#I feel like the amount of pink makes this look like a mean girls au or something… that was completely unintentional

[paris-in-space]

Ultimate Music girlies. I love them all.

[ravenslvt]

☆ choso kamo x f!reader ☆

cw: smut! college au! virgin choso! kinda pervy choso! unprotected sex! mutual pining!

masterlist

busy thinking about your college classmate choso who has the biggest crush on you.

the pretty girl who sits next to him in his math lecture.

when you spoke to him for the first time asking for the notes from your class, he practically scrambled to get out his notebook for you to copy off of.

and when you asked for his number with a sweet smile on your pretty face (for homework! of course!) he got so nervous, going over the number over and over in his head praying he didn’t accidentally hit the wrong digit.

his breath hitches when his phone lights up a day or two later.

‘hey!! i’m so behind in math, wondering if you’d like to help me study later :)’

he blinked a couple times, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks or if you meant to text someone else. but all his worries dispersed when another text comes through.

‘this is choso, right?’

he has no idea how he ended up in your dorm room, sitting on your cute little bed with open textbooks surrounding you two.

you sigh, leaning your back against the headboard while stretching out your arms.

you were sure your brain was fried from all this mind numbing work.

“this is boring, why don’t we do something else.” your gaze falls on the dark haired boy in front of you, his eyes meeting your own. he gulped, an eyebrow quirked.

“like what?” he asks, sitting up.

you only just met him two months ago, so you didn't know a lot about the man.

you think for a second, lips pursing together as you drum your fingers along your thigh.

“you ever kiss a girl before, choso?” you ask, head tilting to the side as you watch for his reaction.

his eyes widen at your question.

“i-“ he opens his mouth to speak, nervous under your gaze.

you patiently wait for him to gather his thoughts, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

“choso?” you softly ask. he didn’t even notice the way you were sitting closer to him, your thighs brushing against eachother.

he finally looks up at you, pink dusting on his cheeks.

“i-no, i haven’t.” he sheepishly admits, emberassed you would make fun of him or even kick him out of your room.

but instead you give him a shocked look.

“really? but you’re- i mean you’re hot.” you honestly say, making him chuckle. the anxiety built up in his body instantly relieving.

he knew he wasn’t ugly by any means, but your forwardness made his heart flutter. you always made him so nervous.

sure, he was pretty inexperienced, but he wasn’t innocent by any means. he’s watched a fair amount of porn, especially in his single dorm room at night.

he just spent most of his life watching over and taking care of his younger brothers. he was never really interested in finding a girlfriend. that was until he saw you on the first day of classes.

but the way you sat next to him on that first day, introducing yourself with a cute smile. you never left his mind since.

“could i- shit, can i-“ he stutters.

you giggle at his sudden shyness.

“you wanna kiss me, cho?” he shudders when you lean up by his ear to basically whisper to him.

“fuck, yes. so badly” all his shame flies out the window when your pretty little hand rests on his thigh.

his breath hitches when you crawl atop his lap, straddling him. fuck he was hoping you couldn’t feel how he instantly got hard from it.

you start slow, not wanting to overwhelm him. gently cupping his cheek with your hand, you lean in, slowly brushing your lips against his, testing the waters.

one of his hands go to tangle themself in your hair, while his other held your waist gently. practically forcing you closer to him.

your lips move together, slowly at first, but eventually getting more and more aggressive. almost needy.

when you give his mouth an experimental lick, his tongue fighting with yours, you unconsciously roll your hips into him, making him moan into the kiss.

you pulled back, embarrassed you could barely control yourself from a make out session.

“s-sorry.”

fuck you were cute when you’re flustered.

“don’t be sorry. it’s hot.” he smiles, holding you by the back of your neck to bring you back into another kiss. your hands rest on his chest.

with all the baggy clothes he wears, it's hard to tell what a good body he has.

his hands move to your hips, grinding you against his clothed cock.

you whine when your clothed clit rubs against him just right.

“please, can i taste you. wanna eat you out.” he begs, kissing down your jaw down to your neck.

“are you sure? you really don’t have to.” you say, his kisses never ceasing.

“been dreaming of eating your pussy, baby.” he murmurs against your neck, biting down in a few spots. he reluctantly pulls back, letting you lie comfortably against your pillow.

your heart races as you peel your bottoms off, leaving you in your cute little panties. he crawls between your thighs, groaning at the sight.

“did you know this was gonna happen?” he smirks at the sight of your lacy panties. you smile. of course you did

“lucky guess.” you shrug.

he smirks, eyes drawn to your damp panties. he experiments with a lick over the wet patch, eliciting a small gasp from you.

“don’t tease” you pout down at him, making him chuckle. he pulls your panties to the side, revealing your wet cunt.

a wave of nervousness washes over you when he just stares in awe. you thought maybe he was gonna back out.

“even prettier than i imagined” he sighs, immediately delving in, making your gasp turn into a soft moan.

your mind wanders for a moment at the thought of him imagining this before. your hands finding themselves reaching under your shirt to play with your tits as he goes down on you.

he tries his hardest to do to you what he’s seen in porn. goes from flicking his tongue over your sensitive clit, to sucking on it which made your thighs tighten around his head.

he knew he found your most sensitive spot when his tongue flicked over a certain area, making you buck your hips up into him.

your hands move to grip in his messy dark hair, unconsciously tugging as he eats you out like a mad man.

you can’t see the way he slowly grinds his hips into the mattress, his cock straining almost painfully through his sweatpants.

your mind is in a frenzy, body squirming trying to escape how good it felt, but also rutting your hips up into his mouth because you really didn’t want him to stop.

not that he even would, he's in heaven right now. eating the pussy of the girl he’s jerked off too at least several times at this point.

his hands grip at the bottom of your thighs, pulling you closer to his face as he prods his tongue into your tight hole, nose brushing against your clit. you moan, tugging at his hair for more and he groans at the harsh tug. he fucking loves it.

you were sure you were so close as he fucks you with his tongue. toes curling so hard you're scared you’re gonna get a cramp.

“choso, please don’t stop” you beg, grinding up into his unrelenting mouth.

he just hums into your cunt in acknowledgement, his movements never stopping as you coat his tongue.

your heels dig into his back, hands tugging at his dark locs, the vibration of his groan making you moan out his name as you cum on his mouth.

you were sure he was lying about being inexperienced with how hard he made you cum. but the way he stared at you like you were a fucking goddess made you think otherwise.

you whine when you realize he still hasn’t stopped lapping at your sensitive pussy. your hips jolt up in overstimulation, making him come back to earth and pulling away.

“sorry” he pants, wiping off his lower face with the sleeve of his hoodie, licking his lips.

“don’t be sorry” you giggle, pulling him up so he’s hovering over you, strong arms on either side of your head. kissing you again. your essence surrounding his tongue.

he grinds his clothed erection into you, making you feel a little bad for neglecting him.

you reach your hand down to graze over him, making him groan and buck into you.

you pat his arm, signalling for him to switch places with you. he nods, sitting against the headboard.

you crawl into his lap, straddling him so you’re face to face. you smile, admiring how pretty he is.

“off?” you ask, tugging at his nice oversized hoodie. he nods, you lean back to let him pull it off of his frame, throwing the hoodie somewhere on your floor.

you made a mental note to defiantly steal that later.

it is so fucked up this man hides this monster of a body behind all those baggy clothes.

you can’t help but stare at his defined chest, running a hand down his stomach and to his hard cock. he moans when you rub him over the fabric of his pants, the heat of your hand making him go lightheaded.

your thumbs hook in his waistband, tugging down his hips, he helps you, bringing them down to his ankles.

you watch the way his thick, pale cock sits so pretty standing up against his stomach, the tip raging and pink from all the teasing.

you reach down to run your thumb over his slit, making him shiver. you felt bad teasing, but his reactions were so adorable.

you kiss and suck marks down his neck, down to his defined chest that you just wanted to bite.

his eyes go down to your throbbing pussy, his thumb innocently pulls apart your folds, rubbing at your clit generously. you mewl against him, hand gripping tighter against his cock.

if just your hand felt this good, he was imagining how amazing your cunt is gonna feel.

he was embarrassingly close, but he didn’t wanna cum like this.

“please” he pants, pushing your hand away. you lean in to kiss his cheek.

“hmm?” you look at him, curiously.

“wanna fuck you so bad, pretty. please let me fuck you, you’re so perfect i-“ he begs. you shut him up with a heated kiss, tongues clashing together as you give him mercy.

you set your knees on either side of his thighs, hovering over his cock.

“tell me if you wanna stop, ok?” you sweetly smile at him.

‘doubt it’ he thought. but he nods, promising.

you line him up with your entrance, very slowly sinking down on him, your face scrunches up a bit from the stretch of his sheer size.

you sigh when you’re finally seated on his pulsing cock, his hands gripping hard at your waist. his head against your shoulder in concentration of not cumming on the spot.

on instinct he bucks up into your heat, making you groan and squeeze around him, hips rolling.

“f-fuck, don’t do that or i’m gonna cum” he moans, hands holding you in place so you don’t squirm.

you giggle, kissing his cheek down his jaw, letting him collect himself.

after a few moments he does an experimental roll upwards, making you softly gasp. he keeps doing this. wanting more friction, you start bouncing yourself up and down his cock.

"s'big" you whine.

he moans, hands groping at your ass to help you ride him. he looks up at you, tits bouncing through your thin little top.

“so pretty” he lifts up the bottom of your shirt to uncover your tits, taking one into his mouth. you whine, leaning into him to feel him closer.

he nibbles and sucks on your tits, pulling off to stare at your fucked out face. you stare down at him, eyes half lidded and mouth slightly open.

“kiss” you mumble to him.

he leans in, giving you a messy kiss as you fuck each other with a need for more. the way his dick fit deliciously inside of your snug pussy, almost sucking him in completely.

your hands tangle in the back of his hair, tugging and making his hips sputter. you try to do it again, but he removes your hands and puts them back on his shoulders.

"next time, g-god, m'gonna fuck you for hours, baby. promise." he pants, sucking dark red purplish marks into your poor neck.

you moan at the idea of a next time. maybe he'd take you out first on a cute date, make sweet dinner or lunch plans for you two.

or maybe he'd just take you to his dorm room and fuck you into his desk like he's been dreaming of for months. marking you up so everyone can see your matching hickies in lecture, knowing how pussy whipped you have him.

either way works.

he uses his strength to flip you back under him, never pulling out of you. he knew he was gonna cum soon, he was trying to put it off for so long but you’re making it too hard.

your head lolls back into the soft pillow, moaning as the flimsy bed frame of the dorm room squeaking like crazy. if his dick wasn't hitting every good spot right now perfectly, you'd probably give a fuck if the people next door heard.

he pumps into you as your legs wrap around his hips, bringing him closer. he fucks into you at a needy pace, his head in your neck as he whines into your ear which you could barely hear over the filthy sounds of skin slapping.

“m’sorry, gonna cum, baby” he moans. your hands go back into his hair, humming.

“please cum in me, choso. need it.” you mewl, eyes threatening to roll back at the way the tip of his cock kisses your sweet spot with every harsh thrust.

you bring a hand to your neglected clit, rubbing furiously to catch up with him, legs shivering and cunt clenching.

he groans as he spills inside of you at the feeling of your walls contracting around him sending him over the edge.

“f-fuck! feels s'good choso.” you cry, cumming so hard you practically milk his cock.

you’re both panting, his body going stiff.

you push at his arm to make him get off of you since he was practically crushing you.

“sorry” he mumbles, his voice groggy. he reluctantly pulls out of you with a hiss, pulling his boxers back on and collapsing next to you.

“hand me that towel, please?” you point to the pile of clean laundry next to your nightstand, a fresh new towel sitting atop.

“yeah, shit, sorry.” he hands you the towel as you wipe down your inner thighs.

you put your now ruined panties back in place, noticing the way he's staring at you.

"what?" you smile, covering yourself with a throw blanket you keep on your bed.

he just shakes his head in a silent chuckle, plopping down onto the bed next to you. he moves a loose strand of your hair out of your face, finger running down your jaw to your kissed out lips.

your breath hitches at his gentle touch, his thumb dragging down your lower lip.

"nothing i just..." his eyes meet yours, your stomach fluttering with anticipation.

"really like you" he sheepishly admits. you smiled at how cute he is. he just came inside of you and he was still nervous around you. how sweet.

"well i'd sure hope so." you giggle, feeling the dull throb between your legs from a few minutes ago.

it wasn't like your intentions weren't completely innocent upon inviting him here. you always thought the quiet guy in your class was hot.

you thought it was so cute whenever you'd 'accidentally' brush against him and he'd either tense up or his face would turn pink.

"but if it makes you feel better..." you cuddle up next to him, head nuzzling into his shoulder as his strong arm wraps around your waist.

