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neiptune · 1 year ago

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ain't that the worst thing you ever heard? (part 2)

c/w: 22k wc, SUGGESTIVE, summer romance, strangers to fwb to lovers, eren can surf, this little story has kept me company for weeks now, it just kept stretching and stretching and demanding more so I tried to accomodate its needs. I hope you'll be able to perceive all the love & care I've put into it! thank you for having been part of this summer journey now I'll finally go lie down

PART 1

June melts away and July is as sweet as the ripe cherries that melt on your tongue.

You’ve always loved summer, both in the city and the countryside you grew up in. The summer season that belonged to your childhood came with watermelon slices consumed sitting on the engawa with your grandparents, a poor antidote against the oppressive humidity that glued hair and clothes to your skin. The only relief came from the small fan they kept on at all times, day and night, the low buzz a constant companion throughout the hours spent napping, going through your homework or demolishing the only thing your mother has ever been able to cook: teriyaki tofu.

You slept in the same room as your grandparents at night, two futons placed at careful distance to no avail as you couldn’t sleep anyway between the noise coming from the fan, the chirping of the cicadas from outside and your grandpa’s snoring. Those were the nights you’d spend observing the ceiling, fantasizing about growing up and becoming an adult that worked as hard as your parents who woke up at the crack of dawn and came home several hours after you had finished eating dinner. You’d daydream about the big cities they always told you about, Tokyo and Osaka and Yokohama and Nagoya, places where people didn’t have to break their backs slaving away in rice fields every day.

Places where people wore nice shirts and ties and jackets and carried little leather briefcases and worked in clean offices and never had to scrape the mortifying dirt stuck underneath their nails.

Summer in the city came with apartments with little to no insulation, boxes as humid and hot as the outside, with no air moving around inside. Still, you bought a little pink fan when you couldn’t afford an AC, made sure your fridge always had a consistent stock of watermelon and fruit popsicles. You’d lie belly-down on the tatami floors when afternoons got too hot to move, and took the Yokosuka line from the central station along with some friends whenever you could gift yourself the luxury of spending a day at the beach.

It wasn’t enjoyable. The drudgery that took to get there, sweat running down your back, crowded trains and a bus where you could barely breathe from how hot it was, sand crawling in between your belongings and sticking to your arms and legs. But the ocean? That was worth it. A body of water stretching as far as the eye could see, so boundless it felt like the city was miles and miles away, all your emotions magnified, salty breeze flooding your senses. You often wished to take your parents there, always daydreamed about how amazed your mother would feel and about your father’s calloused hands picking up a fishing rod instead of being busy ploughing, harrowing fields, harvesting grains.

You felt at ease in the water, gliding across it with bold strokes as your friends splashed around closer to the shore. You liked diving underneath the surface, eyes shut and ears filled with currents, waves and storms no one else could hear. A special sussurration made just for you, one you listened to until your lungs felt a moment away from exploding.

So far, summer on the island doesn’t come close to anything you’ve experienced before. Your vacation rental has an AC that you refuse to turn on and most nights on your first month there were so hot you could barely sleep. The sky is the kind of blue that is promising and has you excited for the day to unravel, clouds showing up and timidly crossing it fluffly and candid as snow. What was considered the glorious realm of the gods according to Mesopotamian mythology, the island holds as regular cedar forests, although so wonderful you can only guess it must’ve been blessed with a touch of divine nonetheless. You got to hike through more than one and paid homage to the ancient trees, some of Japan’s oldest living ones. Jean has been a sweet guide on your first time, carefully explaining to every member of the group he was leading both the history and ecology of the sights along the way.

Tropical storms are restless and unforgiving, you learn: wind shakes your windows, lighting tints rooms purple and the crack of thunder prompts the lighting up of your phone screen at any hour of the night, without exception.

Eren comes to know about your fear of thunderstorms on a late afternoon. He has taken the habit of showing up at your place with a little something for you from time to time: that day he had two plastic bags in his hands, a few groceries he had picked up on the way there “just in case you’re out of something”, kitchen counter slowly filling up with fresh milk, eggs, apricots, bread, one box of cereals, cheese and what were mostly his favorite snacks. And it’s never just an excuse to be there, he never expects you to reward him: Eren has his own way of putting away the groceries, his regular grumbling about how messy your cupboard is, an improved method of fixing the leaking of your sink and piling his book suggestions right next to your tv, so that you don’t forget to check them out. More often than not they’re not books he has read, just books he deems you’ll find interesting.

That afternoon Eren wasn’t there to sleep with you, he didn’t have any particular motive for spending a few hours sprawled on your couch watching some dumb cooking show, except that he enjoyed it. He enjoyed how invested you’d get and the way you’d lightly pinch his thigh when you’d have it with his boyish, teasing comments. Sometimes you’d just slot your mouth to his to shut him up, a more than welcome distraction from pretentious chefs who presented dishes he never would have dreamed to replace Sasha’s wraps with. And while your kisses didn’t always lead to anything (whatever it was that you had going on walking between blurred lines that comprised make out sessions, casual hang outs and Eren molding your body to accomodate his so perfectly you often found yourself questioning if you could ever even take anyone else and feel the same way), on that particular day you seemed more than willing to forget about the stupid cooking show. And then a loud crack his very much occupied mind could barely register, had you jolting away from him and covering your ears in a heated rush.

Eren makes sure to call or text you during storms but he’s way more subtle about it now than he was at the start. After your prideful “I’m fine, stop checking on me like I’m some damn child”, he developed a new, clever strategy to make sure you’re doing okay. Whether it’s by sending you a funny meme, the link to a tiktok video, some random update on Connie’s hectic dating life at 3 in the morning, he hopes the message gets across. And alhough most times you don’t reply until several hours later, out of that same stubborn pride that makes him roll his eyes multiple times a day, you can’t help but smile a little when the phone screen your eyes instinctively dart to at the beginning of every storm, lights up without fail.

Contrary to what you had anticipated, being friends with him is probably the easiest thing you've ever done. Eren gives a lot and takes very little, the only situations this selflessness doesn’t really apply to include discarded clothes and skirts pooled around your hips when he’s too impatient and the steamed up windows of his truck blurry your vision and your mind as the pads of his fingers dig into the fat of your thighs. Those are the moments Eren takes everything from you. He claims each breathless gasp, the twitching of your legs, the way your pretty features freeze in silent pleasure and he gets to whisper reassuring praises against the corner of your mouth. Whether he’s aware or not about just how much he ruins you each time, is beyond your understanding.

