#// anyways i hope you all have a glorious week i will be around when i can miloves 🫶🏻

[chaosthrive]

👉🏼😔👉🏼

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Favorite Season 6 fics

So these used to be called "Fic recs for my BFF", but unfortunately I was unable to sway her to buddie, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ these are just for me now (and you guys too I guess 😅)

Season 6

🔥Curl Up in My Heart and Let Me Keep You by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Animal Transformation | 10K | Teen): When an orange tabby cat starts hanging around the Diaz house, Eddie doesn't think anything of it. The little guy's cute and cuddly, and seems to always know when Eddie's having a bad time. Weird how the cat's never around when Buck is, though.

🔥let the world have its way with you by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Post-Coma AU | 54K | Explicit): “It’s just that—I died,” Buck continues, voice unsteady enough that Eddie wonders if this is the first time he’s acknowledged that out loud. “I died, and there’s so much more. There’s so much more I want to do, things I don’t even know I want to do yet, and I almost had the chance to have and live them taken away. I don’t want to die and regret missing out on everything else, Eddie.” “So let’s make a list,” Eddie says. “Let’s do them.” or, a bucket list that’s really about buck needing to make a change and an eddie who’s ready to do anything to see him fall in love with life again. it takes some crossing off for eddie to realise—the thing at the top of the list in his own heart? it’s been right here all along

🔥like a dog with a bird at your door by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Post-S6, Getting Together | 51K | Explicit): The kid with blood pouring down his shins is not so far from the dog lonely enough that he thinks breaking his housetraining is worth it for the ten minutes of berating that come with it, the ten minutes of undivided, if reluctant, attention. Buck thinks, sometimes, that at least he wasn’t the kind of puppy that gets put in a sack and drowned at birth. He wasn’t always unwanted. And he isn’t anymore. or, evan “i love you like a dog” buckley has only ever known how to love like, well, a dog, but maybe eddie diaz is the kinda guy to give a flea-bitten mongrel a forever home

🔥Something Dumb to Do by glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (Post-S6, Getting Together | 8K | Explicit): "Too bad we can't just date each other." Eddie laughs. "What?" "No, I'm serious!" Buck sets his beer down, the better to gesture with both hands, face lighting up, and Eddie just—he really loves the guy, okay. Ridiculous as he is. "It would be so much easier! You wouldn't have to introduce a new person to Chris—he already likes me anyway—and you could tell Pepa so she'll stop setting you up on dates that don't go anywhere—" "And what would you get out of this?" Eddie asks, grinning. — Or: Buck and Eddie try something out together. (Part 1 of homeward bound)

🔥find a way to you (if it kills me) by foxwatson/ @eddiediazes (Post S6E13: Mixed Feelings, Pining | 19K | Mature): It’s something about the way Eddie phrases it. Something about the combination of his words and the way he’s staring down at the floor, and the flush in his cheeks and the way he’s fidgeting. Buck thinks, abruptly, he’s going to ask me on a date. “Well I - wanted to tell you first, and I need someone to watch Chris, anyways - I know he’s getting old enough now he doesn’t like feeling like he’s got a babysitter, so I was hoping - sorry. Not the point. Uh. I have a date on Saturday.” Just as abruptly as his own hopes had come soaring up above the cloud cover of his own unawareness - they go crashing back down to the floor - to the basement, and into the mud. “A date?” Buck rasps out. — the one where eddie decides to start dating again, buck figures out his own feelings just a minute too late, and then he spends a week going through the five stages of grief

🔥Being Eddie by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Time Travel, Post-S6, Getting Together | 80K | Teen): When Eddie starts seeing a new therapist, he’s presented with the opportunity to revisit several days from his past and right regrets that still bother him. OR: Eddie goes through the time travel therapy process of the 2009 Canadian TV show Being Erica.

🔥 Evan Buckley & The Coma-Verse of Madness by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Coma AU, Multiverse | 58K | Teen): After being struck by lightning on a call, Buck experiences a plethora of alternate realities showing him different directions his life could have taken. Fighting hard to get home, Buck learns what, or who, is important to him in every lifetime.

🔥 Both Blade and Branch by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S6 | 62K | Mature): The chances of being struck by lightning twice are incredibly minute, but Buck still manages to pull it off. During a double date with Marisol and Natalia, nonetheless. Eddie manages to resuscitate him, but as Buck recovers from yet another trauma, Eddie can’t help but notice there’s something very different about him. He’s not quite sure what version of Buck he got back.

🔥 where all of the people dancing and clapping would greet me with such warmth by trysetmeonfire/ @try-set-me-on-fire (Season 6, Magical Realism | 15K | Mature): In the fall, Buck begins to disappear. (or: Buck can see that people become transparent when they're about to die) (Part 2 of All I Am, All That I Am)

🔥 Ace of Hearts by glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (Post-S6, Getting Together | 9K | Teen): "I've been wondering…" Maddie pauses, watches Buck make a face like he's bracing to be smacked. "What happened with Eddie? You two were dancing around it for so long, and then… what, it just didn't work out? Was the date really that bad?" She's expecting another wince, or even for him to duck out of the conversation entirely, but instead Buck is staring at her like she's grown a second head. "Maddie. I've never been on a date with Eddie." Or: the poker game was a date. It takes Buck a while to catch on, though.

🔥 situations, circumstances, miscommunications ( i just may like some explanations ) by heartbeatdiaz / @lonelychicago (Didn't Know They Were Dating | 4K | Teen): "You didn't know?" Eddie asks, calmer but not less confused. He frowns. "How could you not know?" "You never said anything?" Buck tilts his head to the side. "We were dating?” “I guess not,” Eddie sighs. His heart is beating a little faster, an unpleasant buzz beneath his skin as he all but chokes on a feeling he can’t quite name— it could be hurt or disappointment or maybe a mix of both. In that moment, he knows three things very clearly. 1. Buck is going to be the death of him. 2. He is in love with the most dense, most oblivious man on planet Earth. 3. He is too gay and, honestly, too old for this shit.

🔥listen to you breathing (is where I wanna be) by Yavilee/ @theladyyavilee (Presumed Dead | 41K | Teen): The thing is – and Eddie should have known this, has been taught this cruel lesson over and over and over again – the thing is most of the time the worst day of your life will start like just any other day. A million small moments, so familiar and mundane you almost don’t even notice them slipping by - until you would give anything to go back and get just one more. (You can’t.) — Or the one where Buck is presumed dead after a building collapse and Eddie has to live through the reminder that tomorrow isn't promised to anyone

🔥Eddie Diaz vs The Feelings by ElvenSorceress/ @elvensorceress (Season 6, Sexuality Crisis, Demisexual Eddie | 62K | Explicit): Eddie dives into the mysteries of attraction, romantic love, and asexuality because there's a good chance he's fallen in love with his best friend. AKA demisexual!Eddie figures out he’s demi and finds the happily ever after he’s been longing for

🔥tomorrow will always and forever now be today (tomorrow is our always and forever) by withmeornotatall/ @chronicowboy (Post-S6, Time Loop | 43K | Mature): "Think I can get a hug from my best man on my wedding day?" he asks, quietly hopeful in a way that makes Eddie want to tear off his skin. "Sure," Chris replies with a shrug, turning to throw Eddie a cheeky grin. "Dad, Buck needs a hug." Two things happen at once then: Eddie has to plaster on a smile authentic enough to convince the one person on this planet that knows him inside out—except he doesn't really have to fake his smile, not at first, because of number two—he sees groom-Buck for the first time. And groom-Buck is every bit as beautiful as Eddie might have imagined him over the years. For a moment, Eddie falls into the greatest betrayal his brain has ever laid out for him, imagining that he might have got to see Buck like this for the first time from the other end of the aisle— (OR: eddie gets trapped in a time loop on the day buck marries natalia)

🔥 Muscle Memory by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S6, Amnesia AU | 40K | Teen): After a disappointment in his personal life, Buck wakes up one morning to find everyone he loves has forgotten him completely. No memories. No recognition. Almost like he was never really there.

🔥 but i can see all along, love (it was you all the way down) by diazchristopher/ @captain-hen (Post-S6, Time Loop | 28K Mature): He puts his laptop away after a bit, and paces the length of his apartment as he tries to take stock of the situation at hand. One: The date is March 22nd, 2024. Two: It has been March 22nd for 3 days now. Three: Buck is trapped in some kind of time loop that is forcing him to relive this day. Four: Eddie is, apparently, in love with him. And. And. Five: Buck doesn’t feel the same way.

🔥 a blaze in the dark by woodchoc_magnum/ @woodchoc-magnum (Post-S6, Eddie Coming Out | 117K | Explicit): Set post-Season 6, where Buck has inadvertently sacrificed his friendship with Eddie in order to focus on his new relationship with Natalia, and is shocked when Eddie comes out to the team and subsequently reveals that he is dating a guy.

AUs

🔥Nothing Left But You by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars ("Blip" AU, Post-S4E13: Suspicion | 27K | Teen | Warning: MCD): In May of 2021, 25% of Earth's population suddenly disappears. Including Eddie. In May of 2026, they all come back. Eddie finds himself suddenly in the middle of a world he doesn't recognize, where the people he loves most have changed significantly.

🔥 Your Love is an Oil Slick (It Glows like Rainbows, It Stains My Soul) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Canon Divergent - Supernatural Elements, Ghost Buck | 67K | Explicit): When Eddie's son claims he has an imaginary friend, Eddie doesn't think much of it. Christopher is seven, it's what kids do. But then weird things start happening around the house, and Eddie starts dreaming about a handsome blue-eyed man. Turns out, Christopher's friend isn't so imaginary. Their house is haunted.

🔥like when the sun came out by spaceprincessem/ @spaceprincessem (Canon Divergent, Ghosts | 39K | Mature): He completely pulls the charger from the wall as he fumbles to put in his passcode. He doesn’t know who to call first. Everyone is busy, carrying on with their lives and Buck is stuck here in the loft with the terrifying ghost of his childhood like an omen. Out of the corner of his eye he catches the Crooked Smiled Man now standing in the dark entrance way to his bathroom. He swallows around the taste of blood in his mouth, hands shaking, useless as his list of contacts blur beneath the burn of tears. Eddie Eddie Eddie. He doesn’t know where the feeling comes from, but it’s sudden and sharp and excruciating. Eddie is the first name at the top of his list, his most recent calls and texts, and he doesn’t hesitate to hit the call button. [or buck can see ghosts au]

🔥All My Shattered Oaths by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Vampires AU | 107K | Explicit): Eddie wants to stay away from his family’s legacy and give his son a normal life. Buck’s desperate to find a way to get over the love he lost. Fate has other plans for both of them.

🔥 Further Than Blood (Or Than Bones) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Vampires AU | 50K | Explicit): Once, Eddie chose to save a newly turned against his better judgment. Five hundred years ago, Buck was saved by a rescuer he thought was a hallucination. Now they're together again and about to find out just how far either of them will go to try and deny what they are to each other.

🔥 let it pour out of your soul series by Rianne/ @rianneeyre (Magical Realism AU, Witch Eddie | 3 works | 71K | Complete):

collectively unconsciously composed (S4E6: Jinx | 46K | Explicit): Or: in which the author re-watched Buck Begins and Jinx and thought: what if this was gayer and had actual magic?

that systematic drug (PWP | 5K | Explicit): Eddie’s mouth goes dry when he opens the door and sees Buck. He’s clean-shaven and with his hair carefully styled back, smiling at Eddie sweetly and a little teasingly. Buck is wearing his dark jeans and his light blue v-neck polo shirt, the one that’s tight enough that it shows off the bulge of his biceps and the definition of his pecs and abs. Eddie knows this shirt. Buck's favourite, because he knows he looks good in it.

something binding us together (Established Buddie | 20K | Teen): Or: Eddie plans a long-avoided visit to his parents, discovers some things about his magic, and begins to build his family a home in LA's witching community.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

binge reading your works is my best part of the day ><

anyways, I'd like to request kidnapper!könig with an apathetic reader, so tired they decide to stop reacting! (I just need to see könig comfort and cuddle his beloved)

I am so so sorry for not getting to this sooner. As I stated in the last post, I’ve been without a permanent address (but I’m staying with friends) so it’s been hard to find time. I keep hunting for a place to live, but sadly the rental scene is not kind to people on disability. I do not have much money to go anywhere, but I keep trying!

Anyways, I tried to follow the ask, but maybe the ending might be a bit too much? I kept it a bit ambiguous, so you can take it as you will. Either way, it’s a nice fluffy bath scene which should be all fluffy and good for all of us. Lord knows I need to take a shower! I might do that soon actually…

So, you know the drill, story under the cut.

18+ MDNITW: yandere König, suggestive content, kidnapping

Idle

How long had you been here? You’d been staring at these same four walls for days, maybe weeks now. You could see the sun rise in a tiny dingy window up above before setting far far away from where you sat. The moon followed suit like a faithful servant to their glorious master. You only watched with dim eyes.

König came down multiple times every day to speak to you. You couldn’t find it in yourself to respond to him. Instead, you listened to him prattle about his every day. You learned he was ex military, discharged for an ‘accident’ related to his mental health. He didn’t go into detail. You didn’t ask.

Listening to him prattling on about whatever was on his mind that day helped make the days pass by quicker. The dull and insipid meals he presented to you quickly ramped up in quality. His meals became elaborate, and though some were blunders, he was quickly learning and adapting. However, it was all lost on your dull tongue.

At this point, you wondered if there was any difference between spending time in the world outside or being locked away in this basement. The mattress was hard and your back was beginning to hurt. Your arms ached when you lay on your side, but what else was there to do? It didn’t matter that he piled a plethora of hobbies and crafts around your bed in a desperate hope to invigorate you. It was all lost on you.

Heavy bootsteps trod down the creaking wooden stairs like the treading of a great machine. His gears creaked as he ducked under the doorway, and he grunted a cloud of smoke as he approached you. When he neared, he smelled of cigarettes and beer, but there was something else that was hidden deep beneath. If you weren’t so tired, maybe you would’ve been intrigued, but instead you simply shallowed your breathing to avoid taking in his pungent odor.

“Pet, why are you so sad?” you felt rough calloused fingers trace along your cheek. It felt nice, but you couldn’t bear to give in to his advances.

“When can I go outside?” you retorted.

König slumped into a crestfallen crouch, “Not for some time. If you are good, then you can go out, ja?”

“Aren’t I good now?” you sighed.

König shook his head.

“Being sad does not mean you are good,” König stroked your matted hair, “I bring you hairbrushes and combs, yet you still don’t take care of yourself. I even got your skincare from your old place. Yet still, you won’t wash your face. When did you last brush your teeth?”

You shrugged, “A while ago.”

König chortled as he walked away, “I can tell. Let’s get you cleaned up. Maybe that will make you feel better?”

You didn’t bother reacting. You knew there was no point.

König drew a bath for you in the other room for you. You could smell the sweet scents wafting through the air, and despite yourself, you relaxed. When he unlocked your cuffs and carried you to the washroom, you took in the hot steamy air that had fogged the bathroom mirror. The lights were off, but sweet scented candles had been set out for you. When you were placed down, he’d made sure to set you on a puffy bath mat.

“There, my pet,” König murmured as he brushed your sides down, “now let’s get you undressed. Raise your arms for me.”

You did as he asked. You’d learned that despite his rough and irritable ways, he was a gentle giant around you. He took care to touch you as little as possible as he took off your clothes, tossing them into the laundry for you before helping guide you to sit in the bathroom.

You let out a sigh as he carefully helped you lay back. You hated how perfect everything was. It would’ve been so much easier to hate him if he weren’t so damn loveable. Everyone you knew would have been sickened by how easily you let this man take control of you. You never thought of escaping, but König didn’t know that. He was still so worried that you’d leave. It pained you, in a strange way. How could you care for him so deeply but also hate his entire existence? Was it worth thinking about? It didn’t matter. You were trapped in this basement, and you doubted you would ever feel the sun on your skin again.

“Oh pet, why won’t you smile anymore?” König mourned as he sudsed a washcloth for you.

“Why should I?” you snorted.

“Because I am here for you now,” König reminded you, as though it wasn’t the constant of your every day.

He set the washcloth aside and squirted some of your shampoo on his hands. When he sunk his hands in your greasy hair, you couldn’t stop yourself from sighing and relaxing into his hands.

“There… Isn’t that better?” König murmured into your neck, “if you just let me take care of you, everything will be okay.”

You didn’t reply, instead sinking into his scalp massage. He must have been watching tutorials for this. There was no way he was this naturally skilled. In a way, it touched you that he would go out of his way to learn all these new skills for you, but on the other hand, how did he have so much time? Where did he get all the money? Was it worth asking these questions?

He washed your hair with warm water. You couldn’t help but let go. It was so nice to finally feel clean. You could already feel your hair returning to its normal state. He brushed your hair lightly, wincing whenever you hissed and taking care to be gentle on the worst of the mats. He was so careful for such a hulking goliath of a man. You didn’t think his large hands could be so dexterous, but here you were, relaxing in his hands as he massaged conditioner into your hair. He was careful and methodical as he worked, ensuring you were perfect cared for, free of any pain or stress in the world. You caught yourself nearly smiling a few times. You had a feeling he saw, but chose not to comment. Smart man.

“There,” he took the washcloth again and started rubbing deep circles into your aching back, “I know the bed is no good. You will sleep with me soon, I promise. No more pain.”

You closed your eyes and let him work the knots out of your back.

“I promise it will get better,” König promised, “you will be meine Frau, and then we will be happy.”

You’d long since learned that ‘meine Frau’ meant ‘my wife’. At this point, you didn’t bother correcting him. Sometimes you looked down at your hands and you were surprised that there was no ring on your finger. It bothered you.

“I’m sorry, Frau,” König sighed as he dipped down, “but you need to be clean. I want you healthy and safe.”

You let him clean your lower parts without question. He was thankfully quick and efficient. It was a small comfort that he tried his best to avoid hurting you too much. You figured the reason he hadn’t suggested that you do it yourself was that he knew you wouldn’t so much as lift your hand to take the washcloth from him. Still, it would have been nice for him to offer, or that’s what you kept telling yourself.

“All done,” König’s hand retracted as he rinsed the washcloth, “now just your hair.”

He rinsed your hair with the shower attachment, thankfully gentle with the remaining mats. He muttered something about ‘keeping your beautiful hair’ as he worked diligently. You figured it had probably grown a bit since you’d come here. Maybe you’d need a trim.

The rest of the bath was calm and relaxed. He left and let you soak for a bit on your own before he came back and took a towel from the dryer below the sink and pulled the plug on you. When you got cold, he wrapped you in the plush towel and helped you dry down. You couldn’t help but sigh in relief. You’d never get a bathroom without a washer and dryer in it again. It was just far too convenient.

He carried you back to your bed where a new change of clothes had been set out on freshly changed sheets. So that was what he was doing when he left you in the bath. It was a nice gesture, but you knew that wouldn’t make the mattress any softer. At the very least, it would smell nice.

You changed into the modest clothing he gave you, all comfortable and soft to make you feel more at ease in this foreign environment. It was a nice change to having to make yourself up in stuffy clothing for your office job at least.

Your kindly captor gave you a tiny hug before he locked you back in your ankle shackle and left you in the basement. The only reminded of his presence was the faint lingering smell of cigarettes, a smell that had become surprisingly comforting since you’d adjusted to staying here.

He kept promising that you could go out, but hope left you as the days crawled by. A part of you hated him, a part of you was grateful he’d spirited you away from your past life. The meals were certainly more substantial, and you’d gotten a little bit more well rounded, but not to the point where you were upset with yourself.

Your life had become perfectly calm. There was no stress of socializing with people who hated you, no worrying about rent or bills, no threat of eviction or skipped meals. It was idyllic, really. So why were you so sad?

Art supplies were littered before you, something you once would have jumped at. He had a space dedicated to working out if you should so please. He even had a state of the art desktop lined up for you, primed with both his and your steam account and a few emulators ready and primed for you. It was all perfect, but you only lay in bed and stared at the ceiling.

Life was meaningless, and so you ignored the world. However, as much as you tried, you couldn’t ignore how soft König was with you.

You curled into the warm sheets. The ceiling was still there to be stared at. The craft supplies were still there to be ignored. But this time, your toothbrush and your hairbrush seemed more enticing.

Maybe you’ve been here for too long.

[neiptune]

ain't that the worst thing you ever heard? (part 2)

c/w: 22k wc, SUGGESTIVE, summer romance, strangers to fwb to lovers, eren can surf, this little story has kept me company for weeks now, it just kept stretching and stretching and demanding more so I tried to accomodate its needs. I hope you'll be able to perceive all the love & care I've put into it! thank you for having been part of this summer journey now I'll finally go lie down

PART 1

June melts away and July is as sweet as the ripe cherries that melt on your tongue.

You’ve always loved summer, both in the city and the countryside you grew up in. The summer season that belonged to your childhood came with watermelon slices consumed sitting on the engawa with your grandparents, a poor antidote against the oppressive humidity that glued hair and clothes to your skin. The only relief came from the small fan they kept on at all times, day and night, the low buzz a constant companion throughout the hours spent napping, going through your homework or demolishing the only thing your mother has ever been able to cook: teriyaki tofu.

You slept in the same room as your grandparents at night, two futons placed at careful distance to no avail as you couldn’t sleep anyway between the noise coming from the fan, the chirping of the cicadas from outside and your grandpa’s snoring. Those were the nights you’d spend observing the ceiling, fantasizing about growing up and becoming an adult that worked as hard as your parents who woke up at the crack of dawn and came home several hours after you had finished eating dinner. You’d daydream about the big cities they always told you about, Tokyo and Osaka and Yokohama and Nagoya, places where people didn’t have to break their backs slaving away in rice fields every day.

Places where people wore nice shirts and ties and jackets and carried little leather briefcases and worked in clean offices and never had to scrape the mortifying dirt stuck underneath their nails.

Summer in the city came with apartments with little to no insulation, boxes as humid and hot as the outside, with no air moving around inside. Still, you bought a little pink fan when you couldn’t afford an AC, made sure your fridge always had a consistent stock of watermelon and fruit popsicles. You’d lie belly-down on the tatami floors when afternoons got too hot to move, and took the Yokosuka line from the central station along with some friends whenever you could gift yourself the luxury of spending a day at the beach.

It wasn’t enjoyable. The drudgery that took to get there, sweat running down your back, crowded trains and a bus where you could barely breathe from how hot it was, sand crawling in between your belongings and sticking to your arms and legs. But the ocean? That was worth it. A body of water stretching as far as the eye could see, so boundless it felt like the city was miles and miles away, all your emotions magnified, salty breeze flooding your senses. You often wished to take your parents there, always daydreamed about how amazed your mother would feel and about your father’s calloused hands picking up a fishing rod instead of being busy ploughing, harrowing fields, harvesting grains.

You felt at ease in the water, gliding across it with bold strokes as your friends splashed around closer to the shore. You liked diving underneath the surface, eyes shut and ears filled with currents, waves and storms no one else could hear. A special sussurration made just for you, one you listened to until your lungs felt a moment away from exploding.

So far, summer on the island doesn’t come close to anything you’ve experienced before. Your vacation rental has an AC that you refuse to turn on and most nights on your first month there were so hot you could barely sleep. The sky is the kind of blue that is promising and has you excited for the day to unravel, clouds showing up and timidly crossing it fluffly and candid as snow. What was considered the glorious realm of the gods according to Mesopotamian mythology, the island holds as regular cedar forests, although so wonderful you can only guess it must’ve been blessed with a touch of divine nonetheless. You got to hike through more than one and paid homage to the ancient trees, some of Japan’s oldest living ones. Jean has been a sweet guide on your first time, carefully explaining to every member of the group he was leading both the history and ecology of the sights along the way.

Tropical storms are restless and unforgiving, you learn: wind shakes your windows, lighting tints rooms purple and the crack of thunder prompts the lighting up of your phone screen at any hour of the night, without exception.

Eren comes to know about your fear of thunderstorms on a late afternoon. He has taken the habit of showing up at your place with a little something for you from time to time: that day he had two plastic bags in his hands, a few groceries he had picked up on the way there “just in case you’re out of something”, kitchen counter slowly filling up with fresh milk, eggs, apricots, bread, one box of cereals, cheese and what were mostly his favorite snacks. And it’s never just an excuse to be there, he never expects you to reward him: Eren has his own way of putting away the groceries, his regular grumbling about how messy your cupboard is, an improved method of fixing the leaking of your sink and piling his book suggestions right next to your tv, so that you don’t forget to check them out. More often than not they’re not books he has read, just books he deems you’ll find interesting.

That afternoon Eren wasn’t there to sleep with you, he didn’t have any particular motive for spending a few hours sprawled on your couch watching some dumb cooking show, except that he enjoyed it. He enjoyed how invested you’d get and the way you’d lightly pinch his thigh when you’d have it with his boyish, teasing comments. Sometimes you’d just slot your mouth to his to shut him up, a more than welcome distraction from pretentious chefs who presented dishes he never would have dreamed to replace Sasha’s wraps with. And while your kisses didn’t always lead to anything (whatever it was that you had going on walking between blurred lines that comprised make out sessions, casual hang outs and Eren molding your body to accomodate his so perfectly you often found yourself questioning if you could ever even take anyone else and feel the same way), on that particular day you seemed more than willing to forget about the stupid cooking show. And then a loud crack his very much occupied mind could barely register, had you jolting away from him and covering your ears in a heated rush.

