#and just stared in spellbound adoration

[zombeesknees]

#lili was stronger than me bc i woulda hit it ngl

TOP 10 HOTTEST MOVIE MONSTERS (as voted by my followers)

#10. Darkness portrayed by Tim Curry (4%) ↳ legend (1985) dir. ridley scott

[back2bluesidex]

Delicate, Yoongi, implied smut?

Delicate - MYG (18+)

Pairing: Yoongi X Reader

Theme: implied smut, a hint of angst, fluff, strangers to lovers AU

Song: Delicate

Word count: 1290

Warnings: Mention of drinking, one night stand, reader is head over heels for Yoongi.

Minors and Karens Are Not Allowed in this Blog!!

A/N: Thank you so much for this request Anon! Delicate is one of my personal favorites. and especially thank you for confirming your age, I appreciate you for complying with my request. Hope you like this one and hit me with your feedback.

The bartender smiles at you as you settle down on a bar stool. 

“Welcome back.” he greets. You are half shocked to find out that he actually remembered you after seven long months. 

“You remember me?” You return his smile. 

“How could I not? You are certainly one of the most beautiful yet humble ladies I have ever served.” he compliments and your smile widens. 

“Thanks..” you reply, being quite flattered. 

“Will you take the same as that night?” the bartender asks. 

Just the mention of that night spreads goosebumps on your entire body. Oh how you want to repeat that night, how you want to end in that same position over and over again. You must be a freak for wanting so, but you don’t care. 

“Yes, yes please.” You murmur your order. 

You do a quick scan of the bar, trying to find that one face you came all the way here for. But to your dismay, you don’t find what you are looking for. You get no sight of him. 

“He is not here tonight.” the bartender pipes in while placing your drink down on the bartop. 

“Huh? I- I didn’t get you.” you lie. 

“You are looking for him. The guy from that night. Aren’t you?” he smirks. 

“I won’t say no.” You take a sip of your drink, “is he a regular here?” 

“Yes. Almost. But never seen him hitting on anyone other than you though.” 

“Oh.” you reply, taking another sip. The bartender gives you one last smile before he leaves you to your own devices. 

As soon as the space is empty, you let your mind (and heart) drift back to that night of seven months ago. 

Seven months ago

“Long island iced tea is the best choice if you want something refreshing.” a voice interrupts your menu reviewing process as you look up from the screen to take a look at the owner of the voice. 

You are spellbound. Your eyes have never had the privilege of resting on a more handsome man. His pale skin perfectly compliments his feline eyes and thin lips. His long and dark hair reaches to his nape enhancing his beauty even more. If there is anything you could compare his beauty to then it would be a mansion with a view of a wide blue sky and equally blue ocean. 

You don’t realize that you are staring at the stranger with your mouth hanging open. 

You only get your composure back when his bicep brushes with yours as he tries to settle on the bar stool next to yours. 

You avert your eyes from him and proceed to place your order, “One long island iced tea please.” The bartender nods. 

“Thanks for the suggestion.” you look at him again, this time with a small smile adoring your lips. 

He smiles back at you and god! Why is your heart acting up like this? You look away not being able to tame your hormones that are making you feel all giddy in the presence of a handsome stranger. 

“Is this your first time here? In this bar? I haven’t seen you around before.” he asks and you face him again. 

“Ah yeah. I am visiting Daegu for a family function and going back to Seoul tomorrow… so�� enjoying some alone time, I suppose.” you don’t know why you are spilling up so many TMIs, when only a ‘yes’ could have worked perfectly. 

“I see. Nice to meet you Miss….” he raises one of his eyebrows playfully. 

“Y/N” you complete for him. 

“Yes. Y/N. I’m Min Yoongi.” 

“Nice to meet you too, Yoongi.” 

That night ended up with you withering under Yoongi while he pounded into you, with your fingers tangled up into his long dark hair that you liked so much. You loved everything about that night. You loved everything about Min Yoongi. Staring from his dark jeans and Nike shoes, the way his footsteps sounded on the hotel staircase, to the way his cock felt in your tight cunt, the way he sucked on your nipples and bit on them to make you whimper, the way he painted your skin with bruises that took days to disappear and especially the way his lips fit with yours as if they were made for each other. 

Next morning you woke up beside him with his body pressing into yours. You had to bid him goodbye in a haste since your bus was leaving within an hour. You regret not asking for his number or anything else other than his name. But then again, you were just his one night stand and he could have easily rejected your proposition. So it’s probably for the best. 

However, there’s not a single day you haven’t thought of him in these seven months. His face, his touches, his kisses keep coming back to you almost every time you close your eyes. And as a result, you are here, after seven damn months. You don’t even know if you are going to see him or not. And if you do, then you don’t even know if he will recognize you or not. And if he does then, you don’t even know if he will ignore you or not. 

You inhale sharply as you take another sip of your long island iced tea. 

“Welcome back… Y/N” and there it is, the voice you were craving to hear. The man that you are here for. You follow his voice and you see the man standing there with all of his glory, giving you one of his gummy smiles and taking all of your breath away. 

“Yoongi.” you smile back in awe. 

“Didn’t think I was going to see you again.” he says coming closer to you. 

“Neither did I.” you mutter. 

Silence settles between you two as you stare at each other for a few moments. 

“Do you have any plans tonight?” Yoongi questions. 

“Not really.” you answer. 

“Then.. would you like to go for a walk? By the beach?” 

“Sure.” 

“I don’t wanna freak you out but I couldn’t stop thinking of you since that night.” you murmur in between the kiss. The moonlit sea is roaring before you. 

“Neither could I. Why did you think Jimin called me as soon as you arrived at the bar?” Yoongi breathes out placing chaste kisses on your lips. 

“Jimin? The bartender? You know him personally?” you detach your mouth from his and look into his beautiful eyes. 

He gives you a small smile, “well, he is more like a friend and less like an employee.” 

“Employee? Wait- you own that bar?” you untangle your hands from his neck and try to stand straight only for him to push you back on the wall and press his body on yours even more. 

“Yes. and you are the first customer I have ever hit on since the birthday of my bar.” 

You giggle, “Really? Then I must be lucky.” 

“Maybe? Or maybe you just made me crazy?” Yoongi’s lips come closer to yours once more. 

“I did?” 

“I know it’s too soon to make promises but that one night wasn’t enough. I want to know you more, discover you more, fall for you more.” Yoongi whispers right into your month. 

"Yoongi-"

"Is it cool that I said all that? Is it too soon to do this yet? 'Cause I know that it's delicate." he cuts you off.

“What do you think I am here for Yoongi?” you ask him, “I want you just as much.” you seal your lips with his. 

This time the night ends with you watching the sun rise on the beach, standing barefoot on the sand as Yoongi wraps you from behind in a tight back hug while promising each other more than just nights from now on.

[jwirecs]

Recommended BTS Fics of February - March 2023💖

hello, hello! here are my bts recs of february - march! hopefully these beautiful stories get more recognition as well as the writers 💝

** anything in parentheses and bolded are my thoughts that can be disregarded if needed **

🔞smut || 💔angst || 💕fluff || ✅completed || 🔄ongoing || 💯favorite

Give Yourself A Try || @miscelunaaa​​ 🔞💕💔✅💯💯

↳ You’ve got an enormous crush on Yoongi, the machine tech, and, if Jimin is to be believed, the feeling is mutual. A broken espresso machine and a snow storm are all it takes to bring everything crashing down around you.

Pure Affection || @yooniful​💕✅💯

↳ jungkook falls in love with the most innocent person he’s ever met

The Airdrop Incident || @yoon-kooks​​​💕✅

↳ You accidentally AirDrop a racy photo of yourself in strappy lingerie to your hot and arrogant neighbor Min Yoongi.

Our Not So Secret Secret || @thvhoe​​​🔞💕✅💯

↳ When someone learns that Jungkook has been secretly keeping a puppy in his room despite not being allowed to, he turns to ask the only other person who knows about his secret for help. And suddenly you two—who had long been bitter enemies—get very close.

Spellbound || @yoonivy​​​🔞💕💔✅

↳ The only reason you agreed to do this magical ritual with Park Jimin’s Circle was for the sake of your own Circle - to strengthen your individual magic. Yes, that means you’ll have to fuck him, but no, you weren’t happy about it because you hate Park Jimin. Once again, you were only doing this for your Circle.

Care For You || @archivedkookie​​​💕✅

↳ Yoongi will always care for you, no matter what.

Cherry Lips || @guqwrvte​​​💕✅

↳ you start using a new lip balm and jimin loves the taste.

Happiness Looks Good On You || @peachywritess​​​💕✅

↳ (the title says it all.)

In Which.... || @onlyswan​​​​💕🔄💯💯💯💯

↳ (no summary, but if you want to feel soft and fluffy inside, this you should read their collection!)

Plan A Trois Gone Wrong || @peachypinkygloss​​🔞💕💔✅

↳ Jealousy is a bad flaw, Jungkook knows it, but was this threesome really a good idea?

Starboy || @thvhoe​​​ 🔞💕💔✅💯💯

↳ Jisung still has feelings for you, even though he'll never admit it. So when he starts dating someone who looks way too much like you, and then shows up unannounced on the same day that Jungkook does, well, let's just say Jungkook is done playing games.

Sweet Promise || @7deadlysinsfics​​​​ 🔞💕✅

↳ hoseok is a romantic. he adores all the cheesy, cringey things about love, especially valentine’s day. there’s one problem, though: you hate all the cheesy, cringey things about love, including valentine’s day. but you do love your boyfriend, and for him, you’re willing to put aside your aversion for the holiday, especially when he promises you something you’ve been dying to try with him

Enemy || @bonny-kookoo​​​​​💕💔🔄

↳ The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Or alternatively: Jungkook has no idea what to do with you.

Lavender Lemonade || @euphoricfilter​​​​​​💕✅

↳ you love spring and namjoon loves you.

Put Your Records On || @mysingularitybts​​ 🔞💕💔🔄💯

↳ (there wasnt a summary, but i do suggest you give this one a read!)

Secret Story Of The Swan || @purpleyoonn​​​💕✅

↳ You were staring into the stream, contemplating life when someone decided to take matters into their own hands.

Sugar & Spice || @bonny-kookoo​​​💕🔄 (not too sure on the genre quite yet)

↳ In which Jungkook really wants people to love you just as much as he does - or maybe not.

The Life Of A Tyrant || @euphoricfilter​​​💕✅

↳ it’s hard to hide you from the world when you’re on the run.

Enchanted || @purpleyoonn​​🔞💕💔🔄

↳ The realm under King Min’s rule had been under war for over. thirty years, a war within the inhuman species with origins no one knows. Your presence was brought into awareness when found by the king under the rubble of your home. You are plunged into a world you had only ever seen from the outside, and don’t know how long you can last.

Fight or Flight || @thvhoe​​🔞💕💔✅

↳ You want to disappear and sink into the ground—we're talking code red. As a result of the horrible events of accidentally sending your nudes to your best friend's brother, your life appears to change drastically. Beautiful, arrogant, and quickly developing into a star fighter—many factors should prevent you from falling for Jeon Jungkook. For years, you've kept your feelings for him a secret. Yet, ever since he has seen you in your underwear, it can become difficult to conceal your emotions when you see him practically daily.

Fxck A Fxckboy! || @yoongifis​​🔞✅

↳ where you sort of hooked up with one of the school’s biggest fuckboys but end up leaving him hanging and never contacting him because…well…why not? somehow the universe brought you two together and now you’re left with dealing with him because he apparently caught feelings for you.

Groupie || @joonsy2k​​🔞💕✅

↳ Your best friend Jimin invites you to see his band, painted duck, perform at your local bar. You didn't expect to end up backstage with the bands lead bassist.

Ivory Paws || @yminie​​​​🔞💕💔✅

↳ Winter time brings Christmas, and the snow outside brought you a stray cat. But your little companion is far more unique than meets the eye, and in a time of need, he becomes the biggest surprise and best holiday gift of them all.

Regroup || @drvmekoo​​​🔞💕💔🔄💯

↳ Living with a roommate isn’t always smooth sailing. Whether it’s being plagued by a history of conflict, having met under bizarre circumstances or simply falling in love with the one person you know you shouldn’t be falling for. Are you ready to put pen to paper and sign away on that room for rent? After all, “the fate that brings people together is not a cord so easily cut”

Room For Rent (Bangtan Collab) || @m-yg93​​​🔞💕💔🔄💯💯💯💯

↳ Living with a roommate isn’t always smooth sailing. Whether it’s being plagued by a history of conflict, having met under bizarre circumstances or simply falling in love with the one person you know you shouldn’t be falling for. Are you ready to put pen to paper and sign away on that room for rent? After all, “the fate that brings people together is not a cord so easily cut”

Summer Nights and Morning Dew || @jeonstudios​​​​💕💔✅💯

↳ “Look, I don’t care. You can’t trust people, and we need to protect what’s ours, okay? So do us all a favor and take off those rose-colored glasses.”

Wicked As They Come || @caelesjjk​​ 🔞✅

↳ you’ve been undercover at one of Min Yoongi’s many hotels in the city for the past week. you’re there because of the rumors that have been spreading regarding his vampire employees feeding off of his human guests. what you don’t expect to happen is Min Yoongi discovering your true intentions in his hotel and offering you a very interesting ultimatum: pretend to date the vampire CEO to help appeal to his human guests, or quickly find out just what kind of monster he can really be.

A Place For Us || @raplinesmoon​​​💕💔✅

↳ It’s always on the most momentous occasions that things fall apart - but with some luck, love is always enough to bring people back together.

Father and Son || @serendipitous-seven​​​💕✅

↳ moments with yoongi and his son while they enjoy a trip together

Vegas || @chimivx​​​​💕✅💯

↳ Dating Yoongi as an Idol used to be easy, and effortless, like pouring you two a glass of wine after one of his shows... However, after the birth of your surprise baby girl, those effortless days have gotten a little harder, you being unable to travel with your daughter. After one lucky doctor's appointment though, things seem to shape up...

Baby (You Complete Us) || @purpleyoonn​​​​🔞💕💔🔄💯💯

↳ you wear your bracelet for ten years, and finally give up the hope you would find your soul group, only for BTS to put theirs on and see what they were missing. (sorry theres going to be a whole lotta fics from this author. and the reason is....i just fcking love their writings)

Doughnuts and Shell Casings || @purpleyoonn​​​🔞💕💔🔄💯💯

↳ you finally gather the courage to leave your routine and do something different. your expectations are blown out of the water as you meet your soulmates in a less-than-expected way.

Iridescent Love || @imnotlauriane​​​🔞💕💔🔄💯💯

↳ From a fated meeting to a life filled with wonders, the path of discovery is much, much harder than what I had prepared myself for. Especially when my identity, the only one I knew of ends up being a total lie

Lies || @i-am-baechu​​​💕💔✅💯💯

↳ Being friends with a famous boy group is laughable but here is L/N Y/N, best friends with Bts. Years of friendship and trust but all of sudden they start acting differently and it makes her question everything

Sleeping Temptation || @yminie​​​​🔞💕💔✅💯

↳ From a fated meeting to a life filled with wonders, the path of discovery is much, much harder than what I had prepared myself for. Especially when my identity, the only one I knew of ends up being a total lie

The Little Things || @xddaengx​​​​​💕✅

↳ You've never been more glade to have seven men by your side to help with your recovery. Even when times get tough you know they have your back.

I Hate You, Will You Marry Me? || @bangtansmaus​​​💕💔✅💯

↳ you are just living your life. finally graduated college, living with your best friend, working your dream job as a choreographer. that is until you a get a text from someone you never thought you’d hear from again asking for a favor. he knows your secret and uses it as blackmail to get you to help him.

Nonsense || @muniimyg​​🔞💕💔✅

↳ jimin and oc know each others secrets. they’re virgins and make a deal to lose it to one another. after that, they keep hooking up and everyone can’t believe their eyes when they catch glimpses of the two getting along

Your Universe || @muniimyg​​​🔞💕💔✅💯💯

↳ regretting rejecting oc, min yoongi goes through a circus load of gestures and tasks in attempt to be loved again

How Long Will We Fall || @jiminrings​​ 💕💔✅💯

↳ if it’s fate, it should already be set onto your skin — that’s why jungkook’s initials are already on your finger. he’s always there for you, but not only for you. if you’re his fate, he’d rather not have it. alternatively, jungkook’s your soulmate, but he doesn’t want to be.

My Home || @purpleyoonn​​​💕💔✅💯💯

↳ It was close to winter, and your medicine was nearly complete for you to use. But when it came to, you helped another whose wounds were life threatening. Now, random items kept showing up on your porch, with each item bringing you closer to the creature you healed. And when he returned, he saved you. Now, with him, you felt like you were home.

Yoongi’s Lullaby || @jiminrings​​💕💔✅💯💯

↳ there’s two things you can conclude from yoongi’s shapeshifting service: a) it’s great for his wallet, and b) it’s crushing for your heart. alternatively, yoongi’s your best friend and soulmate, and you have to watch him fall in love over and over again.

Captivity || @jimilter​​​ 🔞💕💔✅💯

↳ Maybe you shouldn’t be so attracted to one of your kidnappers and maybe you shouldn’t give in to his advances – but Park Jimin is way too irresistibly sexy and persistent in his pursuit of you for his own good.

Goodbye To Hello || @vminity21​​​🔞💕💔✅

↳ After a devastating break up, you immediately move in with your sister, leaving behind the country life to relearn the ups and downs of the city. Adopting a cat and gaining a new job at a retail store part time, life seems to gradually bring happiness and healing, but you did not expect for it to become even more interesting when you stumble upon the enticing yet alluring tattoo artist, Jeon Jeongguk. Will this be an adventure of a lifetime? Or will hello always lead to goodbye?

Off-Screen || @thvhoe​​​​🔞💕💔✅💯

↳ Being a woman in the gaming industry is challenging, especially when all eyes are on you. What happens, though, when your biggest rival finds out that the well-known streamer who consistently wins games is not who people believe they are? Or You've spent your entire life pretending to be a guy online, so when one of the biggest steamers finds out, things get even more tricky.

Do check out all of the other BTS Fics that i have reblogged as well!!

** if there is any fics that you guys would like to recommend, please do! i am slowly running out of fics to read **

[hmserebusadjacent]

Eyes open

Another fluff fic, this one taking place during Rook and Emmrich's relationship. I love the trope of lovers sneaking peeks at their lovers in secret during kisses, and thus this story idea popped into my head.

Emmrich Volkarin x Trans Male Rook (established relationship. Just pure fluff, Emmrich admiring Rook and waxing lyrical about him and his affections for him.

Word count: 676

AO3 link

Emmrich didn't try to make a habit of keeping his eyes open when he kissed Rook, but sometimes he just couldn't help it.

It was like being permitted to enter a world of wonder that even Rook himself didn't know existed. The wonder Emmrich felt when Rook scrunched his eyes closed at the first press of the mage's tongue against his lips, seeing the spread of his eyelashes on his cheeks like fern leaves.

Seeing Rook's freckles even closer up, like a dazzling constellation as a gift from the sun and its light that danced across his skin.

The flyaway hairs that Emmrich had disturbed as he wound his hand round to the back of his lover's neck. He really did have such a lovely hair colour, reminding him of the dry tree leaves that skittered along the floor late in the year.

Hairs that were growing back into the gap previously taken up by a massive scar thanks to an ill dodged enemy knife swipe. Emmrich had pressed kisses to it so many times almost as an apology for not getting to his love quickly enough, even though Rook had told him multiple times it wasn't his fault.

Sometimes, more than just merely studying the details of his lover's face, Emmrich couldn't help but stare because he couldn't quite believe Rook was real. Rook, who had been through so much in his life before he had joined The Veilguard, still had so much time and compassion for all of them. He who had pulled his true self out of the broken remains of his former self still had time to help people discover themselves too.

Rook, who had held Emmrich all of those times he had confided in Rook about feeling homesick. Who had hugged him so tenderly even before they had got together, and in the beginning adored him as a friend more than Emmrich thought anyone was capable of.

His lover, who murmured and moaned his name so sweetly and opened his heart and body to Emmrich every day without question and with absolute joy. The man who gave Emmrich purpose again, who turned his life around and gave him a taste of what ultimate bliss must feel like.

Rook, who just now fluttered his eyes open in the kiss and caught Emmrich staring at him. Caught like a halla in the proverbial torchlight Emmrich froze, half of his brain keeping his lips moving in the kiss. And Rook, oh fabulous brilliant Rook, merely smiled into the kiss and closed his eyes once more, the hint of his smile still present in the aftermath.

Spellbound, all Emmrich could think to do was whine and close his eyes once more, pulling Rook closer with the hand at the man's back.

“Emmrich…”, Rook whined as he broke the kiss a few seconds later, only going far enough away to lean their foreheads together.

“I love you, Rook. So very much”, Emmrich replied in a whisper, his feelings needing to go somewhere when they couldn't be poured into a kiss for a moment as they both caught their respective breaths.

“I love you, Emmrich Volkarin. My true heart.”

Whatever breath Emmrich had gathered he quickly robbed from himself as he pulled Rook to him with a needy whine that set his own heart on fire. This kiss had a more passionate edge to it, desperate little noises being emitted by both men as their tongues began to dance in each other's mouths once more.

When Emmrich sensed the opportunity, he chanced to open his eyes again and found Rook already looking at him with such a fond smile in his eyes. There was a slight mischievous glint to his blue eyes as if to say “got ya!”. That accompanied by a wink had Emmrich grinning like a lovestruck fool into the kiss.

He would never get tired of this, never ever. Emmrich hoped that he and Rook had so many years ahead of them yet, and so many kisses that he could admire his lover during.

[writingcrustacean]

Of Threads and Mannequins

Pairing: Usopp x Fem Reader

Warnings: Mannequins. Usopp being a love sick fool.

Note: I, personally, am not a Usopp girlie. However, I think he's absolutely adorable! And the thought of him love drunk? Ugh, yes, too cute. Also, this turned out to be MUCH longer than I anticipated? Was also supposed to be Sanji originally, but it just fit Usopp more - in my opinion. So yes, at the very least, there will be a part two. Maybe more. Dunno.

_____

It was your tinkling laughter that drew him towards you, watching you in awe. The way you twirled in the sand, your soft yellow sundress flaring out around you. He could just barely make out the way the spaghetti straps were tied off at your shoulders or the small, delicate pink flowers you had tucked away behind your ear. You were barefooted, with a matching pastel yellow on your toes and a wide smile gracing your lips. Your eyes were closed as you threw your head back, basking in the warmth of the sun.

He was pretty sure he hadn't died yet, but that didn't explain why an angel like you was living amongst men like him. Either way, Usopp was enchanted. Spellbound. Entranced. Your joy and beauty were unrivaled by any women he had seen before, probably after, too. 

Snap.

Usopp hadn't realized he had taken a step closer, or two, or however many. Not until his foot connected with a long-forgotten tree branch, pulling you both out of your own fantasies. His head shot down to the branch, and his mouth opened in surprise. You, however, only cocked your head as you turned to look at him. When he looked back up, he met your gaze and found himself sinking into it's depth. The way your eyes sparkled and shined reminded him of gems, precious treasures worth millions—maybe more. 

“Shishishishishi!” The sniper heard behind him, freezing at the laughter of his captain. “Hey Usopp, where'd ya go?”

The long-nosed pirate turned his head, glancing over his shoulder in the direction he could hear his captain barreling towards him. He called back with an ‘over here’ before turning his attention back to you, only to be met with disappointment. He could see where you had been standing, your footprints etched into the sand. But it was like you had disappeared into thin air, as those were all that had remained of you.

— — — — — — — —

The town on this island was full of life. Small children squealing with laughter and excitement, men and women chatting along the streets. Bright colors painted on the buildings, flags fluttering in the wind. It was like this part of the world was untouched by the cruelty of the outside, a haven of sorts. The only one in his group not seeming to enjoy the lightheartedness is Zoro. But then again, when was he not grumbling about something if he didn't have a tankard in one hand?

“So, tell us again about the girl you saw?” Robin's calming voice questioned the sniper, her eyes barely glancing over at him.

He wanted to wave it off, having already rambled about you for the umpteenth time while Zoro and Sanji rolled their eyes at him. They were probably thinking something about how he made it up, even though he swore up and down that it was the truth. You were an angel, soft and gentle and warm and free. 

Zoro scoffed, “Something about a yellow sundress and spinning.”

Usopp glared at him; however, Robin's ‘hmm’ caught his attention. “What?” He asked, turning his full attention to the dark-haired woman. She didn't respond; she just stood there, staring in a direction off to his left. “Robin, what is it? What are you looking at?” He pestered her.

“Huh,” Zoro murmured, once more gaining Usopp's attention. He, too, was looking in that direction. 

Finally, Usopp gave in and glanced at what caught their attention. And there you stood, in the window of a quaint little shop, while a gaggle of children surrounded you. Your smile lit up your face, and your mouth opened in what must have been laughter. What faces of the children he could see all stared up at you, eyes twinkling and with matching smiles. Of course, you would be good with kids; it only made sense.

Robin and Zoro both shared knowing looks before walking past Usopp, towards the shop with ribbons and tape measures and fabrics lining one of the shelves next to your group. That pulled Usopp back into reality, shocked and confused by whatever they had planned. “Wait, no! You guys! What are you doing?”

Panic was written along his figure, shaking hands and quivering lips. His crewmates said nothing, did nothing. They just continued walking towards the shop.

The tinkling of a bell alerted you to the new guests, and you turned to them, dipping into a small bow to greet them. “Welcome to Ribbons and Rosettes! If you find anything you fancy, please let me know.” Your voice was sweet and warm, seemingly caressing Usopp's skin and swallowing him whole. And your voice was like music, better than that of Brook's creation even.

It was when your eyes caught ahold of him that you hesitated, your smile faltering for just a second. But you were quick to move past it, turning your attention back to the awaiting children that only began to chant your name—or so the three of them guessed, at least. It was confirmed when a smaller girl with blonde pigtails and pink ribbons gently tugged at your dress, calling your name to gain your attention. Usopp was frozen, watching as you knelt down to the girl so she could whisper something in your ear. The smile on your face was small, soft, and gentle. And the look in your eyes was soothing and relaxed. 

Eventually, a mother came by with a bag in hand, ready to drag her two kids back home. They trailed behind her, waving frantically over their shoulders towards you. Soon, the other parents collected their kids, each waving just as enthusiastically towards you as they left. The only one left was the one with pigtails, whom you had scooped into your arms and toted over towards the sales counter. Your coworker, maybe your boss, took the girl from you and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek.

Robin and Zoro strolled around the tiny little shop, hiding snickers behind their hands at the dumbstruck look on their friend's face. And you, they were certain you noticed the way his eyes followed after your every movement, drinking you in from head to toe. Admiring your soft curves, your glittering eyes, your carefree smiles.

“Excuse me, miss…?” Robin's voice called from over one of the mannequins at the back of the shop, eyes locked on you as she waited for an answer. It took you a moment to realize she was calling for you and not Rosette herself, the owner of the shop. After you told her your name—though you were certain she must have overheard at least one of the kids earlier—she turned her attention back to the mannequin before her. “This shop, what all services does it offer?”