Eren talks about you with his friends when you’re not there to hang out with them, which happens often anyway. He’d casually mention something you did or said or once specified you enjoyed, an habit that’s increasingly prompting knowing glances exchanged between Connie and Jean. Armin’s stare just turns a little worried, especially when Eren reprimands everyone and cares to remind them to be careful and not get attached because your presence is temporary.

Sasha feels as if, between one beer and the other, he’s the one he’s truly trying to convince. It’s new Eren behavior, uncharted territory, and the odds of the whole thing ending in the shittiest way possible are incredibly high: which is why Armin decides to take it upon himself to test the waters and almost asks if you think it’s really best to keep going with the whole friends with benefits thing. He likes you and means well. Maybe it’d keep everyone’s feelings safe if you and Eren discarded the benefits part and stayed as nothing more than regular friends?

But right as he was about to voice his question, you had stopped by a street fruit vendor and turned to look at him with sparkles in your eyes.

“What if we get some pineapples? I could try and make that ice cream Eren never shuts up about”

Shit, he thought to himself. Maybe he had been way too optimistic.

Eren knows you’re not actually asleep. Not that he’s yet had the privilege of knowing what you look like when you’re sleeping: you never once stayed the night at his place, which was good enough of a reason never to spend the night at yours. He’s never had the chance to lend you one of his shirts or ask if the coffee he buys now is better than the one you tasted so many mornings ago. It’s not that he’s bothered by it, he just doesn’t understand what sort of thoughts prompt you to immediately get out of his bed (or off of his couch, or out of his shower, or down from the kitchen counter—), collect your clothes, flash him a smile and wave goodbye. He should be happy you do that, honestly. It’s always saved both of you from experiencing any unnecessary awkwardness. It’s convenient. It’s practical. But still, it certainly wouldn’t kill you to stay just once?

“Stop that” your nose scrunches, the light touch of his fingers tickling you.

“Be an active part of the excursion, then” an airy chuckle leaves him as his fingertips skim the bridge of your nose again. You weakly swat his hand away.

“M’tired” you puff out your cheeks, eyes still shut. Eren rolls his eyes.

“It was less than an hour long hike”

“You own a trained body, I own an exhausted one”

“So you don’t want any snacks?”

Finally, you open one eye to peer at him, suspicious. Amused, Eren gently bounces his leg, the one your head is resting on.

“It better be Sasha’s avocado hummus” you grumble while making the process of sitting up dramatic enough for him snort.

“It’s something better: fresh fruit” Eren meets your shocked expression with an innocent grin.

“You’re a deceitful, unreliable little man” you playfully narrow your gaze as he pulls out a plastic bag from his backpack. He huffs.

“Stop complaining, these are from Kukiko’s garden”

“Kukiko?”

“Jean’s grandma. She pretty much raised him and used to give us extra treats before we set off for school” a small smile stretches his lips as he takes some peaches and a small knife from the bag.

“My granny used to do the same” you smile too, the sweetness of the memories coming to mind causing a pleasant warmth to spread in your chest “she’d pack my lunch and then several others for my friends, just in case their parents forgot. As if that could’ve been possible”

Eren looks up from the fruit he’s carefully peeling. He’s doing it with such attentive care you can’t help but wish, for a single, fleeting second, that he’d still be there to peel tangerines for you in the winter.

There’s fondness in his gaze, one you wish you didn’t notice because it never fails to emerge whenever you share something personal, something belonging to a life he knows little to nothing about. He makes it painfully clear that he’d love for that door to be left half-opened for him.

“D’you visit her from time to time? I assume she still lives in the countryside”

If the pang of sadness that clutches your throat and digs deep into your stomatch could have a physical representation, it’d probably be an icicle. Cold, harsh, unforgiving.

“I’m sorry” Eren catches the change in your stare before you have the chance to say anything. With a small, bitter smile, you shrug.

“It’s okay. It’s been years. Doesn’t get any easier, though”

You’re sitting very close to each other, so he gently nudges your shoulder with his arm.

“Yeah. I’m sure she loved you a lot and that doesn’t just go away, you know”

“Jesus” you chuckle and lean your forehead against his shoulder to hide the embarrassing tears stinging the corners of your eyes “you just had to be good with words too, among everything else”

A silent laugh shakes him.

“What can I say, I’m gifted like that” he hands you one slice of the peach he’s still holding and you accept it with a scoff. The fruit is mellow, flavorful and tangy as it melts in the back of your throat. It almost makes you want to cry again.

The observatory was his idea, one of the very few remaining places he didn’t have the chance to take you to. Despite it having a large parking lot, restrooms and vending machines, it’s a sightseeing spot not many tourists come to know about, so it’s mostly empty. The view is stunning and, truth be told, you didn’t mind the hike either: despite the inescapable sun shining high in the sky, not a single cloud in sight, you enjoyed climbing the path dotted with many tropical plants. Hibiscus, adan trees, cycads, Eren indicating and naming each one along the way.

From where you’re sitting, you can see the white lighthouse you had visited a few days prior, Eren’s friends having planned a picnic nearby that soon gave them the perfect excuse to take you all the way to the top of the abandoned tower. Connie smiled upon seeing your expression morph into pure wonder as soon as Sasha removed her hands from your eyes: you don’t remember seeing an equally breathtaking view of the ocean sparkling beneath your feet, ever. If you squeeze your eyes really hard, you can almost discern the small bay you remember Armin helping you locate on the northernmost tip of the island.

You’re not sure why Eren bothers hanging out with you when his days are less busy, why he doesn’t mind spending his morning sharing fresh fruit underneath the July sun instead of being with his friends or riding a wave. Sure, you count as a watered-down version of a friend too at this point, and spending time with him feels so natural sometimes you wonder if you haven’t actually known him for a longer time.

