#Still sucks but also not something to be uber worried about :>

[selvepnea]

Something something the fangs I got may represent some repressed feelings :(

[reidmania]

STILL | spencer reid

summary ; loosing based off still by niall horan. You and spencer broke up and when you see him at a bar a month later everything comes back.

warnings; this is long pure angst with a (?) happy (?) hopeful ending. imma say female reader because there so many little things that indicate that. hella miscommunication, arguing, drinking, jealous spencer, i think its a happy ending idk tbh, let me know if i missed anything

a/n ; this is 4k words. i did not intend that at all, i honestly got so insanely carried away. im so sorry.

You regretted everything, in this moment more than any other. You didn't know how you were possibly stupid enough to be dragged into going out tonight. When your coworkers approached you with the idea of going out for drinks after work as a way to celebrate your promotion, you shouldn't of let yourself get sucked in. It took some convincing till you eventually gave in, but you did -- give in.

Going home to change may not have been the best idea, since it gave you enough time to realise what you were doing and how much you really didn't want to go but you knew your coworkers wouldn't accept your cancelation. So instead you made yourself look presentable, good even.

Things had been difficult to say the least over the last month, while things at work were great, mentally everything was horribly. It had been a month since you and Spencer broke up. A month since the last time the two of you talked.

He had called a few times, but you could never bring yourself to answer despite how badly you wanted to talk to him, some night you would spend hours unable to sleep, staring at his contact, although you never went through will calling him, too scared he wouldn't answer.

Once dressed you left, calling an uber because you knew it was a bad idea to even take your car -- the whole point was to drink, and you would need to drink. As much as you loved your coworkers, you could only handle so much social interaction without liquor in your system.

Arriving, you noticed the group of your coworkers waiting for you outside. You pushed a smile to your lips as you approached them. You had many coworkers of course, but you had your bunch who you worked with closely, the ones here with you now.

Elise was your work best friend, you and her worked side by side everyday. She was the one who convinced you to come out. Ethan was another one who you worked with closely, but weren't nearly as close with. Frank was older, he was almost like the father of your job, and then there was Chelsea who was literally franks daughter, she was nice, easy to get along with.

"Theres they are!!" Elise said excitedly, you appreciated the way they all dressed up. You were met with a bundle of flowers, being held out by Ethan. "We got you these, as a congrats present" He smile.

You're entire face warmed as your chest did too. You were lucky to be surrounded by a group of people who cared as much as they did. "Aw, Thank you guys." You smiled widely as you took the flowers, not knowing what you were going to do with them inside the bar -- but you figured you'd worry about that later.

You followed them inside the bar, instantly finding a table. Everything sunk into place, everyone talking and chatty after ordering drinks and a round of shots, -- it was great.

But there was something missing.

You tried not to think about it as you swirled your straw around your glass, filled with alcohol. "You look bored" You turned your head to face Elise. You pushed a soft chuckle pass your lips, shaking your head.

"Im not bored" You denied, because you weren't. You were just waiting and hoping that the pit of empitiness in your stomach would disapear so you could enjoy yourself. She frowned, "Come on, Lets go get shots" She said, offering her hand which you took gracefully.

As you walked over to the table where your coworkers were sitting at to find out if they also wanted another round of shots or not, Elise grew sidetracked, helping Chelsea out with the zipper of her dress that was breaking.

"Ill come with you" Ethan opted, making you smile gratefully as you thanked him. The two of you wandered through the bar, through the crowd of people before you finally reached the bar.

You and ethan made small talk as you waited for the bartender. When he finally came, Ethan ordered. A round of tequila shots. The bartender nodded, it was busy -- so he was doing everything fast. "I am not drinking tequila!!" You gasped as you looked at Ethan.

"Yeah you are" He smiled back.

The smile stayed on your face, "Tequila makes me sad" You said honestly. He pouted dramatically, although you can tell it was sarcastic. "Well we cant have that" He sighed just as dramatically, "I promise if you do get sad, we will make sure to cheer you up"

You smiled but couldn't help but doubt his words -- you knew what you'd get sad about, and you weren't sure anything he did would cheer you up from a sadness like that. The one you could feel in your whole body, every movement.

"Important night?" The bartender asked, as he poured the shots. You went to deny it, not wanting the attention but Ethan spoke before you could. "Yep" He said popping the P, "Pretty girl here got a promotion" He said, squeezing your shoulder softly.

You forced out a chuckle as the bartender congratulated you. Pretty girl was the nickname your coworkers had given you -- it was teasing at first and it started from Elise, but it kind of just stuck.

You got your shots and walked back through the bar holding the tray carefully, as you returned to the table you immediantly got a bad feeling in your stomach, something was off, something was wrong. You could see it in Elise's face as she looked at you.

"What?" You chuckled, furrowing your eyebrows as you placed the tray down on the table. She looked almost guilty, as she shook her head, brushing it off. "Nothing" She said, reaching out for a shot.

Your concern and confusion only grew. "What?" You asked again, there was obviously something wrong. You noticed Chelsea looking in a certain direction, the same direction Elise's eyes kept drifting over to.

Your eyebrows furrowed deeper as you turned your head to look in the direction they were, despite Elise' protests. You almost wish you listened. You felt your entire heart sink.

Your breath got caught in your throat as you locked eyes with him -- Spencer Reid. He was already looking at you when you turned your head. You stomach dropped so far you swore you could feel in in your pinky toe.

You heard your name, but you could hardly pull your eyes away from him. He looked good. So good it made your head spin in a million different directions at once. Hearing your name again you finally pulled your eyes away from his, turning your head to face Elise who had concern lacing her features.

"Oh- Gosh- Are you okay?" She rushed.

You felt like your chest had been stepped on. You didn't say anything, instead reaching for the shot glass that remained, and downing it instantly. "I need to get drunk." You muttered.

"Whos that?" Ethan asked, he wasn't quite as caught up in your love life as Elise and Chelsea were. Chelsea scoffed. "Her ex, He is an ass" She said, Elise was quick to nod in agreement. Frank stood minding his own business, but you knew he was listening, he was always listening.

"He's not" You defened, because he wasn't. If there was an ass in the breakup, it was you. You weren't sure what sucked more.

Before Chelsea or Elise could say anything you spoke first, "Can we go get more drinks-- and move closer to the bar, I think ill be going there a lot" You muttered, grabbing the boquet of flowers you had been given.

Everyone was quick to agree, taking their stuff before finding an empty table closer to the bar.

You did exactly as you thought you would -- 4 drinks later, you were a lot mor tipsy but nothing seemed to take the pressure off your chest or cool the heat that Spencer eyes left on you everytime you looked over to see him already looking.

When everyone was engrossed in coversation you excused yourself to the bar, feeling the need for another drink or ten. When you literally asked for the most alcoholic drink possible, the bartender laughed but agreed.

"Congraulations" You swore your heart dropped at the voice. Your hands froze in place and you could feel the sweat building on the back of your neck. You turned your head, finally facing him.

Your eyes ran over his features -- his hair had grown out, it looked good. You wanted to tell him that but you couldn't. "H-How do you.." You wondered how he knew about your promotion, you were sure it hadn't been posted anywhere.

He rolled his eyes, nudging his head towards the table where your coworkers sat, you turned you head to look at them, noticing Ethan's and Elise's eyes on you and Spencer. "Your boyfriend isn't exactly quiet." He muttered, there was something spiteful about the way he spoke.

You whipped your head around to face Spencer, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before the realistion dawned on you -- He had heard Ethan tell the bartender about your promotion earlier. "He isn't my boyfriend--Why do you even care." You huffed.

Spencer scoffed quietly, "Yeah Im sure, The flowers and 'pretty girl' really prove that" His tone was laced with jealously. He was jealous. You shook your head as you pulled your eyes away from his face. "It's been a month" He muttered, quieter.

You frowned at the mention at how long it had been since the two of you broke up. "I am well aware of how long its been" You held back from calling him Spence, it was like muscle memory. "The flowers were from all of them" You defended, although there was no reason you needed to defend nor explain yourself to him. "And pretty girl- its a joke-- they all call me that." You muttered.

"I called you that."

His tone still held so much jealously but sounded so much sadder. It made your stomach clench on nothing but the alcohol you had consumed, you turned your head to face him before looking away again, unable to handle the way his expression pulled on your heartstrings.

"I know" You said just as quietly.

The bartender handed you your drink with an apology of how long it took -- you hadn't even noticed. Drink now in your hands yet you couldn't find it in yourself to move. You could smell Spencer's cologne and it was consuming your senses and making your mind fog.

Spencer ordered his own drink after the bartender asked, before he turned to look at you again. "I called." He said.

You wanted to cry-- you wanted to sink into the pit in your stomach and stay there forever. You felt yourself grow dizzy -- he made you dizzy. "I know" You said quietly, scared if you spoke any louder your voice would give out on you. it broke your heart to be standing here next to him, when he had no idea you loved him, when you had no idea if he ever loved you-- let alone if he still did.

He didn't say anything, you assumed it was because he didn't know what to say. He knew you were actively ignoring his calls-- What was there to say to that.

Spencer got handed his drink, he muttered a quiet thanks, but made no movement to leave his place next to you, you didn't either. Neither of you said anything. You felt as if your feet were glued in place -- although you weren't sure if you wanted to move either. It had been a month since you had seen him, and as much as it gutted you to think about, you didn't want to leave yet just incase this really was the last time.

"He isn't my boyfriend, he- he isn't anything more than a friend." You said again, although you didn't look at him, keeping your head down as you sipped your drink through your straw. You didn't need to push so hard for him to understand -- but the last thing you wanted was for Spencer to think you had moved on that quick, it almost offended you that he genuinely believed you did.

He opened his mouth to reply, but felt a hand on his back, cutting him off. He looked behind him to see Derek. "What's taking so long, Reid" He asked, a teasing smile on his face. You looked behind you at the sound of his voice, meeting his eyes his smile fell slightly as he realised what was taking Spencer so long.

"Hi derek" You pushed a smile to his lips - of course Spencer was here with his team, you should've realised that. They probably just got back from a case, which explained Spencer's business attire, but he wore that more often then not anyways.

"Hey!! How are you doing!" He smiled back, opening his arms to hug you gently. It was friendly a simple. You were close with a lot of Spencer's friends and team, being his plus one to everything for months. Penelope had reached out after you and Spencer broke up, but just like with Spencer you couldn't bring yourself to reply.

"Im okay, how are you?" You asked. You could feel Spencer's eyes on your face and it left a burning sensation where his eyes laid as you pulled away from Derek's hug. "Im good! We've missed you around shortcake" It was a nickname, because of a strawberry shortcake shirt you had worn one time when out with Spencer.

You just smiled in response. You missed them too, a lot. They were your friends, and you hated how you lost that and Spencer all at once, but they were his friends first. "I'll leave you guys be." You muttered, forcing a smile to your lips as you avoided Spencer's gaze, pushing off the bar.

Spencer said your name and it made your head spin, it felt so natural falling from his lips, like it belonged there. If you had to pick only one person to say your name for the rest of your life, it would be Spencer.

You kept walking none the less, holding your drink in your hand as you approached the table. You put it down gently as Chelsea and Elise were instantly at your side, asking what happened or if you were okay.

"I think Im going to go home" You muttered as you felt the all familiar tingle in the bridge of your nose, matching the lump in your throat and burn in the back of your eyes. It was too much.

"Do you want me to drive you?" Frank asked, the fatherily instincts coming into play when he noticed the look on your face -- there was no convincing you to stay. You just shook your head, "Im okay, Thank you" You muttered, as you began grabbing your stuff.

"I'll walk you out" Ethan offered, but you were quick to shake your head. You didn't need to look to know Spencer's eyes were on you from across the bar, the last thing you wanted was to only deepen his concern by leaving with Ethan. "I really just want to be alone." You said, pushing a half hearted smile to your lips, he frowned but nodded.

You said your goodbyes before pushing through the people in the bar towards the door. Once outside, it dawned on you how hot you were, the cold air giving your flushed cheeks a cooling sensation. You dragged your hand over your face as you tried to process what had just happened without bursting into tears.

You opened the uber app on your phone, wanting to get home to wallow in every emotion you had been pushing down for the last month. You should've known tonight was going to end badly.

"Theres been over 3,900 cases of sexual assult or physical violence from ubers"

You turned your head to see Spencer standing at the door to the bar, not far from you but not close. The street wasn't busy, it was dark and only lit by the streetlights.

"Thats less than one percent" You muttered, pulling your gaze away from him. "Who said I was getting an uber?" You asked, despite the fact that you were, it baffled you how he seemed to know everything all the time.

"You're alone, I cant see your car anywhere and the app is open on your phone" He said as if it was nothing. He was a profiler for godsake, of course he picked up on the tiniest things.

You sighed, closing your phone you placed it in your bag, "So what?" You asked, crossing your arms over your chest - now that the heat had somewhat worn off the cold air was leaving goosebumps over your arms.

"So, let me drive you home." He said.

Your eyes widened as you turned to look at him, shaking your head. "No. Its fine. I think I can handle less than one percent" You muttered, turning away from him again when the heat began rising to your cheeks again under his gaze.

You could hardly handle standing a foot away from him, you doubted you would be able to last a ten minute drive back to your house in the car next to him, you were sure the tension would suffocate you within seconds.

"Why do you do that" He asked taking a step closer to you. You were already resting with your back against the wall, there was no where for you to back away to even if you wanted to. You furrowed your eyebrows as you met his eyes, he looked sad.

"Do what?" You asked as your voice hitched, the pit in your stomach only deepening the more you looked at him, the closer he got the tighter your chest grew, the more he spoke the more your cheeks heated.

He sighed, "Push me away!" He raised his voice slightly, not in a way of anger but pure frustration. He was so frustrated.

"I don- We broke up Spencer" You reminded.

He rolled his eyes, "I know that. Trust me I know that." He muttered under his breath as he got closer to you. "You did it our entire relationship, pushed me away, held back, and then you broke up with me, why do you do that?" He said, brows furrowed as he genuinely tried to understand.

"You know why we broke up" You muttered quietly.

He threw his arms up in distress. "No- I really don't-" He said, before dragging his hand through his hair, only making it messy. You frowned, shaking your head as you reminded him. "We were both busy -- we hardly saw each other, our heads were in different places" your voice raised to the same level as his

"My head was with you!" He shook his head, "My head was always with you!" He sighed, he wasn't shouting, not really, but it was loud enough to match your level.

Your lips parted but you didn't have anything to say. Your head was spinning at the intensity of the coversation, at him -- so close, his cologne and after shave making your stomach feel sickly.

"I thought-" You ran your hand over your face as tears brimmed your eyes.

"You thought, you didn't ask me-- you just- broke up with me" He was shouting now. You genuinely thought your heart had fallen out of your chest. "You pushed me away, and then left like it meant nothing, like it all meant nothing." His voice was breaking with every word as his voice rasied

"It didn't- i didn't think it meant nothing" You were shouting too, and tears ran down your face -- you were unable to help it, each drop hotter and heavier than the last.

"Just be honest, I just- I just need you to be honest, please" He was on the verge of tears himself, and you hated it. You hated the way his voice was breaking, the way his hand was grabbing his shirt, pressing against his chest as if this conversation was bringing him physical pain-- like it was to you.

"You want me to be honest?" You asked, you were now the one stepping closer to him, you were the one shouting -- not out of anger, but you couldn't better express the way this conversation was all consuming every part of your body, your mind, your stomach, your chest.

"I love you Spencer" Your voice cracked as the words came out, "I love you so much, it hurts. It physically hurts when you are gone, when I was spending everyday worrying you weren't going to come home, I love you so much that I thought me worrying about you was unfair because you love what you do, and I was constantly in the way of that. I love you so much that i thought if i broke up with you, you'd be happier -- I thought the how much I loved you would stop hurting." you were practiclly sobbing, you would have been embarassed if you mind was able to focus on anything other than the boy in front of you.

"It didn't, its actually gotten worse because everyday I wake up and your not there, and I still worry about you just as much -- more, i worry about you more. Everyday I wake up and im completely heartbroken. God everyday I wake up and Im still inlove with you, " You continued on your tangent, "I love you so much Spencer"

You didn't even have time to breath before you felt cold hands on either side of your face and the feeling of his lips on yours, you could taste the alcohol on his lips. It was familiar and safe and warm. Your hands found their way to his face, pulling him in closer to you. The kiss was messy and passionate and everything you had missed so much, it was the sort of kiss that made every thought in your brain disapear, it made your knees feel weak and your toes curl in your way to uncomfortable shoes.

You tried to pull away but his lips chased yours, bring you back into him and you didn't make any movement, only kissing him back until you ran out of air, feeling lightheaded. You stepped out of his grasp as you tried to regain balance.

"Ill teach, its not an issue i've wanted to teach, god ill stop working all together if it means you'll come back" He said out of breath, eyes never leaving yours. You opened your mouth but he cut you off. "I love you, I've loved you since the day that I met you." he was huffing out words as he stepped back closer to you, invading your space and you couldn't complain.

