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junimatcha · 30 days ago

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. . . they say, “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach”, you know?

🍜 ⊹₊ ⋆~ synopsis: after a long day, you prepare a simple meal for nanami, a quiet customer who unexpectedly walks into your restaurant. his frequent visits and the conversations that follow spark a deeper connection between you two, turning these small moments into something much more meaningful.

⋆·˚ ༘ * teddy’s notes: i hope the saying is true irl too because a way to my heart is definitely through my stomach and im not even a man so yk. just something cutesy for you guys to enjoy!! (also if yk the artist pls tell me so i can credit them i couldn’t find anything on pinterest/google)

⋆·˚ ༘ * contains: ~4500 words!! pure fluff, chef!reader, gender neutral!reader, cute themes, just nanami loving your food.

it was late on a quiet weeknight when nanami— just a “handsome stranger” at the time— stepped into your small restaurant. the usual dinner rush had long since ended, leaving only the soft hum of the overhead lights and the distant sound of passing cars outside. you were just finishing up for the night, wiping down the counters and stacking dishes, when the gentle chime of the doorbell broke the silence.

you turned, surprised to see a customer this late. he stood just inside the entrance, his broad frame taking up more space than he seemed to intend. his tie was loosened, the top button of his shirt undone, and a faint trace of exhaustion clung to his features—though he still held himself with quiet composure.

“good evening,” you greeted with a smile, setting your dish towel aside. “we’re actually about to close, but can I help you with something?”

nanami’s gaze drifted over the restaurant, taking in the neatly arranged tables, the warm glow of the hanging lanterns, the faint scent of broth still lingering in the air. he exhaled softly, then looked at you.

“i don’t mean to impose,” he said, voice low, steady. “but i could really go for something simple… just something nice after a long day. i don’t want to take up too much of your time, though.”

his tone was polite, but there was a weight behind his words—a quiet kind of weariness that made you hesitate.

you glanced at the clock. technically, you had planned to close up soon, but…

you looked back at him. something about the way he stood there, tired yet restrained, made you pause.

“well,” you said, tilting your head slightly, “i could make you something quick, if you’re okay with something light.” you smiled, trying to ease the hesitancy in his expression. “it wouldn’t be any trouble.”

nanami studied you for a moment before offering a small, grateful nod. “thank you. i appreciate it.”

without another word, you slipped back into the kitchen, tying your apron back into place. the restaurant was quiet, save for the soft clatter of your utensils as you worked. the rhythmic chop of vegetables filled the space, followed by the gentle simmer of broth as you prepared something warm and comforting.

through the small opening between the kitchen and the counter, you could see nanami sitting at one of the barstools, his hands resting on the counter. he wasn’t looking at his phone or checking the time—he just sat there, still and present, taking in the atmosphere.

you found yourself watching him for a second longer than necessary before shaking yourself out of it.

it didn’t take long before the dish was ready. a fresh bowl of ramen, simple yet rich in flavor, with perfectly balanced ingredients. something warm, something soothing. something to ease the tension in his shoulders, even if just for a little while.

carefully, you set the steaming bowl in front of him.

“here you go,” you said with a smile. “hope this helps after your long day.”

nanami looked at the dish, then back at you, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. he picked up his chopsticks, lifting the first bite to his lips.

then, as he tasted it, his posture changed—just slightly. his eyes softened, his shoulders relaxed, and the faintest trace of surprise crossed his face.

“this is…” he paused, considering his words. finally, he exhaled, setting his chopsticks down for a moment. “this is really good.”

the sincerity in his voice made warmth bloom in your chest.

“i’m glad,” you said, watching as he took another bite.

you smiled, feeling a sense of pride well up inside you as you watched him eat. his face lit up, and his eyes closed for a brief moment as he savored the taste. you couldn’t help but feel pleased by his reaction.

and as the quiet night stretched on, you found yourself lingering just a little longer, watching over this tired man who had found his way to your little restaurant, seeking something warm to hold onto.

—

the next few days passed, and nanami kept returning to your restaurant after his shifts. at first, you weren’t sure if it was just convenience—maybe you were simply along his route home, or maybe he appreciated the quiet atmosphere after a long day. but as the days turned into a week, and then another, it became clear that his visits were more than just a passing habit.

sometimes he would sit in silence, his shoulders tense from the weight of the day, quietly enjoying whatever meal you’d prepared for him. he never asked for anything specific, but you always took the time to make something just right—something that would ease the exhaustion in his expression.

other times, he would ask questions. small, simple ones at first, mostly about your cooking. what spices you used in your broth, why you cut your ingredients a certain way, how you managed to make something as ordinary as rice taste so rich. he didn’t seem like someone who talked much, but with you, he was curious. interested. he listened intently, nodding along as you explained, occasionally humming in quiet appreciation.

it wasn’t long before you found yourself looking forward to his visits.

you started paying even more attention to the little things. you took extra care with every dish, making sure the broth was always the right temperature, the noodles cooked just right. you made a habit of preparing something fresh when you saw him walk through the door, plating his meals with a little more finesse, adding thoughtful touches to each dish.

and though he never outright said it, you could tell nanami noticed.

one night, after what seemed to be an especially long day, he stayed later than usual.

he had finished his usual meal, but instead of standing to leave, he leaned back slightly, exhaling a deep breath before glancing toward you.

“if it’s not too much trouble,” he said, his voice carrying the remnants of exhaustion, “i’d like another bowl.”

you blinked, surprised.

“of course,” you said, already moving to the kitchen. “extra toppings?”

nanami hummed, considering for a moment. “whatever you think is best.”

you smiled to yourself as you reached for fresh ingredients. by now, you had a sense of what he liked—subtle flavors, nothing too overpowering, but something hearty enough to satisfy him after a long day.

as you worked, you felt the weight of his gaze on you. it wasn’t the first time you’d noticed it, but tonight, it lingered.

“you seem very interested in how i make this,” you teased, glancing up from your chopping board.

he didn’t look away, nor did he try to deny it. instead, he let out a quiet chuckle, running a hand through his hair.

“it’s just…” he hesitated for a moment, then sighed, as if trying to find the right words. “you’re so good at this. it’s not just the food. it’s the way you care about it.”

your hands paused briefly before you resumed slicing.

there was something different in his tone tonight—softer, more thoughtful.

“well,” you said, glancing at him again with a small, shy smile. “cooking’s always been something i put my heart into.”

nanami nodded, watching as you added the final touches to his dish.

“and it shows,” he said quietly. “i’ve never had food like this.”

you weren’t sure why his words made your chest feel so warm, why your fingers trembled slightly as you set the steaming bowl in front of him. but as nanami picked up his chopsticks, taking that first bite, you saw the way his expression softened—the tension in his jaw easing, the faintest trace of relief flickering in his eyes.

it felt good, to make him feel good.

—

for you, food had always been a way to show someone that you thought about them. throughout your life, whilst growing up with your family around, you never really saw a way for it to be different— food was the only way to go for you! add a bit more sauce because your father liked it that way, little less salt since your mother’s blood pressure could spike, making something sweeter for your little sibling’s sweet tooth, and make a little more of that dessert so your family can also enjoy it tomorrow.

it wasn’t a surprise that you thought of nanami a little more than your other clients. just like now, as he sat by the counter, enjoying your food.

after finishing the last few bites of his meal, nanami set his chopsticks down and exhaled softly. the restaurant was quiet, the hum of the lights above and the occasional distant sound of the city outside the only things filling the silence. he reached for his wallet, preparing to pay as he always did, when you spoke up.

“wait,” you said, taking a small step forward before he could stand.

he glanced up, eyebrows raising slightly in question.

“i have a little extra food tonight,” you said, your tone light, but there was a hopeful edge to it. “would you like to take some home with you?”

for a moment, nanami simply stared at you, as if caught off guard by the offer.