"i really like you too"

you also showed up to class the next day wearing his hoodie that you successfully stole. he acted annoyed, but secretly fucking loved it.

a/n: i'm alive y'all i got my wisdom teeth out so i was not in a mood to write but i'm back!! hope u enjoy! sorry if the ending got a lil cheesy i'm trying to get better at dialogue since i usually just write pure porn.

(in need of jjk prompts i want the men so bad)

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

Hello, I have a request

One where the reader flirts with Spencer and asks him on a date, he is all blushing and stuttering.

Have a nice day!! 💖

༉‧₊˚. 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

— pairings: spencer reid x plus size burlesque dancer!reader

— summary: spencer has friends all over, but he chooses to visit his favorite who just so happens to be a dancer and completely out of his league.

— warnings: literally none! this is just a big fluff-fest!!

— wc: 648

⋆ a/n: HEYYY so i don't know if you guys can tell but i'm dabbling in all kinds of au's and stuff? they're just so fun to write and really shakes up my writing :]

masterlist | AO3

Spencer gives a shy smile to your co-worker at the ticket booth as he lets him in, bidding him a small but soft thanks.

Though the club had a few more hours until opening and he really shouldn’t be there, everyone knew the drill. Spencer tries to come and visit you before your shows just to get that one-on-one time with you before you’re all glammed up to go perform.

Perhaps Spencer should thank Penelope for choosing the BAU’s rare outing to be at a Burlesque club, because he met you, one of the prettiest dancers. It made sense that Penelope would frequent here, and now he found himself here often too.

He takes at the table he normally does when the bartender drying out glasses tells him you’ll be down in a second. Spencer takes the time to drag his eyes around the interior of the room. It looks so different during the day, the lack of lustful yet comedy ridden performances gives off the impression of a small theater.

Though you own the place, you don’t often sit on the sidelines, choosing to dance with your girls, though you try to limit the amount of dance numbers you give yourself so the others are able to have more stage time. You’re just selfless like that and it causes a swarm of butterflies to flutter around in Spencer’s stomach.

Spencer isn’t at all surprised when you approach him in a frilly robe, your face bare and hair pulled out of your face. 

“Spence, hi!” You always greet him like it’s the first time you’d seen him, your large smile on your face to match the excitement in your body. 

“Hey!” He says as he pulls you into a respectful hug. You make a point to deepen the embrace, giving him a squeeze. When you pull away, you almost melt at the sight of his cheeks blushed that admirable pink hue.

“Couldn’t wait until tonight to see me, huh?” You tease as you sit down next to him. “I wish I could,” He begins with a frown, “But I’m pretty sure I’m going to be pretty busy these next couple of days and I just wanted to tell you, y’know, so you don’t think I disappeared on you or something.”

You laugh that twinkling laugh that sounds like bells in his ears. “You’re such a gentleman, Spence. But thanks for letting me know, really. I look forward to our chats.”

“Yeah,” He admits bashfully, “Me too.”

“You know…” You began, “We don’t always have to meet here.” You’re nervous, it’s written clear as day all over your face and in the way you nibbled on your lower lip. “What do you mean?” Spencer asks with furrowed brows. 

“What I mean is, I'm asking you on a date and trying to not psych myself out of it.”

Oh God, Spencer’s heart was about to beat out of his chest.

“Y - yeah.”

“Yeah?” You asked in amusement. “Yeah, I mean no - I mean! I mean yes, I would like to go on a date with you.” His face flushes an even darker red through his stuttering, and a place of sickening endearment worms its way into your heart.

“Great!” You exclaim with a sigh of relief. “You know… I have a few hours to spare before the club opens. How about brunch?”

“That sounds good.” 

“Cool, just let me get dressed real fast and I’ll be back down in a sec.” 

He watches in admiration as you walk away and he smiles to himself, already thinking of ways to pay for your food before you do it yourself. You’re quite difficult when it comes to things like that, but Spencer feels like it’s a battle that he looks forward to, a fight that he wouldn’t mind having for the rest of his life if you would let him.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna @moonysreid

[mymegumi]

I JUST WANT YOU (FOR MY OWN) ෆ KAMO CHOSO

⠀ warnings: no jujutsu au, situationship/fwb to lovers

⠀ event masterlist ෆ

“please, please stop telling yuuji to do his mariah carey impression, i can only handle so much of his screeching.” you moan, hands over your ears as you tread up the stairs of choso and itadori’s shared apartment. the pink-haired male is still happily singing along to the woman’s christmas hit, but at a much farther distance away so you can hardly hear it now.

“i wouldn’t have had to do that if you didn’t eat the last cookie from yesterday night.” choso says, peeking his head out from the hallway at the top of the stairs, eyebrow raised as he gives you an accusing look. “i even said i was saving it.”

“okay,” you mutter, swiping at his knee playfully as you walk past him to his bedroom, “calling dibs on it while i’m not around means nothing to me.”

choso is sprawled out on the bed when you reach his bedroom, the walls a contrasting dark blue to the light beige carpeting. his bedsheets are, as men are so often predictable, a dark navy with the odd pairing of gray pillowcases. there’s a collection of random objects and souvenirs living on his nightstand, but also scattered among them are your own things, as you’ve come to spend just as much time at choso’s apartment as your own.

“yeah,” he mutters, “well, i didn’t think you were heartless. taking a man’s cookie like that.”

you laugh, falling onto his body and relishing in the way his arms wind around your waist, holding you to him as he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder.

it’s strange—your not-quite relationship with choso. since the two of you have known each other, you’ve been magnets that just couldn’t stay away from one another, and yet neither of you have ever labeled what you were. there was exclusivity in your situation, but there wasn’t a label. you’d only sleep with him and vice versa, and yet there was no girlfriend-boyfriend feeling, no security in the fact that he could technically walk away from you at any minute.

you sigh softly, burying your face in his neck just enjoying the musky smell of him when you feel him shuffle a bit, as if moving to reach something. “you okay? want me to move?”

you can feel, more than you can see, him shake his head, body moving ever so slightly as you feel his hand come up to rest on the back of your head. “you’re okay, don’t worry.”

content to keep your wandering mind to yourself for once, you close your eyes sleepily as you imagine he’s on his phone doing who knows what. there was a point that you had worried maybe he was texting other girls, trying to find a connection that felt better than yours, but there was too much else to be worrying about—other things that required your time and energy and honestly, protecting your peace felt good. not stressing about his every move and his loyalty as a man that wasn’t truly yours was a lot nicer than being anxious about it. instead, you just wanted to enjoy his warmth and listen to his heart beating instead.

it’s this feeling, the feeling of the steady thump of his heart, that lulls you into a light sleep. dancing across your eyelids are you and choso, hands laced and heads pressed together as you laugh and whisper softly, secrets and joys shared between you both.

with a light jostling, choso wakes you with a soft ‘hey’ and unknown amount of time later. blinking, you look up at him as he presents something to you, a small velvet box with cursive gold embossment on the top of it. it makes your breath catch because despite the fact that the two of you have bought each other meals, and occasionally a sweater or a shirt, this was far fancier than what you’d bought him for christmas. you’re quickly snapped from your sleepy reverie to glance between the box and choso’s face in disbelief.

what you’d gotten him for christmas was just a nike hoodie that you had thought he would look good in, and that you were excited to take when his scent was more ingrained in it. while it was a self-indulgent gift, he enjoyed seeing you in his clothes and you were more excited to see his face when you wore it, than you were to see him actually open his gift.

“choso,” you murmur, eyes warily traveling from the velvety red box to his eyes. “you didn’t have to get me something so fancy.”

he didn’t have to get you anything at all, really. did situationships normally give each other gifts for christmas?

“i wanted to.” he mumbles, red slowly rising on the apples of his cheeks as he nudges the box in your direction. “open it, before i die of embarrassment.”

“you look like you’re going to die of embarrassment right now.” you tease, leaning up on one arm to gently take the box from him and laughing as he covers his face with an arm. the velvet is gentle against your fingertips and you notice that you’re shaking, suddenly realizing you’re almost scared to see how precious this gift is.

“i feel like i’m going to.” the words are muffled against his arm and with every breath, his chest is rising and falling sharply. you rub a soothing hand on his chest as you lift the lid of the little box, your own breath catching in your throat.

inside plush black satin, resting ever so prettily are a thin golden necklace and a matching bracelet. even with the limited natural light in choso’s room, the dainty bands sparkle, as if there was a spotlight hidden somewhere to show off their beauty. somehow, as if it were possible, the necklace and the bracelet aren’t the most surprising thing in the box. scrawled on a piece of paper in choso’s messing handwriting, is the simple phrase ‘will you be my girlfriend?’ in black ink. the question makes your heart flutter and immediately your eyes lock with his.

“are you serious?” you ask, mouth agape in sheer surprise. the tips of his ears have flushed bright red, by this point, and he nods shyly as he fiddles with the waistband of your pants. “oh my god, of course!”

you’re moving before you know what’s happening, choso leaning up to wrap you in a tight hug. his arms are wound around you, face buried in your neck as you laugh gently, closing the box and putting it on his sheets, content to put it on when he’s released you from his grasp.

“i was so nervous you were going to say no.” choso whispers into your neck, fingers gripping your clothes.

you shake your head. “i’d be stupid to say no.”

“merry christmas.” he leans back, eyes twinkling and the blush still ever present on his cheeks and ears. “i love you.”

pressing your lips together, hands pressed to both of his cheeks to pull him into you, you can feel a tightness in your chest lifting. his lips are as soft as they always are, lightly taste of vanilla and chocolate, and they slot perfectly against yours—just as he is perfect for you.

“i love you. merry christmas, choso.”

[peachhcs]

the draft & the night everything changed

hughes!sister x will smith au

the night samy and will finally realize they both have feelings for one another at the nhl draft in nashville.

1.7k words

for the first real fic i’m starting with the draft which basically started samy & will’s relationship! the confessions will be its own separate post & again i’m open to asks and things you guys wanna see in this au! :)

au masterlist | part 2

with all the press and interviews, samy hardly got to see will or any of the boys before the draft. she sat with her family in their hotel room as all of them got ready for the very special and exciting night. will would periodically text her updates about everything he was doing making the brunette smile each time her phone buzzed on the table.

she smiled seeing a picture will sent dressed in his suit almost ready to head out into the seats. she loved the navy and pink combination—also loving that he took her suggestions when he sent her choices a few months back. samy quickly snapped a photo back of her own dress she was wearing. it was a simple pink and black with a small opening across her midsection. she wasn't sure if it was too little for what seemed like such a classy event, but grace quickly reassured her that she looked perfect.

her entire family experienced the draft three times already, so they knew what was coming and what to expect, but samy couldn't help the butterflies in her stomach for her best friend about to get picked in the first round tonight. will was one of the best players in this draft class and even though she's hardly seen him since they got to nashville, she knew he was feeling all of the emotions.

her phone buzzed again meaning will texted her back.

will

wow you look gorgeous

his text immediately caused a blush across samy's cheeks. her head spun around making sure none of her family saw her red face before quickly sending a text back.

samy

i'll see you out there :)

the nauseating feeling in samy's stomach had been there for days. anytime she thought about will, her heart raced. she started getting excited anytime her phone buzzed hoping it was her best friend texting her back. it was..it was a weird feeling. she's never felt that way whenever will texted. at least not since the beginning of april. she didn't know what it meant nor did she really want to know because maybe deep down, she did know.

after another ten minutes, samy followed her family into the arena. there was so many people pushing past them trying to find their seats or quickly interview the draft prospects before they got seated. mrs. hughes led the way in attempt to find anyone they were sitting with. samy's stomach was doing flips with the amount of people shoving and pushing past her. she knew the draft always went crazy, but she forgot just how crazy it really was. luke's draft in the comfort of their own home two years ago was much better than the chaos inside the arena.

"samy!" someone called her name. the girl quickly spun around trying to find the source when she saw gabe's tall figure waving his hands at her. she tugged on her parents' arms and motioned towards him.

he quickly pushed his way through the crowd until he reached the family. samy was immediately brought into a hug once she was close enough.

"hey, god, this is insane." gabe laughed a little as the rest of his family came up behind him.

"i know, how are you feeling?" samy wondered and admired his fun suit.

"nervous..really nervous." the dark-haired boy admitted.

the brunette’s face softened out as she brushed down his suit jacket. “whatever happens in there is meant to happen. it's gonna be good,” samy reassured.

"have you seen will or ryan yet?" gabe changed the subject.

"i haven't seen either of them since we got here two days ago." samy said with a small frown.

"will should be coming in soon. he was a few people behind me i think." just as gabe said that, samy spotted the familiar mop of blonde hair and will's infamous navy suit scanning the crowd of people.