"I don't- I don't want you to have to do that, you love working." you said breathlessly, shaking your head. You didn't want your relationship to mean him stop doing what he loved.

"I want you" He said, voice cracking. "I love my job but I love you." He said it like he couldn't get enough of finally saying it. "I'll work it out so you can come everytime we have a case, please I love you" He was begging.

"What does this mean Spence" You said, heart beating out of your chest. He just shook his head. "Who cares! I love you, You love me. I will do anything, just.. stay - let me stay." He said, grabbing your hand.

"I love you" You repeated.

"I love you" He said back.

"Where do we go from here?" You ask, looking up at him with squinted eyes, you were sure your makeup was a mess, and you looked horrible but there was so much love and hope in Spencer's eyes you couldn't find it in yourself to care.

"Let me drive you home." He said. You knew that meant it was the beggining. You knew he meant that he didn't know but he wanted to try. He was begging and there was no way you were going to let him go again.

"Okay."

[silentglassbreak]

Oh babe I hope I can make it!!😂💗

How about Noah dating firefighter? I love women in those fields, they are queens!

Maybe some angst like Noah being away on tour and reader having hard days at work, trying to hold it in cause she doesn't want to worry Noah when he's away, but she's avoiding daily facetime calls lately and Noah gets worried?

Doesn't have to be angst, I'll leave it up to you!

Thank you💗

Wow! We’ve finally made it to your ask, love! I’m sorry for how long it’s taken, but I promise to give this one some extra love - just for you! 😘

After Writing Notes: don't hate me

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Uhm...all of'em. No smut this time. Stressful situations. Angst. Mentions of death. Injury. Hospital setting. Burns.

All You Wanted

Noah was having a really bad day.

Not just shitty, or annoying, or rough.

Bad. Plain and simple.

First, his car wouldn’t start. He tried to turn it over so many times he killed what little juice was left in the battery. No one else was home to give him a ride to the auto parts store, so he had to call an Uber - heavy battery with him - to pick up a fresh one. After the new one was installed, and his car was back in commission, he realized that had taken up two hours.

Next, due to the car issues, he was late to the movie he planned to go see. By the time he was able to make his way to the theater, it was already half over. Rather than wait for another showtime, he elected to not even bother. He was too irritated to enjoy a movie.

Then, as he tried to relax at home and let the frustration of the day pass, he managed to spill his bowl of cereal all over his carpet.

“Did I break glass, or something?” He wondered too himself as his shop vac sucked up the milk and soggy Cinnamon Toast Crunch off of the floor.

However, his day was due to get worse, much to his dismay. He didn’t realize it, but when he set his bowl on his nightstand next to the bed, he slid the candle he kept there over as well. That would’ve been no issue, normally. However, in his haste to grab the vacuum before the milk set in to the carpet, he flung his duvet over the nightstand…

The smell of smoke wafted through his room, and he was almost too angry to notice it. Once he did, he turned to see the corner of his blanket on fire, spreading slowly to the rest of his bed.

Jumping back, he yelped in horror.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” He screamed, grabbing the water bottle he kept on his computer desk and spraying the half-empty contents onto the blaze.

It did virtually nothing, and he groaned, darting downstairs. Faster than he thought he could, he ran to the kitchen and grabbed the extinguisher from under the bathroom sink.

By the time he made it back to his bedroom, his entire bed was ablaze, pillows smoking heavily, and bed frame catching.

“Fuck!” He pulled the pin on the extinguisher, releasing the fog desperately, losing his breath as the mixture of fire retardant and smoke filled his lungs.

“Dude!” A voice came behind him, and he turned to see Jolly staring at him, grocery bag still in hand, a look of shock on his face.

Noah was coughing harshly now as Jolly’s hands came to wrap around the extinguisher.

“Go! Go outside and call 911! You need to breathe!”

Noah just nodded, backing out of the room and swiping his phone off of the desk. As he made his way down, his fingers dialed.

“911, what is your emergency?”

Noah and Jolly sat on the tailgate of Jolly’s pickup, staring at the house. Smoke still billowed out of the upstairs window of Noah’s room, and firefighters moved in and out of the house periodically.

The fire was out, but they still wouldn’t allow the men inside as they cleared it.

Noah’s room was about 50% burned, as he was told by the fire Captain. Luckily, the burn was contained to the bedroom, and nowhere else in the house sustained more than smoke damage. It was a relief, but also devastating. He didn’t know how much he lost of his belongings, but - at the very least - he’d be sleeping on the couch for a while.

“Guys?” Both of their heads looked up, seeing you stood in front of them. Your face still had soot coating your cheeks, and your hair was disheveled from the helmet you wore. “We’ve got the house secured and stabilized, so I’ll be able to take you in soon. The room will be off limits until the Fire Marshall can come through and confirm no structural damage to the walls or ceiling. We’ll seal it.”

Noah’s eyes fixed on you, wondering how, despite the gray cast on your skin and obvious sweat sheen on your forehead, you could manage to be so cute. You weren’t petite, per se, but you were small. Smaller than what he’d expected in a fire fighter. You stood with your shoulders square and tall, all business. The frayed, frizzy hair on your head was pulled back in a low ponytail.

“Have you both been checked out by EMS?” You pointed to both Noah and Jolly, and the two of them nodded in response. “Good. You want to take a look?”

Jolly clapped a hand to Noah’s shoulder, and hopped off of the truck. Following suit, Noah paced slowly behind both yourself and his brother, the guilt creeping in.

He had set his house on fire…

His home. His sanctuary. His haven. He lit it on fucking fire.

This was some kind of cosmic metaphor for his luck, right? That’s how his entire day had been…a dumpster fire.

Following you into the house, and trekking up the stairs, the guys stopped at the doorway to Noah’s room. Two additional firemen were poking around, checking for any embers.

First thing Noah noticed was that his bed was gone. Not burnt…gone. Reduced to ash on what used to be the carpet beneath it. The raw wood flooring was below, blackened. His nightstand was charred pretty badly, but one side of it was still the red oak color it was previously. His computer desk seemed virtually untouched, and he breathed relief from his lungs.

“Whose room is it?” You looked between the two boys, and Jolly looked at Noah from the side of his eyes. With a heavy sigh, Noah raised his hand begrudgingly. “Okay. If you need anything out of here, now is the time. We’ve taped off the areas you cannot walk in at all, so don’t step over the tape. Other than that, go ahead and grab your stuff.”

Noah nodded, taking a careful step into the room, the floor creaking with his weight. He clenched his jaw, and walked over to his laptop, pulling it from the desk and unplugging the charger. He gathered several other things he assumed he’d need for the next day or so, and stepped back out.

“The Marshall will be able to come by in the morning to inspect. After that, you can begin getting the repairs done.”

“Thank you.” He spoke to you directly, but didn’t look at you. Jolly had retreated to his own room, shutting the door behind him.

“Hey?” He looked up at you, eyes saddened. “You going to be okay?”

He nodded, moving past you down the hall. You followed him. “Yeah. Just kind of jarring. I’ve never had a fire before.”

You both padded down the stairs. “I get that.”

His shoulders bounced as he walked, and even three to four steps ahead, he was taller than you. You took note in your head of how large he was, and it made you smirk.

“You sure you're going to be alright?”

He didn’t answer verbally, rather just shrugged his shoulders and dropped his items on the couch. You began making your way toward the door, but turned around to look at him.

“Just out of curiosity,” His eyes flashed to look at yours, and you couldn’t help but notice that, like the rest of him, they were so big. “What started the fire? We couldn’t find the ignition source. We just knew it started on the bed.”

He scratched the back of his head, his lips turning up in a nervous smile.

“A candle.”

You raised your eyebrows. “A candle? On the bed?”

He shook his head. “No, it was on the nightstand. I dropped my blanket over it on accident, I think.”

Teeth biting into your lower lip, you suppressed the laugh that was bubbling in your chest. What an interesting way to start a fire? You had heard a lot of candle-related incidents, but this was a first.

"Well, probably best to not have candles in the room anymore?"

His eyes widened, and he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Never burning another candle again, actually."

You couldn't help it, the giggle escaped without being able to catch it. "Alright, well be careful in that room, okay?"

He acknowledged you silently, and you wanted to turn to leave, but you were distracted by the walls, decorated with framed vinyl, guitars, and magazine covers blown up to poster-size. You noticed in some of the photographs, him and the other man were posed with two other guys.

You pointed a finger to the poster directly in front of you. "You in a band or something?"

He smirked, leaning back on his heels. "Something like that?"

Nodding, you heard Ramos, your Captain, calling for you from outside.

"Well, what's it called? I'll listen to it."

"Bad Omens."

Turning your body toward the door, you probed a little further. "Right on. Rock, I assume?"

He nodded. "Metal."

Your teeth flashed, and you saw his eyes light up just a little. "Nice." Your name was called from outside again. "I didn't catch your name?"

You held your hand out for him to shake, and he took it gracefully.

"Noah."

His hand gave yours a firm shake. "Y/N. Nice to meet you, Noah."

With that, you began heading for the door.

"Uh," His voice chimed behind you, and you turned your neck back to him. "Could I, maybe, get your number?"

Your chest warmed, and the grin that spread across your face threatened to break your jaw bone. You thought about it for a moment, pulling your brows together. That was a bit forward, so you responded as appropriately as you could.

"125." And you began walking away.

"Wait, what?"

Still walking through the door, you turned around, and waved. "You'll figure it out."

It took three days. Three long, annoying days for him to figure it out.

But he did.

You were sat in the dorm, shaking off the two hours of sleep you had achieved before the alarm woke you up. It wasn't your turn to head out, but there was no sleeping through that noise. The last twenty-six hours had been grueling, and you couldn't wait to get through the next ten, and go home for your two days off.

You stalked into the kitchen, waiving at Gillman and Reed in the training room. The coffee was heavenly, warming your insides enough to fully wake.

"Y/L/N?" Your head cocked to the bay door, Ramos standing on the other side. You had your hips leaned against the counter, and you were too tired to stand at full attention. "There's someone here asking for you."

Cocking an eyebrow, you huffed away from the countertop, setting your coffee down, and walked to the door. Who the hell was going to come see you at work?

You pushed the heavy door open, and behind it, stood right next to engine #14, was a tall, brown-eyed boy, smiling at you. It had been such a long few days, you had honestly forgotten about your encounter with him back at his house. After you finished up the paperwork, it had been jammed into the back of your head.

"Hey?" You asked, crossing your arms in front of you. "I see you figured it out?"

He nodded, pursing his lips. "Station 125. Yep, took me a while."

Shaking your head, you laughed. "Well, what can I do for you?"

In his hand, he held a small brown paper bag, and presented it in front of him. "For you."

"What's this?"

Smirking, he handed you the gift. "Just a token of my gratitude."

Unfolding the top, you scoffed when you saw what was inside.

"A candle?"

He snorted. "Not just any candle." He took it from your hands, showing the label. "This is a WoodWick Sagewood scented candle." He placed it back in your hands. "It's exactly the same as the one that burned my bedroom down."

You laughed at this, gawking at the glass in your hand. "And why did you want me to have one?"

Suddenly, he looked unsure. "I had a really cool, witty reason, when I picked it up at the store. I can't seem to remember now, though." He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "To be honest, it's my favorite scented candle."

You nodded, recognizing the sweet gesture. "Thank you."

It fell quiet between you both, and you put the candle back in the bag.

"So." You set the bag down on the step of the engine, and recrossed your arms.

"So." He repeated. His eyes darted around the bay, taking all of it in. "You're a fire fighter, huh?"

This made you outright cackle. "Yeah? What gave me away?"

He sighed out a defeated chuckle. "Yeah, that was a dumb question."

"Why did you come here, Noah? Just to give me a candle?"

He shook his head, hands buried in his pockets once again. "No, I uh," He took a deep breath and looked at you. "I came to ask you on a date."

Your eyebrows shot up. "A date?"

"Mhm." Noah chewed on the inside of his cheek.

"Noah, you know nothing about me."

He leaned forward for emphasis. "Right, usually what people do on dates - " He put a hand up to gesture between you. "get to know each other."

Well, hard to argue that.

"I mean, you don't know if I'm married or have a boyfriend."

"Do you?" He didn't seem bothered by your statement, his question sounding more like a formality.

"Well, no."

"You're allowed to say no." He smiled, then. It was genuine, and it made one of your own creep onto your face.

"I wasn't going to."

6 Months Later

"Noah, it's not that big of a deal." You trudged through the airport toward the Delta desk, and stood behind at least twelve people, your phone pressed firmly to your cheek.

"It's a huge deal, babe!" He sounded so exasperated. "I haven't seen you in two weeks, and I miss you!"

You giggled, leaning your head back. "I miss you too, honey, but shit happens. I'll catch the next available flight, and I'll be there before you know it."

"Think they'll have another one today?" You glanced around the airport, seeing the groups of displaced, disgruntled passengers.

"With this storm? It's doubtful. I overheard one of the workers saying winds were as strong as one hundred miles per hour."

"Okay, but once you're up at altitude, none of that matters."

You rolled you eyes. "Can't get up to altitude if the plane blows out of the sky, babe."

"I know, I know. I'm just pissed off."

The line was crawling, but you were slowly getting closer to the desk.

"It's alright. I'll make something happen, okay? As soon as I have news, I'll call you?"

"Okay, babe. I love you."

Your face blushed. You still weren't used to that. "Love you too."

You disconnected the call and took a deep breath.

The woman working for Delta Airlines looked as stressed as a person could be without physically combusting.

"Hello, are you here about the cancelled flight?" You just nodded, showing your boarding pass on your phone. "Okay. Well, all of our flights have been cancelled until further notice. We have no way of knowing when the storm will die down, so right now, we're not rescheduling any flights. We're only offering a credit."

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying not to get too upset. "Do you know if any other airlines are still booking flights?"

She shook her head. "We've all been grounded until the wind dies down."

Shrugging hard, you gave her your information so she could put in for the credit, and walked away from the desk. You decided not to call Noah back right away, needing to deal with the irritation and disappointment yourself first.

You called an Uber outside the airport, and made your way the short distance back to the apartment. After you had huffed your bag down onto the couch, you sat on the edge of your bed, allowing yourself a moment to sulk.

The last six months had been a dream. After your first date with Noah, which included a dinner at a beachside restaurant in Santa Monica and arcade games at the pier, you and him were absolutely intertwined together. The clicking noise you made was loud and strong, keeping you both in a stranglehold over each other.

As different of people as you were, you learned that Noah was not nearly as different from you as you had assumed. He grew up in West Virginia, a rough life, dropped out of high school, joined a band young, and ended up a successful rockstar after twelve years of hard, rigorous work.

Your life had been quite the opposite. You had lived in Los Angeles your entire life, namely Orange County. You lived with both parents, who were mostly well-off with high powered careers. They wanted a lot for you, growing up. Education. Career. Family. Marriage.

You wanted none of it. You wanted to be free. You wanted to get tattoos and go to festivals in the desert. You wanted to know who you were spiritually. You wanted to paint and sketch. You wanted to find out who you were.

Somewhere along the way, in your twenties, you learned more about yourself than you ever wanted. You learned that you trusted too easy. You were easily persuaded and pressured. You weren't prepared for the life you thought you wanted.

So, like a lot of young, naive women do in the city of angels, you got run down, stepped on, and burned out. Sex, drugs, rock and roll, that's what it was all about right?

It wasn't until your last relationship ended - badly - that you decided you were done. You wanted chaos, but the kind you could stop. The kind you could help. You found firefighting. It was a big adjustment, but you took to it well. You did the courses, you took the classes. In less than a year, you were out in the field with all the men, running into the blaze and extinguishing the flames.

It was incredible.

So, where did that leave you and Noah? You worked thirty-six hour shifts with eight hours in between until your mandatory two days off every ten days. It was grueling, but he stuck it out. He'd visit you on your overnights when it had been quiet, bringing food and promising not to get in the way. When you had your days off, he typically kidnapped you, holding you hostage in his bed for the duration.

Noah's life was busy as well, constantly touring, it felt like. Currently, he was in Philadelphia, a show later that evening. You had taken your seven vacation days and had planned to fly out to Pennsylvania, travel with him to his next two shows, and fly home with him from New York City. He had four weeks off before he had to head over to Europe, and he claimed to spend as much of that time with you as humanly possible.

Imagine how much of a kink this storm put in his plans.

The phone rang on the other end while you waited for him to pick up. You laid flat on your back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"Hey! I go on stage in ten minutes. Did you rebook the flight?"

You sighed hard. "No."

"No? Why not?"

"Noah, all of the flights are grounded because of the storm. They don't know when they'll be back up, so they wouldn't rebook me."

You could hear the agitation leaking out of his voice. "God damn it!"

"Don't get too worked up before the show. I'll be out there as soon as I can, okay?"

"Has there been any news of how long this shit's supposed to go on for?"