“are you sure?” he asked after a pause. “you didn’t have to…”

you shrugged, a small, warm laugh escaping your lips. “it’s no trouble. i made more than i needed, and i’d rather see it go to someone who’ll actually enjoy it.”

his gaze flickered toward the kitchen, then back to you, and for a second, he seemed to hesitate—like he wasn’t used to people offering him things without expecting anything in return.

but then he exhaled, something in his expression softening. “thank you,” he said, voice quieter than before. “that’s really kind of you.”

you turned, moving to the kitchen, carefully packing some of the extra food into a small container. you took your time, making sure everything was just right, adding an extra garnish on top, a touch of warmth to the simple meal. when you returned, you held it out to him with a smile.

as nanami reached out to take it, his fingers brushed lightly against yours. it was brief—just a passing touch—but it sent a faint jolt through you, something small yet noticeable.

he must have felt it too, because he stilled for a moment, his fingers curling around the container more carefully than necessary. when he looked up at you again, there was a slight, almost imperceptible blush dusting his cheeks.

“i really appreciate all of this,” he said, his voice quieter, more deliberate. “you’ve made these long days a little easier.”

his words settled over you like a soft weight, gentle but lingering.

you felt warmth bloom in your chest, spreading slowly, wrapping around your ribs. your heart skipped a beat, though you weren’t sure why. maybe because his words were the best compliment you ever received, but who knows.

“it’s nothing,” you said, shaking your head slightly, though your voice was softer now. “i’m glad i can make a difference, even if it’s just through food.”

nanami studied you for a moment, something unreadable flickering in his gaze.

then, slowly, he smiled—not one of those small, reserved smiles he usually gave, but something just a little fuller. just a little more real.

the moment lingered between you, stretching just a second longer than usual, before he finally stepped back.

“good night.” he said, voice low but warm.

and as he left, container in hand, you found yourself standing there for a little while longer, your fingers still tingling from where they had touched his.

—

a few nights later, nanami arrived at the restaurant a little later than usual.

it was nearing closing time, and you were already halfway through wiping down the counters, humming softly to yourself as you went through the motions of closing up for the night. you hadn’t expected anyone else to come in, but the familiar chime of the doorbell made you glance up.

there he was.

nanami stood in the doorway, looking as put-together as ever, but there was something heavier in his posture tonight. the way he rolled his shoulders slightly, the subtle way he exhaled as he stepped inside—it told you enough. it had been a long day.

“cutting it close tonight,” you teased, setting your cloth aside as you turned to face him.

nanami glanced at the clock, then back at you, offering a small sigh. “i almost didn’t make it,” he admitted, loosening his tie slightly. “but i didn’t want to miss a meal.”

your heart did an unexpected little flip.

“well,” you said, already moving toward the kitchen, “since you made the effort to come, i’ll make sure it’s worth it.”

he settled into his usual seat at the counter, watching as you moved with practiced ease. by now, this had become something of a routine, something comfortable.

after a moment, nanami broke the quiet.

“you always stay so late,” he noted, resting an elbow on the counter.

“comes with the job,” you replied. “besides, i don’t mind. especially when i have good company.”

you said it casually, but when you glanced up, you caught the slightest change in his expression—the faintest shift in his gaze, the way his fingers flexed slightly where they rested on the counter. he looked away, and for just a second, you swore you saw a hint of color on his ears.

you smiled to yourself as you reached for ingredients, deciding to make something a little different tonight—something simple but rich in flavor, something you thought he might like.

“you seem a little more tired than usual,” you commented as you worked, slicing through fresh vegetables with steady hands.

nanami let out a quiet sigh. “long day.”

“want to talk about it?”

he glanced at you, then shook his head lightly. “not much to say.”

you nodded in understanding, not pushing him for more. instead, you focused on cooking, the steady sounds of chopping and sizzling filling the comfortable quiet between you. although, it always made you wonder, what did nanami do for a living that had him so exhausted all the time. his pristine suit and printed tie only gave a vague impression of him being an office executive maybe, but you weren’t sure if that was it.

after a while, you placed the finished dish in front of him.

nanami looked at it, then at you.

“this is new,” he noted.

“thought you might like it,” you admitted, leaning against the counter with a small smile. “figured you could use something a little special tonight.”

he picked up his chopsticks and took a bite. the moment the flavors settled on his tongue, he paused, his expression flickering with something like surprise.

you leaned forward slightly. “so?”

he exhaled, setting his chopsticks down for just a moment. “this is…” he hesitated, then gave a small, genuine nod. “incredible.”

the way he said it—so simple, so sincere—made warmth bloom in your chest.

“you really think so?” you asked, unable to hide the pleased grin on your face.

nanami nodded. “i don’t say things i don’t mean.”

you watched as he continued eating, a small, content smile tugging at your lips. there was something about watching him like this—watching the tension slowly ease from his shoulders, the way his posture relaxed ever so slightly as he enjoyed the meal—that made you feel… happy.

after a moment, an idea sparked in your mind.

“want to try something fun?” you asked.

nanami raised an eyebrow. “define ‘fun.’”

you laughed, grabbing an extra set of chopsticks and holding them up. “cooking together,” you explained. “i mean, since you’re always so interested in how i do things, why not give it a try?”

he hesitated, glancing toward the kitchen, then back at you. “i’m not much of a cook.”

“all the more reason to learn,” you said with a playful shrug. “come on, it’ll be easy. i promise i won’t let you mess it up too badly.”

for a moment, he seemed to weigh his options. then, with a sigh, he rolled up his sleeves and stood.

“fine,” he muttered, giving you a look that was equal parts exasperation and amusement. “but if this turns into a disaster, you’re taking full responsibility.”

“deal,” you grinned, already pulling out fresh ingredients.

as you guided him through the steps, showing him how to hold the knife properly, how to tell when the broth was just right, you couldn’t help but notice the way he concentrated so seriously. even when he fumbled slightly—cutting something unevenly, hesitating for a moment too long before stirring—he was so meticulous about getting things right.

“you really take everything seriously, huh?” you teased, nudging him lightly.

“if i’m going to do something, i prefer to do it properly,” he replied, frowning slightly at the vegetables he was chopping.

you laughed, watching as he carefully plated the dish he had helped prepare. it was a little clumsy, a little uneven, but it was his.

“not bad,” you said, tilting your head in approval. “you might just have a talent for this, nanami.”

he scoffed, shaking his head. “don’t get ahead of yourself.”

but when you took a bite of what he made, humming in satisfaction, you swore you saw a flicker of quiet pride in his expression. a sight you quickly stored into your precious memories.

—

when people tried your food and you saw the way their curious expression instantly changed into a pleased one, eyes closing a little, delighted hums filling the air as they savoured— that was the moment you felt that it was worth it.

it happened so naturally that neither of you had time to think about it.

you had just finished plating a small dish—something simple, something warm—and nanami, standing beside you in the quiet of the empty restaurant, watched as you took a bite to taste.

“needs a little more seasoning,” you mused, tapping your chin in thought.

nanami chuckled softly, arms crossed. “it smells good regardless.”

“here,” you said before you even processed what you were doing. you picked up a small piece of food with your chopsticks, turning toward him without hesitation. “try it.”

he blinked.

for a brief moment, nanami looked at you like he wasn’t sure he had heard you correctly. his lips parted slightly, his gaze flickering from your face to the chopsticks in your hand, then back again.

“what?”

“just try it,” you said, your tone light, teasing. “you trust me, don’t you?”

there was something about the way you said it—soft, just a little playful—that made nanami exhale, his shoulders shifting like he was trying to shake off a strange, unfamiliar feeling.

still, he leaned in.

your breath hitched slightly. you hadn’t thought much about what you were doing before, but now, with him this close—close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, close enough that you could see the faintest crease of exhaustion at the corners of his eyes—you suddenly became hyperaware of everything.

the way his lips parted just slightly. the way his breath fanned lightly against your fingers as you carefully placed the bite of food into his mouth. the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, slow, deliberate.

his gaze didn’t leave yours.

you hadn’t realized how still the room had become until now—how thick the air suddenly felt, charged with something unspoken.

“well?” you asked, voice quieter than before.

nanami exhaled slowly, his eyes lingering on you for just a beat too long before he finally looked away.

“it’s good,” he murmured.

you swallowed, feeling something warm bloom in your chest, something dizzying.