“Ah, Rosette, she's a dressmaker; she specializes in dresses but can make just about anything. I'm actually wearing one of her creations!” For emphasis, you did a small twirl, the skirt of the dress dancing around your figure for the second time before Usopp's eyes. “But she also offers various supplies for anyone looking to make their own clothes. I mostly just help out with keeping the store in running condition.”

Rosette rolled her eyes at your side, the little girl giggling in her arms. “Don't let her fool you. That piece in front of you is one of hers. Taught her everything she knows, ever since she was as big as this one.”

Robin scanned over the dress in front of her, a floor-length skirt that was ruby in color. A slit to about mid-thigh on the right side, loose and flowy in nature. The material was soft as she ran her hand along it, letting it slowly slip between her fingers. Not a stitch out of place, the lines even. Upon further inspection, she noticed the pattern on the underside of the skirt. Intricate swirls and waves in a shade of red just barely darker than that of the rest.

Suddenly, the mannequin twitched, and Robin gasped, pulling away from her admiration. Usopp and Zoro both turned to look at the sound of her panicked noise. Though for Usopp, it was quite a struggle. The mannequin took a handful of steps, making small twirls here and there. The skirt moved gracefully with its dancing, showing off just how well made it truly was. And then it was back in its spot. There was no noise to be heard, not until a smack rang throughout the storefront, Rosette's hand making contact with your upper arm in light annoyance. Then came peals of laughter, coming from the angel herself—or so Usopp told himself.

The three pirates turned to look at you, all sharing similar looks of shock and wonderment. “Sorry, sorry! I just figured, ya know, if you're going to look at it, you might as well see what it looks like in action.” Your grin was broad, shrugging your shoulders lazily. You had to have been purposefully ignoring the glare Rosette was sending your way; you had to not care about the way she pursed her lips in distaste.

“I think our captain might like you,” Robin hummed, a hint of playful amusement playing at her smile.

[storytowrite]

Love Untold (OT8 x F! Reader)

Chapter 4

Paring: Han x reader Genre: fluff, angst Warnings: swearing, mention of sex, violence, panic attacks, mention of blood Word Count: 3,117 Masterlist

Due to the work of your parents, you are forcet to constantly move. However, this time moving houses let to interesting and unusual events. You met 8 handsome boys at school and somehow you managed to move in with them. How will your fate go?

.......................................................................................................................

You couldn't concentrate at all. You sat spellbound with your eyes glued to a small piece of paper. Your smile never left your face. You quickly save Changbin's number in your phone, adding a little heart next to his name.

When the bell rang, a teacher entered the room, which you didn't notice, you were too immersed in dreams about Changbin.

You were snapped out of your trance by a man who took the note from your hands in one quick move.

" What the fuck!?" You raised your voice aggressively as you stood up from your desk and turned to face the person who had taken the small message from you.

As soon as you saw the person standing in front of you, your eyes widened.

You suddenly took your breath away and your ears turned red. You quickly apologized and put your head down, staring at the floor.

"Why don't you share with the class what interests you so much Miss Y/n" The teacher said in a stern voice, looking at the piece of paper.

You didn't want to say anything, why give another reason to laugh at you. You lowered your head and nodded slightly in denial. 

The teacher just sighed and you heard the horrible sound of paper ripping. Your head shot up, eyes wide open towards the sound. You couldn't believe that the teacher was destroying your message from Changbin.

You picked up the scraps of paper that were now flying to the ground, then sat down at your desk. Your eyes glazed over as you tried to put the torn pieces back together.

You heard soft whispers filling the classroom, you knew they were talking about you, but you didn't care. For others, it was just a piece of paper, but for you, it was the only sign that someone was actually interested in you unselfishly.

The rest of the lesson you were in the room with your body but your brain wandered towards the boy you met earlier. You felt a great need to hug him. You felt a bit like a ten-year-old who sighs for her favorite idols and gets excited about their every move.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the faint sound of your phone. At first you didn't pay attention to who was trying to contact you, you thought it was probably Sebastian or one of your parents.

You didn't have a good relationship with your mom or dad. They were always busy and closed upon their business world. Everything was more important than you, after all, the money had to match. They tried to make up for their absence with expensive gifts, pets, and new servants. That's how you met Sebastian. Even though you adored him, he was the only one who wanted to know about you, listened to you when you needed to talk, and even remembered all the important dates for you, he still was no substitute for the love you should have received from your parents. You were angry at your parents for never being there for you and for those terrible moves that were against your will.

When you heard the notification sound once again, you picked up your phone annoyed and checked who was calling you. The name "Hannie" appeared on the screen, you excitedly gripped the phone tighter and quickly read the message.

Han is a boy you met on Tinder about 2 years ago. At one of your ex-schools, you made a bet with a friend who could get more guys on Tinder. Of course you've met a lot of guys, but the first message they ever sent you was "Do you want to fuck?" Until Jisung showed up. He was obviously interested in you, and not in a sexual way. It started with him texting you every once in a while about some stupid stuff, then you started texting every day. You both opened up to each other, you knew his every secret and he knew every one of yours. Unfortunately, about half a year ago things started to get complicated. You felt like you were starting to have feelings for him, even though you'd never met him. Unless we count staring at his photos on the app.

A month ago your contact broke off. You didn't have time to reply or you were out of reach. Of course, because of those stupid moves. You missed him like hell, but you couldn't bring yourself to text him after so long. So a message from him was salvation for you. Your heart beat faster again, a smile painted on your face, you held your breath as you read the short message.

Hannie: Hey cutie, I'm sorry I haven't written to you for so long, but I've been really busy with school. Tell me quickly what happened to you?

You were all excited, you started tapping your feet under the table, smiling stupidly.

Y/N: Hey Hannie. I missed you, you know? Everything is fine with me, although the new school seems so different to me. Everything is so nice and modern here, but some of the teachers look like they broke free from the army, especially the PE guy.

As usual, you made up your mind, after all, you had such a good time talking to him. Without putting the phone down, you waited with great hope for an answer. You felt like if someone were to take your pulse right now, it would be like you'd run a marathon. After a while, those longed-for three dots appeared. You made puppy eyes and smiled wider.

Hannie: I missed you too, sunshine. Hah I know something about that, I have a terrible PE teacher too. What school did your parents send you to this time? Maybe you'll finally be a little closer to me and I'll be able to see you? I wish I could finally see your beautiful face.

You felt like a wave of heat, go through your body, that directed all its power into your cheeks. You missed such lovely messages, you missed Han in general.

Y/N: This time my wonderful parents decided that we were changing the country because they got bored of the US and I came to South Korea. This time my mother wanted to go back to her country, do business here. As for my school, it's probably some XYZ, but I don't remember, I didn't pay attention.

After writing the message, Han did not reply for a long time. The lesson ended, and without taking your eyes off the screen that seemed to be stuck, you packed up and left the classroom. Still not looking up, you made your way to the parking lot as your classes for today are over.

After a few steps through the long, emptying corridor, you noticed the long-awaited 3 dots. You stared at your phone harder as if it was about to disappear.

Hannie: Y/N you won't believe...I go to the same school as you. We have to meet. Are you still in school?

You couldn't believe what you just saw. Your Hannie with you at school. Your best friend here. After all this time, you will finally be able to see him. You were excited, your body tensed with happiness. You quickly started clicking on the letters, trying to make meaningful sentences out of them.

You suddenly hit something and fell to the ground. Your phone flew out of your hands and flew away from you, landing under the cabinets. Confused, you cursed under your nose. You scratched your head and brushed your hair away from your face.

When you looked up, you couldn't believe what you saw. Your eyes widened as if you had seen a ghost.

In front of you stood none other than Han Jisung, your best friend and boy you have a big crush on.

The boy was also obviously surprised. Your reactions were very similar to each other. Jisung's eyes stared at you in surprise and disbelief. You didn't take your eyes off each other for a moment.

You both wondered if the person in front of you was real or just a figment of your imagination.

Han finally snapped out of it and smiled widely at you. It was the best and most sincere smile you've ever seen in your entire life.

"Y/N!" he shouted with happiness, hugged you and lifted you up, spinning with you in his hands.

You felt like you were in a fairy tale and you just met your prince charming. A feeling of joy filled your whole body, and all your sorrows faded into oblivion. All that mattered now was Jisung.

Your eyes glazed over from the droplets of water forming in them. You snuggled closer to him, wrapping your legs around his waist and burying your head into the crook of his neck. You wished this moment would never end.

Finally, Jisung stopped spinning and placed you gently on the ground, making sure you didn't fall over. He pulled away from you, but you still didn't break eye contact and the smile on your faces only grew bigger.

“Y/N is it really you? I can't believe I met you here." He said, examining every inch of your body with his eyes.

"Yes, it's me. Wow, Hannie, after all this time, I finally got to see you in real life. Maybe this move wasn't so bad." You were as excited as a little child, you couldn't stop the little jumps of happiness. This brought a sweet puppy smile to the boy's face.

“Do you have time now? Can we go to a coffee shop? I have so much to tell you." He asked with hope in his eyes. Hoping you'll go with him and spend more time together.

Without thinking for a moment, you agreed and went to the coffee shop together. Han ordered your favorite drink for you, which you told him about during one of your long phone conversations. Your heart warmed as he placed it in front of you. You were surprised that he still remembered such details of your life. It made you realize that you still had feelings for him, but you didn't know what feelings.

You talked, laughed and joked all the time. After all, you had to make up for lost time without each other. You didn't know how long it had been since you sat down at the coffee shop, but you didn't care, right now you were the happiest person.

You had a wonderful conversation, you had a lot in common and you would have talked longer if it wasn't for someone calling Han. The boy apologized to you and quickly answered the call.

“I'm sorry Y/n, but I have to go now. It was great talking to you and we definitely need to do it again. Best as soon as possible. Maybe tomorrow? I will call you. See you later, baby." He said in one breath, not letting you get a word in.

He kissed you on the cheek and stormed out of the cafe, leaving you in shock.

Baby, that word stuck in your head. You lightly brushed your cheek with your fingers where Jisung's lips had been a moment ago. You didn't expect a guy to have such soft lips. You couldn't believe what just happened.

What was so important that Han left so soon? What was all this supposed to mean? You tried to answer these questions in your head, but your head seemed to be as empty as a black hole. Only after a while, when the waiter approaches you, you come back to earth.

You quickly got up and made your way to the parking lot. Halfway through, you realized you didn't have your phone with you. You panicked as you tried to remember where you left it. You ran to the coffee shop but it wasn't there so you went back to school, searched the corridors.

The phone was under one of the cabinets in the corridor where you bumped into Jisung. You checked if the glass is not broken and then you saw 12 missed calls from Sebastian and 10 from parents. You started to panic, you knew you fucked up. Your body was in a cold sweat.

You quickly dialed Sebastian's number and quickly made your way to the parking lot. Your heart pounded wildly in fear as each beep was followed by silence.

“Hello Miss Y/n, where are you? Everyone has been worried about Miss for 2 hours and trying to find Miss. Your parents are furious, please come to school as soon as possible, I will take you home." When you had no more hope, the voice of the butler spoke. He was calm, but you sensed a note of concern and consternation.

You sprinted to the indicated place, you don't think you've ever run so fast and a moment later you were there. Sebastian was already waiting for you and you got into the car.

While driving, you kept moving your legs nervously, you were afraid of what was about to happen. Usually you didn't give a shit what your parents told you or told you to do, but lately they've become very aggressive, especially your father.

All because one of their shareholders died in an accident and his company refuses to cooperate with your parents.

When you arrived at the house, you were afraid to get out of the car, but you knew that a confrontation with your father would be inevitable. You took 3 deep breaths and headed home. Of course, your parents were waiting for you there, they were obviously pissed off.

You stood in front of them without saying a word and with your head down, waiting for the fuck.

"Where have you been? Everyone was looking for you. What's the use of a phone if you can't be reached? Ungrateful daughter!” Your father yelled at you, slapping you with his hand. 

You bit your lip hard trying to hold back the tears that formed in your eyes. The father was aggressive, but he'd never raised a hand on you before.

“Sorry, I was hanging out with a friend in a coffee shop and I didn't have my phone with me. It won't happen again.” You stuttered quietly, trying not to show that you were scared.

You looked up slightly to see your father's reaction. He didn't seem happy with that excuse, in fact he was even angrier. With the corner of your eye, you saw your mother, who was standing with her arms folded, and Sebastian, who was fighting with himself not to come over and help you.

“I wish I didn't have a daughter like you. I have only problems with you! It would have been better if you hadn't been born." He grunted, turned on his heel and left the room. Behind him, like a faithful dog, your mother followed.

His words hit you harder than his fists. You bit your lip harder until you tasted the metallic taste of blood. Your body rebelled against you and tears streamed down your cheeks. You didn't want to stay there any longer, so you ran to your room.

You locked yourself in it and fell into despair. You couldn't even control the tears that flooded your eyes. You were a total mess, hoping your father just said it emotionally, but the more you thought about it, the less you believed it.

You grabbed your phone and texted Han without thinking.

Y/N: Hannie, save me, I'm scared

Then things got really bad. Your breathing sped up a lot. Tears began to roll down to your throat, choking you. You panicked. A trickle of blood from your lip began to run down your neck. It really wasn't good. All you knew was that if you didn't calm down soon, you'd pass out.

The whole world began to spin slowly, you felt disoriented, your consciousness was slowly turning off. When you heard the phone ring. You looked at the screen… It was Han. You answered the call and Jisung's worried face appeared on the screen.

Barely keeping your balance, trying at all costs to take the breath you needed so much, you looked at the boy.

“God, Y/n what's going on!” He asked, obviously worried. You didn't have to tell him to know you were having a panic attack. You've been through it together many times. “Hey, hey, hey sweetie, do you remember what we do in this situation? Look at me and take deep breaths. I am by your side and I will always be by your side.” You did everything he asked you to and slowly began to calm down. “That's right sunshine, you're doing great. Let's breathe together, deep breaths." You managed to control your breathing even though your heart was still pounding.

You wiped the tears from your cheeks, but you still felt unsure. Although just seeing Han appearing by your side whenever you needed him calmed you down a bit.

“Fuck Y/n you're bleeding. Someone hit you? It's my fault, I shouldn't have left you in the coffee shop like that." The boy was terrified, approaching the camera to look closer.

"No no no. It's not your fault. I did it myself, but it's nothing. Take it easy.” You gently lifted the corner of your mouth and wiped away the blood that was dripping down your face.

Suddenly you heard knocking on the door. You panicked again, without any warning you hung up and turned off your phone. You thought it was your parents, even though they probably wouldn't knock.

“Miss Y/n, I know this isn't the best time to talk, but I brought Miss hot chocolate with whipped cream. I will put it under the door and if Miss wants it, can take it.” You heard Sebastian's voice from outside the door and you felt a little relieved.

You waited a moment and slowly opened the door, making sure your parents weren't anywhere around. You quickly took the chocolate and closed the room again. You took a sip of it and felt the heat flowing through your body.

Sebastian knew you well. He always brought you hot chocolate when you were feeling a little bit down, so now you associated it with care and comfort. After you drank the whole thing, you felt like you were back in kindergarten and didn't have any worries.

The emotions that had been tormenting you all day turned into fatigue. Without changing into your pajamas, you laid down in bed and drifted off into dreamland.

<- Part 3 | Part 5 ->

TAGLIST:

@nobody3210

[judas-is-so-so-silly]

jude.. could i get a short prompt for a lactose intolerant reader and primo, because i made bad choices and am now suffering 🫶 ily

Yes sir I'm also lactose intolerant and this sounds so cute

Literally the fluffiest shit I've ever written under the cut

Mentions of being in the bathroom and tummy troubles ofc. Also reader is described as a dude

Primo loved children and had made it a point to always have at least a handful of candy for little ones around the Ministry, he would call children to him and place one in their palm and curl their fingers around it like it was a treasure to be protected. The smiles that would spread across their chubby faces warmed his heart, he even used his little candies to flirt on special occasions.

He remembered seeing you waltz through the Ministry doors like it was yesterday and of course he was caught in a predicament. He had knelt down to gift one of his candies to a little boy who had been crying and when he tottled off, Primo was very much stuck on his knees. He groaned and grunted as he tried to force his feet under him and from across the foyer you saw him and immediately your heart was racing. He was adorable, trying so hard to be strong when he obviously needed help. You realized you were staring at the poor old man who needed help, and that staring was doing nothing.

"Papa! Let me help you!" A sweet voice echoed across the marble, Primo looked up to see a young man rushing to his side. The old man chuckled and offered his hand,

"Grazie, fratellino." He grunted as you pulled him up, his hand was warm and calloused against your own. When Primos eyes met yours he was spellbound as he simply offered you a small candy;

He's remained spellbound, even now as you whine to him through the bathroom door about your tummy issues. His smile remains as he hums back to you,

"Mio fiore, you will be fine. Maybe you should not eat the cheesecake next time you are offered, though." Your groan tugged at his heart strings as much as it made him laugh, he knew you were in pain but satanas you somehow remained to be adorable.

"But it's so good, I even took my meds!" Ah yes, your little pills. When you mentioned how milk caused you so much anguish he began carrying them around too, he would always offer them when he saw something with dairy on your plate. You found it sweet, how he made sure you felt your best.

"I know, fiore, I know, but you know I dont like seeing," he paused, remembering how you made a beeline to your shared cottage only a couple minutes after destroying 3 entire slices of the dessert. He chuckled, "well, hearing you like this."

You chuckled back, finally starting to feel the pains melt away. "I'll consider it, is that good enough?"

"For now, I'll take it." The sound of you shuffling around quickly followed by the door swinging open and you falling into your Papas arms. He noticed your tired smile as he held you, his hand slid into your hair as he kissed your forehead.

"Thank you, Papa."

"Hm. None of that," Primo slid his hand down to your chin and tilted your face up to meet his gaze before kissing you so gently you barely felt it. You couldn't keep the whine in when he pulled away, but his mismatched eyes were so full of adoration words escaped you. "To you, mio fiore, I am Primo. And only Primo." You scoffed,

"Even when you ask me to call you Papa, when you look all sexy and mean?" You smirk up at him and he considers you for a moment before scoffing back at you,

"Maybe just then."

[2n2n]

For Tsukasa, who loves Amane so much always, what are moments where... it's overwhelming, actually, to be with him? Like, we see Amane get all /// blushy, can't take it... over things (and he even seems overwhelmed when Tsu is excited about the shooting star.) So what are things that would make even the excitable Tsukasa get all... Oh no....

And curious to hear about how Tsukasa wouldn't recognize he has feelings for Nene ? His interest in emotions in others, but not towards himself?

yaaaass, I think these kind of moments could exist really easily, actually, but it's not a popular headcanon… I think if Amane gave Tsukasa, any affection (verbal, physical…), very directly, Tsukasa would be easily overwhelmed… if Amane points his, charm beam, at Tsukasa, pities and pets him openly, I DO think it would mute Tsukasa, make him lose his expression and focus … Amane being difficult with ah, affection, and when he is affectionate, it usually being coddling/condescending, I think that creates such a circumstance of vulnerability when it's happening suddenly haha. as much as poor Nene-chan has to feel //// if Amane grabs her or smiles at her all big ... pets her and promises to protect her ... I think Tsukasa had the same disease.

Images like this, to me, convey Tsukasa being spellbound by Amane, gazing at him.... since the perspective PoV is Tsukasa's. We can't SEE Tsukasa reacting this way to Amane yet, but, it's implied...

you can only imagine the Tsukasa staring at this Amane reading to him...

and this is all incredibly similar naturally, to how Nene pictures Amane in HER lovelorn little head....

Tsukasa blushes prominently after Amane just pets him, here, promising to read to him

and even just conceptualizing Tanabata with Amane, makes Tsukasa whisk away to a dreamy gaze... blush...

Tsukasa is often characterized by his :D, but just as often, an excited Tsukasa is , expressionless, arrested by his excitement… I love this Tsukasa waiting eagerly for the new volume (to see Amane) (he's holding a stamp to mark the incoming mail ... he's overly prepared for the mailman, unmoving lol)

and this Tsukasa, holding an Amane plushie

I think when Amane gets all ..... big brother-y .... like "ah, you're not good at reading..." or "you can't figure this out yourself, can you?" or "you always get lost easily, sigh, hold my hand dummy" "ahhh you're so distracted, aren't you? come on, watch me do it..." "ahhh you're no good at it, come on, I'll do it for you..." it makes Tsukasa feel smaller and overwhelmed by the sense of gratefulness and ,, that feeling Amane is so generous to offer you anything. I think Amane just gives you this kind of disease...

I had a dream once about Amane simply and effortlessly 'subduing' Tsukasa by just picking him up and cooing to him excessively, then shoving him back into his boundary when he's incapacitated by it...

If you really think about how much Tsukasa adores Amane ... and you think about how Amane's affection presents and how precious it is when he gives it ... and then you imagine Amane unleashing anything onto him at last ... it's actually too easy to debilitate Tsukasa... I think he's so weak, deep down ...

Often if I really go all the way to think about, you know, FURTHER THINGS, kissing etc, I imagine Tsukasa less "HAHA YAY WOO" and more... overwhelmed, confused, unable to react, staring, or even starting to cry ... Amane is always indirect ... that's what Tsukasa is used to .... I don't think he could handle love offered so quickly.... it would take such time for Tsukasa to 'get used to it' ... still I think Amane will always have the upperhand....

THE OTHER THING: Tsukasa not recognizing his own feelings exactly.. it's just a headcanon, but, yeah. I don't personally think he even understands his love for Amane as so much more than platonic ... ? Or how to.. quantify it, at all, what he wishes would happen, what imagining 'more' with Amane is like? Ehhh I don't know how good Tsukasa is at conceptualizing what he wants? He's always granting other's wishes, and his only wish was selfless, for someone else ... I don't know what Tsukasa's personal wish is. He still seems only interested in seeing Amane get what he wants. I don't even think Tsukasa can think of, Amane kissing him, or something, at all ... let alone ... anything so new and bold as Nene-chan things....

I think Tsukasa thinks in those terms of .. "my wish was already granted" and, extrapolating, "I already got everything I could ever want" (Amane giving up his life for him, with him, getting to spend years with Amane, going to Tanabata...).... I'm not sure if he really fantasizes about more for himself, as much as he wants Amane to imagine more and more and more (Amane was the one with hopes and dreams...).... boy, Amane, he really is filled with endless desires.

if along the way, Tsukasa also fell for Nene-chan, I don't know if he'd really have the means to fully understand that ... ? But I could be wrong. I think it'd be interesting for the wish-granter and heart-seeing desire God to have a gap in his own perception... can't point it inward...

there's no precedent for Tsukasa to have something like this, just like Amane had no precedent...

[pekasairroc]

Tagged by @sinfulauthor

1. Were you named after anyone?

My mom used to have a friend named Holly who remarked how she always loved her name. I have been repeatedly assured I was not named after Big Hol.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Christmas Day when Ed’s parrot Azul died :(

3. Do you have kids?

Nah

4. What sports do you play/have you played?

As a kiddy kid I did a lot of sports for a season or two (soccer, basketball) or several summers (softball) but I fenced foil for a few years and later on did some cross country. I would like to get back into fencing but would need to find a casual club that’s a good fit and change from a French grip to a Pistol grip due to hand hurty

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Often, but I prefer deadpan understatements.

6. What's the first thing you notice about people?

Currently it’s whether they have a flu shot badge at work and then if they’re masking (mandatory if they don’t have the shot, highly encouraged regardless). I have had to do so many audits and trying not to STARE at people’s badges and lower faces due to exposures at work.

7. What's your eye color?

Blueish gray green. Aka blue.

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

9. Any talents?

I can make myself and others stop hiccuping on command.

10. Where were you born?

Chicago suburbs

11. What are your hobbies?

Lots of art, writing, sewing, and crafting is what I usually tell people without getting into the details.

12. Do you have any pets?

No, but once I figure out the petsitting situation I would love to get two rats. I am not actively figuring out the petsitting situation.

Look, it’s one thing to ask a big group if someone could watch a cat for a weekend and it’s easy af to find a dog sitter but it’s hard to ask people to feed and clean up for two rats. It just is.

13. How tall are you?

5’8”

14. Favorite subject in school?

Latin. Languages in general.

15. Dream job?

I sit as the creative head of a production company. Is it animation? Is it comics? Video games? Doesn’t matter. I explain to the group in the room ideas for stories and they wait with bated breath to the finish. They applaud. Standing ovation is implied. They set to work on making my visions and stories and characters a reality with far more technical artistic skill than I personally have but 100% under my 100% perfect creative direction. The story is an international hit. Millions adore these stories and characters and are impacted in their life in a positive way, always remembering these little tales and being so normal about them. I live a quiet life in a cute little house drawing silly doodles when I’m not drafting the next story— and let’s be real, I don’t need to draft since it’s perfect and easy from the start— and give Q&As where no one asks dumb questions and everyone perfectly understands and respects my vision and desire to not tell certain details but listens spellbound for every tangent I go on about the history of one line or a part I thought was funny. Everyone leaves me alone but radiates in my storytelling prowess and is inspired in turn. Me and my characters are forever remembered in the realms of history.

That's not what you meant by “dream job?” Well, I actually like my infection control job and the parts I dislike are the parts that suck for all regulatory jobs. Love 2 tell people to wash their hands.

[yellowcry]

Protector

When it was the time to tell Luisa the story of her Abuelo, Alma totally didn't expected her to ask why they were forced to leave their home. And she totally didn't expect Luisa to became so worried about it.

Alma gently knocked on the nursery green door with her free hand before coming in. Her nieta was sitting on her bed, tapping her feet on the floor. She turned her head, as she heard the sound of opening door.

"Abuela!" She smiled in all her teeth and jumped off her perfectly maded bed, trowing the blanket on the floor. "Today I will become a big girl!" She crossed her arms proudly, then pulled Alma's dress, leading her to the center of the room.

Alma put the candle on the nightstand then gigged weakly into her fist, patting her nieta. "Of course you will." She started to bend to put the blanket back, but Luisa was ahead of her, quickly throwing bedsheet where it supposed to be. Blanket lied with the bunch of lumps, so Alma fixed it, then sat and patted the spot next to her, asking Luisa to sit down. The little girl climbed on the bed, without taking her eyes off the candlelight. "This is the candle of the family Madrigal." Alma started her explanation, pointing on the wax with a butterfly pattern.

"Is it where is magic coming from?" Luisa asked, staring at Alma in spellbound with her big brown eyes.

She noded, letting out a weak sigh. "Yes, that's right." For a moment she kept silent, watching at the playful flame, before specifying. " Do you want to hear the story behind it?"

Luisa looked like she was about to shine in adoration. "Yes, please!" She clasped her fingers in front of her, begging to hear this story. Of course, Isabela and Dolores probably told her that Alma was going to tell a really fascinating story before her ceremony. But as it was put in the rules, they couldn't tell what exactly happened back then, thirty-six years ago. Honestly, Alma would prefer to explain it by herself, because she was there, she knew exactly what happened. Even if she would never tell the whole story, because it would just make everyone scared.

Alma looked away, glancing at the Camilo's and Mirabel's cribs "Many years ago, when my three babies were just born, your Abuelo Pedro and I were forced to leave our home...."

