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morning-star-joy · 11 months

Text

here, everyone knows you're the way to my heart

Pairing: Post-Outbreak Neighbors, Joel x F!Reader, Ellie x Platonic Reader

Summary: At Joel's request, you teach Ellie how to press flowers, and become even more engrained in the life of your neighbors. Joel continues to struggle with your kindness, and makes a choice that'll have consequences between you.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Grumpy x Sunshine, Mutual Pining, Implied Age Gap. Angst. Joel's an emotionally unavailable asshole. Petname (dollface). Mentions of food and eating. Cigarette use. Language. Please check series warnings on masterlist.

A/N: This took far too long, like 5 months after I started this series, but it's here now! Angst is kicking in towards the end of this one and through the next few parts so...yeah. Buckle in loves. Ty for being so patient and supportive for this fic!

Wordcount: 6.3k

Part I || Part IV || Part V || Series Masterlist

Masterlist || Kofi || Updates Blog

Looking back at it all now, the way you always acted around Joel finally made sense.

It had started out of neighborly kindness. You treated the older man, and the girl who he looked after, the same way you would’ve treated anybody who moved in next door, with a warm smile and offers of goodwill made by your own hand.

Somewhere along the way though, your reasons for seeking Joel out had shifted, so subtly that you hadn’t even realized it until suddenly it was all you could think about.

And now he was all you could think about.

Out in your garden, tending to your flowers, you wondered which blooms you could give him next. The meanings hidden within each family of plants, each variation of color, how you could tell him exactly the way you felt without him knowing a single thing.

In your kitchen, baking a small batch of brownies for Ms. Garcia again, wondering if Joel would like some, if you should set aside a few for him to try. Wondering if he liked something decadent, if the dour man had a secret sweet tooth, or maybe he preferred a sour taste instead.

Wondering if he had even cared enough to try the banana bread you had brought to him when he first settled in.

Or if he had put any of your flowers in a vase like you had told him to.

Hoping you’d see him when you walked out of your house in the morning to go about your daily tasks helping out around Jackson, or hear that soft music played by rough fingers on his porch at night.

So when there was a rapt knock on your door one afternoon, you rushed from the kitchen to answer it without a care for your apron splattered with remnants of baking ingredients, too full of irrational hope until you opened the door, and your eyes were led down.

But the sight before you still brought a smile to your face, watching as the girl who also lived next door to you brightened when she saw you. Her awkward slouch straightened, a tentative smile twitching on her face to answer your welcoming one.

“Hey,” Ellie offered in terms of cautious greeting with a little wave, stuffing her hands back into the front pockets of her jeans, rocking back and forth on her heels as you returned her wave cheerfully. “Uh, I’m here for the…flower lessons?”

“Oh! Of course, please come in,” you chirped, smile widening into a grin with excitement at the prospect of sharing your knowledge of botanicals with somebody willing to learn.

There weren’t many people in Jackson who were as invested in gardening as you—some even turned their nose up at it, deeming it trivial in the kind of world you lived in, when others were working day in and out to keep the place not only running, but as safe as could be.

But what was the point of having all this safety, if there was no warmth of it? What was the point of surviving without living, without finding what beauty remained, lovingly tending to it so it could grow, and cherishing its worth?

So you had been thrilled to learn from Joel that Ellie wanted to know how to press flowers, but you hadn’t wanted to overwhelm the girl, deciding it was best to let her come to you.

Though she had seemed bright and energetic for the most part, and had been kind the few times she’d called to you from the next porch over, at times there was a shadow cast over her young face, a look that almost reminded you of a cornered animal. A soul that had grown up without knowing any sort of beauty.

And so you hoped that by showing her patience and kindness, Ellie would find there were still beautiful things that remained in the world around you.

“I thought maybe you had smelled the brownies,” you teased as you led her through the house, glancing back to see her eyes light up at the mention of desserts.

“Like, as in chocolate brownies?” Ellie asked, suddenly on your heels as you entered the kitchen, and you laughed at the way her jaw dropped at the sight of ingredients set out on your counter, in the midst of making a batch when she had dropped by.

“Yup,” you popped the ‘p’ of the word as you circled the counter, gesturing to the batter you had been mixing with a fond smile at her growing grin of excitement. “I don’t always have the ingredients for it, but when I do, I always try and make a batch for Ms. Garcia down the street—they’re her favorite.”

Ellie wrinkled her nose at the mention of the older woman, bright mood dropping quickly at the name, even as she stepped closer to you to peer down into the bowl when you picked the whisk back up. “I don’t like her.”

Arching an eyebrow down at her, you countered the blunt statement with, “Do you know her?”

The young girl paused, eyes flashing up to meets yours, looking a little taken aback by the question before you saw her stubbornness double down before your eyes, squinting up at you as she shot back, “Well, she doesn’t know me, but she sure likes to talk shit about me. Joel too.”

You frowned, sighing softly before glancing back down at your batter to mix it a few more times. “Yeah, she can be a bit of a busybody. She’s lived in Jackson longer than most, and she’s watched so many people come and go that I think she finds herself a bit of an expert on the matter of who lives here.”

“She should mind her own fucking business,” Ellie mumbled, and you both found yourself looking at each other in surprise when a snort of shocked laughter left you, four eyes wide before the girl’s smile grew mischievous at your hint of amusement that you quickly tried to hide.

“I’m not a fan of gossip, and she does a bit too much of it,” you admitted with a sigh, turning to grab a pan to pour the batter into so you could get it in the oven and move on to what she had come here for. “But she’s lost a lot, and I try to offer some kindness to her.”

“Like you do with me and Joel.”

Your head whips back around to Ellie, eyes wide at the no punches drawn comparison.

That’s also when you see her hand as it crept towards the uncooked mix of ingredients for a sneak taste, and you gently smacked it away, lips twitching up into a smile as she huffed indignantly that you had caught her.

“Everybody deserves some kindness,” you replied softly as you poured and spread the batter into the pan, sliding it into the sweltering heat of the oven and setting your little timer. You turned back with a smile that showed your genuine motivation in spreading goodwill, one that made the tension in Ellie’s shoulders relax. “How could that not include my new neighbors?”

“Yeah, okay, Sunshine,” Ellie teased with a roll of her eyes, and you laughed again, not only amused by her wry sense of humor, but happy to see how she perked up at your positive reception to her jokes. “I came here for the flower shit, remember? But I’m definitely staying for those brownies.”

With a playful roll of your eyes, you gestured for her to follow you out the back door to your garden. When Ellie descended from the porch and stopped short, turning around in place to take in your carefully tended garden, you felt a swell of pride in your chest at the wonder in her wide-eyed gaze.

“Holy shit,” Ellie breathed out, her tone impressed as she glanced over your carefully coordinated flowers spreading throughout the yard. “You did all of this?”

“Sure did,” you chirped, a bright grin on your face that she slowly matched with one of her own as you led her to the flowers you’d be working on today.

“I’ve had to do a lot of digging around for them—both through trades and, well,” you gestured with the trowel you picked up to accentuate your point, “literally.”

Ellie snorted, rolling her eyes at your joke, even as the sharp brown of them lit up more than you had seen yet at your bad pun. The cheer faded into something more somber, almost melancholic as she knelt down next to you in front of the patch of white and yellow daisies.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” she mumbles as you pick up a pair of shears to give to her, and you watch as she takes the tool and holds it as if ready to wield it.

The teen doesn’t even seem to notice the way she holds it out, sharp edges pointed away from herself like preparing to stab an Infected that didn’t exist within the walls of Jackson, and you wonder just what Ellie has gone through in her short life, how many improvised weapons she’s learned to make deadly, how hard she’s had to fight just to make it this far.

You’re reminded once again of the spooked animal backed into a corner at the sight of her awkwardly gripping the shears, and you show her your open palms before slowly reaching out, making your intentions clear before gently readjusting her grip on the shears.

“You’re nurturing something,” you say gently, picking up another pair of shears and demonstrating how you trim the dead leaves off your plants before finding a bright yellow daisy to carefully pick. “Not killing it.”

Ellie frowns, watching you retrieve the fresh bloom and present it to her with a smile. She takes it gingerly, staring down at the petals as she swirls it between her fingers and says bluntly, “But it’s gonna die anyway.”

You falter, a frown pulling onto your lips as you hear the unmistakable truth, the knowledge that ran deeper than just flowers in her grave words.

“It will,” you assent, voice quiet as you pick another one, handing it to her to join the first. “But they’re not alone. We’ll appreciate them while we have them, and when they’re gone, we’ll keep a reminder of them, like you wanted to learn.”

Ellie glanced up, solemn frown turning into one of confusion with the pinch of her brows. “Huh?”

Now it was your turn to frown, your facial expression mirroring hers as you clarify, “We’ll press the flowers. That’s what Joel said you wanted to learn.”

Blinking rapidly, Ellie shifted around to face you completely, and you did the same as you stared at each other in dual confusion and misunderstanding. “Joel said what now?”

“He said that you wanted to press flowers,” you said slowly, head tilting to the side as Ellie’s mouth opened before she stopped, eyes lighting up in sudden understanding that you were still lacking.

“Ooooh,” she drew out the sound of realization as you continued to look at her blankly, a slow smirk stretching across her face before she looked back down at the daisies, then up at you again. “Yeah, right! Pressing flowers. Yup, that’s what I told him. Totally wanted to learn that.”

There was a new excitement in Ellie’s eyes now as she nodded enthusiastically, matching the mischievous smirk on her face, and you tentatively gave your own nod before turning back to the flowers, continuing to pick a few more daisies along with her as the girl kept shooting you looks and asking you questions about the flowers decorating your garden.

“What’s that one mean?” she asks, pointing her shears towards a bunch of blooming lilies with bright pink leaves stretching outward.

“Pink lilies symbolize love and femininity,” you explain, snipping away a few dead leaves around a few more flowers before pushing yourself to your feet. “A lot of the time, they’re gifted between women because of that. It’s a show of admiration.”

Ellie nodded slowly, perking up at the explanation as she rose to her own feet beside you. She cast another glance around the garden, turning around slowly on her feet much like she did when first coming out, but you saw a honed look in her gaze, different from the wide scale glance of appreciation for the flowers from before.

And you understood the subtle calculation in the action when she not so subtly asked, “What about that one?”

Your eyes followed the direction she was pointing in to find your roses swaying gently in the spring breeze, and your back stiffened instantly.

“Uh—” Clearing your throat, you shifted awkwardly on your feet, trying to brush off the inkling that she knew what you had given Joel, ignoring the shrewd way she focused in on your face while you tried to turn it away from her observation. “Different colors have different meanings—”

“The orange one!”

You froze, holding your shears tightly in one hand and your own bundle of daisies in the other, trying to hide your internal panic and knowing you failed when you heard a snicker from beside you, letting you know that she must have seen the rose you’d given Joel at some point.

Did that mean he kept it?

You swallowed down the sudden surge of excitement at the thought, trying to focus past your feelings towards the man as you glanced back at the smirking teen beside you.

Clever kid.

“They’re energetic flowers,” you admitted a partial truth slowly, moving towards your back porch to drop off your tools and conveniently face away from Ellie, when she bounced in front of you to walk backwards, eyes fixed on your face with a purely trouble-making grin.

“Energetic how?” she prodded, arching her scarred eyebrow, and you sighed.

“They typically are meant to convey…fascination,” you hedged with the explanation as you set your shears down on your workbench, beckoning for her to do the same with hers before opening the back door and letting her go inside first.

“And not so typically?”

Holding back a groan, you strode past Ellie quickly, busying yourself with finding a small, unused book in your living room to start her collection of dried flowers in. You mumble the answer as you try to bury your face in the book, hoping she wouldn’t continue to interrogate you for her own amusement.

But as any true teenager would, she popped up behind you with a bright, “What’s that?” and you snapped the book shut with a groan after flipping through the pages.

“Attraction,” you admitted on a loud sigh, turning to see her grinning up at you. You resisted a smile yourself, her youthful glee at sticking her nose where it didn’t belong nearly infectious, even through your embarrassment at being caught. You passed the book to her, beckoning her to join you on the couch so you could show her how to press the flowers on your coffee table. “Happy?”

“Very,” Ellie grinned, and you could almost see her mentally filing away the information for the most inopportune time, all the while your own mind churned over the meaning of the flower you had left unsaid.

The very meaning that you had given Joel the flower for, the feelings that he stirred up inside you again and again with each fleeting look, stronger with each passing moment in his presence, even without him intentionally fanning the flames.

You wondered how much longer it would take until it finally burned you.

Joel had tremendously, irrevocably fucked up this time.

He should have never let you get that close.

He should have said no when you asked him if he wanted that smoke, even if it meant seeing dejection on your face before you turned from him and hurried back inside the safety of your home. As far from him as allowed with fate—or, more likely, his goddamn brother—putting him next door to you.

You should be far away from the likes of him.

The dejection would’ve been better than the hope that flooded your face whenever you saw him now. It would’ve been easier if you avoided him instead of seeking him out, less excruciating than the ache steadily settling into his very bones when your eyes lit up every time they met his own if you happened to see him, or find him, around town.

Spring was warming into summer, and you shone in the warmth of the sunlight, like those flowers you loved so much that he’d catch you taking care of around town. Half the times he ran into you, you were leaning over some flower bed or up on your tiptoes to reach a hanging basket, tending to the bright blooms that faded in comparison to your brilliance.

Joel would try and get away as fast as possible, if you didn’t catch him staring more often than not. You’d approach him, offer a new flower to him with a dazzling smile that burned itself into his eyelids and taunted him every time he blinked.

The new flower would go into that same shitty vase, and the old one would join the ever growing pile of dying flowers on the edge of the counter, balanced precariously close to the trash bin next to it.

He kept telling himself he’d shove them all into the trash someday.

But every time a dried petal would flutter into the bin, he’d lean over with a grunt at that persistent ache in the back of his left knee and pull the splintering petal back out, setting it back onto the counter with the other blossoms that continued to fall apart.

One of these days, he’d get rid of them.

Every time he entered the kitchen, he’d tell himself it was that day.

And every time his hand hovered over them, gazing over the once full of life blossoms that had dampened with the passage of time, he’d decide tomorrow would be better.

The pile of flowers grew, until one day Ellie stopped in her tracks heading through the kitchen, staring pointedly at the dried up petals hanging on for the last dregs of dear life off brittle stems, and then back at Joel.

And he pointedly ignored her, focusing on peeling the washed apple in his hand, knife carefully shedding the skin as he asked her before she could speak, “Where you goin’?”

“To learn more about flowers with your girlfriend,” she shot back, the snicker evident in her voice, and Joel’s thumb froze, the shiny red peel of the apple hanging in a swirl off the fruit in his hands.

“My—” he shook his head sharply, brows knitted together as he huffed out a quiet, exasperated breath. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I hardly know her.”

“Sure.”

Joel exhaled sharply, the peel finally falling into the sink when he finished, and he focused on cutting off a slice instead of the aggravating tone in Ellie’s voice that said she knew something he didn’t.

Something he in fact knew very well, as infuriating as it was to deal with.

“She just lives next door, Ellie,” he doubled down, only looking up to pass her a slice of apple, then another slice when she popped the first one into her mouth, even as he shook his head in disapproval when she smiled wide with the apple in front of her teeth when she saw his exasperation with her antics. “Thought you could give each other some company.”

“Right,” she mumbled through a mouthful of the chewed fruit, and he shot her a disapproving look that she only snickered at. To her credit, she did at least swallow down the first piece and hold off on eating the second to say clearly, innocent words with a sharp double meaning, “Nice flowers, by the way. What a neighborly gift. I sure admire them.”

Joel frowned, glancing from Ellie towards the light red flowers that currently sat in the vase—carnations, he thinks. You’d given them to him a couple days ago, when he had been on the way home from a patrol that had taken him out before the sun rose, and brought him back when it was finally setting again.

Your head had popped up at the sound of his footsteps going past your house, a grin spreading across your face before you called out to him. There was a quick snip of the stems at the flower bed you were kneeling at in your front yard before you rose and handed them to him over the fence, old wood with peeling white paint that separated you from each other.

He had thought of you on your knees that night, the dirt on your skin, what it would be like to rub it off with a gentle caress until each passing of his thumb over your knee would turn needy. Desperate.

God fucking dammit, longing.

But he thought of the unabashed smile you offered him, and the startling way it eased his worn nerves after the long day even more.

What an old, goddamn fool he was.

And what made matters so much worse was how fond Ellie was growing of you. He could deal with his own…his own, whenever you were around him for too long.

But each time Ellie returned from a visit to you happier than when she’d left, it was harder to keep those lines that separated his life from yours from blurring even more. Two sets of fences separated your property from his, but your very being still bled into him, seeping into his bones and settling with a tension under his skin when you began to brighten not just everybody’s fucking day, but Ellie’s as well.

You may have given the girl a gift of flowers to help her feel welcome in Jackson, but it was you who truly made the kid feel at ease. Joel had hardly heard so much praise for anybody else from her, and he couldn’t even be irritated when Ellie started coming home from her flower lessons with you first with gifts of brownies and cookies, and then with casseroles, full meals in dishes that they’d sit side by side on the couch with a couple of forks and eat from together.

“She doesn’t think we eat enough,” Ellie mumbled through a mouthful of casserole one night, and Joel scoffed, even as he shoveled another bite into his own mouth.

“She’s right,” he begrudgingly relented once the dish was empty on the coffee table, their forks discarded inside, and they both fell into a peaceful nap like you had delivered them a fucking Thanksgiving.

Everything you did to him, everything you made Joel feel was harder to ignore when he saw the positive influence you had on Ellie. She went from hardly ever getting out of the house to looking forward to those flower lessons he had lied to both her and you about the other person coming up with the idea, when it was his own.