Eren makes sure to call or text you during storms but he’s way more subtle about it now than he was at the start. After your prideful “I’m fine, stop checking on me like I’m some damn child”, he developed a new, clever strategy to make sure you’re doing okay. Whether it’s by sending you a funny meme, the link to a tiktok video, some random update on Connie’s hectic dating life at 3 in the morning, he hopes the message gets across. And alhough most times you don’t reply until several hours later, out of that same stubborn pride that makes him roll his eyes multiple times a day, you can’t help but smile a little when the phone screen your eyes instinctively dart to at the beginning of every storm, lights up without fail.

Contrary to what you had anticipated, being friends with him is probably the easiest thing you've ever done. Eren gives a lot and takes very little, the only situations this selflessness doesn’t really apply to include discarded clothes and skirts pooled around your hips when he’s too impatient and the steamed up windows of his truck blurry your vision and your mind as the pads of his fingers dig into the fat of your thighs. Those are the moments Eren takes everything from you. He claims each breathless gasp, the twitching of your legs, the way your pretty features freeze in silent pleasure and he gets to whisper reassuring praises against the corner of your mouth. Whether he’s aware or not about just how much he ruins you each time, is beyond your understanding.

Eren talks about you with his friends when you’re not there to hang out with them, which happens often anyway. He’d casually mention something you did or said or once specified you enjoyed, an habit that’s increasingly prompting knowing glances exchanged between Connie and Jean. Armin’s stare just turns a little worried, especially when Eren reprimands everyone and cares to remind them to be careful and not get attached because your presence is temporary.

Sasha feels as if, between one beer and the other, he’s the one he’s truly trying to convince. It’s new Eren behavior, uncharted territory, and the odds of the whole thing ending in the shittiest way possible are incredibly high: which is why Armin decides to take it upon himself to test the waters and almost asks if you think it’s really best to keep going with the whole friends with benefits thing. He likes you and means well. Maybe it’d keep everyone’s feelings safe if you and Eren discarded the benefits part and stayed as nothing more than regular friends?

But right as he was about to voice his question, you had stopped by a street fruit vendor and turned to look at him with sparkles in your eyes.

“What if we get some pineapples? I could try and make that ice cream Eren never shuts up about”

Shit, he thought to himself. Maybe he had been way too optimistic.

Eren knows you’re not actually asleep. Not that he’s yet had the privilege of knowing what you look like when you’re sleeping: you never once stayed the night at his place, which was good enough of a reason never to spend the night at yours. He’s never had the chance to lend you one of his shirts or ask if the coffee he buys now is better than the one you tasted so many mornings ago. It’s not that he’s bothered by it, he just doesn’t understand what sort of thoughts prompt you to immediately get out of his bed (or off of his couch, or out of his shower, or down from the kitchen counter—), collect your clothes, flash him a smile and wave goodbye. He should be happy you do that, honestly. It’s always saved both of you from experiencing any unnecessary awkwardness. It’s convenient. It’s practical. But still, it certainly wouldn’t kill you to stay just once?

“Stop that” your nose scrunches, the light touch of his fingers tickling you.

“Be an active part of the excursion, then” an airy chuckle leaves him as his fingertips skim the bridge of your nose again. You weakly swat his hand away.

“M’tired” you puff out your cheeks, eyes still shut. Eren rolls his eyes.

“It was less than an hour long hike”

“You own a trained body, I own an exhausted one”

“So you don’t want any snacks?”

Finally, you open one eye to peer at him, suspicious. Amused, Eren gently bounces his leg, the one your head is resting on.

“It better be Sasha’s avocado hummus” you grumble while making the process of sitting up dramatic enough for him snort.

“It’s something better: fresh fruit” Eren meets your shocked expression with an innocent grin.

“You’re a deceitful, unreliable little man” you playfully narrow your gaze as he pulls out a plastic bag from his backpack. He huffs.

“Stop complaining, these are from Kukiko’s garden”

“Kukiko?”

“Jean’s grandma. She pretty much raised him and used to give us extra treats before we set off for school” a small smile stretches his lips as he takes some peaches and a small knife from the bag.

“My granny used to do the same” you smile too, the sweetness of the memories coming to mind causing a pleasant warmth to spread in your chest “she’d pack my lunch and then several others for my friends, just in case their parents forgot. As if that could’ve been possible”

Eren looks up from the fruit he’s carefully peeling. He’s doing it with such attentive care you can’t help but wish, for a single, fleeting second, that he’d still be there to peel tangerines for you in the winter.

There’s fondness in his gaze, one you wish you didn’t notice because it never fails to emerge whenever you share something personal, something belonging to a life he knows little to nothing about. He makes it painfully clear that he’d love for that door to be left half-opened for him.

“D’you visit her from time to time? I assume she still lives in the countryside”

If the pang of sadness that clutches your throat and digs deep into your stomatch could have a physical representation, it’d probably be an icicle. Cold, harsh, unforgiving.

“I’m sorry” Eren catches the change in your stare before you have the chance to say anything. With a small, bitter smile, you shrug.

“It’s okay. It’s been years. Doesn’t get any easier, though”

You’re sitting very close to each other, so he gently nudges your shoulder with his arm.

“Yeah. I’m sure she loved you a lot and that doesn’t just go away, you know”

“Jesus” you chuckle and lean your forehead against his shoulder to hide the embarrassing tears stinging the corners of your eyes “you just had to be good with words too, among everything else”

A silent laugh shakes him.

“What can I say, I’m gifted like that” he hands you one slice of the peach he’s still holding and you accept it with a scoff. The fruit is mellow, flavorful and tangy as it melts in the back of your throat. It almost makes you want to cry again.

The observatory was his idea, one of the very few remaining places he didn’t have the chance to take you to. Despite it having a large parking lot, restrooms and vending machines, it’s a sightseeing spot not many tourists come to know about, so it’s mostly empty. The view is stunning and, truth be told, you didn’t mind the hike either: despite the inescapable sun shining high in the sky, not a single cloud in sight, you enjoyed climbing the path dotted with many tropical plants. Hibiscus, adan trees, cycads, Eren indicating and naming each one along the way.

From where you’re sitting, you can see the white lighthouse you had visited a few days prior, Eren’s friends having planned a picnic nearby that soon gave them the perfect excuse to take you all the way to the top of the abandoned tower. Connie smiled upon seeing your expression morph into pure wonder as soon as Sasha removed her hands from your eyes: you don’t remember seeing an equally breathtaking view of the ocean sparkling beneath your feet, ever. If you squeeze your eyes really hard, you can almost discern the small bay you remember Armin helping you locate on the northernmost tip of the island.

You’re not sure why Eren bothers hanging out with you when his days are less busy, why he doesn’t mind spending his morning sharing fresh fruit underneath the July sun instead of being with his friends or riding a wave. Sure, you count as a watered-down version of a friend too at this point, and spending time with him feels so natural sometimes you wonder if you haven’t actually known him for a longer time.

But it also feels intimate, oddly more than the moments when he’s pushing inside you. It’s easier to kiss him than to hear him laugh at your jokes, especially when the sun hits the green of his eyes just right and you feel the sudden urge to tuck those stubborn strands behind his ears. It’s easier to have his arms around you, lips tracing your collarbone, because that means he won’t be looking at you in that infuriating way of his, genuine interest floating in such intense irises whenever he asks a question in patient anticipation of another piece of yourself you may or may not decide to unravel for him. 

Eren gently presses his thumb between your brows, to smooth out that little crease you get whenever you get lost in thoughts he isn’t allowed to access. His hand is still wet and sticky from the peach you’ve shared, so you pull back with a grimace and he laughs.

“So pensive today” he brings that same thumb to his mouth to clean all the fruit remnants “didn’t even ask me if I really didn’t bring anything else to eat”

“Did you?” your brows shoot up in interest and he rolls his eyes, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“I mean, you’re insufferable when you’re hungry”

And just like that, he pulls out some neatly packaged banh mi sandwiches, the ones you remember casually mentioning liking to Sasha at the picnic by the lighthouse while he was busy discussing something else with Jean. As you stare at the herbs and mayo sticking to the clear cellophane, it’s hard to blink back the surprise. Or to swallow the lump in your throat.

Oh, no.

“Eren” you mutter his name carefully and he tilts his head with a responsive little hum “I kinda want to kiss you right now”

Another mirthful laugh echoes through the calm, fragrant air. Thank god he hasn’t noticed the unusual hesitation laced into your tone because yes, this is a need, but also a test you’re not sure you want to know the output of.

He inches closer and gently tilts your head up with the softest grasp of your chin, lips pressing to yours in a chaste kiss that sends shock waves through your veins.

Oh, no.

Eren has to resort to quite the amount of self restraint not to chase your lips when you pull back, features impenetrable once again for god knows what thought now crossing your pretty little mind. He can feel his heart drumming in his ears, the scent of your hair and sunscreen mixing together well enough to almost, almost make him sigh. By now there’s a giant, neon sign hanging over your head that reads proceed with caution, presence temporary. It blinks at him, flashing at regular intervals. He doesn’t like it one bit.

“How come you’re not in a relationship?” the questions rolls off his tongue before he has the chance to decide if it’s even appropriate to ask something like that so bluntly. It’s clearly not, given how your lips purse. But even as he realizes your reaction indicates some discomfort, Eren doesn’t apologize nor does he take the question back. He wants to know something new and while anything will do, this is a topic he holds a particular interest for.

“I was, we broke up a couple weeks before I booked this trip” you clear your throat, attempting to come off as unbothered with a slight shrug of your shoulders.

“So I’m the tropical rebound?” he’s being playful but you catch the slight seriousness embedded in his words and shake your head.

“No. You’re nothing like him”

“Ouch?”

You huff, impatient.

“Last time I saw him, he was balls deep inside one of my friends. You’re nothing like him”

Eren pulls a face but there’s relief expanding the lungs in his chest cavity.

Not so ouch-worthy, after all.

“Well, that sucks”

“Right?” you smile “this would be a good time to list all the wonderful qualities he’s going to be missing out on”

The half-joking tone isn’t enough to prevent him from taking your request seriously.

“I can’t imagine scoring someone like you and then just fucking it up so royally” he scoffs “what an idiot”

“Once again, such a way with words” you hope your teasing is enough to hide the heat crawling up from your chest to the very roots of your hair. Eren starts to unwrap your sandwich a little too harshly.

“I mean it” and god help him, he really does “who’s gonna insult his coffee now, I wonder?”

You’d playfully smack his arm and feign annoyance if it wasn’t for the smile he gives you, the faint shadow of a dimple teasing his left cheek as his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“How come you’re not in a relationship?” you fire the question back as you accept the sandwich he hands you, the first bite already having you swallowing back a moan. The cilantro leaves really do it for you.

“No particular reason” he shrugs “we broke up a few months ago”

“Amicably?”

“Yeah. We were together for a little over a year, it just gradually faded. I know it sounds sad as shit but really, we were friends before and we still are now”

“Why is everyone in your life just so wonderful and mature?” your grumbling draws a chuckle. He appreciates that you refer to his friends as wonderful people.

“I mean, my previous girlfriend told me she fell out of love with me on my birthday and then I found out she’d been dating her coworker for two weeks”

“Hmm. Yeah, you totally just evened that out”

“I did my fair share of asshole moves over the years, it’s how life goes. But you grow and hope to become a better person” he pauses “not like your ex. Fuck that guy”

He mirrors your airy laugh and you both finish your early lunch in comfortable silence, the ocean glistening underneath the same sun pleasantly heating up your cheeks.

Eren likes that you’d kiss him over something as trivial as a homemade sandwich, he likes that it doesn’t feel weird either, given that you only really touch each other when his friends are not present. It would be strange to act any differently, it would feel odd and awkward and wrong. It would feel like a relationship.

When the breeze decreases in intensity and it gets too hot to stay at the observatory, he suggests taking off. However, before you hit the road once more, you draw out your phone and ask him if he’d take a picture of you. It’s a funny reminder that you’re still a tourist, renewed amazement dancing in your features every time you turn to look at the scenery. Of course Eren agrees and carefully snaps a few pictures from different angles, so many your smile becomes a giggle and you actually attempt to snatch your phone out of his hand when he refuses to stop.

“Take one with me” you propose unexpectedly “so I can look at it and miss summer once I’m back in Tokyo” and miss you, you mentally correct yourself.

Eren stares at you for a second, brows furrowed. It’s the first time you openly mention your future departure, a detail he’s been familiar with ever since meeting you. Still, hearing it out loud brings the detail to a new level of concreteness. The sudden reality of it tastes bitter on his tongue as he bends down ever so slightly when you complain about feeling too short with his arm around your chest, safely tucking you against his. He keeps it friendly, basks in the warm sound of your giggle when you take the phone from his hand and he has to rest his chin on your head to be included in the picture. He keeps it friendly, even as he wonders if you’d look cute together, perhaps in a shot that captures that tender look in your eyes while his lips press to your temple.

Maybe it’s that specific thought that prompts him to blurt out the question.

“Stop moving”

“But it tickles!”

“If you make me screw this up I’m gonna have to start from scratch!”

Sasha huffs and her breath is warm on your cheek as you inch closer, ring finger under her brow to lift her eye firmly. The gentle way you’re stretching her skin is enough to keep her eyelid smooth, which allows you to apply the eyeliner in short, light strokes from the inner corner to the outer corner of an eye she’s having such a hard time keeping shut. Regardless, the wing looks sharp enough, although you decide to fix both her eyes with just a tiny amount of concealer.

When Sasha casually asked you do her makeup for the evening, you felt equal parts flattered and terrified of failure. You wanted her to feel pretty exactly the way she wanted to, which is why you both spent an embarrassing amount of time going through her belongings and planning the process each step of the way, refusing to accept her bubbly do as you please, I trust you!

She looks beautiful but that’s not really something you’d count as your success. She always is.

“Are we done?” you can tell she’s excited to peer at the final result, which makes you smile.

“Almost. Just missing lipstick”

You pick up the shade she decided on, a nice nude with a pink undertone that goes well with her fair skin.

As you attempt to gently sketch the lip liner around her lips, she giggles again, only keeping still after meeting your glare. Because you’ve been warned that there’d be food involved, you decide on further securing your work of art: after applying lipstick on top of lined and filled lips, you also apply some setting powder over it and then blot her lips with a tissue paper.

“Now you’re ready to win over that new coworker of yours” you grin as you hand her the small mirror she keeps on her desk.

Sasha’s eyes widen.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about”

“Sure you don’t. Tall, blond, smile that could shake the earth…”

“Hey, I never said that!”

“So you do have an idea after all” you grin and promptly dodge the small, heart-shaped pillow she snatches from her bed to throw at you. She then focuses on her reflection for a few seconds, finger nervously twirling one of the loose strands escaping her low bun, eyes anxiously scanning her face from different angles.

“Sash, you look gorgeous” you gently take the mirror from her hands “how about you go get dressed? I’ll clean up here and then we can head out”

She sighs but gives you an appreciative, little smile in turn. Then, her brows knit.

“Wait, what are you going to do with your hair? And what are you going to wear? I didn’t see you bring anything”

“I mean, I already did my makeup. I wasn’t planning on changing anything else, I’m ready to go”

“Are you shitting me?”

The horrified look on her face suggests that perhaps the casual floral dress you have on wouldn’t be too appropriate for the star festival she’s been gushing over for two weeks.

You awkwardly shift your weight from one foot to the other.

“I didn’t really bring anything fancy” you’re mortified. How could you not think of checking a store or two? This night is clearly a bigger deal that you had anticipated.

With a huff, Sasha gets up from her desk chair and starts a frantic search in the depths of her gigantic (and quite overflowing) closet. Dresses, tops and skirts are violently snatched from their hangers and drop to the floor in colorful puddles until she finally finds whatever it is she’s looking for.

“Sasha, I really can’t” your lips are parted in surprise, mesmerized by the sheer beauty of the yukata she’s holding.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I won’t let you walk out in that”

“It’s too much, really, you should wear it!”

“I already have mine and it’s prettier” her grin is void of any actual malice “can I help you put it on?”

You swallow, so flattered that she trusts you enough to lend something so beautiful and certainly important to her. There’s a silly feeling squeezing your stomach and threatening to bring tears to your eyes, a gesture so simple that makes you feel not just welcome but accepted in a way that doesn’t feel temporary anymore.

Sasha comes closer, whatever emotion has your mind feeling all over the place must be clearly noticeable from the outside because she puts a hand on your shoulder with the softest smile, squeezing gently.  

“This is not the time to get emotional, we’ll get there but not tonight. C’mon, let me” she holds the yukata up and wiggles her brows, succeeding in drawing a giggle.

“Sorry. Yeah, okay, let’s do it”

You get undressed and like the expert she clearly is, Sasha waits for you to slip your arms into the sleeves before adjusting the hemline to cover your ankles while aligning the center back seam with your backbone. She brings the right-side overlap to the hip bone on the other side, then layers the left-side one over the former. A waist cord is tied around you right above the waistline, from the front to the back, crossed and then brought back to the front to be secured. Sasha makes sure to tuck away the loose ends between the wrapped cord and places he extra-folded overlap over it.

She checks you all around and hums, satisfied. The obi is white, it matches the beautiful flowers, leaves and branches ramifying across the baby blue fabric of the traditional piece of clothing. Sasha wraps the obi around your waist from the back to the front, layers it neatly to ensure that it will not become loose. She then carefully straightens it and places its end on the back. After some holding, pinching, wrapping and tucking, you can feel what you have no doubt is a perfect bow pressing into your back.

“Done!” she doesn’t give you the time to say a word, impatiently pushing you towards the full length mirror glued to one of her closer doors.

It’s… well, something. You have never worn an actual, traditional yukata before, the ones you own are pretty cheap and the fabric is nowhere as high in quality as the one you can feel against your skin now. Soft, airy, comfortable, you can’t help but smile and think it kinda suits you.

“I didn’t think I could pull off something so gorgeous” you check yourself from different angles, admiring the result of Sasha’s skilled ministrations. Her reflection smiles back at you.

“You’re stunning. Eren is going to flip out”

Your heart jumps in your throat at the mention of his name.

“He’s not” you chuckle nervously “he’s used to me by now”

Sasha giggles.

“Please, you don’t know how he gets with this stuff. He loves this festival more than any of us, seeing you dressed in traditional clothing, in his favorite color, will make him flip out”

“I’m not wearing it because I want him to flip out” you protest, sudden panic bubbling in your chest. His favorite color? Is that why she…?

“My god, you’re weird” Sasha cocks her head, seeming genuinely confused “let me fix your hair and then I’ll get dressed, we’re already late”

She could’ve told you so much more. That she finds it interesting and exhaustingly stubborn, that you wouldn’t like the man you’re dating to be all over you. She knows dating is not exactly what you two have been doing but Sasha also knows her friend well enough to guess when he’s falling for someone and boy, has he fallen for you. She could’ve told you that he’s spent two weeks going over the fact that he’d invited you to the festival multiple times, wrecking his mind (and theirs) with a vortex of thoughts inevitably spiraling out of his usually solid control.

I don’t know what came over me.

She’s gonna think it’s weird, isn’t she?

What if she hates it?

And when Connie flicked his forehead, urged him to get a fucking grip and reminded him that friends can hang out and go to festivals and enjoy some time together even outside of the disgusting sex dungeon he insists on calling home, Eren sighed and deflated in his seat, something about his features being so heartbreakingly conflicted even Jean didn’t feel like cracking any other jokes.

Sasha knows this night holds a special meaning to him, the festival he’s loved so dearly ever since he was a child, when he got to experience it hand in hand with his parents. The festival they always attended together, when their group was still far from falling apart and no one dreamed of leaving the island yet. The special occasion that rarely ever included girls or general outsiders, the one night he jealously kept to himself, his friends and his family.

Not all of them share his devotion for the star festival, Connie notoriously taking advantage of the sparkling setting to hit on every pretty girl within a 3-foot radius, but they understand it. The fact that he wants you there means more than what you can imagine and the whole thing would fill Sasha with joyful relief if it wasn’t for the fact that you are going to leave in less than two months and she knows the ashes they’re going to be left picking up are going to weigh heavy in their hands.

But she’s not mad at you because how could she be when you make her friend happy and he clearly makes you happy too? Eren’s not the only one who’s gonna get burned, the real tragedy is that you’re both still too blind to acknowledge it.

You head out shortly after, in the extra geta sandals Sasha has insisted on lending you. No one is there to pick you up but she lives fairly close to downtown, where you’ll meet the rest of the group.

“They’re usually easy to find, probably going to be glued to a yakitori stand” she’d said, making you smile. Sasha looks nothing less than dashing in her handmade crimson yukata and golden obi, you genuinely think that Niccolo guy would be an idiot not to shoot his shot the moment he sees her.

You come to learn that what you’re attending is the island’s own version of the tanabata festival, the only night deities Orihime and Hikoboshi are allowed to meet despite the milky way separating them. Back in Tokyo you and your friends would write wishes on small pieces of paper and hang them on trees. However, tonight people will entrust theirs to floating paper ships released into the ocean.

The celebrations had started in the afternoon so you have missed the parade but you’re well in time to enjoy everything else: the streets you have come to know by now, are filled with a crowd you couldn’t believe would fit in a space rendered narrower by dozens of colorful food stands and amusement booths. The air is fragrant, different smells mixing interestingly well together as vendors shout over each other to attract clients and tourists. Some of them wave back at Sasha and offer free samples for her to test out. You return their bows with a smile and then trot away with your friend to resist the temptation to pause at every single stand and get one of everything. At some point, she does stop to get a seafood okonomiyaki but you’re still trying to decide between a portion of takoyaki and some good ol’ yakisoba when Sasha lets out a squeal and excitedly waves at someone standing a few booths away.

You turn around just as the guys approach her, all smiles and giddy greetings. They look better than expected in their yukatas, the most eclectic one being Connie who is sporting a pattern of turquoise waves on a white background and a headband decorated with the rising sun motif and the kanji for “number one”.

As you take a tentative step forward, Sasha moves sideways just enough for you to unexpectedly meet Eren’s gaze, which has been focused on you from the very first squeal his friend let out. And yet, he finds himself so pathetically unprepared for the sight, for how rapidly his heartbeat increases in pace. He doesn’t even attempt to hide the wonder in his eyes as he smiles down at you and that unfiltered, pure astonishment in his gaze is more than enough for your pulse to spike. You’ve lost count of the oh nos at this point.

He opens his mouth to say something but Connie’s admired whistle comes faster.

“Yo, you look hot as shit!”

The spell doesn’t break even if you all melt in chuckles and you thank him with an exaggerated bow. Sasha clears her throat and takes him by the arm, Jean’s friendly thumbs up and the flash of Armin’s sweet smile the last things you see before the group starts moving forward and towards another stand.

“What he said” Eren’s voice comes out different, there’s no sign of his usual confidence and you can sense some weird nervousness laced into it. It makes you want to take his hand.

“You look really good yourself” you say, although good is a heavily simplistic way to depict what you’re actually looking at. The indigo yukata compliments his tan skin and further enhances (something you could not deem possible) the color of his eyes. It’s slightly open on the front, to reveal his smooth chest, and the hair he’s tied back leaves you no chance of escaping that intense stare of his. He’s perfect.

As Eren motions to the rest of the group with a graceful gesture of his hand and you walk side by side, you think you hear him mutter something very similar to a “not even close” under his breath.

“So” his eyes are back on you the second you speak “what should we eat?”

“Ah, you have to try Ryo’s takoyaki, he has a special recipe for his mayo” Eren smiles and, without a second thought, grabs your hand to drag you away from the stall where Jean and Armin are buying a grilled squid each.

“Wait, they’re still—”

“They’ll find us”

And just like that, the warmth of his fingers and the broadness of his back are the only things you can focus on as he guides you through the bustling crowd.

He introduces you to yet another acquaintance of his, Ryo smiling fondly at him and insisting for five entire minutes on the takoyaki being on the house. Eren scoffs at your attempt at paying, genuinely offended, and after a heated argument Ryo eventually gives in and accepts his money. However, he winks at you as he hands you your portion.

“I added two extra ones, don’t tell him” he whispers and you share a chuckle.

Shortly after, Eren laughs at your wide eyed stare as soon as you swallow the first bite.

“What the hell is this?” you mutter, shocked “why is everything just so much better here?”

A softer smile lingers on his lips as he watches you gush over a food he’s eaten a thousand times, bite after bite an endless stream of exclamations voicing marvel he finds adorable. When Eren stops in his tracks and you turn around, confused, he almost takes your face in his hands and kisses you right then and there, for everyone to witness. Instead, he carefully swipes his thumb across your bottom lip as an excuse to collect some mayo from the corner of your mouth and then brings that same thumb to his mouth, successfully erasing any thought from your mind and melting every bone in your body.