"Why?" Alma shuddered as Luisa cuted her off.

"What do you mean?" Alma reasked unsurely, looking down at her frowning nieta. Why their babies were born? Why there were three babies?

"Why did you have to run away?" Luisa bited her lip, pulling her knees closer, twisting the golden ribbon in her hair, strictly eyeing Alma.

She let out a harsh sigh, she wasn't expecting to hear this question from a five-years-old girl, neihter Isabela, nor Dolores were worried about this. "Bad people forced us to run away." She sighed harshly, leaning to the wall. "But they found your Abuelo." She did her best to not let her voice crack.

Luisa's upper lip trembled, her eyes, still wide opened, now quickly filled with tears. Alma froze for a moment, not knowing what to do when her nieta sobbed into her birthday white clothes. Yes, it wasn't what she expected by telling the story of Pedro's sacrifice.

"Luisa, mi dulce, you'll ruin your dress." Alma begged, pulling Luisa's head up, then she put a soft smile on her face. "What's wrong?" Luisa had to calm down before her ceremony, no one would like to see a child with flowing snot.

"What if.." Her nieta sobbed hiccupping. "What if bad people'll find us?" She squeezed her own hands. "Like Abuelo?"

Alma frozed for a moment, it was her biggest fear, buried deep under her skin after so many years, forgotten in the insomniac night when she was hugged her children to her chest, too scared that if she would let go of them they would leave her just like Pedro did. Fear that never stopped, no matter what. They had giant mountains around to protect them, but Alma could never stop thinking what would happen if they'll find the way inside. Sometimes she caughted herself climbing mountains to see if there were any cracks or ways to enter Encanto. At nights Alma leaned against her door, looking at the medallion with a photo of Pedro, praying him to protect their home.

Still, she put her hand on Luisa's shoulder, looking into her tearful eyes. "That's why we were given our miracle. It'll protect us from any threats." She promised, trying to look a confident, as possible, even if deep inside she wanted to cry as well, as she thought about it. It was Alma's care, she had to deal with it on her own. And Luisa was a child, right now her main priority is to use her gift for Encanto, helping her family.

"But what if something will happen?" Luisa trew her hands into the air. "If bad people will find us..." She squeezed her azure blanket. "Will they hurt Papi, or mami, or Mira, or..." She kept listing her entire family, fingering her fingers, her voice became more desperate with every name.

"Luisa." Alma ripped her off roaring, making Luisa wince. "The miracle will protect us." Her voice sounded way harsher than Alma intended, but she couldn't help it. Thoughts of what would happen quickly leaded her to the edge, she didn't want to think what would happen if the miracle would fail to protect them, she started to shake as she imagined her hijos y nietos lying and bleeding in the cold red river. Alma took a deep breath to calm herself down, clenching her wrinkled hands into fists so hard, that her knuckles turned white. "Lo siento, perdí la calma." She closed her eyes for a second. "Our magic'll protect us, prometo."

Luisa pursed her lips, still didn't seem to be assured. She lowered her head, whispering weakly. "O-okay." She looked at the candle again, fixing her bun, trying to not burst into tears again. "What's my gift?"

Alma gigged softly. "I don't know, but whatever your gift would be, it would be just as special, as you." She put her hand on her nieta's cheek. Luisa looked into her eyes, pursing her lips, before she smiled awkwardly a second before the alarm clock signaled that it was time for them to go.

****

Isabela said that this story was very cool and interesting. But the only thing that Luisa felt is how something really heavy pressed her to the ground. She knew that Abuela said that miracle would protect them, b-but... What if it wasn't enough? Would it mean that Luisa would never see her padres or hermanas again? What if evil people would take them as they took Abuelo. Luisa didn't know where Abuelo Pedro was, but she heard that no one ever would be able to find him. And it was so scary! Why did they have to be evil in the first place? Wouldn't it be easier if everyone would just become friends? Like in the Encanto! Even if Abuela promised that no one will hurt them, she looked so scared and sad when Luisa asked about it. Maybe she was upset that Luisa distrusted their magic, but Luisa's heart just was racing too fast.

Luisa smiled nervously as papi ruffled her hair. "Oh, my little girl is already so big." He whispered in adoration, patting her spine.

Luisa shrunk, looking down. She pursed her lips, thinking of what will happen if evil people would find them.

"Ohh, are you scared?" Isabela gigged softly, teasing Luisa. She looked down, ears tucked in. Then she winced as she realised that something appeared on her head. Luisa looked up and saw how mami and papi swooned with delight, Isa crossed her arms confidently. Luisa reached for her hair and groped something, that really felt like a flower. "It's from the nerves." Her hermana exclaimed proudly.

Part of Luisa that was worried about her gift lowered its tone, but the other voice, that appeared after the talk with Abuela became louder. Strict voice, screaming that if something will happen to Isa, she would be all alone, taken by strangers. Her hermana was so small, right now she was almost the same height with Luisa, and she didn't even mention her hermanita Mirabel, who was so tiny, that Luisa really wondered if babies are really supposed to be that small. She felt little tears falling down her face, immediately buried in her mami's dress. Everyone assured her that she would get an amazing gift. Luisa looked up to her family, thinking if her future gift could protect them. She wanted everyone to be safe, please, let them be safe! Luisa would never forgive herself if something would happen to her Abuela, mami, papi, tios, hermanas, primos. To anyone. They had to stay protected.

She kept repeating those words inside her head when she was staring at the abnormally long patio corridor.

****

Alma watched as Luisa touched the flower wreath on her head before walking forward. Her small, unsteady steps on the red tiles sounded too loud. Luisa walked unusually slowly, Alma could pay less attention to her than to her sisters, but she knew that Luisa always had a gushing energy, some even said that she was the most restless child that Encanto ever knew. And yet now she was unusually frightened, either because of the gift ceremony or because of their conversations. Alma really hoped that this was the first option. Magic would protect them, it has to protect them, it's why they were given a miracle at the first place. Alma didn't want to the what might happen if it would fail. She wouldn't admit that her nieta's worries touched her heart, making her heart beating way louder and faster that it should be. They couldn't repeat Pedro's fate. Please, don't let anyone be lost as he was.

Luisa shuffled her feet nervously as she stood in front of Alma, who winced as she was lost in her thoughts, them shesmiled tenderly, asking her nieta. "Will you use your gift to serve our community?"

Luisa bit her lip before furrowing her brows determinedly. "Yes." She promised as Alma lowered the candle into her hands.  This look in her eyes was somehow familiar, almost making her shrink in painful memories, she swallowed a nasty lump in her throat.

Luisa chuckled as the warmth of the candle touched her palms. Then she turned to her door, her movements became much more confident, maybe that was part of the magic. The patio lit up with a golden glow that emanated from the door as she touched the doorknob.

Alma flinched, jumping back as something fell from the sky. Was it... cobblestone? Why was it in the sky at all?"

"Luisa!" Julieta and Agustin screamed almost in sync as the stone was about to fall on their hija.

She looked up and raised her hand, catching a boulder that was twice her size, if not more, as if it were nothing. A glow from behind her flooded the door, creating the image of Luisa's lifting a barbell. Super strength?

"We have a new gift!" Alma announced proudly, placing her hand on her nieta's back. Surely, this gift would be one of the most, if not the most useful to help Encanto. The courtyard immediately erupted in applause, Luisa put down the stone and bent her arms at the elbows, looking at them adoration.

Then she turned to Alma, smiling broadly, raised her head and put her hand on her chest. "I will protect my family." She promised in a whisper, nodding confidently. Alma could not help feeling how tears of proud tenderness filled her eyes. Yes, Luisa was a five years old child, but seeing this determination in her eyes really made Alma believe her words somewhere deep inside.

[ladyhoneydee]

30 Day Song(fic) Challenge: Day 27

Took yesterday off and nearly didn't get it done today either (in fact, I am very, very late) but I'm back again with today's Song(fic) Challenge! The prompt was "a late night moody song", and while I'm sure the original creator of this challenge meant something moody as in angsty, I went for my personal favorite song to listen to late at night: You Are in Love, by Taylor Swift. I adore this song as one to stare out the window to as someone else drives so you can watch the stars and scenery zoom by, but as an adult who has to drive myself places now, it's just as good to hold yourself and sway to in the comfort of your bedroom.

You Are In Love

Game: Twilight Princess

Pairing: Midzelink

Word Count: 3154

Keywords: Falling in love OT3 style

One night, six months into their arrangement, Zelda wakes. The glowing hands of the Twilaiin clock on Midna’s nightstand inform her that it’s three in the morning: witching hour. She certainly feels spellbound as she stares at her lovers; at Link’s green and brown and gold, Midna’s black and white and orange, and her own purple and white and gold. A mixed palette of one another. Complimentary colors, somehow, against every sense of color theory.

Read the fic on AO3, or under the cut!

Zelda hasn’t seen Midna since they were both six years old and under three feet tall, sharing a nanny while their parents were enmeshed in diplomatic relations. At the time, they hadn’t realized that their fast, close friendship was blossoming under the shadow of potential warfare, and while the meeting had adjourned amicably, the countries of Twilain and Hyrule had remained different sides of the same coin: touching, but separate. And so did their daughters.

At some point in that thirteen-year estrangement, Midna must have undergone a hell of a growth spurt. Zelda was not a short woman by any means, even among the very tall Lanayrish hylians she descended from, but Midna still towered over her by an entire head. At least, she seemed that she would, when her gaze passed over and then hooked onto the Twili diplomat from across the darkened ballroom. 

Midna’s eyes were already on Zelda. Scarlet irises shining across the room. Zelda felt herself immediately hypnotized, a mink caught in the stare of a serpent. She could do nothing but watch one elegant hand lift and crook a single finger in an unmistakable summons. 

Zelda’s mouth went dry, and for the first time that night, the bodice of her dress felt tight, tight, tight.

She was sure there had been other dignitaries in the room, but they seemed to fade away to the margins as Zelda floated across the room. The Twilight Princess stood on the fringes of the gathering, and as Zelda approached, Midna glided forward the final two paces to meet her. 

“Shadows and snakes, I was beginning to think I was the only one with a brain at this party. Thank you for proving me wrong, Princess.”

Zelda flushed. “Now, I’m sure that isn’t the case—”

“Are you telling me you’ve ever exited a conversation with Count Fabian of Labrynna feeling enthralled, intellectually stimulated, and excited to have another?”

Zelda’s gaze flickered over to the count in question, who was currently holding court with an exceedingly bored-looking visiting dignity whose name she couldn’t recall. She shut her mouth and clamped down the corners that threatened to rise. “Fair enough. You’ve certainly chosen a…fit example.”

“I do adore choosing the fit ones,” Midna said, voice low, and Zelda felt every drop of blood in her veins combust as her childhood-playmate–turned-absolute-stunner looked her up and down with a stare that was at one ravenous and languid. “Do join me. Just because I’m from Twilain doesn’t mean I wish to live in the shadows of your attention.”

Zelda laughed despite herself at the faux-drama in the other woman’s tone. “You make a compelling argument…I’m not sure you could survive without attention.” Midna’s jaw dropped, and for a moment Zelda thought she had misstepped until she threw her head back with a cackle. 

“Oh, Princess, we are going to have such a marvelous night together. Come, I have a bottle of wine already, you won’t need to up and leave for ages.” She looped an arm around Zelda’s own elbow, and escorted her to one of the window-framed alcoves on the exterior wall of the room. A candle flickered in the center of the table, next to the promised bottle of dark, sweet wine. 

Here, the close shadows and distance from the main mingling floor made the incredibly public setting feel intimate. Zelda sat down, taking care to sweep her long skirt beneath her, and reveled in the soft velvet of the window bench. 

Midna sighed appreciatively as she plopped onto the bench beside her. “Now I have two things to thank you for: the pleasure of your company, and the chance to get off of these heels.” 

“I’m sure you could kick them off and no one would even notice.”

“True, but how would I get you to look at my legs otherwise?”

Traitorously, Zelda’s eyes followed Midna’s suggestion despite herself and flickered down to Midna’s shadow-stockinged legs and back up. The victorious smirk on her purple-stained lips nearly sent Zelda into a tailspin, but she managed to keep a tight lid on her sanity. 

“Quite thoughtful, but I’m here for more than the view.” She turned more fully towards Midna and, quite courageously, placed her hand on the warmth of Midna’s right thigh, just above her knee. “I do believe we have about two decades of catching up to do.”

They spoke to no one else for the rest of the night, contact information seized and clutched close when the event eventually closed down and they were turned out into the winter air. Scraps of paper torn from the corners of invitations. Proof that they’d found one another again, at last. 

Half a decade and the rise and fall of a madman later, Midna wakes to the crowing of a rooster and a sunbeam across her face. Eyes flicker open, only to immediately squeeze shut again in disgruntled discomfort. She adds one hand over her face for good dramatic measure, shading out the red the glare painted the inside of her eyelids.

“Link, you’re supposed to be good at everything,” she groans. “Can’t you turn off the sun for me?”

A hand caresses the curve of her thigh beneath the blanket. Fingers tracing delicious patterns on her skin spell out a response she barely manages to take in: “No can do, Princess.”

“Well, what good are you?” Midna blinks her eyes open, resentful at the brightness but not so much that she can hold herself back anymore from gazing upon Link’s gaze, blue as the ocean on a cloudy day; his tanned skin, with the muscles beneath corded from farming; his dark blond hair tousled from the previous night’s activities. He’s as delicious in the morning as he was the night before, and she drapes a possessive hand over his bare chest.

“You look like you’re going to eat me for breakfast,” Link signs. Rather than teasing challenge in his gaze, however, Midna can only find bottomless affection. Not in the mood for a morning round, then.

“Well, I might if you don’t cook up something for us.” She stretches like a cat, legs poking out from beneath the blanket and extending beyond the edge of Link’s mattress as they go taut. He watches her with interest, the kind that says I’m taking all of you in without the particular flavor of I want to take you, and when his gaze finally travels up her body to her face he returns her warm smile in kind.

“I guess I can part with some eggs,” he signs, and she rolls her eyes at the sass in every roll of his wrist. 

“You better throw some sausage in there, too. I’ve got a big day today, you know.” She throws her legs off of the edge of the bed, and slowly lifts her upper body off the bed, vertebrae crackling.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve got a date with that woman, you only talked about it for half the night,” Link teases, and follows her in getting up. He tosses Midna one of his old shirts without needing to ask, knowing she prefers going around in his clothes in the morning despite them barely covering her midriff. “I was shocked you didn’t scream her name last night instead of mine.”

Midna narrows her eyes, but knows he can still see the warmth in them through the faux-glare. “Keep the sass up and next time, I will.”

They stumble down the ladder from Link’s loft down to the main living space. Link gets the pan heating up in short order and begins shaping small handfuls of ground seasoned goat sausage into patties. She watches with wanton abandon: he’s always so good with his hands, no matter the context.

Soon, though, the desire simmering in her belly subsides to something more warm and enduring. With his brow quirked in focus like that, it’s easy to see the man she fell for all those years ago, the one who challenged her when she needed it and held her when she wanted it, even when her faith in the entire world—and herself—had been shattered.

Link cracks four eggs, one after the other, into the pan atop the half-cooked sausage patties. “Can you make up some toast?” he signs one-handed, refusing to release his spatula. 

Midna goes through the motion of cutting the bread and getting it on the heat, but her mind is firmly elsewhere. On nights where all they had were each other. On nights when they had more, but chose one another still.

She doesn’t notice Link’s signing until he’s tapping her on the shoulder insistently to get her attention. “Midna! Seriously?”

“What?” She glares. That was a nice memory!

“You burned the Din-damned toast!”

Midna looks over Link’s shoulder—an easy task, with how much height she has on him—to see four pieces of blackened bread smoking away on the counter. She belatedly realizes that the air smells awful, acrid with charcoal. 

“In my defense, I was thinking of how cute you are.”

Link rolls his wolf eyes at her and thrusts a plate into her hands. A curved heap of pan-scrambled eggs smiles at her under two sausage-patty eyes. “Shut up and eat your breakfast.”

Link isn’t sure how he got here, but he’s pretty sure he likes it. 

Well, that’s a lie. He knows how he got here, it’s just that it feels like a fever dream to remember. Still, remember it he can. Midna had suggested that he might like her mysterious woman as much as she does, promised that the woman had seemed intrigued and open to it as well, gave them the place and time. Introduced them. And then pranced off, cackling like some sort of storybook villain, into the night. 

And here he is, arm in arm on the streets of Castletown with Hyrule’s princess. 

With the winter solstice celebration on the horizon, Castletown buzzes with seasonal visitors. Candles meant to invoke and bolster the magic of the Light Spirits as their powers wane with winter’s coming line residential windows, and while many homes still have pumpkins and leaf wreaths from the harvest season on their doors, others are beginning to replace them with spicy-smelling pine boughs. Link wonders absentmindedly where they got them—the market? Did they go out and pick them from trees outside of the town’s sturdy stone walls themselves?

He broaches the question to Zelda, a little hesitantly. While their stroll around the streets and squares has been amicable so far, things still feel a little awkward. They’re both quiet in different ways: Link in the ‘I’m not great with new people’ way, and Zelda in the ‘I want to show you I’m listening and I care’ way, which is unfortunate when paired with someone who isn’t doing much talking. 

“That is an excellent question!” Her eyes light up, and Link feels a flicker of satisfaction and pride at the response. “You’re actually correct on both counts. The closest pine groves to Castletown are to the north, but as you’ve no doubt noted, there is no north gate to the town, as the Castle lies that way. Thus those who source their boughs from outside typically go on day trips. It takes about half a day if one goes on horseback; those harvesting in bulk with a wagon spend about a day in total. Those who pick extra often do sell them in the marketplace, or gift them, for those people unable to go to the groves themselves.”

Link nods in understanding. “They’re very interesting. I like the ones with additional decoration.” He points to a wreath on a door to their right, barely visible from how deeply it’s set into the alley. That one has pinecones and bright red berries sprinkled throughout.

“I want to eat them,” he signs, the motions small. 

“You what?”

His hands jitter in place with indecision, a kinetic ‘um’ of the first kind, and then sign an apology. “You weren’t supposed to see that!” At her quizzical stare—she’s really cute when she tilts her head to the side like that—he adds on, “I didn’t think you…were watching me that closely. It was just meant for myself.”

Zelda smiles at him, and he feels his heart leap up to his throat and embed there with the speed of an arrow. “I’m enjoying watching you. I like the way you watch everything so closely. You notice things about my world that slip my notice these days, and it’s refreshing to experience them through your eyes.”

Link flushes, and imagines that the heat of his skin is giving off steam in the cold night air. “That—I—you—” He stumbles through several more signs that amount to nothing more than babble. “I like watching you too!” 

He about collapses to the cobblestones with embarrassment at her laugh. “Hm, but I’m not necessary to keep an eye on, since I don’t communicate through sign.” She arches an eyebrow at him, and something passes through his stomach with the gravity of a thundercloud over Hyrule Field. “Perhaps there’s something else that attracts your gaze?”

Oh, oh, there’s the lightning. He feels it crackle through his chest and down to his toes and back again. 

“Perhaps there is,” he replies, and hopes she can’t see the way his hands tremble ever so slightly with newfound desire. 

Of course, his hopes never come true when it comes to these women. “Your hands are shaking, Link. Are you cold, perchance?” Her tone is innocent enough that if he wasn’t looking right at the teasing heat hiding in her slate-grey irises, he might have thought her entirely sincere in her concern. “There’s a delightful shop near here that sells all sorts of warm beverages. Cider, tea, milk, even a new import known as kaffe.” She smiles. “I’m quite partial to it myself.”

“Doesn’t kaffe keep one up at night?” Link cocks his head in confusion. 

“Certainly. It’s exceedingly helpful on the days I’m called into audiences with the Cabinet of Representatives, and then have a mountain of reports to read and paperwork to complete.”

“But…wouldn’t that keep you up way too late tonight?” 

“I’d rather enjoy staying up late with you. In many senses.”

Link doesn’t even know what he signs in response to that, but it must have been some sort of vigorous agreement, because they’ve set off towards Zelda’s little shop with vim in their step. He tries to distract himself from taking in the flush in Zelda’s cheeks from the chill and their flirtation, the slight frizziness in her chestnut hair from her winter layers, the power in her stride and how it ceaselessly reminds him that she has legs. Unfortunately, as charming as the houses lining the avenues are, they hardly compare to hers. 

One wreath does stand out to him, however, as they approach the shopfront. The residential balcony atop the shop has a particularly jaunty whittled squirrel accompanying the more typical pinecones and berries, and he grins at it.

He taps Zelda on the shoulder gently to get her attention. She pauses in the midst of reaching for the doorknob. 

“Look up,” he signs, and points to the adorable squirrel. She follows the line of his finger, and he takes in the sunshine of her delighted smile at the same time that her shoulder brushes his own: the first time they’ve touched all evening with the exception of their linked elbows.

Lightning sparks through him once again. He can taste it in the roof of his mouth, under the root of his tongue. 

Midna is very familiar with his taste in women, it would seem. He will never, ever admit it, under pain of death. She’d be insufferable for weeks. 

Yet, as he walks through the door that Zelda holds open for him, he thinks he might not even mind. 

They sleep conjoined for three nights straight. They wander Twilain with Midna as their erstwhile guide, who gets far too much of a kick out of Zelda and Link’s stunned expressions with every brush with techno-magic. Link nearly faints when Zelda cleans syrup made from some sort of tart berry off of Midna’s face with her thumb and then sucks it clean in the middle of the restaurant like it’s nothing, and then ends up cooking the next two meals in a row because they find themselves unable to get out of their rooms without someone being pinned to a door.

They argue about how this is going to work, how they’re going to share, how they can be together all at once when they are two princesses and a goatherd, when only two share the same physical realm and those two don’t share the same hierarchical realm. Link accuses Zelda of inane optimism, and she locks herself in the bathroom with magic for an hour until Midna teleports under the door with her shadow-hopping magic and brings her out after a hushed conversation. They fall asleep together, not one eye unreddened between them, but with a refreshed desire to try.

They exchange letters through an increasingly beleaguered Postman. They meet in Hyrule Castle, in Link’s treehouse in Ordon, in a bungalow in a Twilaiin mangrove forest. They are complicated and complex. They are unbelievably, incandescently happy. 

One night, six months into their arrangement, Zelda wakes. The glowing hands of the Twilaiin clock on Midna’s nightstand inform her that it’s three in the morning: witching hour. She certainly feels spellbound as she stares at her lovers; at Link’s green and brown and gold, Midna’s black and white and orange, and her own purple and white and gold. A mixed palette of one another. Complimentary colors, somehow, against every sense of color theory.

Midna and Link blink open groggy eyes when Zelda wriggles between them, tears streaking down her face. Her eyes are wild but sure.

Link and Midna have devoted themselves to one another for years. Midna’s heart has held Zelda’s portrait in it for decades, fleshed out from a pencil sketch to an oil painting. They know immediately what this is, what it means. They can see it in the dark of the room; they can hear it in the catch of Zelda’s breaths in her lungs.

“I love you too,” Midna whispers, tracing one hand up the soft curve of Zelda’s spine.

“I love you too,” Link signs, his fingers tender on Zelda’s cheek. 

“I’m yours,” Zelda cries, and throws her arms wide around them both.

It is an imperfect way to put into words what has been building between them, even when the language of tight squeezes and grasping arms is added in and built upon. No sentence or paragraph or lifetime of novels could cover it, if they spent the rest of their lives orating and writing it down. They are simply too complex and complicated. 

But they are unbelievably, incandescently happy. And in this moment, it is enough.

[eclipsecrowned]

Daniel/ @luxsclaris‘s Armand, mention of past OC/Armand, 3.5k, beta read. orig. published jan 2021 on fortunebuoyed.

The music chasing after his fleeing feet paints Armand an altogether joyous thing. As he dances through the corridor, its high windows setting the streetlights to illuminate his hair like a blaze, the Vampire seems more a child than Daniel has ever seen him. Meandering after him, Daniel is led past a dozen eras, the Caliphate blurring into the Romanesque only a doorway apart, past a hallway offering glimpses of Velazquez and Goya standing at odds across from one another. This Spanish gallery offers a myriad of delights, if the pair have the time and inclination to discover them.

There are better museums in Spain, though. The terrible pair had not traveled so far just to settle on a speck of locked up art for its own sake. All that matters tonight is a single painting tucked away somewhere in a corner of the Renaissance exhibit. Peering again at the leader of their expedition, Daniel realizes too late that Armand has been talking, babbling about the piece they now seek. Words flicker through his pounding head, ‘furs’ and ‘silks’ and every decadent luxury that is a dozen lifetimes removed from Autumn 1982. Pulling his faded denim tighter around his frame, the mortal fishes in his pocket for the painkillers that will banish the previous night from the present..

The headaches come so often of late, spurred by a poor diet and endless adventures across his nights. In fact, the artisan of his migraines proceeds with an airy laugh through the empty gallery, offering a little spin of delight. These games always bring him joy. The sound of his laugh echoes inside Daniel’s beleaguered skull as he takes the pills dry. The things he does for love.

Armand vanishes through a doorway in a flash, before his name can properly form on the other’s lips. He calls it regardless, stopping adjacent to the path that had dragged the vampire away from him. “Armand--”

“I’ll catch up,” comes the reply. Violet eyes raise to study the placard beside him -- Romanticism. The soft lines and endless layers of the style seem ill-suited to the artist’s tastes, but Daniel proves grateful for the chance to let the pills percolate in his bloodstream anyway. Carelessly, he hounds the corridor for an out, ever obedient to the directions the sweet-faced woman at the desk offered him. Twenty minutes to closing, she advised, Castilian accent rounded out with matronly care. The words had chased him, Armand already tugging him along on their great quest.

As she had said, the Renaissance collection stood to the left of the endless stroll, nestled into the furthest corner of the first floor. He cannot fault the layout. The collection is worth the wait. His steps echo across the parquet flooring, shadow looming across the pale marble figure that stands guard over the paintings lining the wall. Harsh shadows and demure womanhood paint a fine enough contrast to soothe his aches. Snippets of frescos hang liberated above his head. He thinks, it is a pity Armand did not follow. Whether he feels at home or not doesn’t much matter. The exhibit is a feast for the senses, the kind that Armand’s breed so adores.

The boy ancient has a wall to himself, just as promised, his bare ass peeking out from between a silk-draped divan and the vibrant fur of some golden beast. The modern Narcissus stares spellbound into the mirror set before him, reflecting features that have remained unchanged in the long centuries since. Marius was -- is? -- a master of his craft, and the appearance is so accurate as to set the human desperate to touch the canvas, as if there will be flesh against his touch rather than pigment. 

He is in love with himself, Daniel decides, studying the awed expression that stares back from the mirror. Scoffing, he digs his fists into the pockets of his jeans, fleeing the rooms in totality. There is nothing left in the display to compare, and besides, their twenty minutes is almost up. If Armand is to discover this portrait of his unending youth, then he must be led swiftly to it. He is not, in fact, catching up. Abandoning the Renaissance without a glance towards the neighboring Gothic and Neoclassical rooms, Daniel tells himself that he must still be a little drunk, that the effigies seem too lifelike through the door out to the sculpture garden.

