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surielstea · 1 month

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Honeymoon

Based on this request.

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel and Reader celebrate being newly weds.

A/N: I hate this ngl but I hope you guys enjoyy

Word count: 5.2k

The sound of Cassian's rambunctious laughter echoes throughout the entire house but Azriel was too preoccupied staring at me to take any notice of his brother's amusement— which was targeted towards Morrigan. Who was so drunk I doubted she could walk. I giggled as she battled with a stubborn wine cork, and was evidently losing. Familiar arms wrap around me and pull me into a warm embrace. "Let's go home," Azriel murmurs and I look up to him with a soft smile. It was two hours past midnight, our wedding ceremony started at noon. It's been a long day, to say the least.

"I just want to make sure Mor gets home safe and then—" I begin to pull away from his grasp but he tugs me right back into him. "Do you ever worry about yourself?" He questions and I roll my eyes. "I'm allowed to care for my friends." I justify but he only pulls me closer. "It's our night." He argues and I can't help but melt into him at the words. "Mor will sleep here tonight, you've got nothing to worry over." He gently rubs up and down my sides and I solicit an exhausted sigh. "We can go home and spend our first night as husband and wife together before we leave for the Summer Court tomorrow." He offers, his tone alluring. I twist my lips to the side, contemplating giving in to my newlywed husband or staying around until everyone found their way home.

"Okay?" He prods and I look up to him once more, though I should've known better than to let my gaze meet his and still expect to deny him. "Okay." I nod and his smile goes wide, resulting in dimples appearing to crease his cheeks.

He barely even lets me say goodbye before he winnows us right into the sitting room of our home.

Azriel pulls me through the dimly lit hall of our house as I stumble over my heels, squeezing his hand tightly in a signal for him to slow down, the eager male however had no intention of wasting any more time without me in his arms, just us two.

I'd be lying if I said some alone time wasn't exactly what I needed. Alone time, with him, that is. He seems like the happiest male on earth every time he glances back at me while I'm already looking at him returning his grin.

He pulls me into the master bedroom, leaning back against the door behind him and clicking it shut. I let go of his hand and stride toward the bed, plopping down onto it in a bundle of white tulle.

My feet are practically screaming they're in so much pain. I groan as I lean down, unable to reach the clasps of the heels due to my excessive amount of skirts. Azriel only chuckles as he watches me struggle to get ahold of my shoe. "What's so funny?" I glower up at him and he folds his lips inward to stop himself from laughing any further. He stepped closer and in two long-legged strides, he was directly in front of me. "Nothing beloved," He crouches down and settles on his knees before me with a sickeningly sweet look in his eyes. "How many skirts can one dress have?" He muttered as he pushed the ballgown material in every which way. "Too many," I sigh, head craning to the side as I stretch my neck.

I feel sweet relief as one of my shoes comes off, and the other quickly follows.

He discards the horrid heels across the room and looks up at me proudly. I would marry him all over again just because of that look. I grab him by his collar and pull him up towards me with a sloppy grin, leaning forward and pecking his lips with an uncontrollable smile.

"Your suit looks really good on you," I say dreamily as I begin unbuttoning his dress shirt. "Yeah?" He looks at me with a teasing smile, standing to his full height and staring down at me. "Mhm." I nod with a dazed smile, utterly love-drunk on him. His hands come to the back of my head, undoing my pinned-up hair that took hours for Nuala to do this morning. Shadows swished around us haphazardly as we both silently took care of each other.

Once I got his shirt fully undone I moved to tug it down his shoulders.

I feel a tug at the base of my scalp and I wince as I realize my hair is being pulled. "Ow— Azriel," I bring my hands back to meet his and he looked at me with slight amusement. "My fingers are too big." He muttered and a smile pulled at my lips. "I've heard that one before." I snicker and he rolls his eyes, taking his hands away from my hair and allowing me to do it myself.

It takes me less than a minute until my hair is unbounded and tumbling down my back. I look up at him with a soft smile and he mirrors it, hands coming to my cheeks reflexively, cradling my face in his all-too-big, scarred hands.

"My beautiful wife," The words roll so easily from his tongue and the title has me flushing profusely, by the mother, we're married and he still makes me go red. He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to my lips.

The kiss isn't hungry or lustful, just pure innocence and love. His rough hands are gentle when holding me, and his lips on mine are so precise and careful.

I smile wildly at the feel of warm adoration flooding through his side of the bond without hesitance. I sent my own version of it back only to find his mental shields completely gone, it was just us, the spymaster didn't feel the need to hide anything.

I pull back and quickly stand to my full height, silently turning around, and without a word he understands what I want. His fingers come to the white laces of my dress, untying the delicate strings as gently as he could manage. As soon as he's got them all undone, then the rest of the clasps, I can fully breathe again. I release a soft sigh as I feel the tight bodice loosen and dip from my chest. He helps me step away from the gown, shadows carrying the expensive white fabric to the armoire where it'll be hung.

"That dress is evil," I sigh in relief, looking up to Azriel who was preoccupied staring at every inch of my body.

I was wearing a dainty white lingerie set that seemed like it would fall apart completely if he were to pull at one loose thread. "You've been wearing this all day?" He grabs me by my waist and pulls me into his chest. I giggle at his neediness and wrap my arms around the back of his neck, then give him a cheeky nod. "I would've taken that dress off a lot sooner if I'd known." He hums, head dipping into the juncture between my shoulder and neck. My hand goes into his hair as I lean up into him, he was the only warmth I could find in this cold room. The lighthearted and sweet energy between us shifts into something powered by need.

He backs away from my shoulder and moves to kiss my lips with a passion I recognized well. My hands come to his jaw but before he lets me even think about reciprocating his urgency he's moving back to my jaw, peppering kisses down the column of my throat, the valley of my peaked breasts, all the way to my navel as he lowers down onto his knees. —And when he pushes me back onto the bed and settles between my legs, I know, he's mine and mine alone.

He looks up at me with swirling hazel eyes, all I have to do is nod before he's shredding through my undergarments, and without much foreplay, his lips attach to the apex of my thighs.

Breath escapes me as he wickedly flicks his tongue over my sensitive clit, my hand shooting into his hair as a whine drags from my throat. I feel him smile against me at the reaction, I look down to see his eyes already on me, catching my gaze. My brows furrow as shadows swirl around my thighs and pin them down onto the bed as he slowly moves downward to where I ached for him most.

His tongue slips over my slit and I arch upward. "C'mon Az, don't be mean." I cry out, pulling at his hair as he teases at my entrance with a stupid smirk on his face. "Need more," I whine. "What exactly do you need more of?" He purrs, his breath fanning over my wet folds, forcing me to clench around nothing for any form of friction. "No teasing." I shake my head with a pitiful whine. "Not even just a little?" He mocks, then his teeth nip at my clit and my breath hitched as I feel heat flood the sensitive area. "You like that did you?" He taunts, his tongue coming flat against the bud to soothe it. "Don't worry baby," He tuts as shadows swirl up my arms and tether me to the bed to prevent my squirming. "Just be a good wife and I'll give you what you want, yeah?" He hums and the proposition makes me throb with pure need.

"Az," I sigh out helplessly, tugging at my restraints but my whines die in my throat as his tongue delves into my folds, collecting every drop of arousal that was a result of him and him alone.

I grin my hips up into his face and he grins wildly, his hands coming around my thighs to pull me closer as he feasts on me like he hasn't eaten in years. My hips lift as I buck into his mouth and my silent command somehow reaches him, because the next thing I know he's dipping lower and finding my opening.

I open my legs wider before he can even think to ask and he smiles at how well he's got me trained. "Good girl," The praise slips from his lips and pushes me towards my climax more than anything else. His head dives low and his tongue enters me without struggle.

I clench the sheets in my fist and tears begin welling in my water line. "Fuck, Az," I moan out. He replies with a wicked flick of his tongue, his arms tightening as he brings me closer, I glance down to see him entirely engulfed in the taste of me like he was drunk on my arousal.

My hand goes into his hair as I run out of oxygen, panting heavily at the feeling of his head between my legs. He finds that sweet spongy spot deep inside of me and toys with it, flicking and swirling his tongue across it with a precision that had me mewling his name like a prayer.

He pulls away from the spot for a moment in order to explore other areas, his long tongue pressing against my moldable walls and I clench around him, if it weren't for his hands holding me down I'd be crushing his head in. I grind my hips up in protest so he returns to that spot, and with it comes a forming know that was growing increasingly tighter.

"Fuck, m' close," I warn, confining my ministrations upward with my hips. My movements become ragged and hurried as my high approaches, but he remains fluid and teasing. I whine as he curls his tongue in such a way that I'm left breathless, my hands in his hair go stiff and the knot burrowed inside of me winds itself so tight that it snaps and I'm blessed with a surge of pleasure as it sweeps over me, a mix of both heat and euphoria blooming from my core and as I release, it’s Azriel’s name coming from my lips.

"Good," He eases as he slowly backs away. “That’s it,” His hands stroke up and down my hips and I release a soft whimper at the sensation. “You can handle more can’t you love?” He murmurs between kisses as he naps his lips back up to my neck. “Mhm,” I nod shakily and he smiles, nipping at my sensitive now marked skin. “So good for me.” He rasps before sucking on the exposure of my neck.

I clench my legs together at the absence of the shadows from my thighs but the ones at my wrist remain. I whine as I grind down, already needy for more. He presses a soft kiss to my neck at the action. “Please Az, need you,” I whine and a grin pulls at his lips. “Is that right?” He leans down and the weight of his hardened cock pressed into my abdomen. My brows pinch together and I nod. “Please Az, I’ll make you feel so good.” I implore as I stare up at his delighted expression.

“Be good and stay still for me then, okay?” He prompts and I nod with wide eyes. “That my girl.” He presses a soft kiss to my forehead before dipping down yet again, this time aiming towards my chest. He pulls at the string like bra and it unravels at his fingertips.

His calloused hands grip my right breast while his mouth charts my left. His tongue— that was just inside of me, flicks over the sensitive bud and I whine pathetically, pulling at the shadows holding me down in order to weave my fingers through his hair. Hazel eyes meet mine and for a moment, in the dim lighting, they seemed golden. He released my left breast with one last swipe of his tongue and moved to my right one.

My hardened bud quickly became overstimulated as his scarred thump rolled right circles around it. My chest arched up, closer to his face. He hummed in approval at the action and I sighed out his name, over and over again, he was all I could think about. I was completely drunk on his touch and he hasn’t even fucked me yet.

“Feels good, ah— so good.” I mewl as his heavy cock pressed into my folds. I grind up against the fabric of his pants but it does little to get me any closer to my release. “Az,” I whine. “I know,” He whispers and moves his way back up my chest to my jaw. “I’ll give you what you want, my wife has been so good for me, I think she deserves a reward.” He purrs into the shell of my ear and I nearly moan at just the sound of his voice.

Shadows leave my wrists and unchain me from the bed while Azriel gets off his pants. I do the rest of his work with his boxers, feeling needy enough to get myself the rest of the way to my climax— but when he presses himself into my folds, I know it’d be impossible without him. He presses a loving kiss to my lips one last time before his tip aligns itself with my entrance and without any further warning he pushes himself inside, he only goes as deep as the head and I nearly meet my high at the feel of his thick member finally press into my sensitive walls.

“Gods, so fucking tight.” He grunts out and I smile hazily at the words, wrapping my legs around his hips so I’m forced to open wider for him. He lifted his hips and then thrusts them back in, his movements precise so he only entered another inch or two, but it was enough for a moan to bubble from my lips. “You’re taking me so well,” He presses a kiss to my temple. “Such,” He begins but thrusts deeper mid-sentence. “A good,” thrust. “Wife.” He praises and I tighten around him at the sentiment of the words.

His hand snakes up my waist, thumps at my breast, then past my arm and finds my hand. He intertwines our fingers and I hold his hand tight as he stretches me out.

He rolled his hips at a rate that had me losing any coherent thought. Finally, his base finds mine, his balls slapping against my ass. “Fuck, you feel good,” He curses, his head falling into the crook of my shoulder as he picks up speed and begins pumping into me faster. The sound of his cock entering me has me drooling, and the feel of him, gods, I could feel every ridge as well as the slight curve that gave him perfect access to my most sensitive spot.

“Az, I can’t,” I murmur as I feel that familiar knot begin to form yet again, sensing I wouldn’t last long if he kept this up. “So close,” I sigh with a fucked out expression as he just admired it. “Release on my cock baby,” He hums and I whimper. He increases speed and I barrel towards my high, chasing it and quickly catching up when he doesn’t cease his actions. My hand squeezes around his as white-hot pleasure consumes me whole.

“Azriel,” I cry out as tears drop from my waterline and stream down my cheeks. He doesn’t let up and I never get the chance to come down from my high, the result of my release only lingers but it never fully leaves, it only continues to build. He doesn’t dare stop, if anything he gets faster. My cunt becomes red and puffy with overstimulation, but he doesn’t care, because he knows how much I love it.

“I’m gonna fill you so full baby,” His free hand comes down onto my abdomen where he can feel himself inside of me. “Can’t wait to watch my cum drip out of you.” He purrs, his lips ghosting over my jaw. I squeeze around him at the words, eyes clenching shut at the pleasurable pain. “You like that? Like when I cum inside?” He hums and all I can do is nod. “Mhm, need to feel you spill deep inside me.” I cry out. “Such a good wife,” He admires, and again, that nickname, it leaves me utterly defenseless.

His hand scopes down my hip and grips my thigh before shadows help guide it up, wrapping around his torso and allowing him to press into me so much deeper. “Az— I’m,” I lose breath and he nods. “I know,” He pants. “I’m close too.” He reassures and I sigh in both relief and pleasure. His hips roll once, then twice, and on the third, I grind my hips up to match his pace and we both reach our highs.

His warm seed spurts into me, so much of it that it’s still leaking into me even once my climax passes, only when he slows his thrusts does the flow end. He presses a gentle kiss to my forehead before pulling out entirely with a grunt, his release slipping out of me onto my thighs. He tumbled down beside me and released an exhausted breath.

“You’re so good at that,” I smile dreamily. “I don’t think you would’ve married me if I wasn’t.” He replies with a breathy chuckle. Realization dawns upon me and I turn my head toward him, he is already looking at me. “We’re married,” I say giddily and he nods with the same smile as mine. “We are,” His hand comes to my arm and he rubs his thumb up and down it then stops. “But I think that’ll change real soon if I don’t give you aftercare.” He springs up and I giggle. “I’m glad you know your limits.”

————

"C'mon Az," I beckon as I slip from his arms, dragging a groan from the male who was fisting the hem of my white nightgown and pulling me back down onto the bed. "We're going to be late," I grumble against his shoulder as he smushed me into him. "Tarquin is expecting us at noon." I remind and he grumbles a curse beneath his breath, nuzzling his face into my shoulder. "I don't think he'll mind if we're a few minutes late." He presumes. "Or a few days." The male adds and I roll my eyes as he pulls me closer. "Azriel," I warn and he does nothing aside from a dragged-out whine. "Big baby." I grit out as I squirm from his arms but his hold is iron and I'd be lying if I said I didn’t want to stay in his embrace.

"Just five more minutes." He begs. "You said that an hour ago." I retort with a glare. "And here we still are." He flashes me a crooked smile and I sigh, making my surrender clear. His eyes flash with pure joy while he pulls me impossibly closer, crushing me with his large, tattooed biceps— not that I was complaining.

"Only fife mibuntes," I mumble, cheeks smushed between his chest and arm. "Only five minutes." I feel him nod, he presses a hard kiss to the crown of my head before propping his chin atop it and taking a deep content breath, arms possessively tightening any time I try to move away.

The thought of being married hits me full throttle, the idea of being connected to this male for the rest of my life dawns upon me all in one moment and I feel nothing aside from pure bliss.

I wrap my arms around him and pull him close, flipping us over so he's on his back, his huge wings spread out on either side of him as I straddle his abdomen. He looks up at me lazily and the smile on his face is uncontrollable. "We're married." I grin wildly and he nods, biting his lower lip in order to shut himself up from every stupid love confession threatening to spill from him, so instead his hands come to the back of my neck and he pulls me down, his lips slotting atop mine. "We don't have time for this." I sigh against his mouth. "Then I can't wait to fuck you on the beach." He hums and my cheeks burn hot. I place my lips back over his to ignore replying to his awfully arousing comment.

"It's been five minutes." He mumbles against my mouth and I immediately reel back, narrowing my eyes at him. "Now who's the responsible one?" I tease, flipping off of him despite his whine for me to stay.

I waddle over to my armoire, walking foreign to me due to how impeccably sore I was between my legs.

I find a white summer dress and smile, slipping off my nightgown Azriel dressed me in last night, then putting the flowy dress on. Azriel was quick to appear behind me and tie the strings. I hum contentedly as he places both his hands on my shoulders when he finishes, leans down, and presses a kiss to my temple.

I grin, looking up at him with a cheeky expression before rising onto my toes and planting my lips on his.

"C'mon, get dressed," I press a hand to his bare chest as I swivel around and push him towards the wardrobe.

————

The summer court was hot. Far too hot to be wearing more than one layer of clothing. So Azriel and I ended up on the coast of Adriatta, watching the ocean rise and fall as it washed over the sand. I smile as I walk along the shoreline, remembering how I used to collect seashells as a child, my mother used to take me here every summer before she got sick. I only have good memories of this place.

"Look at this one." I hold out a small tower shell towards my husband and he barely looks at it, his eyes seeming to much rather be on me, a small smile gracing his lips. He holds his palms out where he holds an array of other shells I've found over our walk along the sea. I place the shell into his hands and we continue to walk hand in hand.

I string him along and he follows mindlessly, shadows swishing wherever the shadow of my body was, attempting to stay close to but keep out of the sun. Eventually, we find an alcove made entirely of calcite rock. The archway is just big enough to fit Azriel and his wings, shadows roaming freely in the darkness. We continue walking, Azriel watching me as I look at the structure curiously, like it's been man-made but no one could forge a rock like this.

My breath hitched as I came across a spot still under the rock that arched into a clear ocean view, entirely secluded like this cove was for us and us alone. I smile happily and rush over to my husband who had the beach bag slung over his shoulder. I take it from him and plop it down onto the soft sand, taking a large, blanket-like towel out and laying it down on the ground. Azriel smiles down at me as I plop down onto it. He squats down and hands me my seashells, I take them gratefully.

I line the edge of the towel with the found shells while Azriel dishes his book from the bag before finding his spot beside me. He rests on his stomach, wings spread out, the membrane shining golden and red under the soft gleam of sunlight. I smile at the image until his right wing pokes me in the side. "Ouch," I murmur and his wing tucks back in, he looks at me apologetically. I looked at his left wing which was spread out entirely and decided he couldn't have been comfortable with just one wing stretched out.

I flip over and straddle his lower back, careful to avoid his wings. "Go ahead." I run my hand down the hard structure of his right wing and he takes the hint, spreading it onto my side of the blanket then allowing it to rest comfortably. "We should've brought two towels." I hum and he opens his book back up, seemingly content with me sitting atop him as if I weighed nothing.

I lean down, careful not to touch his wings, and settle myself in the space between them on his broad back. My chest rests against his back as I wrap my arms around his neck and my nose comes to the crook in his shoulder, peering over him to look down at his book.

I read a few pages along with him but soon found the book to be boring, Azriel was always into reading classics that had some sort of hidden meaning he had to find. I could barely get through a few chapters without falling asleep. So instead I rested my head on his shoulder blade and listened to the sounds of the waves crashing against the sand then receding into the water, all to repeat the process over again.

I trace shapes on my husband's tanned back, stars and smiley faces, a lot of hearts, but most importantly the letters that spelled out "I love you" he closed his book once I finished the three words and he turned his head only a fraction. "I love you too." He hums and I smile like a schoolgirl with a crush. I scoot up on his back and wrap my arms around him tighter. I pepper the side of his face in quick pecks and a grin spreads across his features.

He cranes his neck to the side and I manage to find his lips with mine, placing a loving kiss on them.

"Is this even comfortable for you?" I ask and he nods. "I used to do pushups with Cassian towering weights on me, this is nothing." He hums and I roll my eyes at his competitive side. “You’re cute when you try to act so tough,” I say with a hum, my hands taking free liberty in roaming his exposed chest. “The entire continent is afraid of me.” He states and I giggle. “See? Adorable.” I lean over his shoulder and kiss his cheek. He grumbles a curse and I continue roaming his muscles with my fingertips, eventually finding his defined v-line, like an arrow from his hips. I drag my nails up and down the exposed skin, his shorts going awfully low.

"If you keep that up I'll winnow us right back into bed." He warns and I press a soft kiss to his shoulder blade. "Why so far?" I hum, my fingers finding the waistband of his swim shorts. "Don't you want to fuck me on the beach Azzie?" I recall and he flipped over, knocking me off his back. I yelped and he snickers, watching as I shake the sand from my hair. “Not funny.” I stand up, he leans back against his palms and just stares up at me.

“If you’re not going to help cool me off I’m going for a swim,” I glare at him but he stays quiet, just silently watching as I remove the lightweight wrap from around my torso and toss it at him. He doesn’t even try to catch it, just lets it hit him in the chest as he stares unabashedly at my body in the sunlight, glimmering like the sea behind me. He watches as I walk away and towards the shore, I can feel his stare from a mile away, on my waist, my chest, my ass. It didn’t matter, I was apparently uncharted territory, despite the fact that he had me under him last night.

“You want to join me?” I turn back to ask and all he can think of to do is nod. He stood and reached back, then took his shirt off over his wings and it was my turn to stare. His tanned skin rippled with muscle, the sun gleaming down onto his dark tattoos that I’d traced my hands along so many times I could draw them with my eyes closed.

“You staring at me creep?” He squints down at me due to the sun in his eyes. I smile childishly up at him. “Never!” I gasp. “I’m married I’ll have you know.” I wiggle my left hand in his face to show off the sapphire gem on my wedding ring, perfectly matching the color of his siphons. “And my husband could beat you up,” I cross my arms and march towards the water.

“Could he now?” He asks, hands snaking around my waist as I nod. “He’s big and strong, and so tall,” I say dreamily. “He sounds pretty incredible.” Azriel muses and I grin widely. “He is, but you know who’s even better?” I say and his brows crease possessively. “Who?” His hands leave my waist and I whirl around to look up at him. “His wife.” I supply, my smile widening as I watch his confused expression turn to one of realization.

“I’m inclined to agree.” He leans down and presses a soft kiss to my lips, I can’t help but lean up into it.

“Now c’mon,” I grab his hand and intertwine our fingers. “I think I saw a few water sprites earlier I wanna say hi!” I pull him closer to the water. He chuckles and follows along.

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bbtsficrecs · 6 months

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BTS FIC RECS PART 4 Part 4 of some of my favourite BTS fanfics. Please do consider liking, reblogging and/or commenting on the fics you like. There are so many wonderful and amazing authors out there who do not get the recognition they deserve. So please send them lots of love to keep them going. If you're on here, then know I enjoyed every second of reading your story ♡ There will be two parts 4 as it's (sadly?) too long to be saved under one post. Stay tuned for part 5, joon recs will be added!

Please let me know if some of the links aren’t working. Happy reading!

⊹ Hell Is Empty - drabble Love triangle AU | a | @aquagustd ‣ An important phone call between Yoongi & OC.

⊹ You’re The Best I’ve Ever Had Boyfriend Jungkook, Chubby reader | a, f, s | @adoredcore ‣ Jungkook’s touches were so soft. So soft you almost barely even felt them. Keyword: almost. His smooth fingertips ran along your silky skin, while the tip of his pink tongue ran across the nape of your neck.

⊹ Fool Me Once Fuckboy AU | a, s | @jeonqkooks ‣ You never expect anything from Jungkook, but somehow he always manages to let you down.

⊹ Attitude CEO Jungkook au | s | @lushtans ‣ Your relationship with your CEO is... Rather complicated. Aside your professional relationship, he fucks you whenever he feels like it and as much as you hate to admit the truth, you love it.

⊹ Don't Worry, Be Happy Daddy Jungkook AU, | f | @jvngkook97 ‣ "You guys have been trying to conceive for a little over a year now, but have yet to be fully successful."

⊹ Trap Idol Jungkook AU, | f | @jiminpitys ‣ In which you show up at your boyfriend's concert soundcheck as a surprise, and to your own, he’s wearing an outfit that’s bound to make you feel a certain way.

⊹ Addicted College AU, | f , s | @sparklingchim ‣ Your boyfie Jungkook fucking you silly.

⊹ B i g o l e f r e a k Friends with benefits AU | f , s | @joonberriess ‣ You’re both exclusive only to each other. Jungkook fucks the way he acts—crazy, hard. too bad you’re only here for the ride..

⊹ Foundation - Part 01, 02, 03 feat Yoongi Non-idol doctors AU | f , s, a | @hamsterclaw ‣ You know Jungkook is a fuckboy. So why are you letting him fuck with you? Featuring Yoongi.

⊹ Paint me naked Artist Jungkook AU | f , s, a | @gimmethatagustd ‣ After the mysteriously hot guy in your university class starts taking an interest in you, should you really trust that he’s not like all the other college fuckboys? Especially when his best friend is the guy who broke your heart?

⊹ Why are you so late? Idol Jungkook AU | f , s | @kimnjss

‣ With such a packed scheduled, you’d think Jungkook would be on top of his game. But when a morning rolling around the sheets with you is thrown into the mix, it’s expected for him to want to take his time.

⊹ Our beloved summer - Series (on-going) Producer Jungkook AU | f, s, a | @jeonqkooks ‣ You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

⊹ Heaven can wait Chubby reader AU | f, s ish | @adoredcore ‣ "What’s a chance I’ll take baby I’ll stay heaven can wait."

⊹ Midnight cravings Established relationship AU | f | @hobiholic ‣ You want to go to the convenience store late at night to fulfill your midnight cravings but a sleepy Jungkook stops you.

⊹ Wet dreams Somnophilia AU | s | @kookiecrumb ‣ “I want you to use me…whenever you need me,”

⊹ Look at you - Risqué drabble Risqué couple AU | s, f | @mercurygguk ‣ Mirror shopping with your boyfriend turns into something else entirely.

⊹ In the middle of the night Friends with benefits AU | s, f | @joonsmoonluna ‣ It’s the middle of the night and Jungkook’s in need of you

⊹ Like I'm famous Idol Jungkook AU | s, f | @softyoongiionly ‣ It’s New Years Eve and Jungkook would rather be anywhere else than at his company’s massive party. Sure, he’s a guest of honor and his team rented out the nicest hotel in Seoul, but ringing in the New Year with you on the other side of the world just feels wrong. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to celebrate without the woman he loves, but maybe- just maybe…he won’t have to…

⊹ Strangers to lovers Established relationship AU | s | @kissmetae ‣ You’re a regular at the gym and today you decided to workout late. You thought you were alone, but it turned out there was one other person at the gym and you so happened to be his gym crush…

⊹ My dear friends Friends to lovers AU | s, f, a | @kooktrash ‣ Just friends? Keep telling yourself that, you and Jungkook have always danced on the line of friendship and something more but lately you’ve struggled being able to tell where you guys stand.

