#anyway if anyone has any questions or wants me to talk about this au further i am always ready and willing

[cruel-hiraeth]

꒰ FLESH OF MY FLESH; BLOOD OF MY BLOOD ꒱ KAMO CHOSO X READER — ft. itadori yuuji

warnings ⟢ dead dove: do not eat. minors do not interact—i will block you! incest. yandere elements. implied drugging. noncon. slight forced feminization (choso uses “sister” and she/her pronouns to refer to reader, but reader is nb). religious imagery. reader is yuuji’s twin, but no physical descriptors are used. reader has a vagina.

word count ⟢ 963

notes ⟢ this is part of @ficsforgaza’s kinktober event! my prompt was choso + incest. i have an au with big brother choso and twins yuuji and reader, so this was the perfect opportunity to explore their dynamic. a huge thank you to my dearest lexi—@drleggman—for requesting this (and for allowing me to go full degenerate) <3

“Yuu…”  “Yuu…ji…” “Yuuji…”

Your twin’s name ambles from your petal-soft lips, voice laden with slumber, muted snores drifting through the gaps. The bedroom you share is swathed in midnight’s gloom; moonbeams peek through the cheap apartment blinds, luminous stripes cutting across the men huddled above your nude figure.  

“Our baby sister seems to be having sweet dreams,” Choso states, mouth reluctantly detaching from your nipple, a silvery thread of spider silk connecting his lips to your tender flesh. “She’s naughty, though—calling out to you when I’m the one pleasuring her.”

Choso removes two thick digits from your weeping hole, examining the twitch of your jaw as he strums your clit with calloused fingertips. He experimentally increases the speed and pressure of his caresses, humming when you let out a whimper. As your breath grows heavier and your eyes flicker and dance beneath your lids, he pauses to smear your slick across your pubic hair, and scrapes his teeth up your neck to nip at your pulse point. 

Yuuji lies beside you, honeyed gaze soaking in the tranquil curves of your dreamy expression. He strokes the hair at your temple with the care of a collector admiring his choicest possession; he can’t help but drag his nose across your cheek, blotting a kiss at the hollow behind your earlobe.  

The reverence Yuuji treats you with starkly contrasts the way his muscular body presses against your softness, his bare cock dribbling pre onto the plush of your thigh. It’s something of a punishment that Choso doled out—not being able to indulge in you fully—upset with your twin for being secretive and possessive of you. But as far as Yuuji is concerned, to be anywhere in the halo of your presence is a heavenly gift. To merely witness your divinity, to press his lowly, sweaty skin flush to yours—it’s more than he deserves. 

��Don’t be too rough with them,” Yuuji fusses when Choso abruptly presses your knees to your chest, leveling his face with your spread cunt. “W-wait—I wanna taste, too.” 

After Yuuji shuffles over to join Choso, two sets of broad shoulders hunch over to marvel at your beauty. Yuuji fully expects to be chewed out again—perhaps even shoved off the bed or thrown out of the room; he swallows his pride and formulates a half-hearted apology, prepared to grovel for a chance to revel in you.

Instead, he grunts in surprise when he’s pulled into a kiss.

Chapped, chilly lips slip against his own, urging Yuuji’s mouth open, wet muscles intertwining. A shiver skitters across his limbs when he discovers the little silver ball that pierces Choso’s tongue—now bumping along the expanse of his palate, tracing the velvet of his gums. It’s a sloppy exchange of spit and teeth and tongue, too frenzied to be mistaken as purely passionate. Choso reaches over to swipe a thumb across Yuuji’s fat, leaking cock head. Yuuji keens into his brother’s mouth before ripping himself away, swollen lips parted, blooming rose from the tips of his ears down to his heaving chest.

“Let’s taste her together,” Choso rasps.

Not waiting for a reply, he pecks the fat of your hip before dipping down to lap at the arousal leaking from your hole; Yuuji watches heatedly, letting saliva pool on his tongue and drip onto your clit. He then cleans his mess with noisy sucks, occasionally tugging at your folds. Too preoccupied with coaxing your unconscious body to orgasm, the brothers don’t realize how you begin to stir, fingers and toes flexing and relaxing. They savor your eventual high, admiring your glistening release.

“I’ll have her first,” Choso announces thickly, Adam’s Apple bobbing as he swallows. He’s practically vibrating—pale skin dewy with desire—having fantasized about this exact scenario more times than he can count. “You should prop her up.”

Yuuji leans against the headboard and pulls you between his strong legs, your head resting on his chest. Choso angles your hips and pumps his throbbing length a few times before nudging your entrance. Your breathing shallows and you yawn; Yuuji’s heart catches in his throat.

“Fuck—how much did you give them? Clearly not enough,” he hisses, arms tightening around your waist. “I think they’re about to wake up.”

For the first time all evening, Choso smiles at Yuuji. It’s an unsettling sight: his knife-sharp inscisors gleam in the dusk, irises black as bruised plums. “Relax,” he soothes. “She’s going to enjoy this, too. It will become a treasured memory for us all.”

Before Yuuji can respond, your eyelids flutter open. “Ch-Choso…Yuuji…” you murmur, words slow and slurred as molasses, “what are you—”

The air is promptly punched from your lungs, a strangled yelp interrupting your train of thought as Choso enters you in a single thrust—cock so deep you swear you can taste it. One of Yuuji’s rough palms rests on your belly and meanly presses down with the movement; you throw your head back and warble a moan.

“Call me ‘onii-chan,’” Choso grits out, refusing to succumb to the squeeze of your cunt so soon.

“W-what?” you sniffle. Your brain is foggy from whatever concoction they gave you, incapable of piecing together your predicament.

He grasps your chin firmly, forcing your glazed stare to focus on him. “Onii-chan,” he repeats with a harsh snap of his hips.

You squirm, trying to turn to Yuuji for help, unaware of the tears carving hot rivulets down your cheeks. But Choso won’t let you go. His heavy frame eclipses yours, trapping you in place. “We’re family,” he huffs, fucking you steadily, umber strands falling to curtain his face.

“Everything we do, we do together. You have both been—nnghhh—selfish. It’s time to make it up to onii-chan.” 

[suncatstudiosyt]

So recently (like in the last hourish) I guess I got into a "fight" with someone on Twitter and they called me a pedo (idk why but don't go looking for anyone and spread more hate that's not how you fix anything)

I want to say here that it was because of something with the smiling critters and this person getting mad at me for viewing them as adults to young adults (again don't send hate that's not how you fix problems)

(I also want to make it VERY clear! people who are pedos are NOT welcome here and if I find out someone is I will be blocking and reporting them)

so anyway, I wanted to come on here and maybe clear some things up, yes I see the Cartoon and Monster versions of them as adults, NO I do not romantically ship the Monster versions (I see them in my Au as nothing more than close friends) as for the Toon versions, I'm mixed on it kinda? again I see them as adults but I would never make any adult content images of them as I want this to be a safer space for a younger audience, idk but if you don't like how I see them please tell me why and I will try my best to go further into detail on it all.

But, with the amount of hate that seems to be surrounding this community lately it has been incredibly uninviting and unmotivating so I think I'm going to put the Smiling critters art on hold until I get more motivated and see less hate coming from this community, I'm happy everyone has enjoyed my art of them all and I still love these characters but I think I'm going to be switching up the art that I'm making, sorry to all the people who haven't gotten their questions done for Ask Catnap but that will be (temporally?) ending, again thanks for the support with all of my art its been great guys!❤️️

(please if you have an issue with me, lets talk about it I would rather not make anymore people angry or upset with me)

[timestillstands]

RAAHAHHAHAHRF

Hi i’m normal

Tell me about your au so I can EAT IT (the information, I mean.)

RRRAGHHHHH HELLO SLIME I HAVE NOT SEEN IN THE PAST TEN MINUTES COUGH COUGH

Hurrrg this might take me overnight because I'm sickies and exhausted but um anyways I'll try and do what I can

BA NA NA NA NAA ENTER THE READER. 100 men's anxiety packaged ever so careful. but not labeled as fragile. Has an overwhelming sense of people pleaser. also thinks everyone hates them if they aren't close w them. I wonder who could write such a self insert. Reader needs a job(you either quit or got fired from your last job) and you're fresh out of college(where you majored in engineering or something. idk.), what better place to turn to than the one and only(that's a lie) PizzaPlex!!!!

Yeah uh hahaha Sun doesn't like you. yayyy. you totally don't blame yourself at all. you do actually ignore that.

Haven't mentioned this yet but the dca is actually trying to PROTECT you. which is funny. because. you get harmed. physically and mentally. a lot. all apart of the plan to get you to quit !!!!

also sun and moon are one person in this au, which is extra fun because yayyy that totally isn't hard to explain at all. I did this to myself. moon is a set of nighttime protocols, while sun is day-time protocols. it just alters how he acts around you and talks etc etc. they both have the same goals and want you OUT.

Moon has very crappy programming; when they tried removing him or reprogramming him entirely, which they gave up on, they weren't very smart and didn't go back to fix anything they have erased. yknow. like safety measures. because. why would they try to do that.

They were more worried about fixing sun and just said screw it, shoving moon in there for a while as the naptime attendant before they realized they fuzzled up. oh good fun. so moon is like, erased from anything besides merchandise. sun won't even talk about what he did. or the fact that he's the same person as moon.

that turned into a bigger problem. why on earth would anyone want to give you a proper set of instructions? sun dismisses any sort of question about moon(who you were specifically told to FIX. by said date unless further complications arrived. they do, btw.) hey, at least we have Vanessa!

your brief encounter w her was great, she got along with you for the short amount of time that you talked that first time. you brought up moon, not having any other real coworker outside of staff bots and the dca around to ask. HEY !!! SHE KNOWS SHIT !!!

so you get some information, really rare around these parts, and haha. yay. you head out for the day and guess what? tomorrow you have a nightshift. fingerguns.

btw. you've never had a nightshift or anything. but you didn't think it was weird or anything to not have lights on, it was night, right?(ahaha that rhymed)

ouhg. hi Moon. um. btw. he likes playing hide and seek 😃

and that's like. the rough outline for the first two chapters

☝️me explaining my au 😁😁😁

[cobaltperun]

How do you start out your stories? Or find a plot?

Hmm. Well, a few things usually need to happen. An absolute must is the character not only getting me to love them, but sparking something special in me. Let's take Scream for example, I love Sam, but there wasn't that spark, so, while she was available for request I never felt the desire to write a long story for her. Then there usually has to exist a plot reason like: this character deserved better in some way.

There are exceptions to this. Vada and Lorraine didn't really have that spark for me, and I'm fully aware that Jenna is a huge reason why I'll do stories for the two of them. I still like them as characters but I can't deny the effect she has on my feelings toward the characters. Guess that's the effect of familiarity, I've gotten emotionally attached to Tara especially, and Wednesday to an extent, and well, they are all played by Jenna. You get the point.

Anyway, I'm rambling. I need the spark and plot reason, and then I need the actual story plot, and it usually starts from one big point from which I start building things up. Take Lost as an example. It started as: I want Reader to protect Tara. And then that led to MMA, and that led to: R must be female, can't be gender neutral, can't be male, that would break the story. Then it led to R must be a bit older to have a career. That career must be a part of the reason for why they aren't together, so R must have a bigger reason than just the career to keep fighting even though Tara is against it. Zack gets created to provide that reason. Zack existing means R can't be from Woodsboro, since Tara would know about him. And so on. Then I start thinking about the plot, usually about what needs to happen and what the Reader character can do and how much do I want to break away from the main plot. So it's a bunch of 'yes to this, no to that' kind of deal. Lost as an example again. R can't be with Tara in the opening scene, the result of that is a story that completely deviates from Scream. Amber would get her ass kicked, Tara would know who tried to attack her, Amber probably lies to get Tara to go to Sam, a whole bunch of things happen and yeah, movie plot is completely broken. (This might be a Lost AU, or maybe a whole new Tara x Reader story, would any of you perhaps be interested?)

