#locked on colts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seeingivy · 3 months

Text

speak now

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

songs mentioned: the greatest by lana del ray and speak now by taylor swift! (minor mentions: daylight and forever winter by taylor swift)

an: LIGHTS CAMERA ACTION BITCHES!!!

previous part linked here

There’s something strange about showing Eren around an elementary school. Or strange about being around Eren at all.

There’s an overarching hunch, a quiet fear that parrots in your mind whenever you’re with him, stuck in those quiet pockets of time that you feel like he can see right through you, that every secret thought ricocheting in your mind is one that he’s entirely cognizant of - and that he hates it for it.

It almost fills you with disgust. How badly you want to be around him all the time, to be able to read him the way you’re positive that he can read you, just so that you can know what he’s thinking.

Is he upset with the way you reacted? Does he know how grateful you are towards him? Is he consoled by the fact that he’s fully forgiven? Does he care?

Does he think about you as much as you think about him?

The elementary school makes it worse. Almost emotional. Because it’s the fact that even though it’s not your school, it’s exactly how you remember it - so nostalgic that it’s nauseating. Though the colors are less vibrant, almost too dull this time around. The desks are comically small, when they used to be so expansive that you could barely reach the front corners.

“Did you ever collect Box-Tops?” you ask Eren.

He looks at you, face wrinkled in confusion as he shrugs. And the second his eyes lock with yours, you quickly swallow down your gulp of shame - at the lost, almost pinched look in his eyes - as he quickly averts his eyes.

Does he hate you for bringing it up? Does he want to berate you for rubbing in the fact that he had no semblance of a normal childhood?

You take the little jar, the little cardboard slips secured in the glass, as you hold it up to him.

“These are Box-Tops. They’re usually on the top of cereal boxes and granola bars and stuff. You can collect them and bring them to class and whoever gets the most in your grade usually gets a pizza party. It’s a charity-type thing where they get more funds for things like arts programs at your school by turning them into the foundation.” you murmur, placing the little jar in his hands.

“You can’t just…fund the schools properly?” Eren asks, wrinkling his nose.

“Are you crazy, Eren? Why would they ever do that?” you respond, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Eren smiles.

“Figures. D’you ever win?”

“Win what?”

“The pizza party.”

“Oh, maybe once or twice. They usually only buy two pizzas so you get a comically small slice so that it’s enough to go around for everyone. And I had Falco and Colt to share with - we had to split all the Box Tops we collected evenly between the three of us so I always felt lame turning like three or four in.” you state.

Does he think your complaint is stupid? That you should be grateful that you even got to experience it in the first place?

“What if there was an even number?”

“Rock paper scissors. Then Falco started crying when he lost, so we ended up giving it to him anyway.” you state.

“Very on brand.”

Eren smiles - brightly this time - as he sets the jar back onto the top of the filing cabinets and the two of you continue to awkwardly pace around the room. Eren’s overwhelmed with the memory - of Falco sobbing at his first Canadian Christmas when he was asked what he was thankful for - and the consistency makes him warm.

There’s something unsettling about the room - about how foreign it is to him. There’s a weird echo panging in Eren’s chest, somewhat caused by how longingly you seem to be looking at every little detail of the room. Running your hand over the hardwood desks, picking up the box of crayons, almost frowning at the pictures.

The thoughts that run through Eren’s mind are almost paralyzing, that he can barely keep his beating heart collected in his chest, and more awkwardly, that you know and are choosing to ignore it for civility sake.

Are you going to leave him when the show ends? Would you have left him if you lived a different life too?

Are you never going to end up together?

“Did you ever see Falco and Colt? When you were at school? S’that like a thing that happened?” Eren asks, poking around each of the little flyers on the bulletin board.

“Ah. Not really. Though sometimes when I was going to art class and Falco was going to computers or something, we’d kind of pass each other. We’d always be really excited to see each other. When we saw Colt, he always pretended like he didn’t even know who we were.” you state.

Eren can't stop the thoughts.

Do you hate him for bringing up a life that was robbed from you? The security of a school, of a quiet life because he selfishly picked you to be at his side?

Eren hums in response, as you head over to the last wall - the one left untouched by your inspecting eyes - as you fight the urge to smile. There’s little pictures of each of the students, Teddy right towards the top with a big toothy smile on his face. You point it out to Eren as you catch it before him, memorizing the soft look that spreads over his face when he finally catches light of it.

“You ever see Zeke?” you ask.

“Well, we technically watched a movie with him in it? So, that counts?” Eren shrugs.

“That’s right. Having your own parents and your brother as your source material must be so crazy.”

The thought that follows your comment nauseates Eren.

Are you trying to point out how different you are, so much so that you’ll never be able to be together?

“I can imagine exactly how you would be in elementary school.” Eren states, slinging his arm around your shoulder and bringing his face nearly flush with yours.

“Oh yeah?” you ask.

“You’d be like…this girl.”

You inspect the picture, rolling your eyes at the cop-out answer. Each of the little pictures is labeled with their hobbies or their interests, and naturally, Eren’s picked the girl who says she wants to be a songwriter.

“You’re funny.” you respond, sarcastically.

“S’nothing funny about it.” Eren responds.

“You’d be like…this one. He seems like the type of kid who would pull on a girl's pigtails, which according to Mikasa, is something that you actually did.”

Eren’s going to kill Jean.

“That’s just how you get a girl's attention.” Eren responds.

“Is that right? Had something you wanted to tell Mikasa really badly?” you smile.

Eren’s almost embarrassed that you know. That he feels the need to defend himself, to prove his devotion to you even though there would be no reason for him to do that.

“Ugh. Who told you?” Eren asks.

You can’t help but laugh.

“I can’t remember. Maybe Jean?”

“It was two days!” Eren whines.

You’re not sure how the topic came up, but Jean humbled you very fast when you claimed that you were the first person that Eren ever liked. Apparently you weren’t because Eren had sported a two day crush on Mikasa when they were younger, before he ever met you, which left you embarrassed - but also ready to tease him to oblivion.

“Eremika…” you state.

Eren clamps his hand over your mouth, as you quickly shove him off.

“Shut up.” Eren states.

“It’s funny! Mikasa’s getting married and you’re stuck at a five-year old’s piano concert. With seats all the way in the back, mind you.”

Eren rolls his eyes, as he leans back and sits on top of one of the desks. You follow suit, ignoring the little creak, as your legs swing over the top of the desk.

“What was your signature move in elementary school for the boys?”

“Was I supposed to have game as a seven year old?”

Eren scoffs.

“Well, we can’t all be talented.” Eren teases.

“I hardly qualify hair pulling as a game. That’s an annoying way to get attention.”

Eren smiles, leaning forward and curling his hands around a lock of your hair, before he lightly tugs. His face is so close to yours that you can make out the tiniest wrinkles in his skin, marked around his eyes.

“Annoyed?” Eren teases, his voice barely a whisper.

You shake your head, ever so slightly. A jarring movement feels too loud, like he’ll move away at the smallest of breaths, like a deer in the woods.

“Down to my very core.” you respond.

Eren smiles, the wrinkles even more pronounced, as you almost lean your forehead against his, skin ghosting each others. The thoughts are racing at this point, so fast that Eren can barely feel his breaths.

Is he ever going to be in love with someone who isn’t you?

“I feel the need to clarify. It was two days.” Eren states.

“Two days of hopeless pining.”

“Nothing compared to the three years of it that I did with you.”

You roll your eyes, cheeks burning.

He knows. It's written all over your face.

“Nothing compares to a puppy-love childhood crush.” you state.

“That’s where you’re wrong. I get the whole innocence of the puppy-love thing, but nothing pales comparison to the intensity of a teenage dream.” Eren states.

Eren watches your eyes waver and feels his throat constrict.

You know. It's written all over his face.

Thankfully for him, and less so for you, Sukuna ruins the movement. His shouting from the doorway breaks that quiet bubble, quickly pulling you both farther away from each other.

“What the hell are you guys doing? It’s starting in five minutes.”

You and Eren settle into your seats at the back, right by the door, as the lights dim in the little auditorium. They’re a warm golden, the smell of fresh paint tickling your nostrils.

Sitting all the way in the back has you and Eren weaving your heads around all the people crowded in front of you, the tiny cell phone lights illuminating each row.

You catch sight of Lana and Sukuna are aggressively gesturing at Teddy on the stage from their cushy seats in the front row at your left - Sukuna trying to get him to smile for a picture while Lana tries to signal to him to fix his untied shoelaces. The coddling makes your heart burn.

Eren digs into his coat pocket and pulls out a little camcorder that he hands to you.

“For?” you ask.

“Can you record it for me? I just…want to watch him in real time.”

You smile.

“Of course, I can.” you murmur, taking the little camera from him and flipping it open in your hands.

“Don’t record the other kids. I don’t give a fuck.” Eren states.

“Who knew you felt so passionately about kindergarten piano concert etiquette?” you jeer.

“You would be shocked. Lana’s basically out of storage by the time she gets to Teddy.” Eren groans.

You roll your eyes.

“I think it’s sweet.”

Eren wonders if there’s anything you can’t find the good in. His wavering suspicion is that it’s him - that you’re the worst thing he’s ever seen. So tainted that there’s barely any semblance of light left in him.

Eren’s hanging onto the end of your words, wanting to hear the spiral of thoughts running through your mind. Your affinity to look towards the positive, to soak up all the good, to point out all the love in the room - it was something he found himself chasing even though he knew he was barely half deserving of it.

“I just mean…when I was younger, my mom would tell me that my friend’s mom recorded me singing too and then sent it to her. And I was always really touched that they saw me and didn’t think god, it’s another kid I have to sit through. Like no, that’s Y/N! That’s my daughter’s friend.”

Eren deflates. He figures that it comes so naturally for you - seeing the good - because he thinks the law of attraction is real; that like attracts like, that people find what’s similar to them. And that he always seems to be the antithesis to it.

He’s always the exception to your rule.

“And some parents are late. They’re running here from work, or…or they were late because they had another kid to take care of first and…and it still makes the kid feel special, even if they don’t know it.” you whisper.

You twist the camera around in your hands as Eren gives you a lopsided smile, an underlying sentiment you can’t really place mirrored in his features. You’d memorize his expression just to agonize about it later, in the safe confines of your room, but your train of thought is cut off by a tapping on your shoulder.

It’s a little girl - with dark skin and braided hair - barely the age of seven. Her little legs can’t even reach the tan colored floor, her sparkly purple shoes glittering in the dim light.

“Hi.” she states.

Eren leans over, a cautious arm on the small of your back, as you lean your head closer to hers and whisper.

“Hi. Is something wrong?” you whisper.

“Our dresses are matching colors.” she states.

You look down - the white flowers printed on your dress matching her frilly pleats. It’s an painfully relieving breath, as you give her a smile.

“My name’s Y/N. It’s really nice to meet you.”

“Y/N? Like the pop artist?”

You freeze, freezing cold ice shooting down your spine.

“I wish my mom named me after someone cool. My name’s Grace. It was my grandma’s name.”

You can barely muster out a response, Eren’s fingertips at your side squeezing shaking the shock out of your mind.

“I’m sure your grandma was pretty cool.” you respond, barely registering the words as they leave your lips.

“I mean, yeah. She was old. But no one’s as cool as Y/N L/N.” she responds, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You can see Eren smiling out of your peripheral vision, giving a polite nod to the parents seated at her side, who’ve now caught onto the fact that their daughter is talking to a complete stranger. Eren’s quick to diffuse the situation, holding out a hand to them.

“I’m Eren. This is Y/N. We’re here for Teddy. Curly blonde hair, big brown eyes?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s right. I’m sorry…did you say your name was Y/N?”

You give them a sheepish smile, bringing your hands to the coarse skin above your elbows and pinching.

“That’s right.”

“Our daughter’s a really big fan.” they state.

You smile, looking back down at her dark eyes, this time wide in shock.

“Is that right?” you ask, trying to give her the warmest smile you can.

Her parents lean down closer to her ears, the overwhelming sense of a flowery perfume taking over your senses, as you watch them talk to her, softly.

“Okay. Ask her nicely, okay?” they ask.

Grace gives them an obedient nod, before turning to you and puffing her chest out to you.

“Can I have a hug?”

“Oh. You…you want a hug?”

“Please? It’ll be quick.” she asks, her little voice shrill with a hopeful tone.

There’s a soft sense of elation that spreads through you, your cheeks warm at such an innocent request, as you can barely stop your arms from shaking. You open up your arms to her, as she nearly jumps into your embrace, and you squeeze her little frame as tightly as you can. The smell of strawberries wafts off her hair, accompanied by a soft giggling sound in your ear that nearly brings tears to your eyes.

You look up to find her parents, an awkward pinched smile in their eyes, as you give them a polite smile.

“I promise, I’ll take a picture with her after the show, okay? And if I forget, please come find me and remind me.”

The relief is apparent in their faces - their sickeningly grateful smiles over something as simple as a picture - as you let go and she settles back into the seat next to you.

You have to settle for recording Teddy with one hand, a deathlike grip in the camera, only because Grace refuses to let go of your other hand for the rest of the show.

Eren’s surprisingly really good with kids. Or really, not surprisingly at all, because you were finding it hard to identify something that Eren was really bad at. Because even the mistakes he did make were so painfully endearing, so warmly thoughtful that you could barely accost him for it.

He's making jokes with all the kids - participating in their rock paper scissors contests, playing pranks on their parents, and stealing cookies for them when people aren't looking.

You guys are the last ones to leave the school. But it’s only because Eren’s so enthralled with talking to all the passing people - taking pictures, signing napkins, and making phone calls to all their loved ones - that it makes your chest swell.

The narrowed eyes still make you nervous, an underlying feeling of inadequacy - of embarrassment for hiding out for so long - is all but nauseating, something Sukuna picks up on right after Eren.

He lets Lana take the lead on the pictures and mingling with all the parents, apparently something that was Sukuna’s forté, as he keeps his arm linked with yours, backs cold against the cement wall.

“You know, you can go make your rounds with Lana. I don’t want to ruin your son’s piano concert for you.” you state.

“This shit is overrated.”

You smile.

“You’re lying.” you state.

Sukuna looks over at you, brown eyes fixed on yours, as you watch a smile curl on his face. It’s almost boyish - and it’s the first time that you’re acutely aware of the fact that Sukuna’s probably the youngest one here - living a life so vastly different from yours.

“I am lying.” Sukuna states.

“Do you like it here, Sukuna?” you whisper.

“I’m better at this than I was at the whole - award show, celebrity world thing. People here are really easily impressed.”

“Is that right?”

“I handed a woman a lemonade earlier and she said God bless you. Over a fucking lemonade.”

“That’s just basic human decency, sweetheart. Were you raised by wolves?” you ask.

Sukuna scoffs.

“Basically.” he responds.

You hum in response, watching Lana crouch on the ground and press her cheek to Teddy’s as Eren quickly snaps the picture for them.

“Can I ask you a question?” Sukuna asks.

“Is me saying no going to stop you?” you ask.

“Probably not.”

“Proceed.” you respond.

“So, what did you really do for two years? And don’t give me the same shitty bullshit as last time. I want to know what it was that you did.” he responds, tone unrelenting.

You pause, mulling over the question. You knew it would come soon enough, the utter bleakness of it all, but you suppose it's like ripping off a bandaid. That it'll become softer to talk about after you do it so many times.

“It’s not pretty.” you respond.

“I’ve always thought you were really ugly. It’s hardly a difference for me.”

“Lovely. In a world of boys, you really are a gentleman, Sukuna.”

He grins, nursing the glass of lemonade in his hand.

“To be a woman is to perform. Now, tell.” Sukuna responds.

The truth of the matter is that there’s nothing to tell. Because you didn’t do anything.

“I got home from doing the interview and spent the entire week with Falco and Colt. I-I basically didn’t let them leave my side. Falco slept with me at night, Colt basically watched over me like a hawk.”

It’s a crashing plate, worried eyes, and an embarrassingly debilitating loss.

“And then Falco came into my room one day and told me that The Lucky One sold more vinyls than all of my other albums combined, in one week.” you state.

“Non-fluff shit prevails. I’ve been telling you.”

“I didn’t approve of that album being distributed as vinyl. For physical sales - at all. It wasn’t about the money or the records or- or any of that. And when Falco told me, I-”

Sukuna looks over, at the lump in your throat. He knows the feeling too well - the sweaty skin, the heavy tongue, and slips his hand into yours at his side.

“I broke his phone.” you state.

“What?”

“I took it from his hands and I smashed it. Then my own too. That’s partially why I never called you guys. I didn’t exactly memorize your numbers and I wasn’t in a position where I was going to just ask for them back.” you state.

“Not like you would have called anyways.” Sukuna states.

“I only knew Mikasa was having an engagement party because she sent me a physical invitation. Only knew Marco died because of the news. I-I barely knew what any of them were doing when I was gone, still.”

You bite your tongue, the tiniest metallic taste enveloping your mouth, as you pull the now warm, puffed up flesh away from your teeth.

“I knew that if I came back, it would mean I would be sucked back into it. What’s your response going to be, hint at it with this song, come back like this and…I’d rather lock myself in my house then do that again. I love songwriting, but not enough to sacrifice my dignity. I enjoyed my career but it drained the life out of me.”

Sukuna’s lip twitches. You choose to ignore it for the time being.

“I took up different hobbies. Got a sewing machine, made sourdough from scratch, I even learned flower arranging. But, I could tell that I must have seemed like I was off my rocker or something. My parents and my brothers never really left my side, I could tell that they were always worrying about me, and-and I hated that because-”

Sukuna stops you before you get too choked up, now standing in front of you, his back blocking the sight of you from any of the people milling around the courtyard.

“I know that’s a shitty answer. That I should have been doing something worthwhile. But, but- I was fucking tired. I was done doing all this and I can’t exactly…be a functioning member of society or something. I can barely stand here without people giving me a second look or trying to get a discreet picture.” you whisper.

“I just wanted to know. I’m not giving you shit for it.” he whispers.

You frown.

“You aren’t. But maybe you should.”

You look over his shoulder, at Eren squishing Teddy’s cheeks with his fingers as Lana takes a picture of them - far too close to barely even get the two of them in it together.

“He fought for me when I wasn’t even here anymore. I was moping in my house, breaking plates whenever I got frustrated, and he was still moving forward.” you murmur.

Sukuna pauses.

“Y/N. Don’t do that. I need you to be so careful with what the fuck you do after you leave here.”

The sense of urgency in his voice catches you off guard.

“What?”

“Y/N. It won’t happen if you’re careless. You cannot wallow in your own pity about this, I need you to tread lightly, okay?”

“What won’t happen?”

Sukuna glares at you.

“You and him. You could spend years pointing fingers at each other, who didn’t do what. You won’t get him back if you stay there when he’s moved forward.”

“I don’t want him.” you whisper.

You barely believe it when it comes out of your mouth.

“You disgust me, Y/N.” he states.

“You’ve always had such a way with words.”

“And you’ve always had a lack of critical thinking. Why wouldn’t you want him?”

“Why would he want me?”

“He just does. The same way you just do.”

You swallow hard.

“Fine. Be a fucking idiot for all I care. If you do ever knock some sense into that thick fucking skull of yours, just be careful. Eren knows that he has to prove he cares about you for you to come back to him. You need to know that he barely thinks he’s deserving of anything from you, so much so, that he won’t ever make the move.”

Sukuna doesn’t mince his words. You wish he could have you through every important decision of your life just so you wouldn’t stumble and fall as much as you did.

“Eren’s called the shots since you were fifteen. You’re going to have to call all the next ones. And for the love of god, really. I’m so tired of that fucking freeloader showing up whenever he pleases. And you look really ugly when you look sad, so just do it right please.”

You smile.

“Are you insinuating I’m pretty when I don’t look sad?”

“I hope you fall off a bridge and never recover.” Sukuna responds.

The sniffling cues Eren onto the fact that you’re crying. The air pressure of the plane is overwhelming in his ears, almost so loud that he misses it, but he counts himself lucky that you’ve always been an obscenely loud crier. He peeks his head over the division over your seats and reaches forward to poke your head.

“Hey. You okay?” he asks.

You give him a meek nod. You know for a fact that he doesn’t believe it for one second.

“Can I come over there for a second? I don’t want to talk from so far away.” Eren asks.

“Isn’t that like…illegal? Two people in one seat.” you murmur.

“This is first class, the seat is basically a bed. And there’s no laws in the air.”

You frown.

“Eren. Laws still exist in the air. They’re just local.”

Eren smiles.

“Well, aren’t you a little genius? Scooch over.”

You shift on the seat, pulling your blanket closer to you as Eren very precariously makes his way over to your seat, the two of you almost cramped in the small space. It’s almost funny how there’s barely any room, your foreheads pressed together from the lack of space.

“Hey.” he whispers.

“Hi.”

“What’s wrong, Margaret?”

You shake your head. His hands are warm on your sides.

“Come on. Tell me. I’m really good at fixing problems.”

“I know.”

Eren can’t place what the tone is in your voice - but it comes out all strained and raspy - that it rubs him the wrong way.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” you clarify.

“Which way do you mean it?” Eren asks.

You sigh.

“I mean. You handled everything considerably well, even if it wasn’t easier for you. You…you waited until I was ready to hear it, until I asked to be told your side of the story. And you put it all together, wrapped in a perfect bow with that documentary, and then took me to see Lana and Sukuna too because you knew I’d want to.” you mumble.

“Wrapped in a ribbon. Who the fuck calls it a bow?”

You roll your eyes, earning you a laugh from Eren that’s so loud it makes you laugh too. You reach forward to clamp your fingers over his mouth, muffling the loud sound, as you shush him loudly.

Eren pauses.

“I’m glad it worked. And I had a lot of time to think. You don’t have as much, but…we’ll help you. With whatever you want to do.” Eren states.

You give him a nod, unsatisfied with the answer.

“What were you thinking?” Eren asks.

You fish out the little slip of your pocket, nearly smushing your face into his in the process, and place the little paper in his hand.

“This is…Satoru Gojo’s phone number?” Eren asks.

“Yeah. I got it from Sukuna.”

“For what purpose?”

You pause.

“I’m going to bury Scott Clarkson into the ground.”

Eren’s caught off by the answer.

“You’re what?”

“What answer were you expecting?”

“I’m not mad at it. I was just thinking more…I want to write music again. I’m not a quitter.”

You frown.

“I thought about that. But it hasn’t exactly worked for me like that. I even tried when I was at the beach but I came up with nothing. But that’s not relevant, I don’t need to write music to end him.”

“I mean, yeah, I guess. But it’s better that way. Using exactly what they tried to take away from you to get back at them.” Eren responds.

You smile.

“You’ll help me?”

Eren rolls his eyes.

“I’m pretty sure I made it clear that I’d do anything for you. Even this. Especially this.”

You smile. You reach forward, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing hard.

“Thank you. And I get what you’re saying about the music, but it just isn’t happening, so we’ll have to think of something else.”

“I have an idea. When we get back to set, okay? I think it’ll help.” Eren states.

You nod.

“Okay. I trust you.” you respond.

The sentiment sends a shiver down Eren’s spine.

“I don’t know how it’ll go. I can’t promise that it’ll work out the way we want it.” Eren clarifies.

You smile.

“I was trusting you to help me get back into songwriting, not into bringing him down. I’m talking about help into being…myself again.”

Eren’s eyes flicker, down to your lips, and then back up to your eyes. You almost swear that you imagined it.

“Do you think I’m different?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

You pale.

“Do you hate me for it?” you ask.

Eren shakes his head.

“I like you better like this.” he whispers.

Eren reaches forward, tucking the loose hairs back behind your ear, before his warm fingers are secured around the nape of your neck. He does it a second time, looks at your lips, and this time you swear the corners of his mouth are twitching too.

“You weren’t very confident when I met you, almost like you didn’t think you were cut out to do this. Unsure of why you even had a place in the room. Then you went so far away from me, worked yourself so hard, that I barely remember you even smiling at any of us anymore. You were angry, then you were heartbroken, and apparently you broke a lot of plates when you weren’t with any of us?”

You roll your eyes.

“I’m going to kill Falco.”

“Colt.” Eren corrects.

You scoff.

“No way. Eren, he kind of hates you.”

“Kind of? Colt was ready to punch me in the face when he first got to set. Rightfully so.” Eren responds.

“It’s actually not rightfully so. He didn’t even know what you did.” you state.

Eren pauses.

“I know. He got here and asked me first thing what it was I did to you. Then he wanted to punch me in the face when I told him.”

You shrug. You can tell that Eren’s waiting for an explanation - green eyes looking at you expectantly as you give him a nod.

“It felt wrong to talk to him about it. Falco knew you a little bit better, but even for him…they would just start bad mouthing you just to make me feel good. But that would just make me feel worse because…I don’t get it. Hating someone just because things went wrong.”

You crack your knuckles.

“It’s like Ricky. I can badmouth him. He was horrible. He’s a bad person and he literally left me out there to rot just to embarrass me. He did it to Lana, to Teddy. You…I just thought you didn’t like me. I couldn’t really fault you for how you felt. And I loved you. I don't get off on talking shit about you when you were my entire world.”

Eren smiles.

“You had every right to badmouth me.”

“But that’s the thing. I just didn’t want to. Even if things ended badly, you still made me really happy. We still did this entire thing together and-”

“We’ll finish it together.”

You smile, giving him a nod.

“You know when you’re in a relationship and you feel like you get to see a different side of that person? Because you’re so close?” Eren asks.

“Yeah.”

“That’s how you came back to us. Feeling close again. A fresh slate, back to what drew us all to you in the first place. So many things in this industry, in this job are so fake. I mean our job is to literally pretend. You are an overwhelmingly genuine person. Even more so now. You are different. We’re all going to love you for it.” Eren states.

For someone who’s so convinced he’s horrible with words, Eren always seems to have the perfect ones for you.

“Will you leave if things go south?” you ask.

“No.”

“Then we can do this. I’m positive.” you state.

“What makes you so sure?”

You squeeze Eren's hand three times.

“I don’t have anything to lose, Eren.”

When you get back to set the following morning, you don’t miss Connie very loudly whispering with Eren behind you. You’re positive Jean and Mikasa are eavesdropping just as much as you are, their eyes fixed a little too hard waiting for Eren’s response.

Did you guys kiss?

No, Connie, am I crazy?

It makes your heart sink a little bit, but you ignore it as Eren comes up at your side, giving you a bright smile. He reaches for the little glass jar to your left and gives you a wink before he calls for everyone’s attention.

“First things first, Falco. Good job on press. That was one of the funniest fucking interviews I’ve seen in my life.”

Falco laughs, as you turn your head to the side, pretending to do a little bow as everyone pats him on the back, and you look at Mikasa.

“What did I miss?”

Mikasa smiles, pulling up the video at your side.

“Levi’s direction was to not answer any questions about you. Naturally, that was all they asked about so we all decided to coordinate our answers and basically say that we didn’t know you.” Mikasa states.

“What?”

“It sounds stupid, but it was so funny. Some of them started actually believing it. And Falco took it so far, he started pretending like he wasn’t even related to you.”

