with which he could finally achieve his goal. An artefact so powerful that it could break the fabric of time and space, something that could help his poor sister live a happy and healthy life again. He did not care that they were not on speaking terms at the moment: he would find a way to talk to her so that she would take this last chance. He would force her if he had to. It was his last hope, and Merlin knows he had tried everything.

If he had known about the artefact's effects earlier, he would have thought twice before using it.

"So, Mr Sallow, could you be so kind as to tell us how you came to be in our time?" the Headmaster, who had earlier introduced himself as Albus Dumbledore, had asked him.

Truth was that not having stopped dwelling with the Dark Arts in search of a cure for Anne had led him to find himself in another timeline instead. His face twitched: in terms of unlikelihood, the scales seemed pretty unbalanced.

It had been a brief conversation, really, with Sebastian omitting some details (like his friendship with an Ancient Magic wielder or the murder of his uncle, for which he bore full responsibility) and grimacing against his own will when the Headmaster had looked at him through his half-moon shaped glasses as if asking him, 'Why are you lying to me?'

He had pushed the thoughts away as quickly as they had come: it wasn't like he could read his mind... or could he?

Sebastian breathed a sigh of relief when the Headmaster had dismissed him after giving him specific instructions on how to behave until they found a way to return him to his timeline — one of which was, "Please don't inform anyone of your condition unless it's absolutely necessary." That had seemed quite reasonable to him, so he nodded.

The artefact was damaged, as expected, and unlikely to work again unless a powerful form of magic came into contact with it and repaired it: something like Ancient Magic, perhaps, or a miracle.

"I see you're still causing trouble everywhere you fare, aren't you, Mr Sallow?" the familiar voice of Phineas Nigellus Black had mocked from his portrait, effectively startling him. Sebastian had looked up and into the eyes of his old Headmaster, his mouth falling open at the sight of him. He looked old, weary, and angrier somehow — yet, in a way, he had brought Sebastian some form of comfort, almost. A sense of familiarity.

Before he could have said anything, Black had disappeared, and a woman with severe blue eyes and long robes had escorted him out of the office.

-

Sebastian looked around at his familiar surroundings, which would have been almost comforting if not for the nameless faces looking at him with curiosity: Hogwarts students tended to recognise each other effortlessly, and anyone who didn't fit into that bundle of familiarity was to be ostracised. He remembered all too well when he was the one helping the new fifth-year find her way around those same corridors, except he didn't need guidance: this was his home, after all.

But he did have a guide, and she wasn't as charming a student as he was either.

The Head of the Gryffindor House walked right next to him, a stern expression on her face made even more prominent by the shadow of her large witch hat. The woman Sebastian had come to know as Minerva McGonagall was also the Transfiguration teacher and Deputy Headmistress, at least it seemed that way, which was no doubt why she was accompanying him rather than the Head of his own House.

Sebastian decided not to ask himself any questions and do what the Headmaster told him to: attend class, fit in, and pretend to be either a transfer student or someone with a complex background — he hadn't decided which story to tell yet (and both, in a way or another, would be true).

The clacking of Professor McGonagall's shoes stopped so abruptly that he almost would have missed it if she hadn't started speaking.

"You're about to meet two of your new classmates. Prefects of the Gryffindor House." She raised her left arm in their direction, and his eyes followed it to two red and gold robes leading into warm faces.

"I am pleased to introduce you to Ms Hermione Granger—" she gestured to the girl with curly hair to her left, who wore a friendly smile all while maintaining a serious and clean look, "—and Mr Ronald Weasley." Sebastian's eyes shot to the boy to his right when he heard the familiar name, and to be honest, he might not have needed an introduction at all: the red-haired boy gave him a wry smile, his freckles standing out even more in the natural light. He would have recognised those features anywhere.

Finally, Sebastian noticed their uniforms. He didn't pay much attention to the boy's — he himself also wore a very similar one, uncomfortable and informal as it seemed to him — for his eyes were fixed on the girl's. She was wearing a grey cardigan with red and gold trim, the colours of her House, and her skirt was much shorter than he remembered, with black denier tights covering the rest of her legs. Sebastian felt himself blushing slightly and averted his eyes.

He wondered why the Slytherin prefects were unsuited to the situation: at the end of the day, he was a Slytherin, too. Sebastian didn't undergo the Sorting again — the Professors didn't seem to deem it necessary, not to mention the Hat had recognised him from his shelf, too. He didn’t forget easily.