But it also feels intimate, oddly more than the moments when he’s pushing inside you. It’s easier to kiss him than to hear him laugh at your jokes, especially when the sun hits the green of his eyes just right and you feel the sudden urge to tuck those stubborn strands behind his ears. It’s easier to have his arms around you, lips tracing your collarbone, because that means he won’t be looking at you in that infuriating way of his, genuine interest floating in such intense irises whenever he asks a question in patient anticipation of another piece of yourself you may or may not decide to unravel for him.

Eren gently presses his thumb between your brows, to smooth out that little crease you get whenever you get lost in thoughts he isn’t allowed to access. His hand is still wet and sticky from the peach you’ve shared, so you pull back with a grimace and he laughs.

“So pensive today” he brings that same thumb to his mouth to clean all the fruit remnants “didn’t even ask me if I really didn’t bring anything else to eat”

“Did you?” your brows shoot up in interest and he rolls his eyes, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“I mean, you’re insufferable when you’re hungry”

And just like that, he pulls out some neatly packaged banh mi sandwiches, the ones you remember casually mentioning liking to Sasha at the picnic by the lighthouse while he was busy discussing something else with Jean. As you stare at the herbs and mayo sticking to the clear cellophane, it’s hard to blink back the surprise. Or to swallow the lump in your throat.

Oh, no.

“Eren” you mutter his name carefully and he tilts his head with a responsive little hum “I kinda want to kiss you right now”

Another mirthful laugh echoes through the calm, fragrant air. Thank god he hasn’t noticed the unusual hesitation laced into your tone because yes, this is a need, but also a test you’re not sure you want to know the output of.

He inches closer and gently tilts your head up with the softest grasp of your chin, lips pressing to yours in a chaste kiss that sends shock waves through your veins.

Oh, no.

Eren has to resort to quite the amount of self restraint not to chase your lips when you pull back, features impenetrable once again for god knows what thought now crossing your pretty little mind. He can feel his heart drumming in his ears, the scent of your hair and sunscreen mixing together well enough to almost, almost make him sigh. By now there’s a giant, neon sign hanging over your head that reads proceed with caution, presence temporary. It blinks at him, flashing at regular intervals. He doesn’t like it one bit.

“How come you’re not in a relationship?” the questions rolls off his tongue before he has the chance to decide if it’s even appropriate to ask something like that so bluntly. It’s clearly not, given how your lips purse. But even as he realizes your reaction indicates some discomfort, Eren doesn’t apologize nor does he take the question back. He wants to know something new and while anything will do, this is a topic he holds a particular interest for.

“I was, we broke up a couple weeks before I booked this trip” you clear your throat, attempting to come off as unbothered with a slight shrug of your shoulders.

“So I’m the tropical rebound?” he’s being playful but you catch the slight seriousness embedded in his words and shake your head.

“No. You’re nothing like him”

“Ouch?”

You huff, impatient.

“Last time I saw him, he was balls deep inside one of my friends. You’re nothing like him”

Eren pulls a face but there’s relief expanding the lungs in his chest cavity.

Not so ouch-worthy, after all.

“Well, that sucks”

“Right?” you smile “this would be a good time to list all the wonderful qualities he’s going to be missing out on”

The half-joking tone isn’t enough to prevent him from taking your request seriously.

“I can’t imagine scoring someone like you and then just fucking it up so royally” he scoffs “what an idiot”

“Once again, such a way with words” you hope your teasing is enough to hide the heat crawling up from your chest to the very roots of your hair. Eren starts to unwrap your sandwich a little too harshly.

“I mean it” and god help him, he really does “who’s gonna insult his coffee now, I wonder?”

You’d playfully smack his arm and feign annoyance if it wasn’t for the smile he gives you, the faint shadow of a dimple teasing his left cheek as his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“How come you’re not in a relationship?” you fire the question back as you accept the sandwich he hands you, the first bite already having you swallowing back a moan. The cilantro leaves really do it for you.

“No particular reason” he shrugs “we broke up a few months ago”

“Amicably?”

“Yeah. We were together for a little over a year, it just gradually faded. I know it sounds sad as shit but really, we were friends before and we still are now”

“Why is everyone in your life just so wonderful and mature?” your grumbling draws a chuckle. He appreciates that you refer to his friends as wonderful people.

“I mean, my previous girlfriend told me she fell out of love with me on my birthday and then I found out she’d been dating her coworker for two weeks”

“Hmm. Yeah, you totally just evened that out”

“I did my fair share of asshole moves over the years, it’s how life goes. But you grow and hope to become a better person” he pauses “not like your ex. Fuck that guy”

He mirrors your airy laugh and you both finish your early lunch in comfortable silence, the ocean glistening underneath the same sun pleasantly heating up your cheeks.

Eren likes that you’d kiss him over something as trivial as a homemade sandwich, he likes that it doesn’t feel weird either, given that you only really touch each other when his friends are not present. It would be strange to act any differently, it would feel odd and awkward and wrong. It would feel like a relationship.

When the breeze decreases in intensity and it gets too hot to stay at the observatory, he suggests taking off. However, before you hit the road once more, you draw out your phone and ask him if he’d take a picture of you. It’s a funny reminder that you’re still a tourist, renewed amazement dancing in your features every time you turn to look at the scenery. Of course Eren agrees and carefully snaps a few pictures from different angles, so many your smile becomes a giggle and you actually attempt to snatch your phone out of his hand when he refuses to stop.

“Take one with me” you propose unexpectedly “so I can look at it and miss summer once I’m back in Tokyo” and miss you, you mentally correct yourself.

Eren stares at you for a second, brows furrowed. It’s the first time you openly mention your future departure, a detail he’s been familiar with ever since meeting you. Still, hearing it out loud brings the detail to a new level of concreteness. The sudden reality of it tastes bitter on his tongue as he bends down ever so slightly when you complain about feeling too short with his arm around your chest, safely tucking you against his. He keeps it friendly, basks in the warm sound of your giggle when you take the phone from his hand and he has to rest his chin on your head to be included in the picture. He keeps it friendly, even as he wonders if you’d look cute together, perhaps in a shot that captures that tender look in your eyes while his lips press to your temple.

Maybe it’s that specific thought that prompts him to blurt out the question.

“Stop moving”

“But it tickles!”

“If you make me screw this up I’m gonna have to start from scratch!”

