#I could go on and on about the shit Ryn's had to deal with

[captainderyn]

!! 12 & 22 for Five from the numbered hcs! (Bonus? 18 for Ryn <3)

Hehe thank you for the asks :D Small essays below lol. Also pretty heavy shit, Ryn and Five are the characters who go through The Most ;--;

Five: (TW: addiction)

12. Grudges and vendettas

Five doesn't really have a lot of vendettas, most of the people he's had an issue with her either no longer around to be an issue with or he just cannot be damned. He's tired, if he kept vendettas against all the people who probably deserve it he'd have no room left in his mind to live outside of a state of anger.

Grudges though, he's got a fair collection. He holds a grudge towards the general institution of Imperial Intelligence. He feels its deeply flawed, as many institutions grow to be, and that potential agents are not properly warned/given a heads up of what they'll be getting into.

I feel like Imp Intel probably falls into a similar pitfall of military recruiting to get bodies--make it look cool as possible, make it seem like a highly beneficial life choice, and slip the severe trauma under the rug.

Now, of course, Five holds a grudge as he's lost many of the people he worked with, called friends, lost ties to his family, ect. He's watched countless of the people he's mentored over the years lose their lives, lose themselves, ect. He himself has struggled with stim-addictions due to his work hours and stress.

He especially holds a grudge against the leadership involved with Erabelle's career as Cipher Nine and intentionally putting a 23 y/o less experienced agent (Era) through what she went through as punishment and a power play because she said something a Sith didn't like. He holds a grudge that they did not let him take that over, as he feels so much heartache and suffering could've been avoided.

In part he holds a grudge towards himself, for giving himself so wholly into his work. He doesn't really know who he is anymore except as who he's become as Five. He's now in his mid-late fourties, almost 15-20 years of his life have been in service to Imperial Intelligence. He hasn't held significant romantic relationships consistently, he doesn't feel as though he lives outside of work. He wishes he'd pushed himself to either get out of Intelligence or found better balance instead of now feeling like a machine.

22. People who’ve influenced them greatly

At this point in his career, Era is really who has the most influence on him now. Yes, he's the one who's trained her, yes he's the mentor/father figure/whatever but in all honesty in his mind he's learned more from her.

She's been through far more than he has been in a three-ish year span than he ever did in his whole career and she made. it. through. How can he not admire that greatly? How could that strength not influence him.

He's learned from her how to live again and how to rediscover himself. He watches her paint post-Intelligence, open her little studio, cover her body in tattoos to take her body back from the institution that used it as a puppet, and he starts to think that he can do that too.

(Putting Ryn under a cut for TW: mental health, depression, pretty gosh darn heavy stuff)

Ryn

18. Things they’ll never admit

Ah...several things. Ryn has this complex where she needs to be the strong one, the rock, for everyone else. To do otherwise is betraying the idea of her that people have built up for her.

The first thing Ryn doesn't really talk about (not so much admit) is anything about the Skyllian Blitz. I touched a bit on it in The Stages of Nearly Losing You but Ryn was 22 when she went through the Skyllian Blitz and aside from zipping through the mandatory Alliance counseling to make sure she's not going to snap going back to duty...she's never really talked about it. Not with her parents, not with Garrus, nope.

She'll never admit how awful it felt to read the news headlines after the Alpha Relay that accused her of making that choice easily because of her history with Batarians in the Skyllian Blitz. She'll never admit how much it hurt to have people turn their perception on her so quick: war hero in the Blitz to monster with the Alpha Relay. That choice wasn't easy. That choice was agonizing and felt like it had no right answer.

Second thing she'll never admit is exactly how much she hates/hated that she was brought back by Cerberus. People know she struggled with it, they know how bad of a place she ended up in. She's never opened up about how many times she felt like so distressed and cornered she no longer wanted to be around.

She doesn't talk about this because its...ungrateful in her mind. Not the best way to phrase it, but basically: other people are so happy that she's back (Joker, Chakwas, Garrus, Tali, family, ect) that she can't imagine making them go through losing her again. Plus, she has so much responsibility. If she's not there to shoulder that burden then who will? If she lets go now, she's taking the easy way out in her mind.

There's so much happening, so much trauma happening to everyone, that she'll never "put that on" other people. In her mind that's her own shit to handle.

(Ooof, that was heavy. I'm so sorry).

[deepdarkbrain]

I've said just about everything to my therapist.

TW: all of them

Hi, my name is Ryn (they/them) and I've said just about everything to my therapist. Before I get into too much here, be forewarned, I don't want to pull any punches on this blog. I want to be able to share (just about) everything that I would share with my therapist. This blog is going to include posts about dark and difficult subjects ranging from basic mental health to suicide, self harm, substance abuse, etc. I'm 100% going to swear and say what could be considered terrible things. What I will promise though, is that I will always include trigger warnings at the beginnings of my posts and there is a permanent content warning at the top of my blog.

I want to be open and honest about these kinds of dark, intimate subjects not to romanticize them or to encourage others to follow me down what will sometimes be the wrong path. But to share my experiences in the hopes that it'll help someone else feel like, "Oh yeah, I'm not alone on this dumb planet." Having grown through pre-internet times to now, one incredibly helpful thing I've found the younger generations using is the internet to break mental health taboos. Being honest and talking about it, even with a little levity sometimes (I'm looking at you memes), can help.

I've been seeing the same therapist for many, many years now. We've worked through so many things; childhood traumas, hospitalizations, relationships, work struggles, and everything in between. We've had discussions about how shit the American health care system is and also shared wins.

They've had a couple kids. I've started to accept I'm not broken, I'm just really fucking neurodivergent. Not exactly equivalent to some, but to me, hell yeah. I'm killing it.

Here's a little background on me. I am in my early 30s and I've been dealing with mental illness (major depressive disorder mostly, plus anxiety, ADHD, and autism) for the entirety of my life. You'll notice I specifically say "dealing with" and not "suffering from," which is the more common phrasing. This is something I work really hard to do. For me personally, speaking about my MIs in a semi-light way and using specific language really helps me accept and advocate for myself. A psychologist I had in a group therapy session once told us,

Honestly that one statement changed everything for me. One of my biggest pet peeves around how people treat those of us with MIs is the age old trope, "Just think positively!" It drives me batshit insane. For one it implies that I enjoy feeling like garbage at random and destroying relationships with people I care about for no reason. And for another it implies that who I am and how I live my life is inherently wrong.

Something I'm going to tell you, probably over and over again as I write this blog, is that if you deal with any kind of MI, YOU ARE NOT WRONG. I even have to remind myself of this, pretty regularly to be honest. There is something that's going on in your life, in your brain, in your physiology that is causing this to happen and it sucks and we all wish it would just go away, but at the very baseline, it's not wrong. You're not broken. You're just different, and different is okay.

More about me, I am wildly queer and I will fight you about it. Not really, because confrontation is extremely triggering for me, but I do feel really strongly about my LGBTQ+ community. I truly believe they are one of the most welcoming, accepting communities on the planet. Personally I identify as pansexual/asexual/aromantic (pan/ace/aro) because sexuality is a spectrum and I love everyone and no one at the same time, and I am non-binary because gender norms are dead. Use whatever pronouns you want for me, this is an internet blog, who's to say I'm even a real human?

Something I've gotten into recently with my therapist is called "Internal Family Systems Therapy." So I'll probably bring it up a lot. As I am a mere mortal and not an authority on literally anything, please follow the link to read more educated material about this subject. Otherwise, here's my very, very broken down, idiot, tl;dr.

IFST is a type of therapy that centers around the idea that within every person's mind, there are separate parts with separate purposes, usually to protect the base part. Recently in therapy I equated it to, "a close cousin of Dissociative Identity Disorder," in that you think of these separate parts as different versions or personalities of yourself. For example, in my situation I feel that within my mind there are at least five separate "me's" that are all Ryn but also each their own Ryn.

Of course, firstly there is me. The very essence of who I am. Funny, smart, loving, and able to think clearly and rationally. This is the part of me that has been me from birth and will only ever change for the better. It is the base, the original. This is the part of me that wants to stand up for itself but most often gets overtaken by the other parts. Base me gets frustrated when people use MI terms flippantly (ie. "Oh I'm so OCD!" "I'm goth so I'm also depressed." "You're like totally schizophrenic!"). Drives me bananas. Just don't do it.

Next there is depression. This is the part of me that experiences deep sadness, mental anguish, self hatred, and many other nasty, no good things. Usually the depression part of me is equivalent to someone I like to call Floor Ryn. People who know me well, know if I tell them I have become Floor Ryn, it means I've gotten so low that the only thing I'm able to do is lay down on my kitchen floor and exist. It is not comfortable, it does not make me feel better, but I simply cannot do anything else. I'm nigh on catatonic. Though at other times depression is sobbing for hours and being unable to listen to music with lyrics for fear that I will start sobbing.

Because depression is what I deal with the most and what comes up for me the most, there's a lot to it. Depression isn't just emptiness, it can also be cruel. To myself and to others. It's the part that has been hospitalized for attempting suicide. It's the part that created the hundreds of scars that live on my body. It's the part that has told friends I hate them when really I don't. It doesn't care about the exciting plans the me part of me made for next week, it just wants to cry and rage and feel miserable.

Next there is anxiety, and this is the second of my more prominent parts. This part overthinks, panics, has meltdowns/temper tantrums, and tries to fix everything. It's neurotic and selfish. It's the part that picks at my nail beds. It's also both blind and hyperaware of everything around me. It's that toddler at the mall beating their tiny, fat fists on the floor while you're thinking their parent should be doing a better job parenting. This part is also surprisingly rational; it can be bargained with. It can be given evidence and shown that everything is okay. I find anxiety to be easy to manage on a daily basis. But I do have meds for emergencies.

Next is ADHD, Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder. This one is somewhat new to me. I've probably always had it, but haven't been diagnosed until adulthood. This part always has at least five projects going at once (I'm an artist and just a creator in general). ADHD can't pay attention in lectures, can't stay still, is terrible at exams, needs to multitask, and constantly wants to go off on tangents. It's hyper, impulsive, and generally content, if not good-spirited. It makes me question occasionally if I inherited my dad's bi-polar disorder. I haven't; I've been told many times by many practitioners. But the thought's still there (hello, anxiety).

Finally autism, and again this one is new to me. This is the part that feels like an alien because I can't understand why you feel the way you're feeling or fathom what you're thinking. It's the part I think that is the most ace/aro. It's the part that doesn't care about dating or sex and doesn't understand how you can't live without your partner for two days. Also it's the part that can't look you in the eye when we're talking and says shitty things sometimes because it forgets that yeah, it is actually human and has to follow human social rules.

All of these personalities of me coexist at once but can also present themselves more individually. They're each trying to do something for me. Depression is, to use another therapist's words (Kati Morton), "pulling the ripcord" to yank me away from a situation it deems triggering. Anxiety is working to repair and investigate to find a solution to the problem at hand. As for ADHD and autism, I think mostly they're just along for the ride. ADHD is kind of a bro, a Gryffindor (big Harry Potter nerd here). But they have their uses, I suppose.

Am I perfect? No, absolutely not. Do I want to be perfect? Not really, no, sounds hard and depression isn't up for the challenge. In thinking about perfection, I like to think of the Japanese aesthetic of wabi-sabi, which essentially means to embrace the beauty of imperfection. As an artist, I've heard of it mostly in the context of kintsugi ceramics where pieces of pottery that have broken -- whether on purpose or accidental -- are repaired using something that will emphasize that it was once broken. I've often seen it where the shards are attached back together with gold so that the cracks are almost more beautiful than the original piece.

So, to try to find a conclusion to this post, I am mentally ill. I have been for a long time and I will be for a long time more. I am not broken. I am not wrong. I am not perfect. And all of these things are okay. I want to improve myself, sure, but I think everyone should strive to do that, MI or not. All I want to do with this blog is share my experiences and the sometimes comical ways I twist my deep, dark brain to ease the pain a little in the hopes that someone else might feel comfortable sharing those things, too.

Because you know I totally want to hear the ridiculous and stupid shit you've said to your therapist before, no matter how cynical and morose. Seriously, so I can share it with mine next week.

[omni-scient-pan-da]

Alright so, hi past me, I'm responding to you a little earlier than you'd originally intended, but WOW holy shit have you had a year of college and I mean this only in the best way possible

Let me just start off by saying you are SO loved and SO cared about and there are SO many people you haven't even met yet that are going to love you SO much

In this year alone you have

House trained an only child to cohabitate a very small dorm room, and even though she's a lot to deal with at first, you genuinely grow as friends and you're going to miss not living with her next year

Met Beatrice, who... Your social skills on this one, I have no idea how you managed to make her as a friend after trauma dumping to her within the first 72 hours of meeting her, but not only do you become really close with her, she becomes one of your best friends here, and she gets along with Michelle, to the point where they end up living with each other next year

Not only does she become one of your closest friends, she cares about you SO much and gives such great gifts and such thoughtful advice (like seriously, you get to read Stormbringer now after mentioning it ONCE to her) AND you convince her to watch all of Bungo Stray Dogs with you

Additionally you co-buy a book together? It's really cute, she's incredible

You meet Ryn, who is quite possibly THE most impressive person you've ever met, they can do literally anything they set their mind to and like holy shit, they enjoy spending time around you

Ryn notices all the small details and things you would never want to point out to someone but still want them to notice anyways and then NOTICES and MENTIONS IT TO YOU which is just epic friend behavior

You're going to have a great time in your classes first semester, second semester... Well, it's currently finals week, so I can't speak for how those are going to turn out, but I'm going to do my best to make us proud past me

I know right now you're worried about the showers but literally by the end of the year you're going to prefer showering here than at home because uh... Yeah the shower at home gets pretty backed up and doesn't have as hot of water in comparison

You get your first ever relationship this year! Unfortunately it only lasts four months but you part as friends and it's a good experience for you, to know definitively that someone can care about you like that

Speaking of ending your first relationship, Ryn brings you a whole ass stuffed animal to comfort you after you break up, because they're just thoughtful like that and... Yeah, it means a lot

And Mystic!!! You get to visit Mystic in their apartment three times if I'm remembering correctly? And explore Kalamazoo and it's epic every single time, there is no worry of being forgotten after a long period of not seeing them and you jump right back into where you left off the next time you get to hang out each time

AJR's new album is absolutely incredible and you get to see them in concert in April, and not to spoil anything that happens on the tour, but you end up bawling your eyes out at the end (/pos ofc) and getting teary-eyed whenever you think about the ending of that tour for too long

You owe Mystic BIG time for that one, honestly, if I could go back in time and tell you anything, it would be to tell you to start planning the biggest fucking birthday present ever because you're never going to be able to top being THAT close to AJR like... Ever

Your sister adores you and misses you bunches and you spend lots of time really feeling like you're getting to know her when you come back home in a way you haven't been able to before

And that's just... The tip of the iceberg? You have so many indescribable moments of joy this year and meet so many people that are going to love and care about you this year and you're going to pitch a musical to be performed next year tonight with Ryn and a few other friends you've met

You're cowriting Scum Villain fics with them and hanging out til 4 in the morning sometimes and scream singing karaoke in fields til ungodly hours in the morning and you have SO MUCH FUN

Yes there will be times where things are rough and yes there will be times where things are hard but overall you're going to have SUCH a great year, I promise, and I'm only looking forward to the things that are coming next 💜

Tonight is the last night I fall asleep in my childhood home before I move away to college

I've lived in the same house from the day I was born til right now and in the past few weeks I've had to pick and choose through everything I own in order to determine which items I deem worth bringing with me to my dorm room

Tomorrow will be the last morning I wake up to see my family first thing, the last morning I'll drive up to my old high school (to drop my sister off) and this entire time I've told myself it's not really the last time I'll be here because I'm coming back for Thanksgiving and Christmas and Spring Break and the summer

And college is going to be fun, I've signed up for so many experiences and clubs and met so many new people already and I'm lucky enough to be going to a school where I can be openly gay without worrying about how I'm going to tell my family if word gets around back to them and I'm only an hour away from home

But I'm laying here tonight, in the same bed I've had since elementary school, when I threw a fit about moving from a toddler bed to a regular twin sized bed

I remember crying that it was too tall and I was going to fall off and sleeping on the floor instead because I refused to go to sleep in it and now I wish I could have just one more night, just one more rest because I don't know the next time I'll get the chance to fall asleep in it

Tomorrow I'll wake up, and hug my mother, the way I've done every single morning for as long as I can remember

And tomorrow I'll fall asleep in a new city, 60 miles away, ready to start something new

I don't know what's in store for the next chapter of my life, and I thought I could keep pushing it back forever, just one more week of waiting, just one more week of normalcy, just one more week, so that I'm next up forever

But as the chapter of childhood truly comes to a close tonight, I know that I can't wait to see all the things I'll accomplish next

(@omni-scient-pan-da )

[miekasa]

NICE.

+ pairings: eren yeager + (fem) reader

+ genres: rich kid au, college au, friends to lovers au, fluff, light-ish angst, smut/nsfw content (everybody gets a piece)!

+ warnings: mentions of depression/anxiety, mentions and use of drugs and alcohol, some of the smut happens under the influence so be cautious if that’s something you don’t like, i swear this is all more idiots in love than angst tho i just wanna disclose everything fairly

+ notes: this is alternatively titled super rich kids and you can probably figure out why. some of this is based off of real life, some of it is straight out of gossip girl and i challenge you to separate the facts from the fiction :’) anyways, i hope we all remember the lyrics to in my feelings

+ more notes: one quick reference for ages in this fic—all the vets are older but not by that much, think various stages of grad school. armin, connie, sasha, annie, and bertholdt are all college sophomores. eren, the reader, and pretty much everybody else are college seniors, so they’re about a year or two older. also here is a playlist for your reading pleasures, shoutout to ryn for letting me mooch of their spotify account :’)

+ word count: 19k. i’m sorry.

+ summary: fuck you, fuck you, you’re cool, fuck you.; or the story of notorious rich kid and self-proclaimed bad boy eren yeager, and his not so goody two-shoes best friend.

“So you’re saying that you don’t love me? That you’re not riding? That you’ll actually leave from beside me?”

“I’m saying that it’s ass o’clock in the morning and I’m not driving in the rain to Brooklyn to pick your sorry ass up.”

“But… but I want you, and I need you, and I’m down for you.”

You check the time on your phone screen and groan. 3:57am. Far too early to be dealing with the likes of Eren Jaeger. “Just get an Uber or something. I don’t know what you and your idiot friends were up to this time, but I don’t want any part of it.”

“First, they’re our idiot friends. Second, I don’t think they let you take Ubers from jail, and even if they did, it’s, like, four in the morning, so I don’t think there are any Ubers driving around, so could you pretty please come pick me up? I promise I’ll make it up to—”

“From where?” you cut him off, slowly sitting upright in your bed. You hold your phone closer to your ear, ready to listen again; because, certainly, you must have misheard him the first time. You wait, but the line is silent, save for Eren’s awkward chuckling. “Eren Asher Jaeger, tell me that that was another stupid lyric from that stupid song, and that you are not in prison right now.”

Eren makes a sad attempt at laughing. “Technically, it’s a holding cell, not really prison… and I would leave, but they suspended my license for a month, and Min can’t drive yet, so we kind of need you,” he explains, “Uh, no pun intended.”

“Min?” you pull your eyebrows together at the mention of the younger’s name, “Is Armin with you?”

“Uh, yeah.”

With a frown and a heavy sigh, you push yourself out of bed, wedging your phone between your shoulder and your ear as you grab the nearest pair of sweatpants.

“Why did you get him caught up in whatever stupid shit you were doing tonight?” you complain, scanning your dark bedroom for a shirt to wear, “Erwin’s going to castrate you when he finds out.”

You curse as you stub your toe against the edge of your bed on your way out of the room. Given the time, weather, and the fact that you have several exams to start studying for, hanging up and leaving Eren in the middle of god knows where Brooklyn doesn’t seem like such a bad idea, but you couldn’t go back to sleep knowing that Armin would have to suffer with him.

“Relax,” Eren breathes in a tone all too nonchalant for the situation at hand, “He didn’t get charged with anything, and nothing’s going on his record.”

“You don’t know that,” you retort, sliding your raincoat over your free arm, as you paddle down the stairs of your apartment, “The NYPD suck.”

“True,” he hums, “But I paid off the cop, so it’ll be fine.”

You pause in your steps, but really, you shouldn’t be surprised. “Of course you did,” you mumble, moving again and grabbing your car keys off of the kitchen island.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he questions. His tone is actually genuine and it tempts you to roll your eyes.

“What it always means, Eren,” you sigh, stepping into the elevator, “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

“Thank you, baby. I love you.”

“Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Get off my line.”

He doesn’t have time to throw in another pitiful “I love you” before the line goes dead and he’s met with static silence. He hangs up the station telephone with a silent chuckle, turning around to face Armin and Officer Hannes.

“Someone’s coming to pick us up,” he says, trying to focus on Armin’s sigh of relief and not the warmth creeping up his neck and into his cheeks, “I’ll, uh, call a tow for the car in the morning.”

The cop, too tired to care, only shrugs, and pays them no further attention. He hands Eren a plastic bag with his car keys and newly suspended license, escorts him back into the cell, and returns to his desk. Eren gives Hannes the finger while his back is turned.

Beside him, Armin is still quivering; bouncing his leg up and down, fiddling with his fingers, gnawing on his bottom lip. Eren frowns, a heavy wave of guilt washing over him as he takes in the younger’s anxiety ridden state. It wasn’t fair that Armin could have potentially suffered legal consequences because of his stupidity.

Eren’s lucky that Hannes was sleazy enough to accept his bribe and let him off with minimal punishment. With that they were doing, things could have ended up far worse for the both of them tonight.

“I’m sorry, man,” he apologizes, hands stuffed in his front pockets, “About tonight, I mean. We—I shouldn’t have done that, not with you there.”

Armin looks up at him with sparkling, doe eyes and Eren wants to punch himself in the gut for making him go through all of this, even if it didn’t amount to an actual arrest. “You couldn’t have known this was going to happen.”

“I could have prevented it,” he says. Because it’s what you would have said, too.

“It’s not your fault, I wanted to come, remember?” Armin tells him, redirecting his gaze to the grey floor of the precinct cell. He takes a deep breath, almost calming down completely when a sudden thought reignites his nervous ticks, “You… they’re not gonna tell my parents, right?”

“No, no—of course not.”

Armin was legally an adult; he, nor Eren, nor the police had to tell his parents anything. Sure, Hannes could rat them out, but honestly that sounded like way more work than he was cut out for; not to mention he’d be bound to reveal that he let them off easy for a couple thousand bucks.

Armin nods, “And… that wasn’t Erwin on the phone, right?”

“Are you kidding me? He’d murder me on the spot,” Eren says. He pauses before tacking on, “I, uh… I called (_____).”

“Oh,” the younger gapes, “She’ll kill you, too.”

“Yeah,” Eren sighs, scratching the back of his neck in nervous anticipation, “Trust me, I know.”