"i see him." samy said and gabe whipped around to find his best friend.

the girl's feet moved faster than her mind as she pushed her way through everyone to get to will. he finally spotted her and also picked up his speed to meet her in the middle.

will's hands clasped around her back, pulling her into him. the two squeezed one another tightly, taking in the moment and the feeling of finally being together after not getting to see one another yet.

"i'm so glad you're here." will muttered into her shoulder. the girl grinned, rubbing his back in a soothing manner.

the two pulled apart, missing the knowing looks from their families watching them. samy went to hug grace while will hugged gabe.

"it's good to see you again." grace laughed as she exchanged her hug with samy.

"you too, gracie.” the brunette chuckled.

"i hate to break up the reunions, but let's get our seats." mrs. smith said, always rushing people to where they needed to be like always.

everyone nodded and will found his way back to samy's side. the girl wrapped her arm around his. “how are you feeling?" she asked.

"nervous for sure." the blonde laughed. samy smiled, rubbing his arm in hopes of soothing his nerves.

everything about will looked good. his hair was styled perfectly and his suit was pressed making him look clean and classy for the night. the feeling returned in samy's stomach as she gripped his arm through the arena.

the smiths and hughes broke away from gabe's family as they took their seats on opposite ends of the stairs. whatever order mrs. smith had for everyone's seating arrangements was thrown out the window when will insisted samy sat next to him. once again, the two missed the knowing glances from family as mrs. smith gave in and let samy sit next to will.

the absent touches, the closeness, the comments—it wasn't usual to samy and will. they had always been like that, but right now samy was seeing it in a different way. will's fingers brushing across her hand left sparks in its wake. her heart raced anytime he looked at her for longer than he usually did. she just kept telling herself it was all normal. they were usually touchy and close with one another, except this time around samy couldn't get out of her head that something was different. something felt different and she didn't know if will felt it too.

the adrenaline started rising in the room as they got ready to announce the first overall pick. will's hand clasped around samy's with a firm grasp. his face was set and focused, but samy knew he had a 100 different thoughts running through his mind.

connor bedard went 1st pick overall which was pretty expected. he was a very watched player this past year and everyone knew he was probably going first.

as the second and third picks were announced, will knew he was most likely going next. it was all based on the 2nd round pick and everyone held their breaths in anticipation.

“the fourth pick overall for the san jose sharks is pleased to announce will smith." the announcer said.

everyone immediately jumped up as a smile appeared on will's lips. he quickly brought samy into his arms before hugging his parents and sisters. his mom took ahold of his suit jacket as he took it off and made his way down to the stage. gracegrabbed samy's hand, a smile on both of their faces as they watched will put on his new jersey. blue was definitely his color and samy couldn't be prouder of her best friend.

ryan and gabe weren't far after will. samy exchanged hugs with both of the boys as she watched them make their way down to the stage like her brothers did so many years ago.

everyone knew the boys had a bunch of press to do, so they wouldn't ben seeing them until after. samy tried easing her racing mind by talking more with grace and ryan's girlfriend for the time being until she couldn't take her racing thoughts anymore and needed to use the bathroom.

the girl stared at herself in the mirror trying to make sense of why she couldn't stop thinking about will and why her heart clenched every time she saw him. she didn't get it. he was her best friend. she's seen him as a brother for as long as she could remember. why was she suddenly seeing him so differently? why did he make her heart race and her palms sweaty?

samy gained the courage to go back out with everyone. she made her way through the arena when someone called her name. the girl spun around, recognizing the voice from a mile away. will was racing towards her still in his new jersey.

she threw herself into his arms as they hugged one another tightly.

"so proud of you willie." samy said into his shoulder.

"god, this feels so surreal. i don't think i've even processed it yet." will laughed a little as he pulled back some but kept his hands on her waist.

"what did i say? i knew the sharks would take you." the girl laughed as she thought about her predictions for all the boys she made months ago. will smiled, a small blush forming on his cheeks.

"thank you for being here. it..it really means a lot." will said softly. samy smiled and that time as will stared at the girl in front of him, it all fell into place.

the two felt the pull. they felt the racing hearts and the touches. will's gaze never left samy's as her heart beat a bruise into her chest seeing him look at her like that. will's heart was doing the same as samy stared back at him, uncertainty crossing into her features as they stayed like that until someone else's voice broke them apart.

"will!!" it was grace racing towards them with their families hot on her tail. samy and will quickly broke apart just as his older sister reached him and brought him into another loving hug.

samy stepped back, smiling at the sibling’s exchange all while will never took his eyes off of her.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Baby, it's cold outside

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 27

Prompt: Coffee shop/bookstore/tattoo studio AU

Rated: M

CW: Alcohol; Implied sex

Tags: Coffee shop owner Steve; Tattoo studio owner Eddie; Christmas fluff; Flirting; Sexual tension; Getting together

Notes: Continued from my December microfic, but can also stand alone

Eddie swivels morosely in his desk chair, stretches until something in his lower back pops. He glances out the window and immediately regrets it. If anything, the snow has gotten worse, the dark street outside near invisible behind the curtain of flakes that's been falling for hours. 

The blizzard hit just in time for Christmas, grinding all air traffic and most of the roads to a standstill. Eddie called Wayne to break the news, groaning and grumbling all the way, only to be gruffly told off.

“Ain't nothing to be done about it, kiddo. You be safe and I'll see ya when it clears.” 

He was right, of course, the old shit. Eddie is a sensible adult who knows this. And so he holed up at the tattoo studio for some long overdue paperwork. A perfectly reasonable, adult thing to do on a lonely holiday.

Except it's boring as fuck and his back hurts and the cold is creeping in from outside and now he's feeling like a little boy who's had Christmas stolen by the fucking Grinch. 

To top things off, he isn't even sure he'll make it back to his apartment with how things are looking outside.

He's just resigning himself to a night on the foldout in his office when there's a sharp rap against the front door. Eddie almost falls out of his chair. 

“Jesus fuck-” he mutters, bridging the distance and fumbling to unlock the door. “What the hell are you doing?” 

Steve stomps inside, shaking off snow as he goes. Even though it isn't more than a few steps from his door to Eddie’s, he's positively covered in the stuff, hair weighed down and uncharacteristically droopy. Cradled against the chest of his cable-knit sweater is a tray. Eddie spots cookies and two mugs overflowing with copious amounts of whipped cream. 

He watches how Steve sets the tray down on the table in his waiting area and runs his hands through his hair to get the residue snowflakes out. It leaves him looking deliciously disheveled, all mussed-up strands, golden skin flushed pink from the cold. Eddie finds his mouth watering for reasons not exclusively related to the scents wafting off the tray.

Steve is looking at him, like he's waiting for an answer, and shit, he said something, didn't he?

“Sorry, what?” Eddie asks. 

“I said,” Steve shakes his head, but there's no malice behind it. “Dig in, it's not getting any warmer.” 

Eddie crumples down onto the couch, hides his face behind one of the mugs … and blinks in surprise.

“Alcohol?” 

“Grand Marnier,” Steve says, settling down beside him and taking the other mug. Eddie has no idea what the fuck that means. Somehow though, the way the words tumble off Steve’s tongue, low and rumbly and distinctly French, really does it for him, so he doesn't complain. 

“Cheers,” he says and clanks their mugs together before taking a tentative sip. A firework of flavors bursts across his tongue - bitter coffee and thick, sweet cream and something heady and boozy and orange-flavored? 

“Good?”

“So fucking good, dude!” 

Behind his own mug, Steve's mouth tugs into a smile. Eddie isn’t quite sure if the heady rush that floods him is entirely due to the coffee. 

*

“Soooo,” Eddie slurs. The boozy coffee is long gone, as is the second helping Steve got from his shop. He's brought the entire bottle of the fancy French, orangey stuff though, pretty little genius that he is. Eddie giggles and takes another swig. “How c’me you're even here, huh? No family to visit, no girls to kiss under mistletoes?” 

“Have you looked outside?” Steve snorts, swaying into his space to snatch the bottle back. God he is pretty - cheeks flushed from the alcohol, cookie crumbs at the corners of his mouth. All Eddie would need to do is twist his fingers into that preppy sweater of his, yank him closer. Lick them off. 

“-not exactly on visiting terms with my folks,” Steve is saying and Eddie jerks back to attention. “Or speaking terms. My best friend was gonna visit, but I think she'd end me if I so much as brought a mistletoe near her. Anyhow, she can't come, what with the blizzard and all…” 

“So what?” Eddie grins, tongue loosened by alcohol and sugar and the way the light brings out the gold in Steve’s hair and eyes. “You decided to drop by out of the goodness of your heart and save my holiday like some perfect little Christmas angel?” 

Steve blinks. Averts his eyes. Flushes a whole new shade of pink. It blooms on top of the blush that has settled over his nose and cheekbones, like a fresh layer of color on a painting. Eddie thinks of all the other parts of Steve’s body he'd like to paint like this.

“Whatever,” Steve mumbles, “Just thought we'd both feel less alone, if- … It's getting late, I'd better-” 

“Go?” Eddie catches the sleeve of his sweater just as he's about to stand. Steve falls back into the couch. “Where? You're not gonna trudge home through that weather, are you?” 

Steve licks his lips, pink and glossy. Eddie wonders if they still taste like coffee and cream and oranges. His fingers find the soft skin of Steve's wrist under the hem of the sweater. 

“Just stay. You're right, I don't feel like being alone tonight.” 

“Stop it,” Steve's eyes are impossibly bright in the low light. “Please, I … I'll put up with your teasing any other day of the year, but not today.” 

“Steve …” Eddie rumbles. The heartbeat under his fingers flutters. “Stay … and I'll show you how serious I am.” 

He leans in, breathes his next words against the shell of a pink ear. “If you wanna, I'll even call you angel again.” 

They do end up using the foldout, the cold quickly forgotten.

All my holiday drabbles

[teddie-bear420]

Swap Au!! I call it “cold hazbin hotel”

Emily moonstone wants to redeem sinners and get to heaven with the help of her butler lute!

Lots of doodles and ramblings under the cut,

if you have any input or jokes or questions send them to me!!

So this swap starts at the very beginning! Lucifer is a big goodie two shoes who doesn’t express his real feelings and is kinda just heavens doormat. Sera on the other hand is driven by fairness and when she sees Adam mistreating Lilith she intervenes. This gets her sent down to hell with Lilith and they start ruling hell with all the sinners. At some point both Lilith and sera stop caring about the state of hell and the sinners establish the overlords that rule territory’s and all that. Around the time that Emily is born sinners like alastor and husk are well established overlords.

Back in heaven, corruption spreads to leadership and Lucifer (as head archangel) kinda just lets it happen. He still runs the show but he doesn’t stand up for what he believes in anymore. Very weak man, thin wrists… dainty even. Adam is still the general of the Exorcist army and nobody holds any one accountable in heaven and the requirements to get into heaven are raised to in unachievable amount!

Sera and Emily are very close, they talk almost everyday, when Emily starts to grow into an adult sera kinda panics and strains the relationship (Emily’s got mommy issues). Emily’s time spent in sin city leads her to starting the hotel with the Dino chick to hinder the overpopulation in hell (jk she just really wants to see heaven)

So Emily is the heir to a stolen kingdom

Lucifer still has Charlie in heaven and she fills Emily’s role of keeping everyone happy. In this swap he shelters Charlie for any hardships or even having her work for anything, so Charlie is a nepotism baby (in the normal show Charlie went no contact with her dad and built the hotel ground up) her job is to keep everyone joyful!

Charlie is ignorant to the horrors

Vaggie and lute are a little harder to explain cuz I still have no real idea how to approach making lute a sinner cuz uhh.. she already is one. I do know I wanna keep her antennae bangs…Pink to blue….Bug motif…Transition allegory?? You decide

Lute will probably have butler butch vibes, she’s very servant like

But! I see vaggie getting to second in command and becoming a beast. The most ruthless demon slayer ever man, she fights the biggest demons she can find just for the fun of it. She still bulks up (you can take buff vaggie from my cold dead hands)!! She is assigned to protect the arch angel Charlie from quote…

“naughty individuals” -Lucifer (he means Adam)

Their dynamic is very silly, vaggie has to keep Charlie safe from things like assassins, perverts, technology and a goose. We all know that lute struck vaggie down cuz she was gay right? Well that still happens, but vaggie wins the fight (also being egged on by Adam) and ever since she’s looked for a fight so bad she ends up joining lute (warriors bond and all that)

EMILY IS A LAWYER HAHAHAHAHHA AND A BUTCH

Basically she wants to change the heaven standard the lawful way (sera was a court judge after all) think musicals like legally blond, that one Hamilton song, and the death note musical.

She and Charlie get along well enough, it does gag Emily when she finds out that Charlie doesn’t know what a minimum wage job is.