Sasha huffs and her breath is warm on your cheek as you inch closer, ring finger under her brow to lift her eye firmly. The gentle way you’re stretching her skin is enough to keep her eyelid smooth, which allows you to apply the eyeliner in short, light strokes from the inner corner to the outer corner of an eye she’s having such a hard time keeping shut. Regardless, the wing looks sharp enough, although you decide to fix both her eyes with just a tiny amount of concealer.

When Sasha casually asked you do her makeup for the evening, you felt equal parts flattered and terrified of failure. You wanted her to feel pretty exactly the way she wanted to, which is why you both spent an embarrassing amount of time going through her belongings and planning the process each step of the way, refusing to accept her bubbly do as you please, I trust you!

She looks beautiful but that’s not really something you’d count as your success. She always is.

“Are we done?” you can tell she’s excited to peer at the final result, which makes you smile.

“Almost. Just missing lipstick”

You pick up the shade she decided on, a nice nude with a pink undertone that goes well with her fair skin.

As you attempt to gently sketch the lip liner around her lips, she giggles again, only keeping still after meeting your glare. Because you’ve been warned that there’d be food involved, you decide on further securing your work of art: after applying lipstick on top of lined and filled lips, you also apply some setting powder over it and then blot her lips with a tissue paper.

“Now you’re ready to win over that new coworker of yours” you grin as you hand her the small mirror she keeps on her desk.

Sasha’s eyes widen.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about”

“Sure you don’t. Tall, blond, smile that could shake the earth…”

“Hey, I never said that!”

“So you do have an idea after all” you grin and promptly dodge the small, heart-shaped pillow she snatches from her bed to throw at you. She then focuses on her reflection for a few seconds, finger nervously twirling one of the loose strands escaping her low bun, eyes anxiously scanning her face from different angles.

“Sash, you look gorgeous” you gently take the mirror from her hands “how about you go get dressed? I’ll clean up here and then we can head out”

She sighs but gives you an appreciative, little smile in turn. Then, her brows knit.

“Wait, what are you going to do with your hair? And what are you going to wear? I didn’t see you bring anything”

“I mean, I already did my makeup. I wasn’t planning on changing anything else, I’m ready to go”

“Are you shitting me?”

The horrified look on her face suggests that perhaps the casual floral dress you have on wouldn’t be too appropriate for the star festival she’s been gushing over for two weeks.

You awkwardly shift your weight from one foot to the other.

“I didn’t really bring anything fancy” you’re mortified. How could you not think of checking a store or two? This night is clearly a bigger deal that you had anticipated.

With a huff, Sasha gets up from her desk chair and starts a frantic search in the depths of her gigantic (and quite overflowing) closet. Dresses, tops and skirts are violently snatched from their hangers and drop to the floor in colorful puddles until she finally finds whatever it is she’s looking for.

“Sasha, I really can’t” your lips are parted in surprise, mesmerized by the sheer beauty of the yukata she’s holding.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I won’t let you walk out in that”

“It’s too much, really, you should wear it!”

“I already have mine and it’s prettier” her grin is void of any actual malice “can I help you put it on?”

You swallow, so flattered that she trusts you enough to lend something so beautiful and certainly important to her. There’s a silly feeling squeezing your stomach and threatening to bring tears to your eyes, a gesture so simple that makes you feel not just welcome but accepted in a way that doesn’t feel temporary anymore.

Sasha comes closer, whatever emotion has your mind feeling all over the place must be clearly noticeable from the outside because she puts a hand on your shoulder with the softest smile, squeezing gently.

“This is not the time to get emotional, we’ll get there but not tonight. C’mon, let me” she holds the yukata up and wiggles her brows, succeeding in drawing a giggle.

“Sorry. Yeah, okay, let’s do it”

You get undressed and like the expert she clearly is, Sasha waits for you to slip your arms into the sleeves before adjusting the hemline to cover your ankles while aligning the center back seam with your backbone. She brings the right-side overlap to the hip bone on the other side, then layers the left-side one over the former. A waist cord is tied around you right above the waistline, from the front to the back, crossed and then brought back to the front to be secured. Sasha makes sure to tuck away the loose ends between the wrapped cord and places he extra-folded overlap over it.

She checks you all around and hums, satisfied. The obi is white, it matches the beautiful flowers, leaves and branches ramifying across the baby blue fabric of the traditional piece of clothing. Sasha wraps the obi around your waist from the back to the front, layers it neatly to ensure that it will not become loose. She then carefully straightens it and places its end on the back. After some holding, pinching, wrapping and tucking, you can feel what you have no doubt is a perfect bow pressing into your back.

“Done!” she doesn’t give you the time to say a word, impatiently pushing you towards the full length mirror glued to one of her closer doors.

It’s… well, something. You have never worn an actual, traditional yukata before, the ones you own are pretty cheap and the fabric is nowhere as high in quality as the one you can feel against your skin now. Soft, airy, comfortable, you can’t help but smile and think it kinda suits you.

“I didn’t think I could pull off something so gorgeous” you check yourself from different angles, admiring the result of Sasha’s skilled ministrations. Her reflection smiles back at you.

“You’re stunning. Eren is going to flip out”

Your heart jumps in your throat at the mention of his name.

“He’s not” you chuckle nervously “he’s used to me by now”

Sasha giggles.

“Please, you don’t know how he gets with this stuff. He loves this festival more than any of us, seeing you dressed in traditional clothing, in his favorite color, will make him flip out”

“I’m not wearing it because I want him to flip out” you protest, sudden panic bubbling in your chest. His favorite color? Is that why she…?

“My god, you’re weird” Sasha cocks her head, seeming genuinely confused “let me fix your hair and then I’ll get dressed, we’re already late”

She could’ve told you so much more. That she finds it interesting and exhaustingly stubborn, that you wouldn’t like the man you’re dating to be all over you. She knows dating is not exactly what you two have been doing but Sasha also knows her friend well enough to guess when he’s falling for someone and boy, has he fallen for you. She could’ve told you that he’s spent two weeks going over the fact that he’d invited you to the festival multiple times, wrecking his mind (and theirs) with a vortex of thoughts inevitably spiraling out of his usually solid control.

I don’t know what came over me.

She’s gonna think it’s weird, isn’t she?

What if she hates it?