And that's how I have the basic plot in my head. Then I just figure out the details. What kind of person is Reader, how do the characters interact, so on. And then, with plot pretty much outlined from start to finish, or at least a good portion of the story, I sit down and write. Probably why I write as fast as I do when I have the time.

The issue with some characters is that I just struggle to get to an actual plot for them. Hence why, while I planned on doing Vada and Lorraine stories a long time ago, I just couldn't think of a plot worthy of being written, it just felt generic. Even now I don't think their stories will be longer than 5-6 chapters. And both plots are kind of a product of talking with ortegalvr, Vada from a request, Lorraine from me saying I can't figure out a plot and then saying what am I supposed to do (insert plot here) and it somehow actually made sense. So, yeah, sometimes plot just catches me by surprise. 😅😅

Thanks for the question, I enjoyed writing this, and I hope the answer was good enough. If anyone would like me to elaborate further on anything from this, don't be shy 😁😁

[woneuntonzz]

hypothesis || smau — c.s, j.wy

➤ chapter 14-A (back to chapters)

highschool senior!san x highschool senior!reader x highschool senior!wooyoung

contains: humor, fluff, a pinch of angst, light cursing, suggestive jokes, highschool au, reader is named & afab

» Hear me out... you should've just told him the first three letters instead of showing it on your phone.

⛦ ᴊᴏɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ!

more under the cut .ᐟ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

(ignore all time stamps!!)

\\

You have been waiting for San to arrive for about twenty minutes now, and it would take another swipe on your phone before you heard a car’s honk. 

choi san (girl dinner): i’m outside sab :))

Stepping out of the doorway, San would come out of his car, approaching you. In your hand you held a basket of grapefruits, which he would ask if he could take so he could carry it for you. You’d tell him to just take it since it was meant to be a gift. He leads you to the passenger seat, opening the door for you. You figured he’d probably do that with anyone, so you kept yourself from smiling like an idiot and just got yourself seated. 

Once San had settled himself on the driver’s seat he’d ask you, “Are we good to go?” 

“Yep.” you simply reply, looking straight ahead.

You were anxious, feeling a bit out of place. You didn’t have a reason to be there besides San inviting you. You never even knew about his sister before he talked to you about her. 

“Were you able to get enough sleep last night? you were in the call till three a-m. I fell asleep at twelve, and I woke up when you left the call.” you were in a zoom call with the two last night for the thesis. 

Your teacher had told you to change your topic since it overlapped with another from a different group. So with the night that followed, you were up all night with the two in a call, just searching for topics that concern the Humanities subject, and getting an outline draft started so all you’d have to do is cram everything on Sunday —your teacher had moved the deadline to Monday for your group. 

“Yeah, I feel pretty okay. I’ve had, like, three cups of coffee —and a half.” you sigh towards the end of your utterance. 

“And a half?” he questions, laughing a bit. 

A yawn suddenly escapes your mouth, but you’d shake it off, reminding your body that you’ve had more caffeine than water. “I drank half off my mom’s morning coffee earlier.” 

You felt his eyes glued on you, and you would see his stare from the corner of your eye. You look back at him instinctively, and you’d be met with a face of doubt.

“Are you sure you got some sleep?” you nod profusely at his words.

“Yes, I’m sure. I really am fine, don’t worry about me San.” but then another yawn was evoked from you. 

“You can take a nap on the way to the hospital, make yourself comfortable, if you want, I can fix the back for you so you could lay—”

“No, no need! I’m fine right here.” you give him a hearty smile, and he’d return it with a soft one. 

After the small talk, you were off to the hospital. He had informed you it was a bit further away from where you lived, but very close to his house. That was why you’d tell him a day prior to not bother picking you up, but he insisted anyway saying that he’s the one who wanted you there, so he should be the one to take you there. 

...

\\

You followed closely behind San, stepping into the Intensive Care Unit. There, you saw his sister lying with her eyes closed, barely any movement being caught by your eyes. 

“Hi Haneul, I brought a new friend with me today.” he says with a smile, as if his sister was smiling back at him. 

You glanced at San who had laid his eyes on you once he finished speaking. Now you’re quite unsure of what to say, you’ve never been in a situation such as this one before. Despite your worries, San’s hand rests on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze to provide some assurance, he could tell you were a bit tense. 

“Her name is Sabrina. She’s really nice, and she has a cat too —he’s just as adorable as she is.” he’d be a little more quiet uttering the last few bits of his sentence, but you caught it.

You had no idea if you were successful with appearing indifferent with him calling you adorable —in real life and no longer just through messages, but San would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t see the pink tint on your cheeks. 

You hear a sudden buzz, and it came from the back pocket of San’s pants —his phone. You watched him look at its screen briefly before putting it back where he had drawn it from. “Is it okay if I leave you here with my sister for a sec? I’m just gonna go and fetch Wooyo in the lobby.” you give him a small smile, nodding before he could even finish speaking.

When San went off, you were given a chance to take a better look at San’s sister. She’s just as beautiful as he was. You could guess it just runs in the family. They share very similar features, but his sister possessed softer lines compared to him. 

“Hey sis, what’s up?” you jump a bit from where you stood, hearing the voice you gawked over one late night phone call ago, but now it sounded like how it usually does, making you sigh. “Oh, hi Sabrina.” Wooyoung turns to you and you’d see he was carrying quite a few paper bags with him. “This,” he hands you one, in your favorite color. “—is for you.”

You just wanted to take a peek inside, but he’d stop you. 

“Nah-ah, not until you show me the thing.” your eyes widened, visibly confused with what he was referring to. 

“What thing?” you ask back.

San just watched the two of you, shaking his head whilst he wore a subtle smile.

“The thing I told you I was gonna check today.” Wooyoung crosses his arms over his chest, his feet tapping on the tiled floor. “Does it ring any bells?”

Oh, it rings bells alright. You sigh heavily, closing your eyes and trying your best not to roll your eyes right at him. “You can check later, b. F. F.”

He then displays a cheeky smile. Instead of finding it annoying like you usually would —or should— you’d look down to the ground, fighting the smile that wanted to show itself on your lips. 

“And this one’s for Haneul. Everyone misses you right now…” you watched as Wooyoung continued to speak to Haneul, even at her unresponsive state. 

They were both updating her on the little happening in their lives, getting you involved in some of their stories —though they had to skip some— and urging you to tell Haneul a bit more about you. It was all sweet, and a little sad, still, all you could see was how endearing the two truly are. It was fascinating to see them like this, just talking with Haneul, throwing jokes from time to time, but it was all light-hearted fun. You didn’t expect to gain so much from a hospital visit for someone who you haven’t even talked to at all. 

Later that day, after visiting hours, your trio decided to eat out somewhere —and also ran into one of their other friends, Seonghwa. He was quite nice, but every so often, he and Wooyoung were just talking amongst themselves, especially when Wooyoung had the great idea of taking everyone to the nearby clothing store. He and Seonghwa would be “looking at some clothes” but judging on the way their mouths moved, you could tell the talk was about something else. 

All while that was happening, you stuck by San. He was picking out clothes for himself, asking for your opinion on his choices whenever he’d make one. Then as he looked over some more clothes, he’d initiate conversation. “So when would the playdate therapy be?”

You were a bit surprised by his question, thinking that the “playdate” he snuck into your messages was just a joke. “Oh, you were for real?”

“Of course I am.” he chuckled softly, the sound tickling your ears. “I want Byeol to have a best friend too. You know, like you and Wooyo.”

You chortled, almost breaking into a loud guffaw. “Sorry, I mean, yeah, we can make that happen. You know how to reach me, just text.” you end your sentence with a little tick sounding from your tongue and little finger guns pointing at him. 

He giggles, forcing you to stare on his back as he hides his grin, pretending to be preoccupied with the clothing rack. 

It was a long day of just that, and soon you were all headed home. Seonghwa went his separate way, shaking hands with you before he disappeared —he told you it was necessary. San had set himself up to take you and Wooyo home. There was a bit of bickering with who was gonna take the passenger seat, but in the end, the conflict was settled with San being completely done with the back and forths and demanding the both of you just be seated next to each other at the back. 

There, you sat in silence, paying not much mind to Wooyoung who sat next to you, —surprisingly— remaining quiet as well. San played music to fill the dead air, but it didn’t change much, and you would keep your eyes on the streets, just sightseeing as you propped your head up against the car window. You got bored with it, so you’d whip out your phone, scrolling around whatever app, like always. You were free of worries until you heard a quiet “psst!”.

You already know what you were in for. You bit the insides of your cheek, turning your head just a little and just enough for you to see Wooyoung’s smug face. 

“You have to show me.” you shake your head at him, and he’d furrow his eyebrows, tilting his head to side to question your refusal. 

“I swear I changed it. Cross my heart, hope to die” and now he was the one shaking his head. 

You’d imitate the eagerness on his face, knitting your brows as your lips formed a pout. You had expected for him to roast the living shit out of you and cook you into soup, but the look on your face would be replaced with utter confusion when he started laughing. When your eyes met, he’d only take you along with him, tittering away together. 

Your laughter was a little quieter —for San’s sake— but it was so worth a while that you didn’t even notice how close Wooyoung had moved next to you. “Okay then, if you don’t want to, can I at least see the first three letters?” he whispers, moving just a little closer so you could hear him. 

The way he asked made him sound so innocent that you chuckled, thinking about how silly it is for him to sound like that. “No!” you whisper back to him. 

His smile grew wider, and you’d be perplexed by this. Not until you realized that the tip of your nose was only an inch away from touching. 

“Okay, fine.” you utter out of sheer panic, distancing yourself from him and opening your contacts list on your phone. 

He was quite surprised with you just giving in even though he was only half joking the whole time with asking to see what you had him saved as in your contacts. You’d swiftly move your upper body to face him, preventing him from seeing your phone screen as you held it up to your face, he could only keep his eyes on the brand logo at the back of your phone. Once you’ve found a way to show him without fully revealing it —which was your other hand pressed firmly on the screen to hide the six other letters of the name you saved him as. 

“H-e… a?” he reads the three letters out loud. “Huh...”

Then the car ran into a bump, catching you off guard and causing your phone to drop on his lap. 

“Shit.” you mutter to yourself, snatching your phone away from him. 