“You have your access card on you, right, Armin?” you ask. He nods sheepishly, hand on the car door handle.

“Thanks again for coming to get us,” he says meekly, “I’m sorry about waking you up and everything.”

You offer him a warm smile through the rear view mirror, “Don’t worry about it, I’m just glad you’re safe. Text me when you get up tomorrow, okay? We can get brunch, my treat.”

His face lights up at the prospect of free food, and he nods once more, enthusiastically, but his expression falls again when he speaks, “Okay, and I’ll, um, pay you back for the tickets and stuff as soon as I can—”

“It’s fine, really, don’t worry about it,” you repeat.

“It was almost three thou—”

“You forget who you’re friends with,” you cut him off with a smile, “Don’t worry about it, okay? It wasn’t your fault.”

Armin’s eyes dart to Eren quickly, before clearing his throat, a light pink tint to his cheeks. You know that the prospect of money can be a sensitive subject for Armin, one easily triggered by his very environment, but this wasn’t negotiable on your end. You know that Armin doesn’t like the feeling of owing anyone anything, but he knows he won’t get you to budge; so, he quietly nods, appreciative of your generosity, before bidding you and Eren a final goodnight and sprinting towards the dorm. Once you see that he’s safely inside, you wave one last time, and wait for the door to shut behind him.

Slowly, Eren turns to the driver’s seat to look at you. You were eerily calm when you came to pick him and Armin up from the station. You didn’t yell, cuss, or punch him in the face like he expected. You politely talked to the officer, thanked him for his service, paid their fees, and up until now, you’ve shown no signs of being angry with him at all.

The two of you drive back to your shared apartment in complete silence, Eren too confused, and borderline scared, of initiating a conversation. He wonders if you’re too tired, or if you really don’t give a damn anymore, but when you pull into the underground lot of your building and put the car in park, he finds out the silence was simply the calm before the storm.

You take your hand off of the gear shift and turn towards him. It’s a quiet stare down for nearly a full minute before you break the mime act with a slap to his thigh.

“Drag racing? Are you out of your fucking mind? Of all the stupid shit you’ve done—and you’ve done a lot of stupid shit—this has got to take the cake. Just what the actual fuck were you thinking?”

“Ouch!” he inhales sharply, rubbing over where you’d hit him, “We were just having fun! Then these other guys showed up and started talking shit so—”

“Having fun?” you echo, “You couldn’t think of anything fun to do that’s not illegal in every borough of New York City?”

Eren feels his cheek flush, but he only huffs with the illusion of disinterest, “I don’t know why you’re freaking out so bad. I’m a good driver, it was those other squids that got us into shit, I’m telling you. They showed up looking for a fight, then ran like a bunch of pussies when the cops came.”

You exhale slowly, shaking your head in disbelief. You seem to have no other words to say to him, choosing to step out of the car and slam the door behind you. Eren quickly follows, slamming his door equally as hard, and hot on your trail as you march towards the elevator.

“(_____), come on, enough with the silent treatment,” he whines when you stick yourself in a corner of the elevator after pushing the button to the penthouse, “I told you I didn’t start shit, Armin and I got ratted on.”

“I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about whether or not they started it, Eren. You’re still the problem here.”

“Me? How am I the problem?” he pulls back, eyebrows drawn together in genuine confusion, “I just told you I didn’t do shit.”

You scoff, crossing your arms and shifting your left leg, “I’m not doing this with you right now.”

“Doing what with me?” he presses, tone growing icy.

“This, Eren!” you reiterate, “I’m too tired to hear your bullshit right now.”

The elevator dings and opens into your apartment. You push past him, continuing your deliberate strides through the living area, and to the stairs, but Eren catches you with a hand on your wrist before you can go any further.

“Will you fucking stop that,” he growls, “If you’ve got something to say, then stop running away from me, and just say it.”

“Funny,” you sneer, pulling your wrist away from him and settling both your feet on the bottom step, “You’re one to talk about running away from things.”

He takes a step back, standing just a notch below you, perfectly frozen in place. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means your little drag racing episode was not only dangerous and immature, it was you running away from your problems like a spoiled child, yet again.”

Eren’s features narrow at your accusations; eyes fading into hooded slits, lips curving downwards, and voice bobbing low, “I’m not running away from anything.”

“Oh, please, Eren,” you roll your eyes, arms retreating to their crossed position in front of your chest, “Cut the bullshit.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” But he bets that even in the dim lighting of the apartment, you can see the tips of his ears growing red, just like they always do when he’s lying.

“Oh, really?” you ask, eyes widening in mock surprise, “You don’t think I don’t know this whole thing has something to do with the fact that your mom came home on Friday?”

Another pause. “Who told you that?” He asks, but it comes out more like a statement.

“Nobody had to,” you snap, “Jean said he caught you with a sack of coke over the weekend, and I knew something was up.”

“It wasn’t mine, I was—”

“I said cut the shit, Eren. If I went up into your room right now I bet your ass I’d find more than enough of it in a shoebox somewhere.”

He retreats, almost bashful, but unapologetic all the same. “Fine, whatever, I did a few lines. Big deal.”

“The big deal is that you think this is fucking normal, and now you’ve upgraded from coke to getting yourself arrested! It’d be one thing if you were acting like a misfit on your own, but to drag Armin into it because you—”

“Drag him into it?” he echoes with the snare of sarcasm dripping from each syllable, “You talk about Armin like he’s six. I don’t know why you think he’s some helpless little baby, but you have no goddamn responsibility over him. He’s not your fucking charity case.”

“I never fucking said he’s my charity case—don’t you ever fucking say that,” you say, “Having some basic respect and concern for my friends isn’t charity.”

“Wake the fuck up! You baby Armin when he’s a grown ass man. I didn’t force him into the fucking car to get sympathy points from you.”

“Grown? Armin is barely nineteen, disowned by his parents, is on a full fucking ride to an insanely expensive university, and you got him arrested tonight! Do you know what could happen if NYU found out? They could fucking kick him out, take his scholarship away—and then what, huh? Or were you just gonna buy off the headmaster, too?”

“You’re acting like I fucking planned for it!”

He’s screaming now, voice bellowing throughout the apartment, face red—and he doesn’t mean to, he doesn’t mean it at all; but it’s late, and he’s tired, and those shouldn’t be excuses, but he’s too prideful to back down.

“Of course you didn’t! You didn’t plan for anything, you were just being a reckless, irresponsible asshole like always,” you tell him, too blind-sighted by anger and the need to chide him that you miss the teary undertones in his words.

“And what’s it matter to you?”

“It fucking matters to me when you call at some godforsaken hour asking me to pick you up from prison!”

He takes a step forward, right leg elevated by the same step that both your feet rest on. “Well, what else am I supposed to fucking do!” He shouts even though he’s mere inches from your face, “Tell me just what the fuck I’m supposed to do instead!”

“You’re supposed to act like an adult and fucking talk to someone!”

“Who the hell am I supposed to talk to, huh?” he presses, taking a step forward and forcing you to retreat backwards, and up a step, “My mother who’s never home or her bastard boyfriend?”—another step forward for him, another step backwards for you—“The step-brother I can’t get in contact with?”—one step forward; one step backwards—“Or maybe the dad I never had, right?”

“Me, Eren!” you yell back with equal vigor, throwing your hands up at your sides, and planting your feet firmly. “Armin, Mikasa, Jean—anyone! You have people who fucking care about you! Stop treating us like correction officers, we’re your fucking friends!”

There’s silence for a while, just you and Eren staring at each other, heavy breathing, waiting for the other to make the next move. He opens his mouth, but when he tries to speak, his resolve washes away, his throat tightens and the words get sucked back in.

It would be easy to keep yelling, screaming, blaming you for blowing up on him. He used to think the scolding he got from you after pulling some stupid stunt was the worst part; but now, he thinks it might be his favorite part. He hates to hear you scream, and it hurts to see you cry, but if you’re yelling, you’re angry that he hurt himself; you care that he’s okay.

“I—” he stutters, words quiet and broken, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to get like this tonight, it was an accident I—”

“You never mean for any of it to happen, yet it always does,” you interrupt, voice soft yet strained, “I know you have your own shit to deal with, but so does everybody else.”

“(_____), please, you’re right, okay? I should have said something before,” he admits, mouth small as he voices his confessions, “I should have talked to you or one of the boys, but I—I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

He’s groveling now. Mouth in pout, eyes wide, voice small, and honestly, he thinks he might cry. At this point he doesn’t care if he does.

“I want you to mean it,” you finally say, and when he looks up, he hates the look he sees in your eyes. It’s something between sad and hurt and empty and it’s awful. Someone like you shouldn’t feel that way. He shouldn’t make you feel that way.

“I—”

“When you’re ready to tell me exactly what’s going on with you—what’s happening that made you think going to jail would be better than facing your issues—I’ll be here to talk,” you continue, eyes watering, “But until then, goodnight, Eren.”

Eren winces when you turn around and ascend up the remaining stairs. He flirts with the idea of following you, going to your room to finish talking, but you’re probably angry enough to have it locked. His room is up there, too, but he opts for part of the sectional, laying down with the palms of his hands kneading against his closed eyelids.

For as long as he can remember, you’ve been there for him. Your friendship, at times, was like a game of tag—Eren always on the run with you loyally chasing after him; he’d always run amuck, and you’d always be there to catch him in the act. Now, it’s five in the morning, there’s no more yelling, no more chasing, no more racing, but he’s still running.

The following morning, you take Armin out to brunch, as promised. Jean tags along too, something about hanging out with the two of you being infinitely more entertaining than his genetics lecture. It doesn’t seem like Jean knows anything about Armin and Eren’s late night antics, so you don’t bring it up yourself.

Oblivious, Jean chats your ears off as if nothing is awry. Whether he knows it or not, he does a great job of distracting Armin from his own thoughts. They both eat to their heart’s content when you remind them you’ll foot the bill; and you don’t bat an eye when Jean convinces Armin to order his third round of pancakes. He deserves it.

Afterwards, Jean convinces the three of you to go window shopping with him in SoHo, claiming that he needed inspiration for his latest fashion assignment (you don’t question why he’s taking a fashion class as a biology major, but you suspect it has something to do with Mikasa). Window shopping soon turns into actual shopping, so almost completely unprompted, and with little effort on his part, Armin gets a few pieces of clothing on your behalf, while you try to ignore Eren’s words itching at the back of your mind.

Armin’s not a baby, but he certainly is a kid with a rough past and rough relationship with his parents at a time in his life where he arguably needs them the most. A little extra support from his friends wouldn’t harm him.

It’s nearing six when the three of you are wedged in a small booth inside a café, indulging in overpriced hot chocolate. Three sips into his second cup, Jean excuses himself to the bathroom, leaving you sitting across from Armin.

“You know, you don’t have to keep buying me stuff to make up for Eren,” Armin says, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I’m not trying to make up for him,” you sputter, careful not to spill your drink over your lap, “You had a rough night. Just accept my gifts, don’t be a brat.”

“I do accept them. Erwin’s been eyeing that Off White sweater for, like, three weeks now. He’s gonna have a hissy fit when he sees me wearing it.” You chuckle, and he continues, “But you know, as much I love spending time with you, you can’t use me to avoid Eren forever.”

“I’m not avoiding him,” you frown.

“You said you were going to take us to brunch, and then spent the whole day with us.”

“Funny, I recall you saying something about how much you love my company about thirty seconds ago.”

“He’s called you at least ten times today.”

“I was spending the day with my favorite NYU student… and Jean,” you bat your lashes, “I see you maybe once a week. I live with Eren, I have to see him every day.”

Armin calls your name with a pout, “He’s sorry, you know.”

“Not sorry enough,” you mumble. Armin opens his mouth to say something again, but then Jean’s sliding back into the booth, chatting about how he’s finally come up with the perfect anniversary date for Mikasa.

Armin doesn’t notice your sigh of relief, but he does take note of the way you wipe away your notifications when a text rings through. If Eren could spend his days running away from his problems, then you could, too.

Despite being arguably the greediest of you all, Jean loves company, so he doesn’t hesitate to say yes when you ask to crash at his place after your shopping escapades. You expect to be welcomed with sounds of screaming, laughter, and loud music, but to your surprise his apartment is completely silent upon your entering.

“Bertholdt has class and Marco has a meeting,” he prompts, as if he could read your thoughts. He shimmies his coat off his shoulders and tosses it over the bar in the foyer.

Their apartment has the same amount of rooms as yours and Eren’s, but is all stretched along a single floor. It’s more of a maze, really, with intricate turns, and hallways, that all more or less open up into the expanse of the foyer and bar. Their living room is your favorite part. A dark, brown leather sectional wraps around the back three walls and an oversized flatscreen encased in an ebony frame takes center stage. A collection of vinyl records litters the walls above the couch; each of the boys contributing their favorite discs as décor.

“If he has class, shouldn’t you have class?” you question, fingers dragging over the ridges of the closest record.

“I’ve had class all day, but that doesn’t mean I go,” Jean shrugs, walking up behind you and taking your jacket off your shoulders and your bag from your hand, “Besides, Bertholdt will probably cut half-way to go see Reiner, if he can even stay awake that long. Going with him is just as productive as staying home.”

“You’re all a mess,” you scoff, turning around as a cheesy grin grows on Jean’s lips. His smile is infectious, and soon you catch yourself grinning just because.

“You want something to drink?” he offers, throwing your coat over his elbow and tilting his head in the direction of the bar.

“You’re bad at mixing drinks,” you remind him, but follow him anyway.  

Jean laughs, not bothering to deny the jab. He doesn’t try his hand at anything mixed or complicated this time; simply offering you a glass of your favorite red, and pouring himself a smaller amount.

He puts the album you were gawking at earlier on the record player, the two of you sinking into the couch as lovely melodies radiate throughout the apartment.

He spends the first hour bitching about how Marco’s supposed to become a CEO in less than a year, yet has the attention span of a squirrel; but the playful lilt in the brunette’s voice, and the begrudging smile on his face lets you know that it’s all love. He gushes about Mikasa for a good half hour, cramming you with stories about his girlfriend’s talent for sewing and fashion. You also learn that Bertholdt’s been busier than usual these days, and Jean suspects it has something to do with a secret lover.

You pinch your eyebrows at his hunch. Bertholdt’s never been one for dating. He’s had many friends with benefits in the past, but they weren’t relationships, nor were they secrets. In fact, you don’t think that he could keep a secret to save his life.

“Why would he be hiding it if he were seeing someone?” you question, swirling your newly refilled glass.

“Dunno,” Jean shrugs, “But it’s sus, I’m telling you. He’s been oddly busy for someone with a 2.3 GPA. Either way, I’ll pry it out of him eventually.”

“You’re so fucking nosey,” you chuckle, watching the mischievous, satisfied grin settle onto his features.

“I kinda think it’s Armin,” Jean says after a while, downing the remaining wine in his cup, while you choke on your own drink.

“Why on Earth do you think if Bertholdt had a secret lover that it’d be Armin?”

“Because he was in love with him for, like, two years in high school,” Jean says, as if the information should be painfully obvious.

“Yeah, and Bert also hooked up with a million different people in high school.”

“That doesn’t mean he wasn’t still in love with Armin.”

“I don’t think Armin’s kissed another human, let alone is in a secret relationship with one.”

“Hm, true. I forget he’s still a virgin.”

“Hey—there’s nothing wrong with Armin being a virgin, leave him be.”

“I know there’s nothing wrong with it,” Jean whines, “But it’s so—he doesn’t have to be. Armin’s cute! And very attractive—dare I even say sexy. He could go outside and get laid right now if he just tried.”

“Stay humble, Jean boy. If I remember correctly, you only started breaking hearts a year ago,” you tut. Jean’s nose goes pink as he shoves you away when you continue, “But, if you’re so concerned with Armin’s virginity, why don’t you go help him out with it.”

“Actually, if I remember correctly, I think that’s more your gig,” he shoots back, a smug smile tugging on his lips. “Not to mention, I’m not trying to get beat up by Annie. Though, I wonder how much longer it’ll take before she finally snaps. Hey, maybe the both of you can tag team him, I’m sure Annie wouldn’t mind, and it might even make Armin less nervous to have you—”

It’s your turn to shove him now, throwing in an extra punch when his head bobs back with laughter. You’re very certain Annie would mind; you would mind if someone inserted themself in your kind of, sort of, not really relationship, and ruined your four years of pining.

“Speaking of lovers,” Jean prompts, once his laughter dies down, bending his knee and turning closer to you. “Why are you and lover boy fighting? Trouble in paradise?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you hum, sipping your drink in between words. Jean’s eyes pinch together. “Marco and I would never fight.”

“My god, will you let your Marco fantasies go already? You’ve already caused him one sexuality crisis,” Jean groans, “You know I mean Eren.”

You sigh, lowering your glass and reaching forward to pinch his cheek. “It’s nothing you have to worry your pretty little head over.”

“Please,” he scoffs, flicking your offending hand back, “He’s been texting us nonstop since this morning at, like, nine. I didn’t even know he was capable of waking up before noon.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes, but Jean continues, “Why he would ask us for advice on you is beyond me. He knows you better than all of us combined.”

“And why you’re saying all of this is beyond me.”

“Oh, come on, what’d he do,” Jean pushes, borderline whines, as he puts his empty glass down in a cup holder embedded in the couch. He’s always been the most prone to gossip, but you forget that wine makes him even more of a nosey prick. “Must have been pretty bad. Or stupid.”

“Try both,” you mumble, “Well—I don’t know, it wasn’t… the worst thing anyone could do, but it was really fucking reckless—and why he did it, I couldn’t even tell you. I don’t know what goes through his mind half the time, but I swear he must have been on crack last night.”

“He probably was. On crack, I mean. I told you, I took an ounce from him over the weekend, but that was after Eren and Ymir did, like, five lines.”

“Do they really do that regularly?” you nearly cry, a hand massaging your temple, “Fucking Christ, if he really was high while driving, I’ll kill him myself.”

“Well, I don’t know if regular is the right word,” Jean ponders, “Maybe for Ymir, but god knows what she’s on half the time, anyways. Besides, coke isn’t the worst thing they could do.”

“You sound like you speak from personal experience.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs, pausing when you shoot him a disapproving look, “Oh, come on! You’re no angel, either—if memory serves, you were high as shit at Moblit’s birthday party, and kept singing the star spangled banner all night.”

“Yeah, on weed! One time! It was on a rooftop and the stars were out and it has the same rhythm as the happy birthday song, cut me some slack!”

He finds laughing at your expense to be much more fun, however, as he continues to chuckle while you throw a fit. He’s also not one to let a topic of gossip go undiscussed, and has no problem bringing the conversation back to Eren.

“It’s because you two don’t talk, you know,” Jean tuts, “That’s why you fight like this.”

For the second time, the younger’s words have your eyebrows growing close together. “I mean, I guess—but it’s more than that. Eren and I live together, we obviously talk, but—”

“I know, I know, but just hear me out, okay? You and Eren talk about a lot of things, yeah, but you also… don’t. And sometimes you don’t have to, because you guys, like… get each other.”

“Wow. What a way with words you have, Jean Kirstein. You should write a self-help book.”

“What I mean,” he sneers, unhappy with the sarcasm being thrown his way, “Is that you guys understand each other in weird ways. It’s actually kind of cute—sometimes a little freaky, in all honesty. It’s why you don’t always have to talk about serious things. But you take it for granted and let shit bottle up, and then get in denial about it until you blow up in each other’s faces.”

“Please, you barely passed one philosophy class and now you think you’re Plato.”

“You’re doing the in denial thing right now!” he taunts, “Come one, when you two fight like this, what’s it usually about?”

You sigh, sinking back into the plush leather of the couch, and wrapping your hands around a fluffy throw pillow. Thinking about arguing with Eren isn’t particularly something you like to do, and truthfully, you don’t really get pissed at each other that often. Not to the point of ignoring each other, at least.

“I don’t know,” you drawl, “Drugs, me forgetting things, him doing stupid shit, him thinking Mikasa could do better than you, school, drinking, the fact that he leaves his big ass shoes at the top of the stairs for me to trip over and fall to my death every morning, when—”

“His parents?” Jean cuts you off.

“I—we don’t really… it’s not so much fighting over his parents, it’s all the stuff he does to deal with his parents. He never gives his mom’s boyfriends a chance, and he never really talks about why, either. I know he’s secretly just angry and insecure about his dad, but… I don’t know. That doesn’t really make it better.”

“True,” he nods, “See—he doesn’t talk about it.”

“I know, and I told him that last night, too, but… it’s a sensitive subject for him—his dad, I mean,” you sigh, “And you’re right, he shouldn’t bottle his feelings up, but, on the other hand he’s watched his mom get married five times. I don’t always blame him for not wanting to talk about it.”

“Yeah, but just because it’s hard to talk about doesn’t mean he shouldn’t,” Jean lolls, “Wouldn’t you have rather he said something than have done whatever stupid shit he did to make you want to sleep here tonight?”

“Okay, Socrates, I get it,” you lighten up, “I’ll talk to him��or get him to talk to me. Are you happy?”

“Quite,” he says, annoyingly chipper as he rises from the couch. “I hate seeing my favorite power couple fighting.”

Jean knows his words would elicit a slap to his arm, so he takes off just before you can reach him, prompting you to chase him out of the living room and down the hall. The brunette cackles ridiculously loudly as you scream his name with profanities sprinkled in-between. You catch a hold of the bottom of his shirt and pull him back, finally flicking him on the forehead.

He accepts his punishment with pride, offering you a signature smile in return while you both catch your breaths. It’s a sweet moment, the two of you looking at each other with stupid smiles on your face, exhalations tickling your cheeks.

Jean’s eyes break the gaze first, as he looks down the remainder of your face, and back up to your eyes again. His words could get caught in his throat, but he doesn’t let them—he shakes his head, and swiftly turns around, beckoning for you to follow him.

“Come on, we can steal Marco’s clothes for your pajamas this time.”

Jean spends all of three minutes pulling apart Marco’s dresser before swiping a t-shirt and Christmas themed pajama bottoms from his room. He tosses them in your direction before leading you back down the hall and to the left, opening the door to the guest bedroom for you, before leaving you to change.

They have more than one guest bedroom, but this one is unofficially yours. Little pieces of you can be found littered throughout the room, from spare jewelry to mismatched makeup. You spot a single, gold, teardrop shaped earring on the vanity and sigh as you run your fingers over it.

You swear you’d lost it a few months ago. Trust Jean to put it away for safekeeping without telling you he’d found it. The boy in question returns moments later, knocking while walking through the door with your purse in hand.

“How’d you know I was about to ask you to get that?” you question, a smile on your face as you retrieve the small bag from his hands.

Jean offers you a cocky grin, “Cause I’m the best.”

“Don’t go getting a big head, now,” you tease, “Or, well, an even bigger head.”

Jean ignores your insult, as you take a seat at the edge of the bed, fishing through your bag for your phone to plug it in for the night. He’s about to turn around and bid you goodnight, when the flash of something orange peeping out of your purse prompts his next thought.