And when Connie flicked his forehead, urged him to get a fucking grip and reminded him that friends can hang out and go to festivals and enjoy some time together even outside of the disgusting sex dungeon he insists on calling home, Eren sighed and deflated in his seat, something about his features being so heartbreakingly conflicted even Jean didn’t feel like cracking any other jokes.

Sasha knows this night holds a special meaning to him, the festival he’s loved so dearly ever since he was a child, when he got to experience it hand in hand with his parents. The festival they always attended together, when their group was still far from falling apart and no one dreamed of leaving the island yet. The special occasion that rarely ever included girls or general outsiders, the one night he jealously kept to himself, his friends and his family.

Not all of them share his devotion for the star festival, Connie notoriously taking advantage of the sparkling setting to hit on every pretty girl within a 3-foot radius, but they understand it. The fact that he wants you there means more than what you can imagine and the whole thing would fill Sasha with joyful relief if it wasn’t for the fact that you are going to leave in less than two months and she knows the ashes they’re going to be left picking up are going to weigh heavy in their hands.

But she’s not mad at you because how could she be when you make her friend happy and he clearly makes you happy too? Eren’s not the only one who’s gonna get burned, the real tragedy is that you’re both still too blind to acknowledge it.

You head out shortly after, in the extra geta sandals Sasha has insisted on lending you. No one is there to pick you up but she lives fairly close to downtown, where you’ll meet the rest of the group.

“They’re usually easy to find, probably going to be glued to a yakitori stand” she’d said, making you smile. Sasha looks nothing less than dashing in her handmade crimson yukata and golden obi, you genuinely think that Niccolo guy would be an idiot not to shoot his shot the moment he sees her.

You come to learn that what you’re attending is the island’s own version of the tanabata festival, the only night deities Orihime and Hikoboshi are allowed to meet despite the milky way separating them. Back in Tokyo you and your friends would write wishes on small pieces of paper and hang them on trees. However, tonight people will entrust theirs to floating paper ships released into the ocean.

The celebrations had started in the afternoon so you have missed the parade but you’re well in time to enjoy everything else: the streets you have come to know by now, are filled with a crowd you couldn’t believe would fit in a space rendered narrower by dozens of colorful food stands and amusement booths. The air is fragrant, different smells mixing interestingly well together as vendors shout over each other to attract clients and tourists. Some of them wave back at Sasha and offer free samples for her to test out. You return their bows with a smile and then trot away with your friend to resist the temptation to pause at every single stand and get one of everything. At some point, she does stop to get a seafood okonomiyaki but you’re still trying to decide between a portion of takoyaki and some good ol’ yakisoba when Sasha lets out a squeal and excitedly waves at someone standing a few booths away.

You turn around just as the guys approach her, all smiles and giddy greetings. They look better than expected in their yukatas, the most eclectic one being Connie who is sporting a pattern of turquoise waves on a white background and a headband decorated with the rising sun motif and the kanji for “number one”.

As you take a tentative step forward, Sasha moves sideways just enough for you to unexpectedly meet Eren’s gaze, which has been focused on you from the very first squeal his friend let out. And yet, he finds himself so pathetically unprepared for the sight, for how rapidly his heartbeat increases in pace. He doesn’t even attempt to hide the wonder in his eyes as he smiles down at you and that unfiltered, pure astonishment in his gaze is more than enough for your pulse to spike. You’ve lost count of the oh nos at this point.

He opens his mouth to say something but Connie’s admired whistle comes faster.

“Yo, you look hot as shit!”

The spell doesn’t break even if you all melt in chuckles and you thank him with an exaggerated bow. Sasha clears her throat and takes him by the arm, Jean’s friendly thumbs up and the flash of Armin’s sweet smile the last things you see before the group starts moving forward and towards another stand.

“What he said” Eren’s voice comes out different, there’s no sign of his usual confidence and you can sense some weird nervousness laced into it. It makes you want to take his hand.

“You look really good yourself” you say, although good is a heavily simplistic way to depict what you’re actually looking at. The indigo yukata compliments his tan skin and further enhances (something you could not deem possible) the color of his eyes. It’s slightly open on the front, to reveal his smooth chest, and the hair he’s tied back leaves you no chance of escaping that intense stare of his. He’s perfect.

As Eren motions to the rest of the group with a graceful gesture of his hand and you walk side by side, you think you hear him mutter something very similar to a “not even close” under his breath.

“So” his eyes are back on you the second you speak “what should we eat?”

“Ah, you have to try Ryo’s takoyaki, he has a special recipe for his mayo” Eren smiles and, without a second thought, grabs your hand to drag you away from the stall where Jean and Armin are buying a grilled squid each.

“Wait, they’re still—”

“They’ll find us”

And just like that, the warmth of his fingers and the broadness of his back are the only things you can focus on as he guides you through the bustling crowd.

He introduces you to yet another acquaintance of his, Ryo smiling fondly at him and insisting for five entire minutes on the takoyaki being on the house. Eren scoffs at your attempt at paying, genuinely offended, and after a heated argument Ryo eventually gives in and accepts his money. However, he winks at you as he hands you your portion.

“I added two extra ones, don’t tell him” he whispers and you share a chuckle.

Shortly after, Eren laughs at your wide eyed stare as soon as you swallow the first bite.

“What the hell is this?” you mutter, shocked “why is everything just so much better here?”

A softer smile lingers on his lips as he watches you gush over a food he’s eaten a thousand times, bite after bite an endless stream of exclamations voicing marvel he finds adorable. When Eren stops in his tracks and you turn around, confused, he almost takes your face in his hands and kisses you right then and there, for everyone to witness. Instead, he carefully swipes his thumb across your bottom lip as an excuse to collect some mayo from the corner of your mouth and then brings that same thumb to his mouth, successfully erasing any thought from your mind and melting every bone in your body.

“Maybe you should stay, then”

He’s serious, so serious your breath hitches in your throat. Especially because your first instinct is to reply with a yeah, maybe I should you definitely can’t afford to pronounce out loud.

He keeps you locked in place with a stare that leaves you no place to hide, the pads of your fingers tingling with need. You want to kiss him, you want to stay. He wants you to. He’s waiting for you to say something.

Why?

Ask me to.

Tell me why.

Convince me.

I can’t.

But do I want to?