“Cute.” to this very moment of you laying on your bed and going back through everything that happened on this day, you still couldn’t figure out what he was calling cute. Was it you? —no you’re not delusional. Or perhaps, maybe it was the fact that when you grabbed for your phone, he got to see the full nickname because you held it out with the screen right at his face for a little longer than just a few seconds. But you wouldn’t know, not until the next day that is. 

previous » next

⁀➴ @davinashifts333 @wrotebyrini @wooyoungyeo

[ivi-prism]

With the introduction of Tallulah and Wilbur going "I will be good dad" I feel obligated to share the "Fundy is also in Quesadilla Island and he continues to be sad au" I have kept in my brain

A timeline of events:

Time before the whaterevering in DSMP, Fundy had retreated back to his home in Drywaters, grabbed Yoghurt and then gone even further away. Despite Eret extending their hand for Fundy to return, he was too hurt and untrustful that things would go better he preferred to take Yogi away and start a better life for both of them far away

One problem, Fundy is very sensible and vulnerable to anomalies in the universe (let's remember the boat glitch and all the exploits fundy did in dsmp) and the air was cackling with anomalies as the whatevering approached and during this period Fundy basically clipped out of that existence while holding Yogi and both landed in new reality

Very concerning stuff but hey nothing you can do and Fundy still has to worry about Yogi so nothing to do but start punching trees, build new house and get more stuff, Fundy notices the world is kinda the same but a bit weird, he doesn't know it but he has landed in Quesadilla Island two months before the events of QSMP happened

Cue to two months of Fundy trying to keep it together for Yogi while being crushed with loneliness and fear

And then the guests arrive on Island, Fundy was far away enough he didn't listen the wall exploding and would only come across them a couple of days later once they start to explore

Just to clarify I do believe k! Quackity went to Karmaland and karmaland is canon to qsmp while C!Q (or eng Q) would have gone to dsmp but there was no dsmp in this universe judging by how the gang interacts and has only "vague memories" of events (staring at you Wilbur)

Anyway, guests start finding Fundy and Fundy is.... cautious.... but he seems fine until he starts seeing familiar faces. Seeing Foolish who has gone exploring out with other and Foolish mentioning Fundy (this universe Fundy, not our fundy) does turn on the alerts in his head

It is not helped by Fundy having stuff and farms since he has been settled for a while so is entirely possible he will get attacked and robbed, so he is seriously not having a good time now while also worrying about Yogi

And then he hears that Wilbur is here (anyone needing a reminder in dsmp Fundy's last interaction with Wilbur ended on Fundy jumping off a ledge to respawn away to stay away from Wilbur) this is not doing any good for Fundy's mental health

Insert shenanigans and man having a veeeery bad time while Slime went on a rampage fearing he would harm Yogi too

And we can stop at Wilbur returning and taking Tallulah, other guests have taken notice of Fundy seems to be a good dad and has resources so he is trustworthy with eggs and Wilbur alongside Quackity go talk to Fundy just because Wilbur (this Wilbur in this universe) knows Fundy as the funny guy (from Fundy's mc modded videos) and wants to say hi, see this kiddo his buddy apparently has and have him as back up for Tallulah in case something happens

Fundy is not thrilled in the slightest but hey this Wilbur isn't his dad, this man is guiltless, but seeing him be so chill and be good to Tallulah hurts

*cut to brilliant follow-up that keeps up with server events*

I'd write something but uhhh no school cruel, willing to answer questions about it to build up on it, and also if anyone wanna yoink this and write it feel free! just tag me cause I'd love to read :D

[kikithedeceiver]

For the Milgram ask game. How about question 2, 7, 12, 18, 21 for Mikoto :3

milgram character ask game !

I SHOULDN'T HAVE RAMBLED TO YOU ABOUT MILGRAM! DAMMIT, LIZ!

Fine my next fav, Mikoto...and John because you can't really talk about one without the other.

Also disclaimer: I'm a singlet. Just saying in case I offend anyone and feel free to correct me on anything I say wrong. Last question sort of get personal as well, so adding a read more.

2. favorite mv moment/frame?

Can't really choose because:

Mikoto looked so damn at peace here since he's finally able to catch a break

The devastation John felt when he finally realised he screwed Mikoto over big time for what he thought was good for him still hurts me every time I see this scene

7. favorite relationships with another character if they weren't in milgram, the way you'd imagine or would like them to be?

I do have this whole ass AU living in my head where no one is a murderer and living a healthier life, but still coping with their trauma of what could have led them to murder. Also it's more Amane-centred but ANYWAYS.

In that AU, where Mikoto isn't working in an exploitative asf company, yet still enjoys his line of work and can support his fam, I can see him trying to hang out with the rest of the cast from Milgram. Just anytime when he's off work, he'll catch up with whoever wants to chat for a bit. He'll go out with anyone! Maybe with Mahiru as she chats away about what's happening in her life, with Fuuta to just let him vent and maybe watch him play some arcade/mobile games, with Kotoko to just chill. Oh, there's still the smoking group! Night out drinking (Mikoto just gets non-alcoholic drinks tho).

As for Mikoto with John, I guess he'd try to come to terms that he basically has a headmate living inside him, but still try to stay optimistic about it. He knows John is looking out for him (no murder in this AU here), and he's working on communicating better with him too. Mikoto tries contacting him by writing stuff in a journal, and after a while, John also writes back. He also leaves sticky notes around their home to remind Mikoto to take care of himself.

Also also, John is here to listen to whatever is upsetting Mikoto, which he refuses to show anyone. Only John knows, and he comforts him as best as he can. Making sure Mikoto is tucked in, doing the chores around their home as Mikoto rest, etc.

12. what do you wish would be discussed more often about them in the fandom?

I really hope I'm not saying anything wrong here, but here goes...

It's mentioned a lot by fans already that they wished John wasn't the stereotypical bad alter that's always shown in media, but hey, he has layers and more personality than just assumed to be a cold, ruthless murderer, so we got that! I guess what I wish talked about more is how stress from work is a factor in why John committed the murder for Mikoto's sake. There are reasons behind why the murder happened, and honestly, I think it's the company Mikoto worked at that caused this whole thing to spiral out of control for them. Doesn't justify murder, but I can see why John did what he did when he believed what he did was to relieve Mikoto's stress, thus saving him.

18. which non-deco vocaloid songs do you think suit them?

I'm still thinking, but I think Lost One's Weeping fits Mikoto well. Mikoto tried so hard to do well and please everyone, but he is finally cracking since what he tried to pursue wasn't what he thought it would be, and now he's lost. However, I thought of The Servant of Evil fits John as well since he's willing to die for Mikoto if it meant no further harm would come to him.

21. do you have any similarities with them/relate to something in them?

...You're really asking me this.

*inhales*

In a sense, yes. It's very personal and I don't want to get into too much of it here, but I just want to protect whatever goodness I have in myself while continuing to exist. I want that part of me to be happy, that's all.

[multicolour-ink]

Hello!

I don't know much about "His Dark Materials", but what you have published has caught my attention (the most familiar I am is with the movie The Golden Compass).

I understand that some cultures and theories say that twins "share a soul" from the moment of conception.

Under that logic, is it possible for the brothers to share a daemon?

Sorry if it's a silly question. By the way, I love what you write.

We in the HDM fandom do not speak about the movie. It is a far cut below the entire series itself 😝

Thank you so much for your question and kind words 💗💗💗

I'll be honest, discussing "His Dark Materials" with anyone who is not that aware of it is difficult, mostly because of the sensitive topics brought up in the series that some people (understandably) can find too uncomfortable to talk about.

Yes, there are biblical name drops and references throughout the series, talks about Sin, and even a religious group that rules a world and are essentially the bad guys.

But I swear, under all that is a truly great story!

(I'll be honest, I believe a lot of the controversial stuff is mostly the result of the author ranting about his own biased opinions)

I would like nothing more than to explain these books in greater detail - for those who may have not got what some things meant the first time round, or just simply misunderstood them. I want to help people understand that there is more to this series than just "religion is evil", and not demonic literature.

But to do so would mean spoiling a lot of the series, which I don't really want to do, and would prefer to encourage others to check out the series first if they can.

But if anyone is interested (and doesn't mind spoilers), my inbox is open! I'm always happy to answer questions and talk.

Even my own opinions about this series have changed over the years. I admit, I was mostly blown away the first time as a young teen, simply because it wasn't like anything else I was reading at the time. Everything else was so grounded in reality - THIS, to me at least, opened up so many ideas and concepts. It was a lot to take in!

Anyway, apologies for getting a little off topic there! As for your question about the Bros: I've never heard about that cultural idea about twins being born with one soul. That is fascinating! Is it talking about just identical twins, or both identical and fraternal? Because it sounds like something more likely to do with identical twins than fraternal (given that the former starts off as one being that splits in the womb - whereas the latter doesn't).

I really don't know if Philip Pullman himself (author of HDM) ever addressed this, and I don't recall any twin characters in the books.

I will have to say that no, I don't think twins (or the Bros) would share a dæmon, as they are essentially separate people. And plus since dæmons can't be far apart from their humans, it would be a fine thing if, say, one twin had to go somewhere further away from the other and their dæmon couldn't stay near both at the same time! But, I would like to believe that twins with dæmons are more intertwined. Like I said with the Bros, as twins, their souls are spiritually linked and they can sense each other. I imagine that twins could (to some extent) feel each other's dæmons, and even communicate with the other's and not just their own.

Could they be able to touch each other's? Well considering the influence of the taboo, I would say no. But let's just say, that maybe some twins worked out a way in secret!

And in the AU, Mario and Luigi are just that unique 😉

[5-7-9]

So in my Reclamation AU prequel after Bruce Wayne adopts Dick, well actually I should mention the rumors before he adopts Dick the thh ethe th. Okay when he got back, wait should I mmention before too? Nahhhh more backstory to actually further down the storyline, weirdly enough that the past and future are linked together for some reason. (TW mentions/implies of homophobia and bi erasure and pedophilia and slut shaming)

So when Bruce gets back home after being legally classified as missing and dead, he assumes a neutral persona of socialite. But the missing gaps get filled in of vacations or illegal sites or something wild. Bruce decides to use the weird playboy assumption to his advantage and uses his looks to try going on dates with people.

Then, he decided to use modeling to also hinder any suspicions, he couldn’t show his scars so he went with clothing. He somehow made tons of model friends where he got them to pretend date him for publicity. Between the models, they think he either has an ego, has a secret lover, or is gay. Now the socialites and public see the fake model dates between the few real dates. Socialites get jealous and starts making up stories like “yeah we totally slept together (fuckkkk why doesn’t he like me???)” or “y’know it’s kinda weird he never keeps any of those hotties it’s almost like he’s a bad boyfriend or there’s something wrong with him yeah? (Please please please date me instead)”

(almost forgot) I already mentioned Selina, but her rumors consisted of slut shaming, and the infantilization of Bruce. Talia is actually included for a small while (idk how to make the timeline work, so I think it’s just easier if I just don’t think about it? Intentional plot hole). So to work with my timeline, either Talia already had a baby before Bruce gets back to Gotham, or they have a fling almost right when he gets back home. Either way, the media thinks she’s one of Bruce’s foreign flings from vacation (true actually), so they kinda dismiss her as a partner candidate. She doesn’t gets brought up again until later when i figure out if she needs to meet with Bruce again before Damian. Most of Bruce’s dates include bastardization or angelification, zero in between because nuance doesn’t exist (drama is always extreme, which imo is stupid but whatever).

After Bruce adopts Dick, things take a major turn for the worst. A single father not marrying when becoming someone’s guardian??? What’s wrong with him!!! The biggest conclusion created the pedophilic rumor. “He must’ve not stayed with anyone because he likes kids!!!” This lead to the other rumor to take a twist, homophobia.

So out of pure plot convenience, Clark at some point gets in touch with Bruce to talk about the Justice League, but that gets turned into a fake relationship. See the only way to distill rumors is to use more rumors! Obviously. Idk how to deal with Clark’s reputation, so I’m making it technically a fake secret relationship that protects Clark’s identity mostly. Anyways, now the rumors leaned into the gay rumors instead of the homophobic rumors, society started saying the pedophilic rumors are homophobic. Blah blah blah and then people got “scared” of getting “canceled” so they reverted back to the average playboy stance. This has made lasting impacts towards both Bruce’s and Dick’s lives but yeah they’ve moved on.

(Honestly i just wanted to explain the fake secret relationship plot point but now I really wanna go for all the rumors)

The gay rumors including the (fake) secret relationship really got the media questioning who he’s in romantic/sexual cohorts with, male specific only. It affected some characters to distance themselves…

Jason got classist rumors and reputation, which turned into “missing or dead” rumors just like Bruce had so lots of people were expecting him to come back. Tim was basically “the perfect child” since he was already upper class and he was considered most likely to run the Wayne business in the future. Damian had two sides where one was racist and blamed Talia for existing, and the other side where they blamed Bruce for being reckless. Cass had the standard stereotypes but with ableism included. Steph never appeared in the news besides as Tim’s ex. Barbara only showed up as Gordon’s daughter.

Actually Barbara got the “dating Bruce” rumors with Bruce but that never went anywhere significant, just made things awkward between them and with Gordon. (It’s sorta related to another side plot but i don’t feel like sharing here).