Ok so the main cast gets swapped with the over lords as you can see, the overlords I chose now look much younger, tho carmilla and Rosie are my milfs forever. Velvet is now an intern trying to get out of hell (she hates the heat) vox is now kinda just an obsessive fan boy, carmilla wants to go to heaven to see her daughters again. That Dino chick is the first guest, Emily wants to tame her inner fire (girl style)

Emily has always wanted to see the garden of Eden, so when she comes up with a way to redeem sinners she hopes to visit heaven with them! I’m gonna doodle around with her demon bits,

THATS IT FOR NOW

Will maybe post more

[paikothecateater]

Literally playing farming simulator rn as you posted that, wild.

Anyway Iceland being the main animal guy is so cute it reminds me of that one small YouTube farm channel where the guy would make extra money passively raising baby goats (would sell them after) and he’d make videos where he would just sit down then all 4 baby’s would sprint to him and jump on him.

Alright, I really want to expand on this AU, so here's a branching headcanon.

I feel like Denmark has a huge no farm animals in the house rule. It upsets Iceland to no end because he always wants to be around them.

On multiple occasions, I've made the headcanon that Denmark spoils Iceland and physically can't say no to him, so why not implement that in this AU.

As much as it hurts Denmark, he has to stand firm on his rule, but he also knows that he can't keep Iceland from at least having one house pet. He decides that the only exception to this rule would be a baby goat that Iceland can raise however he likes.

So, on Iceland's birthday, he walks in with a tiny, completely snow white, baby goat with a pink ribbon tied around it's neck. Iceland immediately goes absolutely crazy over this baby goat. He runs up to hug Denmark and takes the little goat into his arms. He eventually decides to name her Pie.

This little goat is an absolute angel. Goats can be pretty mischievous, but this little angel just wants to be held. Iceland carries this baby around all day every day. Initially, Denmark would have preferred it if the goat could stay outside, but there was no way in hell Iceland would let his baby sleep outside. No, she sleeps right next to him.

But hey, that's how Denmark got rid of his problem completely. Iceland was completely content with his baby Pie and never wanted another pet ever again...

... Until one day, a pretty intense storm hits. Thankfully, Iceland manages to get all the animals safely indoors. He walks into the house last to see that Finland also seems to have been caught in the storm by surprise. He makes a casual comment about a cat he saw get absolutely drenched. Cats get into the land all the time, but there's usually plenty mice and other vermin available to keep them away from trying to eat any of the chickens, so they're usually allowed to stay. Iceland cannot stop asking about this cat. They try to assure him it'll probably be okay, but he is just inconsolable, so Norway offers to go look for it and bring it in to calm Iceland down. He walks out and comes back 20 minutes later, absolutely drenched, holding this battered, sopping, white cat. Despite the fact that it looked like it had been through the trenches, it looked well fed enough. Norway hands Iceland the cat and gets a grateful hug for his trouble. Iceland gives the cat a warm bath to get it clean, dries it up and cradles it on his lap, later discovering that this cat is in fact a girl. Denmark sees this and gets physically ill at the thought of having to make Iceland release the cat after the storm. He walks over to him, puts an arm on his shoulder and goes "yes, you can keep it." Iceland gets super excited and names this cat 'Beatrice' or Bea for short. Once dry and comfortable, the innocent grateful kitty act immediately melts away and it turns out that Beatrice is a super mean cat. Despite being the one who rescued her, Norway ended up getting the worst of it though it didn't bother him as he's not really a cat person. Bea is only the absolute sweetest around Iceland and maybe Denmark. She follows Iceland everywhere and earns her keep by hunting down rodents and bugs.

So yeah, Denmark's rule kind of fell on its ass, but he knew right from the start. Iceland loves animals too much to keep away from them for any amount of time.

I'm falling down a rabbit hole and I'm going to do nothing about it.

[fridaynightaus]

Made an Monster High AU for Eddsworld, now I'm making one for FNF. I mean a good amount of the characters (both canon and mod) are supernatural anyway so why the hell not?

I made Boyfriend (or as he's called in my and my friend's fanon: Jacob) an Android-Angel hybrid (andgel?) based on two common headcanons for BF: BF being an angel to contrast GF being a demon, and that's he's Hatsune Miku's brother (which I don't subscribe to myself but I can see it). In fact Jacob's clothes were inspired directly from Vocaloid outfits (specifically Len Append and Anode Miku).

And yes I used the same last name from the Soft Mod. I just think it works so well, both since BF's half angel here and it's a nice complement to the last name Dearest, in a way.

Bio and skullette down below!

Bio Parents An Angel (Father) An Android (Mother) Age 16 Killer Style I’m into that techno cyber-idol style. Freaky Flaw I don’t look before I leap, or I should I say: look before I fly. For me it’s always “action first, ask questions later”...or never, in some cases Pet Sera, my dog! Aka THE best girl out there! Favorite Activity

You could say I was born to sing, so you can mostly catch me spitting some bars while chilling with my ghoulfriend. I also like to do sick fingerboard tricks.

Pet Peeve When I’m trying to relax and something happens out of the blue that completely kills the vibe. Favorite Subject Singing of course! Least Favorite Subject Literature. How can anyone read through that stuff and NOT conk out after a few pages? Favorite Color(s) Blue, Cyan, and White Favorite Food(s)

Pepperoni Pizza and Donuts! For drinks I like Ice Tea and Milk, not together of course, that’s nasty.

Friends Amber Dearest (Girlfriend) Pico Benelli Kenji Sakubara Blaze Thorburn Dusk Evans Holt Hyde Elle Eedee

Abilities

Light Manipulaton Jacob can create and manipulate light, which he can use either for utility (ex: lighting up dark areas) and combat.

Emotional Color Change Similar to Kiyomi Haunterly's body, Jacob halo and wings act similar to that of a mood ring, changing colors depending on how he's feeling. It’s normally blue which means he’s happy, dark blue means he’s sad, red means he’s angry, purple means he’s scared, green means he’s disgusted, pink means he’s in love, orange is when he’s annoyed, etc.

Flight He can fly thanks to the wings on his back.

Pain Immunity As he is half android, he cannot feel pain

Immortality Because he is half-angel, he is immortal as well.

Bonus Notes (More to possibly be added in the future)

While Jacob is indeed a hybrid, he wasn’t born in the traditional sense, but rather created. His mother supplied the metal body while his father supplied divine power, the resulting ritual created Jacob.

[chrisevansonly]

Baby Bee & Daddy’s First Matching Outfit 🦋 (Harry’s Angel au)

pairing: Harry Styles x Female Reader (Angel)

summary: sometimes your sewing skills come in handy when you can surprise Harry with a custom baby outfit to match one of your favourite concert fits of his

warnings: none, just very cute and fluffy

a/n: baby styles is making me v excited, I came up with baby bee from angel since she works with flowers, but that’s subject to change, i’m v excited for this chapter in Harry & Angel’s Life

word count: 684

You wouldn’t call yourself crafty or artistic when it came to anything outside of flowers and floral arrangements but looking at the tiny baby sized pink sequin tracksuit, just like Harry’s birthday show outfit he wore in Palm Springs. Obviously, it was too early for the two of you to know if you were having a boy or a girl, but either way the little outfit would get worn and the more you admired it, the more excitement spread through you. The one thing that was good about being on tour with Harry is you had some free time during the day when he was out working out, or just going over rehearsals for the nights show. After some last minute touches, you neatly folded the outfit and wrapped it in some silver tissue paper, placing it gently into a black box, just in time for Harry to get back from rehearsals, a smile on your face as you turned to face him

“Hi handsome”

He looked at you through his sunglasses, a smile on his face as he slid them off 

“Hey mama”

Oh yeah, the new nickname Harry had been using every so often, it made you flush, but you still weren’t too sure how you felt about it, maybe that’s why Harry used it, simply to tease you 

“You like that nickname huh?”

He smirked moving to wrap his arms around your waist, a gentle kiss pressed to your lips before you pulled back, his hair was pulled up in a little bun keeping it out of his face, a subtle amount of stubble starting to grow in

“I love it, m’gonna make you love it too”

“Mhm sure you will, keep trying baby”

He laughed, his pleasing tote now resting on the ottoman at the end of the bed before his eyes found the black giftbox by your open laptop 

“Did you get a package today?”

“S’not for me love, I got it for you…”

“You got me a present?!”

Laughing you nodded, his excitement never failed to fill your stomach with butterflies, nerves slowly taking over in the end when he picked up the box and sat down to open it 

“What’s the occasion?”

“I just wanted to…”

Harry glanced up at you another smile tugging at his lips and when he opened it, pulling back the tissue he froze, it only took him about 20 seconds to figure out what was in the box 

“Is this-you got me-how did you find this angel!?”

“Well, I actually made it”

His eyes locked on yours and you watched his mouth open slightly as if to say something, but he was up and holding you to him before any words came out 

“Y/N, holy shit, you-wait you made this!”

“Mhm, took like five or so days, and I did it very secretly, because I know how nosy you can be”

That had Harry laughing, his arms still holding you gently 

“I can’t believe it, this is perfect angel, thank you for this, m’so excited to be a parent with you, and watch you be the best mum in the world”

“H…”

“I mean it angel, you’re going to be the best mum and the best wife, and I’m just grateful I get to be a part of it”

Blinking back a few tears, Harry was never shy about his feelings for you and about you, not to mention being vulnerable and open throughout your entire relationship, but that didn’t mean it didn’t make you emotional, even after all these years 

“I love you and I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else”

Harry truly was over the moon excited for this next chapter in your lives, albeit it wasn’t planned, and you both were still on tour, he was ready for it all, especially if it was with you. There was a good chance the wedding would be pushed back, knowing you wouldn’t want to have all that attention on you at that stage in your pregnancy, and he would do everything to ensure you’d stay comfortable and happy through it all. 

[softquietsteadylove]

How about soft Thenamesh and the language of flowers? I think there is a potential for a great little story with them and flowers and their own special meaning :)

You can choose the AU!

Rose colours all have different meanings in the world of flower symbolism. Many of them overlap, such as yellow roses, which can express both friendship, but also the beginnings of developing feelings. White roses express a purity of feelings and honest intentions. Pink roses express friendship, while red roses express the most classic form of romantic love.

The hospital is often full of them, for various people and purposes. But today especially, there are roses positively everywhere.

Gil has been giving them out all day.

It essentially all started with his first call of the day. He picked up a woman who had called her own ambulance, having gone into early labour while she was out alone.

The poor woman was rightfully distressed, for her child, herself, the fact that her partner wasn't anywhere near enough to be there if she suddenly gave birth. Gil was still the best one to comfort her, but he couldn't help but feel for the woman alone in OB waiting to be moved to a room.

So, he had gone out and gotten her flowers on his break. Lovely yellow roses with baby's breath in them, for the new beginning about to take place in her life. The woman was moved to tears (and her partner, who did in fact make it in time, was also touched).

He had just gotten the one bouquet, but then he heard another woman giving birth admiring them. Then another--a young lady not even out of her teens. And of course, who was Gil to leave a poor girl wanting?

Now, it seems he has bought out an entire florist's supply of roses and is giving them away by the handful. First was every woman in OB who could stand the pollen. Then there were a few patients in the NICU who had also heard of the handsome paramedic giving out roses to anyone who asked.

Then the nurses asked about it, and Gil believes very strongly in the unsung heroes of medicine--the nurses, the medical assistants, scrub techs, peri-op assistants, even paramedics like himself. So any time someone asked what the flowers were for, he would hand one over with a grin and say they were just to improve people's day.

It's very Gilgamesh--it's very sweet and amazingly thoughtful.

"How does he still have flowers to give out?"

Ajak looks up from her charts. She eyes the vase of a few pink and white roses left by one Mister Gilgamesh himself, and then at the attending head of ER. "I guess so."

"Hm," Thena murmurs to herself as she flips through her own charts. She's leaning against the counter with her back to Ajak.

Ajak puts down her work, leaning back in her chair. Thena might be facing away from her, but she can read all of her kids from a mile away. "It's sweet, isn't it?"

"Of course it is," Thena murmurs with her eyes on her work. "It's Gilgamesh."

"Well, not just that," Ajak probes further, but not without caution. She's pretty sure she's got an idea of how Thena is feeling, but that doesn't mean she's out to provoke the doctor. "You heard how it started out, right?"

"Yes, a woman in early labour, wasn't it?" Thena turns, leaning on her elbows on the counter and toying with her stethoscope. "I heard she and her partner were very thankful for the kind gesture."

"Hm," Ajak replies in Thena's usual way. "I haven't seen him since earlier today."

"He and Kingo got called on a few more runs." Thena sets down her tablet and runs her finger along the edge of the case. "I haven't seen him since this morning, though."

Ajak raises her brows. It's a plain enough statement, but she can hear the slight edge to that tone--the frustration in it. Obviously he's been in and around the hospital, with the amount of floral evidence there is. Ajak tilts her head, "no?"