His own stupid blunder, the question of how to press a flower falling from his lips that night he had made the crucial mistake of letting you get too close. The question he had asked to stop the other question from leaving him, the one that had been taunting him nearly from the first time you had fixed him with that dazzling smile and wide, kind eyes.

How do you do it?

How are you so kind?

How do you not hate the world?

How do you not hate him for hardly giving you the time of day everybody else was more than willing to give to you?

All because he was old and bitter and couldn’t fucking admit to himself how you were growing on him, how you were branching out around every cursed inch of him and entangling him in all your softness, pulling him in like ivy, pernicious in its beauty until he crumbled under the weight of your light.

He was too scorned to appreciate what you illuminated in your path, taking your sunshine for a burn on his skin whenever he let you take another step closer.

Somewhere inside him, he worried that he’d burn you too, if he kept letting you take another step.

And somewhere even deeper, he feared that he wanted to.

If he saw you crack, if he got you to lash out at him, maybe he’d finally understand you.

Maybe he could finally let himself—

Fuck, he was an awful human being, if he was even that. The things he’d done, the things he’d still do—he needed to stay away from you.

And if he wasn’t so awful, he would.

If he wasn’t a selfish man, he would’ve sat out on his back porch to play his guitar night after night. Or better yet, stay inside altogether.

He wouldn’t be sitting out on the front porch as soon as the sun began to set, his eyes flickering towards the lights that would flick on in the house next door, filtering through the floral curtains when he switched to strumming a new song.

His fingers wouldn’t be twitching in yearning to hold a cigarette between them, his throat not parched for the stream of smoke that mixed with the sweet taste of you on his lips from sharing that cigarette with you.

He wouldn’t let you consume his every thought. He wouldn’t let you get closer when you weren’t even there.

He wouldn’t let you.

But he did.

He always did.

And maybe he always would.

It happens like clockwork.

As soon as the sun starts to set and sends the deepest hues of purple and pink cascading across the sky, the gentle strumming of a guitar starts. The music bleeds through the walls of your home, and at this point, you’re always sitting by the window in your living room when it starts.

You’d learned to crack open the window the slightest bit before the sunset begins, so you can hear it better when he plays.

You’d also learned to flick the light on in the room when it starts to get too dark. Because when you did, those calloused fingers you could see so well when you closed your eyes would stop across the strings.

There’d be a pause, and then he’d start again. A different song each time, and you’d lean against the wall and listen, his music filtering in as your light filtered out.

You could never bring yourself to open the curtains, but you wondered if he ever noticed the crack in the window after the first few times.

Sometimes you’d read, letting Joel’s music blanket your senses as your mind got carried away into whatever story was on the pages in your hands.

Other times you’d swirl the stem of a flower between your fingertips, the next one that you planned to give him. Or run your fingers down the recipes in a worn cookbook, searching for the next treat or meal you’d give Ellie to take home after a visit.

One night, you’d fallen asleep like that, curled against the wall and waking up with a start and a crick in your neck when nightmares plagued your sleeping mind again.

And when his music still filtered through, it had seemed like such a good idea to get even closer to it.

There was a comfort to it, real or imagined, and you needed it. You at least had half a mind for a jacket and shoes that time, shoving the dwindling supply of cigarettes you had into the pocket before you stepped out onto the porch, letting the door shut behind you without a care to try and hide it that time.

The music stopped abruptly. By the time you dared a glance over, he was already looking at you.

A moment of silence that felt like forever stretched in that short distance between your porches before Joel jerked his head in a silent beckoning for you to approach, and you were off towards him in an instant.

That first night—or the second, really—you didn’t say a word to each other. You shared another cigarette until your nerves had settled, and left with a small wave and a thankful smile that was returned only with the growing familiarity in the weight of his gaze on you until you disappeared back inside your house.

The next few times it happened, you’d make small talk. A nervous habit, and he didn’t look at you as you spoke, but he’d give small hums every now and then. The smallest scraps of attention that only made you keep coming back.

When you were out of cigarettes, a fear caved in on you that he wouldn’t want you there, that he wouldn’t tolerate your presence if you didn’t have anything to offer.

So you padded about your kitchen that day, making three different batches of cookies as you couldn’t decide on which one to give him. Even with the way you found your life intertwined with his more and more, there was still so much you didn’t know about the man. So much you wanted to know.

Eventually, you settled on a hunch that he did have a secret sweet tooth. Either Ellie scarfed down every batch of sweets you sent her home with—which very well could be—or she shared them with Joel, and the latter thought had you crossing over to his porch that night, a plate of peanut butter cookies nervously clutched in hand.

Cookies he stared at when you ascended the steps to him, sending your heart into a nervous flutter when his jaw set as severely as the first time you’d shown up on his doorstep with an offer of goodwill in something you’d baked with your own hands.

“I was out of cigarettes,” you offered weakly for an excuse as you seemed to mess up around your neighbor once again, and Joel’s gaze finally flashed up to your face, flickering over whatever emotions were probably bleeding through onto your features before looking away.

His hand lifted from the neck of his guitar, rifling through a pocket of his worn jacket until he pulled out his own few rolled up cigarettes with a lighter, which you blinked at in surprise.

“Where did you—”

“Don’t matter,” he mumbled, gaze averted from yours, and you tried to swallow down a lump in your throat as he held them up.

Wordlessly, he passed them to you, and you handed him the cookies, which he set onto the small table beside his chair and stared at as if your gift was the greatest offense you could have ever made.

You tried to find relief in the nicotine, but he kept staring at those darn cookies, a furrow in his strong brow and a dark look in his eyes that you wished you could ease, or at least understand.

Eventually, you dared to try and speak.

“I—”

“I don’t get it.”

Your brow furrowed when Joel interrupted you, confused as to what he meant, and he seemed just as confused as he glanced over your face before hesitantly clarifying, “Your…kindness. The way you’re so positive all the time.”

He raised his hand from the neck of his guitar, gesturing towards the cookies with it, then in the air as he listed off with a voice tinged with irritation, “Baking. Flowers. Fucking…smiling like you do. I don’t get it.”

Your stomach flipped again when Joel met your eyes for a brief moment before he looked back down at his guitar, setting it aside with a sigh so he could rest his hands on his knees, and you murmured, “Well, I'm glad you're finally saying it.”

Joel’s head rose, his gaze finding you again as you gave a small smile, his entire body stiffening at the sight while you continued, “I knew you hated me since you came to Jackson, but it's a bit freeing to hear you finally admit it.”

His jaw clenched, eyes flickering all over your face, as if he was searching for…you didn’t know what he was searching for, and didn’t know whether or not he found it as his eyes narrowed and he looked away again.

“I don’t…” Joel trailed off with a heavy sigh, lifting a hand to rub down over his face, his next words muffled against his palm as he said slowly, “...I just don’t get it.”

His hand dropped, hanging between his knees as he said to you directly, “I’m not kind to you.”

Your head tilted, observing him quietly for a moment to try and see what he was getting at, figure out whether he wanted an answer or not. When he kept looking at you expectantly, you replied quietly, “No, you’re not.”

“So why are you so fucking nice to me?”

With a shrug, you answered easily, “Because I’m nice to everybody.”

“Why?”

You sighed, feeling a small flare of irritation at Joel’s persistence on the topic, but you let the feeling fade as you shrugged again.

But when you opened your mouth to reply, Joel swiftly rose, taking a step towards you as he lifted a finger to gesture towards your face while he murmured, “There. I saw it. You were annoyed.”

You raised an eyebrow, a quiet laugh slipping from you as you searched for the words you wanted to say, but it was getting increasingly more difficult to think as he slowly closed the distance between you.

“I get irritated, Mr. Miller,” you said patiently, watching Joel’s jaw clench again, though you weren’t sure what set off the reaction as you continued, “I’m only human. But what would being mad get me?”

“Satisfaction,” he replied easily, getting closer now, and your breathing quickened, pulse racing as you noticed again how big he was, how thick those arms were when he crossed them across his chest and how broad that was, and your mind was screaming at you danger again, just like that first night on his porch.

Not because he was dangerous—though he might as well be from the rumors, just not towards you, not in that way—but because these feelings he stirred from you threatened to pull you under completely if he suddenly decided to stop keeping that short bit of distance that remained between you.

Lord, when had that distance gotten so short?

“There’s plenty of things to be satisfied about, Mr. Miller,” you said calmly, watching his jaw tick again, and your head tilted, observing him as closely as he watched you. “Cruelty isn’t one of them.”

“No?” he asked softly, the volume of his voice a direct juxtaposition to the stern heat in his gaze, and you shivered again, one of your hands pulling your jacket tighter around yourself in the same moment he reached for your other hand.

You froze as Joel tugged the cigarette from your grasp, holding it in front of your eyes as he mumbled, “Like this?” before dropping it to the porch, lifting his boot to stomp it out, and your breath hitched as he leaned in closer towards you. “Is that vice of yours really enough to satisfy you, dollface?”

Doll—

It was harder to breathe now, your head spinning, mouth still warm and tingling from the mere memory of that taste of him you had once gotten on another cigarette—mint and whiskey, mint and whiskey, and you wondered if his lips would taste of that now if pressed to yours, your tongue in his mouth to explore it and find out.

You quickly shook the heat of the spiraling thoughts from your mind as you breathed out, “There’s enough wrong with the world, Joel. I don’t plan to add to it.”

He exhaled sharply then, and your eyelashes fluttered as you felt his breath wash over your face, and there was that same scent of mint and something wholly intoxicating enveloping your senses and oh god, when had he gotten that close, but you were lost in the proximity as he murmurs, “Say it again.”

You could hear your blood rushing through your head now muffling your ears, heart pounding in your chest that was heaving from quick breaths as you whispered distractedly, “What?”

“Say it,” Joel repeated, leaning closer, and your breath hitched, lips parting when his nose brushed against yours, feeling your pulse between your legs now as he ordered in a low tone, “Again.”

Your mind was struggling to keep up, trying to find out what he meant, trying to find logic in the situation.

But there was no logic, only feeling, only this strange all encompassing heat, and your lips parted further to whisper what you knew he wanted to hear, “Joel—”

“Fuck,” Joel hissed, the curse slipping from his mouth a mere moment before it was on yours.

The only thing that you could manage to do was moan, the warmth of his lips pressed to your own increasing the heat until you felt like you were standing in the middle of a fire, feeling as much warmth as you did a scalding burn when he jerked away from you as quickly as he had kissed you.

Kissed you.

Joel had kissed you.

Something he was apparently horrified by as he leaned away from you, wide eyes darting across your face as he breathed out another, “Fuck,” before he was spinning on his heel and marching towards his door.

You knew it was coming before it happened, the same thing that always happened when Joel seemed to think you got too close. And so you were left standing on his front porch, burning with heat that still lingered on your skin, on your lips from where he had kissed them for just a few seconds before tearing himself away, the door slammed in your face once again.

#joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel x f!reader #joel x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller series

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seeingivy · 4 months

Text

long story short

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting fic

songs mentioned: saturn by sza, so american by olivia rodrigo, lover by taylor swift, good luck babe by chappell roan, margaret ft. bleachers by lana del ray, make you feel my love by adele, false god by taylor swift, only angel by harry styles, and long story short by taylor swift.

an: buckle in friends. songs and tweets and all :D

previous part linked here

six months later

The two of you decide that it would be smarter not to stay in the townhouse, for the time being. Because while Eren had bent backwards and forwards to buy the house without Levi noticing – which included paying a hefty tip to the realtors dealing with the sale – there was something too melancholy about staying there – and not having a plethora of voices echoing across the walls.

Eren’s first plan – to stay in the cabin in Ireland that his parents owned – was your next best bet. And really, it was the quietest little patch of land, accompanied by what might be the coziest town you’ve ever been in – and it was every bit of perfect.

The cabin was two stories and maybe the uniquest little house you’ve ever been in. With gold accents, a green kitchen, and what might be the prettiest garden – it was almost far too easy to pretend that you and Eren had left the bright shimmering lights and camera flashes behind.

Eren’s morning usually starts hours before yours – only because he insists that he has to run in the mornings to get a good start to the day. If you’re in a good enough mood, he’s able to coax you to come with him and the two of you choose to walk instead. Sometimes you wonder if Sukuna and Teddy talk about the same thing on their walks that you and Eren do.

The neighbors are either too old to mention anything or perhaps too polite. Because they show up here and there, unassumingly with a fresh loaf of baked bread, that they simply couldn’t let go to waste. And their kids that you happen to see on holidays, their eyes linger for a little too long – almost like they’re trying to convince themselves that it really is the two of you – but never make a comment about if they ever do get the shred of confidence.

There’s a kid, barely eleven, who brings homemade yogurt around on Friday, as an errand before he can go play with his friends. Sometimes Eren makes him late to his basketball games, because he finds himself lingering by the door too long, talking about things that are entirely lost to you. Though you should have figured as much, because Eren was always popular with the kids.

And you find a stray cat three months in – one that Eren lovingly names Milo. A tiny british shorthair, with light green eyes and white fur. Upon first inspection, you told Eren jokingly that you simply had to keep him, because he had Eren’s eyes. Eren took the joke a little too seriously, but the little diva that Milo ended up being always kept things interesting.

The only thing annoying about the cabin is Eren’s placement of the furniture, specifically the well loved coffee table that, in your opinion, needed to be centered in the main room. And that’s only because every morning, you’d get your breath nearly knocked out of your chest when you walked straight into it.

“You know, you need to move that goddamn coffee table.” you grumble, rubbing at the side of your hip.

Eren looks over, before placing his hands on your hips and lifting you up onto the counter. It’s a lingering kiss that he presses to your knuckles, as you use your free hand to rub at your eyes, before looking over at the pan.

“Connie’s on his way?” you ask.

“An hour out.” Eren responds.

“Okay, I’ll go set the clothes out. Anything specific you want?”

“The green hoodie. That you stole and thought I didn’t notice.” Eren grates.

You jump off the counter, pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek, before padding back into the room and setting the clothes aside. And it’s only a few minutes before Eren’s at your side, giving you a half-appreciative smile for returning the hoodie.

“Are you nervous? You know he’s going to have a meltdown right?”

Eren scoffs.

“Serves him right for what he did. Walking around talking about his girlfriend – you know, I’m half convinced she doesn’t even exist, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes.

“He’s literally bringing her along. You should have at least told him I would be here so you know…he doesn’t have a heart attack or something.”

The two of you took the idea of privacy too seriously. A little too serious, because now six months had passed and most of your friends didn’t even know you were together. And really, the two of you were very close to getting found out since you had an awards show to attend at the end of the month.

If Eren was any bit as hopeless as the neighbors mentioned, they would have the two of you figured out within a split second.

Levi and Hange knew, naturally. And then Colt and Falco, and by extension Gabi, since Falco seemingly could keep secrets, just not from her. And it extended out slowly – your parents, his and Zeke, Lana and Sukuna, and Jean and Mikasa.

Lana and Sukuna was an accident. Because Eren had been calling Teddy and you accidentally walked in the background. Jean and Mikasa were similar and only because you accidentally let his name slip from your mouth when you called them after their honeymoon.

The secret was well kept, but you knew the news was about to spread around to everyone, because Connie was about to find out, when he realized that you were living here with Eren during his little visit.

“Well, it serves him right. He’s about to tell everyone we know. Because he’s going to have to tell Reiner, who will tell Annie who obviously can’t keep it from Armin and it’s just going to snowball from there.” Eren mutters.

You shake your head at him, as the two of you pad out to the front where Eren’s left the plates of eggs steaming. You shuffle into your chair – making it a point to slam your notebook shut – and naturally, the gesture doesn’t get past Eren.

“What are you writing?” Eren asks.

“Nothing.”

Eren grins.

“Are you writing a song about me?” Eren jokes.

You roll your eyes. And Eren’s too quick with it – guising it by putting his arm around your waist – but he all but snatches the book from underneath your elbow. And he looks to you for confirmation before he starts flipping to the page he was looking for you can see the recognition clock on his face, before he looks over at you.

“Saturn, hm?”

You take the book back from him, running your fingers over the inked lines and the tiny drawing in the corner.

If karma's really real How am I still here? Just seems so unfair I could be wrong though If there's a point to being good Then where's my reward? The good die young and poor I gave it all I could

Stuck in this terradome All I see is terrible Making us hysterical There's got to be more, got to be more Sick of this head of mine Intrusive thoughts, they paralyze Nirvana's not as advertised There's got to be more, been here before

Ooh (ooh, ooh) Life's better on Saturn Got to break this pattern Of floating away Ooh (ooh, ooh) Find something worth saving It's all for the taking I always say

I'll be better on Saturn None of this matters Dreaming of Saturn, oh

It plagues Eren, in the smallest of ways. It was almost like he could tell that on certain days, the reality of it all seemed to wear you down, to the point where you really didn’t say too much and spent far too much time by yourself outside. He figured this is the closest he would get to really understanding what it was like for you, in the two years that you spent by yourself.

And it does really bother him, that this is the only thing he can’t help you with. Because having six months of the still, quiet life gave you time to think, to really process everything that had happened.

And it was chilling. Because it would almost be easier, if this wasn’t the only thing plaguing your mind. But he had asked you time and time again and the answer was always the same – that you didn’t have any regrets, about how the two of you came back together, the relationships that you repaired, or even the havoc you wrecked at the award shows. That really, they were all means to an end.

But there was one regret you did have, and maybe in the cruelest of ways, it was the one you couldn’t put to rest in this lifetime – which was taking Marco for granted.