“Or, I could take Ryo to Tokyo with me” you swallow the ashes in your throat and attempt a smile. He purses his lips and it sucks that you can discern the disappointment flashing in his eyes. Just for a second, then it’s gone, pushed away, and Eren brings back his handsome smirk.

“I’m sure he’d love that”

He wasn’t planning on half-asking you to stay, not right now, not like that. He didn’t even realize he’s hoping for you to stay in the first place. What the hell, who does that? What is he doing, where are his friends?

You don’t understand why, or perhaps you do and choose to ignore rational explanations for the time being, but you take a step forward and gently give in to the urge of taking his hand. It’s big, rough but warm in yours.

“Is this weird?” the question is so soft he can barely hear it and yet his heart seems to miss a beat, perhaps even two.

“No” he carefully slides his fingers in between yours and takes a moment to get accustomed to the sensation only to discover that he doesn’t need it “it’s not weird”

“Good” you smile “show me around some more?”

It’s unbelievable, the amount of people Eren knows and stops to say hello to along the way. Nearly every vendor, almost every booth, he makes sure to at least wave and if someone holds him a little longer, he squeezes your hand as he asks them about their families, sons, business. You recognize some of the tourists eager to have a word with him too, lots of them part of the groups he teaches to. Most of your mornings are not spent watching his lessons anymore: you’re too busy either putting into practice his teachings firsthand, or hanging out at the cafe with Sasha. If Armin and Jean show up too, you quite literally drag them into the water because you’re eager to showcase everything you’ve learned so far. When he’s done, Eren always comes looking for you anyway.

Once he’s made sure you’ve tasted a little bit of everything, your taste buds jazzed and your stomach a second away from exploding, you decide it’s time for dessert. Your treat.

“But you don’t know what I’d like?” he teases, mischievous glint in his eyes.

You roll your eyes.

“I’m gonna take a guess. Wait here and don’t peek”

“Yes, ma’am” he stands up straight and salutes like a soldier.

You wander away but not before sending him one last glance from over your shoulder. It makes you laugh that he’s still standing in the same way, silly, boyish grin mirroring yours.

Apples covered in sugar syrup are a no, way too sweet, and you skip the colorful clouds of the cotton candy booth for the same reason. You just know Connie is going to make an inappropriate joke if you get chocolate covered bananas on a stick so you opt for two portions of kakigori, shaved ice flavored with condensed milk and syrup. The consistency is smoother, fluffier in comparison to the ones you’ve eaten in Tokyo throughout the years and endless other summer festivals, this one almost feels like fresh fallen snow. You pick strawberry as your flavor and pineapple as his, kindly asking the friendly woman working at the stall to reduce the amount of syrup of his cup.

You can feel the yukata sticking to your back as you swiftly return to where he’s waiting for you, the dessert you have picked the perfect weapon against the humid air of the evening.

“Hey” you greet “saw you standing here on your own and thought, wow, that guy’s cute. Maybe he’d give me a chance if I bribe him with food” as you hand him the colorful cup, your fingers graze his. It’s disgusting that you think you’d like to bottle up that airy laugh and keep it close, listen to it whenever you feel lonely. It’s probably one of the things you’re going to miss the most.

“Good strategy, I’m sold” even his fake wink is attractive “you look like a tourist, how’s the vacation going?” he plays along with a silliness that makes you smile as you shrug.

“Not too bad, the locals are very friendly”

“And yet no one’s had the heart to tell you that strawberry kakigori tastes like shit”

You lightly stomp on his foot, brows furrowed in a frown he finds comical and way too realistic.

“Just changed my mind, I don’t want that chance”

He displays a sorrowful grimace as he brings one hand to his chest, the fatal wound given by your sharp words almost making him curl in on himself.

“But baby” he coos, bringing that same hand to cradle your cheek, thumb delicately skimming over your cold lips “who said I was going to give you one?”

He’s already laughing when you swat his hand away, an asshole muttered under your breath even if you can’t bite back your own smile, heart pounding with the same frenzy of a hummingbird. Eren’s only ever called you that while in compromising positions and the pet name never failed to prompt immediate reactions from your body but now he’s just kidding, in the middle of the street, among a hundred other humans passing by. He makes it sound every bit as devastatingly alluring as he always does, you suppose it’s a problem that you’d like to hear him call you that again right away.

“Eren!” a voice you don’t recognize snaps you back to reality and away from your embarrassing fantasies. There’s a pretty brunette next to him, hugging him actually, hands lingering on his chest even after she pulls back. He politely says hello, takes a step back but she follows the movement, with no intention of interrupting the skin to skin contact.

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you all night, Sasha said you’d be around” she has gorgeous gray eyes and the purple yukata looks amazing on her.

“Yeah, m’just taking a stroll” his eyes dart to you but it doesn’t seem like he intends to introduce you at any point. You take a step back for good measure.

“Wanna join us? Porco’s here too!”

He smiles.

“Really? I’ll come say hi in a second”

She juts her bottom lip out.

“Don’t be long. I thought you’d at least call me, especially after last night. You know I miss you”

Perhaps he had a point when he said that strawberry kakigori tastes like shit because right not it feels like concrete in your mouth. You know you don’t have any right to be upset, he’s not your boyfriend and by no means you expected your little arrangement to be exclusive. But even that’s not enough of a reason to stay any longer and hear the continuation of a conversation you’re not meant to be a part of.

So you excuse yourself with a smile, her gray eyes acknowledging you for the first time and for no longer than a second, Eren’s hand almost snapping to grab your wrist to prevent you from leaving. But you’re quick and also stupid enough to give him a thumbs up from behind her back before swiftly turning around and letting go of the breath that had your lungs burning. Thank god you spot Sasha and everyone else not too far away, they’re all positioned in a semicircle around Jean and Connie.

“Isn’t this game supposed to be for kids?” you whisper to Sasha and she giggles.

“Yes but they insist on trying every year. They never win anyway”

The game consists in scooping goldfish with a small paper racket that torns almost right away when contacted with water.

“Son of a…” Connie grunts when a child next to him succeeds in catching not one but two fishes among the applause of everyone gathered around the booth to watch. His mom glares at him and you chuckle.

“Can I try?” you chime in and Connie is happy to switch places, scowl so deep you can barely bite back a laugh.