You threw an arm over your eyes. "The weather report I read says it could last through Monday."

"Monday?! We're supposed to be on our way home by then!"

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you kept your voice even. "Noah, please don't yell at me."

"Doesn't this bother you?" He was frustrated, and you knew that it wasn't your fault. You knew that he knew that, but it didn't help the feeling that he was angry with you for something completely out of your control.

"Of course it does, babe, but there's nothing I can do." You sat up, crossing your legs in front of you.

He scoffed on the other end. "Yeah, alright, whatever."

You rolled your eyes. "Baby," He didn't say anything. "I get you're mad, but please don't take it out on me?"

"I got to go."

Your heart sunk a little, a stinging in your eyes emerging. "Okay. Have a great show okay?" Again, he didn't respond. "I love you, Noah."

"Yep. Bye." And the line went dead.

The night had drug on. You waited as patiently as you could for the concert to end, and to give Noah enough time to relax before you tried reaching out. After three hours, you decided enough time had passed, and you dialed him.

But he didn’t answer.

Instead of blowing up his phone like your internal anxiety was trying to convince you to, rather, you decided to send him a simple text.

You: Hey, I know you’re upset, baby. I’m sorry this didn’t work out the way we wanted, but just know that I love you, and I will see you as soon as I possibly can. Call me when you get a chance. ❤️

You dropped your phone on the bed and sighed loudly, walking over to the couch to begin unpacking your bag.

By the end of the night, you hadn’t had a single text or call from Noah, so you had tried to accept that he just wasn’t going to reach out anymore tonight. You’d try again tomorrow. You loved Noah, more than you could’ve ever expected, but the speed at which he threw a tantrum like a child was a turn off, and you were combatting the urge to cringe at the thought.

You had only been together six months. You had no baggage together. You lived apart. You had no pets or plants together. You didn’t have any financial ties. If things didn’t work out, it was as simple as goodbye.

And as much as you loved Noah, you couldn’t help but feel the tug inside, reminding you that this wasn’t the first fit Noah had thrown over not getting his way.

He wanted to take you out for your birthday six weeks ago. You didn’t know where, it was a surprise. But you ended up called in to work, and it was an all hands on deck. Forest fire. They were everywhere lately, and when you were called, it was non-negotiable.

Noah hadn’t taken that too well. He begged you not to go, asked you to fake sick or pretend to be out of town. That was not happening. You had a job - an important job. It wasn’t as if you didn’t go in, the work would be there tomorrow. This wasn’t cancelling a concert. There were lives on the line.

He didn’t comprehend that in the moment, and stormed out of your apartment. He didn’t call you until the following day, after you had been out for sixteen hours and had finally fallen into your pillows to sleep for five hours before going back out. He was apologizing frantically, and begging you to forgive him.

And truly? You were too tired not to. You let him come over and snuggle you a while before you had to leave again.

Then there was the time you were too sick to come over. That was earlier on in the relationship, so his reaction was slightly less dramatic, but it was still frustrating nonetheless.

You had been fevering and vomiting the entire day. It was one of your off-days, and he wanted to you to go to his place to watch movies and whatever else came with that. In the state you were in, it was entirely out of the question. Besides the fact that you were likely contagious, you were disgusting. Your hair was greasy from sweat, your skin was a sickening pale, and you spent 80% of the day hugging the toilet and emptying your stomach violently.

Rather than throwing an all out fit, he just resorted to texting you here and there to check in, but kept his messages cold. He showed up the following day with supplies, mask on, and claimed he really didn’t care if he got sick or not.

You overlooked it.

There were small things that happened here and there, but it never was enough to stick out in your mind.

But tonight, this just felt off-putting. More so than before.

You tossed and turned on the mattress, your heart begging for your phone to chime, proving your assumptions were wrong…but it never did.

As your mind drifted closer to sleep, the memories began rolling into your brain.

“Noah, I don’t understand why you can’t just tell me where we’re going!”

His lips were plucked up into a playful smirk. “Wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you!”

He guided your hand, trailing you behind him, and trekking through the trees around you.

“Are you bringing me out here to murder me?”

He turned, stopping, look of absolute horror on his face. “Who told you?!”

You lowered your lids and shifted your weight one one leg, rolling your eyes. He giggled in response.

“Babe, just trust me, okay?”

You continued to follow him deeper into the forest, losing your way from the path further and further.

“We’re lost, aren’t we?”

Before you could get a response, you hit a break in the treeline, and a large clearing laid out before you. It was beautiful and picturesque, looking to span about a square quarter mile. So out of place among the expanse of greenery, you gazed around, taking it in.

“Oh wow.” The air in the clearing was sweeter than the woods, and you could see white butterflies catching the light pooling on the grass.

“Come on.” He was still pulling you toward the far side of the clearing.

At the edge, he stopped abrupt, and gestured with a hand toward some large stones near the trees. Taking a step closer, you could see more clearly that the moss-covered fixtures weren’t any stones.

They were headstones.

Stepping forward carefully, you pulled a large arm of vines off of one that was cross-shaped, revealing the crumbling rock, engraving nearly illegible. You took a step back, and noticed rows and rows of them along the trees. They blended in naturally, overtaken by the Earth.

“Noah,” You turned to look at him. “whose graves are these?”

He shrugged his shoulders, walking up to one that was broken in half.

“I found this clearing about a year ago while hiking. There’s twenty-two graves here. Most of the etchings are illegible or worn off now, but the couple I found date back to the early 1900s.” He approached one in particular, smaller than the ones around it.

Squatting down, he brushed the moss off of the plaque and read it aloud.

“Emily Wheatley. Born 1913. Died 1918.”

The thought made your heart hurt. “She was five…”

Your voice was somber.

“Yeah, from what I gather, these are all people who died during the Spanish Flu pandemic.” He patted the tiny stone with care, and stood back up. “Back in that time, so many people were dying so fast, a lot of folks just ended up buried on their own properties or in their communities. Maybe that’s what happened here?”

You nodded, bending down to another grave, running your hand over the decaying concrete. “These tombstones look handmade.”

He nodded. “I bet they were.”

Your fingers touched the cracks of the stones, feeling the lives that were laid to rest here. Such a beautiful place to spend eternity.

“These are incredible, Noah.”

Looking up at him, he smiled down at you. “I’d hoped you’d like it.”

Your eyes danced from each grave. “Like it? It’s so serene. So stunning. I could stay here for hours. I love it.”

“I love you.”

If you had been any more entranced with your surroundings, you would’ve missed it. It was so quiet and uncertain.

Your eyes peered up to Noah, who looked wrecked with nerves.

“What?” You stood, looking directly at him.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Your bottom lip twitched, a heavy tingling sensation covering your face.

“I love you too.”

His eyes lit up, but he didn’t smile yet.

“Really?”

All you had to do was kiss him. That’s all you could manage, overwhelmed with emotion. His lips pressed against yours, hands wrapping around you and lifting your feet off the ground.

His admission was so raw, in this beautiful, wonderful place of death and rest. You had never felt more sure about anything other than the fact that you loved Noah, and you would never stop.

The ringtone sounded like a shrill scream, waking you from the memory that was laid softly in your brain, buzzing you in your sleep and helping you forget your worries or concerns.

For a split second, your heart leapt, thinking only one person could be calling you at whatever hour this is, right? The clock on your nightstand told you it was four-thirty in the morning.

Your hand scrambled to your bedside table to answer the call, failing to even check the screen for who was calling. You were so sure of who it was…

“Hello?”

“Y/L/N?” Ramos’ gruff voice rang through the receiver. You flopped your body back onto the bed, internally groaning.

“Yes sir?” 

“Did you make it out of town before the flights were grounded?”

You scrubbed a hand over your eyes. “No, sir. I was going to try and get another today.”

“No dice, unfortunately. The storm’s gotten worse.”

This time, your displeasure came out audibly. “Lovely.”

“Sorry about that, kid. But, listen, we have an all hands situation.”

You sat up now, already swinging your legs off of the mattress.

“Yeah? Where?”

“The Cajon Pass. LA Fire’s called in hands in six additional counties. They’ve so far had over a hundred acres burnt and the wind is causing a rapid spread.”

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror, and put your phone down on the counter, now on speaker.

“Any aerial attempts yet?”

“Mhm. They’ve dropped 4,000 gallons so far.”

Sucking your teeth, you let your head fall back. “Damn.” You began running a brush through your hair. “Alright, when do we head out?”

“Thirty minutes.”

You picked up your phone, staring at the screen. “I’ll be there.”

You ended the call, and quickly swiped to your home screen. 

No missed calls. No missed texts.

Despite the volume of people riding in the engine, the air was silent. It always was when you headed to the site of a wildfire. No matter how much you thought you knew about it, it was always worse than you were expecting, so you never found any lightheartedness in the atmosphere.

You sat next to Ramos as he tightened the boots on his feet. Your back was leaned heavy against the side of the rig, the bench bouncing beneath you as you headed toward the approaching disaster.

Your mind should’ve been running through the brief again, or reciting your safety protocols. But you were too focused elsewhere.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Noah. 

Fingers hooked onto the gold chain you wore around your neck, the small glass stone smooth as you twirled it back and forth. The necklace was newer to you, only haven been gifted it two months ago before Noah left on tour, but even then - you hadn’t removed it once.

It was a custom piece. The glass was hand-blown and a beautiful shade of amber. It was clouded with ash - specifically from burnt sage. Noah had told you it was a representative of the both of you, and it signified that although you had met under such unfortunate circumstances, you had managed to find something so stunning in the process - much like the stone.

While thinking of this, you felt conflicted. Emotions over your relationship with Noah were so back and forth, frustrating you. 

The look on your face must have been telling, because a hand dropped on your knee, and you looked up to Ramos.

“You alright there, kid?”

Nodding, you gave him a half-smile. “Yeah. Just a lot on my mind.”

“Bummed about having to change your plans?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you ran your palms over the tops of your thighs.

“Yeah.”

“That’s not too convincing. Weren’t you going to see Noah back East?”

“Right.”

He leaned back, turning his head to look directly at you. “Was he upset?”

Lifting your eyebrows, you breathed heavily. “Oh, yeah.”

“Well, hopefully once this fucking wind dies down, you can head out there.”

You let your eyes fall to the window on the opposing side of the engine, letting your vision unfocus.

“Or not.”

This caught him, his eyebrow raising suspiciously.

“Oh?”

Over the years, you’d come to learn that Ramos was more than just your Captain at times. He also had become one of the few people in your life that you could consider a friend. He was a staggering twelve years older than you, so he gave an older-sibling, protective type persona. It made life easier when you had a safe place to come to with your personal problems.

You sighed heavily, rubbing your temples. “I can’t say for sure if I I’ll be joining Noah.”

“Because of the transportation issues?”

Shaking your head, you fiddled with you fingers in your lap. “Not just that. He hasn’t even texted me back since last night.”

He grunted. “Why? Was he mad at you?”

“I don’t know if he was mad at me, but I know he felt like I didn’t care that our plans were cancelled. Which is ridiculous, you know that.” You looked up at him, and he nodded in return.

“Right.” He gave a short response so he could leave space for you to continue.

“So I don’t fucking get why he catches such a fucking attitude with me!” You slapped a hand down on your leg in irritation. “Like, who does he think he is? I didn’t cause the God damn storm! I didn’t force the planes down on the ground! I wanted to see him just as badly! I’m just an adult who understands that throwing a tantrum gets us nowhere, so fuck me, right?”

Letting out a hard breath you had been holding, you let the words vibrate off of you, lifting a weight off of your spine you didn’t notice before.

He chuckled low, staring down at you. “How’d that feel?”

You had your eyes closed, enjoying the lighter feeling. “Good. I had been holding it in.”

“As usual.” He bumped your shoulder, making you look up at him. “Give him a little time, Y/N. He’ll come around. He always does.”

You shrugged. “I know he does. But how many times is he going to do this? It’s stupid, and it makes me anxious for literally no reason every time. Sure, he says he’s sorry after, but that’s doesn’t erase the feeling.”

Considering this, Ramos nodded his head. “That’s valid. You know better than I do that maturity doesn’t exactly come naturally to us men. He���s, what, twenty-nine?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“Right, so he’s practically a teenager, still. I’m not saying that excuses his behavior. Not at all. But I’m just saying, I was very similar at that age. I get it.”

You shrugged. “How long did it take you to quit acting like a child?”

He laughed again. “Ask my wife, and she’ll tell you I never did.”

You smirked, your hand finding your necklace again, twirling it around in your fingers. His words permeated you.

Maybe he was right. Maybe you just needed to give Noah some time to navigate his own emotions. At some point, preferably soon, you’d need to talk to him so you both could work out the behavior. Maybe there was something you were doing that could be improved as well as him? 

Maybe the consideration of ending things was a bit premature.

Pulling out your phone, you checked and saw your messages had still been unread. Shaking off the sinking feeling, you typed out a quick message.

You: Hey babe. I got called out to a wildfire in the Cajon Pass. Flights are still grounded. I’m so sorry this didn’t go the way we wanted, but when I get home, I need to hear your voice. I know you’re upset, but I really think we should talk. I’ll call you as soon as I’m headed home. I love you, Noah. I hope you had a great show, and slept well. Talk to you soon.

Noah stared out of the window, rain pelting the glass, creating designs in the cityscape below. 

“You going sit there and brood, or are you going to come eat?" Folio's voice bounced off of the glass he stared into. He wanted nothing more than to tell him to fuck right off and not bother responding, but he knew that wasn't going to get him anywhere he wanted to be.

With a huff, he stood up out of the chair, and stalked over to the table the rest of the guys sat at. Nick was shoveling bacon into his mouth while Jolly sipped coffee from his mug. Folio was finishing off the last of his pancakes with urgent bites.

Noah stared down at his breakfast, grimacing at the plate. He wasn't hungry, but if he didn't eat now, he couldn't even guess when he would be willing to try again. Reluctantly, he picked up his fork and dug into the scrambled eggs.

"Dude, if you're so bent out of shape over it, why don't you just call her?" Jolly set his cup down and leaned back in his chair.

"If she wanted to talk, she would've called. She's probably pissed at me." Noah rolled the bland food around in his mouth, setting his fork down and groaning. "She should be. I was such a dick."

"Or," Nick spoke up from across the table, looking up at Noah with deep seated, irritated eyes. "she's waiting for your tantrum to be over, and for you to call her. You are the one who hung up on her, remember?" His best friend was the least patient with Noah's temper.

"Alright, I get it, okay? I already said I was a dick." Noah threw himself back in the chair, snarling back at Nick.

Nick, however, wasn't having it. Instead, he set his cup down and crossed his arms over his chest. "Do you get it? Or are you just saying that until the next time you act like a baby?"

The words came off Noah's lips like venom. "The fuck did you just say to me?"

"Let's keep it calm, guys." Jolly's Dad voice started emerging. Folio eye's flashed between his two brothers anxiously.

"You fucking heard me, dude. I'm so sick of your mood swings every time you decide to be an ass to her. That girl isn't going to put up with you forever, you know that?" Nick was nonchalant in his tone, but his words were just as sharp as his counterpart's.

Noah stood, catching the edge of his plate and making a sharp clattering on the table.

"Fuck you, dude!" He tossed a stray apple from the fruit bowl in the center of the table at Nick. "You don't know shit!"

Nick caught the apple, standing nearly in sync with Noah.

"No? I haven't known you longer than everyone else here? I haven't watched you drive away girl after girl after girl?" He gestured with his hands in a circular motion.

Noah scoffed. "What difference does it make to you? It's not your relationship." His hands were balled into fists at his sides.

Nick snorted, incredulous. "Well, for starters, every time this happens, we all have to deal with your bullshit attitude!" His eyebrows raised, and the other two men at the table looked away.

"On top of that," Nick kept speaking before Noah could rebut his argument. "this one actually fucking loves you, you jackass." These words came out just a touch softer, and Noah deflated like a punctured balloon. His shoulders fell in, signaling his instant defeat.

Nick continued. "Y/N is a rad fucking girl, man. We all like her." Jolly and Folio nodded in agreement. "We don't want you to fuck this one up. She deserves better than you throwing a fit like a toddler when you don't get your way."

That stung.

Noah didn't enjoy being this way. He never tried to hurt you. If there was one thing that came with a lack of upbringing and a tumultuous adolescence, it was a complete and total absence of understanding emotion.

He didn't know how to deal with it. Anger? Sadness? Happiness? Those were - for lack of a better term - big fucking emotions, and he never knew where to put them. Reigning them in was not something he was fluent in at all, and he hated that about himself.

Every time this happened, and he found himself lashing out or turning cold toward you, he told himself that was the last time. He wouldn't keep doing this. It wasn't fair to you that he didn't know a better way to express himself than to take it out on you. To Nick's credit, he was right. It was surprising you had stayed.

"I don't-" Noah cut himself off, biting his own tongue before another excuse rolled off of it. He instead opted for the far more bitter option. "I know."