“see?” you teased, but your voice was softer now, almost breathless. “told you you’d like it.”

nanami didn’t answer right away. instead, he studied you for a moment, his gaze unreadable, sharp yet gentle all at once. the way he looked at you made your stomach flip—like he was seeing you in a way he hadn’t before, like he was memorizing every detail.

his tongue flicked out to swipe over his bottom lip, catching a stray bit of sauce, and you swore the room suddenly felt ten degrees warmer.

“you always do this,” he said after a moment, his voice lower than before.

“do what?” you asked, trying to sound playful, but it came out softer than you intended.

“put so much care into everything,” he murmured. “even something as small as this.”

his words sent a shiver down your spine, though you weren’t sure why. maybe it was the way he said it, like it meant something more. like it wasn’t just about the food.

his gaze dipped to your lips for the briefest second.

you felt your breath catch, your grip tightening just slightly around the chopsticks in your hand.

nanami was close—too close. you were used to being near him, used to leaning over the counter to hand him dishes, used to standing side by side while he watched you cook. but this was different. this was heavier, charged with something that made your pulse quicken.

for a second, you wondered if he would close the space between you. if you wanted him to.

but then, nanami straightened just slightly, exhaling through his nose like he was grounding himself.

“thank you,” he said finally, voice a little steadier now, but his eyes still held that warmth, that something lingering beneath the surface.

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, smiling despite the way your heart was still racing.

“anytime.” you murmured.

but you both knew this—whatever this was—wasn’t just about food.

—

the evening had wound down, the last of the dishes stacked neatly, the gentle clinking of glassware filling the quiet. the restaurant was bathed in the soft glow of overhead lights, the warmth of the space wrapping around you like a blanket. you wiped your hands on the dish towel, your body feeling pleasantly tired from a long day of cooking, but there was something else in the air—something that made your pulse flutter, a quiet tension you hadn’t noticed building between you and nanami until now.

after the kitchen had quieted down and the last plates were cleaned, you found yourself standing by the counter, leaning against it with a soft sigh of contentment. the dim light from the overhead bulbs cast a warm glow over the space, and the peaceful silence of the restaurant after hours felt comforting. the air was thick with the remnants of laughter and conversation, both of you savoring the aftermath of a meal well-prepared and well-enjoyed.

you glanced over at nanami, who was standing just a little too close to you. his hands were resting casually on the edge of the counter, but there was a softness to the way he was looking at you—something that wasn’t just about the food anymore. the weight of his gaze, the way he took you in with a quiet intensity, made your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t quite describe.

“thank you for all your help tonight,” you said softly, breaking the silence, your voice low but warm, the softest hint of a smile on your lips as you wiped your hands on a towel.

nanami didn’t look away, his eyes following every movement, lingering on your face as though he was searching for something, as if you were the only thing in the room. “no, thank you,” he replied, voice even lower now, a bit more intense. “I really enjoy spending time with you.”

the words lingered in the space between you, the weight of them pulling you both into a moment that felt a little too close, a little too intimate for the setting. his eyes flickered down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, and you felt the air thicken between you, as if something unspoken was finally bubbling to the surface.

your pulse quickened, an unfamiliar heat blossoming in your chest, and before you could even think about what was happening, nanami took a small step forward. his hand, large and warm, cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing over your skin in the most tender of touches.

“nanami—” you whispered, but your words were cut off by the feeling of his lips pressing against yours.

it was a kiss that caught you off guard. soft, tentative at first, like he was asking for permission, testing the waters. you froze for a moment, caught in the quiet tenderness of it. but then, slowly, as your lips parted and you found yourself leaning into him, the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more hungry.

his free hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and you could feel the heat of his body, the quiet strength of him against you. your hands found their way to his chest, the rhythm of your heart now mirroring the thrum of electricity that ran between you.

the kiss was full of everything you’d been holding back, all the moments and glances and touches that had lingered too long, all the conversations that felt too intimate for just two people sharing a meal. it was all there, flooding the space between you both in the soft heat of his kiss.

when you finally pulled away, breathless, your chest rising and falling with the intensity of the kiss, you were met with nanami’s flushed face. his eyes were darker now, clouded with something more, something that spoke of desire and longing.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he admitted, his voice rougher than usual, barely above a whisper.

the words sent a thrill through you, and you couldn’t help but smile, still dizzy from the heat of him. “me too,” you confessed, your voice small, your heart racing with the realization that this was more than just a passing attraction.

nanami’s thumb brushed your cheek gently, a soft, tender motion that contrasted with the fire burning between you. his gaze softened as he leaned in again, forehead resting against yours for just a moment. “so… how about a proper date next time?”

you chuckled softly, the tension still hanging in the air, but now with the lightness of anticipation. “I’d like that,” you breathed out, your lips still tingling from the kiss, your heart still pounding in your chest.

as nanami pulled away slightly, his hand still lingering on your neck, his eyes softened, but the intensity was still there, still simmering beneath the surface. “good,” he murmured, the word carrying more weight than you could have imagined.

the moment stretched between you both, a shared understanding passing silently, and you realized that this was only the beginning. your relationship, born out of the shared simplicity of a meal, had blossomed into something deeper, more meaningful, and the connection between you both was undeniable.

as nanami took a small step back, the space between you still felt charged, the air around you thick with everything you hadn’t said yet, everything you both knew was coming. you realized then that this was more than just a kiss. it was the beginning of something else—something that was just as deep and satisfying as the meals you had shared, but infinitely more meaningful.

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junimatcha · 1 month ago

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𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘, 𝐌𝐑. 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 | eren jaeger x black fem!reader

V. call me when you get this

✧ summary! — one night. that’s all eren needs to show you how he really feels. just one night. but how well do his feelings hold up in the light of day?

✧ warnings! — adultery, age gap (reader is 29 and eren is 40), some jean x reader, fluff, catastrophically down bad!eren, ballet (🩰), lots of POV switching, mentions of pregnancy and miscarriage, angst (lmk if i missed anything, i haven’t slept in days)

✧ author’s note! — guyssss 🙈🙈 don’t hate me for taking eons to update this :( i had to make it perfect ok! anyhow i had a blast writing this (no matter how long it took) and i hope y’all love it too 💋 as always ilysm your support means the world 🙈💋🩷🫂

✧ word count — 9.1k (omg srry)

15 SEPTEMBER, TWO MONTHS BEFORE THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION

“there’s a lot riding on georgia.” mikasa said. the plane food that she would stuff down her throat to keep her mind off the height muffled her tone, so eren couldn’t tell if his wife was about vent to him or give him a lecture. “you’re falling behind with women, so i wish you could have come. but it’s okay. i’ll think of something.”

“talk about my policies that help women.” eren suggested, although he was hardly the utmost focused at the moment.

a stack of black and white stationery splayed across his office desk. a newspaper, and on the cover of it was your face, and despite how much pleasure this would usually bring him, it wasn’t just your face. jean kirschtein’s face just had to be there as well. sitting across from you at one of those outdoor cafe tables, caressing your cheek with the palm of his hand over a shared milkshake. he looked totally and utterly in love with you, and it was sickening to witness.

eren recalled the memory of your pillow soft lips pushing against his, allowing him entry, forming whimpers around his name. was jean capable of such a thing? was he worthy? at that, eren briefly wondered if he himself were even worthy.

KIRSCHTEIN AND (L/N) COZY UP OFF SET!

even the title irked him to a T. despite the photo having been taken during the height of your press tour, it still made eren woozy with envy. how could you be everywhere but where he wanted? in every paper, every movie, every magazine, every show. every corner of his mind. every night, the star of every dream. everywhere but where he needed you most.

eren regained his voice after a moment. “and if that doesn’t work, tell ‘em you make a mean peach cobbler.”

“my husband, always the strategist.” mikasa droned through what was undoubtedly a glass of champagne. “okay, the plane’s taking off. call you when i land.”

with the sound of the dial tone, eren was finally able to think in peace. he could take a thick swig of his morning orange juice while silently cursing the newspaper company (seriously, were newspapers even supposed to report on that shit? what happened to current events?) and the paperboy who dropped it at his door.

eren picked up his glass and took another swig of orange encouragement before jotting your number into the keypad.