Mikasa hands you the phone as you play the video, barely containing your laughter at how stupid the video is. Falco’s so confident in his words, so self-assured that it’s making Gabi burst out into laughter, and obviously messes with the interviewer so bad that they can’t even continue.

It makes you happier than it should - their first experience being so overwhelmingly positive.

“And we all wore ribbons in our hair, which didn’t help matters anyway.” Mikasa states.

“Levi’s a menace. He’s milking this so much.” you state.

“That was actually my idea.”

“Oh. I didn’t mean-”

“I know. I just want you coming back to be a big deal. It’s not an easy thing for you to do. You’re going to get every bit of hype for it.”

You smile, reaching forward to link arms with her, as Eren makes a booing sound.

“Are you done? Can I talk now?”

You shove Eren.

“Stop being rude.”

“I’m not being rude. You guys interrupted me.”

“Why were you talking before us? That’s so inconsiderate of you.” Mikasa states.

You laugh as Eren rolls his eyes, handing each of them a tiny white slip and a marker, before he takes his spot next to you and gives you a big smile.

“Y/N is going to write a song. Multiple actually. I want you to write down ideas for her and she’s going to pull one out every morning and read it to us. Then she has to play whatever she came up with, even if it was only one line, at the end of that day.” Eren states.

“Eren.” you start.

“No buts. You guys know the drill.”

You watch as everyone follows his instructions, excitedly whispering to each other as their pens move, and you look over at Eren. He drops his own slip into the cup, the first one, with his name neatly looped on the outside as he gives you a smile.

“I’m not going to be able to write anything.” you state.

“Well, you heard the rules. You’ll have to write something.”

“Eren.”

He shakes his head, handing you his journal, opening it to the marked page as you flip through the sheets.

“I did this a while back, when I was getting back into it. It helps a lot more than you think. And you can ask the person who gave you the slip for help if you really need it, but that person only.”

You take the book for him, watching everyone give you excited smiles as the cup fills up just as fast, and flip though the pages.

“write a song about me and sukuna” And underneath, the lyrics to a song called Daylight.

“write a song about connie’s one year anniversary of being sober” with Levi’s distinct handwriting and the lyrics to a song called Forever Winter scribbled messily on the page.

And the last one makes your throat bob in your chest.

“write a song about y/n”

You read over the lyrics, pressing your fingers against the ink, as you fervently read the lyrics.

We didn't know that we had it all But nobody warns you before the fall Don't leave, I just need a wake-up call

I'm facing the greatest The greatest loss of them all The culture is lit and I had a ball I guess I'm signing off after all

You look up at him, his attention drawn away as he shuffles the cup in his hand to mix up the slips and then holds the cup out to you. Everyone’s watching, waiting for you to pull a piece, as you set the book down, and give them all a meek nod.

There’s a resounding sound of cheers, and an obscene amount of screaming from Connie and Sasha, as you close your eyes and pull out the first paper. You open up the little slip, floored by how random the request is.

“Write a song about upstaging someone's wedding. Connie.” you state.

A resounding smack fills the room - as you look over to find Jean hitting Connie.

“I told you not to put that in.” Jean yells.

“What? It’s funny! Eren said random stuff helps with this.” Connie defends.

“Dumbass. You just had to write something about ruining a wedding?” Jean grates.

“Who the fuck said it was about you, you egomaniac?” Sasha asks, reaching forward to flick his forehead.

“Who else is getting married, dumbass?” Jean responds.

“Why are you so mad? You’re clearly projecting your own personal issues.” Connie states, as Jean and Sasha follow him out of the room, their shouts filling up the quiet air.

Eren turns to you, a bright smile on his face. You want to smack him.

“I’ll see you tonight. Fully written song and all.” Eren states, lightly shoving you as he walks past.

You groan, leaning your head on Mikasa’s shoulder, as you hand her the little slip.

“Eren’s so fucking annoying sometimes. How am I supposed to write a song about this?” you complain.

“You’ll think of something. You’re amazing.” Mikasa states.

“I um…actually got you something. And I had something I wanted to ask.”

You took Sukuna’s words seriously. And had every intention to make amends.

“Really?” she asks.

“Yeah. It’s a keychain.”

You pull it out, the little penguin charm hanging off the end, as she takes it into her hands. It makes your heart swell - the way she carefully turns it over in her fingers, the excited smile on her face.

“Thank you so much, Y/N.”

“It’s kind of stupid but…it’s blue? Like something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue?” you state.

Mikasa’s smile gets wider, her shoulders relaxing as she reaches forward to give you a hug.

“Thank you. I love it.”

“It’s just a penguin.” you murmur.

“Maybe to someone else. But I haven’t forgotten that we watched Happy Feet at midnight the day we were supposed to film the Colossal Titan reveal and almost missed shooting that day.” she states.

You can barely contain your elation this time. That Mikasa remembers the memory just as well as you do. You both laugh for a second before you muster the courage to ask.

“Listen. I want to ask something but I don’t want to overstep so know that you can say no.” you state.

“Okay.”

“I know that we have our own rooms, but I wanted to ask if you wanted to share again? Colt and Porco always snore and…and you have your entire life to share a room with Jean but only a few more months to share one with me?” you mumble, voice nearly shaking.

Mikasa brings her hands to your shoulders, squeezing hard as she can barely contain your smile.

“Really? You really want to share with me?” she asks.

“Are you crazy? You’re like the best roommate I’ve ever had.”

“Bullshit.”

“No, really. Falco kicks, Colt smells, Porco snores, and Eren’s nothing compared to you. You're like a princess compared to them.”

Mikasa smiles.

“Deal. Lets go switch the signs - to their rightful places - right now.”

“What if Jean disagrees?” you ask.

Mikasa rolls her eyes.

“He can choke for all I care.” Mikasa states, linking her arm in with yours as you both pound up the stairs right to the hallway.

You take the marker, scribbling out Mikasa and Jean’s names (and Connie’s comments underneath) as you hand her the marker to do the honors. You both admire the little sign together, arms wrapped around each other, as Eren, Connie, and Jean join you two.

“What the fuck?” Jean asks.

You smile at him.

“Sorry. Not your room anymore.” you respond.

“One could argue that it was never really yours in the first place, Jean.” Mikasa states.

“Dude, you guys are so annoying.” Jean states.

“Did you just call your fiance, dude?” Eren asks, earning him a shove from Jean.

Connie comes up at Mikasa’s side, taking the marker from her hands, and adding his signature comment to finish off the new sign. You look over at him and smile, tugging him into your hug with Mikasa - as you all admire the door.

Y/N-MIKA FOREVER!!!

And underneath, Connie’s lopsided handwriting:

WE’RE SOOO FUCKING BACK

You understand why everyone was crowding you and Eren when they thought you were going to kiss in season two. It’s because you got to set early to make sure you got a good seat for Falco and Gabi’s love confession - so excited that you could barely eat your lunch.

You can’t help but watch them a few feet away from you, nervously kicking their legs on their chairs, as your notebook lays forgotten in front of you.

There’s a group of shitty lyrics on the page, so embarrassing that you shut the page as Eren approaches and takes the seat next to you and Mikasa.

“I wasn’t going to read them, silly goose.” Eren states, lightly shoving you as you tuck the book under your ankles.

“Good. I’d kill you before you tried.”

“Wow. Standing up weddings has you that mad?”

“The opposite actually.” you state.

Eren rolls his eyes as he scooches closer to you, halfheartedly shaking Levi’s hand as he passes. You look over to Falco and Gabi again - the two of them increasingly nervous, Gabi more so for some reason, as you lean over and whisper into Eren's ear.

“Ten bucks this pushes their real love confession ten years into the future.” you state.

“What?”

“Think about it. We had to kiss and it pushed things back basically a year and a half because we got all flustered and confused. Falco’s doing a whole bit, they’re going to be nervous about this for years.” you state.

Eren rolls his eyes, reaching forward to elbow you in the side.

“Bullshit.”

“I’m right! The same thing happened with Hange and Levi.” you defends.

“Rookie mistake, Y/N. Do I know your little brother better than you? He’s not half as pussy as you or Levi.”

“Touché, asshole. If he likes her so bad, why hasn’t he said it yet?” you respond.

“He’s a romantic. He’s waiting for the right time.” Eren responds.

You look over at the two of them, splitting a box of Tic-Tacs, as Levi walks back to his cues and sets up the cameras.

“Think about it. In a relationship, you’re either a Hange or a Levi. You’re either a Jean or a Mikasa. Falco’s obviously more like Mikasa and Levi. And Gabi’s like Jean and Hange. She has to make the move.”

“You’ve got it all wrong. Gabi’s the Levi and Falco’s the Hange.” Eren responds, nearly offended at your statement.

“Are you an idiot?”

“Watch. I’ll prove it to you.”

Eren pushes up off the floor, dragging Niccolo along with him, as they two of them approach Gabi and Falco. You’re not sure what they’re whispering - but you can tell that Falco and Gabi are flustered by the premise - and Eren and Niccolo are far too elated as Eren walks back over to you, this time with Niccolo in tow.

“Hi Nico.”

“Hi Y/N.”

You look over at Eren, glaring at him, as he gives you a sheepish shrug.

“Okay, guys. We’re going to start rolling. Falco, Gabi, you ready?”

“Yeah.” they respond in unison, giving each other a little fist bump as they take their seats on the floor.

“Was no one going to ask me? I’m in this scene too.” Colt complains, earning a fit of laughter from the crew.

Everyone quiets down as the lights dim on the set, the group of you hunching forward, trying to contain your smiles as you look at each other. It’s only then that you’re reminded of how good Falco and Gabi are at acting, the painstaking agony in their voice almost making you shiver.

“I helped make the attack on Liberio happen. I met a wounded soldier at that hospital, and without knowing it was Eren Jaeger, I sent letters from him to his allies using the mailboxes outside the zone.” Falco starts.

Mikasa leans over to look at Eren, mouthing the words “fucking bastard” as you try to contain your laughs. Levi gives the four of you a warning glance, as you muster out an apologetic smile.

“A lot of people died in Liberio. So….it’s my fault that Udo and Zofia died.” Falco finishes.

“I see…” Gabi responds.

Falco swallows hard, a pink blush on his cheeks, as you all excitedly smile.

“Also, I love you. I didn’t want you to inherit the Armored Titan. That’s why I became a warrior candidate. So…so that we could get married…and be happy forever.”

Gabi’s as red as a tomato. You almost feel bad for teasing the two of them so hard but it’s so endearing it makes your heart squeeze.

“I wanted you to live a long life!” Falco shouts.

“What are you saying?” Gabi responds.

“I might turn into a Titan at any moment. I just wanted to get it all out there before I’m gone for good.”

It's silent - leave for Gabi's tears before she quickly stands up. You watch as Gabi aggressively wrestles with Falco, pulling off the little black band secured around his waist, before she throws it on the ground, her chest heaving.

You sincerely hope Levi campaigns for them to win an award for this one.

Levi calls cut, as Hange runs up to the two of them, excitedly cheering them both on as they avert their gaze from each other. Eren’s quick to jump up, grabbing you by the wrist as he pulls you up to the group of them, a devious smirk on his face.

Niccolo’s quick to join his side, the two of them crossing their arms over their chest and smirking at Falco, as he sighs.

“Really, guys?” Falco asks.

“Really. You agreed to it, little dude.” Eren states.

Falco rolls his eyes, nervously eyeing Gabi - who is excitedly jumping up and down in front of a very unamused Levi - before he walks over to her and plants a big kiss on her cheek. The group of you all gasp, Gabi’s skin burning red, as Falco runs away, claiming he needs to go to the bathroom.

Niccolo and Eren are fist bumping at your side and Eren’s turns to you, irritatingly positioned with his hands on his hips, as he smiles at you.

“Told you so.” Eren states.

“What the hell did that prove?”

“It’s simple. I asked Falco if he wanted to play a game of Truth or Dare. Then, I asked him to kiss his favorite person on the cast on the cheek after the scene was over. Told him to run right up to you and do it since I knew for a fact you’re his favorite.”

“Eren, you little-”

“Falco is most definitely the Hange or the Jean of the relationship. Would even go as far to argue that he might even be the boldest.” Eren states.

You groan, the two of you walking past Gabi and Falco near the snack table, a sizable distance away from each other and nearly sweating in the presence of each other. You and Eren shoot them a thumbs up, and Eren continues to gloat all the way back to the house.

At the end of the workday, Eren’s gathered everyone in the main room in a big crowd, doing nothing to help your nerves, as you give them all a smile and loop the guitar strap over your shoulder and sit on the bench.

“Okay. Repeat the request, Y/N.” Eren guides, the group of them all giving you warm smiles.

Mikasa and Sasha blow you a kiss, Porco and Connie with overenthusiastic thumbs up, and Eren’s smile pushing you on.

“Right. The request was ‘write a song about standing up a wedding’ and it was from Connie.” you state.

You swallow hard as you shut the book and place it under the bench and start strumming on the guitar to warm up.

“Be nice to me guys. I called this one Speak Now.”

I am not the kind of girl Who should be rudely barging in on a white veil occasion But you are not the kind of boy Who should be marrying the wrong girl

There’s a resounding sound of cheers, Connie and Mikasa clapping along with the sound as everyone else follows suit. You can feel your head pounding, your voice slightly shaking as you continue on and the guitar strings uncomfortably burning your fingers.

I sneak in and see your friends And her snotty little family all dressed in pastel And she is yelling at a bridesmaid Somewhere back inside a room Wearing a gown shaped like a pastry

Mikasa scoffs.

“Are you trying to tell me something?”

Everyone laughs, including you, as you shake your head and blow her a kiss before continuing. She makes the little gesture at you - like she’s catching the kiss in the air and tucking it into her pocket. You can feel Jean rolling his eyes at your side.

Don't say yes, run away now I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door Don't wait, or say a single vow You need to hear me out And they said, "Speak now"

The rest of the song goes relatively smoothly, the excitement from the group of them making your heart soar, that block in your throat dissolve.

Sasha’s trapped Niccolo in her arms and has been aggressively swinging him around for the past minute, Porco and Gabi locking their fingers together to do a little swing dance, and Hange, Armin, and Eren bobbing their heads in unison at the side.

The group of them all give you a deafening sound of applause when you finish, aggressive hugs and kisses being placed on your cheeks as they all applaud you - claiming your brilliance - as you feel your cheeks burn with excitement.

Eren’s the last one to approach you, an almost too satisfied with himself smile on his face for the second time today, as you give him your most peachy smile.

“Like it?” you ask.

“Loved it. You’ve still got it.” Eren states.

“You know it.”

“Can I give you one note?” Eren asks.

“Please.”

“The last verse. You have to change it.”

“What? Why?” you ask.

“It’s a good repeat. But I’m more curious…did the guy from the song leave the altar for her?”

You nod, giving him a smile, as you reach for the book, and gesture for him to sit next to you on the bench. You quickly jumble the lyrics onto the page, nearly misspelling half of the words, before you hand it to him for inspection.

And you'll say, "Let's run away now" I'll meet you when I'm out of my tux at the back door Baby, I didn't say my vows So glad you were around When they said, "Speak now"

"Always a sucker for a happy ending. It's perfect." Eren states.

He gives you a glimmering smile, making your heart skip a beat as his hand brushes against yours. Eren pulls out the little slip from earlier today, taping it right above the lyrics.

He gives you a last pinch of the cheek before pushing off the bench, leaving your entire body burning at his praise.

“That’s my girl. I didn’t doubt you for even a second.”

You pause.

"Eren?"

He turns back, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah?"

"Ask me who my favorite person on set is."

"What?"

"Ask me."

"Why would I-"

"Can you just do it?"

Eren turns back, hands at his side.

"Who's your favorite person on set?" Eren asks.

You walk up to his side, standing on your tip toes to press a kiss into the softness of his cheek. You hope that he understands - that you're overwhelmingly thankful for him. For the documentary, the days in Seattle, and the lifeline he always throws you. That you'll always be indebted to him.

"It's you." you whisper.

Eren's cheeks are pink.

"Is that right?" Eren asks, the tone in his voice teasing.

"Don't push your luck." you state.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Eren responds, as he gives you one last cheek pinch before leaving you alone with the piano.

Singing the song, strumming the guitar - it's almost like stretching an old muscle, flexing out the soreness. You're so excited that you reach for the cup on top of the piano to start writing the next one right away. But when your read the slip, you feel your mouth go dry.

you love someone with your entire being, and all they do is tolerate it

And at the bottom, a name scribbled in messy handwriting

Jean.

next part linked here

an: OK GUYS. WE'RE IN THE ENDGAME NOW!!! sorry its kind of boring but we die like men

taglist: @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejgg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-morii @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi @najaemism @ilovekimchi123 @youraggedybitch @xoyumiqls @leafguitar @dreamy-carat @spiidergirlsworld @luvs4kim @levin4nami @florichun @hoonmyluv @cowgirlikets @dreamxiing @mamamammarga @tangerine-neonlight

pls comment on this post or any of the chapters if you want to be added to the taglist <3

306 notes · View notes

dearbraus · 5 months

Text

When and Where, Baby ࿐

— Various Attack on Titan Characters

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, gn!reader, kissing, semi public car sex, shower sex, quickies, established relationships, general allusions to and discussion of sex and intimacy, needy!reader and equally as needy!characters. ⊹ Run time. 0.7k ⊹ Note. Cheeky edited reupload from my old blog since I am deep in the Aot brainrot and am in dire need to talk about them lol. Enjoy <3

Where they fuck you outside of the bedroom —

꒰ On the Couch ꒱

Movie nights with you always turn into something more. Neither of you could help the way your hands drifted, his gliding further and further up your thigh until it’s practically between your legs, and your fingers idly stroking his navel, playing with the bit of hair poking out of his waistband. It’s a silent challenge, who’s willing to make the first real move. It certainly wasn’t going to be you, no matter how badly you wanted to sink your teeth into his neck or to toss your legs over his lap, you just couldn’t. But like magnets the two of you were pulled together, a certain desperation forcing you to toss away whatever little pride you had. You never could resist, not really. Eager kisses nearly knock the wind out of you as you clamber onto his lap, just a little bit too rough as you try to strip him of all the pesky layers between the two of you.

⊱ Porco Galliard, Eren Jaeger, Colt Grice, Miche Zacharius, Zeke Jaeger, and Connie Springer.

꒰ In the Kitchen ꒱

Dinner was something that they wish to disappear from your mind for just the slightest moment, it’s been a long day without you and if you’re not pinned beneath them in the next ten minutes they might just go crazy. It’s a good thing you’ve only just put that pot to boil because that gives them a bit more room for something other than heavy petting. Cupboard knobs dig into the small of your back and hips uncomfortably but the feel of their lips on your neck is enough to distract you from the pinpricks of pain. And for just a moment the task at hand slips away from your mind because god, they make your head spin and you miss them just as much as they missed you. You need them just as badly as they need you and it isn’t until the pot boils over that you’re pulled out of your rapture and even then you hold them ever closer because you’re so close to falling apart from their fingers, you’re almost there and you couldn’t care less about dinner because you’re much more interested in getting a taste of them.

⊱ Pieck Finger, Bertholdt Hoover, Niccolo, Hange Zoë, and Sasha Braus.

꒰ In the Shower ꒱

Early mornings were always made better when they slipped into the shower with you. It was never their intent to take things further but that tiny moan you let slip began to stoke a fire deep within them. They just wanted another one more honeyed sound so they innocently let the hand that was supposed to be washing your body slip between your legs. This was how it always played out no matter how many times you swore that it would because the two of you were still half asleep. One way or another, one of you is going to end up pinned against the tile wall, head thrown back as you relished in your partner's touch. If the water hadn’t run cold the two of you could have stayed in there for hours, but a morning quickie had to be just that; quick. No matter how badly you wished to stay in there with them forever, but you had things to do and frigid water wasn’t all that enjoyable even if you just ached to be with them for a moment longer.

⊱ Levi Ackerman, Annie Leonhart, Historia Reiss, Armin Arlert, Petra Rall, and Mikasa Ackerman.

꒰ In the Car ꒱

Sometimes you just couldn’t wait until you got home. They always drove with their hand locked on your thigh, their gaze trained on the road ahead; they just looked so good, it wasn't your fault it turned you on so much. So maybe it was you who couldn’t wait, you who begged them to pull over because you needed them so badly that if they didn’t you’d have no choice but to shimmy out of your pants and give them a little show if they weren’t willing to help you out. But you never did have to resort to that, they love their needy baby and if their baby needs it bad, well then who were they to deny you. It wasn’t like you two had anywhere to be, a detour wouldn’t be so bad, not if they got to hear those pretty sounds of yours. Just try not to make it too obvious, the spot was secluded but you still didn’t want to get caught because you just couldn’t wait to get your hands on one another.

⊱ Erwin Smith, Jean Kirstein, Ymir, Hitch Dreyse, Kenny Ackerman, and Yelena.

#aot smut #snk smut #jean kirschtein smut #eren yaeger smut #armin arlet smut #levi ackerman smut #mikasa ackerman smut #sasha braus smut #porco galliard smut #ymir smut #hange zoe smut #reiner braun smut #connie springer smut #pieck finger smut #erwin smith smut #aot x reader #snk x reader

299 notes · View notes

qilinxingg · 4 months

Text

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐍 #𝟐

pairing : john price x fem!reader

summary : after being taken by John, you are left in your private mansion. However, unlike what you expected, the Brit did not appear for some time to see it and after a few days, you receive an invitation from him to attend a private party and there things get complicated.

warnings : lil angst (promisse is just a bit), abuse and harassment (from a fuckin dog, not from price), violence and guns (a lil too), and eventually smut at the end (dirty talk and breeding kink)

word count : 6k

notes : I'M FINALLY BACK OMG!!! I apologize for the delay, but it will have to be so for some time (unfortunately until the summer of next year :(( ), but I will always try to post when I can. Thank you all for trying to pay attention to my stories, you have no idea how much happy I get :))

A last thing that I like to say is that this part of this story isn't one of my biggest works :/ so I apologize for the inconvenience but try to understand that I’ve been since summer without writing.

Anyway, good reading!

The life you led reminded you of little Nero.

Nero was the name of the nightingale your grandparents had in their house. The beautiful, delicate little bird had the whitest plumage you had ever seen and looked like freshly fallen snow on the first day of winter. And brownish feathers protruded from the crown of its head, blending in with the bright white.

But even though Nero was the most beautiful and breathtaking bird you had ever seen, you still wondered.

Why did Nero have to be trapped in these bars? Why couldn't he be free like the other birds?

Because Nero was special. That's what your grandmother said when you asked her. But if the delicate nightingale was special, why was it locked up? You just couldn't understand that.

You felt sorry for little Nero because he was deprived of his freedom. He deserved to fly free with the other birds and soar over beautiful landscapes. He shouldn't be trapped in a tiny cage for the rest of his life.

But Nero didn't seem to notice, because he was always happy. He hummed happily in his little cage almost all the time, as if it didn't bother him that his freedom had been stolen from him.

And at certain moments in life, you just couldn't understand how the little bird could behave like that.

Especially when you've been in the same situation for a long time without even realising it.

You wish you could be like the nightingale. You wish you didn't have to worry about being trapped between the bars of the suffocating, loveless cage you call marriage. Wishing you didn't feel like every moment you spend with Colt, your husband, you want to let the tears and sobs out. You wish your husband wouldn't act so inconsistent or come home drunk, completely out of control and ready to put you in danger.

That's exactly what he did when John came to make amends for his reckless actions. He threw you to the big man as if it was his last ace in the hole not to deal with the consequences of his actions.

That hurt you more than any other betrayal he committed against you. Isn't it a couple's job to protect each other?

Did all the years you spent together mean nothing to him? Did you really mean nothing to him?

Realising that was the worst thing of all. Realising that all the years you lived together had become boring and unpleasant and, above all, that they had turned you into a used-up, melancholy woman.

You could no longer recognise yourself when you looked at your reflection. Where was the cheerful girl you were years ago? You could only wonder if you weren't enough, if you weren't attractive enough or interesting enough.

You couldn't even recognise yourself when you looked at your reflection. Where was the cheerful girl you were years ago? You could only wonder if you weren't enough—if you weren't attractive enough or interesting enough.

You couldn't stand it any longer, and you prayed that one day everything would change. For some kind of miracle to happen and change the direction your life was taking.

And for the first time in your life, your wish came true.

You stare at the cream-coloured dress lying folded on your bed.

I mean, your new bed. Because that wasn't your room or your house. It was John's house, where you'd been living for at least a week and a half.

It had only been a week and a half and already your life had taken a complete turn.

You woke up in a huge room that was almost as big as the small house you shared with your husband, who claimed a small house would cost less money than a big one - money he wasted on his damn gambling and drinking.

The room you were in reminded you of the historical novels you used to read, in which the protagonist lived in a huge country house with gigantic living rooms and large bedrooms.

The room didn't look much different from the descriptions you had read. The walls were a light shade of beige, with gold-coloured damask wallpaper in some places. There were oil paintings in some corners of the room. The white ceiling was also decorated with damask patterns, and a huge golden crystal chandelier in the centre lit up the entire room.

The bed with its fine silk sheets stood in the middle of one of the walls, surrounded by two cream-coloured bedside tables with lamps. On an exquisite cream dressing table stood an elegant, ornate mirror, and on the other side, opposite the large window surrounded by faded curtains, was a pastel-coloured sofa and two armchairs on opposite sides. Finally, the beige porcelain floor was covered with a large greyish Persian rug.

You sighed and felt humiliated as you looked at your room. How could a single room be so extravagant?

You mean you didn't complain. Who wouldn't want to live in a room like that? It was everyone's dream. You just felt like an intruder. Your presence seemed to tarnish the grandeur of the room.

You curled up on the sofa, looked at the big TV screen - even though it was old, the room was still modern - and saw that 7:35 pm was displayed in the corner.

Earlier, the maid Mary had told you to be ready at 8pm. You asked her why, but she just replied with a smile.

"The master just told you to make yourself even prettier, ma'am."

You could still feel the heat in your cheeks at that remark. Your teeth bit lightly into your mouth and your body warmed instantly as the memory of your last encounter came up.

I'll fill your pussy so deep, princess, that you'll have my cum inside you for days. That's what you want, isn't it? Maybe I should give you a child of my own, don't you think?

Your face turned completely red and flushed as you felt your clit pulsing against your panties. It was so dirty, but you couldn't control it. There wasn't a single time that your husband had been able to give you these feelings that Brit had given you that fateful night.

Unfortunately, that was the last time you met the captain. That is, the last time he actually showed up, because deep down you knew John would show up without you realising it. Namely, when you were asleep.

You weren't that stupid. You could smell his expensive perfume in your room, in your bed to be precise.

But that was all. To be honest, you had expected the Brit to be a more uncontrolled, rough and merciless man than the rumours suggested.

You feared that, but the blue-eyed man was more than that: he was careful with you, although he intended to humiliate your husband, he took you in his strong arms and lodged you in a luxurious mansion that would astonish anyone.

Perhaps he took you in as a loan, so Colt could pay off his debts, you thought. That could only be his interest in you. If not, why would John be interested in someone like you? That was completely ridiculous.

You laughed pathetically and picked up the silky, exquisite cream-coloured dress. You had no choice, because it was so…

Or maybe your death.