Thena purses her lips and shakes her head, the way one would when they think nothing of something. Or maybe when they think quite a lot about something but don't want anyone to know.

Ajak gives Thena one more chance to simply come out and say what she's thinking. But unsurprisingly, she has to drag it out of her. "If you want one, I'm sure-"

"They're for patients, Ajak," Thena responds a little too quickly. "Patients and nurses like you, who keep things running. And I'm not sure it's even a good idea for him to be handing out flowers to everyone who asks."

Ajak just nods. Thena does not wear jealousy well.

"Man, that last run took forever!"

Thena and Ajak both look over as Kingo - very loudly - announces their arrival back in the hospital. He has their equipment bags over his shoulder for inventory check. "Not bad, though?"

"No, just long," he sighs. "It was mostly making sure everyone was good on the scene. Things cleaned up well, but someone drove at a snail's pace all day."

"Sorry, sorry!" Ajak leans out of her seat to see Gilgamesh walking up the hall behind his partner.

She smiles, "precious cargo?"

"Very!" he beams.

"What was-" Thena blinks, in the middle of standing from helping Kingo unpack the supplies. She finds herself presented with a bursting full bouquet of red roses. Her hands come up reflexively, her fingers flirting with his in the transfer.

Kingo rolls his eyes and whispers to Ajak, "he's been driving around with them in water until he could give them to her."

"It's sweet," Ajak coos.

"Th-Thank you," Thena mutters out, still stunned. They're even wrapped nicely in sparkly white paper. She looks up at Gil, who's still grinning from ear to ear. "What are these for?"

Gil is the one surprised now. He looks at Ajak, who's smirking at him.

"She was starting to think you forgot her," the nurse supplies, much to Thena's horror.

"Ajak!" Thena hisses at her, although focuses on Gil again when he leans closer to her. Her breath gets caught high up in her chest.

"Forget my Thena?" Gil actually laughs at the thought, leaning over the bulk of the bouquet between them so he can get closer to her. "Never."

Thena can only hear the rustling of the bouquet and the pounding of her heart. Gil leans in to give her a light kiss, right on the line between her lips and her cheek. "Hm."

"I'll get the bus cleaned out for the next guys and meet you in the break room with lunch?" he asks over his shoulder. She nods at him and he winks back at her.

Ajak keeps her smugness to herself, letting Thena bury her nose - and her pink cheeks - in the bountiful bouquet.

[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!

[eggmarr]

may i have xiao + the hidden feelings prompt (also can the reader be an adeptus or yaksha if i can ask that) thank you and have a great day!!

try to keep it hidden (143 event drabble)

pairing: xiao x gn!reader

warnings: modern au, distaste of valentine's day, brief mention of free drinks in a club setting, xiao and reader are roommates, slightly ooc xiao probably, food mentions (cookie mix and snacks), domestic xiao on his day off

a/n: i hope roommate xiao is still ok!!! i tried writing it as adeptus/yaksha reader but it didn’t flow as well for some reason? if you want, you can also request this kind of concept when i reopen my inbox for requests!

songs: i won’t say i’m in love - from the movie “hercules” 

Xiao has very strong feelings about romance.

(He’d rather just say he hates it outright, but that would just be lying to himself.)

You like to call him the “Ebenezer Scrooge” of Valentine’s Day, poking at the frown on his face whenever the season of pink and glitter hearts graces everything in sight.

He waves off the inevitable free drink from a particularly brave group of girls, shies away from the cards, and even starts changing his daily route just to avoid the giant heart man brandishing samples of equally obnoxious candy for a nearby cafe.

The holiday is an exhausting affair. Still, he finds himself wondering how you feel about all the pomp and circumstance.

Did you…want something?

But it’s not his place, isn’t it?

You’re just his roommate. Co-habitant. Friend. Person he knows.

(“Person he wants to know better,” something inside his chest whispers.)

The day of roses dawns with little fanfare, with him up early like usual and two warm cups brewing as the sun casts its golden shine into your shared apartment. He blinks the sleep from his eyes as he sips at his mug - a plain forest green with a black lip. You shuffle in a few minutes after, taking the matching cup from his proffered grip.

See? He knows you; “a perfectly acceptable amount,” he adds to his train of thought. There’s no need to look for other things to learn, other things to see or find or (stars forbid) ask you, out of whatever ridiculous lack of sense he is experiencing. All he needs to know is how you take your drinks, and what foods to keep stocked.

On his afternoon grocery run, he picks up those snacks you really like and some cookie mix for that thing at work you have later this week. He decides not to think about what this means, and lets the impulse to take that last bouquet of flowers from the display win.

His routine is intermittently broken throughout the day. Xiao ignores how these lapses are due to matters relating to you. He almost washes the reds with the whites.

You reenter the apartment to him busy in the kitchen, something sizzling in a pan and another pot boiling away. “Did you-“

“I already ordered food.”

“Is that-“

“I went out and got stuff to make Almond Tofu.”

While his abruptness would make most bristle, you simply shrug, and remind him to call for you if he needs any help with it.

“And the flowers?”

He freezes, his steady stir faltering ever-so slightly. He hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“…They were the last ones there.”

Xiao glances over his shoulder briefly, lingering on you and the (rather obviously Valentine’s Day themed) flowers.

He goes back to stirring, ignoring the voice in his head telling him to keep looking. “You can take them. It’s not like I’ll use them for anything.”

You wish he could see the smile on your face as you set the stems in a nearby vase.

(Xiao has strong feelings about romance - but his feelings for you seem to be getting stronger with every sunrise and sunset.)

[childeaether]

scholarship.

cw: 18+ only, zhongli/f!reader, professor/student relationships, camgirl au, dragon dildo fuckery

wc: 2.2k

zhongli sighed as he shrugged off his jacket and loosened his tie with his free hand. he was exhausted. today’s lecture had been a long one, and his class was definitely going to need a curve on this upcoming test grade. he’d tried to help them understand the topic. he’d tried assigning a lighter workload. none of it worked. it was like teaching to a brick wall.

he needed to decompress.

he grabbed his laptop and sat on the couch. there was already a box of tissues and a bottle of lotion on the end table. he’d anticipated this. it had become an obsession recently.

he opened his laptop and typed the url into the search bar.

angelsofteyvat.com

he knew this website well. it had started satiating his cravings at 9 pm every day for the last month. he almost wished he’d never found it.

glazedlily is now live!

right on time.

he quickly clicked on the profile and joined the livestream. and there you were, all dolled up, wearing only your bra and panties. it was a beautiful, light pink lingerie set. you looked stunning. there you were.

his star student.

“welcome to the live, guys!” you said with a smile. he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. he unzipped his dress pants.

“how are we today?”

phoenixrising: good how are you

knightk: horny

rockyalchemist: doing better now

zhongli rolled his eyes as he scrolled through the comments. he hated being associated with these losers. hated that you might see him the way you see them.

lapisrex: been a long day, baby. how are you?

he swore he saw your eyes light up. which made sense. he knew how expensive college was; he was a generous tipper.

“i’m doing okay, lapis! sorry you had a long day. hopefully, tomorrow will be better!” you said. his breath caught in his throat.

knightk tipped $5!

you rolled your eyes. “c’mon, k, i haven’t even done anything yet!” you giggled. you didn’t need to do anything. you could sit there and stare at the camera; you would still get tips. even from zhongli.

but you were a hard worker. he knew that. you were top of his class, for god’s sake.

“so, what are we thinking tonight?”

phoenixrising: do you know how to do self-bondage?

knightk: i need that bra off asap

zhongli already had plans for the night, though.

lapisrex: i know it’s last minute, but are your private sessions open?

he watched you pause as you read the comment, your eyebrows furrowing. fuck. he definitely should’ve asked in advanced.

“hmm.. normally i’d say no, but you are one of my favorites, lapis. how much?”

his heart was beating so fast, he thought it might beat out of his chest.

lapisrex: $1,000. i’m willing to go up.

your jaw dropped in surprise. “well, shit, i can’t say no to that.”

he knew you couldn’t. your next school payment was coming up in a week.

knightk: does that mean ur ending the live??

“sorry, but yeah. love you guys! always! but i could use that money. so, unless you guys can do better...”

knightk: $1,010

rockyalchemist: $1,500

zhongli rolled his eyes. as if he could be outbid by these randos.

lapisrex: $2,000

he watched as your eyes widened. just like a deer, frozen by approaching headlights.

“okay, that’s enough!” you said. “lapis, the private session is all yours. sorry, you guys! i’ll see you for the next one!”

before anyone else could comment, you ended the live. a bright red notification flashed on his screen as he received your message.

glazedlily has invited you to video chat!

he joined almost immediately, only pausing to make sure his webcam and microphone were both disabled. he couldn’t risk you finding out. it would ruin you both.

“hey, lapis!” you said happily, clasping your hands together. “it’s our first private session! are you excited?”

he was practically levitating.

lapisrex: very.

you grinned as you read the message. “alright, well, what are you feeling tonight?”

he was feeling many things. guilt, arousal, infatuation-

lapisrex: can i see what kind of dildos you have?

“of course! give me just a sec.” you stood and walked off camera. he heard shifting for a moment, and then you returned with a box about the size of your lap.

“okay, so we’ve got a few,” you said as you shifted through the toys, “what size were you thinking?”

lapisrex: the biggest you have

you giggled, and your smile lit up his laptop screen. “well, aren’t you confident?” you teased.

he was.

“the biggest one i have... it’s a little unconventional,” you said sheepishly, a blush dusting your cheeks.

you reached into the box and pulled out a big, thick, oddly shaped dildo. it had an orange tip that faded into yellow, and then into a dark brown at the base. but it didn’t look... normal.

oh.

it was a dragon dildo.

“this big guy hardly ever gets any action. his name is orochi,” you said. “it really came with that name. i don’t name my toys.” your laughter made his chest tighten.

and god, your hands were so tiny compared to it. they could barely cover the base. he felt his hand travel to his dick.

“i know it’s kind of fetish-y, though, so if you don’t like it we can try something else.”

and normally, he’d say, no - let’s try something else. don’t fuck yourself with that dragon dildo.

but everything you made him feel surprised him, every time. you looked so beautiful. he’d fantasized countless times about you looking up at him like you were at the camera now, your eyes sparkling, one of your bra straps falling off your shoulder. a dick in your hand. he wanted to pull those lace panties to the side and fuck you senseless.

he wanted to watch you fuck yourself with a dragon dildo.

lapisrex: no, i like it.

the smirk you gave to the camera made his dick twitch.

“wow,” you said, amused. “i didn’t think you’d be so kinky, lapis. you’re always so tame during my lives.”

you made him feel anything but tame. you made him succumb to the most carnal, primal feelings he’d ever known.

“alright, before i lube this fucking monster up, any other requests?”

just one.

lapisrex: can you call me professor?

lapisrex: if you’re comfortable, of course.

you raised your eyebrows. “damn, you are kinkier than i thought, lapis,” you said. “oh, my bad. you’re kinkier than i thought, professor.”

something in him snapped in half. jesus fucking christ. he had dreamed of this. of you on your knees, looking up at him with those big, beautiful eyes. whispering his title. dreamt of whispering back a simple, soft-

lapisrex: good girl.

-before, ideally, fucking your throat.

you reached off camera to grab a small bottle of lube. he watched as you poured some directly on the toy, and then spread it with your hands. he’d never been so jealous of a dildo in his life.

after you’d deemed the dildo lubed enough, you poured a bit on your fingers. you looked shyly into the camera. “just wanna make sure i’m fully prepped,” you said, and reached down to take off your panties-

oh.

he’d dreamt of this, too. of laying you on your back against his desk, reaching up your skirt, pulling your panties to the side. taking his sweet time with you. gently, slowly scissoring his fingers in and out of you, watching your face contort as you refused to look at him. you really could be so shy sometimes.

“okay,” you said finally, positioning yourself above the dildo. he took his cock into his right hand. “here goes nothing.”

he had to stifle the groan that left his throat just watching you sink slowly onto the tip. you bit your lip as you winced, pausing to adjust to the stretch. “sorry,” you panted, “it’s… really big.”

fuck. did you have any idea how fucking sexy you sounded?

lapisrex: don’t apologize, baby. take your time.

you shot the camera an appreciative grin. his heart squeezed.

slowly but surely, you sank yourself all the way down to the base. even with the generous amount of lube, he was impressed. you were a determined girl. it made him want to split you open himself.