“Maybe you should stay, then”

He’s serious, so serious your breath hitches in your throat. Especially because your first instinct is to reply with a yeah, maybe I should you definitely can’t afford to pronounce out loud.

He keeps you locked in place with a stare that leaves you no place to hide, the pads of your fingers tingling with need. You want to kiss him, you want to stay. He wants you to. He’s waiting for you to say something.

Why?

Ask me to.

Tell me why.

Convince me.

I can’t.

But do I want to?

“Or, I could take Ryo to Tokyo with me” you swallow the ashes in your throat and attempt a smile. He purses his lips and it sucks that you can discern the disappointment flashing in his eyes. Just for a second, then it’s gone, pushed away, and Eren brings back his handsome smirk.

“I’m sure he’d love that”

He wasn’t planning on half-asking you to stay, not right now, not like that. He didn’t even realize he’s hoping for you to stay in the first place. What the hell, who does that? What is he doing, where are his friends?

You don’t understand why, or perhaps you do and choose to ignore rational explanations for the time being, but you take a step forward and gently give in to the urge of taking his hand. It’s big, rough but warm in yours.

“Is this weird?” the question is so soft he can barely hear it and yet his heart seems to miss a beat, perhaps even two.

“No” he carefully slides his fingers in between yours and takes a moment to get accustomed to the sensation only to discover that he doesn’t need it “it’s not weird”

“Good” you smile “show me around some more?”

It’s unbelievable, the amount of people Eren knows and stops to say hello to along the way. Nearly every vendor, almost every booth, he makes sure to at least wave and if someone holds him a little longer, he squeezes your hand as he asks them about their families, sons, business. You recognize some of the tourists eager to have a word with him too, lots of them part of the groups he teaches to. Most of your mornings are not spent watching his lessons anymore: you’re too busy either putting into practice his teachings firsthand, or hanging out at the cafe with Sasha. If Armin and Jean show up too, you quite literally drag them into the water because you’re eager to showcase everything you’ve learned so far. When he’s done, Eren always comes looking for you anyway.

Once he’s made sure you’ve tasted a little bit of everything, your taste buds jazzed and your stomach a second away from exploding, you decide it’s time for dessert. Your treat.

“But you don’t know what I’d like?” he teases, mischievous glint in his eyes.

You roll your eyes.

“I’m gonna take a guess. Wait here and don’t peek”

“Yes, ma’am” he stands up straight and salutes like a soldier.

You wander away but not before sending him one last glance from over your shoulder. It makes you laugh that he’s still standing in the same way, silly, boyish grin mirroring yours.

Apples covered in sugar syrup are a no, way too sweet, and you skip the colorful clouds of the cotton candy booth for the same reason. You just know Connie is going to make an inappropriate joke if you get chocolate covered bananas on a stick so you opt for two portions of kakigori, shaved ice flavored with condensed milk and syrup. The consistency is smoother, fluffier in comparison to the ones you’ve eaten in Tokyo throughout the years and endless other summer festivals, this one almost feels like fresh fallen snow. You pick strawberry as your flavor and pineapple as his, kindly asking the friendly woman working at the stall to reduce the amount of syrup of his cup.

You can feel the yukata sticking to your back as you swiftly return to where he’s waiting for you, the dessert you have picked the perfect weapon against the humid air of the evening.

“Hey” you greet “saw you standing here on your own and thought, wow, that guy’s cute. Maybe he’d give me a chance if I bribe him with food” as you hand him the colorful cup, your fingers graze his. It’s disgusting that you think you’d like to bottle up that airy laugh and keep it close, listen to it whenever you feel lonely. It’s probably one of the things you’re going to miss the most.

“Good strategy, I’m sold” even his fake wink is attractive “you look like a tourist, how’s the vacation going?” he plays along with a silliness that makes you smile as you shrug.

“Not too bad, the locals are very friendly”

“And yet no one’s had the heart to tell you that strawberry kakigori tastes like shit”

You lightly stomp on his foot, brows furrowed in a frown he finds comical and way too realistic.

“Just changed my mind, I don’t want that chance”

He displays a sorrowful grimace as he brings one hand to his chest, the fatal wound given by your sharp words almost making him curl in on himself.

“But baby” he coos, bringing that same hand to cradle your cheek, thumb delicately skimming over your cold lips “who said I was going to give you one?”

He’s already laughing when you swat his hand away, an asshole muttered under your breath even if you can’t bite back your own smile, heart pounding with the same frenzy of a hummingbird. Eren’s only ever called you that while in compromising positions and the pet name never failed to prompt immediate reactions from your body but now he’s just kidding, in the middle of the street, among a hundred other humans passing by. He makes it sound every bit as devastatingly alluring as he always does, you suppose it’s a problem that you’d like to hear him call you that again right away.

“Eren!” a voice you don’t recognize snaps you back to reality and away from your embarrassing fantasies. There’s a pretty brunette next to him, hugging him actually, hands lingering on his chest even after she pulls back. He politely says hello, takes a step back but she follows the movement, with no intention of interrupting the skin to skin contact.

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you all night, Sasha said you’d be around” she has gorgeous gray eyes and the purple yukata looks amazing on her.

“Yeah, m’just taking a stroll” his eyes dart to you but it doesn’t seem like he intends to introduce you at any point. You take a step back for good measure.

“Wanna join us? Porco’s here too!”

He smiles.

“Really? I’ll come say hi in a second”

She juts her bottom lip out.

“Don’t be long. I thought you’d at least call me, especially after last night. You know I miss you”

Perhaps he had a point when he said that strawberry kakigori tastes like shit because right not it feels like concrete in your mouth. You know you don’t have any right to be upset, he’s not your boyfriend and by no means you expected your little arrangement to be exclusive. But even that’s not enough of a reason to stay any longer and hear the continuation of a conversation you’re not meant to be a part of.

So you excuse yourself with a smile, her gray eyes acknowledging you for the first time and for no longer than a second, Eren’s hand almost snapping to grab your wrist to prevent you from leaving. But you’re quick and also stupid enough to give him a thumbs up from behind her back before swiftly turning around and letting go of the breath that had your lungs burning. Thank god you spot Sasha and everyone else not too far away, they’re all positioned in a semicircle around Jean and Connie.

“Isn’t this game supposed to be for kids?” you whisper to Sasha and she giggles.

“Yes but they insist on trying every year. They never win anyway”

The game consists in scooping goldfish with a small paper racket that torns almost right away when contacted with water.

“Son of a…” Connie grunts when a child next to him succeeds in catching not one but two fishes among the applause of everyone gathered around the booth to watch. His mom glares at him and you chuckle.

“Can I try?” you chime in and Connie is happy to switch places, scowl so deep you can barely bite back a laugh.

“We need a new strategy” Jean whispers angrily.

“Maybe you shouldn’t swirl the racket like that” you smile and accept the new one the booth owner lends you.

He huffs but stops his ministrations to focus on your movements, the fact that he’s damn near holding his breath is hilarious but you can’t afford any distractions: there’s a mission to accomplish.

It takes more than a few attempts and you can feel the warmth radiating from Connie’s chest practically pressed against your back in restless anticipation. When you catch one fish at last, there’s another applause drowned in his howling: you barely have the time to let the fish slip into the plastic bag filled with water the booth owner is offering before Connie’s arms close around you in a hug that lifts you off the ground.

“Beginner’s luck” Jean is not as happy: it’s quite clear who’s going to own the fish you captured.

You lift your cup with an apologetic smile.

“Want some?” there’s another spoon planted in the soft ice, he may as well be the one to use it.

“Strawberry?” he asks with a grin, accepting your offer nonetheless “we haven’t taught you enough”

“She’s going to tell all her friends we’re such snobs” Armin sighs and you chuckle.

“Ohmygod we should go try the target shooting booth! Like, right now” Sasha tugs at your sleeve and Jean catches your cup right as you lose your grip on it.

“Wait a second—”

“Please, can we go?”

“I guess we’re going target shooting” Armin concedes and Jean shrugs, now the happy owner of a dessert he didn’t have to pay for as Connie gushes over his new pet.

“What should we call them?” he asks as your little group moves towards yet another crowded stall. You turn around, Sasha still quite literally dragging you.

“Mmmh, what about Floater?”

“I think Miso would be cute” Armin chimes in but Connie snorts.

“I like Sea Beast. Yeah, that’s the one”

You all erupt in laughter, Jean knowingly putting an arm around his shoulders.

“Man, I have a feeling you’re never gonna get laid again”

“Joke’s on you, women are gonna find me adorable as shit. Right?” he raises his voice on the last word and both you and Sasha look at each other, amused.

“I guess” she concedes.

“Yeah, that’s gonna be a killer icebreaker” you agree.

Armin huffs.

“Just don’t ask women if they’d like to come over to meet your sea beast”

Horrified, Connie’s mouth hangs open as he stares at his friend like he’s grown a second head while the rest of you just contain another fit of laughter, Jean almost choking on his kakigori.

As soon as you find a small opening to stand in line by the shateki stall, you understand why Sasha was so eager to try target shooting all of a sudden. Niccolo is there with his friends, waiting for his turn, and as soon as he spots her his eyes just light up. You gently untangle her fingers from your sleeve and give her a little push as encouragement. 

“Where’s Eren?” Armin stands in line next to you, Connie and Jean excitedly having a chat with other acquaintances of theirs just behind.

“He met a friend, I wanted to leave them some space” your tone is neutral but he furrows his brows.

“A friend? Who?”

“Some girl” you casually take a look around but you’re still unable to discern the prizes lined up on the shelves. Someone’s just lost if the disappointed groans coming from the front of the queue are an indicator.

“Ah” Armin clears his throat “well, are you having fun?”

A grateful smile tugs at your lips, relief settling over you like a soft blanket. He is the most considerate person you’ve ever met. How did this group of extraordinary people got lucky enough to find each other? You can’t help but think it’s a little unfair. It’s more than luck, maybe it’s destiny for them. Another pang of jealousy sticks in your stomach like an invisible needle.

“I’m never going to forget it. Not just this night, the whole…” you stop, because it feels so unfairly minimizing to address the whole thing as just a holiday.

“Vacation?” he’s gentle with the word, makes it sound way less depressing than what you would have. You acknowledge his reply with a little nod.

“You know…” he trails off “you could stay”

Just like that. You could stay. And it sounds so real, so doable, it breaks your heart.

“I really can’t” you murmur, head hanging low to hide the embarrassing teary eyes. You hadn’t anticipated to feel so at home among strangers who welcomed you in a heartbeat, kind and unpretentious and affectionate in a way you’ve never experienced. Saying goodbye it’s probably going to be one of the hardest things you’ll ever have to do.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you” Armin gently grazes your shoulder and you just have to smile. You trust him enough to know he’s not going to mock the wetness of your eyes.

“No, don’t apologize. I guess I’m just going to miss you all”

“We really are the most unplanned part of the entire holiday, aren’t we?” he smiles too.

“Yeah, thank god you are”

Armin melts in a sweet laugh but doesn’t have the chance to say anything because suddenly, Connie’s arms are enveloping the both of you, squeezing so hard you let out a playful groan.

“Why’s he the only one who gets to hear it? I wanna hear you say how devastated you are about leaving us, too!”

“Connie!” Armin attempts to turn around, probably to flick his forehead, but he only laughs harder and, despite yourself, you do too.

“I’m devastated and I’ll miss you a lot!”

He squeezes even harder, Armin cursing under his breath.

“We’ll miss you too” and yet, Connie’s voice is gentle to the ear, in sharp contrast with the suffocating embrace he’s holding you in. If you had any space to move around, you’d squeeze him too.

When you finally manage to get to the front of the line and it’s your turn to pick up the popgun, Sasha is still deep in conversation with Niccolo and you seem to be suddenly presented with a fun way to simmer some of the frustration still boiling in your core. Perfect.

You’re quicker than Armin and casually snatch the little pot of cork from the man owning the stall. There isn’t a specific prize you’re after, although the Squirtle plushie looks quite appealing.

You quickly learn that your aim sucks and Connie’s snickering from behind you at every missed shot is not helping. You appreciate Sasha interrupting her relentless flirting to cheer you on, though. That is until something warm and solid and oddly familiar presses against your back, bigger hands enveloping yours right after you push another cork into the barrel.

“You have to get the barrel closer to the target” of course his breath is hot on your neck, cheek grazing the shell of your ear as he corrects the position of your arms.

You huff but maintain your composure.

“What are we aiming at?” he whispers and this time you know it’s deliberate, the way his lips brush against your skin. He’s such a…

“Squirtle” you challenge and Eren hums, certainly not one to shy away from a challenge.

And sure enough, after knocking over a packet of chewing gum and a rubik’s cube, with a well placed shot you actually manage to bring down your target. It’s infuriating.

He grins as he hands you your prize and you roll your eyes.

“Please know I find it extremely annoying, how good you are at everything”

“You’ve never seen him play soccer” Jean’s grumbling is a welcome distraction from Eren’s eyes boring into yours but it doesn’t last long enough, thanks to Armin who drags him away and towards another food booth. How they even have any space left for more food, is beyond your understanding.

“Took me some time to find you guys, it always gets more crowded ahead of the show” Eren briefly glances at Sasha and flashes her a smile before redirecting his attention to you.

“I catched a goldfish for Connie” you internally cringe at your pathetic attempt at changing the topic. But Eren smiles, genuinely incredulous.

“Are you kidding? He finally gets to have one?”

You shrug, mirroring his smile.

“Fuck, can’t believe I missed that”

“Can’t believe you missed that either!” Sasha’s sour reproach chimes in even if she’s standing a few steps back. You mentally thank her but Eren’s glare meets no further comments.

“Hey, listen…” he clears his throat but is soon interrupted. You turn around and then peer downward when you feel something, or someone, pulling at your yukata. A young boy holding what you can only guess is his mom’s hand stares right back at you, expression as stoic as it can be.

“Excuse me, miss” you have to bite back a chuckle as he bows “that’s my favorite pokemon, my brother tried to get it for me but couldn’t. I was wondering, if it’s not your favorite, can I have it?”

Your eyes flicker to his mom, who seems a little uncomfortable and directs you an awkward smile.

“I told him he could ask but there’s really no need…”

“What’s your name?”, you return her smile but look down at his serious little face again.

“Hiro, miss”

“Of course you can have him, Hiro” you hand him the plushie and the biggest smile splits across his face as he holds it flush against his chest “my favorite’s Lapras. Water types are just the best, aren’t they?”

“Lapras is cool” Hiro condescends “but Squirtle is cooler!”

You all laugh, his mom erupting in several thanks and him turning around to wave at you before disappearing among the crowd. It makes you a little bitter not to have a little memento from such a special evening but it only lasts a second. It’s nice to know that Squirtle is going to end up in a loving home.

“It’s almost time, we need to head to the beach!” Sasha’s excited chirp has you turning around once more, Eren’s warm smile stays in your peripheral vision as you meet her gaze.

“Time for what?” you ask, tilting your head to the side slightly.

“The firework show!” Niccolo worms his way into the conversation and flashes you a thrilled grin.

“Let’s go!” Armin and Connie, standing a little farther, signal for your little group to hurry.

“I’ll catch up” you feel Eren’s warm hand press onto your back, giving you a gentle push. You deem unnecessary to investigate further, maybe he wants to go look for the girl he couldn’t dedicate the necessary attention to and invite her to watch the show with him. Who are you to intrude, or worse, wonder? You give him a quick nod and catch up with Armin and Connie, Sasha and her new companion right behind as you all head to the beach. You think it’s sweet that Niccolo has decided to ditch his group to tag along with her and you genuinely hope that whatever may be blossoming between the two, ends up working out. She deserves it.

As expected, the beach is packed with people sitting on colorful towels or standing, some bent over little wooden tables or balancing small pieces of paper against their friends’ backs to write down wishes that will soon be entrusted to the sea. You all take turns to write yours and when Jean hands you the thin piece of paper, it takes a few seconds to wrap your mind around what you feel like asking for.

A path, maybe. Something to follow to get wherever it is you’re supposed to be going. Or maybe the strength to leave, not to close yourself off to the world again. Happiness for your new found friends, because they deserve every ounce of the genuine affection they so naturally spread around. Health for your parents. There’s a new found feeling pounding alongside your heart, you want to visit them soon and let them know that you miss them and that you’re so sorry for not having been able to see them more. You want to share that you’re going to look for a new job and that hopefully you’ll be okay soon. Hell, you even want to tell them about this entire holiday. Sit on the familiar, faded tatami floor, share a cup of caramelized almonds and just let it all out. Would they even believe you can more or less surf now? Ah, you wish they could’ve met everyone. You wish they could’ve met Eren.

He comes shortly after you’re all settled on the towels people are dispensing on the beach, you’re left pretty much alone as everyone else is sitting next to whoever they’re busy talking to. Armin has run into a pretty blonde girl on the way to the beach, they seemed to know each other so for the second time in one evening you took a few steps back and gave them some space, made sure they could sit next to each other. Sasha and Niccolo are sandwiched together between Jean and Connie, the former is speaking on the phone with his lips curled into the biggest smile while his friend is seemingly socializing with a girl you don’t know, part of a bigger group that also seems keen to have a chat with a few strangers. The general atmosphere is so warm and, all things considered, the night has been so enjoyable, you don’t find it in yourself to be frustrated or disappointed anymore.

Eren doesn’t have anyone with him as he plops down next to you with a telltale grin.

“What?” you ask, tossing him a smile back.

“Nothing. Just lookin’ at you” he shrugs and you don’t buy it for one second but play along, gently nudging his shoulder with yours.

“Yeah, that happens a lot” for a second you don’t believe he’s going to remember the silly exchange that took place on the late afternoon of your first surfing lesson, so many days ago. The way his smile grows, tells you otherwise.

“People lookin’ at you?”

“You looking at me”

“Ah” lips pursed, he nods as if to indicate an obvious, given fact “might be because you’re beautiful”

“Ahh…” you mock, a weak attempt at dissimulating your self-consciousness “you fell prey of the charming tourist!”

He nudges your shoulder with his this time, tongue in cheek.

“Guess I really did”

Your chuckles melt into one another and you realize it’s probably never going to be possible to associate the rolling of waves and the salt in the breeze that soothes your feverish skin to anything else but him.

There’s a bunch of people by the shore, bent down to fill shells with small pellets while the latecomers frantically attempt to scribble down their wishes to send off the last remaining paper ships.

“Nothing happened with her” Eren stares at his friends as he speaks, quieter and attentive with his choice of words “we ran into each other and shared a beer, that’s all”

A beat passes, one where it’s hard not to acknowledge the absurd, unjustified relief washing over you.

“It’s none of my business” you’re not looking at him either, in fact your head is turned the opposite way, eyes focused on the little paper ships being slowly released into the dark ocean waters.

“It’s not” he affirms “but I wanted you to know”

So considerate and way too respectful of a person that’s supposed to be nothing more than an easily accessible reliever. It does something funny to your stomach.

“I think she likes you” why are you insisting? You shouldn’t care at all, it’s not your life and it’s not your place. You’re just a comma in the story.

“Too bad” Eren clicks his tongue and wishes you wouldn’t be avoiding his gaze, maybe then you’d recognize something within it without him needing to say the word.

As the paper ships continue to sail, a pin-drop feeling of despair suddenly washes over him at the thought of the material easily dissolving into the water, hundreds of wishes being swallowed and erased so easily. And still, in some distorted way, they’ll keep existing. Is that what he’s going to become for you, is that what he is? Just some paper figure that will lose consistency as soon as you step on that plane? Yeah, it’s exactly what he is and he was fine with it. Until each day spent with you has given him the feeling of wanting to be more than a fleeting detail in your summer, more than a cute story you’re gonna recall with friends and lovers once you’re back to a life he doesn’t belong to.

Will they recognize the crease you get between your eyebrows whenever you frown, deep in thoughts you never share? Do they know how you like your coffee, have they ever witnessed the charming inclination of your flirting? Are they already familiar with your witty comebacks and the way you laugh at jokes you don’t find funny just so that the other person doesn’t feel bad?

Did they ever have to bite back amused grins each time you tried to contain and swallow your annoyance only to fail miserably and explode in the face of clients who were being rude to Sasha? It was only a matter of time before you decided to help her on the mornings she was short on staff, until Niccolo showed up and made it easier. And yet you still feel the same responsibility to look after her, the same way you do for everyone else.

When Jean mentioned having forgotten to get a refill of surfboard wax, you casually made a stop to the store on your way to the beach and threw the small box at him. If Connie laments the lack of inspiration for his sketches, certain he won’t be able to get the job done before the deadline the publishing house has given him, you have entire sessions in which you both sit down and exchange ideas for charactes and stories and concepts for plots inspired by your beloved books. When him and Armin are done with surfing lessons or tired enough to simply catch a break from riding waves, most times you’ll materialize by the shore with two glasses of frozen lemonade and a knowing grin.

Why shouldn’t he get to keep you? Why don’t you want to keep him, your affection apparently solid enough to take his hand but not to stay? Is his fate really to melt away and be shoved in a far corner of your mind as nothing more than a fun summer fling?

“I couldn’t find another plushie” he clears his throat a little and when you finally look at him again, suddenly everything feels right “but you probably wanted something to remember this night by, so” the small keychain dangles from his pointer finger, even in the dark you’re able to discern the small silhouette. It’s Lapras.

Your lips part in surprise as you carefully hook one finger in the metal ring to slide the keychain out of his grasp.

“I know it’s flat and everything but I couldn’t find anything better. If only someone didn’t feel like giving up the plushie I worked so hard to knock down…” the teasing is good-natured and it draws an incredulous smile as your fist closes around the silly gift.

The firework show starts right as you meet his playful gaze, dozens of shells launched simultaneously in a cascade of shimmering yellows, greens and reds all reflecting in starry eyes that get to be so bright despite the darkness. The hand that’s not squeezing the keychain hard enough for the metal to painfully dig into your palm fists the towel you’re sitting on, it’s too close to the edge and you can feel little grains of sand making their way underneath your nails. Eren inches closer the same as you do, any other noise fades in the background when all you can hear is the loud thumping of your heart in your chest and all you can feel is the warmth of his breath on your lips as your noses are close enough to touch. Even when out of focus, he’s beautiful enough to take your breath away.

There’s hesitation, a thick tension coating the bubble enveloping the two of you and the small space left between what’s been and what’s about to change everything. He swallows, barely forcing himself to wait, to let you have control for once. But right as an invisible wire snaps and he gives in to gravity, closing whatever is left of the ridiculous distance between your bodies, someone plops down heavily next to you and you jump, lips grazing his chin as you turn with wide eyes. Eren exhales deeply, shutting his for a second.

“Can’t enjoy shit with Connie’s loud babbling” Jean pauses for a second, examining both your faces “did I interrupt something?” cautiously, his eyes dart from the shy look on your face to the way his friend’s glaring daggers at him.

“No” you’re quick to say “also, let him have his moment. You’ve been blushing on the phone for half an hour”

He opens his mouth in an outraged frown but is cut off by Eren’s chuckle.

“How’s Mikasa?” his arm reaches from around your shoulders to poke at his cheek with a harsh finger. Jean swats his hand away, cheeks dusted in pink.

“Shut up” he grumbles and makes a show of turning his attention back to the fireworks once more. With a giggle, you brush your hands off of the sand sticking to your sweaty palms, keychain secured in your lap. Eren doesn’t remove his arm from your shoulders, the weight of it equal parts foreign and comforting. You could easily get used to it, that’s what you think as you lean into him and let your head rest on his shoulder.

When you stumble back into his house late that night, sandals clumsily kicked off at the door, you collapse onto his couch right away. Your legs ache and your limbs feel heavy but the giddiness still hasn’t worn off and happiness is still stubbornly vibrating in your chest as you free your hair from the tight bun Sasha has forced it into. Eren sits next to you with a light groan, his feet hurt and he’s tired but it’s certainly not enough of a reason to refrain from pulling your legs up to rest on his lap, the gesture met with your weary giggle.

“Did you have a good time?” he asks, head tilted back and half-lidded eyes focused on your smile.

“The best time” you think of the little keychain resting in the front pocket of your bag and smile a little more.

Eren hums, fingers lazily massaging your ankles as his gaze flickers to the ceiling. He wasn’t planning on asking you to come over, his kitchen’s a mess and bedroom’s even worse. But right as you were parting ways and hugging his friends—now your friends too—goodbye, he just found himself blurting the question out. And although you’ll most probably find it hard to believe, it’s not even the sex he’s after. He just wanted the time spent together to stretch a little longer, when’s he ever going to have the chance to look at you dressed like that again after all?

“M’gonna fall asleep here if you don’t stop that” with an airy giggle, you faintly kick one of his hands away from your ankle. Eyes back on you, his lips curl into a tentative smile.

“What if you actually do?”

You tilt your head against the couch pillows.

“Pass out on your couch?”

Eren huffs, lightly pinching your ankle.