15 SEPTEMBER, TWO MONTHS BEFORE THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION

“miss, miss. excuse me, miss.” a sharp knocking on your open bathroom door pierced through the sound of music blaring in your ears. it was your housekeeper, katya, looking awfully worried at the amount of water and bubbles your body was submerged in. you assured her with a carefree smile as you removed your headphones. “the phones,” katya pointed to the house phone stationed in her other hand, chirruping madly. “they ring. would you like to answer?”

you rose from the soft field of bubbles and stretched your arm, which was covered in suds, out for the phone. before you could thank katya, she scurried out of the room, gingerly closing the door behind her.

“hello,” you said upon answering.

“hey, stranger.” the voice on the other end answered in what one could only describe as cheerful anxiety. despite the outward, shiny finishing of enthusiasm, you heard the sharp, broken inhale he took before speaking. as you sat up in the water, allowing a heap of suds to slide down your shoulders, you began to ponder over whatever it was he could be so nervous about.

“oh, hi jean. how’s it going?”

“uh, y’know, pretty good.” it might have been hallucination from the steam, but part of you swore you heard him gulp. “i didn’t expect you to actually pick up.”

with a slippery hand, you adjusted the claw clip that was beginning to lose its grip on your hair. “always time for my favorite co-star. what’s up?”

“i was, um,” he made a noise that seemed to be a cross between an exhale and a… sneeze? cough? heimlich maneuver? “wondering if you wanted to do something next saturday.”

“do something?”

“y’know, like a hang-out. y’know, two friends hanging. oh, that sounded weird. uh—”

“are you asking me on a date?” a date. a date? you lessened the intensity of the faucet’s outpour with polished, suddy toes before you let yourself think.

it was weird. it was weird, wasn’t it? going out on a date with your co-worker. dating your coworker. society (and the human resources department) usually discouraged that kind of thing. they also discouraged casual sex with said coworkers. where was your morality then?

well, not in hollywood, they don’t. sex appeal was about one-third of what kept everything up and running. when you first gave in and told hange you were sleeping with jean, you remember them lifting you off the ground whilst spinning in circles, screaming, “the publicity” over and over again. everything after that was blurry.

after a millenium of thinking, jean spoke again. “yeah,” you could hear the slightest tinge of his usual confidence returning. “yeah, is that weird?”

“no. not at all.” if you thought about it for too long, it absolutely was. in all your time of fornicating behind closed doors, you had went on exactly zero dates.

sure, you would sneak into his trailer to see how many times you could blow him before it was time to shoot the next scene. and maybe the way he kissed you during some takes felt a little too real. but could that work forever? could that passion translate into romance?

a date. where would we go? what would i wear? what would he say? the he you were referring to was a green-eyed politician whose cologne you could still smell on your neck, even while submerged in soapy water.

eren won’t care, you thought. it bruised your ego as it crossed your mind. surely he’d have too much too much on his plate to even notice something so silly. debates, primaries, dinners. a gulp formed in your throat. his wife. you sunk yourself deeper within the water. ah, yes, his wife. that bruised something deeper than your ego.

“i’d, uh, i’d love to, jean.”

***

“don’t just sit there, hange. help me pick out a dress.”

“what day is it? friday? you’ve got a week to pick something out.”

“yeah, only a week. so i’m basically two weeks behind.” your wrists had nearly gone limp rifling through what felt like a million imperfect dresses. “could i have that versace ordered in time?”

“i don’t know why you worry so much.” hange moaned, removing themselves from your mattress with agonizing patience. “frenchie’s not gonna care if you show up wrapped in a dish rag.”

“could you not call him frenchie?” your irritation grew as you tripped over a pair of manolos. “he’s not a dog.”

“well he’s french, isn’t he?”

you turned around clutching a colorful, floral dress to your chest. hange leaned against the closet’s door frame, toeing the line between bored and amused. “‘kay, what do you think of this?”

they dramatically pushed their glasses past their hairline, and squinted as if they were in pain. “well not that. you’ll give him a seizure.”

you rolled your eyes. “don’t worry.” a sardonic chuckle fell from your lips as you pulled five dresses from the rack and made your way into your room. “we’ve got my whole closet to go through.” the hangers and fabric fell to your bed with a cacophony of clangs and thumps.

“not tonight.” hange sat down on the bed, popping open a few buttons on their shirt. “got a hot date.”

although your first instinct was to scoff, you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips as you caught hange blushing. “with who? one of the girls from your magazines?”

the words barely left your mouth before their calloused fingertips pinched the skin of your hip. a feverish blush crawled down their neck. “with a girl, a nice one. she’s a supermodel, so the magazine thing is probably true.” hange rubbed their knuckles over the bridge of their nose, something they only did when wracked with nerves. “total knockout too. you’ve probably met her.”

you hummed, admiring the way your friend fawned over their crush. “well, i look forward to formally meeting her. at least before the wedding.”

hange pinched you again, harder this time, eliciting a yelp. “you’re so dramatic. pass me a dress.”

you shuffled through the stack before passing them a little black number with bandage-like straps. “i mean, you probably are gonna sleep with him, but don’t make it so obvious.”

“oh, c’mon, hange. it’s a pretty dress!”

“yeah, if you want him to touch your private parts.”

you laid the dress across the footboard, mentally labeling it as the no pile. “mind if i order chinese?”

“you’re insatiable.” you murmured, gesturing toward the house phone next to your bed.

“you love me.”

hange made their way over, haphazardly fiddling with the buttons as they tried to recall the number to wok-a-holic.

“you have one unheard message.” the automated woman inside your telephone announced to the room. “would you like to hear it?”

hange quickly and clumsily pulled their glasses over their face “shit, i didn’t mean to do—”

“uh, hi. i know i shouldn’t be doing this, but i don’t know.”

hearing his voice was like a baptism—only the most sinful kind. with every word, you could feel him over you, cupping his big hand over the back of your head. staring at you in that way that he did—past your eyes and directly into your soul—before submerging you in the water that was ice cold, yet burning you alive with sin. every movement of his lips was corruption.

your heart pumped with pure adrenaline as you scrambled to get across your king sized bed. “what the fuck, hange. what’d you press?”

“i thought i hit the seven!”

“just been wantin’ to hear your voice,”

“what the fuck,” you noticed the slur in his voice, but couldn’t quite make out if he was tipsy or just tired.

hange looked genuinely puzzled more than anything. “who is that?” they whispered, as if eren could hear the two of you.

“i-i don’t know, it’s just some guy that-that i met at the...” you cut yourself off with a gulp. you prayed hange was oblivious to the fresh tears of shock springing in your eyes, or the way you kept doubling over like you were gonna puke any moment.

“i thought i was doin’ fine, then one of your movies came on today, and well…you can guess how that went.”

at that, you lunged for the phone. because although you could not guess how that went, you’d bet your top dollar that he was either going to tell you, or say something else just as awfully incriminating.

“wait, not so fast. i wanna hear the rest.” hange tsked, encircling their arms around your abdomen and directing you away from the phone. you inwardly cursed their abhorrent noseyness and stellar upper body strength.

“look, i know this is way outta line, and i probably shouldn’t even be asking, but…mikasa’s left for georgia this morning,”

hange scrunched up their face in bemusement. “mikasa?” then you watched realization contort that same bemusement into shock, and then horror. and then shock again, then a weird mixture of the two.

“and…i figured that’d give us the opportunity to talk things out, or maybe not. it’s completely up to you.”

“shit.” you collapsed back into your mattress, defeated and shameful.

“anyway, i don’t wanna take up any more of your time. please just…call me when you get this.”

there was a dial tone akin to the sound of a judge’s gavel. as hange turned to face you, you wondered what their verdict would be.

“you’re fucking him?”

“no!”

“jesus christ.” they uttered beneath their breath. “you couldn’t sleep with, like, a soccer player. or-or-or one of those set-dec guys that are always drooling over you. noooo. you had to sleep with the governor of california.”

“you’re insane.” you nearly screamed. the shame you felt was beginning to border on frustration, even though you had no room to be frustrated with anyone but yourself.