“fuck, professor,” you gasped, “i feel so… full.”

he couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting into his hand. you really had no idea what you did to him.

you leaned back onto your elbows, giving him the perfect view of your pussy, stretched around the base. god, you were so fucking beautiful. “i think i’m ready to start now,” you said. your face was flushed, your eyes already starting to glaze over. he’d seen you like this before, during your lives- but this was so much better. seeing you like this for him was so much better.

you were looking into the camera with those same puppy dog eyes you gave him in class. the same ones that sparkled when he called on you during a lecture. the same ones that looked at him with such adoration as he explained concepts to the class.

you slowly pulled the dildo out by the base before cautiously working it back in. you cringed ever so slightly. he wanted to be there with you. he wanted to stroke your hair and whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you adjusted to the feeling.

lapisrex: you’re doing so good, baby. take it slow if you need to.

you whimpered as you continued your gentle thrusts. “thank you, professor,” you said softly. there it was again. that dazed, sinful look in your eye. he knew you liked to be praised long before he found your profile. you always flushed when he complimented your work.

your mouth fell open into a silent moan as you gradually sped up your thrusts. “oh, god, it’s so big,” you groaned, “it feels so fucking good.” you threw your head back as you brought your free hand to your clit, rubbing soothing circles while you increased your speed.

zhongli was fully fucking his hand now, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. you were addicting. with a particularly hard thrust, your back arched, showing off your fucking perfect tits. his mouth was practically watering.

“shit, i’m- i’m close, professor,” you gasped, followed by a whine as you circled your clit faster. his cock ached.

lapisrex: not yet.

you let out a desperate sound, still fucking yourself at the same speed. “please, i can’t- i can’t hold on for much longer,” you cried. “it’s so… intense.” you took your hand away from your clit and brought it to tease one of your nipples.

he wished he could break you down like this every night. you were always so calm, so composed. and so damn smart. it had to be exhausting. he wanted to relieve you of all that stress. to turn you into his pliant, brainless slut- even for just an hour.

“professor, please,” you begged, sending a pulse through his cock. he was getting close, too. he’d been stroking his cock so long his arm was starting to hurt. “please, professor, i can’t-”

lapisrex: why should i let you cum?

lapisrex: do you deserve it?

a pathetic whimper escaped you. “yes, yes, i- i’ve been good professor,” you nearly sobbed. just hearing the desperation in your voice was almost enough to send him over the edge. you were right. you had been so, so good for him.

lapisrex: hmmm.

lapisrex: okay, baby. you’ve been good. you can cum.

you threw your head back and sighed in relief. you returned your hand to your clit and thrust the dildo harshly in and out of you. finally, your toes curled; your back arched. “ohh, fuck,” you groaned loudly, “thank you, professor- thank you, thank you.” you were babbling now, riding out your orgasm as your cunt clenched around the dragon dick. zhongli’s vision blurred as he roughly stroked himself over the edge. he didn’t even bother to muffle the gravelly moan that ripped from his throat.

when he opened his eyes, there was cum all over his hand, and some on his laptop screen. you were on your back, still lazily circling your fingertips over your clit. your legs were shaking.

you looked angelic. he longed to reach out and pull you close, to kiss the top of your head. his heart ached in his chest. he knew what he was doing was wrong. but he couldn’t help himself. you were enchanting, and he was only a man. only another fool in love.

you sat up. “wow,” you breathed, “that was… fucking incredible.” you giggled, clearly fucked out. “thank you, professor. i mean- i guess, lapis, now.”

you carefully dragged the dildo out of you, wincing slightly. “i... i really needed that,” you laughed. “i hope you got your money’s worth, too.”

you were worth the earth, the moon, the stars.

lapisrex: absolutely. you were so good for me.

lapisrex: thank you, baby. i hope we can do this again soon.

the smile on your face was genuine, just like the ones you flashed him during lecture that day. a warmth bloomed in his chest. “of course, lapis! you’re one of my favorites, remember?”

he wanted to be the only one.

“okay, professor, time’s up. i’ll see you again soon.” you smiled one last time into the webcam and then you were gone.

he sighed, leaning back on his couch.

how was he going to look you in the eye on monday.

[kingexpl0sionmurder]

Body Electric - Kaminari Denki - Smut

Author: @kingexpl0sionmurder Pairing: Kaminari Denki/F!Reader Rating: 18+ (contains smut) Words: 5,491 Warnings: Sex work (Cam boy/girl), Quirkless AU, Aged-up Adult characters (someone is in grad school! wow!), mentions of masturbation (both male and female), mentions of casual ShinKami, established KiriBaku, Idk they are all just really sexually liberated and don’t care about watching each other cum. Is that voyeurism? I’m bad at tagging things. Title taken from a Lana Del Rey song. AN: Another BNHarem collab piece! The theme was sex work, and I have wanted to do a camboy Denki for a long time so here we go. This was really smutty in my head but Denki makes me soft and it turned out really cute in the end, I’m sorry? He’s such a dork I feel like any sexual encounter with him would just turn out like this in some way, idk.  Thanks to @unbreakablekiribaku​ and @sailorsero​ as usual for being supportive of me. Happy birthday to @lady-bakuhoe and @burnedbyshoto​ 🎂🎂 There is no one else I would rather be birthday triplets with!

Please check out the Collab Masterlist: HERE Look 👀 at My Masterlist: HERE Buy me a Kofi if you’re scared of clowns too: HERE

---

Sighing, you sat up on your elbows, squinting at the chat on the screen, willing your heart to stop pounding and your breath to even out. The donations were pouring in, the chat moving so fast you couldn’t even read it. “Alright, lovelies, I hope you enjoyed that. Be right back and we’ll chat a little bit, okay?”

Donations popped up, the chat slowing a little as the clients who only came to jerk off to you left, leaving those who considered themselves true fans. You stood and made your way to the bathroom to pee, rinsing your toy off in the sink and washing your hands. You went back to your room, pulling on a hoodie and settling in front of the screen again.

“Alright, I’m back! I have some time for a few questions and then I have to go for the night. Let me see what we got!” You scanned the chat, ignoring the normal inappropriate questions. Mindfucker:  Do you know who Chargebolt is? Cause I heard he watches your stream.

Your heart, which had finally slowed to a normal rhythm, picked up again. You most definitely knew who Chargebolt was. You gave him a good amount of money from your donations when you watched his cam shows yourself. “I do actually, he’s pretty popular on here, isn’t he?” You sat back a little, furrowing your brows. “How do you know he watches me?”

RedDaddy: He did a Q&A and mentioned your channel! Told everyone to check you out.

You recognized the names of the viewers and knew they were also regulars on Chargebolt’s streams as well, so you believed them. Chargebolt was gorgeous and funny, just your type. The knowledge that he was interested in you enough to watch you get off on camera was flattering. You hoped your blush wasn’t showing on your face. 

“I’m surprised he knows who I am!” You had missed the last Q&A he’d done, since it hadn’t been on his normal streaming day, and you’d been stuck at work late. Leaning forward again, you bit your lip, looking into the camera from under your lashes. “Can I tell you guys a secret? I watch him, too. Why do you think I never do shows on Thursdays? That’s Chargebolt day.” With a wink you sat back, trying to will the blush from your cheeks. Mindfucker: I knew it! I bet he’s watching right now. You smiled, shrugging. “I hope he enjoyed the show, then!” You tried to hold it together, suppressing the urge to burst into a fit of giggles at the thought, answering a few more silly questions from your regulars, before signing off for the night, promising to be back again the following week.

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, leaning your head back and groaning. It was wild that the guy whose cam shows you watched on the regular, the one who had inspired you to start your own, who you thought of half the time when you were filming yourself getting off on camera for strangers, knew who you were and was one of your viewers. 

It brought you down a whole rabbit hole for a second, wondering if he got off on you getting off. Why else would he watch? Did he ever donate? You assumed he had a secondary account so you wouldn’t know it was him even if you tried to look at your past viewers, just like you had a secret account so you could watch him as well. 

Cracking your eyes open, you clicked to view the donation tallies for the evening. You’d made enough to pay the rent on your apartment for the month in just one night. Sometimes you wondered how you ever managed to survive before you started doing this. It was meant to be a temporary side job, but you’d been running this cam channel under the screen name Neko for over six months, and you had clawed your way out of debt in such a short time, it didn’t make sense for you to stop.

You viewed a few more visitor stats with interest, before logging off the computer and shutting the laptop. You had to get to sleep for your real job in the morning, so you figured it was time for bed, pushing thoughts of Chargebolt to the back of your mind for now.

It wasn’t until later when you were lying down to sleep, that you thought of him again. Your eyes closed as you ran through a scenario in your head, wondering if he would mention you on Thursday, and what would come of all this? You had noticed your viewer numbers had spiked that day, so it was definitely beneficial that you’d caught his eye. You just weren’t sure what would happen next.

--

Denki was grinning into the camera, wiping the cum off of his abs with the towel he kept beside him, his chest and cheeks flushed pink. He adjusted in his chair, tugging the toy out of his hole and chucking it to the side, pulling his boxers back up over his softening cock. “I hope it was as good for you as it was for me, babes.” 

He chuckled at the comments flooding the chat as he reached for his water and took a sip. 

Tapeman: As always, you never disappoint me, Chargebolt.

“Hey thanks, Tapeman! I appreciate you always coming to hang out...get it? Coming?”

Mindfucker: Ridiculous.

“Aw, you love me, Mindfucker.” He winked at the camera. “So, did you guys enjoy my Q&A the other day?”

The chat filled with praise, making him grin. He loved to talk to his fans, and sometimes they had some great questions for him. He knew a lot of people just watched him as a way to get off, but he liked to give a little piece of himself to them because he knew that most of the people who watched were probably lonely, and he wanted to help with that in some way. He kept things laid back, joking and laughing with his viewers before and after the show, taking requests and doing his best to remember some of the regulars. Some of the few who had been with him from the beginning he’d made into moderators to help with keeping things somewhat orderly in the chat. Some of them he actually knew in real life, like his roommate Hitoshi, who used the alias Mindfucker.

Mindfucker: So are we going to talk about Neko? Denki’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, you mean the stream the other day? It was…” He made the appropriate motion as he said it. “Chef’s kiss, immaculate. She’s so beautiful…” Trailing off, he let himself think back to the way your chest heaved and the face you made when you came. “I would do anything for her, man.”

RedDaddy: Dude, I agree! She’s also super sweet, like, the total package.

Sighing, he leaned his elbow on the desk, his cheek resting on his palm. “I am a simp, my guy.” He sat up, squinting at the chat. “She said she watches, right? Is she here right now?” He scanned the names of the viewers, frowning. “She probably has a second account. Well, if you’re here, Neko, you should hit me up. I read all of my DM’s okay?” He grinned, winking again. “Alright, I have to go feed the cats so I’m outie 5000, thanks for hanging out and I’ll see you guys next week!”

He said his goodbyes, ending the stream and sighing. He wiped off his toy with the towel and clicked through his stats for the day, smiling at some of the comments that came with the donations. Hitoshi came into his room a few minutes later, holding one of the cats, an orange tabby named Miso, in his arms. “I fed them, you don’t have to.”

Was it weird that his roommate watched him fuck himself on toys and jerk off on the internet on a weekly basis? Nope. Denki had forgone all sense of modesty when it came to sex a long time ago, and Hitoshi was the same. It helped that they fucked around on occasion, best friends who got lonely and lived together sometimes did that, he guessed. Or maybe they were weird. It was whatever, he didn’t like to think about it too much. 

“What would I do without you, Toshi?”

“Kill the cats, probably.” He deadpanned, leaning in the doorway. “Burn all the toast you try to make, buy the wrong peanut butter, eat Cheese-Itz for breakfast every day, forget to pay the cable bill.” He raised his eyebrows. “I can keep going.”

“Fuck off, I got the all-natural peanut butter once, it was an accident!” Denki threw his soiled towel into the laundry basket by the closet and picked up the toy he’d used, waving it around a bit. “Did you enjoy the stream?”

Hitoshi snorted, eyeing the dildo warily. “I didn’t really watch, I had my eye on the chat. I was looking for Neko.”

“Man, I can’t believe she’s a fan!” He waved the dildo some more, watching as it jiggled. “I would let her do unspeakable things to me.”

“Look out, your sub is showing, Denki.” Hitoshi teased. “But I agree, she’s pretty great. I wonder if she’ll ever do private shows.” Pausing to scritch Miso behind the ears, he continued. “I’m sure they’d be in high demand.”

Denki stood, pointing at Hitoshi with the dildo. He really needed to put it down somewhere and stop brandishing it around like a sword. “Don’t even, I’d spend all my money on that girl.” 

“I know you would.” He chuckled. “I did try to go through the usernames and see if I could find out who she could be, but I didn’t have any luck.”

“It’s okay! I’m leaving it up to fate now, man. If the universe wants us to know each other, we will.” He stuck his thumb towards the ensuite. “I’m going to wash my ass and then we can play Among Us if you want.”

Hitoshi, completely unphased as usual, nodded. “I’ll get a team together. Check the discord when you get out.”

Humming, Denki made his way to the bathroom, picking up his phone on the way. It buzzed as he closed the door, and he glanced down to see he had a message from his other moderator and friend, Eijirou, aka RedDaddy. Tossing the dildo in the sink, he looked down at the screen and opened the message.