“Hey, you picked up your refill, right?” he asks innocently, “It should have been ready last Thursday.”

You sigh, head falling slightly when you close your bag and place it on the vanity. “Uh… no.”

Jean’s mouth is already open, ready with equally friendly and scolding words, but you cut him off before he can talk. “I was going to on Thursday, but I had class late, and then I forgot on Friday and I haven’t really had time since then. But I have a few left-overs from the last two months, so I’ve been taking those!”

Jean’s mouth closes, but his eyes narrow as he begins to walk towards you. You know he’s putting two and two together, so you speak ahead of him again.

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t have any left over, but it’s only five, I promise! I’ve been really good, lately.”

Jean’s eyes remain in concentrated slits, but his resolve is waning when he reads over your expression. His facade fades as he takes the final steps towards you to stand directly in front of your body.

“Okay,” he says, voice soft through his smile, “I’ll go with you to pick them up tomorrow before I drop you home, yeah?”

It elates him more than it should to see the smile you flash his way. Unfortunately, it’s short-lived, as his next question leaves your face twisted with guilt.

“Have you… told Eren yet?”

You consider lying and saying yes, but something tells you Jean won’t buy it. Your silence seems to speak loud enough, as his shoulders drop with a quiet sigh.

“I want to, I just… well I’m mad at him right now, and even when I’m not… I don’t know why it’s so hard,” you confess.

“He’d wanna know, you know,” Jean says, and it’s not the first time he’s said it to you, either. “You know he wouldn’t judge you or anything.”

“I know that. But, truthfully, if I had things my way, not even you would know, Jean.”

It was an accident that Jean found out that you’d been taking anxiety medication.

It was at somebody’s house party where the majority of your friends and their guests had gotten piss drunk. Reiner’s date had suggested mixing their alcohol with molly she’d supposedly had in her bag. In her drunken stupor, she’d mistaken your purse for her own, but luckily, a not so drunk Jean had noticed the label didn’t match her name, and snagged the bottle before the worst could happen.

They ended up not finding her molly, anyway, but it’s a moot point. Jean had cornered you about the bottle later in the week with honest intentions; he’d been concerned that might be another kind of drug disguised by a prescription veil. However, you’d assured him that it was indeed your prescribed Lexapro, and not a shady mixture of black market substances.

And, he’d been more than understanding in the aftermath. Quite frankly, he had somewhat made it his business to ensure that you got and took your medication on time and felt comfortable getting to and from your therapy appointments.

It’s endearing in a way that made you pause and count your blessings sometimes. Jean had been nothing but unequivocally supportive in his understanding about anxiety and had gone the extra mile to comfort you where need be. It made you wonder why you hesitated to tell Eren on several occasions.

It was probably the very nature of anxiety itself that had you doubting your trust in Eren. You wanted to tell him—of course you did—but, you couldn’t. You know that Eren would do everything in his power to make it better, even if that was just being. You know that he’d want to know and he’d kill to understand. But you couldn’t possibly burden him with your problems, not when he has a million of his own.

The one person in the world you wanted to tell, you were terrified of talking to. And you know it’s irrational to be afraid of him, but you can’t seem to control those thoughts. It’s a tiring, consuming, endless cycle.

Jean watches the way your gaze lowers to the floor. He knows exactly what you’re thinking, and, god, he swears if he could take that train of thought away from you, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

With a heavy heart and tired eyes, he takes a final step forward and wraps his arms around your body. He counts three, four seconds before you hug him back. He raises a hand to the back to your head, cradling your face into his shoulder and squeezing you tightly.

“Hey, I’m proud of you, you know that,” he speaks, just a notch above a whisper, “I know you’ll tell him when you’re ready.”

“I will,” you murmur into the fabric of his shirt. You hug him back a little tighter and close your eyes, “Thank you, Jean.”

And Jean holds on, and hopes you know that he wouldn’t let you go, “You’re welcome, (_____).”

You come home to find your entire apartment littered with flowers; in the hallway, on the sectional, atop the counter, up the stairs.

There are several boxes of your favorite macarons stacked in a small pyramid on the kitchen island, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you checked the labels to find that they were shipped straight from the south of France this morning. There’s too many bottles of Ace on the coffee table, sparkling next to a basket of what looks like your regular skincare products. A pretty, gold bow rests atop an even prettier pair of red-bottomed heels, and if you’re not mistaken, that’s a limited edition, vintage YSL clutch on the sectional, resting against your favorite throw pillow.

You sigh, making your way to the couch to pick up the orange envelope sticking out of the handbag. Just as you’re about to open it, you hear footsteps, and a voice that follows.

“You’re back,” Eren chirps from mid-way on the staircase, “I, uh, there’s catering coming from Butter coming soon. I know it’s your favorite,” he continues as he descends the stairs.

He has his hand on the back of his neck and there’s a faint, pink tint to his cheeks as he slowly makes his way towards you. You cross your arms, looking him up and down when he stands in front of you.

He’s wearing dark jeans and a tweed sweater with patches at the elbow. His hair is split down the middle, longer than usual, so the ends of sweep over his eyelashes; and there are telltale signs that he’d been toying with it.

“Eren, what is all of this?” you finally ask, shifting your weight to your right leg.

“Part one of my apology and explanation,” he replies, a hopeful timbre to his voice. You roll your eyes, but he continues anyway, “Actually, part two is in that envelope.”

Skeptical, you unfold your arms and open the envelope. You don’t know what you were expecting—a card, maybe tickets to a musical or something; but what you definitely weren’t expecting were two tickets to Paris.

“France?” you look up, tickets in hand, “You don’t get it do you? You can’t just buy all of this shit, jet us off to Europe and expect everything to be okay.”

“No, no it’s not like that—I swear!” he interjects, hands moving sporadically, “It’s just, well… Can we sit? Then I can explain everything.”

Eren looks at you with those big green eyes and that sad pout to his lips, and you find yourself sighing and taking a seat on the couch against your better judgement. There’s a small smile to his lips when you do—a little victory—and he sits next to you, your knees resting against each other as you face him.

He’s shaking, and your resolve to punish him with whatever solid exterior and half-assed silent treatment dissolves as you take his left hand in your right, and recall your conversation with Jean. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s me, Eren. You can talk to me.”

When he feels your smaller hand envelop his, the shaking stops, and for a moment, it feels like he can do this, like everything is okay. He smiles, and takes a deep breath.

“The other night, you were right, about my mom and her boyfriend coming home,” he starts, words slow and heavy, “I didn’t even know she was coming—I knew she was visiting this month, but she didn’t tell me when, and I thought it was going to be just her, you know? But then she showed up with him, and, well, I don’t know. I was upset. She’s been home for a week now, and we haven’t even gone to dinner or anything.”

He pauses, and you squeeze his hand for reassurance, “We were supposed to get lunch on Thursday, but she cancelled. Had some meeting or something, I don’t know, I don’t care. Friday comes and she says she wants to have dinner, right?”

You nod, he continues. “I thought it was just going to be us, but he was there. That’s when she told me that… that they’re…” he squeezes his eyes shut, “They’re engaged.”

Your mouth falls into a small o-shape. Everything made perfect sense now.

It’s not that Eren didn’t love his mother, quite the opposite actually. He’s a mama’s boy through and through; she’s his role model, his everything, he adores her. Her career as a designer often takes her on long business trips, most frequently as prolonged stays in Paris, so much so that she relocated her primary office there shortly after Eren graduated high school.

Now, she only visits home for one or two weeks at a time, sometimes only for the weekend. Upon her decision to permanently relocate, she planned to leave Eren under the unofficial supervision of Mikasa. Instead, Eren bought Mikasa her own three-bedroom apartment in Midtown (according to his logic, it was better for her to have her own place than to move in with Jean), and a shared two-story penthouse for the both of you that overlooks Central Park.

Eren misses her more than he cares to admit, but he puts on the same facade every time she comes home because he hates the company she brings.

Paris is where she met her newest boyfriend, Mitchell, and Eren swears he hates that man with every fiber of his being. It’s not saying much, though, not when Eren’s hated every single one of his mother’s past romantic partners, right down to his own father.

“Is… is that why you—”

“Rented a brand new Corvette and went drag racing at one in the morning?” he chuckles, “Yeah. It was stupid, I know, but I was just angry, I guess. I dunno what I was feeling, but it wasn’t good.”

You nod, wrapping both of your hands around his now and offering him a warm smile. He smiles back, just for a moment. “That’s what the tickets are for, actually. The wedding.”

“They’re getting married in France?” you question, to which he nods, “On the first? Isn’t that a little short notice to plan a wedding?”

“I think you’re underestimating the power of Carla Jaeger,” he chuckles, “Apparently, it’s been in the works for a few months now. He proposed with fireworks or some shit. Said she wanted to tell me in person, though.”

“This ticket is for next week,” you say, rereading the dates on the papers. “The wedding is three weeks from now.”

“Well, I kind of figured we could take a little vacation before then,” he grins, “I texted most of the boys earlier, and they can probably come to the wedding, but I want to spend some time with you before it gets hectic, you know? Consider it an end of the semester present.”

Your eyes flicker down to your hand, still wrapped around Eren’s, when he starts to trace circles into your skin, “I thought I just told you, you can’t jet us off to Europe to fix things.”

“You did,” he hums, “And I know I can’t—I’m not trying to, I just… Truthfully, I reserved the plane and the hotel a few weeks back and it really was just going to be a surprise for us—well, more like a gift for you because I know you’ve been busting your ass in chem—but then… everything else happened, and I think a break sounds perfect before I watch my mom get married for the sixth time.”

You watch him continue to toy with your hands for a while, processing your conversation. It was typical of Eren to surprise you like this, so you can’t figure out why this particular present leaves you feeling warmer than usual.

“You sure you don’t need a break from me?”

Eren beams and takes the opportunity to lace your fingers together. “Nah, you’re annoying, but not Jean level annoying.”

You scoff, “I’m telling him you said that.”

“It’ll sound better coming from you, anyway,” he shrugs, “Besides, I might just murder Mitchell if you’re not there with me.”

You chuckle, on the verge of accepting his proposal, but the mention of Jean prompts another thought to cross through your mind. “I’d love to, but I… I don’t know. I don’t want Armin to spend the first few weeks of winter break here all alone.”

This Christmas would mark one year since Armin had seen, or even talked to, any of his immediate family members, with the exception of Erwin.

Last year, you all tried to salvage the damage by sticking around so, at the very least, he didn’t have to feel alone. You and your friends decided that Armin ought to be celebrated, not ostracized for any aspect of himself, so you all chipped in for a cute, impromptu trip to the Catskills so that everyone could be together and close to home.

This year, however, there seemed to be quite a few conflicts of interest. Even if Armin was one of the boys who was planning on attending the wedding, you doubt he had plans leading up to it. You know that Marco, Bertholdt, Mikasa, and Jean had invited him to go to Aspen with them, but Armin declined the offer. Similarly, Connie, Sasha, Annie, Reiner, and Ymir would be off to Dubai as soon as classes ended; an invitation Armin had also turned down.

You weren’t sure what Erwin’s plans were, though you’re certain they involved his own friends in some way or another. At the very least, it was unlikely that he would leave his younger brother completely stranded over the break; but you didn’t want to make plans without knowing Armin wouldn’t be alone.

“He won’t, actually he’ll be closer than you think,” Eren reassures you, “Hange and Moblit wanted to go skiing anyways, so Erwin is taking all of them to the Alps instead of Aspen. Armin doesn’t know yet, but he’s going with them.”

“Shouldn’t Erwin spend his break campaigning, and not skiing? Last I checked, he wasn’t too popular in Queens”

“Ah, you know Erwin,” Eren shrugs, “He has a way of making people devote themselves to him. He’ll win the election with or without campaigning, trust me—the point is, that little baby Armin will be safe and sound under Erwin’s protection, and you don’t have to worry about him.”

“How come you get to call him a baby?”

“Because I’m a hypocritical asshole who doesn’t deserve you, but is hoping you’ll come with me anyway.”

Eren smirks, but there’s a genuine undertone to his words as he moves his fingers to toy with the ring around your pointer finger. The same one he gave to you two Christmases ago. Well, kind of.

The ring he originally gifted you was a Harry Winston piece, with an encrusted band that wrapped into two sunflowers, both made of classic, white diamonds with emeralds sparkling in the center. After seeing the design, and the price tag, you demanded that he take it back, or at the very least, get it sized to fit on your index finger or thumb so that people didn’t get the wrong idea.

Instead, he came back with a simple, silver chain for the original ring to hang from, and the current ring on your finger; a rose gold band with tiny diamonds studded around it. Likely equally as expensive, but more appropriate according to you.

“Fine. But you have to be on your best behavior,” you agree, paying no mind to Eren’s thumb twirling your jewelry, “Do you promise me no drag racing or antics of any sort while we’re there?”

Eren shakes his head at the memory, eyeing the first ring that sits against your chest.

He smiles. “I do.”

The afternoon after your last exam, you bid the remainder of your friends goodbye, grab your bags, and hop on a plane with Eren. It arrives in Paris, but you’re rerouted off to Nice before you can so much as blink at the Eiffel tower; you’d be staying there for the two and half weeks leading up to the wedding, in a small villa.

You had to hand it to him, Eren really outdid himself. It’s dark and nearing three in the morning when you arrive, but even in your sleepy stupor you can admire your accommodations. The villa is secluded, the perfect distance from the water, and decorated lavishly almost to your exact liking. You wouldn’t be surprised if Eren sprung it on you that he’d bought the place, and wasn’t merely renting it for this vacation.

Every day after that, Eren proves he was honest in his intentions of this being a getaway gift to you. He’s planned every activity under the sun—from hot air balloon rides, to helicopter tours, to jet-skiing. The days are certainly fun and filled with beautiful memories, but there’s something special about Nice at sunset; something about the sound of gentle waves brushing up against the beach, and the spotlights carved from sun-cast shadows on the buildings.

It’s just after dinner time, bordering on your eighth night here, when you and Eren are walking along the cobblestone streets that border the beach, the length of your sundress flowing every which way with the breeze, and the tail of Eren’s blazer flailing like a cape behind him.

He looks nice tonight, but, truthfully, he always does. He claimed he hadn’t put on the casual green suit because of your outfit, but you swear he was wearing khakis before he saw your dress. The tips of his ears go red when you tease him about it at dinner, but it doesn’t really matter to you; he would have looked good, regardless. Those suits are made for him, after all; tailored to fit perfectly, and designed by his own mother.

The streets tend to settle down after six, locals and tourists retreating indoors or heading to the beach to relax and draw in the evening. Tonight, however, there’s much more commotion than usual on your route.

“Maybe we should take the long way,” you suggest. On the tips of your toes, you realize that there’s some kind of special event happening in the square, filled with lights and music that grows louder with every step you take.

But the crowd and the lights and the smell of food only piques Eren’s interest. “No way—let’s check it out!”

You don’t have the time to refute before his long legs surpass your own stride, headfirst into the sea of people. You can only follow with a smile and a shake of your head. The soft green of his suit jacket serves as your guide as he navigates through the crowd, but the closer you get to the center, the more people there are.

You can feel palms of your hands growing uncomfortably warm as you become hyperaware of just how many people there are. You clutch the end of your dress in your hand, for both practicality and as a sort of comfort mechanism, as you try your best to calm the anxious wave threatening to crash against you.

With a deep breath, you begin to walk again, unaware of Eren’s actions until you physically walk into his hand, long fingers poking at your belly. You hadn’t realized he stopped walking, or that you’d caught up with him, and your eyebrows crinkle when you look down to see Eren’s left hand extended behind him and towards you, palm facing upwards.

He doesn’t say anything, or look back at you at all. Only wraps his larger fingers around yours when he feels the weight of your hand in his, and continues to guide you through the crowd, his pace slower, and hand firm around yours.

The mass of people becomes more spread out when you approach what appears to be the center of the event; and it looks like a party, maybe a wedding of some sort. There’s food and champagne galore, and more than enough happy guests dancing along to upbeat music in the streets.

Eren’s eyes light up as he takes in the scene, “You wanna dance?”

“What—Eren, no!” you refuse, “We cannot crash these people’s party!”

“Why not?” he counters, without a care in the world, “Seems like an open invitation to me! Come on!”

And for the second time that evening, you find yourself being pulled into his schemes; this time in the direction of the open space dubbed dance floor.

You’re both terrible and ostentatious and people start to watch, but it doesn’t matter because you’re smiling too wide and laughing too hard to care. Eren has a way of moving both with and against the music, forcing your body to follow his lead.

He shouts something over the noise, but you don’t have time to register his words before he laces your right hand with his left, and places his right hand on your waist. There’s a blink of confusion for a moment before you’re being swept off your feet and into a dramatic dip. You don’t have time to secure yourself against his shoulders, but Eren does a fine job of supporting you with a single arm against your back.

From what you can tell the song is far from over and the dramatic pose is completely unwarranted, but you and the crowd alike are victim to his charm. You indulge yourself, looking up at him with eyes too fond to memorize every feature of his face in this moment; the way he’s laughing with that big, dumb, wide smile of his that makes his nose crinkle and his eyes light up.

You’re too busy looking at him to hear Eren’s voice calling out to you, or even realize that he’s moved you from your pose to standing back upright. He’s equal parts amused and concerned at the glazed over look in your eyes.

“Hello? Anybody home up there?” he teases, elongating the vowels and squeezing your waist to alert you.

The reminder of his hands on your hips pulls you back to reality, your eyes fluttering down to his arms, then back to his face. It feels stuffy suddenly, too close to function.

“Yea—yeah! Do you wanna get a drink? Yeah, let’s get a drink!” you exclaim, haphazardly pointing and walking towards the food.

You don’t see it, but Eren looks on with glittering eyes, his verbal agreement heard only by himself as you veer towards the buffet. He can still feel your body in his grip, still see the specks of gold in your pupils as he lingers on the back of your silhouette lovingly. And before you can realize, he snaps himself out of it—an out of body experience similar to yours a few moments ago—before catching up with you.

You end up socializing for much longer than intended. Eren makes friends with everyone, to no surprise, and, uncharacteristically, you feel influenced by his actions, and converse with a few people yourself. You let him take the lead, though. Partially because he’s better at it, and partially because you just like listening to him speak French.

“Hey, we should probably get out of here,” he whispers into your ear after waving goodbye to a lovely couple you’d just met, “Before the host of this party realizes we’re miles better than his actual guests.”

You nod with a smile, more than happy to play by his rules for the evening. He offers you his hand again, that same, dopey smile on his face when you take it.

He leads you out of the crowd and back on to the path to your villa, the smell of warm food and sounds of vibrant music growing dull as you venture further from the celebration. It’s much darker than it was when you began your trek back from the restaurant, but beautiful all the same.

Your sandals pad against the wooden dock that leads up the villa, and Eren unlocks the door silently, ushering you inside before entering behind you.

“I know I said I wanted to leave, but I’m not really tired yet,” Eren confesses, pulling his blazer off of his shoulders.

“Me neither,” you say, placing your small wristlet on the table with a shrug, “What do you wanna do though, I’m not—”

“Great!” he cuts you off, smile too big. You narrow your own in suspicion. That tone of voice with that look on his face usually meant something mischievous, at best. “Remember when you said the first time you’d smoke would be with me, and then pranced away and took a bowl from Hange and got high as shit at Moblit’s party?”

“Why does everyone remember Moblit’s party but me!”

“Don’t worry about it,” he chuckles, waving the topic away, “Anyway… Do you wanna smoke now?”

You blink. “I… did you… smuggle weed all the way to France?”

“No, of course not!” he refutes, “…I got it here.”

You scoff, but don’t have the time to question him further before Eren’s tugging on your wrist and pulling you into the bedroom. You take to sitting on your bed while he rummages through his suitcase to retrieve a small, clear jar with several rolled joints inside and a lighter to match.

He shuffles next to you in the bed, mindlessly handing you the lighter while he unscrews the top off the jar. He takes out two of the joints, places one next to the jar on the nightstand, and tucks the other between his teeth. He asks you to hand him the lighter, and you do so wordlessly, distracted by the sight of Eren’s gaze and the blunt poking out his mouth.

“This’ll be fun, yeah?” He reassures you, “Technically, you let Hange take your weed virginity, but I’ll be better.”

“Can you not phrase it like that,” you roll your eyes, “You already took my virginity virginity, don’t be bitter.”

An all too smug grin settles on his features as he recounts the fact. “Besides,” you tack on, “I’ve never done it like this before. So, it’s still a first, kind of.”

Eren cups one hand around the joint, sparking the lighter with the other until it catches fire. He inhales, slow and deliberate, as if he were putting on a show, or a lesson, of sorts, taking the smoke into his lungs and out through his mouth.

You’d gravely miscalculated how attractive Eren would look doing this. Sure, he’s hot, you knew that, but the pronunciation of his jawline when he exhales, and the confidence with which he drags on the blunt is a stark reminder to you. He takes a few more hits, just as slow and sensual as the first, and the room begins to feel warmer.

“Come closer,” be beckons, smoke rolling off of his tongue with every syllable.

You snap yourself out of the haze of your imagination and scoot closer to him. He silently hands you the joint, and it feels heavy between your fingers. At the distance, you take in the smell—pungent and off-putting, but too familiar.

Eventually, you bring it to your lips, careful not to let your tongue press against the tip, and inhale slowly, like you’d seen Eren do before. You do your best to hold the smoke in your lungs for a bit, but seeing as the last time you did this you were amped up on adrenaline and drunk off your ass, the task proves to be much more difficult. It tickles before becoming uncomfortable and you exhale ungracefully, puffs of smoke punctuating your coughs.

Eren watches with a grin, amused at the sight of you fanning the excess smoke away with your nose scrunched in distaste. “You should have warned me you were gonna cough like a bitch.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you whine, trying to hide the hint of a smile creeping onto your face. You hand the blunt back to him, “You’re supposed to teach me, not tease me, asshole.”

Eren pauses his laughter, unsure of what to make of your tone; rushed, a bit embarrassed, but testy. It’s quiet while he stares at you, trying not to let the implication of your words run wild in his mind; but it’s futile when you’re pouting like that, the room is growing foggier, and he’s been semi-hard since you accepted his offer.

“Fine. Watch and learn,” he breathes, words coming out more jagged than he’d intended.

This time, he completely exaggerates every motion; he inhales at a tantalizing pace and flutters his eyes closed while he lets the smoke swish in his mouth, down his throat, and expand into his lungs. He cranes his neck upwards, and purses his lips to let the clouds exit in the streamline that follows the slope of his jaw.

Maybe it’s the drugs getting to you, but your mind is filled with nothing but sheer clouds that aren’t thick enough to block out thoughts of Eren. The weed is unattractive, potent in smell, and all kinds of wrong; yet, everything about him is soft, sultry, and pulls you in.

“Wanna try again, or do you need another lesson?”

You faintly mutter a profanity under your breath. His words end with giggles, a sign the drugs have already begun to take their effect on him, his expression is still smug. You forget Eren knows just how attractive he is. Motherfucker.