“i’m insane? you’re sleeping with an elected official, and i’m insane?”

“yeah, funny how that works. and we are not sleeping together.”

hange made a face indicative of needing more information.

you dug your acrylic nails into your palms. “i don’t know. h-he likes me.”

“and you like him, too?”

the way you habitually chewed on your lip and crossed your ankles back and forth told them everything they needed to know.

your manager and best friend let a deep sigh rumble through their chest, then joined you on the bed. “this is so fucked. we’re so fucked.”

suddenly, you felt like a twenty year old girl again. life steering out of your control. passion with nowhere to pour it. a disappointment. a failure. a mockery of everything everyone had worked for. “i know. i’m sorry. please don’t hate me.”

they sat upright, immediately wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “hey, don’t cry.”

“‘m not crying.” you scoffed.

“you are.” hange brushed a thumb over your cheek, and it came back wet. “and i don’t hate you. but i’m definitely gonna need a raise.”

you sniffed. “fair.”

***

eren got your call at around a quarter til midnight. just when he was beginning to think you’d rejected him, and had poured his first glass of scotch for the night.

he had gotten through the day mostly okay. he ate lunch without thinking of you. he had almost succeeded going for a run without thinking of you, but your latest GQ campaign was plastered on a billboard big enough for someone in alaska to see. he had a phone call with levi where all he did was think of you, and how much he’d rather have his head underneath your skirt than hear another word of campaign talk. he tried not to think of you in the shower, but you can guess how well that went.

and now he was in bed thinking of you. because he had left that message, what was it, almost twelve hours ago? and not only had you left him with radio silence, but now a cosmetics commercial of yours was on and eren wondered if this was what it felt like to go mad.

he could understand if you wanted to be left alone, but were you aware of how hard it was when you were everywhere?

then you called, and he nearly broke his hand picking up the phone.

“you’ve got some nerve leaving a message on my answering machine.”

his heart exploded with ecstasy. he didn’t care that you sounded angry enough to scare off a pack of hyenas. you were here, and you were talking to him. “good evening to you, too, (y/n).” he relaxed in his sheets.

“don’t try to butter me up, eren. this is serious!”

oh, it probably was really serious, but he couldn’t bring himself to care when you said his name like that. with so much passion and fury. it invigorated him. “mmm, tell me about it.”

“my manager found out.” just as your voice dropped just beneath a whisper, so did the beating of eren’s heart. “and thank god they’re cool about it, or we’d be all over tmz by now.”

eren sighed with relief and revelation. what were you doing to him? though, it really wasn’t your fault. he was the elected official. he was the married man. he knew it was wrong to want you as much as he did, yet he did anyway. regardless of his title or his wife, or his campaign.

and you. the way you walked, the way you talked. the way your voice wrapped around his name when you addressed him as mr. governor. or even better: eren. you were so effortlessly enchanting. it was easy for him to forget that he couldn’t have you the way he needed.

“what were you thinking, eren?”

“i’m sorry, i just…” he combed a hand through his still damp hair. “i-i-i missed you.”

“i’m not that stupid,” you scoffed, as if you could just tell he was lying. but, really, he wasn’t. it was more of a partial truth than anything. “so be honest.”

involuntarily, the image of you and jean in the newspaper made itself present in his mind, stirring up fresh agony in his gut. jean shouldn’t have been allowed to look at you like that. eren knew this for certain, as he himself wasn’t even allowed to look at you like that.

“i guess…” eren brushed his fingers over his adam’s apple, wondering if he could punch the words out of his mouth. “i’malittlejealous.”

“you’re what?”

“i’m… jealous.” eren uttered the word as if it were a slur. it felt like one. it tasted like one as he spoke it, which was ironic, considering the emotion had been eating him alive for long enough.

eren couldn’t recall a time in his life where he wanted for something that someone else had. connections? he had them. money? more than he could ever need. women? they flocked to him in groves. a beautiful (albeit distant) wife, a promising political career, and a cushy estate to fall back on if things didn’t go as expected.

so why did the sight of jean kirschstein looking at you like you were his make his blood froth so ferociously?

“jealous? jealous of wh—” you cut yourself off again. you lowered your voice to a serious and sort of patronizing tone. like you were about to scold a kindergartener. “is this about jean?”

god, he even hated the way you said his name. “maybe.”

at that, you released a boisterous laugh that seemed to go on for an unnecessarily long amount of time. “sorry for the giggles, but this is just too funny.” your words were folded between labored, highly amused breaths. “how’s your wife doing, by the way?”

“haha, very funny.” eren drawled. his eyes drifted to the photo of he and mikasa that sat on his nightstand.

“glad you agree with me.”

eren shifted in his bed, listening to your breathing soften on the other end. it almost calmed him. “it’s just…” his throat tightened as though admitting his feelings would cause some sort of allergic reaction. “i hate that he gets to be with you.”

he could hear you sucking in a sharp breath. “eren, y—”

“i want it to be me. i want to kiss you again. i wanna be able to touch you the way he does.” the words came out in a sort of vomit-like state. moreso emotions that had been taking up space in his psyche than coherent sentences.

“y-you wanna kiss me again?” the way the question left your mouth—so delicate, breathless, almost scared. like you couldn’t believe such a thing was possible. soft, shaky exhales followed. eren could picture the way your glossy lips would’ve been parted in surprise. he basked in the picture.

“‘course i do.” warmth covered his body like butter. spreading down his neck, the bareness of his chest, past the elastic of his lounge pants. recalling his time in the garden with you wasn’t helping. he brushed a shameful glance over the growing print in hopes of sating his lust. “it’s all i’ve been thinking about.”

on eren’s end, it sounded like you were shifting around in your bed. now that was something he really shouldn’t have been thinking about. he liked to imagine you were wearing some sort of slip. something with thin straps and lacy edges. something he could pull up and slide down if he so pleased.

“me too.” you purred. “i miss… the way you feel.” as another whisper of a breath exited your lips, he wondered if you felt the same way as he did. was there a hand between your legs too? trying to rub the away pain through the fabric of your pants? were you wet for him? he wanted to feel it. he needed to taste it even more.

eren closed his eyes, letting the image run over and over in his mind with a defeated, “fuck,” he really did feel a little defeated. his resolve could’ve been more firm. “what did i feel like, (y/n)?”

the words dropped from your lips in another soft exhale. “like you were mine.”

without a moment’s hesitation he declared, “i am.” because, truly, he was. from the moment he first saw you hanging off his wife’s arm, he was yours for the taking.

“i wish that were possible.”

“tomorrow night,” eren said. he had gained a little bit of his composure back, and sat up straighter in bed. the little black planner on his nightstand had practically levitated into his hand. he snatched the pen from the spiral where it lived and frantically jotted down three separate phone numbers. call at 9 AM, sharp, he scribbled below it in bold letters. “tomorrow night, i’m gonna take you somewhere.”

“you’re gonna what?”

“i’m taking you out. tomorrow night. be ready at 8:30.”

“eren, don’t be st—”

“un-unh. tomorrow.”

“that’s imp—”

“at 8:30.”

“fine,” you heaved a sigh so large that it almost certainly maximized its capacity in your lungs. eren didn’t need to have you standing in front of him to know you rolling your eyes in the most adorable—albeit petulant—manner. “where are you taking me?”

“‘s a surprise,” instinctively, his lips curled into a smug grin as he scrawled two more names and numbers in his planner. being the governor of a state surely had its advantages. “so don’t even worry about it.”

“well, i need to worry about it, eren. what am i gonna wear?”

“somethin’ pretty, like you always do.”

“hahaha, so cute, and not helpful at all. you’re gonna feel real stupid when i show up in my daisy dukes.”

“show up in those and stupid’s the last thing i’m gonna feel.” sure, he joked, but the mental image of you with daisy dukes hugging the curves of your hips made him so hard that he almost passed out.

your lips opened around a hearty laugh that threaded through your words. “fiiiiine, i‘ll be ready at eight-thirty. to go wherever the hell with you.”

“in the daisy dukes?”

“you’re pushing it.”