⊹ Red - Part 03 Pregnancy AU | s, f, a | @taestefully-in-luv ‣ You drunkenly sleep with your ex-boyfriend, Jungkook. Can’t be that bad right? Unless he gets you pregnant.

⊹ As we were - Series (on-going) Cheating/Infidelity AU | s, a | @archivedkookie ‣ Your husband cheats on you and find comfort in someone else’s arms. He claims he’s happy—but is he really?

⊹ Imagine Model Jungkook AU | s, f | @chryblossomjjk ‣ Jungkook wants nothing more than to spend your anniversary cuddled up in a fancy hotel bathroom, eating takeout and binge watching TV shows. You, on the other hand, have something more exciting in mind.

⊹ Practice - part 02, 03 Fuckboy Jungkook AU | s, a | @chryblossomjjk ‣ You usually spend Friday nights on your own. Tonight, however, your friend and campus fuckboy, Jungkook, decides to pay you a visit.

⊹ Lost Cause Cheating AU | a | @kooksbunnnn ‣ Jungkook comes back to you after his 10 day trip to Busan, and you sense something different about him.

⊹ The Boy With Galaxies In His Eyes Idol AU | a, s, f | @oddinary4bts ‣ You had never thought the night sky could be found in someone’s eyes. That is, until you met Jeon Jungkook and his gravity pulled you in. Will he crush you with the galaxies in his eyes, or will you learn to explore his worlds and make them yours?

⊹ Beyond Infinity - As We Were drabble As We Were Couple AU | a, s, f | @archivedkookie ‣ Jungkook does something you always dreamt about, and it ends up with the most beautiful night of your life.

⊹ What If I Love You Too Much Single Mom AU | a, s, f | @taleasnewastime ‣ Jungkook. It’s only a name you learn after your son kicks his ball over the fence. Before that you only knew him as the hot new neighbour who mows his lawn topless. And though you have no intention of getting to know him anymore than that, inevitably you do. You don’t necessarily fall, it’s too slow for that, but you definitely develop feelings you don’t intend to feel. Because you know men like him, and you know that whatever you’re feeling, he’s probably not feeling the same. All the same, however hard you try, you can’t help yourself.

⊹ Services For A Queen Sub!JK AU | s | @taegonia ‣ Jungkook serves his queen in more ways than just as the royal head of security.

⊹ Cold Nights & Blurred Lines FWB & College AU | a, s, f | @awrkive ‣ Jungkook and you have been keeping a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. But as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. Is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? It definitely is. Will you do something about it? Both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

⊹ Strictly Platonic Bestfriends to Lovers & College AU | a, s, f | @jeonqkooks ‣ Sometimes, Jungkook can be a little selfish; and sometimes, the lengths you would go to for his happiness mean relinquishing your own.

⊹ In The Middle Of The Night FWB AU | s, f | @joonsmoonluna ‣ it’s the middle of the night and Jungkook’s in need of you ⊹ Perfectionist Dancer AU | s | @miraclesatnightfall ‣ "He watched you, with each sensual step you made his eyes darkened with explicit desire" ⊹ Tangle Free Establish Relationship AU | f | @here4btsfics ‣ Bad days lead to you needing your boyfriend for comfort, specifically by playing with his hair.

⊹ As It Was - Apart of Boy With Love Series (on-going) College AU | a | @ggukiepie ‣ You bump into Jungkook days after you find out he has a girlfriend; things don't go so well

⊹ The Habits Of A Broken Heart Soulmate & Unrequited love AU | a, f | @softykooky ‣ Jungkook and you are soulmates. So says the matching crescent moons on both your wrists. However, things are never as easy as they seem, and you are quick to learn that falling in love with someone who does not believe in love is a one-way ticket to heartbreak. ⊹ Blackout - part 02, 03 Best friends to Lovers | s, a, f | @jjungxkook ‣ Utility bills shooting up like this should be an international crime. Luckily, Jungkook has the perfect idea(s) to save up money and make your night sinfully unforgettable.

⊹ Step Brother Step Siblings AU | s | @aris-ink ‣ Sub yn *innocently* dry humps her step brother jk while he plays video games.

⊹ Forbidden Romance Step Siblings AU | s | @aris-ink ‣ "It wasn’t unusual for your stepbrother to check up on you before bed. You’ve grown closer than you initially thought you would; it turned out that beneath the surface, you and Jungkook weren’t that different, after all."

⊹ My Perfect Patient Dentist Office AU | s, f | @pinkcherrybombs ‣ Jaw pain is just as much of a pain in the mouth as it is in the ass, but don't worry, your favorite dentist is sure to fix you right up, using some special methods.

⊹ Confessions - part 02 Office AU | a | @pinkcherrybombs ‣ Since we're about to die, I need you to know, I've always loved you, Jungkook.

⊹ Getting Railed Boyfriend Jungkook AU | s | @dearlytea ‣ Getting dicked by your boyfriend during a train ride.

⊹ Make You Mine College AU | a, s, f | @mercurygguk ‣ Your first day at your new college is quite eventful to say the least. But everything seems slightly less chaotic when Jeon Jungkook offers to help you on your way – if only knowing him wasn’t an even bigger mess than the day you first met.

⊹ Catch 22 College AU | s, f | @alluremin ‣ You and your best friend had agreed: college was for a good time only, no serious relationships were necessary. Who knew that a frat boy would be the one to shake up that notion?

⊹ Tolerate It - part 02 Failing marriage! au | a | @lmaosope ‣ Marriage is difficult, and every married couple fights. but jungkook has been late one too many times and broken one too many promises. it has you wondering why you give everything for a man who simply tolerates you.

⊹ Make You Mine Jock Jk au | a , s, f | @mercurygguk ‣ Your first day at your new college is quite eventful to say the least. But everything seems slightly less chaotic when Jeon Jungkook offers to help you on your way – if only knowing him wasn’t an even bigger mess than the day you first met.

⊹ His Throne - 01, 02, 03 Prince JK au | a, s, f | @jiminsa ‣ You, a maid for the royal family, have sex with the irresistible prince Jeon Jungkook on his throne.

#my recs #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic recs #bts fanfic #bts fic recs

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jeonqkooks · 2 months

Note

obs drabble request for when jk and oc ditch class for the day to do something spontaneous 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

our beloved summer; a drabble

"I can't believe I let you talk me into ditching class."

"Y/N, it's an elective class. And you told me you handed in your midterm paper last week. You'll live."

"I would've preferred to maintain a perfect attendance rate!" You roll your eyes, but you still settle down next to him on a bench in the middle of this empty park near the store that Jungkook just dragged you to half an hour ago. It's a beautiful spring day, flowers blossoming all around you, painting everything in vibrant colors, eclipsing the residual melancholy of winter. Part of you is glad that you let him kidnap you from class; you prefer this to being stuck indoors for most of the afternoon anyway. "Whatever. Take your photo."

Your boyfriend grins brightly like a child in a candy store, admiring the ring on your finger before he kisses your hand. The fleeting feeling of his lips on your skin makes you soften, eases the harmless furrow between your brows that never held much annoyance in the first place.

The thick clay ring on your finger is heavy and uncomfortable, but you have to admit it's cute. Silly and might be more appropriate for a 7-year-old child, but it's cute. It's adorned with SpongeBob's face, two buck teeth and giant doe eyes and all. You would've loved shit like this when you were a kid.

He's wearing a matching one on his finger too, though his is pink instead of yellow, Patrick Star instead of SpongeBob SquarePants.

Jungkook holds his polaroid camera with one arm outstretched, while his free hand raises to fit into the photo, showcasing his ring for the shot. You scooch closer to him, mimicking his pose to display your yellow accessory. It takes him to a brief moment to adjust the angle, and before he snaps the photo, you press your lips to his cheek. You feel his bunny grin widen, and for a second you worry that the brilliance of it might just blind the camera.

The photo comes out a bit blurry, a bit out of focus, though it still managed to capture your happy faces and the rings, the carefree crinkle of his eyes and the pink tint on his cheeks. You know instantly that this is one of your favorite photos that you two will ever take.

"Okay, so what are we doing now?" you ask, watching him tuck the polaroid safely into his wallet.

"I don't know. What do you wanna do?"

"What do you mean you don't know? You abducted me."

He shrugs casually. "We could just sit here then. Enjoy the sun."

"You abducted me just to sit around?"

"Stop saying I abducted you. I'm your boyfriend."

You make a face, as if to try to weasel the last word in and argue that yes, Jungkook did abduct you today. Yes, he's also your boyfriend. Both of these things can be true.

Nonetheless, you still let your head rest upon his shoulder, still let his arm wound around your frame to hold you closer. You don't remember the last time you allowed yourself to be in the sun and enjoy a nice day out without worrying about getting ahead of schoolwork or internships. It's nice, like time has stopped for a while just for you to relish the feeling of warm sunshine on your skin.

"I get sleepy if I stay in the sun for too long," you say, already sensing it creeping up from behind your eyelids.

"Then sleep. Just do nothing for the rest of the day," he murmurs, angling his face to the right so he can press a kiss against your forehead. "I know you barely slept last night."

You didn't tell him that you did, in fact, stay up until 5:30AM, hunched over your notebook, trying to finish a piece that you wanted to submit for an internship application. The only person you did tell was Taehyung, when you texted him in the middle of the night with a bunch of keyboard smashes to complain about how tired you were.

You call his name softly, as gentle as the cherry blossom petal that sways in front of you before it falls to the ground. "Did you get me to skip class just so I would take a nap?"

Jungkook's reply is immediate, a half-steady No, but you know he's lying. He has a tell when he lies, one that makes the end of his sentences come out with a tiny lilt, makes his voice go just a note higher.

Looking down at your hands resting next to each other, you keep your lips pursed as your chest tightens. He'd convinced you to miss class because he knew you wouldn't do it on your own accord just to stay home and catch up on sleep. The rings catch on some light, the pit of your stomach catches on some butterflies. Jungkook is warmer than spring itself.

You intertwine your fingers and close your eyes, mostly because you feel them start to burn and you'd rather not dwell on that thought right now. You'd rather focus on the weight of the ring on your finger and how comforting your hand feels in his, how his thumb rubs over your skin back and forth like he always does.

The thought that Jungkook cares about you enough to make up a dumb excuse just so you would care about yourself more - you'll have to shelve it away for later, to mull over when you're alone.

"Love you," you say quietly, squeezing his hand once.

More petals fall. Another kiss pressed against your forehead. "I love you too."

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gojonegs · 1 month

Text

Forbidden Hearts: A Tale of Love

Gojo x reader

tw: angst angst angst, but I promise this time it is with a happy ending! btw it a different!au so no spoilers! Enjoy!

wc: 1.8k

————————————————————————

In the vibrant heart of Tokyo, where the city's neon lights danced against the backdrop of towering skyscrapers, Gojo Satoru and Y/N found themselves ensnared in a love as whimsical as a spring breeze.

Their initial encounter was a serendipitous moment in a crowded café, where their eyes met over a spilled latte and a shared laugh. From that moment on, they were inseparable, their love blossoming like the cherry blossoms that adorned the streets of their beloved city.

But their happiness was short-lived, for they soon discovered that they hailed from feuding clans—the Gojo and L/N clans. Despite the odds stacked against them, they dared to defy tradition and pursue their love with unwavering determination.

Their clandestine meetings were like stolen moments of bliss in a world fraught with danger and uncertainty. They reveled in each other's company, their laughter mingling with the bustling sounds of the city as they carved out their own little corner of paradise.

But as whispers of their forbidden romance spread like wildfire through the streets of Tokyo, the tensions between their clans reached a boiling point. Their love, once as carefree as a summer's day, now faced the harsh reality of their warring families.

One stormy evening, amidst the chaos of crashing waves and howling winds, Y/N sought out Gojo in a secluded corner of the bustling city. Her eyes were filled with determination, but also with a deep sadness that seemed to weigh heavily upon her soul.

"Satoru," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "we need to talk."

Gojo turned to face her, his expression unreadable. "What is it, Y/N?" he asked, his tone gentle yet tinged with concern.

Y/N's fists clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. "I'm getting married," she seethed, the words dripping with disdain.

A wave of disbelief crashed over Gojo, his eyes widening in shock. "Married?" he echoed, the word feeling like a dagger to his heart.

Y/N's laughter was bitter, the sound echoing like thunder in the stormy night. "Does it matter?" she snapped, her voice dripping with scorn. "Another pawn in the game of power and politics."

Gojo's jaw clenched in frustration, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. "And what about us, Y/N?" he demanded, his voice a fierce roar in the night. "What about our love?"

Y/N's eyes blazed with fury as she met his gaze, her voice a thunderous roar in the darkness. "Our love?" she spat, the words like lightning striking a tree. "What love, Satoru? All we have is a fleeting fantasy in the midst of a raging storm."

The air crackled with tension, the weight of their forbidden love pressing down upon them like a suffocating blanket. Gojo's anger boiled over, his voice a tempest of emotion. "I thought you were different, Y/N," he snarled, his words a lightning bolt in the darkness. "But it seems you're just like the rest of them—bound by duty and tradition, willing to sacrifice everything for the sake of your precious clan."

Y/N's breath came in ragged gasps as she fought to hold back her tears, her heart torn asunder by the storm of emotions raging within her. "You don't understand," she whispered, her voice barely a whisper in the howling wind. "I have no choice."

But Gojo's rage was unrelenting, his pain a hurricane tearing through his soul. "No choice?" he roared, his voice thundering in the night. "You always have a choice, Y/N. You chose this path, just like you chose to betray me."

And with those words, Gojo turned away from Y/N, his heart heavy with the weight of their shattered dreams. Y/N watched him go, her own heart breaking with each step he took, knowing that she had lost him forever.

As she stood alone in the heart of the city, surrounded by the echoes of their love and the distant hum of the urban landscape, Y/N realized that some loves were simply not meant to be. And as the echoes of their shattered dreams faded into the night, she knew that their love would forever remain a bittersweet memory, a haunting reminder of what could have been.

———

In a crowded ballroom, where the air was thick with the scent of perfume and the sound of elegant music filled the space, Gojo and Y/N's paths crossed once more. The atmosphere crackled with tension as they locked eyes across the room, surrounded by swirling dancers and sparkling chandeliers.

Their reunion was like a spark igniting a powder keg, setting off a chain reaction of emotions that neither could control. With a bitter laugh, Gojo approached Y/N, his eyes flashing with a dangerous fire.

"So, this is where you ended up," he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Lost in a sea of opulence, pretending to be someone you're not."

Y/N's heart clenched at the venom in his words, the pain of their past rushing back with brutal force. "I had no choice," she spat back, her voice filled with defiance. "You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to be torn away from you?"

But Gojo's anger was unrelenting, his pain a blazing inferno that threatened to consume them both. "You made your choice, Y/N," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "And now you have to live with the consequences."

The tension between them crackled like electricity, their emotions raw and unbridled. Y/N's voice trembled as she struggled to hold back her tears. "I never wanted this," she whispered, her words a desperate plea for understanding.

But Gojo's eyes were cold and distant, his walls impenetrable. "It's too late for apologies," he declared, his voice cutting like a knife. "We're done, Y/N. There's nothing left for us here."

As she stood alone in the midst of the crowded ballroom, surrounded by people yet utterly alone, Y/N realized that some loves were simply not meant to be. And as the echoes of their shattered dreams faded into the night, she knew that their love would forever remain a bittersweet memory, a haunting reminder of what could have been.

But little did they know, fate had one final twist in store for them—one that would test the very limits of their love and resilience.

———

In a grand conference hall adorned with traditional Japanese décor, representatives from the Gojo and L/N clans gathered for a momentous occasion. The air was thick with tension as discussions ensued regarding the future alliances and arrangements between the two clans.

Among the attendees, Gojo and Y/N found themselves seated opposite each other, their eyes meeting across the room, sparking a flicker of recognition and longing. Despite the weight of their respective clan obligations, their hearts yearned for each other, their love like an unbreakable thread weaving through the fabric of fate.

As the discussions unfolded, it became increasingly clear that Y/N's marriage to another was imminent, a decision made in the interest of preserving clan honor and tradition. Gojo's heart sank at the realization, his resolve tested by the harsh reality of their circumstances.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans. In a twist of destiny, the conference took an unexpected turn when Y/N's father, the head of the L/N clan, announced a change of heart regarding her betrothal.

"Y/N," he declared, his voice carrying through the hushed hall, "I have reconsidered our previous arrangements. It is clear to me that your heart belongs elsewhere."

Y/N's heart soared at her father's words, her eyes searching the room until they found Gojo's, filled with hope and longing. Could it be true? Could they truly be given a chance to be together?

With a determined expression, Y/N's father turned to Gojo, his gaze unwavering. "Gojo Satoru," he addressed him, "I see the love that burns between you and my daughter, a love that cannot be denied. I give my blessing for your union."

Gojo's heart pounded in his chest as he met Y/N's father's gaze, his eyes brimming with gratitude and disbelief. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

And in that moment, amidst the weighty deliberations of the clan conference, Gojo and Y/N found themselves granted a rare gift—a chance to be together against all odds. With tears of joy in their eyes, they rose from their seats and embraced, their hearts overflowing with love and gratitude.

As they left the conference hall hand in hand, the echoes of their victory reverberated through the room, a testament to the enduring power of love to overcome even the most formidable of obstacles. And as they stepped out into the world, ready to embark on their journey together, Gojo and Y/N knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them with unwavering courage and boundless love.

———

Under the canopy of a thousand cherry blossoms in full bloom, Gojo and Y/N stood together, surrounded by friends and family, as they exchanged vows of eternal love and devotion.

The air was alive with the soft murmur of blessings and the sweet melody of traditional Japanese music, lending an air of serenity and grace to the sacred ceremony.

With trembling hands and hearts full of hope, Gojo and Y/N spoke words of promise and commitment, their voices ringing out like bells in the crisp spring air.

"I promise to cherish you, to support you, and to stand by your side through all the joys and sorrows that life may bring," Gojo vowed, his eyes locked with Y/N's, filled with unwavering determination.

"And I promise to love you, to honor you, and to hold you in my heart for all eternity," Y/N echoed, her voice steady despite the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

As they exchanged rings, sealing their bond in the eyes of their loved ones, a sense of peace washed over them, their souls intertwined in a sacred union that transcended time and space.

And as they sealed their vows with a tender kiss, the world seemed to stand still, the beauty of the moment etched into the fabric of eternity.

In that fleeting moment, amidst the petals of cherry blossoms that danced on the gentle breeze, Gojo and Y/N knew that their love was a force to be reckoned with—a love that would endure through all the trials and tribulations of life, shining brightly like the sun in the sky.

And as they stepped forward into their future together, hand in hand and heart to heart, they knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them with unwavering courage and boundless love, for they were united in spirit and soul, forever and always.

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Do not Plagiarize, translate or copy.

#gojo jjk #jjk gojo #angst with a happy ending #satoru gojo #jjk fluff #jjk angst #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk satoru

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subskz · 5 months

Note

hi ms. rin!! long time no see ☺️

i was always reading your works & all your amazing posts but i realize today it was a long time since i sent an ask >< i hope you’re doing great!

i wanted to ask if you’re still writing the childhood friends to lovers with lee know? ever since butterfly bandage i was craving to read another longfic from you cause you write so beautifully :< & with minho being my bias i think i’ll die if you make a story for him..! not to pressure you of course 💕

-🧸

hello hello omg it really has been a while!! it’s so nice to see you again my dear i hope you’ve been doing well and taking care since we last spoke ♡

you’re too kind thank u so much for your lovely words!! it’s so sweet that u even remember i was writing that lino fic i’m really glad you’re looking forward to it 😭 it’s still very much a wip so i’m not exactly sure when it’ll be out, but i work on it all the time! here’s a few lil sneak peeks just for u hehe

also please note that a lot of this is subject to change since i’m still working on it 😽 these snippets are still a bit barebones

ᓚᘏᗢ — snippet 1

You stared at the crumpled nest; abandoned, with what was left of it quickly being carried away by the wind. Straw by straw. You felt like crying.

Don’t be so sensitive. You told yourself. It's just a stupid bird.

“Wow,” a familiar voice, soft and brusque and not sounding very wowed at all, came from behind you. “That’s amazing, isn’t it?”

You lifted your head, whipping around to find its source. Not that you really needed to, anyway. You knew that voice better than your own, by now.

“Huh?”

“They were just babies, but they already flew away.” Minho crouched down next to you to examine the remains of the fallen nest. His small fingers brushed over it, so delicately that the grass barely shifted under his touch. “Like they know exactly where they’re supposed to go.”

You rested your hands on your knees, unconvinced, refusing to look at him. Your eyes were stinging. You didn’t want him to think you were dramatic. You didn’t want him to make fun of you. He’d put just as much care into looking after them, if not more. He’d stayed with them even longer than you had. How could he be so accepting of it?

“Birds are so cool,” he continued. A gentle breeze ruffled your hair, like it was summoned by his airy lilt. “They can go wherever they want.”

“Why do they have to go?” you muttered.

“Cause the world’s so big, dummy,” he said it like common knowledge, like he’d consulted the birds himself. “And they’re so small. So they gotta start seeing it early before they die.”

You puffed out a half-hearted laugh.

“You’re like a bird,” you decided.

“Mm?”

“You do what you wanna and go where you wanna.”

“I can’t be a bird,” Minho sniffed. “They fly too high. I'm more like a cat, ‘cause no matter where they go, they always know how to find their way home.”

“Like Soonie,” you said.

“Like Soonie,” he agreed. “Remember when he was gone for three days? But then he showed up again like nothing happened?”

“You cried a lot,” you giggled.

Minho huffed, looking away. “I knew he’d come back.”

It had been one of the only times you’d ever seen him cry in your four years of friendship. He might’ve completely denied crying altogether if the subject were anything other than his beloved cat. His little brother.

“So you’ll always come back, too? Like Soonie?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “I'm gonna be here ‘til I'm at least 100, or else someone will take our spot under the maple tree.”

ᓚᘏᗢ — snippet 2

Minho’s hand reached for yours. It was shaking.

“If you're scared, I can stay with you,” he offered. You could tell he was trying to sound casual, but there was an undeniable tremor there. Not breezy, not carefree; thick and heavy with apprehension. It weighed down your conscience. “It’ll be embarrassing if you’re the only one in class left behind, right?”

You remembered how he’d reacted when you traveled up to the mountains last summer, how he’d turned away from the window when the car drove along the edge of the road, with nothing but a flimsy, rusting metal barrier standing between you and several thousand foot fall. You remembered how much trouble he’d had walking straight when you first arrived at the campsite, strangely quiet, muttering to himself about how high up it was. It was too high, the air was too thin, the world was too far away.

Those were the issues, of course. The issue certainly wasn’t that he was terrified out of his mind. A cat stuck in a tree, longing to accept help without sacrificing his pride. Unsure whether to hiss at whoever came near, or leap into their arms. He’d grabbed your hand the exact same way, back then.

“Okay,” you replied.

He perked up, features flashing with a hopefulness that was almost enough to break your facade.

“Hm?”

It would’ve been so easy in that moment, to tease him. To call him out, gain the upper hand on him for once in six years. But looking at those eyes—round and bright and gleaming under his glasses with an innocence that effectively wiped away every annoying thing he’d ever done from your memory, you just couldn’t bring yourself to.

“Let’s skip the rollercoaster,” you said plainly. “I’m scared.”

You weren’t, strangely enough. You wondered if Minho knew that. Of the two of you, he was undoubtedly the risk taker. His mind was too capricious to not explore every possibility there was, to not absorb everything the world had to offer until he found himself in it. It was almost exhilarating for you, to be the adventurous one, for a change. To be the one who didn’t hold yourself back.

You wanted to be bold. You wanted to be fearless. You wanted to impress him.

But more than any of that, you wanted to stay with him. You didn’t want him to sit alone on the amusement park bench, watching his classmates have fun without him as he fumbled with the wrapping of a snack he couldn’t eat, because the anxiety had made his stomach hurt.

“Seriously,” his grin was weak, but as he laced your fingers together properly, you could feel the quiver in his hand begin to calm. “What would you do without me?”

You simply grunted, allowing him to tug you along to the bench. You didn’t want to think about it. It was playful, not really seeking a response, but that didn’t stop his question from lingering in the back of your mind. Like a part of you knew that, sooner or later, you’d have no choice but to find the answer.

#ask #🧸 anon #💌

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crazychaoticizzy · 7 months

Text

Good Grief Part I

Erwin Smith X Reader

Sometimes, the things that seem good for us cause us the most grief, and that is why we should always think through our choices.

WARNINGS: this chapter is mostly fluff however the series is angst, canonverse, suggestive, fade to black, underage drinking, insta love, the opposite of a slow burn we went fast, teenage pregnancy, angst at the end, I think that’s it but let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 15.6k (i'm so sorry because it’s no where near over)

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Series Masterlist

You couldn’t find it in yourself to cry.

Here you were, standing beside your sister at your husband’s funeral and you weren’t crying.

The promise you made to yourself must have applied when he was dead, as well. You truly had no more tears to shed for this man.

You hold a poker face during the service, and when you go up to collect the folded flag and bolo tie that belonged to him, you bow your head and quietly thank Hange, the new commander.

Even Hange can see that you could care less.

You almost worry about how showing no emotion could change your reputation, but as you hand your daughter the things you were given and begin to wheel her to the side of the stage, you decide you don’t care.

You look out at the soldiers Erwin led with a blank face, showing no sympathy for your dearly beloved.

You wonder where it was that everything went wrong—where your marriage to the famous Erwin Smith began going downhill.

There are multiple points in time it could have started, you suppose. It’s difficult to pinpoint exactly when it was, since looking back he truly hadn’t changed like you claimed he had in your last argument.

Perhaps everything was set in motion as early as the night you met him . . .

—

It was a dangerously hot day, the hottest of the summer.

It was busy at the bar, which made an excessive amount of work for both you and your sister that neither of you wanted to do.

You spent your shift pushing forward, constantly keeping the thought of moving out and finding a different job as soon as you could in the back of your mind.

Sure, there was a certain charm to the family owned bar, but it always got so tiring. Patrons were nice enough when sober, but as soon as they had one too many drinks the groping and ogling would begin. Whether it be to employees or other customers, a woman was always getting catcalled.

Your sister, however, didn’t seem to mind it. In fact, Marie always continued work with a soft smile on her face no matter what happened. There would always be talk about how she would be the next to run the bar, as there was no son to inherit it. It made sense, for even when Marie seemed stressed she was always found serving drinks and food.

Sometimes, you thought the bar was her happy place.