“Actually,” he cuts your train of thought, “I have a better idea, come ‘ere.”

Eren beckons you forward again, closing the gap between your legs so that your knees graze each other under the fabric of your clothing while you’re sat next to each other. He leans over, far too close into your personal space, as if to test something; he freezes when his nose is mere inches from your face, a dissatisfied scrunch taking over his features.

He reinstates his hold on your wrist, motioning your body backwards until your back is against the frame of the bed. He hums in approval, positioning himself next to you again, equally as close, but far more comfortable for what he has planned next.

“I’m—I’m gonna try somethin’, okay?” he stutters, the first word mistakenly coming out in broken German, “Just, don’t freak out on me. It’ll be good, promise.”

You nod, unsure of what you’ve just signed off on, but you don’t have time to ask questions. Eren takes another hit, then passes the blunt to his non-dominant hand. He turns to face you, leans forward, and places his free hand on the back of your neck to pull you closer; the expanse of his palm leaving room for his thumb to venture over the bottom half of your cheek.

Eren pulls you in until your lips are millimeters apart, and he can see the pattern of your eyes in beautiful detail. He shifts his hand now so that the majority of it covers your face, the pad of his thumb running across your bottom lip. He applies the perfect amount of pressure to pry your willing mouth open, and then, finally, exhales.

This time, you can taste it. It’s woodsy, and bitter, but the sweet undertones dance on your tongue. This time, there’s more to think about than just the smoke in your lungs; like the burn of Eren’s hand on your neck; the pressure of his thumb against your bottom lip; the proximity of his lips to yours; the look in his eyes.

“Feel good?” he doesn’t bother to pull away before asking, and the words ghost over your lips with the remaining smoke. You nod; he smiles. “Wanna try again?”

You let out a breathy note of affirmation, and then he’s inhaling and exhaling into you, and you welcome him with pried lips and a heavy thumping in your chest. The confidence with which he maneuvers his body and the drugs is nerve-wracking, yet comforting at the same time; he has an expertise and power that intimidates, but compels you to follow.

Together, you finish the first blunt, and Eren lights the second without missing a beat. His hands are more demanding this around; they guide you into submission, and he’s pleased to find that you’re willing to listen.

After the third exhale, you stop focusing on his hands, and more on his lips. After the fourth, you think you might be high—not to the stars as you infamously were during Moblit’s party—but with a comfortable, dull buzz in your head. Everything feels a little fuzzy, out of touch, but you host a burning want for something more, something tangible.

You don’t know it, but Eren feels the same.

After the fifth exhale, Eren pulls away, the blunt a simple stub as he flicks it away onto the night stand, and you miss him being too close. You miss his hands, you miss his warmth, you crave his touch.

“Eren,” you call, unable to think of or see anything but him in the haze. He answers with a strained, “Yeah?” keening towards the sound of your voice, wide eyes flitting all over your face.

It’s too much, too close, too hot. That’s when you cup his jaw, pull him forward, and meld your lips together.

Kissing Eren is painfully familiar, and unnervingly satisfying. It’s certainly not your first kiss with him; and, yet he has a way of making you feel like it is while reminding you of your history. His lips are soft, and they taste like smoke and the chapstick you swear by because he refuses to buy or test out his own.

You pull away too soon, gauging his reaction with blown-out eyes, before dipping forward to have him against you again. Then again, and again, and again, until Eren is tired of your leaving, and his hands are back on your neck.

This kiss is deeper, Eren searching to satisfy the hunger aching inside of him, and you’re happy to comply when his thumb is pressing at your lower lip again. You open your mouth for him and he doesn’t waste a moment, brushing his tongue against yours experimentally, and then flush into your mouth.

He groans when you rake your fingers into his hair, and pulls back with a hissing noise when you scratch at his nape. Large hands move to grip at your waist, and he pulls you into his lap with a concentrated gaze—a brief second for him to admire the sight of you on top of him, before he resumes kissing you. He sucks on your tongue, rolls his past your teeth, and bites on your bottom lip.

You know he relishes in the sounds he elicits from you, and under any normal circumstance, you’re willing to put up a fight with him, but not now. Now, you let him unzip the back of your dress and snake his hands beneath the fabric. The rubbing motions of his hands turn into gripping, gripping into grinding, and eventually, an unfiltered moan slips past your lips when you feel Eren’s erection roll against you.

“Fuck,” he pulls back with a suck of your swollen lip, “You’re so hot.”

Eren quickly switches your positions so that he’s hovering over you. You chuckle lightly underneath him, taking the opportunity to run both your hands through his hair and cradle his head in your hold, “Haven’t done anything yet.”

“I know,” Eren murmurs, dipping his head down to press kisses into your neck, “Still so sexy. So pretty, always.”

Eren bites a hickey into your collar bone, and everywhere he can touch; your neck, your ears, your cheeks, your lips. Your moaning serves as the spark to keep him going, but he’s barely coherent himself the way you keep pulling at his hair and grinding yourself against him. Even through his clothes, you can feel how painfully hard he is.

He barely catches your tongue between his lips when you moan again, sucking harshly before bruising his lips over yours again. His hands are grabby again, finally pulling your dress completely off of your body, leaving it to form a puddle on the ground. They’re back on your as soon as possible, massaging over your tits, and running his index finger over your nipples.

“Eren... Eren, please,” you whimper, chest heaving as you look down at him. He rolls his index finger over your right nipple, with his left hand teasing the other with his thumb. You can’t tell if the look in his eyes is a product of the weed, or just his glassy, borderline predatory stare, but it makes you shiver with pleasure when he wraps his mouth around your nipple and sucks.

“I want you.”

“Want you, too,” Eren hums, pulling back with a thin trail of spit from your breast, before moving to give your left nipple the same treatment, “More than you know.”

You keen to him when he teases his teeth against you, finally having had enough you force him off of you with a tug of his hair. “Then take off your clothes.”

Eren blinks, wide-eyed but glazed all the same. He chuckles lightly, a blush spreading over his cheeks as he nods. He sits back on his knees, pulling his shirt over his head, forgoing undoing the buttons, and pauses briefly with his hands over the zipper of his pants.

“Please tell me you’re not that gone that you forgot how to undo your zipper,” you tease him, chest still heaving from his previous ministrations. Eren smiles, doe-eyed and hazy, and shakes his head.

“No,” he reassures you, finally undoing his zipper and shimmying his pants off his legs, “Was trying to remember what underwear I was wearing. Didn't want it to be embarrassing.”

His honesty makes you laugh, and Eren pauses for a moment to soak it in. Even like this, even with him stumbling over the steps to undress himself, and you almost completely naked in front of him, he can make you smile. There’s something equally sexy and endearing about your giggles; a juxtaposition that makes him want to hug you or kiss you or something in between. And you—you like the look in his eyes even through your giggling; the way he smiles back and blushes and tells you exactly what he’s thinking.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, “Don’t think mine are particularly sexy either.”

Eren hums, shuffling back on to the bed so that he’s between your legs, and leans forward to kiss you again. He still can’t seem to keep his hands off of you, his fingers immediately flying to your underwear and peeling them off your legs, pulling you closer despite the lack of space between your bodies.

“Yeah, doesn’t matter,” Eren echos, tossing the offending item to the side, before cupping your face in his hands, “I’d still wanna fuck you in your granny panties.”

“You wanna fuck me?” you question, eyes sparkling and hopeful.

“Yeah, I do,” Eren can’t help but to smile again, happy and high and drunk on you, too, “Will you let me?”

Your feverish nodding is all it takes for Eren’s mind to go hazy again; clouded with you, you, you. You pull him into a kiss, arching your body into his, and running your hands down the sides of his back. He moans at the feeling, punishing you by nipping at your lower lip and pressing your stomach back to the mattress with his palm.

Your eyes meet his as Eren lines himself up with your cunt, teasing your folds with the head; but it doesn’t take long before he finally pushes in, sheathing himself inside you completely without movement. He waits a minute, whether it’s to make you comfortable, or to gather his own bearings, you’re not sure; but when he’s ready, he flashes you a smile and waits for one in return, before he starts thrusting.

You know Eren’s not gentle; rough whether or not he intends to be by virtue of his size in comparison to you, but you seem to have forgotten just how capable he is of making you lose your senses. He has you gasping, grasping at him at him unintelligibly, feeling full with his cock inside of you.

Eren groans, borderline growls, when he feels you clench around him, when he sees you shaking beneath him. He could do this all; could watch you all day.

“So pretty, the prettiest. Prettiest girl, my favorite girl,” Eren praises, eyes raking up and down your thrashing body, “My favorite fucking girl.”

“You—you, too.”

“Yeah? I’m your favorite, too?” Eren coos, reaching out to guide your arms over your head, the force of his body pinning your hands down; you can hardly gasp before he lacess your fingers together, and gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“Promised you, didn’t I? That I’d be good to you, be on my best behavior,” Eren reminds you, leaning forward.

He eyes your necklace—eyes glued to ring around it—bouncing with your body. He bends his head down to kiss it, bites at the skin near it; a possessive streak overcoming him as the diamonds shine against you. “I said I’d treat you good, always. Meant it.”

He stutters, when you squeeze him back; fingers tightening around his hold, your pussy clenching around his cock. Your whining is insistent, and mixes with Eren’s low moans and guttural noises. Eren doesn’t let up his pace, fucking you fast and deep, and it’s only a matter of time before you feel a knot twisting in your belly.

You attempt to move your arms, searching for a release of the feeling building up inside of you but Eren is strong; stronger than you, and he keeps you in your place. Keeps your arms pinned above you, keeps his palms pressed into yours, keeps his lips hovering above yours, just out of reach.

“Eren,” you call his name through shaky moans.

“Yeah? What, baby?”

“Kiss me.”

And so he does, his lips needy and hungry over yours. Eren fucks you and kisses you through your orgasm, tasting your moans on his tongue in timing with him cumming inside of you. You don’t let up; kissing him lewdly while you both come down from your highs.

“So good,” Eren croons against your lips, down your jaw, into your skin, “So good for me.”

You both moan in chorus when he finally pulls out, Eren’s head laying on your collar, nose nuzzling into your neck. He lets your hands free, and immediately you wrap them around his back, holding him close as you both attempt to catch your breaths.

You don’t know how long you lay there like that, with Eren on top of you, and your thumb rubbing circles into his cheek while he sleeps soundly. Maybe an hour, maybe more, maybe less; but the euphoria of your sex doesn’t quiet seem to fade.

It might last all night, maybe even for the rest of your trip but you don’t mind. You think back to earlier in the evening, when you’d caught his gaze after your dance. The feeling isn’t all that different; warm, and fuzzy, and too much and not enough all at once. It feels good, it feels like Eren.

You hum softly to yourself, careful not to wake up the sleeping boy on your chest, when you realize exactly what these two moments have in common: a rare event in which Eren is still in front of you, steady and stagnant, no running or chasing; and you don’t want to let him go.

Sometimes Eren thinks you act oblivious on purpose just to fuck with him, because there’s absolutely no way you—or any human with a functioning nervous system and social cues—can’t tell that he’s completely, stupidly, and embarrassingly in love with you.

Long gone are his days of trying to deny it or get over it. He realized that sophomore year of high school—almost eight years ago—that no matter where he went, what kind of drug he inhaled, or how hard he tried, you’d be permanently etched into his heart. That doesn’t make it any less exhausting, and, in fact, only makes it more astounding that you haven’t caught on yet. Honestly, Eren’s considered hiring a private psychiatrist just to make nothing’s wrong with you.

Amazingly, the remainder of your vacation continues just like the former half. The only exception being that now you’re in Paris. And that he’s shamelessly coerced you into letting him fuck your brains out on several occasions. But besides that, everything’s chill.

Just two best friends traveling through France together and stopping to fuck in any semi-private location they can find. Just two peas in a pod walking along the Champs Elysées at damn near midnight. Just two best buds with linked arms tasting (see: feeding each other) every macaron flavor they come across while violinists play stupidly romantic, classical music in the background.

He knows he should probably talk to you about it, but for some reason he can’t. Like telling you would make it all too real, and give it a meaning that could so easily be taken away from him; give you a reason to want to leave him. Right now, it’s just a fantasy, and he’s free to keep dreaming, believing that he’s special and worth enough for the affection you’ve shown him.

He doesn’t want to be one in a list of your boyfriends, or fiances, or husbands; he wants to be your only one, and if he can’t be, then he’d rather be stuck to your side as your best friend. At least that way, in someway, he could remain special to you; not a forgotten, ordinary ex of your past.

Though, a best friend who he’s sleeping with regularly and he’s in love with and will always be in love with is starting to sound a lot like a husband to him. At least, the kind of husband he would like to be to you.

You call his name, asking him if he wants to try another sweet. Eren rolls his eyes. What he wants is to fuck you, and marry you, and have you bless his stupid little existence with two runts for kids that look like him but act like you so his life savings don’t run out by the time they’re twelve. But sure, he’ll settle for having you feed him another macaron in the meantime.

“This one tastes just like the coconut one,” he mumbles, chewing his way through the pastry you’d stuffed into his mouth whole.

It’s the seventh bakery you’ve stopped at tonight, and even though Eren’s growing pretty sick of the sugary treats, he’ll walk with you to every damn bakery in Paris tonight if that’s what you want.

He blinks at the thought. He’s so lovesick it’s disgusting. And he wouldn’t do a damn thing to change it.

“That’s probably because it’s almond and coconut flavored,” you say, wiping the stickiness from your fingers onto a napkin.

“I didn’t taste any almonds.”

“I don’t even think you could spell almond, much less tell me what they taste like.”

Eren simply pouts in refute, leaving you giggling at his expression. He doesn’t know if it’s possible, but you seem even prettier in Paris than in Nice. But, that’s probably his rose-colored glasses speaking.

“You think there’ll be macarons at the reception?” you question, biting into yet another pistachio flavored treat, “And if not, would it be rude to bring my own?”

He chuckles. “Yes, babe, I’m sure there will be macarons there.”

He’s always loved Paris, even when his mom moved away here and left him in New York, and he’d always loved it more when you’re with him. He feared that having to attend another, what he considered to be wasteful, wedding in arguably one of his favorite places in the world would leave a bitter taste in his mouth; but, thankfully, he’s only fallen deeper in love since being here.

“You sure you won’t be sick of them by tomorrow?” he asks, watching you debate between taste testing another variation of vanilla bean or rosé.

“How could I get sick of them?” you answer offhandedly, not sparing him a glance away as you choose the pink snack. How could he get sick of you.

“By the time we get back to New York you’ll have forgotten all about them,” he scoffs.

“Don’t worry I’ll quit it soon. I’ll have to eat something solid if I wanna take my meds and go to bed,” you spew with a smile, unaware of what you’ve actually just said, “But they are delicious and I have no regrets.”

Eren pauses. Then so do you, mouth stuffed with sickly sweet.

“I mean—”

“I know, you know,” he cuts you off, “About the meds and stuff.”

You look like you could pass out, or scream, or cry, or everything in between. Eren figures saying more is better than saying less, so he continues.

“I saw a bottle in the bathroom a few months ago,” he admits shyly, but careful about his tone, “Didn’t understand half the words on the label, but it had your name on it so I just, uh… Googled it.”

Of course he knows. Eren’s always kind of known, just never had the words to express it. He imagines that’s what you’re feeling right now.

“Oh,” you finally gape, “Why didn’t you, um… you know, like, say… anything?”

“It seemed like your secret to tell,” Eren shrugs, features softening out, “Besides, I figured you’d tell me when you wanted to.”

Eren’s always been better at showing than saying, anyway. He hopes that his actions, small as they may seem, might have provided you with any sort of comfort in the past few months. Maybe even before that, too.

“Oh,” you repeat, continually blinking at him, “That’s… that’s it? You’re cool with it?”

Now it’s Eren’s turn to blink. “What do you mean am I cool with it? They’re your meds.”

“Yeah, but like… you’re not mad I didn’t tell—”

“Of course I’m not mad,” he cuts you off with a soft smile, “It’s not really my business. I mean, like, you’re my business because I care about you, but you have your own private stuff, too, which is cool. Besides, when I was, uh, researching it, I learned that it can be hard to tell people stuff like that even if—”

Eren shuts up when he feels your weight against him and your arms wrapped around him. Shell shocked, he takes a moment to hug you back, and slowly comes to rest his chin atop your head after leaving a flurry of kisses.

“You didn’t have to look it up or do any kind of research, you know,” you mumble softly into his jacket. Eren borderline chortles, but only hugs you more tightly.

“Of course I did. If not for you, then for myself, because I meant it when I said I’d never seen half the words on the prescription before in my life,” he replies, heart glowing at the sound of your small chuckles.

He’s expecting an equally witty response, but you surprise him when you pull back just enough to face him, a hazy smile on your face. “You’re amazing, Eren.”

Don’t blush, fool. Don’t blush, fool. Don’t blush—fucking idiot.

“Yeah, I’m pretty great,” he boasts, leaning back into the coolest pose he could muster up while ignoring the growing heat creeping up his neck. It’s all in vain as you reach over to playfully tug at one of his ears.

He thinks you’re pretty like this. All the time, but most notably when he has you in his arms. So pretty, that he has to lean forward to kiss you; you don’t seem to mind, if the way you smile into the kiss is any indication of your feelings. Eren finds himself mirroring your grin; moving his arms from around your waist to the sides of your face.

The workers in this poor little café probably hate the two of you, but he doesn’t fucking care. He’s got his favorite girl in his arms right now, and you taste like almonds and coconuts and like the love of his life.

And he should tell you. Eren wants to tell you, and he finds himself wondering if those same intrusive, fearful thoughts were part of the driving force behind your own reason to keep your secrets from him.

You pull away from him, hands lightly draped around his neck, and you smile like you’re shy—like he hasn’t known you your whole life. Still, Eren finds himself smiling back; and thinks that if you were brave enough to tell him how you were feeling, then he should do the same.

“(_____), I… I gotta tell you something,” he starts, voice soft as his fingers curl around your waist a little more tightly, “Though, I’m kind of hoping you already know.”

You blink at him, almost innocently. Eren bites the inside of his jaw; you’re going to have to stop doing that before he jumps you again.

Better now than never, he supposes. He tries to shake his nerves when he takes your hands in his, completely covering them with his palms, and closes his eyes. Despite that, you try to offer him comfort, squeezing his fingers as best you can; and Eren takes that moment to thank his lucky stars for whoever decided to put you in his life. Because he knows that no matter what, even if he royally fucks this up, you’ll find some way to be there for him.

He slowly blinks his eyes open again, gaze resting on the ring around your neck. A faded chuckle escapes his lips when looks at it. The only one who got the wrong idea about his gift was you. But, he supposes that’s his fault; he never did explain it, after all.

“It’s nothing… It’s just that, I’m in—”

But Eren’s startled by a voice that makes him freeze. He almost wants to believe he misheard it, but he can hear the telltale clacking of vintage heels on the floor of the bakery and he knows that he didn’t mishear a thing.

Eren turns his head, and sure enough, there is his mother, in all her five foot glory, adorned in designer clothing from her beret to her shoes. With a fucking street urchin on her arm.

“Well, well, well, what a lovely surprise,” Carla beams, red lipstick perfectly in place even after a long day of wear.

Eren’s eyebrows draw together, as he takes in his mother and her fiancé standing in front of him. He can just barely register you calling out towards her, carefully maneuvering yourself off of his lap, and into the neighboring chair; but still keeping your right hand wrapped around his left. He can feel you squeeze it—whether to give him comfort, or warning, he’s not sure yet; probably both.

“It’s so good to see you!” you beam, excitedly offering her and Mitchell a seat across from the two of you at the table. Eren opens his mouth to refute, but you squeeze his hand again; a warning.

Carla leans forward to encase you in a hug, exchanging cheek kisses, and leaving Eren to stare at the street rat across from him. Mitchell seems to know better than to make eye contact with him, irises scattering from Carla’s back to the décor of the bakery while the two girls catch up.

“We missed you at the rehearsal dinner on Sunday,” Carla recounts, eyes fluttering to Eren’s briefly. One look into her son’s eyes, and she understands why; one look into his mother’s eyes, and Eren knows she has him all figured out. “I was worried you might not show at all.”

Eren strategically averts your gaze when you turn your head towards him, choosing to look at his mother instead.

“I didn’t even know there was a rehearsal dinner,” you tell her, tone polite, but Eren can hear the clear jab directed towards him, “I’m sorry, I—we would have gone, otherwise.”

“No need to apologize, darling,” Carla smiles, “I’m sure you two were very busy.”

“We were,” Eren cuts in, words definite. He sees a hint of surprise flash in his mother’s eyes briefly, expertly covered up with her sweet demeanor. She only nods in understanding, sitting back a bit to wrap her arm around Mitchell’s.

“What are you even doing here, Ma?” Eren questions, even as you do the same with his hands under the table, “Isn’t it bad luck to see the groom before the wedding.”

“After the third or fourth wedding, you grow tired of pleasantries and superstitions, my love,” she replies, “This place makes Mitchell’s favorite macarons, we thought we’d share a few before the big day. Maybe get some tea as a pre-celebration.”

The topic of sweets has you speaking up once again, engaging both his mother and Mitchell in a discussion about them, and your other findings from bakery hopping earlier. If Eren didn’t love you to pieces, he would have left the table a long time ago.

It carries on much longer than he can bear to endure; almost an hour of you, and his mother, and Mitchell making pleasant conversation while he tries his best not to brood beside you, but it’s futile. He feels like a little kid again. Stuck at the dinner table with his mother and a man he was being forced to get to know, only for him to become a stranger to him in a matter of months.

Eren grinds his teeth into each other when you laugh at something Mitchell says. He’s not going to sit through his any longer; or ever again.

“Well, this has been fun,” Eren says, voice blatantly monotonous as his cuts through the conversation, “But we should all probably head back go to bed. Big day tomorrow.”

“Eren, we should—” but, he stands up quickly, hand wrapping around yours to force you upwards too.

He doesn’t care to look at you, knowing the dissatisfied expression he’ll be met with. He fishes for his wallet and pulls out too many Euros, neatly tucking them under an unused knife to pay for the meal.

Eren’s steps out from between his chair and the table. “We’ll see you guys tomorr—” But is stopped before he can take three steps away.

His mother’s hand wrapped around his wrist. She stands, significantly shorter than Eren’s full height. “Actually, Eren, could I borrow you for a bit?”

And he doesn’t want to, because he knows exactly the conversation waiting for him. But he looks down at her, lets his eyes flicker to you, and back to her, and he knows he doesn’t have the heart to walk away. Not even if he tried.

He sighs with a shallow nod. He can feel your hand on his shoulder, the proud smile on your lips when you tell him that you’ll meet him back at your hotel. Mitchell ensures him and Carla that he’ll make sure you get back safely, and Eren still can’t stand the guy, but he’s grateful that he can at least be of use for something.

Eren kisses you on the forehead briefly, a promise to you and himself that he’ll finish his confession later. After all, he probably should come to terms with the woman who taught him what love is before he vowed to love you for the rest of his life.