He has grown too accustomed to marble flesh and unsettling gazes. Yes, the statues appear alive to him now, but never in the way that Louis has described. His nails form perfect half-moons around his palms.

Armand’s stillness is so complete that, for the briefest moment, Daniel mistakes him for part of the collection. The redhead has not made it past the first room, stagnant in appraisal of a piece. It’s not like him. The terrible, unmoving moment seems wrong to tread upon, wronger still to permit. Rocking to and fro on his feet, the mortal casts a glance about the collection, looking at the pastel displays of nature and portraiture. Among this ephemeral flood, what can there be to possess his companion so? Slowly, cautiously, he approaches the other. How long has it been since I’ve hesitated with him?

Her dress is carmine, her hair a dark coil of curls braided around the crown of her head. The otherwise pleasant expression stares defiant out towards her audience, night-black eyes fierce despite the distance. Settling beside Armand, he recognizes the style immediately. The former stands there a long, long while, studying her features, his own brushwork. Daniel comes to settle beside him, feeling ceaselessly awkward for intruding. The apparent youth is no longer Narcissus staring into his own abyss. This face is a stranger.

Unnamed Mulatto, the little gold placard reads.

“Who was she?” Daniel whispers.

“They were the last human I fell in love with,” comes the confession, comes the breath catching in Daniel’s throat. He studies her, then the chain of gold around her neck, clutches the locket against his shirt.

“She’s beautiful,” he says, because what else is he meant to say? This dark woman, frightfully made, defiant even in facsimile, gives him little else to go on. There is something discordant in that face which makes him a liar, her soft smile at odds with her sharp stare.

“You should have seen them swordfight.”

“I didn’t think women could do that back then.”

And he's already thinking, what in me will you admire after I am gone? He studies those dark eyes, which seem so lifeless to him, a dark abyss in a sea of white, a grave come to swallow him. She is dead. He knows that as surely as his own name.

“They weren't a woman. But at the same time they were.”

Daniel doesn't understand it. He can't, in the parlance of the era, except that she -- they -- are singular in Armand's eyes. Or perhaps they make a matching set, he and this lost muse. Her warm oval face, offset by the chill of his realizations, seems unfathomably more abhorrent in the ensuing silence. Her mortality is his. It sours in his pit.

He doesn’t recognize Armand’s absence, his searching around for something sharp enough that he could rectify some flaw in the presentation. All Daniel registers is the horrific scraping as the vampire scratches their name into the placard: Claudia di Montoya. The spell breaks. Autumn 1982 rushes back into focus. Inhaling, Daniel discovers that the room is suddenly too hot for him. Sliding out of his jacket, he forces a new purpose into the air.

“Right. So. we have less than ten minutes, if that, before security picks us up, and I have to show you where I finally found your ass in this gallery--”

Bloodless fingers trace the new marks carved into gold, lingering over the syllables of Claudia, brown eyes boring into their own. The hand drops, and Armand drags himself up from the depths of memory. “Alright, Daniel. Lead the way.”

He knows that he must have done so, that they stand studying the canvas depicting a then human boy. He knows that Armand does not react with his commonplace amusement, his rundown of the events leading up to the pieces creation. This is not like Naples, or Prague, or Ontario, where they have found similar depictions of his life as a muse. The most the immortal offers is a slow smile, a hushed “There it is,” and Daniel understands very well what the difference is between Naples, Prague, Ontario, and Leon.

Why are they always named Claudia?

The question hounds him on their escape, down the city streets, into the bar where Daniel carves out a small meal of hot tapas. The two of them remain quiet among the ebb and flow of locals seeking a snack between dinner, and it’s so unlike Armand. It’s unlike Daniel, too, to go without his customary drink. Armand has dragged him around the world so he could be a part of it, but he sits consumed, contemplative. In this walled world of smoke and voices, a dozen languages flowing like wine, Daniel imagines the other a world way. In his own mind, the vampire must still be in another room, far from Venice, long before this bar. She dances up to him, crimson swirling around her ankles as the band plays a waltz through a gilded palace. She’s staring his keeper down like a shark, that awkward smile a threat, and like any proper storybook villainess, she devours her target whole. Skin, blood, curls, and lace, Armand is engulfed into her, a wooden puppet fed into flames. Daniel holds his glass all the tighter. 

That pensive mood fails to pass as they leave. There are no further stops along their walk to whatever passes for home, the rented room in a crumbling piece of ancient architecture. Daniel decides that he is tired of history, though he turns his question over until it is worn smooth.

It is the sole question he can tolerate. It is the only one without a clear or meaningful answer, and if he dares to branch out from it, he’ll be heading straight for bedlam. The overlap of names can mean nothing but coincidence. The golden chain, the choice of words, the melancholy that has settled inside of his jailer, these things carry far greater meaning. Thoughts, and his desperate attempts to block them, consume him so deeply that he hardly notices Armand slipping away when the moon is at his highest. In his absence, Daniel finds little to do but lean against the worn metal lining the balcony and smoke.

Armand returns, but not alone. Like an alchemist, he has gathered his tools, ready to perform some magic on the task he has chosen. He places the late beloved upon the desk with such care, the rags and chemicals he has brought along burning at mortal senses. His paints and brushes are at the ready, and Daniel feels fire build in his chest. Uncaring, the other begins his careful undertaking, hardly needing light to go about his restoration.

Daniel hates it, actually. Hates this memento mori lurking under this rented roof, hates that this is all he will be one day. In another hundred years, will Armand point at some ash-haired man in a gallery and say to someone else 'That was Daniel, I loved him very much, he was a fool, but he was beautiful when he was in his right mind' ? His latest cigarette burns too close to his fingers. He drops it, careless, to the streets below, staring at the tiny, irritated mark it has left behind. Nothing is said, but the night grows cold, and his tactical retreat is pyrrhic. There is warmth within, yes, but also the ghost Armand chooses to set between them.

Shutting the door to the world outside, the pair become locked into that harsh company, the spectral Claudia with her hands around her lover’s throat.

Slumping into what passes for his chair, the human passes the next hour in silence, so pointedly ignoring the work that it consumes his every thought. Dexterous digits dance along the desk, seeking oils, seeking brushes, seeking that which will return his dead beloved to him. Daniel’s own hands twitch uselessly against the arms of his seat. Here, he is powerless, less than a thought, less than a long-dead stranger. The silence is broken at last by the devil himself.

“They never believed me, about any of it. I told them everything, Vampires, my past, and Claude always thought I was lying through my teeth. Even faced with proof, they blamed my theatricality and my staff’s skill with stagecraft. It never broke them, the truth, not like others.” Fondness colors his voice in spite of it. For every way in which this person might spite him, his voice is heavy with reverence.

Daniel must ask, in that soft, hesitant voice, “Is that why you never turned them?”

“No.” Armand does not pause as he speaks, a slip of a brush still swirling against the canvas. “They had a life. They loved someone else, their princess, named Haydee. They had children eventually. They had a human life, and I wouldn't take them away from that.”

How gracious, then, for the bloodsucker to show restraint with those that desired it. He’d never done a damn thing for those that actually want anything from him, after all. “Good for them,” Daniel says, and he reaches for his cigarettes, lights one. Standing, he resigns himself to the curiosity that colors his distaste, clears the distance between them to study Armand's undertaking so far. There's so much yellow paint. and he thinks, I am here, and I love you, only you. What does a human life have to offer me? But he simply exhales, silent, as smoke hangs in the air between them.

If he loves himself in death as he did in humanity, then Daniel need only reflect the vampire as clearly and coolly as Marius’ mirror. If he loved another and let them go, then there are no assurances between them, no safety net to catch Daniel as he struggles towards death or immortality. The architect of his salvation could choose to damn him instead, wholly untouched by his plight. He imagines the pitiless creature before him pristine as the white button up clinging to his form, absent of any trace of paint. The palette of Daniel’s desire for him, for everything he is, might never reach him.

Armand must feel the emotions rolling off him, but he ignores it in favor of continuing to fix the painting. The restorers cannot have ruined the original too deeply for as quickly as he rights their wrongs. The whole of his focus narrows to knifepoint over the abyss that had so captured his companion, which remain defiant in the dim of their quarters. Daniel watches her stare blaze to life under Armand's steady hands, gilded and bright. People have always spoken of his own eyes, like violets. Is this what the other likes best, the fire in eyes that give the rest of the world pause?

Once the golden irises are right, the master artist goes to refining the rest. The changes are small, but somehow urgent. Armand moves furiously to make the portrait as it should be, as it was originally. The barest twitch of his fingers transforms the image into something greater. Red curls slip free of the scrunchie that bunches his hair to a low bun against his spine, turning the vampire to a mess as he keeps at his artistic endeavors. 

His lover might have kissed that pallid neck and drawn him from his efforts, were Daniel any more forgiving of this intruder and how Armand forces her into their life.

“She's not smiling anymore,” Daniel notes at last, when the change is finalized. Her face pulls into harmony as her mouth turns to a hard line. “Was that her mood then, or yours now?”

There’s age in the way he sighs, true age. For a moment, Daniel imagines himself catching a glimpse of what Armand should have been, had the chance to grow and dedicate himself to his first talents. Hunched over his workspace, world narrowing to his subject alone, the youth becomes a master. Daniel hates this, too, this thought that would mean his master’s death, nothing other than a historical footnote. He deserves more than that. He deserves more than this momentary obsession that tears at whatever trust the two have rebuilt in the months since Daniel’s return.

“They're not smiling because someone dared to touch their portrait that was not my hands. It's what they would want.”

Those hands dance smoothly across the stolen art, ensuring his vision return to the world. He must not want this ancient Lenore to return from her sepulchre to damn him for the mistakes of other artisans. Dead is dead, the mortal knows, and they are owed nothing. When had Armand last spared a thought for this loved and lost before the museum so rudely reminded him of her existence? She doesn’t belong here, this poorly lit room with yellowed wallpaper, because it is theirs, and she is worth far more than the entire building.

“Mm,” Daniel hums, and doesn't have much else to say. In spite of his mood, there is something riveting in this, actually, watching the master at work. He had been born far too late for the Palazzo, for the golden days when the boy in front of him assisted in his Master’s artistic pursuits. He’s only ever been left with the aftermath of that golden age, the pieces scattered across museum displays and private collections the world over. This should be a great gift, watching his lover keep at his ancient craft. But he's still so bitter about the shape his night has taken.

“What pendant is she wearing?” he asks, once he is properly braced for the possibility that the locket around his neck belongs to a cycle. He had once thought it was his own, a gift passed between lovers that said whatever else his keeper was, he was protective of what counted as his.

The other offers a comfortingly familiar shrug that sets his shoulders colliding with his ears, saying simply, “Some pendant. I don’t know. Perhaps a piece Haydee gave them.”

Daniel relaxes. Comforted, he steps away from their shared obsession, slumps into his chair, snuffs out his cigarette on its upholstered arm and flicks it towards a pile of books. Dragging a hand through his hair, he concedes there exist small mercies in Armand's presence.

He does not know what time passes in the euphoria of that small victory. He keeps time in the fact that it has been long enough for him to get lost in his thoughts, for the night to grow ever smaller. Whether it is minutes or hours later, Armand finishes his first phase of restoration and throws himself into Daniel’s orbit. The former’s body fits perfectly against his, straddling him, pushing him backwards with insistent hands as kisses the warmth from Daniel’s lips. 

“You and Claude are not the same. For one, you love me back. For two, they are long dead. I loved them once, but that love is in the past. I only wish to honor them now by making sure their portrait is in hands that will care for it properly. I'll send it off to the Montoya estate in Sardinia once it's finished being restored.”

The mortal lays there, dispassionate, as he listens to these assertions. and what can he possibly say to that? God, his lover thinks he's jealous. If he compares himself to this fallen woman, it isn't in self-pity -- it is to outdo her, to look at where she failed and he might yet succeed. But he allows Armand to kiss him, kiss his lips cold as marble, and says nothing of how he refuses to be another portrait to be repaired. His mind is made. All that’s left is to make a plan of it.

Armand keeps up the kissing, down to his neck, to play at biting only to merely drag his teeth along pale skin. His hand reaching down to rub Daniel through his pants, falling into a pattern so familiar that it would be boring were it any less fulfilling. He recognizes what Armand thinks, mind gift or no. Perhaps sex will get his mind off of all this.

He lets Armand believe that it will. Lets himself give in, already deciding to make his stand, yet another escape. Tomorrow, perhaps, when the sun is up. Perhaps taking the unfortunate girl with him. It will be cruel, beyond any attempt he’s made in the past, to deprive the vampire of his companionship and a newfound project. It must be done, however, to speak what cannot be conveyed properly in words. There will be a statement in this even if he does fall again, consumed by the need for Armand, for his slender arms and white-hot blood. 

He won't be content to be art.

[chuplayswithfire]

positivity to end the night with:

that one taika quote suggests that the moon may not have been full in episode five, that it may have begun to wax, now that that the full moon they had been just the slightest bit too early for in episode four has passed. it may be full, in the filming, it may be so large and perfect and cast such brilliant shadow, not because it was genuinely the full moon, but because in ed and stede's hearts, it was a night as brilliant and spellbound as one unfolding beneath the full moon's glow. the shiny in ed's hair, the sparkle in stede's eyes, the way soft moonlight shimmered on red silk - it just may be that the moon was never full. but in the infatuated, adoring, lovestruck eyes of two men, falling in love for the first time -

of course the moon was full. of course the sea was calm, stretched endlessly around them to reflect that brilliant moon. of course there was not a cloud in the sky.

they were alone together on deck, silk folded and shaped from stede's hands tucked into ed's breast pocket, ed's eyes wide and soft and vulnerable as they stared deep into stede's eyes, the faintest rock and shift as ed leaned in and the tension built -

of course the moon was full.

what love story unfolds without a moonlit night?

[imagine--if]

yandere riddler watching his innocent s/o while she sleeps and wakes her up accidentally by being obsessive and affectionate? like, it creeps her out a bit but she gives in to his love anyways <3 thanks a mill!

A/N: Seriously, soft yandere Eddie is so fun to write about 😍 thanks for the request!!

Pairing: Dano!Riddler x reader (The Batman 2022)

Warnings: Obsessive loving and kinda creepy stalker behaviour 💚

Words: 955

The calmness of the night fills the room and your head as you sleep lightly, curtains ruffling slightly in the evening breeze, the window left open a crack. 'You're so peaceful, so beautiful like this,' Edward thinks with a fond smile and eyes a fraction wider than usual, as he gingerly steps into your bedroom and looks at your curled figure. The locks on the doors of these apartments aren't hard to pick, and some nights you even forget to lock them. 'Sweet girl. So innocent. So in need of me.'

You still don't notice Edward Nashton's presence as he creeps closer to your bed, his hands trembling a little with anticipation and wonder. He crouches at the side you sleep on, only a foot away from your face, and he dares to reach out and tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear and out of your face. 'God... why do you have to be so perfect?'

Edward thinks of you waking up tiredly, seeing his face and smiling instinctively, mumbling his name and reaching out for him lazily, pulling him in with you. Then you'd fall back asleep again, safely in his arms, knowing that it's the best place you can be, the only place you should be.

It's then that the thought of it makes him whine out loud, needily staring at you with round eyes behind his glasses, and the sound makes you wake up for real. Still, it doesn't deter him in the slightest, not even when you jump and make a surprised noise as you spot Edward just centimetres away from you. If anything, it makes him smile and chuckle, now able to fondle and caress you however he likes since you're awake.

"E- Edward?" you question in a groggy daze, blinking a few times to focus in the darkness of the night. "Is that you? What are you doing here? How did you get in?"

Ah, right. Well, he does understand your initial confusion, since you've probably only seen him as your neighbour before, a very doting one, who gives frequent, odd compliments and stares and smiles wistfully at you for too long when you catch his eye. Edward's gotten used to the habit of adoring you by all of those Polaroids he's taken of you from hidden spaces, but why do that when you're only a few doors away? What better time to get closer than now? After all, this isn't the first time he's been in your house without a key.

"You need to be more careful when remembering to lock your door, angel," he tells you with a small giggle, a thumb stroking your cheek softly as you gaze at him wearily. "Don't want to let any rats in, do you, hmm?"

"Rats?" you repeat under your breath, shaking your head slowly. "Eddie... how long have you been here for? Wh- what do you want?"

"Not long," he responds, eyes lighting up at the nickname as his fingers leave your cheek to run through the ends of your hair. "You just look so angelic, darling. I don't understand how someone as perfect as you can exist in this cesspool of a city. You're a little wonder, love," he coos, as if you're a baby, "and I can't stay away from you. Not now, not ever."

"I..." you try to comprehend his words, but end up rolling onto your back, looking up at the ceiling. "Okay. Thanks, Ed, but I just need to go to sleep, and I think you need to leave."

Edward giggles again, shaking his head, and you watch spellbound as he actually crawls onto the mattress, straddling you for a moment with a grin before slumping down at your side.

"Don't be silly, sweetheart. I'll stay here until you fall asleep again. That'll help, won't it?"

You blink at him, taken aback, but nod slowly, knowing better than to disagree. "Alright. Just... please don't try anything, you know, weird."

"Of course not," Edward replies, seemingly earnest. "I'd never disrespect you like that, angel. You just go back to sleep, okay? I'll be here."

You shift uncomfortably under his gaze. "I don't know. It's not really that easy when-"

"I know!" Ed speaks up giddily with an idea, and then he's suddenly draping a leg over you, cuddling into your side and pulling you into him. You let it happen, wide-eyed in shock by how casually he presses a kiss to your forehead before resting his head against yours and sighing contentedly. "Is that better, my wonder?"

You have to admit, it does kind of feel nice, the warmth of his snug embrace as he lays beside you, as if you've been together forever. And maybe you have, in Edward's mind. All you're left to do now is sleep, somehow, and convince yourself that you won't be hurt or in another place when you wake up. It's hard to imagine that happening with Edward anyway, just by the way he looks at you, and so you roll your eyes at yourself before nodding.

"Um... yes. Thank you."

"My absolute pleasure, darling," he says with a wide smile, rubbing a hand gently up and down your arm. "Sleep well."

You do, drifting back to sleep within a few minutes. And by the time you wake up, there's an absence of heat and the feeling of Eddie's arms holding you protectively as the morning sun streaks through the curtains. But it certainly wasn't a dream, because there on your bedside table, a note is left, a large heart drawn softly in green pencil in the background.

It is mine, but you can only keep it. What is it?  Stay safe today, my wonder ♡

Taglist:

@katjourno @yoyoanaria @yaeyuuki @vinxlsketches @beenz-beenz @ghoulsgraveyard @birds-have-teeth @repostingmyfavs @r3ptiliaaa @for3v3rda1sy @glitterycheesecakegladiator @moonwritesblog @lilyevans1 @httpsunflowers @hxney-lemcn @confusedchildsstuff @phantomofthecathedral @sugahbabieexo @bokksieu @skateb0red @wilburrrsworld @philiasoul @darthcringe @felicityofbakerstreet @bloodypantomime @deadlights-darling @tianotfound @mortem-muse @ireadandream @tinyryder @kpopgirlbtssvt @truecobblepot @jessicainhell

[ficsforeren]

The Last Song - Chapter 13

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader feat. Armin Arlert

Genre: Rockstar AU, Friends with Benefits, Angst, Smut, Fluff, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn

Series Summary: Eren Jaeger has two personas, a charismatic lead vocal who has lost himself in fame, and a boy who struggles with depression, seeking for someone to bring him back to where he was twelve years ago. Where he only knew love in the form of your name.

Chapter Summary: Professing your love to one another is the easy part. The hardest one has yet to come. Are you ready to be in a relationship with him? Should you even be in a relationship with him? Are you ready to risk your friendship for it? You need to be able to answer these questions before you take a step further.

Content Warnings: explicit sex (cunnilingus, blow job, fingering, hand job, car sex, dry humping, drunk sex, public sex, unprotected sex, one night stand, choking, treating women like objects, dub-con, corruption, face-sitting, sex toys, daddy kink, praise kink, slight degradation, etc), substance abuse (use of drugs, alcohol, tobacco), severe abandonment issues, childhood trauma, anxiety attacks, depression, adultery, physical abuse towards men and women, family issues, abusive parents, crude words, dark humor, mention of sexual assault/rape, harassment, car accident and child abuse.

Poster art by the most talented @rainbuniart (follow her on Twitter)

Eren calls out your name.

His velvety voice feels like a hand clasping against your own, drawing you close to the surface until you fully emerge from what felt like the longest yet sweetest dream you’ve ever felt in years. You blink your eyes awake, slowly drifting back into reality, and the first thing you’re aware of is the softness of his lips as they draw designs on the bare skin between your shoulder blades.

“Sweetheart, wake up…” He showers you with delicate kisses that speak nothing but the affection and the adoration he holds for you. His fingers gently push your hair to the side so he can trail his lips from your nape down to the shape of your spine. You’re lying down with your stomach pressing against the sheets, your face sinking in the comfort of your pillow. “Baby…”

You slowly turn around to face him, eyes blinking unhurriedly as you’re spellbound by how handsome he is with his hair down, silky strands cascading beautifully to his shoulders. His viridian irises are a shade brighter underneath the morning sun, like every green hue of the forest in summertime. How is he real? You ponder, as he looks almost ethereal.

“Hey…” He casts a smile, so fragile, it looks like it’s made from glass on the verge of breaking.

“Hey…” You mirror him the same way, albeit still hazy from sleep.

His eyes begin to droop, one hand reaching out to frame your face, his thumb sketching comforting circles along your cheekbones. So beautiful, he wonders, his gaze softening as he tucks some loose strands behind your ear. “Did you get a good sleep?”

You hum, nodding weakly as you turn a bit sheepish from how tender he’s staring at you. “Why are you already dressed up? It’s still early.”

“I’ve got a signing event in a few hours so I gotta go.” He ends his sentence with a light touch of his lips against your temple. “Sorry for waking you up. I wanted to let you rest longer but I couldn’t just… I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”

His lines cause something delightful to swirl inside your stomach. You promptly rub your eyes away from sleep, sitting up on the bed. “Must you go?” You question him with a little pout, bottom lip jutting out cutely. “It’s Sunday. Can’t we just lie around in bed all day?”

“Don’t do that,” Eren pleads with a yearning sigh. “You know how much it kills me to resist you when you’re being cute like this.”

“Sorry,” you titter. “I’m kidding, I’ll be fine. Good luck with the event. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“Thanks.” The boy, who’s taking a seat at the edge of the bed, frames your chin. “You’ve got a little bit of drool here,” he chuckles, rubbing the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“Oh—umm—you shouldn’t look at me.” You attempt to swat his hand away from your face in shame but Eren catches it instead, leaning in to let his lips linger on your knuckles. He peppers soft kisses as if he had all the time in the world to spoil you. You peek through the curtain of your bangs, meeting his gaze when he pulls away, both touched and mortified at the sudden tenderness.

He’s being much sweeter than usual, but there’s something heartbreaking in the way he sees you. Even if his mouth is shaping a grin, there’s still a spark of sadness in his eyes and you wonder what causes it. Have you said something wrong? Something out of line? Did something happen last night—

I love you.

Your eyes widen at the memory of the lines you exchanged with him just a few hours ago. The words he said, the way he said them, those saccharine kisses you shared, and the way he kept your hand intertwined with his like he couldn’t bear the thought of letting it go—everything came back in a flash. ‘I’ve never loved anyone else as much as I love you,’ he told you, ‘I’ll never be able to love anyone else the way I love you.’

Your cheeks heat up instantly, your hands threatening to jump up and conceal your face behind them. Oh my God… Panic floods your chest at once, causing your heart to pound excruciatingly fast inside your chest. You recall the way you replied to him in the same way, baring everything you felt in your heart out in the open. This is it. There’s no going back. You’ve both finally taken a step further in your relationship and some consequences need to be taken.

What has our friendship turned into?

Eren scrutinizes you with his eyebrows raised in question but it doesn’t take long for him to notice the way you turn pale, your hands gripping so tightly against your duvet for comfort until every bit of your nails turn white. He knows that you must have remembered what happened last night. He can see how you’re trying to hide your anxiety, and although it kills him, he decides to play his role. He’s not perfect, but Eren is always a much better actor than you are.

“You don’t have to act on it,” he says, snapping you out of your stupor.

“H-huh?”

“Those words you replied to me last night. We can pretend that never happened.”

His eyes no longer peer into yours as he turns around to face the other side of the room. He laces his fingers together, resting his hands on his lap, his head hanging low.

Your grip around the fabric tightens, as well as the invisible knot inside your chest. “You…” Your throat feels like it’s made of broken glass, scraping against your skin every time you speak. “You want to pretend we didn’t just say I love you to each other?”

His jaw clenches, his shoulders sagging forward as he fiddles with his fingers. “I don’t,” he says, so quietly, it almost sounds like a distant echo. “But if that’s what you want, then—“

“I don’t.” Your response startles him, and Eren promptly spins his head toward you, eyes largening in surprise. “I’m sick of pretending, Eren. Last night, we were brave enough to tell each other how we truly felt. I’m not gonna go back when we’ve finally reached this point. I won’t let you.”

The throb inside his chest is intense enough to cloud his mind, and he turns speechless, unsure if he’s hearing this right.

“Did you mean it?” You query, causing him to stiffen. “Eren, when you told me you loved me, did you mean it? Or was it just a spur at the moment?” He can hear the quiver in your voice, can tell the way you’re still panicking inside and how you’re trying your best to prioritize his feelings over yours. “Be honest with me,” you add in a whisper. “Please…”

His eyes turn hooded, his fingers clasping against one another a little too tightly. The only time he’s ever this restless was on the morning after you two shared your first kiss in the car—one that you did because of the alcohol that took over your system. Even when he had heard you responding to his feelings the same way last night, Eren is still doubtful of how you truly feel. For him—for someone who has been lied to countless times by the person he loved the most— the words I love you that came out of your mouth sounds too good to be true. Like a dream. A mere fantasy.

Nevertheless, he speaks the truth. “I meant it.”

You hold your breath, your heart hammering against your ribcages. “You’re in love with me?”

“Yes.”

Last night, you were too shrouded by emotions to think but now… Now you can ruminate more with your head instead of your heart, and even though joy still runs thickly through your every vein just as much as last night when you first heard the words, uncertainty also follows right behind it. What comes after this? you wonder as you feel like the floor begins to crumble underneath your feet. Now that we know each other’s feelings, what’s next?

No, before that, there’s something you need to know. “Eren.”

“Hmm?”

“How long have you been in love with me?”

Twelve years. “Does it matter?” He utters instead, smiling timidly.

“It does,” you stoutly say, though there’s a hint of a quiver in your voice. You’re in frenzy, afraid of finding out the truth. If he’s only been in love with you recently, you can probably breathe easy. But if he’s been in love with you for years—before this friends-with-benefits relationship even started—then…

I will never be able to forgive myself.

How could you ask someone, who’s so deeply in love with you, to engage in a relationship that only revolves around physical touches and nothing more? Just how much have you hurt him in these last few months by saying that you didn’t want to fall in love with him when he already fell too deep for you? All those rules you made to keep your relationship strictly physical; just how many times have you torn his heart open with them?