The smaller things helped – the sweet stories about him in the two years you missed, the voicemail that Eren had gifted you at the funeral, and all the polaroids you pulled off the wall. But deep down, in the pit of your stomach, it was the only piece of it all that you hadn’t been able to rectify yet.

“Yeah, Saturn.” you respond.

“Have you given any thought to my offer?” Eren asks.

You wrote songs about Marco often. And Eren read all of them, helping you work through piecing together the composition. But one of the songs – one you called Bigger Than The Whole Sky – seemed to concern Eren so much that he left a tiny little card on your pillow that night.

With the number to his therapist.

Eren doesn’t say much, only because he knows it’ll fall on deaf ears, and that sometimes with you – sometimes his hands in yours are the only thing that he can offer. And the quiet offer of the therapist he gave was more of a think piece for you – hoping that you’d at least give it a chance someday.

But the resolve of it all is quickly shattered when the doorbell rings – with Connie and his girlfriend behind the door.

Eren sighs.

“Are you ready for everyone to know our secret?” Eren asks.

“No. And yes. I’m kind of just excited to watch him kind of have a meltdown.”

Eren grins.

“You and me both. I’ll go get him.”

You pad into the kitchen, reaching for two empty dishes and plating the extra eggs for them as you hear Connie hollering at the door, and relish in the little wave of excitement that rises in your stomach.

“Okay, well. I made breakfast so just kind of help yourselves. Do you need the bathroom?” Eren asks.

“We’re good.” Connie responds

Eren gives you a bright and glimmering two dimpled smile as he stops in the kitchen, before looking over at Connie who now looks like he’s some mix of constipated and fraught.

“I made you guys some plates. I do hope you still like eggs, Connie, because we haven’t had a chance to do groceries lately.” you respond.

Connie’s eye twitches as you give him a bright smile before walking closer and opening up your arms. And he’s almost too confused – because he barely hugs you back before turning to Eren.

“What’s she doing here?” Connie asks.

Eren smiles.

“You’re not the only one with a secret girlfriend, Connie. Two can play that game.” Eren responds, as he takes the plates and gestures for Connie’s girlfriend to follow him to the main table.

Connie pauses, before looking over at you.

“You guys are pranking me, right? Because I didn’t tell you? Because that’s in no way funny.” Connie asks.

You point to the polaroids pinned on the fridge – a mix of old and new – before turning back to him.

“While we do love to mess with you, even we wouldn’t be that committed to a bit like this. Now come eat, you’ve had a long flight.” you respond.

Contrary to your wishes, Connie, in fact, does not eat. He spends the first ten minutes staring the two of you down – to the point where it’s almost creepy – before asking you an insane amount of questions.

When did you start dating?

Or better yet, when are you getting married?

How does it feel to be a traitor?

And it’s only after an insane amount of questioning, before he slumps back down into his chair, before offering the two of you a sweet smile.

“You’re really dating, right?” Connie asks.

Eren rolls his eyes.

“That’s the tenth fucking time you’ve asked me that. I’m starting to think that it’s insulting – is it really that shocking to you that a pretty girl would date me?” Eren asks.

Connie rolls his eyes right back.

“Yeah, when that pretty girl spends her time being just as clueless as you.” Connie responds.

You avert your gaze to your left, where Connie’s girlfriend – Maryam – is sitting and give her a smile. It’s one that she returns right back, before whispering underneath Connie and Eren’s bickering.

“You’ll have to forgive him. This is a really big deal to him.” she mumbles.

“Don’t worry, I’m well aware. He’s spent half of his young life trying to play cupid, I would only assume that it’s overwhelming to finally see your dreams come true.”

She gives you a smile, as you elbow Eren in the side, and signal for him to stop.

“Speaking of cupid, how did you and Connie meet?” you ask.

It’s horribly bad timing – because the big sip of water she took goes immediately back in the glass as she gives Connie a weary glare. And he gives her a bright grin, before turning back to you.

“See, it’s kind of funny. She –”

“Connie!” she whispers.

“What? You’re going to have to tell them eventually.” Connie responds.

“Yeah, but I just met them. This is the kind of stuff you tell people years later, as in "haha want to know something crazy?” not like…two seconds after you meet them.” she whispers back.

You and Eren turn to each other, giving each other a look, before turning back to Connie.

“They won’t care, I promise.” Connie responds.

She gives him a weary look, before turning back to the two of you with wide, doe eyes.

“Listen. I swear to god, I’m not a stalker. Y/N, I didn’t even know you were going to be here…and…and I didn’t even know I was like…talking to Connie before I was talking to Connie.”

Eren interrupts her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

She sighs, before lifting her palms and burying her eyes in the heels of her hand and Connie, for some unknown reason, seems to be enjoying himself a little too much. She gives you both one last look, before dropping her hands.

“I met Connie on stan twitter.”

“What?” you ask.

“Well, he was one of my mutuals. And I…I always talk to my mutuals and we used to text all the time. And then I started really liking him and…and we made a deal to kind of meet up when he was in New York. And then I showed up and he was just fucking standing there. I knew for years that Connie was on stan twitter since he always used to accidentally send his burner tweets to his main but…I didn’t think I was talking to fucking Connie.”

You and Eren bite down on your cheeks, fighting the urge to laugh.

“Connie, I think you’ve finally met your match. This is kind of perfect.” you respond.

“I know, right?” Connie responds, giving you a bright smile back.

“You didn’t like…think he was punking you?” Eren asks.

“Oh, I totally thought he was punking me. It was only until he mentioned all the things that we had talked about, over the years mind you, that I actually realized it was him I was talking to all this time. And it started to make more sense, because he always seemed to know more about things that were happening than what was kind of shown on the surface.” Maryam replies.

You shake your head.

“So who did you run a fan account for? Was it Connie?” you ask.

She pinches her face.

“Right. Well, I…I actually ran a fan account for you. Both of you. You’ve actually both interacted with me on Twitter…multiple times.”

You slam your fist down on the table.

“Oh my fucking god. You’re THE fan account girl. Your username is y/n jaeger and you…you have that green profile picture?” you ask.

“Holy shit. We’ve like literally talked about you multiple times.” Eren adds.

Connie takes his free arm and slings it around her shoulder, before flinging it around her shoulder.

“Told you, they literally don’t care.”

“I swear though, I’m really not a stalker.” she adds again, almost like she’s entirely embarrassed.

You and Eren shake your heads.

“Well, you didn’t even know I was going to be here.” you respond.

“And you didn’t even know that the person you were talking to on Twitter was Connie.” Eren adds.

“And for what it’s worth, if I remember right, you’ve been one of the people who’s been defending us since the start – especially when it wasn’t a very popular thing to do. Which is something we’re really grateful for. And well…I’m happy if Connie’s happy, which he very clearly is.”

Connie gives her a smile, one that she returns, before turning back to you guys.

“I know it’s kind of silly, but I just really liked you guys. I was really into fashion when I was a kid and I really liked your stylists. And then I watched your show and listened to your music – and I just really loved it. Classes and medical school and all that would get really stressful, but it was fun to talk about the little hints that you seemed to leave in your music and the beautiful documentary you made.”

You and Eren turn to each other and smile.

“We appreciate that, really. And well…this kind of worked out perfectly, because we might need your help in a few months.” you respond.

“With?” she asks.

Eren sighs.

“We kind of want to keep the public off of our tails for some time. While we’re fine with telling our friends now –”

“You better be fine with it because I already told Reiner and Sasha.” Connie adds.

Eren gives him a glare before turning back to Maryam.

“I know you have a lot of followers and if…if you made it seem like…”

“Like you guys weren’t dating, other people would believe it.” she finishes.

“Yeah. We’ve just spent so much of our relationship out in the open, we…we kind of want to share it with everyone when we’re ready.” you add.

She smiles.

“I’ll do what I can.”

Connie helps you make dinner on the last day of his visit – only as a gesture to thank the two of you for your hospitality and for finally getting back together. It gives Eren time to show Maryam the final scripts of Attack on Titan that he has saved, delighting her by sharing all the scenes that got cut or edited in the final season.

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

“Sure.”

“Are you happy?”

You smile.

“Very happy, Connie. Really.”

Connie gives you a smile, before leaning forward.

“But?” he asks.

“No buts. I am really happy.”

“I don’t doubt that, but…surely there must be other things you’ve been thinking about. I feel like there’s something else kind of lingering in your…aura.”

“Don’t talk to me about auras, Connie.”

“You’ve got a weird and off putting vibe every time I interact with you on your own, princess.”

You sigh.

“Did you talk to Eren?” you ask.

“No. I can just tell. So there is something that’s bothering you?”

You pause, abandoning the spoon in the pot, as you look down at the mix of noodles. It’s a pink sauce – one that Connie swears by – that included a decent amount of the leftover vodka that you and Eren had gifted to you by the neighbors. You made a passing joke that Jean and Mikasa would love this dish and it made Connie laugh so hard he nearly burned his own hand off.

And you’re not sure where it comes from but before you know it, there’s hot tears pouring out of your eyes and Connie’s warm arms around you. And it’s a quiet whisper that you’re able to muster out in response.

“Yeah. There’s something bothering me.” you respond.

“Well, no shit, princess. You’re getting snot all over my shirt. What is it?”

You fight the urge to laugh at the sarcasm before pulling back and looking up at him.

“Marco.”

Connie sighs, before giving you a nod.

“Yeah, that’ll do it.” Connie responds.

You pause.

“I just…feel like something’s wrong with me. Everyone else seemed to have moved forward from it or…or seem like they’re handling it better than me.”

“I think there’s different circumstances. What you have to move on from is entirely different from what the rest of them do.” Connie offers.

You heave another sigh, using the back of your hand to wipe the wetness away.

“What do you mean?”

“What you went through was entirely different than what someone like…Sukuna struggles with or Eren for that matter. They’ve had their fair share of struggles, but yours is just different than theirs. That means you can’t compare the two. They talked to them right until the end. And because of your circumstances, you didn’t. It must be hard not to blame yourself for it.”

Connie pauses.

“When I was struggling after rehab, being…being around things like that again, at afterparties and stuff…I found it really hard to even keep my head level in situations like that. It was so overstimulating…so overwhelming, that I found myself locking myself in my house alone with her for a week.”

“You sound like me.” you respond.

“That’s exactly the point. Sometimes things are so overwhelming that you can’t do anything but that. Locking yourself in the house till you have a bearing on it. And people like Sukuna and Eren, I…I almost envy them sometimes. They find a way to keep moving forward when all I can find myself doing is standing in one place and staring at myself from the outside in.”

“Eren’s really hopeful. And I know deep down that he is right. That Marco wasn’t mad at me, not in the slightest. But…I can’t help but be mad at myself. I feel like sometimes I’m reliving the entire thing over again.” you respond.

Connie smiles.

“You sound like me.” Connie murmurs.

“You seem fine, though. For the most part.” you add.

Connie reaches forward, cupping the side of your face.

“I’m lucky enough that the people I’ve wanted to make amends with are still here. But even then, that wasn’t enough, not for the blame. Sometimes…you need a little extra help. And really Y/N, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Connie’s ears seem to ring in your ears as you watch him and Maryam drive away. And even more so when you and Eren settle in for bed that night and he reaches over to shut the light switch.

You reach for Eren’s hand, locking your fingers in with his in the sheets, before squeezing three times, a gesture that he returns.

“Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Do…do you still have that card that you gave me? A few weeks ago?”

Eren leans closer to you and you take the invitation to crawl into his open arms.

“Of course I do. Did you want to use it, sweetheart?” he whispers.

The warm tears return and Eren’s quick to wipe them away.

“Yeah, I think so.”

At the end of the month, Connie’s beloved girlfriend helps devise the best plan known to man. Which involved a little bit of acting, lying, and theatrics – something you and Eren were no strangers to.

It was fairly obvious, after everything that had happened, it would be hard to make people believe that you and Eren hadn’t ended up together. And she figured it would only work if you admitted to the fact that you were dating other people and really sold it in your last press tour and awards campaign that you were soulmates – but in the platonic type of way.

It’s why you spent three weeks in the press talking about your new beloved boyfriend, Bruce, who was just a normal guy that you met at your recording studio. Coupled with the newest song you released – so american, something Eren most definitely wouldn’t call you – people were quick to switch the breaks and think otherwise.

Eren was doing the same, fawning in any and every interview, about his sweet new girlfriend Margaret, one of the assistant costume designers that he met on the set of Attack on Titan. About how she was the sweet love of his life, who had shown up right when he needed her.

It wasn’t an entire lie.

Besides the fact that it really is so fun to pretend in plain sight, the awards show was the first time that the group of you got to be together again. You were seated right next to Lana and Sukuna – the former of which is exuding the sweetest glow from her baby girl that’s due any week now and the latter who has a set of choice words for you when you take your seats together.

“I don’t get it. Why don’t you just fucking tell people?” Sukuna mutters.

You smile.

“Simple. We don’t want to.” you respond.

“Yeah, but your boy toy is about to win the award of his dreams, again, and you’re about to be ten feet away getting cock blocked by lesbians.”

You smile. Eren, in all of his brilliance, was nominated for the Best Actor in a TV Show, yet again. And truly, it was no competition – you were all positive that he was going to win, something that he wasn’t so keen about himself.

“We can hear you.” Ymir mutters.

“We can switch seats if you want Y/N, for that part. If you want to sit next to Eren.” Sofia adds.

You give her a smile, before sinking back into your chair and looping your arm through Ymir’s – who was going to be accompanying you as the opener on the Birds of a Feather tour, with her lovely Sofia, who she married last weekend.

“Where are Jean and Mikasa? I have an itch to get blackout drunk right now.” Ymir mutters.

“No point in trying.. They’re already back there and borderline blackout drunk with empty flasks already..” you respond.

“Figures.”

“They pressed some really wet kisses to my cheek earlier. If I didn’t love them, I would find it absolutely disgusting.” you add.

You give Ymir and Sukuna a light nudge at your sides, before standing up to the group of people walking up to you.

“Oikawa, right? From Haikyuu?” you ask.

He towers over you, looking down at you as he offers you a smile.

“That’s right. We’ve replied to each other a lot on Twitter.” he responds.

“Right. It’s nice to meet you in person, again. I feel like we’ve probably walked past each other a bunch of times, but…it’s nice to talk.”

He smiles.

“Listen, I was planning on telling you this last weekend, but I’m planning on bringing my girlfriend to your opening show next weekend. She’s a really big fan…and she’d love to meet you.”

You place a hand on his bicep, and really, only because you can’t reach his shoulder.

“Of course. I’ll get you a seat in the VIP tent with everyone else coming, okay?”

“What was last weekend?” Sukuna asks.

Oikawa turns to his left, giving an entirely unassuming smile.

“Hm?”

“You said you were going to ask her last weekend.” Sukuna clarifies.

“Oh! Right, I just figured you’d be at Historia’s wedding that’s all. But she told me, it really is a shame that you were all too busy.”

You’re dumbfounded as he gives you all one last smile, before walking away. And Eren and Connie are quick to join you at your sides, Eren’s hand ghosting across yours at his side.

“What did that tool want?” Eren asks.

“Did Historia tell you that?” Sukua asks, to which you shake your head.

“Was he hitting on you? I’ve seen him on Twitter, don’t even get me started.” Eren mutters.

Sukuna rolls his eyes.

“Dude, this is so not the time to be getting your panties in a twist.” Sukuna responds.

“What did he say?” Connie asks, nudging you in the side.

“Historia got married. Last weekend.” Ymir states, an almost gravelly tone to her voice.

Connie and Eren give you a weary look, before turning back to her.

“She didn’t invite any of you and told all the guests that you guys were all too busy to come. Too busy to come because you were at my wedding, with the date I've had set for months now.”

Sofia stands at Ymir’s side, looping her arm in with Ymir’s as she offers a small smile. And it gets worse – because the horribly timed news made you all forget that Historia was the opener for the show that you wer eall sitting at.

You can’t help but admit it, but the willowing white dress that she wears is beautiful. But there’s a part of it that haunts you, almost like she’s a ghost instead of a bride, as she takes the center of the stage with a pink guitar and a glimmering ring on her finger.

“My name’s Historia Reiss. This is my newest song, everyone – it’s called Lover.”

Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever? And ah, take me out, and take me home You're my, my, my, my Lover

Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand? With every guitar string scar on my hand I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue All's well that ends well to end up with you Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover

Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever? And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever) You're my, my, my, my Oh, you're my, my, my, my Darling, you're my, my, my, my Lover

You watch as Ymir sinks into her seat, securing her own hand in Sofia’s, as you look over at Eren. And in the few seconds that you have between the commercial break, before you have to head backstage to announce the award, you lean forward and place your chin on her shoulder.

“Are you okay, Ymir?” you ask, shooting Sofia a pinched smile over the way.

“She’s fucking insane.” Ymir mutters.

You’re taken off guard by the hostility. Only because in every rehearsal that you’ve shared with Ymir, she’s all but remorseful for how things ended with them – and even moreso, was looking forward to being friends again.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“She’s trying to piss me off. I’ve heard that fucking song – it’s one she wrote about me when we were still filming season three.”

You wince, sharing a look with Eren, before turning back to her and squeezing one of her shoulders.

“I don’t know what her problem is. If she’s trying to make me feel…regret over what I did last weekend, that’s far from it. I have no regrets about the people or the person I’ve chosen for myself. She can sing herself sick about it if she wants to.” Ymir finishes.

“Good for you.” Connie states.

“Huh?” Ymir asks.

“Good for you. Really. You know what you want and you’ve had it by your side this entire time. If she wants to be bitter about it, she can go right ahead. That won't stop you from having that by your side or make her feel any better – and I’m sure she’ll realize that eventually.” Connie finishes.