The walk to his mother’s hotel is silent, Eren choosing to keep to himself, hands stuffed in his pockets to prevent his mom from holding them. He’s probably acting like a child, but isn’t that what he is to her; isn’t that she treats him as.

“Look, Ma, you don’t need my approval to marry him,” Eren grumbles, when they finally exit the elevator into the hotel room, “It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Of course I don’t,” Carla offers him a small grin, even if he won’t look at her directly, “But it matters to me.”

“Why does it matter now? It didn’t matter with Keith, or Henry, or Henri with an I, or any of the others,” Eren mumbles, reluctantly taking a seat on the stool opposite the vanity.

His mother tracks his movements with soft eyes and an amused grin as Eren absentmindedly bends a knee and begins to fiddle with the hem of his pants. Just like he used to when he was upset as a child.

“It mattered then, too, Eren,” she tells him, sitting on the stool and facing him.

He’s surprised by her words, his wide eyes giving him away even if he attempts to act unfazed. “It didn’t seem like it.”

Carla opens her mouth to speak, but closes it, words stuck in her throat. She watches Eren’s hunched figure, her tall son not even bothering to look her in the eyes. She exhales slowly; if he were five feet smaller, he’d have tucked himself under her arm, still refusing to look at her, but he’d have snuggled his head into her side while he pouted anyway.

“I suppose it didn’t,” she admits, “In the end, the love wasn’t enough to make it last, then.”

Eren is quiet for a bit at that, pulling at his pants leg. “And… and you love him enough, now?”

“It’s more than love, Eren. It’s... happiness—for yourself and another person—it’s being okay with somebody knowing you now, and forever. Whichever version of you that is.”

“Then why did you marry them before?” Eren asks, “If you knew it wasn’t enough, if you knew it was just going to end up as another big mistake.”

“Maybe the marriages were a mistake, and some of what came with them, but I don’t think the feelings were,” Carla muses, “Love is never wasted.”

“How can you say that?” Eren questions, disbelief and exasperation painted on his face, “Of course it is—you wasted your time, and your money, and your—your everything on those people who couldn’t care less about you now!”

“Eren—”

“You let them into our house,” Eren speaks over her, “You let them into your life, and they left. They always left—”

“Eren—”

“—And you even let some of them come back! Everyone, you let everyone have another chance, another anniversary, another wedding,” He’s ranting, crying, hot, irrational tears streaming down his face; hiccups interrupting his speech, “So—so, so if it’s not wasted and everyone gets another chance and another chance and another chance—why didn’t he come back, huh? For his?”

Eren’s standing now, arms flailing every which way during his breakdown, but his mother doesn’t try to stop him. She lets him continue, hears him out.

“If it’s love—if it’s not wasted, and it’s real—then why didn’t he come back? Why didn’t he want to? Why—why didn’t he want me? Why did I end up the bastard?”

Eren looks his mother in the eyes for the first time in the duration of their conversation with that final question; with his vision blurry, and chest heaving, and cheeks wet. Carla has no words to say; can only carefully open her arms, and wait for her son to come crashing into them. And he does; and it rains and pours, and Eren holds onto his mother for dear life, and onto the pieces of her breaking heart.

“Am I not good enough to have that kind of love?” Eren asks through tears, “Am I not special enough to want to know?”

“Eren,” she finally speaks, moving to cradle his head in her hands, “You don’t have to be special or good, to be known or loved. It’s enough that you were born. That’s enough to make you deserving of love.”

She doesn’t mind the tears against her palms or the hiccups of Eren’s breathing, “And you already have it.”

And Eren looks at her with eyes wide and wild like a child, staring at the first person to have ever loved someone as messed up, and plain, and ordinary as him; and he can feel more tears bubbling at his eyes.

“Ma, I’m—I’m so sorry,” he chokes out, wrapping his arms around her even tighter, chin resting on her shoulder while his shake through his tears, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Carla hugs her son as close as she can, like he’s five years old and the apple of her eye and she can take all his pain away. “You don’t have to be. You’re my son, and I’ll love you always.”

It feels like they have all the time in the world like that, to hug and cry and apologize; but Carla hopes Eren knows that he was always forgiven; that he never had anything to apologize for in the first place.

“She loves you, too, baby,” she coos, holding Eren as tight as possible, “But you have to let her know that. That you accept it.”

“Do you think she knows?” Eren asks, words muffled into the fabric of her clothing, “That I love her, too?”

“I do,” Carla confirms, pulling away to look at Eren in the eyes; his beautiful, shining, green eyes, “But I don’t think that either of you really realized it. I mean, you did give her an engagement ring, darling.”

Eren huffs at the memory, “She thought it was a gift.”

“Because you gave it to her as a gift.”

“I thought it was pretty obvious.”

“Love has a way of making people blind,” Carla muses, “Especially two lovesick semi-adults with too much money on their hands.”

Eren’s cheeks grow pink at the accusation, “It’s your money!”

“Yes, and I’m very happy to have it,” Carla chuckles, motioning for Eren to stand up. He does, and she looks up at him with glimmering, proud eyes. “Now, go, shoo. You have a girl to propose to, don’t you? There might be two Jaeger weddings this weekend.”

Eren nods, certain of himself for the first time in a while. He turns on his heel with a vigor igniting his footsteps, but pauses when he reaches the elevator. He makes a sharp turn, running back to his mom one last time, and squeezing her suddenly, and tightly against him.

“I love you, mom,” he says; the words too foreign on his tongue, and he vows to not let them be a stranger to his vocabulary from here on out.

“I love, you, too, Eren,” Carla calmly wraps her arms around her son one last time, “And I always will.”

You half-expected your walk back to your hotel with Mitchell to be painfully awkward, but he proves to be a pleasant conversationalist, even in Carla’s absence.

You know that Eren isn’t fond of him, but you wish that he would at least give him a chance. There’s no way to know if a marriage—if any relationship—will last forever, but, sometimes, you think it’s not about knowing about forever; but, rather about wanting it to make it there; about willing to go the distance with that person.

You can see that want, that willingness that works alongside love in Mitchell and Carla’s relationship, that stands out from her past marriages. You get the feeling they’re going to last; and that, most importantly, they both want it to, too.

It’s quiet out as you both walk the streets of Paris, Mitchell taking the time to point out small notes in architecture that interest you. You readjust your jacket as a gust of wind washes over you, careful to make sure your necklace doesn’t snag against your clothing.

“That’s a beautiful ring,” he calls to you gently.

“Thank you,” Surprised, you quickly let out an embarrassed cough, looking down to your left hand resting atop the uppermost button on your coat. “It was a gift.”

“I meant that one,” Mitchell corrects, carefully gesturing to his own neck to indicate that he was talking about the ring on your necklace, and not the one on your finger.

“Oh, thank you,” you repeat, “That one was actually a gift, too.”

The older man hums, continuing your walk to your hotel. “Must have been one hell of a gift. I don’t know many people who give out engagement rings as presents.”

“Oh, no, no, no, it wasn’t—it’s not an engagement ring,” you tell him, feeling a warmth creep up your cheeks even in the chilly atmosphere of the night, “Eren gave it to me, actually, a few years ago—it was a Christmas gift.”

“Eren, huh?” Mitchell smiles fondly, “That makes sense. Carla tells me how much he cares about you.”

“You—she does?” you stutter. Mitchell nods. “I—I mean, I care about him, too.”

“Enough to accept an engagement ring from him, it seems,” Mitchell taunts, “I’m no specialist, but I know a Harry Winston piece when I see it. They’re not cheap.”

“Trust me, I know,” you scoff, “I almost killed him when I saw how much he spent on it.”

“And you took it, anyway?”

“Well, he—he was supposed to return it,” you defend yourself, “Because I didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea! But he just, well, he gave me the other one instead, so I wear that one on my hand.”

Mitchell pauses, just as you both stand to the entrance of your hotel. “And what was the wrong idea you didn’t want people getting.”

“That... that...,” you pause, thinking back to that Christmas day.

Even though Eren is known for spending ludacris amounts of money, the ring came as a genuine surprise to you. A couple thousand on shoes, sure—you’re victim to that yourself; a couple hundred thousand on a lavish vacation wasn’t out of the ordinary, either; but a million, maybe even more, on a ring that you could have only ever asked of him in your dreams was another thing completely.

And, sure, even a few million didn’t mean much to you or Eren at the end of the day, but it wasn’t just the price; it was the object of the money, too. To accept a house, or a car, or a jet for that amount is something you could rationalize; but a ring seemed foreign, and far out of your league.

Then there was the display and value it held beyond money. It’s beautiful, gorgeous, but more than that, it’s tailored to your exact liking. The synthesis of your aesthetic and everything you could ask for, garnished with the memory of Eren in the very design; the diamonds you love, the flowers that remind him of you, and the way they stems wrap around each other and the petals meet in the middle.

A small gasp leaves your lips and instinctively, you reach to clutch the ring in your hold. There was no way this was an engagement ring... Eren hadn’t proposed to you when he gave it to you—in fact, he was so casual about it, that it had you stunned that he hadn’t thought to consider that other people might think it meant something more than what he intended it to be.

But, looking back, it seems like you’re the only one who didn’t understand what was going on. Because Eren told you, even then, that he’d wanted you forever; you didn’t know how to hear him. It was all right there—not just in the ring, but in all his gifts, in the entirety of your friendship.

Eren loves you, more than you could ever know.

“It’s an engagement ring,” you say aloud, but more to yourself than to Mitchell, “Oh my god, it’s an engagement ring.”

Mitchell can’t do anything but smile at your revelation. You’re practically bouncing off the walls, connecting the puzzle pieces of your relationship in the middle of the street at damn near midnight, but you don’t care; because it finally feels right, and it finally, finally all makes sense.

“He, but he never pro—oh my fucking god, I’m going to kill him.”

You feel elated and confused and happy and murderous all at once. Eren wanted to marry you; Eren loved you. He wants you for the rest of his life, and you’ve been too blind to see it this entire time.

Still, you think that maybe a verbal proposal might have helped to open your eyes a bit.

“Mitchell, I have to—”

You’re cut off by the echo of your name coming from the opposite end of the street, and you can just barely make out of Eren’s figure in the faded lights of the street lamps. His name falls from your lips like a whisper, and you hardly register Mitchell’s amused, soft laughter from beside you.

“I think that’s my cue,” he says, patting you on the shoulder, “I better get back to Carla. Something tells me you two have a bit to talk about.”

You can barely nod at him, eye still wide and stunned, but a smile on your face even in your fearful anticipation. You don’t have time to thank him before he turns away, bidding you goodnight; and then you have something else to focus on, as Eren’s footsteps grow louder, and his silhouette grows sharper the closer he gets to you.

He practically crashes into you, chest heaving, hair wind-swept and wild from his running. He puts his hands on your shoulders, to steady himself physically and mentally, labored breaths ghosting over the top of your head.

“Hi,” he finally squeaks; and that stupid, big, dopey grin is on his face.

It’s ridiculous, so utterly ridiculous that you can’t help but greet him back. The two of you stand there, smiling like fools for god knows how long, before the realization strikes you for a second time.

Eren opens his mouth to finally speak, but a pained squeal leaves his lips instead as he feels the back of your hand slap his chest. “Ouch—hey, what was that for!”

“What the hell do you think you were doing proposing to me without telling me?” you screech, packing another punch to his chest for good measure, but it’s a poor barrier and does nothing to stop your tears from falling, “You’re an idiot, I should kill you for this, you know that, Eren Jaeger?”

Eren laughs softly, only to be heard by you in close proximity. He takes your offending hand in his, and reaches for your other, pulling both of them between your bodies. He can feel tears welling in his own eyes, as he looks down at the necklace, glimmering perfectly under the moonlight.  

“In my defense, the first thing you told me to do when I gave it to you was to return it.”

“I might not have said that if you told me what it meant,” you can hardly choke out a laugh through your tears; and Eren can’t stop his from falling either, “It’s insane, you know. This whole thing—to ask me to marry you at 19. For me to not realize until we’re 21.”

“I know,” Eren agrees, inching closer even though there’s barely any room between you, “I know. But I know I love you, every version of you. I always have, I always will.”

You close your eyes as Eren’s hands move to your face, gingerly sweeping your tears away from your cheeks. He feels too close, it feels like too much; but you don’t want him to move.

“You know... if you had asked me, then,” you start, blinking your eyes open with a sniffle; you’re met with Eren’s emerald greens one with far too much hope and love glimmering in them, “I—I don’t even know what I would have said.”

“And if I asked you now?”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, slowly raising your hands to wrap around Eren’s wrist, and lower them to your neck, before looking at him again, “Ask me.”

Eren blinks, carefully trailing his hands up and around your neck, nimble fingers undoing the clasp of your necklace. He hardly lets the chain pool into his hand before it’s tossed aside, and the ring is still between his thumbs and index fingers as he lowers himself on to one knee.

“You are the love of my life, and there’s not a single version of life—a single version of you, or me—where I don’t want to be with you forever,” Eren says, “And you know how shit I am with my words, but I fucking mean it. I swear to you, that I’ll do my best every day to show you how much you mean to me; marry me, and I’ll prove it to you, I swear, I will.”  

Your lips are wobbling at Eren’s confession below you, and you can just barely beckon him upwards in your state. He’s hardly back on two feet before you’re pulling him against you, ghosting the word “yes” on his lips before you kiss him.

You both melt into the kiss, Eren’s hands skillfully cupping your cheeks, while he keeps the ring in his hold and bruises your lips together.

“You don’t have to prove it to me, Eren,” you assure him, hand shaking when you pull apart and let him slip the ring onto your finger—where it belongs, “You already have.”

For his first birthday as a married man, Eren requested something intimate. He wanted just a small celebration with all of your mutual friends, some good food, alcohol, and lots of fun.

Supposedly simple and intimate for him entailed renting out the top floor of the Whitney, which was currently encasing an exhibit portraying some kind of abstract modern art that allowed for a very drunk Eren and Armin have to entertain themselves by trying their best to recreate the paintings using very flawed couples aerial yoga.

The art, paired with the dimmed lighting, Jean’s choice selection of overtly sexual music, and Eren’s pick of overpriced champagne also meant that Marco, Bertholdt, Connie, and Sasha found everything ten times funnier than they were—which meant they were a million times louder than usual.

Jean stands next to you by the bar, watching as Eren attempts to hold Armin above his head by holding on to just his waist. They’re unsuccessful, of course, resulting in both boys toppling onto the ground as the majority of their older friends laugh along.

“Lucky me, I get to take him home at the end of the night,” you drawl, turning to the bartender to order another drink.

She smiles, easily preparing your martini and sliding it you with an inquiry. “That’s your boyfriend? The tall one with the brown hair?”

“No,” you sigh, eyes closed for a moment before taking the glass between your fingers. “That’s my husband, unfortunately.”

× even more notes: this fic. is my baby. it’s been a draft of mine for over two years at this point. it’s gone through various fandoms but i’ve never quite been able to complete and post it, so i’m very happy that it’s finally here! i hope you all enjoyed, and i just wanted to say that i’m glad to finally have been able to share this with you all!

[theassthatquits]

Blupjeans Week Day Four: Ship

@blupjeansweek2021

Lup sipped her drink slowly, taking in the scene around her. There were definitely a lot more men here than women, which meant that more attention would be placed on her. She could work with that. She thumbed through the many name tags she swiped and started writing a different name on each one and hid them under her leg when she was done. Speed dating was one of her favorite activities to do when she was Taako’s guest on a cruise.

At first it started out as a way to hook up with someone that she would never see again. Pretty easy when it was the last day and everyone came from different places. Very quickly she realized that this was the perfect opportunity to spread chaos. She now had four rules:

No one gets to know her real name

No one gets to know any true facts about her, actually.

On the off chance she did like someone here, no spending the night with anyone.

Definitely no off the ship contact

The bell signaling the start of the night sounded and she pulled herself together, slapping on a name tag reading “Ryn” as her first victim, smirking and a little gross looking, sat down across from her.

“Lucky me, first round with the hottest girl in the room.”

Lup would be lying if she said she had never heard that one before.

“Oh god, I only hope that this will be over soon.”

His face dropped. “A little rude, aren’t we Ryn?” He leaned in close. “Playing hard to get?”

“How can I play hard to get when we’ve only just met?”

He paused, thinking. “Are you...rhyming with me?”

“Whatever do you mean? I’m afraid this I cannot see.”

“Okay, I see what’s going on here.”

“I do not understand, could you explain to a fellow peer?” Lup tried really hard to pull it off but she was grinning ear to ear.

The man rolled his eyes. “I think we’re done here.”

“Hey look who’s rhyming now!” His glare towards her was punctuated with the bell, signaling a partner change and hers couldn’t get away fast enough, done with her antics. She swapped out her name tag for one that read “Liza”.

Her next match was objectively the hottest man in the room and she’d be lying if she had said she hadn’t thought about breaking the rules. He sat down with some finger foods in his hand and took a bite. His face contorted and he spat the bite out in a napkin. “Oh, Gods. I think this is the worst food I’ve ever tasted on a cruise.”

Yeah, she wasn’t going home with this guy. How dare anyone spit out Taako’s food! She smiled sweetly, “Do you go on many of these?”

“Oh yeah, I cruise several times a year. I need something to do with all of the money I make.” He was really laying it on thick and it took everything she had not to roll her eyes.

“Sounds lonely.” She reached out and stroked his arm flirtatiously.

“It can be, sometimes.”

“Do you think I could help with that?”

He smirked. “Yeah, I think you could, babydoll.”

Gross. She almost gagged but smiled instead. She took out her pen and wrote a random room number on his arm. “This is my room. I’ll be back there in 15 minutes. Meet me there.”

His eyes lit up, “oh, yes. Sounds good. I’ll see you soon.” He stood up, winking at her and then he breezed out of the room as the bell rang.

“Ugh, so gross.” Lup made a gagging face trying to get the thought of him out.

“Hello - oh, are you okay?” She looked up to see a man in his thirties wearing glasses, a button up shirt, and blue jeans. He stood out in the room where every other man was wearing slacks and a tie. Lup paused for a second and then realized she had yet to speak and his face was getting more and more concerned for her.

“Uh, yes. Just swallowed down the wrong way, you know how it is.”

“Oh, yes I do,” He nodded solemnly. “Shit!” He yelled under his breath as he spilled half of his drink on himself while sitting down. Lup took this opportunity to switch out her name tag to “Eve”. After she was done he was still trying to clean himself up. His - Barry, she could tell from the tag - face was a deep red. Her heart pinged slightly at that, this poor man was so out of his element and it was kind of endearing.

“Here, let me help.” Lup handed over some napkins and leaned over the table, purposefully giving him a good view down her dress but he was so focused on cleaning up he didn’t even look. Lup didn’t know why she almost felt disappointed about that.

“Uh, thank you. I’m Barry.”

Double-checking her name tag she responded, “Eve.”

“Eve. That’s very pretty.”

“Thank you, Barold.”

He nearly coughed up his drink at that before collapsing into giggles. “Barold? I like it.”

“I think it’s fitting, Mr. Barold Bluejeans.”

“It’s actually Hallwinter -“

“Not in those jeans it’s not.”

He giggled again and damn if that didn’t do something to her. “Got me there. I’m not sure what people wear to cruises, I only packed swim trunks and blue jeans and I was not about to wear my trunks to a singles only event.”

“Oh, is this your first cruise?”

“Yeah, I won a contest at my university. I teach theoretical physics and I guess I had the most positive reviews or something from the students. I didn’t really know the contest was going on until I had won it.”

“Ooooh Professor Barold Bluejeans.” Something about that made her insides ache. “How are you enjoying your first cruise?”

“It’s nice. I haven’t taken a vacation since undergrad, so it’s been pretty great to just relax by the poolside and catch up on paperwork.”

“Did you seriously bring work to your vacation?”

Barry cocked his head, confused. “Yeah, is that a big deal?”

“Barold!! It’s a vacation! You don’t bring any work!” She was getting worked up and heads began to turn towards them. “You: drink a lot of alcohol, swim a lot, read a book by the beach, eat a lot of food, watch the weird as fuck shows they bring onboard, and hook up with a hottie you will never see again.” She listed these off on her fingers.

“Well I’ve done most of those things!”

“Yeah? Hook up with a hottie?” She winked at him and his face got a deep deep red.

“No, not that one. I read and swim and eat and drink. The food here is absolutely incredible, I’ve never had anything like it.”

“Yes! One point for Barold!” She high-fived him. “My brother is the head chef, everything he makes is exquisite.” Lup froze. She’s never revealed anything of herself at these before but with Barry it just felt natural. Maybe the rules didn’t need to be so strict after all. “What shows have you seen?”

“Well, uh, I haven’t seen any. I pretty much only swim, read, and eat.”

“So you haven’t explored the boat??”

“Not really.”

“Oh my gods, Barold. You are squandering this vacation. Cancel your plans tonight, we’re going exploring.”

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “Yeah?”

It was her turn to blush. Damn him. “If you want to, I mean. We haven’t exactly finish speed dating.”

“Hmm true, and I could find someone that loves doing paperwork poolside…”

She swatted at him playfully and he laughed. “I’m kidding! Yes, please, Eve. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Lup froze, at first upset that he misremembered her name before she realized that she had given him a fake one. It was too late to go back now, she figured. She could be Eve for the rest of the night. It’s not like she was ever going to see this man again.

“You okay?”

God, he was so observant. It was like he saw right through her. She smiled and grabbed his hand. “I’m perfect. Now come on, Bluejeans. We have a whole weekend of mischief to catch up on.”