You were just beginning to open a keg when he walked in, tall and blond and oh, so handsome. Your heart practically skipped a beat, and you swore you fell in love.

However ridiculous you believed love at first sight to be, there was no denying the attraction you felt toward him since the moment you laid eyes on him.

“Y/n, are you alright?”

You hummed, abruptly peeling your gaze away from the blond and turning to Marie. “What? Oh, yes. I’m fine.”

Marie raised a perfect eyebrow. “Sure? Because you’re spilling beer all over your skirt.”

A soft look of confusion crossed your face, and you started to deny her before you looked down, noticing the new wet spot on the side of your dress.

“Oh!” You flipped the switch on the keg, stopping the flow of alcohol. “Right.” You nervously chuckled, setting the cup you were filling on the counter and grabbing a few napkins. You lifted your skirt and attempted to clean it off, but to no avail. The patch barely dried and you knew it would be weeks before both the smell and the stain would come out.

You sighed, dropping your skirt and tossing the used napkins in the trash. “I’ll have to go change,” you quietly complained to yourself, looking over your skirt again.

Marie hummed, but she was distracted. Her gaze had moved toward the direction you were looking in before she caught your attention. When she saw the two boys (both cadets, they had told her. They came to the bar quite often), she smiled.

“Oh, one of them,” she said. Her smile and tone were suggestive, and you looked up curiously from the lilt in her voice.

“What? Who is them?” Your gaze moved out to the bar, searching through the crowded room of patrons before you found him again. He sat with who you could only assume was his friend at a table facing you. You stared at him for a moment, before quickly averting your eyes and pretending to look around when he moved his attention from his friend to you.

Marie gasped knowingly, holding a hand to her mouth in mock surprise. “It is. Which one?”

Marie moved her head to better see them, trying to puzzle out which it could be before you softly grabbed her by the jaw and turned her to face you.

“Don’t make it obvious!” you whispered. You let go of her face. “Now, can I borrow a dress? Mine are all hanging out to dry.”

You rolled your eyes at your own laziness, wishing at that moment you had done your laundry at an earlier time.

Marie hummed in thought, wondering if she had any clean clothing as well. Her eyes lit up, and she looked at you as she began filling a tray with mugs of alcohol.

“Yes, I do. On my dresser is a new one I bought set out—it’s like a cream color?”

You softly sighed. “I don’t want to be the first one to wear your brand new dress.”

“Well lucky for you, I bought it as a gift for you anyway.” Marie smiled sweetly, lifting the tray before balancing it on one hand and patting your head with the other. “Now go change. You don’t want to smell like alcohol more than you already do.”

You rolled your eyes, fixing whatever she might have done to your hair as you turned and walked up the stairs leading to your family’s living area.

You had lived in this place all fifteen years you had lived and not a single thing had changed. The bar was still downstairs, the slightly singed floral wallpaper your grandmother had bought from a burned down church long ago was still peeling, and the same photos as always had hung up. It brought a sense of comfort knowing that it was unlikely anything would change, but at the same time you felt bored. You wanted some variety.

You opened the door to Marie’s room, easily one of the most organized in the house, and found the sage dress she had been talking about.

You quickly changed, discarding the faded brown dress you had been wearing before on the ground. You kept the white blouse on underneath, slipping the silky green dress over your body.

Marie had really bought this for you? It was so nice, made of quality material and by a good brand. You even tugged on a seam to test it, as most clothing nowadays was flimsy and came apart with the slightest movement, but it didn’t budge.

You smiled, moving the sleeves of your blouse down your shoulders before looking in the mirror Marie had in the corner of her room.

Your smile grew giddy at the sight of yourself, and for the first time you felt pretty. It was the first time you had seen yourself smile with teeth, and you gave yourself a happy twirl in the new dress.

You happily hummed before picking up your soiled dress and taking it back to your room, randomly tossing it somewhere before walking back downstairs.

You still held that giddy smile on your face, feeling like nothing could ruin your mood.

And then you saw Marie talking with the blond boy you had been staring at. You softly nodded to yourself after a moment, accepting the fact that whatever chance you thought you might have had with him was now spoiled.

Sometimes you wished Marie wasn’t as pretty as she was, wasn’t as kind and welcoming as she was, because then maybe you would actually have a chance.

Normally, seeing her talk to someone so obviously in love with her never bothered you, but for some reason seeing the hearts in this blond boy’s eyes (and his friend’s, though you weren’t paying attention to him) had that giddy expression on your face disappear.

You shook your head, continuing to fill mugs with beer and various alcohol and serving waiting patrons.

“Where are you taking me?” you heard someone ask.

“I’m about to change your life.” Marie.

You turned, three mugs filled to the brim in your hand when you nearly ran into him. You caught yourself before the drinks could spill, but you noticed that he held both hands on the cups, steadying them.

“Oh, thank you,” you said, smiling as he moved his hands. You watched as he unknowingly flexed them, making the blue veins more prominent and his fingers look long and elegant and—

Dear lord.

“My sister.” Marie came up beside you, setting the drinks in your hand on the table and linking her arm with yours.

He practically towered over you, shoulders broad with bulk under the clothing he wore. Your mind wandered and for a brief moment you imagined his skin to be tanned and smooth under his shirt before you caught yourself from drifting too far. He smiles, taking your hand and bowing to brush a soft kiss against your knuckles.

“Erwin Smith,” he said, meeting your eyes before standing straight again. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You softly hummed, dumbly nodding as the already steaming temperature in the room rose.

You stared into his eyes for a moment—his gorgeous blue eyes the color of the endless sky. A soft glint enters them as he tilts his head, waiting for your response.

“Yes. Yes!” you said, as if realizing something as you removed your hand from his and unlinked your arm from Marie’s. “Likewise. Apologies, I’m . . . distracted.”

You watch as Marie slyly moves away, winking at you before taking the three drinks she placed on the table and continuing her work.

You made a mental note to have a small talk with her later.

“May I ask your name?”

You hummed, returning your gaze to his before fully processing his question. “Oh! Yes, sorry I should have led with that. Y/n L/n.”

You offered a shy smile, noticing an emblem on his jacket—two swords crossed in an X. You thought about what it might be for a second, and bowed. “And thank you for your service. I didn’t realize you were part of the training corps.”

Erwin softly chuckles as you straighten yourself out. “No, it’s alright. You are actually the first one to offer respect like that, Y/n.”

He said your name as if he was trying out the way it felt, softly smiling from the way it rolled off his tongue.

“Oh, well, I mean anyone in the military worked hard to get there, so . . .” You trailed off, thinking of what to say. “I suppose I personally believe they deserve the extra rations they get, so long as they aren’t lazy, you know?”

Erwin quirked a brow, giving you a curious look as if asking you to elaborate.

“I mean- I-I didn’t mean you, per say, but—” Your brain scrambled for words to say, hoping you hadn’t somehow offended him.

Erwin chuckles, cutting you off. “No, no, it’s alright. I know what you mean.”

You softly smile, and suddenly the room heated up just a little bit more. “So, can I offer you a drink? Whiskey, beer, ale, water . . .”

And oh, the charming smile he gives you—tilted more to one side than it is the other and showing off his perfect teeth. “Will you sit and share a glass of water with me if I say yes?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, slowly nodding before going off to pour two glasses of water. You turn around, finding that Erwin had found the most quiet corner of the bar to sit in. He was staring at you shamelessly, lips curving up when you made eye contact with him. It made butterflies fly around in your stomach, and you tried your best to bite back a smile as you made your way to him.

You placed the glasses down, sliding onto the bench beside him.

“So, Y/n.” His smile widens as he says your name again. Your lips try curving up again, but you try so hard to hide it so it doesn’t seem like you’re easy. “Tell me about yourself.”

You lean forward, resting your arms against the table and propping yourself on your hand. “Like what?”

“Your favorite color. Things you like doing. What you think about the guy you just met.” You chuckle, making a certain glint come into Erwin’s eyes. This close, you can see a ring of brown in his irises that surrounds his pupils.

“How’s your day?” you ask instead of answering any of his inquiries.

“Much better now that I’m talking to a pretty girl like you.” You bite your cheek and glance away as your heart skips a beat. “What about yours?”

“Well, I’m talking to this insanely attractive guy, so I’d say pretty good.” You turn your gaze back to him, smiling when he laughs.

“What branch are you planning to join?” you ask after a moment, trying to keep any sort of conversation going.

“The Survey Corps,” he replies. He nods his head to his dark-haired friend, who was talking with Marie. “Nile over there wants to join as well. We’re hoping we can change the program together and get one step closer to saving humanity.”

You hum. It’s silent for another moment before he talks again, and that sparks a conversation. You sit there for what seems like hours, exchanging flirty banter and soft smiles. You would have continued, had it not been for your mom getting onto you for not working.

Regretfully, you and Erwin stand. You stack the two empty glasses as Erwin glances outside.

“I have to go as well, actually,” he softly says. He looks back at you, following as you walk back to the bar and put the cups in the sink. “Can I come see you again?”

You lean forward against the counter, softly nodding. “Of course. Just don’t let my parents see that emblem.” You nod your head to the crossed swords embroidered on the left of his jacket. “They actually hate whatever government we have and the choices they make, including the military.”

Erwin nods, standing straight and tapping the tips of his fingers against the wooden counter. “Alright, I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

He watched as you leaned forward, falling into a bow and clasping your hands in front of your chest. “Thank you, again, for all your service.”

“If it takes risking my life for us to meet, it will have been worth it.” Erwin gave you a charming smile as he took your hand, softly kissing it again. Your lips curved up, love-struck as you watched him turn and walk back to his friend.

“So,” Marie dragged the word out, coming up behind you and draping her arm around your shoulders to lean against you.

You don’t answer, noting that Erwin pauses at the door and turns back to scan the bar. His eyes meet yours and he waves before closing the door behind him.

That small bit of eye contact leaves you breathless, and you can’t help but feel a bit childish at how easily smitten you were.

“Marie, that boy is mine,” you say, turning to her. The grin on your face is bright, lighting up the whole room and spreading from ear to ear. You don’t mean for your statement to mean anything malicious, only to tell Marie your intentions with a few words.

Marie gasped, jumping beside you in excitement. “Really? Oh, you must have really liked him.”

You nodded, and the two of you softly giggled and swooned for a few moments before your father got onto you for not working.

You had a smile on your face the rest of the night—a genuine smile that didn’t falter once.

—

Two days later Marie had discreetly given you a letter, an unusual thing, seeing as the only person that regularly received mail was your father.

Even more unusual than that, though, was the fancy wax seal and red rose tied to the envelope with twine.

When Marie had given it to you, she gave the slightest nod toward your room, and the two of you stepped inside.

She handed you the letter as she closed the door, leaving it open just a crack. You took the envelope with curiosity, untying the twine and holding the rose by its stem as you sat on your bed. You twirled it between your fingers, admiring it for a moment gently placing it beside you.

You glanced over the envelope for a hint of who it was from, finding no useful information except your name and address. You turned it over, running your index finger over the wax seal before carefully peeling it open.

You pulled the piece of paper inside out as Marie sat next to you, pressing her body into your side so she could read the letter over your shoulder.

Y/n,

I’m not sure how your family feels about you receiving letters, but I can only hope they won’t find out about this if they don’t like the idea of it. I didn’t put a return address on the envelope in the event your parents found this first, but here it is: ***** ******.

I sincerely hope you’re willing to exchange letters. I’d like to stay in touch with you even if I’m not at the bar with you. One of these days, though, I’m hoping to sweep you off your feet enough that you’ll agree to have me—and then I can be with you all you want.

I truly want to get to know you. You have stars in your eyes and I want to know what makes them so prominent. I want to know your passions and dreams. I want to have endless conversations with you and fantasize a future together where I am yours and you are mine.

I apologize if this is too soon to say anything like that, but I simply want to make my intentions with you clear. I hope we can see each other again soon. And if not, I hope you will at least send a letter back.

Yours truly,Erwin Smith

“Oh, Y/n,” Marie said, pulling away slightly and putting a hand to her heart. “That was the most beautiful letter I’ve ever read.”

You were smiling, so brightly it practically lit up the room as you turned the paper over, starting to reread it.

“Do you think he means it?” you ask, slightly in disbelief that Erwin was choosing you. Being as handsome and charming as he was, surely he was able to pull any girl he wanted.

“How could he not? He seems so infatuated with you.” Marie’s eyes glanced over the letter again. “Just be careful, he seems like the kind of guy willing to sacrifice everything to get what he wants.”

You nod. “I know. But I don’t think—”

“I’m only telling you, Y/n. I just don’t want you to get hurt, so be cautious.” Marie rests her head on your shoulder as she reads over the first couple sentences of the letter again, hand softly grazing your shoulder.

“I will be. You know how I am, Marie.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Marie lifts her head, grabbing the rose and holding it in front of you. “You’re not one to fall so easily. Or so you claim, at least, but with the way you’re swooning over Erwin right now says something different.”

She laughs as you playfully hit her shoulder, halfheartedly pushing you away to avoid any further hits.

“I’m joking! But I do want you to be careful. I don’t think you’ve ever been so . . . emotional over someone.”

You hummed, turning the thought over in your mind and wondering if this whole thing really was ridiculous. You always knew love at first sight could only end badly, but if that’s the case then why did you feel so light? So dizzying and happy and sunny . . .

Surely it couldn’t be all that bad, right?

“It’s alright, though,” Marie started, making you turn your gaze toward her, “because now we know he thinks the stars are in your eyes. And judging by his words he most definitely wants to-”

“Marie!”

You go to playfully hit her shoulder again, cutting off whatever suggestive thing she might have said, but she had already stood up and stepped away by the time you turned.

You chased her around your room, your dresses ruffling as laughter filled the air.

“Girls!” You had both collapsed on your bed, the letter hidden beneath it, when your mother opened the door and stood in the doorway. “Bar opens in five. Get ready.”

You nodded as Marie said, “Yes, ma’am.” When your mother left the two of you shared a glance, bursting into laughter before standing and making yourselves presentable.

You didn’t see Erwin that night, making you wonder if he truly wanted to sweep you off your feet and take you to a world you’ve never known before.

—

One week after that you and Erwin began exchanging letters as quickly as the postal service would allow. He came to the bar as often as he could to see you, but when he couldn’t he would send a beautifully written letter, promising paradise and a better life.

You swooned every time, rereading until you could recite every single word from memory. Erwin might as well have been building palaces and cathedrals with the way he wrote to you, so obviously enamored with everything about you.

Your mother and father, of course, would never approve. They didn’t want their daughters marrying a militiaman. And since Marie had been rather adamant and obvious about her interest in Nile, whatever slim chance you might have had with Erwin was gone.

But that didn’t stop the two of you from sneaking around whenever you could. Every chance Erwin got, he would come find you, whisking you away to a late night picnic in an overgrown garden or to stargaze just beyond the border of your town.

No matter how many times you went on the exact same date, too scared to do anything else in the daylight, you always treasured it.

“Y/n?”

You hummed in response, turning your head to face him. It was one of the nights you went stargazing, laying together in the soft meadow grass as you talked.

“I have to tell you something.”

You smiled, turning on your side and laying your head on your arm. “Okay, what is it?”

“I am in love with you.” Erwin softly grabbed your hand as your eyes widened in shock. He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing soft kisses to your fingertips. “So inexplicably in love with you that you are all I think about day and night. You have me smitten, Y/n, so much so that I’m willing to do anything to make you mine.”

He pressed your palm to his lips, closing his eyes as he left a lingering kiss.

“I don’t have much, if anything at all. I’m living on government funds and the only dollop of fame I’ll ever have is when I die, but I’m hoping that if you feel the same way those things won’t deter you.”

The both of you sit up, Erwin coming closer so he can softly cup your jaw. Your noses brush against each other, breaths mingling together from the closeness.

“I love you, Y/n.”

He presses his lips to yours, so lightly and brief you aren’t even sure if it counts as a kiss. He pulls away quickly, staring into your eyes for a moment before kissing you again—firmer and more self-assured this time.

You can tell it’s his first kiss because he doesn’t know how to do it, but you don’t put that against him because you don’t know how to kiss someone either. It wasn’t at all like the novels you sometimes read, the ones where first kisses were magical and perfect and almost always led to something more.

No, this kiss was not magical, or perfect, or even half decent. It was messy, full of awkward breaths and obvious inexperience. But this was your moment, and you wouldn’t dare change a single thing about it.

When you pull away you tell him that night that you love him, but you remind him again of your family’s distaste for military men. That gave him pause, but after a few moments he smiled.

“I’ll just tell them I’m a mercenary.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, laughing. “A mercenary? How is that any better than a soldier? They’ll think you’re only using me for money.”

Erwin hums, softly tracing the line of your jaw and gazing into your eyes. “It’s not, but I’ll figure it out.”

You softly smile, leaning forward slightly. “We will figure it out.”

Erwin nods. “We will. And one day, we will have everything you could possibly wish for. I promise.”

He presses his lips against yours again, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt so happy or complete.

—

Work has always been so tiring—especially on nights like this when it was someone’s birthday and everyone flocked to the bar. You weren’t even entirely sure whose birthday it was, but they must have been popular for the bar to be this full.

You tirelessly went from table to table, refilling drinks and serving platters of whatever spare food you could scrape up. Glasses were shattered and you charged more to tabs in hopes of buying new ones. The amount of drunk older men that had suggestively grabbed your waist to slip behind you was worse tonight than it was most, and you had to remind them that you were fifteen more than you wanted.

You were exhausted. It was almost midnight on a Tuesday and there were still more patrons than you could keep track of. You kept messing up orders, and any other day you would have beaten yourself up about it, but you made an exception for yourself.

A hand ghosts across your arm, and you nearly jump and smack whoever had touched you before realizing it was Marie. She gives an innocent smile, holding her hands out to take the tray you hold in your hands.

“I got that,” she says. Instead of waiting for you to hand the tray over, she grabs it herself and nudges you with her shoulder. “Now go. Your lover is somewhere over there.”

She nods her head to the right and you turn, noticing that Erwin was sitting at a table with Nile and another girl. Nile and Erwin weren’t dressed in training attire, trying to blend in more. When Erwin glanced up and noticed you he smiled, standing up and meeting you halfway to the table.

He takes your hand, lifting it to his lips to leave a kiss on your knuckles. “Good evening, my love.”

You smile, readjusting your hands so your fingers are intertwined. “Morning, technically,” you say.

“Barely.” He softly laughs, leaning down to chastely kiss your lips. “It doesn’t matter. It’s still good because I get to see you.”

You smile, looking around to make sure no one is watching after he kisses you a second time. “Have you been waiting this entire time for me?”

Erwin shrugs, leading you back to the table Nile and the other girl sat at. “We only came about an hour ago. I didn’t want to bother you while you were working.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were here, but if I did I would have slipped away.”

Erwin shakes his head. “It’s alright. Besides, you’re very cute when you’re working.”

Your eyes widen, the room suddenly hot. He chuckles at your flustered expression, allowing you to slide onto the bench before him.

You end up across the girl. Her hair is dark and pulled back into a tight ponytail, and she wore a faded brown blouse and slacks. She wasn’t looking your way when you sat down, looking down at whatever she was writing, but then Erwin said her name and she glanced up, first at them then you. She smiled, straightening herself and adjusting the way she sat.

“Hi! Are you Y/n or Marie?” She seemed excitable, putting down her pencil and crossing her arms in front of her.

“Y/n. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You held out your hand for her to shake.

“Anastasia Brownfield.” She took hold of your hand, her fingers rough and calloused against your own. She gave a firm shake before withdrawing. “I’m part of the training corps with Erwin and Nile.”

So that’s how she knew them. You should have been jealous—you probably would have been if Erwin wasn’t looking at you the entire time Anastasia spoke. But the way she carried herself struck you as odd. She leaned against the table in a way that suggested her legs weren’t pressed together or crossed, and when a pretty girl passed by her gaze followed her and a small smile came to her face.

“She’s pretty,” she quietly mumbled, lifting her glass to her lips before looking back at you.

Anastasia continued the conversation like the two of you were old friends catching up. She was animated, moving her hands along to match with nearly everything she said, and got distracted easily. She could have been in the middle of telling a story before something she said reminded her of something else, the original tale forgotten about.

As she continued talking Erwin and Nile would cut in occasionally, and it felt like the four of you had known each other forever with the way you casually laughed and joked around.

Eventually, the bar started emptying out. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you figured it would be smart for the three of them to leave before your parents found you slacking off.

Before he left, Erwin wrapped a hand around your waist and pulled you flush against him. He left a lingering kiss against your temple, quietly whispering, “I’ll see you later.”

He kissed your temple again before pulling away, winking as he followed Nile and Anastasia out. It left butterflies flapping in your stomach, their wings flapping and making you feel all giddy inside.

When you finally gather yourself you continue what you had originally been doing, refilling glasses and washing empty ones.

Over and over again you did that. And you would continue to do that over and over again until the day came where you would be with Erwin, and maybe you would be washing the dishes together in your own house.

—

When Erwin told you that he would see you later, you did not expect to find him throwing small pebbles from the streets at your window to get your attention two hours later.

You had been blowing out the candles lighting your room when you heard the first plink! You paused, looking around before shrugging it off and continuing getting ready for bed.

Plink!

You looked around again, glancing out your window and waiting for the sound again.

Plink!

Your brows furrowed in confusion. You took a match from its box, striking it to relight a candle and cautiously walking toward the window.

You look out, unable to see anything through the reflection of the light. You rest the candle on the windowsill, unlatching the lock and opening the window to look around.

You see him standing across the street. It’s too dark to see his expression, but you imagine he’s smiling.

Erwin crosses the street, face being lit by whatever dim light was still on in the spot below yours.

“What are you doing?” you ask quietly, a chuckle in your voice. “Erwin, do you know how late it is?”

“I said I would see you later.”

You can hear the smile in his voice, and your lips curve up. “I wasn’t expecting you to throw rocks at my window. What if it wasn’t the right one?”

“I would have ran if someone caught me.” You softly chuckle, leaning against the windowsill. “Sprinted away and returned tomorrow.”

“Erwin, do you know what this could do?”

“Nile and Anastasia have me covered. And even if I get caught, I don’t mind being punished by the higher ups. As long as I get to be with you, my love.”

That made you smile, because you knew how important it was to him that he get perfect scores on nearly everything, including his discipline record. “I just don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Well the chances of getting caught are increasingly higher if I stay out here.”

You can barely see a mischievous smile on his face. You playfully roll your eyes, pulling away from the window. “Give me a moment. Wait at the door.”

You don’t see his reaction because you close the window, latching it closed before grabbing a robe from your desk chair. You shrug it on, tying the belt around your waist as you walk across your room to the door. You slowly open it, looking out to make sure no one was awake before quietly stepping into the hallway.

You walked cautiously, testing the floor to make sure it didn’t creak before continue with every step. You made sure to skip the third stair from the top of the staircase, because that step always created a deafeningly loud screech and alerted everyone that someone was leaving or entering the living room.

You finally allow yourself to breaths when you step off the final stair. No one will be able to hear you, so you’re less paranoid and take less careful steps.

You place the candle on the table closest to the door, looking back to make sure no one was awake and following you before beginning to unlock the door and opening it, slowly to make sure its hinges don’t squeak.

You watch Erwin push himself away from the wall, standing straight to face you. The both of you exchange a smile, and you open the door wider so he can step inside the bar.

You close the door and turn back to him, watching in awe for a moment as he looks around at the silence of the bar.

You step toward him, softly brushing your hands together to get his attention. He looks down, smiling.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi yourself.” You’re not sure what it is, but something about the dreamlike candlelight makes you lean forward to kiss him, standing on tiptoes to reach his lips. You leave a chaste peck on his lips, pulling away with a small smile.

“Why didn’t you tell me you meant tonight?” you ask, taking his hand and leading him to the stairs. “I would have prepared better.”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

You smile, motioning for him to pause just before the door leading upstairs. You opened it, looking around to make sure everyone was still in their rooms before beckoning Erwin in. You held a finger to your mouth as the two of you tiptoed to your room.

You quietly close the door behind you, listening for a moment before you turn toward Erwin and take a couple steps toward him.

“So,” you drag the word out, folding your hands behind your back as you step closer to him. “Is there a reason you came by so late?”

You softly laugh, looking up at him and his blue eyes and his sharp cheekbones.

“I just wanted to spend time with you, my love.” Erwin smiles, making butterflies fly around in your stomach. You try to hide your gleeful smile, but end up failing.

“That’s what our dates are for.”

“No, I mean, just us. Away from watching eyes. Just me and you, Y/n. I don’t want to have to worry about sneaking around on the streets tonight.”

You softly hum, hands gently entwining with his as you gaze into his eyes, so bright and clear like a cloudless sky.

“That sounds nice.”

Erwin’s lips slightly curve up, one hand entwined with yours as the other slowly grazes along your arm and shoulder. His fingertips softly caress your jawline, slightly tilting your head up.

“I got you something.”

Your eyes slightly widen in surprise, more focused on the touch of his hands than his words. “Really?”

He nods, removing his hand from your face and reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small, black box, slipping it into your hands.

“It’s not much, but I thought you’d like it.”

You tear your eyes away from his, glancing down at the small box in your hands. It’s made of wood, sanded to perfection and smooth beneath your fingers.

“What is it?” you softly ask, looking up at him as you open the box. He doesn’t respond, only smiling as you return your gaze to the opened box and let out a soft gasp. “Erwin? Is this . . .”

You trail off, looking up at him again and watching as he slowly bows down on one knee in front of you.

“It is. Y/n, you truly are the love of my life. You make me want to do anything I can to make you happy and satisfied. I want us to build a future we can love together, but I can only hope you share these dreams with me. So, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you breathed. You nodded, hiding your giddy smile behind your hand as Erwin stood back up. He gently took the box out of your hand, slipping the ring inside onto your finger before tucking the box back into his pocket.

It was a simple band made from iron, the unrefined surface polished and cleaned. It was a cheap ring, something anyone could buy with spare pocket change if they so wanted, but it was yours. Erwin had picked it out just for you, and while it wasn’t anything special, you wouldn’t change a single thing about it.

You look back up at his eyes, wrapping your arms around him. “Thank you, my love. It’s beautiful, and I can’t wait to be married to you.”

He smiles, sliding his hands under your robe and around your waist to pull you closer. “I’ll get you a better ring when I have the money. A proper engagement ring like you deserve.”

You hum, foreheads pressing against each other and noses brushing together. “You don’t have to. What you’ve given me is already more than I want.”

His lips barely grazed yours, almost as if he was asking permission to kiss you. “I want to give you everything. Everything you’ve ever wanted will be yours, darling. I promise you that.”

“What about a kiss?” You pull away slightly to look up at him through your lashes, blinking innocently. “Please?”

Erwin lets out a breathy chuckle, pulling you back against him. “How could I say no?”

His lips press against yours, more practiced than the first time but still unsure. You hum into the kiss, gliding the tips of your fingers over the back of his neck until you can thread them through his hair.