You give Connie a smile, before gesturing to take your open seat as the ushers arrive to take you backstage. And you’re met with the sight of Hange and Levi – with a glimmering golden trophy and an envelope in their hands.

“He won, didn’t he?” you ask.

“We don’t know.”

“Do you think they’d like kill me if I opened it?” you ask, as Levi places the glittering envelope in your hands.

Hange smiles.

“In all seriousness kid, I think they’re kind of anticipating you will. WIth you as the announcer and us handing over the trophy, it’s fairly obvious they’re expecting something great.” Hange responds.

You give the two of them a smile as you turn over the envelope, breaking through the latch of the sticker, and pulling the little cardstock slip out. And surely enough, it’s in bright, bold letters.

Best Lead Actor in a TV Show - Eren Jaeger, Attack on Titan: The Final Season

You look up at them and smile, trying to contain that scratchy feeling in the back of your throat.

“He did it.” you whisper.

They both give you bright smiles as they link in their arms with yours, the three of you waiting for your cue at the side of the curtains. And on their mark, the three of you walk out into the bright lights, as you scan the crowd for where Eren’s sitting – noting the bright smile on his face and the wink he offers you.

“I think the fact that I’m standing here, with Hange and Levi at my sides, is proof that one of the best actors of our generation has won one of the most special awards here tonight.”

And you watch as Jean and Connie’s eyes go wide, as they reach forward and secure their hands on Eren’s shoulders, jostling him as he brings his hands up to his cheeks – in utter disbelief.

“While he’s winning an award for acting tonight, I truly do think that the recipient is a jack of all trades. Because he’s been so involved in this beautiful show – from picking the co-star in his first chemistry screen reading, to bringing life to the pages, and at the end, actually writing them. It’s been a joy to watch him in his element for the last ten years and really, to share such a big part of my life with someone who is so special.”

You look down at the envelope, pulling out the slip again.

“The award for Best Actor in a TV show goes to Eren Jaeger, Attack on Titan: The Final Season.”

It’s an obscene amount of hollering – mostly from Reiner, Connie, and Jean – as you watch Eren hug Gabi and Falco before pressing a kiss to Lana’s cheek and making his way to the stage. And it’s almost too sweet – getting to watch the lingering hugs that Hange and Levi give Eren, before he turns to you to give a polite hug.

You take the few seconds you have to say your piece.

“Hey. Guess what?” you whisper.

“What?”

“I told you so. All those years ago.” you respond.

Eren presses a kiss to your cheek, before the three of you all shuffle off to the side, and watch Eren from a few feet away. And you watch as he runs his hand nervously through his hair, before looking down at the award.

“I promise I’ll make a speech this time.” Eren starts.

You all laugh, as he looks over at you, before turning back to the crowd.

“I…I truly have no words for what this show has meant to me and what it has brought me. Almost ten years ago, two writers turned screenwriters, for whatever god awful reason, saw a film in which I had all but ten minutes of screentime before I got killed off. And for some reason, it spoke to them – so much so that they decided to make me the lead of their show. It seems strange at first, but they’re the first people I find myself being the most thankful for, because they’re the only reason that anything after came. I’ve made…”

Eren’s voice cracks and you swallow hard.

“I’ve made lifelong relationships and…and a real family. I’ve had the privilege of meeting my partner in crime, Connie, the sweetest friends I’ve ever had, Jean and Mikasa, and maybe one of the only people who understands me best, Armin. I’ve met maybe one of the most important people in my life, Y/N L/N, who gives definition to being the best friend and partner everyday, and most of all, I’ve met the love of my life, my sweet Margaret. There are no words for how thankful I am, really. Thank you so much.”

There’s a resounding sound of cheers as Eren links his arm in with yours and the four of you clump together backstage. And in the few seconds of quiet you have, you reach forward and cup the side of his face before pressing another kiss to his cheek.

“I’m so happy for you, Eren. You dream came true – the right way this time.”

Eren smiles, before linking one of his hands in with yours.

“You next.” Eren states.

You scoff.

“Leave it to you to make your award about me. Just be happy.” you respond.

“I am happy. But really, you’re next.” Eren states.

“You can’t become triple threats twice, Eren.”

“You know, I’ve happened to write very convincing letters in the past. To have them accept demos from me on behalf of you, to consider you for awards for years on end. I think I’ll try my luck on that one and see where it gets me, sweetheart.”

The following week, Eren’s standing by your side backstage with Sofia on the other side, in the mere minutes before you perform. If your timing was correct, Ymir was halfway into her set and seriously killing it, meaning that you were going to follow in under an hour.

Gabi and Falco are the first ones to greet you backstage – and the first guests on the Birds of a Feather tour.

When you think back to the past, all the memories of touring are the worst. Because the only thing you can remember is your legs shaking from the exhaustion, your ears deaf from the screaming, and your chest hurting from the pain – before you were dragged onto stage another time by Danny and Sareen and forced to do it again.

It’s why you kept the tour relatively short by your standards, with thirty-six shows, and your friends by your side.

If they wrote the songs with you, they could perform them with you too. And while Glue Song was technically Gabi’s request, Falco’s the feature – so it was only fair to let both of them sing it with you on the first day.

And you watch from far as Eren stands behind both of their little vanities, hearing the ends of their conversation – as Eren reassures both of them before taking pictures of the two of them together. And it’s almost like he can see you watching him, because he turns to look over his shoulder, before offering you a smile and walking over.

“Not that people know, but you and I are kind of the first ladies of the Birds of a Feather tour.” Sofia states.

“What do you mean?” Eren asks.

“My wife is the opener. Your girlfriend is the main set. We’re the first ladies.” Sofia states.

Eren snorts as he reaches for the back of your hair, readjusting it against your bodysuit, before giving you a smile.

“Ready?”

“I think so.”

Sofia gives the two of you a sweet smile, as she loops her arm in with yours and leans her head against your shoulder. And three songs in, you feel her tense you at your side.

“Oh god. Here it comes.” Sofia murmurs.

“Here what comes?” you ask.

She turns her head to the side, confused.

“She didn’t tell you? She added a new song to the setlist, it’s…about Historia.” Sofia responds.

“Does she know that Historia’s actually here in the tent? With her husband?”

Marcus, Historia’s newly wedded husband, was nice. It’s really the only word that you could use to describe him, because honestly, it didn’t seem like there was much else going on besides that. He mentioned a plethora of niceties when you met him hours prior – that he had missed you at the wedding, that he had memorized all the songs before the show started so he could fully enjoy it – and that was it.

You could tell that he didn’t have the faintest idea about Historia and Ymir, or Historia at all.

But he was kind. And he wouldn’t hurt Historia and you supposed that was all that mattered.

“That’s kind of the point, Y/N.” Sofia mumbles.

The three of you inch closer to the edge of the stage, just out of view of the curtains, as you watch Ymir’s visuals change – bright graphic letters spelling out Good Luck, Babe!

It's fine, it's cool You can say that we are nothing, but you know the truth And guess I'm the fool With her arms out like an angel through the car sunroof

I don't wanna call it off But you don't wanna call it love You only wanna be the one that I call "baby"

You can kiss a hundred boys in bars Shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling You can say it's just the way you are Make a new excuse, another stupid reason Good luck, babe (well, good luck), well, good luck, babe (well, good luck) You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling Good luck, babe (well, good luck), well, good luck, babe (well, good luck) You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling

You look over at Eren, who is crushing your hand to oblivion at your left, before turning back to Sofia.

“Jesus Christ.” Eren whispers.

“I can’t even blame her. Historia came for blood last weekend.”

“That’s not even half of it. It gets worse.”

You and Eren widen your eyes, before leaning forward and paying attention again. And it’s insane, because Ymir’s crouching on the ground – before she fully lies down and starts belting into the microphone.

When you wake up next to him in the middle of the night With your head in your hands, you're nothing more than his wife And when you think about me, all of those years ago You're standing face to face with "I told you so" You know I hate to say, "I told you so" You know I hate to say, but, I told you so

You can kiss a hundred boys in bars Shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling (well, I told you so) You can say it's just the way you are Make a new excuse, another stupid reason Good luck, babe (well, good luck), well, good luck, babe (well, good luck) You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling Good luck, babe (well, good luck), well, good luck, babe (well, good luck) You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling

a year and a half later

After almost two years of being married, Jean and Mikasa welcome a baby girl, named Olivia, in October. And on her fourth week of life, they invite all of you over to meet her in Seattle.

You’d be lying if it didn’t fill you with dread.

“Why are you freaking out?” Eren asks, reaching down to adjust the charms of your necklace, the Saturn charm now accompanied by an ocean wave, against your collarbone, before looking back up at you.

“Babies don’t really like me.” you state.

“You know, they can kind of sense when you’re all…tense and stuff. Just relax when they ask you to hold her.”

You groan.

“Jean and Mikasa can keep their empath baby to themselves. What do you mean it can sense if I’m stressed?”

“You’ll drop her if you’re being too stiff. Just cradle her head against you.” Eren responds.

“That’s exactly why I can’t hold her!”

Eren rolls his eyes.

“She’s basically like your niece. You’ll have to hold her eventually.” Eren deadpans.

“Maybe when she’s older. Fully conscious and talking and stuff, you know. Like Teddy.”

Eren sighs, almost acutely aware of how hopeless you were when it came to this, from the way you acted with Lily. Except Sukuna was far less faith in you than Jean and Mikasa and agreed with you every time you refused to hold her out of fear.

Eren locks his hand in with yours as he drags you to the porch, only to be met with Zeke and Carla answering the door.

“You’re finally here!”

Eren’s mom pulls you forward, nearly side sweeping Eren and trapping you in a crushing hug as you give Zeke a pained look at your side, to which the two of them only laugh in response. And when Carla lets go, she brings her hands down to your wrists, before squeezing.

“You’re a vision in yellow! This dress is beautiful, Y/N.”

“Mom. You’re laying it on a little thick there.” Eren mumbles, placing his hands on her shoulders before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Shut up, Eren. This is the closest I’ve gotten to having a daughter.” Carla states.

You look over at Eren – entirely aware of how much his parents, or more specifically Carla had been, about how he needed to propose soon. But Eren rolls his eyes as he walks off, greeting Lana and Teddy in the kitchen as you turn back to her and wrap one of your free arms around her.

“Did you see Olivia yet?” you ask.

“She’s beautiful. Oh, she looks just like Jean.”

“Well, that’s a shame.” you respond.

“I heard that, twerp.”

You look over to find the source of the voice – a very tired Jean, with a stubble and a well grown out mullet – glaring at you. But the second you look at him properly, he gives you a smile as you run forward, wrapping your arms around him as he returns the gesture.

“Hi, Mr. Dad.”

“That’s the best you could come up with? Mr. Dad?”

“Saying just Dad is weird. But I had to acknowledge the fact that you…have a whole child just out here and breathing and stuff.”

“Wow. You really have such a way with words.” Jean states, as the two of you trail down to the kitchen, where Eren and Jean do their weird handshake.

You feel a tugging at your legs, before you pick up Teddy who leans his head against yours.

“You get bigger everytime I see you, kid.

“I’m a growing boy.” Teddy shrugs, as you turn to Lana and laugh.

“He’s getting every bit of sass from Sukuna.” Lana states.

“I can tell.” you respond, before turning back to him.

Sukuna presses a kiss to your cheek as a greeting, before Connie and Reiner join the group as well and do the same.

“How are you today, Teddy? Did you see baby Olivia yet?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

You smile as you turn over to Eren, who leans against the counter and watches the two of you from a few feet away. He fights the urge to take a picture – only because Sukuna would tease him into oblivion – and makes a mental note to ask for one like it later, of Teddy snuggled in your arms and resting his head against your cheek.

“Did you like her?” you ask.

“She’s cute. For a baby.”

“You wanna tell Y/N what you told me, Theo?” Sukuna asks.

Teddy sits up, turning to Sukuan with confusion.

“Tell her what, Dad?”

“About what you did when you saw Olivia.” Sukuna clarifies.

He turns back to you, a smile on his face.

“I held baby Olivia all on my own.”

You turn back to Sukuna and Eren, the two of them laughing with irritating smiles on their faces as you stick their tongues out at them.

“Oh, be quiet.” you murmur.

“If my literal child can carry that baby, so can you.” Sukuna states.

Sukuna rolls his eyes, before taking Teddy from your arms.

“I’m gonna grab a drink.” Sukuna states.

“I’ll come with.” you respond.

The two of you walk quietly out to the little backyard, as you fill three glasses of lemonade and hold one out to each of them.

“So do you just not want kids in the future?”

“What? Of course, I do.” you respond.

Sukuna snickers.

“Are you not going to hold your own child?”

You roll your eyes.

“Pump the brakes, Sukuna. Eren and I aren’t even married yet.”

“Speaking of. Are you two ever going to tie the knot?”

You shrug.

“We’ve talked about it before. It’s definitely in the cards but I told him that he should wait until he feels ready. And things are really nice now, the way they are. I figure he’s just soaking in it all.” you state.

“Would you say yes if he proposed?” Sukuna asks.

“Are you crazy?”

“I mean…you’re saying that you told Eren to wait until he was ready. There’s no doubt you will of course, but are you ready for that?”

You nurse the little glass of lemonade close to your chest, before looking up at him and smiling.

“I’ve been waiting to marry him since I was like sixteen. Of course I’m ready.”

Sukuna gives you a smile, before gesturing for you to follow him back inside where Eren’s waiting for you patiently. And you can tell by the excited smile on his face and the way that he grabs your waist exactly where he’s leading you next.

“You should be excited. This is literally both of our best friends, in one person.”

“I am excited. I just want her to like us, that’s all.”

When you enter the room, it’s quiet – with Levi, Jean, and Mikasa’s mom by the crib and Mikasa sitting in the bed, rearranging the little toys.

You and Eren beeline in different directions, with him heading straight for the baby and you heading straight towards Mikasa’s side. And you can’t help but do it – reach forward and cup her cheeks before hugging her full on.

“Mikasa, you look so cute.” you mumble, as she nearly crushes you with her death grasp of a hug.

Mikasa pulls back, rolling her eyes, as she eyes your dress.

“Are you saying I look different after Olivia?”

You roll your eyes.

“You’re all full in the face. With rosy pink cheeks. It’s adorable.” you whisper.

“Well, you’re quite adorable too. This is a beautiful dress – I’m going to side sweep Eren and propose first if he doesn’t get around to it.”

“I heard that, Mikasa.” Eren deadpans, from his far corner of the room.

“That was the point, goofy.”

Eren frowns as he walks over to her side, offering her a hug before sitting down with the two of you.

“Goofy is the best you’ve got?” Eren asks.

“There’s a baby in the room. I can’t exactly call you an asshole now, can I?” Mikasa whispers.

You both giggle, only to be stopped by the glare that Levi gives the three of you, as you clear your throats.

“She’s perfect, Mikasa. She’s got your eyes.” Eren states.

“Oh thank god. Carla gave me a heart attack downstairs when she told me the baby looked like Jean.”

It’s only then that Jean walks over, with the tiniest bundle of little pink blankets in his hand, that the three of you stand up. And you take the natural position, standing slight behind Eren as he looks up at Jean, eyes wide.

“Can I hold her?”

“Dude, go ahead.”

You and Mikasa share a look, irritated by their nonchalance, as you watch Jean carefully transfer Olivia over to Eren’s arms. She’s quick with it – securing all five of her tiny fingers around one of Eren’s fingers as he laughs, looking over at you.

And Eren’s quick to notice that despite all your self-proclaimed fears about holding babies and giving birth, you have the same curious look in your eyes that you had when you met Lily.

“Olivia, my name’s Eren and this is Y/N. Your parents are basically the coolest people we know.” Eren whispers, almost like he’s not trying to disturb the quiet peace in the room.

“Well, not your dad. He could use a little help in that department.” you respond.

“Stop badmouthing me in front of my child.” Jean responds, reaching forward to flick you on the forehead.

But it’s right at that second that Olivia lets out the quietest little coo, before readjusting in her little blankets. And it’s enough to make the group of you laugh, teary eyed smiles from you and Eren, as Jean walks over to Levi and hands him the camera to take a picture of the five of you, together for the first time.

And in the thirty minutes that Eren spends holding Olivia and whispering with Mikasa, it’s the free second that you take to talk to Levi.

“Look at you. Trying to butter up Mikasa’s mom.”

Levi glares.

“She’s my sister.”

“Right. I kind of forgot about that.”

Levi rolls his eyes, as the two of you look out of the window, at the group of them all chattering downstairs. You can’t help but smile at Teddy and Lily sitting at the table, who are showing a very interested Ymir and Connie all of the drawings that they’ve allegedly done together.

It was mostly Teddy of course, but he just liked to include Lily in everything he does. Which is something you’re told that Sukuna and Yuuji do together all the time – and it makes your heart warm all the same.

“Is there a reason you never had kids, Levi?” you ask.

Levi smiles.

“Hange can’t have kids.” Levi states.

You feel your throat dry the slightest, as you look over to the left, where Hange and Sofia are playing a very intense game of chess.

“I didn’t know that. I always figured that you two weren’t…”

“A lot of people did. And I suppose that made it easier, because it really did break our hearts that we didn’t get to have any.”

You smile, before leaning your head against his shoulder.

“If it makes you feel better, I know that myself and fifteen of my peers have always seen you as a father figure.”

Levi smiles.

“It does actually. Only because my self-proclaimed children are all so talented that I have so much to brag about.”