You shuddered at the thought, swallowed, and hurried to your bathroom. There was no time to lose.

Your distracted eyes tracked the various unfamiliar faces in the huge hall, from the farthest reaches of the room. Some of the guests, who were probably all members of the mafia, were flaunting their expensive and exquisite dresses and suits. Others talked about their illegal and lucrative businesses to increase their fortunes while classical music played in the background.

And in the depths of the hall, one felt excluded while a single question buzzed around in the back of one's mind.

Why on earth had John brought you here? What was his plan?

You swirled the liquid in your champagne glass and nervously tapped the tips of your heels on the white floor as you let your third sigh escape your lips, which didn't go unnoticed by the person next to you.

"Don't worry about it, ma'am. The captain will be here shortly." Kyle's soothing accent suddenly entered your ears, startling you. When the man noticed this, he nodded apologetically.

You smile and accept his apology. During the time you lived - as they say - in John's huge mansion, Kyle's company - or Gaz, as he likes to be called - was what rescued you from the depths of loneliness. Not only him, but also the fun-loving and easy-going Johnny - known as Soap - who also helped you to have many a long laugh during this time.

You knew they were the people closest to your leader. Aside from those two, the only one you didn't get to know that well was Ghost, who only impressed you with his cold, stoic presence.

But at least he was there, unlike his absent captain.

Your rouged cheeks reddened, and a shiver ran through your whole body. Actually, you should be angry at John for leaving you in this situation and not miss him, God! What on earth was so attractive about him that you felt so lost?

Unable to answer your own question, you decide to ignore your disorganised thoughts and just focus on Kyle. "I know, but it's hard to stay calm when I'm in a place like this." You let off steam, but then a smile graces your features. "But thank you. That was very kind of you."

Kyle let a small smile appear on his handsome features. "No need to thank me, ma'am. You're well protected."

You put your hands over your mouth and laughed casually. "I've already told you that you can call me by my name." You let your hand fall to your waist, covered by the expensive fabric, and let yourself play with the soldier. "I'm not that old, am I?"

Gaz's cheeks flushed this time, and he quickly turned to answer you. "That's not what I meant, ma'am. It's just that the captain…" Before he could finish his words, the radio communicator in his blazer made a noise. When he had finished speaking, the man turned to you. "Miss, can you stay here alone for a while? I promise it'll be quick."

"Of course. Am I a child by any chance?" You joke, but when you notice the serious look on his face, you pause. "Did something serious happen?"

"No, nothing like that. It's just something trivial." Kyle replied quickly. "But stay here, no matter what, until Soap shows up."

Noticing the other's haste, you quickly agree, not wanting to delay him any longer. "Yeah, don't worry about me. You can go." Kyle waved at you and quickly walked through the main door of the common room, where more people were arriving.

You set the glass of champagne down on the small table next to you and snuggled into the white scarf that lay there, hugging your elbows. You let your eyes rest on the people around you for a few more minutes before you felt your bladder fill up. You blushed slightly and let an embarrassed smile appear on your lips.

Why did you have to drink so much champagne?

You look around until you finally find the sign for the toilet. But before you could make your way there quickly, Kyle's words came into your mind.

Stay here, no matter what.

Nothing much could happen, could it? You just wanted to go to the toilet. No one would notice your insignificant presence anyway.

So why bother?

After doing your business, you came out of one of the numerous cabins in the bathroom. You went to the small sink in front of you and washed your hands. Finally, you tidied yourself up in front of the mirror and quickly left the room, not wanting to waste too much time there.

However, as you walked along, you noticed a different pace. Not wanting to get scared, you ignored it and continued walking, but your efforts weren't rewarded, and your tiny body was pushed into a large room by strong hands.

You tried to get up, but soon a pair of strong hands wrapped around your neck and wasted no time in pushing. You placed your small hands on top of the stranger's, trying to somehow free yourself, while desperately pleading. "Let me go..."

The stranger laughed amusingly, as if he enjoyed your distress. And when you finally heard his voice, you realized that he wasn't just a stranger to you after all.

"I really couldn't believe it was really you, but it seems my eyes didn't deceive me after all."

You widened your eyes. That was Gerold, one of your husband close friends and the man primarily responsible for bringing your husband into this kind of world.

What on earth was he doing here?

"Looks like what Colt was saying was really true. Captain Price really did take you as a credit until he pays off the debt." Gerold said debauched, clamping his hand's tighter around your neck as you squirmed. "I bet he's taking good advantage of you. Well, who wouldn't, with a woman like you?"

Revulsion and fear rushed through your body like a tsunami as Gerold's burly frame came closer and closer to you. The man glued his mouth to your ear. "You know, I always knew that Colt didn't know how to take advantage of what was waiting for him at home. After all, you were always a lot of sand for his little, insignificant lorry." Gerold lowered his gaze to the neckline of her dress. "What you need is a real man who can use that beautiful body of yours to do with as he pleases." Gerold lowered his gaze to the neckline of her dress. "What you need is a real man who can use that beautiful body of yours to do with as he pleases."

You wanted to scream and destroy his satisfied and despicable features with your bare hands. You wanted to tear him apart. You were so sick of it all, of what your whole life had become! How much longer would you have to put up with this whole miserable situation?

However, the only thing you could do was cry silently and beg for help, with your voice weak from lack of air.

Gerold laughed at your state and quickly tore off your dress, revealing all your delicate flesh. Seeing everything that had happened, you quickly began to do everything you could to get him to let you go: you screamed for help, struggled, scratched him and tried to hit him. You heard Gerold grumble, and not a second passed before his firm palm slapped you hard across the cheek.

The metallic taste quickly invaded your mouth, accompanied by the slight tingling that shut you up for a few brief moments. Sobs and tears escaped you as the man pushed you to the ground to keep you quiet.

"Stop moving, bitch!" Gerold shouted at you impatiently. "I see the captain has given you too much freedom, and you've become an undisciplined bitch. However, don't worry, I'll make you a silenced doll again."

You denied it with your head, not ceasing your struggle when he began to touch you. This sensation was completely different from what John had done to you. It wasn't pleasurable or caring, despite the situation you were in. It was so raw and disgusting that it made you vomit and feel filthy.

You just wanted to be in his protective arms again. You wanted John to hold you and never let you go back to that ghost you once were at your husband's side.

"Please…" You asked softly, your dry lips barely opening.

John, please come to me. Help me.

Help me, John.

Suddenly, you heard something cut through the air so fast that you thought you were dreaming. However, the blood dripping down your face proved to you that it was reality. Gerold's grip lessened, and a painful cry came from his mouth as he lay writhing beside you. You opened your eyes and finally saw the cause of all your sudden pain.

A bullet.

Your vision automatically followed the trajectory of the bullet, and from a distance, you could see the familiar silhouette next to the door. And even from afar, you could feel his murderous aura.

John Price stared at the scene in front of him in pure fury and hatred. The Briton felt his whole body burn with such rage that he could feel a nuclear bomb about to decimate an entire civilisation.

How dare that son of a bitch let his filthy hands touch you? He could only be asking for death and, just in those few seconds, Price already had plenty of doses of suffering planned for the bastard.

John would make this scum suffer in the worst possible way.

His sole purpose for being there was to introduce you to the whole of mafia society, so that precisely such situations couldn't happen since everyone would know that you were under his protection and that no one would be stupid enough to harm you.

However, it was incredible how, with just a few second delay, his whole well-laid plan went completely off the rails. And the Brit wouldn't admit to that kind of mistake. Never. Even more so when you were involved.

Why did he do that? That wouldn't be revealed just yet.

John marched up to your pathetically exposed body, slowly, as if he was afraid of scaring you. However, when he got close, you quickly threw yourself into his warm arms and let the chained sobs escape.

John clenched his fist around the gun, deciding whether to let his anger take him over and kill him right then and there, or to let him suffer. Sensibly, he chose the latter, not wanting to cause her even more discomfort with the whole situation.

"Darling, I…" John tried, but you quickly cut him off.

"Please… get him out of here… please…" You asked sobbing, and the Briton could feel a part of his heart squeeze, and consequently his anger rise.

The blue-eyed man didn't take long to do exactly what you asked because a few seconds later, his men arrived and carried off the sobbing scum. However, they didn't leave before the captain said. "Leave that damned son of a bitch alive. I'm still going to settle the score with him."

After these cruel words, his men left the room, leaving only you and John. The man turned to you and gently embraced your trembling body, calling you softly by your name. "It's all right now, love. I'm here."

Your body just snuggled closer to his, letting itself be cradled by his warm touch. And so he let him stay, trying to soothe you, silently, as a reminder that he was there.

Slowly, the sobs stopped, and you raised your head, looking him in the eye for the first time that night and in several days. John's blue eyes focused on your watery ones, and they gave you only one certainty.

He would destroy anyone who puts you in that state. He would make him choke on his own blood if necessary and give him a direct ticket to hell.

The Briton approached you, placed his calloused hands on your warm cheeks and left light kisses on your wet eyes, feeling the salty taste. You let out a silent sob again and couldn't stop thinking.

Why was John so worried? I mean, you weren't complaining. In fact, you had often dreamed and wished that someone would anchor you in these difficult times. You were just curious.

You rested your hands on his firm shoulders and when he pulled away, you called out to him, panting and trembling. "John…" Your sparkling eyes never left his. "Touch me… please…"

Hearing his gasp, you saw John's sapphire eyes widen and then darken. He was controlling himself - you could feel it. And to prove his point, John asked slowly, his British accent thickening, "Love, you've just been through a difficult situation. I don't want to make you do anything…"

You stopped the captain's voice completely when you took his hands and brought them to your exposed breasts. You continued to stare at him with your glowing eyes and begged, trembling. "Please touch me. Make me forget the touch of those disgusting people. Make me feel like a new woman again, like you did before, John."

Hearing your words, John pushed your exposed body into the furry carpet and quickly covered you with his massive, muscular body. The Brit wasted no time in ripping off what was left of your dress, and when his goal was complete, he spoke dangerously into your ear as he let his firm hands roam your body. "I'll do it, love. I'll make you focus only on how you're going to come so hard that the only thing that will be left in that little head of yours will be just my name and my cock."

Your eyes widened, and your cheeks flushed, denouncing your excitement. John smiled at this reaction and began to apply bites and sucks to your neck, making you gasp. After this area received a great deal of attention, John's hot mouth descended on your puffy nipples, and he wasted no time in sucking them one at a time.

You arched your back at the pleasure you were receiving, feeling the ridges of your pussy wet the lacy beige panties and your clitoris getting excited. Realizing this, the captain moved his fingers down to your needy region and began stroking your luscious clit.

"Oh God!" You exclaimed, tilting your head back, letting yourself rub against his ardent touch.

"It's John, darling." The Briton complained, raising his face to the same height as his own. "God won't help you in this situation."

And with those last words, John sealed your mouth to his, completely devouring and destroying your delicate little lips. You gasped against his lips and put your fingers between his brownish strands, squeezing and scratching as you tried to follow the frantic rhythm of his lips.

However, it seemed impossible for you to do so. The man was literally consuming you as if he had been starving for days. His tongue enveloped yours in a ravishing, lustful dance, making you submit to what he was offering you.

You'd never felt this way before. It was so...different. So ardent.

Taking advantage of your moment of vulnerability, John stopped playing with your pussy and reached for your panties. You were about to complain when the man pulled it down and stuck the small garment between your soaked folds, directly against your core.

With that sudden movement, you could feel your body squirm and heat up completely with pleasure. You broke contact and opened your mouth to moan loudly as John continued to play with you by rubbing the garment against your pussy.

"J-John...oh my..." You moaned loudly as you tried to control your breathing. God, it was the first time you'd received such a strong dose of pleasure. You simply didn't know how to react.

"Shh... it's all right, love. Breathe calmly." John said smiling and left a kiss on your cheek, making you shiver completely at the feel of his facial hair. "We still have a long way to go."

You whimpered at his words and nibbled on your lips, swollen from the previous contact. You felt your knickers being removed and your soaked pussy being revealed.

You swallowed in anticipation as the Brit lowered himself to the middle of your trembling legs. However, contrary to what you had expected, the captain began to undress in front of you, and you wasted no time in admiring the man's athletic physique.

Despite having certain scars - which you wanted to explore properly - his body was nonetheless attractive. The lines of his defined abdomen were visible beneath the light fur that covered his entire torso, making him look more virile. His strong arms, which reflected the firm, strong muscles as they wrapped around his thighs, also sent a huge wave of excitement throughout his body.

You lowered your gaze, starting from his abdomen, and stopping only when his large, hard penis, full of protruding veins, caught your eye. You widened your eyes. He looked bigger than the last time you'd seen him, and he was just sending out the message that he was going to completely destroy you.

"Liking what you see, darling?" John's thick, husky accent came through, making your clitoris throb and your core release more grooves of pleasure. You didn't answer, as your body wasted no time in denouncing you, but that didn't please the captain. "I asked you a question, darling, and I don't like being ignored."

You shivered completely and let out a shaky sigh as you heard his stern, authoritative tone. You wasted no time in responding to his command, albeit timidly. "I like that."

John smiled and left a light seal on your aroused clitoris, making you let out a loud, long moan. "Good girl." And with those two words, he wasted no time in letting his mouth devour your pussy eager for his attention.

You bit your lips, stifling the scream that was about to burst from your lips. However, it was difficult to hold back the lustful sounds as John relentlessly consumed your wet region.

"J-John..." As you moaned for him, you only encouraged him to go harder and harder, until your pussy was swollen and sensitive from so much stimulation.

His erratic movements continued, alternating between your pussy and your sensitive clitoris. It was a short, quick sequence: sucking, licking and penetrating with his broad fingers and hot tongue, making your mind completely lose itself and become dependent on his lascivious touches.

And then, when you were close to orgasm, John suddenly stopped, making you moan and whimper pathetically at your denied orgasm. "P-Please...don't stop..."

Hearing your pleas, the British man's husky laugh rang out. "I didn't want to either, darling, but I promise it will get better."

Your hot body jumped as she felt the fat, wet glans slap against your soaked pussy, which throbbed with anticipation. Your lips trembled slightly and you brought your trembling hands to your face, hiding it from the man's deep gaze. Your move didn't take long, however, as he quickly grabbed your wrists and brought them up over your head, trapping them there and forcing you to face him.

"Eyes here, love." John commanded, as his free hand lined up the throbbing glans on his moist little hole. "I want to see your face when you feel my cock deep inside you again. Are we clear?"

You stared into his darkened eyes and nodded breathlessly, letting your tongue run over your pink lips. "Yes."

"Very good. Looks like you've learnt something, darling." John complimented, making you blush. "And you, what do good girls deserve? They deserve to be fucked until their little brains are mush and their pussies are so full, they will leak for days with all the sperm they put in them."

Listening to his dirty words, her pussy unleashed more lustful grooves and her clitoris throbbed, as if it were a silent invitation for him to invade. Her legs trembled and her breathing quickened, something that didn't go unnoticed by the Brit, who quickly commented with a laugh, "Is that your dirty secret, love? You want me to pour all my sperm inside you so you can feel it leaking out of your swollen little pussy, don't you? I bet you've been touching yourself thinking about the words I said the last time. You're so dirty."

Your cheeks flushed at being caught, and you denied it with your head, trying to save your last shred of dignity. "I-It wasn't like that...."

"You can try to lie all you like, doll, but your body will always be honest with me." John said, smiling, as he rubbed his own fluids into your hole, causing you to moan lewdly. "But don't worry, I'll do exactly what you want."

John groaned hoarsely and bit his lips. God, how many times during these past few days had he longed to return to this damp, warm heat since the last time. Damn work and unfinished business kept him away from you, he hated it. The only time the captain could be with you like this was when it was late at night and you were asleep.

The Brit would make sure that never happened again.

His free hand went next to the other, to your bound wrists, and this movement brought John's face face-to-face with yours, panting. After this small interval of time, his erratic movements began frantically inside you, making you both moan with the pleasure you were receiving.

You whimpered, while trying to hold back your moans by biting your lips. God, you were in a public place! There were people almost right next to you, they could hear! And the captain, realizing this, narrowed his eyes and brought his thumb to your mouth, forcing you to release your restrained moans. "I want everyone to hear your moans so they know you're already with someone, love. I want them to know who you're moaning for. Who's giving you pleasure."

You shuddered as you moaned loudly. His strong, fast thrusts made your insides burn and throb, sending waves of heat throughout your body and making you cry from the sensations they provided.

"John...John...more..." You called out and begged tremulously for it, as you felt him bite down harder on your neck.

"That's it, doll." John said muffled, letting his teeth bruise the sensitive skin of your neck. The hand that had been on her mouth moved down to your centre and wasted no time in rubbing the sensitive button that was begging for attention. Your pupils dilated, and you arched your back with the pleasure you were receiving, not containing the loud moan that left your mouth, making John smile. "Tell me, who's fucking you?"

"Oh... oh God..." You moaned breathlessly, unable to form a single thought properly because of what you were feeling. "You... it's you!"

John smiled, as he felt sweat beading on his forehead. Even so that didn't stop John from continuing his cruel, deep thrusts. "That's right, darling. It's not your slag of a husband. It's me, John Price. I'm the one who comes so deep that he makes you squirm and cry with pleasure. I'm the one you call and ask to go faster. And it's me who will fill your insides completely with my seed." John said breathlessly, not stopping to rub his thumb over your clitoris, making you moan louder. "Can you feel it, love? Can you feel how deep I am?"

You denied it with your head and John took your hand, taking it to your belly, which moved according to the firm blows of your cock. You blushed and it just made you moan louder. "Can you see? No one can get that deep inside you, love. And you get my cock so well in that little pussy of yours."

"J-John... I'm... close." You warned tearfully and tilted your head back lost.

"Cum for me, doll. Cum." John said and joined his mouth into his, initiating a lustful and quick contact that you couldn't even breathe right.

In just a few seconds, you reached your apex and you anchored yourself in the captain's strong grip as you felt your whole body tremble. Soon after, John also followed you and freed himself within you with a hoarse groan, fulfilling his promise.

He dropped himself over his tired body and left a light kiss on his sweaty forehead as they tried to catch his breath.

You were the first to break the silence some time later. "Do you think anyone heard us?"

John laughed loudly and took his hand, which previously rested on his clitoris, to his cheek. "And what's the matter if anyone hears."

You bit your lips and commented embarrassed. "They will comment..."

"Nobody has the courage to comment on anything, dear. Don't worry." John pushed his ideas away and re-sealed his mouth on him, making you feel his facial hair.

You sighed softly against his mouth, returning and following his contact. After some time, both turned away and you stared at him. "Please don't do anything to Kyle or his subordinates. I was the one who walked away to go to the bathroom.

"Well, yes, yes..." You agreed and before you could do anything else, your body was turned facing the carpet and your ass was piled towards the captain's hip, which was still inside you.

"What a naughty girl... accusing me of leaving her alone and still getting involved with my soldiers." Price spoke into her ear slowly, as she rubbed her limb inside herself. "It seems I shall have to punish her."

"I-I just..."

"No buts, love." John said, banging on his ass band, making you jump and moan again. "And as for your request, I will consider it carefully as I fuck you again."

You moaned loudly as the merciless thrusts returned.

243 notes · View notes

saturnsycx05 · 5 months

Text

Tired of Lovin' From Afar (Sam Winchester x Reader)

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Song: "Car's Outside" by James Arthur

Warning(s): canon-level violence, swearing, sad Sam but then fluff

Summary: You and Sam have danced around each other for so long, and you're both tired of always leaving each other, so Sam proposes a solution.

>>>

"Y/n!" Sam yelled, freezing as he watched the demon pointing your gun at you.

"Not so tough now, huh?" The demon said to you. You raised your hands in surrender, staring it down rather than the barrel of your gun. "So stupid, you humans. Think a normal gun is going to kill me? Wrong."

"Well, no offense," you said. "But that one wasn't actually meant for you."

"This one is," Dean announced, clicking the Colt up the the back of the demon's head. "Drop the gun."

"You first, Winchester," it replied cockily.

Everyone was frozen. You were on the business end of a glock, Dean had the Colt on the demon's skull, and Sam couldn't move. He stood frozen in the doorway, his chest heaving up and down as he desperately tried to catch his breath. If anyone moved, even in the slightest, that gun in the demon's hand could go off and blow a bullet right through you. Sam held his breath as the demon chuckled and you squeezed your eyes shut.

Bang.

The demon sizzled into nothingness and you collapsed to the floor. All you felt was pain, then just barely, you felt a pair of arms lift you off the floor and into their lap. Sam. You couldn't gather the strength to open your eyes, so you just laid in his arms, limp.

"No no no no, Y/n. Stay awake, please. Just stay awake."

"Ow..." you grumbled, opening your eyes after a moment.

"Y/n..."

"Rubber bullets, Sam," you told him, sitting up. "I'm not an idiot. I f anyone else gets my gun, I'm not letting them kill me with it."

Without warning, Sam pulled you into a crushing hug, holding you so tight you thought you might shatter into a million little pieces. "Don't ever do that. Ever." He held you some how tighter, and you hugged him back.

"Alright, lovebirds," Dean said, clearing his throat. "Let's go back to the motel and then get the hell outta dodge."

>>>

"I call first shower," Dean said, racing to the bathroom and locking himself inside. You rolled your eyes and sat on Sam's bed rather than the pullout couch you'd slept on last night. You leaned back and rubbed your shoulder, which you had forgotten was still bleeding.

"Let me get the first aid kit," Sam said, reaching for his bag.

"Sam-"

"No," Sam interrupted. "Please, just let me patch you up."

For a moment, you both stared each other down, you trying to silently convince him that you were fine and him silently telling you 'no, you're not.' Finally, you looked away, letting Sam win. He pulled the small box from his bag and you slipped off your shirt.

You and Sam had danced around each other for so long. You'd met a few years ago on a hunt and had damn near instant chemistry. On more than one occasion, you'd made Sam look like a fool with everything you knew. But where you outmatched him in wits, he outmatched you in strength.

Sam was a giant, but a gentle one. He was unconditionally kind to you and always had your back. Several times, he'd even found himself arguing with Dean in your defense. Dean knew you were both in love with each other before either of you would ever admit it. But somewhere, somehow, something had to give.

>>> One Year Ago >>>

Dean had gone on a food run for the three of you, leaving you and Sam alone in the boys' motel room. You sat at the table, awaiting your inevitable scolding from Sam. He opened the fridge and pulled two beers from the fridge, popping them open and setting one in front of you. He took a silent sip of his before setting it down across from you, but he didn't sit down.

"You used yourself as bait? Really?" Sam asked rhetorically, suppressed rage in his voice.

"We caught the damn thing, didn't we?" You replied snarkily. You took a sip of your beer, avoiding eye contact with Sam.

"Y/n, you realize you could have gotten yourself killed?" Sam said, raising his voice and urging you to look at him.

"So? That's the damn job," you told him. You met his angered gaze, setting your beer back on the table. "I could get myself killed any damn day of the year, so what makes this time any different?"

"Dammit Y/n," Sam exclaimed, clearly frustrated. "We told you that you weren't gonna be bait for this damn thing!"

"No, you told me I wasn't gonna be bait," You stood up, pissed off. "You're not my fucking boss and I do what I've gotta do to catch the damn thing. We killed it, I'm fine. End of story."

"No, not end of story!"

"Oh yeah?" You cocked your head to the side. "Then please, Sam, tell me else you have a damn problem with. I can do my damn job and I don't need a damn babysitter!"

"I'm starting to think that yeah, maybe you do," Sam yelled.

"God, what the hell is your problem?!"

"My problem is that I'm in love with you!"

Sam looked just as surprised as you did from what he just said. You both stared at each other, jaws clenched shut and eyes wide. The room was eerily quiet now, the only sounds being the air conditioner running and the pair of you breathing. You looked at him as if to ask, 'are you serious?' and he returned it with a look that said, 'I meant every word.'

"Sam-"

"You don't have to say anything," he said softly. "I shouldn't have."

"Sam," you insisted, gently put your hand around the back of his head and pulled him into a soft kiss. He returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your body against his. All he wanted was to be as close to you as physics would allow.

"About damn time." You both broke the kiss to see Dean in the doorway with a bag of fast food in one hand, keys in the other.

"Dude, ever head of knocking?" Sam asked.

"Dude," Dean mocked. "It's my room too."

>>> Now >>>

It wasn't a new thing for Sam to see you in your bra. You'd had plenty of make-out sessions on the hunts you wound up on together, though you'd never actually slept together. You were both scared that if you'd taken that step, it would become too dangerous for you to work together anymore because of 'feelings.' You even refused to sleep in the same bed to avoid the extra attachment.

Once your shoulder was stitched up and wrapped, you put your shirt back on as Sam put the first aid box away. He sat beside you and you leaned against him. He wrapped his arms around you, both of you knowing this would be your last night together for at least a few weeks.

"I love you, Sam," you said quietly.

"Come with me," Sam replied. You looked up at him, confused. "When we're out of here in the morning, come with us. Come with me."

"What?"

"I'm tired of never knowing when I'm gonna see you again. Y/n, I'm in love with you."

"I know-"

"Hang on, please," Sam insisted. "Just let me say what I gotta say... I'm in love with you. I have been for a long time. And being with you has been probably the only good thing I've had going for me in years. You make me so happy, Y/n. And I don't want to spend another minute without you. So please, come with me."

"Sam," you said, sitting up and turning your whole body to face him. "You and I both know how dangerous this job is already. And if we're together all the time, it's only going to make the job that much harder."

"I know, but I don't care," Sam replied. "I'd rather be with you and fight every damn thing that tries to hurt you than spend another day without you by my side. Be with me, Y/n. Stay with me."

You looked into his eyes with a look of uncertainty, but you couldn't deny that every word he spoke was exactly what your heart had been screaming for for the past year.

"Pack your bag and throw it in the Impala. Hunt with us. Please, just don't leave again."

You hastily pressed your lips to his, and he was quick to return the kiss. Sam wrapped a hand around the back of your neck, the other resting gently against your jaw. You held his head in your hands and pulled him closer as you leaned back.

He urged you further backwards until your head was on a pillow and he was fully over top of you. His large frame was pressed down on yours, his hand gliding down over your body rom your jaw to your waist. You reached down to the bottom hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, running your hands over his chest. You reached for his belt, but his large hand stopped both of yours.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Sam asked, looking at you with gentle eyes.

"We've been avoiding this for a year because we didn't want to get too attached," you reminded. "I'd rather not die without getting to have sex with my boyfriend first."

"You're ridiculous," he chuckled.

"You know you love me," you smiled.

"Yeah," Sam smiled too. "I love you."

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #supernatural #fluff #angst

144 notes · View notes

ken-dom · 2 months

Text

I’ll Do Anything You Say If You Say It With Your Hands

Colt Seavers x gn!reader

2k words

∘₊✧ Summary: You comb your fingertips through the wavy lengths of his soft hair, pausing when you find the perfect spot to wind a handful of strands tight around your fingers...