***

16 SEPTEMBER

“i cannot believe you asked me to help you with this.” hange droned, perched atop your bathroom counter while you meticulously drew subtle layers of lip gloss over your cupid’s bow. “and i agreed! god, woman, the things i do for you.”

too focused on your reflection, you sighed, smacking your lips before relaxing them completely, spreading them wide in a bright smile, and then pouting them for good measure. that’s good, you decided, you could get anything you wanted with that pout. “well, how can i leave the house without you seeing me first?” you inwardly debated on whether or not to go over your eyelashes again before remembering it was already nearing eight fifteen. “if i’m looking crazy, i need you to let me know.”

“aren’t you going out with a married presidential candidate tonight?”

“uh yeah, why?”

“nothin’. just think the looking crazy ship has sailed. couple times, actually.”

you fought with the urge to grab the nearest lipstick and draw a retaliatory streak somewhere over hange’s face, but they weren’t wrong. if you were less mature, you’d resent them that.

“seriously, though. how do i look?”

“beautiful, you know that.” hange rolled their eyes, poking you in the rib cage. “kinda like marilyn monroe.”

“not funny, hange!”

“what? she was a babe.”

“babe, schmabe.” you scurried into your closet and pulled out one pair of black, open-toed jeffrey campbell heels, a pair of classic louboutins, and held them up before hange. “which shoes?”

“those,” hange said, gesturing to the jeffrey campbell’s. “your toes are painted white, so it’ll make the white in your dress pop, kinda.”

“kinda? or am i gonna look like a floozy?”

“oh, just shut up and put the shoes on.”

“you’re the boss.”

as you took a few practice steps around the room to ensure you’d be able to walk comfortably, your eyes latched onto something outside your window. a shiny, black limo was parked just out in front of your house, its windows tinted so thoroughly that you weren’t even sure there was someone in it. “holy,” you breathed. you could feel your heart pick up speed in your chest. “is that…”

hange was behind you in an instant, an incredulous stream of air leaving their mouth in the form of a scoff. “married and punctual. how about it,”

“hange!” as much as you wanted to storm away, you couldn’t risk it in your dress, so you turned on your heels and made your way downstairs as carefully as you could.

“what? i’m not knocking it, (y/n).” they said, hot on your tail until you both stopped at the hallway mirror near your foyer. “in fact, after you sleep with him, i want all the details.”

“i’m not gonna sleep with him.” you stated, so definitively that you almost believed yourself. though truthfully, you weren’t all that certain. sure, you had been fantasizing about it since the moment you first saw him in person, but you didn’t have to act on it. at least not so soon. he hadn’t even bought you dinner yet!

and besides that, sleeping with eren would make all of this so much more real than it already was. it would officially become an affair. or was it one already? could late night phone calls and a few stolen kisses really be enough to constitute a whole affair?

“yeah, right, and i’m not gonna eat the last twinkie from the box in your pantry.” hange quipped, dramatically winking and tilting their head in your direction to get their joke across.

as stupid as it was, you laughed despite yourself. whilst grabbing your clutch off the side table in the hallway, a little part of you began to wish this date was just like all the other events you attended—hange accompanying you, sticking to your arm and telling you all the right things to say the entire time. the skin of your palms grew softer with a barely there sheen of perspiration. were you nervous?

“don’t get choked up now.” said hange, spritzing your hair with a vanilla scented mist you didn’t even notice them grab on the way out of your room. “just think about how much fun we’re gonna have gossiping about this later.”

“yeah, yeah.” the clock on your hallway table read eight twenty-eight in a blaring, crimson red. “just trash the twinkie box on your way out.”

***

“thank you” is the first thing eren hears upon his driver, wattson lending you an arm to help you out of the car. you flashed him a darling smile as you smoothed out the fabric of your dress, and eren watched him blush stumble over his words trying to think up a response. that’s my girl.

the los angeles central theatre was usually bustling with people about this time, coming and going to and fro different shows. however, thanks to a few connections and phone calls made by eren, he was able to rent the place out for the entire night.

your hair jumped around your face in thick, shiny ringlets. bounce, bounce, bounce with every step towards him. oh shit, you were walking his way. “hi,” the word left your mouth in a wispy breath. you adjusted the bodice of your dress, although there seemed to be nothing wrong with it to begin with. it was an elaborate mugler piece that involved the bodice diverging into two sides just above your naval. what covered your chest was a white fabric that sat snug at the back of your neck.

of course, you looked heavenly. literally as though some god had parted the clouds and rained you down onto earth. what good deed had eren done in his past life to deserve you? “hey there, pretty lady.” you giggled and blushed, hiding your face behind a manicured hand and murmuring something like along the lines of, oh, stop it.

“come here, let me look at you.” eren purred, even though he had already looked at you plenty. there were still things he hadn’t seen yet! like the pretty color painted on your lips, the diamonds hanging from your ears, the way your dress was split so high that a glimpse of your thigh peeked out at him between the fabric. truthfully, he felt like a victorian-era man seeing an ankle for the first time.

you slipped your hand into his and pulled him toward the entrance. “you’ll have all night to look at me.” you said, pulling at his arm with a smile he just couldn’t say no to. “c’mon, eren. wanna see what it was that was sooo special it had to be a surprise.”

“well, at least let me hold the door!” eren made a rush for the entrance just as your hand brushed against it.

“whatever gets you in here faster.” you said, so smug at having gotten your way.

“so, you really rented out the entire theatre?” you asked, still beaming as he led you past the empty concessions stand. he listened as your heels clicked against the fancy flooring, the sound ricocheting off the walls of his mind like a metronome. “all for me?”

eren looked over at you and tried not to pay attention to the way your breasts jumped just ever so slightly with the speed of your feet. a gulp passed through his throat. “who else?”

your gaze flitted over to him in an instant, glossy lips turning up in a sly smirk. “you are so cheesy, y’know,” however, if the way you tightened your grip on his hand told him anything, it was that you didn’t mind at all.

“have you been here before?” eren inferred, judging by the eager way your eyes crawled over every bit of embellishment and flooring in their line of sight.

your pace slowed as the gears in your brain sped up, presumably in memory. you tapped at your chin with a busy finger. “one time,” your face contorted as you shuffled through your mind for more. “back when i first moved out here. but the ticket was so expensive, i could only afford the one show.” eren fixed his lips to wrap around the words, what show was it? but you had beat him to the punch by a fraction of a breath. “much ado about nothing, by the way.”

you chuckled as though you seemed to remember something else, but cleared it from your head with a tiny shake. “that was, what? seven, eight years ago?” eren takes a moment and tries to imagine you at twenty-two years old. before you were famous. a young, recently graduated harvard student who had all but disregarded her degree in favor of acting?

though the idea sounded crazy on the surface, eren couldn’t help but notice the similarity between you and himself. there were moments where he would ponder the fantasy of throwing away his political career and chasing you into the sunset. just tiny, fleeting moments. like this one now. as you two were reaching an expansive staircase with marble railing and ornate carpeting, he couldn’t help but notice the gentle sway of your hips as you ascended ahead of him. or the way you peeked back over your shoulder to throw him a smile. yeah, he couldn’t quite say he would mind risking his career for that smile.

the two of you reached the top of the stairs and seemed to halt your gait entirely. “thank you for bringing me here.” you turned to him and said. “not sure how you swung it in twenty-four hours, but thank you. ”

don’t you know, eren wanted to say, i would do anything for you. the thought was so viscerally, painstakingly honest that he did not even have the courage to breathe the sentence.

you filled the silence with an unfortunate string of words. “y’know, i would kiss you if it didn’t risk ruining my lip liner.” unfortunate for eren, because—believe it or not—he had not even thought about kissing you since you arrived at his side. mostly because you looked almost too beautiful to touch.

your lips were puckered slightly, as if you wanted him to kiss you anyway. he wished you would stop looking up at him like that—with your batted lashes and shy little smirk—, or else he’d forget himself and do more than kiss you.

the column of your neck craned higher, just in time for him to tilt downward, toward the direction of your cheek. the way you sucked in one swift breath as his lips came in contact with your skin made the touch that much more heavenly. radiating off your neck was a delicate vanilla flavor so enticing that his mouth began to water as if he were a wild animal being baited by its favorite meal.