He pulls you as close as he possibly can, your bodies flush against each other as you share the passionate kiss. He unties the belt around your waist, sliding the robe off your shoulders slow enough that you can protest whenever you want.

You don’t. You let the robe fall on the ground, hands sliding down his chest.

You softly gasp as his hands move down, ghosting over the curve of your hips before he tentatively lifts you up.

The kiss breaks, and you look at him curiously as he steps closer to your bed.

“Erwin?” you quietly ask as he places you down on the edge of the bed.

“We won’t do anything unless you want to,” he whispers. He leans forward, touching his forehead to yours. “I just want to be with you.”

You softly nod, wrapping your arms around him as you kiss again. You gently lay on your back, breathing heavily as Erwin crawls on top of you.

He kisses you again, once very quickly on the lips before he begins trailing kisses down your jaw. “Do you want to?”

“We have to be quiet,” you say, letting out a soft breath.

“That’s not what I asked. I asked if you wanted to do this.”

You pause for a moment, hesitating before you nod.

“Are you sure?”

You nod again, more sure of yourself before you rethink and shake your head. “Not yet.”

Erwin smiles against your neck, leaving one last lingering kiss before he pulls away. “Okay.” He lays down beside you, eyes following the outline of your silhouette as he pushes a strand of hair away from your face.

Your face paints itself into a smile, and you turn on your side so you can face him better. You take hold of his hand, gently rubbing circles across his knuckles with your thumb.

Erwin lifts your hand to his lips, kissing your fingers. “I love you.”

You softly hum, scooting closer to him and wrapping your arm around him. “I love you, too.”

He lets go of your hand, wrapping both arms around your figure and pulling you closer to him.

“I have to leave soon,” he says, which is the most tragic part about this entire thing. The time you spend together is fleeting, and you feel as if the two of you spend more time watching the clock than enjoying each other.

“I know,” you say quietly, trailing off slightly. “I don't want you to.”

Erwin nods, planting a kiss to the top of your head. “I know you don’t, but I have to, my darling. I swear that one day you’ll have me all to yourself.”

You softly sigh, closing your eyes. “When will that be?”

“Now that you’re my fiancée, hopefully soon.” Erwin takes a deep breath, relishing in the smell of your hair. “Your parents would never approve of this. I’d like to win their favor first.”

“I wish they didn’t hate the military so much. Then we could be more public about this.”

“One day soon, Y/n. If there is one promise I swear to fulfill, it is that.” Erwin presses his lips against the top of your head again, holding them there.

“Stay,” you whisper. “Please. Just for a bit longer.”

He hums into your hair. “A couple more minutes.”

You nod, hugging him tighter and pulling him closer.

The two of you chastely lay together in silence, the soft sound of Erwin’s heartbeat being the only thing you hear. He plays with the ends of your hair, face pressed into your locks as you begin subconsciously counting how many times his heart beats until you forget what number you were on and have to restart.

Erwin doesn’t leave while you’re awake. He stays beside you, holding you against his body and basking in your presence the same way you bask in his.

You fall asleep in his arms, unsure of how long he was with you or if he even stayed.

—

You awoke the next morning to the sound of your door slamming shut.

You immediately sat up, looking around for a moment while you gathered yourself and fully woke up. Erwin was gone, your bedsheets were rumpled and your breath was stale. You yawned, and almost laid back down before you heard glass shatter.

“Get out of my house, you goddamn military mutt!”

Fuck.

You jumped out of bed, legs getting caught in the blankets, and stumbled across the room. You untangled your legs as you moved, reaching to open your bedroom door.

“Dad? What-”

“You want to tell me why he was in your room this morning?”

You paused, frozen in the doorway to your bedroom as you processed his words. Your eyes darted around the living room, finding Erwin standing against the wall. His hair was a mess, blond strands falling onto his forehead.

Your eyes widen, and you immediately try to calm whatever anger your father was feeling. “Dad, it’s not what you-”

“Bullshit!” You flinched back, the resounding sound of your father’s voice bouncing off the walls. “He was in your room this morning so obviously you’re sneaking around like a whore!”

“I-I’m not! We didn’t even do anything. Please, I-”

He slapped you then, a loud, striking sound that seemed to echo in the room.

Time seemed to freeze with you. You heard ringing, turning your head to face your father. Except when you turned back, your mother held a firm grip on his arm and pushed him away from you. She said something you didn’t hear, the words muffled and muddled together, before she turned to Erwin.

“Out,” she said, pointing to the door. Erwin moved without a word or complaint, glancing back at you once before he closed the door to the bar behind him.

Your mother took a deep breath, sniffing. She blew out an exasperated breath and turned toward you.

She looks just like Marie. The same brown hair and eyes and faint splay of freckles across her cheeks. You could see the dark circles under her eyes, even in the dim light of the early morning.

She stared at you in silence, arms crossed and eyes pensive. She looked at the ground after a moment, softly shaking her head.

When she looked back up at you her warm eyes were colder than ice.

“How could you?” Her voice was unwavering and assertive, making you feel small and unimportant. You would have crawled back to your room if she wasn’t staring you down. You hear your father breath out and notice him stepping into another room to collect himself.

Your mother sighed again, walking to the couch and sitting on the edge. She ran both hands through her hair and leaned back. “You let him into your room. You let that government pawn into your room to do God knows what to you.”

“That’s not-”

“Your father and I raised you better. We have been lenient in letting you and Marie hang around them, but now you go and spread your legs for someone that’ll tire of you as soon as he gets promoted.”

“Mom, no, we didn’t-”

“He doesn’t love you-”

“He does!” You’re surprised at yourself for a moment, standing in stunned silence for only a second before continuing. “He loves me, Mom. And I love him. And-And we’re going to get married.”

She stared at you, not allowing any hint of what she was thinking or feeling to show on her face. She eventually closes her eyes and breathes out through her nose, rubbing her forehead. “You’ve hardly known him a month-”

“You and dad got married after one week of knowing each other.”

“It was different then, Y/n,” she snaps, harshly glaring at you. “Everything was different when your father and I got married.”

“You only got married because you were gonna have Marie,” you mutter. You had meant for it to be a thought, even a whisper quiet enough you could barely hear it. But it slipped out louder than you intended, making your mother snap her mouth shut. You’re left staring at each other, almost to see who backs down first.

“Mom, please just give him a chance. I promise he’s not what you think,” you say.

“We gave him a chance and look what happened!” Your mother threw her arm out, motioning to your room and the general situation. “He’s a teenage boy, Y/n. He’s too young to know what he wants to commit to. You know better than to give yourself to the first boy that gives you attention-”

“It’s not just attention! I’m not mistaking attention for love. He wants me and he wants me to be happy and he wants to build a life together.”

Your father comes back out then. He takes slow steps to the couch, sitting down with your mother.

It’s completely silent as he does. You find yourself wondering where Marie is while your parents wordlessly communicate. You stare at a spot on the wall opposite from you until your dad sighs, and you turn your gaze to him.

“Y/n, we just want what’s best for you. We were young once, too and we regret some of the choices we made.” He clasps his hands together, leaning forward against his knees. “We don’t want you making a life changing mistake like this. You’ll find someone better suited to be a husband in the future. A military man can’t give you what you want.”

“I don’t want another man. I want Erwin. He’s everything I want, dad.”

Your father sighs, running a hand through his graying hair. It’s obvious he’s conflicted. He wants you to do whatever makes you happy, but he knows big decisions like this have consequences.

“You don’t have to give us your blessing,” you softly say. “We can get married on our own and get out of your hair. You won’t have to see us again.”

“Y/n, we never said we wanted you to leave. We just want you to think this through.”

You’re silent, feeling like a scolded child because you have thought it through. This is what you want to be happy.

You wait until your parents tell you to go before walking to your room. You close the door behind you, sliding down against it until you sit on the floor with your legs pulled against your chest.

You stare off into space, your mind noisy with all the thoughts running through it. You aren’t even sure what half of them are, but you’re positive of one thing.

You want to marry Erwin Smith, and you will do whatever you can to make that dream your reality.

—

Over the course of the next month, you work tirelessly; doing anything for tips and helping out wherever you go to the market during the day for extra cash.

Both Erwin and Nile had been banned from the bar. At first you didn’t take it seriously, but any thoughts you had of sneaking either of them in were quickly dismissed when your father shot at them with his musket, just barely missing their heads.

You’re not sure if it was just a scare tactic your father had used to force you to think over your decision. But needless to say, you had learned a more discreet way to communicate so you didn’t get caught. You found out that Anastasia came through quite often to visit her family. Neither of your parents knew she was in the military, so she was the messenger between you and Erwin.

The two of you would meet in the market as often as you could. She would give you the letters he had written and she would deliver yours to him. It wasn’t the best method, but it was the best you could do.

You hid every single letter you received, storing them in an old tin box that used to house cookies. The box was hidden under your bed, concealed by your blanket the majority of the time. Any time you felt lonely you would bring it out, looking through each letter and being reminded of what you’re working towards.

You hadn’t told Erwin about the choice you made, because if you did he would tell you he wasn’t worth it and convince you to stay with your family. And it would have worked because God he could convince you of just about anything.

You had begun devising a plan. Since Erwin had chosen to join the Scout regiment while the two of you were apart, the letters became less frequent and more like an unexpected gift each time you received one. You had started planning what days he would have off, which days he would be able to travel to you and sweep you off your feet.

You decided November fourth, because that was the start of a mandatory military break given due to Erwin’s commander sustaining a severe injury outside the walls.

Over the course of the next two months you save money, picking up whatever odd jobs you could and selling what you wouldn’t need in the near future. You stored your savings in a can that used to be filled with rationed corn, hiding it in plain sight.

Early on November third, you packed a bag and spent most the day writing letters to your parents and Marie. You asked in the letter if Marie would be your maid of honor if she could find time off, and hid everything behind your open bedroom door during the day.

The work day dragged on, and you found yourself asking for the time every couple seconds to see if it had moved any faster. The minutes seemed like hours, and you swear the hours took longer to pass. Every time you looked out the window the sun still shone bright, as if it was mocking you from the sky.

Even when the moon came out you still had to wait.

You might as well have waited a lifetime, because as soon as the bar closed you feigned exhaustion and retreated to your room to make sure you had everything ready to leave. You reread the letters before sealing them in their envelopes and waited even longer.

It was nearly dawn when the house finally quieted down and you could sneak out. You were honestly exhausted, and could barely keep your eyes open, but now was your only chance. If you didn’t leave now, you wouldn’t be able to when everyone wakes up.

You tiptoed out of your room, leaving the first letter to your parents on the kitchen counter. Then you moved to Marie’s room, where you heard quiet whispering from inside.

You paused to listen for a moment, hearing the cadence of Nile's voice but not recognizing anything they said.

You slid the letter to Marie under her door before rushing out of the house and bar forever.

You didn’t look back. Not once did you even think about it.

You found yourself waiting in the market, placing your suitcase down and patiently sitting on it as you waited.

The sun had risen and four merchants had opened up shop by the time you saw Erwin, handsome as ever and looking around eagerly, hopefully searching for you. Someone followed him, and you recognized her dark hair.

Anastasia looked around as well, smiling and pointing to you when she spotted you. She said something to Erwin, making him turn his head in the direction she’d pointed in.

You stood, running up to Erwin when a look of recognition crossed his face. He moved faster, scooping you up and spinning you around when you got close enough.

You were elated, heart beating quickly from being held so close. You could feel his warmth despite the layers of clothing he wore. You squeezed him tighter, taking in his smell, his presence, his arms around you, his body.

“You bulked up a bit,” you said, face pressed against his shoulder.

“Survey Corps,” he simply said. He pressed his lips against the side of your head. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I love it. I love you.”

You felt him smile against your hair, and it was just another moment where it was just the two of you in the universe before you heard someone clear their throat.

“People are watching, guys,” Anastasia said. “Wasn’t the whole point of this for people not to know?”

Erwin carefully placed you back on the ground, hand on your waist to keep you close. “Yeah, you’re right.” He let out a heavy breath, looking down at you. “Your parents are really okay with this?”

You nodded. “They gave us their blessing.” And you felt so bad for lying. But this is what you wanted. You wanted Erwin and nothing else.

Erwin nods again, clearly slightly nervous about the whole situation. “Anastasia, you said you knew somewhere we could stay for a bit?”

Anastasia gave a thumbs up, and it was then that you noticed she carried your suitcase in one hand. “Yup. My uncle’s house is only a couple blocks down from here. He has a spare room the two of you can stay in until you leave.”

“And he can officiate marriages, right?” you asked, holding your hand out in an offer to take back your bag.

Anastasia nodded as she handed your suitcase to you. “Yes. It’s a cheap piece of paper, but yes, he can legalize marriages.”

She had told you all about that. She’d mentioned that her uncle wanted to discreetly marry same sex couples without judgment, so he bought an officiant license to do just that. She had said it multiple times, actually. Sometimes twice every time you asked, but you just had to make sure one more time.

“Alright, lovebirds, let’s go.” Anastasia nodded to the right, readjusting the hat on her head before she began walking.

You and Erwin followed behind her, silently talking amongst yourselves.

At least, you would have been doing that. But something in the air had changed around you and you didn’t talk. There was a kind of weight, seemingly holding you back from speaking a word to each other as you followed Anastasia.

The house she led you to was cramped. It was a small living space made for two people at most, not the five that would be staying.

Anastasia walked up a flight of stairs, telling you and Erwin to stay downstairs until she comes back. You notice for the first time as she motions to chairs that she’s missing both her left ring and pinky fingers.

She walks up the stairs, leaving you and Erwin awkwardly standing there.

You turned to Erwin when his knuckles brushed against yours and he linked your pinkies. He wordlessly led you to one of the couches, sitting down with you. You smiled at him, the two of you doing nothing but stare at each other for a moment.

“Hi,” he said. He smiled, big and wide and showing off his perfect teeth.

“Hi yourself.” You felt butterflies staring at him again, especially being this close. It was the closest you had dared be in broad daylight, and something about not having to hide from the light made your stomach flip.

“How’s it been with your parents?”

“Good,” you said. “The bar’s doing good.”

You didn't elaborate, leaving the two of you in a moment of silence.

“How is it with the Scouts? Are you enjoying it?”

Erwin nodded, leaning back against the couch, crossing his legs at the ankles and resting his arm against the back behind you. “Yeah, it’s fine. Nile and I were supposed to join together, but he, uh,” Erwin paused, thinking about his next words. “He ended up joining the Military Police.”

“Why?” You turned slightly, moving to see him better.

You saw him bite the inside of his cheek in thought. He clicked his tongue. “Marie. He . . . He wants to protect her.”

You hum, slowly nodding. “So he wants to go to the innermost wall where it’s safest.”

“Yeah.” Erwin blew out a breath, moving his hand to softly grab yours. “But it’s going well. Anastasia and I were assigned to the same captain, so we’ll be working together more.”

“Have you gone out yet?”

He shakes his head. “Not far. We went out once and attracted Titans so we had to turn back. We lost a couple people.”

It’s silent for a moment. Erwin runs his thumb across your hand, turning the cheap iron ring around your finger.

“I’m glad you made it back.”

He hums, and the silence returns. It borders the line of being uncomfortable and acceptable, and you can’t quite tell which it’ll fall into.

It seems like an eternity until you hear voices. Anastasia and a man that must have been her uncle come bounding down the stairs.

“Okay, guys. This is my Uncle Henry. He’s the one officiating your marriage.” Anastasia motions to the man beside her, and he smiles and bows his head.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you two. I assume you’re wanting to spend some time alone beforehand, correct?” He pauses for a moment, waiting for one of you to nod before continuing. “Well, we have your room ready. It’s pretty cramped, but hopefully you don’t mind.”

Henry smiles, and you graciously thank him before he leads you to said room. He was right—it’s very cramped. There’s hardly room to walk around the bed, but you and Erwin manage.

Henry leaves you to your own devices, closing the door behind him.

Something about not having to sneak Erwin into the room made it feel different. It wasn’t stolen kisses and whispered words anymore—this time people knew he was with you. Alone. Unaccompanied and unsupervised.

You didn’t know what to do with yourself.

You both awkwardly stood in the doorway after Henry left. You held your suitcase close to your body, arms glued to your sides in an attempt to make yourself as small as possible as you took in the room.

The bed is pressed against the wall, a window with streaming rays sitting to its left. The walls are cream, evidence of a child drawing on the wall beneath the window.

Your fingers lightly tapped against the handle of your bag. You looked down, glancing at Erwin through your peripheral.

The silence was unbearable, so thick you could cut it with a knife, but you didn’t know what to say.

You lifted your head and watched as Erwin strolled further into the room, placing his suitcase down on the side of the bed closest to the window. He takes off his coat, undoing the cufflinks holding the fabric around his wrists together.

“At least we’re finally alone together. Now we can be as loud as we’d like.” Erwin smirks as your eyes widen and he pushes his sleeves up his forearms. He stepped back in front of you, brushing your hands together so he could take your suitcase.

“Let me take that,” he whispers. When you let go of your luggage’s weight, he leans forward, softly pressing his lips to yours.

“I missed you,” you say against his lips.

Erwin hums, breaking the kiss for just a moment to put your bag on the ground before he kisses you again. He lifts you up as you wrap your arms around him. You softly gasp, holding onto him tighter.

“Is this okay?” he mumbles as he walks over to the bed. He gently sits you down, kneeling and pressing his forehead against yours. “Please tell me if you want this.”

You think for a second, thinking back to weeks ago when he initially asked you that and you said no. You don’t feel the same as you did then. You don’t feel as if you were just supposed to say yes out of obligation. Now you want to say yes.

You nod.

“Are you sure?” Erwin’s breath is heavy, his lips ghosting over your own.

“I’m sure.”

His eyes scan your expression for a moment. When he sees that you are beyond a doubt positive of your decision, he kisses you again.

You hum and softly thread your fingers through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp as he pulls away and begins trailing kisses along your jaw.

“You’re beautiful.” He left a lingering kiss beneath your ear as his hands slowly traveled along your body, his fingers tracing your waist.

You smile, eyes closed as Erwin slowly undoes the laces of your corset. You don’t stop him, and when he asks if what he’s doing is okay you nod and politely urge him to continue.

The laces are halfway undone when you hear a faint knock on the door. The two of you freeze, waiting a moment before you hear the knocking again.

“Y/n? I know you’re in there.” Anastasia.

“What is it?” you ask. Erwin lets out a heavy breath, pressing his forehead against your shoulder.

“We said we’d go out and get stuff, remember? Like flowers or something, I dunno.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, turning your head to face the ceiling because yes, you had agreed to do that. But that was before you were held in Erwin’s arms again.

“Is it possible to move it to later?”

“Not really. There’s like, a thing. And another thing. And one more thing that’s kind of important.”

You sighed at Anastasia’s vagueness. Now you were aware that she had brewed up some sort of scheme, and you weren’t entirely sure how comfortable you were with it.

“Listen if you don’t respond I’m coming in,” Anastasia says after it had been quiet too long. You heard the doorknob turn.

“No!” both you and Erwin call out. He had lifted his head from your shoulder and turned to look at the door.

“Knew it. You two were getting down and dirty in there. And before you’re even married. The scandal.” You heard Anastasia quietly snicker as Erwin sighed, leaning against his arm and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“She’ll be out in a minute,” Erwin says. He uses a commanding tone that makes you feel hot. The hand he holds on your thigh scorches your skin through the fabric of your skirt, and when he starts drawing small circles with his thumb you almost melt.

“Okay . . .” Anastasia draws out the word. “I’ll be waiting in the lobby.”

You hear her footsteps retreat, and when you’re sure she’s completely gone you groan and fall back onto the bed.

“I’m sorry,” you say, running your hands over your face. “I completely forgot about that.”

Erwin chuckles, the bed quietly creaking as he stands up. He gently grabs your hands, pulling you so you stand in front of him. He moves your hair out of your face, saying, “It’s alright, darling. We can always do it later.”

He laughs when your eyes widen in shock. He kisses your forehead before he pulls away, letting go of you.

“I’ll see you later.” He smiles, watching as your hands redo the laces on your corset.

“I love you,” you say. You reach the door, placing your hand on the doorknob and turning back to him.

He had seated himself back on the bed, leaning back with his legs crossed. smiled when you said those words, tilting his head up.

“I love you, too.”

You close the door behind you, going back downstairs to join Anastasia on whatever little adventure she had planned.

As it turns out, that adventure was simply finding pretty flowers, Marie and Nile. All three things were in the central market, and all together. Marie and Nile had been looking at a flower booth, picking out hydrangeas and roses.

Marie had smiled when she saw you. She embraced you in a tight hug, saying something about how proud she was that you had started paving your own path.

She looped her arm around yours and did not let go. It wasn’t long until the four of you returned to Henry’s house. Flowers were put into vases and placed around the living room, and soon enough you were shoved into another room to get ready.

—

You slowly blew a breath from your lips, eyes flitting around the room without giving a single object more than a fleeting glance. Your fingers tapped against the stem of the already wilting flowers in your hands, and you had started clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

“Will you calm down? You’re giving me anxiety,” Marie said, softly laughing at the sidelong glance you gave her. “I’m kidding. But seriously, why are you so nervous? It’s not like Erwin suddenly ran away, he’s right out the door and down the stairs if you would just open the goddamn door-”

“I’m not opening the door,” you say. You take another deep breath, straightening your back and rolling your shoulders. “What if he sees me and decides he doesn’t want to be married? Mom and Dad would never take me back into the family, what would I do if that happens-”

Marie put her hands on your shoulders, softly shaking you. “Y/n. Erwin stayed after almost being shot at when Mom and Dad kicked him out. And when that happened, your hair was half-done and you were wearing a robe and he still blew you a kiss. I sincerely doubt he’s going to leave, especially with you wearing that and looking as pretty as you do.”

She fixes the sleeves of your cream dress—the same one you wore the night you and Erwin met.

“What if he has second thoughts?”

Marie blew a breath through her nose, holding you by the arms again. She stared at you, her brown eyes a passage into her soul and deepest thoughts.

“I promise you he won’t. Nile and Anastasia both say he doesn’t shut up about you when they hang out. They’re tired of hearing it.” Marie laughs, looping her arm through yours. “Nothing will go wrong. I promise. And if it does, I will take Dad’s musket and shoot Erwin myself.”

Her threat makes you snort, and you bring a hand up to cover your mouth as you laugh. Marie smiles beside you, taking a deep breath before placing a hand on the doorknob.

“Ready?”

You inhale, holding the breath as you nod. Just on the other side of this door is your future. Your entire world is standing just outside and waiting for you.

You can feel your heart beating, can hear the throbbing of it in your ears. A chill runs down your spine, making you wonder where all these nerves suddenly came from.

“I’m ready.”

Marie smiles, mouthing something you didn’t catch before pushing the door open.

Marie led you down the hallway, stepping in front of you to go down the stairs first. She waits for you at the bottom, taking your arm as you descend the stairs.

You look around the living room and take everything in. Nothing had changed, but somehow the flowers make the room seem more alive and vibrant.

And then your eyes land on Erwin, and the breath you had been holding gets released. Tall and blond and still oh, so handsome—just like the night you met him.

He smiles when he sees you, because he just can’t believe he managed to make you fall in love with him. You were ethereal to him, your smile alone radiant enough to light the entire world.

Nile and Anastasia both sit in wooden chairs, both dressed nicer than usual and smiling as they watch their friends.

When you finally take Erwin's hands it feels like you’re on top of the world. You want everything to stop for just a second so you can enjoy this moment longer. You exchange your vows and promises to each other, and it’s everything you could have wished for and more.

And then you kiss and god it’s just pure magic. You don’t think there’s ever been a moment in history where someone was happier than you were as you kissed your new husband.

You and Erwin pulled away for just a second before you kissed again, this time wrapping your arms around each other. You heard Anastasia whistle, saying, “Aye, hands to yourselves, guys. Save that for the bedroom.”

It makes you pull away from Erwin to laugh, leaning against him as he holds you close.

The rest of the evening is filled with laughter. The six of you all enjoy each other’s company, getting to know each other more and more.

You and Erwin cling to each other, always touching in some way and never letting the other out of sight.

And it translates well later, when Marie and Nile have left and Anastasia and Henry have gone to bed. It leaves you and Erwin as the only ones away, sharing slow, sensual kisses as you slowly undress and touch each other.

—

Golden rays streamed through the windows, creating an ethereal, early morning glow around everything.

You shared whispered words with Erwin, talking about where you should move to. You couldn’t help but stare at the beautiful man in front of you, your husband. The entire situation was dreamlike with the way Erwin was backlit from the sun. It created a glow around him that made you believe he might be an angel, highlighting his blue eyes.

“Where do you think we should go?”

“Maybe Trost. We passed through it on our last expedition. It’s a nice place, good people.”

You hummed, fidgeting with Erwin’s fingers as you thought. God, you could not look away from his face. The curve of his nose was beautiful, and the tilt of his lips when he noticed you staring was just so alluring.

“What are you thinking about?” he softly asks, not wanting to disturb the atmosphere around you two.

“Just you.” You smiled, quietly laughing when he wrapped an arm around your bare waist and pulled you flush against him. “And us.”

“What about us?” He nudged his nose against yours, lips just barely ghosting each other.

“Just our future. Where we’ll end up.” You let out a soft breath and closed your eyes, content with everything you have now. “When do you leave?”

“Three days.” Erwin sighed, pressing his forehead against yours. “And then I’m gone for about three weeks.”

You hummed, expression slightly faltering. But you weren’t sad. You knew that marrying him meant you would be alone more often than not. You had prepared yourself for this.

“Okay. Maybe I can start a business or something in that time. Just something for us to have a little extra money. I can make clothes,” you said.

Erwin smiled at your response, lightly tracing your spine with his fingertips. “I’ll be back for a few weeks after, though. We can be together more then.”

Your lips curve up, and you finally drew your gaze away from his to tuck your head where his neck met his shoulder. You left a soft kiss on his collarbone, letting out a satisfied breath as you basked in his presence.

“When should we start going?” you ask. “To Trost, I mean.”

“You want to go to Trost?”

You nod. “Why not? You said it seemed like a good place, so let’s go there.”

Erwin’s fingers softly tapped against your back. After a moment he stopped, instead splaying his hand across the small of your back and pulling you as close as possible.

“We should probably go before I leave, then. I don’t want you here for three more weeks, but I want to experience this first with you.” His face pressed against the top of your head, and he took a deep breath before continuing. “I want us to be a happy family.”

You smile. “We are a happy family. And we’ll be even happier as time goes on.”

And you were. You spent the rest of the day with Anastasia and her uncle before you left for Trost.

It was almost overwhelming. You realized as you looked for an available house that you truly had no idea how to be an adult and do these things, but it’s lucky that Erwin was there because he managed to figure it out and buy a lovely little house at the edge of the district.