∘₊✧ Author’s notes: Thank you my wonderful K (@heresthestorymorningglory) for beta reading, finding me a Swift song for Colt, and allowing long hair Colt into the Geese Who Consume Us Club. This is my first time writing him and I know it won’t be my last! Title from Trecherous by Taylor Swift

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: NSFW, long hair Colt, crying (both to Taylor Swift and from overstimulation), praise, hair pulling kink, a lot of cum, hand job, overstimulation, orgasm as pain relief, aftercare

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

With lips hot and wet at his neck, your nails scrape over Colt’s scalp, threading through his thick locks.

His head drops back into the feeling; it’s sensual and soothing in equal measure, every nerve tingling like a spread of lightning through his body and heat pooling like lava at his aching core.

You've been touching him like this, tender but teasing, for what feels to him like hours since finding him curled into a ball on his sofa with Taylor Swift playing from the kitchen, eyes and cheeks wet, back aching and head pounding. You offered to help him relax, slowly opening him up to you, and, although you didn’t tell him this, your plan was also designed to make him feel good about himself. He fell apart in your hands the moment you began to touch him and as ever, he’s content to let you put him back together however you see fit.

You comb your fingertips through the wavy lengths of his soft hair, pausing when you find the perfect spot to wind a handful of strands tight around your fingers until you’re holding his head still with a firm fistful of thick, luscious blonde.

There’s still one loose strand framing his face, but he looks so gorgeous, you leave it there.

He whimpers as you tug your fist lightly, his wet eyes glimmering before they slip closed.

He feels your free hand glide down the smooth expanse of his chest. You’re raking your nails over his soft flesh too, feeling him shiver under the warmth of your palm until you graze a nail directly over a nipple and he jolts at the sudden spark of pleasure. You continue there, pinching and rolling the soft nub lightly between your fingers, watching his face contort in pleasure that isn’t quite enough but is almost too much to bear.

Watching him unravel.

He's been hard for too long and the front of his loose fitting sweatpants are soaked through. Colt is strong and he has stamina for days, but he really can’t keep this up for much longer, not with the way you’re teasing and coaxing, being so soft and caring with him.

Your hip presses briefly against his cock the hen you reach up to stroke that loose strand of hair, and Colt writhes, biting his bottom lip to keep from letting out the hungry groan that’s been nagging to tear from his chest.

You brush against him deliberately now and again, watching his chest muscles tense while his cock throbs at the hint of contact, and this time he does let out a groan. It’s guttural and almost relieved, and the wet patch grows a little darker.

He’s delicious like this, you think, simmering on the edge of bliss, needy but not daring to ask for anything more than you’re giving him. He completely relinquishes control to you, giving you both his body, and the power to oversee his pleasure however you see fit.

He trusts you, and you take good care of him. It works.

‘Colt?’ you whisper, still massaging that perky, sensitive nipple, and he whines in response. He can’t formulate so much as a thought of anything worth saying, let alone turn the sound into a word. So he gives up and simply nods instead, face scrunching up in pain when the roots of his hair snag against your tight grip.

It’s not just pain, though; it’s pleasure too, and he shudders at the sensation it sends running down his spine.

It’s almost too much. Every touch is bringing him dangerously close to the edge, and having his hair tugged was a factor he never expected would contribute.

Lips pulling into a smirk at his reaction, you whisper, ‘Do you need to cum?’

‘P-pl-’ he tries, resorting back to a nod, slower this time, gentle against your fist, trying not to let this new thrill he’s discovered overwhelm him too soon.

‘Then tell me you’re handsome.’

‘Wha-’

‘Tell me you’re handsome,’ you repeat, a clear and simple request, fingers finding the tip of his cock with your and tracing a featherlight touch over the pulsing bulge in his damp sweatpants.

Heat radiates through the fabric as you trace the outline of a vein running down the underside of his length, and he twitches against your finger, cock begging for more — or less, if you want this to continue for much longer.

‘I- I’m- handsome,’ he chokes out, hips stuttering as you circle his sensitive tip again.

‘Tell me you’re smart, too.’

He shakes his head. It’s too vigorous and it hurts, but a spark of bliss shoots down to his core and he grunts as he feels himself leak out another thick drop of precum. His head drops back against the wall, your fist there to cushion the blow.

‘Come on, Colt, you can do it. Tell me.’

Your finger slows to a stop and his breathing turns uneven and ragged.

‘No- no, please- I… I can’t- I’m not!’

‘Oh but you are, and I need you to believe it. I need to hear you say it.’

He dares to open his scrunched up eyes just enough to glance at you.

You mean it. He knows you mean it. And he will never not give you what you ask for, so he manages, somehow.

‘I’m… I’m smart,’ he mutters, embarrassment pricking at his cheeks.

‘Good boy,’ you coo, massaging his tip again, gentle and slow.

Oh, Colt thinks, lost in the sensation, absentmindedly rolling his hips in time with your fingers, worth it.

Because he likes praise. He likes doing right by you, even if he doesn’t always agree with what you want him to say about himself. If you believe it, that’s enough for him.

‘I think you really deserve to cum now.’

‘Oh- yeah, ok-’ he breathes, still trying to please you, to sound agreeable, but it comes out desperate and you smirk as you lean up to press your lips to his for a moment, his cock once again left to throb aimlessly inside his sweatpants in the empty space between you, untouched and leaking steadily.

He feels a sinking disappointment when you loosen your grip on his long hair, but then you dip your head and your lips wrap around the plump nipple you’d been teasing moments earlier, and he moans, loud and unrestrained, bucking his hips and grabbing your shoulders to seek something- anything you might be good enough to give him.

With one hand still loose in his hair, the other drags painfully slowly over his stomach, fingers grazing his happy trail, to hook under the waistband of his sweatpants, open a space big enough to slide your hand inside the fabric and press your palm flat against the underside of his cock.

It’s sticky with precum and he blushes again at how wet he feels.

His cock is thick and heavy, noticeable even just from resting against your palm, and you can feel every little throb of need it gives. Your eyes drag over his burly form, and absentmindedly, you lick your lips.

His jaw clenches at that. He’s trying so hard not to spill yet, forcing his hips still and concentrating on breathing. He needs you to tell him when, but it’s growing more difficult by the minute to wait for that command, even while there’s no friction, no movement.

‘Tell me one more thing?’

‘Anything!’ Colt cries out, voice weak, strangled and cracking, the vein in his cock throbbing against your palm.

‘Tell me what you need?’

‘I need- oh-’

You finally stroke his cock. A soft, gentle massage that, to him, feels like far too much at this point. He can’t hold off, his release is approaching rapidly and-

‘Oh, fuck- I can’t-’

‘That’s it baby, you can, I promise,’ you coo, and your fingers wrap around his length while your tongue resumes its work on his sensitive nipple.

‘I- I need to-’ he rasps, on the verge of more tears. But these are needy tears, not self pitying ones, and you both know that you’ll give him what he needs, eventually.

The tears pour, steaming down his cheeks, and as a reward for trying so hard, you begin to move your fist, pumping faster the more he attempts to spit the words out, and tightening the grip of your other hand to yank his hair, hard.

Colt growls at the combined sensations and your teeth catch on his nipple as he jerks forward. It’s so good, so overwhelming, he knows he’s done for, and every ounce of strength in him diminishes until there’s just your hand, your mouth, your warmth. He’s safe like this with you. Safe and handsome and smart. Fuck.

His vision blurs as the words continue to fall from his trembling lips; ‘I need to- cu-ohhh-oh!-ughhh-mmmnnn-gg-’ and he spills uncontrollably, hips snapping forward into your furiously pumping fist while his cock darkens the front of those sweatpants with a fresh layer of thick, hot seed, dripping down satisfyingly over your hand, too while his whole body turns limp.

You continue working his softening length with slower, softer strokes until he’s got nothing left to give and he’s softening inside your loose fist.

He’s a heap on the floor by now and you’re positioned over him, pushing your fingers through his hair and softly brushing it away from his face instead of pulling at it. The contrast soothes him and he whimpers, nuzzling his face into your shoulder as you settle beside him.

You wipe his release from your hand onto a dry patch of his pants — they’re going to need a thorough wash anyway, and Colt doesn’t even notice.

His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, his over-sensitive cock relieved and soft and coated in his own cum, twitching with aftershocks.

Slowly, he begins to feel like he’s made of jelly, the feeling spreading from his core out to his limbs, and he can barely keep his eyes open.

He floats away on the haze of bliss while you play with his hair and press soft kisses to his cheek, whispering how good he was for you into his ear, the praise dripping like warm honey.

When he comes to, he first notices that your comforting weight is no longer pressed against his side, and then he recognises the calming trickle of the tap filling his bathtub and the scent of lavender floating through from the steamy room.

Whatever you did to him has relieved his back pain, however temporary, and he shifts on the floor, seeing how it feels to have more ease in his movements.

There’s a cushion under his head and you’ve stripped him of his cum stained sweatpants, replacing them with a blanket for now.

It feels like you’ve brushed his hair.

He smiles to himself. A big, dumb grin that would make you want to kiss him (and pounce on him) if you were still beside him.

He looks over to where you were laid before he drifted off and sees that you’ve left him a glass of water.

His heart skips.

He’s not sure he can drag himself to the bathtub right now, weak from too much pleasure and somewhat overwhelmed at it, but he knows you’ll help him. And that it’s what he needs.

He knows you’ll massage his shoulders, and that you’ll wash his hair with tender, loving fingers, and gush about how pretty it is all the while.

About how pretty he is.

You’ll do it until he sees his worth, and as difficult as it may be to learn and accept that he’s as desirable as you seem to think he is, he’s not exactly complaining about hearing it from you. Especially when you choose this method — the one where he gets to cum.

He knows he’ll be hard again by the time you’re done washing and massaging him, too, but you’ll take mercy on him since he’s so overstimulated. Won’t you?

#not s f w 💀#colt seavers x reader #colt seavers smut #colt seavers fic #colt seavers #the fall guy #the fall guy fic #ryan gosling #ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling smut #ken-dom writes

110 notes · View notes

desi2go · 24 days

Text

A pirate and the sea

pairings: pirate!Jeongin x reader

Warnings: death, angst, fluff

summary: You were the daughter of a sailesman and after your father's death, you were held captive by pirates. Luckily, you meet a young pirate that will change your life forever.

author's note: Hey guys! I'm a big fan of Pirates of the Caribbean so I thought I would try to write a fic about pirates. I hope you like it even though my knowledge comes from the films and the internet ;-)

The sea is wild. Something you can't tame. Within minutes, the peaceful waves can turn into fearsome beasts that cannot be domesticated.

Yet, the humans explore it and take every opportunity to reach further into the deepest of the sea. They search for gold, for treasures, and for freedom.

Many people try to control it, sailesmen from European colonies claim the sea.

But there are also pirates. They raid and steal from the cities. Their home is the sea, their ship.

Two days ago, a pirate ship docked at the harbour of your town. You were the daughter of a sailesman, someone with money.

In the night, they looted the shops and surprised your father and you. Quickly, your father pushed you behind a cabin so that they couldn't see you.

They picked the lock and four pirates stormed in. Your father tried to bring them to just take the money and go but they knew that this wasn't everything your family owned. They aimed their colts at him. They will shot him, you thought. In your hands was your own colt that your father gave you if you would ever be in danger.

As a sailesman, he had many enemies. Mostly pirates. So, he taught you how to defend yourself. But in this moment, where the guns pointed at your father's chest, you needed to do something. You can't just stand there and hide when your only family member was about to get shot.

You took a deep breath and with shivering fingers, you jumped out of your hideout and aimed one of the pirates. Without hesitation, you pulled the trigger and the pirate fell to the ground while his crew mates turned.

"Daughter, no!" Your father exclaimed as one of the men grabbed your arm and held his gun to your temple.

"Feisty little thing, you are" the pirate behind you whispered into your ear. Due to the smell of his breath you, you tried not to vomit.

Your father pleaded to let you go but they seemed to be fond of you.

Blind from the panic, your father tried to get to you and in that moment the other pirate shot him. The bullet went directly through his chest where blood stained his chemise red.

You tried to escape, to get to him. You needed to help him but the stern grip didn't let you go. You cried and yelled as they dragged you out of your house and to the docks.

Your naked feet burned due to the uneven ground and the cold wind dried your tear streaks.

They dragged you on their ship and threw you in a cell under the deck

...

You didn't know how long you were on that ship. You had cried until the exhaustion made you fall asleep and woke up when the pirates dumped a bucket of water over you.

They laughed and walked up the stairs. The hole to the deck was the only light source while your cell was surrounded with nothing but darkness. The only thing you heard, besides the rustling of the waves, were the footsteps above you.

You didn't know how many time has passed and the constantly rocking of the ship through the waves made you fall into a sleep again and again.

The same dream followed you everywhere. You saw your father dead, murdered by these beasts again and again.

Days passed and you wondered if someone would search for you. If someone had found your father. Maybe you should have stayed in the hideaway. Maybe then your father, your only family that was left, wouldn't be dead.

You felt weak. Although you were used to being on a ship, the absence of food and water made you nauseous. The last time you ate something was in the night, when the pirates attacked your home.

Suddenly, you heard the rapid footsteps above you. Were they in panic? Was a storm about to hit the ship and they were just jumping around to prepare it therefore?

Then, you heard shouting and the noise was louder. What was going on?

It seemed that it were fights due to the sound of swords crashing together and the painful shoutings.

And suddenly, the noisiness stopped and it was nearly completely quiet.

A foot clothed in a brown boot stepped on the first stair down, then the other. The footsteps were heavy and calm as the person went down to where the cells were. Each step revealed more of the person and soon, another person followed. Judging by the footwear, that weren't your father's friends.

You panicked.

It didn't sound like any of the bastards that kidnapped you. With all your strength, you fled to the end of your cell and pushed yourself to the wooden wall behind you. You hoped that the person's, the foreigner wouldn't see you.

If they just took over the complete ship without any hesitation, they would be worse than the murderer.

The two guy, observed the dark room, still alerted with swords and colts in hand if there were other pirates down here.

All you could do was sitting there and hope that they didn't notice you.

But when one of them turned and saw you. He nudged his mates to make him draw attention to you.

They spoke quietly to each other and one went upstairs. Maybe they wouldn't pay you attention at all. Maybe they'll just let you be in that cell.

But another person made his way downstairs. Due to the lack of light, you couldn't see his face and only pressed yourself further into the wall.

"Who do we have here? A little bird" he said and you could nearly hear his smile.

"No need to be afraid little bird." He stated while he pulled out a colt and at first, you thought that this would be the end. Your death but he aimed the lock that kept you in the cell. With a targeted shot, he opened the door to the cell and walked in.

"See? No danger. Come"

You nodded and stood up slowly. Your stance was weak and shaky due to the absence of food and water over the last days. You figured that obeying his commands was the best way to stay alive.

You followed him upstairs into the light. At first, the bright sun made you blind. It was like you could finally breath again after days in that rat hole.

Now, you could observe your rescuer. He was tall and had black hair. You must admit that he was attractive.

"Cap, we've got everything" another one said. He was slightly shorter, approximately your hight and bulkier than the rest of the crew.

Your rescuer seemed to be the captain.

"Alright guys. Thanks for the good trade." The captain exclaimed to the pirates that stood in a corner, circled by three people. He walked over a beam to his ship. His hand held your arm in a firm grip to make sure you follow him. Yet, the grip wasn't hurting.

His crew followed both of you to the bigger ship. Compared to this one, the ship you were captured on was like a small boat. There were wooden boxes stacked, they must have looted them from the pirates.

Some crewmates lifted the beams up and the captain was already behind the ship's steering wheel and stirred the ship away from the other one. While the crew began to bring the boxes under deck, you just stood there. Why did he bring you here?

Where held captive again? Or was that your chance to go home?

When the course was set, the captain let his second-in-command take over. He came to you and shot you a small smile.

"Alright little bird. Welcome on our ship. I'm the Captain and my name is Jeongin. Will you tell me yours?"

You swallowed and tried to wet your lips befor answering. "Y/n"

"A beautiful name. Come, I'll show ya the ship"

Confused you followed him. What did that guy, Jeongin, want from you?

You stepped in a room, it was big and in the middle, there stood a bulky table with some maps scattered on it. Some shelfs stood in front of a wall and a bed was placed in one corner. What would you give to sleep in one now.

"That's my room. And because we don't have any other rooms free, you'll be staying here"

Due to your facial expression, he laughed.

"Little bird, you didn't thought you'll be staying in one of those cells or did you?"

You felt your blood rushing into your cheeks and lowered your view.

He walked to a cabin and digged through it. Then, he pulled out a light brown shirt and a trousers.

"They propabaly wil be too big but try it on, little bird" He held the clothes out to you and you took them hesitantly.

Jeongin left the room to give you some space and quickly, before he could come back, you jumped out of the white dress, well it was once white. You threw over the clothings and he was right, they definitely were too big for you. But you didn't mind because now you wouldn't be nearly naked in front of these men.

You entered the deck and searched for Jeongin. He stood behind the steering wheel and guided the ship. You decided that you shouldn't interrupt him now and walked around the deck. You sat down at the front so that you could see into the ocean. Sighning, you leaned forward on the railing. The sun slowly went down and nearly kissed the ocean while the sky was painted into a beautiful orange-red.

You always loved to be on the sea. Often, you accompanied your father on his trips. He taught you much about ships and sometimes you steered it.

"Hey! I'm Felix!" a deep voice behind you exclaimed. You flinched and turned your head to see a brown haired boy with a friendly smile.

"Hey. I'm Y/n" you replied.

"First time on the sea?" He asked and sat himself down beside you. The friendly smile never left his lips.

"No, my father was a sailesman. He used to take me with him" you explained.

"That's awesome. I'm sure he is on his way to you"

A sad smile danced over your face. You would never see him again. Not in this lifetime.

"Yeah, maybe" you answered with a low voice. You didn't want to tell him that you were the only one left. And you still didn't know why they saved you.

"Come, Felix! You wanted to help me prepare dinner!" A voice exclaimed and Felix shot up.

He bowed to you and quickly left.

...

Only one hour later, Jeongin broke you out of your daydreaming and led you to something that looked like a cooking hob. And honestly, you didn't know what to expect. Your father told you that most of the pirates eat mostly rusk on long journeys and that sometimes worms are in that rusk.

Jeongin saw your sceptical face and nudged you forward.

"Come. I won't poison you"

He took a bowl from Felix and gave it to you. It was filled with some bread and dried meat but no worms in sight at all. You gave him a thankful smile and ate your meal. After eating nothing for so long, you would probably eat everything that they would present you. You sat on a barrel next to Jeongin and shoveled the food into your mouth.

And again you asked yourself why they rescued you. Now they have another hungry person on the ship that isn't even in the crew.

With a full stomach, you leaned back and gave the bowl back to Felix. For a short time, you closed your eyes.

But you shot up when you felt a hand on you lower back. You relaxed when you saw that it was just the captain.

"Come, let's go to bed" he whispered and you followed him to the captain's room. He opened the door for you and let you in. Clueless, you stand in the middle of the room. There was only one bed and just because he seemed okay you couldn't be sure. You knew him for only less than a day.

"Little bird, relax. I'm gonna sleep outside with my crew." He chuckled and was already turning away when you catched the sleeve of his jacket.

You felt bad that you chased him out of his own bed. And if you were honest, you could just hold some distance.

"You can stay. You don't need to sleep outside"

A toothy smile lightened his face and his eyes crinkled. "If you say so, little bird"

He took off his jacket and boots and got into the bed. You took a deep breath, layed next to him with your back facing him. He placed the blanket over your small frame and whispered a good night.

...

Days passed and you still didn't know why they rescued you. But everyone on this ship seemed kind. Some of them hid their friendly nature behind a wall of coldness but if you look closer, you can see the bubbly version of them shining through. Felix turned to a friend within just a few days due to his sunny and helpful personality.

And Jeongin. Still, the captain and you shared one bed at night. And you slept with your back facing him every night even though you usually woke up with your face buried into his chest or his hands circled around your waist. It was awkward to say at least. But luckily he hadn't said anything.

Now, it was already night and most of the crew were already asleep or played a card game under the deck.

You had accompanied them for a while but now, you searched for the captain. You found him on the control deck. Slowly you approached him.

"What are you doing here, little bird?" He asked. You leaned on the railing. "I could ask you the same"

He chuckled and ran his hands over the wood of the railing.

"Jeongin, why did you save me? You could've left me there. You didn't know me at all"

"Because you reminded me of someone. My mom. My father rescued her when she was held captive by sailesmen."

"Thank you. Thank you for saving me" you whispered and layed your hand on his arm.

"I would do it all over again, little bird." He said and his eyes travelled around your face. The moon turned his hair into a silver shade and his dark eyes sparkled.

Sleepy, you leaned your head on his shoulder and you felt his fingers dance over your hand, drawing circles and figures.

That was the last thing you remembered before sleep took over. In the morning, you woke up in bed with the sun on your face. You must've been really tired to sleep so long. The place next to you was cold. Jeongin must be gone a while now.

You entered the deck and you already knew where you would find the captain. He stood behind the ship's steering wheel. On the horizon, you could spot the first houses.

"Are we going on land?" You asked Jeongin and stood beside him.

He just nodded and grabbed the wheel tighter. You pinched your eyes together to get a better image of the approaching town. You definitely knew that town. It was your hometown.

"Wait, what are we doing here?"

"I'm bringing you home and we need some errands" he said and turned his face away from you. He was definitely not up to a conversation now, so you just let it slide. Was he getting rid of you? The thought never crossed your mind that he doesn't want you on the ship. Stupid.

Why should he want you here? It's not that you are a big help either. During the past days, you helped Felix with preparing meals for the crew. But after yesterday night you thought that something had changed.

You couldn't force him to let you stay.

...

Two hours later, you walked down the beam to the mainland followed by Jeongin.

"That's it, then" he said, his hands in the pockets of his jacket and the big hat covered most of his face.

"Yeah, thank you Jeongin" you whispered.

He bid you goodbye and you turned around. You didn't want to see him standing there.

You followed the well-known path to your house. The door wasn't locked so you entered. The house was nearly empty. The most things were stolen and just the significant blood stain on the floor reminded that your father was murdered here only days ago. Luckily, his body wasn't here anymore. That would be cruel and you wouldn't know if you would forget that picture ever again.

Then, you made your way to the cemetery. You walked through the aisles and searched for his name.

Pretty fast you found the grey gravestone with his name chiseled into. You kneeled beside it and let your hand slide over the uneven stone. You never thought that your life would take such a drastic twist.

After your father died, nothing held you here anymore. The thought of staying here, living here in happiness made you sick. The short journey on Jeongin's ship made you forget. You were your true self there and not only that.

You liked Jeongin. As a captain and person. He saved you even though he didn't know you. And within that short time, you developed feelings for him. Sadly, you won't get to tell him that.

But maybe it wasn't too late. He said that they needed some errands before going back to the sea. You placed a kiss on the gravestone and ran through the city. You bumped into so many people but you didn't mind. You prayed that they were still there. It felt like your father's spirit led you.

At the harbour, you searched for the big ship and you were relieved. They seemed to bring the errands on the ship right now. Jeongin stood in front of it and looked through the boxes.

When he heard your footsteps, he looked up and he was surprised.

"Y/n. What are you doing here?" He asked and walked towards you. You needed a second to catch your breath.

"I want to go with you"

"What?"

"Jeongin, being on your ship made me realise that I don't want to live a boring life. I want to stay. On the ship. With you." You brushed your hair back and took another step to him.

His eyes travelled to your lips and he leaned in.

With both hands, he grabbed your face and pressed his lips on yours. The kiss was hard, full of emotions and desire. But it was all you ever wanted. You wanted to be with him. Your pirate and the sea. That's all you ever needed.

#stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids fluff #jeongin x reader #i.n. x reader #jeongin #jeongin stray kids #jeongin scenarios #jeongin skz #pirate au #pirate Jeongin

55 notes · View notes

holylulusworld · 3 months

Text

Newbie

Summary: You and the Winchesters got captured by a demon. Again.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x GN!Reader

Warnings: hostage situation, crack, making fun of a demon, a lil angst, cocky reader

A/N: It's Dean's birthday week so we will get three stories with him this week.

You roll your eyes. “Dude, it’s Sam, okay.” Dean chuckles while you angrily glare at the demon wearing Jody’s face. “Can we come to the part where you make Dean choose?” You roll your eyes as the demon looks a little confused. “Dude, I don’t have all day.”

“What?” The demon capturing you, Jody, and the Winchesters splutters. “What do you mean? You are my hostages, and I’m the one making the rules here.”

Snorting you glance at the demon. “It’s Sam, dude. That’s what this is all about. Right? You want to find out whom Dean will save if you force him to choose. It’s his brother. Of course, it is. Now let’s skip the shit and get to the point where we exorcise your stupid ass out of our friend’s body.”

“How do you wanna know?” The demon spats. “You’re only an unimportant side character in this game!”

“How long are you around, dude? The Winchesters will always choose each other,” you grin. “Oh, I get it now. You’re new to this whole demon business. Aw, we have a virgin here, guys.”

Dean laughs, while his brother is still out cold. Poor Sam had to take one for the team this time. Jody, or rather the demonic bitch inside your friend’s body knocked the tall hunter out before you could react.

“I’m not!” The demon angrily glares at you. “I’m not a new demon. I roam this world for hundreds of years.”

“You are!” You bite back. “A high-ranked or experienced demon would never use the body of a hunter.” The demon struggles to keep a straight face. The black-eyed bastard stares back at you, using Jody’s face to weaken your resolve. “And dude. The gates to hell were locked for centuries thanks to Samuel Colt.”

“I—” the demon grunts and stomps Jody’s foot to the ground. “Stop making fun of me, you little ant. I will squish you with my boot.”

“You mean Jody’s boot,” you cock your head to subtly glance at Dean. While you tried to distract the demon, he cut the ropes holding his hands open. “How about I exorcise you now, and you can have a rest in hell. I bet Crowley will welcome you back with open arms.”

“Crowley?” The demon hiccups now. “No! I cannot fail the king of hell. He will punish me if I fail him.”

“Nonsense, sweet cheeks,” you grin. “Crowley is a cuddly cat. We are best buddies and all. If you let us go now, I’ll talk to him. He will not punish you if you do not touch one hair on our heads.”

“He will because he knocked Sammy out and used Jody’s body,” Dean grunts. “You should know Jody once was Crowley’s love interest.”

“What?” The demon blanches. “I-I didn’t know!” Stepping away from you and the Winchesters the demon whines low. “I didn’t harm her. Not at all.”

“Well, if you stay inside Jody’s body for a little longer, you will see what happens,” you purse your lips. “Come on, dare to hurt us too. Crowley will rip you apart.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong! They wanted me to capture you. It’s their fault, not mine,” black smoke forces its way out of Jody’s throat. The demon flees, and your friend drops to the ground. Unconscious, but alive.

“Damn, we ruined their first kidnapping,” Dean snickers. “Imagine, they go home to Crowley and cry their eyes out because you mocked them. That was not nice of you, sweetheart.”

“Nah, they’ll live,” you smirk as Dean cuts the ropes around wrists open. “One day, they are all grown and will try again.”

“We should get Sammy out of here,” Dean points at his brother. “He slept long enough. It was his job to exorcise the newbie.”