He shrugged back down into his chair, face falling into his hands. "I can't keep doing this. I'm going to lose her if I do." His words came out muffled, but they had heard him.

"Just call her, man." Nick's voice was relaxed, now. Back to it's normal cadence.

"I'm going to." He stood again, heading for the other side of the room where his phone sat on the bedside table. He picked it up, noting still no notifications on the screen. His insides clenched.

"What do I even say?" He chewed his bottom lip.

"Tell her you forgot to take your phone off Do Not Disturb after the show." Folio said around the food in his mouth.

Noah rolled his eyes. "I don't think lying to her is the right choice, bro."

Folio just lifted his shoulders, smirking.

Swiping open the phone, it opened to his banking app, which was the last thing he had used before he fell asleep the night before. But before he could close it, against the dark background of the screen, he saw it. Upper left corner of the screen.

The tiny white moon.

"Oh fuck!"

Nick's face fell. "You fucking didn't."

"I always turn it off! I never forget!"

Jolly spoke up. "You were worked up last night..."

Noah swiped to the home screen, seeing the 2 icon on top of the message app. He also saw the signal of missed calls. His fingers ripped through his hair, and he stood up.

"At least you're not lying to her!" Folio added as Noah pressed the phone to his face, immediately calling you back.

Your phone rang, but he was eventually met with your voicemail.

"Fuck! What time is it in California?"

"Seven." Jolly responded.

"She's probably sleeping." Noah maneuvered to the messages, seeing the message from last night first, his heart sinking.

He felt like a combination of dirt and that residue that gum leaves on the bottom of your shoe.

He then saw the message from this morning, and sank down onto the end of the bed, staring blankly.

"What's wrong, dude?" Nick nodded to Noah, trying to get his attention.

"There's uh," He tried to calm his racing thoughts. "there's a fire in the Cajon Pass. She got called down to help."

"How long ago did she text you?"

Noah sighed heavily. "Two hours ago. She's probably just getting started out there."

His fingers began frantically typing a response to you.

Noah: Hey baby. I'm so fucking sorry. My phone was on DND overnight, and I'm such an idiot and didn't turn it off. I'm an idiot for more than just that. I'm sorry for how I acted. I know that wasn't okay, and I can't even begin to tell you how awful I feel. I promise I will make it up to you as soon as humanly possible. Please call me as soon as you can. Please be safe. I love you, more than you could ever know.

"How long does she usually stay out?"

Folio and Jolly stared at Noah, the sounds of all of the people moving around the room blurring together as he stared at the unread message he had sent over twelve hours prior.

"It really varies. Sometimes hours? Days? Depends on the fire."

Folio was staring down at his phone now, eyes fixed on something on the screen. His elbow tapped Jolly, handing him the device. Jolly's eyes scanned the text on the phone, and sighed hard. This all went unseen to Noah, who was just spacing out at his own text.

"Why don't you try calling again?" Folio chimed.

"I've tried to call six times." His voice was solemn.

"Have you called the station?" Noah's eyes flicked up to Nick, who was now staring down at him from where he stood directly in front of his legs.

Noah hadn't considered it, but what could it hurt?

The line rang twice before Reed answered. "Station 125. Is this an emergency?"

"It's not. I don't think. Reed, is that you?"

"Who's calling?"

Noah tried to keep his patience. "It's Noah."

"Oh." The man on the other line paused. "Hey Noah, hang on, okay?"

For a split second, he felt bad. He was calling her job. They had more important things to worry about than him and his paranoia.

This only lasted that split second, when the line picked back up.

"Noah?" The deep, raspy voice was unmistakable.

"Ramos?" Why was he talking to your boss, and not you? "Hey, is Y/N around?"

"She, uh" He cleared his throat. "she's not right now."

"Did she go home already?"

The line was silent. Eerily blank, white noise buzzing through the receiver.

"Are you in town, Noah? Can you come to the station?"

Something in Noah's stomach twisted hard, the little food he had eaten that day threatening to make a reappearance.

His words. His tone.

"I'm in New York." Was all Noah could get out without retching.

Ramos sighed. "If it's possible, I think it's best you get here soon."

"Ramos..." Noah was standing, back stiff as drywall. "Where is she?"

"Listen, I'm going to tell you this, but I need you to stay calm, alright?"

Noah didn't audibly respond, praying he would just continue.

"We don't know exactly where she is."

The ground fell out under his feet. Noah was free-falling through space and time, only the words swirling around him.

"What?" The word came out as a breath, or what was supposed to be one.

"The fire had spread to several neighborhoods. She went out with a unit lead by LA Fire. There were some collapses, and they're still trying to get everyone evacuated and located."

English was no longer Noah's first language. It was panic.

"What?!" His voice topped out, cracking hard at the end. "What do you mean?! Was she in a building when it collapsed?! Is she hurt?!"

"Noah, calm down."

"Calm down?!" Hands were on his shoulders, trying to physically restrain his arms flailing. "Why are you in Calabasas?! Why aren't you out there?!"

"Noah, I had to come back and get some food and rest. I'm headed back out in five minutes to rejoin search and rescue. We're going to find her."

The water flowing down Noah's cheeks went entirely unnoticed. He couldn't form any more words.

"Like I said before, it's best if you get here soon."

East to West Coast flights are already long. However, they tend to be much longer when you're working hard to not go into full panic attack mode.

Noah hated flying. Despite Nick being sat next to him, soothing small circles into the back of his hand every time he would begin to tremble, he was a semi-catatonic mess the entirety of the plane ride.

It wasn't until they were pulling up off of the highway, right to the barricades set up by the fire engines, did he feel himself come back to life. Ramos met them at the edge of the blockade, waving them through. He then took them on a short drive in his Jeep through the hills. What started as plush greenery, soon turned to charred, blackened, ashy mess. The sky grayed over them, the rising sun not having a prayer of breaking through the deep hue of sobering truth in front of them.

The small, hillside town hidden within the Pass was completely leveled. Buildings barely stood, crumbling horrifically around them.

"Now listen, you two will do as I say, when I say it, is that understood?" His voice was stern, all business.

Nick answered audibly, but Noah just shook his head as he watched the destroyed town around him. Civilians sat in ambulances, wrapped in blankets. Firemen in all different uniform colors roamed the streets around them. It resembled a warzone.

"How did this happen?" Noah spoke against the glass.

"We haven't determined the cause yet, but our best guess is a series of bonfires. Add the high winds?"

Noah's spine tingled at the thought.

"Now, listen, you two are here on a volunteer basis. There will be waivers to sign, and we'll get you some gear. I'm going to take you to the neighborhood where Y/N was last seen. We're looking for any and all civilians. Alive, or otherwise."

Noah's neck snapped to his left, staring at the large man next to him.

"Otherwise?" He swallowed hard. "People died?"

"Seventeen confirmed deaths so far. Eighty-six injured."

Noah's heart rate sped up to an alarming pace. "God."

A hand clapped over his shoulder. "We'll find her." Nick's voice rang in his ear.

Noah walked through the strip mall, poker in hand, and overturning debris. So far, he had found a lot of nothing. A few burnt rats, a lot of smoldering wood from building rafters. No sign of life in any of the shops he had wandered into, Nick on his heels.

"I don't think anyone's in here." His brother's voice rang behind him. He sucked his teeth.

"I don't think so either."

The radio on the heavy coat he wore began blaring, startling him.

"We've got six survivors, four are critical." The voice rattled off the location, which was less than a quarter mile from where they were currently searching. Their eyes stared at each other, before they made a dash for the exit, headed for the street toward the area where the people were found.

Noah ran toward the ambulances, a heavy hand catching him in the chest. Peering down at him was Ramos, a serious scowl crossing his face.

"Wait here." He let out a breath. "We've got her."

His breathing picked up, and he removed his respirator. "She's alive?"

"She's hanging on. EMTs said she's got full thickness burns to her legs, face, and back. She didn't have her helmet on."

His eyes caught the ambulance leaving, sirens screaming. "Where are they taking her?"

"UCI. She'll be taken to the remote area where she can be airlifted."

Noah began ripping the gear off. "I've got to go with her."

Noah didn't like airplanes. He really didn't like helicopters.

In all fairness, this had been his first time on one, but given the circumstances? He hated them. They were terrifying, but it didn't matter.

He stared at the stretcher, your body covered in heat-protecting blankets. What little of your face he could see under the bandages was charred, blistering and bleeding. It made his heart invert, his entire being hurting at the sight. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have had the audacity to hang up on you, give you attitude, and then not return your calls? It was unforgivable. He deserved for you to hate him. Leave him. Never want to see him again.

But all he could do was watch you. Listen to the heart monitor beep to remind him you were still here.

How could this have happened? You were so smart. You had taken so many courses. Why would you take off your helmet and respirator, exposing your face to the flames? Your jacket was found with you, and was one of the only ways they were able to identify you.

Aside from your hair, build, and general appearance, you were unrecognizable. Your body was mauled so badly by the flames.

The hospital staff frenzied around you, ripping your hand out of his without question, and whisked you to the ICU. He was told he had to wait, and if that wasn't the most devastating thing he had heard...

Nick, Ramos, and Reed all joined him at the hospital an hour later, as quickly as they could. They received updates every few hours. You had stabilized quickly, and they were keeping you under observation, treating the smoke inhalation and infection risk before moving you to the burn unit.

Jolly and Folio showed up six hours later, having caught a later flight than Noah and Nick. All of the men sat, deathly silent, until a nurse called Noah's name.

He walked over to her too quickly, but she was unbothered.

"Mr. Sebastian," She held a clipboard in her small hands. "Y/N will be moved to the burn unit as soon as a room becomes available."

"When can I see her?" His words were shaky, his hands knotting in the hair on top of his head.

"The doctor has advised she can have up to two visitors." Her eyes glanced back at the group sat behind Noah. "You have to change into sterile clothing that we can provide. The risk of infection is extreme."

Noah nodded. He looked back at Ramos, who was now standing behind him. "Okay, we'll go in."

She smiled sweetly. "Follow me."

The nurse led Noah and Ramos to a small locker room, sealed packages of lime green scrubs laid on the bench.

"Once you're done, come to the nurse's station."

Noah changed as quickly as possible, sitting on the bench while he waited for the other man to finish. He was annoyed at how long it was taking, but he used this moment to take a deep breath, leaning his head against the lockers behind him.

"It's good that you came, man." The voice that came out was so tired. It sounded the same way Noah felt.

"Of course I did. How could I not?"

Ramos chuckled at Noah's humorless tone. "I just mean, I know it'll mean a lot to her, that's all."

"I love her." His words weren't spoken to convince or persuade. They were just fact. They hung in the air on an invisible thread.

Ramos stood, staring at him, a blank expression on his face. "She loves you too. Don't forget that."

With that, they both made their way back to the nurse. Gloved and masks on, they were allowed behind the large glass door. A heavy white blanket pulled up over you to your shoulders. Bandages now covered the entirety of your face, small amount of hair sticking out in random places. Your body was propped up slightly on the side, likely due to the burns covering your back. Small spots of blood were etched into the pillow and sheets beneath you. Your eyes were closed, and a large tube was jutting from your lips.

Both men had been instructed not to touch you. Noah felt the physical ache in his fingers to not reach out and touch what little unmarred skin was left, signaling somehow that he was there. He was never leaving.

Ramos took a heavy seat in the chair next to your bed, staring down at you, disbelief painting his features.

"I've been at this job for twenty-one years, Noah."

The deep brown eyes flashed over to him, now wet with tears.

"I'll tell you, this never gets easier."

Noah tears fell freely, his hand bracing on the rail on the side of the bed.

Hours passed, Noah and Ramos unmoving except for when the nurse came in to check your vitals. He had been told you would not be allowed visitors in the burn unit, so he was getting as much time as he could with you.

He was, however, worn down.

After a while, Ramos stood, stretching his arms over his head. "Noah?"

He tore his eyes off of you, staring up at your friend. "Take a minute. You look like you're about ready to fall over."

Shaking his head, Noah breathed for the first time in what felt like days. "I'm fine."

"At least see if they've got a pillow. You can recline this chair and try to relax."

His stare challenged Ramos, but was met with an even more intimidating glare.

"I'm not asking."

After a moment, and an unwavering stare, Noah finally receded, backing slowly from the room. Once the door slid shut behind him, he let his shoulders sink, ripping the gloves from his sweaty palms, chucking them in the bin.

He stepped over to the nurse's desk, smiling as genuinely as he could.

"You wouldn't by chance have a pillow?"

Her grin was warm, her small frame standing. "Of course, honey. Give me a second."

She disappeared from her chair, pacing to a small room next to the desk.

Noah's eyes wandered as he waited, his teeth ripping at the dried skin on his bottom lip. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a shiny plastic on the desk under the counter. His tall stance leaned over, hand reaching down to run his fingers over the smooth bag. It was clear, and he could see the shredded remains of a navy blue t-shirt, yellow pants, and...

A stone?

His palm gripped the bag, lifting it over the counter and up closer to his face. Inside the sealed plastic, he could see it shining back at him, small amount of soot coating it.

Your necklace.

The nurse returned, two pillows and a folded blanket under her arm, pulling him from his focus.

"Hey, uh," He set the bag down on the counter. "these are her belongings. Can I open this?" He pressed a finger into the bag.

She adjusted the glasses on her face, and pulled the bag away from him, looking down at the label. Her lips puckered, eyes reading the words.

"I'm sorry, honey. This is someone else's."

Noah's brain blanked out.

"No. No, this is her stuff. That's her necklace."

She shook her head. "No, dear. This came in with someone else."

His hand slammed down on the counter with a sharp thud, making the nurse visibly jump.

"No, no! This is hers. I gave her that necklace!"

Her eyes deadpanned at him.

"Sweetheart, I think you're confused. This came in hours before she did, with another person."

Noah's eyes stared deep at her, working to make sense of her words.

"What do you mean? Who had her necklace?"

She sighed hard. "I can't tell you anything about other patients."

His voice snapped. "No one else could have that necklace! It was made for her!"

"Mr. Sebastian, I need you to calm down."

"Who had the necklace, damn it! Those are her clothes! That's her stuff!"

The nurse squeezed her eyes for a moment. "You're certain?"

"Where is the person who came in with these?!" His hand snatched the bag from her hand.

"No, you have to be mistaken, Mr. Sebastian. You identified her."

He stopped, heart seizing.

"Where are they?"

"You identified her, right?"

"Where are they?!"

His fingers squeezed the bag until his fingers nearly ripped into it. The nurse, fully stunned, spoke quietly.

"Mr. Sebastian, your girlfriend is in that room. These can't be hers, because these bags," She patted the stack of plastic on the desk. "are on their way to the morgue."

His chest imploded, his knees shaking.

"That's not..." His brain sparked and sizzled at her words.

"That's not hers." The nurse repeated back to him, but he couldn't hear.

He dropped the plastic, and his body turned. His fingers plucked the mask up over his mouth, his eyes wide as saucers as he slid the door open. He could hear the footsteps behind him.

"Ramos?"

A deadly calm fell over Noah, his head quirking to the side.

The man's head picked up from where he was staring down at the bed. "What's going on?"

The nurse behind Noah looked panicked.

"How did you identify her?" Her voice was shaky.

"Her, uh" Ramos stood, his words uncertain. "her coat. Her name is on it."

"And?" Noah was monotone.

"Well," Ramos looked down at the bed, gesturing to it. "look at her."

"Does she have any identifying marks? Scars? Birthmarks? Tattoos?"

"What is going on?" Ramos' voice raised an octave.

"She has a tattoo."

They both turned their heads to look at Noah.

"It's on the back of her right bicep. It's new. We got them together six weeks ago." He felt a tear sliding down his face, absorbing in his mask. "It's a headstone."

The nurse just nodded, padding to the bed, and reaching a gloved hand to pull the blanket down, exposing some of the only untouched skin. Back of the right bicep.

And there it was. Clear as day.

Nothing.

It was instantaneous. No one could have prevented it. Nothing could have stopped it.

Noah collapsed.

One Year Later

Fingertips ran over the stone, smooth and unharmed. Gold chain holding it together. Only one single micro fracture in the glass. It was perfect. It always would be.

His fingers twirled it, knees bouncing up and down, eyes closed and lips moving silently.

'I love you, more than you could ever know.'

"Noah?"

His eyes opened, catching Nick's easy smile looking back at him.

"Ready?" His bass hung comfortably over his chest, ski mask in hand.

Noah's lips lifted, returning his grin.

"Yeah, let's go."

[fortemelody]

AHHHSHFBTKFNTLFKGNFMDM SONIC 3 TRAILER SONIC 3 TRAILER SONIC 3 TRAILER IM LOOSING MY SHIT RN

here’s some things i noticed/wondered/loved:

- i think in that scene where tom is on the ground yelling for sonic, he is wearing a special forces suit. maybe he upgraded from cop to working with gun?? if so i think that’s a really good use of his character actually! he wanted to save a life and raise a family above all else yes, but he still got his previous dream of doing more serious cop work!