You go out and find vendors that sell fabric after that, hoping to find a few pieces that you can hopefully make into clothing and sell. When you got back home he helped the two of you get settled down, and you made love once more in your new house before he had to leave.

You send him off with a passionate kiss, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him down to your level. You make him promise to return to you alive and in one piece before kissing him again.

And then he leaves, and you’re left in your new feelings of love.

—

You found out you were pregnant from the little clues your body gave you. You ignored them at first, telling yourself you missed your period because of the stress from making clothes, telling yourself that the nausea was from eating something weird the night before, telling yourself that the soreness on your lower back and chest was from sitting hunched over your desk as you sewed.

But one morning after throwing up you sat against the wall and thought about it. You put all the symptoms together and thought about what they could mean before the possibility of being pregnant dawned on you.

You stared at the panel of wood across from you for what seemed like hours before a tear slipped down your cheek.

You didn’t know why you were crying. You didn’t even know if this was a good thing or not. But you sat in that same spot for what must have been days just letting tears silently fall down your cheeks. You remember you grabbed your hair close to the roots and tugged, wanting to pull it out. You had pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes, hoping to stop the flow of hot tears before you stood up.

You took a deep breath and composed yourself, blinking the remaining tears from your eyes and wiping the wetness from your cheeks with a cloth.

When you walked out of the bathroom, you ignored your revelation for as long as you could, hoping you were wrong. And it worked for a while. You dealt with the nausea and the soreness and the annoying voice in the back of your head telling you to start preparing for whatever baby might be on the way. You ignored it all and continued with your life as usual, making clothes and cleaning whatever mess you made and making food for one.

Of course, there was the occasional letter Erwin sent that told you his break was postponed. Every time it was because of something different. Be it the commander had gotten hurt again, there weren’t enough soldiers to spare, or some paperwork needed to be filled out. It didn’t matter what it was, there was always a reason for Erwin to stay.

It didn’t matter, though. Because you had everything figured out. You were making enough of a living on your own to provide for yourself and still have leftover money to do what you pleased with.

Sure, it had been almost four months since you last saw Erwin, but that was to be expected. He was part of the Scouts regiment, his schedule was bound to be busy.

All throughout that, you had been able to ignore your earlier revelation of being pregnant. In fact, you had nearly forgotten about it completely with how easily you were able to weave the daily dizzy spells and vomit into your life.

That is, you were able to ignore it until four and a half months later when you started to show. Your clothes started fitting just a little bit tighter and two weeks later you found yourself measuring the size of your stomach to make dresses that fit comfortably.

When you seemed to finally realize you were growing a child inside of you, you became more cautious of the things you did. You immediately sen Erwin a letter informing him of your pregnancy and started giving yourself bigger servings of food to help the baby inside of you grow and receive nourishment.

Erwin had yet to come back, but you had sent a strongly worded letter to Commander Keith Shadis, begging him to allow your husband to come home even if it was only for a day.

It worked, and a week and a half later you opened the front door to your husband, concerned and asking what was wrong before his eyes trailed down to your stomach. His eyes had widened, and you had to gently pull him by the arm to get him inside the house.

He stood in shock as you grabbed his luggage and set it to the side and took off his coat and hung it for him—all the things a good wife does for her husband. He abruptly turned his head in your direction as you hung his coat, mouth slightly agape as he took in your form again.

His eyes lingered on your stomach. It was barely noticeable, but it was an obvious change for someone that hadn’t seen you in months.

He took a tentative step closer to you and gently grabbed your hand. You look up at him, meeting his piercing gaze. You can’t discern exactly what he’s feeling, but he squeezes your hand and you figure that must count for something.

“Darling, are you . . ?” He can’t finish his sentence, but you know what he’s asking. You almost want to shake your head and deny it, and you probably would if it weren’t so obvious.

But you nod. And you watch as Erwin drops to his knees and begs for forgiveness.

—

The silence is deafeningly loud at dinner that night. Erwin holds your hand in his as your forks silently clang against the bowls. He runs his thumb over your knuckles, almost as if he’s scared to let you go. He keeps giving you apologetic looks, glancing over when he thinks you aren’t looking.

“I’m fine,” you finally say when you’re able to make eye contact with him. “Just . . .”

You trail off, making a vague hand motion to yourself. Erwin nods, and he doesn’t give you an apologetic glance again. But his hold on your hand does tighten. When you stand up to collect the dirty dishes, Erwin stands as well. He picks up the bowls and forks before you get the chance to, leaving you standing by the table helplessly.

“I can do things on my own,” you softly say when he comes back. He pushes both of your chairs in and takes your hands in his again. He looks down at you with heartbroken eyes and licks his lips before talking.

“I know. I just feel so bad that I wasn’t here.” He squeezes your hands, pressing his soft lips to your forehead. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to bask in the feeling of it after going what felt like forever without his touch. “I should have been here.”

“It’s okay,” you say, because it really is. He was busy and had things more important than his wife on his plate. He can’t be there for you like you want all the time. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

“I should have been here then. You shouldn’t have had to keep this for so long.”

“I told you about it in the letters I wrote.”

“What letters?” There was just the smallest sense of panic in his voice, and when you opened your eyes to look at him you saw the tips of his ears turn red.

“Did you not get my letters?” Your brows pulled together in a confused glance because you’re sure you addressed them correctly. Maybe you didn’t even send them to begin with. Or maybe they simply got lost in the mail.

But no, you did nothing wrong. Erwin had seen every single envelope addressed to him, and he always smoothed his finger over the edges before he set it down and told himself he’d read it later.

He never did. But you didn’t need to know that.

“I-I didn’t,” he lied. And he felt so bad about lying because you had done nothing to deserve being lied to. You had only been the wife he’d dreamed of having, waiting patiently for him to come home after weeks of being away.

He watched your expression fall. It wasn’t a drastic change, but it was just enough for him to notice.

“Oh. That-That’s alright. They probably got lost or something. Postal service, you know?” You let out a fake, pained chuckle before clearing your throat and glancing away. “But, uhm, yeah. I guess this is kind of it.” You vaguely motioned to yourself, biting the inside of your cheek.

Erwin stared at you, not knowing what to say as he watched you chew on your lip. You two stood in silence for what must have been hours before you finally drew out a breath and walked away. You didn’t know where you were going, but you assumed you would just figure that out as you went.

And you do figure it out, because you remember a dress you agreed to make for someone that’s waiting in the living room. Erwin follows you through the house, hesitantly putting his hand on your shoulder once you had started working.

“My love, are you upset?” His voice is soft, acting as if he were in a library.

You shake your head, not moving your focus from the needle and thread in your hands. “I’m fine. What would I even be upset about?”

“Y/n, I am so sorry. I would have come running if I’d known you were pregnant.” Erwin knelt beside you, placing a hand on your thigh and gently squeezing. The other was warm on your back, and you noticed how much rougher they had gotten as he traced small circles on the exposed skin of your nape.

“I said I was fine. I’m just tired.” That much was true. You were exhausted. You never imagined being pregnant would take this much out of you.

“Please let me do something for you. I can rub your back, or clean something, or-or make you breakfast tomorrow.” He sounds desperate, and the way he slightly pulls your leg to get you to face him tells you that he truly is. You can see the guilt in his blue eyes, and God it makes you feel so bad because he feels this way because of you. Sure, you expected some sadness and longing to come from this relationship, but not this.

So you give in. You put down your work, let your shoulders slump as you face him, and let out a breath. “Okay,” you say quietly. “You can make breakfast for me tomorrow if you want.”

Erwin lets out a relieved breath and closes his eyes, mouthing something you don’t catch before he presses your foreheads together and leaves a lingering kiss on your lips.

“Thank you.” His mouth stays against yours as he says it, and he kisses you again. “I promise to make everything up to you. I told you that you’d have everything you ever wanted in our marriage and I intend to make that a reality.”

You softly hum as he pulls away and stands, holding his hand out for you to take. You take it, because even though you can do these things yourself it’s still the touch of his hand against yours.

He leads you to the bedroom, where he kisses your hand and tells you he’ll be just a moment before leaving.

You spare a glance out the window and notice it’s late. You spent more time making dinner because you weren’t used to cooking as much as you did at once and you had burnt the first attempt. Erwin wouldn’t have minded, but you wanted to make him a nice dinner.

You undress, finding a nightdress that fits a bit too snugly and moving to put it on before you catch a glance of yourself in the mirror. You notice the faintest lines on your breasts and lightly trace over them with your fingers. They weren’t there before, and you’re not sure how to get rid of them.

You hear Erwin’s footsteps coming back to the room, and you quickly slip the nightgown over your body. It’s almost too small, and you know you’ll have to either make or buy new clothes soon.

You look at yourself in the mirror again. God, you hate the way you look. Exhausted and overworked, which makes no sense because you’ve been sleeping for the right amount of time and haven’t been piling too much work on yourself. You just look so worn out.

When Erwin opens the door and sees you looking at yourself in the mirror, he thinks you’re admiring the bump. He comes up behind you, trailing his hand across your shoulder and kissing your temple.

“I promise I’ll be more present,” he says against your hair. He places both hands on your arms, kissing you again before making eye contact with you in the mirror. “I promise, love.”

You softly hum, forcing a smile as you meet Erwin’s gaze in the mirror. “It’s alright. I know you have other responsibilities.”

“Nothing is more important than you,” he intejects. He turns you around so you’re face to face, making it so you can’t escape his gaze. “You should be the first thing on my priority list, Y/n. Don’t let me forget that.”

You softly nod, keeping your expressionless face as you stare at yourself in the mirror. He looks at you with sad eyes before leaning in, kissing your forehead.

“I love you, Y/n. I promise I’ll be better.”

“Just be here when they’re born. Or soon after. I just want you with me when they’re here.”

Erwin nods, a sort of determination evident in his eyes. “I will. I will, I promise.”

And what right did you have to think he was lying?

—

Erwin was called back to his post three days later.

He had left you alone again, but this time it became a routine of two weeks where he wasn’t home and two weeks when he was. You had formed your schedule around that, running most of your errands and chores while he was gone and clearing your agenda so you could spend time with him while he was off.

You often went to the market to buy groceries together, and Erwin would cook dinner for you in the evenings while you watched him from the dinner table.

You were pissed at him, but that had slowly gone away. You never stopped loving him, but something about having him back more regularly made your stomach flip.

Until he went off on an expedition and scared the shit out of you when he returned home two days later.

It only got worse after that. His stay with the scouts would extend further and further, making your time with him shorter.

And you truly didn’t understand why he couldn’t just come home when he was given breaks, especially because somehow Anastasia can find the time to visit you.

And that’s where you’re at now, sitting on the couch with Anastasia as you vent all of this to her. She’s silent as you talk, leaning back against the arm of the couch and nodding along with everything you say. She puts her input every now and then, making the kind of comments only she could get away with because they were funny.

And eventually, once you’ve gotten everything off your chest, you get up to make Anastasia tea because you hadn’t offered her any when she came in. It was the polite thing to do, especially since she was one of your closest friends.

However, when you stand, pain shoots through your body. You recognize it as a contraction, which is how you know you’re going to have this baby soon.

You try to continue with the task, but you have more and more contractions closer and closer together, and eventually Anastasia pieces two and two together before you do and rushes you out your front door.

She bribed someone with a wagon to give the both of you a lift, and before you know it you’re at a doctor’s clinic being told to calm your breathing.

“Y/n, why did you decide to have a baby at 16? This is actually a terrible idea.”

Maybe it was.

Maybe this entire thing was a mistake. Maybe you should have waited and thought this through before diving in headfirst. Maybe your parents were right and you should have given this entire thing more thought.

But those doubts are silenced. Because sixteen hours later on August 13, you hold your precious baby boy for the first time and realize this is it. Now that he’s here, Erwin has to be home more often.

You name the infant in your arms Benjamin—a strong name for the son of a strong man. A strong base for what you hope will turn into a strong relationship.

You could feel your eyes drooping, fighting off sleep as hard as possible. You had Anastasia write to Erwin and tell him his son had been born, telling her to keep it short and sounding urgent.

And she agreed, leaving your side to grab a sheet of paper to write on. In the short amount of time she was gone, you dozed off, hoping and praying and wishing this would be enough to get your husband back home.

But not all dreams come true, because Erwin Smith saw his son for the first time three months and fourteen days after he was born.

with ten minutes left of his birthday, happy birthday Erwin Smith

this is going to be a super long multipart series guys i’m sorry 💀 (not a lot of parts tho). also the title of this is literally complete bs i just had to title it so i just used the EP “Good Grief” by Leanna Firestone because I used the songs in that to describe a lot of feeling

but anyways! please for the love of god supoort this because i wrote this entire series in like two months and am going back and editing right now and i poured my entire heart and soul into it please like it

also know that it only goes downhill from here

but i hope y’all enjoyed it anyways

-Izzy <3

next part >>

TAGGING: @daisynik7 if you’d like to join the taglist for this series or be notified whenever I write for Erwin please leave a comment or DM!

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satureja13 · 9 days

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Beltane - Part 7 It all starts -> here (incl prequel)

A 'little' later than Ji Ho and Jeb, Noxee, Saiwa and Jack at the campsite got up too. And when poor Jack stumbled out of the tent, he almost choked at the sight of his beloved Noxee! She's so hot! Saiwa: "Noxee! Have merci!" Noxee: "Aww, our poor baby! I'll change into something more 'appropriate' and make us some churros, how does that sound?" And then she vanished and Jack cursed under his breath for not having a grip on himself. He wanted her to stay like this, just for a little longer... He's barely even seen her properly! Time he gets back ingame so he can meet the Queen again! And Lou. Distracting himself from Kiyoshi is already working just fine, that's a good sign!

And while Noxee was making the churros (that's the only dish she is able to 'cook'), Saiwa and Jack wandered around the campsite. If it's not too draining for Ji Ho and Vlad to let them travel around in the Otherworld with the TTT (Teleporting TukTuk), they should come here more often. Saiwa even found the bunny again!

Saiwa: "He's so cute, quiet and soft. Just the opposite of Jack ;P " Jack: "You know, everything we talked about yesterday, about not being able to get rid of Kiyoshi because of that fated mates thing, me prospering and unlocking my Super Soldier abilities. All that stuff frightened and intimidated me beyond measure. But!"

Saiwa: "But what?" Jack: "But you, my precious friend, who is like a dearest brother to me, already unlocked my ability to decide to let myself not get hurt when others throw their meanness at me :3 " Saiwa: "..."

Noxee: "Aww how sweet! Hahaha yeah, it's been like that since you two met at the lab three years ago!" Jack: "Right you are. Three long years Saiwa accepted many hardships to poke and pester me. As if he had seen it coming that I was going to need it one day ^^ I never got upset!"

Jack: "And I'm very positive that I, the Super Soldier, will suceed in my quest to defy Kiyoshi's influence over me and heal!" Noxee: "I think you should better use your Super Soldier powers to run from Saiwa before he throws that bathtub at you hahaha!"

And then Jack ran 🏃 But I think he has a point. Saiwa is the only one who gets upset at Jack's antics and scolds him. But it never hurt Jack (erm at least mentally. He gets hurt physically from time to time when he's running from Saiwa ^^'). He can work with that.

They ran a lap around the lagoon and then breakfast was ready. Saiwa was still a bit upset. And it didn't make it any better that Jack suggested to try the I-don't-give-others-power-over-my-feelings method on himself hahaha! Noxee: "Babies, let's eat!"

Noxee made very special churros for her Babies! They are sparkling like crazy! Noxee: "Made with extra love by an extra Queen for my extra Babies <3 " Saiwa is lost in thought. He has to face Jeb again soon. And then they'd have to part again when they head back home to Tomarang. He doesn't know what's worse. And Jack wishes he could eat Noxee's churros more often - without Greg at that, too...

Even though they are not blood related, they are like a little, dysfunctional family 💖

Outtakes

I mean, I get it that Saiwa refused to stay sit to eat because the flowers are placed at the counter. But why Jack? There is nothing! And why is Noxee eating while sitting even though there is an object at her counter? Omg this is so annoying! -.-

'Cerco l'estate tutto l'anno e all'improvviso eccola qua. Lei è partita per le spiagge e sono solo quassù in città. Sento fischiare sopra i tetti, un aeroplano che se ne va.'

'All year I'm looking for the summer and all of a sudden, here it is. She left for the beach and I'm alone, up here, in the city I hear wistling above the roofs an airplane that is leaving.'

Azzurro - Adriano Celentano

From the Beginning ~ Underwater Love ~ Latest Current Chapter: 🕹️ 'The One' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

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sallysavestheday · 1 month

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20 questions for fic writers

Thanks very much to @nocompromise-noregrets for the tag! This is always an interesting exercise and I haven't done it in a while.

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 182, but a goodly subset of those are collections of very short works (drabbles, my beloveds!).

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 137,372. I average around 700 words per ficlet (counting those that are collections of drabbles). I have only two works over 2,000 words -- one at barely 2,100 and one at 5,600 by dint of TRSB last summer.

3. What fandoms do you write for? Tolkien only. Mostly Silmarillion but occasionally Lord of the Rings, as well.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? I'm splitting this by fandom because the older LoTR stuff has more kudos simply as a function of time.

For LoTR: Deep in the Ancient Forests of the World; Light a Little Fire in Me; I Do Not Grudge You the Game; Rash Words and Bitter Hopes; Sing, O Stone and Air. These are all Legolas/Gimli ficlets.

For Silm: When All Other Lights Go Out (the aforementioned TRSB Feanorian family drama); What We Make, Makes Us (Caranthir and Feanor); What Keeps Us Here (Celeborn and Thranduil); Still Plenty of Good in the World (Sam Gamgee fixes Feanor and Nerdanel); and It Is the Opinion of this Reviewer (Finrod critiques the research of his peers).

No method to the madness here, it seems. Some shippy, most not. Some angsty, some humorous, mostly canon compliant. Range of Silm characters. Interesting to see the variety, actually.

5. Do you respond to comments? Always. Usually within a few days. Comments are a great way to get to know other people in the fandom, and it's always a pleasure to see familiar names pop up. It's nice to know I have a bit of a following. But I also love seeing new people appear, and I welcome everything from a single emoji to a full blown rant. I reply to them all.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Only one? Impossible to choose. I love an angsty ending. Killing Fingon off is always a delight (like this, or this). Sending people off to their dooms (like this, or this) is another. Making them consider might-have-beens, too (like this, or this, or this).

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I do also like happy endings! I write many happy post-canon returns, to tie up all the loose ends. Also happy moments within canon, but you usually have to pretend you don't know what comes next (blame the Professor, not me). For LoTR, These Our Braided Lives has a very happy Gimleaf ending. For Silm, try In These Altered States, Rejoice.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Spitting over my shoulder on this one, but no. Even the people who don't agree with my takes on particular characters have always been polite. Thank you, kind readers!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I don't write anything explicit. I'll read a wide variety but am more restrained in my writing. I've snuck a little bit into the mature range for a few things recently, but I prefer allusion and metaphor, really. It's the spirit of the intimacy that interests me, not so much the mechanics.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Nope. Canon compliant or canon adjacent always.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, I've had a few requests. My Thranduil seems to be quite popular in other languages.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I haven't but would be happy to explore the possibility.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Can't pick just one. Legolas/Gimli, Glorfindel/Ecthelion, Maedhros/Fingon, Finrod/Edrahil. The much rarer Egalmoth/Rog. And I'm pleased to have originated the tag for Amrod/Aredhel. Spitfire fans, get on that! (thanks to chestnut_pod for the horrible, wonderful ship name)

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Not a WIP, even, just an idea that I've mentioned before: an AU in which Fingon, returning from Thangorodrim with Maedhros, can't hold onto him, and he falls from the eagle's back into Lake Mithrim. I won't write it, but I sure hope someone else will.

16. What are your writing strengths? Brevity, ha! Condensing a great deal of emotional development into very few words. Figurative language. Ripping your heart out and stomping on it, tidily.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Dialogue. I don't write much of it, and it takes a long time to get it right.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I'm not likely to do so. I don't like the way it interrupts the flow. I'd rather indicate the language that is being spoken than try to craft compelling dialogue in it. This is especially fraught in the Tolkien fandoms, where the linguists WILL come for you if you get it wrong, lol!

19. First fandom you wrote for? LoTR. I've only been doing this for a couple of years.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? Impossible to choose! But my comfort series is The Flower and the Fountain: 16,000 words of Glorfindel and Ecthelion in 32 vignettes. I love those guys.

Thank you so much for the tag! @polutrope @eilinelsghost @melestasflight @tathrin @thelordofgifs @zealouswerewolfcollector, what about you? And anyone else who'd like to share, hop in!

#asks and answers #my fics #fic recs #tolkien fanfiction

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love-toxin · 2 years

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pleasantries -- dylan lenivy

cws: enemies to lovers, male reader/mlm romance, teasing, dirty talk but it's mostly praise, fingering, unprotected sex, bruising.

word count: 2.7k

he's a dumbass. genuinely. and no, you won't change your mind on that–Dylan has been a menace since the day he arrived at camp, and you're certain that he'll be that way until the day he dies. he's just so….so….

"thinking about me, gorgeous?"

so infuriating. he flashes you a wink and a smirk and you wish you could just slap it off his face.

"about how annoying you are? always."

"wow, I'm on your mind all the time, huh?"

"shut up."

you hate that he can twist your words so effortlessly to humiliate you, especially when there are other people around. your banter has reached legendary status at camp, to the point that even the campers feel the tension whenever Dylan starts teasing you when you're not in the mood. he's just lucky that the cabin you've shared with him is cleared out for the summer, and your fellow counselors are packing up at the lodge all the way across the field. and you're certainly ready to join them, but Dylan apparently wants to be a nuisance just one more time, since he steps in front of the entrance to the cabin and rests his arm on the doorway. even if you tried, there's no way you'll get past him when he towers over you so significantly.

"whoa! whoa–hold up, now. you gotta pay a toll to leave our beloved cabin eight, y'know."

"is it a kick in the balls?"

you're quick to bite back, but he holds his hand up to his ear, his two fingers sticking out to mimic exactly what you thought he was insinuating.

"it's your number, duh. and please don't kick me in the balls."

"and why would I give you that, exactly? so I can call you up for a good time?"

you say it in a tone dripping with mockery, and yet the grin on his face is all you need to sigh and roll your eyes. you knew for a fact from the first week of camp that Dylan's harboured deeper feelings for you, even though you're certain that it's just because you're the one other guy at camp that swings his particular way. it's nothing more than that…nothing.

"aw, c'mon, you mean two months of nagging you hasn't worked?"

"incredible, isn't it? and here I was thinking you'd get it with just one more day. shame."

you move to duck under his arm, but he stops you with a hand on your chest and winks. he really does think he's so smooth, and with a sigh, you shake your head and hold your hand out.

"y'know what? fine. gimme your phone."

Dylan's more than happy to do as you say, his metaphorical tail wagging as he drops his cell in your palm and straightens up with a winning smile on his face. it's so easy to make him think he won, you almost feel bad for holding it close to your chest and darting past him before he realizes what's happening.

"hey!"

you barely make it down two of the steps outside the cabin before he's on you, and fair enough, it takes him only a second to catch up when he's so much bigger than you. you can feel him on your back in seconds, and as much as you don’t want to admit it, it makes you stumble a bit when it feels a little…well, it feels better than you would’ve imagined.

"get back here, you!"

Dylan's arms reach around you easily, tightening like a vice around your midsection as he pins you back against him and starts carry-dragging you back through the door. and for once, you're laughing and giggling along with him as you try to wiggle away–but you end up achieving the opposite, as the more you flail in his grip, the worse his balance gets until his knees buckle against the bed and he falls backward into it. with his height to his advantage you don't even hit the sheets, you just fall into him completely as his phone slips from your grasp and clatters to the floor. panting, you hold your hands up as your white flag.

"alright, alright. you win. i admit defeat,"

on the contrary to what you expected, Dylan just squeezes you tighter, totally numb to the fact that his precious phone now lies abandoned on the floor beneath him. you poke at his arm and up his bicep whilst reminding him of his victory, with the full expectation that he would now let you go, but he just nuzzles his face into your shoulder.

"I know. I just like holding you."

the touch makes you freeze up, and the soft twinge to Dylan's words causes you to rethink your feelings, even if just for a moment. it's rare that you get to see him drop the faux-confident act, and even rarer so to hear him whisper so he knows you can hear.

"....you smell really nice."

"get off."

you feel his grip loosen immediately, and he holds his arms away from you to allow you full reign to get up and off his lap. but, instead, you wiggle about until you've turned yourself around and plopped yourself right back where you were. except this time, you can see for yourself how deeply Dylan is blushing. you lace your arms around his neck, your knees on either side of your lap, and grin to yourself as his eyes dart down and back up again.

"you like being beneath me, huh?"

Dylan stutters, his words coming out squeaky and sentences broken to the point of unintelligibility. eventually he realizes that it was worthless to try and speak, and he shuts his mouth for once.

you're not even sure whose clothes came off first, or who kissed who first, but before you know it your lips have introduced themselves, your shirt is bundled in his fist and he's got a hand on your lower back, his fingers dipping beneath the hem of your jean shorts. and his own top is gone, thrown somewhere on the floor of the cabin, and yours soon joins it when he tosses it aside and lays back so you can hover over him. and his kisses aren't too bad–they're gentle, sure, but they're there and once he introduces his tongue to the mix it gets a lot more heated, fast. it feels like forever to try and get your buttons undone, and your cock is already growing so stiff against the fabric that it just pulls a whine from you when you finally yank them down your legs. and it actually goes pretty smoothly then, up until the moment that you feel Dylan's palm brushing you through your boxers and it sends shivers racing up your spine.

"shit! ah, quit it, Dylan–don't make me cum yet…"

you bat his hand away and reach behind yourself like you were trying to, your fingers briskly wetted with spit that make it a much simpler task to press them inside yourself. however, it becomes a little more complicated when you've now got something hard pressing right into that spot, and in the moment that you hesitate Dylan's fingers pry yours out and replace them, much to your shock and strained awe. what surprises you even more is that when you turn your attention back to Dylan himself, he's got a concentrated look on his face like fingering you is some sort of complicated equation he's gradually figuring out. you're so tempted to make fun of him, and you're about to, until one of those long fingers of his presses against something vital and you moan instead of speak–and then he's got such a shit-eating grin on his face, and even worse, he doesn't stop prodding that spot once he finds where it is.