“Go easy on him,” you check on Jody while Dean looks his brother all over. “He got knocked out.”

“You know that this isn’t true, right? I’d always try to save you, Y/N,” Dean looks at you for a brief moment, searching your face. “Right?”

“Sure,” you fake a smile and try to sound convincing. Deep down inside you know, if Dean was ever forced to choose between you and Sam, he’d choose his brother over you without thinking twice…

Tags in reblog.

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfic #spn #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n

106 notes · View notes

bumblebugwrites · 3 months

Text

chapter 4: i bet on losing dogs

Pairing: Victor!Treech x fem!Reader

Summary: The time has come for the 11th Annual Hunger Games, though it seems to you that no amount of time can truly prepare you for the weight of what comes next.

Warnings: Cursing, Suggestive Themes, Mention of Injuries, Character Death, Weapons, Violence.

Word Count: 6.2k

Taglist: @nekee-lilac02, @mr-panda357

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

You do not see Colt again before the Games begin, and though you manage a few moments alone with Bee, it is only because you begged Calpurnia for the right to braid her hair the night before.

The young girl is back in the clothes she was reaped in when you appear in the doorway of her room, gracing the wooden frame with a light knock that has her head twisting in your direction. She is afraid, that much is clear, fear leaking out of every open feature on her small face, and you take a moment to steady yourself in the way you often found yourself doing for Fawn when the weight of the world seemed too much.

You do not say anything as you enter, only bringing your hands out from behind your back to reveal a brush and several small rubber bands meant to keep her hair in place, and she nods, giving you permission to advance further into the room. As you approach, Bee moves to stand, clearly eyeing the seat before the vanity in the corner of her room, but you only shake your head, climbing atop her mattress and positioning yourself behind her as she clings to the edge of the bed. Reaching a careful hand out, you smooth the mess of strands on her head before running the brush through the sea of chesnut locks.

There is something soothing to the pattern of your motions, and you feel your own shoulders begin to lose some of their taut energy. Bee begins to relax as well, no longer visibly shaking as she leans her head back into your touch.

Setting the brush down, you begin to section off the pieces, pulling them into a careful pattern on the back of her head, and suddenly, she feels so small. So much like Fawn, wolfing down the last of her toast before coming to sit before you, fidgeting with the sticky hands of a child. You want to cry, but you fight the urge, swallowing the pain in your chest in favor of focusing on the work at hand. Each fold in her hair feels like some sort of sacred spell, and you find yourself in a state near prayer, repeating the sentiments you had braided into Fawn only days ago. This child is loved. This child is loved by me. Why can’t that be enough?

As you reach the last careful pleat, twisting a final band into Bee’s hair, the fear returns, flooding your system once more. The trance of the moment is gone in an instant, and bile rises slow and angry in the back of your throat. You are opening your mouth to say something, to croak out some useless sentiment, when she whips around to face you, burying herself in your chest, small arms coming up to grip you tightly. And it is all you can do to hold her in return, pressing her closer, closer, and placing a soft kiss on the crown of her head. She doesn’t deserve this. No one deserves this.

“Thank you,” Bee whispers, and it is muffled by the fabric of your shirt, but that does not stop you from catching the wetness in her voice. You do not reply, afraid your own voice might crack if the words on your lips bubble out. Instead, you nod, pulling her tighter against you until it is time to go. Until the Peacekeepers arrive at the door to her room, ushering the two of you apart, and even then, it is a moment before you relinquish the girl to their grasp, slipping a single already loose strand behind her ear and drying some of the tears beginning to roll down her cheeks. And you don’t know what else to say so you repeat her words from only moments before.

“Thank you.” For you allowing me to know you. Even in small part. Even in the worst days of your life. Thank you.

When the Peacekeepers come for Bee, several more follow to collect you, bringing you down to the lobby where you are met with the other mentors. Most look as though they have been up for hours, and several, including Treech, look like they haven’t slept at all. Your brow creases in concern as you cross to stand by his side.

“You look exhausted,” you state, restraining yourself from reaching out to tidy his curls.

“Thanks. You look like shit, too,” he grumbles in reply before his head shoots up, a slow look of regret spreading over his features. “I mean, like you haven’t slept– Like there are bags under– But you look gr– fine.”

“Thanks,” you respond, though it sounds more like a question as you say it. “Did you get any food this morning? Coffee?”

“Yeah, I had coffee. I had a cup of– like four cups of coffee,” Treech speaks, nodding at the end of each new phrase as though reassuring himself he’s finished speaking. His hands are shaking.

“Nothing to eat?” You ask, looking around to ensure no one is looking before taking one of his hands into yours and pressing it flat between your palms. You try not to think too hard about the movement. About the implications that follow. About the feeling of his fingers grazing your wrist ever so slightly.

“I– I–” He takes a deep breath, steadying himself, and you feel his hand move, snaking around to give yours a squeeze. “No.” You nod, understanding. You’d barely been able to manage the piece of toast you’d forced down your throat this morning. Still, you dip your hand into your pocket, producing a napkin from the hotel room with a small croissant wrapped neatly inside.

“I saved it in case I got hungry later, but honestly, I don’t think I could stomach it if I wanted to,” you say, extending it in his direction. And for a moment, Treech only looks at you, eyes wide and unsure, but you nod, and the spell on him seems to break as he reaches for the food and begins to eat, slowly at first, then nearly inhaling it.

Not even five minutes later, the group of Peacekeepers begins to usher you outside, this time filing the group of you into a single van, and you find yourself wedged in between Teff and Treech, the latter looking a bit better after having eaten something. To your other side, Teff appears nervous, pulling repeatedly at his collar and drumming his fingers in a smooth pattern against his knee. You fix your eyes ahead, meeting the gaze of Lux, and even her typically unshakeable composure seems to be caving slightly as she digs ardently at her nailbeds, nearly tearing at the skin. Casting your gaze down once more, you try to breathe, but each inhale feels ragged, as though there is no amount of oxygen you can take in that might be enough. The van jolts to a stop.

When the double doors to the back swing open, you fight the urge to wince at the sunlight that pours in, nearly blinding you with its intensity. Instead, you attempt to get a good look at your surroundings, feeling your gut begin to sink at the sea of red just visible from your place so deep in the van. You recognize it easily, though, from last year’s Games. Academy Red. It is not difficult to recall the hours of footage taped within the Academy, putting all those selected for mentorship positions on display, and you wonder if this year will be the same. If they will make you a part of the show or keep the cameras confined to Flickerman out of fear of detracting too much from the action with your presence.

It is two Peacekeepers to a person as they guide you inside, and frankly, you’re surprised they don’t chain your wrists and ankles. You remember the man with the white hair and all his talk about appearances and making victory an honor. This must be your reward. But how free is a dog without a leash if there is still a gun pointed at its back, keeping it in place?

You ignore the sick feeling in your stomach, thrusting your shoulders back and keeping your head held high; you have to be calm. For Bee. For Colt. You have to be calm for them.

When you enter the room, which appears to be more of a lecture hall, it is set up in an odd fashion. The screens at the front mirror their positions from last year, with one for each tribute and a larger screen at the center, which would likely stream the Games, but with eight desks, the surrounding area looks sparse and pathetic. Especially given that the desks for 1 and 2 are pushed together to facilitate better communication between mentors with partners. You breathe another unsteady exhale as you are led forward, brought to stand beside a chair painted with a large 10 in between those for 7 and 11. This is really happening.

No one speaks, with the exception of the large audience of Academy students being led into the surrounding stands. From the back of the room, you recognize the particularly grating voice of Lucky Flickerman, and a single glance over your shoulders reveals that he is seated at a table, a half-drunk martini in his hand and his microphone just in front of him. The man with the white hair is there. Snow. He stands before the central screen, and after a few moments of waiting for the crowd to settle, he begins to speak.

“Dr. Gaul will be here momentarily to join us for the beginning of the Games, but for now, I would like to get a few things straight. As mentors, this is where you will remain until the end of the Games. Food and drinks will be provided three times a day and aside from use of the bathrooms, you will not leave this room until we have crowned a victor. This applies even if your tributes are dead. Now, the Games will begin following the countdown, as I am sure you are all aware, and they will also be televised in their entirety. That means if Lucky Flickerman is on screen, you are too, so look alive.” Snow continues to ramble, but you find your attention elsewhere, lingering on the two screens marked with Bee and Colt’s faces. Beside each is a number, and it doesn’t take you more than a second to register that they mark the donations received by your tributes. Your gut sinks at Bee’s measly sum of 82, and your eyes flit down to your screen, scanning your options. Not even enough for a bottle of water.

There is a sudden noise at the back of the room as the double doors are flung open. Your head jerks in the direction of the disturbance only to be met with an odd-looking woman, each eye a different color and her hands tucked away in a set of latex gloves. It is unnerving the way she surveys you. All of you, victors, as though you are prey, and for the first time since the arena, the hair on the back of your neck raises with the distinct feeling that you are being hunted.

You swallow hard and look away, training your eyes ahead on the screen, trying not to flinch at the sounds of her footsteps echoing throughout the cavernous space. Two desks down from yours, Trawl shivers visibly. She reaches the center of the room.

“Welcome, victors; we are so pleased each of you was able to join us for this momentous occasion.” Dr. Gaul’s voice drips with something poisonous. Something like a threat, and you begin to feel as though you are missing some key piece of information. “Mr. Flickerman, whenever you are ready, I believe all of the tributes are in place.”

From the back of the room, Lucky Flickerman grumbles something about having to run on other people’s schedules before standing from his seat and making his way to the front.

“Alright, people, try not to look so vaguely threatening and downtrodden; you’re going to be on television, for God’s sake.” He clears his throat, doing what appears to be a vocal warm-up of some sort before nodding to the man behind the camera. Somewhere behind you, a man’s voice counts down from three.

“Hello and welcome to the eleventh annual Hunger Games. I’m your host, Lucretius ‘Lucky’ Flickerman, and joining me today are the eight mentors for this year’s tributes. Speaking of tributes, it looks like we are just about ready to begin, so without further ado, let’s switch over to those arena cameras.”

Behind him, the emblem of Panem vanishes, fading into black, before a brand new image populates the screen.

“What the fuck?” You don’t mean to let it slip; you are on national television, after all, but when the darkness lifts, you really aren’t sure what else to do. The cornucopia is there. That much you recognize. And the tributes, they still stand in a wide-spread circle around it. But it is not the stadium you recall from your Games. Instead, the tributes find themselves on an island of sorts, lush with grass and surrounded by a stream that departs into smaller floods behind them, shooting off into a large wooded area. Although, upon second glance, the stream seems too deep to really qualify as anything less than a river, cutting all twenty-four children off from the safety of the treeline.

“This isn’t the arena!” Antonia whips around to face Dr. Gaul, rage evident in her features. The woman only smiles. Still, that does not stop Teff from making his own demand.

“Where are they?”

“Well, if you must ask, since the rebel forces in the Districts thought it appropriate to bomb the old arena, we decided to go a different direction this year.”

“That’s not fair,” Beau barks, and his words almost seem like a snarl. “You should have told us– We would have trained them differently!” At the front of the room, Lucky Flickerman’s faux smile begins to dissipate.

“Could we try not to disrupt the broadcast–” he hisses through gritted teeth.

“If you would like to leave, I’m sure your tributes would be very understanding if we notified them you’ve given up.” Dr. Gaul’s voice drips with a sickening sweetness.

“We can’t leave. You made that clear when we got here,” Treech growls, and the woman before you feigns a look of surprise.

“Oh? Did we? Well then, I suppose you will just have to adapt.”

There is a tall sign attached to the cornucopia, with a facade of LED lights, much like an old scoreboard; you recognize it from your own Games. As Lucky Flickerman clears his throat once more, it begins to count down. 10. Your eyes do a frantic search of the screen, scanning for Bee’s chestnut braid and Colt’s broad build. You only manage to find the latter. 9. You watch as he steadies himself, crouching as though preparing for a race. And really, it is a race, but you want to shake your head and scream, recalling the advice you had drilled into each of their heads in the prior days. Do not engage with the cornucopia. 8. She catches your eye finally. Bee. Her hands are curled into two neat fists by her side. You swallow hard. 7. You watch her spot Colt, several platforms away. Stay together. Please, God, stay together. 6. For a moment, you are back in the arena. The boy from 5 twitches in his place, and you want to reach out and steady him. But it is not real, and he is dead. 5. 4. Your hands are shaking. Your breath is unsteady. Treech is looking at you.

3. Something moves in the water. Something large.

2. The boy from 8 steps off his platform a split second too early. It blows. To his left, Bee brings both hands up to shield her face, sinking away in panic. Her heel nearly slips, and you feel like throwing up.

1. The room is silent. Dead silent. On the screen, the tributes begin to run.

Bee skids backward off the platform, landing awkwardly in the grass. She plants her hands at her sides, lifting herself slightly, and you watch as her gaze veers toward the remains of the boy from 8, who was dead before he hit the ground.

“Don’t look. Don’t look,” you mutter to yourself, hand gripping the back of your seat. Any of the mentors have yet to sit down.

Five platforms away, Colt is mere feet from the cornucopia, and you narrow your eyes, attempting to spot exactly what he’s going for. On one of the rocks close to the mouth, there is a machete propped atop a bundle of rope. Smart boy, you think. If he can reach it in time, the other half of your mind taunts distantly.

Back at her platform, Bee is still struggling to stand, knees visibly shaking even through the distant footage. Several yards away, the first of the tributes have managed to make it to the river. Almost simultaneously the boy from 2 reaches the cornucopia, turning, knife in hand, out towards the approaching competition. In a flash of silver, the weapon has lodged itself in the chest of the girl from 5. A loud signal sounds throughout the room, marking her death.

The girl from 11 takes a careful step into the water, and you wade through thick memories in an attempt to pull forward her name. Olive, your brain supplies. You wait, breathing seemingly suspended as she plunges deeper into the expanse, and feel beside you as Teff tenses. She is older, you note. Probably about eighteen. Her last year in the reaping. She nods to the boy on the bank, her District partner, and he takes a hesitant step forward. Then, so fast you think you may have imagined it, she disappears, yanked below the surface. Teff steps forward, hand reaching subtly from his side as though he intends to save her. There is thrashing at the surface, and over by the cornucopia, another tribute falls, the boy from 3. Olive’s head reappears, and she is screaming, a swirling mass of scales encircling her throat. Arms dart out, grasping and pulling at whatever is urging her downward. She disappears again, and this time, she does not resurface. The alarm rings out, and Teff stumbles back, sinking into his chair. You want to go to him. You cannot. Colt has reached the cornucopia.

He is off as soon as the rope and machete are in his grasp, and you note that the girl from 1 has armed herself with a crossbow. Not good. She loads it with ease, and a single bolt whistles through the air, piercing the stomach of the boy from 12. His District partner, who had been making her way to his platform, likely in an attempt to coax the poor frozen boy to flee with her, lets out a vicious scream, and you shudder at the pain, raw and palpable in her voice. She eyes something on the ground before picking it up and beginning to advance on the responsible party. A sword, you quickly note. Her eyes are alight with rage. With the promise of vengeance and, she looks almost like an angel of death, setting out to reap the soul of her fellow tribute. The girl from 1 stumbles back. In shock or fear, you are uncertain, but you can see the pace of her breathing increase as she fumbles to load another bolt. It clicks into place and she raises the crossbow, sending it whizzing straight past her target. Celica, you note from the screen plastered with the District 12 girl’s face. She continues her advance, slowing now as she grows closer. The girl from 1 loads another bolt, and this one hits, piercing through Celica’s shoulder. She growls, and it is tinged with a muffled sound of pain, but does not stop. Another shot sounds off, this one entering her stomach, and her advance, though slow, continues until she is only inches away from the girl from 1, her head dipped to load the weapon a final time. She never does. The sword enters her stomach and she looks up, something mirroring surprise painting her features. Both girls sink to their knees together, and it is odd the way they collapse forward, almost appearing as though they are intertwined in an embrace. The alarm sounds twice, a piercing buzz amid the chaos, and Lux lets out a sob.

Bee is on her feet now, head whipping around in wide arcs. She is looking for Colt. He moves in her direction with a sort of urgency in his step, ducking his head and just missing the blade of another knife sent spiraling across the arena by the boy from 2. Instead, it plants itself in the neck of the boy from 4, who collapses to the ground, blood leaking from his open mouth. Trawl lets out a string of words you don’t quite understand before turning away for just a moment, eyes brimming with grief. You are so distracted you almost forget to note the girl from 2, slowly approaching Bee from her right side. The small girl does not seem to see, still slowly approaching the river, eyeing the boy from 11 as though assessing the threat. Where the fuck is Colt? You note Mags, Trawl’s girl from 4 nearby, eyes lingering on the still coughing form of her District partner from the water’s edge. She notes the option to escape but forgoes it, turning back towards the boy to kneel down beside him.

“What is she doing?” Trawl questions, face white with fear.

“She’s making sure he doesn’t die alone,” Treech responds, voice flat with detachment, but his eyes tell a different story.

The girl from two is almost on Bee now, grasp firm around the bar mace in her hand, and like a shining light in the dark, there he is. Colt. Leaping in front of Bee and swinging his machete around in a wide, arcing motion. The message is clear. Get back. Her eyes narrow, but she seems to think better of attacking the pair, turning her gaze back toward her District partner. The alarm sounds. The boy from 4 is dead, and Mags reaches forward to brush his eyes closed before turning to survey her surroundings. You watch her eyes land on the boy from 11, and you feel a thick bile begin to creep up your throat, unsure if you can watch her kill him. At only 12, he is the youngest tribute in this year’s Games.

Across the arena, you watch as both the tributes from 7 and 6 assess the river, clearly considering the safest means of crossing. Beside you, Treech is completely still. You watch as the boy from 6 begins to back away, preparing to take the leap, before sprinting forward and pushing off the ground. He clears it, though not by much, and you fight the urge to gasp at his actions. The girl from 7 approaches next, soaring across, followed by the girl from 6.

A field away, Colt seems to realize that Bee will never make the jump alone. He dips, whispering something to her before staying bent over to allow her to climb onto his back. No. They’ll be too heavy. There’s no way they’ll make it.

He backs up. Mags is a foot away from the boy from 11, and he whips around to face her, eyes wide with fear. She lifts up a hand. To push him– No. He flinches away, but she does not continue her approach, only offering her open palm. He eyes it suspiciously, then looks over her shoulder, seeming to note the four approaching tributes from 1, 2, and 3. He takes her hand.

Mags pulls the pair back and, almost in unison with Bee and Colt, they start toward the river. Bee’s eyes are screwed shut, hands digging into the fabric of Colt’s shirt. Similarly, the boy from 11 looks petrified. All four reach the edge of the grass and jump, and when they collapse on the other side, it is nearly in a pile, but they all make it over. You breathe a sigh of relief, attention shifting back to the boy from 7 who takes the leap and seems to clear the bound until his heel slips, footing on the bank failing, and he tumbles into the water. His District partner darts forward, instinct probably, but it is no use; the river seems to swallow him whole, and unlike Olive, he sinks like a stone.

Treech’s face remains cold and unfeeling, but his fist clenches and unclenches by his side, and in a single, barely noticeable movement, he flexes his jaw, huffing out a long breath.

You are not sure when, but the male tributes from 5 and 9 have died, their screens overlayed with the Capitol’s domineering emblem. The girl from 8 is gone too, putting the death toll at twelve, only seven minutes in. Half the tributes gone in one day. You sigh, sinking into the chair beside you, watching as Colt and Bee make for the woods. Still alive. Not safe, but still alive.

After several hours of seeming inactivity, the Academy students begin to lose interest. Several stand to leave following the bloodbath, and most follow in the remaining hours of the day. This year’s pack quickly set up camp in the cornucopia, likely gleaning security from the surrounding waters while the remaining tributes spread themselves in the woods, most using the remaining daylight to search for food and a safe water source.

You give Teff a quick squeeze on his shoulder as you pass behind him to pour your third cup of coffee, and he pauses his conversation with Trawl momentarily to give you a solemn nod. The District 4 mentor does the same, face lacking its typical mischievous smirk. They both look exhausted already, grief topping most shoulders like a wet blanket, heavy and inescapable.

You snag a mug for Treech as well before reconsidering, having remembered his shaking hands from the morning and reaching for a water bottle instead.

On your way back to your seat, you nearly collide head-on with Lux, who scoffs, sending a pointed glare in your direction, and you almost ignore it. Almost.

“I’m sorry. About your tribute.” She has only just whisked past you when you speak, and for a moment, she freezes in place before spinning slowly to face you, eyes still cold.

“I don’t need your apology.”

“I’m not trying to–” you start, but she cuts you off.

“Don’t.” And this time, her eyes soften as though she is trying to say something else. You aren’t sure you understand, and suddenly, Lux steps forward, painting her face with the meanest look she can muster before whispering in your ear.

“If you apologize for every lost tribute, you are going to spend the rest of your life swimming in guilt. Don’t start now. Not when we both know this isn’t your fault.”

When she steps back, she gives you a shove. Not hard, but enough to jostle the coffee in your cup and it spills over slightly, dripping onto your sleeve. When she walks away, several sets of eyes are trained on you, but you fix your gaze ahead, feigning frustration and moving to approach Treech.

“What happened there?” He asks, lifting a single brow in question.

“Nothing. Just Lux being Lux,” you say, taking your seat beside him. And really, it’s not untrue, but no one needs to know the rest.

“If you say so,” he mumbles, just as the camera view switches to his remaining tribute, Hazel, who has secured herself a spot tucked away in the trees for the night.

“Brought you a water,” you say, extending the bottle in his direction. He reaches to take it from you absently, accidentally brushing his fingers against your own. His eyes flit in your direction at the contact, but he doesn’t say a word, only uncapping it to take a sip.

You watch him closely, the bags beneath his eyes far worse than two nights ago. Far worse than when you had– Not the time. You shake the thought from your head, and for a while, it does not plague you. But it is still there, lurking beneath the surface. Had he had another nightmare? Trouble sleeping in his room all alone? Had he slept at all? It was a miracle you had made it through the night without anyone beside you. You recall the couch in your tributes’ suite. The silence of the room. No muffled snores from Treech or movement from Fawn. No distant babble from Lennox’s bed, who could hold a whole conversation in his sleep if pressed. Just the ticking of the clock hung on the sterile hotel wall. Overpowering. Constant. A reminder that time will pass and you will remain here in this cycle.

From his place beside the screen, Lucky Flickerman interrupts your thoughts.

“So, how about that river?”

The next day passes without much activity, and you find yourself beginning to doze off on the third day when the screen suddenly switches to Colt and Bee, monitoring an avid discussion between the pair.

“I don’t like it,” Colt states, crossing his arms and pinning her with a hard look.

“Just for a little while. Come on, we’ll cover more ground that way,” Bee pleads. “We have to find water.” Colt only continues to stare her down, uncertainty plastered all over his face, and you find yourself sitting up, mentally pleading with him to say no.

“Come on, you idiot, it’s not worth it,” you mutter, causing Teff to look over in your direction.

“Fine. But we meet back here in one hour. And if anything happens, you start screaming.” No.

“That seems inadvisable,” Bee snarks and you almost forget your frustration, so caught off guard by her wit.

“I don’t care. So help me, God, if you die out there, I will bring you back so I can kill you again myself.” Colt threatens, but it is all empty, affection seeping into the edges of his tone. Your heart feels as though it is folding in on itself, and you recall Bee’s words from the night of her interview. We both know he has a better chance and when I’m gone, you can’t just leave him to die. Please, promise me. When. The word rings out in your head, pounding against the inside of your skull. When.

The two part from one another with nothing more than a shared nod, and you find yourself standing from your seat, wringing your hands.

Twenty minutes pass, and your heart rate is through the roof. The camera sticks with Bee until it doesn’t. Until it is just behind the girl from 9, peeking out over the shrubs. Watching your tribute. Something in her hand glints. A knife.

“Fuck–” You feel the gazes of the other mentors hot on your neck, but you do not care. All you care about is the girl on the screen, eyes fixed on the bush beside her, inspecting its berries. The girl from 9 begins to stand, having inched close enough to safely lunge for Bee. And then she does. And all you want to do is look away, but you can’t, eyes glued to the screen and wide with fear. The young girl begins to scream, thrashing in her attacker’s grip. Your eyes brim with tears, hot and angry. You do not move, completely powerless.

Suddenly, seemingly from nowhere, a trident thrusts itself through the girl from 9’s torso. She lets out a yelp before sinking down on top of Bee, unmoving. Distantly, you hear the alarm sound, but it is not over yet. Colt carries a machete, and as far as you know, none of the tributes had left the cornucopia with a trident, which means– The girl from 2 steps into frame, fixing Bee with the same look she had only two days ago, and you want to cringe away from the scene. With a single move, she kicks the body from on top of the young girl, leaving her to scoot away, hands pressing into the dirt. Behind her, you note the presence of her District partner, several throwing knives tucked away in his belt. Still, he stands cool and unmoving, simply observing the scene before him. The girl points her trident at Bee, who kicks out at her feet, attempting to sabotage her balance. It does not work, and she continues her slow advance until Bee is pinned back to a tree. She raises the weapon, and there is a sharp intake of breath from behind her. The alarm sounds. Her District partner hits the ground with a thud, revealing a visibly displeased Colt.

“What did I tell you about dying?” Relief floods your lungs in one swift motion, and you want to sink to your knees and give thanks to whatever higher power has just allowed Colt to find Bee, but the moment is shortlived as the girl from 2 darts forward, thrusting her trident in Colt’s direction. He catches it before the blow can land, his machete lodging itself between two of the prongs, but she pulls back, swinging again with a speed he can’t match, this time piercing through the muscle in his shoulder.

“No!” And you aren’t sure if it’s you screaming or Bee, but suddenly, she’s on her feet, launching herself onto the other girl’s back and wrapping both arms around her neck. The girl from 2 stumbles before steeling her gaze and slamming herself back into a tree, causing Bee to cry out in pain and release her hold. She hits the ground with a thud only to shrink as the larger girl pivots, fixing her with a glare.

“Bee!” Colt calls out, moving in her direction, and it is almost as though she is the only other person in the world. You think of Colt’s sister, only a year older than Bee, and you recognize that look. It is the same one you give Fawn. It is deadly.

Bee sees it coming first, the way the girl from 2 whips around, drawing the trident back. Her hands surge forward as though it can be prevented. As though her weak grip might be enough. It is not. And she is looking at Colt, and he is looking at her, saying something indecipherable before his shaking hand reaches down to graze the three prongs impaled in his stomach.

The girl from two moves to pull it out. To leave him bleeding and twitching on the forest floor, but he grips the handle, keeping it steady, before with one final ragged breath, bringing his machete in a wide, arcing slash across her face.

She screams, gripping the wound that cuts straight through her eye, and you note that it must be surface level, though you would not be shocked if the attack left her blinded. Still, no amount of screaming can drown out what happens next.