Duke appeared as an adoptee but also not because he avoided the Wayne’s reputation. He gets a passing mention as someone who sometimes takes refuge in their house, as if he was never there, but he sometimes is but he just gets ignored for probably racist and classist reasons. Among Duke’s citizens group of people near him totally know him as the guy with a rich guy’s backing tho. (I have completely different ideas for him, i’ll do another post later).

Well that was fun

[haechanhues]

WIP LIST

since i am now twenty three and I plan to write more this year I’ve decided to write out my WIP list of twenty three stories I plan to write and are fleshing out... 

It’s also an interest thing too I suppose. It’s also to direct me and motivate me I guess. 

WARNING : most of these I haven’t even started so it’s not be all end all. There’s a bit of smut talk too. 

Completed : (3/23) 

Started : -

3. TITLE (Yeonjun x Reader; ??!au; one-shot) 

Smut. 

Part of PROJECT ONE. 

5. TITLE (Lee Know x Reader; ??! au; one-shot) 

Smut. Hard dom! Lee Know. There’s ribbons, there’s handcuffs. He’s trying to be nice and tries to be subby but doesn’t quite work out the way you planned it. Bondage. 

Part of PROJECT ONE. 

PROJECT ONE : 

Basically thought of it the day before my birthday but if you don’t know I call these 5 my muses (formerly the pentagram before I added 3 actors) and I was like I want to write smut because I just think this shit and have no outlet for it. 

I had a lot of ideas for another story of mine that I’m probably going to take down and recycle to fit into other fics that I’ve decided have a bit more flesh to them. 

I’m contemplating between Sunwoo, Yeonjun and Hyunjin - but I had a dream that left me feeling fucked out for over twenty four hours. I’m leaning more towards Hyunjin so the idea will be there for awhile. 

Very self indulgent. Very. 

6. TITLE (Sunghoon x Reader; crime!au; smau or written series idk) 

Warning : dark and mature themes. crime (murder, burglary) 

A couple takes a road trip and enjoying their honeymoon filled with debauchery. Whilst services are on the hunt for a mysterious Bonnie and Clyde couple. 

7. TITLE (San x Reader; exes-fwb-lovers!au; written series) 

Inspired by Magnolia Parks (Magnolia x Christian relationship) San as Christian. With a bit of tweaking. 

San is more into reader than she him. Rainy day/phone box/umbrella kiss. Angsty. Smutty. If you know the book you’ll know this story better - there’s just going to be more tweaking. 

Basically it’s what I wished happen. (There’s also no Daisy character in here unfortunately) 

8. TITLE (Haechan x Reader; first love!au; written series) 

Seriously I’ve been planning this story for over a year and I think I’m ready to start storyboarding. Better descriptions will be out on the series masterlist. 

Haechan is our golden popular boy who has liked you and only you since you first moved here and he’s finally asked you out. He proceeds to show you what love is and what it’s all about. But there’s something not quite right with the picture he shows you. 

Part of PROJECT TWO. 

9. TITLE (??? x Reader; band!au; written series) 

Will be a secret until further notice. 

Includes : a lot of heartbreak, grieving, loss and gain, mistakes, betrayal, learning how to trust, fun, smut, band!au things, some of the best friendships. 

He’s in a band. To anyone that asks the ‘why?’ question, it’s because he has a passion for the music he writes and he gets to play with his friends. But secretly it’s because he likes being chased. He likes the groupies. The entourage of girls. The sex. But after talking with you once, he realises just how much he loves the chasing game. 

Part of PROJECT TWO. 

10. TiTLE (??? x Reader; university!au; written series) 

Will also be a secret until further notice. 

Includes : relearning, pretending to be someone you’re not, becoming more comfortable in your own skin, grieving, heartbreak, closure, recovery, self acceptance. 

You’re quiet, slightly monotone and stay within any expectation people have of you. It’s become something you’re renowned for and for that reason people have tried to befriend you (for whatever reason - altruistic, selfish etc) It doesn’t matter. It’s him you’re worried about anyway. He’s a bit like you, only he’s not the one wearing a facade. He knows too. You know he does. He sees straight through you. 

Part of PROJECT TWO 

PROJECT TWO : 

Is the longest running (?) little project I’ve had for over a year now and it’s inspired by one of my favourite movies that I don’t quite want to spoil. Though if you know me enough you may be able to figure it out. 

Anyway I don’t necessarily want to finish it, I just want to start it. There’s still a lot I need to sort out and I need to do my storyboarding carefully I think. It’s all just one big mess. 

Slowly incoming. BUT SURELY. 

11. PERFECT TWO (Mingi x Reader; soulmate!au; social media au) 

I have no idea what it will entail I just know it’s going to be cute and fluffy. Not suggestive (or a little suggestive) 

I have no idea what to do for it, it’ll just be cute and fluffy and pretty short. We’ll see. Pink themed probably. 

12. KING’S COURT (??? x Reader; bring down the entourage!au; written) 

You’re always the new girl (Ginny and Georgia for you guys) and you just want friends. When they find out your connection to your legendary sister it seems to have become your legacy.  

I don’t know what else to add. But it involves a group of guys that are always just together and you bring them down because of their reputation (one in particular) but yeah. You’re bringing down the player. 

13. TITLE (DK x Reader; actorxstaff!au; one-shot? longer than a drabble?) 

You are a staff member on a movie set and have a well known crush on the main actor, DK. 

So I owe this fic idea to Dean Charles Chapman (who I have a crush on by the way) because when I was watching 1917 I imagined being a staff member and working with him and it was a lot of fun. OH and DK’s the lead because his King Arthur Era was probably the most ethereal thing I’ve ever seen and I’m not getting over it. 

14. TITLE (Jaemin x Reader; outcast+popular!au; written series/smau?) 

The weirdo and the pretty boy from high school meet again in college to talk about feelings. And you’re just really happy to have made a good friend....ish. 

The thing that is driving this idea is the ferris wheel scene that I’m imagining right now. 

14. TITLE (Felix x Reader; gang!au+runaway!au; written series) 

You never wanted to see him again. Not because you felt ill of him or because he crossed you. He was your best friend. It was because you got him out of this life. You got him out. You sacrificed a lot to get him out. So why was he in front of you making a name for himself when you specifically told him to keep his head down? 

I’m actually excited for this...ahhh 

15. DOUBLE TROUBLE (New x Reader; one-sided-enemies(?)-to-lovers; one-shot/written series) 

Other people describe you as one or more of the following; beautiful, clever, energetic. Chanhee, however, would describe you as annoying. You’re a hazard to the people around you, namely him. Trouble always find you and you have find Chanhee. He just wants a nice, quiet life and luckily for him, his university gives him that opportunity. 

Until it doesn’t and he spots you, running straight towards him with an angry newly bald faculty member running after you. 

Fuck. 

(A story in which it’s never his fault but he always gets blamed for it). 

16. INSATIABLE (Haechan x Reader; badboy!au; written series) 

Everyone knows the story. He used to be the golden boy until something just...changed. Now he’s rude, insufferable, wearing leather jackets and always has some type of lollipop in his mouth. It’s been years since the old Haechan disappeared, but you’re not too sure about that. 

In fact, you think, underneath all the textbook bad boy image, that kind, sweet boy you met all those years ago is still there. 

(brother! Jeno) 

17. TITLE (Jay x Reader; athlete(kind of)!au + fake dating!au; bulleted/written) 

He needed a reason to leave the team and you’re it. 

(A story in which Jay no longer wants to be that jock. Being an athlete was never supposed to last this long, but he was good at it so he went along with it. He got girls. He had a lot of friends. But now, he wants out. 

And to do that he has to convince everyone that he’s dating his cousin’s best friend - You. 

18. THE SERIAL LOVER (NCT x Reader; TATBILB(kind of)!au; smau+written)

In which you farewell every boy you’ve ever loved or had some kind of romantic feeling for to prove your feelings to one particular boy is real. 

He’s the one, you’re sure of it. 

(Already storyboarded however there is a need for a few tweaks, Eunseok, Seunghan and Shohei (SM Rookies) will make an appearance and ***** will be deleted. If you find a problem with that, I don’t know what to tell you. I’m sorry but I’m not.) 

19. YOU WILL NEVER BE A GOD (SKZxReader; forgotten god!au; written) 

Hyunjin focused. 

People think immortality is simply the ability to live forever. But they’re wrong. Immortality is more than just never dying. More than just healing from fatal wounds. More than just existing. True immortality is remembrance. It is your name proceeding through the ages and no matter how much time has passed, your name remains. That is what immortality is! 

And yet, you’re a forgotten god. Time has wiped your name from the lips of mortals, your shrines and temples have long been destroyed and you’ve become a mere background character in other god’s stories. It’s the only reason you continue to walk the Earth the way you do. 

....

(’..Experience the love of a writer, poet, and/or painter. If you’re lucky enough to be an artist’s muse, they will immortalise you’ - Soledad Francis.) 

20. TITLE (NCT DREAM x Reader; low fantasy!au; written) 

Idk how this is going to go - I know the ending but don’t have the middle or the beginning which is arguably the most important part. 

But Y/N has a crush on Renjun but she’s supposed to be on a mission and locating someone but you’re so infatuated by him. 

PROJECT THREE :

Is a multifandom fic (that are all connected somehow) and fantasy driven. 

There’s 12 ‘factions’/ ‘groups’ each with their own history and their own powers/skills and gods etc 

I know a bit about it and will start planning for it more seriously, but it’s the last thing on this list for sure. 

21. TITLE (ATEEZ x Reader; pirate!au; written series) 

Runaway princess. Meets these lot. 

Water. 

22. TITLE (TXT x Reader; villain!au; written series) 

Shadow. Royal politics. forced enemies 2 lovers. 

23. TITLE (Stray Kids x Reader; fantasy!au; written series) 

??? Forbidden love? 

Idk who. 

[wortsandall]

which avengers would be the moon boys closest allies?

i actually answered this question when i was first drafting my au and seen in this post here:

after actually writing a fic and getting into the characterization proper, i realized i was wrong. i still agree with who i picked for marc and jake but not for steven. stevens closest ally in the avengers would not be bruce, but instead natasha. hears my reasoning:

steven -> natasha

after great deliberation i realized that while steven and bruce would get along, i don't think they'd be any closer than your average coworker. meanwhile, natasha and steven are a sleeper pairing. i know it seems out of nowhere but stay with me here. i don't think that steven and natasha would immediately click. on both sides it'd make sense for them to not really be in the same circles. but i feel like the wariness would drop once they actually started talking to each other more.

they actually have more similar hang ups that you wouldn't notice because of their different approaches to life. with steven being a more open and positive person generally. while natasha is not. shes hard to get to know and standoffish. she is a good person, but she tends to hide that about herself. similar to how i think jake would be. (which is why i think jake and natasha would get along great as well)

family is something that is important to both of them because of their complicated feelings about it. they could relate to the idea of a "fake" family that they were attached to, despite knowing now that it wasn't real. steven with his few real childhood memories and the image that he had in his life about his mother due to marc writing those postcards and keeping her death a secret. steven never knew what their mom was like, what their childhood was really like and he now has to grapple with the realization that most of what he thought was a lie. and natasha has her upbringing as a black widow, where she spent her childhood undercover in a fake family before the red room. despite knowing it's undercover, she's a child and she made attachments anyway. with yelena especially.

their closest allies fall into similar categories as well, where natasha just wanted to keep the avengers together regardless of whether they signed the accords or not. and watching those that she became accidentally became close to fight, splinter off, and pick sides. steven is trying to prevent that from happening with marc and jake in this au.

i just feel like they can relate to each other in a way that others wouldn't be able to. and their differences in worldview despite having similar goals is something that could bring them together and balance each other out. i don't think that they would ever see it coming, considering in my au their first meeting is filled with distrust and arguing. but it almost makes it better to see them warm up to each other in the end.

like natashas issues with her past and coming to terms with herself is a journey that steven will also have to go through. obviously though different circumstances than hers as hes never been an assassin. but he is an accomplice to the violence committed by marc as moon knight. shared system responsibility and all. he has to learn about who he is, now with proper knowledge of their disorder, separate from marc and make decisions for himself. and she's further along in this than steven is. maybe she sees herself in steven a little bit and he just sees someone that actually understands him. without any attachment or comparison to marc.

and the more i write for this au, the more solid i feel in my decision to make steven back off from the layla/marc/steven love triangle or poly thing they got going. for more thoughts on that you can read it here.

but ultimately, layla was the first person outside of marc to see him as his own person and appreciate him. i do think he loves layla, but i don't think it's romantic. and part of me is interested in giving steven a separate love interest, which would be interesting to see between him and natasha. but i also like what ive written of their platonic interactions and i dont want to pair her up with a man just for the hell of it. i have a lot planned for this series so in the end, we'll see what happens.