- shadow just. has a big ass portal?? like holy shit he’s just suckin the life outta earth and ig that’s one way to do it (or maybe it’s just a ring and i’m stupid idek)

- i’m sure we’ll learn more about this in the actual movie so i’m not too worried, but i’m super confused at the very beginning scene. apparently sonic didn’t change his heart…but he did tho? like he learned what being a true hero meant in the last movie. tbh i feel like that’s enough but hey i’m not against more character development for our boy so!! (also that bit where he’s like “in my lungs” was actually really funny to me, ben schwartz’ awesome delivery caught me off guard)

- GERALD ROBOTNIK ALIVE HUUUUH?! tbh i would’ve preferred if maria was alive, i feel like that would be an interesting dynamic. but also ig that would make it harder for shadow to learn anything so i totally get it. anyways i’m just glad they’re putting a little twist on the story, it keeps it interesting. they already sorta did that with the knuckles and iblis thing actually! (even if that show sucked ass and although that probably wasn’t intentional 😭)

- even tho bro only got like… 3 lines, i really think keanu fits shadow. he’s very soft spoken in comparison to the rest of the case which feels nice. also he’s like the “really bad” guy so ofc he’s not gonna be yappin on and on like sonic or robotnik and he’s gonna take things uber seriously.

- where was my girl maddie :( i think she was only in like a singular frame. hope shes in the movie a somewhat significant amount. i heart pretzel lady!! could live without wade tho like pls im so sick of his bowling soap opera 💀

- FAT ROBOTNIK FAT ROBOTNIK FAT ROBOTNIK!!! after fucking 3 movies they finally fulfilled jim carrey’s wishes!! let the man get creative like please i love jim carrey sm aughdfhfnfmschxj. also love how we got so much stobonik content within that short scene like jesus come get y’all’s food

- shadow at one point says something along the lines of “when we’re done, there won’t be anything left.” maybe i’m reading WAY to into this but what does the “we’re” part mean?? is he working with others? i feel like this is either gonna be team dark or some new movie exclusive character(s). edit: someone made a valid point that he’s actually probably referring to gerald (look at reblogs!)

-CHAO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! lowkey wonder if the room therye in is like an amusement park or somethin like that

- no sign of amy :( but honestly my prediction now is that she’s gonna be the post credit scene teaser cus they always do a new character reveal there. first tails, then shadow. and honestly now i think it might be better that way so shadow can have a chance to breathe and show his story in full. i’m pretty sure i vaguely remember colleen (tails’ VA) being kinda mysterious about amy’s appearance when asked, and also the fact that it was confirmed that this isn’t the end of the movie franchise/universe. but ig we’ll just have to wait and see!

so sorry i stated this yesterday morning to give my initial thoughts but then got busy and completely forgot to post/finish it. and today i started (and am close to finishing) a very long edit of the trailer, so be on the look out for that too!

genuinely i feel like this movie is gonna somehow be even more record breaking than any of the previous movies and i am so here for the hype 🙏

[sandyca5tle]

Slime HRT - 4 Months

So, month four, a few more changes have happened, still nothing super major, but it’s hard not to notice the changes now. 

My skin has continued to change, but at this stage that’s the only thing that’s going to be changing, so there’s been a lot going on on that front. It’s still getting smoother, so much so that my fingerprints have vanished, which has created a problem that I now can’t use the biometrics to open my phone. Asides from that though, my skin kinda feels like what I’d imagine solid water (not ice, like actual solid water) to feel like, which is neat.

On the note of phones, I have noticed touchscreens generally have been a little less responsive, and I’m kinda worried about not being able to use them at all once I'm completely slime. Gonna have to see if I can find a work around or something for that - fortunately I’m typing these entries up on a computer and keyboard, so hopefully there’s gonna be no issue there.

The other not so positive change is that my skin has become kind of slightly orange, to the point that it sometimes looks like a bad fake tan in the wrong light. I know it’s ‘cause I’m becoming sap, which is orange-y but it still kinda sucks.

However, what has been neat is that my skin now kinda ripples when poked or blown on, which is both very weird and very euphoric. I’d be lying if I hadn’t spent a bunch of time poking at myself, watching and feeling the ripples. It can be a little awkward on windy days though - people tend to be a little disturbed seeing skin ripple like jelly

Despite what I said earlier, there has been a couple changes to non-skin stuff. The first of these I noticed was that my hair doesn’t really tangle any more, and has a slightly new texture to it - smoother and softer, but with a slight… ‘dampness’ that isn’t really wet - basically, it feels a little slimy. If I’m honest, I was a little grossed out when I first ran a hand through my hair, only to feel it being slimy - initially I thought that something must have gotten in my hair, but it didn’t take me long to work out what was actually happening, at which point I was very happy. Hair still feels a little weird to me though, but I’m getting used to it, and it’s a little neat running my hands through it.

I’ve also become more flexible, which is very neat, except that while it started as just seeming like I'd started doing yoga, more recently it’s made it look more like I’m double jointed, as I can definitely bend some things in ways they shouldn’t. Had a couple of weird incidents with the new uber-bendy arms and legs, but after the initial freak out, I've had a lot of fun with the extra flexibility.

That’s all for this update, guess we’ll see what the next couple of months hold! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

First - Prev - Next

[rodricksfilipinagf]

Muffins and Morning Sex (Jamie Tartt x Reader)

   “I guess I should get home,” I say.

   Jamie shrugs. “The bed’s already paid for. You can stay. I am.”

   Exhaustion wins out. “Fine. I’m too tired to wait for an Uber.”

   He smiles proudly. “Wore you out, didn’t I? Means I did something right.”

   “I really hate you, you know that?” I say, slipping between the covers.

   Jamie climbs in beside me. “You also think I’m a sex god,” he adds smugly.

   “Fuck off,” I say. “Not that it matters, but that was my first time. It’s not like I have anything else to compare it to…”

   There is a long beat of silence. “You’re fucking joking,” Jamie finally says.

    “No,” I answer.

    “You were a virgin?” Jamie asks in disbelief.

     “Yeah. Don’t worry, I don’t care that it wasn’t special or with someone I loved.” Though wasn’t it special in its own way? Jamie annoys the living fuck out of me, but he also turns me on like no one else. Having sex with him was way better than I thought it was going to be.

      “You could have told me I was taking your virginity.” Jamie sounds annoyed.

      “Why? Would you have been nicer to me?” I ask.

      “Maybe,” Jamie says quietly. “No, probably not.” He clears his throat. “You were great. Really, I couldn’t tell.”

     “Wow, Jamie Tartt giving me a compliment? Has hell frozen over?” I think over what he said. “Wait, so I didn’t suck. And you… does this mean you still have feelings for me?”

      “You mean do I still want to fuck you?” Jamie clarifies. His eyes find their way to mine. “Yeah.”

      My heartbeat decides to pick up the pace. “Me too.”

   “That’s not surprising,” he says, making me roll my eyes.  “I usually don’t want to shag people more than once, so you should count yourself lucky.”

   “Yeah, I’m so lucky that someone who hates my guts wants to fuck me again.”

   Suddenly he’s all up on me. “Don’t pretend you don’t want it as much as I do. Admit it, you wish I was kissing you right now.”

     Since he’s keeping things purely physical, I see no harm in saying, “Maybe.”

    Jamie kisses me and it’s almost…sweet. He wraps an arm around me and doesn’t remove it the entire night. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was actually starting to like me.

    I wake up alone. I look around at the hotel room, wondering if last night was all a dream. If I booked myself this room and had the world’s most elaborate sex dream about Jamie Tartt. I frown and feel something crumpling on my forehead. I pull off a sticky note.

Getting breakfast for us. Prepare for payback for making me shower alone ;)

-               Jamie

   Wow. When he wasn’t there, I assumed he ditched me. Went back home to his apartment and laughed at me expecting to wake up next to him. But he was actually planning to come back? With food? Also that second part is making my pussy all fluttery. He’s antagonizing me like he always does, but he’s also being incredibly flirty…and sexy.

   Oh, God. What if I’m starting to like him? That can’t be it. I just crave his body, that’s it.

I hear his key sliding into the door. I’m still not wearing any clothes. I can’t be blushing when he comes in- I can’t. God, all I want is to feel his body against mine again. He walks in wearing his outfit from the night before, looking just as jaw-droppingly gorgeous, and places a brown paper bag on the table.

     What do I even say? I mull over my options as he takes off his pants, then his underwear. Thanks for bringing me breakfast? Thanks for not leaving? You look just as hot as you did last night and I still want to fuck you? I settle on, “So why didn’t you wake me up if you wanted company in the shower?”

     He instantly straddles me, grabbing at a lock of my hair and playing with it. “Because I wanted to get my revenge on you more.” He winks at me as he pulls the lock hard. “Hope you had sweet dreams, love. I’m about to be your worst nightmare.” His mouth instantly devours mine, and his tongue gives mine hell. He hauls me out of bed and my legs wrap around his hips. He presses me up against the wall, taking the opportunity to squeeze my ass.

      “Who knew torturing you was going to be this fun?” Jamie gloats before thrusting into me hard, over and over and over. He continues at a more rapid pace, making my boobs jiggle up and down uncontrollably. At one point he buries his face in my hastily bouncing cleavage like it was his birthright. Now that he knows where the clit is, he takes pleasure in eliciting shouts from me, all while leaving the biggest, most noticeable hickeys on my neck for me to cover up later. I try my best to dig my nails into his ass but he gives mine a hard pinch in return. His tip excruciatingly runs the length of my clit, making me moan in pleasure.

     After making fun of me for finding it hard to stand, he carries me back to the bed. “When you said I was a sex god, you were right,” he teases.

    “You’re the worst,” I reply.

    He snatches the brown paper bag from the table. “Does that mean you don’t want these?”

   I grasp it out of his hands. “Hand it over, jackass.” I look inside. “Holy crap, are these muffins? They smell fresh-baked!”

    “They are,” he says.

     I can’t help but smile. Who knew Jamie was capable of something so thoughtful.

     “I would have gotten scones, except I hate them, and if you didn’t like them then neither of us would eat them.”

     “Oh no- I don’t get the hype around them…I don’t know, I find them too hard.” As I say this I can see Jamie’s eyes light up slightly. His lips zoom towards mine and my tongue happily licks his. I sigh blissfully. God, he’s so hot. If I could imagine him not being Jamie Tartt, whose mission in life is to make my life miserable, I might actually really like him.

     As he breaks away from me, he exclaims, “Thank you! Someone gets it.”

      A smile works its way across my face. That was so…unexpectedly cute. I take out a blueberry muffin. It’s warm and soft in my mouth. It tastes almost as delicious as Jamie’s kisses.

       Ughhhh, why is he making me fall for him? It’s not fair. He’d never feel the same way about me. He’s made it clear that he only wants me for my body. The only feelings he has for me are sexual ones, and I’m not going to lie, being on the brunt of those is hot as hell. If that’s how Jamie treats someone he despises, he must be…fucking dynamite with someone he loves.

        “Have you ever been in love before?” I ask absently.

        He nearly chokes on his muffin. “Sorry- what?”

        I widen my eyes. ���Never mind. Uh….you don’t have to answer that.”

        Jamie swallows. “No. No, I haven’t.” He peers at me curiously. “Why do you ask?”

        Oh, God, now he’s going to think I’m in love with him after one night of sex in which he treated me like garbage… but also made my body feel the most satisfied its ever felt.

        “I was just wondering if you’d treat a girl you were in love with better in bed.”

        He shrugs. “I don’t know. Probably?”

        “You’re not going to ask if I’ve ever been in love?”

        “I don’t care,” Jamie states plainly.

        “That sounds more like you,” I remark.

        “You should finish up,” Jamie says. “I have to get you home.”

        “Awww, you don’t want to spend the day together? I’m hurt,” I say sarcastically. Why did I hope that after one sweet gesture, Jamie might actually morph into someone I could want to be with?

        “Actually, I do,” Jamie says, surprising me. “Just thought you’d want to change first.”

        “Oh.” That is actually really thoughtful. “You actually want to spend time with me?”

        “Thought I’d bully you some more, if that’s okay.” Jamie gives me a sardonic smile.

        “I’m always looking for more reasons to hate you, so…sure… I guess….”

[got-into-worm-by-mistake]

Insinuation 2.1 Live Reactions

(This is me, writing reactions as I read, because why the fuck not. They're not complete, mature thoughts taken after I sit back and evaluate what I've read. Consider them as such)

I woke to the muffled sound of the radio in the bathroom.  Reaching over to my alarm clock, I turned it around.  6:28.  Which made today a weekday like any other.  My alarm was set for six thirty, but I almost never needed it, because my dad was always in the shower at the same time.  Routines defined us.

Taylor just fought one of the baddest dudes in Brockton Bay, and she still needs to wake up and go to school like a normal teenager. Aah, YA Fiction Tropes (Whether or not Worm as a whole counts as YA is a different discussion, but this sure feels familiar)

With all that had happened, I hadn’t slept those full three hours, either.

From what I gather, Taylor isn't going to get a lot of sleep in general over the next two years. Sleep Deprivation may explain some of her decisions.

I shook my head, “Tired.  I didn’t sleep well.”

Danny, Danny Boy, here's your chance to say something! Say ANYTHING you-

 I wasn’t sure if he’d worry more or less if I told him about my powers.

More. Probably more.

Shrugging again, I took a bite of french toast.  My dad was part of the Dockworkers Association, as the Union spokesperson and head of hiring.  With the state of the Docks being what they were, that meant my dad was pretty much in charge of telling everyone that there were no jobs to be had, day after day

Maybe Dockworkers unions work differently, but I feel like that's not - that's not how that should work? How is a Union Rep also a Head of Hiring? The two feel like they should be distinct?

“He’s going to be one of Über and Leet’s henchmen.” I raised my eyebrows.  Über and Leet were local villains with a video game theme.  They were pretty much as incompetent as villains could be while staying out of jail.  They barely even rated as B-list.

I'm pretty sure I heard of Uber and Leet before I ever heard of Amy Dallon, back when I was picking up out of context errant details from SB/SV circles. Incompetent as fuck, but clearly a fan favorite duo.

Being one of their henchmen has to suck tho.

“I heard you come in late last night,” he said.

AYYYYYYY! Danny Boy! *high fives*

Or pyrokinesis and the ability to grow armor plating and claws?  I felt a little knot of ugliness in the pit of my stomach at my father’s concern for me.  It was all the more intense because it was so justified.  I had almost died last night.

Different than the dreams and ideas, huh?

“No more going out in the middle of the night,” he said, “Or I’m putting a bell on the doors.”

:rofl:

“Okay,” I said, adding, “I’m sorry.”  Even with that, I felt a twinge of guilt.  My apology was sincere in feeling, but I was making it with the knowledge that I would probably do the same thing again.  It felt wrong. He gave me a smile that seemed almost like an unspoken ‘I’m sorry too’.

Danny should push harder, but he made the effort, so he gets a parenting cookie nonetheless.

Shrugging, I suggested, “Stove, maybe?”

If Danny bought that, he loses the entire parenting cookie. If he just didn't push, he only loses a third of it, but still, Danny, Danny, Danny!

[evansbby]

ARI REALLY DID IT!!! HE REALLY BROKE UP WITH HER!!! HOLY SHIT!!!

When Sharon said she thought reader was the Ari was cheating on her with, cause she had a feeling deep in her gut… should’ve listened to it. Always, and I mean always go with your guy ladies.

SHARON IS BI CURIOUS SHE THINKS OF READER WHILE MASTURBATING!!!!!

Curtis is a damn sleazeball, Wanda is dumb and blind asf. Also a bitch! Hinting at having a threesome with Carla 🤣and Reader. Then when reader says he needs to respect his gf and he says she’s one to talk OHHHH BURRRRN!!!!!!

Also yes Ari how do you know where Steve’s parents live 🌚

He sighs, “If you want, I could come clean to her and tell her it was you who I was sleeping with. You shouldn’t have to deal with that, it’s my problem, anyways.” Does he not realize that that’s not gonna make the situation any better 🤦🏾‍♀️ MEN.

When reader finally had the outburst in the supply closet 😭 poor baby.

Definitely gotta make sure to keep out the part about letting Steve finger her in the Uber🤣 didn’t want Ari even more pissed that he already is.

Uh oh… Ari freaking out about Kira 👀

“Because I do care! I think I’d know what I’m feeling better than you would!” Calm down Stevey Boy 🫢

“I was always going to ask you out, Ari or no Ari. It’s only when I saw how jealous he got when he saw you with me, that I realised how much he liked you. That he liked you more than he liked his own girlfriend. That’s when I realised I could be with you and get back at him at the same time.” Umm… that’s not- yeah that’s still not cool Steve. Men are so so damn stupid I bet this has actually happened in real life before.

“Fuck you! Try an’ scratch me again and see what happens!” Steve arguing with the branch 🤣🤣 then when he claims that that’s it’s tryna pick a fight with him LMFAO!!! This man is drunk!