You’re so overwhelmed by panic and fear, that your eyes are already glazed with unshed tears. You nip at your lower lip, forcing yourself to stay calm. Please…. You beg. Please tell me you’ve only fallen for me recently. I can’t stand the thought of hurting you any further than this.

Eren doesn’t have to be a psychic to be able to read your mind. To him, you’ve always been so transparent. So when you vocalize his name again with your voice breaking on the edge, he draws you into his arms, cradling your head against his chest as he lays his chin on top of your hair.

“I can’t remember exactly when I started to have feelings for you,” he answers, his voice soothing as he lies through every word. “But it’s all I’ve been thinking about these last few days and—” There’s a crack in his voice that he tries to solve by clearing his throat. “I didn’t mean to blurt it out to you like that but I guess I was just too caught up in the moment.”

You want to pull away so you can read his face but he lays a hand on the back of your skull, keeping you still in his embrace. There’s a fat chance he won’t admit it, but you keep asking the question. “You’re not lying to me… Are you..?”

His heart skips a beat. “When did I ever?”

And it breaks him because all he’s been doing is lie by hiding his feelings from you, or the fact that he’s been in love with you for years. He’s too big of a coward to confront you about it, afraid that you might agree to be in a relationship with him just because you want to respect his feelings. Just because you don’t want to lose him. He doesn't want that. He wants to hear you say you love him because you are in love with him. He doesn’t need your pity. He needs your honesty.

“But we don’t have to do anything about it,” he repeats, his lips are grazing against your strands as he quietly speaks. “I just told you how I felt about you, that’s all. Nothing’s changed. It’s…” He breathes out heavily. “Maybe you didn’t mean it in the same way as I did but when you told me you loved me too… It already made me feel so happy and that’s enough.” He embraces you tighter, his fingers slipping between your locks. “You don’t have to do anything else. That’s more than enough for me.”

Then, Eren… Why do you sound like you’re about to cry?

“I meant it,” you say and he goes rigid in your arms. This time, he allows you to break away, wanting to see the look in your eyes as you elaborate further. “When I told you I loved you, I meant my words. I love you, Eren,” you confirm it once more, cupping his cheek with one hand. “I really do. So much that it scares me.”

Blush blooms on his cheeks, brighter than it has ever been. He rubs his nape—a habit that occurs whenever he’s abashed—as he tries to figure out words to say, but what else is there to speak of? You’ve already said everything that needed to be said, even the ones that he couldn’t yet convey.

“I feel the same way too,” he covers your knuckles with his palms, keeping your hand pressed against his face. His breathing rags. “I love you so much, it scares me.” You share smiles and soft chuckles for a moment before Eren turns jittery once more. “Do you… love me as a friend?”

“As a friend, a brother, a lover—I love you as everything at once. I care about you more than anyone else. I want you more than anyone else. When I said you were the only one for me, I didn’t mean just now. You’ve always been the only one, and you’ll always be.” You retract your hand from his face, taking his between yours and holding it tightly. You don’t know what’s gotten into you—all this bravery to speak everything you’ve been keeping to yourself. Maybe it’s because he seems like he’s still afraid of putting his faith in your words that you’re trying your best to convince him of the truth. “I’m in love with you just as much as you love me, Eren—probably even more. So please don’t look like I’m breaking your heart to pieces because the feelings are mutual.”

“I don’t—” His flush spreads down to his neck, painting both tips of his ears crimson. “You’re saying so many things right now, I’m—I don’t know how to respond—”

It’s adorable the way he loses his composure, completely baffled by how blunt you’re being but no amusement creeps to your face. You’re too heavily focused on getting him to understand your point. “You don’t have to respond,” you tell him. “Just say that you believe me.”

Eren’s eyes move back and forth as they search yours. “I… believe you.”

“Good, because I truly meant what I said.”

“Every… word?”

“Every word.” With a smile, you circle your arms around his neck, pulling him close until what separates your body from his is the thin layer of his shirt and nothing more.

He melts in your arms, letting out a breathy sigh out of content. “I’m so glad…” Eren whispers as he embraces you tighter, his lips brushing against your bare shoulder. “I’m so glad you feel the same way…”

You can sense just how much relief washed over him through his words and you realize that oh, so this is how it feels like to be in love. You feel more than just joy. You feel grateful. You feel lucky. You feel… truly alive. You didn’t realize that there was a part of you missing, that there were words itching to be said, and now that you’ve crossed the line, now that you’ve spoken everything you wanted to say, everything feels complete. You feel complete, and so does he.

Is it okay for me to be this happy? You can’t help but wonder. To be this loved by someone as perfect and beautiful as him? It just feels so surreal, like a dream that you’re afraid will end the moment you wake up. And the reality is that, even when you both love each other, there are still risks lying on your path.

“Eren,” you pull away slightly. “Do you… remember what I told you that night?” One look at your face and he knows what you’re referring to but he gives you a moment to speak. “Admitting that I’m in love with you doesn’t mean I’m no longer scared of having a relationship with you. I’m still afraid. With anyone else, I won’t think too much about it because if things don’t work out, I can move on with my life and say goodbye to them forever. But I can’t do that with you—I won’t do that with you. I’m not gonna take that risk. If there’s even the slightest chance of me losing you, I’d rather—”

Eren bends his head down to meet your lips, his hand grabbing a handful of your hair to hold you in place. The kiss only lasts for three seconds before he breaks away, scrunching his nose when he says, “Okay, first, we’ve got to do something about your morning breath.”

“Wha—” Your face glows instantly and you launch a light punch toward his chest.

Eren laughs as he catches it with one hand. “Second,” he continues, washing your pout away by landing a cute peck on your nose. “You need to calm down. I didn’t ask you to date me, did I?”

“Yeah, but…” You shift away. “You told me you loved me.”

“So?”

“So…” You were jumping to conclusions, you just realize that. You got way ahead of yourself. Flustered, you weakly mumble, “I just thought you also wanted us to become official. Like, putting a label on it.”

“I do want to put a label on it and I’m sure you do too, eventually.” He lands a hand on the top of your head as a way to comfort you. “But we don’t have to rush. I think we both need time to process this.”

You feebly nod, looking up at him through your fringe. “But are you… all right with that?”

“Of course I’m all right with that.” He ruffles your hair, grinning. “Actually, it puts me at ease. This way, I can finally stop telling myself ‘no, I’m not forcing her to do anything she doesn’t want to.’ You’ll come to me when you’re ready, and whether you want to be with me or not, it will be your own decision to make.” He bends his head down, meeting you eyes-to-eyes. “And when you agree to be in a relationship with me, which I’m sure you will,” his lips curve up into a smirk, slowly regaining his confidence little by little. “I’m gonna love you so hard, you’re going to regret not agreeing to it sooner.”

You gulp, cheeks blazing hot as you look away. “W-well, until then, we, uh… We’re okay, I guess?”

Eren chuckles, gathering you in his arms again. It’s more playful the way he hugs you this time, like how a sibling would hug another, squeezing your body until you’re having trouble breathing. “We’re more than okay,” he snickers. “We’re in love.”

“Oh my God, stop it.” But you squeeze him back, loving his warmth, loving his deep laughter that rumbles through the air, loving him.

When a moment has passed and the sound of the ticking clock on your wall reaches his ears, Eren says, “As much as I love staying with you like this, I really do have to go.”

“Oh, shit, yeah.” You yank yourself away. “Can you give me five minutes to wash my face? I want to walk you out.”

“Sure.”

You hurriedly step down from your bed, only to notice that you’re still in nothing but your birthday suit. “Can you, uh, turn around?” You ask him as you gather your blanket to cover your front.

“No.” He smirks. When he sees you glaring at him, he adds, “Look, I’m gonna be gone for a while and I won’t be able to see you naked until then. I’m trying to make every second worthwhile while it lasts.”

“You’re so annoying.” But you sigh in defeat and climb down from the bed, making your way to the bathroom without sparing him a single glance, knowing that you’ll explode from shame if you do.

Eren observes your nude body from behind. “Slap your ass for me, baby.”

“Gross!”

***

“So, I haven’t told you this but CBN’s Music Awards is happening in a week,” Eren reveals as you walk him out to the front door. “It’s a three days show. I think you can watch it live on TV. We got nominated for two different categories.”

“What—CBN?!” You gape, jaw dropping in shock. “That’s amazing! Congratulations!” You stand on your tiptoes to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “I’m sorry, I haven’t been keeping up with stuff other than my job, but oh my God, I’m so proud of you! You’ve gone so far, Eren.”

In his eyes, you’re like a little puppy that wags her tail excitedly at the thought of seeing her owner being clouded with joy. “Thanks,” he says, stepping out of the doorframe and turning around to face you. “The thing is, I need to prepare a lot of things for the show. We’re one of their opening acts so we’ll be performing on day one. There’s gonna be a special performance where we’ll be covering another artist’s song.”

“Oh? Have you made your choice?”

“Well, it’s not final yet, but I’m planning to go with one of Harry Styles’ songs.”

“Harry Styles?” You frown. “Really? Never pegged you as a 1D fan.”

“Hey, he’s actually a pretty brilliant songwriter. Plus, we’re doing it as, like, a tribute for last year’s winners so we don’t have many options to choose.”

“Whatever you say, bestie.” Your cheeky grin is shortly replaced by a whine when he pinches your nose. “I don’t think his songs would suit your style, though?”

“I’ll make it work.” There’s confidence in his voice, lips curving into a cocky smirk. “Anyway, just letting you know beforehand that I’ll be busy for a while. There will be a lot of photoshoots, interviews—” He interrupts himself with a groan, “—and everything else that’s equally boring.”

“Keep your spirits up. It’s gonna give Empire more exposure.”

“I don’t care. All I wanted was just to make music.”

You chuckle at his grumble. “You can do that and do your interviews.” You playfully pat his cheek, making fun of his pout. “Cheer up, Rennie.”

The nickname only makes him act even more childish than before. “But we won’t be able to spend much time together,” he mumbles, his bottom lip protruding.

“It’s okay.” You assure him with a smile even when you can already imagine how lonely it would feel being alone in your apartment. “I understand that it’s your job and that you need to focus on it. I’ll still be here. I’ll wait for you every day.”

His hand finds your face, thumb brushing against your lower lip as he promises, “I’ll make sure to come home to you no matter how late it is. Even if it’s five in the morning and I have to get back to the studio at eight for another practice, I will come home to you.”

Your skin tingles, heart palpitating. “If you’re too tired, you can just crash someplace near the studio—”

He cuts you off with a kiss. “I want to.” He lets his face hover near, shyly staring at you in the eyes. “Is that… okay?”

You lean into his hand, cupping his knuckles with your palm. “Of course. I’ll be waiting for you at home like always.”

Eren lets out the softest of giggles but you can feel the elation that washes over him. “Is it also okay for me to say, honey, I’m home when I—”

“Oh, shut up.” You step forward and claim his lips in another kiss. You are laughing against each other’s mouth before Eren seizes your jaw and angles his head to the side. He presses your lips together like how people share kisses at airports, full of love and desperate longing. It reminds you of the day when you exchanged goodbye kisses before his trip, only now, it’s ten times harder to let him go. These kisses are no longer driven by lust, only affection. And the moment you hear him whisper, “I love you,” between his soft, languid kisses, and the passion that melts his lips together with yours, you know that waiting for him to come home would be torture. Being separated from him for even an hour would already feel that way.

Your heart beats so thunderously, you’re afraid you’re going to faint. His three words send goosebumps breaking all over your skin, and when you sigh into the kiss, Eren imprisons your face with both hands, kissing you deeper.

“I’m gonna be back soon, okay?” he says as he presses your foreheads together and you nod. He kisses you again once before he parts ways. You bid him goodbye with a smile and your lips tingled from his warmer ones; your hand having the hardest time disentangling itself away from his. Eren has only taken a few steps away before he turns on his heels and runs back to you. He scoops you into his arms for one more kiss, filled with muffled giggles and juvenile grins before he lets you land back on your feet. “Go,” you say, playfully shooing him away.

“Oh, before that,” he says. “Harry Styles’ Adore You. Play it, listen to the lyrics, and think about me.” He winks, a bit naughtily. “Like how I’ll be thinking of you when I perform it on the stage.” Ignoring your blazing cheeks, Eren ruffles your hair, pecks your head once, and walks away with spring on his steps. Not a few seconds later, he disappears from your sight but not from your mind.

Come home to me soon, Eren.

***

As he waits for the elevator to arrive on your floor, Eren retrieves the ring he placed on your finger last night. Holding it between his thumb and index finger, he stares at it fondly, his imagination running wild. The three words you said to him—the words he’d been dying to hear—reverberate once more through his ears and he can no longer keep his smile from breaking widely on his lips. One day, he promises with nothing but joy erupting in his chest, I’ll ask her to marry me one day.

If he could do it today, he would’ve done it but his mind doesn’t allow him to just yet. He’s getting ahead of himself, he knows. But even if it seems too far-fetched, confidence is building within him. It no longer feels like a dream that would never see the light of day. It feels like something he can turn into reality. Something that you can turn into reality.

“Ah, fuck,” Eren throws his head back, his smile never leaving his face. “I wanna marry her already!”

I want to make her mine.

Forever.

***

Eren has been coming home very late or returning to the studio very early in the morning in the last five days, there’s no in-between. Even so, he stayed true to his words. No matter how little time he had, or how exhausted he was, he would always come home to you. Though he was too drained to hold up a conversation, he would never forget to surround your body with his warmth as he laid next to you in bed, limbs tangled underneath the sheets until you could no longer differentiate which ones belonged to you. He’d have his lips brushing against your nape, his chest completing the dip of your spine as he murmured a soft, “I love you,” a moment before he waned to his dreamland. For him, it was enough. Even just a glimpse of your face was enough to keep him energized through the day.

Eren isn’t a morning person. In the past, whenever he had no schedule for the day, he would wake up around two in the afternoon, or maybe ten if he was in a mood for brunch. He rarely had breakfast on his own, but knowing how you always had to go to work at eight in the morning, he would make sure to wake up around the time you were having your breakfast. He would take a seat on your opposite at the dining table, pouring cereal into his bowl with his eyes barely opened. He’d spend the next ten minutes, at the very least, just staring vacantly at his bowl.

“You really don’t have to wake up early to have breakfast with me, you know,” you would always tell him, eyebrows adjoined together in concern of having him fall face-first on the table.

Eren would then take a spoonful of his cereal, jam it into his mouth and reply with his mouth full and his eyes bleary from sleep. “It’s okay. I want to.” It was very sweet and endearing of him so you let him be, mumbling out your gratitude which would paint a drowsy smile on his lips. One time, he even tried to make you a cup of coffee, pouring a huge amount of salt into your drink as he mistook it as your creamer. You never allowed him to step close to the kitchen counter ever again.

In these last five days, however, the roles are reversed. Eren wakes up at six in the morning since he has to be back at the studio for an early meeting at seven. You try your best to do the same, making sure that he gets to have his breakfast and morning coffee before he starts the day.

“You’re really acting like a wife,” he coos, sitting on the counter with his legs dangling a few inches in the air. He’s been watching you cook in the last fifteen minutes while he sips his coffee, loving the way you wear your apron around your waist with your hair messily tied up in a bun. “Look like one too.”

“Be quiet, you’re distracting me.”

“Distracting you?” He settles his cup aside, jumping back to his feet. “Believe me, darling,” he moves closer, gliding one hand down from your waist to your thigh. “I haven’t even tried.”

You playfully slap his hand away. “Keep doing that and I’ll let your eggs burnt.”

Giggling like a child, he embraces you from behind, landing his chin on your shoulder. “Smells good, Wifey.”

“You are so embarrassing,” you mutter in response and yet, there you are, trying extremely hard not to ruin your poached eggs as you turn bashful.

You sit at his opposite at the dining table like always, exchanging conversations with smiles staying permanently on your faces. Eren sometimes has his leg stretched out, playfully nudging you with his foot to get your attention. When you raise a questioning brow, asking him with your mouth full, “What?” He simply replies, “Nothing. You just look cute today.”

“Finish your breakfast. You’re running late.”

“Hey, how about you cook for me again tomorrow, wearing only your apron?”

“Eat, Jaeger. Or I swear to God, I’ll shove it down your throat.”

“Boo, meanie.” He’s acting younger than his age with his pout and his mischievous grin, and you didn’t think it would suit him, but it does.

***

You’re about to hit the bed in your sleepwear when you heard your front door being dragged open. Eren walks in with his bag slinging on one shoulder, uttering, “Honey, I’m home,” as he steps further inside your apartment. You roll your eyes but your heart thumps faster.

“Stop saying that.” You welcome him with a kiss as always, with Eren tapping his lips once more with a boyish grin, asking you for another.

“Can’t. It’s already a habit,” he snickers, dodging your little punches.

“I didn’t know you were going to come home early today.”

“Yeah. Levi’s giving us some time to rest before the event tomorrow,” he says as he lets his leather jacket slides off his shoulders, leaving him only in his fitted black shirt and jeans. You make him a cup of coffee as you both stand in the kitchen, making small conversations about his day. Eren always enjoys telling you what he did in the studio as he can see the curiosity in your eyes. He can tell how you’re genuinely interested in what he’s doing for a living and it makes him adore you even more.

A moment later, Eren strolls away to the living room with his mug in one hand. He takes a seat on the couch, tilting his head cutely to the side as he pats his thigh. “Come here, babe,” he says.

Your couch is big enough to fit four people sitting in a row but whenever you took a seat beside him, he would always pull you to his lap. Today, however, he just straight out asks you to do it. Knowing how persistent and stubborn he can be, you sigh in defeat and take a few steps forward with a cup of hot chocolate between your hands. You try to take the empty spot beside him but he quickly wraps both arms around your waist, pulling you down until you’re perched on his thighs.

“What about you?” he asks, nuzzling his nose against your strands once before he lays his chin on top of your head. “What have you been doing when I wasn’t around?”

By this point, you can manage to stay unfazed even when you’re being this close to him. You take a sip of your drink, licking the chocolate off your lower lip as you lie your head on his shoulder. “Nothing much. Went to work, did my articles. Did some laundry too when I got home.”

“Hmm, very productive.” He chuckles softly, taking your glass with one hand when you offer it to him for a taste. He raises it to his lips, blowing air to reduce the heat. “Did you think about me?”

“I did when I masturbated earlier.”

He chokes on his drink, holding his mug mid-air as he coughs a few times. “Wha—you—” His eyes turn watery, cheeks glowing red. “You jerked off?! Without me?!”

“No,” you snicker, taking the glass away from him and setting it down on the table, next to his own mug. “But I’d lie about it again to pull that reaction out of you.”

“You are so annoying.” Eren punishes you with a kiss, his fingers slipping between your strands, tugging firmly at the locks. The kiss doesn’t turn too deep or too long, and he playfully bites your shoulder before he returns to his earlier position. “Now that I think about it, we haven’t had sex in like forever.”

“It’s literally only been five days, Jaeger.”

“That feels more than a year to me.” When you turn around to give him a look, he just shrugs. “What, I’m a man, okay? Men have needs.”

“Yeah. That’s why you sleep with your fans all the time during tours.”

It was a joke. It was supposed to be a joke. You didn’t mean to sound so jealous, but that’s exactly how you seemed in his ear the second your words leave your mouth. Even when you try to cover it up with a laugh, and say, “Sorry, that wasn’t funny,” Eren still notices the discomfort in your chest. He always does.

Tightening his arms around you, he grabs a hold of your chin, turning your face slightly to meet his. “Hey,” he calls out gently. "You know I don't do that anymore, right? Nor am I going to do that again. I only have you now.”

You look away, stomach somersaulting at his words which sound more like a promise than anything else. “It’s okay, you really don’t have to say anything to assure me. I was just kidding, really.”

“Even if you were, I still want you to know.” Eren pushes your hair to the side so he can marvel at the bare skin of your shoulder. He settles a kiss on the spot that makes you shiver, the spaghetti strap of your camisole slipping off to your upper arm. “I love you,” he whispers, mouthing each syllable directly to your skin. “There’s no one else but you for me.” And it’s always been that way, Eren wishes he could say more, but the way you’re growing stiff in his arms makes him stop. He tilts his head, attempting to catch a glimpse of your expression. You have your lips pressed tightly together, cheeks heating up at his confession. “Baby,” Eren smiles, soothing fingers resting against your jawline. He spins you around to face him once more. With only a single look, he can already tell how you’re feeling. “You’re turning shy. What is it?”

“Nothing,” you mutter, growing more abashed. “I’m just not used to it.”

“Used to what?”

“You…” You exhale, your heartbeat thundering in your ears. “Saying those words to me.”

“What, you mean 'I love you’?”

You answer him with the tiniest nod, face aflame.

Ah, how can she be this cute, Eren wonders, sighing as if all the strength is leaving his body. You leave him powerless, sometimes even breathless with that pout and that beautiful scarlet flush painting your face. Eren carefully whirls you around on his lap and you follow his lead, straddling his thighs until your chest is a few inches away from his. He gazes softly, dragging his eyes slowly from one corner of your face to another. He tucks a few strands of your hair behind your ear. You don’t know how much I adore you, do you? He speaks with his eyes, lips slightly parted as he’s captivated with your beauty. Every touch of his delicate fingers feels like tiny sparks of fireworks on your body, thrilling. “Well, then…” He smiles, cupping your face. “Let’s change that, shall we?”

You’re not sure what he’s referring to until he takes you in his arms and carries you to the bedroom. He lays you down so carefully on the bed as if you’re bound to break. When he peels your clothes off one by one, he always makes sure that you’re enveloped by his warmth, either it’s from his lips, his hands, or his breath as he speaks praises to your skin. He locks gazes every time he gets the chance, his smile never falters, only growing tender with each second passing by.

“Can I make love to you?”

That’s a line you would never think he’d say. Eren, who treated women as sexual objects in the past; Eren, who you had friends-with-benefits relationship with; Eren who always used the word ‘fuck’ when referring to having sexual intercourse with you before, is asking you with his fingers fluttering against your cheekbone, his eyes tender and amatory, his nose nearly grazing against yours.

He waits, not wanting to take a step further until you offer him your consent. He doesn’t need to ask, he never needs to, and yet there he is, giving you all the power to pull him close or let him go.

You’ll never let him go.

With thunderous heart and butterflies coming alive in your stomach, you whisper, “Yes, please.”

The next time he kisses you, it’s laced with the need he’s been holding back. His breathing soon turns ragged but there’s no lust in his eyes. Eren is patient. For the first time in what feels like forever, he finally has the moment to truly surrender himself to you, as you do to him, body, mind, and soul. And he will make every second worth it, make it last for eternity.

Eren doesn’t speak much. He doesn’t tease you with mischief and seduction in his words, even when you’re pleading for him to touch you deeper, to move faster. His mouth doesn’t form the devilish smirk he showcased often during your intimate moment together. Eren touches you not solely because he craves physical connection. He touches you because he wants to love you.

Following your demand, he sits upright on the bed with his legs crossed and you straddle his lap, legs tangled around his waist. He lets you lead, gives you the time to breathe and find the angle you need to discover your sweet spot. He tries to make the experience better by making his mouth busy on your chest, his hands touching places you want to be touched. But you don’t seek for a release. This is what you want. As long as he’s close enough to touch, to taste the sweetness of his lips, to become one with him—you don’t wish for anything else.

But Eren is Eren and he knows which way to make you slowly go insane with ecstasy. When your orgasm washes over you, a breathy moan escapes your lips and caresses the skin below his earlobe. Your arms are winding tightly around his neck, holding onto him as he waits for you to climb down from your high. He kisses your shoulder, lets his lips linger over the supple skin, tasting your scent. You pull away to kiss him with your thoughts still hazy with bliss, and Eren holds you with one hand on your back, and his other one trapped between the strands of your hair.

“You’re trembling,” he whispers as you press your temples together, eyes closed.

You can only offer him a timid nod. It was intense, the way the knots inside your stomach tightened and untangled at once when he murmured, “You’re the only girl I’ve ever loved,” against your ear. The yearning, the love, and the admiration he held for you, you could feel it all.

Eren still has his sentimental smile plastered on his face as he caresses your cheek. “Did it feel good?” He quietly asks, his face flushed, his forehead glistening with a thin layer of sweat.

You’re still catching your breath. “Yes.”

His gaze softens, drawing a chaste kiss on your lips when he murmurs, “I’m glad…”

“Your turn,” you say, almost begging. He wants to give you some time to rest but you lay your spine against the sheets, pulling him down to you. “Please… I need to feel you…”

He does as he’s told, moaning in gratitude against your mouth when he feels your walls clenching around him. He keeps checking your face for a sign of discomfort, but even if you’re completely submerged in rapture, Eren would still ask whether you’re okay. And you’ll answer each question with a smile, one that is so sweet and graceful, it makes his heart clench at the sight. This is the happiest I’ve ever been, you want to convey, You make me feel so complete, make my heart feel so full, it feels like I’m suffocating. I want to feel this way—want you to make me feel this way for the rest of my life. And I hope I can make you feel the same way. But it takes courage to say these words and you’re not sure your poor heart can contain it. So instead, you just draw his face closer to yours and you kiss him once, lightly yet intoxicating. “Eren, I…” you whisper. “I’m so in love with you.”

And he blushes, instantly and madly, like it’s the first time he has ever had someone confessing their love to him. No. He didn’t even feel nor react this way when he received his first confession. So maybe it wasn’t the words that have this much power over him. It’s the person.

Maybe you’re both need to get used to this—to love and be loved. You’ve devoted yourselves to one another longer than you realize, but these words still feel foreign on your tongue no matter how many times you’ve repeated them in your head. Eren feels the same way too, but he’s braver than you. Even when his heart feels like it’s seconds away from exploding, Eren kisses your lips as he picks up his pace, vocalizing “I love you,” in the most beautiful way possible with his hand clutching tighter against yours, fingers lacing perfectly like a set of a puzzle. “I love you.” It almost feels like his words match his every thrust. “I love you.” And he’ll repeat it a thousand times more if that’s what it takes for you to know just how much.

When he’s nearing the edge, Eren buries his face in the crook of your neck, alternating between painting soft kisses on your sensitive spot and speaking the words that are tainted by fear. “Don’t leave me…” he whispers. “Please… Stay with me…”

You detach one hand away from his, moving straight to the back of his head, slipping your fingers between the silkiness of his strands. This is the second time he begs for you to stay, and you wonder if you’ve been giving him the wrong signs but you know it’s not true. How could you when all you want is to spend the rest of your life with him? To love him in the way you’re doing and more. So it strikes you harder, heart dropping to your stomach when you notice that even after all this time, even when he’s forgiven himself and learned to love another, the fear of being betrayed and abandoned is still running thickly through his veins.

God, I want to let him know. You feel like crying, your heart feeling so full, you’re scared that it’s going to break. Or maybe it has. Every time you hear his plea, it breaks harder and harder for him, hoping that the pieces that were torn away from yours, could fill the empty spaces in his.

I want to let him know that he’s no longer alone. That he’ll never be alone.

“Forever and always,” you breathe out and Eren’s movements come to a halt. He pulls away just enough to meet your glassy eyes. You stroke his cheek, a delicate smile forming on your lips. “I’ll stay with you. Forever and always.”