You press a kiss to Levi’s cheek as Eren beckons for you to join him downstairs, now that Olivia’s fallen asleep. And you all but oblige, trying to memorize the sickeningly sweet kiss that he gives you on the way down.

“Do you ever think we’re going to have kids?” Eren asks.

“Eren. You’re basically like born to be a dad.” you whisper.

“What?”

“Every kid we’ve ever met loves you. Of course, we’re going to have kids. I’ve even taken the liberty of naming them already.”

Eren gives you a confused look, before knocking on your forehead.

“Who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?”

“Hilarious.” you deadpan.

“No seriously. I’m shocked Mrs. Scared of Pregnancy because of Reddit threads from when you were thirteen is saying this to me right now.”

You roll your eyes, trying to make your way down the stairs, before he pulls back, pressing a kiss to your cheek as a consolation.

“Okay, I’m joking. But tell me the names.”

“No. You’re being rude.”

“Come on. They’re going to be my children too. I want to hear it.”

You sigh, crossing your hands over your chest, as you look up at him.

“If it’s a boy, we’re going to name him Marco.”

Eren smiles, giving you an approving nod, as you twist the rings on your pointer finger.

“And if it’s a girl, we’ll name her Maya.”

“Maya?”

“Well, the plan is hopefully that we have a boy and a girl. We’ll name our kids after Marco…and his favorite poet, Maya Angelou.”

Eren leans forward, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

“That’s a deal.”

Two days later, you and Eren seem to right a historical wrong, in your long winded history, in the mere hours before you attend Lana’s album listening party.

By visiting the Seattle Aquarium, the way you were supposed to all those years ago.

It was your idea when you made your weekend plan to be in Seattle. Because Eren had three extra days before he started shooting and before you headed back to New York to record with Niccolo – and it only felt right.

Despite your horrible track history of attendance, the owners of the Seattle Aquarium granted you entry on Sunday, the day they were closed, and offered you the place for the entire day. Though you suppose, it’s only because you’ve given them such gracious donations over the past years.

When you walk in, you run your fingers over the bronze plaque as Eren looks over your shoulder, admiring the lettering.

With special thanks to Bruce and Margaret, whose generous donations have benefitted our environmentalist efforts and preserved over forty-five species of fish over the past year, nearby in the Pacific Ocean.

Eren takes your hand, the two of you taking the little blankets and pillows, and setting them up right in the center of the aquarium, before you lie down against the little makeshift fort you made.

And you’re not sure what it is – the dim lights and the overwhelming blue – or the fish swimming all around you and Eren in their not so little fishbowl, but you can’t help but feel the strangest sense of nostalgia. That a few years ago, you saw Jean and Mikasa get engaged for the first time, and it pushed you so hard that you were ready to confess to him under these same lights.

“Do you ever think about what would happen if we actually ended up coming here last time?” you ask.

Eren looks over at you, pressing a stray kiss to your forehead, before messing with one of the strands of your hair.

“Sometimes. I figured we’d have to fight out of there someway, just in a different way.”

“What do you mean?”

Eren pauses.

“They’d run a slander campaign against you. They’d probably dox Falco and Colt and your parents would get in the crossfire by proxy.” Eren murmurs.

“Yeah.”

“I figured they’d probably give Connie all the big roles so he wouldn’t have any reason to leave. Everyone would know about Lana and Teddy and well…I don’t know if Sukuna would be on our side the way he necessarily ended up being.”

You lean closer to him, interlocking one of your free hands in with his.

“I don’t know if we’d stay together.”

“We’d stay together.” you murmur.

“Yeah. I do figure it would be harder though. We kind of lucked out, twice, with how isolated the set was and then the cabin.”

And Eren reaches into his pocket, wrapping one of his free hands around you as he opens up a little green box, to a glimmering diamond ring.

“I figure this would happen farther down the line if things went that route.” Eren mumbles.

You’re taken aback as you sit up in the little pile of blankets as Eren follows suit, a sweet smile on his face as he presses the little box into your hand.

“I don’t necessarily know how things would have ended up if we got to be together all those years prior. All I remember, really, is watching you drive away from me and feeling like I had just experienced the loss of my life. For a second time. It only feels right to me that we get to promise to seal the deal here, for good, like we should have all of those years ago.”

Eren takes the box from your hands, plucking the ring out of its little slot, and takes your hand in his.

“Will you marry me?”

You can’t help but lean forward, nearly knocking him back down into the pillows as you press a kiss to his lips, which he smiles into.

“I’m taking that’s a yes?”

“Oh my god, Eren. Yes, obviously.”

Eren sits up again, this time carefully securing the ring around your finger, before lifting your hand and pressing a kiss against your knuckles.

“Did you tell anyone you were doing this?”

Eren shrugs.

“I asked for your parents and Falco and Colt’s blessing. Then I remembered that Levi exists and asked him for good measure too. And Lana, of course, just because I can’t keep anything from her.”

You smile.

“Was there someone else I was supposed to tell?”

You pinch your lips into a line.

“No.”

“Oh my god, there totally was. Who did I forget?”

You fight the urge to laugh as he reaches forward, tickling at your sides as you shove him off.

“No one, Eren. I love the ring.”

Eren twists his face in confusion, before leaning forward.

“Who said anything about the ring?”

You pinch your eyes shut, before reaching forward and placing your hands on his cheeks.

“I love the ring. And I love you, it’s really not –”

“You told someone what type of ring you wanted, didn’t you?”

You sigh, as you look down at the sparkling diamond on your finger, that really is perfect.

“It was a tiny request that I had. I should have known that you’d tell Lana and not Mikasa, in hindsight.”

Eren shakes his head.

“That’s not a big deal. I’ll just get you another one.”

“Eren.”

“Really, I was planning on getting you multiple anyway. You have to have one that has a silver band and one that has gold, because I know that you hate mixed metals. So really, you can tell me what it is that you wanted and I’ll keep it in mind.”

You sigh.

“It’s kind of cheesy.”

“I’m not lactose intolerant, Y/N. Just tell me.”

You sigh.

“I like the diamond, but I wanted it set with another stone.”

“I do like unique rings. Which one were you thinking?”

“An emerald. Because it’s green, you know?”

And you watch as Eren grins, fully understanding your request this time, as he leans forward, his lips a few feet away from yours as he whispers.

“Are you telling me you want a green emerald because my eyes are green?”

“Sue me, Eren!” you deadpan.

And it’s a lingering kiss that Eren presses to your cheeks, before he leans back and looks up at the fish. You follow his gaze to the two yellow fish swimming near the top, as they make their way down to the other side.

And Eren looks over at you and smiles.

“No, I don’t think so. I think I’ll just marry you instead.”

You’re slightly late to Lana’s listening party and the two of you sneak in towards the back door, where you greet everyone waiting for you backstage. And it’s quite obvious that Lana and Sukuna shared the news with everyone the second you arrive – because Mikasa reaches for your hand the second you walk up to her and Lana gives you a lingering hug.

“Oh thank god, I was starting to get worried.” Mikasa states.

“All the comments got to you the other day, didn’t they?” Sukuna asks.

Eren rolls his eyes.

“On the contrary, asshole. Though the comments did start to piss me off, because I was doing so well at hiding it before you all started bringing it up and making her think about it.”

There’s a little dinging overhead, signaling that Lana had to start, as the group of you all head out to the little audience – filled with about fifty of Lana’s fans who nearly start screaming the second you all walk out to listen with them.

“Hey.” Eren whispers.

“What?”

“I’ll be back, but you should keep your hair in the front.”

“What? Why?”

“I left a mark earlier.” Eren responds, squeezing at your shoulder as you glare at his retreating form.

He shoots you a wink over his shoulder, before he walks backstage and Lana walks on. And it’s sweet, the flowery dress she’s wearing and the purple guitar as she takes the stage. You feel a tap on your shoulder, to find Sukuna at your side, smiling at you.

“Congratulations, stinky. There’s not many times that I find myself believing in things like this, at least not before anyways, but you’ve proven me wrong, time and time again.”

You loop your arm in with Sukuna resting your chin against his shoulder, as you watch Lana start to tune the guitar.

“I could say the same thing about you.” you respond.

The two of you quiet down as Lana starts and Eren walks behind her, taking a seat at the piano. He shoots you a smile from his spot, starting to play the piano composition as Lana starts talking.

“I’ve written lots of songs about people in my very long career of music, now. And I’ve had many songs written about me by my friend Eren here. I figured it was only fair that I returned the favor by writing about him and his beautiful fiancee, with his help of course.”

Eren smiles as he leans closer to the microphone.

“This song is called Margaret.”

This is a simple song, gonna write it for a friend My shirt is inside out, I'm messy with the pen He met Margaret on our rooftop, she was wearing white And he was like, "I might be in trouble" He had flashes of the good life He was like, "Should I jump off this building now or do it on the double?

'Cause, baby, if your love is in trouble Baby, if your love is in trouble Baby, if your love is in trouble When you know, you know When you know, you know

It kinda makes me laugh, runnin' down that path When you're good as gold 'Cause when you know, you know 'Cause when you know, you know And when you're old, you're old

Like Hollywood and me, that diamond on your ring The soul that you bring to the table One that makes me sing In a minor key Diamond on your ring 'Cause when you know, you know When you know, you know

The two of you tie the knot a year later, on a chilly December night, back in the old townhouse. It’s decorated to perfection – the walls that you originally took down are now covered again with polaroids of you and Eren, but all of your loved ones too.

True to Mikasa’s statement all of those years ago, the flower girls at your wedding are Olivia and Lily – but they can’t exactly walk yet, so it’s only fair that Reiner and Connie carry them and their little flower baskets down the aisle.

As busy as Mikasa and Jean are with the baby, they give up their spots as best man and maid of honor to the more seasoned parents, Lana and Sukuna. Though it feels entirely wrong to have Lana standing on your side and Sukuna on Eren’s, so you decide to switch the roles. Teddy’s quite possibly the best ring bearer and Levi’s the perfect person, who gives a sweet passionate speech about holding out for love, as the officiant of your wedding.

Levi, however, is full of all sorts of tricks – which is something the two of you only note when it’s time for you to do your first dance. Because instead of the piano quartet that you organized, he’s sitting on the bench next to Hange instead, tapping on the microphone to get your attention.

“I believe it’s time for the first dance.” Levi states.

Hange rolls her eyes, before taking the microphone.

“You’re so stiff, Levi.”

“You talk then.”

“No, you always tend to have a way with words.”

You look up at Eren, admiring the two little pins on the lapel of his jacket – a crescent moon and the Saturn pin – before looking back at the two of them and their antics.

“Eren and Y/N. You’ve written quite a few love songs, not only about the beautiful love that you share with each other, but the love that we all seem to have for one another as well. And really, we figured it was only fair that we all repaid the favor, by writing a song about the two of you for you to dance to.”

“And well, we know how much being surrounded by the love in the room means to you. So we’re going to invite everyone to join you on the dance floor, so you can be surrounded by it.” Hange states.

The group of them all give you sweet smiles, as you all walk out onto the little makeshift floor, as Hange and Levi start playing the piano, Levi’s quiet voice filling the backyard.

When the rain is blowing in your face And the whole world is on your case I could offer you a warm embrace To make you feel my love

When the evening shadows and the stars appear And there is no one there to dry your tears I could hold you for a million years To make you feel my love

You pause from looking at Eren, as you pull him closer – resting your ear against the beating sound of his heart – and catch it all again, the love in the room so warm it’s almost suffocating. Because it’s Falco still stepping on Gabi’s feet after all these years, Ymir spinning Sofia way too many times, and Jean and Mikasa dancing with Lily in their arms.

“Can you believe they wrote a song about us?” you whisper.

“I’ll fucking say. It was about time. Do you know how many weddings we’ve carried on our backs by writing songs?”

“Don’t exaggerate, Eren. It was only like three.”

“Three too many. I was expecting the damn fanfare when I walked in.”

You both laugh, before leaning forward, and looking over at Hange and Levi – soft smiles that they give each other, as they play the piano together.

I know you haven't made your mind up yet But I will never do you wrong I've known it from the moment that we met No doubt in my mind where you belong

I'd go hungry, I'd go black and blue I'd go crawling down the avenue No, there's nothing that I wouldn't do To make you feel my love

Eren makes his SNL debut three months after the fact and you figure that there's no better time to announce the fact that you and Eren are together. A silly little skit – where your fake characters are both named Margaret and Bruce – is the perfect end to what the two of you started at the beginning of the week, when you released your songs False God and Only Angel on the same day.

But unbeknownst to Eren, you change the original plan you had – to play False God at the end of the show – and choose to play a different song at the end. Eren turns to you, giving you a last wink as the show starts rolling, and he turns to the camera.

“Once again, Y/N L/N-Jaeger.”

There’s a resounding sound of cheers as Eren takes his side next to Connie and Maryam at the front, as you start strumming on the guitar.

Fatefully I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me Misery Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep

And you passed right by I was in the alley, surrounded on all sides The knife cuts both ways If the shoe fits, walk in it 'til your high heels break

And I fell from the pedestal Right down the rabbit hole Long story short, it was a bad time Pushed from the precipice Clung to the nearest lips Long story short, it was the wrong guy Now I'm all about you I'm all about you, ah Yeah, yeah I'm all about you, ah Yeah, yeah

The first thing you catch sight of when you look out is Hange and Levi. And the first thing that comes to mind is that speech – watching Hange spilling tears into that microphone, watching it in your pajamas with Colt at your side and Falco fast asleep somewhere in the corner – and it makes your stomach jolt.

Actually I always felt I must look better in the rear view Missing me At the golden gates they once held the keys to When I dropped my sword I threw it in the bushes and knocked on your door And we live in peace But if someone comes at us This time, I'm ready

Ricky comes to mind next, but it’s only because you can see Lana and Sukuna in the third row – their heads leaned against each other as they hold hands. Because it’s not exactly the justice she exactly deserved, but years after the fact, his horrible mouth had landed him on a blacklisted list of actors – and really, he was never to be seen again. Hyla and Scott were always around, but never warranted a second thought after what you had done to them – tearing their once empire to the ground with your own bare hands and a pencil.

No more keepin' score now I just keep you warm (keep you warm) No more tug of war now I just know there's more (know there's more) No more keepin' score now I just keep you warm (keep you warm) And my waves meet your shore Ever and evermore

Past me I wanna tell you not to get lost in these petty things Your nemeses Will defeat themselves before you get the chance to swing And he's passing by Rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky And he feels like home If the shoe fits, walk in it everywhere you go

The raw spot of hurt that was reserved for Marco softened over the years and the over-consuming feeling it once used to give you was now open – for you to give to other parts of your life. To your friends, to your family, and to Eren.

Eren.

Now I'm all about you (and now) I'm all about you, ah (and now) I'm all about you (and now) I'm all about you, ah Yeah, yeah I'm all about you (and now) Yeah, yeah I'm all about you

You can’t help but smile at him, feeling your heart nearly pounding in your chest, as you look at him – smiling back at you from the front row, his hands pressed to his chest, with a silver band around his ring finger.

Long story short, it was a bad time Long story short, I survived

Hange had told you, indirectly all those years ago, to show people the real you. And as much acting as you and Eren had done - method and otherwise - you supposed there was nothing more real than the love that existed between the two of you.

Eren closes the distance and you swing your guitar to the side as he brings his hands around your cheeks and presses one last kiss to your lips before the camera cuts.

an: a very bittersweet goodbye to one of the most special fics i've ever written. i truly do not think that there are enough words that i can string together (which as ironic as someone who is a fic writer) to explain what this fic has meant to me, what your interactions have meant to me, and everything else in between.

this fic has truly been a piece of my heart - not only because i've poured so many of my real emotions into each of the characters, but also because it's brought me so much joy to share with people - and to have them nitpick and find all the little clues i've been leaving along the way.

whether you've been reading since july or just picked it up in the few days before it was finished, thank you so much for being here 💌

PS: method acting fun fact! this fic was actually a REQUEST that I wrote for someone, if you can believe it. further proof to kind of interact with writers and show ur love bc u can ask for a fic and then be stuck with this mumbo jumbo of almost 270k words at the end of it.

peace and love!!! ronnie out <3

(if you request any side pieces about this stories/ask any questions/etc!!! I am more than happy to always answer. i've thought of so much lore in my head)

taglist: @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @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-mori @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 @spiidergirlsworld @luvs4kim @levin4nami @florichun @hoonmyluv

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unpopularwriter25 · 3 months

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Baked with Love

Summary: Hajime Umemiya frequently visits a local bakery where Y/N, a sweet and caring worker, has captured his heart. Despite his nervousness, Hajime continually finds excuses to see her, often bringing friends who know his true intentions.

Warnings: None

Note: Hi, I started watching the new anime called Windbreaker, so I'm going to be writing for some of these cuties.

The bell above the bakery door chimed softly as Hajime Umemiya pushed it open, the scent of freshly baked bread and pastries wafting out to greet him. He inhaled deeply, savoring the sweet aroma that never failed to lift his spirits. The warm, inviting atmosphere of the bakery was a stark contrast to the bustling streets outside. Soft music played in the background, and the gentle hum of conversation filled the air.

“Man, this place really does have the best treats,” Hajime said, a little too enthusiastically, as he ushered his friends inside. They exchanged knowing glances but said nothing, familiar with the real reason for his frequent visits.

You stood behind the counter, your eyes lighting up as you saw Hajime enter. “Good morning, Hajime! It’s great to see you again,” you greeted warmly, your smile as sweet as the confections you sold.

Hajime’s heart skipped a beat at your words, and he felt a blush creeping up his neck. “Morning, Y/N. Got any new treats today?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“We do! We just started making these new strawberry tarts. Would you like to try one?” You held up a perfectly golden tart, the strawberries glistening under the soft lights.