[miekasa]

NICE.

+ pairings: eren yeager + (fem) reader

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

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

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

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

+ word count: 19k. i’m sorry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, baby. I love you.”

“Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Get off my line.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, no—of course not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was almost three thou—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It wasn’t mine, I was—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what’s it matter to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not avoiding him,” you frown.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sound like you speak from personal experience.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“His parents?” Jean cuts you off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you… told Eren yet?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is… is that why you—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiles. “I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You—you, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah? What, baby?”

“Kiss me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t taste any almonds.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I mean—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eren—”

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

“Eren—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought it was pretty obvious.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you took it, anyway?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eren loves you, more than you could ever know.

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

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

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

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

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

“Mitchell, I have to—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And if I asked you now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[writingforatwistedworld]

Already in world reader:

To Idia,

Haha, what’s up? I figured you’d only talk to me if I wrote to you like this so I figured I’d give it a try! I’d really like to get to know you :) I think we have a lot in common so we’d get along pretty well! We both like cats, hate sports, think your brother is the cutest and our ideal paradise would be shut in a room with computer and wifi without ever having to talk to anyone! What ya say, wanna be my buddy in being antisocial? Check off yes or no :P

p.s. I think your tech inventions are awesome! I’d ask you to teach me but I’m not that smart haha

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, religion, manipulation, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, beheading, unhealthy mindset, imprisonment

Idia Shroud-Similarities

Starting the game you were met with a confusing sight. The mailbox notified that you had a new message. Opening it you were met with a even more confusing sight. The message seemed to come from a character. Did they add that? We're players getting such things from now on? Then why did you never hear about this no matter where you looked?

Dear esteemed Overseer,

why would you write to me? I'm not that important. How could I ever dare trying to be similar to you? Someone as low leveled like me can only look up to you. But I am happy to hear from you. You are after all also only a person, God or not, and being able to talk to you without any problem is something I treasure. You think we would get along well? I don't know. You are the light of the world whilst I am a shut-in. Just think about standing besides you makes me frightened. Overseer, please don't misunderstand, I would never have to question your judgement but you don't need to be nice to me. I will always be a devoted follower of yours. You don't need to act this way so things will stay that way. No need to give me a glance. I'm forever yours.

But you like cats? How great! Have you seen the one always sitting in front of the cafe in the city? Not that I would dare to go out but Ortho sometimes sends me pictures of it. How cute! What would I do so I could squeeze it's paws, cuddle… I'm getting side tracked. Anyways, I'm happy that we have a subject we can talk about. You also have a sibling? How great! So that means that the higher beings also have relationships akin to family. That is something new for me.

But maybe things would be easier if you were here, with me. Chatting might be op but at the same time, how could I pass of a opportunity to talk with God? Even Hades hailed you. Whilst his foolish brother didn't think much about you he tried his best to rearrange the cosmos and get you to us. Haw sad that Zeus got in his way. But now you are here! With us! How about it? You come here to Ignihyde and get a room with the things you need. The Overseer has enemies after all and I would hate it if something were to happen to you. If you don't go out no one can harm you! Do you wish for a home in the island of woe? There we can promise even more protection! Of course your younger sibling will also be protected. Don't let the eyes of the heretics deceive you. They only mean harm no matter how nice they are. You can only trust us. We are further developed in terms of technology than any other place and created a place in your image, a combination of non-magic and magic. Isn't this what you wanted? We part day and night, trying to appease you. Don't you think that you need to give us something back? If you were to accept my proposal I could show you even more advanced tech inventions! Inventions the world has never seen!

But what am I talking about? I am such a worthless follower and yet I dare to ask our God to do something. Behead me if you must! I deserve punishment! But at the same time, the gaze of others on you makes me furious. How dare the even just to catch a glance of you? Come here Overseer. I will not allow this to continue.

Idia Shroud

[blipblooopp]

Let It Be Me

Summary: Choi San is many things. The most talented man you have ever seen. Be it on the dance floor or in front of a mic during a gig. He was the kindest person, always holding the door for the people behind him, helping the elderly carry things, even paying for strangers randomly. He got along famously with your parents and even better with your grandparents. He was charming like that, capturing the attention of anyone and everyone who even looked his way. He’s the love of your life, you’re sure of it but he’s also your best friend. Pairing: Boy Band AU!Choi San x F!Reader Words: 5.6k Genre: Angst/Smut

You’ve heard of a thing called platonic soulmates but it’s taken you years and years of watching Choi San grow to realize you weren’t. Well, you hoped you weren’t. Everything about him made your body erupt into a fire.

San looked at everything with adoration, finding all the good in life, including you. It was a double-edged sword, really. It made you feel special… important. But you could barely concentrate when his eyes were on you.

It didn’t help that he was gifted in pretty much everything; it made you nervous beyond belief. He’s pretty much perfect and as much as you wanted to be with him, you knew the odds of him liking you back were slim to none.

You’ve come to terms with it for the most part. It hurt to see him flirt with girls in front of you, hurt even worse when he started dating this awful girl named Areum. She didn’t give a fuck about him, actually. She barely responded to his calls and texts, going as far as blocking him one time. They fought nonstop. Every time you two hung out, San had a new dilemma to talk about. For some reason, San wouldn’t break up with her.

You had asked him after a night of you two getting drunk together, after another night of listening to his relationship problems. He laughed dryly, taking another sip of his beer, “I love her so much.”

Apparently, it was his “slow-motion” moment. He and his band had been wrapping up the night with their last song, soaking up every second they could have. Halfway through the song, San had noticed Areum in the front row. You were there too so you noticed the look on his face. A look you had never seen him make before. It basically tore your heart out when he told you that he couldn’t get “that beautiful girl” out of his head. She ended up becoming a dedicated face in the crowd so San asked her out.

You would’ve thought they were soulmates from the way they looked in the beginning. Lord only knows how they got to this point. How you got to this point, with San crying in your lap.

It was 10:00 pm when someone started banging on your door. You were enjoying a cup of coffee but you almost had a heart attack at that moment. You opened the door with shaking hands, hoping that whatever killer was on the side wasn’t actually a killer. Instead, you saw your best friend, with swollen red eyes, sniffling.

“Oh my god, San! You scared— what’s wrong?” You immediately dragged him in, locking the door behind you. He sniffled again as he slumped into your couch. You took a seat next to him and took his hand in yours. “Was it another fight?” You knew it wasn’t. In all the fights you had heard, San never cried.

“She was cheating on me… this whole time.” He hiccuped as he talked.

“That bitch.” You said under your breath. You held onto his hand a little tighter, trying to contain your anger.

“I went to her house tonight because she wasn’t responding to me again. I wanted to talk it out with her but she opened her front door in her underwear with some motherfucker sitting on her couch!” Although you had many words to say with Areum, you were speechless in front of San. What were you supposed to say? All you could do was scoot back on the couch and guide San's head onto a pillow in your lap.

“It’s gonna be okay.” You ran your fingers through his hair, “You can cry for as long as you want.”

And cry he did.

____

The next morning was hard. You woke up on your couch sitting up-right with a terrible case of stiff-neck. That’s not the only reason it was hard. No, it was worse seeing San still laying on your lap. He was wide-awake, dark eye bags contrasting against his face. His eyes stared deep into the ceiling.

“What’re you thinking about, Sannie?” You started to run your fingers through his hair again and watched as his eyes fluttered shut, his body instantly relaxing.

His eyes opened again, “Why didn’t she love me?” You couldn’t respond, not that he let you. “I knew we weren’t perfect, knew she wasn’t perfect… but we always made it through the end of the day. I can’t believe she would do this to me.”

“It’s her loss.” You finally said. “You don’t need her anyway. It was her decision to cheat and you had nothing to do with it.”

San didn’t say anything after that, just continued to stare at your ceiling.

___

The first few weeks were the hardest for sure. San had spent most of them at your place, barely leaving even for band practice. When he did practice with the guys he would leave early, only strumming a few chords on his guitar before deciding that it reminded him too much of Areum.

“He’s been really out of it.” Yunho, the bassist commented one time. San hadn’t even played that day. He just sat in the corner for an hour. You stayed behind for a few minutes and told San to wait in the car. You wanted to catch up with the other band members.

“Can you blame him? That bitch was… well, a bitch.” Wooyoung shot back, setting his drum sticks down.

“How has he been holding up?” Hongjoong asked.

You scoffed, “Have you seen the man? I don’t even think San’s there anymore! God, if I see her, it’s on sight!”

You did your best to help him through those weeks. You had been through a few hard breakups in the past so you understood that the early stages were the worst. You even used up all of your sick time to stay home with him. You had never seen him this gloomy. At one point, he went through five pints of ice cream in three days.

____

It took three months for San to be even remotely okay. He started going to practice more and this time, he actually played. You couldn't say you were surprised. San loved playing with the band and you knew it was probably the only thing that would bring him out of his funk.

"You look good, man!" Hongjoong slapped his hand on San's back playfully and for the first time in months, San had his usual dimpled smile.

"I feel good." He replied, setting down his guitar and taking a seat next to you on the beat-up couch. "It's thanks to you, y/n"

Your eyes widened. "Me?"

He nodded. "You stayed up with me, didn't go to work, even made me breakfast when you knew I didn't have the energy to get off your couch."

You couldn't lie; your heart was racing. All you could do was stare back into his eyes with a goofy smile painted on your face. San put his hand on your thigh, skinship being normal between you two, especially within these past months.

Your friendship remained just that, a friendship, for the next month. You were okay with this, though. At least you had a small sliver of hope now that he was single. That tiny bit of hope that he'd love you back was able to tide you over.

Until one night.

San had come over for your weekly movie nights, an event you had been doing since high school but stopped doing because his ex got jealous easily. You tried calming your nerves as you sat next to each other, his arm wrapped around you.

You were so close you could smell his cologne. It was intoxicating. Maybe it was the fact that he was newly single now, filling up your thoughts even more recently, but his entire presence was overwhelming tonight.

“You alright, beautiful?” Since San was single now, his usual playful flirty side was coming out again. Just like everything else about him, you had a love-hate relationship with it. It doesn't mean anything. You had to remind yourself. He talked like this with everyone, especially when he wanted to get a rise out of his bandmates.

You gulped when you looked up at him. How could a man have this effect on you? You would think that after years of unrequited love, you'd be able to at least contain yourself. “Yeah.”

San gave you a dimpled smile, shifting his gaze to a piece of your hair, moving it behind your ear. Your mouth parts, probably to say something but you can't be too sure right now. If someone walked in, they would think you guys are about to kiss. Maybe you are... you want to kiss him.

With your heart pounding in your ears, you slowly lean forward, keeping your eyes on his lips. They look too good not to look at but you're also scared of seeing the look in his eyes, the potential disgust that might be taking over at the thought of your lips touching his.

Everything is moving in slow motion. From your hand caressing his cheek to the moment your lips make contact. He's stiff against you and you can only imagine that it's because he's uncomfortable. You start to pull away, dreading the awkward conversation you're about to have but San is quick. His hand grips your thigh and he's kissing you back with fervor.