Eiji: No luck on finding Neko on the stream, but she said she never misses a Thursday, so I bet she was there.

Denki: Thanks for keeping an eye out, man. I appreciate you. Among us in 30?

Eiji: Bet. I’ll ask Kats to play too.

--

Your next stream day had you feeling nervous. Chargebolt had talked directly at you on his last stream, asking you to slide into his DMs, and you had yet to take him up on it. You didn’t know what you were so scared of, Chargebolt was a nice guy. You chalked it up to the fear of the unknown. If you sent him a message, what would you even say? ‘Hey dude, nice cock?’ It was bound to be a disaster.

Pushing your nerves back down, you made sure you were ready for your stream, excited for the news you were about to drop on your viewers. You were needing a little extra cash due to some unfortunate car trouble, and you’d figured out a way to make up what you needed in record time.

“Hey everyone, welcome!” You smiled at the camera, waving your fingers. “Thanks for coming! I see a lot of familiar names here tonight. Hi Mindfucker, Dynamight, RedDaddy, Tapeman, LightningMcQueen!”

LightningMcQueen: Hey, beautiful! I’ve been looking forward to this all week.

Dynamight: Chill out, McQueen, you look desperate.

RedDaddy: Be nice, Dynamight. Hi, Neko!

Dynamight: Fuck off, Shittyhair.

Mindfucker: How’s your cat, Neko?

“Be good, Dynamight. You’re lucky I know you don’t mean that!” You giggled at the antics of your regulars, smiling at the question about your cat. “Ichigo is doing good, Mindfucker, thanks for asking! I’ll bring her on camera after the show if you want to say hi!”

Minfucker just sent a cat emoji and you laughed, shaking your head. “I’m beginning to think that you’re just here for Ichigo and not me.”

The chat went crazy with people denying it, telling you how much they loved watching you every week. You lit up, feeling more excited about your news.

“So I have something I want to discuss before we get started today. I’ve decided I want to try out doing some private shows, so I’m going to be offering up a few spots. I’m going to give some of my longest and most frequent supporters a shot first, and if all goes well, then I’ll open them up to the rest of you! I’ll be adding a signup link at the bottom of my page after tonight’s stream, so if you’re interested you can apply and I’ll pick a few of you and we’ll work out a schedule! How does that sound?”

Dynamight: McQueen already has his credit card ready I bet.

“Aw, you don’t want to play with me, Dynamight?” You teased, giving the camera your best pout.

Dynamight: You couldn’t handle me, Princess.

LightningMcQueen: Hush. You’re a bottom, Dyna.

Dynamight: Die you fucking extra.

LightningMcQueen: Love you too, blasty.

“I was going to let you pick the toy today, Dynamight, but if you can’t behave then I’m just going to have to let someone else have a turn.” You gave the camera a disapproving look, frowning. You’d picked up that these guys were friends, so you knew they were just messing with each other.

A donation popped up from Dynamight with a comment attached. 

Let McQueen choose this time, babe.

“It looks like Dynamight is going to let you choose, McQueen. Which one?” You pulled over the box you kept your toys in and showed it to the camera. “Pick a color.”

LightningMcQueen: Yellow

You pulled the yellow silicone out of the box and showed it to the chat, smirking. “I call this one Chargebolt because it’s the same color as his hair. Are you sure this is the one you want me to use?”

--

When your stream ended, Denki leaned back in his chair, taking a deep breath. The fact that he’d watched you fuck yourself with a dildo that you’d named after him was the hottest thing he could have imagined. He was jealous of that piece of bright yellow silicone more than he should be. He’d still enjoyed it, if the mess across his abs and chest were any indication. 

He cleaned himself up and pulled on a shirt, clicking on the link for the private show signup. It was pretty straightforward, listing the price and how long the show would be, and asking for his username and what he would be interested in doing or seeing and what day would work best.

Staring at the form for a moment, he contemplated his options. He could sign up with his LightningMcQueen account, and he might have a chance. He was the first one out of his friends to find your channel one night when he was bored and horny. Then he’d shown it to Hitoshi and then shared your info with Eijirou, Katsuki, and Hanta. He would be considered one of the longest and loyal viewers like you had said.

However, if you got a request from Chargebolt? What would you do? Would you ignore it? 

“Toshi!” He called out, knowing his roommate would hear him without him having to get up. “I’m having a crisis!”

The door opened, and the purple-haired man stood in the doorway. “I am not prepared to handle your bi panic right now, Denki.”

“Are you going to put in for a private show from Neko?” Denki pushed on, ignoring his friend’s exasperation. 

“I spoke that into existence last week, you know. You’re welcome.”

Flopping back in his chair, Denki closed his eyes. “Should I send in the request with this account or with the Chargebolt one?”

Hitoshi shrugged, watching their cat Sashimi wander into the room. “You’ve wanted to talk to her for ages, man. You could have messaged her forever ago and you wouldn’t be playing this game with her. Sign up with your actual account.”

“I mean, she must think I’m cute, right? Otherwise, she wouldn’t watch.” He sat up, logging out of his secondary account and into his main one. He had a few unread DM’s, so he clicked, his breath catching in his throat. “Dude, look.”

There was a message from you, short but sweet.

Hi, Chargebolt. I don’t know if you saw the stream today, but you should check it out if you haven’t. I left it up for you.”

“She wants you to see her use that dildo she named after you.” Hitoshi patted his shoulder, and then bent down to pick up Sashimi. “I signed up but I told her I just wanted to have a date with her cat. She probably won’t pick me.”

“She will, she loves cats.” Denki clicked on your page and scrolled down to the bottom where the signup was again, letting it populate his main account in the information, and writing ‘any day except Thursday’ in the section for the time that worked for him. “I’m going to get this girl to date me, just you watch.”

Snorting, his roommate closed the door behind him as he left. “I believe in you, Pikachu.”

Once his request was submitted, he went back to his DM’s and sent you a message back.

“I was there, Neko. I never miss a stream. I submitted for a private show, so I hope you’ll pick me. I’ve been one of your viewers since the beginning, you know.”

---

In your head, you tried to plan what you would say once you were face to face (via camera) with the one and only Chargebolt. Everything your brain seemed to come up with fell short. What did you say to this guy, who you’d been simping over for over 9 months, who lit up your screen every Thursday with terrible puns and panty-dropping smiles? You knew exactly what he looked like and sounded like when he came. It was a strange thing to think that you knew that but you’d never actually spoken to him before.

It made you feel a little better when you realized he knew just as much about you. That he watched you fuck yourself on a dildo you’d named after him, and then spent the rest of the stream showing off your fluffy white cat Ichigo. 

It was time to put on your big girl panties. You could do this. 

Chargebolt had been one of the few that you’d chosen to do these shows with. He was also the last one. You’d met with 4 others, the ones who were the most active in your chat, the ones you assumed were actually friends. 

Your first one was with Tapeman, who asked you to call him Sero. He was cute, with the widest, prettiest smile you’d ever seen. He made you laugh, and called you beautiful, and spoke to you in Spanish. You didn’t feel uncomfortable once with him, and the experience gave you hope that the rest would be just as nice.

Mindfucker was next, whose name was Shinsou and lowkey your favorite one. He didn’t want anything sexual at all, which surprised you. You sat with him and drank tea and you got to meet his two fur children, Miso and Sashimi, while he told you about his roommate. You let him admire Ichigo, and talked about music. He was sarcastic, but not in a mean way, and you were pretty sure he was going to be your new best friend.

RedDaddy and Dynamight had asked to do theirs together since they were dating. You wanted to question why they both watched your stream but RedDaddy, who was actually named Kirishima, answered it for you.

“We’re both bi, and we think you’re cute!”

“Yeah, plus McQueen has a thing for you so we like to be in the chat to help him out.” Dynamite, aka Bakugou, added in his gruff voice, folding his arms across his chest.

“Aw, that’s sweet!” You smiled at them. “He didn’t request a private show though, so I guess he doesn’t like me that much.”

Bakugou coughed and Kirishima grinned. “Maybe he was nervous! I’m sure you’ll meet him in one of these someday!”

“Enough about that dumbass.” Bakugou leaned forward, his hand on Kirishima’s knee. “Give us a show and we’ll give you one in return. Use that orange and green one for me, Princess.”

And give you a show they did. You got lost in how they looked at each other while they jerked each other off, and you were pretty sure they forgot you were even there at some point. When it was over, you suggested that they start their own channel.

Bakugou scoffed, but you could tell he was blushing a bit.

“I don’t know, Neko. I don’t think I could share him with anyone else. Except you, you’re the exception.” Kirishima grinned, winking at you.

But now it was Chargebolt’s turn. You made sure you had everything you needed, making sure Ichigo was out of the room, and then signed into your account. 

Chargebolt was online, so you made the private room and sent him the request. You felt like you were shaking, and you checked yourself in the camera to make sure you didn’t look like a wreck.

You barely had time to breathe before he entered the chat, his camera screen coming to life and showing you his smiling face. You melted a bit, biting your lip, gazing at how attractive he was. 

“Hey, Neko!” Chargebolt was as vibrant as ever, tucking his hair behind his ears, the black lightning bolt in his hair dark against the bright yellow of the rest of it.

“It’s nice to see you, Chargebolt.” You tried to relax, rolling your shoulders back. “It’s kind of weird knowing you can see me too.”

He laughed, leaning back in his chair. You tried not to stare at his arms in the tank top he was wearing. Chargebolt had a small frame, but his muscles were defined. You’d seen him plow through an entire bag of chips on stream once, without pausing to breathe, so you assumed he must be one of those people with amazing metabolism that you envied. “You can call me Denki if you want, kitten.”

You choked on air at the nickname, trying to compose yourself. “Kitten?”

“Well, Neko means cat, doesn’t it?” He raised an eyebrow. “I won’t call you that if you don’t like it.”

“No!” You practically shouted. “No, I mean, it’s fine. I like it.”

“Sweet.” He grinned. “Man, I’ve wanted to get you alone like this for so long, and now I’m just feeling really nervous.”

“You’re nervous?” You were surprised. The always cool but super dorky Chargebolt was nervous because of you? “So am I.”

Chargebolt- sorry, Denki, rested his elbow on the desk, propping his head in his hand. “Well, glad to know I’m not the only disaster here. I’ve been trying to get the courage to talk to you for months, and then finally Hitoshi got me to talk about you on stream a few weeks ago, and now here we are.”

“Who’s Hitoshi? One of your regulars?” Knowing that you weren’t the only one who was sweating bullets had you relaxing a bit. 

“Oh yeah, Mindfucker! You know him right? He did a thing with you the other day, didn’t he?”

Eyes wide, you stared at him. “Shinsou?”

“Yeah, that’s my best friend and my roommate. He said he showed you the cats.” He shrugged. “You picked all my friends for your private shows. Sero, Kiri, Bakugou, Shinsou.” He paused, smirking. “I forgot that you don’t know that I’m LightningMcQueen.”

“That’s you? I was wondering why they didn’t send me a request, but it all makes sense now.”

Denki shot you finger guns and winked. “Kachow!”

“Oh god, stop it.” You rolled your eyes.

He chuckled, grinning at you. “So, did Shinsou talk about me?”

You giggled, remembering back. “He told me a story about how his roommate mistook a fuzzball for a spider and spent the afternoon sitting on a table waiting for him to come home and kill it.”

“It looked like one of those freaky poisonous ones from where I was sitting. I was afraid to let it out of my sight in case it got away and then multiplied and killed me in my sleep or something.” He took a deep breath. “Spiders are terrifying.”

This man was amazing. “You are everything I always thought you’d be, you know that?”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.” He sighed. “You have to have some kind of embarrassing story to tell me so I don’t feel like a fool. You’ve got to make it even.”

“One year my dad hired a clown to come to my birthday party. He walked in the front door and I jetted out the back door and hid in the garden until he left. Clowns are just as terrifying as spiders.”

Chargebolt laughed, and the sound made your stomach do a somersault. It was just as bright and happy as he was. “That is the cutest shit I’ve ever heard!”

“I’m glad my childhood trauma is amusing you.” You deadpanned, trying to keep the smile off your face.

“Aw, don’t be like that kitten! I’m glad we can bond over our irrational fears like this, you know?” He 

You shivered happily. “Okay, okay.” You cleared your throat. “So, you didn’t write anything down here for what you wanted out of our chat today.”

“Oh, okay, down to business then.” He sat up straight. “Well, I wanted to tell you myself instead of submitting it on the form.”

Intrigued, you raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t want to give me a chance to back out?”

Snorting, and shook his head. “Nah, I think you’ll like it, kitten.” He folded his hands behind his head. “I want you to tell me what to do. I’m at your mercy.”