Poor Steve getting kicked off the team. Also, get this man in some anger issues classes.

Out of everyone, I feel bad for Kira the most. Especially after what Steve said she’s going through and how their parents are never home, and don’t know how bad she’s really gotten.

God, you would never understand men! YOU AND ME BOTH GIRLIE

Also should I feel bad for Carla? Yes, maybe. Possibly? Do I feel bad for her though? 🙂‍↔️ nope

He grabs her by the upper arm roughly, “Carla, shut the fuck up right now if you know what’s good for you,” He hisses. LMFAO!!! YEAH CARLA SHUT UP!!!

“Stop acting so holier-than-thou, Sharon. You’re not worth shit anymore, not since you got dumped,” yeah umm… Carla deserved what Curtis did to her at this point.

She says brokenly, “I..I liked you. I liked you so much. You have no idea how much I…” oh I know how much, that almost confession you made I remember that 👀

“I’m in love with you.” Ari breathes. HOLY SHIT HE SAID IT ARI REALLY SAID NO HESITATION THIS TIME!!!

“Why does it always take some sort of traumatic event for you to say these things?” You know that’s a really good question. WHY ARI?!

“Tell me, is that what you told my sister too?” JAW FUCKING DROP! ITS ABOUT TO GO DOWN!!! Again! 🫢🫣

Steve telling Ari about what Kira has been going through makes me feel even sadder than when he was telling reader about it

“She’s my sister and you were my friend and you fucking broke her, Ari.” I FUCKING KNEW IT!!! I KNEW THEY HAD BEEN FRIENDS BEFORE!!!! It always hurts more when it’s a friend that does the betraying, cause like you trusted that person. Never thought once out of the whole friendship that they would ever do something to hurt/betray you.

STEVEN GRANT ROGERS!!!! WHYY JUST WHYYYY?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

“Don’t worry about me. I’m comfortably numb, remember? I think I finally made it last…” I-… 😓😢😭😣😔 damn Steve is really going through it. Poor baby

To answer your questions:

1. They were both sweet, but Steve was bittersweet so I think I kinda liked his more. It did hint/foreshadow at what would happen later on in this part.

2. Carla Wanda SUCKS ASS FUCK THAT BITCH!!!!

3. Because she pretended to be her friend, let her vent about Ari and cry on her shoulder. She knew the whole time why Ari broke up with her, had so many times to open up about the truth. I think if reader would’ve told the truth from the get go, and explain everything then she would’ve been a little bit more forgiving towards reader.

4. I’m not sure. Ari says Steve doesn’t know what he’s talking about, so maybe Curtis did it. I wouldn’t put it past him tbh. He seems like that kind of guy. But that begs the question… how did Curtis get ahold of Kira’s nudes if that’s what actually happened?🤔

5. Team STEVE!! I feel like they’re gonna have to pump his stomach. Attempted OD, maybe his parents will even have to fly back at this point.

AHHH BESTIEEE OMFG

Okay firstly YES I AGREE, as a woman, always trust your gut and intuition! But also, Sharon was kinda blind bc Ari literally carried y/n bridal style away after she got hit with a basketball like HE LITERALLY COULD NOT HAVE MADE IT ANY MORE OBVIOUS that they were together. But tbh I think Sharon was being blind bc she wanted to believe the best in y/n bc SHE liked y/n 🥺🥺

And yep lmfao Curtis was so damn sleazy in this chapter! Which is crazy bc he and Wanda were genuinely inseparable in the previous chapter! But now this guy is blatantly cheating on her with that brunette cheerleader AND he propositioned reader to have a threesome??? BRO FUCK THIS GUY FR.

ALSO YES. I really wanted to illustrate how stupid and clueless men are. Like when Ari says “you want me to tell her?” LIKE BRO??? That would just make it worse 😭😭 Also when Ari says “she’s a strong girl, she’ll bounce back” that is literally crazy 😭😭 men are fr so stupid and I don’t get them either and I’m happy you picked up on them being stupid in this chapter!!! Emotionally stunted fr! Steve too!! He also had some stupid dialogues and moments like him wanting so badly to explain, then his explanation being like “yeah idk why I did that, I just did” 😭😭😭

Thank you so much for this wonderful review bestie! I always appreciate it so much when people quote lines from my fic and then analyse or react to them!!! And your commentary is fr so funny!

Last thing I’ll say is… yeah maybe Steve will need to get his stomach pumped… IF he survived that is 😔😔😔😱😱😱 but would his parents care enough to even fly back to see him? 😔😔😟

[boxwinebaddie]

how many piercings does rm stan have?

...so many, anon.

So...So...Many.

he also quite literally wants more but management implemented a urgent ravenstanban on him putting more holes & reckless, ~juvenile~ piercings on the 'Face of PunkRock Super Band Crimson Dawn'.

he complained soooo much!!!! he was like Okay But Kenny Got To—and they were like raven, kenny is kenny!!!! kenny plays bass and wears the skull face mask, you are The Lead Singer Of The Band, smh.

laaaaame!!!! whack!!!!

why does everyone hate fun and Hot Boy Shit?

speaking of!

welcome to the ravenstan piercing whore couTOUR. <3

( i got weirdly specifically & passionate abt this — soz )

so he has his eyebrow pierced — it's his left one. one of my favorite things i've written lately is that the two dots go from being a colon to a semi-colon when he furrows his brow, haha. he also does wiggle his eyebrow at little kids at the childrens hospital to make them laugh. also the eyebrow piercing has no significance...i just think its cool, lol. but pep!stan wanted to pierce his eyebrow so raven is living his dream...which is actually a nightmare tbh...being a rockstar sucks. :/

i think his nose is pierced in two places? i want to say he's got a lil nose ring on the left side also and his septum is pierced...love u rae. i feel like the nose ring is usually just a lil silver ring moment or its a stud if he...can't find a nose ring...he loses everything, jersey does organize all his lil emo boy hot topic jewelry later btw. i think that happens even before they're dating bc kyle worries abt him, aaa!

anyways! i think the septum is also p standard, like usually its just the little spheres on the ends, sometimes cool spikes happen? i think they were stars once bc i love starboy stan -- but i also saw this really sick one on pinterest that is bat shaped and i got OBSESSED w/ it! i think that happens sometimes on special occasions bc its COOL!!!!

okay...uhhhhh, so his ears are pierced like Everywhere. in every possible place. i think a lot of them are also just little ring moments, studs and stuff, but his industrial is in and i do think R-A-V-E-N is engraved on it, also sometimes there are little lightning bolts or spikes or xs or lil emo boy crosses hanging off the armada of ear piercings on ravens ears that match the big cross earring which i feel like...looks like this? when the big cross isn't in i feel like its usually something sick like OMG ONE TIME IT WAS A BIG SWORD??? or like a skeleton guy hanging off!!! an anatomically correct human heart?

speaking of skulls and skeletons and things!!!!! THE ICONIQUE RAVEN LIP RING!!!!!! it is just a normal ring sometimes like everything else, but i think the ravenstan signature is the one that looks like a sick ass skeleton hand like??? HELLO??? HES SO COOL?

speaking of being rlly cool, if hes feel really spicy, i feel like he breaks out the crazy hot boy lip ring chain that connects to his ear? idk how to explain that...like This? like the edgy lip ring chain cuff? either way, i am obsessed, he is giving half mexican rockstar miyamura from horimiya. and that's so real bc izumi is gods secret emo angel tbh.

the lipring chain thing...does make kyle extremely feral, btw. like the lip ring in general already makes him feral but...Whew! also i do think he has a little chain that matches the sun and moon one on kyle's glasses BC THEY ARE GAY AND REALLY EXTRA AND MATCH!!!!

ravesey is truly a opposites attract-ive uber fine as hell mega sexy power couple i love them so badddd!!!! pleeease kiss me aaaaa

okay so listen hES NOT ALLOWED TO GET HIS NIPPLES PIERCED AND RAVEN WAS LIKE BOO YOURE ALL SO LAME!!!!! but hes quite literally not supposed to draw attention to the chest area ( which...is that why they put him in the tiny little pants? but also they do still put him in the tiny shirts...however as scandy as he is 25/8 no one has EVER seen raven of crimson w/o a shirt on and everyone is down absolutely horrendous about it...kyle...included...*sprays w/ water* )

also the ex cd guitarist ( who was also a college student, particularly in the area of pre-med/being a surgeon ) was like so i did a lot of research and after top surgery, trying to get pierce things around there is not a good idea, its not super safe also, ur nips could fall off.

and ravenstan was like omg ur being Paranoid!!! itll be fine and then one day, oh my GOD, it was just the guys being dudes and it was 147309473 degrees in the CD manwhoresion bc its old af and ravenstan whipped his shirt off and everyone was staring at him and he was like Jesus Christ You Guys Quit Objectifying Me skdlhs and they were like rAVEN YOU ONLY HAVE ONE NIP SLKHDSLKDLSKHDLKHDS AND HE WAS LIKE EXCUSE ME AND WAS LIKE OHHHHHHH MY GOD WHERE THE FUCK IS IT????

when i tell you they were screaming, crying and throwing up, on their hands and knees searching high and low, HEEEELP!!!! also dw, they found it BUT OHHHHHH MY GOD IT WAS SO FUNNY, he had to get it surgically reattached, all was well...but that dream died with like all of the sensation in his chest area p much...amazing.

but like…

are you really bros if u don't drop everything to look for ur other bros nipple graft & give him positive affirmations during his panic attack?

when i tell you the crimson dawn boys were soul bonded....i mean it. they were literally brothers, i love them but shit happens...smh.

OKAY LASTLY THO!!!!! so i think c.d. was raising money for charity bc they are my charity kings and kenny, being very unhinged, was like okay if we get This Many streams on blood moon i will pierce whatever part of ravens body u guys want wHILE RAVEN WAS IN THE BATHROOM?! IM FUCKING??? he came back and was like ok why is everyone laughing wtf was going on and kenny was like, dw worry just uh...how is ur pain tolerance...and do u have an innie or outie belly button for science and he was like eXCUSE ME KHJSLHS

anyways...they were sloshed, as per usje, it was NOT management approved they did it ON STREAM HELP, raven like PASSED OUT, incredible...oh my god. but now ravens belly button is pierced lmaooooooo, i am crying he was not stoked but he put the cool ass pentagram belly button piercing in and it matches the sick waist chain and hes kinda feeling himself tbh...hes so Fine...pray 4 kyle.

i think...that's it? he do b thinking about that nose chain piercing or the labret kENNY WAS TRYING TO HAVE HIM GET THE HIP ONES AND HE WAS LIKE KENNY NO MORE PIERCING THINGS ON THE LOWER HALF OF MY BODY GO TO HORNY JAIL!!!! like i personally think he would have slayed that w the edgy hip tattoos BUT ANYWAYS HES STANBANNED FROM PIERCINGS! but thats ok the only piercing hes looking forward to rn...is jerseys piercing gaze.

amen, gaymen, live laugh love ravesey world domination and hot boy ravenstan with all the fruity emo boy saucy lead singer boy piercings!

-uncle nina, who is surprised my son's belly button piercing did not get infected because that was seriously unethical and unsterile, also i'm still laughing abt raven losing a nipple, that was so unserious

[voidingintotheshout]

Well, fuck.

From the article:

“We're trying to really get rid of [surge pricing on rides]," Risher said. "Because we've got such good driver supply, which we've worked really hard to get, [surge pricing has] decreased significantly."

A Lyft spokesperson told TechCrunch that its supply of drivers is the highest it's been in three years (since the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic). Its driver base has grown by 20 percent year-over-year and the number of average hours each driver works is at a new high, beating 2019 levels. This, Risher said, has helped to reduce the share of rides impacted by surge pricing by 35 percent compared with the previous quarter.

From me:

Lyft has been cutting driver pay for years. So has Uber. I’m a full-time driver and I really love it, most notably, because I have ADHD and autism—and kinesthetic job that has a lot of variety is really good for me. Unfortunately, not having surge pricing, which a lot of drivers were counting on to make ends meet and to make up for the fact that they need to pay Lyft‘s share of payroll taxes, which ends up costing every single driver thousands a year, means that lyft is less lucrative for drivers than it has been. It’s frustrating because they are bragging about how they have this surplus of drivers. The untold implication is that some drivers will hate this and will leave but it’s fine because they still have plenty. The other untold implication is that the cost of living crisis in America, means that everyone is struggling for money, and need this to pay the bills. It sucks being in a job with no security and it also sucks leaving a job that you love. I know that this is something that passengers will probably love in the short term.  they can leave a concert and they’re not gonna have to worry about extreme price gouging from Lyft. It’s unfortunate though that most passengers are unaware that 50% of what they pay for a ride already is going to Lyft and now drivers aren’t even going to be getting the surge pricing. It just makes the job that much less lucrative trying to keep up with the cost of living crisis in America. 

[persephonbee]

Vent:

I'm feeling pretty frustrated at my partner's mom right now. I get that she's stressed and frazzled from doing a lot of the planning of my partner's brother's wedding, and I get that her current priorities don't particularly include my well being, and I see why they wouldn't. At the same time, I got up very early (for me, and also, my sleep schedule is legitimate and not something to be ashamed of or something that indicates "laziness" [which doesn't actually exist but that's beside the point] and is a direct result of me working an unpopular but very necessary shift helping people who very much need help, and it's not wrong of me to have a sleep schedule where 8:30 am is very early) and thought the plan was that my partner and I would be walking 15 minutes to brunch, and were in fairly good time for that, but then she changed up the plan and grumped at us for being less than 5 minutes behind what she had changed the plan to and then spent another 5 minutes in her room after we had already gone to the lobby, and suddenly the plan was that we were all going to Uber to the brunch place while all carrying something, and she keeps misgendering me, like, throughout the whole trip, and now people who had previously been doing OK with my pronouns are following her lead and misgendering me even though I keep trying to do little things to gently remind them, like, I was suddenly assigned to carry two glass vases of flowers and she and her sister both loudly misgendered me and I joked that when I was a kid I had always wanted to be a flower girl and now I kind of get to be a flower non-girl and that didn't do anything, and I get really carsick and she knows that but I had been trying to use dramamine to deal with that this weekend and had been fairly successful so far but you have to take it an hour in advance and I thought we were walking and not carrying things so all of a sudden I was stuffed into the back seat of a tiny cab, unable to see out the front which sometimes helps, holding a glass vase in each hand, worrying about what I would do with the vases if I did need to stop the cab and throw up. And I have trauma around maternal figures being angry and passive aggressive to me when I've just woken up, and she wasn't doing anything that would have been traumatic for the average person, but for me it was rough, and to then be like welp I guess I'm In Trouble and also stuck in a situation where there's a 50/50 chance of me throwing up but I managed to not throw up and when we got to the brunch place I thought I'd get to at least sit quietly for a while to try to regain my composure but then she started trying to involve me in conversations and I eventually had to say hey sorry I'm trying to keep it together because I thought we were walking so I didn't take a dramamine and now I'm trying to recover from that car ride. And I excused myself and was going to sit in the bathroom for a bit to try to pull it together and become less nauseated but the bathroom smells so I was lucky able to find a little empty hallway where I could just sit on the floor and try to be okay, which I've been doing for the last half hour and still feeling a bit nauseated.

I had really been looking forward to food. Now I'm not confident that I'd be able to keep it down. And my partner is trying to be supportive and at the same time, as sibling of the groom, he's being given tasks as well, and also I want him to be able to enjoy the event, and this just sucks.

[rainyearning]

hellslittleprince​:

Min wanted to immediately blurt that he didn’t care, that he didn’t mind who it was with or what it was like or whether someone treated him fairly or not. He wanted to blurt it, but he didn’t. Because he wasn’t sure it was entirely true, either. While he didn’t much care for romance - or so he told himself - there were nerves there, a slightly fuzzy feeling in his chest that he couldn’t quite decipher. He’d spent his whole life with his father keeping him locked away and out of sight, while simultaneously teaching him how to be a ruler, a prince that didn’t care for anything but ruling hell and yet even then, Min still hadn’t qutie caught onto how to do that. He was too soft, too sweet, too unsure. But the reality was, if it wasnt Jagi, it wouldn’t be anyone. If it wasn’t someone he trusted, a friend he knew wouldn’t hurt him even if it wasn’t roses and music and sweet nothings, then it would be someone he couldn’t trust, someone that would use him and toss him aside, or it would be no one at all and he’d grow up a virgin. Sighing softly to himself, he brought his hands up, settling them on Jagi’s chest for a second and curling around the material there. “I care that it doesn’t suck, and I care that I’ll remember it as a good thing. I don’t care if there’s romance or flowers or that this is friends and nothing more. The real question is whether you actually want to. I��m not exactly two guys,” A small smirk, a tilt of his head, “Though I can promise you that I’m eager to learn. You just might have to… point me in the right direction sometimes.”