“Absolutely! I’ll take one. And, um, the usual for my friends,” Hajime said, his eyes never leaving yours.

As you prepared their order, Hajime couldn’t help but admire the way you moved, so graceful and focused. The way your hands worked, deftly and efficiently, made his heart swell with admiration. He wondered how someone could be so perfect, so effortlessly kind and beautiful.

“You know,” his friend Suo said, nudging him with an elbow, “you should just ask her out already. It’s obvious you like her.”

Hajime shot him a panicked look. “Shh, not so loud!” he whispered urgently. “She’ll hear you!”

Suo chuckled. “Honestly, I think she already knows. Everyone does.”

You returned with their order, setting the tray on the counter with a smile. “Here you go! One strawberry tart for you, Hajime, and the usual for your friends. I hope you all enjoy it.”

“Thanks, Y/N. I’m sure we will,” Hajime replied, his voice softer now. He handed you the money, and as your fingers brushed briefly, he felt a jolt of electricity shoot through him.

As they settled at a table near the window, Hajime took a bite of the tart. The sweet and tangy flavor of the strawberries, perfectly balanced by the flaky crust, was a delight. But even more delightful was watching you as you interacted with other customers, your cheerful demeanor never fading.

“Man, you’ve got it bad,” Haruka teased, biting into his own pastry.

Hajime sighed, his eyes still on you. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

The sun streamed through the large windows, casting a warm glow over the bakery. The combination of sunlight, the smell of freshly baked goods, and your presence made the place feel magical. Hajime knew he couldn’t keep coming here with the same excuse forever. He needed to muster the courage to ask you out, to see if there was a chance you felt the same way about him.

As they were getting ready to leave, Hajime lingered by the counter, waiting for a moment when you weren’t busy. Finally, you turned to him with that same sweet smile.

“Is there something else you need, Hajime?”

He swallowed nervously, his heart pounding. “Actually, Y/N, there is. I was wondering if… maybe you’d like to go out with me sometime? Like, not just here, but… somewhere else?”

Your eyes widened in surprise, and then a radiant smile spread across your face. “I’d love that, Hajime.”

His heart soared, and he felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders. “Really? That’s… that’s awesome. How about this Saturday?”

“Saturday sounds perfect,” you replied, your cheeks tinged with a soft blush.

“Great! I’ll see you then,” Hajime said, grinning from ear to ear.

As he left the bakery, his friends congratulating him and patting him on the back, Hajime felt like he was walking on air.

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joejoesaurus · 1 month

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Date Night ! Yuji Idtadori

Context : Yuji planned a surprised date night out

Yuji Itadori had a plan for a surprise dinner date that he hoped would be perfect. He knew he was not exactly the most romantic guy, but he was determined to make this night special. He started by sneaking out of the dorms early to pick up some groceries, carefully selecting ingredients for a simple but delicious meal. He had been paying attention and knew what you were like.

Back at the dorm, Yuji spent the afternoon in the kitchen, clumsily following a recipe he found online. The kitchen quickly became a mess, but he did not mind. He was too focused on making sure everything was exactly right. He set the table with extra care, even finding a small candle to place in the centre for a cozy touch.

As the sun began to set, Yuji felt a mix of nerves and excitement. He could not wait to see the look on your face when you walked in and saw everything he had done. He had no idea if it would all go according to plan, but he was ready to give it his all.

The smell of something delicious greeted me as soon as I stepped into Yuji’s dorm. I paused at the door, taking in the sight before me. Yuji was in the tiny kitchen area, wearing a borrowed apron that was a bit too small for him, concentrating hard as he stirred something in a pot. The table was set with mismatched plates and utensils, and there was a small candle flickering in the center. It was clear he’d put a lot of effort into this.

“Yuji, did you... cook all this?” I asked, a bit surprised and incredibly touched.

He turned around, his face lighting up when he saw me. “Yeah! I wanted to do something special, so I thought I’d make us dinner. It’s not fancy or anything, but I promise it’ll taste good!” His cheeks were slightly flushed, maybe from the heat of the kitchen or the nerves of pulling this off.

I walked over to the stove, peeking into the pot. “It smells amazing. What are we having?”

“Just something simple pasta with homemade sauce. I also made a salad and, um, tried to bake some bread,” he said, pointing to a slightly misshapen loaf on the counter. “It’s a little... rustic, but it should be okay!”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Yuji, this is incredible. You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”

He shrugged, giving me that easygoing grin. “It wasn’t trouble at all. I wanted to do it. You deserve something nice, and, well, I thought this would be a fun surprise.”

He finished up the cooking, serving the pasta with a flourish as if he were a professional chef. We sat down at the table, and as we dug into the meal, I was struck by how thoughtful Yuji was. The food was delicious—maybe not gourmet, but it was made with so much care that it didn’t matter.

We talked and laughed, the conversation flowing as easily as it always did between us. Yuji kept checking to make sure I was enjoying everything, his eyes lighting up every time I complimented the food.

As the evening progressed, the candle burned lower, casting a warm, golden light over the room. I couldn’t stop smiling. The simple dinner in his small dorm felt more special than any fancy restaurant could have. It was just the two of us, sharing a meal that Yuji had made with his own hands, and that made it perfect.

After we finished our meal, Yuji insisted on clearing the plates, but I helped him anyway. The small kitchen was quickly tidied up, and before long, we found ourselves back in his room, the cozy warmth of the evening lingering in the air.

Yuji flopped onto his bed with a satisfied sigh, patting the spot next to him. "Come here," he said softly, his usual energy replaced with a gentle calm. I didn’t need any more encouragement. I climbed onto the bed and snuggled up beside him, feeling the familiar comfort of his presence.

He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close until I could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. I rested my head on his chest, listening to the soothing sound as his fingers absentmindedly played with my hair. We stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the world outside his dorm fading away.

"Did you have a good time?" Yuji asked quietly, his voice soft and a little hesitant, as if he was still worried that maybe the night hadn’t been as special as he’d hoped.

I looked up at him, meeting his warm brown eyes. "I had the best time," I whispered back, meaning every word. "This was perfect, Yuji. Thank you."

His face broke into a wide grin, the kind that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. "I’m really glad," he said, his voice filled with relief and happiness. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. "I just wanted to do something nice for you."

"You spoil me, Yuji," I chuckled.

"Don't you think I should get a reward then?" Yuji grinned mischievously. "And what reward would that be, sir?" I teased, looking up at him. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. "Just, you know… haha…"

Before I could respond, I felt a warm blush rise to my cheeks, he had a boner!?

"Uhm Yuji..? I think your little friend needs help there.." I say pointing at his "manhood" .

"Think you could help me out then, what do you say baby?"

Hope you enjoyed this!!

|･ω･*)凸ヾ(；ᗒᗣᗕ)ツ

#jjk x reader #jjk #jjk smau #fluff #yuji itadori x reader

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xf-cases-solved · 1 month

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i wrote a fic inspired by this post i made, about how william should have been a girl named samantha and how i will die on that hill with honor. see below, or click this link to be directed to my ao3, if you so desire

Title: the bitter and the sweet

Rating: Gen

Word Count: ~2400

Back on the vineyard, before Samantha had been taken and the four of them had approximated something approaching a family unit, Mulder's mother would make homemade bread on Sunday afternoons.

The process had always fascinated him—the way she could parse out units of flour, sugar, water, and yeast and combine them together into something that, only hours later, would have the whole house smelling of an artisanal bakery, the atmosphere somehow made warm and inviting by the wafting scent of baking bread. When he was really little—when the biggest unexplained phenomenon to him was the Tooth Fairy—baking seemed like magic to him, and his mother was its wielder.

How else, he'd figured, could she be able to take all those separate ingredients—banal and basic on their own—and turn them into something incredible?

Tonight, Mulder's feeling a little like how he did when his mother would make bread, only on a much, much grander scale.

He's finding himself believing in magic, and this time, Scully is its wielder. It's no great surprise to him that she's powerful—he's known that from the start—but it wasn't until he'd found her drenched in sweat, tear tracks down her cheeks, blood staining the insides of her thighs, and a tiny child cradled protectively against her heaving chest that he'd learned that she was a magician, too.

Out of two ingredients, Dana Scully has made a person.

Mulder has seen things in his lifetime that go far beyond the laws of nature. He's seen ghosts and ghouls; monsters, both bestial and human alike; he's seen proof of life outside this planet time and time again; he has died, his body buried six feet beneath the ground for months, and he's come back to life.

And yet, somehow none of that compares to witnessing the miracle of the most basic, fundamental tenet of existence: Reproduction. Something so innate—the instinctive need to replicate oneself so that one's lineage may live on in perpetuity. Hundreds of thousands of human babies are born a day; if he had known, like really known, how remarkable that is, maybe he would have decided that anything beyond it was simply above his pay grade and given up trying to understand the Universe long ago.

He hears the front door click shut as the Gunmen show themselves out, and yet he doesn't move just yet. He has to take a breath first—has to give himself a moment to shake his head in awe. On the other side of this doorway is his brand new life, and it's daunting to know you're about to walk into a fresh existence.

But no amount of anxiety can outmatch his need to see her. To see them.

He'd had such little time with them before, and there had been so much chaos going on around them that he hadn't been able to appreciate what he did get, and he's trying not to feel resentful about it. The baby's healthy, Scully's healthy, and in the end, that's what matters most, but still, he can't help but feel robbed on Scully's behalf. On his own behalf, too, if he's being honest.

After everything she has gone through—after the multitudes of hellfires she's walked through since the day she first stepped into his office—Scully deserved a beautiful pregnancy, with an equally beautiful birth. After everything he's gone through—after every chance he's lost to show the breadth of his love to the people who own his heart—he deserved to care for her, from week one to week forty, and to be by her side as she performed magic in a clean delivery room, with freshly laundered receiving blankets on hand, and the reassurance of trained professionals nearby should something go wrong. Something so precious should have never been shrouded in so much trauma.

It should have been different. They had earned different.

But he's not going to dwell on it, at least not right now. Maybe in a quiet moment, when his family (his family!) is asleep and peaceful, he'll grant himself the space to feel the bitter in this sweet.

But that's for later.

Right now, he has to go to them; he can feel their thrall like the arrow of a compass being pulled north by the Earth's magnetic core, and this hallway suddenly feels a lightyear away from where he's meant to be, the space between them and himself a wormhole, where on his end there's the life he's led until now, and on the other side lies a brand new world he can't even begin to fathom the extent of just yet.

So he walks through the doorway, bending time, stepping out of one reality and into the next. He doesn't mourn what he's left behind—everything that matters now exists inside this room.

"How's everybody doing?" he asks, and if she can hear the thread of anxiety rumbling through his words like a shockwave beneath a tectonic plate, she doesn't mention it—merely smiles widely at him, the corners of her tired eyes crinkling. She's already so tiny, but the giant swaddling of blankets and baby in her arms covers half her torso, making her look even smaller.

Small, but so incredibly, incredibly strong.

"We're doin' just fine," she says, standing up from the edge of the bed, a hand gently patting the baby's back through the cushion of blankets. As she approaches, he knows his face must look ridiculous—his head shaking in disbelief, his mouth slightly ajar, even as his lips are turned up into a smile, and eyes laser focused on them as though if he so much as blinks they'll disappear—but he can't help it. He's witnessing magic; of course he's awed.

The baby snuffles grumpily at being jostled, as Scully moves the whole bundle into his expectant arms.

"Hey now," he mutters to the child. "None of that."

He gets the baby's head settled into the crook of his elbow, and the amount of protectiveness that swells within him is so sudden and intense that it almost takes his breath away.

Words fail him; there isn't a language, on this planet or the next, that could ever properly convey the weight of his thoughts, so he just smiles at Scully and breaths a shaky, "Hi," before turning back to the baby, his body rocking to-and-fro gently on its own accord, and that's something, isn't it? That he instinctively knows how to soothe.

He surveys the baby's face with the focus one would use to parse out a magic-eye poster. He's searching for familiar features, and memorizing all the shapes and slopes and colors that have come together to create the breathtaking picture before him. A long time ago, he remembers calling his eidetic memory a curse, and at the time it had felt true, because in his line of work he saw so many horrible, wretched things, and it would have been a mercy to be able to forget them.

He doesn't consider it a curse now. He thinks that, maybe, he was actually bestowed a blessing, and he just hadn't realized it because it had always been meant for this exact moment in time.

This is... this is a lot.

A lot, a lot, a lot.

Mulder has always known that he has a tendency to love at a magnitude so severe it is almost to his detriment; he knows that his heart has always been his biggest strength and biggest weakness in equal measure. Once, not long after a bullet had cracked his skull, he had found his way to Antarctica, armed with a vial of antidote, an unreliable compass, and a decent coat, and through the force of his love, he had brought Scully home with a clean bill of health, say for a bit of freezer burn on her cheeks. His love is so mighty, it is almost a type of magic in itself.

But he has never felt love like this before.

He's not even sure if it is love, the feeling so foreign and all-consuming.

He wants to cry with the might of it—feels so full of emotion that he could stand in the center of a field and scream it at the sky until his voice goes hoarse, and even then the precarious glass of his heart would still be dangerously close to overflowing. For all the things he's believed in his life, the hardest thing for him to wrap his head around is the idea that he is capable of loving this big.

"What are you going to call her?" he finds the words to ask.

Her.

Somehow, the simple use of a pronoun tilts the world on its axis. He thinks it has to do with abstractions. Since he returned from the dead, they've only spoken about her in the abstract. "The baby." "This child." A nameless, faceless, sexless concept that they knew would come into existence one day, but they couldn't quite understand what that existence would mean.

But she exists now, and she's a she.

Boy, girl, both, neither—he'd had no preferences nor expectations, but the concreteness of the identifier has his pulse thudding wildly. Scully—the magician and, until very, very recently, the greatest love of his life—has done the impossible and created a person and that person is his... well, they haven't discussed that yet, have they? What he's entitled to referring to her as.

But then she says, "With your blessing"—she's quiet and shy about this, but still meets his eyes with her usual amount of confidence—"I wanted to name her Samantha."

In some magazine a million years ago, Mulder had read about the art of human suspension. It originates as a spiritual practice that is thousands of years old, wherein people suspend themselves in the air by hooks embedded beneath their skin, and at the time he had been, of course, open and respectful of the concept, but did not particularly see the appeal. While he understood it in theory, without experiencing it, he couldn't quite see how one could endure such intense pain and be grateful for it. To feel revived by it. To feel complete.

There are no hooks in his skin—he's not hanging from any banisters, trying to reach enlightenment—but he definitely has a better grasp on the practice now. In six words, Scully has taught him how to feel honored by pain.

This is, he thinks, the utter definition of bittersweet, because god, it's so bitter, but god, nothing has ever been so sweet.

His instinct is to make a joke, because that's what he does when he gets overwhelmed. Maybe make a quip about seeing some of Walter Skinner in this little girl's face, is there something she wants to tell him...? But, unfortunately, it seems that his throat is closing up, so no jokes today, he supposes. Nothing to cover the rawness of his emotion as he blinks the tears out of his vision so that he can see his daughter clearly.

Because that's what she is—Scully just said as much. This is his daughter, named after an aunt she'll never get to meet, but whose memory will live on through her.

"She deserved so much better than the short time she got," Scully is saying, and although he wants to look at her, he can't because that would mean looking away from his daughter, and that's not possible at the moment. "Mulder, every step we've taken that has gotten us to this point has been because of your love for her. Your search, your passion—everything that brought us together—it's because of her. And through you, I've grown to love her, too. She had no choice in making her sacrifice, but I want to acknowledge it anyway. I want... Mulder, I want our daughter to carry a name that symbolizes enduring strength, and unimaginable bravery, and, more than anything else, infallible, everlasting love." Her hand comes to rest on his wrist. "But only with your blessing, Mulder."

Mulder closes his eyes, a teardrop or two escaping and sliding down the bridge of his nose as he leans forward and presses his forehead gently against his daughter's. He breathes in deep, centering himself and righting his world with the scent of baby powder. Scully waits patiently, her thumb tracing small circles around the circumference of his wrist joint. Finally, he straightens himself out and looks at her.

Once again, language leaves him wanting.

He settles on a whispered, shaky, "Thank you," that cracks his voice.

He's thanking her for the in memoriam, certainly, but for so much more than that as well.

Thank you, he means, for your magic that brought her into this world.

Thank you, for granting me entry into your body so that I could help you make this child, as much as I could.

Thank you, for saving my life, again and again and again and again, so that I can be here to experience true bliss for the first time.

Thank you, for stepping into my office the better part of a decade ago and, against all good judgment and reason, staying by my side ever since.

Thank you, for letting me love you.

Thank you, for loving me in return.

Scully gives a half smile and a nod; he has no doubt that she hears everything he doesn't say, because while all other languages are limited, they have long since created their own mode of communication that only the two of them speak.

There are conversations they need to have. The trauma of Samantha's birth is still shrouded in mystery; the fact that she wasn't taken from them has created more questions than it has provided answers, and that needs to be acknowledged.

They have to talk about what happens next. What are their roles now? To the world. To their daughter. To each other.

That can all be discussed later, though, when language doesn't feel so useless, and his heart does feel so bruised and battered from all the bitter and all the sweet.

He does the only thing he could possibly do in this moment, and that's lean down and press his lips to hers. She kisses back, one hand holding him by the elbow, Samantha bracketed by their bodies, keeping her safe.

Since he was twelve years old, Samantha has been his driving force.

Today, she still is, but in a different form. A different life.

Mulder loves his baby sister.

Mulder loves his baby daughter.

He thinks he might go into the kitchen tomorrow, and bake Scully a loaf of bread.