McGonagall turned back to Sebastian and briefly adjusted his robes, her face softening slightly, "For the time being, it is best if you don't draw attention to yourself. We will find a solution," she straightened her posture and nodded at him, "Welcome to Hogwarts." She turned on her heels and walked away, leaving him with the two Gryffindors.

He studied their faces for a moment, searching for the right words to say, deciding on which story to tell, but the only thing he could muster was: "How come you're Gryffindors?"

The two students stared at him, appalled, and he mentally slapped himself. He wanted to correct his statement and explain his intention, but the girl stopped him before he could even form a coherent thought.

"You're wondering why they asked us to guide you and not the Slytherin Prefects, am I right?"

Either his question wasn't that unclear, or the girl had excellent deduction skills, and judging by the epiphany on the other boy's face when he understood the meaning of her words, it was most likely the latter.

Sebastian sighed inwardly and nodded, mentally promising not to stumble over his words again.

The boy — Ronald, Sebastian recalled — chimed in: "Because otherwise you'd have to deal with Malfoy, and he's an idio—" the girl slapped him on the arm and gave him a warning look before turning back to Sebastian.

Malfoy, Sebastian thought. A family of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. It was clear why a Weasley would want nothing to do with him.

Sebastian wondered if they still held the same values as in his day: if the Malfoys were still blood maniacs, and so was the person they spoke of, or if he wanted to distance himself from his family as Ominis did. Judging by Ronald's opinion of him, Sebastian did not think that was possible, but then again, he did not know the fellow. Maybe, Sebastian thought, things had moved on after a century: no blood wars, discrimination or superiority complexes. Perhaps this was all just a simple rivalry between two students from different Houses.

"Professor Dumbledore thought us to be best suited for this difficult situation. No other student but us knows about your... misadventure," said Hermione.

To call it a "misadventure" would be an understatement , Sebastian wanted to say. As it turned out, however, he didn't need a story to tell. He didn't know whether to feel betrayed by the Professors who had decided to disclose that information or relieved that he didn't have to go through it all alone. A beat of silence followed, in which Sebastian could only nod at the girl's words, and then it was interrupted abruptly.

"Where have you been?" called a voice from the end of the corridor, directly behind Sebastian.

He turned around, and the world seemed to stop around him.

He definitely didn't have to go through it all alone because there she was. Standing a few feet away from him, looking straight at him, was the person who had accompanied him on all his adventures.

She had followed him: into another timeline, into another universe.

He felt his lips twist into a grin, and he beamed at the sight of her. Had she been looking for him?

He frowned a little as he noticed her expression: she seemed annoyed, almost angry. Perhaps she had no intention of following him and had just ended up here for no reason? Were the two of them connected on a deeper level than he thought? Or perhaps she was just worried for him and angry he didn't look for her too?

The girl started to walk towards them, and his smile widened even more the closer she got.

She was almost there when he realised she wasn't sparing him a glance.

Instead, her eyes were focused on the red-haired boy next to him, who was staring at her in horror, looking completely terrified.

Sebastian looked back at the girl, finally noticing the red and gold tie around her neck where a green and silver one usually belonged, a crease in her eyebrows that wasn't there before, and her eyes were a different colour than he remembered.

What the hell is going on here?  he thought, staring at her wide-eyed.

"Ron, for God's sake, I've been looking all over for you! Do you intend to give me back my book before class starts, or should I pull a new one out of a hat because you can't use your own?" she threw her hands in the air disapprovingly.

Ron stuttered briefly before hesitantly pointing at the Slytherin boy next to him, "I've just had too much to do. Prefect stuff, you know."

The girl scowled at him before turning to the said boy, her eyes softening slightly. "Oh! You're the new fifth-year!"

Sebastian's eye twitched. How bloody ironic.

"I'm Sebastian Sallow," he replied feebly, body stock-still like marble.

"Nice to meet you," she smiled politely.

And then she introduced herself.

His breath caught in his throat. Sebastian could have recognised that surname anywhere, but her name fell completely deaf on his ears.

You weren't her.

--

→ Chapter 1

[exrellian]

Replaced MC AU

Authors Note: the amount of support I’m getting is insane and I am so thankful! I didn’t expect my first series to blow up like this! Comment if you would like to be added to the tag list (which is something I never expected to have) and of course, enjoy part four!!