Fooling around with a virgin surely wasn’t something Jagi anticipated to do. he knew about some guys that saw a thrill in being someones first but Jagi wasn’t sure if he wanted to be someone Min would remember as his first.. the first dick that disappoint him? Not that Jagi doubted his skills in the bedroom. He was young but he surely went through experimental and slutty times in which he made plenty of experiences, most of them not exactly the most pleasing. But he couldn’t take the decision from Min and he also couldn’t deny that there was a certain spark they shared. They were attracted to one another, craved each other physically.  “Trust me, two guys at one may sound sexy but it surely sounds better than it actually is. Lots of multitasking.” Now Jagi had to laugh, it was adorable that Min would worry about him not wanting the other male sexually... “I mean, I surely won’t make it a bad experience on purpose? And we don’t have to go full sex mode immediately. i mean, we ca start.. slow. There is no harm in starting with messy making out and some jerking off.” He definitely didn’t plan to just push Min off like this. Why should he deny him some experiences? “I don’t doubt that you’re eager and great at learning.” He chuckled shortly. “Alright, let’s go to my place, okay? I have something to drink there, we can smoke something too, make out.” And if Min realized that he did crave something more romantic, he for sure would let him know. “I’ll call an uber?”

[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!

[sukirichi]

wine: ingredient 44 + sugar 7 + spice 12 for gojo satoru *slams table* thank you for feeding us kind maam

for sukirichi’s milestone event: 

the meal order : 🍷 + 44 (hate sex au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) + 12 (praising kink) your dinner has been served! also bruh LOL you’re a choso simp this is hilarious spspsps

— who are you to deny him when he only wants to worship you?

gojo satoru x fem! reader

contents/warnings: nsfw, slight angst, reader is hot girl shit, gojo long schlong, hate sex, car sex, spanking, riding gojo, slight angst, praising kink taken to a DIFFERENT LEVEL (i want to make people question the extent of their praising kink), body marking, rough sex lol it’s always rough in my stories, unedited

Your friends pushed you out of the club, all of you laughing, hands clutched around your waists as loud, drunken giggles fill in the night air. It was a wild night; your friends invited you to the club to take your mind off your stupid boyfriend. You thought you’d end up moping around, too much of a buzzkill to ever let loose because it wasn’t that easy to stop thinking about him, but even you were surprised when you started grinding with people on the dance floor just three drinks later.

The gals were more than delighted to see you enjoying your night, only dragging you out the club when you nearly shoved your tongue down another man’s throat.

Scratch that – your friends called you to hang out because you lied about having a shitty day at work. You’ve had your fair share of shitty days, but you were one of the most prominent lawyers in your firm, no one dared gave you a bad day. Your subordinates knew that if they even looked your way without your permission, you wouldn’t hesitate to dump paperwork on them, or assign them to the nastiest cases just to piss them off.

Yeah, you were sort of a bitch, but you didn’t care.

It took a lot to get where you were now. It wasn’t easy to be a woman in a male-dominated workplace and you were forced to strip your softness off, replacing it with hard armor and sharp tongue concealed under bold red lips, a tight pencil skirt that accentuated your curves, and a pair of black suede pumps.

You deserved all your success. You were smart, stunning, confident, powerful – so then why did you feel like shit around your shitty boyfriend?

The answer was loud and clear. It bothered you to no end that he wanted to keep your relationship a secret because his family was too different from yours, coming up with a shitty excuse that you were just “too different.” He never bothered explaining, and every time you confronted him about, he’d only wave his hand, distract you with those delicious and soft lips of his until you forget it over and over again.

You were okay with it at first. It wasn’t a really serious relationship; you only started dating him because you saw yourself a lot in him – confident, self-assured, maybe even a little cocky – plus, he was extremely attractive.

But the longer you spent time with him, you were beginning to fall in love.

Yes, you, the ice princess of one of the most respected law firms all over the city was beginning to soften up at a certain blue-eyed man who had magical hands.

But tonight – tonight you’d forget about him.

Your stomach was heavy with expensive liquor and you were nearly staggering on your knees, the only thing preventing you from falling were your more sober friends. The others were holding you close to keep you upright, while one of your friends moved to a quieter part of the block to call an Uber for you. Your friends were all happily married, some with children, so they couldn’t really stay out too late at night and chaperone you all the way back home.

You were well-aware you were being a bother, but fuck, couldn’t you lean on someone for just once? Sighing, you leaned closer to your warm friend, mumbling something about wanting to forget about everything you’ve been through.

“There, there,” she patted your head comfortingly, “You’ll be fine, babe, you’re a strong woman. I know you’ll get through this.”

“But I hate it,” you drunkenly admitted, lips trembling the more you thought about him, every stupid little thing about him – his soft white hair, those pretty blue eyes he always hid under shades even at night, his large, calloused hands that always felt so rough when keeping your legs open for him and you couldn’t even start talking about his cock, he was just so blessed and perfect in every little thing that you hated it. You hated him. “I don’t like this feeling,” you sniffled, “I feel like I’m being looked down on, that I’m being pushed to the side. I feel unimportant, like I’m not good enough.”

“Who said you aren’t?”

You froze in your friend’s arms, eyes meeting with those blue ones you could never get enough of. As if noticing your silence, your friend immediately covers you with her arm, glaring at your boyfriend. “Do we know you or something?”

“No,” Satoru replies coolly, brows furrowed in the state you were in. You turned away from him with a scoff, arms crossed on your chest. Why did he have to be here out of all places? Wasn’t he busy with work or whatever family shit he apparently couldn’t tell you about even though you’ve both been dating for a year and a half now? He just wasn’t giving you a break, and the hairs on your arm stood up when he said, “Not that you have to, but may I please drive Y/N home?”

“She’s not going anywhere—”

“She’s a friend of mine,” he insisted, turning to you with a pleading look in his eyes. You almost melted. Almost. “I need to talk to her about something.”

You rolled your eyes and stepped forward, your friend’s arm latching onto yours. You could tell she was worried from the way her gaze darted back and forth between you two. Satoru was, after all, clearly uninvited, and he didn’t seem like your type either. You always insisted you preferred refined man, men like his friend Nanami Kento, but alas, you were stuck dating this one instead.

“It’s fine,” you told her with a fake smile, “I’ll call you later when I get home.”

You never got to call her – simply because you didn’t make it home. The moment Satoru closed the car doors behind you, you both got into a heated argument. Satoru hated silences and always made sure the car was filled with music, but this time, he didn’t notice there weren’t any songs when you opened your mouth.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the anger and pent-up tension of not being able to hold him and kiss him in public like normal couples did, in addition to the fact Satoru never explained why he insisted on keeping you a secret – whatever it was, you just snapped.

“I don’t even understand why I’m still dating you!” you huffed, legs crossed on top of the other as you gazed out the window. Lips trembling, you tried so hard to not cry, especially not in front of the man who was breaking your heart. “This is hardly a relationship when I’m not free to call or text you as you please, when I can’t go out with you on dates and we’re always hanging in my apartment. I’m your girlfriend, Satoru, we’ve been together for a long time but I honestly don’t even feel like it. What the hell are we dating for then?”

Satoru clenched his teeth, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “How many times do I have to tell you that I love you,” he said coolly, acting unbothered and unaffected as ever, but the clench in his jaw said otherwise. “If that’s not enough—”

“Of course it’s not enough!”

“I’m trying here too, okay?” Satoru slammed on the brakes and parked on a desolated spot, hands running through his hair while he breathed heavily. Once he’d calmed down, he shook his head, refusing to look you in the eye like a man. “I’m trying my best. It’s just hard. It isn’t as easy as it looks.”

“What isn’t easy as it looks? Dating me? Letting the whole world know I’m yours?” when Satoru didn’t respond, you scoffed, patience running low and thin. “You’re pathetic, Satoru. Dating you was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, and I thought I was a smart woman.”

With a shake of your head, you slung your purse over your shoulder and reached for the car door. You were about to leave when Satoru suddenly pulled you towards him, his lips slamming into yours.  Like always, you fell into his trap, into the blissful pleasure that was his lips and his hands, and you hated it, hated him, hated him so fucking much because you were so tired of his entire existence.

You wanted to let him know he was insufferable.

You wanted him to feel the pain and misery he put you through.

“I fucking hate you,” you snarled as Satoru kept fucking into you, the entire car windows fogged and the vehicle shaking. “I wish I never met you, you asshole,” Satoru, displeased, only buries himself deeper into you, as if they would erase his mistakes and shortcomings.

Satoru’s large hands snake to your waist and onto your breasts, expertly tweaking them between his fingers. Your head fell back to the crook of his shoulder, your back pressed against his hard chest as Satoru trapped you in his strong arms, impaling you on his cock over and over again. “You’re lying,” he whispered into your neck, tongue and teeth playfully sucking at the tender flesh. His grip on your hip was bruising and possessive, and your breasts bounced fervently at how he snapped his hips upwards to feel your walls coat him and hug him tightly and warmly. “Why would you hate me, sweet girl? Don’t I always make you feel good? Don’t I remind you enough that you’re the best fucking thing ever?”

You didn’t respond right away, your breath taken away with how you could never get enough of this, of him. He was right no matter how much you denied it. Despite being terrible in everything else, Satoru knew and respected you, even admired your dominance and intelligence when other men were intimidated by it.

No, he worshipped you. He made you feel like you were a divine goddess when he tugged at your hair to tilt your cheek to him, his tongue slithering to your lips to taste himself on his tongue from when you previously busted his nut with just your mouth.

Lipsticks smeared on his cheeks and crescent moons on his pale thigh from your nails, Satoru looked wonderful beneath you like this.

He was beautiful, so damn beautiful, but it didn’t change the fact he’d put you through hell these past few weeks. 

No, it wasn’t just the past few weeks. Things were always complicated with him. He was perfect in everything else but when it came to you, he made it a mission to hide you and your relationship, changing your contact name to a totally random one “just in case.”

Your mind was confuzzled and you felt like you were on the urge of breaking apart from both his ministrations and his confusing treatment over you. Before you knew it, you were kissing him back fervently with the intensity of your hatred over this man.

Your hand reached his to guide it to rub at your clit, and Satoru, eager to make you feel good as always, happily obliged. Satoru kept bouncing you on his cock until you were too overwhelmed to speak, crying and mumbling incomprehensible words. 

Him, only him, would ever have the ability to let the sharp-tongued and intelligent woman who never bat an eye in court lose her wide vocabulary, falling apart in his arms while his long length abused your puffy lips.

“You made me feel like shit,” you finally admitted, tugging at his hair until Satoru is lowly groaning at the slight sting. But did you care? Of course you didn’t. You wanted to hurt him too.

“How so, sweet girl?”

“I can never have you the way I want,” you answered through gritted teeth, moaning out when Satoru suddenly thrusted too deep, hitting your most sensitive spot that had you quivering in his hold. “You don’t—” you gasped, “You don’t understand what I feel, how you make me feel like I’m never good enough for you. That’s the reason why you don’t want anyone else knowing, right? ‘Cause I’m not good enough for you, never gonna be good—”

Satoru didn’t let you finish your words, shutting you up with his cock instead. The vehicle shook uncontrollably with your mating sessions, and Satoru silences you by pulling at your leg to press it on his chest instead.

The sudden switch in positions had your muscles tensing and stretching, adding only to both your pleasures with the new thrown in factor of slight pain. You felt Satoru kiss your neck down to your shoulders, scraping his canines until you were absolutely lost. You gave in, you gave up, head lolling back next to his loving lips that murmured sweet nothings.

“Not true, sweet girl,” he reminded you, flattening you on his cock and making you roll your hips while you slid up and down his pole sensually. Unlike the previous pace, the slow sensation of your pussy hugging his cock with your arousal letting him slide in easily allowed you to feel every part of him, almost mind-wrecking at how good he’s able to make you feel even after such a long time of having him already.

“You’re the sexiest and most intelligent woman I’ve ever met, the best, the absolute blessing of my life, and I just want to protect you, sweet girl. You’re too precious for me to lose,” Satoru kept mumbling over and over again.

You could no longer process his words functionally, not when he’s slamming you down his length like that and burying himself in you as if he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Satoru’s hands were still curious, appreciative and gentle as he runs his hands, dipping into all your curves and pressing into your most sensitive spots the way you liked it.

“You’re always so good for me so no, sweet girl, never gonna let you go, not when you’re so perfect for me,” Satoru eased your worries – temporarily – with his words, and you’d believe his lie, you’d fall into the same mistakes over and over again because you were just that weak and powerless when it came to him. “You’re made just for me, sweet girl, you’re the prettiest and your pussy is the prettiest – I worship you, I adore you. You’re so divine.”

You blamed it all on your ego.

He praised you so well, made you feel so good and always placed you on top of the world when he’s inside you like this. Even if you knew he’d knock you down the pedestal just hours later, you opened your doors for him all over again.

Satoru knew this too, because he rammed inside your walls and ruined everything that you held firm beliefs in, his large hands smacking your ass to urge you to bounce on him like you weren’t made for any other purpose than to be the woman he adored.

You lied to yourself – you always did – but did you care? So what if you couldn’t be the one he really loved? What did it all matter when you were the one he worshipped?

For the sake of the praise and the compliments, you’d let him fuck you and play with your heart over and over again. It was a toxic routine you’d never get tired of, and you no longer complained, forgetting about everything he’d done and every heartbreak he caused you because he was there, whispering into your ears how good you made him feel and how you were the only one made to take him, and you didn’t care. Not anymore – not when you were worshipped.

[glorified-red]

Could I request hcs for subtle ways the boys express their protectiveness?

Thank you for the request my love! I got to play a fun little game of ‘Eenie Meenie Miney Mo’ for which request to do.

Protective BatBoys

word count: 1600~

warnings: insinuation of someone getting hit by a car, mentions of attackers

I was quite tempted to write Bruce headcanons to this but I must hold back ><

Dick Grayson

Ah, Dick Grayson, the King of small romantic protective gestures

Every time, without fail, Dick will wait until he watches you get inside your house safely before driving/walking away

Its a really cute tick of his because he covers it up with a goodbye kiss and goofy waves that leave you giggling even after you close your house door

But its so he knows where you are, and he can see for himself that you made it safely inside because the second he turns away too soon, you may get locked out, or someone can crawl out from the bushes and nab you

Paranoid, he knows

He constantly wraps you up in things, when you two go swimming he’ll patter up from behind you and place a towel around your shoulders, patting you dry along the way

Very insignificant gesture but he doesn't want you to catch a cold in the A/C or Gotham wind

He’ll do the same with his jackets, maybe even plop his hat on your head when it's gets to the snowy seasons 1. Because its adorable seeing the hat fall into your eyes and 2. Because it'll warm your head up

Scarves too, he’ll even go on a tangent about how cold it is outside while he wraps you in it

Dick will always offer to drive you places, even if you insist on driving yourself to meet up with him or walking there, Dick will still offer because it means he’ll be present if you get into a wreck, sucks but then he can help with first aid

If you decline his offer though, he’ll politely ask for you to take Titus or Ace with you whenever you walk somewhere, they’re trained and he trusts them to keep you company/safe when he can't 

Jason Todd

Jason’s protectiveness comes from a place of knowing how cruel the world actually is

He can't stand the idea of anything happening to you

If he has to, he will use his reputation of Red Hood as a way to keep you safe, putting a man at gun point and sneering out, “They’re off. Limits.”

He’d bust a whole trafficking ring if it meant ending a person who touched you or hurt you in any way

But Jason’s protectiveness doesn't stop while he's wearing the helmet

Even when you two are sleeping, Jasons unconsciously protecting you, no matter how you two cuddle, Jason always positions himself as closest to the bedroom door

Whether his back is to the door or he’s facing it, Jason needs the comfort of knowing any person coming into the room would have to get through him before even reaching you

He also envelopes you, he's a big guy so its pretty easy for him to wrap you up in his arms as an extra layer of protection from the outside world

Jason doesn't really like the idea of training you past basic combat or gun skills, hell, he doesn't like involving you in the family business if he doesn't have to

So he inserts himself into any situation you may need protection in

Which is exactly why he starts going to the gym with you as a work out buddy

Jason makes it sound like he just wants to spend time with you or help you achieve your goals faster since he knows how the body works from his Robin days

But deep down you both know his true intentions: he wants to keep an eye on you

The gym is crawling with creeps that have the guts to ogle at you or get too touchy, but having Jason’s 6 foot beefcake of an ass standing beside you the entire time is like an instant creep repellent

Plus, he gets to spot you and make sure you don't get injured from bad technique or from pushing yourself too hard

He’ll even encourage you with innuendos the entire time, but at the end of the day, he’ll gladly walk you home

Tim Drake

Tim is the most subtle about his inner protectiveness, a subtle King if you will

Most times when he gets protective, you never even notice

When you two cuddle in your house, it takes him a very long time to actively fall asleep because he doesn't trust your home security system if you even have one so he forces himself to stay awake just incase anything happens

But don't worry, he’ll eventually get to updating the security in your house

He does get these protective eyes whenever something is off when he's around you, they narrow a bit and latch onto whatever is off, glaring holes into the offending object until its all clear

Its quite terrifying to witness and very hard to miss when Tim is staring dead at the man speaking to you from across the room at a Gala, sipping his drink in the corner

If he feels the need, he will walk up and control the situation, whether it mean inserting himself into the convo or simply being present for it, he’ll do it

The thing with Tim though, is when he's protective, he’s almost always touching you in some way

His fingers playing idly with the ends of your hair as he speaks to a random person who walked up to you, clinging to your shirt/sleeves when he’s analyzing a situation and doesn't want you to go forward just yet, or even as simple as holding your hand as he leads you home

Tim also keeps small snacks/waters on hand at all times to protect you from Gotham heat and pesky hunger, very much like a mother hen because he also carries a first aid kit everywhere

He follows you whenever you walk alone around Gotham at night, he’s already on patrol so he might as well make sure you make it home safe, if anything happens he won't think twice about intervening as RR

If your going out somewhere alone he always always always asks you to call him until you make it to your destination, he doesn't care if he's working on something or in the middle of a board meeting, he has an assistant for a reason who can give him notes

Its become a normal thing for you to send him your Uber tracking link so he can watch it, if you don't send it he won't hesitate to hack into your account just to find it

Damian Wayne

Damian? Wayne? Being subtle?