"keep moaning for me, you're so cute.."

you really have no say in the matter, because as long as he insists on curling his fingers into that spot that makes you melt, you can't do anything but hide your head in his chest and grumble about how annoying he is between each gasp. but his name comes out in a sweeter way than you mean it, and he's all too eager to unzip his jeans and guide your boxers down your thighs and off each leg before he settles you back into your place against him. with nothing separating you now, it all feels much more real, and it dawns on you that this is really happening–but you're a little too far gone to let your pride get in the way, and you let him push your hips down to meet the head of his cock. he's definitely bigger than you thought he was, but that's one thing you swear you won't let him know…until you cry it out when he pulls his fingers away and starts to enter you.

it's beyond embarrassing, and so is how warm your face has gotten, but Dylan just smiles and laughs breathily as you sink down lower on his cock with a "really?" on his lips. he's squirming a little bit, trying to alleviate the pressure that comes with how unbelievably tight you are, and at least it eases your nerves a little to see him coming undone and grabbing for the sheets just at the feel of you. when you've finally reached the end, or at least what feels like as much as you can take, you finally manage to move your hips–only for Dylan to gasp and grab your waist with those big hands of his, trying and failing to get you to stop as he whines that he's already too close.

"I'm too much for you, huh?"

you say it half-jokingly and half-smugly, but he's got nothing but sincerity in his eyes and his voice when he answers you in that tone laced with desperation.

"you're so pretty on top of me,"

this time you try to be more commanding as you order him to shut up, but it comes out more like a whine and he answers you so quick you can't think of any other good rebuttal.

"make me."

he doesn't need to say it twice, he can barely get it out once before your lips are on his again. it's disgusting how talky he gets when he's holding you down on his lap, his hips thrusting slowly like he doesn't want it to end too soon…it's…it's something you wish didn't feel and sound so good. Dylan's method is more focused on guiding you by the waist rather than trying to be rough–he grinds you down against him and pauses when you clench especially tight around him, and as much as you hate to say it, it's definitely one of the better ways you've been touched. every stroke and glide down his cock feels like trails of fire are left behind, your body so heated and warm that it feels like it's making your brain fuzzy and melting you from the inside out. you've been trying to keep him quiet, but you're the one that's making all the noise the second he starts ramping up and getting a little rougher with you, including the whimper you let slip when he brings his palm down on your ass in a sharp slap.

lucky for you, though, because you're not alone. Dylan may be doing most of the movement, but he's just as much of a mess as you are and can't stop arching his back into you, like it's impossible to even think of keeping still. he doesn't even seem worried about the door hanging open a crack–his eyes are on you and only you, and his grip only gets firmer and more possessive as you ride him faster and faster to meet his thrusts. if you didn't have the threat of someone stumbling upon your little session, then you probably would try to drag it out even longer to get as many of those reactions out of Dylan as you could. but time is not on your side even now, so you let him chase his own end because in all reality, you're going to cum much sooner than he is at this rate. much sooner, of course, being now.

"fuck!"

a few more f-bombs squeeze out of you as you ride him to your end, until you can't move because you're tensing up so much that even a stroke against you feels like fire against your flesh. your moans resemble sobs at this point, your untouched cock twitching and spitting cum all over Dylan's chest and yours, while he yanks your hips down with his bracelet digging into your skin as he cries out your name instead of your chosen expletive. the regret and shame starts setting in when you start feeling the warmth of his cum in your belly, but you brush it off because you're too tired to care and you barely have enough energy to lift yourself off his cock and collapse into bed beside him.

there are no words exchanged, just exhausted panting. he reaches over to touch you, to tousle your hair with his fingers, and for once you let him do it without any snarky remarks. maybe that's why he does it now, because you can also feel a kiss on your forehead that feels just as soft as his other kisses. it's nice, at least for a little while.

but before long, you work up the energy you need to pull yourself up and sit on the edge of the bed. Dylan sits back on his elbows panting, sweat dripping down his chest, and a glowing look about him like he's just been hit by cupid.

"you tell anyone about this-"

he just touches your hair again, and while you don't push his hand away, you do suck back what you were going to say and resign yourself to a pout instead.

"aw…still didn't win you over, huh? even with my massive, gut-churning-"

you shut him up with a kiss, because he really doesn't know when to shut up. he's such an idiot. he's your idiot.

"say another word, and you won't ever get it again."

you stand up on wobbly legs, and start pulling your pants back up and buckling them into place. if you were paying attention, you would notice the shivers down his back as he listens to the sound.

"you, uh…you don't wanna…clean up? I'll find you a towel,"

he flinches when you look back at him with the kind of intensity you've been saving for a moment like this. he's right, pulling your jeans up over your sticky skin when you haven't even wiped yourself off is not the most comfortable feeling, but…

"nope. I wanna smell like you for the rest of the ride home."

while you're retrieving your shirt, you scoop up Dylan's phone from where it's fallen, tap away at the screen for a few seconds, and turn to toss it into his lap which he safely catches. it's good he does, because if it breaks you'll have to listen to his whining all the way home.

"you'd better call me, idiot."

"I'd rather call you my boyfriend."

your eye roll could be heard from Spain, and so could his laughter at his own joke. it's not like you're gonna correct him though, because he thankfully has picked up on exactly what you were thinking. and it doesn't happen often, so you'll take what you can get where you can get it.

just as you're pulling your t-shirt on over your head, a clicking sound demands your attention and you shoot a look over your shoulder–and of course, there's Dylan, his phone's camera pointed at your bare back that's undoubtedly littered with bruises around your waist area. you cast a glare down at him, and he shrugs his shoulders but can't hide the satisfied expression on his face.

"what? I needed a contact picture…and, uh, a keepsake. y'know. for science."

he doesn't even believe his own bullshit for a second, but you can let it go. you'll just be biding your time for the ride home, because you know it'll be impossible for him to keep quiet if you can get your hands on him. and you don't even yet know that your night's going to turn out much different than you thought…which might make you wish you had taken a shower when you had the chance.

#dylan lenivy #dylan lenivy x reader #the quarry #male reader #2k #ellie writes

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deepperplexity · 1 year

Text

Prompt: 1. Home For Christmas

Pairing: Brandon x Wife!Reader

POV: Second, Reader

Setting: Delaford Estate

A/N: I'm a day late due to being super-duper sick, have been for 2 weeks now but I will do my best to make sure you'll get a fic a day until Christmas Eve darlings! 💚 We are kicking this month’s shenanigans off with our sweet Colonel Brandon returning home from overseas to you, his beloved wife, after being apart for nearly six months. I hope you’ll enjoy this very first fic 💚

Tags/TW’s: Fluff, Kissing, Longing

Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name

Word Count: 1,8k+

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // AO3 // LINK TREE

There was a dreary quietness constantly present at Delaford Estate recently. The staff was lovely and caring. You never lacked company or conversation. Yet, it was not right. There was a longing, a missing, within your heart that none could calm or remove but your beloved husband, your dear Christopher.

Christmas was approaching, when he had left the flowers had been in full bloom as summer had begun but now the ground was covered in glistening snow and there had been no news of his whereabouts for the past two weeks. You usually received at least one letter a week and the absence of news had constructed a knot in your stomach.

You wandered the halls, up the stairs, along corridors and past closed doors, downstairs and along the windows of the grand ballroom. Your home, in all its glory, was beginning to take on the gentleness of Christmas as the servants hung garlands, and switched the white candles for red and green ones. All around, it was slowly but surely unfolding.

“Christopher,” you whispered and looked out through the massive window, “where are you, my heart?” There came no reply, from the widespread landscape beyond covered in glistening snow or the empty halls you were so fully surrounded with. Come home to me, you thought while your fingertips graced the cold glass.

You watched as your fingers left trails of warmth behind, painting swirls and abstract patterns absentmindedly while your thoughts lingered on the gentleman you loved beyond what words could possibly describe.

A black dot appeared far off in the distance, your throat cinched itself tight as you gasped. It appeared to nearly fly over the field while snow was kicked up in a swirl all around. Closer and closer it drew, faster and faster your heart hammered.

Right at the top of the hill, it stopped. The massive black steed carried the most precious man atop its back, it reared and your smile took shape — spreading your cheeks wide as you ran to your left, opening the glass doors cleverly hidden among the windows.

The cold air of December greeted you, stroking your bare arms only slightly covered with a silken scarf, and you ran. “Christopher!” you shouted with joy as the steed set off in another gallop, heading straight for you as you bolted down the slipper stone stairs with eager relief at seeing your husband anew. “Christopher!” you called again with laughter in your voice, dropping the scarf being tugged at by the wind. Your minty green dress bounced around your running legs and you were too overjoyed by his arrival to even lift it up from the snow below.

You dashed along the covered gravel, flicked open the back gate of icy iron, and laughed as he halted his horse with a whinnying neigh carried towards the cloudy sky above.

You were in his arms the next second. Oh God, how I have longed for you, my heart, you thought while his sturdy arms came around your waist and he lifted you up so your feet lost their contact with the ground below. “Darling, oh, my darling,” he murmured by your ear as one of his hands grasped your neck while the other arm and hand held a firm grasp of your middle part while he lowered you down gently, still pressing you against his taller frame.

“How I have missed you, my love,” he said by your ear in that baritone, rumbling voice that sent shivers along your spine while the tip of his hooked nose dug into your upper shoulder.

“I’ve longed for you with every beating of my heart,” you said as tears rolled down your cheeks when his musky, sweet scent reached your nose and mingled with the smell of horse and salty sweat. You inhaled as deeply as you could before a slightly choked laugh bubbled up from your throat.

“Let me view you, my darling,” Christopher said as he loosened his grip and leaned back, but your lower halves remained pressed against one another. His light grey eyes roamed your features while his cold hand came around to stroke your blushing cheek. He watched you with such reverence, such warmth and joy, your heart could scarcely take it for much longer.

Your eyes met his before they danced over his features, from the perfectly large nose to the marvellously thin lips you knew to be incredibly soft to the touch. “Beautiful,” he whispered and you slid your hands up from his chest to grasp his sturdy neck, pulling him towards you. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice a throaty sound as his viewing of you alone set your insides ablaze with unrelenting warmth. “As I love you,” he replied and dove in for your lips.

Your mouths crashed against one another, sealing you together while your tongues darted out gently to dance and caress each other. Marvelling in each others’ tastes and warmth, gripping and kissing each other oh-so-fiercely. He had come home to you, and not a minute too soon.

You whimpered as he groaned into your mouth. Longing and love mixing and tangling with each other while his large hands grabbed at your dress and neck, pulling you as close as possible. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough when there was fabric, or even air, between the two of you. Ever since your wedding day, he had been the one thing you could never have too close.

However, as your lungs began to burn and the heat within was unable to battle the cold air around, your mouths parted with a gasp shared between you both. His eyes hooked yours, yours refused to let go of the connection.

“How I have missed you, most grievously so,” your husband said with a calm severity to his voice that elicited the sweetest sensation within your heart. “As I have you, my sweetest heart,” you replied just as his lips widened with the most beautiful smile in tune with your own display of joy.

He reached for the reins of his horse, separating the two of you for a moment before you could wrap your arm around his. The coarse but soft coat he wore felt offensive to your bare skin as you so longed to grace each inch of his pale skin once more. You had no wish for propriety or sensible waiting, you wished to view each sliver of him and assert that he was indeed home and wholly yours once more.

“Why have you not written?” you asked as you crossed through the back garden. “Oh, my love,” he began, “I wished to do so, but I hadn’t the chance. My mind was fully occupied with returning to you, darling, and the postage services are nearly inoperable at Christmas time, swamped as they are.” Oh, that makes utter sense now that I think of it for a moment, you thought while you leaned further into your husband.

“I worried,” you whispered, the sensation slipping away fully along with the confession. “I apologies, my love,” he murmured and tensed his arm, the voice he spoke with bore the markings of guilt for a little moment but you tilted your head and beamed up at him. Simply happy he had returned, safe and sound, in time for Christmas.

“Colonel Brandon, sir,” said Anthony, the stable boy, and bowed deeply. “May I take your horse, Colonel?” he continued with a smile and Christopher nodded, a sharp motion of his head, while he held out the reins and Anthony smiled widely at him. “Welcome home, sir,” he said with another bow of his head. “Thank you,” Christopher replied and then the boy led away the horse just as the two of you began to traverse the stone steps up towards the open glass doors to the ballroom.

“We will make a mess,” you whispered while looking down at your slightly sodden dress and the almost wet slippers from the snow your body heat had melted. Your husband merely glanced down and smiled, a sly smirk that tugged one side of his mouth upwards in a most handsome way.

The next moment, you giggled out a shriek as he hoisted you up bridal style and stomped off the snow from his shiny black boots before entering the ballroom. “We cannot be making a mess of the floors when they shine so prettily,” he said in a low humming and you clung to his neck with a girly giddiness. You always adored when he carried you, making you feel as light as a feather and in perfectly capable hands.

“I know of something far prettier, that I would adore making a mess of, in due time,” he whispered and you gasped, your cheeks heating and your stomach tightening with cording nerves and warming softness. “Christopher,” you chided in a soft whisper, even if you adored his mischievous side. “But it will have to wait, I sense a large welcoming taking place,” he said as he stopped by the flickering fire in the grand hearth of polished stone and wrought iron. He sat you down on the padded bench before it, allowing your sodden dress and cold feet to heat up and dry with the fire’s help.

And, as if he had spoken a certain truth of the future, the ballroom began to fill with the Delaford staff who all wished to welcome their master home. You sat and watched as the staff, one by one greeted your sweet husband with smiles and warmth in their eyes.

He was a good man, and now, he was finally home once more. Within reach, to touch and view, to hear and be heard by. You couldn’t stop the tears of joy seeping out before they trickled down along your cheeks and dripped from your chin before you had a chance to swipe them away.

Your heart was overjoyed, beating harder and faster than at any moment in the past six months of his absence. My heart, my husband, my Christopher, your mind chanted as he greeted the last maid with yet another soft but somewhat withheld smile.

Then he turned towards you, a warmth colouring his eyes a darker grey. How you loved him, how deeply he had rooted himself within your heart. You were not whole without him, and you had dreaded spending Christmas without him by your side.

Now, as he took your hand, you were filled with such gratitude towards the heavens for bringing him home safe and sound to you. “My love,” he said as he kissed your knuckles with a twinkle in his eyes. “My heart,” you whispered in return and then he tugged on your hand, forcing you to move forward a step while he reached out and clutched you gently. He kissed you once more, with all the passion in the world but so seductively slow it told you he had all the time in the world to adore you. You came home for Christmas, home to me… You thought while your body turned soft and pliable in his gentle hold as his lips worshipped yours and the rest of the world with all its garlands, snow and flickering candles fell away.

He was home.

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // AO3 // LINK TREE

A/N: Oh, I so hope you enjoyed this fluffy and light introduction to RICKMAS 2022! We have so much ahead of us and I sincerely hope you’ll enjoy every moment of this crazy month of daily fics!

MERRY RICKMAS DARLINGS! 💚

Taglist: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight41 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @sunnylikesfrogs @snowblossomreads @leah1243 @reinekefoxart

Want to be tagged? 💚 You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you! 😍

[Dec:2022]

#rickmas2022 #rickmas #colonel brandon #brandon fic #sense and sensibility #christmas fic #alan rickman #rickmaniac #deepperplexity #deepperplexity fic

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threetangerines · 1 year

Note

My submission for Readers Create game!

Title: Golden Hour

Prompts: Sunlight and Summer

Summary: A stolen afternoon.

Warnings: Explicit smut, kissing, cuddling, handjobs, orgasms, cunnilingus, dirty talk, fluff, sleepy Yoongi, ethereal Yoongi, reader in her feels, internal dialogue, teeny tiny angst, honestly I can't decide if this is fluffy smut or smutty fluff 😅

Word count: 641

Note: *Nervous huff* I feel so lucky to be able to contribute in some tiny humble way to the body of work that is this legendary story. I tried to lean way into the prompts and do something in my own way that hopefully, while under a different lens (?) still translated these lovely characters as our beloved author-nim intended them. I'm so scared to submit, but also so excited to have been given this gem of an opportunity. Thank you so much, Ryen, for opening this up - I had a blast!! 💖

______________________________________________________

You were bent over on the bed, the hoodie you were wearing - his - was pooling around the top half of your torso, it's warmth contrasting deliciously with the cool air hitting the rest of your otherwise naked body. You let out a shuddering sigh, digging your fingers into fleece lining that was not nearly as soft as the tongue sliding languidly up and down your labia. It was almost too warm for second layers, but his window was open and a breeze was wafting through the room. You could hear the chirp of the birds and the tinkle of a windchime as his lips found your clit and suckled.

"Yoongi…" Your voice was softer than usual, even as you whined his name.

Everything was softer.

He was softer.

He hummed in response against your sex, devouring you with a leisure befitting a stolen afternoon.

You had just come over to return something he had left at yours. When he had answered the door with mop of lovely mussed hair and a white tee and sweatpants, it had been immediately apparent that you had awakened him from a nap. When you had apologized and begged off he had grabbed you by the arm and pulled you into him, his lips skimming your temple. You had protested weakly, insisting that your brother would be home from work in a couple of hours and that it was your dinner night and other nonsense you secretly hoped he would ignore. He had said nothing, but had tugged you along and down into bed with him, pulling you against him greedily and nuzzling into your neck with a smug, if sleepy, grin, as if he know all along that you never meant to leave. The moment your bodies had fitted together in that way they always did, any thought of departure, or cooking obligations, or complicated consequences left your mind entirely. Yoongi, his warmth, his comfort, the butterflies in your stomach and the peace in your heart were all you could fathom. You had drifted off, then awoke to little kisses across your cheek. His hair was curling around his face, longer than usual recently (you knew it wouldn't last, he always changed his hair), and the light from the window behind him and spilling into the room around him made him look angelic. Demon that he usually was, his dark eyes so often full of hunger as he leaned over you, this visage of him took your breathe away. Unfair. "Hustler?" he had murmured in question to your staring, his voice gravely from sleep. You didn't answer, not with words - there was a golden spell hanging in the air, one you thought might shatter if you spoke above a whisper, so, you kissed him. You him kissed unhurriedly, in all the sorts of ways you had ever wanted to, just feeling his mouth move against your own. At some point you had pulled his pretty cock out of his pants started stroking it until he had cum, shaking and cursing softly, against your shirt.

That's how you had ended up in his hoodie, bent over, with his tongue inside you. You were so hazy with the decadent lust of the moment that you could barely hear his mummers against your sopping flesh. He was calling you 'doll'. He was cursing sweetly. He was lewdly and perfectly praising you. With a soft cry you came against his mouth, your orgasm dragging out sweet and long like a spool of honey as his lips continued to purr filth against your sex.

An hour later you were on his doorstep. He was leaning against the frame and looking down at you. Warm eyes, small smile. No rain. Not this time. This time the sky was gold.

They say that nothing gold can stay, but maybe, just maybe…

-Fin-

#ryen’s notes:#WHAT IN THE FUUUUU #VIOLETSIREN THIS IS BEAUTIFUL😭😭😭#holy hell you really went in and it’s under 700 words?!#damn. i’m so honored you wrote and shared this #these two need more soft moments and you totally delivered here #wow #love the soft atmosphere and could feel the heat and calmness?#floored!!#submissions #3fan:fic #3milestans #violetsiren90

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ktwritesstuff · 2 years

Text

Kashmir (a stranger things fanfic)

Title: Kashmir Fandom: Stranger Things Rating: Explicit Characters & Pairings: Eddie x plus-size femme reader Word Count: ~5000 Summary: First time with Eddie. Lovingly beta-read by @bs-fangirl. Additional notes, tropes, and content warning below the cut.

Notes: Our beloved Eddie was taken from us too soon (and in my personal opinion a victim of regular old bad writing). I could not sit idly by and let our boy die a virgin so here you have it: a soft and sensual first time fic; explicit but not too kinky. Tropes & Content Warnings: anti-fatness (alluded to,) first time, love bites, oral (cunnilingus,) orgasm denial, p-in-v, thigh-riding, witchy shit

Oh, let the sun beat down upon my face / And stars fill my dream I'm a traveler of both time and space / To be where I have been

You assumed–perhaps naively–that Eddie kept a condom in his wallet for the same reason you always carried a tampon: because you never know. That was really the theme of the year, after all.

Like that guy Billy Hargrove–an absolute Neanderthal for the short time you had known him–dying last summer saving a bunch of kids from that horrific Starcourt Mall fire, which was both utterly tragic and completely fucking weird. But all the more reason to seize the day–life was short–and you wanted to lay down your v-card before it was too late.

You and Eddie had been “official” for almost a year. Even longer if you counted the time you made out in Reefer Rick’s boathouse when the whole Hellfire Club tried acid after Eddie failed his senior year the first go-round. (Eddie usually did, but you insisted the relationship actually started when he finally asked you on a proper date.) Even though you didn’t know what would happen after graduating, you trusted Eddie more than anyone; it just felt right.

There was a lunar eclipse coming–a blood moon–Eddie promised to take you to an out-of-the-way spot he knew where you could moon-gaze in peace. You had read every pulp romance in the library; you were as ready as you’d ever be. This was your moment. You hadn’t told Eddie explicitly that you had christened him The Chosen One to finally divest you of your maidenhead, but you had certainly left him a trail of breadcrumbs.

Last week when you snuck out to the picnic table in the woods behind the football field between periods to make out. You hiked up your skirt and straddled his thigh, grinding against him and moaning in his ear as he peppered your neck with kisses and gentle love-bites.

“Feels good, mama?” Eddie murmured in your ear. You panted something approximating agreement as you rocked against him.

Eddie had one hand on your back, the other gripping the meat of your ass–you could feel his rings leaving indents in your soft skin. Their mate was safely nestled between your breasts, hanging from the leather chord you wore around your neck. You probably could have worn it on a finger, Eddie’s fingers weren’t much bigger than yours, but wearing it around your neck felt more feminine and special.

You sealed your mouth over his. You could feel his hard on pressing against your leg where it was tucked between his and traced circles against him with your knee to see how far he’d let you go.

“Careful,” he warned, patting your leg between soft, wet kisses. “If I cream my pants, I’m gonna miss Zelinsky’s big test and wouldn’t it be tragic for me to be cramming for my GED next year without you.”

You sighed, sitting back, making some space between your bodies. Eddie laughed, noticing the dark patch you had left in the torn denim of his jeans.

“Are you marking your territory?”

You grabbed the lapels of his leather jacket, pulling him closer with a sharp tug. A growl rumbled in your chest as you snapped at him, baring your teeth like a wild thing.

“Point taken,” Eddie cleared his throat. “Left leg. All yours.”

On the big night, you left your parents a vague note that you were staying over with a friend and Eddie picked you up in his beat up Chevy van. After a quick stop for gas and snacks, the two of you drove just outside of Hawkins, up the big hill overlooking Lover’s Lake. For a spot that was mostly used for drug deals, it was actually kind of nice.

Eddie cut off the lights but left the radio on as you opened the back doors of the van, spreading the quilt you had brought out in the back where the bench seats had been unceremoniously ripped out to make room for amps and other equipment for Eddie’s band.

“So when’s this party getting started?” Eddie asked, looking up at the sky with his hands on his hips.

“We won’t be able to see the total eclipse in this part of the world,” you explained, taking a seat in the back of the van.

“The Farmer’s Almanac said the moon would be entering umbra around 1 AM our time. That’s when we’ll start to see the shadow. As long as these clouds don’t get in the way.”

“We’ve got some time to kill, then,” Eddie said.

He slipped off his leather jacket and draped it over your shoulders like a cape before sitting down beside you on the bumper. You turned your face into the lapel of the jacket, breathing in the comfortable, familiar scent. Eddie always smelled faintly of pot and the vanilla extract he dabbed on his wrists to try to cover it up mixed with old leather and clove cigarettes.

At least the stuff he smoked smelled a hell of a lot better than the shit he sold the ramp rats who always stank up the stairwell behind the art room.

You had tried pot a couple of times, but it always seemed to make you more anxious instead of less. Apparently different strains worked better for different people, but at the end of the day you figured it wasn’t worth burning your throat all to shit to find the right one. Eddie had offered to make edibles, just as soon as Wayne fixed their oven, but you both knew that was never going to happen.

“You can smoke if you want,” you said. “I don’t mind.”

Eddie shrugged, leaning back on his elbows, legs swinging off the back of the van. He reached over to brush his fingertips up your arm.

“I’m always high when I’m with you.”

You rolled your eyes and Eddie cracked a smile.

“Cheese-ball.”

You found your Twizzlers in the convenience store bag and tore open the package. You pinned one between your teeth, letting it hang from the corner of your mouth. Eddie chomped at the air beside your face, trying to catch the long end of the Twizzler while you nibbled it to a smaller and smaller nub. You giggled as his efforts became more exaggerated and ridiculous. As you sucked the last piece between your lips, Eddie gave you a soft kiss and put his arm around you.

You weren’t afraid anymore to say you were built like the noble hobbits, who valued good food and good cheer above recognition and hoarded wealth. Eddie was taller–but not too tall–all long limbs and sharp angles. He wore mostly dark colors–heavy jackets and metal jewelry and, while you had certainly relieved him of a few of his more comfortable t-shirts, you still tended to favor a softer look: colorful crystals, lacy shawls, and long skirts in earth-toned florals. And yet somehow you always fit together: the town freak and the village witch.

“Did you bring your cards?” Eddie asked, leaning back on his elbows.

“Always,” you replied, digging through your bag for your tarot cards wrapped in silk organza. You had carried them everywhere since the day Eddie had given them to you.

You shuffled them deftly, which had taken a great deal of practice for your small hands, and held the deck out to Eddie with one hand.

“Cut.”

Eddie ran his fingers down the gilded edges of the deck lifting up a stack of cards, holding the bottom card up to face you. A horned winged figure crouched over a man and woman–who bore a passing resemblance to the Lovers–in chains. You rolled your eyes. The Devil.

“I know this guy,” Eddie said, holding the card up to his face and sticking out his tongue. “You can really see the family resemblance.”

“Stop it,” you nudged his shoulder playfully. “The Devil represents the dark parts of our psyche–the things we’re taught to reject or hate about ourselves. If you try to hide it or push it down, you get stuck, you feel trapped, but if you learn to work with it, you bring your shadow back into the fold.”

You took the cards from Eddie’s hand and began to re-shuffle.

“Is that what they teach you in witch school?” Eddie asked.

“Carl Jung,” you frowned. “You really did bomb Zelinsky’s test, didn’t you?”

“D+” Eddie rolled his eyes back in his head. “Would have done better if I wasn’t so distracted.”

Eddie bushed your hair behind your ear and kissed your neck as you shuffled.

You stopped when your intuition told you it was time and lifted the top card off the deck. Another of the major arcana, number 13: Death. This time Eddie burst into laughter.

“What the fuck is wrong with us,” he said, leaning into you.

“Nothing,” you said. “It’s not literally Death. It’s about change, transformation, letting something go, so something else can take its place. I love this card.”

You held the card out in the hazy moonlight, your other hand still resting on Eddie’s head as he leaned his cheek against your bare arm. You loved being this close to him.

“You know in D&D, when you have to choose between two paths–the party can’t decide so you flip a coin. When you see it lands on heads or tails there’s a split second where you feel excited or disappointed and you suddenly know what you wanted to do all along. It’s the same thing with tarot. How does it make you feel? And what are you going to do about it? The magic is inside you.”