[livingfiction]

Polymarine + 1 or NOT (pt.2) (AND ITS OBVIOUSLY NOT)(possible spoilers)

None of us really wanted to admit it but now we have to face the fact that they fucking did it. They have dimished and pushed maddie out. We all tried to be open minded and understanding about maddie needing some space. Hell we all agreed that she had every right to do her own thing and seperate BECAUSE she was still a core part of our main 3 and that eventually they would be reunited.She was still going to be involved and in the know ( shit is laughable now) At the end of the day maddie was coming back home to her true loves..LOVES WITH AN S. And they would be stronger because of it. Personally I thought that it was a little to soon to “test” the relationship. They just got together offically last season. I was expecting to see more cute domestic moments and growth together while they were dealing with all of the bullshit. And to be honest I was proud of this show and its polyamourous relationship  mainly because there wasn’t going to be a trash love triangle and we were going to explore a more healthy and underrepresented relationship. But in all honesty as long as ben, maddie, and ryn were together I did not care about titles and labels (normally I do because I feel like they’re important especially for representation but ANYWAYS). I did not want maddie with anyone else at the end and I did not want ben and ryn with anyone else or just alone together. I was NOT here for a bunch of connect the dot relationships. I anticipated that before this season was over they would be back and better than ever. BUT NOOO! Like maddie has missed soooo many important and life changing events. She hasn’t even been NOTIFIED about some of them. She has really become more of a secondary charachter in all of this because she’s not fucking there. And if we really want to be honest ( and I’m kind of hesitant to say this) but can we really even say that maddie and ryn can count as being together romantically or as a couple. Now bare with me here. If you look at it ryn is doing some of the same stuff she did before she was even in a relationship with maddie. She told maddie that she was love BEFORE they were a couple. She kissed maddie BEFORE they were a couple. Hell they even had more romantic/sweet moments before they were a couple now. The writers/showrunners or whoever threw in those little “maddie is love” moments and a kiss here and there to placate us. They knew that we would have some concerns and critisms regarding maddie and her removal from polymarine. Now don’t get me wrong I feel like they all still love and care for each other but that doesn’t mean that you’re in a relationship with somebody. It simply dozen’t. Honestly I haven’t been this dissapointed with a show in awhile. Like I could not believe that they actually put polymarine together. I saw the hints but thought they’re just playing around and relaying how ryn doesn’t quite understand human relationships. But I never really expected them to do it. Like my heart soared when they all kissed. I was ecstatic and so happy!!! like I felt genuine fucking happiness. I just can’t believe that they unraveled so much of the progress and have dismantled so much that I love. This show is still good plot wise and the mermaids are portrayed beautifully. I LOVE learning more about their world and species. But siren has really done too much. They have tainted this show and I don’t know if they can come back from this. I don’t know if they can fix this amount of damage. Not just to the relationship but the charachters personalities. They have turned ben into a fucking irrational lunatic and I hate that. He was always a little extreme but he had SOME fucking sense. I just don’t know. Thank you to anybody that read this far. I know its a lot. Feel free to comment or messgae me about anything you agree or disagree with. I’m always open for discussions though I’m a little slow to respond sometimes and I’m still getting the hang of tumblr. Sorry for any spelling mistakes!

[cyberpunkobsession]

A Cyberpunk Sim: The Story of Ryn Echo

This is “Bubblegum” Ryn Echo, a resident of South Sector C that is also known as the ghetto sector where gangs run the streets. Bubblegum is a nickname or code name given to Ryn because of her sweet charm and signature pink hair. She grew up here with her little sister Em. Their parents are out of the picture so Ryn always had to take care of and protect her little sister. It’s hard to get around the area without running into gang related activities. It was the norm for the both of them to live in that lifestyle and to be acquaintances with certain (dangerous) people.

Ryn sort of grew up knowing an older man named JT, she always knew that he was drug dealer but was always nice to her when they would see each other. They would talk and hang out for a bit while she was coming home after working at a gear shop. One night she decided to speak with him about her little sister and needing money for a better life. She mentions that the both of them have been training and know how to program. JT tells her that he knows some people that could give her a lot of money for being a programmer. She takes up the offer and before she knew it, she would get herself involved with the most dangerous gang that would screw her entire life forever.

Some time later, Ryn gets a message to meet up with JT it the downtown nightclub area and meet the people he talked to her about before.

She meets up with JT and is excited to meet the people and what will await her in getting a job as a programmer. But she looks over and immediately notices that these people are trouble and isn’t so sure about it anymore. JT assures her that there’s nothing wrong and tells her that they just want her to hack into the clubs system and steal its money. She rolled her eyes and knew that this wasn’t going to be as good as she thought. “You called me to come here just so that I can hack into something? I’ve already done this dozens of times. This is shit work.” He tells her that, ”No, this is different I promise you that you’ll get a lot of money out of this.” She sighs and thinks well she needs the money and since she’s been hacking and it’s not that big of a deal to her, she decides to do it anyways.

She decides to head over to the area that they want her to hack. She’s used to this happening to her, she grew up hacking into things to get money her whole life. She does what she has to do in order to survive with her sister. 

The group of people lead her into the club’s office room where it looks like they gained access to, how they did it? She knows that she can’t ask questions if she’s ordered to hack into something. She sits and tries to hack into the system. Eventually she does it with ease and that earned them a lot of money. To her surprise, she was given a lot of it too. But the group of people started to order her around with more aggression like as if- and then she realizes that she has just entered into a gang. 

How it works here is that if you’re able to hack into things, that is on a gangs first to do list to find. Hackers are in desperate need by gangs since everything is run on technology. She became their hacker through an initiation trick. Once you’re in, you can’t get out. 

Ryn struggled to sleep knowing what has happened to her, she can’t tell her sister so she can protect her. This is the last thing that she wanted, was to be in a gang but they tricked her into doing it. She knows that JT didn’t intend this to be a malicious stunt, he didn’t know either. These people specifically targeted her just because of her reputation on the streets as being a good hacker. 

Ryn wakes up and thinks to herself that she has to do what they ask or they’ll make her. Gangs will do anything to get hackers to do their work and she knows they already claimed her as theirs. They also know that if they bribe her enough, she’ll do it for the money because,”I’m a good for nothing Sector C rat. It’s the only thing that people like me can do anyways.” Which is true to an extent but she always knew to stay away from being in a gang.

Later on, she gets sent a message to do another job of hacking. In the message it says, “Hello Bubblegum, 

is it okay if I call you that? Lol, when I saw you for the first time I thought that your hair looked like candy. Can you come over to the nightclub area again and hack into the system? We’ll pay you big rewards. You did such a great job last time and we’ve taken a huge liking to you. If not then we might have to replace you with someone who understands better including JT for sending us dead weight. 

See you there!” 

Ryn gets to the downtown nightclub area and decides to go in and get a drink since she doesn’t see anyone there yet.

People walked into the bar and Ryn noticed that it was the gang members she saw the first time. She also noticed a man in a hoodie hiding in fear from what looks like he got hit by the woman in front of him. Someone else from the group turned to Ryn and said hello and asked to follow them into a room.

They order her to start hacking and she does and knows to do it fast and right or else she probably end up like that other guy. She successfully hacks and gets them money. This time she didn’t get any, goes to show that the whole job thing really was a scam. 

Two months pass...

It’s been two months of Ryn hacking into various places all over the city. She’s been getting barely any money from it but she knows that she has to keep following orders. One night after hacking into a club’s deposit she decided to get a drink at a bar next door where Bubblegum spots a good looking bartender where she of course starts to flirt. Ryn learned that her name is Oilna Drake and she showed some interest but was at the end of her shift for the night. Ryn says as she walks out that, “I know that I’ll see you soon,” in her usual flirty charming way. 

To be continued...

[musicallynerdy]

hey ryn long time no see that d&d ask meme is insanely cool (frankly I love all of them so I tried to choose but there are still a lot, feel free not to answer all of these), so: 2, 3, 7, 9, 11, 12, 15, 16, 20, 23, 24, 26, 27, 31, 33, 35, 44, 60, 72, 77, 87, 93, 94, 97!

Hi Taylor! Long time no see! I hope you’re hanging in there! @hoot-h00t So, Hannah sent me a few of these last night on my D&D sideblog (@gmsguild) so I’ll skip those ones but I’m gonna do the rest! I’m gonna focus on my primary character, Sahar, my tiefling wizard in my home Tal’Dorei game.  2. Who in the party would your character trust the most with their life? I think our party rogue most likely. A few weeks ago (in game time) the rogue saved her life (literally- failed death save, would have been dead if that shadow hit me again), and Sahar returned the favor in a fight with a succubus, so there’s some trust there. 

3. What are your character’s core moral beliefs? I think she’s redeveloping her morals for the first time in a decade. She’s becoming a better person and it’s interesting really interesting to play. She never hurts kids, she’s willing to do whatever it takes to protect those she loves, and she’s devoted to the pursuit of knowledge. She’s got a dark side and isn’t afraid to hurt or kill to get what she needs, but she’s starting to try not to cause more harm. I think she feels the need to make up for what she’s done in the past. 

7. Describe your character’s current appearance: clothes, armor, scars they’ve picked up along the journey, etc? Sahar Tel’Urdyn is a deep purple-skinned tiefling with these stormy grey eyes with catlike pupils and a light blue nictitating membrane that she can flick over them. Her horns come from her forehead and then curl back forward similar to but not the same as a bighorn sheep (I don’t really know how to describe them?), and she has a thin pointed tail that flicks like a cat’s when she’s excited. Her hair is a darker purple, close to black, and is pulled back in a single french braid. She has a number of piercings, earlobes and cartilage. One of her cartilage piercings has a thin chain that connects to a band around one of her horns. She also has a belly button piercing, a nose stud, and a ring in her tail, all in silver tones. With the exception of the chain, she wears almost entirely studs, bars, or rings. Nothing that could catch on something or make noise. She has a number of scars and tattoos from the Tragic Backstory, but the most interesting is probably a lot of blackwork on her left arm that extends from her hand up to her elbow, almost like she dipped her arm in ink (although there is a triangular design on the hand, almost looking like a bit of that type of glove that only attaches to the middle finger?)-- or more accurately it looks like blackwork but it’s actually a lot of really intricate work, lots of script and sigils.  She wears a white, v-necked, with lacing in the V, like a flowy pirate shirt sorta thing, with black pants and brown leather boots, and a dark blue almost black sash around her waist. She has a dagger at her waist and her spellbook sort of sits in a bit of a holster thing in the small of her back. She hasn’t actually picked up much over the journey... she’s got a really nice dark gray traveling cloak she took off of... some dead body somewhere. She’s also got a wand of magic missiles tucked into a leather thigh sheath. She’s probably got a scar or two from the one battle I’ll detail below in number 15.  9. What deity, if any, does your character worship? What’s their opinion on other people’s worship? She grew up worshiping the Moonweaver but sort of lost a lot of her faith during the Tragic Backstory period. As a wizard she also prays occasionally to Ioun. She doesn’t really have opinions on other people’s worship so long as it doesn’t start causing her problems.  

11. Describe your character’s current relationship with the player character sitting to your right. So my group is a crew of old friends from my hometown, so we haven’t played in person in a while. 

12. What is your character’s current goal, summed up in one sentence? To crack this puzzle cube and learn more about conjuration and transmutation magic in the process. 

15. What battle in the campaign has been most memorable to your character? Oof so we broke this girl out of prison, she’s the daughter of a crime lord, but in the process we sort of... alerted the entire town to what we were doing and our barbarian punched the guard captain in the face? So we were burnt and tried to get out of town and hide, but they sent guards after us and we had no spells left and our barbarian had one rage and our rogue, our warlock, and our druid all went in with like low health and Sahar ended up having to be a tank for the battle and was just casting shocking grasp and somehow we still won? We killed six guards coming after us and somehow got away. That was the moment it was like ok we’re a team and we have each other’s backs even when shit royally hits the fan. 

16. If your character wasn’t whatever class they are, what would they be instead? Probably a bard or a warlock. Magic is just like, ingrained in her and she’s a curious motherfucker so like, if her troupe had lived she probably would have become a bard, or she would have stumbled into something deep and dark and made a pact with something for knowledge. If she had focused in her Tragic Backstory more on the sneaking bit of being an assassin rather than the “i will kill people creatively with magic” bit, possibly a rogue too. 

23. If your character could go back in time and change one thing about their life, what would it be? To not get kidnapped by the crew of the Talon’s Breath because that just started a decade of bad things. On the other hand, without that she probably would never have gotten to Tal’Dorei from Marquet and would never have found the party, which she’s starting to count as the best experience in her life. But it doesn’t erase the previous decade. 

24. Which other player character does your character find themselves having the most in common with? Definitely our party rogue. Tragic Backstory Buddies

26. What would your character say their best trait would be? “My Wit, of course” (her virtue name she used for years was Wit, so that’s a pun)

27. What is your character’s greatest fear? Deep, irrational? Ooh tough one. She’s afraid of losing her powers, I think. Her magic has been what has kept her alive and allowed her to become who she is and I think she’s wrapped up so much of her identity into the magic she wouldn’t know who she is without it. She uses minor illusion like people in the real world use a fidget spinner. I think she’d have a hard time functioning without her magic. It was a source of trauma and now it’s the way she’s helped herself through that trauma. She’s definitely going to need to deal with that at some point but therapists are hard to come by in Tal’Dorei. 

31. What stereotypical group role does your character play in the party? (The Mom, the Mess, the Comic Relief, etc. Optionally: What role would your character play in the “Five Man Band” structure?) Ya know I’m not sure. She’s sort of the brains (her intelligence is like a full 4 points above anyone else’s in the party) but really our party is six dumbasses held together by spit and a prayer and the fact that they keep stumbling on sketchy shit in every small town they come to (literally, they’ve had one town that hasn’t had sketchy shit going on in it) (well, and one city. So two stops on their entire journey). 

33. What person does your character admire most? In our party? Tough choice. Probably Thea, our warlock. She’s a 16 year old human girl and Sahar just thinks the world of this kid. She also has this huge Big Sister drive to keep this girl safe and also teach her about magic. 

35. Why is your character’s lowest stat their lowest (the in-character reason, not “because there’s no reason for a wizard to have 16 strength, duh”)? 10 in strength (I rolled well) but in character, she never really had a chance to develop it. She was the prisoner of a cartel for years and just didn’t have the space or the means to build up her strength. 

44. Does your character think more with their heart or their brain? Brain. 18 intelligence. She’s a wizard. Everything is logic. 

60. What decision would the party have to make in order for your character to consider splitting off from the group? Answered over at @gmsguild with number 20!

72. Who in the party would your character trust the most to keep an important secret? Oof yikes... honestly? Probably Mire, our barbarian. 

77. If your character had to multiclass into a class they currently aren’t the next time they level up, what would it be and what reason would they have for doing so? hmmm..... Something with spells. She’s such a magic nerd she would do something stupid for knowledge. 

87. What major arcana tarot card best represents your character? I’m only skipping this one because I’m not really familiar with tarot

93. Who in the party does your character trust the least? All of them. We all have flaws that make us untrustworthy in particular circumstances. But also she knows all of them have her back if she needs it. She just needs to know their weaknesses so she can help protect them. 

94. What is your character’s biggest flaw? She always has to be in control. It comes from years of not being in control and now she’s a bit of a control freak. 

97. What is most important to your character: health, wealth, or happiness? Happiness. I don’t think she knows what that means yet, but she left employment with a crime lord that could have made her very rich because she knew it wasn’t making her happy.  Thanks, Taylor, that was fun! Took me like 2 hours, but whatev. Hope you’re hanging in there!  Also I’m reading back through this and realizing like, folks trying to piece together her Tragic Backstory from this and my post on @gmsguild are going to have a rough time Much love to my party yall are amazing and I love you (@geekoz87, @skirtsandbattleaxes, @miniaturetanks, @vaguelyconcerning, @tenebris-felidae)

[drinkingdeadpeopletea]

Prime numbers for the ask game!

THANK you ryn and yes i did have to look up a list of prime numbers to do this. funny story, 1 is not prime! and there’s lots of them so under the cut:

2. Who in the party would your character trust the most with their life?

Bird trusts Faeln, our cleric. Pretty sure every single person in the party would give the same answer. 

3. What are your character’s core moral beliefs?

Elodie believes first that people should help each other, and second that all tyrants should be dead. 

5. Does your character have any biases for or against certain races?

Bird really does not! She was raised in the very diverse Many Hosts of Igrathad in southern Xhorhas. She does have a particular fondness for orcs because the woman who (mostly) raised her is an orc. 

7. Describe your character’s current appearance: clothes, armor, scars they’ve picked up along the journey, etc.

Elodie’s got a cute yellow and brown dress that has her mithril armor under it, Frodo Baggins style. She’s wearing boots, leggings, her lute slung across her back and her holy symbol on a bracelet around her wrist. 

11. Describe your character’s current relationship with the player character sitting to your right.

We’ve been playing over zoom so I don’t have a “to the right” so I rolled a d4 to pick. Bird has a deep respect for our paladin, Tanvir--she felt a kinship with him ever since they both got knocked out right next to each other in the very first battle. He’s a little standoffish and clearly dealing with some shit, but when Bird lost control of her werewolf form, it was Tanvir who was holding her and making sure she was okay when she woke up, so at this point she’d pretty much die for him. (And Bird doesn’t know this yet, but I, Hannah, know that Tanvir is the only other person in the party who has been carefully tracking moon cycles.....the full moon is in two days and i am SO excited to see what Happens Next)

13. Does your character ever want to “settle down” with a spouse, children, house, etc.?

Sure, Elodie will gladly settle down! Once King Bertrand Dwendal is dead and Wildemount is free! 

17. What is your character’s favorite season?

Bird likes spring. The whole world waking up again :) Plus there’s big thunderstorms, which she loves. 

19. Where in the world does your character most want to visit?

Elodie would love to go to Tal’Dorei, she knows the Golden Grin is more connected and respected there and she would love to be in that environment.

23. If your character could go back in time and change one thing about their life, what would it be?

Bird would not get bit by the werewolf. But she’d still run in to try to help the man they were attacking, she’d just be...more careful about it. 

29. What are your character’s hobbies and interests outside of their class?

Elodie genuinely loves music, even beyond being a way to contact her secret society. She also is a very good cook and loves to make food for people.

31. what stereotypical group role does your character play in the party? (The Mom, the Mess, the Comic Relief, etc. Optionally: What role would your character play in the “Five Man Band” structure?)

Lately Bird has really been the Mess of the group because we’re dealing with her backstory shit first, apparently. In the five man band she’d probably be the Smart Guy, although it’s wisdom rather than intelligence. no high-int characters here!! 

37. What stereotypical role would your character play in a high school AU/if they attended a normal high school? (Nerd, jock, bully, goth, etc.)

Elodie would be the sweet but innocent religious girl with the secret wild side. (is that a common trope? or did I just know a whole bunch of them in real life?)

41. Does your character care about how they’re perceived by others? How do they change themselves to fit in with other people?

Bird really needs people to percieve her as “useful,” as pulling her own weight. And she needs to feel like she actually is doing that, as well. But she doesn’t really care if they like her--9 charisma at work, baby. 

43. What is your character’s scent? (Bonus points for a description that sounds like it could be from a bad [or awesome] fanfic.)

Elodie smells like vanilla and wide open spaces on warm summer days. :)

47. How did your character spend their childhood? Where did they grow up/who were their childhood friends?

Bird was a foundling, and raised communally, so she had many people protecting and caring for her, but she also always felt slightly on the outside, as the culture of her village isn’t big on overt expressions of love. But she has many good memories of running through forests and fields with the other kids around her age. 

53. What is your character’s favorite spell? If they don’t use spells: what is their favorite personal weapon/combat maneuver/skill/etc.?

Elodie’s been prepping Calm Emotions pretty much every day. She tries not to use it on people without their consent, but she loves being able to make people (herself included) feel better when they’re panicking or upset, and she likes the idea of being able to diffuse situations before they ever turn into combat, although that situation hasn’t arisen yet. 

59. Does your character value their own best interest more than the party’s?

For Bird, before the werewolf incident, yes. Now, she values her party members, although she doesn’t value their purpose of “elite Xhorhasian mission squad” like, at all. She doesn’t give a shit about the Dynasty, but she does give a shit about these people. 

61. How does your character imagine the way they will die?

Oh, boy. Elodie imagines it too often. Some sort of self-sacrifice--casting Warding Bond or using her Unity Domain Channel Divinity to take way too much damage. Alternatively, facing down a group of Righteous Brand in a hopeless situation and shouting “death to tyrants” in their faces. (god. i love this character.) 

67. What is your character the most envious about, regarding anyone in the party?

if my as-a-player theory that Tanvir is also a lycanthrope but has WAY more control over his condition than Bird does, that will immediately shoot to the top, but right now, she just envies Tatyan’s sense of direction and purpose. 

71. Describe how your character feels about the party’s current situation/objective/etc.

I’m not even going to TOUCH Everything That Happened Last Session because we still have no clue where we are, but before that, Elodie feels very good about reuniting Skala with their brother because she can see how important it is to Skala and she thinks Skala deserves a win, and she feels SO good about getting to Port Damali and connecting with the other Grinners to take down the Myriad. 

73. If your character knew that they were going to die in a month, how would they spend the rest of their life?

Bird would like....climb a mountain. Like, she would ditch everyone in her life and just go be in nature. It’s lonely and a little sad, but she’d be at peace. 

79.  What unusual talents does your character possess?

Elodie can play a handful of songs VERY well, and she can lie a lot better than people expect of her. 

83. How far is your character willing to go to pursue the “greater good”? Do they believe in a greater good at all?

Bird is much more neutral and less driven by goodness than most of my characters, but she does believe protecting and helping people is very important, and she’d go very far for that, even for strangers. Not big on Big Ideals, though.

89. What is your character’s relationship with magic? Are they scared of it, wish to know more about it, indifferent to it?

Elodie loves magic, but believes if you have access to power, you have a responsibility to be using it to help people rather than to suit your own gains or consolidate power.

97. What is most important to your character: health, wealth, or happiness?

For Bird, it’s health, which she connects with being powerful, being capable, being in-control. 