Eren can feel it. Can feel the promise behind those words. Melting under your touch, he mirrors your smile. “Forever and always.”

And when he recalls the promise you made him that night, he believes it—truly believes it this time. How you would stay in his life as long as he wanted you to. Eren will want you for eternity, and eternity you will stay. And he’ll engrave these three words to your skin, your mind, your heart, and your soul for just as long.

Forever and always.

***

Shooting pain burns across his skin, like a feeling of a knife splitting his face into pieces the second Levi’s fist meets his jaw. It’s enough to shake his vision, to make the world spin below his feet, but it’s nothing compared to the one he feels throbbing inside his chest. But it’s not the pain he bears inside, it’s rage. This blazing flame, triggered by his bottled-up anger from the incident that happened several hours ago.

Jean and Reiner, still sharply dressed in their three-piece suits, avert their gazes. They can’t handle the sight. They don’t intervene because Eren deserves every consequence of his action, but Levi never holds back his punches. Once the raven-haired man took off his rings to avoid tearing the skin of his artists, he would go all out. Jean had been on the other side of his punches many times before, and he knew Levi wouldn’t stop until his opponent began to spit out blood or collapse on their knees. “This is just my opinion, but when it comes to teaching somebody discipline, I believe pain is the most effective way,” his manager once said as he drilled the heel of his shoes against Jean’s spine, driving his chest harder to the floor. The same thing is happening to Eren right now but Jean puts a blind eye. It’s easier that way.

Reiner sucks in his teeth, nervous and worried. “Shouldn’t we stop him?” he asks, walking back and forth. “He’s killing him over there.”

“He got that coming.” Jean leans his back against the wall of the expensive suite they’re staying in for the night. He tucks his hands inside the pockets of his black trousers, his breath still smells like the expensive wine he tasted. “See, this is why I never agree with being in a relationship. That suicidal blockhead wouldn’t get socked in the face if he just kept fucking whores like I do.”

“Being in love isn’t a sin, Jean.”

“Fuck you, Reiner. You saw what happened today. He’s gonna put Empire’s whole career on the line if he keeps doing that and for what? ‘Cause he wants to keep fucking one girl for the rest of his life?!” He snorts loudly, utterly vexed. “I’m not gonna let him ruin this. I’ve worked so fucking hard to get to where we are now. He’s a fucking idiot and he deserves every punch coming his way.”

Reiner sighs and keeps himself mute. Jean’s words might sound spiteful, but it’s true. What Eren did earlier today was out of line. If Levi fails to negotiate with the press, his name would make headlines by tomorrow morning, and both he and Jean are going to have to answer millions of questions regarding this every time they got invited for an interview.

Eren takes punches after punches, kicks after kicks, but he doesn’t budge nor even flinch. It wasn’t the first time Levi disciplined him with his knuckles and knowing how stubborn Eren is, it’s most definitely not going to be his last time either.

“Avoid hitting him on the face, Levi,” Reiner reminds him with one hand stretched out, but he’s standing nowhere near to stop him. “We don’t want bruises on it.”

“Fuck if I care,” Levi says, ramming his fist against his stomach and Eren falls to one knee, coughing and gasping for air. “I don’t give a rat’s ass if he looks like a giant piece of shit tomorrow. This fucker’s not gonna join us for the rest of the event anyway.”

“What do you mean he’s not—” Jean takes a breath, nose flaring. “Levi, he’s the frontman of Empire. We’ve finished our performance, true, but tomorrow is the main show! We’re nominated for the first time—how are we supposed to—”

“I don’t care,” Levi says through gritted teeth as he watches the man before him wipe the blood away from his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m not gonna let this motherfucker stand in public before I got everything sorted out. He needs to cool off his head.” He squats down in front of him, grabbing a handful of Eren’s messy tied-up hair before he lifts his face. The boy’s electric green eyes are showing no signs of fear. If anything, the fury in them only burns so much brighter.

“How are you feeling, fuck face?” Levi asks, looking down on him. His expression is cold, unreadable as always.

“Never been better,” Eren answers with blood staining his lips. He doesn’t seem the least apologetic for what he did. Levi slaps him once with the back of his hand, splattering a few droplets of blood to the carpeted floor.

“Oh, but then again, maybe I should avoid the face.” Levi yanks him by his locks, hard enough for Eren to have his head thrown back, his eyes narrowing as they try to adjust to the light that shines above him. “That’s the only thing you can sell, isn’t that right, Jaeger? Nobody gives a shit about your music. All they want to do is to fuck this pretty mouth of yours.” The words cut deep as Levi never spoke like that to him before. Out of everyone else in the industry, Levi is the only one who believes that Eren truly does have talent behind his pretty face. But fury consumes him and Levi chooses the words that hurt him the most.

Eren’s jaw clenches but he bites back his words.

“Tch.” Levi clicks his tongue, releasing the boy from his grip. Eren has his head hung low, half of his face concealed by the hair that falls out of his bun. “You’re gonna take two weeks off,” his manager announces, deep and low with his silver irises glinting underneath the light. “And you’re gonna use that fucking shithole brain of yours to reflect on what you did. I’m also going to take your next month’s paycheck to compensate for your shitty act. In two weeks, you’re gonna come back as good as new, and you’re gonna promise me that you’ll never pull this kind of stunt again. You understand me?”

Like a wolf being backed into the corner, Eren nearly bares his teeth. Another slap and the boy coughs, breathing heavily through his mouth as his nose is clogged by his blood. “I asked you a question.”

“I understand,” the artist says through gritted teeth.

“Good.” Standing back on his feet, Levi retrieves his rings from the pocket of his suit. “Marco will drive you home,” he says, placing back the two silver rings on his fingers. “Lay low. If you attract unnecessary attention again in the next two weeks, I’m gonna kill you myself. Now get that fucking face out of my sight.”

Eren stands up and fixes his suit, not performing a bow or even taking a glance at the rest of the people in the room before he walks away with a security guard on his side. His nails are sinking into his palms, almost hard enough to tear his skin apart. He may seem docile, obeying Levi’s words and taking the consequences of his action without even muttering a single word back. But he’s not going to learn his lesson. If the same incident happens, Eren would lash out again in public. He doesn’t care about his image. He cares about you.

This happens because of you.

Just five hours before, everything was normal. CBN, a prestigious music magazine company, has rented out a five-star hotel for the artists to do interviews, press conferences, and preparation before the main event started. Empire had been given a suite where they could stay for the night and do interviews with various reporters and journalists during the day. Eren, Reiner, and Jean had been sitting for hours on the same couch, dressed impeccably handsome in their suits with their stylists waiting in another room to do a quick retouch between interviews. Journalist after journalist came walking into the room with their long list of questions and Eren’s mind often drifted away, wishing that he could abandon everything and just stay at home with you with his head on your lap and your fingers tangled in his hair.

Despite his exhaustion, Eren kept things professional. He smiled when he needed to. He laughed when he was supposed to, and he answered every question clearly and efficiently. Most of the questions were about the performance they did the day before as one of the opening acts for the show, and how they felt to be nominated for the first time in one of the most notorious music awards in the world. His answer was always the same, sounding precisely like the script Levi had handed to him right after he woke up.

It was on his ninth interview when he felt like his brain was going haywire. A male journalist with a buzz cut, dressed sloppily in a flannel shirt and sneakers, with a smile too wicked to be genuine, handled the interview. Eren hated him since the first second he leaned forward to shake his hand, but then again, he hated everyone who took his time away from you.

There were two cameras in the room, one facing the band members, another one facing the interviewer. There were also a few professional photographers on standby, documenting every interaction they made.

“Hey, everyone. It’s your boy, Connie Springer here.” He greeted the camera, holding a wireless microphone in one hand. “Joining me here today is one of the hottest rock bands in the world who’s nominated for not one, but two different categories for CBN Music Awards.” He dragged his eyes toward the members. “Hey, guys, how are you doing?”

“Pretty awesome, dude,” Jean replied with a smirk, holding his fist in the air.

“Whoa, a fist bump. Never had that one from rockstars before.” Connie chuckled, knocking their fists together. “Cool. Can I just say something real quick? Your rendition of Harry Styles’ Adore you last night? Blew my mind.” Reiner chuckled in response. “Seriously, bro. It’s like it was your song all along. To me, it was no longer a pop song. It was pure, classic rock—sounded better than the original, if you ask me.”

“Please don’t say that,” Reiner quickly adds.

“Of course, sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.” But his laughter surely was. “So, you guys have only been playing for four years, almost five?” This time, it was Jean, the guitarist, who replied with a nod. “Yeah, and now you’ve been nominated for the Best Rock Band and the Best Live Act categories. That’s friggin awesome, man. How do you feel?”

“To be honest, it still feels surreal to us,” Reiner answered politely, while Eren looked away from the camera, trying to conceal his yawn by using the back of his hand. Reiner’s answer was always textbook perfect, accompanied shortly by an affable smile to charm his interviewer but before he could finish his sentence, Connie jumped straight into another topic.

“Right, of course,” he cut him off, leaving Reiner a bit baffled but even if he was aggravated by it, he didn’t comment on it. “So, I've gathered a few questions here from your fans. These are the real questions that need to be asked. Eren Jaeger—“ he paused to give him a salute. “Big fan of you, Sir. Honestly, I think you’re one of the most promising young artists we have in our generation.”

Eren smiled, feigned but good enough to deceive. “Thank you.”

“But is it true that you used to date Historia Reiss? Because just a week ago—and I’m sure you’ve heard about this—she revealed that she was a lesbian, so now people are thinking that maybe you were just teaming up with her to increase your popularity. What are your thoughts on that?”

Eren just stared at him, and if Connie had been a normal, sensible human being, he would’ve noticed that he just pushed the wrong button. Reiner and Jean exchanged a glance, keeping themselves mute as they grew nervous.

Running a hand through his slicked-back hair, Eren kept his smile intact and said, “Why don’t you ask her about that yourself?”

“When I got the chance, sure. I want to know what you think about it first.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not gonna answer that question for you, Connie, sorry.”

“Sheesh.” Connie hissed, clearly making fun of him. Eren’s face turned grim, biting the inside of his cheek to shift his attention away. “Alright then. Well, for what it’s worth, I think you two made a really good couple.” The journalist’s snicker was as inappropriate as the rest of his body language. Returning to his phone, Connie asked his next question. “What about Mikasa Ackerman, then? In the new MV for Hero Heroine—such a great song, by the way—you guys had so many steamy scenes together. Is there anything going on between the two of you or is it just strictly business kind of thing?”

Connie was sneering as he asked the question and it made Eren’s blood boil in his veins. His smile turned sinister. “I don’t think your question has anything to do with my band—“

“I’m just asking the questions that your fans want to know,” Connie retorted, almost contemptuously. Jean and Reiner were beginning to send signals to the rest of the staff to cut the interview short, but Levi, who was in charge, was not available in the room.

“Okay. Dude?” Jean interrupted before Eren’s glare turned even more menacing than it already was. “You can either stick to the questions that are relevant to our music or leave. We’re not here to discuss our personal lives.”

“Cool, cool, yeah.” Connie had the nerves to ignore him, turning his body to face the lead vocalist, and insisting to ask the question. “What about the girl you sang Happy Birthday to on stage? People are dying to know her name. Can you tell me who she is?”

“That’s it, we’re taking a break.” Jean stood up from his seat, tugging Eren by his arm. “Come on, let’s get some fresh air. Levi will deal with him later.”

Connie kept directing his mic toward the vocalist. “People are saying she’s the same girl who’s been seen with you lately. The one who’s working as a journalist in PMC.”

“Dude, we’re done.” Jean almost lost his patience. Reiner agreed with a nod, following his trail right after as Jean made his way toward the door.

“How long have you been dating her?” The man was persistent. “It was bold of you to pull that kind of stunt on stage. Your fangirls aren’t gonna like it but, I guess, you got the attention you wanted, right?”

Eren’s nails were sinking into his thighs from how hard he tried to keep himself composed. Releasing a breath, he stood up, fixed his suit, and walked past the interviewer without saying a word.

“Jesus Christ,” Connie said a few seconds before the three men exited the room, throwing one hand in the air in frustration. “Just tell me if you fuck that bitch, bro! I need to make some money over here!”

“Oh, fuck.” Reiner was the first one to react, panic escalating quickly in his chest when Eren stopped dead in his tracks. “Eren,” he called, turning around to warn his frontman. “Eren, just walk away, man.”

But the said male already had his ears closed and his fingers curling into fists. Turning around, he walked back with angry steps and his jaw clenching hard. A voice inside his head screamed at him to be a better man—to remind him that taking a further step than that would put his image on the line. But it wasn’t enough. He was furious.

“What did you call her?” Eren asked as he made his way to where Connie was standing. He didn’t shout or even snarl at the other male. He was calmer than he had ever been. But his voice is laced with venom, deep and menacing, matching the way his emerald eyes were glinting in fury—a pair of piercing daggers that would make anyone cower at the sight.

Connie had his mouth open, swallowing hard. “W-well, I—“ His words fell dead when the vocalist took him by the collar of his shirt, forcing the shorter male to stand on his toes as he was. Not a split second later, Eren landed a hard punch on his jaw before he could utter anything else and the man fell to his knees, his palms pressing against the carpeted floor as his ears began to buzz. If he had packed a little more strength into his punch, Connie would’ve lost a tooth.

“Oh, shit,” Jean cursed, a second before he and Reiner hastily made their way back to the couch. They caught Eren by the arms, trying their best to keep him away from the journalist. “Eren, goddammit!” Jean’s face turned scarlet as he struggled to keep the other man still. “Calm down!”

Even under their hold, Eren kept launching himself forward toward the journalist, teeth-gritting as he screamed, “WHAT DID YOU FUCKING CALL HER?!”

It was at that moment, Levi entered the room. The camera flash went off under his command, but it was too late.

Everything was already recorded.

***

It’s a little bit after eleven pm, you notice, as you take a glance at the digital clock sitting on your desk. You’re already settled in bed, planning to drift into your slumber once you’re finished watching Empire’s version of Harry Styles’ Adore You for the fifth time that night. You’ve got an early day tomorrow, a pile of articles to work on and a seminar to attend, so you need to catch some sleep, but the thing is, you can’t stop.

No matter how many times you’ve seen this, you kept hitting the replay button to watch the video all over again. Eren was playing on the stage, doused in bright lights with people cheering his name. He was singing one of the most notorious hits that year and he performed it shirtless.

He was wearing black jeans, black combat boots, and a black jacket—which is nothing new, obviously—aside from the fact that he was wearing no shirt underneath. The strap of his bass and his gold, key-shaped pendant that dangled in the middle of his chest were the only things that hid the way his abs muscles contracted with every movement he made. He was dangerously captivating, masculine with a hint of sensuality.

Walk in your rainbow paradise

Strawberry lipstick state of mind

Eren’s voice rumbled deep, his husky voice suited the song more than you had expected it would. It was a perfect choice, just like he had predicted. Though the melody was the same, Empire had their own style and Eren wasn’t lying when he said he would make it work. You had listened to this song several times before on the radio, but it was almost unrecognizable under his hands.

I get so lost inside your eyes

Would you believe it?

This performance reminds you of the way Eren sang I Only Lie When I Love You with Historia during Harlequin’s solo concert. The way he was being seductive throughout the song, not too much, just the right amount to make you hold your breath every time the camera got a close-up shot of his face. His jade green eyes were hooded, something that you would call to be his bedroom eyes, which makes you feel a bit jealous as you wish they were reserved only for your own to see. His smirk oozed sexiness with the perfect amount of mischief that made him look more juvenile than usual.

You don't have to say you love me

You don't have to say nothing

You don't have to say you're mine

The conversation you had with him the morning after your confession returned to your mind. Eren made sure to let his lips brush lightly against his microphone as he stared directly into the camera, singing the words like he was speaking to you.

Honey

I'd walk through fire for you

Just let me adore you

Like it's the only thing I'll ever do

Listen to the lyrics and think about me. Like how I’ll be thinking of you when I perform it on the stage.

“Oh, God.” You have your face hidden underneath your palm, your heart pumping more blood to your face. He’s going to be the death of me, isn’t he?

Your heart jolts and your ears perk up at the sound of your doorknob being turned open. You’re startled to hear Eren pushing open your front door as you didn’t expect him to swing by. He had told you earlier this morning that he’d be staying at a five-star hotel where the event was held for a couple of days until the entire show was over.

Why is he here? You ponder. Maybe he just wanted to spend the night here instead of staying at the hotel?

A gleeful grin naturally finds its way to your face and you jump down from your bed, half-running toward him in your silk nightdress to greet him with a kiss. But the second you’re close enough to see his face, your warm smile morphs into a shock-filled gasp. “Eren,” you scurry close, carefully resting your fingers on his cheek as you examine his face. “Oh my God, Eren, are you okay?”

With his jaw tightened, he averts his gaze to the side, weakly swatting your hand away from him. “I’m fine.”

There are fresh bruises on his skin, angry red marks that make your heart palpitate in horror, wondering how much pain did he have to endure when he took those punches.

What happened? Did he get into a fight? With who? No, why did he get into a fight in the first place?

Your head is spinning and you realize you’re panicking once the thought of it having anything to do with you enters your mind.

This is not the time.

Taking a breath to keep yourself composed, you hurriedly move back to your fridge. “Sit down, please—we—we need to ice the bruises—” Your fingers shake as you retrieve the ice pack, almost letting it slip from your hand before you grab a towel to wrap around it. Eren doesn’t comply right away, so you guide him deeper into the kitchen. Circling your fingers along his wrist, you tug forward and he follows. But instead of taking a seat on the nearest stool, Eren spins you around and smashes his mouth hotly against yours.

“Eren—mmph—“ You’re being pushed hard against the kitchen aisle, the marbled edge pressing uncomfortably against the dip of your spine. “Wait—“ you manage to let the word slip but it’s not enough. He kisses you roughly, almost desperately, demanding your response. They feel suffocating, and you grab onto his dress shirt as if it would help you breathe. You kiss him back with a whimper, your eyebrows adjoined in the middle when you feel his teeth bruising your lip. His tongue, even if it already remembers the way you taste, still explores your mouth like it’s desperate to satisfy its curiosity.

Eren is acting like a stranger, and you could tell that he’s been drinking from how thick the taste of alcohol is sitting on his tongue. He seems both angry and heartbroken, impatient and lonely at the same time.

I need you to tell me what’s wrong.

“Eren,” you take the opportunity to speak when he moves his mouth to your jaw, his large hands traveling all over your body. “I need—“ He tangles his fingers around your strands, yanking at your roots until you have your neck exposed. “L-let me take care of your bruises first.”

Paying no mind, Eren trails his tongue along the throbbing vein, nipping harshly at your skin. You place both hands on the edge of the counter, gripping onto it like the floor is crumbling underneath you. The thin strap of your dress is falling over your shoulder, showing him a glimpse of your chest that heaves up and down, desperate for air. “W-wait—please—you need to rest—”

“Can I fuck you?” He asks in such urgency, almost in a form of a growl, just a second before he catches your earlobe between his teeth. The coldness in his voice strikes deep within you, but it’s not fear that you feel, though it does seem quite similar. He’s being hasty, more aggressive than he’s ever been but he’s not forcing you to obey his orders. Because, despite the raging storm that wages in his heart, Eren still waits for your answer.

He stops what he’s doing, pulling away just slightly where you can still feel the warmth of his breath caressing your cheek. “I really need you right now.” His voice trembles, but from fear or sadness, or something else you haven’t noticed, you couldn’t tell.

With a little, shaky nod, your mouth forms the word, “Yes…”

And that’s all it takes. His feelings pour like raging waterfalls. All this anger, all this frustration he’s been keeping to himself—they break through the barrier and you can feel every spark of that bottled-up anger through his touch. His kisses don’t taste the same—don’t feel the same, and if you closed your eyes, you would’ve thought he was someone else.

Eren doesn’t waste time. He no longer has the patience to. He spins you around, forcing you to bend over the kitchen aisle with the heel of his palm pressing against the spot between your shoulder blades. You can hear the sound of his belt being taken off with one hand. His other one moves down to grab the hemline of your dress, pushing the fabric upward until it passes your waist. He moves your panties to the side, spreading your thighs apart and you obey. Your heartbeat sounds like a beating drum in your ears, loud and heavy. Spitting into his palm, he lathers his cock with his saliva, pumping it fast for a few times to get to his full length.

You’ve never been this nervous. You can't deny the thrill that colors your blood, unfurling like wildfire to every inch of your body, from the thought of being used as a way to vent out his frustration. You can feel the anger from the way he grips onto your skin, his nails sinking deep enough to make you wince, but you know it’s not directed at you. It feels different from that time when he fucked you to avenge the horrible prank you pulled on him. That time, even when he was visibly furious, you could also catch a hint of impishness and teasing behind his touches. Today, there is none.

Eren pushes in.

It all happens so fast that even when you already know what was coming, you still gasp the second you feel his tip stretching you without proper preparation. You take a sharp intake of breath, your front teeth nearly cutting your lip from how hard you’re biting on it to muffle your voice. He leaves no room for you to adjust, already moving his hips back and forth. He’s not moving fast just yet, but his thrusts are deep and powerful, pushing your body forward with every pound. Your head hangs low, your hands wobble as they try to prop your upper half.

But him being so forceful like this? This doesn’t scare you.

What scares you is that he doesn’t let out any sound. He doesn’t praise you, doesn’t call your name. There’s no mischief or the usual haughtiness written on his lips. They’re slightly parted to let out a breath, but he’s being so quiet, it’s chilling.

But maybe you’re not one to say, as you can’t find your own voice. Eren takes a firm hold of your hips, his hooded eyes seeming more black than green in the dimness of your apartment. His thoughts are too clouded, both by his rage and the alcohol in his system. He can barely think. Right now, he just wants to release everything he feels in his bones at once, so he can go back to how he was before.

“Eren.” Your voice breaks but you continue. He’s relentlessly pounding into you from behind, his trousers sliding to his mid-thigh as he pushes in deeper. You reach out blindly behind you, taking a hold of his wrist. “Calm down—”

He twists his hand and breaks free from your grip. In return, he clamps his fingers around your smaller wrist and pins it down behind your back. You fall forward, lying your upper half flat on the aisle, the coldness of the marble top sticking to your cheek and chest. You groan out of pain, your legs begin to shake. “Eren—”

He leans forward, his chest filling the curve of your spine as he hovers beside your ear. “I’m sorry,” he says in a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

But I don't want you to look at me right now.

There’s a bit of a stinging pain that echoes through your body every time he slides in and out. The ledge is digging into your stomach the harder he pushes you against it. Mustering every strength you have, you push yourself away, turning around to face him. You stand on wobbly legs, your arms circling his neck as you kiss him to steal his attention away. Eren responds to it by instinct with his eyebrows furrowing together, his fingers fisting against the back of your dress. Without warning, he slides his hand down to your thighs and lifts you, placing you down on the aisle with your legs dangling in the air. He spreads your thighs again, settling himself in between. You try to slow down his pace by resting your hand on his chest but he snatches you away by the wrist and holds it mid-air. He buries himself inside you once more, sinking his face in the crook of your neck, and picks up his pace.

You can’t keep up, your head turning to mush. You stretch out your hand, framing his face. “Look at me.”

“No,” he growls, pushing your hand away. He doesn’t look at you, not even a glance, as he’s afraid to see the expression you make.

“Eren!” The desperation in your voice turns him still and his eyes find yours. You exhale in relief, cupping his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere,” you tell him, pressing your temples together as you close your eyes and catch your breath. “I’m not going anywhere so, please… Calm down…”

For a moment, the world slows down. It soothes him. Your voice. Your gesture. Your little touch. Enough for him to realize the shivers running through your fingertips. His heartbeat still races but the ominous black clouds that fogged his brain are thinning. And the second he’s able to think clearly, to let his emotions bottled down again, a thought begins to form.

What the fuck am I doing?

You can see the regret and guilt filling his eyes, and that’s not what you want from him. “You’re not hurting me,” you tell him, resting your hand on his cheek. “I’m okay. I just… I just wanted you to know that you’re not alone. I’m here with you and I’m not going anywhere.”

She will stay.

That thought, one that’s born from your words, makes him realize that it’s not anger he’s been feeling. It’s dread. Somewhere in his heart, he knows that he just did something wrong—something that could make you feel terribly upset from how he behaved, something that might drive you away from him. And he’s scared. He needs reassurance from you. That you won’t hate him no matter what, that you won’t leave him no matter what. Ironically, it translates into the need of having physical touch, as it’s something he’s grown familiar with, especially with you in the last few months.

And you understood that. You understood that even when he couldn’t.

“Kiss me,” you tell him quietly and his heart swells. He’s still scared of making the first move, afraid that he might hurt you again because he knew he did, even when you claimed he didn’t. You place one hand on his nape, fingertips brushing against his baby hair as you pull him forward to slant your lips together. Eren lets you lead, follows the movement of your lips with his heart threatening to leap out of his chest. The kiss is slower. Languid. It doesn’t feel as sweet as his usual ones just yet, but it’s a start.

“Eren…” You guide him with a lift of your hips, your arms enclosing his shoulders. “You can move now…” There’s hesitation within him but you wash it away with a moan. When he starts to move again, your body matches every thrust better. “Faster, Ren…”

He’s panting hard, working his hips fast to find his release as you told him to. His groan turns louder when he reaches his high, emptying himself inside you with his forehead resting on your shoulder. You hug him close, gently stroking his strands before you move your hands to follow his spine.

When he’s finished, he slowly breaks away, still catching his breath. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes hazy with the aftershock of his orgasm. You smile at him, weak but tender. “Feeling better?”

He breaks down, crushing you with his embrace as he continuously whispers, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

“It’s okay.” You extend the space between you, pressing a sweet kiss on his forehead. “We’re okay.”

Eren searches your eyes, his own filled with nothing but concern and guilt. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” The word comes out without taking a second to process his question. There was pain, yes, but it wasn’t anything unbearable for you to take. Either way, you won’t say it to him. He already looks like he’s going to punish himself forever without hearing your answer. You kiss him once, keeping your lips pressed until you feel his tense muscles relaxing. Ending the kiss, you push the stray hair away from his eyes. “Can you tell me what happened?”

He casts his gaze downward, shaking his head.

“Eren.”

“Let me take care of you first,” he says, catching your eyes. “I want to make it up to you.”

“You really don’t have to—“

“Please.” His thumb is rubbing comforting circles along your cheekbone. “I promise I’ll tell you everything you want to hear afterward.” Your lips meet again, with him whispering his next words against them. “I won’t be able to forgive myself until I make it up to you.”

The sincerity in his voice is what makes you agree to his offer. “Okay…” You circle your arms around his neck. “I’m all yours.”

***

“So, was it a fight?”

Your fingers are intertwined with his as he embraces you from behind. Eren has his back pressed against the headboard of your bed, with you sitting on his lap. You’re both bare from top to toe, seeking warmth from each other’s skin instead of the fabric of your sweater. You snuggle close to him with your blanket shrouding your front, sighing in content at how hot his chest feels against your spine.

“No,” Eren answers, vacant eyes watching the way your hand fits his perfectly. He turns pensive, speaks nothing louder than a mumble. “I let Levi beat me up.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I fucked up.”