Eddie plucked the card from between your fingers and replaced it on the top of the deck as he pressed his mouth close to your ear.

“What if I already know what I want,” he murmured.

From the front of the van an unmistakable guitar riff thrummed through the speakers as Robert Plant crooned.

You liked Eddie’s music, though you were still pretty far from a bona fide metal-head, given that you considered Stevie Nicks a personal style icon and had Rumours on repeat every day after school since 5th grade. Still, there was something undeniable about the electric crescendo of guitars and bass that you could feel tugging in your chest.

You placed a hand on Eddie’s head as he kneaded your breasts, leaving a trail of kisses down your throat.

“Hey Eddie,” you said, tugging on his shirt to get his attention. “Eddie.”

He paused, looking up at you, his eyes a little glassy. You waited for them to focus on your face.

“Do you want to have sex?”

Eddie blinked, sitting up with a jolt. “Wait, seriously? Right now?”

“Yeah,” you stammered. “I mean, not if you don’t want to. I just thought–”

Eddie raked a hand through his hair, making part of his fringe stand on end. His formerly languid limbs now vibrating at attention.

“No, I want to,” he said. “It’s just…I’ve never…actually gone all the way before.”

“Oh,” your lips parted with a sigh.

You were surprised, but not shocked. Eddie had been your best friend since freshman year; if there had been someone before you, you probably would have heard about it. You had put ‘older and more experienced’ on your ‘Pros' list when weighing your options, but now that you were confronted with an alternative, you thought it being both your first times made it even more special.

“Me, too,” you added, encouragingly

“Yeah,” Eddie said, sitting back on his heels, shrinking into himself. “It’s different for guys, though. Don’t you think? I might be bad at it.”

Eddie didn't show vulnerability easily; he was all hard on the outside, soft on the inside. There was something special about him admitting to being unsure. It made you feel even closer to him.

“You masturbate, right?” you said.

“That’s a little different, babe,” he said.

“Yeah, but what do you imagine doing?”

A blush was rising up under the collar of his shirt, turning his ears beet red.

“Do you think about me?” you prompted.

A little muscle in Eddie’s jaw twitched; that was a yes.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” you slid your fingertips down his arm. “I want to know. What do you think about?”

Eddie crossed his arms, looking out the darkened window. You reached out to touch his face, coaxing his gaze back toward you.

“That we’re in love,” he said. “Some place nice–not in my shitty van. That I make you feel good.”

“Oh, Edders,” you took threw your arms around him. “You really are the sweetest. I’m happy being here with you–that’s what matters. And if you want to make me feel good, I can show you how to do that.”

You reached up your long skirt, shimmying out of your underwear and tossing them aside. Eddie moved between your legs as you laid back on the quilt, supporting yourself on your elbows. He slid his hands up your legs, gathering your skirt up over your knees. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he looked down. He looked so thoughtful and serious; you couldn’t help but giggle.

“What?” he said, leaning over, pressing his face close to yours. “I’m just taking it in. I fuck this up, I might not get a second chance.”

You could feel his breath on your skin. You knew Eddie well enough to understand that he was just as hungry for approval and reassurance as everyone else. You took his chin in your hand.

“Eddie,” you said. “I want this. I want you. And the only way we’re gonna get good at this is if we practice, right?”

Eddie softened against you.

“Here, give me your hand.”

You moved his hand between your thighs, guiding his fingertips between your soft folds to the bundle of nerves at the hood of your clitoris.

“Right here,” you said. “Make circles right here.”

You sucked in a ragged breath as Eddie traced his fingertips around your clit in slow, careful circles, guitar-string calluses rough against the sensitive nub.

“Is that okay?” he asked.

You nodded with a soft moan.

“Feels good,” you breathed. “A little more.”

Eddie nodded, biting his lip in concentration, pressing a little harder, a little faster. You put your arms around him, moving your hands across his back.

“Just like that,” you said, arching into him. “Don’t stop.”

Eddie relaxed. His nimble fingers kept up the rhythm as he returned his attention to kissing you under the ear, down your neck. His free hand slipped under your shirt, sliding up your belly, squeezing the roll of flesh padding your side ribs.

While the tension coiled like a serpent in your low belly, you did your best to unbuckle Eddie’s belt and open his jeans with shaking hands.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he said, catching your hand before you could shove it down the front of his underwear. “Can I go down on you?”

You blinked hard, considering the proposition.

“I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m willing if you are,” Eddie said, punctuating each phrase with kisses across your collarbones. He paused to look you dead in the eye.

“I want to know how you taste.”

“Shit; yes!” you gasped, perhaps a little too enthusiastic.

Your breath hitched in anticipation as Eddie slid back, lifting your ankles as you settled onto your back.

“There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home,” Eddie chanted, tapping your ankles together above your head.

“Eddie!” You shrieked with laughter. “Focus!”

“I am shutting right up,” Eddie agreed, hitching your knees over his shoulders as he lowered himself down between your legs.

He pushed your shirt up under your breasts, placing a trail of kisses across your belly.

“Shit,” you gasped as he dipped his tongue into your naval. “That feels weird.”

Eddie paused, resting his chin on your belly as he looked up at you with his giant chocolate-brown eyes. “Do we like weird?”

“I think so,” you nodded, placing a hand on his shoulder, steadying yourself. “It’s kind of intense, right?”

“Yeah, it is,” he agreed. “You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”

“I will,” you said. “You too?”

Eddie nodded, pushing himself up enough to kiss the inside of your knee. His mouth traveled down, opening his lips to press his teeth against your thigh. His eyes flickered to your face to see if you would protest before he bit down, not hard, but enough to leave an impression in the delicate skin.

You closed your eyes and took a breath. Eddie’s van smelled like stale beer and sweat mixed with Tide detergent and your mother’s Calvin Klein perfume still lingering on your old quilt. Your heart was pounding; it felt like there was electricity buzzing under your skin. It was all too intoxicating.

Eddie brushed his fingertips along your tiger-stripe stretch marks, holding your hips with his face pressed against your groin, his mouth open, his tongue trailing hot and wet across the underside of your belly, moving lower and lower.

You reached your hands down his back, feeling his ribcage lift with each inhale. You gasped as he pressed his tongue into you and barely managed to stop yourself from accidentally boxing his ears with your thighs.

��Holy shit,” you sighed, running your fingers through Eddie’s hair to ground yourself back into your body .

You could feel his nose pressed up against your clit as his tongue explored your opening, tentatively at first. You resisted the urge to pull on his head, needing more.

“Can you–um–make your tongue wider?” You panted. You knew it wasn’t much of an instruction, but the sensation changed as Eddie followed your lead. “And more up and down.”

Eddie hummed an affirmation as his tongue trailed up the expanse of your vulva as you saw stars.

“Fuck,” you gasped, your head falling back against Eddie’s leather jacket, still bunched up under your head. “Don’t stop.”

Eddie placed one hand over yours where they were still tangled in his hair at the nape of his neck.

“Sorry!” You loosened your grip, but he wrapped his fingers around yours, closing them tighter.

“Okay,” you agreed, tugging gently. “Say when?”

You pushed Eddie’s head a little harder against you, carefully watching for signs that he was ready to tap out. Just when you were having serious concerns over how hard Eddie’s nose was pressed against your pelvic bone, he lifted his other hand to give you a thumbs up. His tongue moved in long steady strokes over your clit.

The sensation was incredible. Even better than you imagined; somehow relaxed and vibrant all at once; the knot of energy coiling tighter and tighter at the base of your spine.

“Eddie,” you moaned. “God, that’s good, Eddie.”

“Say that again,” Eddie said, extracting himself from the dense brush padding your mons just enough to be audible.

You smiled to yourself.

“Eddie,” you called, louder this time, your toes curled in excitement. “I’m close, Eddie. So fucking close.”

Eddie hummed against you, sending warm vibrations up the length of your spine. You squeezed your eyes closed; red sparkles danced behind your eyelids.

“Fuck! Eddie!” You let out a long sigh as the bundle of energy in the deepest part of your core finally unfurled.

Eddie popped up from between your thighs like a daisy. His hair was sticking out at odd angles, a tangled mane around his face; his mouth and chin glistening in the dim light.

“Did I get it?” he asked, eyes wide with excitement.

“You definitely got it,” you assured him with a laugh, realizing his button nose was bright red and still a little squished.

“First try!” Eddie pumped his fist triumphantly.

“Come here,” you ordered, grabbing a fist-full of his shirt to pull him up, pressing your mouth over his.

It was a little surreal, tasting your own salty-sourness on Eddie’s lips and in his mouth. You felt hot and swollen and wild and strange.

“I want to do you,” you said, grabbing the waistband of Eddie’s Levis. “Can I?”

“It’s, uh, kind of a one-and-done thing on my end,” Eddie cleared his throat. “At least it takes a bit to get warmed back up for the encore.”

“How long do you think?” you asked, rooting the convenience store bag for a can of soda, cracking it open and taking a long drink to cool your throat.

“Half hour,” Eddie said. “Maybe a little more.”

You paused to consider. It really wasn’t that long, after all, you had planned a whole night of star-gazing, but you didn’t want to wait. You felt ravenous.

“Thirsty?” You held your drink out to Eddie.

“Yes, please.”

Eddie took the soda and gulped it down, tossing the empty can aside.

“Okay,” you sat up, brushing your sweat-damp hair off your face. “Do you have a condom?”

Eddie nodded

“I think we should do it,” you said. “All the way, right? Let’s just fucking do it.”

It seemed strange to tip-toe around the words now. But what were you supposed to call it “real sex?” As though what Eddie had just done to you, for you didn’t count?

“I think I’m ready. I want you inside me. I’m fucking soaked,” you said. “Do you need me to do anything for you?”

“You’ve done enough,” Eddie said, pulling you into him by the neck and kissing you hard.

You giggled against his lips as he toed off his shoes, letting them fall to the ground outside the van doors.

“She’s laughing,” Eddie said, sliding out of his jeans. “I’m taking off my pants and she’s fucking laughing.”

“I’m happy,” you said. “I’m laughing because I’m happy!”

Eddie fished his wallet out of his now discarded pants, digging through it for a foil wrapped condom.

“It’s been a good run, buddy,” he announced, tearing it open with his teeth. “It’s your time.”

Eddie slid his checkered boxers down past his knees to roll on the condom and you stopped to look. Without much to compare it to, he seemed a respectable size. Not huge, but that was quite alright with you. From what you knew about trying to work more than three fingers inside yourself, you had never understood the girls in the locker room proudly declaring that their boyfriends were hung like horses.

Eddie was your Goldilocks, always just right.

“Like what you see,” Eddie noticed you watching and pulled a face, hands on his hips, erection bobbing. “I have to say it’s a titty bit nipply.”

With anyone but Eddie, you’d be horrified by the showboating and spectacle, but Eddie made everything easier.

“Can I be on top?” you said.

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded. “You got it.”

Eddie exchanged places with you, laying down on the blanket. Despite his bravado, you could feel him tremble a little as you knelt over him.

You freed your top from where it was tangled up under your boobs and pulled it off over your head.

Eddie rested his hands on your thighs, stroking them lightly. He sighed as you unhooked your bra, sliding the straps off your shoulders and setting it aside.

“Best seat in the house.”

Eddie slipped his little finger through the ring hanging from your necklace and tugged gently, guiding you down into another long kiss. His tongue moving against yours, exploring the roof of your mouth and the insides of your cheeks.

You reached down between your bodies. Eddie gasped as your fingers found his cock under the draped fabric of your skirt. You bit your lip in concentration as you guided him to your entrance and slowly lowered yourself down.

You stopped, feeling a sharp tug. Your muscles clenched. You gripped the back of the driver’s seat with one hand and took a deep breath, willing your pelvic floor to relax.

“Here,” you ordered, grabbing one of Eddie’s hands and placing it on your breast. “Touch me here.”

Eddie let out a low moan, his face scrunched up, cute little wrinkles creasing his nose as he palmed your breasts.

You moved Eddie’s hands as if they were your own, no performance or hesitation, guiding them over your breasts, your throat, your stomach.

It felt strange, reveling in being touched on the parts of your body you had always been told you should be ashamed of. But it was impossible to be ashamed with Eddie. He never expected you to be quite or make yourself smaller. He always made enough space for you to be fully yourself.

You lowered your own hands to Eddie’s chest, comforted by the warmth of his body. You sank a little deeper. You felt tremendous relief when you realized your weight was resting fully on Eddie’s hips. No pain, just firm pressure, verging on discomfort, but still somehow pleasurable.

“Is that good?” you asked.

“Yeah, I’d say that’s pretty fucking good,” Eddie stammered.

You walked your hands up from Eddie’s chest, placing them beside his head, leaning over him.

“You like it?” you asked.

Eddie nodded, biting his lip, pressing his face into the soft skin of your breasts. You whimpered softly as he traced circles around your nipples with his thumbs.

“You?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Feels kind of…full or stretched. I think I just need a second.”

“You take all the time you need, babe,” Eddie said, his voice sounding tight, like after smoking too many cigarettes.

As you felt the tension of your inner walls release a little more, you walked your hands back toward your knees, experimenting with lifting your hips and lowering them back down. It felt new and exciting, but didn’t measure up to the wave of arousal you had felt with Eddie’s tongue on your clit.

“Shit,” Eddie ran his hands down your body, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.

Emboldened, you lifted yourself up, moving toward standing on your knees and dropped yourself back down.

“Christ, that’s good,” Eddie gasped.

Eddie pressed his eyes closed, as you moved against him. You felt a sudden wave of gratitude for your own body and the pleasure it could feel; the pleasure it could give.

You laughed, body pitching forward. You noticed a phenomenal gripping sensation as you rocked your hips forward and back. Like grinding against his thigh in the woods, but deeper, more of a push than in and out.

You had taken months to prepare for this moment. You had read every book you could get your hands on and eavesdropped outside the girls’ locker room before cheer practice.

Hell, you had even loitered outside Family Video for an hour waiting for Steve fucking Harrington to take his break so you could sneak into the adult section of the store. Robin had given you the side-eye–you couldn’t really blame her–but she was no narc.

You thought if you had all the information you would know what to do, but now that you had found your rhythm, you found yourself relying on pure instinct.

“I’m close,” Eddie warned.

“Not yet,” you whimpered, feeling the tension building deep in your core. “Not yet.”

Judging from the look on Eddie’s face, your pleading was not helping the situation. Just when you were certain he couldn’t wait for you any longer you reached between your bodies, pressing your thumb hard into the base of his shaft just above the balls.

“Fuck!” Eddie shouted. Loud. “What kind of Jedi mind trick was that?”

You were worried you might have hurt him, but Eddie’s good-natured teasing put you at ease.

“Patience is a virtue,” you offered him a polite grimace.

Having bought a few more minutes, you shifted your weight forward, lowering yourself down. Eddie ran his hands up your back, placing one hand on the back of your head, moving the other to hold your face as he bucked his hips up into you with slow but insistent strokes.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he panted.

You whimpered, digging your nails into Eddie’s shoulders. You could feel the tension unfolding inside you as your inner walls clenched around Eddie’s shaft.

“That’s it,” you sighed, riding him through the sensation. “You feel amazing.”

Eddie’s face scrunched as he reached his own unimpeded climax with a deep moan that you could feel deep in your core.

Your body felt supple and relaxed as you rolled over to lie down beside Eddie. The breeze coming from the lake felt cool against your sweat-damp skin and carried the smell of wet grass and pine resin.

“Are you sure you’ve never done that before?” Eddie panted, turning his head to meet your gaze. “Cause I’m pretty sure I just saw God.”

“Shut up,” you laughed, smacking his arm gently. Eddie chuckled.

“You’re like a sex prodigy,” he said, turning onto his side.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you said.

Eddie put his hand on your shoulder, meeting your gaze. Just outside the sky was still overcast, but the moon entering umbra cast the earth in a pinkish glow.

Eddie took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.

“Hey,” Eddie said. “You know I love you, right?”

You nodded. “I know.”

#stranger things fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things s4 #fix it fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things smut

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jeonqkooks · 1 year

Text

our beloved summer | jjk (06)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader

genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, swearing, kissing (omg k1ss1ng omg WHO IS IT ??? 😦), tbh this is the only warning i wanted u guys to read cuz 6 chapters in and we finally get sum action i feel like that's a win lmaooooo, jimin being Real as fook, unbeta'd cuz uhm i'm a godless menace who should be conked on the head, once again we are severely lacking jk in his own fic lol i'm owning up to this 🤗 BUT! this is probably the last chapter where jk feels like a side character lol apologies my dudes

rating: PG-13

word count: 8.1k (honestly i wrote obs6 just so i could get to obs7 lmao that's why it's a lil bit shorter)

note: my apologies if this sucks. you are legally allowed to stone me if you hate it. but i hope you don't hate it. but if you do hate it don't tell me just stone me lol 🤐 why am i so unhinged with this update

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

I can see you starin', honey Like he's just your understudy Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me

Exile - Taylor Swift (ft. Bon Iver)

The picture is fucking terrible.

“Jimin, what the fuck,” you grumble, staring at the huge framed photo on the wall, taken on the day of the opening party. You, Taehyung and Jimin are gathered on the floor of the dance studio, with boxes of takeout neatly sitting between the three of you. “I look like ass.”

Jimin barely glances at the wall, just continues to stuff his face with the dumplings that you ordered. “You look fine,” he says absentmindedly, mouth full, continuing to munch on the food despite your little dilemma.

“Bitch, I have my eyes closed.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“I look like I’m in the middle of a sneeze.” You cross your arms in front of your chest, squinting at your photographed self again. The more you look at it, the more irritated you become.

Realistically, you know nobody would pay enough attention to notice the immortalized visual of your fluttering eyes, and you yourself wouldn’t care about it that much. Maybe you would even laugh in good spirits and poke fun at yourself as you often do. Make a meme of it for the group chat.

“What’s the big deal?” Jimin asks.

You shrug petulantly. “I told you. I look like ass.”

Yeah, true, but it’s also more than that.

It’s the fact that the person standing next to you looks so good that you must voice your grievances. It’s the fact that he looks so much more than just good.

The guys stop eating to look at you. You wonder just how much of what you’re feeling is written all over your face. Regardless, they don’t comment on it.

One of them clears his throat, shaking the whole thing off.

“Did you tell Yoongi anything yet?” Jimin asks.

You poke at a lone dumpling with your chopsticks, popping the ‘p’ when you say, “Nope.”

“Damn, Y/N,” Jimin scolds you. “It’s been three weeks. He doesn’t want to push you for an answer but the man has got to be suffering.”

You flick a piece of spring onion garnish at him. It lands on his hair, a single bit of green sitting among golden locks. “I don’t know what to tell him!”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Jimin shakes the onion piece from his head and chucks it back at you. “Obviously you say yes!”

You exhale through your nose, then take a bite of your dumpling. You nibble on the fried dough, stretching out the silence, delaying your response.

It hasn’t even started, and it might not even start. But you’re already thinking about all the things that could go wrong. Yoong is your friend, first and foremost. He’s a good friend, and you would be crushed if you lose that relationship.

What if he hurts you, or you hurt him?

Sometimes, people are meant to hurt each other even if they don’t mean to.

Yoongi hasn’t seen your pieces in all of their jagged glory, how they’re only meant to reflect the light but never be healed by it. He’s still blissfully unaware of the ugly thoughts that have a home inside your head, and you’re afraid if you let him in, he’d realize it’s a place he doesn’t want to be. It’s hard to love a broken thing. You wouldn’t want to love you either.

Maybe this is the real reason that’s been holding you back all this time. Maybe it isn’t Jungkook - though he certainly isn’t absolved - but it’s you, and how you just don’t know if you’re someone who deserves to love and be loved. You’ve felt inadequate more times than you can count. You’ve been left before. Who’s to say it isn’t going to happen again?

You’re well aware that this is a bad way to look at things, but can anyone really blame you? You still have a heart, and despite how fragmented it is, you still want to protect it.

“I know that look,” Taehyung says, parting your fog and pulling you back to him. “You’re overthinking again.”

You roll your eyes. He knows you so well, but does he have to call you out every time?

“I’m not overthinking. I’m regular thinking.”

“Right. And to normal people, that’s overthinking.”

“It’s just…” you wonder out loud, gaze on the floor. “What if I go all in, and Yoongi sees me for who I am and thinks that I’m just an utterly sad person who can’t be loved? That I’m too much work when he’s got literally thousands of people throwing themselves at him left and right?”

Taehyung stares at the side of your face as he bites the inside of his cheek. His tongue soothes the spot, his jaw clenching once. “He’s not going to think that.”

“You don’t know that,” you say, the corners of your mouth tugging down.

“You’re not unlovable just because one person didn’t love you right. So stop it with that bullshit, because I love you,” he says, voice serious. Even Jimin stays silent as he listens to his friend, his eyes flickering between you and Taehyung. “And Jimin loves you. Hobi loves you.”

You merely blink, because you hate it when he’s right. In all fairness, you understand. This is the same thing you would tell him if the situation were reversed.

You deflect anyway. That’s what you do best.

“You don’t count,” you tell him with an unserious scoff, your tone starkly contrasting his. “You’re my family.”

You taste something bitter as soon as the words leave your mouth. You should know better than anyone, that just because someone’s your family, doesn’t mean they have to love you.

Taehyung reenacts the blinking guy meme before chuckling, holding a hand over his chest like you’ve just wounded him. “Ouch.”

“You two are getting nowhere,” Jimin interjects. “Just call Yoongi.”

“And say what?” you ask.

“I told you. Say yes. God, you’re so dense sometimes.”

You reach over to jab a finger into his side, making him hiss and shuffle away from you.

“That wasn’t nice,” you grumble.

“Well, somebody’s gotta say it.” He gives you a look, eyebrows raised for a few seconds before he lowers them and grows more stern. “Come on, Y/N. You know you don’t want to say no, or else you would’ve turned him down already. You said you wanted to start dating again. Yoongi is practically on his knees offering himself to you. What are you waiting for?”

There’s a voice in the back of your head - tiny, barely audible - that whispers, Who are you waiting for?

“Fuck it, I’ll say it,” Jimin continues. “It sucks balls that Jungkook hurt you, but you can’t let that affect you for the rest of your life. Not everyone is going to hurt you. You’re not even giving Yoongi a chance just because someone else did you dirty. If you keep always thinking about the worst possible outcome and banking on it to happen, then you’re never going to get anywhere. I love you, dude, but y’know.”

You stare at Jimin with your mouth slightly open, stunned into silence. When you glance at Taehyung, he’s surprised too, though probably not as much as you.

After a couple of minutes, you say, “Wow.”

“Tough love. I have my moments.” Jimin shrugs casually, like he didn’t just drop a truth bomb on your head. “But also…” He picks his phone up and types something in. Your phone instantly buzzes with a notification.

“Open the link I just sent you,” he says.

“You are literally sitting across from me.”

“Just open it! I made you a playlist.”

“Aw, Jimin, that’s so cute,” you coo softly, reaching over to pinch his cheek before he swats your hand away. You unlock your phone to see what Jimin made you, because that is some friendship hall of fame stuff right there. However, when the link redirects you to your music app, your smile immediately drops.

Aaand he’s back.

You stare at the screen for a good ten seconds to try and find your bearings, flabbergasted at something that is quite honestly very on-brand for Jimin if you think about it. “You made me a playlist called Dick Appointment with an eggplant emoji and the tongue out emoji and it’s mostly just Yoongi’s songs. Even the playlist cover is from his Valentino shoot.”

“So you can get it on while Agust D plays in the background!” Jimin grins, and you could just smack it right off his face.

“Park Jimin, who raised you? You are vile.”

“Validate me,” he demands. Oh, you would smack him. You really would. “I spent hours making that playlist.”

“It’s literally just Yoongi’s songs.”

“Yeah, but I had to curate an experience. I can’t just dump every song into a playlist and call it a day. I gotta make sure they fit the vibe.”

“I literally just heard the most profound shit from you not even two minutes ago.” Then, you turn to Taehyung with an exasperated look on your face. “Why would you let him do this?”

He just waves a dismissive hand in the air, like Jimin isn’t even there. “I’m not responsible for the stupid shit he does.”

Jimin crosses his arms in front of his chest, both eyebrows raised dramatically as he gapes at you. “You both suck. From now on, you can make your own sexytime playlists.”

“Nobody even asked you to do that!” you cry.

“Yeah! Which makes me an even more considerate friend,” he says. “Ugh. Whatever. Go call Yoongi.”

“You want me to do it now?”

“Yes. Because I know you’ll wuss out when you’re alone. You can stay and put him on speakers for us to hear or you can go out into the hallway. Come on, chop chop.”

“No, I have to text him first,” you protest. “What if he’s busy?”

Jimin narrows his eyes at you suspiciously, but allows you this after a moment. “Fine.”

You take out your phone from your bag that’s lying carelessly on the floor to draft a quick message to Yoongi.

[12:59] You: got a minute?

The three of you go back to the food, abandoning the previous topic of conversation in favor of something lighter and meaningless or else you would go crazy waiting for Yoongi’s reply. After you’re finished, you and Taehyung are in the middle of putting away all the empty containers and soda cans when your phone buzzes again.

You go to grab it to look at the notification, hands already starting to sweat.

[13:17] Yoongi: for you? always :)

You turn back to the guys to find them already looking at you. Jimin wiggles his eyebrows suggestively while Taehyung just stares at you.

“Time to get your whore on,” Jimin says in an exaggeratedly sultry voice.

You turn to Taehyung for help. “He’s bullying me.”

“Ignore him,” your best friend tells you gently. “Go call Yoongi.”

When you take your phone out into the hallway, you make sure to go to the far end of it, near the main entrance so the two dorks can’t eavesdrop. You’ll tell them everything once you come back anyway, but you don’t want them within earshot while you’re in the middle of it.

Yoongi picks up your call on the third ring. In the background, your ear picks up on some chatter.

“Hey, princess,” he greets you. Then he holds the phone away from his ear to tell someone that he’d be back in a bit.

“Hey,” you say. “Where are you?”

“Just at a fitting. I have an ad campaign to film next week,” he answers. “Did you call just to get my whereabouts?”

“No, I… If you’re busy, we can talk later.”

“We’re still in the middle of lunch break anyway. What did you want to talk about?”

You briefly regret not taking a minute to psych yourself up before. You suck in a deep breath, which eases your nerves for just a second, long enough for you to say, “Yes.”

You’re met with brief silence from the other end of the line, which only makes your palms more clammy than they already are.

“Yes?” he echoes confusedly. “Yes what?”

“Yes,” you say again. “To…”

The silence commences once more, and lasts longer than you think you can handle. Then, you hear him stop in the middle of a breath.

“Oh.” A subsequent chuckle in response to the lightbulb that must’ve been switched on. “To that?”