“Sleep here”

“How do you still have enough energy left?” you mutter to yourself and carefully remove your legs from his lap, escaping his warm touch. With a yawn barely hidden behind your palm, you tiredly motion towards his bedroom “fine, but I hope you know you’re gonna have to do all the work”

He snorts out a light laugh.

“I meant sleep, sleep”

You stay still for a second, then furrow your brows.

“So you don’t… desire me?”

Eren’s face changes instantly, dropping in quiet shock.

“What? No, I mean yes, I didn’t mean…” you cut him off with a hearty laugh, thoroughly enjoying the tender blush that blossoms across his cheeks. It’s his turn to frown and you can barely catch the small pillow he throws at you, a worn out idiot muttered angrily that only has you laughing harder.

“Fine” it’s surprising how natural it feels to accept and trespass a limit you’ve always been so careful to set for your own sake “but all my clothes are at Sasha’s”

“Just wear one of my shirts” he grumbles as he gets up from the couch and you follow suit, giggling when he shoots you another glare. Even if still feigning annoyance, he grumpily apologizes for the mess as he digs into his closet and picks up a clean shirt for you. You recognize it as he hands it, it’s one of the ones he throws on at the beach, usually when taking breaks at the cafe in between lessons.

“I’ll leave you to it” he clears his throat but then suddenly stops, one foot outisde the room and hand resting on the door knob “would you want me to sleep on the couch?”

Confused, you return a perplexed look.

“Why would I want that?”

Eren lightly scratches the back of his neck, not really sure how to word something you probably wouldn’t even guess he’s been paying attention to. You’ve never stayed, you have never spent an entire night in his bed. He never got to wake up next to you and has no idea if you’re a kicker or a bed hogger but that isn’t to say he hasn’t been dying to find out.

He doesn’t know how to properly say it so he simply resorts to the first true thing that comes to mind.

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable”

“You never make me uncomfortable”

The reply catches him by surprise, not because he finds it hard to believe but because you’re rarely ever this direct, gaze not faltering for a second while locked to his. With a small, almost shy nod, he shuts the door behind him to give you some privacy while you get changed.

He plans on keeping himself busy by tidying up the kitchen, frowning at his morning self who thought it’d be a good idea to leave a plate of unfinished eggs by the sink, leftovers of his breakfast now encrusted to the surface. But before he has the chance to at least attempt to scrape the remnants of what was once a decent portion of sunny side-up eggs, you peek through the door and call for him with a voice so thin Eren barely hears you.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, taking notice of your embarrassment.

“I don’t know how to take it off” you murmur and it takes everything in him not to chuckle. But it appears that you have memorized the meaning of each twitch of his lips, must be why you snort.

“I’ve never worn a traditional one! And I don’t want to ruin it, s’not mine” you grumble, not even giving him the time to acknowledge your fair reasons before disappearing behind the door once again. Eren clears his throat to disguise the little laugh that slips past his lips and prays you haven’t heard it as he makes his way to his bedroom.

You’re sitting on the bed, look at him with those big eyes of yours when he enters the room and for a fleeting moment he selfishly thinks he doesn’t want you to take the yukata off at all. Perhaps part of the night is still clinging to it, maybe taking it off means discarding each new, little moment tying you to him and starting from square one. Because he didn’t make up all those fragments still frozen in time and his memory, did he? His fingers in between yours in public for the first time, that look in your eyes when you took the keychain in your hand, the way he almost, almost got to…

“Hello? Do I have to call Sasha?” you’re standing now, waving a hand in front of his face. Eren blinks, snapping back to reality.

“Turn around” he demands, voice hoarse. You comply, mentally kicking yourself because of how the mere pitch is enough to send a shudder down your spine. It’s all you can think of as his fingers work their way through Sasha’s intricate ribbon, a few curses being muttered for good measure as he fumbles with the fabric, tugging and tugging in hopes of loosening it enough to take the obi off. Your back is pressed to his chest with each pull and it takes a deep exhale to keep yourself from leaning into him the way you’ve been dying to do for the entire night.

He pulls the bow one last time, not without a grunt, and the knot can finally be easily untied. You catch the obi before it falls to the floor and carefully fold it to then place it on Eren’s desk. It’s fine, he’s done, you can take it from here. So why does he keep you in place, hands on your hips a gentle warning to keep still as his arms wrap around you and his chest is finally flush against your back?

His fingers find the tight knot of the cord resting above your waistline and take their sweet time untying it, your heart stuttering erratically against your rib cage. Eren wonders if you can feel his heart on your back, it’s throbbing almost painfully and he swears whatever is left of his chest fucking flutters when you release the tension in your shoulders and melt in the embrace the cord was nothing but a pathetic excuse to initiate.

Yeah, he’s invited you to stay over with no malicious intent but what the hell? The damn thing is coming off, what’s going to be left of the night if he doesn’t seal it on you somehow?

He doesn’t let the yukata slip off your body, instead he accompanies it. Eren takes a second to appreciate the fabric gliding easily from his fingers, so cool, smooth and slick it reminds him of water. You do too. Just like water, a stubborn river or an unstoppable downpour with its persistent dripping, you have drilled yourself into his very being and patiently shaped every corner to make sure it could accomodate you and no one else.

Of course you don’t see the point in staying still: patience wears thin whenever he’s there for you to have. You barely ever allow him to take his time, always so eager to get what you want and him yielding without fail against his better judgement. Look at what you’ve become, just because he’s never been determined enough to teach you any better.

As you spin in his embrace, Eren lets you have it your way for a moment. He lets you take his face in your hands and dips his head to meet you halfway, a whimper already easing from your throat as you command his lips to part with the tip of your tongue. Again, he indulges you, lets you lick into his mouth and clumsily untie his yukata, allows it to unceremoniously pool at your feet. But you attempting to drag him toward the bed with you is where Eren draws the line.

His hands are not smoothing over your hips anymore, they feel everything else as they rise to cup your face. He only allows himself one harmless nip to your bottom lip, nothing but a gentle warning as his hold grows firmer to keep you in place while he finally kisses you the way he’s been dying to for so long. It’s unrushed and deep and he hopes to god the slow swipes of his tongue over yours are sweet because he’s certain he doesn’t want to taste anything else now that he’s tasted you like this.

“Eren…” it’s the only thing you have enough air in your lungs to rasp when he shows enough leniency to let you breathe, pulling back only to nudge the tip of his nose against yours.

“I’m here” he whispers back, head dipping lower to lightly nip at the spot where your pulse taps against your skin so fast it’s almost flattering. The way he lightly sucks at the skin of your neck draws another whine.

The change of pace, those butterfly kisses he slowly drags across your jaw are a novelty so unexpected you have to tighten the grip on his arms, sharp nails digging into the skin of his biceps as you urge him closer and attempt to steady yourself at the same time because you hardly trust your legs at the moment. When you breathe out his name again, mind short-circuiting as your head falls back to grant him more access, he hums comfortingly.

“What is it?” it’s exhilarating how you’re melting like soft butter under his touch and yet he’s the one feeling delirious over a hunger with smoother edges that now accomodates something bigger, something as tender as the sound you let out with a shuddering breath when he gently scoops you up and kisses you again while attentively settling you on his bed. You keep him close, arms around his neck not loosening for a single moment.

“What is it?” Eren asks again in a murmur, big hands resting on each side of your thighs to make sure they remain locked around his waist, abdomen tense to keep his balance on his knees and avoid crushing you.    

You’ve never seen a gaze so intense, you never took it slow enough to count his heavy breaths and notice the painful thumping of your heart nor the unfamiliar wooshing in your ears. Holding eye contact is overwhelming and your stomach clenches at the coldness of one of your legs when one of his hands abandons it, knuckles leaving a scorching trail of pure fire behind them as they gently graze the right side of your face.

He lowers his head but doesn’t kiss you, nose pressed to your cheek in a way that makes it hard for the both of you to breathe, in a way that feels raw and desperate.

“Tell me” he’s so close it feels like he’s whispering the words into your very bones, for a moment you think you can swallow them. The hand he gracefully sneaks between your bodies draws a breathless gasp.

I love you.

Time stops. The thought rings so sharply in your head, you’re convinced you’ve voiced it out loud.

You love him, of course you love him. How could you not?

It’s such a stupid revelation and there’s really no excuse, no plausible reason to justify the tears that sting the corners of your eyes.

I love you.

Eren pulls back to breathe, or perhaps just to look at you. Even if you remain out of focus from such close distance, even in the dim light that bleeds through the door into his dark bedroom, he sees enough. The tip of your nose, your furrowed brows, lips parted and swollen. He’s too busy thinking he wants you exactly like this, all the time, to notice the slight trembling of your body underneath him.

He’s certainly made his point about not being in any rush tonight but still he is waiting for something, it’s evident in those devastating irises piercing yours. You tighten the hold of your arms around his neck, a bitter taste on your tongue as you pull him closer to whisper the wrong thing against his lips.

“I need you”

Against all odds, he deems it enough. He can read all there’s to read in your gaze alone, he feels it in the familiarity of your fingers through his hair and is determined to hear it in all the ways he wants you to chant his name over and over again, in every possible pitch and inflection. He wants it to be a prayer and a revelation.

You already have him, all of him, and you don’t even know. So it’s only fair he makes sure you finally do.

You stir awake and the first things you register are the arm draped over your waist and the soft breath tickling your shoulder. Your body stills, frozen, equal parts terrified of waking him and absolutely scrambled by the rapid succession of resurfacing memories bound to the previous night.

The cautious, minimal turn of your head against the soft pillow results in a hitched breath. He’s so close already and only seems intent on scooting closer, unintelligible humming somehow louder than the thumping of your heart as his hold grows tighter and he nuzzles further into you, nose effectively buried in the crook of your neck, lips pressed to your skin.

You feel dizzy. Mind’s all over the place, unable to pull itself together and make sense of the events that hold the power to potentially disrupt you life, change everything you have so carefully tried to keep together.

Not a single time Eren has been bad at sex, he’s never taken your pleasure for granted nor has he ever chased his without first making sure you were either getting your fair share or felt the determination to focus on him and only him. It just took a couple of encounters to memorize your body, the angles and rhythms and grips and praises and sometimes the harsher words that render you either boneless or a mess whose loudness he never even attempts to swallow.

Eren can be attentive, rougher and impatient on certain days, slower and languid on rainy afternoons, when he gets you ready for him with such care pleasure melts into pure anguish. It’s never enough, you always need more of him and are not even shy enough to hide it anymore, shamelessly asking with an all-consuming force gradually blurring into straight up demanding. That’s when his low chuckle echoes like a melody. He enjoys every second of the reactions that showcase the effect he has on you.

But everything about last night felt different, from the way he kept looking at you to the newfound feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours over your head while the most tender whispers guided you through your high.

He’s done nothing short of worshipping you, featerlight kisses trailing from your ankles to your inner thighs, the slightest touch more than enough for your back to arch, every inch of your body and nerves catching fire as he kept stroking your hair and pressing his lips to your eyelids, all while reassuring you of you good you were being for him, how beautiful you looked, how perfect you felt. It’s a miracle you didn’t end up melting into a puddle underneath him, because that’s where he kept you the entire time, never once allowing your hands to grant him relief or your mouth to do anything else but welcome his. It was just you, nothing else seemed to matter in his entire universe and Eren didn’t so much as catch his breath until you were reduced to a babbling, limp mess that couldn’t even think about how to spell his name correctly.

And then he’s kept you close, pulled you into his chest as if scared you were going to slip away like the sand you probably brought inside the house with those sandals anyway. He’s kissed your forehead, the apples of your cheeks, all while the pads of his fingers were busy drawing lazy, airy figures along the curve of your spine, the very last sensation you remember before falling asleep in an embrace so warm and protective.

He’s made love to you. What’s more, he’s made love to you like nobody else ever has and now there’s no further ignoring it. God knows if you’ll have the strength to walk away from it at all.

“Hi” you wince when his sleepy drawl vibrates against your skin, lips sealing the simple greeting right below your ear. It’s the first time you wake up next to him, the thought is enough to have the rate of your heartbeat spike.

“Hi” you whisper back. His hand traces a smooth pattern along your side, up and down, then it settles right where your ribs reside, thumb grazing the skin gently and feeling the little valleys in between the cartilage.

“How are you feelin’?” he’s still not raising his head, position either too comfortable or simply ideal to give you some extra time to adjust to… everything.

“Good” you murmur but Eren senses your discomfort and can feel the stiffness of your body. So he withdraws his arm and scoots away, retreating to his side and placing his head back on his pillow instead of using you as one. But now you can meet his half-lidded gaze and lazy smile, as charming in the early morning as it is in the middle of the night.

“How are you feeling?” you can’t help but ask in turn, which is weird and formal and draws a low chuckle.

“Never better” although he feels more than better, he feels the luckiest he’s ever been. He feels disgusting and psyched. He feels so in love.

“Great” you clear your throat as you pull the thin sheet further up. Eren keeps looking at you like he’s foolishly trying to map out your features. As if he needs to do that, as if they’re not already burned into his memory.

“Hey” he warns, fingers delicately flicking your forehead “no freaking out before breakfast”

You peer up at him from long lashes.

“I’m not freaking out” of course you are and of course he knows but that won’t stop you from frowning in protest, mockingly distorting his words.

“Sure you aren’t” he smiles to himself and rolls onto his back to rub his eyes with a loud yawn that has you giggling.

“What are you, a blue whale?”

He clicks his tongue, feigning annoyance as he stretches and intentionally avoids your gaze.

“That’s no way to talk to the man who’s about to put together the best breakfast you’ve ever had”

Although Eren doesn’t want to get up at all. He doesn’t need food nor water as long as he gets to have you right there in his bed, as long as he gets to hold on to the hope of having you like this again and again.

“Whatever we’re going to do about this presumption of yours” you hide your smile in his pillow but he simply shrugs, not sparing you a glance as he gets up with a groan and collects some clean underwear from one of his drawers.

He only leaves the room after he’s playfully thrown his shirt at you, softness settling in the corners of his lips as he suggests you take a shower while he carries out his breakfast duty. Your heart swells at the attentiveness of it all, at the space he’s trying so hard to give you in hopes that you feel comfortable enough to catch your breath. Not to run away.

With a long, drawn out sigh, you comply.

The shower feels nice and his shampoo smells so good you don’t mind the absence of your coconut scented one. Of course he also has conditioner, there really is no other explanation for that hair.

As you tiptoe back into his bedroom wrapped in nothing but a skimpy towel, you catch the glorious sound of something sizzling in a pan and it’s enough to bring a smile to your face while you shut the door and rest your back against it for a moment. Your eyes land on Sasha’s yukata, staring back at you from the ground in all its glory. You rush to pick it up and carefully fold it, embarrassment burning your cheeks at how little you’ve cared about not ruining it. Along with the cord and the obi, you let it slip into an empty paper bag big enough to contain it because there’s no way in hell you’re walking home in that.

The shirt Eren has given you is long enough to cover your ass but certainly not enough to step outside without drawing scandalized looks along the way, so you dig into his closet some more and pick a pair of bermuda shorts that will certainly look ridiculous on you but remain the best option currently on hand.

After patting your hair dry with the towel to the best of your abilities, you grab the bag, your phone from his nightstand, and pray to be ready for whatever is coming. The flutter in your chest is not entirely unpleasant, right? There must be a way to make this work. Whatever it is.

It’s love, you goddamn idiot, a voice whispers from inside your dizzy mind. You pay it no mind.

“That was fast” Eren looks at you for just a second before returning his attention to whatever he’s cooking. You catch the smile anyway.

“Smells too good” you leave the bag to rest against the table leg and plop down on a chair. It feels like your seat already, given that he’s placed the mug you usually use right there, filled with coffee to the very brim. When he spins to serve the breakfast he’s prepared, Eren rolls his eyes upon meeting your already skeptical gaze.

“Just try it” he mumbles “I got a different one”

For you.

As you take a tentative sip, you notice everything he’s filled the table with. He’s pushing a portion of french toast in your plate right from the pan and taking a smaller one for himself, but there’s also a separate plate available for all the other options: fried eggs, herb cream cheese, strawberry jam, some honey, toasted bread.

He sits down next to you and meets your amazed gaze only to crack a boyish grin.

“I didn’t know what you liked”

“I’m impressed” you swallow the lump of whatever feeling got caught in your throat along with the coffee and raise the cup to indicate the object of your praise. As if he hasn’t already called all your bluffs.

“I get that a lot” he sticks his tongue out and it’s your turn to fondly roll your eyes.

It’s the first time you taste something he’s cooked and it’s so very painful to find out he’s good at yet another thing.

The intimacy of sharing a quiet, sunny morning at his kitchen table is not as overwhelming as you thought it’d be: he holds the power of making it easy and special just like everything else. You feel eerily at home, suddenly filled with giddy excitement at the prospect of experiencing more of these mornings. At the idea of him welcoming you into his everyday life with such ease, willing to buy expensive coffee if it means you accepting to stay long enough to drink it.

It almost makes you want to say it. As you laugh at the funny story involving one of the students he’s going to teach to in an hour, with your mouth stuffed with french toast and the urge to collect the cream cheese remnants from the corner of his lips with yours, you almost blurt it out.

I love you.

I love your smile and your kindness and how you stay awake for me if the wind blows too hard and I know you wonder if my roof creaks just like yours does. I love your life and your friends and how there’s so much space for everyone in a heart that may as well be as big as your beloved island. I love the touch of your hands and how you kiss me on the way home if no one else’s around and now I wish you could kiss me awake each morning.

“Stop” he playfully throws a crumpled up piece of his napkin at you. It hits you right between your brows.

“What? I’m not doing anything” you throw it back but he dodges it.

“You’re overthinking”

“I’m thinking exactly the right amount”

“Care to let me in so I can decide that?”

You open your mouth to entertain more of the familiar banter you hold so close to your heart but your phone screen lights up and the text you get is enough to capture your attention right away. Your heart drops to your stomach as you read it, the french toast still melting on your tongue now tasting bad enough to draw a pang of pure nausea.

“You okay?” you recognize the sincere worry in his voice, even as he attempts to keep it light.

“Yeah” locking your phone again, you place it face down on the table once more. You don’t think you can stomach a single other bite of food.

“I have to go now, will stop by Sasha’s to bring her yukata back. I borrowed that bag of yours, is that okay?” you’re not looking at him as you get up and he does too, confused.

“Yeah, of course” he follows suit as you quickly grab the bag still resting on the couch and shove your phone in it. Eren doesn’t have the time to enjoy the glorious sight that is you in his clothes, even with those ridiculous shorts everyone will surely be able to recognize as menswear.

But just as he thinks you’re going to leave him without sparing him a single glance, you stop in your tracks right before the door and turn around, the smile on your lips so artificial it makes his stomach churn with a sour feeling that erases all the sweetness that has coated his morning up until this very moment.

“Will you come over, later?”

There’s softness in the way you direct the question to him and he holds on to it for dear life.

“If you want me to” he replies with the same softness and something inside you just melts.

What you have to do is terrible, cruel in its unfairness, but unavoidable. So you should get to bask in a fantasy for a few seconds more, right? You should get to delay his disappointment, to give him a few more hours of peace of mind.

It’s heartbreaking, the way he perks up when you take his hand and bring the chapped knuckles to your lips.

“Of course I want you to” you don’t let go as you rise onto your tiptoes and tilt your head in a silent plea. You wish the relief he exhales right into your mouth could take root in your lungs.

When Eren kisses you, the crackling electricity is still there. But it’s the tenderness that makes your eyes burn, the way he takes your face in his palms and squeezes gently to make sure you’ll be looking at him as he pulls back enough to return your dazed gaze.

“We’ll figure it out” he says it so simply, so genuinely, you’re not sure you can get out of his house before he notices the tears.

You find it in yourself to nod and reach for another peck, because it’s probably going to be your last anyway.

I love you.

It’s that thought that carries you through the day, repeated over and over in your head until your lips follow suit and you’re muttering it like a madwoman.

You let the brief time spent with Sasha soothe your mind and it’s actually fine that she notices the redness of your eyes and the heartache embedded in your blank stare.

“Did he do something to upset you?” sometimes she reminds you of Armin, the attentive way she adapts her energy to match the one of whoever she is with is one of your favorite things about her. Although you’d much prefer a bubbly distraction at the moment.

“No, never” you reply with a small, bitter smile “I’m the one who’s about to do it, actually”

You tell her because she asks and because she’s part of the people you’re gonna have to say goodbye to. Since you’re absolutely not planning to go to the beach, you take your chances and ask her the odds of her breaking the news to everyone else.

“There’s no way in hell” she retorts with a glare so sharp it’s almost funny “they’d think you don’t regard them as friends. Connie would never forgive you”

With a light huff, you deflate against the backrest of her couch. Of course she’s right, they deserve a proper goodbye.

“I’ll come by tomorrow” you capitulate with a weary sigh and Sasha takes one of your hands in hers with a smile that never reaches her usual bright eyes.

“I’ll miss you” she almost whispers it and it takes everything in you not to choke up on your own I’ll miss you too as you squeeze her in the tightest hug you’ve probably ever given to another human being.

The first thing you do when you get home is get changed, his clothes are neatly folded and placed at the end of your bed because you can’t bear the idea of more of his scent clinging to your skin: you’re not even entirely sure the shower was enough to wash it off.

With a certain degree of fatigue, you pull the suitcase out from your closet, the sweltering heat of the room suddenly suffocating and unbearable. Even with the AC turned on, it feels like you can’t breathe.

You tear your clothes from their hangers, snatch them out of your drawers and toss them in your luggage, not even bothering to fold any of them. It’s better to do it today, you’re not sure you’re gonna have the strength to do it tomorrow and you definitely don’t want to spend your last day packing up.

Robert Lowell’s book is placed carefully on top of the chaotic mountain of clothes, it’s a gift you deem special and you’d hate to ruin it.

Connie’s sketch is stored in a plastic folder and you reserve it the same attentiveness as you put it right next to Armin’s book. It’s a stylized portrait of someone who barely looks like you: your eyes do not have that glow in them and your smile most certainly isn’t as bright. You like the overly accentuated features, he has a cool drawing style and it’s still so hard to believe he felt the urge to devote his free time to craft something so unique and meaningful just for you.

The sight of the tourist brochure draws a chuckle and you pick it up from your nightstand to open it and read Jean’s silly inscription for the umpteenth time.

She believed she could so she did: to a summer spent outdoors!

Right underneath, he’s scribbled a list of the best spots to visit, the vast majority of them comprising the forests he spends most of his mornings and afternoons guiding tourists through. You’re gonna miss his teasing smirk and predictable jokes, the way he nonchalantly worms his way into any conversation you’d be having with Sasha just to get a burger out of it.

One day you’re probably going to deem it hilarious, the fact that the brochure is what gets you. Fat, searing tears overflow at last, staining the stupid tank top Eren’s pulled over your head so many times you’ve lost count.

You end up sliding down to the parquet floor, knees to your chest as you sob pathetically, hiccup after hiccup until you’re shaking so bad you have to wrap your own arms around yourself in an attempt to calm down. Phone screen lights up again and you catch the preview of a text from Sasha, one picture attached.

Developing this today, so you can take it with you!

It’s most probably from the previous night, the only group picture you’ve ever taken in two months. If you close your eyes, you can almost feel the familiar weight of Armin’s arm around your shoulders and Connie’s chin resting on your head.

You catch your breath at last, cheeks burning and eyes puffy. Your limbs don’t carry enough energy to do anything else besides booking a one-way ticket, tossing your phone away and crawling onto your still perfectly made bed.

It’s funny, the hollowness your chest tightens around as you shut your eyes: you could swear the exact same spot had been so impossibly full of love and light just a few hours prior. It’s been so easy to get transported into some sort of fantasy world, a perfect reality that didn’t include your actual life at all. But you do have a life you have to get back to and it’s been foolish of you to allow yourself to forget about it. There’s a job offer you cannot afford to refuse because you’re two months behind on your rent, there’s the uncomfortable amount of stuff still waiting to be collected from your ex boyfriend’s house, the now irretrievably shifted dynamics of your friend group you have to navigate. And yet.

In two months you’ve met people that have made this holiday so special. Talking to them has given you the courage of opening yourself to the world like you used to do when you were younger and filled with hope. It felt like stepping into the sun after a long, dark, tiring night.

Who knew you could feel so free, wrapped in foreign embraces and inspired by unfamiliar routines, who knew you could meet someone who’d make you feel so lost and then, suddenly, found. Eren’s made you fall for him little by little, the invisible trickle of a covert fountain concealed by whispered conversations in your bedroom, failed dinners whenever you’d stubbornly insist on not letting him anywhere close to your stove, afternoons spent with your feet buried in the boiling sand in hopes to catch as little as a glance, the fleeting flash of a grin shot your way. He’s made you fall for him gently, the idea of crashing to the ground never once crossing your mind, bones still perfectly intact even at the mercy of his touch.

Eren’s disrupted you while keeping you whole. Even better, perhaps he’s given you an entirely new form. One that adapts easily to life and chases adventures and isn’t afraid of being seen.