You turn slightly to take a glimpse of his face. His expression doesn’t reveal much, a mystery that you need to solve. But if you ask the right questions, you’ll get the answers you need. “What did you do?”

“I… punched someone in the face.”

“Who?”

“The guy who interviewed me.”

“What?” You shift your weight, spinning around until you can lay a hand on his chest, your eyes growing wide. “What do you—why?”

“Because he asked questions that didn’t have anything to do with my music.”

“Doesn’t mean you can punch him, Eren.”

“I know, but I was so—” The frustration from a moment ago flits through his eyes but this time, he doesn’t let it stay for long. There’s a shiver in his voice from restrained anger. “I was so pissed off.”

He’s always been quite a temperamental person, and if he’s aggravated by something or someone, it immediately shows on his face. But you thought that he was better at pretending this time around—that he was used to showbiz and wouldn’t let himself be easily vexed by something like this. So if he was furious enough to punch someone, it would’ve been for a serious reason.

Our relationship, you dread, swallowing thickly. Eren doesn’t want to elaborate further unless you ask him. So with a heavy tongue, you query, “What, uhh… What did he ask you?”

A pause. “Something about my personal life.”

Shit. “Like…?”

He contemplates for a few seconds before he heaves a heavy sigh, giving up on trying to keep it hidden in the dark. “Well, he asked about Historia. Wanted to know if what happened between us was just an act.”

“Oh…” Relief washes over you but it doesn’t stay that way for long. Judging by his tone, you know he’s nowhere close to disclosing everything. “Did he ask about Mikasa too?”

His jaw clenches. “Yeah.”

“Was that…” You wet your lips. “The reason why you got angry?”

“No.” He exhales sharply through his nose. “I don’t give a fuck about her. Honestly, I got questions like this all the time and I never cared about them before but when he brought you into the conversation, I just couldn’t—“ He stops himself when he notices you’re flinching. His hold around your hand was getting too tight, it begins to hurt. He calms himself, relaxing his muscles. “I got so angry…” He continues, playing with your fingers carefully this time, kissing your knuckles once as a form of an apology. “So, I lashed out.”

You splay out your fingers and let your palm meets his, watching the way they are a tad smaller than his. “What did he say about me?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

You lace your fingers together, squeezing them gently for comfort. “Then can you at least tell me what’s on your mind?”

You offer him the serenity he needs, making it easy for him to let go and share his burden with you like the time he opened up about his past. “I think that…” He tentatively starts. “Rather than angry, I was… scared. I’m still scared. I’m scared that I’ll end up hurting you because of this. Because of my popularity as an artist. I’m worried that people—who clearly don’t know how amazing you are and how important you are in my life—would talk shit about you and I know you’re strong, I know you can handle this, but I just…” His voice turns quieter, not yet a whisper but close. “I don’t want them to get into your head. I don’t want them to hurt you, but I know I can’t protect you all the time. And I’m afraid that one day, you’ll get tired of it all and—” He stops, switching quickly to nibble at the corner of his lip instead.

“And?” You insist on him to continue, but your tone is gentle. “And I’ll leave you because of it? Is that… what you want to say?”

He brings his gaze down, letting his hair drapes over him like a curtain to mask his expression. “I’m sorry,” he faintly mumbles. “It’s not that I don’t trust you—I do, it’s just… I don’t want you to get hurt.”

How is he so kind, you wonder. So mature and caring, yet at the same time, fragile.

You gather his face in your hands, lifting it so he no longer has the option to hide. “I think you underestimate my strength, young man,” you tease him, hoping it would light up the tension. “Don’t you remember? I got bullied a lot during our school days. Did you ever see me cry about it?”

His heart warms at the memory of summer and the neverending laughter you shared in the corridor. “Many times, actually,” he says, and you both laugh softly, eyes turning crescents just like how they used to twelve years ago.

“Right, I forgot I was a bit of a wimp back then. Well, I can assure you that I’m definitely not a wimp now, so I don’t need you to worry about me. Or protect me. I can do it myself.”

“I know,” he answers in a sigh, his hands naturally curling around your waist when you turn around on his lap again. “I just... Sometimes I wish I could just stop doing this, you know? Quit the band so I can live a normal life with you.”

If only it was that easy, you ponder as you lean your back against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder. But then again, I don’t want you to give up on your dreams.

“Would you… like that?” He sounds so uncertain when he asks the question as if he’s afraid that he might upset you with it. His lips are brushing against the skin of your shoulder as he speaks. “To live a normal life with me..? Just the two of us…”

It doesn’t sound like a plan to escape his fame, it sounds like a marriage proposal. Your cheeks heat up at the thought but you try your best to stay unfazed. “You know you can’t do that. You haven’t finished your contract yet.”

“I know. That’s why I’m so frustrated.” Eren closes his eyes, tightening his arms around your curve. “But if I could… Would you..?”

Would you marry me and stay with me forever?

Before Eren has the bravery to enunciate the words, you untangle his limbs from your body and climb away from his thighs. His heart throbs instantly, worried that he’s crossing the line too far. “Baby, I’m—”

You turn around and straddle his lap, every bit of your body is facing him properly this time. “Can I have a word?” You ask, face solemn.

“S-sure.”

“First of all, I’ve promised you I’d stay,” you state out firmly, cupping his cheek and peering deep into his eyes. “As long as you want me around, I’ll stay with you. You don’t have to ask me this. You just have to believe me.”

Eren noticeably gulps once before he nods, his eyes entranced with the conviction that’s written in yours.

“Second,” you continue, taking a deep breath. “I got scared at the beginning too when I read what people said about us being together. How I’m not pretty enough for you—”

“You’re beautiful.”

“Or when they compared me to Historia or Mikasa—”

“They are nothing compared to you—”

“Eren.” You chuckle. “Will you let me talk, please?”

“Right.” His face reddens slightly. “Sorry.”

He’s cute. He’s always been so cute, even if he’s six feet tall with glare sharp enough to pierce through the glass. “I was angry. Of course, I was angry,” you confess. “I had to put my accounts into private so they won’t leave nasty comments on my articles or send death threats through my DM.” Eren appears to be in shock as this is the first time he’s hearing this. He’s about to ask further but you shake your head, reminding him to not interrupt just yet. “I don’t want to talk about it. Besides, it’s fine now. It’s not a problem anymore once I went private. I also try not to look up my name on the internet or go through the comment section of your performances or interviews. What I’m saying is that I’m all right. Right now, I’m all right. I’m happy—the happiest I’ve ever been—because now I get to have you like this. I get to belong to you, properly, just as much as you belong to me.” You let your hand linger on his skin, pushing back his bangs so you can marvel at how brilliantly his eyes gleam. He drags it down to his cheek, tilting his head to kiss the lines of your palms. You fondly smile at the sight, bending your head down once to capture his lips between yours.

“But…” Your gaze saddens as you break away, gliding the pad of your thumb against the redness of his bottom lip. “If I could be honest with you, a part of me is still terrified about it. What if it becomes worse? I don’t care about me but I knew you would lash out, Eren, and you did. That’s why I never told you about any of this until now. I didn’t—I don’t want you to behave this way.”

He cowers, looking dejected. “Do you… hate me?”

“No,” you titter. “How could I? I’m in love with you.”

Seeing him turn mortified makes you grow flustered as you don’t intend to make him feel that way with your words. You spoke without thinking, feeling a sudden urge to convey the words just because you wanted to say them. But you don’t regret saying it. You never will.

“Anyway,” you clear your throat, bashful. “The most important part you need to understand is that I don’t want you to ruin the image you’ve been building for years. The dream you’ve been chasing for years. I don’t want you to put your career on the line, just because you don’t want people to hurt me.”

He turns pale. “But—”

“Think about Jean and Reiner,” you remind him. “They need this band. Unlike you with your modeling gigs and commercials, they have nothing else going on besides Empire. Think about Levi. Think about Marco! He adores you. Think about the people whose lives you changed with your music. They need you. We all need you. And if you’re gonna throw that all away for me, I’m sorry, but I’m going to end whatever it is between us right now.”

“What—“ His eyes promptly turn wide. “No—why would you—”

“Because I don’t want you to give up on your dreams!” You’re almost shouting at this point, desperately trying to make him see through your point of view. “Eren, you’ve come so far to get to where you are now. And maybe the reality is not like how you expected it to be so you no longer care just as much as you used to. Maybe now you feel controlled or pressured by the fame and all of these business contracts you have to follow, but this is it. This is what you dreamt of when we were young. Empire is rising to fame and you deserve it. You deserve every attention, every award, and every praise coming your way and I’m not going to take that away from you. I won’t.”

Your chest is heaving up and down, desperate for air from how fast you’re talking. “Rennie, I know you care about me and I thank you for it. You’re so sweet, so kind, but if it’s hard for you to understand, try seeing it from my point of view. How awful do you think it would make me feel if you abandon years of hard work just to be with me?” Your eyebrows are sewn together, stroking and holding his cheek firmly with your hand. “I can’t live with that.” Eren’s eyes move back and forth, his frown deepens as he searches yours. You lean up to kiss him once and let your hooded eyes stay on his lips as you whisper. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“I… can’t,” he softly replies. “You’re the only one I can think about.”

“You’re the only one I can think about too.” You smile at him, kissing the spot between his eyebrows to erase his furrow. “But you need to protect your image. You need to be on your best behavior or I swear to God, I’m not gonna date you.”

He pulls away instantly, blinking his eyes twice. “You’re… You were planning to date me?”

“Maybe.” Your sheepish smile is accompanied by the mischievous twinkle in your eyes. “I mean, honestly, Ren, isn’t it obvious? I just told you I loved you.”

“I love you too,” he responds naturally and you snort to conceal how successful he is at making your heart pound. You can see how lovestruck he is with you, can tell by the little gestures he makes—the way he nuzzles his nose against yours, the way he gazes at you. It still feels surreal to have someone like Eren Jaeger to love you this deeply. You just hope you can return everything just as much. Ten times—no, a billion times more, if you could.

“Yeah, well,” you avert your gaze, trying to focus on the matter. “Now that this happened, I’ve got some thoughts I need to figure out first. You see, this guy I’m planning to date just punched a journalist for my sake. I need to think about that.”

You both laugh a little, his crooked teeth peeking behind curvy lips. “God, I wanna keep you in my pocket,” he says, embracing you and placing his chin on top of your head—another one of his newly discovered habits, it seems. You nuzzle close enough that you can listen to his heartbeat if you want to. “I wanna carry you with me all the time.”

“That sounds both fun and impractical.” Your giggle fades when Eren spins you around and lays you back down on the bed. “What are you doing?”

“You didn’t cum before, did you?” He crawls down your body, tucking his hair behind his ear before he slides your panties down your thighs. “I said I’d take care of you so…”

“But I—“ You flinch when the warmth of his breath fans your sensitive skin. “I have work in three hours and I haven’t gotten a wink of sleep.”

Eren lifts his face just enough to give you a glimpse of his pleading eyes and his tiny pout. “I won’t waste time so… Please..?” He kisses your thigh, half-lidded eyes never breaking away from yours. “I just want to make you feel good…”

Maybe, just maybe, this Eren—this sweet, loving, and sensual lover—is a much more dangerous version than his usually playful, naughty self. Just look at the way he blinks his eyes, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. How can you say no?

“Okay…”

His smile is saccharine sweet. He draws a soft “Thank you,” against the inner part of your thigh before he settles his head between your legs.

***

Ten minutes before your lunch break starts, your raven-haired female co-worker has already slid her way into your cubicle with a box of her Caprese salad on her lap, abandoning her article without care even when she’s already an hour past her deadline. Humming the tune of Ariana Grande’s latest hits, Pieck Finger pops open her lunchbox. “Shut down your laptop,” she says, twirling her fork around her fingers with an indecent grin. “It’s time for you to rate which BTS member you’d like to bang in a parking lot. Personally, I’d start with—“

“I am so fucked,” you confess to her, spinning your swivel chair around to face her.

Pieck, who is just about to stuff a piece of cherry tomato inside her mouth, sighs heavily into the air. “I literally just wanted to eat my salad in peace while thinking about RM’s supposedly massive dong, but okay.” She drops her fork, crosses her legs, and folds her arms on her chest. “Let me guess, you’re pregnant. For real, this time.”

“No. Worse. I told him I loved him.”

“You fucking what?!”

From her reaction, you can already tell how much she’s going to scold you—or make fun of you—the second this is over. Probably, shouting something along the line, “Honey, how many times do I have to fucking tell you? THIS IS NOT HOW FUCK BUDDY RELATIONSHIPS WORK!” Just the thought of it already makes you flinch.

But you’ve got to tell her. There’s no one else you could talk to, and even if Pieck can’t offer you the consolidation you need, at least you can get this out of your chest. “Okay, a lot of things happened in the last three weeks—”

“And you just told me that now?!”

“I’m sorry!” You clasp your hands together, wincing as you apologize. “I didn’t know how to tell you before. And I wasn’t ready.”

Pieck holds up a hand. “It’s okay, I’m just—” She’s lost for words. “Honey, this is huge! I mean, I saw it coming—totally—but, like, you guys took forever to get there, I thought that you’d end up raising a baby together first before you got to exchange those disgusting three words with each other.”

“I don’t follow your logic in that, but okay.”

“How did it start?”

“From that prank you told me to do, actually. Which, by the way,“ you narrow your eyes menacingly at her, “Ended terribly—”

“Terribly how?” She derides. “Him professing his love to you with the moon and the stars dancing in the background as your witness?”

You hold back your retort. “We’ll talk about that later.” Pieck simply rolls her eyes at your response. “Eren was furious at first, but one thing led to another and we ended up having a heart-to-heart conversation. He opened up about his past, I was crying, he probably was too—”

“Oh, Jesus.” She’s already rubbing her temple. “Spare me the sappy details, please.”

“Sorry.” You awkwardly clear your throat. “It felt so romantic that night and when we made love—I-I mean, when we had sex—”

“You made love,” she flatly corrects back, unamused and unenthusiastic. “You don’t have to censor the words, it’s not like I’m allergic to them. Besides, it was never just straight out fucking with you two. You’ve been making love—” she says the last two words like they leave a sour taste on her tongue, “—for God knows how long by now. You just kept on insisting that you were having casual sex when literally everyone else but you knew that it was never just casual sex.”

“Right.” There’s absolutely no way you can have this conversation without turning flustered every three seconds. “Are you done? I’m trying to tell a story here if you don’t mind.”

“Sorry. Your relationship just gives me headaches, that’s all.”

“Would you prefer if I stop?”

“Oh, no, please, this is better than Grey’s Anatomy.” She slurps up her strawberry juice. “Do continue.”

She barely has any emotions on her face but there’s not a hint of sarcasm on her voice either. “So we made love, yes. But it was so… So beautiful and intimate and it just felt right to say what we’d been wanting to say. So he told me he loved me and I told him I loved him too.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Huh… Well, that’s anti-climatic. I thought he’d kneel in front of you with a ring or something.”

“E-Eren wouldn’t do something like that!”

“He kinda gives me that vibe, though. That nausea-inducing kind of prince charming vibe.” With a shrug, she climbs back to her feet. “Before I get back to that, would you excuse me for a second, please?” Ignoring your frown, she takes as much air as she can into her lungs and screams until your ears begin to ring. With her hands cupped around her mouth, she shouts, “POKKO! POKKO, COME HERE!” She’s garnering people’s attention at once but she doesn’t care. Around eight or nine cubicles away from you, Porco stands up from his seat with his face flushed, mouthing, “Are you insane?! Shut up!” Pieck makes some questionable gestures and when she still can’t convince him to come over, her voice booms again. “IF YOU DON’T COME HERE IN TEN SECONDS, I’M GOING TO TELL EVERYONE THAT YOU HAVE A GIGANTIC MOLE ON YOUR—”

Porco has never run so fast in his twenty-six years of living.

“W-what’s up?” He asks, landing one hand on your desk to support himself as he tries to catch his breath.

Pieck chimes in. “Jaegerbomb confessed to her and she told him she loved him too.”

“Wait—” You shriek, panic and shame mixed into one. “Pieck!”

“Shit, for real?” The thought appalls him once but Porco doesn’t stay like that for long. On the next second, he clicks his tongue in vexation. “Damn it,” he grumbles under his breath, “Why couldn’t he wait for another week.” He turns to Pieck, rummaging his back pocket in search of his wallet. “So, how much do I owe you? I’m really running low on the money here, Pieck. Be gentle with me.”

“I’ve always been gentle with you, Pokko, you know that.” Her naughty wink paints more color to his cheek. “A hundred bucks.”

“Fuck. I thought it was more, like, fifty.”

“Nope. But if you let me peg you tonight, I’ll call it even.”

“Sorry, how much was it again?”

“Guys?!” You stand up from your seat, face in flames. “You’re making bets on me?!”

Pieck has the biggest pout on her face when she receives her money from Porco. Clearly, she wanted him to choose her other offer. “Honey, I’m sorry,” she says, smiling apologetically at you even though she just blatantly made profits off you. “We just find it frustrating that the two of you never had the balls to speak your feelings out in the open when literally everyone could see that you were both in love with each other. So we figured, we might as well enjoy the show.”

“By making bets on me?!” You drag your eyes to Porco. “Pieck I could understand, but you? I expected better of you, Galliard.”

“Sorry,” he winces. “I really needed the money.”

“You just handed her a hundred-dollar bill!”

“Which would’ve stayed perfectly still in my wallet and got me another hundred dollar bill if you just kept your confession to yourself for another week!”

“Pokko, if you let me peg you again, I’ll give you back your money and double it—”

“WILL YOU STOP WITH THE PEGGING, PLEASE?!”

“Oh my God, why am I even friends with you two.” You have your face buried in your hands, moaning in exasperation.

“So, what are you planning to do next?” Porco leans against your desk, while Pieck sinks back into her chair. “You guys officially dating now or what?”

“No,” you mutter weakly, mentally drained. “I told him that I was still not ready to be in a relationship with him and he said it was okay to stay where we were.”

“For how long, though? You can’t tell me that you want to keep this up forever, right?” Seeing how you grow silent as you can’t find the answer, his forehead creases. “What is it? Is it because you feel like you’re not good enough for him?”

Truth is, yes, you’re still afraid that your personality and behavior—how you tend to be possessive over your partner, how often you go jealous over the simplest things—might put your relationship into jeopardy but with Eren… You think you can try. “I feel like…” You wet your lip. “I feel like I don’t worry about that as much as I did before. The more I get to know him, the more convinced I am that no matter what I do—no matter what I become—Eren will still accept me for who I am. And now, after I found out what happened to him, I think he’s afraid of the same thing too. Of me leaving him because he’s not good enough for me.”

Pieck leans closer. “Why do you think that?”

“Because when I told him about Armin, he didn’t act like he was jealous. He seemed…” Your heart squeezes at the memory. “Sad.”

As you’re deep in thoughts, Porco and Pieck exchange stares. “Well,” the man says, “Seems to me, you two understand each other very well. I don’t see why you shouldn’t take this relationship a step further.”

You have both hands resting on your lap, fingers curling tightly into balls of fists. “I don’t know…”

“Honey,” Pieck chimes in. “Let me ask you something. Are you planning to see other people?”

That you can answer instantly. “No.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause I’m in love with him.”

“And he’s not going to date anyone else either.”

Your tongue lays heavy in your mouth. “I… hope so.”

“So, you’re both in love with one another, don’t want nor allow each other to date anyone else, and want to spend literally every breathing moment with each other for the rest of your lives.”

Heat pools in your face. You haven’t thought about spending your forever with him, but now that she’s mentioned it, that’s the only thing you can think about. And honestly? It isn’t such a bad idea. “Y-yeah, probably.”

She pokes her tongue against the inside of her cheek, staring flatly at you. “You know that there’s literally no difference between you dating him and not dating him, right?”

“I know—oh God,” you’re groaning with your hands on your hair, tugging at the strands.

“Maybe it’s because of his fans,” Porco helps you out. “I mean, his fanbase is insane. Never seen so many horny teenagers gathering in one comment section in my life. They were, like, talking about licking chocolate off his abs—”

“I’ll lick chocolate off your abs,” Pieck flirts, batting her eyelashes. “As long as you let me peg—”

“Jesus, read the room, Pieck.”

“Sorry.” At his scold, she returns to you. “Babe, I know it’s gonna get hard. And the faster you get familiar with all those death threats coming your way, the better.” She jabs her fork through her zucchini. “But, you just gotta remember that by the end of the day, he belongs to you. The only one who can ride that monstrous dick of his is you and no one else.”

Her choice of words doesn’t really faze you anymore. “I know, but that’s not what I’m worried about.” At Porco’s frown, you elaborate further. “A week and a half ago, he punched a journalist for mentioning me in his interview. I don't want that to happen again. I don’t want him to put his image and career on the line because of me. Being a musician has always been his dream, Pieck. I don’t want him to throw that away for me.”

“Did you tell him about this?” Porco asks.

“Yeah.”

“And what did he say?”

“He promised he wouldn’t do it again.”

“Then, believe in him.” The sandy blonde hair man rests one hand on top of your head, smiling as a way to comfort you. “You wanna be with him, right?” You sheepishly nod. “Then be with him. You can worry about the rest later. Cross the bridge when you get there, that’s what I’ve been telling you.”

You sigh. You know overthinking wouldn’t do you any good. You’re already at this point anyway. Going back is no longer an option you can choose—nor an option you want to choose.

“And,” Pieck adds, taking your hand and squeezing it lightly. “If things don’t work out, you still have us. Don’t worry, we’ll never break up with you, baby.”

You can’t help but chuckle. “Thanks, guys.”

***

Today passes by in a blink. The conversation you had with Pieck and Porco puts you at ease but at the same time, it pushes you forward, forcing you to decide your relationship as soon as possible. There’s no reason why you should postpone this any longer. The more you wait, the harder it would be to start, and the bigger the chance he’s hurting because of you.

I need to tell him.

And if I see him today, I will.

You slide your card key with a restless heart, mind running a thousand miles per hour, thinking about the way to lay down the conversation on the table. Is it really as simple as saying, ‘Eren, I want to date you’? What’s going to change after that?

Finding no answer, you push your door open and step inside your apartment. You’re welcomed by the darkness of your living room but it’s fine. You’ve remembered every corner of your apartment like the back of your hand. What bothers you is the fact that Eren’s not here, since the lights are off. Reaching for the nearest switch, you turn it on and let your kitchen and living room be illuminated at once. You feel your heart drop a little bit lower when you see that he’s nowhere in sight. No pair of lips parting to form your name before they brush against your own. No large hands pulling you into a warm embrace nor a chest to lay your cheek on.

You sigh. Since when did I become so attached to him? You haven’t seen him in not more than a day, and there you are, yearning to see him as if seasons have changed without him. Settling your belongings on the kitchen counter, you figure that today will only get even longer.

After quickly washing your hands, you make your way to the fridge, desperate to grab a can of cold drink and some dessert to ease the tension. There are a few leftovers from yesterday’s takeouts, including the strawberry cheesecake Eren has brought you from the Italian cafe you once visited. Bending down to take a spoonful of it into your mouth, two strong arms find their way to your waist.

“Missed me?”

Eren’s husky voice resonates right beside your ear, causing you to jump on your feet. Dropping your spoon, you feel your body being spun around, the startled noise that escapes your lips muffled by a pair of warm, sweeter ones. Closing the fridge with one foot, Eren pushes you up against it, one hand framing your face, another one holding you firmly by the waist. Right now, your heart is palpitating from shock, but in the next second, it’s solely because of the way his tongue swirls around yours, tasting the flavor of your strawberry cheesecake. He spends a minute to pour his longing for your touch into that one kiss and you let him, whimpering quietly against his mouth.

He lets you go when he’s satisfied, leaving you a bit dazed. There’s a naughty twinkle in his eyes as he breaks away, wiping off the cream from his bottom lip with his thumb and licking every bit of it off his digit. “Welcome home, baby.” He accompanies his line with his signature smirk, making it seem much less innocent than it’s supposed to be.

“You scared me.” You land a light punch on his chest, causing him to chuckle deeply.

“Sorry.” He leans in again to brush his lips against the spot between your eyebrows. “I’m glad you’re back. I’ve missed you.”

The way he just so easily causes your heartrate to soar from the simplest line is unbelievable. You let him kiss you once more before you whisper back with a shy smile. “I’m… glad to be home. I, uhh… I’ve missed you too.”

“Yeah?” Eren smirks, brushing his thumb over your glistening lower lip. “Kiss me again and show me how much then.”

No matter how embarrassed you are, he doesn’t take no for an answer. And there’s nothing left to do but to slant your lips against his, letting him taste you a little better.

The passion in his kiss reminds you of the day when your friends-with-benefits relationship just started. The little teasing bite on your supple skin, the way he tugs your bottom lip before he suckles on it, everything feels fiery and exciting—a stark contrast from all those tender, affectionate touches you’ve been sharing recently.

Eren, without needing to be asked, reaches over the counter to grab your favorite mug. “Have a seat,” he says. “I’ll make you some coffee.”

“Oh—umm—you don’t have to—“

“I want to.” He pats your head, showcasing his beautiful smile. Joy trickles down from your heart to every inch of your body. Taking a seat on the dining table, Eren joins you a moment later with two cups of sizzling hot coffee. “Here you go, Milady.”

You take the cup from his hand, tossing a smile as a token of your gratitude. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Eren drags back a chair, taking a seat beside you.

You can tell he’s admiring you from the side, his eyes raking over your side profile. Feeling like the room has gotten ten degrees hotter, you clear your throat. “H-how was, uhh…” You bring your mug closer to your lips. “How was your day?”

“Horny.”

You nearly lose your grip and accidentally splash a few drops of hot coffee to your shirt and hand. You hiss, wincing at the pain and Eren promptly stand up from his seat and leads you to the sink. Taking your hand gently in his, he pours cold water over the scalding skin. “Sorry,” he says. “Should’ve phrased my line better.”

“It wasn’t even a line,” you grumble but there’s no anger in your voice. If anything, you feel your heart warmed at the way he’s taking care of you over the smallest of injuries. “What do you mean by that anyway? No, wait, on second thought, I don’t think I wanna know.”

“Well, I found the lingerie you wore that night.” He tells you with a devilish smirk you haven’t seen in what feels like months. “Any chance I might be seeing you in it again?” He’s getting a little bit of his old self back, and it’s a nice change. Refreshing, even.

But no matter how thrilled you are to have that naughty version of him back, you narrow your eyes suspiciously at him. “Eren, you’re supposed to be reflecting on your mistakes,” you reprimand him.

“I am reflecting on my mistakes,” Eren argues, amusement standing thick in his voice. “I shouldn’t have let you go to work this morning. Could’ve done so many things to you if you had stayed at home.”

“I meant, the incident you had with Levi.” You take a quick look at his face, observing the bruises that begin to fade—almost entirely—from his skin. It has been a week and a half since his fight with Levi occurred. As ordered, he’s been staying at home—your home—to let his bruises heal and to make up for his mistakes by answering letters and signing posters and CDs to be given to his fans during his next concert. It’s a tedious job and Eren grumbles all the time as he does it. Honestly speaking, if it wasn’t because of you and your consistent nagging about how he should take care of his image properly, he wouldn’t have done it. “Have you thought about what you’re going to say to your manager when you’re back at the studio again?”