Its usually pretty obvious when Damian gets protective over you

He’s the type who won't hesitate to pull out a knife out of god knows where and threaten whatever is responsible for you being uncomfortable

This leads to very interesting encounters of you having to hold him back because ‘oh no a random guy bumped into you and didn't apologize’ and suddenly Damian is missing 

He’s also incredibly blunt, saying things like “Cover your drink” at galas or handing you one of those hand held tasers before you go out and saying “Go for the neck”

Will insist on training you himself, whether its hand-to-hand combat or with a sword, Damian wants to keep track of your progress himself so he can make sure all your weaknesses are trained

Its also because he doesn't want his grimy brothers near you, so its protective on all counts

But subtlety? Theres a few you can notice after being with him for awhile

He’s very careful when going out around Gotham with you, Damian knows he can fend for himself so he will gladly take the brunt of any possible situation

This leads to him always walking on whichever side of you thats closest to the road, so on the off chance a car derails, he’ll get hit first

Always making sure to match your pace when you two walk together, he doesn't want you getting too far ahead of him because he'd have to run to get to you, too far behind and he might not notice you getting taken silently, he wants you right in arms reach at all times

He has a permanent scowl and narrowed eyes but when he's protective, they get even more prominent

Bonus

All the BatBoys do the same exact thing out of instinct when it comes to protecting you

None of them will hesitate to step in between you and any attacker, pulling you behind them so they are in the line of fire now

Its a subtle action that each of them do, albeit with some differences

Damian will push the attacker back as far as he can from you, putting plenty of distance between the two of them and you, so if anything breaks out, you can run away easily

Dick will hold his arms out, fully covering you but keeping his hands in the fray so if the attacker tries attacking you from any angle, Dick is ready to protect

Tim will grip onto you somehow, keeping his hand right on your bicep or forearm so he can still hold you, he doesn't know if there can be a hidden attacker from behind that will pry you away from him, so touching you is his way of making sure he doesn't lose track of you

Jason will slip in front of you and cross his arms, its a sign of nonchalance but obvious dominance, showcasing that he doesn't need his hands to be intimidating to the attacker, he’ll glare and challenge them so all attention is on him now and not you

Taglist ♡

@anothertimdrakestan

@bungunz

@red-hood-redemption​

[blogevaawrites]

BIG DEAL

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: smut, cheating, angst

Summary: After being away of you boyfriend for three weeks, you come to Chris’s  house after he had thrown a party where you met a girl you haven’t see ever. The beginning of the relationship was unconventional so you couldn’t do anything else but suspect.

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

There’s something I do when I don’t know how to deal with a situation.

I clean my closet.

I organize it; I try everything on, throw out pieces I don’t wear anymore, or I don’t like. I like to spend time doing this just because I don’t have to think in anything else.

“He’s calling again, you’re not picking up, are you?” Linda asked from the other side of the room. I was surrounded by my clothes and shoes and things, and she was working in her laptop.

“No.” I answered simply and kept doing my thing.

“Isn’t better if you pick up and tell him to stop? This is his tenth call today, and I don’t want to know about texts. This is not right.”

“I’m not ready to think about this.” I muttered. I didn’t realize she got up from the bed and walked to me.

“It’s fine, everything is going to be fine” she said hugging me. Her touch brought tears out of my eyes, but her kindness made me feel safe.

Linda moved to NY a few months before I did, and I could be more blessed because she moved to the next door’s apartment. She has been there since then; our friendship was the kind of you find just a couple times in a lifetime.

“Don’t worry I will be right here. We can clean your closet as many times as you need.”

It’s been three days since I left his house, and my phone has been ringing since then.

I spent my first day watching true-crime documentaries, eating ice cream and drinking wine. The second day I started donating the clothes I wasn’t wearing anymore. And today, I have cleaned the closet three times. Linda enjoyed the first two days, but she hated to organize anything, so she killed time working from my bed.

“That one is pretty sexy. Why don’t we go out to dinner and have a few drinks tonight? Lucy and Vanessa have been calling too.” She spoke.

I thought about it for a few minutes, and I was actually feeling sick of being here.

“Yeah! Why not? I need more alcohol” I joked.

 The night went pretty fun, and I kind of felt better and ready to face everything, his apologies, his face and his voice. Around three a.m I was ready to go back home and sleep my hangover. “Are you sure you don’t need me there? Linda asked when I told her I was leaving, she was having a good time and I didn’t want to spoil her fun. “Yeah! Don’t worry, I’m sick of being depressed, I’m ready to be me again.” She smiled at me and hugged me before I left.

The uber ride was fast, no traffic nor people in the street this made my way home calm, and the driver was quite funny. He waited for me to get in the building and left, leaving alone again. The lobby’s lights were automatic, but they weren’t working very well, I knew the way to my door, so I didn’t bother turning my phone’s flashlight on. Going up stairs, I tried to take off my high heels, but something made me get alarmed. A dark big shadow at the top of the stairs. My heart stopped for a second.

“Holy crap! What are you doing here? Why are you sitting there? You scared the shit out of me, asshole!” I yelled when the light of the hallway turned on and all of the sudden the silhouette of a big man appeared at the top the stairs. My heart started to beat in this normal pace when I recognized his face.  

“I’m sorry that wasn’t my intention. You weren’t picking the phone. I was worry about you.” His hands went up in a signal of inoffensive. His voice was hoarse and his eyes a little bit swollen and red. I could say he had been crying.

“I’m fine, you can go.” I said, walking straightly to my apartment’s door. I looked for my keys in my bag as faster as I could.  

“Can we talk?” he moved to stay behind me while I opened the door. He didn’t get too close to me and I felt grateful for that.

“I don’t want to hear anything, and right now the only thing I want is to sleep.” I got in the apartment and closed the door rapidly. With my forehead rested against the closed door and my hands still on the handle, I listened to him to beg. I missed him, his voice, his smell, his fucking presence made me shake my legs.

“Please, just give me five minutes. I love you and I can’t let you think I don’t. I know I fucked everything up but…” I opened the door before he could finish it. He looked quite surprised when a move away to let him pass.

He didn’t say anything, walked in and moved around awkwardly. I told him to sit with my head. He took a sit on the couch and I didn’t move from the door, with my back resting it in. His eyes stared me few a few minutes, making me feel uncomfortable, defenseless.

“You look beautiful.” He said quietly.

“You have five minutes.” The alcohol in my body brought rudeness out of my mouth. I was tired, kind of drunk and still hurt by him so couldn’t let him get any closer in any dimension.

“I’m sorry.” He said before his hands rubbed his face roughly. “I went to NY to tell you everything. I really did, I felt horrible, and I didn’t want to hurt you, but I knew I had to tell you. Carly thought it too. You know them, there’s no place for any secrete between them. When I arrived in here, saw your face and I felt your arms around me I chickened out. I realize that I couldn’t live without you; for the first time in my life, I was really scared to lose somebody. And that was a feeling I wasn’t used to.” His statements made my heart ache. I wished anything of this had happened.

“So, you lied? Because you loved me.” I knew he wasn’t a perfect boyfriend in the past but that was a shitty excuse.

“I didn’t know how to tell you. When Carly called that night, she heard you in the back then she assumed that you forgave me, and I didn’t deny it. I felt awful but I got into that lie so quickly, I didn’t know what to do.” I sat on ankles, sliding down the wall. I hid my face with my hands trying to avoid him to see me cry.

“I wasn’t joking, honey. You are the love of my life and I didn’t want to lose you. That scare got so real that I couldn’t face it. I’m sorry, I really am. With you everything is different, and I didn’t realize it until that. The fear of losing you got in my skin and it never left.” I didn’t feel him to come closer to me until I felt his hands in mine. As soon as I felt it, I got up and moved away from him. I knew I could fall for him quickly.

“If you have done, you should leave.” I could say walking to the fridge to pour water in glass. My throat was dry.

He looked at me for a while, then took a deep and loud breath and moved to the door.

I saw him walk to the door, to leave the apartment, to leave me. I did understand the scare of losing someone, I had lost a few people in my life, but seeing him leaving it was different, I was losing him, and everything was his fault. That didn’t feel fair.

 “Why you did this to me?” The words left my mouth before I could think about it. He turned around to look at me, but I hadn’t finished “Why didn’t you break up with me if you wanted to fuck somebody else? Why were you seeing Ashley? Why did you play along with her game after the kiss?” my voice got louder at every question. I wasn’t a person who yelled easily but I couldn’t help it.

“Baby, I’m a dickhead, I screw up every relationship I’ve ever had. I don’t know why. I promised I went out with her with any side intention, when she kissed me, I felt that fear again. And at the party, I swear I didn’t invite her, I wanted to keep her away from you, I wanted to keep everything what I did away from us.”

“Yeah! That’s why you took her panties.” I said ironically. “What did you want me to do? Kicked her out of the house, making a scene?” He saw my face burning in anger and he continued. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I hate myself enough for both of us.” Said that he took his way again. I didn’t hate him. I loved him. I was needed for him.

I moved quickly to get him; I could reach him by the arm.

As soon as he turned around to look at me, I jumped on his mouth. He didn’t take any longer to embrace his arms around me, pushing my face more against his, as if that was even possible.

We walked clumsily to the nearest wall; he squeezed my butt before holding me up. His hands flew through my tights, caressing them and reached my wet panties. I moaned when I felt his fingers rubbing me. “I need you.” He whispered in my ear. His fingers went to undo his pants and I could get out of his arms.

I saw panic in his face for a couple of seconds. But it disappeared when he saw me got into my knees. I took his hard member in my hands to stroke it a few times before get it into my mouth. He rested his forehead in the wall, and shut his eyes, leaving me caged by his body.

His breathing changed when he opened his eyes and watched my mouth around the head of his sensitive cock. Clenched jaw and hands making fist, he moaned loudly as he was being relieved of great amount of pressure.

My lips wrapped around his cock, taking as much as my throat could, and my hand gripped the rest. I wasn’t thinking, I didn’t want to think. I was tired and sick of the anxiety that this situation was giving me.

I knew this wasn’t a good idea. I wasn’t proud but I wanted it.

“I love your fucking mouth.” his voice brought my back from my thoughts. I started to suck a little bit harder as he was getting bigger. His hips also started to thrust him into my mouth, making me gag at one particularly push. “Shit! Sorry!” he said, taking my face in his hands and making me get up from my knees. “I don’t want to cum in your mouth.” he responded to my unanswered question. We kissed as his hands tried to get rid of my dress, and mine were fighting with his shirt.

Just in my panties, he pickup me up and put me on the hall’s table. Sucking my nipples and rubbing my breast and ass, he ripped my panties and his dick stormed in me.

I yelled in surprise; I was actually more than ready to take him.

“I loved that ones.” I murmured pretending to be sadly for my lingerie.

“I will make it worth.” He said with smile on his face before taking my calves over his shoulders. His thrusts were deep, rough, and needed, I tired to hold on to the table, but his movements got fiercely, and I could feel my orgasm coming.

The table wasn’t meant to this kind of activities. We realized it very late.

“Holy crap!” he said when he saw the table fall, holding me better in his arms. Everything I could do was laugh. He intended to let me go but crossed my arms behind his neck.

“No! Take me to bed!” I whispered in his ear. He smiled before kissing me.

He laid down on the bed with me over him. “Ride me, baby.” he said holding me from my hips.

I started to move up and down on his cock, rolling my hips. I saw he shut his eyes, a signal he was close, so I started to ride hard on him. His fingers were marking my hips as he pushed me up and down savagely. I groaned at the almost painful pleasure.

I felt his body getting tense as he filled me up with his cum.

“God! I love you!” he yelled.

Something woke up inside me, suddenly I felt dirty and ashamed. I hid my breast with my arms as I stood up from bed. His cum dripping on my inner thigh, made me just feel worst.

He didn’t realize, he was still dazed. He took my arm when he realized that I wasn’t coming back to bed. “Come back, I’m still hard.” He muttered with his eyes closed. I let him to guide my body, he made me lay down next to him and cuddle.

“These couple days have been awful; I’ve never felt that bad.” His lips were right next to neck and made me get goosebumps.” I was so scared of not seeing you again.” He said pecking my neck. He turned my hips a little, just enough to let himself into me one more time. I was feeling guilty, I was using him. I wasn’t forgiving him, but he thought I was.

I didn’t want a confrontation; I couldn’t handle one.

His hand held my face to keep kissing my mouth, and his other one at my hip, holding me steady. “Your so good for me.” he said between kisses. His hand went from my hip to my clit. He worked himself in deeper and rubbed me just in the right way.    

My body was so tensed and my brain so away from the reality that I didn’t noticed he fell sleep.

I wanted to have sex with him, I enjoyed. I shouldn’t feel bad for him, he cheated on me and lied, but I wasn’t like that.

I woke up with his snoring in my ear. I got out of his embrace needy for water, the hangover was taking my body. I saw my clothes and his’s all over the floor and the broken table. I didn’t get to do the walk of shame, it was my apartment, I was living in the shame.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” His voice resounded throughout the entire place.

“Okay! You are really thirsty” he said when I drank the water quickly. I didn’t answer, I didn’t look at him. The situation was awkward, and he noticed it.

“What’s going on?” he asked from behind. I ignored him again. “Hey! Are you okay?” he shouted and turned me over to face me.

“Yes, I’m just still drunk.” I said softly. I tired my best to look unbothered.

“Can we talk?” he asked.    

“Not right now. I have things to do.” I started to pick everything up. “I think you should leave; I really have things to do.” I avoided his eyes. I get repetitive when I feel nervous. He knew it.

“Well, I think you’re acting like a child. What happened last night?” his voice wasn’t loud, but it was hard.

I just could shrug, I felt ashamed, and he was mad.

“Talk to me! Damn! Don’t shut up. You always do that. I fucked everything up, I know. But you kissed me last night, you started everything so, right now please talk! Tell me what is happening!” now he was yelling, he looked mad and kind of sad, the guilt just spread across my body.

“What you want me to say, Chris? I wasn’t thinking properly.” I said, looking how he was getting dress himself.

“So, wasn’t mean a shit for you?” I felt like our roles were reversed. Now he was angry, and I was the one giving the explanations.

“I don’t want to hurt your feelings.” I could say.

“Yes, you do, and to be honest, I understand. I deserved it, but I don’t…” he was wrong, I knew I hurt him but that wasn’t my intention, I loved him, and he knew it.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I’m not like you.” My voice wasn’t soft anymore. We were in the same level, he wanted me to feel guilty, so I was doing the same. I continued “Sorry, but I’m not going to apologize, I didn’t want to hurt you. I felt bad and I wanted to have sex with you, you could have said no, and you didn’t do it. But I didn’t say anything to make you think that I forgave you.” His eyes goy darker with my words. he stared me for a few seconds.

“I couldn’t have said no, you could have given me a glass full of worms and I would have taken it.” I felt he was playing the victim; I could stand it.

“I give you a relationship and you pissed on it.” I said crudely.

The room got in a deep silence and filled with tension and resentment.

“You were right, we shouldn’t talk right now.” He spoke after a couple minutes, he took his jacket and got ready to leave. The scare of losing him went back to my head, but I knew it was the best and this time I stood up to it.

“I don’t want to see you again.” I said when he got closer the door. He looked at me incredulous, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I’m still mad and hurt, so I’m not forgiving you soon. But that doesn’t matter because we can’t be together, I don’t trust you and my insecurity in our relationship will freak you out at some point and it will be worst, for both of us.” I didn’t want to cry but I failed, at least he was weepy too.

I thought he was going to response, but he didn’t, he left my apartment without hesitation, slamming the door.

Tag list: @breezykpop  @calwitch @firoozehmoon