You hate the idea of leaving him behind, insides churning at the mere thought of telling him you’re leaving with such short notice. But maybe it’s for the best. Those three words have been left hanging in the air after all, segregated in your minds and engraved in your bodies. You’re content with tricking yourself into believing that it’s a little less real, if you don’t say it. You feel it and perhaps he feels it too, but you’re just in time to nip what it is and whatever it may become right in the bud.

Unsurprisingly, the nap ends up proving to be absolutely useless and you wake up a couple hours later with a throbbing headache and an almost debilitating thirst. The birds outside are chirping mockingly as you lethargically drag yourself out of your bed and out of the room, the mess of clothes, bags and luggages still reigning supreme right in the middle of it clumsily stepped over without so much as a glance.

The living room is filled with corners you can’t look at, although you briefly wonder if the books stacked by the tv will be collected and eventually find a new owner.

After gingerly pouring yourself a glass of cold water, you climb onto the kitchen counter and check your phone. Sasha’s already had the picture developed is what you can guess from the picture of a big envelope she’s sent you a few minutes ago. There’s a flight confirmation email in your inbox and a text from Armin, asking why you’re not at the beach yet.

You actually end up turning the tv on at full volume while you finish packing, taking a break only to down a dry sandwich when the squeezing of your stomach gets impossible to ignore. No more pathetic tears gather along your lashes for the rest of the afternoon, turns out packing your things is a lot easier when you don’t care about how you’re putting them away. All your clothes are probably going to need a heavy ironing session once you’re back in Tokyo, quite the minor inconvenience.

When Eren arrives, he announces his presence as loudly as usual, dragging his saccharine helloooo because it always makes you laugh. He has bags in his hands because he’s once again stopped by the market just in case and is already grumbling about how you never keep your damn door locked when you get up from the couch to greet him.

“You really need to stop filling my fridge with so much food” the good-natured scolding meets the skeptical click of his tongue as he starts pulling out the groceries and piling them up on your table.

“Says the girl who raids said fridge and leaves it empty in the space of one evening”

You huff but Eren cuts you off before you can put together a comeback.

“It’s just some of Kukiko’s fruit and a few snacks”

“You mean those rice cakes, candy corn and ketchup chips you love?”

With a fond roll of the eyes, he finishes emptying the bags and waves a box of chocolate pralines half an inch from your nose. Your gaze flickers to the different products scattered across your table: peaches, figs, your favorite tourist-friendly ice cream and cream filled wafers. There’s just a tiny box of rice cakes.

“I actually wanted to get proper food and cook a nice dinner, you know, because you barely touched my fantastic breakfast” he flashes you a quick smile “but then I thought, I know this great place we’ve never been to and they make an incredible pan-fried salmon”

Eren knows something’s up, he obviously does. But that doesn’t stop him from taking your cheek in his hand to gently tilt your head up and let you meet his painfully hopeful stare.

“Will you let me take you out, tonight?”

Will you let me do this right?

Instead of taking a step back, you place your hand over the back of his to press his palm deeper into your skin. He doesn’t really know at what specific point he starts holding his breath.

“Eren, I’m leaving”

There’s a slight spasm of his lips, one that would’ve probably been imperceptible to a less trained eye.

“I’m aware” there’s a sour harshness in his tone he doesn’t try to bite back “I was hoping we could’ve talked about this later on”

Of course he knows you’re leaving. Still, the fact that this is the first thing you deem reasonable to bring up after the previous night, after that morning, is hurtful. Hell, he isn’t even allowed a full day of timeout from reality? Are you really that eager to remind him?

You press his palm a little harder.

“In two days”

The silence that settles over the small room is loud enough to make your ears ring, cheek brutally left cold as if your skin has suddenly turned scorching.

“What?” he attempts an incredulous smile “what d’you mean in two days? You said you’d leave in September, it’s barely August”

You take a quivering breath, forcing yourself not to lower your gaze.

“Something came up. I’ve been offered a job I really need and they want me in Tokyo by the end of this week, I really didn’t plan for it to—”

“Did you know?” he interrupts you with an aggressiveness you don’t recognize “this morning, as you were leaving, did you know?”

“Yes” you swallow the painful lump constricting your throat. He lets out a bitter laugh, one hand running through his hair in disbelief.

“Did you know last night, too? Before we fucked, I mean. That’s all it was to you anyway” he storms past you and before you can even think of stopping him, he’s pushed the door to your bedroom open. The sight of your packed up luggage makes him want to throw up on the spot.

It’d be so easy to indulge his version, allow it to gain consistency and distance yourself from whatever it is you’re both feeling. But you can’t bear the thought of betraying him twice, you decide you can’t carry the weight of a lie so big so you let it melt on your tongue.

“You know that’s not true” it’s pathetic, really, the strangled way words leave your mouth. Eren chuckles again, a sound so empty and dull compared to his real laugh. It breaks your heart, it makes you feel as if something’s clawing at your chest from the inside.

“What was it, then?” he challenges, it only takes two very angry, wide strides and he’s towering over you again “you can’t even say it”

“What good would that do?!” it’s unfair, it’s really fucking unfair that he’s handling the whole situation as if it’s hurting him more than it’s hurting you “what if I say it, then what? This entire thing was bound to end anyway! Even if I stayed, how do you know we wouldn’t end up going our separate ways in a month anyway?” so long for keeping tears at bay, you think as you angrily wipe your cheeks until they burn from the unforgiving friction.

“Fucking hell” Eren shakes his head with another mocking smile that makes your blood boil.

“What? Look at us, you’re already second-guessing everything about me!” you push past him and toward your couch, just to have something to lean against because your legs feel wobbly “acting like you’re the only one affected by this bullshit situation” words don’t come out as harsh as you’d like, dying in your throat instead as you fail to hold back a sob.

Eren stays by the sink with that irritating condescension he just couldn’t fucking spare you. As if you’re not shattered already, wondering how you’ll be able to put the pieces back together once more now that the edges are rougher and different and will probably never match each other again.

“You can’t do this. You can’t make me fall for you and then leave” he spits the last word like it’s venom and it actually burns on his lips. Eren’s never actually planned to ask you to stay, he never thought he’d be selfish enough. Turns out he was wrong all along.

When he says it, you can’t help the way your head lifts in surprise. He’s said it and there’s really no turning back now, no place to hide or run away to. It’s all over him, the disappointment you feel so responsible for, it’s in the way his fists seem to shake and in the sharp edge of his tight jaw. It’s in the way his eyes lack their usual spirit as they look back at you.

“That’s right” he mistakes the shock on your face for dread and allows for another smile to split across his face, nothing but a cruel mask distorting his features “bet that’s the worst fucking thing you ever heard, huh?”

It is. Because now your heart can’t stop its swelling and the flutter in your chest feels suffocating. It is, because somehow he’s fallen for you the same way you’ve fallen for him and if he’s experiencing half the sorrow currently knocking the wind out of your lungs, perhaps you should find it in yourself to be gentler.

“I’m sorry” you whisper it quietly, with a slight shrug and fresh tears staining your cheeks “I’m not doing any of this to hurt you. I wish I could decide to stay, just like that, but I don’t have a job and I’m behind on rent and, fuck, I think even the only coat I own is still at my ex’s house and…”

“What are we?” he interrupts you once more but there’s no aggressiveness this time. He’s quiet as he steps closer but you don’t dare look him in the eyes, choosing to focus on the milk white carpet beneath your feet instead. However, Eren’s not having any of it. With new found, blind obstinacy, he gets close enough to gently grip your chin and demand your attention. You’re a terrible liar and, by now, he knows all too well where to look for a lie in your stare.

“Tell me” he lowers his voice almost in a plea and the lump in your throat only grows in size when you catch the redness framing his eyes. 

“We’re friends” you whisper “before anything else. I hope we’re friends”

His grip on your chin tightens.

“What else?”

“Eren—”

“I’m in love with you” he sighs, in disbelief at how easy it’s been to pronounce the words out loud at last, a familiar albeit pained smile finally making its way to his lips as he lets you go “am I really that bad of a contender?”

But he lets go of your chin only to take your face in his hands right as new tears start rolling down your cheeks, unfazed by how useless it is for his thumbs to try and wipe them away. That’s finally him, embedded in the tenderness he holds you with.

“I want this” he mutters “I want you and yes, that may go away some day but you’re letting it go away now. You’re not even willing to try”

It takes so much effort to find it in yourself to gently grab his wrists and pull his hands down.

“You’re asking me to give up my entire life. Sometimes love isn’t enough, Eren, sometimes someone has to be an adult and do the right thing even if it shatters them”

“I’m guessing you’re the adult in this scenario whilst I’m being what, the irrational brat?”

“Stop putting words into my mouth” you tiredly wipe your cheeks again, so exhausted you can barely take another shaky breath in “you want me to stay. I can’t do that, even if I fucking hate that I can’t. You think you’re the only one with a broken heart in the scenario, as you called it, so feel free to turn this into another sad story you’re gonna recall with the next tourist girl you sweep off her feet”

Eren thinks a raw slap would’ve hurt less. He looks at you like you’re someone he can’t recognize and finally takes a step back with a slight nod of his head, acceptance slowly setting over his features.

A beat passes, one where the only sound filling the room is your accelerated breath.

“You never asked if I’d come with you”

And just like that, something slams against your ribcage but it couldn’t be your heart because you're certain it has stopped beating.

“You’d never do it” your tongue suddenly feels swollen in your mouth, too big and heavy to assist you in properly articulating a sentence “I know you’d never do it. You always say you can’t imagine yourself anywhere else” desperation gets the best of you and your pitch turns squeaky. Eren smiles another one of his sad smiles, the ones you’ve met today for the first time and are sure will haunt you in your dreams.

“Have you ever even thought of asking?”

For a few seconds, you believe those are going to be his last words to you. That is until he turns around by the front door, just a second, maybe to take a look at you for the very last time. That’s the real breaking point for whatever is left in your chest.

“Don’t expect me to be around to say goodbye, tomorrow”

A fragment of time is all it takes for him to be out, all signs of him having ever been there at all still scattered across your kitchen table. 

The AC system of Armin’s car is currently not working and you only find out once you’re seated in a boiling passenger seat. He chuckles when you turn to look at him in pure horror.

“You wouldn’t have let me take you if I’d told you. It already took me two hours of convincing as it is” he reaches across you to roll down the window, the hint of a guilty blush tinting the tips of his ears. His hair is lighter now than it was in the early summer and the flush of his cheeks is harder to detect now that his skin is tanned.

“I could’ve taken the bus” you rest your back against your seat with a light frown: the parts of your skin that are not covered by your thin tank top stick to the scalding leather right away.

“I know” he offers a soft smile “but I really wanted to do this”

Armin hated the idea of you having to go alone much like everyone else but he was the only one free enough to have a few hours to spare that morning. Sasha insisted on letting Niccolo handle the cafe for the day but she doesn’t own a car and the backseat of Armin’s Ford Fiesta is already taken up by your luggage and backpack. You resisted up until the very end, stubbornly insisting on being perfectly capable of reaching the airport on your own, mumbling some nonsense about not wanting to be a bother until Armin had raised a hand, resolute.

So I don’t even get to give my friend a ride?

Connie was the only one to laugh at the tears rapidly collecting in your eyes but it was a sweet, accomodating sound at odds with his usual exuberant cackle. Even he found it funny and kinda concerning that you still couldn’t grow accustomed to being considered their friend.

“Thank you” you return his smile and Armin nodds, giving your shoulder a light squeeze before he starts the car.

The small vacation rental that has welcomed and taken care of you for more than two months shrinks and then disappears in the rear view mirror, the morning sun bouncing off the scraped off exterior you’ve grown fond of.

You now recognize the small streets, alleys and shops you pass by, going as far as to lean out of the window to check if Masaru-san, who always treats you to an extra muffin on the mornings you drop by to buy his fresh bread, is having a smoke outside his bakery.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” Armin’s gentle voice draws you back into the boiling car.

“Sure”

He shoots you a quick glance.

“Have you at least told him that you love him?”

You suck a sharp breath in, caught entirely off guard. There was never a direct agreement of not mentioning The Topic during the one-hour drive but, given how considerate Armin always is, silly you kinda thought that’d be implied.

“I know it’s none of my business” he quickly adds because of course he can’t help himself “but I haven’t heard from him in two days and I’m kinda hoping he at least has that to hold on to”

“You haven’t heard from him in two days?” it made sense for him not to be at the beach when you dropped by to say your goodbyes, you never expected for him to show up anywhere else until he could be sure you’d be sitting on that plane but to disappear off the face of the earth? Not even talking to his friends?

“No. To be completely honest, we’re worried. He’s never done this before” Armin keeps looking ahead of him, tone oddly flat as if he’s having a conversation about the most casual topic.

“We had a fight” you mutter “didn’t exactly say goodbye on great terms. He’ll come around”

“That doesn’t exactly answer my question”

It’s not like him to be so pushy and you suddenly feel like the heat is too suffocating, the vehicle too small, your lungs too rigid.

“No” you clear your throat “but he knows”

There’s no point in denying or feeling embarrassed about it. You’re positive everyone knows anyway.

Armin hums, seemingly pensive, but doesn’t say anything. Your neck itches and the pads of your fingers start tingling.

“What?”

“Nothing”

“Armin, just tell me”

For fuck’s sake—

“S’just that Eren can be really dense. I bet he’s convinced this was nothing more than a summer fling for you”

That’s not true, he’s one of the smartest people you’ve ever met. Well, when it came to most things anyway.

“He knows” you insist, heart rate spiking for reasons not entirely clear. Armin shrugs.

“If you say so”

A beat passes, silence stretching past a comfortable interval.

“What if he doesn’t?” you challenge, exasperated “even better, he’ll get over it sooner!”

Armin lowers his head slightly, hands sliding to the sides of the steering wheel.

“He’s in pain” it’s not an accusation, just a mere observation. And yet it hurts all the same.

“I am too” why is it so easy for everyone to forget that?

Little do you know, Armin is perfectly aware. Everyone is aware. You’re wearing that pain on your disheveled hair and the bags under your eyes, it’s embedded in your dull tone and in how easy it now is for any word to draw tears.

It’s not like him to get involved in someone else’s life, especially when the situation is so raw and delicate but not even him is willing to just sit and watch two people mutually agreeing to ruin each other and leave it at that. It may not be his place but he’s prepared to dismiss his usual reluctance.

“I know” he’s driving way too slow for someone who’s supposed to rush you to the airport but you’re too distracted to notice “sorry, that was insensitive of me. You’re right, it’s for the best, he’ll come around soon enough”

You don’t say anything back, attention harshly grabbed by the view behind him. The sun is high already and reflects in the sparkling ocean you’ve grown so fond of. The sussuration of the waves lashing the shore doesn’t quite reach you but if you close your eyes and concentrate, you’re almost able to taste their pungent, salty smell.

Will Jean have some time to bring his surfboard to the beach in the afternoon, after a morning of work? Is the cafe as packed as it always is in the mornings, the usual mob of tourists forcing Sasha and Niccolo in an exhausting frenzy? Which table has Connie decided to bend over to try and finish that comic of his? Are his fingers stained with ink or did he go for the digital alternative today?

What is he doing? Can he afford to just disappear, neglect the surfing lessons?

You remember seeing Eren for the first time, running around by the shore accompanied by Jean with that charming smirk of his, occasionally asking strangers to join a volleyball match if they were short on players. You remember thinking wow, that’s a person that probably has it easy. He seems happy, is attractive enough to pull pretty much anyone. He sounded friendly and was literally smiling every single time you’d catch a glimpse of him, day after day, never short on energy. And then, you’re still not sure why or how, his eyes had actually found yours once, twice, then often enough for you to decide to do something about it.  

You still see it all in your head, painfully vivid and oh so alive. It comes in unforgiving flashbacks, from the first time he took your hand in his to the way you fell asleep in his arms less than three nights ago. And now you’re going away and what if Armin is right? What if he doesn’t even know?

“Stop the car” you murmur, mind not even quite catching up with your mouth yet.

Armin glances at you.

“What?”

“Stop the car for a second” you can barely stop yourself from slamming the brakes firsthand, hand brought to the column of your throat in a silly attempt to calm down. He quickly but safely pulls over, the car coming to a full halt when he turns off the engine entirely.

The first time you drew a sincere laugh, the first hushed conversation you shared on a humid evening.

I’m in love with you. Am I really that bad of a contender?

“You okay?” Armin is now only slightly worried he’s gone too far as he takes in the way your chest is heaving.

Have you ever even thought of asking?

“Hey—” you unfasten your seatbelt and escape his touch, quite literally throwing yourself out of the car only to slam the door and lean against it. Armin gets out as well and rapidly walks around the vehicle to check on you.

“What’s wrong? I have water, d’you want water?” if you weren’t so out of breath, you’d find his panic amusing.

“I’m fine. Sorry, just… give me a sec” the smile you offer him is probably more of a grimace but he’s too kind to point that out anyway.

Armin tries to give you the space to calm down but judging by the beads of cold sweat forming on your forehead, the process isn’t exactly going well. He feels guilty, mainly because his entire strategy has tragically backfired and he is on the literal verge of profusely apologizing until you meet his concerned gaze with heartbreaking despair.

“You think I should go to him?” your voice trembles and it takes everything in him to hold back the biggest smile.

“With some urgency” he quips immediately, motioning toward the car. He’s been dying to drive you there the entire morning.

You take a step forward, allowing him to open the door for you but make no move to actually step in again.

“C’mon!” he’s openly smiling now.

A beat passes, you shoot the car a quick glance and then return his smile.

“Keep an eye on my suitcase, will you?”

And then you’re just gone, sprinting in the opposite direction, dangerously close to passing cars and absolutely deaf to whatever Armin is yelling from behind you.

Incredibly, your legs carry you across the entire main street and your exceptionally keen senses assist you in dodging bikes and pedestrians and you think you may have accidentally run past Connie on the sidewalk at some point because you recognize a familiar go get him! already fading in the distance as you race until your lungs feel a second away from exploding.

The strappy sandals you’re wearing are absolutely inadequate for the marathon you’re running underneath the scorching sun and people look at you funny when you melt against the stand of a greengrocer to catch your breath. Nevertheless, with a hand pressing to a chest that’s never felt as tight, you’re soon on your way again, lips stretched into a frenzied smile and heart beating fast from both the physical effort and your favorite kind of anticipation. The idea of seeing him again gets your blood pumping, every other care or issue or flight disappears, literally fades to nothing in comparison to what you’re feeling at the thought of being in his arms again.

And yet you falter once you’re at his door, one palm resting against it and throat burning with every breath you attempt to take in, sweat dripping from your chin and running down your back. You’re far from having a plan or a solution to offer, the only thing you’re currently certain of is that you’re not gonna board that plane today. The rest, you can figure out together.

It takes some persistance and a certain number of violent knocks, your nuckles are burning by the time he yanks the door open.

“Jean, I swear to god if this is you again—” Eren freezes when he sees you awkwardly standing on the doorstep, phone trapped between his cheek and shoulder as he was clearly in the process of tying his hair back.

“Hey” you smile but then frown, puzzled “wait, who are you talking to?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it. Then opens it again.

“Thank fuck, talk to you later, bye!” a familiar voice chirps on the other line and you shut your eyes for a second because how could you fall for the oldest trick in the book? Haven’t heard from him in two days your ass.

“What are you doing here?” his guard is very much up and by the look of those dark circles you can only guess he’s slept just as much as you in the last two days.

“Uh, so, really funny story” you chuckle, painfully aware of your racing pulse and ragged breaths “Armin was driving me to the airport and we got to the seafront and he started talkin’ about you not knowing that I love you and stuff, which would be absurd because I’m sure you’re pretty much aware even if I never actually said it” you pause to clear your throat and take a hand to the currently cramping side of your waist “anyway, he said you’re dense and he was worried because they haven't heard from you in two days which, I now realize was a blatant lie but the point is, I started thinking about you and how much I hated our fight and the idea of getting on that plane because, well, I’m in love with you, disgustingly so actually, and I’m sure I’ll find another job and my landlord will understand and I was kinda hoping we could have more time to figure things out so maybe I could stay a little longer? If you still want me” you finish what’s probably the most awful, embarrassing, pathetic speech in recorded history with a coughing fit, throat basically occluded by sand. Perhaps you should’ve accepted Armin’s water before deciding to run almost two miles in a 95 °F weather.

Eren’s blank stare is far from encouraging and the more the silence stretches, the less you think it was a good idea to barge in there unannounced. But right as you take a tentative step back, apology already taking shape on the tip of your tongue, he reaches over with lighting speed to grab your wrist and quite literally slams your body against his, trapping you in a suffocating embrace.

“If I still want you?” he pokes fun at your words, distorts them with open incredulity “you’re so stupid”

“Eren, stop, I’m so sweaty right now!” your voice barely comes out, muffled by the fabric of his shirt. He only squeezes you tighter against him, lips pressing to the crown of your head.

“Say it again”

You are finally allowed to wiggle your way out of his arms but he keeps you in place, rough palms trapping your cheeks and puckering your lips. God, those eyes. How could you have believed you’d be able to leave them so easily?

“M’really fucking sweaty at the moment”

Eren smiles, pressing his palms harder, until your lips part.

“Not that” he’s willing to be patient now, because you have just granted him the only thing that makes him feel whole again. Time.

“Mmph—” you try to loosen his grip but he only raises his eyebrows expectantly, amused by your useless attempt “m’in lovewithyou?”

Just like that, his smile turns into one of those bright grins you adore but can barely return at the moment.

“Damn right” Eren meets your lips like that, pressing on your mouth firmly until he finally loosens his grip and you have some room to return his rough kiss right as he clumsily drags you inside and catches you when you trip on the cursed umbrella container he keeps by the door. You taste salty, just like the ocean, and he licks into your mouth with the softest groan when you lightly tug at the curling strands at the base of his nape.

“Let me hear it again” he mutters but how are you supposed to collect the required air in your lungs if he refuses to stop kissing you stupid?

Through the dazed state of your mind, you manage to whisper the words into his mouth at last.

“I love you” again and again and again, until your love and his violent adoration is all he can feel in every crevice of his body, in each jolt of the electricity buzzing through his veins.

But then Eren breaks the kiss so abruptly you lose your balance and awkwardly stumble forward, your brows knitting as he starts laughing so hard he has to rest his forehead on the curve of your shoulder, hot breath tickling your neck while he giggles so hard you’re both shaking.

“What?” as it always happens, you can’t hold back a confused smile yourself.

Still barely able to contain the fit of laughter, eyes crinkling adorably at the corners, Eren straightens up to meet your gaze.

“I had just booked a flight to Tokyo”

[liminalpebble]

Never Enough (A Loki Comfort Fic)

Summary: It's not a easy life in Asgard's palace as Frigga's witchling apprentice and a victim of relentless teasing thanks to Thor and his warrior posse. You feel like a failure and a misfit, until the patron god of failures and misfits decides to comfort you.

A/N: Angst, comfort, fluff fic (ultimately feel good). Wholesome. Pre-Thor 1 Loki. Loki x reader. Just a little something I wrote to cheer myself up after a week of feeling like I'm getting it all wrong and being stupid. I hope it makes you feel better too if you're going through the same thing.

----

You slammed through the double doors and took long angry strides down the hallway, anxious to get to the privacy of your quarters before tears released themselves from your eyes. None of them...NONE of them...had ever seen you cry, or scream or loose your temper, and you'd be damned if they saw it now.

You considered it some kind of dysfunctional personal record at this point. You saw inscrutability as a strength. If you had to feel alone, you figured, you could at least lean into it and make yourself strong enough to not need the people who would reject you anyway.

All they saw was the serious apprentice in the black velvet gown who stuck to the shadows in every way. Thor, however, saw this seriousness as an opportunity for jest between himself and his warrior friends on many occasions. One day, when the entire court dined together, he turned from his pile of food and gallon of ale to smile at you. Your heart and stomach dropped, knowing he was somehow about to make an ass of you despite your best efforts.

He bellowed your name. You closed your eyes and let out a long breath, gathering your patience for the great oaf.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Tell me, who do you favor in the races?”

“I know not of them, Prince, so I have no preference.”

“Yes, but for the hel of it. Pick one,” he goaded.

“I suppose Volstagg's steed, as it has the better record?”

The entire room erupted in raucous laughter. All except for one person. The younger prince of Asgard sat quietly with a dangerous look on his pale face.

Fandral shouted drunkenly, “My lady, Volstagg's steed couldn't jump over a single brick, much less a full set of hurdles. Are you entirely sure you're Asgardian, knowing so little about these things?”

Another ripple of laughter erupted around the room. This, you thought, was the final straw. You couldn't stop making small stupid errors lately in your magical training with Frigga. Although she was patient and kind, you could see the disapproval in your beloved mentor's eyes and that was worse than a tirade. And now this.

You took a breath, gathered yourself behind the inscrutable mask you were so accustomed to now, and politely excused yourself for the evening with some remark about the late hour.

-----

Now you raced against your feelings as you stepped quickly down the marble hall, nearly to the safety of your quarters, to privacy. I'm going to make it. You told yourself.