“I’ll think about that later,” Eren answers as he turns off the water. “I kept thinking about you—I could barely concentrate.” He examines your hand, exhaling in relief when he notices there’s no swelling. “I wrote down your name instead of mine when I signed one of my albums today.”

You can’t help but smile, thinking how much you two are alike. “You’re embarrassing.”

Every time he manages to make you giggle, elation washes over him. He wants nothing more than to do that every day, every hour, and every second of his life. “So,” he takes a step forward, reaching to either side of you to grab the ledge, and properly traps you within his arms. “I was thinking that maybe…” He tilts his head to the side, his lips hovering close to your ear. You close your eyes, feeling ticklish from the way his breath fans your skin and that deep, alluring voice of his. “We could go somewhere nice tomorrow.”

Your breathing becomes labored when you feel the tip of his nose brushing lightly against the side of your neck. Eren intentionally maintains an inch's worth of space, making you feel him without actually feeling him on your skin. “Where..?” Your voice turns hoarse, your hand unconsciously moving up to feel the muscles he hides behind his thin shirt but he doesn’t let you. He laces your fingers together, bringing it down until he has yours pinned against the counter.

“To the beach,” he whispers, finally taking your earlobe between his teeth, moaning softly because he knows how much his sultry voice drives you insane. “I’ve always wanted to take you there.”

You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, head lulling back to give him more access to your throat. “So we can have sex there?” You tease him with the same joke he made on the night when you both were staying on different continents.

“Well, I was thinking more about swimming and building sandcastles with you, but sure okay.”

You laugh, but only for a second before it turns into a suppressed moan. “I don’t think…” You swallow, surrendering yourself to him. “We’re gonna get any sandcastles done.”

“Yeah,” he answers breathily, loving the way your skirt rides up your thighs when he settles his knee between your legs. “Probably not.”

He’s so sensual—every bit of him is. His tone, his gaze, his little touches that spark electricity on your skin. Unsatisfied and impatient with the pace he’s going, you grind your hips against him. “Eren—” His mouth finds yours, fingers framing your jaw to keep you under his control. You clamp your hand around his wrists, eyebrows furrowed at the intensity of his kiss. “I want you,” you gasp against his mouth.

“Me too,” he groans, lifting your body by the waist and settling you down on the counter. Your legs spread naturally for him and Eren wastes no second before he settles himself between them. You’re gasping against each other’s mouth when your hips make contact, his hand gripping tightly against your thigh. “Fuck, I want you so bad, baby girl.”

You shudder, your insides churning. “Then—”

You're both interrupted by the sound of your stomach grumbling. It’s so unexpected, so embarrassing that it takes you three seconds to convince yourself that no, this isn’t happening but that thought shortly morphs into fuck, okay, so that did happen, but hopefully he didn’t hear it?

But when your eyes meet again, your heart trembles in horror because Eren is trying his very best not to laugh at you. Your face feels like it's seconds away from exploding, hands shooting up to cover your expression. “Please don’t laugh at me—I—I didn’t know why—”

Eren, still chuckling softly, retrieves your hands away and fills the gap between your fingers with his. “You’re adorable,” he says, making you feel even more flustered. “You haven’t eaten anything on your way back?”

“No…” You pout, still feeling completely distraught by the sound of your grumbling stomach. “You?”

“Nope. I wanted us to eat together so I waited for you.” With his help, you land back on your feet. “Sorry, I should’ve asked you about it when you arrived. I got, uh... distracted.”

“It’s…” You’re having the hardest time meeting his gaze. “It’s okay.”

Eren presents you with a quick peck on the cheek before he walks deeper into the kitchen, stealing your apron from the top drawer and ties it around his waist. “Give me fifteen minutes, okay?” he says, unfastening his hair tie just so he can bind his hair up again. “I can’t make anything fancy but how do you feel about having some Pad Thais for dinner?”

It feels like a dream. This man—this beautiful, beautiful man—standing before you with his delicate smile intact and his emerald eyes gleaming like crystal, acting like the perfect husband you could never even begin to imagine. Instead of answering, you half-run toward him and wrap your arms tightly around his waist. You knock some air out of his lungs from how hard you’re embracing him but Eren chortles, tangling his arms around the curves of your body. “Baby, I love you but as much as I enjoy being hugged like this, I can’t really cook if—“

“Eren,” you stop him, and his eyes widen slightly at the firmness in your tone.

Seeing you nervous makes him nervous. “W-what?”

I need to tell him. I need to tell him now. “I want—”

Your phone rings.

The sound makes you both freeze in an instant, two pairs of eyes peering into each other. None of you wants to acknowledge it but it grows persistent. With your heart feeling like it’s being chained down to an anchor, you step away from him. “Sorry, can you give me a minute? It might be important.”

“Sure.” Eren’s eyes don’t give you the permission you need but his smile does, no matter how forged it seems.

You return to your purse, snatching your phone with one hand, and take a glance at the caller ID.

It’s Armin.

Your heart palpitates hard. Not sure if it’s because you’re thrilled to have him call you again after all this time staying in the dark, or because Eren is there and he’s close enough to hear the conversation you’re going to have with him. Pressing the phone against your chest, you move away to the living room before you answer it.

Eren raises a brow but that’s it. The rest of his expression is too guarded and you don’t have the time to decipher every bit of it yet. Without asking questions, he makes his way to the fridge, grabbing the ingredients he needs to make his special dinner for two.

You take a seat on the couch, inhaling deeply before you answer the call. “Armin, hi,” you speak so quietly you’re almost whispering to the phone.

“Hey…” His honeyed voice never changes, still so light and pleasing to listen to. “Bad timing?”

“No. It’s fine. I just, uh, I just got home. What’s up?”

There’s a pause that makes you wonder whether he’s staying mute because he’s hesitating on what to say or whether he can tell by how nervous you are that you’re not alone in your apartment. Either way, Armin doesn’t stay voiceless for long. “I’m sorry for not… seeing you in a while…”

Your heart jerks. You whirl your head to the side, catching a glimpse of Eren’s back as he chops down some green onions. He doesn’t seem to pay you any attention and you let out a breath, slightly relieved as you lean your back against the couch. “It’s okay…” You speak to the phone with your lips breaking into a delicate smile. “Is everything all right with you?”

“Yeah. Everything’s fine. I just—” You can hear him take a shaky breath. “I just really missed you.”

You’re treating Armin like a best friend you’ve always wished to have, but you know he’s not treating you the same way. It’s written clearly in his voice that he has missed you as something more than a friend he shares his favorite books with. The yearning, the aching he holds for you… Maybe it’s wise for you not to indulge him but you can’t lie to yourself. Even when it’s not the same as how you felt when Eren wasn’t around, you did miss him. You still miss him. And Armin deserves your honesty. “I’ve missed you too, Armin…”

There’s a quiver in the breath he releases. “I want to see you…”

“I want to see you too.”

“So… So badly…“ His voice breaks. “You don’t know how much I want to be there with you right now…”

There’s something different about him. Instead of the usual nervous, easily flustered, young boy Armin Arlert, what stands in his shoes right now is a man with a broken heart. He’s honest to his soul, tired of building walls around him to keep his emotions hidden from the world.

“Armin?” You sew your eyebrows together in concern. “Are you okay?”

He takes a moment to himself, desperate in trying to stay composed. When he returns to his phone, his voice sounds firmer. “I’d like to take you out tomorrow.”

“T-tomorrow?” It seems like the roles are reversed. You’re the one who’s easily surprised and nervous about everything. You take another look at Eren, stammering, “Oh, umm… I—”

“Please?” Armin begs. “I know it’s so sudden but… tomorrow is my birthday and I—“

“What?!” You gasp, your jaw turns slack. “I thought you said your birthday was on Christmas Eve!”

“Well, I—“ There’s guilt in his voice. “I lied. I didn’t want you to make a big deal out of it, so…”

“Armin…” You sigh. “You should’ve told me.”

“Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad, I’m—” You catch yourself. “I just wish you told me. I haven’t bought you any gift.”

“You don’t have to get me anything.”

“No, but I want to. You’ve given me so much, I wanted to give you something special in return for your birthday. I thought it was still months away…”

Armin can sense the sadness and disappointment in your voice, you can tell. “Then just come with me tomorrow. Please…” His plea comes out in a whisper. “Even if it only just for a few hours, I… I really want to spend my birthday with you…”

Your heart breaks. Has he ever sounded this lonely before? Your eyes drift back to Eren once again, your mind running through multiple scenarios at once. If you decline his invitation, Armin is definitely going to distance himself away from you, even worse than he already is now and you don’t want to lose your best friend. If you say yes, you’ll make him happy. You can probably fix whatever it is that’s falling apart between you, but then…

How is Eren going to feel about that? You’ve stated many times before that you wouldn’t return Armin’s feelings for you, but if you were in his shoes, you would still worry about it, wouldn’t you?

“It’s…” Armin’s voice sounds like he’s speaking in a distance. “It’s okay if you say no…”

You must have taken too long to think about this. With a heavy heart, you decide to go with, “Can I call you again later? I need to—” You swallow hard. “I need to check on something first.”

“Huh? Oh... Okay…” The despondency lays thick in his voice, to the point that you almost hurriedly say yes to his offer.

“In a minute,” you promise him. “I’ll call you again in a minute.”

He stays mute for a few seconds before a weak, “Okay,” makes it to the other line.

“Okay… Bye.” You tap your thumb on your phone, ending the call, and watch his name disappear from the screen. You close your eyes, exhaling heavily.

What am I going to do?

Eren, noticing your footsteps closing in, stops his hands from slicing more bell peppers. He turns around to face you. “I’m hoping that wasn’t your boss?” He tries to lighten up the mood with a smile but your lips feel too heavy to mirror the action. “What?” His eyebrows are knitted in concern as he sees the way your face turns pensive. “Something wrong?”

“It was Armin.”

Silence strikes like a hurricane and you wonder if it was better to lie about it. No, it’s not. Telling lies would never solve a problem and Eren deserves better than to hear one.

“Oh…” is his only response. There’s sadness in his voice that may not sound too vivid to anyone else’s ears since he’s trying his best to cover it, but you notice it, causing your stomach to swirl uncomfortably.

“Yeah…” You fiddle with your fingers. “He’s having his birthday tomorrow and… Well, he asked me to go with him somewhere.”

“I see.” His shoulders slump slightly, attempting a smile even when he can barely meet your eyes. “Well, I think you should go.”

You look up at him from behind your bangs. “You—you do?”

“Yeah, sure.” He nonchalantly shrugs. “He wanted to spend his birthday with you, right?”

“Y-yeah…” You can’t say that his answer doesn’t surprise you. “But, Eren, if you don’t want me to go, I’ll—“

“You should go.” He doesn’t say I want you to go, you notice and that’s when you realize that he hates the thought of letting you go but he’s trying his best to be considerate—to not steal the options away from you.

The heaviness in his voice still makes you feel restless. “Will you come with me?” You know it’s out of the line to ask him without Armin’s permission, but you can’t stop yourself.

Eren goes stiff but only for a split second before he melts into another smile that seems so forced, it nearly makes you flinch. “I wasn’t invited, Sweetheart.”

“You’re his friend too. I don’t think Armin would mind—”

“I think he would.” His tone turns a little bit colder but not bitter. “It’s okay. Just go and have fun.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, your chest tightening in discomfort. “But you said you wanted to take me to the beach tomorrow.”

“It can wait. Unlike him, I can take you out anytime I want. Armin only gets to celebrate his birthday once a year.” He chuckles once, dedicating himself to act better to assure you. “Really, it’s okay. I’ll be here and wait until you get home. You know, just hang around, play some games. Maybe jack-off a little when I get too bored.” He throws you a flirty wink.

You deeply scrutinize his face, not convinced in the slightest. You want him to tell you how he truly feels about this but you’ve pushed hard enough and Eren is devoted to keeping his feelings concealed. And, well, Eren’s right. Armin only gets to celebrate his birthday once a year and he chose to celebrate it with you.

“Then…” you finally say with a timid smile. “I guess I’m gonna take his offer.”

Eren nods. “As you should.”

“I won’t stay out too long, I promise.”

“Good, ‘cause I don’t want to miss you too much,” he says with a boyish grin but it lacks the warmth it used to have. “Anyway, just realized we’re running out of sugar. I’ll head downstairs to buy some.”

You blink twice, caught off guard but when he’s starting to walk away, you quickly chase after him. “Wait, I’ll go with you.”

“No, it’s fine.” Eren casts a smile, dragging open the door with one hand. “I’ll be quick.”

“But Eren—“

You’re answered by the dull sound of a closing door. You have one hand stretched out, hanging in the air before it returns powerlessly to your side. Your head throbs, your heart aches and as you make your way back to the kitchen, you notice one thing.

You still have a full jar of sugar sitting on your counter.

***

Eren is out of your sight but he doesn’t leave right away. Instead, he enjoys the silence that the hallway of your building provides him as he leans his spine against your closed front door. He shuts his eyes, his skull making a dull thud as it knocks lightly against it.

What am I doing?

Honestly, he hates what he’s doing. But Armin is your best friend, and he knows how much you cherish him. Eren doesn’t want to be awful to you; doesn’t want to be too possessive over you that he wouldn’t allow you to meet another man just because you’re together with him. He’s not like that. He’s not going to be that guy.

He doesn’t have any reason to be jealous. He believed you when you said nothing was going on between you and Armin, he still does but… It doesn’t mean he can completely be fine handing you over to someone else to spend a special day together.

Someone who’s much better than him too.

Stop it, he states firmly in his head, curling his fingers into balls of fists. She said she loved you. She said she wouldn’t answer his feelings, so just keep a blind eye to it. This won’t change anything.

Eren sighs into the air.

I hope it won’t change anything.

***

“Eren…”

You lay a hand gently on his shoulder, cold fingers pressing against his warm skin. He���s still lying down on his stomach, bundled in a thick blanket. He’s wearing nothing but his lounge pants as he always finds it uncomfortable to wear shirts to bed. His long hair is untied, tousled from sleep. He looks younger like this, deep in serenity, far away from the fame and the traumatic past that puts a heavy weight on his shoulders. “Eren, wake up…” You shake him lightly, enough for his eyebrows to furrow before a pair of stunning jade green eyes come into view. “Hey…” You cast him a smile, carding your fingers gently through his hair. “Sorry, I had to wake you up.”

He mumbles incoherently, his words almost too slurry for you to catch on but you manage. “What time is it?” he questions.

“Eight-thirty. It’s still a bit early but I’m leaving in ten minutes.”

He pushes himself off the bed, weak and lazy. You fix his blanket to cover his body, worried that he might catch a cold. With eyes squinting to adjust to the morning sunlight, he takes a look at your appearance. “Why are you so pretty?”

You almost laugh. “I’m not.” He’s the one who looks so pretty, effortlessly so. Eren doesn’t wear makeup much even when he’s on stage since he already looks so handsome without it. They just need to style his hair and that’s it. He’s perfection from the start. “I’ve made you some pancakes and poached eggs,” you tell him. “Eat them before they get cold. There’s some orange juice in the fridge. You can have my pudding if you want to.”

His brain hasn’t functioned properly yet but as he rubs his eyes away from sleep, he mutters, “Okay…”

You nibble on your lower lip. Somehow, a huge part of you still doesn’t want to let him stay in your apartment by himself. But you have to go. You know you have to. So you lean in to place a soft kiss on his temple. “I promise I won’t be long.” You stroke his cheek. “I’ll be back home before you know it.”

Eren’s eyes are still a bit hazy but he nods. You give him a light kiss on the lips before you climb down the bed. He reaches out a hand to grab yours, stopping you on your tracks. “Eren?”

“Five minutes,” he says. “Give me five minutes to wash my face. I’ll drive you.”

“Huh? Oh, no, you don’t have to. Armin is picking me up with his car. He’s already on his way.”

“Then, I’ll walk you downstairs.”

“Eren—“

“Please.”

His eyes don’t plead, nor the tone of his voice, but they leave you speechless, nonetheless. With your heart feeling like it’s being squeezed tightly, you nod your head.

***

Your walk down to the lobby with Eren matching your steps from the side happens with a very little amount of words being exchanged and an endless excruciating silence. Eren’s hands are buried deep in the pockets of his grey hoodie, his eyes droopy but not bleary from sleep. He holds the elevator door open for you and you toss him a smile as a form of gratitude, one that he refuses to see. Keeping his eyes away from making contact with yours, Eren leans his head against the steel sheet, his eyes turn vacant as his face grows pensive. You’re in dire need to find a conversation that could ease the tension, but every time a word form insides your head, it never finds its way to your lips.

He’s upset.

He’s clearly not okay with this.

Maybe I shouldn’t go.

But I already promised Armin I’d see him.

God, why does this have to happen now? We were doing so well with each other.

“Hey,” Eren’s call yanks you back to reality. He has his index finger pressed against the button, holding the door open for you. “Aren’t you going to step out?”

Get a grip on yourself. “Yeah, sorry.” You walk past the frame with Eren following your steps soon after.

“You seem distracted,” he says, tucking his hands inside his pockets again as he walks next to you. He sneaks glances to observe your expression but he never lets his eyes linger long enough for you to notice. “Are you okay?”

You resist the urge to look at him. “I’m fine. Are you?”

“I’m fine.” His tone doesn’t give you a hint of his true feelings and it frustrates you. You’re on the verge of stopping on your tracks when you take a step outside your building, wanting to confront him about it—whether he’s okay with everything because you really don’t want to make him worry over something that he shouldn’t have worried about. Stepping off the stairs, you turn to face him. “Eren—”

A car—Armin’s car—drives close, stopping at the side of the road, just a few meters away from you’re standing. Eren looks up, face turning solemn but again, more guarded than ever. “He’s here,” he tells you, but you don’t turn around to greet the person you’ve been wanting to see in the last few weeks. You keep your eyes on the person that matters. Eren’s teal ones slowly drift back to yours as Armin turns off the engine. He weakly smiles. “You should go.”

Please don’t look at me like that, you want to say. Don’t look at me like I’m breaking your heart. “Eren,” there’s desperation in your voice and you know he’s aware of that too. “You don’t have to worry about this. Armin and I—” Your breath catches in your throat when Eren suddenly walks forward, moving past you. You can hear him greet Armin behind you, a little of his chuckles erupting in the air.

You clutch a hand against your heart, hoping it could tear away the invisible hand that’s been squashing it tightly.

You spin around to see Armin turning pale, his sapphire eyes growing wide in shock. “E-Eren…” He gapes. “W-why are you—I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Yeah…” The brunette rubs the back of his head. His smile is polite and a bit awkward, a perfect facade to lie his way through the conversation. “I wanted to pick her up for breakfast but she said she had plans with you.”

“Oh…” Armin drags his eyes to the side, finding their way to your face. “Y-yeah, we, umm… I was going to take her out for breakfast too.”

“Ah, right.” Eren’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes but Armin is too baffled to notice. “Well, she’s all yours since you already made plans with her first. I heard that it’s your birthday today?” The golden-haired man hasn’t found the proper words to speak when Eren congratulated him on it. “Have a blast today, man.”

You’ve been staying mute all the time, fully knowing that you’re going to make the situation a hundred times more awkward than it already is if you intervene. It’s when Eren steps back, gesturing you to come close with yet another smile that you brave yourself to greet him. “Hey, Armin. You’re right on time.” You step closer, avoiding making eye contact with Eren and focusing more on making your smile seem genuine to the other man.

Armin moves his eyes from you and Eren, silently scrutinizing. You can tell how he grows even more suspicious by the second, most likely wondering whether you two had spent the night together for Eren to be wandering this early around your neighborhood.

Wanting to divert his attention, you nudge your head toward the direction of his car. “Shall we go?” You don’t wait for his answer, already making your way forward.

“Huh? Oh—” He follows you as you barely give him any choice to stay. Armin whirls his head around to take a glance at the musician and Eren hides his hands inside the pockets of his hoodie again, hoping that it would be enough to conceal the way his nails are sinking deep into his palms.

“Take care of her for me, Arlert,” he says, maintaining his smile. Armin, no matter how restless and uncertain he is, answers timidly with a nod.

Eren keeps his eyes on you as you step inside the car, but you never look back. You’re too anxious, afraid that you’d witness the pain he tries to hide behind those eyes. Even when Armin steps one foot on the engine, you never do.

And Eren is standing there on the side of the road, leaning his back against the streetlamp’s pole. He watches as the car drives away and he keeps his lips pressed tightly until they turn white.

Seriously…

What the hell am I doing…?

***

Time seems to slow down. The universe stands still as Eren lets his eyes linger on the ceiling of your living room. It's funny how silence never seemed to strike as something unbearable, but an old friend that he grew to welcome ever since his mother walked away from his life. Silence gave him solitude. Silence gave him peace of mind. But right now… Right now, silence equals loneliness and loneliness… Well, nobody wants to be alone. Eren thought he was different, but ever since he knew how it felt like to spend every precious hour with you, he realized he wasn’t. Maybe he even dreads being alone now.

He hasn’t done much in the past few hours, his thoughts too clouded to function. It’s only his chest that’s making a constant motion, heaving up and down, slow and steady as he lies down on the couch; one hand draping over his stomach, his other one dangling around the edge. He only heeds to his surrounding once the sun starts stepping its way down the stairs, waiting for the moon to reclaim its throne. You’ve been gone since morning, and during those times, his thoughts constantly revolve around the questions he’s been trying to turn a blind eye to.

Where does he take you? What are you doing now?

Is he making you smile in the way I never did?

Making you feel in the way I never did?

When you come home to me later, will I still be the only one in your mind?

Eren trusts you. He trusts you with all his heart, more than anyone else in the world, and if you say you love him, he takes your words for it. It’s just… It’s not impossible to be in love with two people at once, he concedes with a sigh, closing his eyes. And Armin… Armin is the kind of person that can be loved easily. He can offer you a million reasons for you to love him, and a million reasons why he should love you. Unlike him.

It’s like another soul is residing within him, someone whose voice turns vehement when he’s sinking too deep in his past. And the more Eren listen to it, the more it makes sense.

What if I only get to be with her because I met her first?

What if I didn’t?

What if Armin was the one who stayed with you from the beginning, and I only just walked in now by coincidence?

Will you still love me? Will you even notice me?

Eren hates himself for not being able to find the answers. And he knows you’ll hate this part of him too if you know what’s been crossing his mind. But he can’t help it. The fear of being abandoned is always there, and it will never change. When he’s with you, he’s cured. He doesn’t give in to his other part. You’re his medication, an addicting drug but once you’re gone, he’ll fall back into relapse. And the more silence befriends him, the bigger his fear is taking shape in his head.

Maybe the reason why she isn’t brave enough to take a further step in our relationship is that she’s still unsure of her feelings. Unsure of her feelings for me.

Or maybe she’s in love with Armin too and she’s taking her time to sort her thoughts.

Then… Who will she choose?

Now that they’ve become close again, is it still gonna be me she’ll pick in the end?

Eren stands up from his seat, his jaw clenching hard. Shut up, you idiot. Just shut up and don’t think.

He moves toward the window, his silhouette painted by the sunset. He watches the brown leaves detach themselves from the trees, carried by the wind before it falls helplessly to the concrete pavements. As his eyes follow, he notices that Armin’s car has been parked on the side of the road. His heart jerks. They’re here, he thinks with a hammering heart, how long have they been standing there?

Eren takes a step closer, his palm pressing against the glass as he watches intently. Even from the third floor, he can see the way Armin smiles fondly at you. He’s in deep conversation with you, his hair seeming golden underneath the light. He laughs a little over something you say, a pair of shy, sapphire blue eyes peeking from behind his bangs as he’s too diffident to meet your gaze. He’s a boy with a heart too innocent for the world to ruin, and it’s pure the way he loves you, his gaze untainted.

Eren feels his chest tightening, his nails sinking into his palms. From where he’s standing, he can’t see your face, witnessing only the way your hair is half-tucked inside the collar of your coat. But when you press your palm gently on Armin’s cheek, Eren sees it. When you circle your arms around his neck, pull him closer until he envelopes you with all his warmth, Eren sees it.

And when Armin’s thin lips meet your softer ones, Eren sees it too.

***

Next Chapter

A/N:

Guys, I'm so sorry it's 24k long 😭 I was also rushing a little bit to meet my deadline so I'm so sorry if there are a lot of grammatical errors in this chapter 😭😭😭

Also, this chapter includes the angry sex scene that anon requested. congratulations for making the right guess about Mikasa. I hope you like the scene, anon! ❤️ I tried my best not to make him sound toxic, i hope it works 😭

SUPER HUGE thanks to @justasketch for being such a thorough reader. like man, the way you always managed to notice the smallest details I forgot to put in. I LOVE YOU BRO SERIOUSLY

Tagging: @tasteless @l6ffys @vivi-et @halparkebitch @fwess @littlemochi @thebeardedmoon @luvtaromilktea @didiyogo @xximthefoolxx-blog @coyloves @erenbean​ @tehehebri @infnteen @naiomiwinchester @spiderlingh @doyochii @ahornyenby @jeagersruletheworld @sakurashell @indiecursor @the-princess-button @resonancesoul @link-avalon thanks so much for reading, lovelies! Let me know what you think ❤️

[k3ntarou]

Uhg akaashi's big hands on your hips, sitting in his lap. Legs stretched almost uncomfortably over his lap. It's cold outside, but the muted tv casts shadows around the two of you, you're spellbound in the moment with him. He's got heart-eyes staring at you, looking down at him. You're smooshing his face between your hands, teasing him for attention. He's got a scowl on his face but the second you try to pull back he grabs your wrist and leaves the sweetest kisses up your arm, your shoulder, your neck, your cheek, finally kissing you after a too-long day at work. He's got bags under his eyes, he looks worn-down and tired, but you make him feel like you could climb a mountain. You can feel his smile against your lips.

(this is so pretty i'm all hearteyes rn 🥺💞✨☁️🌷)

there's not a single sight as pretty as the one of a soft, calm and gentle yet tired akaashi keiji looking at you with nothing but love and adoration gleaming in his pretty eyes. for some reason, no matter how hard either one of you tries, every night spent together ends with you straddling his lap, followed by fifteen minutes of just looking at each other. keiji always talks about how looking at you, touching and littering your skin in soft kisses puts him at ease and makes him forget about his busy schedule, you're the only thing that matters and he absolutely loves it.

usually it doesn't take long for you to get needy and before keiji can even think about protesting – not bc he doesn't want to but because he wants to take care of you – you make your way in between his legs with absolute greed and hunger in your pretty eyes. he can't deny how much it turns him on to know how badly you want him, how you won't shy away from begging for his cock in your mouth and how whiny you get when he refues to cum down your throat.

you're always so good to him, so sweet and kind; you're his angel, his precious baby and his perfect little slut. not a day goes by where you don't let him fuck your throat, coercing him into letting you do the work because he's hsd a long day only for him to give in because he can't just tell you no and the thought of your pretty mouth never fails to make his head spin.

but sometimes keiji manages to compromise pleasurable way for the both of you as he tells you to sit on his face so you can cum with his cock down your throat and he gets to eat the prettiest, sweetest little cunt on this planet 🥺💞✨☁️🌷