Colt hits his knees, and the whole forest seems to shake with the impact. You want nothing more than to reach out and touch him. To wipe the sweat from his brow and promise him it will be alright. You think of the sister he will never see again. Of the children, she will have someday who will hear his name spoken in tales, a whispered fable at the dinner table. You remember his father, who had worked so closely alongside yours; Colt’s face the echo and legacy of all his achievements. Of days spent in the slaughterhouse when he was too small to pull his own weight, and you would slip some extra meat into his scale so that he might meet

the required amount. Of the story, he never finished telling you on your final day. Something about Old Man Higgins from down the street being so blind he wore his shoes to work on the wrong feet. You long to hear it again. To hear the sound of his laugh, lighter then, fill the space between you. You would listen to the ending a thousand times if it meant you could hear it just once.

No one holds his hand as the life ebbs from his body, but he does not look afraid. He keeps his eyes on Bee, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he shudders one final breath. The alarm sounds. The girl from 2 has pulled the machete from Colt’s limp hand, though with her vision gone, she stumbles forward almost aimlessly, swiping in all directions. Bee lets out a muffled sob, and the girl’s head whips in her direction. You are going to lose them both at once. All that to lose both of them on the same day. Bee doesn’t move, choking on her own tears, her eyes fixed on Colt’s unmoving form, and it is like watching your worst nightmare play out in slow motion. Bee lets out a cry; the girl stumbles forward. Bee takes a ragged breath; the girl lifts the machete. Bee shifts, eyes glancing upwards, fixed on her demise– A hand reaches out from the shrubs to her left, pulling her in, and in an instant, she is gone.

#treech #treech fanfiction #treech thg #treech x reader #treech tbosas #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #tbosas #thg #the hunger games #hunger games #district 7 #x reader #no evil angel but love #neabl

54 notes · View notes

drivinmeinsane · 7 months

Text

{ requests :: maybe } ※ { ao3 } ※ { last updated :: March. 2nd, 2024 }

All my works for this blog are related in some way to characters played by Ryan Gosling. Be aware that many of the fanfictions and thoughts contain content that is 18+ in nature. Please do not engage with those posts if you are a minor.

My inbox and messages are always open! ♥

※ .{ O N E S H O T }. ※

{ Shot Through the Heart } ※ Colt Seavers x GN!Reader ※ ao3

You've worked with Colt off and on for years, building an easy rapport with the stuntman. The rest of the crew sends you to check up on him after he's bad off following a stunt that seems to have caused his nearly career-ending injury to act up.

{ M o v e s } ※ Colt Seavers x AFAB!Reader ※ ao3 ※ 18+

On unsteady feet and with linked arms, you and Colt stumble along in the sand. You’re hanging onto each other. The warmth of the man at your side is almost more intoxicating than the beer you’ve been sipping all night long. The ocean is refreshingly cool against your ankles as you trail through the lapping waves, shoes and socks clasped firmly in your hands.

※ .{ D R A B B L E }. ※

Golden Hour ※ Colt Seavers x GN!Reader Scene Partner※ Colt Seavers x GN!Reader ※ 18+

※ .{ O N E S H O T }. ※

{ I Do Nothing but Think of You } ※ Driver ※ ao3 ※ 18+

He can't eat. He can't sleep. He's obsessed and restless. What else is there to do but go for a drive?

{ Under Pressure } ※ Driver ※ ao3 ※ 18+

Driver is feeling under the weather. Blaming the oppressive Los Angeles heat for the tightness in his chest, the mechanic leaves in the middle of his shift to try to recover only to receive a shock when it turns out to be something that he should be utterly incapable of.

※ .{ D R A B B L E }. ※

Choking ※ Driver x AFAB!Reader ※ ao3 ※ {request} 18+ Clumsy Stalking ※ Driver x GN!Reader ※ ao3 ※ {request} 18+ Maintenance ※ Driver x GN!Reader ※ ao3 Repercussions ※ Driver x GN!Reader ※ ao3 ※ {request}

※ .{ T H O U G H T S }. ※

Driver ※ Partner Headcanons ※ 18+

※ .{ M O O D B O A R D }. ※

Driver ※ "There's no good sharks?" Driver ※ Werewolf!AU

※ .{ F A N A R T }. ※

Werewolf!AU Driver screenshot study

※ .{ O N E S H O T }. ※

{ Birthday Boy } ※ Officer K x Joi ※ ao3

Officer K does not often find himself surprised. He was made to be clearheaded and adaptable, able to get a read on most situations at a glance. Joi is a true wildcard in his life. She elicits feelings from him that he never could have predicted. As a result, he finds himself floundering in the wake of an unexpected gesture.

※ .{ T H O U G H T S }. ※

Officer KD6-3.7 ※ Partner Headcanons ※ 18+

※ .{ M I S C }. ※

Officer K's jacket

※ .{ O N E S H O T }. ※

{ Crimson Headache } ※ Sierra Six x AFAB!Reader ※ ao3 ※ 18+

You wonder something about Six. Will he allow himself to surrender to what he really wants?

{ Leap of Faith } ※ Sierra Six (solo) ※ ao3

What if the escape mission had gone a little differently? No outcomes are certain. No one is impervious to fault.

{ Witness in the Dark } ※ Sierra Six x Claire's Sister!Reader ※ ao3

Don't we all just want to feel the companionable reassurance of another human being?

It only takes a single tragedy to tear your life to shreds and make it to where you're unable to sleep through the night. You tell yourself that you will never trust a bodyguard again, but things don't go according to plan when a man with a number for a name is assigned to the Fitzroy household while your uncle is away.

※ .{ T H O U G H T S }. ※

Sierra Six ※ Partner Headcanons ※ 18+

※ .{ M O O D B O A R D S }. ※

Sierra Six ※ Just another Thursday."

※ .{ M I S C }. ※

Sierra Six's tattoos

※ .{ DRIVER x KEN } ※ { ONESHOT }

{ Draw Me In } ※ Driver x Ken ※ ao3 ※ 18+

Ken's insatiable curiosity leads to a messy outcome when he fails to give Driver any semblance of personal space.

{ Take You In Real Slow } ※ Driver x Ken ※ ao3 ※ 18+ 🕊

He twists his house key in the door and turns the knob to open it. Locked. Adjusting the basket resting against his hip, he frowns and tries his key again. The door unlocks this time. The knob is slippery in his grasp. When he pulls his hand away, it’s covered in more of that red stuff from the elevator.

{ The Way You Stare } ※ Driver x Ken ※ ao3 ※ 18+

Ken has never learned the importance of being patient. His efforts to be the sole recipient of Driver's steady focus earn him a hard and frustrating lesson from a man who is not very composed himself.

※ .{ DRIVER x KEN } ※ { MOODBOARDS}

Driver x Ken ※ "I'm thinking 'bout how I want to see you in some kinda lip gloss. Might feel sticky and gritty if I kissed you. Bet you would look pretty, just like now. All pink. Sparkly."

※ .{ OFFICER K x SIERRA SIX } ※ { MULTI-CHAPTER }

{ Eyes Always Searching } ※ Officer K x Sierra Six ※ ao3 ※ 18+

Unpleasantly, K feels the return of the drowning sensation he had felt earlier. It is almost as though someone had placed a mirror in front of him in a dream. The reflection is him, but distinctly not. ※ chapter one: In some Sad Way ※ chapter two: I Already Know ※ chapter three: I Will Not Ask You, Neither Should You

※ .{ OFFICER K x SIERRA SIX } ※ { MOODBOARDS }

Officer K x Sierra Six ※ K places his right hand on the table beside his guest’s. He can feel the warmth of his fellow Nexus sink into his own skin. He swallows, pulse jumping. The hand not on the table clenches around his thigh. His nails dig into the outer seam of his pants. “What was your most shameful moment? ” the baseline mocks at him in his mind. He can’t do it. He can’t bridge the gap. He can’t-

※ .{ O N E S H O T }. ※

{ Bad Dog } ※ Ken x GN!Reader ※ ao3 ※ 18+

You have volunteered to give Ken a lesson in being a good dog. It takes a firm hand to get positive results.

※ .{ D R A B B L E }. ※

Frequently Bought Together ※ Ken & GN! Reader ※ ao3 ※ {request}

※ .{ T H O U G H T S }. ※

Henry Letham ※ Partner Headcanons ※ 18+ Holland March ※ Partner Headcanons ※ 18+ Lars Lindstrom ※ Partner Headcanons ※ 18+ Ryan Gosling!Ken ※ Partner Headcanons (bad end) ※ 18+ Ryan Gosling!Ken ※ Partner Headcanons (good end) ※ 18+

※ .{ M O O D B O A R D S }. ※

Henry Letham※ "If this is a dream, then the whole world is inside it." Holland March ※ "I had to question the mermaids." Ken ※ "Every night is boy's night." Ken ※ "To be honest, when I found out the patriarchy wasn't about horses, I lost interest anyways." Ken ※ "What will it take for her to see the man behind the tan?" Sebastian Wilder ※ "Are you shining just for me?"

※ .{ M I S C }. ※

Favorite Ryan Gosling movies {ask} Favorite pairings for Ryan Gosling characters {ask}

※ .{ HOLIDAY & EVENT COLLECTIONS }. ※

{ 12 Days of Goosemas } ※ 2023 ※ ao3 ※ 18+

This is a collection of twelve fanfictions all under two thousand words each and all pertaining to characters played by Ryan Gosling. Not all of these works are directly intended to be Christmas themed, but they are all set in the month of December and have some seasonal vibes! 01 ※ { Hot Chocolate } ※ Officer K / Reader 02 ※ { Christmas Movie } ※ Driver / Ken 03 ※ { Winter Break }※ Henry Letham / Reader 04 ※{ Snow }※ Sierra Six / Reader 05 ※ { Holiday Party }※ Julian Thompson / Reader ※ 18+ 06 ※ { Decorating }※ Sebastian Wilder / Reader 07 ※ { Alone }※ Driver / Reade 08 ※ { Lights } ※ Holland March / Jackson Healy 09 ※ { Cookies} ※ Driver / Ken※ 18+ 10 ※ { Snowstorm } ※ Colt Seavers / Reader 11 ※ { New Year }※ Henry Letham / Sam Foster 12 ※ { Mistletoe } ※ Driver / Reader ※ 18+

※ .{ THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT SERIES }. ※

A collaborative series written with @danime25 centered around the relationship between Holland March and Jackson Healy.

{ Give Me the Night } ※ Holland March x Jackson Healy ※ ao3 ※ 18+

What if Healy had broken Holland's right arm instead of his left? Like most jobs involving stakeouts, the night is going by slowly. That all takes a turn, however, when Holland March, pent up and frustrated, finally pushes his fellow detective too far. Part one of the Butterfly Effect Series. (Can be read as a standalone)

{ Don't Go Breaking My Heart } ※ Holland March x Jackson Healy ※ ao3 ※ 18+

Even during the most wonderful time of the year, Holland March can't help but be clumsy. A stressful hospital trip to set the detective's re-fractured arm leads an unfortunate revelation about his relationship with Jackson Healy. Part two of the Butterfly Effect Series. (Can be read as a standalone) ※ chapter one: It's Up to Us // ao3 ※ chapter two: I Think We Can Make It // ao3 ※ 18+

※ .{ C R E D I T S }. ※

{ headers } ※ @drivinmeinsane { 18+ divider } ※ @cafekitsune { foliage dividers } ※ @saradika-graphics

82 notes · View notes

eyebawll · 9 months

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍-𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 [𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑] [𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏]

First Supernatural fic! A little short (in my standards), may conjure up another part if it goes well. This takes place just shortly after Sam gets his soul back and he's still coping.

SUMMARY: Y/N is a well renowned hunter who keeps to herself. After losing her sister (among many other family members) during a hunt to a devastating monster, she locks herself in for good with nothing but rage pumping through her veins.

It's rumored she holds a weapon that, besides the colt, can kill anything. It's become a big deal in the past, many hunters trying to take it for themselves, only to be cursed, injured or even dead in the process. That was until it was revealed who had given it to Y/N.

What will happen when she runs into the Winchester brothers during a hunt for the very thing that has destroyed her family?

Written in third person, female!reader

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ, ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ

Very novel-esque writing. i'm sorry. i got carried away

ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ: 4,390

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

The forest lay draped in an eternal shroud of darkness, the silvery glow of the moon casting faint, ghostly beams that struggled to penetrate the dense web of ancient trees. The atmosphere was thick with an otherworldly chill, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. Tall, gnarled trunks rose like skeletal sentinels, their twisted branches clawing at the heavens in silent supplication.

Eerie whispers, like faint echoes from another realm, seemed to drift on the breeze. Soft susurrations carried the promise of secrets, secrets that the forest had guarded for centuries. These spectral utterances mingled with the rustle of leaves and the faint creaking of branches, creating a symphony of sound that was both mesmerizing and unsettling.

Amid this haunting tapestry of shadows and whispers, a lone figure moved with a desperate urgency. A slim young woman, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps as her heart pounded in sync with the frantic rhythm of her footsteps. The ground beneath her seemed to tremble with her every stride, her bare feet sore from each scratch and scrape from twigs, rocks and leaves underneath, each footfall a desperate plea for escape.

The forest's inhabitants—creatures of the night and unseen beings—watched from their hidden sanctuaries, their eyes glinting with a luminescence. Yet, none could compare to the ominous presence that stalked the innocent woman.

In the ethereal twilight, illusions took shape like phantoms conjured from the darkest recesses of the mind. The voices of fellow hunters, once allies and friends, one even her own older sister, twisted and distorted into a chorus of accusation and betrayal. Their spectral forms advanced with a relentless determination, a parade of torment born from her own insecurities.

"Disgusting!"

"You're not strong enough! You don't belong with us!"

"You never did!"

"YOU ONLY HOLD US BACK!"

Countless insults and howls, hurls of venom and anger were thrown at the woman. As she sprinted through the labyrinthine woods, the cacophony of voices swirled around her like a tempest. The shadows themselves seemed to coil and writhe, mirroring her inner turmoil. But amidst the maelstrom of chaos, one face emerged from the torment—Y/N.

Y/N's expression was a mosaic of sorrow and anger, anger for all of this to be happening, anger for her sister as this creature manipulates her. Her eyes twin beacons of hope in the encroaching darkness. "Emily, Emily!" The voice behind her cried, far different from the others, "It's not real! Fight it!"

Emily turned around to face the direction of her sister's yells, her body jerking slightly with her movement as she catches a glimpse of Y/N, running with her arm reaching out to her. Quickly, she turned back, hopping over a large boulder she would have tripped over. Panic pumped through her veins, and her heart felt as if it was going to burst out of her chest.

Amid the twisted labyrinth of trees, Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she closed in on her sister. Her footsteps were swift and quick as if she drifted through the air, each one a prayer to reach Emily in time, to pull her back from the precipice of the consuming darkness. Emily's breath came in ragged gasps, her panicked sobs echoing like haunting melodies of a woman in white through the shadows drenching the forest.

"Emily! Emily, it's me!" Y/N yelled once more, a lifeline of vague comfort in the midst of it all. Her arms stretched out, fingers yearning to grasp onto the fleeting fabrics of the younger woman's clothing. Emily's movements were wild and uncontrolled, her form swaying as if caught in a cruel dance with harsh winds.

Their eyes locked, and Y/N's heart shattered at the sight of the expression on the face of her other half. "Emily, please, look at me. You're not alone. I'm right here." Her voice trembled with a potent blend of fear and nausea, a plea for Emily to recognize how real she is and how fake everything else is.

Emily's cries were a symphony of agony, tears streaking her dirt-stained cheeks. "Y/N, make it stop! Make it stop, please!" Her voice cracked. She reached out with trembling hands, fingers brushing Y/N's arm as if seeking refuge from the torment that consumed her.

Y/N's heart bled as she closed the final distance, her arms enfolding Emily in an embrace. She could feel the violent tremors that wracked her sister's body, the very essence of her being gripped by a bitter chill. "I'm here, Emily. I won't let it take you," Y/N whispered fiercely, her lips brushing against Emily's sweat-dampened forehead.

Yet, even as Y/N held onto her sister, a sinister current coursed through the air. The shadows seemed to thicken, a malevolent presence looming ever closer. Emily's cries escalated into agonized screams, her body convulsing with the force of the darkness that sought to claim her. Y/N's heart raced, every fiber of her being consumed by a profound and paralyzing fear.

As Emily's eyes met Y/N's, a chilling realization dawned – the vibrant blue that had once sparkled with life was fading, eclipsed by an encroaching grayness that spread like tendrils of frost. Y/N's grip tightened, her own voice trembling with a mix of desperation and sorrow. "Emily, fight it! Hold on!"

Emily's voice wavered, words barely audible through the guttural moans that tore from her lips. "It's so cold, Y/N. Everything's so cold...so dark. Make it stop, please..." Her voice trailed off into a pained whimper, the shadows swallowing her words and leaving only the haunting echo of her suffering.

Y/N's fingers brushed against Emily's clammy skin, the chill of the shadows seeping into her very soul. With every ounce of strength she possessed, Y/N fought against the consuming void, her voice a soothing murmur. "I won't let it take you, dammit!" Anger boiled inside, "Get the hell off of her!"

Just as the darkness threatened to claim Emily completely, a distant rustling broke through the sound of struggle. Y/N's heart leaped as figures emerged from the shadows—the real, other hunters, their expressions etched with concern. They had followed Y/N's trail of yells and cries, arriving in the nick of time.

Y/N's voice trembled, a mild wave of relief as she sees the others. "Help her! We need to help her!" The hunters rushed forward, their hands reaching out to lend their strength. Together, they formed a shield against the darkness, a defiant stance against the malevolent force that sought to tear Emily from their grasp.

Emily's cries and convulsions intensified, her body wracked by spasms as the battle raged within her. Her hair was etched in a misty black, while her clothing was oozing with the same. Y/N's heart ached as she held onto her sister, her voice a fervent plea as she looked to the heavens. "Please, don't let her go! Not like this!" She sobbed. She held Emily tight, rocking her back and forth. She had lost so much, most of her family was already dead or turned. She'd barely consider other hunters as anything more than allies. She was terrified of becoming too attached.

And this is exactly why.

Silence. No movement, no cries, she didn't even breathe. Emily's petite figure went cold and limp in her big sister's arms, a shriek tearing through the cold air.

"EMILY!"

The veil of unconsciousness lifted, tearing Y/N from the depths of sleep into a realm of disorienting wakefulness. In an instant, her senses snapped to attention, an electric surge of panic and anxiety coursing through her veins. With a sudden jolt, she sat up, her chest heaving as if she had finished running a marathon. The room around her was shrouded in sunlight pooling in through the old vintage curtains.

A strangled cry forced itself through her lips, a raw and primal sound that echoed through the empty walls. It was a cry born of a terror she couldn't quite grasp. Her fingers trembled as she gripped the blankets below her hands, huffing.

Heartbeats drummed in her ears, a relentless rhythm that matched the frantic pace of her thoughts. The sweat-soaked tendrils of her hair clung to her forehead. She drew in ragged breaths, each inhalation a desperate attempt to bridge the gap between the dream and the waking world.

Tears blurred her vision, the remnants of her subconscious torment mingling with the harsh reality of her surroundings. It took precious moments for the room to come into focus, the familiar contours of furniture and shadows coalescing into a semblance of order. Yet, even as the nightmare's grip loosened, a residual ache settled deep within her chest.

"Emily..." The word escaped her lips in a choked whisper, a tremor of grief lacing her voice. The name hung heavy in the air, a fragile thread connecting the terror of her dreams to the ache of her waking heart. She clung to the sheets as if they were a lifeline, her fingers curling into fists against the overwhelming flood of emotions.

With a final sigh, Y/N hunched over with her head down. Her eyes shut, a tear falling into her lap, the drop being absorbed by the thick comforter snug tight over her legs.

Mornings were never easy for Y/N. Each new day dawned as a reminder of the relentless challenges she faced, a testament to her resilience in the face of an unforgiving life. Even on her days off, a lingering unease nestled itself within the corners of her mind, stuck unto the wonders of impending danger. The cocoon of security she had woven around herself provided a shield, but it could never quite dispel the remaining possibility of danger.

She went about her normal daily routine. Eat, bathe, study—it was a day-today cycle she'd repeat without fail. The steady rhythm of these activities became her anchor, a lifeline that kept her tethered to a semblance of normalcy she lacked during her teen hood.

The simple act of nourishing herself felt like a small victory. The warm water during her shower offered a brief reprieve, a blanket of warmth throughout her entire figure. It was possibly the only place she could ever truly let her guard down—ignoring the many knives and handguns tucked away in every corner and crevice. And when she immersed herself in her studies of the unknown, her mind was at ease, eager to learn more like an intelligent child at their elite school.

She'd decided to take a bath that morning. The sound of the faucet turning on was a familiar symphony, the rushing of water a comforting melody that eased her eardrums. The room soon filled with the gentle hiss and gurgle of water as it flowed, a lullaby of sorts to her senses.

As steam gradually wafted through the air, tendrils of warmth caressed her skin. With each passing second, the room transformed into a retreat, the steam swirling like ethereal wisps that danced in the air. She undressed with a easeful grace, each garment slipping off her body and pooling onto the floor in a crumpled heap. The clothing, once a shield against the world's harshness, now lay forgotten as Y/N stepped out of its confines. The act of disrobing was more than a physical shedding; it was a ritualistic release, a shedding of layers that went beyond mere fabric. Each piece of clothing fell away, like a separate piece of heavy armor.

With a swift step, Y/N stepped into the tub. The warm water greeted her like an old friend, pooling around her calves. A sigh escaped her lips as she settled into the depths, the water rising to envelop her in its comforting embrace. Her mind was clouded with bliss, the weight of the stress not yet touching her core.

The water cocooned her body, its warmth seeping into her very bones as she closed her eyes. With each breath, she felt herself surrendering to the serenity of the moment, the rhythmic ebb and flow of her surroundings lulling her into a state of an addictive detachment.

The world beyond the bathroom door seemed distant, the sounds of the day muffled by the sanctuary she had created.

With ease, her fingers trailed along her arms, the soft glide of her touch a soothing ritual that whispered of self-care. The steam-kissed air enveloped her, carrying with it the subtle scent of her favorite from the bath salts that had dissolved into the water. As she reclined against the porcelain expanse, her muscles gradually surrendered their tension, each fiber yielding to the tender persuasion of the tranquil waters.

Slowly, Y/N's legs found themselves lifting, her knees bending as she settled into the contours of the tub. Her feet, once grounded on the porcelain floor, now found their resting place on the opposite end. The gentle swish of water accompanied her movements, a loving chorus that serenaded her senses.

Closing her eyes once more, Y/N let her head rest against the cool edge of the tub, a small sigh escaping her lips. Her mind now ebbed and flowed like the gentle ripples that lapped against her skin. The warmth enveloped her limbs, cradling each contour similar to her mother cradling her very essence in her tender hold from when she was a young child.

Her fingers dipped below the surface, the gentle tug of water playing a delicate dance with her touch. She traced the outlines of her own hands, the pathways of her palms etching stories of resilience and strength from each hunt, each death and heartbreak. The subtle currents tugged at her fingers, a gentle reminder that life was ever-present, a force that moved in rhythm with her own heartbeat.

Minutes slipped through her grasp like grains of sand, a fluid passage of time that seemed to stretch and contract with each breath. Y/N allowed herself to linger in the embrace of the bath, the world beyond the bathroom door fading into the periphery as the symphony of her senses took center stage.

As the soft glow of midday sunlight danced through the window, casting a warm embrace upon the room, Y/N's attention gravitated towards the sprawling tome that lay open before her. However, the once discerning gaze of the seasoned hunter seemed to drift, lost in the labyrinth of printed words that now merged into an abstract mosaic, their essence slipping through the sieve of her distracted thoughts. Within the confines of her mind, conflicting currents clashed - the steadfast determination that usually defined her, and an unsettling undercurrent of restless uncertainty.

Amidst the encroaching mental haze, a sharp ring pierced the air, jolting Y/N from her reverie. Swift and purposeful, she retrieved the phone and pressed it to her ear, her voice shaking from the startling event. "Hello?"

The voice on the other end carried an air of authority, a trusted hunter's tone that brooked no pleasantries. "Y/N," the voice began, a solemn cadence that bore the weight of urgency. "Got a case for you."

Y/N's eyes remained fixed on the open book, her fingers tracing absent patterns on the pages, a rhythmic dance of distraction. "Mirian," she acknowledged, a blend of reverence and intrigue imbued in her tone. The name held weight, signifying that when the hunter spoke, it was time to heed.

"There've been incidents," the hunter continued, unfolding a tale of unsettling attacks that painted a somber tableau. "Looks like the Chimera's up to its old tricks again."

A shiver coursed through Y/N's spine, a subtle reaction that betrayed the gravity of the name. Memories of past encounters surged forth like specters, a haunting tapestry of battles fought and won against this formidable adversary. Especially Emily's death. Mirian’s words wove a narrative of danger and enigma, a reminder of the stakes at play.

Her responses remained poised, a veneer of calm that masked the storm beneath. "I understand," she murmured, her gaze breaking free from the book to meet the world outside the window. "And where did everything taken place?"

Location after location was recited by the older hunter, each name etching a somber mark on the canvas of Y/N's consciousness. She absorbed the information with a hunter's precision, each detail a clue to decipher, a thread to weave into a strategy. As the conversation progressed, an immediate plan unfurled in her mind, a mosaic of tactics and resolve that began to map out her forthcoming endeavors.

"Understood," Y/N finally affirmed, her voice a testament to her unwavering commitment to the task ahead. "I'll take it from here."

The unknown hunter's approval resonated through the line, a nod of satisfaction that lingered in the air. "Good. Other hunters are staying away from this one. Leaving it to you. Be vigilant, Y/N. Take it down for good."

The call ended, leaving Y/N alone with her ruminations once more. Her gaze returned to the open book, yet now, the printed words seemed to regain their clarity, each letter a beacon guiding her purpose. With a heavy sigh, Y/N shut the book, standing herself tall. Her gaze settled on the ancient leather-bound tome, its pages brimming with secrets of old, a knowledge bank she had accumulated over the years. With a decisive nod, she turned away, her steps carrying her towards the intricately carved wooden desk where her arsenal awaited.

Quickly, Y/N began to gather her essentials. She retrieved a leather-bound notebook, its pages filled with meticulous notes and diagrams of past encounters. A sense of reverence accompanied each turn of the pages, a reminder of the blood swear and tears put into every hunt. Beside it lay an assortment of vials, each containing concoctions brewed from rare ingredients, tailored to counteract the unique attributes of queer entities.

Her attention shifted to the polished surface of the desk, where an array of weapons gleamed in the subdued light. Her fingers brushed against the hilt of a knife, its blade etched with protective runes to enhance its efficacy. A revolver lay nearby, silver bullets meticulously loaded.

Yet, the centerpiece of her arsenal rested against the desk's corner—a sickle of exquisite craftsmanship. The black handle was adorned with intricate patterns and symbols, a labyrinth of gold engravings that seemed to dance in the faint light. The handle fit perfectly in her hand, a natural extension of her unequaled wrath. The blade itself gleamed wickedly, a crescent moon of lethal sharpness. Its edge bore the scars of countless battles, slick and sharp—a gift from Death himself.

As Y/N lifted the sickle, a surge of familiarity coursed through her veins. This weapon was an extension of her identity, a manifestation of the strength and purpose that had driven her. Its weight was comforting, grounding her in the face of vengeful intent.