“We need a new strategy” Jean whispers angrily.

“Maybe you shouldn’t swirl the racket like that” you smile and accept the new one the booth owner lends you.

He huffs but stops his ministrations to focus on your movements, the fact that he’s damn near holding his breath is hilarious but you can’t afford any distractions: there’s a mission to accomplish.

It takes more than a few attempts and you can feel the warmth radiating from Connie’s chest practically pressed against your back in restless anticipation. When you catch one fish at last, there’s another applause drowned in his howling: you barely have the time to let the fish slip into the plastic bag filled with water the booth owner is offering before Connie’s arms close around you in a hug that lifts you off the ground.

“Beginner’s luck” Jean is not as happy: it’s quite clear who’s going to own the fish you captured.

You lift your cup with an apologetic smile.

“Want some?” there’s another spoon planted in the soft ice, he may as well be the one to use it.

“Strawberry?” he asks with a grin, accepting your offer nonetheless “we haven’t taught you enough”

“She’s going to tell all her friends we’re such snobs” Armin sighs and you chuckle.

“Ohmygod we should go try the target shooting booth! Like, right now” Sasha tugs at your sleeve and Jean catches your cup right as you lose your grip on it.

“Wait a second—”

“Please, can we go?”

“I guess we’re going target shooting” Armin concedes and Jean shrugs, now the happy owner of a dessert he didn’t have to pay for as Connie gushes over his new pet.

“What should we call them?” he asks as your little group moves towards yet another crowded stall. You turn around, Sasha still quite literally dragging you.

“Mmmh, what about Floater?”

“I think Miso would be cute” Armin chimes in but Connie snorts.

“I like Sea Beast. Yeah, that’s the one”

You all erupt in laughter, Jean knowingly putting an arm around his shoulders.

“Man, I have a feeling you’re never gonna get laid again”

“Joke’s on you, women are gonna find me adorable as shit. Right?” he raises his voice on the last word and both you and Sasha look at each other, amused.

“I guess” she concedes.

“Yeah, that’s gonna be a killer icebreaker” you agree.

Armin huffs.

“Just don’t ask women if they’d like to come over to meet your sea beast”

Horrified, Connie’s mouth hangs open as he stares at his friend like he’s grown a second head while the rest of you just contain another fit of laughter, Jean almost choking on his kakigori.

As soon as you find a small opening to stand in line by the shateki stall, you understand why Sasha was so eager to try target shooting all of a sudden. Niccolo is there with his friends, waiting for his turn, and as soon as he spots her his eyes just light up. You gently untangle her fingers from your sleeve and give her a little push as encouragement.

“Where’s Eren?” Armin stands in line next to you, Connie and Jean excitedly having a chat with other acquaintances of theirs just behind.

“He met a friend, I wanted to leave them some space” your tone is neutral but he furrows his brows.

“A friend? Who?”

“Some girl” you casually take a look around but you’re still unable to discern the prizes lined up on the shelves. Someone’s just lost if the disappointed groans coming from the front of the queue are an indicator.

“Ah” Armin clears his throat “well, are you having fun?”

A grateful smile tugs at your lips, relief settling over you like a soft blanket. He is the most considerate person you’ve ever met. How did this group of extraordinary people got lucky enough to find each other? You can’t help but think it’s a little unfair. It’s more than luck, maybe it’s destiny for them. Another pang of jealousy sticks in your stomach like an invisible needle.

“I’m never going to forget it. Not just this night, the whole…” you stop, because it feels so unfairly minimizing to address the whole thing as just a holiday.

“Vacation?” he’s gentle with the word, makes it sound way less depressing than what you would have. You acknowledge his reply with a little nod.

“You know…” he trails off “you could stay”

Just like that. You could stay. And it sounds so real, so doable, it breaks your heart.

“I really can’t” you murmur, head hanging low to hide the embarrassing teary eyes. You hadn’t anticipated to feel so at home among strangers who welcomed you in a heartbeat, kind and unpretentious and affectionate in a way you’ve never experienced. Saying goodbye it’s probably going to be one of the hardest things you’ll ever have to do.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you” Armin gently grazes your shoulder and you just have to smile. You trust him enough to know he’s not going to mock the wetness of your eyes.

“No, don’t apologize. I guess I’m just going to miss you all”

“We really are the most unplanned part of the entire holiday, aren’t we?” he smiles too.

“Yeah, thank god you are”

Armin melts in a sweet laugh but doesn’t have the chance to say anything because suddenly, Connie’s arms are enveloping the both of you, squeezing so hard you let out a playful groan.

“Why’s he the only one who gets to hear it? I wanna hear you say how devastated you are about leaving us, too!”

“Connie!” Armin attempts to turn around, probably to flick his forehead, but he only laughs harder and, despite yourself, you do too.

“I’m devastated and I’ll miss you a lot!”

He squeezes even harder, Armin cursing under his breath.

“We’ll miss you too” and yet, Connie’s voice is gentle to the ear, in sharp contrast with the suffocating embrace he’s holding you in. If you had any space to move around, you’d squeeze him too.

When you finally manage to get to the front of the line and it’s your turn to pick up the popgun, Sasha is still deep in conversation with Niccolo and you seem to be suddenly presented with a fun way to simmer some of the frustration still boiling in your core. Perfect.

You’re quicker than Armin and casually snatch the little pot of cork from the man owning the stall. There isn’t a specific prize you’re after, although the Squirtle plushie looks quite appealing.

You quickly learn that your aim sucks and Connie’s snickering from behind you at every missed shot is not helping. You appreciate Sasha interrupting her relentless flirting to cheer you on, though. That is until something warm and solid and oddly familiar presses against your back, bigger hands enveloping yours right after you push another cork into the barrel.

“You have to get the barrel closer to the target” of course his breath is hot on your neck, cheek grazing the shell of your ear as he corrects the position of your arms.

You huff but maintain your composure.

“What are we aiming at?” he whispers and this time you know it’s deliberate, the way his lips brush against your skin. He’s such a…

“Squirtle” you challenge and Eren hums, certainly not one to shy away from a challenge.

And sure enough, after knocking over a packet of chewing gum and a rubik’s cube, with a well placed shot you actually manage to bring down your target. It’s infuriating.