TW: none really except MC and ??? Shit talking the brothers and royals

Part 1-Part 2-Part 3-Part 4(you are here)

Someone who feels the same way

??? POV

“Chef! There is someone sleeping in the alleyway next to the restaurant!” A demon said, “if you let homeless people just sleep outside people are going to stop eating here. This is a prestigious restaurant, not a homeless shelter.” The noble demon scoffed at the other

“I will go take care of it.” The chef sighed, grabbing his coat and umbrella from his office before exiting the restaurant and checking the alley beside it. Sure enough, there lays a boy, looking to be physically around the same age as the chef, and he looks like shit

“How long do you plan on sitting in the alley? Humans get sick easily.” The demon spoke, moving his umbrella to cover the soaked boy

“You gonna eat me?” the human asked, not even moving his head up to look at the demon

“Eat you? Ew.”

“Don’t mess with me, I know how demons are.” The chef shook his head, leaning against the wall across from MC

“If I was going to eat you I would have done so already. Aren’t you the precious little exchange student? Weird to see you without one of your guard dogs.” He scoffs as he mentions the seven lords

“Please don’t bring me back there. Who knows what they will do if they found out I was causing a noble demon trouble” MC sputtered, still not making eye contact with the mystery demon

“Ew.”

“Ew?”

“Those lords are as incompetent as the young prince who rules them.” The demon replied with a roll of his eyes “I’m Lawrence by the way. Why don’t you come into the restaurant and get cleaned up, the back room should have some spare clothes since yours are… gross”

“Are you sure your boss would be okay with that?”

“My boss? No, he won’t mind” Lawrence tosses his jacket at MC, still covering both of them with the umbrella

“If you’re sheltering me with an umbrella why do I need a jacket?”

“Put the hood up, hide your face and, since I wear this jacket often it should mask your scent as a human. A lot of noble demons are dining here, if you don’t want the lords knowing you’re here you best hide.” Lawrence explains, helping MC up off the ground

“Why are you helping me? You could have killed me at least five different times now”

“Because you looked pathetic. And I can’t have homeless people outside the restaurant, it will make it look… poor”

Small time skip

MCs POV, first person

I finished getting changed after successfully sneaking in… but now what? Sure I’m all cleaned up but was it all just to go out onto the streets again? Sure I could go to Purgatory Hall but who knows if they have been manipulated by Amelia too. I need to get a job and find a place to stay, even if I just hotel jump until the end of my time here…

“The uniform looks good on you.” A voice spoke from the door behind me “ready to get working?”

“What? Your… offering me a job here? But how will I go unnoticed!? And I’m a human, so won’t the demons be inclined to avoid this place with me working here!?” I ask, shocked at the sudden declaration that he was giving me a job

“An illusion spell, I put it in the uniform before you get changed. To me and any other demon you look and smell like a demon. No one will recognize you like this.” Lawrence explained, it’s as if he was prepared for this

“Oh… well I guess that makes sense, but why offer me a job? This just doesn’t seem right, you are a demon correct? Why help a useless human this much?” I asked, not fully trusting in this random demons intentions

“You ask so many questions, it’s annoying. I just felt like it, that’s all. This is my restaurant so I can give anyone I please a job.”

“Your restaurant!? You own this place!? The lords came to eat here many times, saying this was the fanciest restaurant in the Devildom!”

“If I could ban them from coming here I would. I had to work overtime any night you all came. That gluttony demon is a real problem for any restaurant he comes to. And don’t get me started on that prideful fuck, he can rot for all I care, he had the gall to tell me I was being too conservative with the serving sizes, at my own damn restaurant” Lawrence rants on and on, it was almost comforting to find someone who hates them as much as I do now “the only tolerable one is the young lords butler, at least he seems to have a shred of respect, unlike the other eight. Not even the prince can respect other people enough to not shout everything he says like he is the most important being in the three worlds”

“You seem to really hate them, don’t you?” I chuckle a bit at his tangent, not expecting someone who looks and acts like he does to go on such a heated rant

“Hate is such a… gentle word. I loathe them, they think they are the best demons ever because one of them was born into power and the other seven used to be angels. Well that doesn’t mean shit in the long run, and they will learn that sooner or later when their little exchange program backfires and the Celestial Realm fucks over both the Devildom and the human realm by extension. If there is one thing I loathe more than the nobles here in the Devildom, it’s the celestial realm” he sighs “we have gotten off topic, do you want the job or not? I live in a two bedroom apartment above the restaurant that you may stay in until you have made enough money to get your own place out until the exchange year comes to an end. Truthfully it would be foolish of you to refuse” he was right, it would be incredibly stupid to turn down this offer.

Tag list; @t-misaki @melpomenelurks @gallantys @skei2p @terodactu @atomsminecraft @cutest-tenshi