the kiss only lasted a second, though. he still had enough self-restraint to not drool on your cheek. he readjusted his vertical and swallowed the saliva that had gathered under his tongue. “how was that?”

your head lolled to the side as you hid a giggle behind the palm of your hand. “good,” eren felt himself pinned still by the bashful gaze you threw him. “perfect.” you whispered.

he hardly had a moment to appreciate how cute and dazed you were before he realized the time on his watch read nine-nineteen. “now, come on,” eren coaxed you in the direction of more stairs, and found himself pleasantly surprised at how pliable you were just after being kissed. “we don’t wanna miss the show.”

once seated in your section—a small, elevated wing located west of the main stage—you hardly spoke a word apart from, “do i look silly?” as you held the opera glasses up to your smiling face.

the first note of music sounded, and you were immediately entranced within the world of swan lake.

if eren was being honest, he had not paid much attention to the first act. too busy studying your reaction, waiting with bated breath to see if even the most minute expression on your face would indicate whether or not you liked it.

thankfully enough, when the queen announces that prince siegfried is to be betrothed to a wife of her choosing, eren could hear you suck in a sharp gasp before you disentangled your hand from within his in favor of clutching the imaginary pearls at your chest.

though, even after the first act ended, and it was clear that you couldn’t take your eyes off the graceful ballerinas prancing about the stage, eren could not take his eyes off of you. not even for a moment, even if he wanted to.

happening right before his eyes was a ballet performance that he paid an arm and a leg to see. but did that even matter when you were right here, too? with your eyes eagerly following the dancers as their lithe bodies moved in perfect unison, bottom lip being nursed between anxious teeth as the plot unfolded with each crescendo of the music, feet tapping rhythmically at the ground as it matched up with the notes of the piano.

eren could see swan lake again, a million more times if he wanted. but the look on your face when siegfried and odette dive into the lake, no longer inhibited by von rothbart’s curse, is something that not even he and his infinite money could buy.

the brightness of the lights crawled slowly to a minor dim, and eren saw that you were crying. a singular tear fallen from each of your eyes, appearing as though they were about to be joined by more. “they were willing to die for their love,” you sniffed, pinching the bridge of your nose and fanning your wet eyelashes. “that is so beautiful!”

with another sniff, you leaned over and planted a soft kiss on his face, right at the apex between his cheekbone and his jaw. softly, you murmured, “thank you,” just below the shell of his ear, and eren had never been so happy to make a woman cry in his life.

***

he wasn’t supposed to accompany you on the drive home, really. taking separate limos was more risk averse. being alone gave him time to think and get his thoughts under control, something that was made almost impossible by your presence.

eren should’ve taken a separate limo home. but, as the two of you were breaching the exit doors of the theatre, you asked, “would you wanna ride in the limo with me? it gets so dark in there, and i don’t want to be by myself.”

what on earth did you think you were playing at? if that were the case, then riding to the theatre should have scared you silly! and in any case, the limo had lights! these were all logical points that should have countered your argument and quelled your fears. however, just as eren was about to gently turn you down, you looked him in his eyes, tilted your head, and jutted your bottom lip out in a soft pout.

un-unh, eren thought, averting his gaze anywhere else, just to avoid looking you in the eyes. nope, not happening. can’t happen. he had been on the end of a million or so pouts in his life. if you thought he was gonna be that easy, you were sorely mistaken. taking separate cars was the smarter, safer choice. surely, you would understand that. “(y/n), i don’t—”

“please, eren?”

with a sigh, he heaved out a defeated, “fine,” before letting you pull him in the direction of the limo.

okay, so riding in the car with you wasn’t the worst thing in the world. it helped that neither of you had bothered to turn on the lights, so he could hardly see you. you were but a shadowy manifestation of everything he ever wanted. that’s all.

“these are where the lights usually are,” eren fumbled around at the car’s ceiling until his fingers found the dim backseat lights. “just in case you ever have to be in a limo without me again.”

the brightness of the lights crawled up until he could see you just enough to spot the smile etching its way onto your face, which was then followed by the pleasant melody of your laughter.

as his ears took in the sound, eren had begun to feel as though every choice in his life had been… pointless. here he was, listening to the most beautiful woman in the world laugh at a stupid joke he made. truly, what was the point of running for president when he had discovered his life’s purpose right here—making you laugh.

you scooted over to his side of the backseat, propping yourself up into a sitting position on your knees and resting your hands on his thigh for balance. a cacophony of emotions hit eren so fast it dizzied him. conflict, arousal, hunger, idiocy. mercilessly and all at once.

right ahead of him were your breasts, held snugly together between the pressure of your arms. they heaved ever so slightly with every minute breath whistling through your nose. it would be so easy for him to take the fabric covering one of your nipples and pull it back ever so slightly. expose it to the chilled air of the limo before pinching at the hardened bud with the pads of his fingers. how long could he last doing that before he was tilting his neck downward and wrapping his lips around the pretty thing?

no! no, no, no. his thoughts came to a screeching halt when he felt his jaw tightening and his mouth growing heavy with saliva. eren swallowed his guilt down and averted his gaze towards the other end of the backseat. y’know, where you should have been sitting.

that worked for all of two seconds before his eyes were trailing over the bewitching curve of your back’s arch. seriously, he was trying his very best to keep his gentlemanly upbringing at the forefront of his mind, but there was really only so much he could do. it wasn’t very gentlemanly of him to imagine splaying his hand across the small of your back as he slid the head of his cock into your waiting heat. or to visualize the pretty expressions your face would contort into once he had buried himself in, all the way to the hilt.

realistically, he could do it now if he wanted. with the limo’s partition rolled all the way up, no one would be the wiser. he would only have to muffle your sounds with a hand over your mouth.

eren had to dig his heels into the floor in order to quell the arousal gathering in his core. it didn’t help that you were still using his thigh for support. fingers occasionally dipping into the apex of the flesh whenever you leaned over a little too far.

all the while he was losing his mind, you were absentmindedly feigning an avid interest with the lights, oblivious to how much of a mess you made him. “wow, i’ll have to keep that in mind.” and just like that, you slid off of him and back into your seat, leaving him painfully aroused and a few degrees warmer.

eren was stunned into silence for a bit. god, you were just fucking perfect, weren’t you? off the top of his head, there wasn’t a flaw about you that he could come up with. except for the fact that he hadn’t put a ring on your finger. but that was really more on him than anything. he wanted to drown himself in his own idiocy.

“hey,” when your foot connected to his shin via a soft kick, he realized he had been silent for a number of minutes. “what’s got you all quiet, mr. governor?”

he ignored the subtle stir in his groin in favor of giving you a viable response. “just feel stupid, is all.”

“stupid?”

“for having married someone that wasn’t you.”

it was just his luck that he happened to meet the woman of his dreams only after he had been married to someone else for nearly six years. maybe it was his karma for being born into one of the most powerful political families in america. it surely seemed to outweigh all the extraordinary privileges he had been afforded in his life. at least ordinary people got to fall in love. “i should’ve just…waited. then it wouldn’t have to be like… this. i’m sorry, (y/n).”

you deserve better, he wanted to say, but surely you knew that. never mind that he was too selfish and boastful to say such a thing out loud.

“hey,” you called, reaching over to inch your fingers, one by one, into his palm until your hands were interlocked. eren then wondered if there was a way for him to freeze this moment in time, and live in it forever—with your beguiling vanilla scent perforating the last remnants of his common sense, nerves soothed under the gentle weight of your reassuring stare, your hand enveloped in his. “i’m not anywhere i don’t wanna be.”

eren felt his eyebrows soften, and his lungs release the breath they had been unwittingly holding. this was the sort of thing people saw just before they entered heaven. had he suffered a heart attack and died one of those times that you smiled at him?

when the car began slowing to a smooth stop, you dealt his hand a soft squeeze before pulling your own free to take your seatbelt off. “walk me up?”