With her arsenal gathered, Y/N slung the duffel over her shoulder and made her way to the doorway. As her fingers brushed against the cool metal of the doorknob, her gaze flickered to a small weapon hanging by the frame. It was a talismanic blade, a last resort concealed within easy reach. The hilt bore sigils of protection, a final safeguard against unexpected threats.

The weight of the sickle at her side was a reminder of her internal hatred, a beacon of hope to finally destroy this Chimera once and for all. Y/N stepped out, shutting the door behind her.

Bobby's house exuded a sense of warmth and home, its well-worn interior serving as a refuge for the trio of hunters seeking respite from the world outside. The worn leather armchairs bore the marks of countless conversations and the shelves lining the walls were crammed with dusty books, relics of knowledge accumulated over decades of hunting. The air was tinged with the aroma of brewing coffee, a constant companion in the dimly lit haven.

Bobby sat hunched over his desk, his calloused fingers deftly dialing a number on his phone. The room seemed to hold its breath as the line connected, and he brought the receiver to his ear. His gruff voice echoed through the room as he spoke, his words carrying the weight of urgency.

"Hey there, it's Bobby Singer. Listen, I've been hearin' about some strange happenings over in Pinehaven. Yeah, it's that little town off County Road 9. There've been a series of deaths – odd ones. People droppin' dead with no explanation, like they just gave up the ghost." Bobby's brows furrowed as he listened to the voice on the other end, his expression growing increasingly grim.

Sam and Dean Winchester exchanged wary glances, their senses heightened by the heavy atmosphere that had settled over the room. They leaned in, their attention fully captivated by Bobby's conversation.

"You don't say... Well, that sounds like a real mess. Yeah, it's been goin' on for a few weeks now. The victims – they're different ages, different backgrounds. Ain't nothin' connectin' 'em on the surface. And here's the kicker – their bodies are all found with these... bizarre markings carved into 'em. Like some sort of symbol."

Bobby's eyes flickered with a mix of frustration and intrigue as he listened to the voice on the other end. "Yeah, I know it sounds like some pagan ritual, but that's where it gets even weirder. There's nothin' in any lore I've come across that matches these symbols. It's like some new kind of nasty is in town."

Sam leaned forward, his brow furrowing in contemplation. "So, what's our next move, Bobby?"

Bobby glanced at Sam and Dean before turning his attention back to the call, hanging up. "Look, I've tried gettin' some hunters interested in checkin' it out, but they're all keepin' their distance. Say it's too risky. Hell, even Garth – and you know he's usually up for a wild goose chase – turned it down."

Dean chuckled under his breath. "Well, Garth's got a point. But if it's got you scratching your head, Bobby, it's definitely worth a look."

Bobby nodded in agreement, a determined glint in his eyes. "Damn right, it is. I've got a bad feelin' about this one. We'll head over to Pinehaven, check out the crime scenes, see if we can find any leads."

Sam and Dean exchanged a nod. "You think it could be witches?" Sam asks.

Bobby scratched his scruffy beard in thought, his expression contemplative. "Could be, given the nature of the attacks and the symbols that've been showin' up around town. But we won't jump to conclusions just yet. Gotta gather more information before we start pointin' fingers."

Dean's lips curled into a half-smile, "Well, you know us, Bobby. We're always up for a good ol' witch hunt."

Bobby chuckled, a gruff sound that held a warm combination of amusement and fondness. "Just make sure you don't stir up trouble before you've got solid evidence. Last thing we need is a town full of pitchfork-wielding locals."

Sam nodded in agreement. "We'll be careful, Bobby. Promise."

With a satisfied nod, Bobby clasped his hands together. "Good. Now, gather your gear and hit the road. I'll keep diggin' on my end, see if I can find any lore or references that might give us a clue."

Dean couldn't help but interject with a mischievous grin. "Hey, Bobby, remember that time in Oklahoma when you tried to use a hex bag and ended up with green hair?"

Bobby's eyes narrowed as he shot a pointed glare at Dean. "Oh, don't you start with that again, boy. You two idjits were laughin' your heads off, like a couple of hyenas."

Sam smirked, unable to suppress a chuckle. "Come on, Bobby, you gotta admit, you rocked that look."

Bobby let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head. "Just make sure you boys pack some extra salt. We're dealin' with somethin' that's givin' hunters the heebie-jeebies."

With a shared glance, the two stood, their resolve strengthened. As they gathered their gear and headed for the door, Bobby's voice carried after them, a stern warning. "And no more hex bags, you hear me?"

The echoes of their laughter lingered in the air as they shut the door. As Sam and Dean made their way toward the sleek black Impala, the gravel crunching under their boots, Sam couldn't help but break the silence.

"You really think this case is the real deal? Witches? Haven't seen any Pagan witches lately."

Dean slid his hands into his jacket pockets, casting a sidelong glance at his brother. "Bobby seems to think so. And you know how he is with research."

Sam nodded thoughtfully, his brow furrowing. "Yeah, you're right."

Dean's expression turned more serious as he locked eyes with his brother. "Just gotta stay sharp, Sammy. If this thing's as nasty as Bobby says, we need to be on our A-game."

Sam's gaze held a mixture of determination and concern. "I know, Dean. But something just doesn't feel right. If a bunch of hunters won't go near that thing, it can't be a witch. They woulda already tackled it by now."

Dean's jaw tightened, his gaze distant for a moment before he met Sam's eyes again. "Yeah, I noticed that too. It's like everyone's walking on eggshells. We'll keep digging. But first, let's focus on finding out what's behind all these deaths and disappearances."

As they slid into the Impala's front seats, the engine roared to life with a familiar rumble. The brothers shared a determined glance before Dean put the car in gear.

111 notes · View notes

lostuntothisworld · 21 days

Text

So Tomoe is obviously going to be the new Evil Queen of Paris and supplying all of the technology and locking away her princess dragon daughter away, but what's that second symbol next to the Tsurugi industries?

I'm betting it's the symbol of whatever warlord company Colt Fathom ran.

My mind is reeling with the possibilities of this political alliance.

#Maribug sweetie you still have a chance to save your princess #Kagami's character arc makes more sense to learn to be vulnerable and let people help her tbh.#Would be a great mirror for Maribug who needs to learn when to control and when to let go #This means Adrien's character arc is not at all what the fandom thinks it is (or failed to be)#I'm betting Adrien's arc is going to be an allegory of a queer coming of age story or is actually going to BE a queer coming of age story #anyway I can't believe Marigami and Lukadrien is endgame #Mkay the M symbol looks a bit like an extremely extremely stylized swatstika. Or am I going crazy. Also M is for Musk as in Elon Musk lmfao #miraculous ladybug #tomoe tsurugi #adrien agreste #kagami tsurugi #colt fathom #marinette dupain cheng #Marigami #lukadrien

30 notes · View notes

dreamy-jaeger · 1 year

Text

I Know The End | Ch. 6

Zombie Apocalypse!Au, Older!Grumpy!Eren x Sunshine!Reader

Content: Reluctant traveling companions to lovers, Slight age gap, found family, eventual smut so Minors - DO NOT INTERACT.

Warnings: 18+, violence, mentions of SA, gore, animal abuse, murder, slight smut. (this chapter is really dark you guys, I apologize 😩)

Chapter Summary: The events of the ambush and it’s after effects. Personalities change and relationships shift.

Masterlist

A/N: omg you guys i’m so sorry i took so long to write this, i’ve just been hecka busy, but chapter 6 is here now!! and this one will give you whiplash, i can tell you that for free. i hope you like it!!!! <3

chapter 6

Eren’s P.O.V.

“So, you’re the motherfucker who killed Colt.”

Eren’s eyes shot open. He was met with the sight of bruised knuckles curled around a trigger, visible because of the pale glow of the moon streaming in from the windows. He held his breath, swallowing at the fear that was bubbling up his throat, not even daring a twitch of movement in the case this lunatic was trigger happy.

The view of the man holding him at gunpoint was obstructed by the weapon digging into his forehead, leaving his identity shrouded in mystery. Eren’s mind was running rampant with all the possible ways he could get himself out of this situation, the gears turning furiously.

Though as the last dregs of sleep began to slip away from his form, and reality began to set in with the overworking of his mind, Eren suddenly remembered it wasn’t just him that resided in this church. He wasn’t alone anymore.

Another painful reminder was the sound of bodies struggling, cries of help muffled by the palm of a hand.

Y/N.

Eren’s body jolted, an involuntary response from his desperation to help her. His shoulders raised off of the pew, though he was forced back down as the man pushed his gun harsher into his skin. It was sure to leave a bruise.

The man clicked his tongue three times in disapproval. “Don’t make any sudden movements, Casanova. Unless you want a bullet lodged in your skull.”

A harsh breath of annoyance pushed out of Eren’s nose as he bit his tongue, holding back any of the threats that wanted to slip over it. A muscle twitched in his jaw, his hands slowly raising up in begrudging surrender.

“Sit up.” The man ordered, and Eren could do nothing but comply. His boots met the solid ground of the church, his teal eyes glared daggers at the man who was now visible to him in this new position.

He was surprisingly well-kept for a man living in the apocalypse, his skin free from grime and his sandy undercut hair slicked back neatly. Tipping Eren off that these guys had come from somewhere established, a safe community where this type of look was achievable. Which only meant that there would be even more people waiting on their return. More people to come looking if they never did. He would have to move the girls out of here quickly— if they ever made it out of this mess.

Eren forced himself not to flick his eyes towards the door in the back where he knew Gabby and Ellie resided, most likely completely oblivious to what was ensuing in the main room of the church. If this guy was at all observant, he didn’t want to risk the chance of them being found.

He did however let his eyes fall towards the altar, to where he knew Y/N to be— once another terrified whimper seeped through the fingers of her captor. His blood spiked red hot with anger when he saw thick arms locking her in place against a hardened chest, half her face covered by a large hand, leaving only the sight of her pleading eyes to tug at Eren’s heart. She struggled against the man’s grip, feet kicking restlessly. But the man was too large, too strong, and there was a wicked look in his hazel eyes, like he found amusement in the woman’s distress.

Eren wanted him dead.

“Don’t look at her.” The first man spat, using his gun to force Eren’s chin back towards him. “Look at me.”

Gritting his teeth, Eren met his gaze, the man seemed to be getting the same amount of enjoyment out of this endeavor just as much as his counterpart. He was obviously the type of person who relished in the anarchy, thrived in it. Eren abhorred these types.

“Care to tell me why… despite my attempts to reach out to my contact stationed at this post, I received no response from him?” The man questioned, eyebrows furrowed with feigned confusion.

“And then when I come to check up with him, I find him dead with an arrow right between the eyes?” He then continued, his tone far too nonchalant to be speaking of the death of a comrade.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eren said simply, his voice controlled.

The man’s lips curled into a smirk, a scoff ringing out into the air a second later. He shared a look with his partner before turning back towards Eren, shifting the gun to his temple.

“You sure about that?” He asked, bringing his face closer to Eren’s, his hot breath fanning over his skin. “Or is that not your crossbow?”

Eren’s eyes followed to where the man gestured with a nod, landing on Y/N’s crossbow that she had left leaned up against the pew that he had happened to choose that night. And it might’ve been odd, but Eren was grateful that the incriminating evidence pointed towards him and no one else. He was the one to blame. Hopefully he would be the sole receiver of whatever revenge they were planning.

“Oh.” Eren let slip from his lips, like the reminder flashed forward in time with the gesture.

“That’s all you have to say?” The man responded, “‘Oh’?”

“Yeah. I remember it now.” Eren answered with ostensible nonchalance, looking back towards him as if it were a casual conversation. “As I recall it, your contact didn’t put up much of a fight. He practically killed himself by getting in my way.”

A sharp sound of protest sounded out from Y/N, most likely trying to allude to the fact that it was her who killed their comrade and not Eren. He refused the urge to spare her a begging glance, to let him take the blame. He was unsure of what they would do if they knew the truth. And luckily (in Eren’s case), neither of the men took it as such, only believing she was still fighting against the forceful grip she was trapped under.

“Will you shut her up?” The man said, paying more attention to the distraction rather than Eren’s confession.

“I’m trying, Porco, but she’s not exactly putting up an easy fight.” The other replied, grunts of exertion protruding from his lips from every movement she made to get away from him. Eren felt a strange surge of pride at this, knowing that she was a fighter, just as he. It brought on a sense of hope that maybe they could get out of this unscathed, protecting the ones they care most about.

That all changed with the words that fell out of the so-called Porco’s mouth.

“I know a way we could get her to be quiet.” Porco replied, turning away from Eren. And though the gun was no longer pointed towards his skull, he was that much more afraid as Porco rounded on the woman in his partner’s arms.

“She is pretty…” He observed, stepping nearer. Y/N flinched away when he brought his knuckles up to her cheekbone, brushing against the skin that shined with frightened tears.

“Don’t fucking touch her.” Eren seethed, standing up from the pew, fists clenched. Though his aggression was quickly put to rest when Porco pointed the gun back at him. The man surged forward, a harsh hand on Eren's shoulder, weapon pressing abrasively— once again— against his forehead. He was brought down on his knees, complying when every part of him was screaming to fight, to draw blood, to kill.

“What was that?” Porco said as he advanced on him, maniacal with his words. “You don’t want me to touch her? That’s rich coming from you, Casanova.”

His grip was rough on Eren’s chin as he forced him to look up into his conniving facial features. Grin wicked as he licked his lips, every movement he made wanting Eren to drive his fist further and further into his skull.

“How about it, huh?” Porco sneered. “I’ll forgive you for killing my guy if you let me take a pass at your girl.”

“If you even lay a finger on her—”

“You’ll what?” He condescended, tilting his head in a way that angered Eren even further, “Have your brains splattered across the floor? I think you’re forgetting who has the upper hand here.”

Eren pushed his forehead against the weapon, trying desperately to prove that he wasn’t afraid. And maybe he wasn’t. His anger was forcing its way through every nerve in his body, enough so that he would stare down the barrel of a gun, knowing that whatever the outcome, she would remain unharmed. As long as she was safe, as well as the others hidden within the confines of the confession booth, he would do anything to take this threat away.

Though this was unapparent to the man who stood above him, who looked around the room as if he had an audience. Obviously taking pleasure in the chaos he was creating.

“You know what?” He said, his cruel smirk painting his features once more. “I don’t need your permission.”

Porco leaned forward, his lips pressed right up against Eren’s ear, correspondingly the gun was held up to his temple on the opposite side.

“I’ll fuck your girl right in front of you.”

There was a white blinding anger that surged through Eren’s core, forging through him with horrifying force. He imagined his teeth sinking into the skin of this man’s throat, ripping the tendons, blood pouring out from every crevice, making him pay for a comment like that, for the threat of his touch on Y/N’s skin. But the fantasy was interrupted by a harsh, agonizing scream.

And there were teeth and blood. But to Eren’s surprise it wasn’t his own.

Ellie had somehow escaped from the hidden confines of the confession booth. Her pointed teeth were digging their way through the forearm that was previously gripped around Y/N’s torso. Growls were escaping their way through the jaw that was locked around his appendage. Blood splattered across the floor.

“What the fuck?” The other man cried, trying to shake free from the grip of this dog that Eren had never felt more grateful towards, the defense that she provided allowing Y/N to slip free from his grasp. She fell forward, hands braced against the floor as she caught her breath. Though just as quickly, she looked back towards her dog, both she and Eren caught sight of the man lifting his arm in a powerful fist, bearing down on the dog that was fighting so valiantly.

“No!” Y/N screeched at the same exact time her dog let out a sharp and plaintive whimper under the strong blow the man ministrated against her. The dog released him, stumbling back— ears held against her head, tail tucked under her legs, wavering from the inflicted wound, looking so much weaker than what Eren had known of the animal. He wondered about the shaking dog Y/N had found in her basement, right on the precipice of the apocalypse.

But he couldn’t let the thought plague him for too long. Instead, under the distraction of it all, Eren brought the force of his elbow into Porco’s temple. The gun in his hand slipping from his grip, falling into Eren’s lap. It all felt so lucky, as Eren’s own hand wrapped around the weapon, fingers finding the trigger in a moment’s notice.

The man with his forearm bleeding freely was now advancing towards Y/N— dog forgotten as she cowered in on herself after that horrifying bludgeon. Y/N was scrambling, trying everything to get away, most likely hoping for a path that would allow her to get to her dog. What she didn’t notice was Eren pointing his newfound weapon at her adversary, and as soon as the man took another step forward, a bullet whizzed through the air, piercing itself between his eyes. Just as the arrow did his compatriot. He fell to his demise just the same.

A frustrated, curdling roar of anger sounded out from beside Eren, and before he knew it he was down on the floor, wrestling with the weight of a maddened man who witnessed the death of yet another one of his comrades. The gun, unfortunately, slipped from his grip within the pandemonium, skidding across the floor.

All Eren could focus on was the man who had somehow gotten the advantage. His thighs were trapping Eren in place, hands gripped into the fabric of his t-shirt.

“I’ll kill you.” The man raged, hands shifting upwards, tightening around the expanse of Eren’s neck. Eren’s legs kicked from underneath the man, trying everything to break free as his vocal chords began to restrict under Porco’s grip, fresh air being lost to his lungs. But his anger was matched with Porco’s, both of them filled with adrenaline from the actions taken against those closest to them. And with the upper hand now in Porco’s favor, Eren was at a disadvantage.

He was gasping, searching for any breath that could provide his lungs with relief. His fingers tugged at the rough hands wrapped around his throat. In each passing second death seeped in all around him from every corner of the earth. His life flashed before his eyes, starting with memories from his childhood, and then the beginning of the end, and the people he met throughout its duration. But all that mattered to him were the last couple of months when he found his humanity in the young girl he took in, as well as the last few days where his life finally felt complete now that he found—

A gunshot rang through the air once more. Porco’s grip loosened around Eren’s throat as he fell down beside him, brains now seeping onto the tiled floor, eyes glassy with death, perhaps a fate that was spoken into existence. Eren gasped in huge lungfuls of cold refreshing air, savoring the life that was almost taken from him. But his still-panicked gaze found purchase on the path the bullet had come from, landing on Gabby standing at the end of it. The gun was held aloft in her shaking hands, barrel steaming from the bullet that just blasted from its confines.

“Holy shit.” The young girl breathed, gun dropping to her side, “I just killed someone.”

“Gabby.” Eren croaked, vocal cords strained from the violence inflicted. He rolled over, propping himself up on shaky hands and knees. Regret brittled his bones, knowing that she had never done that before, wishing she didn’t have to at an age so young. It was a burden he never wanted her to bear. His efforts fallen flat within his missteps.

His movements were in an attempt to get to her, to make sure she was all right and that her humanity wasn’t being lost to her, the same way his own was the first time he drew blood. But once he was up on his knees, he caught sight of Y/N, sitting next to a dark lump on the floor. Eren’s heart lodged itself in his throat and before he knew it, he was up on his feet staggering over to where the woman sat, shoulders trembling with every sob that wracked through her body.

“Is she…” Eren choked out, dropping to his knees beside her, an arm instinctively wrapping around her shaking form. Despite her grievances, Y/N relaxed under his touch.

“She’s alive.” Y/N spoke, her voice small, almost to the point where her words came out as a whimper, though it was filled with an aching relief. Her hands smoothed over the head that now resided in her lap. The dog’s eyes were shut closed against the world around her, her breathing so shallow that Eren could hardly tell if her heart was still beating, he was hoping it was only because of the dark that surrounded them. Y/N continued her reassurances, almost as though she was trying to convince herself, even with the tremor that still plagued her.

“Just shaken up, is all. She’ll be alright… we’ve been through worse… But, Gabby—”

“—’m fine.” Gabby interrupted before any inquiries, she sat down on Y/N’s other side. “I’ll be alright too.”

“Gabby—” Eren started.

“I said I’m fine.” She reiterated, maybe a bit too harshly. Eren had opened his mouth to argue the fact, but then he felt as Gabby’s own arms snaked their way around Y/N’s waist, and the words faded off of his tongue.

All four of them were lost within their desperate need of solace, holding onto one another with shaking hands. Two dead bodies lay behind them, forgotten as they all sat in front of the altar with candles burned down to the wick. The faith that once was held in this building by previous loyal churchgoers now placed entirely on the delicate foundation of this forming bond between them.

Y/N’s P.O.V

8 years ago.

Chaos. That was all there was at the beginning.

It was like the world was distorted by a dark twisted filter of destruction. The sky seemed darker than usual, strange for a summer’s day in early June. There were rows and rows of stagnant cars as everyone tried to force their way out of the city. Soon replaced by horrified mobs that wouldn’t care if they trampled over those who tripped over their feet. All that mattered to the mass majority was to get away by all means from the ripping teeth and bloodied fingernails of the monsters that were now running rampant through the streets. Most of the efforts were in vain.

The bloodshed on that very first day was one of the worst blows humanity had ever taken.

Y/N was one of the few who was oblivious to the start of the apocalypse. A feat that seemed impossible, due to the fall of society that had overtaken their world. But she was on a train, headphones plugged in, her thoughts solely on the excitement of getting to see her family again after a year of being apart.

Though reality soon set in as the train started to slow to a stop, halfway between the two stations. Y/N remembered being annoyed at first, frustrated at the delay in her journey probably due to some technical difficulties, but the frustration was soon replaced by confusion as the passengers were evacuated from the locomotive.

The confusion then turned into fear when Y/N finally witnessed the chaos.

She tried calling her parents, her ear was met with low beeps as the call was disconnected. The lines were down, overrun with all the others trying to contact their loved ones. The people around her were no help, as they scrambled to find a way out of this mess once the conductor announced what was really going on. And as they all began to argue about what should be done— if they should take the train into one of the stations or wait for instruction from government officials— Y/N had decided that she could walk the rest of the way home.

With her luggage left behind, save for the backpack over her shoulder, she slipped away under the guise of all the mayhem.

It took her two days to finally reach the neighborhood where her house resided. The streets she grew up in were eerily quiet, nothing so much as stirring as Y/N made her way down the sidewalk.

Surprisingly, she hadn’t run into much during her journey home, since most of the damage was still convoluted within the bounds of the city. She didn’t run into any other living soul, only stopping to rest for thirty minutes at a time, eating the snacks she had preemptively packed for the journey home that should’ve been much simpler than this.

Every so often the ground would tremble, and in the distance would send echoes of great roaring booms. Perhaps the government had resorted to bombing what was left over… the thought unsettled Y/N in her bones.

She thought of her dog, who trembled at the sound of mere fireworks. Her heart ached. She prayed her family would have stayed home. Waiting for her. They had to know she would’ve done anything to get to them. They wouldn’t leave her behind.

However, her house was just as quiet as the street, proven by the lack of excited claws clacking against the floor, a sound she was used to hearing whenever she walked in through the front door. Her bottom lip began to tremble. But she wouldn’t let herself cry. Not yet.

Instead she moved into her kitchen. A place filled with happy memories of her little family making dinner all together. Her mom would be chopping vegetables, a bright grin on her face from the corny joke her dad just told as he stood over the stove. Ellie would be sitting on the precipice of the room, smart enough to know that Y/N’s dad would be quick to shoo her out if she attempted to step a paw further inside. Also smart enough to know that Y/N would eventually sneak her a piece of chicken when her dad was pretending not to look. All of those happy memories faded into these kitchen walls.

It looked so much emptier now that everyone was gone.

The image of her kitchen began to blur as tears filled the corners of Y/N’s eyes. Her throat was tight as she started to imagine the worst. Coming to terms with the fact that she was the only one left.

She was all alone.

Or was she?

An ominous creak rang out from deeper within the house, capturing the girl's attention. A knife that was left on the drying rack by the sink was now held secure in her hand. She ventured further into her childhood home, only stopping when she reached the closed door of her parents bedroom. There was a faded noise seeping in from under the door.

Y/N’s heart was racing. Her fingers grasped around the doorknob, turning slightly. The door creaked open as she pushed against it.

She was frozen in place.

That was until the sight in front of her had caused such a visceral reaction that bile forced its way up her throat. Unable to stop as she released the contents of her last feeble meal, splattering across the floor.

Y/N had heard briefly of what has been happening these last few days from a comment made by the conductor. That people have been turning into cannibals, eating at the flesh of their fellow man, aggressively and violently. Causing the people they bite to do the same, spreading the disease. And over the past forty-eight hours the girl feared having to run into one of those monsters. She didn’t. Until now.

Sat on the bed in the middle of the room were her parents. But not as she had ever known them.

Her father was hunched over the carcass of what used to be her mother. His teeth gnashing, crimson blood covering the expanse of his chin, as well as his fingers that dug into a gaping hole in her mom’s stomach, unaware of his daughter standing in the doorway. Though that changed when her coughing and hacking had caught his attention. He stared up at her with hungry eyes, slow moving, like he was about to pounce.

“Oh, dad.” Y/N mourned, holding the knife out in front of her, her tears now falling freely, burning hot down the skin of her cheeks. Is he not the man she once knew him to be? Does he not recognize his own daughter? Was she soon to have the same fate as her mother? The woman he married and always claimed to be the love of his life, now a gory mess on their marital bed?

Her father tumbled off of the mattress, his eyes still clouded over and angry. Lost in his irises— the same color as her own— was the warmth she had known throughout the eighteen years of her life. This thing was not her father. He was a monster standing in his place.

“Please…” Y/N whimpered as he started to stagger towards her, knowing that this could only end in one way. “Please, don’t.”

Of course he didn’t understand her, his possessed mind set on its current goal. Hands out reaching for her, a cruel imitation of when he used to do the same to pull her into a loving hug. A sob wracked through her body when she caught sight of a bloodied bandage wrapped around his forearm. Had he been one of the firsts to be bit? Had he not known what he would eventually turn into? Going to sleep besides his wife thinking it was just a freak accident and all would be fine in the morning?

The theories ran rampant in Y/N’s brain as she continued to back up, her father still lumbering towards her, hissing at the sight of her.

“Dad.” Y/N said again, almost like she was begging. Begging for him to stop. Begging him to turn back into the man that she once knew. She couldn’t do this without him. She couldn’t do this alone.

She was forced to stop when her back hit the wood of the door at the end of the hallway. It wasn’t fully shut, so it creaked as it slightly shifted back under the weight of her body. She knew what lay behind her. It was the staircase that led downstairs. She could escape down below, slam the door shut and avoid doing what she knew she had to.

But seeing him like this. Seeing her own dad, a shell of the man he once was, was too hard to bear. And she didn’t want to let this monster live in his place any longer than it already has. It was unfair that this thing had stolen her dad from her, stolen the feet stalking forward, stolen the hands reaching out, stolen the heart that was no longer beating, the eyes that were no longer loving and replaced it all with cold unfeeling death.

So with a newfound energy and rage, the girl raised the knife, plunging it deep into his skull with a strangled cry of exertion.

Her dad— now free from the unrelenting grasp of this monster— sank to the floor, unmoving.

“I’m sorry.” She cried, dropping down beside him, too afraid to touch him, but wanting one last moment with her father. Her salty tears dripped down onto his face, causing streaks to carve through her mother’s blood staining his chin. “I’m so sorry.”