As you reached towards the door of your quarters, a blinding green light interrupted you and Loki's form materialized in your path.

You flinched a little, surprised that the younger prince stood before you with his hands calmly held behind his back.

Alright, just a little longer. Keep it together just a little longer. You ordered yourself.

“Your...Your Highness. What can I do for you?”

He took a measured breath and stepped closer, icy eyes looking down to meet yours, “Dear lady, I was actually wondering what I could do for you.”

You swallowed hard. You had always found the sly brilliant prince intimidating. You studied magic alongside him under Frigga's tutelage. He was spectacular, running circles around you every single lesson. In all these years, he never so much as said an entire sentence to you until now. He seemed barely aware of your presence, in fact, focused instead on larger schemes, ambition and glorious purpose.

You chuckled at the thought. Glorious purpose...meanwhile I have no purpose at all.

“What's so funny?” the prince asked, brows knitted in confusion.

To your horror, you found you had only begun to laugh harder and suddenly you couldn't stop, “Sorry...my liege...I just. Sometimes the arbitrary cruelty of my stupid life strikes me as, well, very tragic...and very funny.”

To your surprise, Loki smiled...not a small polite grin that you'd seen him give many times, but a full wide mischievous Cheshire cat smile, broadcasting an almost manic delight. It frightened you a bit, but gods, he looked even more shockingly handsome than before. You didn't think that was possible.

You flinched a little as he walked closer and his hand came to your face. His fingers felt cool against your hot skin as you realized he was wiping tears away; tears you didn't even realize you had begun to cry.

He nodded toward your door and placed a graceful hand on the small of your back, guiding you. With an understanding kindness in his eyes he whispered. “Come on, let's sit and talk.”

-----

As you sat facing each other on your couch, he conjured two warm cups of tea and a blanket around you. Surprised, you gripped both closer to you and the warm comfort began to seep through the cracks of your icy loneliness.

“Thank you,” you said with a small smile.

He inclined his head of beautiful black hair in a graceful nod. “My pleasure.”

“Forgive me for asking, Your Highness...”

“Loki...just Loki...please.”

“Loki,” you said slowly, cautiously. “Why...why are you doing this? Why are you being so kind.”

He sipped for a moment, taking time to gather his thoughts (a habit his brother apparently didn't share). “I know what it's like. I've been where you are. I've felt what you feel.”

His large lovely eyes never left you, bright and blue and full of sincerity. Not what you were expecting from the god of lies. “Forgive me, Si....Loki...but no, you don't. And no, you haven't.” You took a deep breath and looked to your hands, his intense gaze becoming too much. “You're perfect...at magic...at everything...a prince of the realm. Your place is solid and secure and important. You have a glorious purpose. I...I am simply not enough...not good enough...not smart enough...not enough like them.”

You began to sniff and squint and look away, horrified that the hot tears dared to fall in front of him, of all people. His long hand found yours and encompassed it. He scooted closer and said, “Darling, I assure you, I'm not perfect. I've also been the butt of Thor's stupid jokes and mockery for years on end, the mere spare prince to my kingdom. No one listens to me. I'm not like them. I never was, and I'm not sure why. Much like you, I say very little because I'm trying to be strong, trying to not give them any more fodder to ridicule me. I live in the shadows, just as you do.”

You met his piercing eyes this time, with your soft ones. Loki thought they looked so kind, that you looked so beautiful in this moment and he scolded himself for not reaching out to you sooner. He had always had so much affection for your, but he never dared come closer. You had built walls around yourself just as high and thick as his own, after all. Of course, It didn't fool him, and he always wanted to know what was behind them. “That's a shame,” you said, squeezing his hand. “How can they not see how incredible you are. How dare they treat such a beautiful person so badly?” You said in awe.

He peaked his eyebrows and smiled sweetly, his own eyes welling at your praise. Loki had always seemed dangerous and alluring to you, all angles and metal and leather and deep silky voice. You had never seen him so solicitous and vulnerable. You said carefully, “I...I realize, that this is a gift, you've given me. I don't take it for granted.”

“What do you mean?”

“Seeing you more...intimately. I'm grateful. It's good to not be alone for once.”

“You matter, darling. You are so much more than 'enough'. You are exquisite.” he said, kissing your forehead. “Now,” he said, conjuring a dagger with a dangerous glint in his eye, “Let have a bit of fun with Thor and his friends, shall we?”

@evelyn-rathmore @muddyorbs @icytrickster17 @unlucky-number-13 @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @peaches1958 @sweetsigyn @ladyofthestayingpower @loz-3 @alexakeyloveloki @coldnique @acidcasualties @marcotheflychair @gigglingtiggerv2 @smolvenger @loopsisloops @joyful-enchantress @lokihiddleston @peachyjinx @thedistractedagglomeration @thenerdyoldersister @sarahscribbles @sailorholly @littlespaceyelf @eleniblue @mochie85 @infinitystoner @tripleyeeet @goblingirlsarah @mischief2sarawr @mischiefmaker615 @itsybitchylittlewitchy @holdmytesseract @viv-annelore

[herofics]

Overwhelmed, feat Dabi

A/N: I got a request on wattpad for Dabi with an overwhelmed autistic s/o. I based this on how I’ve been feeling lately, since yeah overwhelmed

You were so on edge all the time, and it was driving you insane. Every sound was too loud, all the lights were too bright, and god forbid you had to hear the neighbors sing karaoke one more time, you were going to implode. Dabi hadn’t been back to your place for a couple of days, and you weren’t sure if his absence was making things better or worse. You missed him, but you also weren’t sure if you could handle any company right now. 

Just on cue, the doorbell rang. You sighed, preparing yourself mentally for being face to face with another human being. It was most likely Dabi, since you weren’t expecting anyone else. Besides, you wouldn’t open the door for some stranger anyway. You checked the peephole and saw it was indeed him. You took a deep breath, and plastered a calm-ish expression on your face, hoping he wouldn’t notice how uneasy and on edge you were.

You opened the door and took a few steps back to let Dabi into the apartment. He closed the door behind him and kicked his shoes into the corner next to the door. You walked back into the living room and sat down on the couch.

Dabi looked around the room, noticing you didn’t have any lights on and your blinds were open only a bit. The room was very dimly lit, and he saw your headphones recharging on the corner of the coffee table. It wasn’t just your surroundings that gave him pause, you seemed anxious and on edge as well.

“What’s up your ass today? You seem off” he asked as he sat down on the other end of the couch to give you space.

Of course, he would notice, he’d known you too long for him to not know when you were having a hard time.

“I just feel overwhelmed again. There’s been too much crap going on lately” you sighed, feeling like you just wanted to sink into the couch.

“Lights too bright, sounds too loud, that kinda crap?” Dabi sighed, scratching his cheek near the staples that were under his eye.

“And the neighbors have been singing karaoke almost every night for the past week” you groaned.

“Damn, that sucks”

“Oh, it does. It sucks so bad, and I hate it, because they’re keeping me up. They’re not even going past the allowed time, but I want to go to sleep earlier, and it’s a pain in the ass!” you ranted. “And I can’t even do anything about it, because they’re not really doing anything wrong. Aaargh, it’s so fucking annoying!”

“You could still tell them off, you know. They’re still bein assholes”

“I don’t think they would listen, since they’re not really doing anything wrong”

“You want me to tell them off?” he asked, already stretching his wrists.

“I know this isn’t the most glorious apartment, but it’s still my home, so I would prefer you not burn down the building” you sighed.

“I was just plannin on talking to them, but have it your way” he rolled his eyes.

“Sure you were” it was your turn to roll your eyes. “I’m just tired and overwhelmed, it’s been almost a week since I’ve gotten enough sleep, and everything feels like it’s way too much”

“Do you want to be alone? Cause I can leave if you want me to” he asked.

“I don’t know, to be honest. I missed you, but I kinda also want to be alone”

“I don’t really care either way” Dabi yawned.

You were used to his nonchalant attitude. He often came off as cold and uncaring to others, but you knew better. You knew he cared about you, but he also needed a lot of alone time and you didn’t need to be together constantly to know you cared about each other.

“Or, we can just stay like this? I do like being near you, but I don’t really want to talk or anything”

“Fine by me” Dabi stretched and settled more comfortably on the couch.

Dabi was well aware you didn’t really care for talking or affection when you were feeling overwhelmed, but he also knew that even though you enjoyed your alone time, you hated feeling lonely. He was fine with just hanging out while you did your own thing, you didn’t always have to talk about something, you could just enjoy each other’s company in silence too. Besides, he had barely slept for the last few days, so he could just take a nap on your couch, while keeping you company at the same time. Win-win.

[fruitcoops]

Hey! I hope all is well. I really enjoy your account and I want to thank you for all your hard work to run it, it doesn't go unnoticed.

I also had a fic rec if you wanted to think about it. I'm craving a good harvard finnlo story, where they are being very obviously in love with each other but won't admit it. I know you have something like it, but I just love every different take on this

I hope you have a wonderful week:)

Fic O'Ween Day 5: Ritual, with our favorite silly little lovebirds to put in Situations. Mega love to @noots-fic-fests for the fest and @lumosinlove for the Harvard boys :)

The impulses seemed to catch him when he least expected it. Frenetic, nearly frantic energy—pale hands flexing and teeth worrying marks into a thin lower lip. Fingers fidgeting, ripping at essay edges, tapping pens like Morse. It surged in him and filled his face with blossom-pink. Turned his ears red. It was as if the urge forced itself free and wrested control of every bit of him. That, Logan could relate to. Urges had never been gentle with him, either.

“What do you mean?”

Finn fixed him with a quizzical look. “New York? The city?”

“No, I—yes, I know.” The glorious blip of attention was gone, focused once again on a haphazard backpack. “Why?”

Paper rustled as Finn waved a vacant hand. “Just needed to.”

Logan frowned. “Is Alex okay?”

“What?” Confusion deepened the crease by his mouth; Finn didn’t bother looking up. “Far as I know.”

“So you’re going all the way to New York for a weekend, and you’re not driving—”

“Gas is expensive.”

“—and not even going to a game?” And you’re not taking me? It coated his tongue like the caramel from Finn’s Dunkin runs. He stomped the thought down before it could threaten his teeth. “Don’t you have an exam next week?”

“It’s fine.”

“Harz—”

“It’s fine, man,” Finn repeated, shooing him gently aside to dig around in the dresser for socks.

Logan pushed himself up on the edge of Finn’s desk and watched him rummage. He was tight around the shoulders and jaw; his hoodie sleeves were pulled all the way to the heels of his hands. The redness in his cheeks lingered in a soft arc. Maybe overheating, from the radiator. Maybe he was just frustrated. Knowing Finn, eight different emotions and a million thoughts were on rotisserie. Logan bit the inside of his cheek. “Is it…is it your mom, or…?”

He fell quiet when Finn straightened, socks in-hand and brows pinched in the middle. “Logan, what are you talking about?”

You’re leaving on one of our only free weekends and being cryptic about it. Also, I can’t come, and I’m going to think about that for the next several days whenever I wake up and your bed is still made. “You’re being weird. Stop it.”

“Why am I being weird?” Finn half-laughed, resting his hip against the dresser.

“You’re spending eight hours on a train to visit home when you have a car, an exam, and a free weekend to just hang out.” Logan shrugged. “It’s weird. There’s a party tonight. Don’t you have a fanclub to look after?”

Finn’s brow arched with amusement. “Who, you?”

“Non—fuck off, god,” Logan grumbled, kicking at him when he passed. Finn’s laughter lit up the sunset shadows in the corners of their room.

“I’m literally fine, just missing home.” Finn tossed the socks into his bag blindly, already reaching for something else. “I guess Alex just had a buddy get traded and he’s kinda down, so we’ll probably just hang out. Video games, movies. The usual. It’ll only be an hour or so to the station if I take the subway. And I’m not worried about my exam, anyway.”

The tension in his neck told a different story, but Logan wouldn’t press. A stressed Finn was a distracted Finn, and he was allowed to be selfish for every bit of focus when he was about to leave. “Do you need a ride?”

Deodorant, toothpaste, and a third paperback made their way into the duffel. “I’m taking the train.”

“A ride to the train station, dumbass.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

Logan tossed a wool cap at him. “That’s why I offered.”

Finn finally paused for more than a breath; his forehead pinched, and Logan watched him draw his lip back between his front teeth. “Isn’t there a party tonight?”

“Ouais.” Finn was looking at him like that meant something. “Quoi?”

“Don’t you want to go?”

“Do you need a ride?” Logan countered.

“No.”

“Do you want a ride?”

Finn glanced out the window. His nose scrunched on one side. “Kinda.”

Logan spread his hands. “Then I’ll take you. Easy.”

“But—”

“Non.”

“Okay.” Finn looked at him for a long moment, then smiled, almost to himself. “Cool. Thanks.”

“This is why you have a roommate.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He still seemed pleased, despite his huff. Logan would never understand. It was delightfully entertaining all the same. He swung his feet while Finn finished up—like this, he could practically follow the path of Finn’s disorganized mental checklist.

“I don’t suppose I’ll be allowed to actually drive you there,” he joked when Finn slung his (full to bursting) duffel over his arm.

That got him a snort of laughter. “There will never be a day you’re allowed to drive my car while I’m in it, Tremblamalay, unless it’s a fucking hearse.”

“I’m a good driver!”

“I didn’t say you weren’t!” Finn propped their door open with a foot and snagged his keys off the hook. “Don’t yell at me.”

“I’m not yelling.”

“You basically are.”

“You want me to yell? Because I can yell at you. Ah—”

Logan broke off with a curse as a pool noodle swung from the open door to their left. “Oh, hey,” Percy said, shock falling to a smile in an instant. “Where are you two off to?”

“Train station,” Finn answered. He cocked his head. “What’s with the shit?”

“Party, duh. Heading home?”

“Just for the weekend. Lo’s driving me.” Something in Logan’s stomach gave a giddy whirl at the jerk of Finn’s chin. It fizzled into a puddle of goo when he cracked a half-smile. “Well, he’s driving back.”

“Oh.” Percy nodded. “Damn, we’ll miss you guys tonight.”

Logan frowned. “I’ll be here.”

“I thought…”

“I’m driving back,” he repeated. “Back from the train station.”

Understanding dawned on Percy’s face, then bemused surprise. “You finally did that separation ritual, huh? Something slashed the sutures sticking you two together? You might keel over the second you cross the state line, you know.”

“Wow, Marsh, you’re so funny,” Finn parroted with a loud and brash HA HA that made Logan grin, but Percy just snickered to himself and let them through with gentle smacks to the backs of their heads.

“Go forth, young men!”

“It’s West!” Finn corrected.

“Go West, then! Or—northeast, I guess.”

Finn let Logan through the front door first (what a fucking gentleman, god, Logan was not going to survive him) before closing it with a pointed slam. “I’ll get the—”

“Passenger seat,” Finn interrupted. He swooped his bag out of reach when Logan went to take it from him. “Nuh-uh. Go sit.”

“I’m being helpful.”

“You’re going to break my trunk.” Finn shook his head. “She doesn’t need to be closed that hard, Tremz. She’s a lady.”

Logan wrinkled his nose. “Please never refer to your car as a lady ever again.”

A theatrical demonstration of proper trunk-handling was the only response Finn gave. Logan watched him come around the side of the car while he buckled in, running a hand through his hair and twirling his keyring around one finger. Logan knew what that hair felt like. Mink-soft and thick. A little wavy, when he let it grow out. It had pressed against his cheek on the bus oh-so-many times, when Finn nodded off ten miles from the nearest gas station and the roads were too bumpy for Logan to sleep.

He wondered what Finn would do if he reached out and touched it now, while he adjusted the radio and hummed to himself. The energy vibrating under his skin had calmed to a low current. If Logan could tap into it, maybe he could be brave enough to find out.

“Speak!”

Logan jumped. “Quoi?”

“Oh, it does work,” Finn said, seemingly pleased. “Logan, sit!”

“Get fucked.”

[itsyagurlchip]

٠ ˚ ※ ๋࣭  ᯓ⚝ ⋆ .˚✰Oh Golly!٠ ˚ ※ ๋࣭  ᯓ⚝ ⋆ .˚✰

✰⋆⁺warnings: anxiety x anxiety(!) lesbo action/j(!) fluff(!) slight angst(!) mentions of drowning(!) roblox respawn(!) both of them are ace(!)

✰⋆⁺IDK WHENS BI AWARENESS WEEK, BUT MINES HAS BEEN SHOWING A LOT AS OF RECENT- I hope you guys like this as much as me!

✰⋆⁺ *ugly ass horn sounds off* Y'all thought I was joking when I said I was gay for Pomni huh? Jesters are hot man. Idk what it is...

since both of you have anxiety, Pomni's being more severe, you guys comfort each other often.

Not verbally though, because, you know, it's hard for you guys to form words without thinking it would hurt the other.

Many cuddles would ensue, and no one would be the spoon. You guys would be holding each other, with tangled legs in the morning.

Since you are a bit more confident, you hold Pomni's oddly bouncy head, and kiss every insecurity off of her.

Which takes a moment...

Caine claims it "takes time away from glorious adventures" despite you two needing only 15 minutes to get yourselves together.

The games he chooses are very short anyway 💀 (unless it's story oriented)

If Pomni gets overwhelmed, but can't go anywhere, you simply hold her hand or subtly(not really) lean against her carefully.

She's probably shorter than you, making the relationship even cuter.

Imagine you just picking her up and running around the virus grounds with her.

"Hey! Put me down Please?" Pomni whimpered as her long dress flowed in between your fingers. Her hands were covering her face, her body tucking into itself the longer you walked.

"C'mon sweetheart! I only want to carry my dearest princess to her castle! What good of a knight would I be if I didn't?" You said, your metal armor clanking on beat with your footsteps.

She loves you too much to stop the act, even if Caine forced them to do it anyway. This was one of the few adventures Pomni would admit she enjoyed.

She's more likely to grab onto a limb of yours for comfort during an anxiety attack.

Anyone who isn't you she'll smack them off.

Or accidentally punt them when it's unexpected.

Pomni would love to find the exit, just to see who you really are in real life.

Would you still act the same?

Would you still take care of her the way you do?

Would you still love her?

Maybe that's why she hasn't been looking for the exit recently.....

....

Pomni isn't so sure she wants to leave as much as she did before.

"Do you ever think of leaving? Or what we may be like in real life?" Pomni asked as she sat in your lap. Her head looked up at you, her hands around all the way to your back. You were currently doing paper crafts with some shaped scissors you found, creating hearts of all kinds.

"Sometimes." You responded, pausing the creativity for a moment.

"What does that mean?"

"I just think about you, and then everything is okay. I don't need the outside world, not right now. I'm fine with what I have. Plus, having you on my mind is a pleasure I always experience." You concluded, leaving Pomni flushed bright red. Her pinwheel pupils dilated heavily, with her jaw slightly hanging downwards.

"(⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)"

When you two first met, it was about 2 weeks after Pomni's arrival.

Which raised suspicion that didn't get looked into.

Anyways- A new person was here!

But they took one look at everyone and ran.

Where to?

They themselves didn't even know, but she knew she had to get out as soon as possible.

And that's how you d*&n near drowned yourself in the digital lake!

It was very dark..Hard to breathe as easy as it was...Water rushing into your avatar...until you felt nothing

Oh look they respawned! wonder what happened to them?

Pomni was the first to approach you, asking if you had seen any exits around.

To which you raised an eyebrow at. By everyone else's response, you were new here.

how would you know!?!

So you shook your head solemnly as the jester deflated a bit.

And ever since then, you were the one she'd go to to ramble about the exit, a possible escape, random interests, and overall fear of this new bright place.

Especially because you'd be the only one willing to listen.

Having someone to relate to- straight from the start as well -was a bond you two had shared.

:)

After a few months of nothing, nada, zilch, Pomni talked less and less about it.

Leading her to focus on you.

How were you so pretty? And how does your body sway like that?

It kinda made the fool in her act up.

She started to notice more and more about you.

Like how the way your lights would shine under the low graphics of this hellhole.

Or how your voice captured her attention no matter what you were saying.

She loved the way you smiled, your tone of color.

H*&l! She could even say she's in love with y- Oh s*&t.

I mean no wonder!

But what if you don't like her? But you love her too!

Ok, but what if she isn't good enough? You think the same about yourself, and rush to reassure her.

welp. there's no arguing, you guys were dating now.

*me when I pull a jester by being autistic*

Her favorite part about you is your laugh, and the way your teeth show when you grin at her.

I mean she's a jester, what the heck?

Pomni will go out of her way to make sure you laugh at least once a day.

and by golly is it worth it!

(๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و tags: @kittykittyanon @radicallxser @oleander-nin @towomatos @thealphagirl @ziipzeepzop-eez @amorvincitomnia-14 @spongejuice. if you would like to be added, check my blog.

[midnightanxietytm]

Hello! I've never requested a writing before. Do you perhaps ... do fluff? Hurt and comfort? I probably should have read all the rules before, but what I skimmed doesn't discouraged it? Anyway, someone headcanoned that the chain cuffs Narinder had on his wrists had spikes in them to prevent them from being moved around, so I would like to request the Lamb tending to Narinder's wrists for the after effect damage of such binding, mostly after being dethroned and Narinder stays in the healing hut to recover. Bonus if you could make him into a lion.

Have a pleasant week grace you, drink water and rest regularly.

A/N: I can in fact, make some hurt/comfort, glad you asked! (the fact that its comfort and not confort still boggles my mind) Anyways, I derailed a bit on this one but I hope you like it either way.

Contents/Warnings: Mentions of ritualistic murder and suicide, mentions of wounds and cuts, brief look into the weight of immortality and godhood.

Summary: Lamb visits Narinder in the healing hut and muses about their relationship.

They probably shouldn't be there.

Narinder had been screaming and thrashing around for days now, yelling nonstop about his godhood, about his divine right, cursing the lamb non-stop until the poor rabbit in charge of the healing hut had to sedate him just to be able to treat him. Lamb imagined they were the last possible person he’d like to see. 

Still, they walked inside, carrying their usual sweet smile and a basket full of camellias. Marie, the poor rabbit in question, sighed in relief upon seeing them, and bowed her head in respect; “Glorious Leader, praise be thy name! The- uh… Lion(?)  is still asleep, but he might wake up soon.” She reports dutifully. The Lamb nods and places the basket in her hands.

“Thank you, Marie, please go put those in storage, I’ll watch him while you’re out.” They order, and she’s quick to obey. Lamb moves to sit by Narinder’s side as soon as she’s out of sight.

He appears to be in a dreamless sleep, and a quick peek into his mind confirms that, if it’s a blessing or a curse, they can’t tell, but his mind surely isn’t plagued with the sort of thoughts and memories to make for good dreams, no thanks to them.

Yes, they feel guilt, somewhat. They never wanted to believe their beloved god, the one that had given them a new life with doting followers and the prospect of a new world, would simply sacrifice them once they ceased being useful, despite the warnings. And when the time came, he was fueled by all the repressed rage at once, and drove a blade through their savior’s heart. Surely they had a lot on them to make guilt fester like an ugly infection.

They moved a hesitant hand to coop Narinder’s; his wrists were bandaged, and underneath them, the rash lines of cuts, bruises and punctures remained, and the Lamb thought that, if anything, at least he was free of those dreadful chains…

The guilt still clenched at his heart, like claws grabbing it and trying to tear it out, but rage was still burning within it; after all, was this cat’s lust for power not the reason he was placed on the beheading block? Wasn’t it his lack of contempt for his domain that doomed them both in the first place?

A careful thumb is swiped over the bandages; a soft act. But then again, now that The Lamb fills the role of death themselves, they can see why someone wouldn’t be satisfied by it… It’s bleak, to see every living thing lose its life, and they can’t fault Narinder for searching for solace in the prospect of resurrection and building new life…

“I… sense your weakness, usurper…” Came the weak and drowsy voice of his former God. The Lamb chuckled, but Narinder paid it no mind, he wished to be heard. “You will fall, I’ll see to it…”

The medication was clearly still in effect; his eyes, all three of them, were half-closed, and he seemed as if he was struggling to form the sentences in his head. Lamb offered them a sad smile. “The crown has chosen, Narinder, you know this…” They say softly, and raise his hand carefully to place a kiss upon his bandaged wrists, they smell blood right underneath it, it’s staining; the hot, flowing blood of someone who is living. “...Rest, for as long as you wish, when you’ve recovered, when those wounds and the scars they leave finally fade, then I’ll lay my life to you. If you still wish me to do so.”

They quickly prodded into his mind again, and gently nudged him back to a dreamless sleep. 

Narinder, not used to the fleeting mortal memory, would forget their words, but the vow would settle the anguish in The Lamb’s heart for centuries to come; their last gift to their deity; a reprise from the suffocating godhood, that was enough for them.

Meanwhile, the deity of the New Faith unwraps the stained bandages around their beloved fallen god’s wrists, and dutifully replaces them with clean ones, even though those clawed hands belonged to the one who wished to coat his freedom with their blood.

Such a weird thing is devotion, thinks the lamb, that it can be freely given even though pain, yet only received in love.