Your head is spinning, Is this really happening? These sparks you're feeling all over your body, does he feel the same way? You push away any thoughts you're having, trying to focus on keeping up with San. You needed to enjoy this moment. Without realizing it, you swing your leg and straddle San's lap. He groans underneath you but before you can question it, he's giving you a reassuring squeeze on your waist.

You don't want to take the initiative of going further, but man, your hands are burning to touch his bare skin. Your hands, instead, rest on his shoulders, gripping and releasing every few seconds. As if he was reading your mind, San's hands move to the hem of your shirt and for the first time, you break the kiss.

The second your shirt passes your head, San's moving to kiss your neck, occasionally sucking to leave hickies that are sure to last a whole week. You're breathless, taking this as a sign to take off San's shirt. Your hands are all over each other, San's going from your cheek to unbuttoning your jeans, your fingers feeling his abs contract under your touch.

It feels like a flash. San suddenly laying you down on your bed, both of your clothes littered behind you on the floor, his lips still on your neck. It's only when he's about to insert himself does he stop and look at you with dark eyes. He doesn't give you enough time to question it, pushing himself inside you. You both gasp at the feeling.

"Fuck, you're so tight!" He grips your hip with one hand, the other holding the headboard like his life depends on it. He feels like he'll burst any second.

You're right there with him though, the mere feelings of this moment making you sensitive. "You're just big. Holy shit!"

It takes him a second, taking a moment to give both of you a moment to adjust before he moves inside you. You can't contain the sounds coming out of you as he hits all the right spots with ease. You couldn't have pegged San to have this big of a dick, yet here he was.

Before you can realize it, your hands are finding purchase on his back and your nails are sinking into his skin. He hisses above you but his thrusts get harsher and the moaning in your ear doesn't get any quieter.

"You feel so good... so warm and tight for me." He's practically whimpering into your neck. You try to keep your cool, trying not to cum so fast but he's hitting that spot inside you with ease.

Your nails dig into him deeper, "S-san," You stutter out. "Close... so close."

"I know... but you gotta wait for me. Can you do that?" His thrusts get faster and deeper, you don't even comprehend his words properly.

"Can you do that for me, pretty girl? Be a good girl for me?" He's using both hands to clench onto the headboard now, the force making it harder to not cum. You just nod and wrap your legs around his waist. San is drilling into you with so much force and he's hoping that the bed isn't going to break. After a few more thrusts, he starts to get sloppy, and your vision's crossing.

"Alright, beautiful. Cum for me." He grunts out, trying not to cum at the feeling of you clenching around him. You finally let the waves of pleasure course through you, seeing stars. If you were lucid, you most definitely would have been embarrassed by the noises coming out of your mouth and your pussy.

With a loud sigh, San pulls out of you and releases onto your stomach. Almost immediately, he’s up and cleaning you, you’re body’s too tired to do anything but lay there. You’re surprised, because instead of leaving, San lays next to you, even going as far as pulling you close to him.

You have so much on your mind but you're too tired now.

____

This goes on for weeks. Sometimes you would hang out. Sometimes do other things. Everything happened so fast. The friendship that you held so dear had become a muddled mess of lust and confusion. You obviously still had feelings for San but you had no idea where he stood.

You'd never even talked about the first time you guys had sex. When you woke up he was gone and when you saw each other again, he acted like nothing had happened. You didn't want to be that clingy girl who expected a relationship so you never brought it up. Now you're in this endless cycle of sleeping with each other and never addressing the elephant in the room.

What didn't help was how San was acting differently. He was much more touchy with you, always having to touch you in some way whenever you were together. His hand on your thigh, holding your hand, arm around your shoulder, he did it all. Before the incident, you would have considered him touchy but that's nothing compared to him now.

Your hangouts started to become more elaborate as well. You guys were actually going out to movies instead of watching Netflix at your house. Small coffee shop hangouts started becoming intimate dinners. It was like you guys were dating. These dates gave you hope that he would eventually open up and ask you out properly but you didn't want to force it out of him. So, you just decided to go with whatever he wanted.

"Let's go ice-skating." The handsome man suggested his left-hand steering and his right hand on your thigh.

"You know I can't ice-skate." You deadpan, getting distracted by your fingers playing with his.

He glances at you with a honey-sweet smile before bringing his eyes back to the road. "I can teach you, ya know."

"Please, you just want to see me fall so you can laugh at me."

"That too."

San taught you how to ice-skate for maybe ten minutes. After that, he decided that it would be best to let you learn through trial and error.

"San, I'm literally gonna fall on my face!" You cried, your legs shaking as you attempted to walk on the ice.

"You're doing great. Just try skating to me." He held out his hand for you. Every time you got even remotely close to him, however, he would slowly start backing up. You were struggling around the rink but he made sure to sprinkle in encouragements so you wouldn't be too mad at him.

Just when you thought you were doing good, you got too cocky and propelled yourself towards San, wanting so desperately to close that gap. Your feet weren't pointed straight enough causing your left skate to hit your right, tripping you onto the ice.

"Holy shit, y/n! Are you alright?" San appears in front of you with seconds. Helping you up with ease. Your knees ache and you could feel the bruise forming on your hip.

“Did you not see me eat shit?” You bark out, now gripping his arm for dead life.

“I did but it’s always polite to ask.” You slap his arm playfully as he guides you off the ice and onto the benches. “Are you actually okay?”

You shook your head and pouted like a child. San chuckled to himself, seeing right through you. Instead of saying anything, he pecked your lips innocently and took a seat next to you. It was the first time he’s kissed you in public which only confused you further. Is he doing this on purpose? You really had to ask him.

You’re too lost in your thoughts to see San staring at you. It’s not until he’s moving a piece of hair out of your face that you’re snapped out of your thoughts. You jolt slightly and hum at him in response. He just shakes his head and returns his gaze to the people skating.

It was your turn to stare at him, to memorize his features for the nth time. He’s just as beautiful as he was two seconds ago and the butterflies are still strong. You open your mouth to question him about your relationship, finally building up the courage just when…—

“San? Is that you?” You freeze. Her, you think. That manipulative bitch.

“Areum?” San stands as if he’s been caught doing something bad like a child. She offers him a warm smile, completely disregarding you as always. You feel like you did during the concert. His eyes are no longer on you… but trained on her. You feel that distance he created on the ice growing bigger and bigger.

“What’re you doing here?” The man asks, still shocked to see her.

“Ah, I was just walking around.” The nerve of this girl to act like she didn’t do anything wrong. “What’re you doing here?” Her eyes land on you but she quickly looks back at him.

You stand this time. “We’re…” Don’t say it. Don’t be petty. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. “On a date.” You entwine your arm with San’s.

Areum’s lip twitches in annoyance. “Oh?” She quirks a brow and glances at San. “Is this true?”

San freaks out without thinking and shakes his arm from yours. “No!— I mean like a friendly date, sure. We’re just hanging out like old times.”

There’s your answer.

His ex smiles with victory at your defeated state. “Well, we should catch up, San. I know we ended things on a bad note but I think we should talk.”

The car ride home was awfully silent. Usually, they were filled with laughter and off-key singing but tonight, you gave San short answers in his poor attempt to talk. When you entered your apartment, you told him you were going to bed early and that he should lock up when he leaves.

Instead, you feel his warm body climb into your bed and hold you at 12 am. As always, you didn’t tell him to leave. Because, as always, you couldn’t say no to Choi San.

____

You wake up and San's not next to you but there is a text.

San : Sorry I didn't want to wake you but I left to go to practice. It'll probably end late today so if you feel up to it, come hang out. :)

Should you? Maybe it's just better if you pretend like nothing happened. Obviously, that's what he's doing. Besides, it’s not like his bandmates gave you false hope just to reject you in front of their ex. You end up going to the practice, a huge lump in your throat. If you brought up the situation, you're sure that whatever you guys had would be over the second you said anything.

Jongho, the lead singer, greets you with a smile and a nod in your direction as he warms up.

"y/n!" Wooyoung calls out, getting off of his drum stool and engulfing you in a hug.

You giggle on command, loving his enthusiasm. “Wooyoung, why do you always act like we haven’t seen each other for years!”

He smiles and whispers, “Don’t tell the guys I told you, but you’re like… our muse!”

You roll your eyes and pull away from his chest just to look at him, “I think you’re the only one crazy enough to even consider that.”

Wooyoung lets you go completely and returns to his drum set, you follow suit. “Maybe but you’ve been our number one supporter since day one! Plus you’re beautiful and beauty inspires art, does it not?”

Laughter erupts from you again at his cheesiness and your feel an arm wrap around your shoulder. You didn’t have to look to know who it was, the signature cologne giving him away.

“What’s so funny?” San’s smiling but you can tell there’s something different in his tone.

“Just exposing how important y/n is to the band.” Wooyoung sends you a playful wink, your cheeks burning slightly. San forces a laugh, something you don’t notice, before sitting you down on the couch.

After practice was over, you waited outside of the room for San so you could go back to your place. That wasn't the original plan but San insisted. The chilly air made you wrap your arms around yourself, internally scolding yourself over not bringing a jacket.

Wooyoung was the first to come out, fishing his lighter out of his pocket. He wasn't the only cigarette smoker in the group but he was definitely the one that smoked the most. He grinned at the sight of you, resting his hand in his pocket instead.

"Why're you waiting out here? It's cold as hell."

"Yeah... But I didn't want to get in your guys' way." You rubbed your hands up and down your arms trying to create heat. Wooyoung took off his jacket and wrapped it around you without hesitation. "A true gentleman." You remarked.

He put his hand on his chest, his face contorting to look hurt. "I've always been a gentleman. Even when I'm freezing my ass off."

Your eyes widened, ready to give the jacket back. "Woah there, missy. I gave it to you for a reason. We don't want our muse to die of hypothermia." The joke makes you laugh lightly. "You waiting on San?"

You nod, staring at the ground and rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. “It’s been a lot of waiting recently.” You accidentally confess.

“Uh oh.” He leans against the wall. "I noticed something was different."

"What do you mean?" You hear your heartbeat through your ears and you find it hard to breathe all of a sudden.

"You guys are a lot closer... You guys are best friends, sure, but the air's been different between you two. He still doesn't notice how you look at him."

You scoff, "That obvious, huh?"

"To everyone but him, it seems. Can I be honest?" Wooyoung rolls to face you. You nod, now looking at him. "Unless you tell him how you feel, you'll be doing nothing but waiting on him."

"But our friendship-"

"If you're about to tell me that it's enough for you, so help me God, y/n, I will kick your ass." You laugh for the first time since the conversation started. You understand what you have to do. You guys have already crossed so many boundaries and clearly, he feels something for you, right?

The door to the practice room swings open and this time it's Yeosang and San. San's bright smile seems to falter as his eyes instantly land on the jacket that's wrapped around you. His eyes shift between you and the drummer then he strides to you, grabbing your wrist.

"Let's go?" You don't have time to answer. San's practically ripping the jacket off of you and throwing it at Wooyoung who barely catches it. This time, you don't miss the change in his tone. He replaces Wooyoung's jacket with his hoodie, not saying a word as he puts it on you.

Just like the night before, the tension in the car is thick but unlike last night, it's you who's trying to spark a conversation. San's knuckles are turning white as he drives and it's starting to worry you. You've never seen San this upset before and you're still trying to place the reasoning. Was it jealousy?

You pull up to the house, expecting him to follow you like he always does but he doesn't. Instead, he leaves the engine running and his eyes on the street. For some reason, this sets you off. This man had the audacity to pull away from you, act like you were just a friend in front of the ex that cheated on him, but gets jealous over you casually talking to another guy?

You scoff and unbuckle your seatbelt, stepped out of the car, and slammed the door shut. San was feeling extra temperamental tonight. He couldn't understand why he felt like this either. Maybe he was looking for a fight. He turned off the engine and followed you inside. Before you could close and lock the door, he stepped into your house.