#msr #msr fanfic #msr fanfiction #txf fanfic #txf #the x-files #diz writes conspiracies

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gojos-thot-patrol · 1 year

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Some more supplementary material for the Frat Boy! Au, this time starring blorbo of the hour: Kento Nanami

Because he’s been heavy on my mind. Starting with his basic info!

Nanami grew up very middle class, not as poor as Suguru or Ryomen, but nowhere near as well off as Satoru.

He’s a business major not because he wants to, but because he feels he has too. If he had it his way, he would be a culinary student. But according to his father, there's no money in being a line cook, so accounting it is.

Still, he hopes to use his degree to open his own restaurant one day. His father would never approve of a line cook for a son, but maybe Nanami could sell him on a business owner for a son.

He says the main reason he joined the ABO frat was to try and make business connections, he knew that some people would hire one applicant over another just because they were alumni of the same fraternity. In reality though, he’d have more room in the frat and unlimited access to the kitchen.

His room is full of plants. Plants of all kinds everywhere, including some herbs. It used to kinda annoy Ryomen (his roommate) but, he’s grown to actually kinda appreciate it. It makes the room feel less dead.

Phenomenal cook who can not bake to save his life. Cooking is an art but baking is a science and somewhere along the way he fucks it up every time. Be it mixing the batter too much or too little, not letting it sit long enough or letting it sit too long- he doesn't know. He can handle box cake mix that’s about it.

Now if you want a steak cooked to perfection with perfectly roasted veggies and the creamiest mashed potatoes you've ever put in your mouth on the side he’s you’re guy. If you want an authentic lasagna with homemade everything including the noodles and sauce, he can do that for you. Do not ask him to make bread.

He’s also insanely good at fighting games. Every version of Nanami in my heart is a God when it comes to fighting games, there is not a universe in which Nanami exists where he doesn’t dominate at Tekken, argue with the wall if you don’t agree.

Adding to that, he’s also in love with D&D. He’s a forever DM that spends hours of time planning campaigns, hours he should be spending on his school work but shhhh. If you really want to make him swoon, offer to let him be a player in a campaign. He’d pull out a ring on the spot.

That being said, I think it’s time to get into some relationship headcanons ;)

HE’S A TSUNDERE! Look at that man, he has such big Tsundere energy.

Out of all his frat brothers, Nanami is probably the one that gets laid the least. Not from a lack of opportunity, nay nay, women (and men) throw themselves at him all the time. He’s just picky and not a fan of being touched by stragers.

You though? You’re different (of course you are, you’re the main character!) The two of you really started to click after you had to work on a pretty big project together. Little things you did softened his heart for you.

Small things like asking him more about his D&D campaign plans, excitedly showing him pictures of the plants that you kept in your dorm, and offering to help him out in the kitchen. Little moments of quality time and tenderness while you were working on this project together nurtured his small crush into full blown butterflies when you were around.

He finally admitted to himself he was in love with you when you beat him in Street Fighter. He wasn’t used to losing at fighting games. You bragged about using his tips against him (you listened to what he said) and laughed about the weeks you spent training to destroy him (otherwise known as taking a genuine interest in his hobbies.)

He asked you out on a date that night and you were taken completely off guard! You had no idea the fool even liked you! He was cold on the best of days, spending more time scowling at his notebooks than listening to what you said (or so you thought.) He never contacted you unless it was in regards to your project, and most of the time you spent hanging out outside of it was just because you had become friends with his frat brothers and happened to be at the house. You mean he liked you?!

Of course you said yes, if for no other reason than to see where the hell this goes. You were 40% sure it was a prank, but hey- a free meal was a free meal. It helped he was hot as hell, what was the harm in one date?

You saw a whole new side of Kento Nanami that night. He was warm and attentive, and fucking hilarious when he wasn’t just keeping all of his jokes to himself.

It was a simple date. A moonlit picnic in the nearby park, one where he brought his laptop and used his phone hotspot so the two of you could watch movies together.

That was the night when you found out Kento Nanami considered himself to be a hopeless romantic.

When he took you back to your dorm, he walked you to the door and actually asked if he could kiss you goodnight.

And now you’re both smitten!

Once you’re officially his girlfriend, You’re gonna find out he’s genuinely pretty chill. Happy to give you your space and recognize you’re a person outside of your relationship. That being said, let some asshole start getting a little too comfortable with you at a part and he’s quick to throw hands.

You would think nerdy little Nanami wasn’t that good in a fight, but nay nay, he was forced to play football in highschool and will leave a bastard concussed.

He says he’s not a cuddler, but every time you sleep in his bed you wake up with him cuddled close to you.

Nanami loves kisses, and is always planting them on you when you’re in kissing range. Your lips, cheeks, forehead, everything is fair game.

You’re the only person in the world other than like, his parents that can call him Kento. He’s always gone by his last name, to the point that his first name makes him feel like he’s in trouble. Only authority figures use it when they’re pissed off at him. But it hits him different when it comes from your lips. When you say it, it feels tender and intimate. It’s the closest he gets to liking his name.

He always tries to make time for you and your relationship. Even if that sometimes means that your date nights are just study dates, he always strives to make you feel like a priority.

He’s a soft guy that falls in love easily. You may not know it yet, but he has full intentions to marry you after graduation. A fact his frat brothers are quick to tease him about, while also making him promise to make them groomsmen.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk frat boy au #frat boy! nanami #frat boy nanami #nanami headcanons #kento nanami #nanami fluff #nanami x reader fluff

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emkayewrites · 3 months

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These two pictures inspired one of the chapters of my Lukola fanfiction called 'Curtain Fall'...

Here's a sneak preview:

17th June 2022 – Brockenhurst (UK)

Everything about The Pig exuded charming British elegance. Nestled in the heart of the historic New Forest National Park, the homely country manor served as a five-star hotel with an acclaimed restaurant. It was a favourite weekend escape for city dwellers who were attracted to it for its natural beauty; from free-roaming local horses to ancient woodlands that were perfect for long walks.

It was a place particularly revered for offering the finest of traditional English dining without excessive pretension. The dining rooms had a rustic, cosy charm, featuring open fires and mismatched antique furniture.

Nicola and Luke sat opposite each other at a farmhouse-style table in a private dining room called the Green Room that was reserved for special guests. A Victorian-style fireplace and floor-to-ceiling conservatory doors opened onto a private garden terrace. Before them lay a half-eaten feast: salads with organic vegetables from the estate's garden, freshly baked bread with warm butter, a plate of oyster mushroom pappardelle for her, and a sourdough pizza for him.

They had been invited to this countryside retreat for the weekend courtesy of the production team. This was their first day and they had been greeted with a prepared lunch. He sat there in a slightly over-sized salmon button-down shirt and jeans. In contrast, she was dressed in a little more sophistication. She wore a dark tapestry mini dress with tie shoulders that cinched in her waist in a way she hoped would be flattering.

"You know, when Jess told me we should get bonding, she mentioned doing it over a coffee. This is a little more than a coffee." Nicola laughed, trying to shake the awkwardness off herself. She was used to spending time with Luke but this setting felt different. It felt intimate.

"It's on brand though." Luke replied, nodding at their surroundings. He was not wrong. This could be a room straight from Bridgerton.

She reached out and touched the green wall panels.

"What do you reckon this is – Farrow and Ball?" She quizzed.

"What's that?"

"You haven't heard of Farrow and Ball?"

He shrugged in an I don't know what to tell you sort of way.

"Well, that surprises me. Maybe you're not as posh as I think you are." She teased. "It's very posh paint, with pretentious names like Elephant's Fanny and Leopard's Arse."

He laughed. "OK, that's quite enough. You need to stop calling me posh. People might start believing you and expecting things from me."

"Anything east of Dublin is posh," she retorted, making him laugh again.

This is what she thrived on: banter. Their friendship was based on her dry wit and sarcasm. Making him or anyone else on set laugh was a small victory for her. She was trying hard not to think about having to switch gears and drop the humour she wore as armour.

She had not wanted to admit it, but sitting across from him now, it was harder to deny: he was absolutely beautiful. To make matters worse, he was kind too.

Why couldn't the love interest be someone with a hideous personality in real life? She found herself wandering.

She was barely out of her reverie when he reached out and wrapped his hand around hers, guiding it gently away from the wall and in front of his face, inches from his lips. He took a deep breath, and his blue eyes bore into her own.

Oh God, that was his Colin face.

You can read more here:

#luke newton #nicola coughlan #bridgerton #polin fanfiction #bridgerton fanfiction #lukola #polin #colin x penelope #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #ao3 fanfic #lukola fanfic

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bighairyballsharry · 2 months

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"A downpayment for your love" - Rafayel x Reader

Here you can keep up with this fanfic: Part 2

*** This is a fanfiction based on the Love and Deepspace mobile game. The original story has been altered according to what I had in mind regarding a love scenario with Rafayel. In this, the MC (aka you, the reader, hi there) did not grow up with Zayne. I will try to write it gender neutral, but it will have more feminine takes on you as the MC of my story. ***

You were always poor. Especially after the wanderer attack 14 years ago, when you lost your family. You were left to fend for yourself. Sure, people from the community that knew your parents tried to help you while growing up, but it was never for free. Everybody had to pull in their weight one way or another. You had to either take care of their kids or their houses, make yourself useful in a way.

You learned at a very young age that everything has a price in this world. Even as a young tween, you would often dream about what life would have been if the attack never took place. Maybe your parents would have been the ones working their asses off in order to provide for you, like the other parents in the community are doing for their offsprings.

Growing up, you would look at the families you worked for, wishing sometimes that it was you in their children's place. You were happy to be able to work for your future and collect money, but something deep inside always yearned for the comfort of a family and financial support. It didn't matter anymore, you learned to hide that deep inside, hoping that one day your kids will never have to feel what you have been through. You were putting in all this hardwork for your future family.

You worked through your teenage years. You were always booked, therefore you hadn't had much time to spare for a higher education, or any education at all. Working various jobs, you managed to rent yourself a small studio flat at the ripe age of 18. This way you stopped depending on your parents' friends, finally starting to live on your own and start preparing for your future family.

After working in a few bakeries and trading goods, you decided to focus on just caretaking jobs that would include cleaning and cooking for the elderly, sometimes babysitting. You found out that this was an area that suited you best. After all, you were a very caring person with a big heart. You were longing to fill the void, even if you had to do it by taking care of other people's needs. At least you were getting paid for that and hell, you needed all the money you could get.

"Hey, (Y/N)! How's business?" One of your childhood friends asked. You were taking care of their family's bakery shop for the weekend.

"Depends, mine or yours? I'd say good since I managed to snatch a few clients from your regulars." You said winking jokingly. "Not a lot of people came by today. Maybe tomorrow. I will make sure to stock the bread properly so it doesn't go stale until your dad comes back. I still don't know how to bake properly, so I will sell the stock you've left for this weekend." You smiled at your friend.

"Don't worry about it too much. You are doing us a huge favour by keeping the bakery open for us while we are away." Your friend smiled as they brought in another basket of freshly baked goods. "This should be enough until sunday."

You gave a small nod, cleaning the counter. You were happy to be helpful, even if you worked for free this time. They did provide a shelter for you while growing up, you want to pay them back in your own way.

"Haven't gotten many gigs lately?" Your friend asked as they wiped their hands on a rag.

"I got one new gig, in Linkon. There is an old lady needing a caretaker. I am going on a trial on monday, her granddaughter said she will pay me for that day." You explained eagerly. Indeed, on your terms you were finally breaking through. You made it all the way to Linkon City! Sure, it's a 3 hours train trip, but you were finally able to work in the city, were opportunities to find rich clients were endless.

"Isn't that too little for the 3 hours trip? Your rate is not gonna be able to cover the cost." Your friend hummed, not sure if you made the right choice.

You eyes gleamed with pride. "It's in Linkon, and the payment is 5 times my rate!" For you it was a lot, but for a normal Linkon citizen it was quite a small price. But then again, you were working in a very unfortunate village to begin with, you were not aware that you could win more than that for the services you gave out.

"No way! We barely make that in 3 days, yet you make it in one day?!" Your friend was stunned.

You smiled happily. You were now sure that you finally made it. You felt it in your bones, your luck was about to change!

----------

It was monday morning. You left your village at 4 in the morning to get to Linkon City at 7 o'clock sharp. You were supposed to get to the client's house around 10:30 in the morning, so you wanted to make sure that you will find your way in time. You were hired by a young woman around your age. She is starting her career as a Deepspace Hunter and her grandmother is growing weak, so she wants someone to be by her side while she is away during the day. You were on trial for the dsy and if everything went well, you could be coming in almost everyday. You were excited. You were wearing your church clothes, in hopes to make a good first impression. With the money you were gonna get for the first day, you could buy material to make at least 2 new dresses. Your village is extremely cheap, so for you, today's payment was like a lottery win.

You were walking around and gawking. Everything looked like a dream. You could not believe your eyes the contrast between Linkon City and your village. Your village looked like a nuclear waste field compared to this city. You were starting to feel like you were out of place, as your clothes were really old and sewn together to last longer.

Finally, you arrived at your client's house. It was 10 o'clock. Better to be early than late. You approached the door and gave it a knock.

"Ah, coming!" You heard a woman's voice. Judging by the youthfull tone, you thought this might be the granddaughter that hired you. "Hello, this is-..." The door opened to reveal a thin girl with brown hair. She looked at you with a smile as she presented herself. You quickly bowed your head, straightening the material of your clothes.

"H-Hello, this is (Y/N)! You hired me to care for your grandmother." You explained a bit nervous. As you stood up, the girl smiled at you warmly.

"Perfect, you are early!" She chuckled a bit. Her remark made you feel flustered, maybe you should've waited 30 more minutes. "Come in. It's good you came early, I got a call from the Hunters Association, I have to go in earlier than normal. You coming earlier gives me a chance to also meet you before entrusting you with grandma." She smiled.

Her words were reassuring, her voice and antics making you feel welcomed. You walked inside, shy, folliwing her around the house. She took you to the living room where an old lady was sat in a green armchair.

"Grandma, this is (Y/N). She is here to look after you while I'm away." The girl walked next to her grandma and leaned forward to talk to her, while taking hold of her hand gently. The old lady looked at you, squinting her eyes before putting on her glasses. She smiled once she was able to finally make out your face.

"Oh, hi, dear." The old lady smiled gently. "I am Josephine, it is nice to meet you. My, but your blouse reminds me of how my daughter used to dress when she was around your age." She said genuinely excited. It took you by surprise, and it made you feel a bit self conscious, but you smiled politely.

You sat and chat for half an hour, before Josephine's granddaughter had to leave. Things seemed to workout properly, so you were excited for the actual work to finally start. Once it was only you and Josephine you got in the 'zone', started cleaning up around the house, made food for Josephine and made sure to prepare dinner so her granddaughter had something for when she came home later at night.

You chatted with the old lady and helped her walk around the neighbourhood. You listened to her as she would tell you stories from her youth and sharing wisdom. Of course, you also answered her questions as she tried to find out more about you and your life.

"Poor little thing." Josephine cooed as you helped her sit down on her armchair. You perked your head up, puzzled. "My granddaughter lost her parents too after that unfortunate day, 14 years ago... I took care of her as if she was my own." The old lady went on, her voice warm and comforting. "Even though you went through all that, you managed to keep yourself a clean soul." She smiled at you as she place a hand over yours, keeping you in place, next to her side. "Never taint your heart, my dear, not even for money. I'm sure one day, God will answer to all your prayers." Her words warmed up your heart, almost bringing you to tears. You were glad to have met such a kind person.

"Thank you, Josephine. Hope he will take care of all of us." You muttered in return quietly, holding in big emotions.

After that day, you were called in regularily. You would go there almost everyday, always finishing by 4 in the afternoon, making it in time for taking care of your other clients back in the village.

One day, as you were getting ready to leave Josephine's house for the day, her granddaughter came earlier than usual.

"Hi, (Y/N)!" She greeted you. She walked in followed by a man with light brown hair in a gray suit. Before you could greet her back, she started talking to the man. "I will bring it right away, I didn't even realise he hid it in my bag!" She exclaimed rushing upstairs.

"Artists, always temperamental, always causing ruckus." The man said with a sigh, folding his arms in front of him. "I am deeply sorry to bother you about it, but he threw a tantrum over it not being in his studio anymore." The man pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can't be there 24/7, I have to go and take care of the business part, make sure he sells and promotes the right charities."

You listened closely. Everything the man spoke about sonded so strange to you. 'Business' and 'charities' were words thrown in your favourite shows by rich people. You were curious to find more, but you were in no position to ask. You tended to Josephine until her granddaughter was free so you could bid her good night before leaving.

"Here you go." Josephine's granddaughter came back downstairs. She was holding on to a big toy-like charm that looked like a puffer fish. "Why'd he hide it in my bag?" She asked, her brows furrowed in annoyance.

"If I knew how his brain was wired, I'd break it open and rewire it properly." The man answered, exasperated. "I'm so grateful, you have no idea. He is starting to get worse, throwing tantrums over tantrums. The studio is always a mess and he never seems to eat properly. The man has access to ordering anything his heart desires, yet he acts as if it's a mystery to pick up the damn phone!" The man boomed, letting out his frustration. He took a sharp breath in and rubbed his eyes with his palm. "Again, I'm really sorry to dump all this on you, but I'm starting to get to my wit's end. It's like he needs a babysitter. Even this 'bodyguard' charade, it's just him acting out. Why does he need so much attention? Why is he getting worse?"