“‘course.”

when he emerged from the car, his heart still thumped heavily and his skin still climbed to a fever pitch despite the catharsis of fresh summer air. he opened the door to your side of the backseat, and you sprung from the car with a light yelp. seemingly excited to be close to him again after so much time (two seconds) apart.

a choir of crickets harmonized somewhere in the woods, though eren couldn’t tell from where, given your home was surrounded by woods. maybe she likes to check the mail in her underwear, he concluded when he heard the billowing hoot of an owl.

you practically whispered, “well,” once the two of you concluded the trek up the stone path leading to your front door. “this is me.”

“i know.” eren purred, silently admiring the way you ascended the little stoop in front of your door and made yourself at eye level with him. speaking of eyes, yours were wide as saucers, even with the cheeky grin pinching your face. you stood with your hands crossed behind your back, heeled foot lightly tapping at the concrete. “i take it you had fun tonight?”

“i…” glancing up at the moon, you hummed and made a face as though you were greatly deliberating before reverting your eyes to him. then, you leaned in and whispered as if telling him a secret. “i had a blast.”

“that’s good to know.”

“why?” you began rocking back and forth on your feet. “wanna ask me out again?”

“you’re a smart girl. did you go to harvard or something?”

still rocking, you playfully shoved him whilst hiding a bashful chuckle behind your palm. you must have really liked him, because that wasn’t nearly as funny as your face conveyed.

your laughter ceased when eren steadied you with a pair of hands to your waist. without even noticing, his face had been inching closer and to yours until the tips of your noses were touching and he could taste your breath in his mouth. your lips hovered slightly over his, and when they actually brushed against each other for a fraction of a moment, simultaneous shivers wracked both of your bodies.

finally, your hand rested upon his cheek and you fed him a soft, juvenile sort of peck. like you were two teenagers, and he was dropping you back home after your first—no, third—date. eren kissed you back, surprisingly with no urge to deepen it. this is all i need. his hands on your waist, steadying himself more than you at this point, given that the softness of your lips intoxicated him in all the best ways.

the two of you kissed like you had all the time in the world to do it over and over again. like a naive pair of courting lovers and not grown adults engaging in an affair.

you were the first to pull away, fanning his lips with a shaky exhale as you did. eren kept his eyes shut for as long as he could, afraid that when he opened them he would be back in his house, in bed next to his wife, staring blankly at the ceiling above him.

only when you removed your hand from his face and exposed his skin to the naked air did he finally let his eyes flutter open. you were still there, thankfully. quietly backing towards your front door, but there nonetheless.

“i’ll call you tomorrow. how’s that?”

“i’ll answer. how’s that?” you turned toward the door, not even giving him the chance to answer your completely rhetorical question. when his bottom lip jutted forth in a soft pout, he concluded that he was already starting to miss looking at you.

on the upside of that, he was already excited to call you tomorrow and ask you on another date. the thought inspired a grin across his face. “perfect.”

17 SEPTEMBER

normally, being awoken by the chipper sound of your ringing telephone was irksome beyond comprehension. especially at—you squinted toward the clock on your nightstand—eleven in the morning, sharp. if you hadn’t gone to bed last night fuzzy with the anticipation of eren’s call the next day, you’d be a lot angrier as you picked up the phone.

“he—”

“turn on the tv, now!” hange’s voice penetrated the receiver so fast, you hardly processed your disappointment at it not being eren.

“huh?”

“find a tv and turn it on!”

hastily, with crust still framing your eyes and blurring your vision, you tucked hange between your shoulder and ear whilst fumbling around the bed for your ever-elusive remote. eventually, you located it at the foot of the bed under the covers. “what channel?” you droned, watching the machine power on with a reluctant press of your finger.

“any news, just hurry.”

mentally, you cursed hange’s sense of urgency as you flicked to and fro between channels until you landed on the first news outlet.

there sat mikasa, in some fancy georgian diner, fervently shoving forkfuls of pie down her throat with only some of the most southern looking women you had ever seen. expensive strings of pearls adorning their necks, heads topped with flashy hats, and purses that were more than likely filled to the brim with bibles and peppermint candies.

just when you were about to doze off again, hange shouted through the receiver once more. “are you watching?”

“yes, i am! god, would you hush?” you hadn’t meant to snap, but if hange had woken you up just to watch mikasa eat pie, you were positive you would kill them.

“well firstly, i have to say that this pie is spectacular. the governor and i will have to make another visit whenever we’ve got a free weekend.” the way she said, the governor and i sent a sharp pang up your backbone. perhaps if you felt such guilt when he had his hands on you, or when he was telling you how pretty you were, you would have more of a backbone to speak of. “secondly,” mikasa continued, “honored as i am to be sitting with such an amazing group of women, i can’t help but feel as though i’m not being as honest as i should be.” at this, you kicked your legs out from the warmth of your comforter and scooted up toward the edge of your bed.

“you see, a couple months ago, eren and i were delighted to find out we were expecting our first child together.” the words left her lips so naturally, you hardly had a moment to be shocked before she was onto the next sentence.

“i mean, delighted is an understatement. we were thrilled. just over the moon. since we’d had trouble conceiving before, our doctor told us not to tell many people, so really no one knew but us. but still, we were just…so happy. we’d made up a whole list of names and everything, y’know. the whole shebang.”

of course, they were happy. over the moon, even. they were supposed to have kids. it was only the natural order of things. boy meets girl. boy marries girl. boy and girl have kids. that is what’s supposed to happen. so why did it feel as though someone had quickly and quietly plunged a dagger through your heart?

so, after he was done picking baby names and cooing over mikasa’s growing stomach, he would sneak off into the night to tell you all those things you were so desperate to hear. and how much could he have meant any of that, really? clearly not much if he had been family planning all the while.

“then around three weeks ago, i miscarried.” at mikasa’s shaky words, a lone tear rolled out from the outer corner of her eye. it was not until one of the women sitting closest to her reached out for her hand that you realized you were now crying, too. “campaigns can be so stressful to get through, and i guess my body just couldn’t handle it.” she sniffled, her grey eyes shining tragically beautiful as ever.

self loathing curled within your gut as if it were nausea. what business did you have crying for a miscarrying woman? it didn’t matter to you when eren was whisking you off into the night on secret dates, so why did it now?

then again, perhaps you weren’t crying for her, but for yourself. that only made you feel impossibly worse.

more women surrounded her at once, offering encouraging hands and fluorescent handkerchiefs. she took one and dotted her eyes with only the most breathtaking humility.

“eren and i, we were just so…stuck.” stuck. you thought back to when he kissed you outside of his party. when he told you what the two of you had meant something. how stuck was he then?

“he even wanted to drop out of the race, but i begged him not to, just because i believed there was no one more fit than him to be president of the united states.” mikasa’s posture straightened, and she pushed a lock of hair back that had flown astray on her forehead. “and i still do.”

news anchor harin lee concluded the broadcast of the conference with a, “there you have it, folks.” and everything that followed was a thick blur.

hange’s voice funneled through the receiver as though they were a thousand miles away. surprisingly, you had managed to keep a hold of the phone. a heavy ringing was what filled your ears and muffled all the other noise.

hange could (sort of) be heard imploring you to stay put and not do anything stupid. though, everything below your waist felt frozen numb, so there wasn’t much room for stupid decisions anyway.

you wordlessly placed the phone on its hook. in the back of your nearly catatonic mind, you wondered how long it would take for him to call you. doesn’t matter, you concluded.

subconsciously, you were working overtime to keep a fresh spring of burning tears from spilling beyond your waterline. sensing the imminent headache, your hand connected with an already opened box of benadryl tucked just behind the vase on your nightstand. you dropped the pink pill on your tongue and pushed it back with a bout of saliva. the plush of your pillow could not hit your head quickly enough, and soon you had successfully forced yourself back into sleep.

you were so gone that ten minutes later, when the long, piercing beep sounded from your phone’s receiver, you were none the wiser. the monotonous voice of the woman inside spoke nonetheless. “you have one unheard message. would you like to hear it?”

tags ✧˖*°࿐ — @cindol @taylarxse @nyanglock @beyondsuki @ittostan @rensbby @madsoncrack @shawtynoire @braxxinterlude @kai7911

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