"What is your problem?" You asked venomously.

"What is your problem?"

"I didn't have any problem until you decided to get all confusing!" You dropped your tote bag on the floor, turning to face him fully.

"I'm confusing? Are kidding me?" He huffs out, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Actually, I'm not. You've been driving me nuts since we started hooking up. I'm over it!" His lip twitches into a sarcastic smile. "What the fuck was that with your ex? You completely pushed me aside. She treated you like shit, remember? She cheated, she lied, and she manipulated you. Do you want to get back to-"

"You're not my girlfriend, y/n!" He cut you off. "God, it's like you don't know your place." Tears pricked your eyes but you felt more angry than sad. Angry, you've never felt this way with San before. You're experiencing a lot of firsts tonight. San immediately realizes what he said, how hurt you were. He took a step closer to you but you put up your hands, putting up your boundaries for the first time.

"No, you're right. It's not like you hold my hand wherever we go or put your hands on my waist in public. You don't smile at me sweetly during dates. We're not completely vulnerable with each other, telling each other things we'd never breathe to others. It's not like we fuck almost every day! Do friends do what we do? Please, enlighten me. What's my place?"

"I'm sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have-" You're full-on bawling now, sucking in breaths where you can.

"I can't believe I've loved you for so long. I've torn my heart out for you and you just... you just throw it back at me like it's nothing!" His mouth opens but nothing comes out, instead he wraps his arms around you. You react once you feel him, trying to fight him off but he's stronger, trying to calm you down by hugging you.

You're screaming, all the feelings you've held inside bursting out of you, "Why can't you let me in?" You start to pound on your chest even though you know you shouldn't. You don't even notice that he's crying too. "Why can't it be me for once? Let it be me!"

"I'm sorry," He coos. You couldn't hold yourself up anymore, your feelings making it hard to focus. San catches you though, guiding you to sit on the floor.

San does his best to understand what you're saying through your sobs. He wants to understand what he's feeling. He thought he was doing this to get over Areum but why was he doing all the other things? He could've just stuck to the bare minimum but he didn't. Better question, how had he not noticed your feelings?

San was so caught in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed you had cried yourself to sleep. He was holding your head to his chest and he sighed, finally relaxing a bit. He couldn't really relax though, his mind still processing what you had said. He carried you bridal style to your room and thanking God that you had exhausted yourself.

San tucked you in and, after some hard debating, decided to lay in bed with you. He made sure that he wasn't touching you even though he knew he was going to leave before you woke up. He sighed to himself.

Even as you slept you were beautiful and he beat himself up for only now noticing how exhausted you looked. The man never understood why he was so willing and ready to sleep with you. He could acknowledge that there was steaming sexual tension but he never thought it would get this far. Nevertheless, you guys were in this situation; the very foggy area between friends and more.

Is this how you felt, absolutely terrified? You guys certainly couldn't go back to being friends after everything that's happened between you two. San's body started to shake as he silently cried. He couldn't even comprehend how much pain he's put you through these last few months.

____

You're not surprised to find your bed empty the next day; you wouldn't be surprised if San had sent you a message ending your friendship and promptly blocking you. You stare at your ceiling with tears already prickling your eyes. You weren't going to check your phone for texts. You just went to work.

The day went by fast, your boss giving you plenty of work to distract yourself. You were doing just fine until you pulled up to your apartment to find Wooyoung waiting to knock on your door.

"Wooyoung?" The man turned around, almost like a deer in headlights.

"Oh- Hey!" He quickly put his hands in his jean pockets. You walked to your door silently, unlocking the front door and inviting him in.

“What can I help you with?” You try to be casual even though all you’re thinking about is San and how you know Wooyoung’s here to soothe whatever problem you guys are having.

“I’m gonna cut to the chase. Talk to San. It’s only been a day of you two fighting and all of us are tired of him sulking.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“He came into practice looking all down and he didn’t talk to any of us. He just went through practice barely saying ten words throughout the whole thing.”

"How do you know this has something to do with me?"

“… Do I look blind to you? Everyone knows something’s going on between you two.” Wooyoung sighs and runs his hands through his hair. “Look, I don’t know what happened but I’m sure it was probably his fault. I’m not saying you should forgive him right away but just talk to him. Please?”

——

So now, here you are, outside his door. You took in a deep breath before knocking hard on his door. You couldn’t muster the courage to ask if he was home but there was no practice so you hoped for the best.

The door unlocked within a few minutes. “y/n?”

“H-Hi,” You stuttered out, feeling the weight on your shoulders get heavier. “Can I come in?”

San gestures you inside and you take a seat on his couch. There’s an awkward silence when he joins you and you can’t recall any other time it’s been like this. It was so easy to talk to San before but now you can’t even form a sentence.

“So—“

“What’d—“

You said at the same time.

“You first.” San breathed.

“I just figured we had a lot to talk about.”

"Right..." He brushed off his legs with a sigh.

"I like you, San- actually, I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you for so long and we slept together and it got messy. We've never talked about what we were after that night. You just made me a rebound and I turned the other way..."

His eyes burnt into your face and you were too scared to meet them. "I'm sorry. I never meant to put you in that kind of situation. I shouldn't have been so selfish. I didn't think about the way you were feeling."

San's warm hand grabs yours. "I'm so sorry that it's taken me so long to see how you feel about me. I'm so sorry I said that you didn't know where your place was. Your place..." He takes a big deep breath, making you look at him, "Your place is right next to me. I lost you for one day and in that one day, I've realized what you really mean to me. I'm in love with you, y/n."

He places his hand on your cheek, wiping away a tear you didn't even notice. You're falling apart at his touch but you were so happy that he felt the same way and- Oh my god! Choi San was in love with you!

"You just said you were in love with me." You breathed, a smile breaking out on your lips.

"I did, didn't I?" He chuckles, closing the distance between your faces. Your breath hitches. "Are you going to give me a chance to love you for real this time?"

Your heart is going to burst and you don't really give it much thought.

"Yes."

[georgiapeach30513]

MAAM… STEVE??? AND BUCKY??????

Plz elaborate for the class

LISTEN! If ever Steve and Bucky are in ANY of my fics, please note, they have shared and/or been together themselves. It's an unspoken rule. But since you're so excited....we can go into the past of when they shared. Just for shits and giggles, this is going to be a reader insert.

🖤🖤🖤🖤

How You Make A Woman

Summary:  Steve and Bucky are SHOCKED

Pairings:  Steve Rogers X Brooklyn!Reader X Bucky Barnes

Rating:  explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, PIV sex, oral sex (M&F receiving), slapping, pinching, biting, spit roast, cream pie, degradation, teasing, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  1.6K

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Revisit Desperate Affairs Masterlist

You laugh at some stupid joke that Steve had told you, your back up against Bucky, legs draped over Steve’s and just having your friendly Friday night drinking with the boys. “So you’re telling me that a girl from Brooklyn, can’t find her a man to treat her right?”

You scoff sparing a quick glance at Bucky, “They’re all the same, big promises about their amazing game, and it’s just mediocre. Not even worth my time honestly. I can do better all by myself,” Steve raises an eyebrow at you, but laughs anyway. “What about you two? No ladies on the horizon waiting to scoop up the future Dr. Rogers and Dr. Barnes?”

“Wait...wait,” Bucky starts, he noticed that quick change from yourself to them. “Who is the best you’ve ever had?” you mumble out a bunch of nonsense, and shrug. “Come on, everyone has that someone that was just, boom.”

“Yeah, again, I do better all by myself.”

“Brooklyn?” Steve’s eyes slowly look up at you, a bit of pity laced through those pretty blue green eyes. “Which one made you cum?” while you’ve known these two your whole life, this is definitely not something you want to talk about. When you start to get up Bucky pulls you back down. “Brook, answer the question.”

“Don’t have to.”

“Well, that tells us everything we need to know. You don’t like sex, because you’ve been with assholes that made everything about them huh?” your eyes look down at your bottle of beer, not speaking, which tells Bucky everything. With the alcohol running wild in all three of your veins, and Bucky being a cocky son of a bitch anyways, you already know, the sinful thoughts running through his brain.  Because you’ve had those thoughts on more than on occasion.

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not that...? Brooklyn, it’s a huge deal,” he adjusts himself on the couch, and pulls your head back to where you’re gazing up at him. “Brooklyn?”

“I don’t see what the big deal is with sex anyways,” you try to pull your body off of him, but he holds you tight. “What?”

“You haven’t had good sex, and it shows,” Steve responds. He scoots a bit closer to your body, and you can’t deny the heat that pools in your core. Your body starting to tingle, when Bucky’s hand rubs down the column of your neck. Timidly Steve’s hand rubs along your knee, but he stops. His eyes looking in front of him.

"It’s because I jumped into. I didn’t have fireworks. It works better, I’m sure, with someone you’re comfortable with.”

Bucky’s hands start massaging your shoulders slowly, laughing when you release a desperate mewl. “Admit it, you’ve never had a man make you orgasm,” you just give him a quick shrug, but he grips tighter to your shoulders.

“I’m sure I have.”

“Oh, sweet Brooklyn girl,” Steve coos, his body fully twists around, and both his hands rest on your knees, slowly sliding up your thighs, before back down. Each time getting higher, but not high enough. “You would know if you had. You’ve just had shitty dick.”

With just a whisper of a kiss, Bucky presses his lips against your temple, “W-w-well, I don’t see anyone knocking my door down.”

“We could help you out,” Bucky speaks so softly in your ear. Chills run up and down your spine, and Steve’s hands journey further north just a little bit more. “You know us, you’re comfortable with us. I bet we could make you feel real good without ever putting a cock in that pretty pussy.”

“‘S not,” you choke out, but can’t even finish when those sinful lips kiss up your neck.

“Oh it is, Brook. I can feel your warmth radiating off of you. Will you let me and Stevie take care of you? Show you how a man is supposed to make a woman feel?” your speechless and unmoving, but with the way the two of their hands roam over your body, you can’t help it, but with no words of confirmation, the two stop their motions, and start to pull back.

“Don’t stop,” your voice chokes out when you miss the feeling of their hands on your skin.

“What is it you want Brooklyn?” Steve shifts his weight to where he’s hovering over you. “You have to tell us sweetheart.”

“I want you to show me, but...”

“We’re just friends,” Bucky reminds you. Famous last words. When you answer that you’re ready, the two of their hands start kneading your body. Bucky still stays behind you, turning your head to ghost his lips over your cheeks. Getting lower, until slotting those pouty lips against yours. his hands roam to your tits, as they grope and tweak your nipples.

Steve’s fingers connect to your jeans, slowly undoing your button, his eyes never leaving you and Bucky before sliding them off. Bucky’s hand drifts down your body, and under the elastic of your panties. Moaning in your mouth when he roams your folds. “You’re fucking soaked Brook,” his voice gravelly and raw on your lips. “Get them offa her,” he grunts to Steve.

Still those tender motions of sliding the cotton off of you. Too much clothes still separate you and Bucky. Your hands go to remove your own shirt, and bra, “Wanna feel you,” you pant before he yanks his own shirt off. Once situated, Steve spreads your thighs, gazing at your drenched sex. His fingers spread around your arousal, giving a little pinch to your bundle of nerves, before sliding two fingers into your tight channel.  His thumb creating tight circles on your clit.  Your body naturally rocks with his motions, while Bucky is dominating your mouth.

Steve even stops his fingers.  Watching you continue to grind over his hand.  "You've needed this Brook.  Buck, watch her fuck my fingers," with a bite to your lip, Bucky pulls away.  Taking in the rolling of your hips over Stevie.  "You're so needy, sweetheart.  You think you can get off like this?" nodding your head quickly, they both chuckle at you.  "My fingers feel better than yours?"

"Yes, Stevie.”