No matter, the Lamb would keep their prayers, their whispers begging for forgiveness and their adoration, until Narinder was ready to receive it. But while he was asleep, they would care for his wounds and bear the heavy crown.

A/N: I like to think that Marie couldn't really tell if Narinder was a lion or not because he was kinda malnourished and his mane was ragged and short because of the chains pulling on it constantly. Anyways, AITA for reducing my former god to a mortal form so he can experience true freedom even if I took his godhood for myself in the process?

[weirdkpopgirl]

Food is Love | Dream Headcanon #10

Headcanon: Food is Love ♡

Genre: Fluff, fluff, and more fluff!

Warnings: Mentions of food?

Word Count: 2736k

Author's Note: Honestly, I feel like it's been forever since I wrote a headcanon for the Dreamies. And this specific scenario was on my works-in-progress list for weeks! My friend did help me come up with something for Chenle and Jisung, so I really have to thank her for getting me to finish this tonight. It feels nice to write something fluffy after posting a bunch of angsty stuff. An anon did send in a request about something for Haechan, and I am working on it!

Also, I don't think anyone cares. But I did see NCT Dream last week at their TDS2 concert. My bank account may be crying, but it was so worth seeing seven boys I've come to cherish so much. To me, they're more than just handsome K-pop idols. The Dreamies put a smile on my face daily, and I'm forever grateful. I really hope to see them again someday.

Anyway, I apologize for another long author's note. Thank you for reading ^ ^

~ ~ ~

MARK

This has probably been mentioned before, but Mark would be quite the attentive boyfriend. He recalled the other day the two of you were ordering food together late at night. You said something about craving a cheeseburger, but all the American food places were closed. So on your next at-home date, Mark decided he would make you the best burger ever.

Here’s the thing, Mark and cooking did not mix too well. You walked into the kitchen with a questioning look for the man. 

“Mark, dear—what are you doing?” You asked, slightly puzzled.  Ingredients were scattered across the counter, and the paper with the recipe he was using already had a stain.

His lips formed a small pout. “I know you didn’t get to have a burger the last time we hung out. So I thought I could try making one.”

You tried not to laugh at your clueless boyfriend. But you were thankful for how thoughtful he was. As he rambled on, you leaned over the counter to take a peek at the recipe.

“Oh, this doesn’t seem that hard. Let’s do it together,” You suggested, walking around to wash your hands.

Even though you meant for this to be a teamwork thing, Mark just took a step back and let you take over the kitchen. You seemed to know what you were doing, a lot more than he did. He ended up helping with the smaller things like washing the lettuce and slicing the tomatoes.

In the next hour, you and Mark were happily eating the beautiful burgers you made.

“Good job Mark!” You approved, after taking a bite. “We should do this again sometime.”

Mark shook his head and chuckled. “Yeah, but you did like 95% of the work, (Y/n).”

His words caused you to blush and mumble a sorry. Then he’d smile and reassure you with a pat on the head. Even though things didn’t go as planned, Mark was still happy to spend some quality time with you.

✎__________________________________________________________

RENJUN

He was awakened by the morning sunshine peeking through the window shades in your bedroom. A sleepy yawn left the boy’s mouth as his eyes adjusted to the natural light. When his arms reached out to stretch, Renjun noticed the left side of the bed was empty. Your absence compelled him to groggily get up to start the day.

After quickly washing up, Renjun left the room in search of his other half. Though he was at the far end of the hallway, he was still able to take in the glorious smell of something delicious.

He spotted you in the kitchen standing behind the counter with a blue plaid apron on, and your hair tied up. A smile crept on his lips, listening to you softly sing his group’s song, Sorry Heart while you poured some water into a glass.

You nearly jumped out of your spine when you heard another voice join in. Panic immediately filled your eyes.

“Huang Renjun, you’re not supposed to be up yet!”

Your boyfriend chuckled and walked over to back hug you. “Good morning to you too?”

“No no no. I was trying to make you breakfast in bed,” You sulked. This was the first time he’s stayed the night at your place, and you wanted to surprise him.

Renjun peered over your shoulder, to see the neatly arranged dishes set up on a wooden tray. 

“Is that doenjang-jjigae?” He asked, pointing to the stone bowl containing murky brown broth. Standing behind you, he realized that the soup was what he had been smelling, along with the freshly cooked purple rice.

You nodded. “And just some banchan to go with it. I also prepared some iced lemon water, since I know you like it.”

He almost wanted to cry, thinking about how much you care to put into all this. And for him? Renjun’s heart swelled with so much adoration and endearment. He turned you around so he could press his lips to your forehead.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?”

✎__________________________________________________________

JENO

Due to his work schedule, Jeno and you didn’t get to see each other often. But whenever he had that rare day off, he’d typically spend it with you. So he was at your apartment one day, playing with your kitten in the living room. While you were somewhere else doing who knows what. So Jeno was a little upset that you weren’t paying him attention.

Tired of waiting, Jeno placed your pet in her bed and got up to look for you.

“Jagiyaaa!” He began to whine. But then he stopped when he found you in the kitchen. He caught you while setting up your small wooden dining table, full of steaming food. You had made seolleongtang, beef bone soup, and served it with kimchi on the side.

You couldn’t help but smile at your sulky boyfriend. After placing down two bowls of rice, you walked over to hug him.

“Sorry for leaving you alone. I just wanted to make lunch for you,” You murmured.

Instantly, Jeno blushed in embarrassment as you ushered him to sit down. He didn’t expect you to be doing this sort of thing for him. You even prepared his favorite side dishes!

You watched the boy devour his food with a beaming smile. Jeno didn’t think he'd ever seen you look so overjoyed before.

“You’re like a mother watching her child.” Jeno pointed out.

The smile on your lips grew, as you used your chopsticks to place a piece of meat on top of his rice. 

“I can’t help it! Seeing you eat so well makes me happy.”

Your boyfriend laughed and shook his head. “You’re something else, (Y/n).”

Though he was teasing, Jeno was very appreciative of your sweet gesture. In the back of his mind, he was already planning to cook something for you next time.

✎__________________________________________________________

HAECHAN

The two of you only began to date a few months ago. But the moment Haechan saw you, he was already whipped. Not a week went by without his members hearing the singer gushing about your cute habits or the sweet texts you sent twice a week to check up on him. 

Recently he’s learned that you liked to cook, and he would not stop bugging you about it! He was practically dying to try your food. So one day you rushed back home after your morning class to make lunch for him. When you finished making Haechan’s bento, you had a lot of leftover ingredients. So you were able to make six other bento boxes for his members.

The way the boy’s eyes enlarged when he saw you enter the practice room carrying a bag. He had seen your text about coming to visit him but didn’t expect you to bring anything. The Dreamies greeted you with enthusiasm, happy to have a break after hours of dance rehearsal.

“You said you wanted to try my cooking right?” You smiled, placing the bag down on a table before turning to his friends. “I have lunch for you guys too!”

That was how the eight of you sat at the center of the floor in a circle, munching away. The meals you made were pretty simple. Just some bulgogi with rice and vegetables. The night before you had prepared a bunch of side dishes for today.

“Wow, I didn’t know you could cook (Y/n)! Thank you.” Mark’s compliment caused you to blush at the sudden attention. Of course, Haechan took their leader’s praise as an opportunity to brag about you.

“My (Y/n) is the most amazing girlfriend, right guys?” He boasted. “She’s adorable, kind, takes time out of her day to take care of me—”

You shyly nudged the male. “Hyuck, don’t exaggerate.”

“And she’s humble too!” Haechan added.

Jisung shook his head from across the room. “Ugh, you two are insufferable.”

“On a serious note, you better be careful Lee Haechan,” Jaemin warned, flashing a flirtatious smile. “If (Y/n) keeps bringing us home-cooked food, I might just steal her from you.”

Haechan sent a scowl that Jaemin was not fazed by. 

“Don’t try to fool yourself, Na Jaeman,” He sneered, wrapping an arm around you. “(Y/n) is mine, and she loves me very much.”

The amused smile on Jaemin’s face contorted into a look of annoyance. “Yah, I told you not to stop calling me Jaeman!”

You shook your head as the other members joined in on the bickering. Shame on you for presuming that eating with 7Dream would be peaceful.

✎__________________________________________________________

JAEMIN

For someone who thought of herself as a slightly below-average person, you didn’t know you’d have much luck with love. And somehow, you ended up catching the attention of Na Jaemin. He was probably the most caring man you’ve ever encountered. His love was never-ending, and he never held back on giving you affection.

About a month into dating, you were determined to do something for Jaemin. After all, relationships should be 50/50. Expressing your emotions outwardly was not your strong suit. So you spent a sleepless night, thinking of what you could do to show Jaemin your feelings.

Jaemin was coming back to his dorm after a recording session for an upcoming album. Though he didn’t like to admit it, today’s schedule had been a tiring one. All he wanted to do was shower and go to bed. But when he noticed your gray slip-on shoes neatly placed near the doorway, the previous exhaustion he was feeling moved to the back of his mind.

As he padded across the room, a pleasantly familiar aroma filled his nose. His eyes enlarged when he found you standing in the dining area. In front of you was a neatly set table, with two stone bowls full of soup, and a heaping plate of meat at the center surrounded by several side dishes.

Then there was you wearing a nervous smile. “I know you must be tired. But you shouldn’t go to bed on an empty stomach. And I made cheonggukjang and jeyuk bokkeum since they’re your favorite foods.” 

While you rambled, Jaemin thought his heart would explode from how fast it was beating. He sat down without saying anything, which you slowly followed. You held your breath when he picked up the spoon to try the stew.

“I know it’s not as good as your mom’s but…” Your voice trailed off. You remembered Jaemin raving about his mother’s cooking. Obviously, you couldn’t compete with her. But you were hopeful that Jaemin would still appreciate your efforts.

You watched as he took the first bite, but were unable to read his expression. A million worries flooded your head. Did he hate it? Had you seriously screwed up? What if--

“Marry me.” His deep voice put a pause to your thoughts.

It took a few seconds to process what he just said. But oh man, once you did… Instantly, you were blushing profusely and covering your face. 

“Jaemin, you can’t just say stuff like that!” You mumbled. 

Jaemin smiled at you being all flustered. He had to hold back the urge to jump across the table and give you a thousand kisses.

While eating, he listened to you cutely explain how he always took care of you and was determined to show you cared too. After you were done, he’d reach across the table to take your hand and press his lips to the back of it softly.

 “Jagiya, I seriously have the sweetest girlfriend. Thank you.”

Usually, Jaemin was the one cooking for people, especially his members. The fact that you went out of your way to make him a home-cooked meal was so touching to him. When he told you to marry him, he was half-joking. You might not have been dating for long, but Jaemin was already planning his future with you. And this kind gesture of yours just sealed the deal. The simplest actions were what made him fall for you all over again.

✎__________________________________________________________

CHENLE

He was just laying on the couch, watching 7illin’ in the Dream on his phone with Daegal  laying between his legs. Eventually, he got bored of watching himself bicker with his members over foot volleyball. Then he would casually walk into the kitchen while you were prepping some food.

The boy watched as you used a pair of tongs to neatly place some beef chow mein on two plates.

“This was my grandmother’s recipe. I wanted to try making it for us,” You explained, 

Chenle met your grandma before and he had her cooking too. But making Chinese food for him was something you’ve wanted to do since you started dating. So decided to just stick with something you were already familiar with.

You didn’t even need to look up to see the teasing in Chenle’s smile. “You think you can make it better than your grandma?” He challenged.

In response, you merely shrugged and handed him a pair of wooden chopsticks. “Maybe. Try it and tell me.”

Secretly you hoped your boyfriend didn’t notice how nervous you were as he used the utensil to slurp up some noodles. Chenle felt like something exploded in his brain because your food was unexpectedly delicious. Eating this dish brought back memories of when his mom cooked for him.

“What do you think?” You waited for his reaction expectantly.

Despite how much nostalgia Chenle was feeling right now, he wasn’t quite ready to admit your cooking exceeded his expectations.

“It’s alright,” He said. You raised an eyebrow at the boy as he began to dig further into the meal before him. 

“Only alright, huh?”

“It’s because I’m hungry.”

You held back from laughing, clearly not convinced by Chenle’s excuse. 

“Well if my food is just alright, I guess you don’t want to eat it. I’ll feed the rest to Daegal.” You faked a pout and began to pull the food away from him.

Chenle quickly tried to counter his prior words. “Yah, you can’t take away something you offered me first!”

You chuckled and shook your head before telling him to at least eat at the dining table. Later that night, the two of you were laying in his bed. 

“So…when are you going to cook for me again?” He asked out of the blue, sounding all innocent. 

You turned your head to face him. “You really think my cooking is good then?”

“Okay, okay I admit.” Chenle playfully rolled his eyes and pulled you into his arms. “So will you make something tomorrow? You said you know how to make kimchi fried rice too, right?”

Internally, your stomach was doing little flips because of how pleased you were that Chenle approved of your cooking. But you played it off, pretending to give in reluctantly.

“Okay, I guess so.”

“Yes, let’s go man!!!” He shouted in English.

You cursed at him with your eyes for being so loud when you were trying to fall asleep. Chenle laughed in embarrassment and hugged you tighter so you couldn’t escape his embrace. Strangely, the boy’s teasing only made you fall for him more. You guessed it was part of his charm.

✎__________________________________________________________

JISUNG

So Jisung was playing games on his PC when a sweet aroma encompassed him. Acting like a stray puppy, the young dancer followed the smell down the hallway. He waddled into the living room, where you were sitting at the dining table. In front of you was a fish-shaped cake pan, and beside it was a heaping plate of freshly made treats.

Jisung gasped and covered his mouth. “Wah, you made bunggeo-bang?”

“Yeah, it’s your favorite right?” You hummed. “I ordered the pan a while ago, and it finally came yesterday.”

Your boyfriend stared in awe as you picked up a piece for him to try. After the first bite, Jisung’s taste buds exploded.

“Oh, mashiso!” He pouted slightly, out of gratitude. 

Staring into your eyes sparkling with joy, made Jisung wonder where and how he got this beautiful thing from. You giggled at his reaction when the male squeezed you into a hug.

“I really love you.”  Usually saying those words were scary for him. But with you, it just felt so right.

You grinned and patted his back. “I really love you too, Jisung.”

And then the two of you went on to feeding each other bunggeo-bang and sharing a lovely moment.

✎__________________________________________________________

[musette22]

What are friends for?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes (Stucky)

Word count: 2.6k

Rating: G

A/N: Yeah, I’m not sure what this is either. I just finally felt like writing again today and decided to make the most of it, so have this, whatever it is 💁🏻‍♀️ It was prompted by a conversation with @abovethesmokestacks and the above picture which the lovely Pia sent me ❤️ It’s pure fluffy crack, so I hope you enjoy!

*☕️☕️☕️*

If there’s one thing that Steve has always prided himself on, it’s having a strong moral compass. Nine times out of ten, he instinctively knows what the right course of action is, and he’ll always do anything in his power to follow that course, steadfast and unwavering. As a result, Steve seldom regrets his actions, because even when things don’t quite turn out the way he’d hoped, he still knows he did the right thing – and no matter the outcome, that is something he can't usually regret.

So despite his life being more eventful than most, Steve can really only think of a handful moments he truly regrets. Most of them, of course, revolve around Bucky.

For one thing, Steve regrets ever letting Bucky get on that godforsaken train in the Alps. He regrets not trying harder to grab Bucky’s hand when he was about to fall (even though he knows deep down that there was no way he could’ve reached him, not without falling himself), and he deeply regrets not going looking for Bucky after he fell. That might be his biggest regret of all.

This moment, however, right here in the present? On this average Friday night in the twenty-first century, in the living room of the Brooklyn apartment he shares with Bucky? The moment in which Steve unthinkingly opened his big, dumb trap and said something he knows he’ll regret for the rest of his life?

This moment comes pretty damn close.

On his right, there is Bucky – his oldest, best friend, the love of his life, dressed in all black including combat boots, leather jacket and long, dark hair falling into his beautiful face, which is currently contorted in a look of sheer terror.

On his left is Sam – Steve’s best friend from this new century, one of the best men Steve has ever known, whose normally kind face is now wearing an expression so terrifying that it’s causing dread to crawl slowly up Steve’s spine.

This moment right here? Oh, yeah. It’s bad, alright.

It had all started innocently enough, as bad things often tend to do. One beautiful, crisp morning just a few weeks ago, Steve and Bucky had woken up early and spent a glorious hour or so fooling around in their big, cozy, supersoldier-proof bed. After, Steve had decided to forgo his usual early morning run in favor of a walk along the banks of the East River with Bucky, just wandering around with no other goal than to enjoy the weather and each other’s company.

On their way back to Park Slope, they’d passed a coffee shop in Williamsburg. One of those ‘hipster’ places that had bespectacled youths working on their laptops at the window tables, exotic plants everywhere, and beverages with names that meant absolutely nothing to Steve. What the hell was a Dirty Chai Frappé? And why did caramel need to be salted, anyway? Call him old fashioned, but Steve still much preferred his coffee black, drunk from lipstick stained mugs in greasy diners. Bucky, however, secretly loved these fancy coffee shops and got a kick out of ordering the most complicated, disgusting concoction on the menu, just because he could. So when Bucky had come to a sudden stop outside the door of this particular coffee place, Steve had gladly followed him inside. If it made Bucky happy, it made Steve happy. It was as simple as that.

Since there were a couple of people before them in line to order, Steve and Bucky had taken a moment to study the menu displayed on the wall behind the cash register. Steve was tempted to just go with a black filter coffee, but eventually, buoyed up by the sunny weather, decided to be a little bit more adventurous that morning.

“I think I’ll have a cappuccino,” he told Bucky conspiratorially. “Probably time I tried one, since Tony’s always calling me that.”

Bucky just hummed in reply. He didn’t like to speak much in public, which was fine with Steve. He knew all of Bucky’s non-verbal cues anyway, and didn’t need him to use actual words in order to understand what he was saying. It kind of freaked their friends out sometimes, how Steve could understand from just the tiniest twitch of an eyebrow that Bucky didn’t think the exit strategy they were discussing during a briefing was solid, or how a simple grunt over the comms could tell Steve that Bucky believed it would be much more effective to approach the enemy via the corridor in the east wing of the building they were running through, as well as exactly how and when.

Tony liked to call them telepathic grandpas while Nat usually quipped that codependency wasn’t cute, and Bucky would glare while Steve cheerfully ignored them.

Bucky glared a lot these days, but after everything he’d been through, Steve couldn’t blame him. Besides, Steve knew Bucky never glared with malicious intent. Or, more accurately, he only ever glared with malicious intent at bad guys, and maybe sometimes at Sam, because for some reason, those two brought out the worst in each other. It was more just that Bucky’s default expression these days was a scowl (or, as Sam liked to call it, resting bitch face).

Sure, it was in stark contrast to how Bucky used to look before the war; cheeky and carefree, with a perpetual smile tucked away in the corner of his mouth just waiting for a reason to come out, but Bucky just wasn’t that same kid anymore, and that was fine. Steve wasn’t the same either. Despite his occasional nightmares and lingering survivor’s guilt, Steve actually smiled a lot more these days, and he didn’t lose his temper nearly as quickly as he used to. Time had mellowed him somewhat, and so had the fact that he didn’t get sick anymore. Between the benefits of the serum, finding people who cared about him in this new century, and having gotten a second chance at life with Bucky (and in a time where they could openly be together too), Steve just couldn’t help but be happier now.

For all his glaring and scowling, and despite still suffering from bouts of debilitating guilt, Steve knew that Bucky was happy as well. He knew, because Bucky had told him as much one night, in the combined safety of their darkened bedroom and Steve’s arms. In fact, when it was just the two of them, Bucky was much quicker to smile, much softer around the edges, and much cuddlier than he was when there were others around. Bucky’s prickly façade was really just a defense mechanism. He didn’t need one around their friends, of course, but that was something he was working on understanding during his biweekly therapy sessions. These things took time, and that was fine. If there was one thing they had plenty of these days, it was time. Bucky would get there when he was ready, and the meantime, Steve cherished the privilege of having Bucky’s softer side all to himself.

Even standing in a cozy coffee shop on a lovely sunny day, Bucky was glowering a little. Unlike the barista, who shot him some concerned looks, Steve wasn’t fooled, nor did he let Bucky’s moody expression deter him when something on the menu board caught his eye.

“Buck, look,” he snorted, bumping Bucky’s shoulder and pointing. “So, if I’m a Cappuccino, I think that makes you Babyccino.”

Bucky huffed out a breath that Steve knew meant an amused laugh. “What the hell is a Babyccino.”

“No fuckin’ clue,” Steve grinned fondly, “but it sounds real cute, so it fits.”

Bucky just gave a tiny roll of his eyes, but Steve could tell he was pleased by the way the tips of his ears flushed ever so slightly.

After ordering their drinks – one cappuccino for Steve and one extra-large quad half-sweet caramel macchiato with extra whip for Bucky – they exited the shop. Outside, Steve slung an arm around Bucky’s shoulder, barely keeping himself from smacking a noisy kiss to Bucky’s cheek. “Come on, Babyccino. Let’s go home.”

Despite Bucky’s grumbling, Steve knew Bucky loved pet names. Always had. The more ridiculous the better, and Steve was more than happy to oblige in the privacy of their own home. Steve also knew that Bucky would rather go back into cryo freeze than to admit this to anyone. But like Steve, Bucky must’ve been in a good mood that day, because he just shook his head and only mildly threatened to murder Steve in his sleep if he ever called him that in public again.

And Steve hadn’t.

He respected Bucky’s boundaries too much for that. He valued his life too much for that, too. Despite the fact that the team knew they were together, Steve never initiated any kind of PDA, never even tried to hug Bucky when there were others around, and he never, ever called him anything but Bucky or Buck when they weren’t alone.

Not until just now, anyway.

In hindsight, Steve couldn’t say what it was exactly that had made him slip up this time. Maybe he’d been distracted by the movie they were watching, or by the warmth of Bucky’s thigh pressing against his own, or maybe it had even been the placebo effect of the beer he’d been sipping. But whatever it was, the fact is that he had slipped up, and right now, he’s reeling with the realization that he’ll regret it for the rest of his unnaturally long life.

“I’m sorry,” Sam says, voice eerily calm even as the grin on his face grows so wide it starts to take on an almost maniacal quality. “What did you just call him?”

Steve blinks, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. “Nothing,” he replies quickly. “I didn’t-”

“No, no, you did,” Sam insists, eyes boring into Steve’s. “I’m pretty sure you did.”

“I really didn’t,” Steve repeats. His heartbeat kicks up, palms starting to sweat in a way he didn’t even know they could do anymore after the serum. “I didn’t call him anything.” He turns towards Bucky for help, promptly regretting it when he catches sight of the look of abject horror on his face. Steve winces, shrinking back into his seat. “I – I said, ‘Bucky, can you pass me the popcorn,’ that’s all. I didn’t- I’d never-”

“You didn’t call him ‘Bucky’,” Sam interrupts, his voice rising in both volume and pitch, making the hair on the back of Steve’s neck stand on end. “Oh, no. You, Steven, just called my man Barnes over here – the former Winter Soldier, the ghost story credited with over two dozen assassinations in last fifty years, that Barnes – you called him Babyccino.”

“No!” Steve exclaims, a little desperately. “Babyccino? Wha- why on earth would I call him that? I mean, sure, he’s cute, but would you look at this guy?" He flaps a hand in Bucky’s direction. “He’s dressed in leather from head to toe and I know for a fact he’s got like, six knives under there.” Steve is aware his voice has gone a little hysterical, but he can’t seem to do anything about it. “This man knows at least eight ways to kill us both without even getting up off the couch, and you think I’d call him Babyccino? Sam, that’s ridic-“

“Steve,” Bucky hisses, looking like he’s trying very hard to disappear into the couch cushions. “Shut. Up.”

“No, no,” Sam crows, gleefully rubbing his hands together. “By all means, keep diggin’ that hole, Cap. It’s almost big enough for you to lie down in, just a couple more inches and you’ll be all set.”

Steve flounders for another moment, before realizing, with a sinking feeling in his gut, that there really isn’t any use in denying it anymore. Sam heard what he heard, and now he’ll just have to deal with the consequences. Abruptly switching tactics, Steve twists his body towards Bucky to give him his best pleading look; the one that usually managed to get him out of a tight spot back before the war. “Buck,” he breathes, wide-eyed. “Bucky. I’m so, so sorry. I fucked up. I didn’t mean to- You know I would never – I mean, I love you.”

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky groans, closing his eyes and throwing a hand out to the side to clap over Steve’s babbling mouth. “You’re such a dumb fuckin’ punk. It’s okay. I love you, too.”

Steve deflates, relief flooding his system in a dizzying rush.

“You, however,” Bucky continues, slowly turning his head to pin Sam with a look so withering it would make lesser men quake in their boots or pee their pants or both. Bucky pauses for effect, and when he continues, his voice is low and menacing and makes Steve’s skin erupt into goosebumps despite himself. “If you ever repeat this incident, if you ever breathe so much as a word to anyone, I will dismember you with my bare hands and sprinkle the pieces of your body off the roof of Stark Tower like confetti. Is that clear?”