She stayed like that for a few moments more, mourning the death of her parents. Her cries were loud and unrelenting, her hand was clutched to her chest trying hard to even out her breathing that was forging through her in staggered intervals. Her grief wouldn’t let her calm down, keeping her shoulders rigid and her throat raw.

But somehow through it all, she heard a new sound, wavering up from behind her, up the stairs and through the crack in the door. A muffled, warbled whimper, as if her grief was manifesting itself outside of her body. But that wasn’t it… no. She knew exactly what it was. Who it was.

Y/N scrambled to her feet, desperate in her movements, practically tripping down the stairs to where the sound was coming from. She rounded the corner, eyes searching for the dusty storage-space tucked underneath the stairs. A place of solace her dog always ran to when the boom of fireworks or the rumble of thunder became too overwhelming.

She was met with an occupied space. Big brown eyes staring up at her, her entire body shaking with fear, and a tail that slowly started thumping against the floor.

“Ellie.”

More whimpered cries escaped from the dog as she realized who was standing in front of her— a sound she always made when happiness overwhelmed her whenever a family member returned home. Y/N’s own tears gushed harder down her face, only this time with the most overwhelming relief she had ever known.

She dropped to her knees, the movement sparking the dog to stand up on shaky legs and move forward into her owner’s arms.

“I’m here, sweet girl.” Y/N whispered into her fur as the dog continued to cry, her tail now wagging more furiously as her familiar scent washed over her. Ellies nose was dry as she sniffed at Y/N’s cheeks, most likely due to a lack of water. Y/N would have to get some for her, as well as some food. But for now she had her arms wound tight around her dog, shoulders shaking with relief. She wasn’t alone anymore. Ellie wasn’t alone anymore. They had found each other within the chaos.

“I’m here.”

~ present day

“We have to go.”

Eren’s words were sharp with the command, maybe too soon after the fact. There were protests from Gabby, who tried to argue that there was more time needed to recover. Y/N wanted to agree with her— in favor of her poor old dog still trembling in her lap, but she knew that Eren was right. Especially at the mention that more of them could be on their way as soon as they didn’t hear back from the man that seemed to be their leader.

So now they were back to wandering through the forest, before the sun had even begun to rise. The shadows overcast from the trees were shifting and changing in Y/N’s tired mind, looking far too much like more enemies they might have to defend themselves against. She jumped more often than not at any slight movement, still shaken by the events that transpired.

Ellie was tied to her waist by a rarely-used leash, too worried to let her dog wander off like she usually did. Not that she would’ve done so, Ellie was sticking close to Y/N’s side, her movements slow and careful. Though, the reassurance the leash provided was always welcome. She wanted her dog near her, somewhere close, where she would be safe.

It would be a lie if Y/N said she wasn’t worried. Her dog had taken many hits before, some much worse than what happened tonight. But Ellie was getting old, her reaction time much slower than what it once was, now proven with the timid dog that walked in time with her steps. The bounce back of her usual energy was taking much longer than it ever has.

Y/N didn’t dare think of the extremities that could’ve taken place tonight, if her captor had been that much more forceful, or if Porco had been quicker with his gun. She could have lost the one thing that mattered most to her in this world. She still could. It was hard to keep the fear at bay. Death was imminent, there was no getting around it, but with the way Y/N’s worries plagued her mind it was like she enjoyed the torture of fearing the inevitable. Her overactive imagination was far too strong for her own good.

The only thing that anchored her to reality was the man who walked a few paces in front of her now.

Eren was strong with the way he moved through the shadowed forest, deliberate with his actions just as he was earlier that night. It seemed as though he wasn’t affected at all by what had happened, his strength resounding in the very way he kept them all moving. At the moment, Y/N was grateful for his resilience, it was like a spark of hope lighting itself against the aggressive darkness of dread.

It was the very lifeboat Y/N needed to pull herself from her own harrowed worries. She kept her eyes on the shoulders that were often brushed by the low hanging branches surrounding them. The sight of him keeping her present, keeping her moving.

Gabby, on the other hand, was far in the distance behind them, her feet dragging through the foliage that lay beneath their feet. Her demeanor was soft and quiet, unlike anything Y/N had known of her from before. Every so often Eren would turn, his teal gaze catching on to Y/N before shifting towards the young girl behind her. His brow would soon furrow every time he realized she hadn’t moved any closer.

With the time Y/N had now gotten to know the man, she knew that look well. He was worried— just as she was. Though this time it was more so than ever before. Perhaps he was worried for Gabby the same way Y/N was worried for Ellie. The events of the night caused far too much damage beyond the physical realm. The woman was unsure of what that damage could be for the young teenager, but it burdened her nonetheless. Since she now seemed to care about her as much as any other friend she’s had in her life.

So as the sun began to rise, and the day went on, there were many times when Y/N tried to engage the girl in conversation, ranging between casual topics to more in depth questions about what she was feeling at that moment. But every single time, her attempts were brushed off by a shrug and a brief comment of dismissal. A nut too tough to crack.

“Does she seem off to you?” Eren once asked, as they took a break by a small river, a babbling brook carving its way through the forest floor. Serene in its very nature and a sight that would usually excite the young girl. Though now she only sat silently on a large rock stationed near the bank, knees curled in on herself as she took in the scene.

Y/N pursed her lips at Eren’s question, unsure how to answer it without worrying him further.

“I don’t know, she’s quieter than usual.” Y/N replied, careful with her words. “We didn’t get much sleep… maybe she’s tired.”

“Yeah.” Eren responded, though he sounded unsure. “Maybe.”

The conversation was put to rest as soon as they continued on with their journey. The remainder of it was surrounded in silence as no one dared to speak. They passed through endless miles of forest green, their footfalls ringing out into the nature beyond. There was not a soul in sight beyond those within their group. There weren’t even any buildings from what they saw last of the church that faded into the distance behind them. The road was far gone as they ventured deeper and deeper into the trees.

When the sun was low in the sky, casting golden light over their heads, being quite obvious there was no promise of a shelter with four walls and a roof, Eren had finally conceded their journey.

“We need to stop for the night.” He had said, now standing in front of a naturally formed alcove, established in the side of a hill.

The rest of them gratefully accepted his notion, their tired feet now overworked from a day of walking. Gabby immediately threw off the backpack that was digging into her shoulders, it falling onto the forest floor with a resounding thump.

“Finally.” She relented, flopping down besides her belongings, seeming a bit more like herself. Y/N smiled softly at the display, her worry slowly beginning to ease its way out of her system.

“We can set up a fire here.” Eren continued as the action-man he always was.

“You think it’s safe?” Y/N inquired, unhooking Ellie from her leash, allowing her to sniff around the premises they deemed worthy for their camp.

“We covered a lot of ground.” He nodded, already clearing a space for a firepit. “And if we’re sleeping outside we’re gonna need the warmth.”

There were no arguments after that. Within the hour, as the light of the sun faded over the horizon it was replaced by the bright orange of a flickering fire, sparks popping up into the cool night air. The respective facial features of each person surrounding the heat was underlit by the dancing flames, each one of them stoic in their silence as they ate at the meal prepared by Eren— who had returned to the camp after searching for firewood, with a rabbit bouncing on his hip.

It was the first hot meal any of them had in days, a welcome comfort after the distress they faced. And it definitely raised Ellie’s spirits as she sat by Y/N’s side, staring eagerly as the woman picked small pieces of meat off the bone, drool slobbering from her lips. She grinned at the sight of her silly dog with her wagging tail. Never able to refuse her, Y/N gave her a bite between each one of her own.

When she had gifted her dog the last bite of their shared meal, Y/N rubbed her greasy fingertips across her jeans, her gaze shifting. And then she stilled. Her eyes landed on the man who sat across the fire, she was met with the blinding teal of his irises. He was already staring at her. And he didn’t even feel the need to be ashamed he had gotten caught. Instead, his expression was thoughtful as he considered her, slowly chewing his food. His strong features were accentuated by the fire below his feet, a reminder of how handsome he was, sending a jolt through Y/N’s spine.

She felt herself flush and quickly averted her gaze, eyes now landing on Gabby— who at that moment decided to push herself up to stand, thankfully stealing away Eren’s intimidating stare.

“I’m gonna hit the hay.” She said, clapping her hands free from any dirt.

“Take the sleeping bag.” Eren responded with no hesitation.

“Don’t need it.”

“Like hell you don’t.” He retorted, before pulling said sleeping bag out of his bag and tossing it her way. The girl plucked it out of the air with ease, but still rolled her eyes in the process.

“Fine.” She grumbled and then turned to go, probably hoping to make some distance between her and the firelight. But as the girl continued to walk away, Y/N realized she wasn’t stopping just beyond the orange halo of light the fire provided. She was moving deeper into the woods.

“Where are you going?” Eren was quick to react, standing on his feet. Gabby stopped at his words, turning to face him.

“I’m gonna sleep over here.” Gabby answered, jutting her thumb over her shoulder. Eren’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Why?”

“It’s called privacy, old man, ever heard of it?” She chided. Y/N noticed how a muscle twitched in Eren’s jaw. He took a step forward, perhaps about to drag the young girl back over to them by force. Y/N opened her own mouth before he could.

“Hey, Gabby?” She inquired, standing on her feet as well.

“Yeah?”

“Do you mind taking Ellie again?” Y/N asked, her tone soft with the question in contrast to Eren’s sharp frustration. “I think she prefers sleeping with you.”

A small smile flickered up on Gabby’s lips, she nodded simply and waited as Y/N prodded Ellie to follow after the girl, which of course she did happily. From the corner of her eye she saw Eren's shoulders visibility relax, but only slightly.

A deep sigh escaped his lips as he sat back down on the log he had dragged over near the fire earlier that evening, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Y/N fidgeted where she stood, unsure of what to do with herself now that it was just the two of them.

“I’m sure she’s alright.” Y/N offered, bending down over her own backpack to tug out a small blanket she had buried deep in its confines. Something to do with her hands.

“She’s not acting like herself.” Eren countered, his hand dropping down to his lap, revealing his worried features.

Y/N shrugged, not having much to say on the matter since she’s only known the girl for a short amount of time. She did notice the difference with her most recent demeanor, but Y/N was once a teenage girl too, and she knew how much of a rollercoaster that was in and of itself.

“Maybe she really does want privacy.” She mused, as she spread her blanket out across the forest floor, close to the warmth of the fire.

“She hates sleeping alone.” Eren blurted, “Ever since I found her. If I wasn’t near her when she woke up, she’d…”

Eren shook his head, his words fading off his tongue. Perhaps in respect to Gabby’s newfound want of privacy, not wanting to reveal the moments when she’s weak. But Y/N didn’t take offense to that. She understood. As well as the fact that the picture was already painted.

“It’s just… weird for her to want to be alone. Especially after last night,”

“Well, she’s not alone, is she?” Y/N reminded him with a soft smile. He met her gaze, his own lips twitching up slightly with the reassurance.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He breathed, “Thanks… for that.”

Y/N shrugged off his gratitude, shaking her head, “Nah, don’t worry about it. It was the truth anyways, I think Ellie likes her more than me.”

Eren let out a low chuckle at that, causing Y/N’s stomach to dip. Her bottom lip tucked between her teeth to hold back a brighter grin. She hid her face by focusing on straightening out her blanket, even though she didn’t really need to.

“Are you going to sleep?” Eren asked, his attention being caught by her redundant movements.

“Um… Yeah.” Y/N said, her tone going up a pitch with hesitation. She had made the decision in the pause between her words. She wasn’t exactly planning on going to bed, but she supposed that’s exactly where she was headed with her current actions. “Are you?”

“I’ll probably stay up.” Eren told her. “Take watch.”

“Okay.” Y/N nodded, and then she paused again, looking around.

“Don’t you have a sleeping bag too?” She questioned.

“Oh, uh, no.” Eren replied, looking down at his feet. “That was our only one.”

“Won’t you be cold?”

“I’ll be fine.” He reassured her. Y/N narrowed her eyes at the man, unconvinced, but with the soft smile he offered her she found herself letting it slide. So instead of arguing, she slipped underneath her blanket— unconventional for sleeping besides a campfire, but better than nothing. And once she was settled, back turned away from the fire (as well as Eren’s burning gaze), her exhaustion finally registered in her brain. It was almost a surprise how quickly sleep took over her form.

Though she slipped out of it just as quick a few hours later at the aggressive sound of chattering teeth. She woke up with a furrowed brow as the sound had snuck into her dream in a confusing fashion. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she raised herself on one palm, looking around the now darkened camp. The fire was almost completely out, only a few glowing embers sat among the ash. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she took in the sight of Eren’s shadowed form, laid out in front of the log he once sat at. His shoulders were shaking, curled in on himself for any sense of warmth.

“Eren?” Y/N croaked. He jumped at the sound of her voice.

“Shit—” He sat up quickly from his position on the floor. “I’m sorry, I fell asleep.”

Y/N shook her head, to forego his apology, though she quickly realized how dark it was, and felt foolish since he probably couldn’t even see the gesture.

“That’s alright.” She then whispered, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, ‘m fine.” Eren replied.

“Are you sure you’re not cold?” She questioned again.

“Not at all.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. Another thing he couldn’t see, but maybe he could feel the force of her frustration as he spoke again.

“I’m alright.” He reiterated. Y/N let out a huff of annoyance. And then Eren’s teeth started chattering again. This was ridiculous.

“Eren, I’m not deaf, you know?” She argued. “I’m cold just listening to you. Take my blanket.”

“Then you’ll be cold.” Eren countered through the dark.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll take next watch.” She told him.

“But you were still sleeping.” Apparently he wouldn’t let this go. And Y/N’s patience was wearing thin.

“Fine.” She stated, her tone decisive just as her next choice. “Then come here.”

“What?”

“Come here.” She repeated, her frustration now very apparent.

“Why?”

“The way I see it, we can either keep arguing who gets to take the blanket or we can just skip ahead to the obvious solution.” She answered, sitting up all the way, her eyes finding purchase on his shadow in the dark.

“And the solution is…?”

“We’ll share.”

Eren didn’t respond after that. In fact it even sounded like he wasn’t breathing at all. He went so still that Y/N almost thought he had fallen back asleep. Or maybe even left her alone by the dying fire. She opened her mouth to say something more, but was cut off when Eren finally spoke.

“Are you sure you want to?” He asked, his voice barely above a murmur.

“Neither one of us wants the other to be cold.” She said, her frustration taking a back seat as she matched his tone. “It’s the only way.”

He paused again. But this time Y/N was certain he was there.

“Okay.”

Through the shadows of the night she heard shuffling as Eren stood from his spot. The sounds of his slow footsteps signaling his arrival to her side of the camp. When he finally reached her he had stopped— standing above her, hesitating for what was to come next.

Y/N stared up at him, his teal eyes somehow shining through the dark. Her stomach dipped once again once she realized how close he would be within a few seconds. Maybe that’s why he took a pause, maybe he realized the same thing. Y/N wondered if she should be nervous. Though she definitely was, as her hands trembled in her grip around the blanket. Even so, she held his gaze as she peeled back the fabric. A silent invitation.

A deep breath was released from the man in front of her, perhaps preparing himself. Though the pause was much shorter now as he soon accepted it.

They were silent as he placed himself beside her, fingers brushing when he went to grab his corner of the blanket from her. A soft gasp escaped her throat when they did. Y/N prayed Eren didn’t hear it.

Though that would almost be impossible considering how close they were. Y/N’s blanket was small— small enough to fit in her backpack comfortably with the rest of her items— so for it to be able to cover the both of them fully, their shoulders had to be pressed together, their backs against the forest floor. They both lay rigid, and uncomfortable. Afraid to move. Afraid to breathe.

They laid like that for a while.

“I’m worried about Gabby.” Eren whispered into the air, surprising Y/N once he broke the silence. His tribulations from before still haunting him to the point where he must’ve needed to say something out loud. Maybe their proximity made him feel safe to do so.

“How so?” Y/N encouraged, knowing that he’ll eventually reveal what was really going on, hopefully providing clarity on his own theories on why Gabby was acting so differently.

“She’s never killed anyone before… a person, I mean. ”

Oh. Y/N’s heart sank. What a strange joke made by the universe. Just the night before they were confiding with one another about the burden left behind by the cruel acts this new world forced your hand to make. And now Gabby was faced with the same moral dilemma. Even if the man deserved it, having to kill someone with your own two hands takes a toll. The first one being the worst of them all.

“I never wanted her to have to do that.” Eren continued, his words said with a slight strain in his voice. Y/N didn’t dare look over, in case he was displaying emotions that didn’t want to be shared. She kept her head faced towards the sky above, stars blinking down from between the branches of the high standing trees.

“I knew it was inevitable.” He added, and then he released another harrowed breath. “But she’s just a kid. I wanted to hold it off as long as possible… but now that it’s happened, I’m scared— no, terrified that…”

“That it will change her.” Y/N finished for him.

“Yeah.” He responded, even though she didn’t phrase it as a question. The word hung in the air above them, neither of them really knowing what to say.

“Well it is going to change her.” Y/N then said, ripping off the bandaid. “It already has.”

“I know.” Eren conceded, “But she shouldn’t have to know what it’s like. And now that she does… I’m even more terrified that she’s gonna end up like me.”

Y/N let herself look at Eren at that. His features were lost to the darkness, but she could see the silhouette of his nose. He was still looking away. Though his head slightly twitched towards her as she shifted under the blanket, changing her position so that she lay on her side, arms curled into her chest.

“Is that such a bad thing?” She whispered.

“If you knew who I was before… What I did before… maybe it is.” He replied.

“Before what?” Y/N questioned.

“Before Gabby.” He murmured. “...Before you.”

He turned his head to look at her, their gaze finally meeting once more. Y/N saw the worry that had been flickering over his irises all day, now at full force as he admitted his fears and his regrets. Y/N sucked in a breath, her own eyebrows tugging up with concern at what his self image was. She felt a desperate need to change that for him.

“As far as I can tell, if this is the person you are after meeting Gabby… if she was the one who pulled you out of whatever you used to be, I think she’ll be just fine. If you’re there to do the same.”

Eren’s eyes softened at her words. The tension slowly seeped out of his shoulders.

“She’ll need you there too.” Eren breathed, he shifted his body into the same position Y/N was in, they now faced each other head on, nowhere to hide as they held onto each other's gaze.

“You think so?” She murmured, a small spark of warmth glowing behind her sternum at the inclusion. It felt silly to be somewhat excited about the prospect, but it made her realize just how badly she needed the reassurance.

“I know so.” He assured her.

“And what makes you so confident?” She replied, lips tilting up in a half smile, her teasing coming out at the most inopportune moments. But Eren paid it no mind. Instead he simply answered her.

“Because I needed you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat. Her smile sliding off of her face in quick succession. His honesty sent a jolt of surprise to run through her nerves. Her eyes searching his face for any sign of the joke he must obviously be playing on her.

“At the church, you asked me if that was the case.” He continued, since Y/N’s words were lost to her. “And I just thought you should know that I do. I need you.”

“I need you too.” Y/N whispered, the confession falling so easily off of her lips. Almost like she was just falling into the motions of this conversation.

But of course the words were true. They couldn’t have been anything else. It was proven in the short amount of time they had known each other that they already needed one another to survive in a world like this. But perhaps there was something hidden. A deeper meaning that was not yet discovered. Or rather, not yet revealed. It was too soon to do so now. So perhaps they can hang on to the surface level, and find satisfaction within the shallow end.

Eren sucked in a breath at her reciprocating words. Almost like they were a surprise to him. But his softened features twisted harshly once again as remorse seemed to take over.

“I’m so sorry.” Eren had then said, closing his eyes and shaking his head against the earth beneath them, confusing Y/N in the process.

“For what?”

“For letting them hurt Ellie, letting them get to you.” He whispered, teal eyes revealing themselves, filled with shining regret. “And then when he… when he threatened to—”

“Eren.” Y/N said, her tone now pleading, knowing where he was going with this. She was desperate to stop the oncoming spiral he was headed towards.

“He was going to…” He swallowed around the words, unable to say them out loud.

“But he didn’t.” Y/N asserted, placing a hand onto Eren’s freezing cheek. His own large hand moved to cover it, like it was instinctual for him to do so.

“You must’ve been so scared.” He strained, fingers wrapping tighter around hers.

“I wasn’t scared.” Y/N shook her head, confidence dripping from every word. “Do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you were there.” She whispered as she shifted their hands so that they were now clasped in the small space between their bodies, wanting to make sure that he saw the truth within her irises. “I knew I’d be okay— that we’d all survive, because you wouldn’t have it any other way. There was no room for fear knowing that.”

Eren’s eyes flicked over each feature on Y/N’s face, as if he were looking for any hidden lies. When there were none to be discovered, a shaking breath of relief escaped from between his lips. He nodded in agreement.

“That’s what I felt too.” He revealed. “Having you there with me.”

“We make a pretty good team, huh?.” She smiled softly at him, causing a soft chuckle to push through his nose. The sound of content being the greatest thing she’s ever heard.

“I suppose we do.” He inevitably agreed.

And that was the last thing said before they let their conversation slowly fade into the night, being replaced by the soothing caress of sleep. The sound of their even breaths moving in time, their hands still intertwined between them.

Eren’s P.O.V.

Eren awoke to the sound of birdsong, and gentle blue sunlight that only shows itself in the early hours of the morning. His eyes were left without the usual bitter sting that came with a restless night of sleep. In fact, he had felt more rested than he had in years. Perhaps the difference was the woman that now resided in his arms, a position that must have formed itself sometime during the night.

The faded scent of mint overwhelmed his senses with his nose pressed into her hair. His rough calloused fingers had somehow slipped under the fabric of her shirt, firm against the burning skin of her hip, her back was held tightly against his chest from their proximity.

His heart stuttered, having her this close to him. Though he felt uncertain of how he was supposed to react to it all. Was he allowed to relish in the press of her body against his own? Was this something she wanted or perhaps it was all unconscious actions done under the influence of sleep and a need for warmth.

Of course that was when the woman shifted in his arms, though only doing so to sink deeper into the solid form of his body. Unfortunately, the action brought forth a shocking discovery when the curve of her ass brushed lightly across his crotch.

A low hiss escaped his lips when that in turn brought notice to the natural phenomenon that occurred behind his zipper whenever the sun would rise. Eren’s touch became softer and more unsure as he held his breath, willing all of the strength inside his body to hold himself still, not wanting to give her a rude awakening. But Y/N only relaxed further into his chest, the entirety of her now pressing solidly against the whole of him. He prayed to the universe that she was still asleep and unaware of what was happening behind her.

Eren shut his eyes, focusing on the pattern of his breathing.

They shot open when Y/N shifted her hips once more, ever so slightly but somehow more intended. Was she awake? Did she know what she was doing?

He found out the answer to that when she did it again, this time very much purposefully as the roll of her hips pulled a groan from deep within Eren’s throat. His own hips pressing back into her of their own volition. A soft sigh escaped the girls lips at the accidental reciprocation, her sound of satisfaction causing his cock to twitch in his pants.

“W-what are you doing?” He murmured into her hair, his hands shaking as they searched for an appropriate place to rest. His brain fuzzy as Y/N found a consistent pattern, his breathing growing heavy in her ear.

“Nothing.” She whispered softly, almost convincingly innocent. The next harsh grind of her ass caused Eren's hand to shoot out and grip at her waist.

“This isn’t why— shit—,” Eren strained, trying to convey that she didn’t have to do this for him, the words fumbling over his tongue. “I don’t want you to think that I—”

“—Shh. ’m not thinking anything.” She cooed, snaking a hand up to rest on the back of Eren’s neck, bringing him closer. A spark of electricity shot down his spine at the touch of her fingertips against his skin. “Just feels good.”

“Y-yeah.” Eren agreed breathlessly, dipping his nose down into the crook of her neck. “It does.”

Her reassurance brought a sense of confidence to the man, his grip growing harsher against her waist as he began to rut into her more deliberately. A sweet moan protruded from Y/N’s lips, the sound of it resounding in another twitch of Eren’s cock.

Heat began to surge all around them in a great contrast to the cool morning air. Unreleased tension threatened to burst as they continued to work themselves up. Y/N’s ass was now pushing back into him with a gentle rhythm, Eren pressing himself into her harder with each one of her back-thrusts.

Harsh desperate breaths wavered out from their throats, punctuated every so often by Eren’s low grunts and Y/N’s tiny whines.

Every part of Eren was on fire, a sheen of sweat layering itself onto his skin as he continued to hump into her, chasing a high that was dangerously close, far too soon.

Not that the woman in front of him was doing any better. She was arching into every firm grind of his hips, her mouth hanging open in a silent moan, shivering under the fingertips that Eren was now dragging over her skin, deeper into the fabric of her shirt. A sharp gasp left her lips when they brushed the fabric of her bra, catching on the hardened nipple underneath.

“Does that feel good?” Eren smiled into her hair, earning another sweet moan from the pride in his voice.

“Mhm.” She whined, nodding her head, her movements becoming quicker in her excitement.

“Feel’s good for me too, sweetheart.” He groaned, the nickname falling freely from his lips through the dizzying cloud of pleasure. “Gonna make me cum.”

“Please.” Y/N begged, grabbing the hand that was on her waist and holding it there, a silent concession to take what he needed from her.

A deep shudder rolled through Eren’s shoulders at the anticipation. More grunts tumbling from his lips with every thrust. He was pushing himself harder into her than ever before. He was close, so close—

“Ellie!”

The sound of Gabby’s voice had the two adults scrambling apart. Their secluded bubble of lust now burst and raining down on them with heavy disappointment and unyielding embarrassment. Abrasive in his actions, Eren stood quickly from his spot, turning away from the scene of the crime. Only for his eyes to land on Ellie, who sat at the precipice of the clearing, her tongue lolling out of her mouth, tail thumping wildly against the foliage.

The stupid, fucking dog.

“Don’t run off like that!” Gabby was soon to appear behind her, sleeping bag tucked under her arm.

Before Gabby caught sight of them and any shame that might still be lingering in the air, Eren quickly turned to the nonexistent last glowing embers of the fire, pretending to stomp them out like that was his plan all along. He heard the zipper of Y/N’s backpack behind him, surely busying herself with a different menial task to feign innocence.

“Morning.” The teenager called out as she closed the distance left between them. The two of them returned her greeting with some of their own, awkward in the way they spoke. But the young girl didn’t seem to notice, only moving to pack up the sleeping bag, completely unaware of their fragile facade.

Eren scratched at the back of his neck, the burn of Y/N’s touch ever present.

What the hell just happened?

~~~

A/N: Honestly this chapter is all over the place but I hope you like it!! hehe! let’s see where there relationship goes from here, shall we?? muahaha ILYSM thank you for reading! <3<3

Taglist: @large-juice @dududubebo @jaegersdiary @tojis-discord-kitten @amityblu @givemeasec @conniesbbymama @prblmtic @comfypigeon @intimacywithceline @erensnumbaonegirl @aangsupremacy @oneofthesevensins @theyloveniqueeeee

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren x reader smut #eren yeager x reader smut #eren jaeger x reader smut #eren smut #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyoujin x reader

159 notes · View notes