[jising-jisang-jisung]

Sugar Lips | Huang Renjun

Genre: floof

Word count: 1.7k

A/n: this is one of the longest fics I've ever written and not at all based off of a boy from my school whom I dislike sorry about the rushed ending I didnt know where I was going with that :/

~~~~~

You and Renjun had never gotten along. He sat behind you in math and was constantly picking on you. Yeah, you could have destroyed him with some sick burns, but you held your tongue out of consideration for his gigantic ego. Half the school thought you two liked each other and the other knew that yall were mortal enemies. The thought of you liking Renjun made you want to stab your eyes out with sporks. However, you couldnt deny that Renjun was hot. Like, this boi had been hand sculpted by God himself. Seriously damn. You had to give credit where credit is due. But, as I said, you do NOT like Renjun.

After the rumors started that you and Renjun like each other, you tried to react less to him. You no longer argued and paid little attention to him. Much to your dismay, your teachers seemed to find your ability to ignore Renjun as a good quality that most of the others students lacked. This resulted in you sitting by him in most of your classes. But obviously you didnt let this affect you. You just had to sit there and pay him no attention. Easier said than done. You were always trying to not notice him, despite always looking at him because hes hot.

One night your friend, let's call her Ryn for fun, forced you out to a party and then ditched you. Skew you, Ryn! You weren't the biggest fan of parties so you sat on one of the counters in the kitchen, by yourself, patiently waiting for Ryn to be ready to leave. That's when something caught your eye. Renjun was also alone in the kitchen and he was looking right at you. Or at least, you thought he was, but he could easily be looking at something else. Why would he be looking at you anyways? You looked back down at your drink, avoiding any eye contact with the boy you have to ignore.

By this point in the year, you had gotten very good at ignoring him. You didnt even notice when he started walking towards you. And you didnt even react when he grabbed your hand. You paid him no attention as he led you into an empty room. All you had to do was not pay attention to Renjun. That's seriously all you had to do. So you didnt pay attention to him as he leaned towards you. But he grabbed your chin, causing you to look him in the eye. Shoot. Just dont react, you thought to yourself. You tried not reacting as he leaned closer and closer. Until..

He stopped? "Do you want me to stop" he asks innocently, a blush leaking onto his cheeks. Okay stay calm, just dont do anything rash- You tried to tell yourself but instead you grabbed his shirt in a fist and pulled him until the little space between you was now nonexistent. His lips were sweet, like sugar. They were as forbidden as they were sweet. And you were completely aware that you should not be doing what you were doing. Yet, you did not pull away. Thankfully, neither did Renjun. He just wrapped his arms around your waist and held you as close as he physically could.

The next thing you knew, your phone was going off. The musical tone signaling a call from Ryn who, to your dismay, was ready to leave and looking for you. Renjun took a small step back, wiped his mouth, and walked out of the room you to had shared. He didnt even say anything. Confused, you left as well, in search of Ryn. You found her by the door and explained everything that happened on your way home. Leaving out no details, it was a bit hard to believe considering Renjun was known to be you mortal enemy. What will happen when you sit by him in class tomorrow? Will he say something about it to embarrass you? Or will he stay quiet and pretend it never happened? Oh gosh, what if he says it was only because he was drunk? Thinking back to your memory, his mouth didnt taste like alcohol at all, so even if he tried to blame it on drinking, it wasnt feasible. But now you were thinking about kissing him,,, and that thought didnt go away easily.

~

You walk into your first class to see him already there surrounded by the other boys. You had planned to avoid eye contact and avoid him in general because you were worried about what he would do. But you locked eyes and to your dismay, he just smirked. Dare you say, is was a really handsome smirk too. Luckily nobody was paying attention so this interaction went unnoticed as you sat at your seat beside him.

Half the class went by without mishap and you hoped you would never have to deal with Renjun again. However, you are not that fortunate. He slid you a note discreetly.

Y/N, for acting like you have a pole stuck up your ass 80% of the time, you're a surprisingly good kisser ;)

You tried so hard to hold yourself back. To not react. To go back to how things were with Renjun as your enemy of mutual disgust. But you could help but write back.

Only 80% of the time?

You busy later?

I am completely free tonight

Good, my family is out for the night

And then the bell rang and you were off to your next class which you didnt have with Renjun. Before you knew it the school day had ended and you were rushing to leave. Maybe you were going too fast because you didnt see the person in front of you until after you ran right into them.

"Y/N! Can you fucking watch where you're going?!" Renjun said. You were taken aback by his antics because he was acting so weird in your classes today. I guess this makes it seem like nothing has changed between you two to the rest of the school.

"Watch where you're going, Renjun, you stepped out right in front of me." You spit back before you walked away without another word.

~

You arrived at Renjuns house around 5. When he opened the door, you could tell he was nervous but tried to play it off. You wanted to kiss him again, but he hadnt made another move. Yolo! You grabbed his shirt in a fist and aggressively pulled him towards you. His eyes were big, surprised by your actions. He kissed you back more delicately than before. It was as if he was no longer fueled by the lust he had at the party.

Renjun was the first to pull away. His face was bright red as he invited you further into his home. "Are you hungry?" He asked. "Yeah, maybe a little" He then went to his kitchen and got some snacks. "Listen, Y/N" his voice was shakey, "I know that we made out at that party and we havent really gotten along before but what I'm trying to say is" his eyes fell to the snacks in his hands, "I actually like you." Your jaw actually hit the floor when he admitted this. Obviously your reaction didnt do much help for Renjuns nerves. He scratched the back of his head when you didnt respond and spoke again, " I know I act like I hate you and that's because you hate me, dont you? So I'm not expecting you to like me, but I just thought I'd let you know the truth."

You couldnt believe what the boy was saying. Right now he looked so shy and small compared to his usual cocky, confident self. "I dont hate you, Renjun." You tried to say but it only came out in a whisper. His face lit up. "You dont, well then I have a slight chance- shit I meant to say that in my head" Yeah, this boy is supposed to be your enemy, but you have always found him attractive. You spent years pretending to hate each other because you both thought that the other did. Maybe Renjun isnt as bad as you thought. You decided to see where this would take you. "Do you wanna watch a movie?"

Again, his face lit up as he smiled at you handing you a bag of gummy worms, "Thatd be great."

You two wound up picking out a movie that you barely remember because you're sitting very close to Renjun. You cant help but stare, and your heart flutters a little. He turns to look at you, catching you off guard, meeting eyes. This time he took the initiative and grabbed either side of your face and kissed you softly. You wrapped your arms around his neck with your hands playing with his hair. Before you knew it the movie had ended and the credits were playing. You pulled away from Renjun a little dizzy from the lack of oxygen while you had been kissing. You didnt want to leave but it was a school night and you had to get home. You smiled shyly as you stood from his couch. "I'll see you tomorrow." Renjun nodded and followed you out, watching as you drove away.

~

The next day when you entered your class, Renjun was already there, again. But this time he got up from the group of boys and came over to you. He smirked before grabbing your hand and kissing your cheek. Queue everyone's reactions ( .O.) You knew he was just playing it cool but you were still blushing like you have too much blood in your body and it happens to all be in your face. Some people claimed they called it or knew or whatever. None of that was important to you two.

Yall would go on cute dates pretty much anywhere. The park, a picnic, the arcade, literally anywhere was fun with Renjun. Sometimes you'll even go to his house just to nap and cling onto him. Due to this, Renjun bought you a big plushie to hug for whenever he cant be there for you. What I'm trying to say here is that you two are goals and cute af and so on.

[ajanefantasy]

Book Love part 4 - Gin (Brothers  Book 2)

Gin was the fourth novel in the fantasy world of Dahrè, and second of the Brothers Trilogy. During this journey of writing Gin, I realized that Gin’s book was not going to be the final story of the Brothers. There was the matter of their gaining vengeance for the murder of their parents and that just was not going to fit into two books. But that’s for next time.

Gin took a bit to get settled on a direction, to find exactly who Gin and Torin were. Gin was a complicated fellow who didn’t quite know how to deal with his various control issues, the anger he felt towards his brother, or the abuse Gin lived through as a boy. And Torin, I knew a little bit about him from writing Rum, but he, well, he surprised me. Turned out Torin was not the sort of man to put up with Gin’s shit, which surprised Gin as well. Gin thought Torin’s temperament would match Torin’s physical appearance, soft and fluffy. But Torin took control of the relationship within moments of Gin freeing Torin from the hold of his boat (Gin had kidnapped him as a pirate does when he finds treasure) and boy did Gin like it. He liked it a lot. Gin just didn’t know how to deal with how much he liked it and didn’t always handle it well. He was captain of his own boat, shouldn’t he be the one giving orders? But Gin was helpless against Torin’s orders and well, the feel of Torin’s hard hand against his ass...

Gin’s book was ultimately about family, both found and blood, and what folks do for family. He meets his father’s youngest brother, Rune Stone, as well Rune’s mother, Jasper Stone. Gin’s grandfather, Ethen tyr Vens, makes an appearance. Red Boot’s son, Rigger Boots is a complication, and Rigger’s lad, Gator Boots is found in the middle of nowhere. Plus a few other characters that help make up the beginning of Gin’s crew. And in the middle of all this, he learns a surprising secret about his father and makes an even bigger enemy of the man who tormented him and Rum as children.

-- Fun fact, Gin was originally called Fig Py. But I realized that didn’t sound very piratey and was easily changed except for when it came to a very drunk Rum calling him Figgie Pie.

With all that said:

[Image ID: Image of two, three mast ships, each tied to an island dock, the sky at early morning light, with the word Gin written across it]

Returning to his childhood home, Gin seeks to end the ryn Ferths’ attempts upon his and his brother's lives. Finding his first love in the employ of his enemy, the only thing that matters is stealing away his lost treasure. With his enemy's fortune gone, Torin’s revenge is finally complete. Just as he is about to make his escape, the boy who stole his first kiss reappears in his life, endangering all he worked for. Book Two of The Brothers Trilogy Story contains strong language and explicit sex 110,000 Words

Amazon / Smashwords / Kobo / Apple  / BN

A preview of Gin can be found under the cut.

Gin stared at the angry, disheveled man in the hold cage. After all these years, Torin still held a fascination for him. Even with the indignation in his yiska eyes, the high color in his full cheeks, he found him desirable. The pinch of his lips brought about a sharp want to kiss him again.

“What sort of man have you become, that you would kidnap me and have me placed within the hold of a boat with naught but a chamber pot and rats for company?” Torin crossed his arms over his chest as he stood with as much pride as he could muster after the restless night.

Besides the rats keeping him up, worry over the activities left behind kept his mind full. Had Doshan searched him out at his townhouse to learn of what went on at the docks, especially after he never returned? Had Doshan discovered that the dwelling was mostly vacant with belongings packed and ready for transport? If he had…

“My apologies, love.” Gin opened the hold cage and entered the tiny space, pleased when his treasure stayed his ground. “Never did I mean to cause ye discomfort.” He touched a fallen curl of hair resting upon Torin’s forehead, then brushed the back of his fingers over a stubbly cheek. “I had expected Master Stone to return ye to my cabin, not place ye below deck.”

Torin narrowed his eyes. “What do you want with me? I am no more than…”

“A fine treasure do ye make for many reasons.” He thought he could listen to Torin’s Lyndian brogue for hours, years, forever, and never grow tired of it, despite having grown to hate the rolling R’s and dipping U’s as much as he hated chocolate, but then he had always been contrary. He motioned to the leather case in the corner of the hold cage. “It contains financial papers for the ryn Ferth empire, aye?”

“Yes. So you took me because I hold the knowledge of their accounts and ledgers?”

“Aye. Since rumors abound that all that is ryn Ferth is truly mine, ‘twould seem most prudent to take the one most familiar with it.”

“And the other reasons?” Torin continued to hold his ground, refusing to fear this man before him despite the lack of civility in his eyes. He knew that Kynon…Gin would never hurt him, it was easy to see by the look in his eyes, but his knowledge came by other means. Actually he was uncertain why he asked, other than to make Kynon…Gin confirm his Reading.

Gin stepped up to the other man, palmed his cheeks, and kissed him. He liked that Torin was ever so slightly shorter than he, liking tilting Torin’s face up, even if it was just by half an inch.

Lifting his head, he rubbed his thumbs over the other man’s lips, and smiled. “In need ye are of cleaning yer teeth, love.”

Not knowing what he felt about the kiss, he stayed angry. “Of course I am need of cleaning my teeth, pirate, but stuck I am down in this hold and…”

“Come then, grab yer case, and we shall adjourn to my quarters so that ye may clean them, and if ye desire, ye may bathe as well. ‘Twill not be said that I am an ungracious host.”

“And what of clothing? What of all my belongings?”

Gin brushed his fingers over Torin’s stubbly cheek once more. “All will be well.”

“Naught will be well, especially when Doshan discovers my disappearance. ‘Tis most likely you have ruined everything!” Torin shoved past Kyn…Gin and ascended the ladder out of the hold, his case gripped tightly in his hand. Right outside the captain’s quarters, a large hand pulled him around. Tired of the manhandling, he jerked his arm away with thoughts of bashing whoever it was with his case.

Seeing Ky…Gin, he offered his haughtiest expression. “What is your issue?”

“Why does it matter if Doshan discovers ye gone? Will he worry over the financial knowledge ye hold? For if so, good, ‘tis what he deserves and worse.”

“Because he will destroy my belongings and there are things that I possess that rather would I not see…” Torin closed his eyes and pulled in several deep breaths. “Not that you would care, would you, the selfish bastard that you are?” Before K…Gin could answer, he whipped around and entered the cabin, sending the door flying closed behind him with hopes of hitting the horrible pirate. He cared not if it was undignified to do so.

Gin caught the door and softly closed it behind him, used to dealing with temper displays such as Torin’s—Rum behaved in such a manner at times. “Why would he destroy yer belongings? It makes nae sense to do so, just because ye disappear…”

Then again, mayhap it would be exactly like Doshan to do so; he was the vindictive sort. Still…

“Because already were my belongings packed, ready to be shipped, and never did I tell him I was leaving Lynda, let alone leaving his employ.”

“Where were ye going?”

“If you must know, already did I plan to seek passage from your captain, Golden Boots. A letter I possess of introduction and explanation from Ellis so that he would allow me on board.”

“Already were ye planning to travel to Ganos…with Capt’n Boots?”

“Yes! And now ruined it you have. Ruined everything!”

–

© A. Jane

Book Love:  Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9

[taste-in-music]

Heard It In A Past Life is here and I’m going to talk about it...

I’ve been stanning Maggie Rogers for about a year now since I came across Alaska on YouTube and then her debut EP Now That The Light Is Fading. This album was one of most anticipated releases of 2019 (which you can read about here.) Let’s do this.

Give A Little

I’ve heard this song so many times and it’s still a bop. The feel of it is just so summery and refreshing.

This song makes me want to throw on a pair of distressed cutoff shorts and a crop top and go to the park with a big group of friends.

That DRUM LINE IS SO INFECTIOUS. A+ on the drum work. 

The lyrics on this track it elevates a simple sentiment into the stratosphere. She’s such a lyricist, every song is like a poem. 

If a nectarine was a song, this is what it would sound like. 

Overnight

The minimal instrumental does allow her voice and the lyrics to shine. 

I like the harmonizing at the back end of the chorus.

There isn’t much to say about this song right now. It’s fine, it’s just not one of my favorites. I have a feeling this track is going to be a grower, but as of right now I’m kind a meh on it. 

The Knife

This song is like if Give A Little and Overnight has a baby. (It even has the words “give a little” in it lmao.)

There’s a chill atmosphere to this, and I’m in love with that blocky percussion.

Her vocal delivery remains pretty constant, and there isn’t a melody that’s especially catchy. It makes the song feel a tad bland. 

The line “The knife of insight tore its way in me / A brash collision without sympathy” is so good? Like? All these lyrics? Are so good?

I’m catching lots of light and dark imagery on this album. Themes, babey!

The production fucking slaps, though. She’s really bringing it with the production on this album. 

This is also going to be a grower. I’m liking it a bit more every time I listen to it. 

Alaska

If you haven’t heard this song by now, I want to know the exact type of the rock that you live under. 

That little “ʙᴜᴍ ʙᴜᴍ  ᵇᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᵐ ʙᴜᴍ ᵇᵘᵐ” that plays. You know what I’m talking about, right? Just that little riff. 

This song is downright magical. It hasn’t faded since the first listen at all. The production is effervescent and bouncy, the lyrics are simple but somehow manage to convey a lot, and the song as a whole is so comforting and even a bit nostalgic, (nostalgic for what, I don’t know.) 

Fuck it, I’m playing this again before moving on. 

Light On

Maggie Rogers has written about how vulnerable this song is, and I really appreciate that. 

It’s so soothing sounding, I just want to float away down a river.

I love those little “light on, light on”s in the background of the chorus

Also this song hit #1 on the Billboard Adult Alternative charts! 

Past Life

Wait a second! I’m getting Here is Home by Ryn Weaver vibes.

This song is more stripped back and acoustic. The production is very minimal, (just a piano, maybe? there’s a piano solo too,) and it gives her voice room to breathe. This is a whole piano ballad!

It just... feels like she’s holding back a bit? Especially near the end? The piano gets more soaring and grand but her voice doesn’t let loose like I know it can. Because of that this song ends up with less of an impact than it could’ve had. 

Say It

How many times can I say the production is great? The production is great. Those scales dancing around the background, (I can’t tell if it’s a piano or a pan flute) are awesome.

Like The Knife, the one-note vocal delivery on the verses and chorus is a bit underwhelming. 

That pre-chorus where she leans into the melody is lovely, though. So are her backing vocals. She needs to take advantage of how powerful her voice is!

On + Off

This song has been the shit since I first heard her EP. God, I love it.

That PIANO CHORD RIF! It punches me in the face and it makes me feel alive!

That chorus just hits you like a ton of bricks, and I can’t put my finger on exactly why. I think it’s how her voice is layered. 

I can’t call this a bop. No, Give A Little is a bop. This song is a full on jam.

Fallingwater

A problem I have with this song is that it feels a lot longer than it actually is, and it gets kind of tired in its last third. 

I love this song, I really do, but after seeing the raw power she brought to it during her SNL performance, I don’t know if I’ll ever be satisfied by the studio version again.

Still great though, don’t get me wrong.

Retrograde

THE GODDAMN PRODUCTION SOUNDS LIKE A CHOIR OF ANGELS!

I was instantly struck by this song. I knew right away that it was going to be a new favorite from her. 

The only thing holding this song back is that her vocals sound kind of weak at the start, (maybe they’re too far back in the mix or something,) but they do build up a bit in the latter half of the song. 

More light/darkness imagery with the whole “Come out of the darkness” mantra

I can’t get over the production. It’s so_ggoodd_d

Burning

Are there wind chimes on this thing? I can’t tell. I’m just going to say that the production once again slaps. 

Her voice really lets loose on this chorus. That’s it! No more holding back!

“I’m in love, I’m alive, I’m burning.” asklghkldsaga beuatiful

Back In My Body

I feel like this song ties back to Light On in dealing with anxiety and feeling lost. There’s also mentions of toxic thoughts, “But all that I am hearing in the poem of my mind / Are silent twisted words finding their way in every line.” It’s about feeling like you’re losing yourself, but then finding the strength to come out the other end even stronger. 

“And all along the highway, there's a tiny whispering sound / Saying I could find you in the dark of any town.” I just fucking love the sound of that line. 

Is this a synthesizer solo? Whatever it is, I’m here for it, especially how it pairs with all this vocal layering.

C’mon, build up to that final chorus. Unleash it all! HELL YEAH. Yes Maggie! There’s the power and bombast I know you had in you!

This is a damn masterpiece.

What a closing track! Is this my favorite song on the album? It might be, we’ll have to see. 

Add this to the list of songs that have made me cry...

My Thoughts Summarized: First order of business, the production on this album is the standout. The instrumentals and harmonized vocal layering are lush and intricate and so pleasing to the ear. According to genius.com, the producers on this album were Doug Schadt, Greg Kurstin, Kid Harpoon, Maggie Rogers, Nick Das, Ricky Reed, and Rostam. To them I say:

Overall, I’m feeling a bit conflicted. Some of the songs on this album are stellar, especially the singles, songs from the EP, and later tracks, (Back In My Body blew me away,) but other tracks, especially at the start/middle, fall a bit flat for me (they’re not bad per se, just not all that memorable.) There’s a sense of restraint to this album, like she isn’t letting her voice cut loose. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I don’t like her singing. Quite the contrary: her voice is awesome, and at times I feel like it does reach its potential. It’s a solid first step, and what I can say for sure is that this album establishes that Maggie Rogers has endless potential to grow as an artist. 

You go to town with that cape, Maggie! Awesome work on your debut project, and best of luck in your future endeavors. 

Tell your friends, your family, and your dog about this album. This woman needs more recognition. What did you think of Heard It In A Past Life? Comment or reblog with your thoughts, I’m excited to hear what you think. 

[phasestuff]

3 OC Songs

Tagged by: @dingoat 

Tagging: @eldstunga (Ryn, duh) @erinmccomics (Khim)

Character Name: Vyr’i

Race: Shi’ido

I don’t think there’s much by the way of rules for this just share three songs that are relevant to your char/s and explain as much or little as you want idk??

First up: Mask On (Joyner Lucas)

I'm 'bout to put my mask on, my mask on

Stick all these industry (Yeah, not gonna write that word) up until they cash gone

I know you high for the moment but that shit don't last long

I know you wasn't expecting this shit but you asked for it

          Vy, as a person, rarely if ever appears as ‘herself’. She’s in a state of transformation 99.999% of the time, appearing as a Chiss Female in her early to mid 20s. She has a strong dislike for the Empire and Republic for their practices, particularly the Empire which uses and validates war as an effective means of generating a sustainable economy. And given her lifespan of roughly 500 years, she knows and has to live with the fact that she will see people come down from that way of life and see it for what it is. She puts on the ‘mask’ of another person because at its core, she won’t even put herself or her people in a situation where she has to deal with corruption on that level. 

Secondly: Caravan (Rush)

On a road lit only by fire

Going where I want

Instead of where I should

I peer out at the passing shadows 

             The galaxy is always in war. Not a moment in the century and a half in her life has it been without war. Her people for the most part stay on her homeworld and in most of their minds, that’s where Vy should be. But she doesn’t want that life. She wants a life that’s her own. It doesnt have to be great - or even notable. It just has to be hers. But because of who and what she is - she has to experience it from the shadows. 

And thirdly, and probably the most angst heavy part of this: Don’t Fear the Reaper (BOC)

Love of two is one 

Here but now they're gone 

Came the last night of sadness 

And it was clear she couldn't go on 

              She only really ‘loved’ one person. They were like a mother, then a sister, then a part of Vy herself. It’s the person who she mimics, and chooses to appear as. The one person who she’ll always choose to remember. The person who after Vy got off her homeworld at a young age cared for her. Treated her as her own and raised her. Their name was Paethi (short for Tlic'paethi'oazutt) and they were just one person. One Chiss who for a good seventy five years took care and guided Vyr’i up to her last moments. Vyr’i had just turned 25, almost an infant for Shi’ido - Paethi found her hiding in the back of a cargo ship. Barely able to transform into just about anything, she took Vy into her home. Taught her basic, treated her with kindness and gentleness. And through the wars and uprisings she took Vyr’i by the hand and guided her through all of it. And when her life neared a close, and Vyr’i was nearing her 100th birthday as an adult, they sat back where it began. On a ship, passing the light of a violet star. Vyr’i an adult woman, and Paethi an elder, in her last moments surrounded by those she considered family dying of age. The feeling of having someone so close and a part of you slipping away is like feeling your entire body being ripped in half. She was a part of Vy, in a way she couldn’t quite explain. They laughed, cried, bled and healed for seventy whole years. And in the last moments of her life, Vy knew who she was. The person she knew and held close couldn’t go on. It just wouldn’t happen. But she could help those memories, and that night live on so that her spirit never died out. She knew she was the person Paethi had helped raised, and she remembered that. Held onto it. And turned her appearance into the first person who had ever helped her, to continue that. So that Paethi’s face would be known to more than one as a face that helped others when they needed it most. So when she died, she also was reborn. Vy walked out, appearing as her. And she continues to do so fifty years after her death. 