Behind Bucky’s hand, Steve swallows hard. He knows it’s wrong to get turned on by the love of his life threatening to brutally murder his best friend, especially in a situation as high stakes as this one. He knows that, but he just can’t help himself. It’s not his fault his pants get a little tight whenever Bucky’s dark side comes out, and it’s only because he knows he’s really just a kitten underneath.

Unfortunately, that kitten seems to be out of the bag now, because Sam’s Cheshire cat grin doesn’t even falter at Bucky’s threat. In fact, it seems to grow impossibly wider.

“Oh, really?” he asks, eyes locked on Bucky’s.

Bucky’s scowl deepens. “With. My. Bare Hands,” he repeats, through gritted teeth.

“Whatever you say,” Sam replies sweetly, “… Babyccino.”

Steve has just enough time to duck out of the way before Bucky leaps across the couch, his teeth bared in a growl as he makes a grab for Sam, who cackles wildly as he deftly rolls off the couch, managing to stay just out of Bucky’s reach.

During the wild goose chase that follows, Steve sighs and grabs his phone, dialing Natasha’s number.

“All I wanted was a quiet Friday night with my best friends,” he tells her dejectedly once she’s picked up. “Is that too much to ask?”

“Considering who your best friends are? Yes.”

Steve snorts, wincing when there’s a crash somewhere behind him that could only mean broken furniture. “Can you please come and help me break them up? They’re not scared of me like they are of you.”

“Oh, so you need your third best friend to come and help you out now that you messed up with your second and first best friend, that it?”

“Best friend isn’t a person, it’s a tier,” Steve says primly. “You taught me that, actually.”

Natasha is silent for a moment. “Fine,” she agrees finally. “Stay where you are, I’ll be right there.”

“Thanks, Nat. Love you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbles, and hangs up on him.

Promptly, there’s an ear-splitting scream somewhere to his left, followed by Sam shrieking, “Sonofa- You bit me! Steve, your boyfriend bit me.”

“What, you don’t like that?" Bucky's voice asks tauntingly. "My bad, must’ve gotten you confused with Steve. He loves it.”

“Nooooooo,” Sam wails, thrashing around in what Steve assumes is an attempt to cover his poor ears.

Steve sighs, tiredly rubbing a hand over his face. “Make friends, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.”

But even as he’s headed for the kitchen to pre-emptively grab some ice packs from the freezer, he knows he wouldn’t trade any of them for the world.

---

Read on AO3

[its-tortle]

🥶 can you do Stucky for this emoji? I'd love that! Congrats on the milestone!

thank you!! i'm not sure what this is but i started typing and this came out. i hope you like &lt;3

Bucky has never liked the cold.

He didn’t like it in Brooklyn, when the biting wind whistled through the alleys and made the windows rattle. The winters were brutal some years, and then their shitty heater would give out completely until Bucky could see the clouds of his breath while he made bitter coffee in the kitchen. He didn’t like the way his hair was always on end, or the way his feet were never quite warm. 

And he certainly didn’t like the way it made Steve’s lungs stutter, and the way it turned his fingers red until they were blue. He didn’t like lying awake worrying, curled around Steve’s lithe frame in an attempt to share just some of his own dwindling warmth, checking every hour to see if Steve was running a fever, if he was still breathing.

The war would come to fix that worry for him, even if it exacerbated every other. Because now Steve was strong, and healthy, and he ran like a furnace even in the freezing French winterscape. While the rest of the Commandos grumbled about the cold nights, Bucky would sneak into Steve’s tent. He would dive his toes, so cold they were numb, into Steve’s warm, glorious thighs just to make him laugh and tuck some of the warmth that sound ignited behind his heart for safe keeping. 

Then, Steve curled around him to share warmth, and while Bucky’s skin sang with Steve’s touch and the heat it left behind, Bucky found that in between jokes about how he was owed it for all of his efforts in Brooklyn, he almost missed the winters in their cold room with the thin window panes. At least there, they weren’t brushing this close with death every day. At least there, Steve was all his.

It’s the memories of those cold Brooklyn nights and the warmth of Steve’s arms in France that get Bucky through the first days and weeks of the worst kind of cold. He doesn't know where he is, or soon even when, why, and who he is, but as the cold creeps into his dank cell -- and later his iron coffin -- some part of his mind always reaches out for those memories. He remembers how cold he had thought it was, even when it was nothing compared to this down-to-the-bone iciness, but he also remembers a different feeling, one that was almost warm despite it. 

He forgets its name for a while, until he finds blue eyes staring at him from across a bridge, and then he remembers what the source of it was.

Steve, he recalls. His best friend, his other half, the sun he revolves around; His warmth.

And those all remain true -- even when the first is finally amended with a giant romantic asterisk -- and Bucky revels in the way he gets to exist beside Steve again, to remember.

Because Bucky remembers everything. He remembers Steve’s knobby knees, and his mother’s laugh, and the grocer at the corner who gave each of the Barnes kids a free strawberry and a wink. He remembers Brooklyn and France, the rattling windows and frosty forests and the nights he and Steve have spent cold and glad for the excuse to curl around one another. He remembers the cryo too, of course, and the endless frost of being the soldier of winter. 

But it’s not so bad, in the end, because Steve never lets him get cold again. He makes him tea every evening, piles fluffy blankets on their bed and their couches. He gives Bucky all of his sweaters, and buys him the thickest, softest yarns to knit with. He curls around Bucky every night, and sometimes just when Bucky is making sweet coffee in their kitchen. 

Steve exaggerates it a little bit sometimes maybe, and then Bucky points out that he’s fighting a losing battle, that he can’t fight Jack Frost.

“Watch me,” Steve says.

Bucky rolls his eyes, because that’s stubborn and stupid and ridiculous, and then kisses him anyway, just for his efforts.

celebrate 1k with me!

[esta-elavaris]

Flufftober Day 31: "You told your parents?" ~ Arthur Morgan/OC [1,105 words]

My Flufftober '23 masterpost can be found here 💜✨

Cora was having a downright glorious day. Although the days when she and Arthur broke off from the rest of the camp and roughed it alone for a week or two always were, but this was one of their best little solo trips yet. The weather was beautiful, they stopped off at the post office before they really delved into the wilderness so she had a letter from home, and they hadn’t run into even a shadow of trouble. Considering the way chaos had a habit of finding Arthur, that particular part was a true miracle.

At present, they’d made camp just a little ways away from a lake – close enough to easily take a dip, but not so close that they’d be exposed to any who drifted near the shore – and she sat with her back against a tree while the wild turkey, the one that had them affectionately bickering over who had been the one to actually shoot it, roasted on a spit over the fire. They were being treated to the sort of sunshine that promised a beautiful pink-red sunset, and it took all she had not to hum happily as she read her letter from her hometown.

“My ma says hi,” she called to him as she read.

Up ‘til that moment, he’d been firmly rooted in man-roasting-his-kill mode. Or her kill, as she kept insisting anyway. He always insisted on taking over the cooking for at least their first night out here – although it was usually more, unless she really fought him on the matter. She rarely did, though, because it was sweet. A man who was hell-bent on cooking her dinner personally. Who’d’ve ever thought one like that existed? It was a question she found herself asking a lot ever since she’d first fallen for Arthur Morgan.

Her words, however, jolted him out of that mode.

“Your mother?”

“Uh-huh.”

“…she said to tell me that?”

“No, Dutch. I was hoping you’d pass the word along,” she drawled.

He stilled, leaning back where he knelt on the ground, regarding her thoughtfully.

“You…told your folks about me?”

“The basics, sure.”

“The basics?”

“That I’m courting a man I’m crazy about – and that he’s kind, funny, good, and handsome to boot.”

“You lied to ‘em, then.”

“I fudged the details on the whole livin’ in sin aspect, but everything else I just said is true,” she frowned at him. “…Shouldn’t I have?”

After their first night together, they’d both agreed that this wasn’t a sneaking into each other’s bedroll for some stress relief kind of thing. That it was more than that. That they were making a real go of it, in their own way. But maybe he viewed their way as not being something that should be shared around. The camp was one thing, nothing stayed secret for long there, but she had a hell of a lot more control over whether or not her folks knew. She just…hadn’t thought it would bother him. Instead, he looked bothered.

Maybe she should’ve asked first.

“I’m not exactly the bring home to mom and dad sort, sweetheart,” he said finally.

Ouch.

“Well, they live so far away it’s a wonder their letters even arrive in one piece. You’ll never have to meet ‘em if you don’t want to.”

Cora tried to play it cool as she spoke, shrugging casually and lowering her head so that her long dark hair fell forward over her face, pretending to be fascinated by the letter in her hand. Of course he saw through it.

“Shit, Cora, that ain’t what I meant at all,” he stood, approached, and then knelt before her on the ground. “Just that…I’m not the sort that a respectable woman would want to bring home to mom and dad.”

Oh. This was around the time she knew he’d be breaking out words like ugly and haggard if she hadn’t entirely vetoed them some time ago. Folding the letter and setting it in the midst of her skirts, she regarded him softly.

“I’m not a very respectable woman, Arthur,” she snorted.

“I respect you,” he said simply.

“And that’s what matters. To me. To them, too – my folks aren’t the high and mighty sort. Do you think I’d be running with Dutch’s crew if they were? Ma’s just glad to have one less mouth to feed, and pa – god love him – is a drunk. If I brought home some, some heir to a fortune with a stick lodged up his ass, they’d think I lost my damn mind. They know whatever I’m up to out here isn’t squeaky clean, how could it be? But we all play dumb to avoid stressful conversations. I keep ‘em clued in on the good parts, and you’re the best part.”

He breathed a laugh, but when he met her gaze and found her dark eyes fixed on him almost sternly, so there could be no doubt as to whether she meant every word she said, the laughter disappeared and he leaned back to sit on his ass on the ground in front of her, leg bent so one arm could rest atop his knee.

“You don’t have to meet ‘em, ever, if you don’t want to,” she continued. “But you gotta know that if you did, I’d be much more concerned about what you were going to make of them, rather than what they’d think of you. Because that last part wouldn’t make a damn lick of difference to me. Ever.”

Shifting a little, she could see in his face that he was tempted not to believe her – whether he’d admit that fact or not.

“I mean it, Arthur. They’d love you if they met you, you’re just gonna have to take my word on that, but even if they didn’t, you’d still be stuck with me for as long as you’ll have me.”

He smiled slightly, scratching at the stubble at his jaw.

“That’ll be an awful long time, Cor.”

“Will it, now?”

“Forever, most like. If I have my way.”

As he said it, he looked almost tentative – because it was one thing to say they were making a serious go of this, and it was another to say that. Those words of his had implications. The type that involved gold rings and wedding bells.

Cora grinned, and those blue-green eyes of his that had been inspecting her face for any hint of a negative reaction lit up as she replied.

“That works just fine for me.”

“Well,” he cleared his throat, hiding his own smile. “Good. Go ahead and tell ‘er I said hi back, then. Better make a good first impression, if she's to like me when I meet 'er.”

Links: AO3 -- FF.net -- flufftober masterpost -- dividers by cafekitsune

[frantic-fuck]

Snakelet - Chapter 3

@augustofwhump Day 7 - Promise, + Guilt

Masterpost

cw: manipulation, reluctant whumper, nonhuman whumpee, used as bait, a bit of pre-torture brutalizing and manhandling, i thought i was done with the pet whump vibes but here he is in a collar and leash, very brief consideration of (tactical, temporary) suicide

Turns out I don't write if I don't take my meds lmao hi I'm back~

~

No. No, no, no, no, please. Please, this can't be it.

Having already hyperventilated enough to deplete all the oxygen in the bag, Ziri resorts to continuously tearing the flowers out of his horns.

How long has he been in here? Weeks? Months? Years? Decades?

He doesn't know. It's all blurring together.

If he's been disconnected from Janessa's necklace, he could probably escape through death. He'd end up back in the feywild, and then...

And then what? It could be millennia in the future when he returns to Thespia. She'd definitely kill off Zop by then. He can't bear to lose one of the only loved ones he has left.

All he can do is hope he's taken out of here before then.

...

.....

Time stretches on, and on, and on.

He's probably been hidden away somewhere. Abandoned. Forgotten about until the end of time. But he can't trust his judgement enough to pull the trigger. He's going to be here forever.

........

............!

Suddenly, a hand grabs him by the hair and yanks him upwards, thrusting him into a blinding light.

Oh, light. Glorious light. It's been so lo—

WHAM!

The hand slams him into a wall, turning his tears of relief into those of pain, dazing him too much to fight against the collar tightly latched around his neck.

"Wh—"

Before he gets a word out, he's shoved to the floor. A heavy knee plants itself on his back, and he chokes out a cry as a hollow snap! punctuates the lack of care for his wings.

Laughter echoes around the room, and his head is dragged up by the hair to see the source — a small crowd of unsettlingly enthusiastic creatures. He frantically struggles against his assailant, but all it earns him is his face bashed against the floor, leaving him even more dazed.

"Holy shit, Ziri?" A shrill cackle pierces through the crowd, and a green hag follows it, maneuvering her way towards him. "My, how you've grown."

"W-who­— you know— you remember me?"

"I don't forget those who wrong me, dear." She kneels over him and pinches his cheek. "Too bad your dreadful parents aren't here to save you this time."

Ziri squints at her, desperately trying to fight his scrambled brain to figure out who the hell this is.

He's certain he's never seen this hag before in his life.

What was that about his parents...?

...Fuck.

"Moldy?!"

"The one and only~" She flips her long hair with a smile as he tries to strain away from her, only to let out a miserable groan as his head collides with the floor again.

"Ngh... you— you still— all this to— augh!"

She plucks a scale from his face and examines it, humming. "Oh, no. Not me. Nerium has plans for you. It's just incredibly lucky that those plans allow us to make up for lost time, don't you think?"

"I-I'm not working for you. You can't make me."

"Obviously. I was cheated out of my chance to use you when you were as impressionable as my little haglet. That doesn't mean we can't still have some fun together, though, does it?" She sticks the scale in his mouth, and unfortunately, the hand gripping his hair prevents him from biting her. "How is Vile nowadays, anyway?"

Ziri spits the scale at her. "Zip. And my sibling is better off with Janessa than they ever were with you."

"Zip?" Moldy cackles. "With a name like that, I have to disagree. Do you really expect me to believe Janessa's doing them any more good?"

"Juck off. Don't pretend you— if you really cared about them, you'd let me go." His breath quickens as the severity of the situation hits him all at once. "Please— please, let me go. Without me, she'll hurt them again, or— if she already has, she'll keep torturing them, and— p-please, you have to—"

"I promise I'll return you to her, okay?" A smaller voice rings out as a pixie enters his field of vision. They furrow their brow at him, their expression troubled. "I just... I only took you yesterday because I need your help. Just one little thing, and you can go back."

Yesterday. Despite everything, the word lifts a weight from his chest.

It's only been a day.

"Come on, Nerium. You're being too easy on him."

Nerium glares at Ol' Moldy, who rolls her eyes and backs off, and takes her place in front of Ziri's face. "You know Janessa well, don't you?"

"I-I..." Ziri hesitates, suddenly wondering if this is some sort of elaborate, fucked-up test. "Are you asking me to— I can't betray her. I'm, uh.. loyal. Very— AAAGH!"

A scream tears out of him as the brute slams his head against the floor again while simultaneously pressing their knee hard into his broken wing.

"That's enough, Soren," Nerium warns. "Let him go."

The brute — Soren, apparently — grunts and steps off his back. With a grateful, pained smile, Ziri catches his breath, desperately dtrying not to start sobbing outright. Once he's collected himself, he holds his wing steady and stumbles to his hooves. The pixie follows him upwards, a look of pity on their own face.

"You're loyal for your sibling's sake, aren't you?"

He sighs and nods.

"Then I'm not going to interrogate you. I just need you to answer one question, alright? It... it might make things easier on you, depending on the answer."

"Easier... how?"

Nerium avoids eye contact. "What does she care about?"

Well... that doesn't sound too traitorous to answer.

"I'm still not sure. Hurting people? Power? Hurting people for power?"

"No, I mean— People. Things. Fuck, pets, even. Anything I can use against her. Even she has a family, right?"

"I don't think she likes them very much. I can count the times she's mentioned them on one hand."

"A lover, then. Someone she's absolutely infatuated with who's as horrible as her."

"She doesn't really.. do 'love'."

"Fuck me. Anyone, Ziri. Anyone she gives a single shit about who deserves this more than one of her victims."

Ziri swallows, suddenly managing to feel even more unsafe. He scours his brain for anyone who might fit the bill, and in lieu of that, anyone believable enough who deserves to be thrown under the bus in his stead. He must take too long, though, because Nerium suddenly snaps, "Do not lie to me."

"...Forgive me. I can't... I can't think of anyone."

With a pained grimace, they turn away from him. Ol' Moldy steps up and cups their hands around them, false sympathy written all over her face.

"You can't give up now, dear. You've come so far already."

"Ner— AGH—!" Ziri launches forward, suddenly driven to shove the two apart, but he's jerked back by the neck into Soren's arms, his wing crushed between the two bodies. A firm hand clasps over his mouth before he can counter Moldy's manipulation, and any attempt has their grip tighten painfully. Afraid of getting his jaw crushed, he gets the memo and quiets down.

"You know what's at stake. And if he's your only option, then, well..." Moldy shoots him a smirk. "That's just how it is, I'm afraid."

"...He doesn't deserve this."

"And neither does Rosie. At least this way, they'll both be safe in the end, hm?"

Nerium takes a deep breath and balls their hands into fists. When they turn towards Ziri, Soren lets him go.

"N-Nerium, she's—"

"Don't act like you know what's going on. I don't want to hear it."

"But—"

"Enough!" They shout, though their anger doesn't seem entirely directed at him. "If Janessa doesn't do love, then whatever she's got going on with you will have to do."

"There's— she's got nothing going on with me, I don't—" He laughs nervously. "She's treated me like dirt since the moment she got her hands on me, what makes you think—"

"She looked terrified when Moldy took you. And before that, she even seemed.. concerned about you. I don't know a single person she's shown an ounce more care for."

"That's not— I don't know why she was so weird about hurting me, but the fear— that's just because I know too much, not because she cares about me specifically."

"Great. Two more reasons why you're my best bet." They take another deep breath, and their expression hardens. "Alright, then. For all her cruelty, she does have some limits, doesn't she? I know she doesn't hurt children, but surely she has more. Especially with you."

The few times Janessa's ever expressed limits flash through his mind. He decides honesty might not be the best policy and shakes his head, instantly regretting the decision when Nerium looks even more pissed.

"Do NOT lie to me, Ziri," they growl. "Rest assured, my friends don't have quite the same limits as she does. Isn't that right?"

Everyone else in the room lets out a terrifying cheer.

"Please. Please, whatever you're trying to do, it— it won't work. Sh-she doesn't— please!"

Nerium flies towards the door, not listening to a word. "The bare minimum, guys. The least damage needed to get to her."

"Mmm, but she must be pretty numb to torture by now, dear. Getting through to her may take quite a lot."

They wordlessly leave the room with a huff, the door slamming behind them.

Leaving Ziri alone with their... "friends."

[ifacotarwasgood]

why is chapter 2 of acotar bad? some short craft lessons

CH 2

click here for the full comparison between the original chapter and my revision.

DISCLAIMER: this is not an exhaustive list.

heightened prose style = distracting

we're told feyre barely has a formal education and has nearly turned feral in her struggle to keep her family alive, but we're supposed to believe her internal monologue sounds like:

My father had once convinced a passing charlatan to trade the engravings against faerie harm in exchange for for one of his wood carvings. There was so little that my father was ever able to do for us that I hadn't possessed the heart to tell him the engravings were useless...and undoubtedly fake.

using heightened diction and formal sentence structure isn't inherently problematic, but it sounds uppity and pedantic, which doesn't match feyre's characterization at all. instead, it just sounds like sjm's authorial voice.

it also makes every sentence real clunky, which is...not good.

thin characterization = the archerons are a bunch of losers

elain, nesta, and papa archeron are barely described beyond how useless and helpless they are. while this puts feyre's competence into greater relief, it also makes it hard for the reader to care about her main motivation, which is to keep them alive.

why should we care about their survival when feyre describes her family like:

The undercurrent of hunger honed [Elain's] words into a sharpness that had become too common in recent weeks. No mention of the blood on me. I'd long since given up hope of them actually noticing whether I came back from the woods every evening. At least until they got hungry again.

???

sections like this remind us again and again of feyre's resentment toward her family, but we're also told that her only motivation is to keep them safe. it's a very tricky needle to thread, and I don't think sjm does it successfully. I end up being annoyed by them all equally.

this isn't how people talk, sarah

sjm's dialogue is real bad.

on one hand, it's bad because of the word choice. again, the diction is so heightened it just doesn't feel believable, especially since this chapter focuses on family members bickering.

an example. nesta says:

"I thought all you wanted was for us to get out of the house—to marry off me and Elain so you can have enough time to paint your glorious masterpieces."

but a) real people don't talk in complex sentence constructions, especially when they're agitated. and b) "glorious masterpieces" is so distracting I genuinely rolled my eyes when I first read it.

dialogue isn't accurate to real life speech—the same way fiction in general doesn't match real life exactly. real people talk about nothing most of the time when we want characters to talk about something relevant.

but dialogue has to balance mimicking real life speech while not cleaving to how any of us really speak. it has to reflect speech's cadence without its disorganization (which is why we don't clutter our written dialogue with "um"s and "uh"s; readers will skip over that shit anyway).

sharper (i.e., more efficient), simpler dialogue will almost always sound the most natural on the page.

on the other hand, sjm's dialogue is bad because it doesn't seem to be guided toward any particular emotional or logical revelation. (this is a symptom caused by sjm's larger problem with writing scene arcs.)

the argument at the end of this chapter jumps around until apparently sjm felt like it went on long enough, and then nesta flounces away, delivering this killing blow:

"You're just a half-wild beast with the nerve to bark orders at all hours of the day and night. Keep it up, and someday—someday, Feyre, you'll have no one left to remember you, or to care that you ever existed."

except it's not a killing blow.

partly because it's in response to...well, nothing. before this, feyre says nesta would be a burden to the mandrays (which is repeated, in slightly different language, earlier in the conversation), but that's not really what their argument is about.

what's happening beneath the dialogue is a power struggle between nesta, who believes she can marry tomas mandray on her own authority, and feyre, who's decided she's the head of the family and vetoes that decision. nesta delivering a killing blow should be in response to feyre putting her foot down for good. and what she says should be more specific to their specific power dynamic.

so that's what I did in my revision. here's the link again if you want to read it in its entirety!

[sylvies-chen]

Succession 4.02 thoughts:

emotionally just SO much to unpack in this episode holy shit

roman going back to logan makes sense and we could all see this coming especially with the way shiv and kendall have had to coax him into these ideas for the past two episodes, but oh man. my heart fucking breaks. like we get the verbal acknowledgment that logan ACTUALLY HIT ROMAN AS A KID and then see him crawl back right after??? i dont know where along the line he internalized all that trauma and became so submissive but it’s crushing. watching s1 you would’ve never guessed it, but we need to protect roman roy at all costs. okay thank you.

for a brief, sweet moment though, the three of them banding together and seeing through logan’s bullshit apology (which, sadly, was undoubtedly his best and most honest effort and all he will ever be able to give them) was glorious. i love my siblings trio and i need to have faith that they will get through this 🥺

WAIT WE STILL HAVE THE SIBLING HUG COMING SOMEWHERE okay so not all hope is lost they can turn things around even after they find out about roman’s betrayal

shiv calling him a human gaslight is hilarious because she is without a doubt the most manipulative of the four siblings so it’s kind of ironic, but she’s also right so pop off i guess

kendall on the other hand… idk what angle he’s playing. the business stuff I don’t pay as much attention to so maybe I missed something, but I’m curious as to what his play is here

greg is his usual awkward self but it’s just a little ✨elevated✨ now which i love

CONNOR’S MOM MENTION??? THAT MONOLOGUE OF HIS??? HOLY HELL. that was… tragic. it was so much to digest. logan sent con’s mom to prison??? he shunned connor his whole life??? and him saying love just isn’t something he needs because he’s never had it, that he’s accustomed to it, that his siblings are greedy for wanting, nay, demanding love from their father is just… wow. this poor guy.

conwilla stay strong though, willa being in bed when con came home was very precious to me. these are two people who know and accept the very transactional nature of their relationship, and who want to go through life together anyway and we have no choice but to stan

I’m curious as to why doesn’t logan want gerri at the meeting with mattson??? is it because he knew he wanted roman there and didn’t want to have to deal with them given the whole dick pic thing??? is it because of hugo’s laptop thing with kerry’s news anchor tape??? don’t know but I need my queen to keep her job 🙏🏻

NEXT WEEK BETTER BRING ME SOME KENSTEWY GOODNESS