"I'm sorry, Thomas. I see that you care about him, it's okay to feel frustrated. You shouldn't feel bad. Maybe you should get him an actual babysitter." Josephine's granddaughter laughed as she said the last sentence, patting the man gently on the shoulder. "At least for the weekend, so you can finally rest."

"There's no person in this world capable to put up with his insufferable temper." The man named Thomas groaned.

You were growing a bit impatient, as it was starting to be a little over 4 o'clock and you were about to lose the train back. "Excuse me, miss-..." You started awkwardly, trying to sound polite.

"Oh, (Y/N)!" The young woman said your name, almost as if she forgot you were there, and smiled as she shook her head. "Oh, my god!" She clasped a hand on Thomas's shoulder excited, then turned back to look at you. "(Y/N), do you have experience with toddlers?" She asked, hopeful. Thomas looked at her confused. "(Y/N) takes care of my grandmother, she is amazing!" She explained.

"Are you sure you want her to still work for you? Don't send her my way or you might lose her after she spends one hour with him." The man pinched the bridge of his nose again, groaning. "He is capable to ruin everything when he puts his mind to it." He sighed.

You were a bit shocked, the man seemed to have issues with his father. You figured it must be his old father on the verge of dementia, causing a lot of trouble. You were experienced with such cases, especially with the ones that act out like todlers.

"I have worked with dementia patients before." You answered smiling, hoping to snatch another job. From the sound of it, you could make a lot of money if the job went well, they sounded rich. At least this Thomas fellow looked rich.

Josephine's granddaughter and Thomas remained frozen for a moment. The young woman started laughing, while Thomas huffed amused and shook his head.

"Sounds perfect. Thomas, would you like to give it a try?" She chuckled as she nudged the man.

"I didn't think this day would come. I mean, I knew it might happen, but not so soon." He said, defeated. "Are you free this weekend?"

*** Hi hello, leaving a little note. I will write this as a multiple part story. Not sure if it will get anyone's attention, but in case you made it this far, hope you enjoyed this. Thank you for giving this a chance and I will try my best to not disappoint.

I'm not sure if anyone is OOC, maybe Josephine, but hey, in my version, roles are a bit reversed and Josephine and the game's MC are normal people, while YOU, my MC, are special ☆

#love and deepspace #lads #lads rafayel #lads fanfic #rafayel fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #love and deepspacs imagine #rafayel imagine #lnds #lnds rafayel #lnds rp #lads rp

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welldonebeca · 2 years

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Strawberry Jam

Summary: Bucky comforts you after you have a rough day at work. Pairing: Bucky x F!Reader WC: 3.1k words Warnings: Smut. Fluff. Emotional Hurt/Comfort. Vaginal fingering. Dirty talk. Vaginal sex. Unprotected sex. Wife kink. Marriage Kink. Overstimulation. Multiple orgasms. Passionate sex.

Writing is my only source of Income in this pandemic. If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and helps a lot while I go through these hard times.

Bucky mixed the gooey hot red am with the wooden spoon, breathing in deep to get the sweet smell, ready to pot them up.

He was doing this especially for you - you loved homemade jam with all your heart, and ate it almost every day. The jar you had at home was now empty, however, and he was trying his best to make a version of it.

Bucky had just come back from the farmer’s market, where he had gone to buy more fruits and veggies for just the third week in a row. They didn’t have your beloved strawberry jam there, but the seller was nice enough to give him the basic recipe to make it at home.

Your new house routine was something he was just starting to get used to. The two of you had moved in together recently, a little over a month ago. Bucky had left the compound, retired at last, and now his days were filled with being whatever version of a non-married househusband he could be while just your boyfriend. His retirement pension was enough for him to live on his own forever, and your job wasn’t bad either.

So right now, you two had a lot of plants, a dog and a moody cat, and no couch yet, and were planning to get married in the next couple of years - he was looking for a ring, actually.

And speaking of your dog, Phoebe was watching him with a lot of curiosity and pleading eyes, always the hungry girl, and Bucky scoffed, leaving the jar and picking up a strawberry from the counter, taking off the green part before tossing it to her, moving right back to putting the jam in the jar, realising quickly he needed a second one when half of the jam was still in the pan.

Once he finished, he was very proud of what he saw.

It looked good, it smelled good, and he was sure it tasted good too.

Maybe he should bake something to eat with that jam. Maybe biscuits?

Or bread.

He really liked baking home bread. His favourite was sourdough.

Bucky was pulled away from his thoughts when he heard the sound of the door opening and Phoebe’s paws on the floor as she ran to greet you, overexcited as always.

He waited to hear you come over and say hi, but the house kept silence aside from a few mumbles as you said hi to Phoebe and Alpine, probably with some kisses.

Finally, you walked to the kitchen and leaned onto the door frame, looking at him with a sad and weak smile.

“Hey,” you spoke softly.

His shoulders fell in a when he realised the sadness behind your voice.

“Hi," Bucky cleaned his hand, moving to you.

He pressed a little kiss to your lips, worried, and you sighed a little.

You were a lawyer, which was a very tasking job, and sometimes mined your whole energy, or took a little more of your heart than you were initially willing to give.

Recently, you’d been working on the case of a kid who had had to go through a second amputation surgery after an accident in a restaurant months after his first imputation, both on the same leg. The family was suing for the legal and medical expenses, which included his therapy, and monetary compensation that would be used for the boy’s tuition once he decided to go to college.

“What happened?” he asked gently, raising his hand to caress your hair.

“They want to test the ramp of the restaurant,” you told him. “To see if it was possible for him to fall.”

“Okay,” Bucky nodded slowly.

“But they renovated the whole place!” you pointed you, growing angry. “And put a handle that wasn’t there that day. Mr Green’s sister took pictures while the ambulance was called! It looks completely different!”

He reached for your face, caressing your cheek gently.

“And what did the judge say?”

“He wants to analyse the photos before saying anything,” you sighed. “And a second medical opinion. They want this kid to go through a whole medical evaluation again!”

He reached for you, caressing your cheek.

“I’m sure they’ll be reasonable and careful,” he assured you. “The doctors know it is a complicated moment for him. And his dads are going to be there.”

You sighed, pinching your nose.

“They are also insinuating his dads were neglectful with him and that was why he fell,” you added. “I swear to God, that restaurant…”

You hid your face in his chest and groaned.

“I hate them,” you whined.

“I know,” he caressed your hair.

There was a moment of silence, and you moved your head up slowly, resting your mouth on his shoulder and looking behind him, into the kitchen.

“Is that homemade jam?” you asked, mumbling against his shirt.

Bucky threw a look at the counter.

“Yes,” he confirmed, looking back at you, a little excited for his effort being noticed. “I just made it.”

You groaned once again, though softer, against his skin.

“Did you make it yourself?” you asked.

“I did,” he told you, grinning. “Do you want to try it once it is cooler?”

You nodded, and he kissed your temple.

“Do you want me to prepare you a bath?” he offered. “And we can leave work to work?”

You sighed.

“Yes,” you mumbled. “Please.”

Bucky kissed your forehead again, slowly moving down to kiss your nose and then your lips.

He took your hand and walked with you into your bedroom, leaving you behind to set up your bath, filling up the tub and adding the bubbles and the rose oil to the slowly growing water.

He heard the sounds of your steps behind him, and raised his head to find you watching him from the door, fully naked, lips curled in a little teasing smile.

“Hey,” you rested your head on the door frame. “Still dressed?”

It didn’t matter how long you were together, Bucky was proud to never get used to seeing you naked. Seeing you never ceased to fully enchant him.

Bucky looked at himself, a little surprised at the question.

“I wasn’t planning to get inside, actually,” he looked at your face.

You feigned outrage.

“Me?” you asked, exaggerated. “On my own? In this big tub?”

Bucky scowled, and you pouted.

“It’s going to be so lonely!” you remarked. “And cold.”

He chuckled.

“In this warm water?” he asked.

“But so vast,” you teased him. “Without my husband with me.”

Bucky’s cock awoke with the little word.

Your husband.

Oh, how he loved being called your husband.

The two of you were planning to be married in the near future and were practically engaged now, but the title was still something he wanted to conquer, and loved hearing from your lips.

You reached down for him, pulling him to stand up, and Bucky held you closer as you threw your hands on his shoulders, squeezing him.

“Don’t you want to come inside with me?” you bit his lower lip. “Keep me company?”

He hummed, chuckling, and knew he couldn’t just say no to you.

“Of course, wife,” he gave your lips a peck.

You giggled, and stepped away, leaning on the counter and watching him as he took off his clothes, kicking off his shoes, pants and underwear all in one go, earning a little chuckle from you.

“Impatient?” you asked, grinning.

He just chuckled along with you.

“Always,” he shot you a playful wink.

Bucky leant to you again, holding your hips and caressing your skin with his fingers.

“Come on, wife,” he nudged you in the right direction. “Let’s get you in your bath.”

He stepped away from you, and let you take his hand as you stepped into the full tub and knelt, waiting for him to come and sit, and Bucky entered right after, relaxing at the feeling of the warm water against his skin right before you leant to rest against him, sighing.

“What do you think?” he kissed your temple. “Good?”

You nodded and he put his hand over your stomach, pulling you a little closer, and kissed your shoulder.

“You are a great lawyer,” he squeezed you. “And I’m very proud of you and of what you do.”

You whined, putting your hand over his, sounding both boomed and embarrassed.

“Bucky!” you rolled your eyes.

“I mean it!” he exclaimed.

You just shook your head.

“I don��t think so,” you breathed out. “I feel like I could do more for them.”

“Like what?” he caressed your skin gently with the hand he had on your stomach.

Bucky waited for an answer, but you grimaced, apparently not finding anything you hadn’t already done for the family you were representing.

“You have done a lot,” he kissed your temple. “Now it’s not in your hands anymore.”

You sighed and rested your head on his shoulder, and Bucky slowly moved the fingers he had on your stomach to your breast, running them on the flesh and plump bottom of it.

“You should relax,” he whispered into your ear. “Let your husband help you relax, wife.”

You squirmed, cheeks flushing in a blush.

“Bucky,” you threw your head back a little bit.

He caressed your breast slowly, massaging it and reaching for your nipple, pulling on it slowly and making you whimper.

“My pretty wife,” he touched your other breast, doing the same to it, teasing and playing with your sensitive peaks. “Such a hard-working woman, the one I found for myself.”

You arched your chest to his hands, exhaling in a very soft sound.

“You work so hard,” he played with your nipples, watching your body squirming and shivering, reacting to his touches.

He trailed one of his hands down to your hips, and felt you spreading your legs under the water.

“My pretty wife,” he kissed your neck. “A big shot lawyer…”

You giggled, and he spread your inner lips and folds, already finding them slicky and wet.

“So sensitive for her husband,” he touched your entrance.

You arched your hips, whimpering a little, and he kissed your shoulder.

“Always making me so proud…” he tapped your clit softly. “But never relaxing.”

“Bucky…” you whined.

You pouted, squirming and moaning, and he hummed along with you, kissing the sweet spots of your neck.

He could feel the difference between the actual water and your wetness, even underwater. Your pussy was slick, warm and welcoming, and practically hugged his finger tightly when he pushed it into your cunt, and you whimpered when he took his finger up to your clit again, rolling it slowly.

“Such a lovely cunt,” he cooed into your ear, fingers picking up their pace. “I can feel it drooling for me even with the water, my pretty wife. You’re always so responsive to me.”

You moaned, arching your body to him, and he squeezed your tit in his hand, reaching for your stiff nipple and pulling on it, twisting it, grinning as he watched your face twisting and heard the mix of a gasp and a moan coming from your lips.

“Such perfect tits,” he kissed the curve of your neck. “And a perfect cunt, so hungry and so receptive.”

You continued to moan and squirm, with his name falling from your lips along with your little sounds, as his fingers never stopped to play and tease your clit and tit.

He knew he was going to be gladly buried in there tonight, licking and sucking your folds, taking orgasm after orgasm from you until you were a wreck, foggy eyed and only able to say his name.

But right now, you were having a relaxing bath, and he was never going to stop his perfect wife from relaxing.

So he played you like you were his favourite instrument - which you were - as he whispered sweet dirty words into your ears and felt your body moving and heard your moans growing, and held you down when your hips started thrusting against his hand.

“You’re gonna cum, my pretty wife?” he kissed your shoulder. “Gonna cum for your husband?”

“Yes,” you cried. “Yes, Bucky, please.”

He picked up on his pace, holding you down as you came, quivering and shaking, crying out loud.

You were still quivering when he stood up, picking you up and walking back to your bedroom, and threw you on the bed.

“Bucky!” you squeaked, giggling.

James climbed on top of you, not caring about how your bodies were getting everything wet, and kissed your lips hungrily.

“My pretty wife,” he kissed your neck, moving down and kissing your chest before he grabbed your knee, pushing it up.

You pushed your fingers into his hair, pulling him right back and kissing him, and he angled his cock, pushing it into your cunt and resting his forehead on his when you gasped. He’d been hard since you sat between his legs in the tub.

Fuck, you were so wet, so warm.

“Bucky,” you closed your eyes.

“My wife,” he grunted against your lips, thrusting into you. “Always so wet for me.”

You arched your hips, meeting his strokes, already sensitive from your previous orgasm, as your cunt squeezed his cock, hungry and slicky. It was so easy for him to make you cum. Bucky loved taking and taking them from you, making you scream for him.

So he took his fingers to your cunt, and played with your clit, devouring your lips and your moans as he worked on making you feel good, and pulled back to look at your face when you inhaled deeply.

It was an image he truly adored, the way cheeks flushed, and your eyes closed, and your lips parted as you found your way over the edge.

The walls of your cunt fluttered around his cock, and he had to hold himself from cumming for a split of a moment, completely taken by you.

And then you pulled him back, kissing him with even more hunger than before, moving your body to get closer to him, and pouted when he pulled away from you.

“Husband,” you whined.

Bucky grunted at the name, throbbing inside you, and took his lips down to your neck, sucking on it before pushing his lips to your chest. The position you two were before didn’t make it easy for him to access them, but now they were right in front of him.

He bit the flesh of your tits for a moment, and then your nipple, and bit down on it gently before sucking on your flesh.

He loved sucking marks on your skin, marking you, to make everyone know you were his. It was sad that he needed to keep his bruises a little hidden because of your job.

As long as you knew it and they reminded you of how you were his, it was enough.

“Bucky,” you arched your chest.

“Want to make you feel good,” he rolled your clit in his finger, earning a whimper from you.

He pinched your clit a little and chuckled when you squeaked, cunt fluttering around his cock again, and your sounds made it even more obvious how you were already near the edge.

“James!” you gasped, arching your body to him. “Oh, fuck.”

“You’re gonna cum again?” he asked, smiling at you. “Already, baby?”

You pouted.

“Want to cum together,” you affirmed, moving your fingers on his back and running your nails over his skin. “Please, husband.”

He looked back at your face and rubbed his nose on yours.

“Please,” you panted. “I want to make you feel good.”

Your cunt squeezed his cock, getting wetter and warmer.

“Y/N,” he grunted.

He was holding himself back for quite a bit of time. Bucky wanted to ravish you, to make you come apart.

Still, you pulled him up, and kissed him.

“Please,” you moaned. “Together.”

How could he say no?

Bucky angled himself, resting his forehead on yours and moaning when your walls squeezed him, joining you in your soft wanton cries.

“Cum with me,” you pleaded. “Please, husband. Fill me up.”

He grunted, squeezing you close as he thrust into you, letting his eyes close and his body take him.

“With me,” he grunted, playing faster with your clit. “Cum with me. Milk my cock.”

You pulled him up to kiss him, moaning into his lips as your cunt started squeezing around him, triggering his orgasm along with yours, and he rode it fucking you, faster and faster, and slowly down little by little.

Bucky had his eyes closed when you kissed him, first his nose and then his jaw, and then his lips again, brushing his hair with your fingers.

He pulled himself from inside you and laid by your side, pulling you to his chest and kissing your temple, moving his fingers up and down your back.

“Rest a little,” he instructed. “I still want to devour your cunt.”

You laughed into his neck, amused, but Bucky scowled, reaching down and pinching your ass.

“I mean it!” he insisted.

You raised your head to look at him, pressing your lips to his and giving him a hungry kiss.

“I can’t wait,” you assured him.

You lied back, but pulled back with a surprised face when you seemed to realise something.

“Bucky, I almost forgot!” you exclaimed. “The Greens invited me to Joshua’s birthday and said I could take my partner with me.”

He raised his eyebrows, a little surprised, and you moved your hand to metal hand, interlacing your fingers with his.

“I want to go,” you told him, firmly. “But you don’t have to come if you didn’t want to. I know you don’t like parties.”

Parties were noisy, and he wasn’t that big of a fan of noise. But the invitation had been extended not just to you, but to him too.

He was about to answer when an idea sparked in his mind.

“Would they mind if I brought one of the guys?” he asked. “Do you think the boy would like to meet one of the Avengers?”

It was your turn to look a little surprised. It wasn’t like you made your relationship with Bucky public. The few pictures you had with him in your office had a remarkable lack of his face and arm in them, to keep his privacy intact. He doubted anyone ever made such a connection.

“I can ask them,” you told him. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “I’m sure Tony will be happy to send a fun gift, and either Sam or Steve are happy to show up. Or Clint, too.”

You nodded, laying back down.

“Okay, I’ll ask them about it.”

Bucky kissed your cheek again, and squeezed you close with his right arm.

“Come on,” he bit your lower lip, chuckling a little with the joke in his own mind. “Let’s get you something to eat before it’s my turn to eat you.”

. . .

"Strawberry Jam" was posted on my Patreon back in July! To Have early access to all of my fic, consider subscribing! It's just $2 a month!

. . .

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