“...Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

It feels like you two have invented a secret language that nobody else could understand. A single syllable, bouncing off the metaphorical walls of your conversation. Two idiots sharing the same brain cell.

“Yes?” he continues to prod, but at this point, you know he’s just teasing you.

“Yes! God, stop making me say it again. We sound so stupid.”

He graces you with a hearty laugh that makes you fight back a sheepish smile, even though there isn’t a single soul in sight to witness it. Yoongi makes you so fucking shy for some reason. Your nerves dissolve momentarily as you lean against the wall, your index finger running along a crack in the paint.

“Hmm, I wish you would’ve told me this in person,” he says, his voice soft.

“I can’t handle you in person. You’d tease me so much.”

“Because you’re adorable when you’re flustered, that’s why.” He waits a second before adding, “You’re blushing right now, aren’t you?”

“You’re being overly confident, Min.”

“Maybe,” he responds easily. “But am I right, though?”

“Shut up.”

When Yoongi said he would cook for you, you almost gasped.

“You can cook?” you had asked. It wasn’t an earth-shattering revelation or anything, but you suppose you’d never given much thought to the hidden sides of him.

“Y/N,” he laughed then. “I’m a great cook. I could probably make a pretty decent career out of being a chef.”

“I didn’t know that,” you told him sheepishly.

“There’s a lot of things you still need to know about me.” It sounded like a promise. Like I’m willing to show you me. Like I’m willing to take the first step if you’d be in this with me too. “Does that sound like a good idea? You, me, dinner at your place?”

“My place?”

“Yeah, so you’ll be more comfortable. I’ll come over.”

This one simple gesture shouldn’t affect you that much, but it does. You appreciate that he’s considerate even when it comes to the littlest things. You swell with gratitude for the thought he puts into this, into putting your comfort first. It made you feel a bit better about yourself, calmed your stormy sea of thoughts enough to rationally accept the fact that he genuinely cares.

Regardless, it doesn’t stop you from spending most of the day obsessively cleaning your apartment. Even - and especially - your bedroom, although you’re sure that is not where the night will end. Every surface is spotless, not a single speck of dust to be found. It’s like the goddamn Pope is coming over for a house inspection.

You haven’t had a first date in… fuck, how long has it been now? Nine years? It’s almost been a fucking decade already? You honestly can’t tell if that’s embarrassing or not.

But you remember the last time.

College, freshman year, with Jungkook. His yellow piece of sticky note that he slipped inside your favorite book. His adorably flustered expression when he timidly stood in front of you in the campus library. The way he was trying so hard to be confident and charming throughout your first dinner together. How he ran back to you after saying goodnight.

No.

You shut your eyes and shake your head, warding off any Jungkook-related thoughts before they could send you spiraling. You can’t reminisce about your ex while waiting for someone else to show. Yoongi deserves better, and that’s what you’re trying to be.

You’re not exactly sure how nice you should dress tonight. Yoongi told you that you could be clad in sweats for all he cares. If the dinner didn’t hold any connotation other than platonic, maybe you would’ve really donned your loungewear like you were merely having Taehyung and Jimin over for pizza.

You’d completely forgotten all the things people worry about in the early stages of dating, when you want to impress the other person but don’t want them to think that you’re trying too hard.

Calm down. It’s just Yoongi. He’s seen you ugly crying with mascara running down your face, for fuck’s sake.

In the end, you opt for a sweater and a comfortable skirt. Casual.

Yoongi rings your doorbell about ten minutes later than when he said he’d be there, holding a bag full of groceries. The visual alone makes you bite back a giggle and subsequently fail. You believe this is what people would call husband material.

You take his coat and guide him into your home. “Welcome to my humble abode,” you say shyly, gesturing around as you lead him into the kitchen to show him where everything is. Why are you acting like this? This isn’t you. If Taehyung or Jimin could see you right now, they would probably laugh. Hoseok would straight up be rolling on the floor.

You barely breathe as you watch Yoongi take in his surroundings. It’s intimidating, even though you know it’s just Yoongi.

“I actually don’t know what I expected, but I like it. It’s very you,” he comments, smiling.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that it’s cute,” he says, throwing you a wink as he leans against your kitchen counter.

You avert your gaze immediately. “Oh… Thanks,” you reply, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “So, uhm, what are you making? How can I help?”

“Just sit down. I got this.”

“Yoongi,” you say his name in protest. “I want to h-”

“I’m trying to romance you here. Let me do that,” Yoongi says, his smile turning lopsided as he starts emptying the contents of his grocery bags. Even though his tone is light, the gentle reminder of tonight being a date shuts you right up.

You take a seat at your dining table, though you can’t really sit still. As Yoongi starts working, you absentmindedly talk to each other about your day, about his campaign, about Seokjin’s album. At one point, you get up to creep over to his side when the smell of whatever he’s making becomes more prominent. You try to peek at the pot, curious, but he just shoos you away by bumping his hip against yours.

When you give him a small pout, you pretend not to notice the way his eyes dart to your mouth. You retract yourself from his personal space, choosing a spot on the other side of your kitchen island, staring at his back as he works.

You watch him expertly navigate your kitchen like he’s been here before. When he’s finished, he makes you sit down, not even letting you help bring the food to the table.

“What is it?” you ask once he’s settled in his seat, everything plated in front of you.

“Kimchi jjigae,” he says, a proud look on his face. “My mom’s recipe.”

It’s endearing, and it makes you smile.

For the most part, Yoongi lets you eat in peace, though there’s still a couple of flirtatious comments here and there. Every time it comes, you bite down on your bottom lip to try and snap out of that daze before you cough, as if that would help tone down the colors adorning your face. There’s no verbal response from you, and it seems like Yoongi doesn’t expect one either, because he just chuckles. You think he must notice the palpable nervousness that radiates off of you, but it’s not like you’re doing a very good job at hiding it.

You’re taking baby steps and he knows it. The fact that you even agreed to this at all is already major progress.

When you’re done eating, he clears the table while he asks you to open the expensive bottle of wine that he brought over. It does wonders for your nerves.

Three glasses in and you’re visibly more relaxed as you both sit on the couch in the living room, facing each other. There’s a small smile on your face that you can’t help, maybe it’s some of your inhibitions wearing off as a side effect of the alcohol.

You glance around the room, and you take in the sight of Yoongi sitting here, this close to you. He feels bigger than your small world can handle.

“You know,” you start. If the wine didn’t make you more mellow, you probably wouldn’t be saying this. “There are thousands of people thirsting over you every day.”

Yoongi tilts his head, swirling the wine in his glass. “Really?”

“Don’t you look at the internet? I personally know two girls from college who are on the Yoongi Marry Me train,” you say matter-of-factly, like you aren’t borderline tipsy in front of him.

You aren’t an avid Twitter user, but every time you check the damn bird app, Yoongi is almost always trending. In every single one of his posts on social media, there is always an influx of comments asking him to marry them. Not only that, when word first got out about you collaborating with Agust D back then, people you knew - both old friends and acquaintances - practically bombarded your messages to see if it was true, and to ask if you could get them an autograph.

Yoongi stretches out his legs until they brush against yours. Your stomach flips even though it’s only your legs that are barely touching.

“The what train?”

“You seriously don’t know about the Yoongi Marry Me movement? Look it up. It’s a whole thing. People would do anything to, I don’t know, hold your hand or something.”

With an amused look on his face, he holds your gaze. “Would you?”

“What?”

“Would you do all of that just to hold my hand? Because you don’t have to, y’know.” He brings the wine glass to his lips, partially hiding his face from you, and you don’t know whether he’s doing it for your sake or his in preparation for the words he speaks next. “But I would do it to hold yours.”

You’re sure that your cheeks are burning bright, your stomach twisted in knots. It’s the wine, but it’s definitely the effect of his words too. You stare at Yoongi in surprise; no matter how many times he openly flirts with you, he’d still elicit the same reaction from you. It’ll be hard to get used to it. He just always seems to know what to say to make you blush like a schoolgirl, which you resent but you can’t deny the sparks of excitement that make your fingertips tingle.

Yoongi is smooth, and it’s even worse - or is it better? You haven’t decided yet - that you know he means every word he says. It makes you feel… wanted. It’s good to know that he’s being genuine, and to know that Yoongi isn’t the type of person who would ever pull the rug out from under you.

Yoongi is… stable.

You suppose, after everything you’ve been through, that stability is what you need. It’s good for you.

You try to swerve around the thoughts, to avoid them at all costs, but deep down you know now that they’re glaringly true.

That love is stored in two bags of groceries, so filled to the brim that some onions almost fall out. Love is stored in every flick of his wrist holding a knife, slicing the sharp blade across your cutboard. Clean cuts, yet he’s never this way when it comes to you.

Love is stored in a fond smile and adoring eyes when he sees how you cradle your expensive dishware like it’s a newborn baby before you set it carefully on the table.

Love is stored in a Yoongi-shaped silhouette, dancing over your countertops with practiced precision in every movement, filling in the cracks of your home. The love in him is reserved because you, like the moon when it crescents, still have a ways to go.

When he stands at your door an hour later with his coat in hand, you wait for him to speak first.

“Performance review?” he asks. “How did I do?”

“I… liked it. It was nice,” you say honestly. But you still feel the wine in your system, and it makes you bold enough to tease him for a change. “But it was my first date in a while, so it’s hard to tell if that opinion is objective.”

He rolls his eyes fondly. “Do I qualify for a second date then?”

You hum in thought, making him wait on purpose. “Yeah, I guess,” you say, feigning nonchalance, which earns you a hearty laugh.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” he asks, hopeful.

“Don’t know yet,” you answer, though you’ll probably end up going home and catching up on a kdrama. “Are you coming in tomorrow?”

“Just in the morning. I have a shoot in the afternoon.” He shifts to lean his weight on his other leg, tipping his body closer to you. “But I can pick you up after.”

“Yeah? And where would we go?”

Yoongi shrugs in earnest. “Just drive around? Grab a bite?” he thinks out loud, tilting his head slightly to one side for emphasis. “I could take you to that popup store you mentioned.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “You would stand in line with me to buy a novelty mug?”

“Pretty sure we wouldn’t have to stand in line if I gave them a call,” he says, grinning. “One of the perks of the job, y’know.”

“Must be nice,” you laugh, then shift to lean just a tad closer to him. You look at him for a brief moment before you agree, “Yeah, okay.”

You and Yoongi stand there at the door, each of you on either side of the threshold. This would be an appropriate moment for a kiss, you think. That explosive first kiss, if this were a movie. Exhilaration courses through your veins. You feel it from your head to the tips of your fingers to your toes. The feeling is rendering you a mere teenager again.

It’s exciting because it’s new. You have the entire book ahead of you, waiting to be written. At this point, anything could happen. You’re a blank canvas waiting to be drawn, a blank page hoping to be written.

Wait.

Back up.

A kiss?

A kiss?!

With Yoongi?

You’re thinking about kissing Yoongi?!

Fuck.

Fuck?!

It’s the wine.

Your thoughts knock against each other like bumper cars, echoing loudly in your brain that it almost gives you a headache.

You stay still as Yoongi leans down, your heart racing while your brain just keyboard-smashes. You can’t tell if you want him to kiss you or not, but when he only presses his lips against your cheek, you feel two emotions at once.

The first is disappointment, the second is relief. They press down on you with almost equal force, and you’re not really sure which one weighs heavier.

Baby steps.

You blink when he pulls away, and he just smiles fondly at you as if he can read your mind.

“Goodnight, princess.”

You watch him until he’s in the elevator, until the doors close and the lift descends. Even when you know that he must be on his way to his car and that someone else is making their way up, you stand there, with your hand loosely wrapped around the door handle, your breathing slightly erratic as you process what just happened.

Déjà vu?

It’s oddly reminiscent.

You’ve been here before.

Part of you thinks he’ll burst through the elevator doors, or rush up the stairs if the lift is occupied, and come back to grab your face and kiss you senseless.

He doesn’t.

Jungkook knows you’re probably waiting for Yoongi.

He’s seen Yoongi pick you up after work almost daily over the past couple of weeks, and it’s driving him insane. Even on the days that Yoongi comes to the studio during the day, the guy is all over you, so much so that he doesn’t even bother being a nuisance to Jungkook anymore, which just makes him a thousand times more insufferable.

Something is happening.

He can’t weasel shit out of Jimin anymore because Jimin has been especially tight-lipped after accidentally spilling Yoongi’s confession to you.

Because that should be him in Yoongi’s place. Or should he say his place, and Yoongi is just a placeholder. An imposter.

Because it used to be him that you smiled shyly at.

Jimin’s words have been plaguing his every waking hour since he was forced to hear them. If she wants to choose Yoongi, let her do that too. It feels like he’s rewinding all of your memories, retracing them with cautious fingers only to find that his every footstep is being erased to make room for someone else.

An abandoned dirt road, while you walk down a flower-filled path holding someone else’s hand.

Like you’re stamping him out.

Like he was never there at all.

Not only are you denying him a chance, you’re giving it to someone else. When he tries to move at someone else’s pace, all he gets is left behind.

It’s not about Yoongi; or at least, it’s not just about him. Yoongi doesn’t even really matter to Jungkook in this equation. It’s about what Yoongi represents. An idea of a person that Jungkook can never be.

A bigger life. A stable present and an even brighter future. Yoongi is everything better than him.

And that’s his own problem to deal with, not anyone else’s. At the end of the day, no one has to live with his insecurities but himself.

But still, he can’t help it. Whenever he sees you with Yoongi, his eyes burn. Please don’t let him take my place, he wishes every time, you’re the only good thing about me.

It’s jealousy, sure, of course it’s there.

But what if you realize what everyone else already knows? That Yoongi is better in every single way. That Yoongi is the person who really deserves you.

What if you start to see Jungkook the way he sees himself?

You hating him - despising him with every cell in your body - is a thousand times better than you deeming him unworthy.

“I talked to Jihyo,” he speaks up suddenly, when it’s only the two of you.

“Okay,” you answer, never taking your eyes off the page in front of you. You must have circled the words daisy a thousand times already, wracking your brain for anything that rhymes. “I don’t know why you’re telling me this, but good for you.”

At this point, you wonder if you should just avoid the studio for the time being. It’s empty here again. You resent Seokjin for drowning in concept photos. You resent Namjoon for leaving Jungkook here to fend for himself, but it’s only fair, because Namjoon was only supposed to give him a helping hand, not take over the whole thing. You even resent Yoongi a bit, for not being here right this second.

“I talked to her,” Jungkook says again, ignoring your sass. “She won’t give you a hard time anymore.”

This makes you look at him. You never asked him to do this. You never asked him to do anything. In fact, you have only ever implored him to sit still and leave things alone.

“She never gave me a hard time,” you say. Sure, you don’t appreciate being given the death glare first thing in the morning, but it’s not something that you can’t ignore. It doesn’t actively affect you, and the only reason Jihyo does it is because of Jungkook.

Because he broke things off with her?

Because he gives you more attention?

Ugh. Attention?

This is the stupidest and most childish thing you have had to think about in ages.

“You said she acts differently toward you.”

“And aren’t you the reason why?” you counter. “Because you two were fucking?”

Jungkook visibly winces at your words, like he did when you mentioned it the first time in the break room. You don’t mean to be snarky; you’re just stating the facts. They were hooking up.

You don’t harbor any ill will toward any of his past lovers, and that includes Jihyo. You know she doesn’t have anything against you either, at least not on a personal level because you don’t know each other well enough to do so. She’s just someone you pass by every day on your way to the elevator.

“So why did things end?” you ask just for the sake of it, since he was the one who brought it up. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious.

He hesitates for a moment. “She wanted something more and it wasn’t the same for me.”

It’s stupid that the tiny voice in the back of your head resurfaces, hoping that you were the reason why he couldn’t pursue things with another woman.

Jihyo isn’t you, that much is clear. You never asked for anything more from him, not once from start to finish. He was always the first one to pour love into you. It’s arguable which one of you loved the other more - maybe you loved each other equally, just in different ways - but it was a fact that Jungkook always took the initiative. He made the first move so you wouldn’t have to. He gave you the option to match his affection, and never have to worry about being left out to dry.

He took initiative, right until the very end.

You bite your bottom lip, then give him a curt response, “Okay.”

Your phone vibrates with a text from Yoongi but you don’t open it just yet. You look at Jungkook, who only looks back at you. His lips part slightly as he searches for the right words, or any word at all. It’s like you’re asking him to navigate a minefield when all he has to do is be honest. Even if he told you that he fell out of love with you, it wouldn’t be that bad. You would be hurt, yes, but you wouldn’t blame him. You would understand. It would be a reason.

Silence fills the room, save for the continuous tapping of your pen on paper.

He says your name, pleading. “I’m trying here.”

At Jimin’s party, Jungkook said you were someone important to him. You don’t doubt that he meant it, and that’s what infuriates you the most. You’re important, but he keeps running circles around you and making your head spin. You’re important, but everything he’s done makes you think that you’re the opposite. You’re important, just not important enough to get an explanation.

You know he’s genuine about everything he says, but that’s not enough. You can’t sustain yourself on just his words alone.

It’s another cycle of the same conversation, running over and over and over again. He’s reaching out but he’s holding back. You’re still getting nowhere. You don’t know how many times he has to make you ask this, only to not give you any clarity at all.

If there is a trait of Jungkook’s that you both love and hate at the same time, it is that he doesn’t know when to quit.

He texts you every day even when you don’t reply - one for good morning, and one for goodnight. He gets you a chai latte every day, which doesn’t do shit for your concentration because there’s not enough caffeine in it. He gets the door for you whenever you go into the same room together. He hounds your every waking moment. He makes sure that he’s the first thing you see when you wake up, and the last thought that crosses your mind before you go to sleep.

I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.

You suppose this is him, showing up again. In a lot of ways, it’s selfish. But it’s an effort too. Now your phone is full of meaningless messages that remain unread.

You barely glance at him. It’s routine at this point. He tries in ways that you don’t bother acknowledging anymore, because you figured that the best course of action is to let him wear himself out. When he has had enough of it, when he deems his efforts to be enough to absolve his guilt, he’ll stop. He has to.

But at what point does it stop?

At what point will you stop wanting to give in to him? Your mind rages wars with itself every time you feel his eyes on you, and you have to kill the urge to not turn your head and look at him too. At what point will you stop wanting to go to him and let him in again? At what point will you stop unconsciously making him a priority?

All of this, you supposed, is to say: Do you still love him?

You know that if you sit down and get to the root of it, you’ll find an answer you don’t like. Even in this moment, you want him to tell you just a fraction of the truth, because that would probably be enough to reel you back in.

Your own heart claws at your chest but this is how it has to be for a while. All you can do is take it one day at a time, gently nudge your heart in one direction like a child that needs to be goaded, until he doesn’t live on the forefront of your mind anymore.

Until someone else does.

“No, you’re not.” You stand up then, closing your notebook with more force than necessary. “If you’re really trying, then I wouldn’t still be wondering why I wasn’t enough to make you stay.”

Even then, you’re still hoping that he’d say something else. But when you’re only met with silence, the anticipated disappointment in you bubbles, boiling. His reluctance to clue you in makes it easier for you to decide.

There's someone else who's willing to give you things that you don't even need to ask for.

In your mind, it's clear who you should choose.

Jungkook clenches his teeth, holding his breath as he watches you shove your things into your bag. “Are you going home?” he asks after a minute.

You could say yes and let the conversation die a swift and simple death. But for some reason, you choose to kill it violently. You bite the inside of your cheek before you tell him, “I don’t know. Yoongi’s picking me up.”

The chagrinned look that takes over his features for a split second is one that you immediately catch. Maybe it’s because he wants to make sure you know how he feels about this, or maybe you still have a way of reading him somehow. Regardless of what his face tells you, he doesn’t prod any further.

Your phone vibrates on the table, the sound ten times more thunderous amidst the silence that’s befallen the both of you. You don’t need to check the screen to know who’s calling, and neither does he. When you leave, the sound of your fading footsteps ricochets off the walls. It shoots right through him.

He hears every word of that conversation ringing in his ears then. He recalls that afternoon’s sunset; it was the most beautiful sunset he saw that year, despite the sun overhead mocking him with every magnificent glint of light. He sees the look on your face when his words finally register in your mind, the Oh moment when you understood what he was saying, when the smile you wore sunk helplessly to the floor because even though you knew that love had an expiration date, you hoped your love would be the exception.

That memory fades, only to be replaced by something much worse. He sits there with Jimin’s words, echoing in his mind, reverberating around the room.

Technically, you and Yoongi haven’t been on a second date. You think.

You’ve seen him almost every night since the dinner, when he picks you up at the studio. Sometimes, you two just drive around. Sometimes, you sit by the river in the cold, eating hot ramen cups and giggling over nothing. Sometimes, he just takes you straight to your home if he has a packed schedule the next day.

These days, you see Yoongi even more than you see Taehyung. Even though he hasn’t explicitly implied that any of these outings is a date, you know you aren’t hanging out as just friends anymore.

It feels good to be wanted. The feeling is reinforced tenfold because it’s been so long that it’s like you’re experiencing it for the first time in a new body, as a different person.

But even after all of that, you two can still go back to being friends like nothing ever happened. Because in a way, maybe nothing did happen. Maybe things have always been like this between you, the only difference is now you’re noticing the meaning behind his words and glances.

You two can still go back, because technically, no line has been crossed.

But tonight, something feels different. It’s colder, but Yoongi keeps you warm with all the looks he’s been giving you all night.

It feels like you’re both toeing that line right now.

You know that once you cross it, things can’t revert back to the way they were anymore.

You know that it will happen eventually, because Yoongi isn’t doing this just to half-ass it. He won’t back out, and he has made it crystal clear from the start.

Usually, this is the part where he tells you goodnight and you have to pretend not to freak out when he kisses you on the cheek in goodbye.

He takes a step closer, you take no step back.

“You know what I’m about to do, right?”

You do. You could say you’re even hopeful.

“I might have an idea…”

“Okay,” he says easily. He takes your waist in his hands and brings you closer. The way the corner of his mouth tugs upward tells you that he’s pleased, that you know what’s about to come and you’re letting it happen. Still, he asks, “Can I?”

You nod. That glowing sensation washes over you in waves.

“Words, princess,” he reminds you.

Your hands land on the lapel of his coat. “Yes, you can.”

He chuckles, and squeezes you a little tighter.

Then it happens.

The line you clumsily drew in the sand has been erased.

Yoongi is kissing you.

You’re kissing him back.

He’s soft and warm and he holds you like you’re delicate. His sincerity, you can feel it in his kiss, and it’s only a fraction of it. Regardless, there is still life that blooms this winter. Inside of you, small and fragile, but it’s there.

You sigh into his mouth, feeling completely limbless if not for him holding your body upright. One of his arms wounds itself tighter around your middle while his other hand tucks your hair behind your ear so he could cup your cheek more easily. Yoongi tilts his head further to one side to deepen the kiss. You feel something in his kiss that you have never heard in his words, something soft and pleading. Wanting but still contained. Out of fear that you might run away, perhaps? You can’t blame him though. You are a bit of a flight risk.

The wind dances past like a nosy bystander, pressing you further into him like it wants you to be more sure in the way you move, in how much of yourself you’re willing to give to him. Instead, the cold just makes you shiver.

When you break away, his hand on your face moves to hold the back of your head. Yoongi doesn’t look half as flushed as you think you do, though his cheeks are slightly rosy.

Through a thin veil of clouds, the moon still shines down on his profile.

The chill in the air, the mesmerizing view of moonlight dancing across his features, and most of all, the way you’re still lost in the kiss, in the feeling of being wanted.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you up,” he says, after you stay silent for a beat too long, hooded eyes basking in the warmth of a heart chasing your own. You want to want him. You do want him, but there’s still something missing. It doesn’t feel entirely right, but for now, you try not to dwell on it too much. Just let it be. Maybe in time, that void will inevitably fill.

Yoongi holds your hand through the lobby and on the whole way up even if neither of you says anything, just shy glances in the elevator and bashful half-hidden smiles. You don’t invite him in once you get to your door - because an invite now insinuates something that you just aren’t ready for - but he does kiss you again. If the kiss you shared downstairs is a proper goodnight kiss, then this one means see you later and doesn’t last half as long, but it makes you tingle just the same.

He pulls back, only to dive in again, and again, and again, until one chaste kiss turns into five and you have to push him away with a giggle so you can breathe.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, eyes still set on your mouth. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Yoongi,” you say, a little breathily, like oxygen hasn’t sufficiently made its way into your lungs since downstairs.

He rests his forehead against yours. “You’ve never said my name like that before,” he sighs.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to kiss you again.”

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth and pretend to consider this even though you know you would like to be kissed again. “Maybe I do,” you say after a beat, bravely. “Just one more.”

He gives you your final kiss of the night then, one that lasts a second longer than the others, like he’s trying to memorize how you taste.

You head in once Yoongi is out of sight. You lean your body against the door the second you snap the lock shut. You touch your lips lightly, reliving those moments again even though they happened mere seconds ago. You’re buzzing with excitement like a schoolgirl, every feeling coursing through your body all at once.

You’re familiar with this. It’s the stage right before every love song you listen to suddenly reminds you of that one person.

You go through your regular evening routine with a pep in your step, thanks to a certain person tonight. You take off your carefully applied makeup and take a nice, hot shower. You think the heat would help melt away the high that you’re riding - like you’ve had too much coffee to drink and now your senses are beyond heightened - but it doesn’t. Once you’re fresh and comfortable in your PJs, you still feel that jittery feeling seeping through your pores, keeping you awake. There’s a message from Yoongi that tells you he has made it home safely.

It’s still early, and you’re far too restless to go to bed. You decided to brew yourself a mug of chamomile tea, even though you don’t even like chamomile and you can’t remember why you even have it, but they say that apparently chamomile is good for sleep. You decide to take the mug into the living room to sort through your mini mountain of mail that should’ve been dealt with days ago.

Sitting underneath that pile of junk mail and letters addressed to the previous tenant even though you’ve lived here for nearly two years, is a cream-colored card addressed to you. The material feels smooth under your fingertips, like velvet if that’s even possible. Inside, there are two names - one you recognize and another you don’t - typed out in a fancy calligraphy font and encircled by pretty flowers, all pinks and whites and romantic.

The saccharine sensation associated with the thought of Yoongi dissipates instantly. Instead, your mind blanks, only to buzz to life again momentarily with a newfound sinking feeling dragging you down.

You suddenly realize that Jungkook hasn’t crossed your mind once tonight. Not until now. That crestfallen look in his eyes from the other night appears in your mind again, clear as day.

You are, quite literally, holding someone’s declaration of love and yet, it’s not joy that you feel, having been asked to join them on their special day.

You never thought you would see Jungkook’s family again - even though you always adored his parents and you felt that they loved you too - let alone receive an invitation to his brother’s wedding.

remember when y'all said u wanted a wedding?? well u didn't say whose wedding 😌

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