Swallowing thickly, you blinked at him. That was...really hot. “You like being told what to do?”

“I would love nothing more for you to pull my hair and peg me within an inch of my life while calling me your little cock slut.” He stared at you with an eyebrow raised, looking pleased with himself when he saw your expression.

Your thighs clenched together involuntarily. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, right? I mean, I’m a switch, I’d do the same to you if you asked.  But we can save that for next time.” He smirked. “So, you down?”

Next time? This man was going to kill you. “Take off your shirt, Denki.”

“Fuck yes.” He groaned, reaching behind him and tugging the garment over his head. 

His chest and abs came into view, and you let your eyes linger on the barbells through his nipples. “Pants too.”

He pushed his chair away from his desk and shimmied out of his shorts, kicking them to the side. You gazed at him in his blue boxer briefs, eyes lingering on his thin waist, strong thighs, and the outline of his cock. He was a sight to behold, honestly.

You held the fangirling back, leaning forward to get a better look at him. “Do you have any toys, Denki?”

“Of course, Kitten.” He moved out of view for a moment, coming back with a box. 

“Let me see.” He tilted the box towards the camera, your eyes flitting over the different colors and shapes inside. “The pink one.” 

“Okay, hang on, let me-” He cut off, standing up and throwing the pink toy on the bed. He picked up the laptop and moved it, laying down beside it and angling the camera so you could see what he was doing.

“Did you stretch yourself, baby?” 

He made a noise that sounded like a whine in the back of his throat at the pet name, obviously pleased by it. “Yeah, of course I did.” He glanced at the screen. “You should, uh, take your shirt off too.”

“I thought you wanted me to tell you what to do, not the other way around.” Teasing him, you crossed your arms over your chest.

He pouted slightly. “I’ve been good so far though, right?”

“All you’ve done is take off two items of clothing and move to the bed. You’re gonna have to work harder than that!”

Huffing, he lifted his ass off the bed and tugged his underwear down his legs, kicking them off, his hand already moving to wrap around his already hard cock.

“Did I say you could touch yourself, Denki?” It was getting hard to keep up the stern act you were putting on, but you knew it was what he wanted. You wanted to watch him touch himself, watch the way his eyes fluttered closed when his thumb brushed over the leaking head of his cock, and the way he would bite his lip when he moved his wrist a certain way.

You could be patient though, so you continued.

“If I was there right now, what would you want me to do first?”

He stilled, blinking at you a few times. “I would want your mouth first, I think.”

Humming, you sat back, pulling your shirt over your head, letting him admire the lacey purple bra covering your chest. “You’d want my mouth on your cock? Trace my tongue along that vein along the underside and suck on the head a little?”

Denki groaned, closing his eyes, his grip visibly tightening around his shaft. He looked like he was trying not to get worked up too fast. You were amazed at how your words were affecting him, so you pressed on.

“I’d take you all the way down until I was choking on it, and I’d let you hold onto my hair and fuck my face. God, you don’t know how many times I've dreamed about doing that for you. What would you say to that?”

The blush spreading down his neck and chest made him look so pretty. “Ugh, fuck kitten, you’re killing me.” He swallowed hard, opening his eyes to look at you again. “I’d tell you how good you made me feel, but I wouldn’t let you finish me off that way.”

“Oh no? Tell me what else you’d do.” You took the opportunity to move to the bed yourself, pulling off your leggings and panties all at once. 

Eyes glued to you while you unclipped your bra and threw it across the room, he continued. “Fuck, um, I would...god, you’re beautiful.”

Flushing at the compliment, you looked down shyly, breaking character. “I’ve heard you say that before and I still don’t believe it.”

Denki scoffed. “If you need a daily reminder, I’d be happy to be the one to tell you, kitten.” You could hear the sincerity in his voice, and it made your heart do a little flip. “I might seem like a dumbass but I’m using this camboy money to pay off my student loans for my masters in English lit so I can quote you entire sonnets from Shakespeare without hesitation if that will help you believe me.”

Your eyebrows shot up, impressed. Realizing you’d ruined the moment, you sighed, covering your eyes with your hand. “I’m sorry, I’m crap at this. I really just want to watch you cum.”

Chuckling, you heard him shifting on the bed. “Okay, how about this? Forget the toys. Just close your eyes and listen to me.”

“Okay.”

“If you were here with me right now, just like that, I’d spend so much time exploring every inch of you with my tongue. I’d start with your lips, your jaw, your neck. Collarbones, shoulders, your chest, those cute nipples-”

“How are nipples cute?” You interrupted with a snort.

You could hear him trying not to laugh, his voice pitched a bit higher. “Shh, don’t ruin it.”

“I think you just did when you said ‘cute nipples’.” You’d never had this much fun with someone in a situation like this. “If I had a dick, my boner would have just died.”

Denki wheezed, and you opened your eyes to look over at him. He was gazing back at you, his eyes bright as he laughed into his palm. “God, I like you so much, kitten.”

Your grin softened, your heart pounding at his words. “Me too, Denki.” 

[fischlsbubbletea]

D0 Y0U R3M3MB3R… ☔️

(Giyuu x fem reader | Modern AU)

> 1NF0: AG3 R4T1NG: N/A <3

1NGR3D13NTS: Fluff ! No warnings 🍮 fem/girl y/n ^^ she/her & they/them pronouns used in fic if there are any !! Shy reader !!!

A/N: Hiiii omg I’m so nervous about posting this, this is one of my first few fics, so yeah haha. I know this won’t get much attention haha… I hope you will all like this fanfic as I put a fair amount of work and time into it, mainly because I didn’t know what to write LOL, if you could like it to show that you enjoyed it then I would be over the moon 💕 I’m really sorry if it’s bad, I’m pretty new to writing fics… ALSO, I JUST WANNA SAY I LOVE GIYUU SM, HE HAS MY HEART 😭🤧 shiii I just realised I have no clue how to write him, oh well, nvm | I’m not the greatest at writing so please ignore how bad it is TwT <

‘Huff, huff… HUFF’

You arrived at the bookshop that you’d been waiting ages to see, it was the biggest one in Tokyo, the one in your local town paled in comparison to this creme de la creme of bookstores. You can’t believe you actually made it just as the heavy downpour of rain you’d been expecting started to batter the city. You recount what your childhood friend had said about the bookshop, he’d told you when he moved, to go to [bookshop name] and he’d find you again… it’s been so long that you can only remember the nickname you’d given him… ‘Gi’ and his sweet smile you used to hold dear. There’s no way I’ll see him again though, you see that now.

‘Ding’, the doorbell cries out as you open the door. A cold shiver runs through you and instinctively you rub your arms as you look around. Wow what an amazing bookshop… you wonder in and walk over to the [insert favourite genre] section, the one section you visit before anything else, there are so many books in this section. I’ll have to make a habit of coming here.

You are so engrossed in looking at the books that you don’t notice a guy standing right next you and end up crashing into him. You stumble onto him and he - unprepared for a random person falling on him - stumbles back and you end up falling on top of the guy… ‘Arghhh… ow’, oh no… ‘Did I just fall on someone?!?’ you whisper sharply to yourself, you start to freak out. You quickly open your eyes and find you are laying on someone’s body but not like in the movies where you fall on their chest and then your eyes meet and it’s really cute, NO, you have your head on his stomach and not even facing towards the ceiling, your face is embedded in someone’s stomach. ‘AHH!’, you let an embarrassed wail and rush to get your face off the poor guy, your ears start to become hot and redden as you profusely apologise to him, your eyes squint shut from being too embarrassed to face him.

You finally have the courage to open your eyes again slowly once you feel you’ve apologised enough to find a twenty something year old man with black hair pulled back messily into a ponytail, his eyes stare right into yours… seemingly dumbfounded and a light shade of pink covers his cheeks. He’s lying against a bookcase at an angle so awkward that you can’t help but let out a small giggle. You start to blush too. ‘…Sorry, sorry, haha. Are you ok?’ you nervously say to him.

He just sits there in silence.

You shakily stammer out ‘Uhhh p-please answer! Are you ok? Did… did you hit your head?’, worried you did more damage than you thought. ‘Huh- no, I’m fine. Ugh, you hit me pretty hard. Did I… hurt you at all?’ ‘No, no, not at all… rather, it was actually a-a soft landing’ you say to him trying not to laugh. ‘Oh…’ the messy haired guy says processing what you had just said, once he finally realised you’d fallen on his stomach his cheeks turned a dark shade of red, ‘Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to make you embarrassed… Oh yeah, I should help you up shouldn’t I, I’m such an idiot.’.

You rise to your feet and help him up onto his, he wobbly gets up and thanks you. ‘No need to thank me, I was the one who fell on you! Still, your welcome haha. By the way, I didn’t get your name, what is it?’ ‘…Tomioka Giyuu… What’s yours?’ ‘Oh, I’m L/N Y/N.’ ‘You can call me Giyuu if you want to be informal.’ Giyuu says in way that almost sounds like he’s pleading for you to call him by his name. ‘Okay… Giyuu.’.

Standing there awkwardly you begin to notice how good looking Giyuu is…

His messy black hair that beautifully contrasts his pale complexion, his blue eyes you could get lost in, his slender hands that look soft and smooth… You can feel yourself developing some kind of warm feeling, a warm feeling you’d felt once before so long ago, almost like a life time ago. This feeling burns in your chest.

It’s almost like I’ve met him before…

Giyuu’s throat clearing brings you back from your trance like state. Your face starts to feel hot and a lump forms in your throat that renders your ability to talk properly, ‘I-I uhh, you- I mean…’ you stutter out. ‘I-it’s fine… we should both go get some fresh air.’ Giyuu says, light blush still covering his cheeks.

Forgetting that it’s raining the two of you walk to the door. ‘I forgot it was raining…’ Giyuu says nonchalantly with a deadpan expression, you just have to laugh at him, he looks at you in an offended way and he can’t help but at least curl the corners of his lips into a vague smile, from the few minutes you’d spent in near him you’d figured out laughing wasn’t really his style. ‘I have to admit I forgot too though, it’s not just you.’ You tell him with a small giggle, ‘What shall we do then?’, Giyuu turns towards to section we’d just come from and says ‘it’s raining so let’s sit and read for a while.’, ‘Good idea.’.

Giyuu goes and sits down next to a pile of books you assume are his and you pick your book, a [Insert favourite genre] book, and take a seat across from Giyuu. Your eyes catch for a second before you both embarrassedly look away. You start your book but can’t help but steal glances up from your book every few minutes… soon an hour passes, then two.

After hours of getting lost in your book you finally finish to find him sleeping sitting up. Your heart starts to beat fast, he is so cute sleeping. You stare at him for a few minutes taking in all of his beauty, scanning over every little detail…

He wakes up suddenly and looks straight into your eyes, you’d been caught. You quickly look away and pretend you’d just happened to catch his strong gaze by accident which was obviously not the case, the both of you knew but ignored that.

‘I umm, uh sorry haha...’ You nervously mumble. Giyuu starts with ‘How long was I asleep?’, completely ignoring the thing that’d just occurred. You reply awkwardly, ‘Half an hour or so I think…’, ‘Oh… okay’ says visibly bothered.

‘The rain should have st-‘, Giyuu cuts you off…

‘Y/N… I know this is sudden and you probably don’t remember me but… do… you… do you remember me..?’ I remember you like I saw you just yesterday, you used to call me ‘Gi’ because you couldn’t pronounce my name properly...’ your heart starts to race hard, it thumps loudly against your chest, your head spins, what he’d just said shocks you so much you stand up and stutter out ‘I-I… I…’ as you back up, the memories come flooding back crystal clear now, you remember everything. Not knowing how to react you shout ‘I don’t know, sorry- sorry-‘ and run out confusing Giyuu. ‘Wait!’ Giyuu concerned yells after you.

‘DING’ the bell cries after you’d ran out, Giyuu runs out after you and you turn around with tears pricking your eyes. Suddenly warm arms embrace you in a hug, you are shocked and pull away but then you go limp, tears start steadily streaming down your cheeks and onto his chest.

‘You- you left me behind.’ you blubber into his chest, ‘I know… Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to though, you must know that.’ He softly says out of character, ‘I know…’ you quietly reply trying not to sob, ‘I’m sorry, I asked you a stupid question and didn’t even wait for the right moment, it must have been confusing… I was just so happy to see and be around you that I couldn’t hold back any longer.’ ‘It’s ok, I was just shocked…’ you look up to him, sniff and say ‘Sorry… I must look like a snotty mess.’ and then let out laugh. ‘No, don’t talk such nonsense…’

You are beautiful.’ Giyuu gently wipes your tear stained cheeks with a worried look. ‘Please don’t cry anymore Y/N, everything is ok.’ He tells you.

Giyuu whispers ‘Y/N, I’ll never leave you behind again...’.

‘Promise..?’

‘Promise.’