[persephoneofhades]

blakebat replied to your post “The OT3 feels were strong in this episode, but I can’t help but be...”

personally, i'm more drawn to maddie and ryn because (theres more tension there imo) even tho we know ryns feelings for the both of them are true, ben was sang to. maybe thats why hes drawn to her. while hes was being affected by that, instead of opening up to maddie, he kept his troubles to himself and even pulled away from her because he was so obsessed. and this didn't happen just once. it happened twice. when he first found her and then when she went away.

and then theres the fact even if he doesnt directly hurt mermaids and is long run trying to help them, he supports his friends who do. instead of talking to them like he said he would, he procrastinated until it was too late and people were hurt. ik hes good deep down, but hes been walking the line.

tho i would love for all of them to end up together and for bens issues to be addressed and learned from instead of ignored.

This is such a late response and I’m so sorry, but RL got way in the way with my job and I wasn’t able to actually even WATCH the last three episodes so I didn’t feel like I could answer this without having seen them even though I knew kinda vaguely what had happened.

That being said, I’m all caught up now and Siren may be over for now (I even changed my url to reflect it), but I’m answering this anyway.

I understand where you’re coming from and to a certain extent, I think the show sorta means for you to feel this way.

Ben’s feelings are very clearly made out to be not completely natural and even potentially harmful, both to himself and to others. That’s made ESPECIALLY clear in the last few episodes. So it’s less that Ben’s “issues” are addressed and need to be learned from as much as Ben needs a cure that doesn’t yet exist since he’s essentially been accidentally given a few doses of a drug that he’s deathly allergic to and is now in withdrawal from.

He’s a flawed character, sure, but a majority of his actions from about episode 5 on were influenced by the song. You could also make a pretty strong argument that he was influenced from the second he heard the song back in episode 1, but as Maddie says, he was still acting like himself then and really only started changing after Ryn left at the end of episode 4, the first time he went into withdrawal.

Maddie’s relationship with Ryn is, by comparison, more genuine and healthy because there is no outside influence, however innocently meant. Maddie knows where her boundaries are and has been able to keep a clearer head this entire time which explains why Ben was so flustered by the kisses and Maddie wasn’t. It meant something else to Ben, it probably felt like something else to Ben.

Which isn’t to say he’s completely excused for all of his actions, but the poor dude has a pretty good explanation for his behavior and it’s not like he MEANT to be drugged in the first place. He saw a girl who had just been attacked and tried to help her and got drugged for his troubles because she was curious about him and happened not to be human. 

His actions on the boat I think you’re looking at in a way I don’t really understand, though.

Ben had just found out that there was a military boat on the water that was trying to hunt the mermaids. He knows they’re trying to lure in Ryn’s sister and Ryn by proxy likely. He runs out to find Xander about to set sail ALSO to hunt mermaids. Ben knows that this is a doubly dangerous journey due to both the mermaids AND the military and he also knows that he can’t actually say that to Xander (or Chris or Calvin who were also in the vicinity and would have likely demanded an explanation) so he does the best he can at the time and just goes along to hopefully help everyone avoid a terrible outcome.

And he fails. Because he is vastly outnumbered and doesn’t totally know what he’s dealing with, but he’s doing the best he can with what information and resources he has. What would have happened if he HADN’T gone with them and “supported” them as you claim? They’d all have been killed, all four of them: Sean, Xander, Calvin, and Chris. They MIGHT have believed him if he told them the whole story, but they clearly already believed there was a mermaid out there and were planning to go exactly BECAUSE of that so confirming their theory wasn’t going to keep them off the water. He had NO good options. None. He goes because he’s now the only one on that boat who has any clue what they might be going up against and the fact he’s still unprepared for the severity of what’s actually out there is not his fault.

I’m not sure what you think Ben should have done in this situation that would have changed anything for the better because I can’t think of one. 

It’s very very rare that I feel the need to defend the white boy in a show this strongly, but Ben just feels like one of the rare straight white male protagonist characters that isn’t a complete pile of shit. 

Maddie is amazing and I love her dynamic with Ryn a lot and I love her relationship with Ben and I love how she stands up for herself and isn’t afraid to call off her relationship with Ben when she can tell it’s no longer working for her even though she loves him. I’d love to see Maddie’s background explored more and see more of her relationship with her dad and continue to grow her relationship with Ryn as well as Ben (especially since Ryn is trying to stay away from Ben, she may end up having to spend more time with Maddie by process of elimination). I’d love to see Maddie teaching Ryn about how to be human now that she’s here to stay. I’d love to see Maddie showing Ryn around town and going shopping with her and getting her to help at the marine research center. I’ve got a lot of hopes for Maddie and Maddie/Ryn.

I’m just not against it including Ben as well and I don’t feel quite as negatively towards him as you do. I just want him to get better and see his relationship with Ryn grow more from there since I do believe he has genuine feelings for her that weren’t all influenced by the song. I want to see him rebuild the trust between himself and Maddie and slowly integrate all three of them together. I want to see him build up a relationship with Helen now that he knows they’re family. I want to see more of his friendship with Xander especially now that Xander is in the know and will know exactly what Ryn is and may be Ben’s only support without Maddie and Ryn. I want to see the two of them team up to help protect Ryn when Calvin’s stunt with the news comes out.

This show has a lot of potential with ALL of its characters, Ben included. So while I understand where you’re coming from, I can’t agree with you.

[xxx420swagatron69xxx]

30 Song Challenge

Im not doing 30 days of this so here it is all at once. Enjoy and message me if you actually listen to them, I wanna hear how people like this music,

https://open.spotify.com/user/brunotech69/playlist/5qZfg7ML5vJHF5fR6uuXgE?si=RaUsUp5zQEWksu3WElLhlg

(Two youtube only songs)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SjENPPTzybQ

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=calHOKucYMw

 1.      Pacific Blue – Emily Zeck

a.      Lots of ocean analogys and a nice cute love song

2.      8teen – Khalid

 One of the grooviest songs on his amazing album.

3.      Old Friends – Pinegrove

 Summers are hella better for me stress-wise, but this song

4.      Past Lives – BORNS

  Its an amazing song and I hate how good it is. I listened to it over winter break after my gf at the time recommended it to me. Shame she was cheating on me the entire time.

5.      New Wave – Quinn XCII

  Found it recently and I can just imagine people in dance circles to this song

6.      Wasted – Tiesto

  It’s a popular song but I have small memories with friends of us belting this song out or dancing like idiots. It’s hard to miss a good time to just bounce up and down and scream this to whoever is listening

7.      Odd Look – Kavinsky/Weeknd

  VERY Sexual song but the bass slaps and it’s such a good road trip song when you are alone

8.      Doses & Mimosas – Cherub

   More than drugs and alcohol, this song talks about addiction and drowning your problems in substances. The second verse is my absolute favorite and the overall happy tone distracts from his cry for help. That’s why I like the song a lot.

9.      New Eyes – Cbdb

  I cant sing this with a frown. Very hopeful and just me complimenting the girl im with

10.  Like Real People Do – Hozier

  This song was shown to me by someone I still care a lot about at the right time where I needed to hear this. Its about being “saved” by someone but then worrying about why they were there looking. Mutual care and worrying about others doesn’t mean you aren’t worrying about yourself as well. This is one of three songs that will always get me sad and breathe heavy and wish things were better.

11.  Barcelona – George Ezra

  I spent a lot of my life abroad in Portugal, away from friends and ‘home’. This song deals with long distance and its George Ezra, so its just smooth to listen to

12.  Sarabande Suite (Aeternae) - Globus

   I did a lot of nerd shit and would listen to “epic” music while painting or building or video editing. This song has epic parts but has more nostalgic emphasis to me. I can see a trailer for some sci-fi movie being made out of this song.

13. Dancing in the moonlight – King Harvest

   Before itunes and spotify, my mom made a cd mixtape of good barbecue songs and this was on it. I used to hate it but its just so good now in hindsight and this is the best version so don’t @ me with other versions.

14.  Overwhelmed – Tim Mcmorris

  I made a movie for someone special using this song but it’s just so full of love. I want to feel safe with someone to this song or a slow dance without worrying about it being too gushy

15.  Golden Slumbers – Elbow (originally by Beatles)

  From a Christmas commercial but its very nice and I pet a corgi to this song once.

16.  TongueTied – Group love

 Everyone knows this song but its very feel good and so fun to yell in a car or group of people having drinks.

17.  Elephant Love Medley – Moulin Rouge

  Moulin Rouge is my fav musical and this duo is memorized forever in my head and all I need is a partner really. Also more people should see Moulin Rouge.

18.  Bombastic – Shaggy

  The best song I could find that came out in 1995

19.  Snow in Newark – Ryan Hemsworth

  Newark is a very grey, industrial city in New Jersey, but also where the airport is. If yall didn’t know, I grew up in NJ and when I left it for the last time ever (college), it was snowing in the Newark airport. This song deals with him living his touring life but just wanting to be back home to someone(?). NJ is nothing special but I left a lot of friends forever. Idk if I’ll ever see some of them again and it shouldn’t worry me as much as it does. ATL is so much more diverse and colorful and I’m not the same person I was when I left NJ, but that doesn’t stop me from sometimes wanting to be back.

20.  Goodnight, Travel Well – The Killers

 This was written for the loss of his grandma I think, but it’s a whole song that deals with loss and accepting that there is nothing else you can say or do now. There’s lots of things I wish I could take back, but now its best if I don’t reach out at all. It hurts but its for the best.

21.  Pierre – Ryn Weaver

   Beautiful voice, fun lyrics. Its about dating/sleeping around but mind is on one person and just like oof.

22.  Love – Kid Cudi

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SjENPPTzybQ

 This song I cant find anywhere besides youtube because he never released it like an idiot. The chorus is the best I have ever heard and I

23.  Would You Go with Me – Josh Turner

  If I recommend a country song, and your immediate reaction is “oh I HATE country, it’s so DUMB. How COULD you enjoy it?” first of all fuck you and your Hamilton loving ass but if you want to listen to one (1) country song, this guy has an amazingly deep voice and I have a lot of good memories to this song and good lovey-dovey feels.

24.  Shots- LMFAO

  I loved LMFAO as a kid (like many people) and shots is just such a simple feel good song and if you say you never at one point enjoyed their music at a party, you are weak and lying.

25.  Waiting for the End – Linkin Park

a.      His suicide really punched me in the gut and I had to excuse myself from work to cry a bit. I always enjoyed the less scream-y Linkin Park songs and there are a lot of messages I hope people can relate to and get help for.

26.  I Belong to you – Ben Abraham

  Simple and sweet, he sings about knowing that one day he will fall in love. He knows he doesn’t have one now, but isn’t worried and is sure that there is someone out there he will meet one day. The whole idea of belonging to a bright future with someone is so nice and I can only for it myself

27.  Hero – Regina Spektor

  From the best scene in 500 Days of Summer, this song plays when the overly romantic guy gets drunk and falls into depression after seeing the girl he has been creepily doting on with someone else she didn’t tell him about. For me, its just when Regina spektor keeps saying “cheating cheating cheating” that gets me.

28.  Dog Problems or Oceans – The Format

 The Format (aka early version of Fun.) has some bangers and these two are my fav from the album Dog Problems. Dog problems is about being cheated on and Oceans is about wishing you were on the west coast to see your loved one again. I couldn’t choose one so theres both.

29.  Baby mine – Dumbo

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=calHOKucYMw

  My mom would sing this to me and my brother sometimes at bedtime when we were really young. Things were so much simpler and mental illness wasn’t even a thing I was worried about. I have a shitty relationship with my family now, and I really wish I could make things better without sacrificing who I am in the process.

30.  Need – Pinegrove

   If I could find a song 100% about me, it is absolutely this song. It goes into mental struggles, “wanting” things that are necessary, getting stuck inside in your mind, and its all in a begging and pleading tone. I really really fucking wish I didn’t ‘need’ things like social interaction or affirmation or mutual sexual attraction. If you have to listen to one, definitely make it this one.

  message me if you give any a listen. thanks

[phandomsecretvalentines]

(darling don't be afraid) i will love you

Happy late-vday-early-bday @ryn-exe (can’t tag?)!!! Hope u enjoy, soz if it’s not good but i’m not so amazing(phil)

This is 2.1k words. There’s a bit of dream-violence (not in detail) and a lot of anxiety and fear so if u don’t like that stuff!! Tell me!!!! And i’ll write something else for you, i don’t mind. (You didn’t say anything i wasn’t supposed to write but idk). I’d describe this as hurt/comfort i think lmaooo

Basic summery i wrote fo myself: Dan and Phil, and how they deal with each other’s 3am fears (2009 vs 2018, now)

From a pitch-hitter 💓💓

——

[Saturday; 10.26.09; 03:37]

——

Dan<33 (03:37): phil? :[

Phil (03:45): Yrha

Phil (03:47): Sorry!! Yeah**

Phil (03:47): Why are you up so early/late?? I barely woke up

Dan<33 (03:49): sorry i woke you :/

Dan<33 (03:50): my parents went away for a bit and i’m home alone and i cant turn off the lights cuz im too scared

Dan<33 (03:51): and i can’t sleep so bad even hugging pillow cant help mee :[[

Dan<33 (03:52): so im sitting in the hallway with every light im the house on alone in just my pants

Dan<33 (03:52): and i was a idiot and missed you so i woke you up at so late and now ur gonna hate me crap

Dan<33 (03:52): sorry

Phil (03:53): I’ll never ever hate you dan!!! <<33333333333333

Phil (03:53): I’m sorry ur so scared :[[ I wish I was there to be strong and protect u again

Dan<33 (03:54): i wish you were here too

Phil (03:54): :[ <3

Dan<33 (03:58): CDAP PHIL I THINK I HESRF A GHOST

Dan<33 (03:58): IR MONSTER

Dan<33 (03:58): FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

Phil (03:59): Dan oh my gosh are you okay??

Dan<33 (04:00): yeah i think but

Dan<33 (04:00): i heard something phil

Dan<33 (04:01): im scared

Dan<33 (04:02): i can’t believe im 18 and i’m actually sobbing out of fear alone and naked in a hallway over a fucking noise

Dan<33 (04:02): to my boyfriend

Dan<33 (04:02): on skype

Dan<33 (04:03): fuck

Phil (04:03): Dan :[[ i’m so sorry

Dan<33 (04:04): it’s not your fault

Phil (04:04): Want me to call you??? (If u want)

Dan<33 (04:05): can we skype instead?

Dan<33 (04:05): i want to see your face plz <3

Dan<33 (04:05): if thats okay

Phil (04:06): That’s fine! One sec plz :]

——

[Phil would like to add Dan<33 to a call (02:33)]

[Accept] [Decline]

[Accepted]

——

When Dan answered the call, his face was red and puffed and wet. Even through the crap-pixel screen quality, Phil could see that.

“Hey,” Dan’s voice broke.

“Hi,”

Dan was shaking slightly.

His face suddenly flushed, “Oh shit, I forgot – I’m, uh, in only pants. In front of you. Crap.”

“It’s fine, I’ve seen you shirtless before.” Phil smiled what he hoped was reassuringly, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah — I mean, I am now. I guess.”

“Are you cold?”

“Kinda.” Dan admitted.

“Want to go to bed?”

“My room is too dark –”

“Well, I’ll be there, wont I? And I’ll protect you from everything bad in the dark.”

“You’re not really here.”

“Only ever a few hours away. And if worst comes to worst, I have the police line and the monster-killer line. So you’ll be super safe.”

Dan muffled a giggle, “Yeah, okay.”

He shuffled up off the floor, and made his way into his bedroom, clutching the laptop tightly.

“I dunno if I’m getting any sleep tonight, honestly.”

“You will! You can cuddle your pillow and I’ll tell you stories until the demons go away and you can sleep.”

“I’m not five, Phil.” There was no malice in his reply.

“You don’t need to be five for any of that to be true.” Phil said, serious tone.

“Okay,”

Minutes later, Dan was snuggled under his covers; hugging a pillow tightly as he listened to Phil go on about some guy at the market.

“Then, he pulled a hot dog out of his left pocket. Who keeps a single —”

“Phil?” Dan interrupted, his voice was dripping with sleep.

“Mm?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“No.” Phil answered simply.

“I mean – for being so scared of such dumb stuff. Seven-year-olds are braver than me.”

“It’s okay to have fears, Dan. I bet you’re not the only adult with those fears either,”

“I’m scared of the dark. And ghosts and monsters and moths and demons and –”

“– and that’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“And it’s not annoying to deal with? I’m not?”

“You will never be annoying to ‘deal with’; I promise.”

Phil meant it.

——

[Monday; 12.07.09; 02:59]

——

Phil :]]]<333333 (02:59): Dan?

Dan (03:00): yeah??? <3

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:03): I’m scared

Dan (03:04): of what :[[

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:04): I dunno it’s just creaky downstairs and I’m alone for the night I guess

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:04): Nvm

Dan (03:05): no tell me i want to help u

Dan (03:05): plz

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:07): Well it’s just that

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:08): It’s really dark and windy

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:08): And there was a tree snapping against my window I thought our house might’ve blown down

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:09): And I thought i heard thunder which usually isn'tn too bad but right now its scaring me a bit

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:10): I don’t wanna be alone rn is all

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:10): But i am brave! So it’ll be okay i think

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:10): Don’t worry about me <33

Dan (03:11): i want to worry :[

Dan (03:11): you don’t always have to be brave <333 ily and i would give you the biggest hug if i were there

Dan (03:12): and tell the trees and thnder to fuck off and let you sleep

Dan (03:12): and then we would sleep all cuddled up togerher like we do sometimes and it would be warm and nice

Dan (03:14): i wish i were there with you

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:15): You will be someday so it’s okay now too :]

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:15): But plz tell the trees and thunder to fuck off it’s very loud :’[[[

Dan (03:16): if u call me i will????

Phil :]]]<333333 (03:17): Lol okay :p

——

[Incoming call from Dan]

[Accepted]

——

“Hi!” Dan really should be quieter; last time he called Phil at three in the morning his dad had yelled at him.

“Hi,” Phil’s sleep-laced voice answered.

A booming crack of thunder, and a whimper.

“Don’t worry – it… won’t hurt you.” Despite everything, Dan was sometimes still quite new to the role of 'comfort’ in their relationship.

“I know, just loud.”

Dan wished he was like Phil. He wished he could just pull out an intresting story, a funny idea.

“Sorry.”

He wasn���t like Phil, though.

“Want to play a game?”

“What game could we possibly play through a phone call?” Dan could practically hear Phil rolling his eyes.

Dan wracked his brain for quick ideas.

“Eye-Spy?”

“We’re… not in the same room Dan.”

“Yeah, true.”

Dan’s room suddenly felt rather empty and uninteresting.

Dan felt empty and uninteresting.

“What do you want me to do?” He finally muttered.

He held his breath.

“I just like hearing your voice, it calms me down. I like when you rant about things you love.”

Let it out.

“Oh. Well – want to hear my never-ending thoughts on WALL-E then?”

“Definitely.”

——

[Sunday; 02.04.18; 04:12]

——

“Phil?”

“Mhm?” He rolled over and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, “What’re you doing up?”

“There was a moth.”

“A moth?”

“Yes!” Dan looked around the room nervously, rolling on his heels, “It’s in the lounge somewhere and I can’t sleep knowing it’s out there — lurking.”

Phil groaned.

“Fucking kill it! Or set it free, I dunno. I just need it gone.”

“You are truly the perfect mix of 'needy child��� and 'angry businessman’, Danny.”

“Fuck off.”

“Mm, lemme get a cup then.”

Phil shoved on his glasses and stumbled out of bed into the kitchen, Dan following closely behind.

“Where was it again?” He asked, grabbing a wine glass from the cupboard.

They hadn’t really drank much alcohol these past few years– since Dan had gone on antidepressents— but they still always kept the glasses, to drink Ribena and seem fancy.

“No! You’ll need a bigger cup, it’s huge.” He whined.

“Okay,” he grabbed another glass, “where is it?”

“In the lounge last I saw.”

“I’ll go look, you get a piece of paper.”

Genuine terror painted over Dan’s face, “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Christ’s sake Dan, it’s a moth, not an armed burglar. I think you’ll live.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. Now, just go a minute.”

He then ventured into the lounge, still half-drowned by sleep, when he heard a shriek.

“Dan?”

“Phil! Fucking help!”

Anyone else might’ve thought Dan was being held at gunpoint from the panicked way he was yelling.

“Coming!”

He went into the hall; Dan was standing there, paralysed with fear, as a giant moth flew circles around him. He had tears threatening to fall.

“Oh dear,”

Phil went over to the closet and grabbed a broom, spent a few go’s waving it around– and almost hitting Dan in the process— before smacking it head on.

“Aw, now I feel bad for killing it,” He whispered.

Dan was on the floor now, shaking, tears stained down his cheeks. He was in only pants.

And Phil was there.

“Well, the moth’s gone now isn’t it?” He crouched down next to Dan, putting his hands gently on his shoulders.

“Mmm,” Dan had his head tucked in his knees.

“Are you okay?”

Silence.

“That’s fine. Want me to make you some tea?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

A few minutes later, in the kitchen, with dried cheeks; “I can’t believe how much of a wimp I am.”

The kettle rang, and Phil took it off the stove carefully.

“No —”

“I know, I know, my therapist told me. 'It’s never weak to have fears’. But I cried over a fucking moth. In our hallway. It’s late and –”

“– and that’s okay.”

“It’s not okay Phil!”

“It’s fine in the moment, that’s what I mean.”

He grabbed a NASA mug, and poured the boiling water in a teapot.

“I must be exhausting.”

Phil dropped in a teabag.

He still remembered. It was a promise made at 4am; a promise over Skype to a more-than-slightly-terrified eighteen year old.

A promise made to a bunch of pixel’s with a name and a face and fear.

A promise his Dan probably didn’t even remember, honestly.

“No, I promised that much.”

“Mhm,”

He poured the tea.

“So, two sugars or three?”

“Two.”

——

[Friday; 02.16.18; 05:12]

——

Dan was on the sofa; snuggled up in blankets and watching the winter Olympics through his small Iphone screen. His eyes were heavy, he yawned.

Their bedroom door squeaked opened.

“Hey,” Phil spoke quietly.

“Up so late?”

“You’re up too.”

“Well — I’m watching the Olympics. You know it’s on late in the UK.”

“Alright.” Phil shuffled into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and leaving the cupboard door wide open.

“Why are you awake?”

“Just another nightmare, s'fine.”

“Then why did you come out here?”

His voice might’ve been read as upset – he was just tired. Half the time Dan honestly didn’t mean to come off so rude.

“Dunno,”

“What was it about?”

“Uh — I think my family was trapped, you included, and I was the only person who could save them. But I had to do something… I think, I had to open a lock to somewhere? But I was too nervous. I saw everyone die; I knew it was my fault. I saw – you know, blood. Not too much. But it’s fine.”

As he spoke, he went over to the sink and got a glass of water, adding iced-cubes; his tone was unnaturally cool and casual.

“But I heard your skull shatter –”

“What the fuck —”

“Sorry! You asked though.”

“No – I mean, that’s horrible. Jesus christ, are you okay?”

Phil shrugged, “It happens, it’s okay though. Just a dream.”

It was only at that moment Dan noticed Phil’s eyes were a little too redded, his words a little bit shaky.

Phil started back to their room.

“Are you going back to sleep?”

“Probably.” His reply was tired.

“Oh – uh, well, why don’t you stay with me and watch the Olympics? I know you’ve never really cared, not your thing, but still I think that —”

“Sure! I’ll stay, yeah.” Phil quickly answered.

“Okay.”

Phil put his glass of water back down on the counter, and walked over to the sofa. Dan opened up his blanket fort and invited Phil in.

“These are the men’s single runs.”

“Mhm,” Phil nuzzled his head into Dan’s neck, which usually would’ve bothered him, but he didn’t mind so much.

A few minutes pass, “So what’s that guy supposed to be doing? I need your commentary; you know.”

I just like hearing your voice, it calms me down.

“Well, that’s the Japanese lead skater, which means —”