"Gonna let us fuck you?" nodding, you work yourself harder over him.  Bucky squeezes tightly to your nipples and doesn't let go.  His teeth nipping along your shoulder, eyes still on your cunt sucking Steve's fingers back in.  Your hips start stuttering when you feel your belly heat up, but Bucky grabs your hips, forcing you to fuck Steve’s fingers through your orgasm.  "How did that feel?"

"Good.”

"I think we're done for the night," Bucky takes a hard bite of your neck, giving it a little suck, and you slap at his leg.  "You think you can handle more?"  giving him a nod, he pushes you off of him to your knees, gazing down at your puffy cunt, his own hand running through your folds before diving face first.  Messily eating your cunt like it's his last meal.  Your body squirming as he works you over.  Yelping when Steve starts to undress, and his cock bounces up to slap those heavenly thighs.  His tip angry and leaking, when he walks closer to you.  

His thumb rubs against your lips, before he pushes his length through.  Sliding all the way in, until his cock, cuts off your airways, "Breathe through your nose Brook, you're a big girl, you can handle this," removing himself you choke for air.  Your lungs on fire, as your eyes roll up to meet his.  "Good girl, sweetheart.  Buck, put her out of her misery and split her open.  She's a needy little thing."

Bucky's face glistening with your juices leans back to watch Steve face fuck you, while he undresses, whining when you can't fully see him the way you did Stevie, gets you a slap on your ass from Steve.  Still choking on his cock he leans over your body watching your pussy clench around nothing.  Letting a dribble of spit ooze down your slit.  "Didn't need that Stevie boy," Bucky's hand hold tight to your hip, his other running his blunt head through your folds, before sliding in.  Stopping only when he bottoms out, "Got her leaking on the couch already."

You can't speak when you're so full of Steven Grant Rogers, and you need Bucky to move.  Your body on edge, you push back over him, "See, such a needy little bitch, aren't ya," Steve gives you another smack.  When Bucky's hand grips the other hip, you know it's time.

The of them rut into you from both sides, and your body is in such a peaceful overwhelming state.  Tugging and pulling both of their cocks into you, while you're a drooling mess.  Not even caring about anything, but feeling free in this moment.  Letting your two best friends use your body in any way that they want.  Bucky pounds into your mercilessly.  Grunting that he'd take you apart slowly next time.  Next time?  Even Steve made a comment about it.  

The two of them so entuned with the other, their thrusts get sloppy at the same time.  "FUCK, Brooklyn!" Bucky shouts at you, struggling to hold on for your own release.  His hand slides down to stimulate your bundle of nerves, and that's all it took.  Your orgasm rushes through your limbs.  Cunt squeezing tightly to Bucky, and his warmth paints your walls.  Steve takes one more hard and deep stab into you, and his spend spurts into the back of your throat.  Feeling so full and spent from the two of them.

"And that's, how you make a woman orgasm, Brook," Bucky and Steve give themselves a high five.  Still such children.  The two of them, taking their time the rest of the night.  Playfully fondling you, riding on top of Stevie, sixty-nine-ing with Bucky, having your ass stretched out by Stevie, all of it blissful.  That should have been the end.  And it was...with Steve.

Masterlist

[yengyangyo]

berry | k.s.w

pairings: kim sunwoo x female reader

genre: college au, friends to lovers

summary: you are in denial that you have a crush on your own friend, kim sunwoo until he made you confess your feelings.

word count: 1.9k

note: i wrote this on sunwoo's birthday. its quite late to post it cs i kept on postponing it sksksk but yea this was inspired by sunwoo's berry. enjoy reading! xo

-

you had sunwoo on your mind for days that you are lacking of sleep. it doesnt sit quite right for you to have this 'romantic' feelings for your bestfriend. meanwhile, sunwoo is not helping you to clear up your mind at all. he's just always there beside you no matter what.

he'd wait at the bus stop just to go to class together with you in the morning even when you're running late. lunch time together is a must unless one of you had other plans. both of you are just stuck together anywhere you go.

so for once, you thought it'd be a good plan to avoid him today. you woke up early that morning to get to class and you texted sunwoo that you had a discussion with your groupmates. this went on for a few days, you were making excuses everyday but sunwoo believed you.

until he couldnt take it anymore.

you felt your phone vibrating in your pocket and you saw sunwoo on the caller id. you were hesitating to pick it up until you felt someone grabbing your wrist from the back, turning you around.

"found ya!"

sunwoo appeared in front of you with the brightest smile. you couldn't help but to feel happy and welcomed by him that you started smiling unknowingly. you get back to your senses seconds later and avoided his eyes.

sunwoo knew something was wrong when he saw your expression fell. he glanced at your phone that kept ringing. he ended the call and your phone went off too.

"why arent you answering my calls? are you still busy?"

you couldnt stand seeing sunwoo looking all gloomy and upset. you felt bad for ignoring him so you tried making up excuses again.

"oh yea i was about to pick it up. sorry,"

sunwoo pouted and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. he's using his favourite perfume again today, you noticed. that scent happened to be your fav of him too. you felt weak and wanting to crawl into a hole or something.

"im craving chicken today. how about chicken and beer for dinner tonight?"

sunwoo turned his head at you, waiting for an answer. you looked up at him and his face was only inches away from you. you looked away, flustered. he had always been this way but only now you noticed how you felt about him which made it more awkward to be this close to him.

"i dont know, sunwoo. i'll have to check with my groupmates," you said, pretending to check your phone for your nonexistent messages.

"its friday come on. i havent hang out with you for days already," sunwoo whined and that made you laugh.

"alright but i get to choose where to eat,"

-

you chose the chicken restaurant near your neighbourhood where you both are regular customers there. the place was crowded with youngsters like the both of you, drunken with beer and chicken.

you were also getting tipsy from drinking. the first 30 minutes of the dinner went normal. asking how each other had been doing with the college life.

sunwoo sighed and rested his chin on his right palm. his eyes falters on you, searching for something. you looked away, feeling a bit burdened and transparent, because sunwoo knew you werent acting yourself these days.

"hey," he called you but you didnt answer and still avoiding the eye contact.

"hey look at me,"

you were startled at the warmth on both of your cheeks. sunwoo was cupping your cheeks to make you look at him straight in the eyes. you didnt know if this warmth was from his hand or from you blushing.

"what's wrong?" he asked. now his hand moved to yours, holding it tight. "you're avoiding me these days. do you think i didnt notice?"

silence fell between you two, just staring at each other. the guilt creeping up inside you and you didn't know where to start.

its the smallest gesture from him that create butterflies in your stomach.

that one time he opened the water bottle for you when he saw you struggling and saying that you're such a baby. his laughter filled the room when you frowned at the remark. you know how much he loves annoying you and in the end he always made you laugh too.

on rainy days, he'd always share the umbrella with you and keeping you close to him so you wouldnt get drenched. sometimes he'd gently rub your arm so you wouldn't get too cold.

sometimes he'd call you names like how boyfriend and girlfriend do, jokingly. though, you somewhat enjoyed it and played along. pretending to cringe but actually was flattered by him.

at this moment, your hand in his, eyes boring into each other, you just want to scream at him how much you love him.

you smiled in defeat and pulled back your hand.

"there were just so many thoughts going on my mind lately, sunwoo. im so sorry,"

he didn't question you any further and he nodded his head.

"whatever it is youre thinking, i just want you to know i'm always here for you,"

you smiled, this time sincerely at him.

"you always are sunwoo. i appreciate that,"

he smirked, "after all, i am the best that you got,"

you rolled your eyes and gave him your disgusted face.

"so are you gonna tell me what's bugging you?"

"i think i like someone. he's just always running round in my mind these days,"

you didnt know where the courage came from to blurt out that out of your mouth. sunwoo who was halfway shoving a piece of chicken in his mouth, stopped. he put it down and looked at you, doubting himself if he heard that right.

"i couldnt stop thinking about him. that pretty much explains that i like him right? or is it just my mind playing games with me?"

you swore you saw his face fell for a second but he went back to the usual sunwoo after that.

"does he know about your feelings?"

you shrugged, "nah. im still trying to find out what i really feel about him. should i tell him?"

sunwoo didnt say anything and chugged down his beer until its empty.

"yea why not," he answered simply. "he must be really lucky to have you,"

you laughed, "i havent done anything yet. there's a possibility that he'd reject me too anyway,"

its funny how you talk about this like its some stranger to sunwoo when you are talking about him. you felt light hearted a bit after letting that out.

"who'd reject you?" sunwoo said while playing with that piece of chicken, not looking at you anymore. "you're pretty and fun,"

you raised an eyebrow, wondering if you heard that right. he was still poking the chicken with his fork, eyes hazy and lips pouting.

"so you're not gonna tell me who is this guy you have a crush on?"

"you'll find out soon,"

-

sunwoo offered to walk you home though you kindly told him he didn't have to. he insisted and now you are walking beside him. he was suddenly quiet after the conversation you had with him.

"is that why you're avoiding me? because you have a crush on this guy?"

he asked, hands in his pockets, eyes looking forward. you looked at him, feeling a bit weirded out by his cold tone.

"no... okay maybe? i dont know. i just needed some time to myself,"

sunwoo fell quiet again for the rest of the walk home. when you reached the front gate of your house, you looked back at sunwoo. he looked like he was upset. you walked up to him and pat his side.

"hey thanks for walking me home. i'll tell you everything when i'm ready okay?"

sunwoo didnt say anything and you turned around to get out of that awkward moment.

"no i'll tell you everything right now okay? hear me out,"

you stopped in your tracks and facing him in confusion. he was pacing around, his hands are restless in his pockets.

"before you confess to him i guess i have to make a move on you first," sunwoo said, this time he raised his voice. "this is why people are saying we should always tell what we feel before we regret it and i dont want to regret it but i think im too late,"

you are worried at him. he looked like he was about to break down right in front of you. you wanted to comfort him but you didnt get what he's trying to say.

"sunwoo, i dont understand. what is it?"

sunwoo stopped pacing around and stopped directly in front of you. you swore you saw his eyes tearing up and you wanted to cry too. you thought, the alcohol has made both of you emotional.

"i like you,"

you both felt like the world is weighing down. it was as if the time has stopped for you two. you were staring at each other in disbelief.

"i know you like someone else and i shouldve told you sooner. i kept on putting back my feelings behind," sunwoo halted, gasping for air. "im too late now but i have to tell you this,"

"sunwoo-"

"i dont care who he is. but i want you to know that you deserve of love. you kept on telling yourself you dont deserve anyone. you know how badly i want to tell you that im here? i want to love you," sunwoo was practically shouting at this point. he sighed, "shit im already am in love with you,"

at those words, your tears came streaming down like crazy. you've never seen him cry but tonight he looked beautiful even when he's crying. you lurched forward and wrapped your arms around him. he buried his face in your neck and you felt his warm tears on your skin.

"im sorry. i just wanted to let that out after keeping it for so long. this is the worst timing huh?" he murmured under his breath.

you shook your head and laughed. you let go of the hug first and cupped his face in your hands. teary eyes staring at each other.

"sunwoo its you,"

"what?"

"i love you too,"

you closed the distance between the two of you, kissing him for the first time. that caught him off guard but then smiled in the kiss. it was sloppy but sunwoo is for sure leading you well at this. you both craved for this for a long time already. you were still crying of relief and touched by his confession.

"you should've told me before i start crying like an idiot," sunwoo looked down at you, smiling with his swollen eyes.

you laughed at him and you snuggled more into his embrace not wanting to let go too soon. you realized how much you miss him after those dreading days of ignoring him. he rested his chin on your head while gently patting you.

"im sorry ive been ignoring and denying my feelings for you,"

"its okay. thank god we actually like each other though," you both laughed at the same time and you havent felt this happy and giddy before.

"so i can actually call you my baby now?" sunwoo asked smirking at you playfully, knowing how much you hated it before.

"that's still cringy but sure, babe,"