He grins as he hands you your prize and you roll your eyes.

“Please know I find it extremely annoying, how good you are at everything”

“You’ve never seen him play soccer” Jean’s grumbling is a welcome distraction from Eren’s eyes boring into yours but it doesn’t last long enough, thanks to Armin who drags him away and towards another food booth. How they even have any space left for more food, is beyond your understanding.

“Took me some time to find you guys, it always gets more crowded ahead of the show” Eren briefly glances at Sasha and flashes her a smile before redirecting his attention to you.

“I catched a goldfish for Connie” you internally cringe at your pathetic attempt at changing the topic. But Eren smiles, genuinely incredulous.

“Are you kidding? He finally gets to have one?”

You shrug, mirroring his smile.

“Fuck, can’t believe I missed that”

“Can’t believe you missed that either!” Sasha’s sour reproach chimes in even if she’s standing a few steps back. You mentally thank her but Eren’s glare meets no further comments.

“Hey, listen…” he clears his throat but is soon interrupted. You turn around and then peer downward when you feel something, or someone, pulling at your yukata. A young boy holding what you can only guess is his mom’s hand stares right back at you, expression as stoic as it can be.

“Excuse me, miss” you have to bite back a chuckle as he bows “that’s my favorite pokemon, my brother tried to get it for me but couldn’t. I was wondering, if it’s not your favorite, can I have it?”

Your eyes flicker to his mom, who seems a little uncomfortable and directs you an awkward smile.

“I told him he could ask but there’s really no need…”

“What’s your name?”, you return her smile but look down at his serious little face again.

“Hiro, miss”

“Of course you can have him, Hiro” you hand him the plushie and the biggest smile splits across his face as he holds it flush against his chest “my favorite’s Lapras. Water types are just the best, aren’t they?”

“Lapras is cool” Hiro condescends “but Squirtle is cooler!”

You all laugh, his mom erupting in several thanks and him turning around to wave at you before disappearing among the crowd. It makes you a little bitter not to have a little memento from such a special evening but it only lasts a second. It’s nice to know that Squirtle is going to end up in a loving home.

“It’s almost time, we need to head to the beach!” Sasha’s excited chirp has you turning around once more, Eren’s warm smile stays in your peripheral vision as you meet her gaze.

“Time for what?” you ask, tilting your head to the side slightly.

“The firework show!” Niccolo worms his way into the conversation and flashes you a thrilled grin.

“Let’s go!” Armin and Connie, standing a little farther, signal for your little group to hurry.

“I’ll catch up” you feel Eren’s warm hand press onto your back, giving you a gentle push. You deem unnecessary to investigate further, maybe he wants to go look for the girl he couldn’t dedicate the necessary attention to and invite her to watch the show with him. Who are you to intrude, or worse, wonder? You give him a quick nod and catch up with Armin and Connie, Sasha and her new companion right behind as you all head to the beach. You think it’s sweet that Niccolo has decided to ditch his group to tag along with her and you genuinely hope that whatever may be blossoming between the two, ends up working out. She deserves it.

As expected, the beach is packed with people sitting on colorful towels or standing, some bent over little wooden tables or balancing small pieces of paper against their friends’ backs to write down wishes that will soon be entrusted to the sea. You all take turns to write yours and when Jean hands you the thin piece of paper, it takes a few seconds to wrap your mind around what you feel like asking for.

A path, maybe. Something to follow to get wherever it is you’re supposed to be going. Or maybe the strength to leave, not to close yourself off to the world again. Happiness for your new found friends, because they deserve every ounce of the genuine affection they so naturally spread around. Health for your parents. There’s a new found feeling pounding alongside your heart, you want to visit them soon and let them know that you miss them and that you’re so sorry for not having been able to see them more. You want to share that you’re going to look for a new job and that hopefully you’ll be okay soon. Hell, you even want to tell them about this entire holiday. Sit on the familiar, faded tatami floor, share a cup of caramelized almonds and just let it all out. Would they even believe you can more or less surf now? Ah, you wish they could’ve met everyone. You wish they could’ve met Eren.

He comes shortly after you’re all settled on the towels people are dispensing on the beach, you’re left pretty much alone as everyone else is sitting next to whoever they’re busy talking to. Armin has run into a pretty blonde girl on the way to the beach, they seemed to know each other so for the second time in one evening you took a few steps back and gave them some space, made sure they could sit next to each other. Sasha and Niccolo are sandwiched together between Jean and Connie, the former is speaking on the phone with his lips curled into the biggest smile while his friend is seemingly socializing with a girl you don’t know, part of a bigger group that also seems keen to have a chat with a few strangers. The general atmosphere is so warm and, all things considered, the night has been so enjoyable, you don’t find it in yourself to be frustrated or disappointed anymore.

Eren doesn’t have anyone with him as he plops down next to you with a telltale grin.

“What?” you ask, tossing him a smile back.

“Nothing. Just lookin’ at you” he shrugs and you don’t buy it for one second but play along, gently nudging his shoulder with yours.

“Yeah, that happens a lot” for a second you don’t believe he’s going to remember the silly exchange that took place on the late afternoon of your first surfing lesson, so many days ago. The way his smile grows, tells you otherwise.

“People lookin’ at you?”

“You looking at me”

“Ah” lips pursed, he nods as if to indicate an obvious, given fact “might be because you’re beautiful”

“Ahh…” you mock, a weak attempt at dissimulating your self-consciousness “you fell prey of the charming tourist!”

He nudges your shoulder with his this time, tongue in cheek.

“Guess I really did”

Your chuckles melt into one another and you realize it’s probably never going to be possible to associate the rolling of waves and the salt in the breeze that soothes your feverish skin to anything else but him.

There’s a bunch of people by the shore, bent down to fill shells with small pellets while the latecomers frantically attempt to scribble down their wishes to send off the last remaining paper ships.

“Nothing happened with her” Eren stares at his friends as he speaks, quieter and attentive with his choice of words “we ran into each other and shared a beer, that’s all”

A beat passes, one where it’s hard not to acknowledge the absurd, unjustified relief washing over you.

“It’s none of my business” you’re not looking at him either, in fact your head is turned the opposite way, eyes focused on the little paper ships being slowly released into the dark ocean waters.

“It’s not” he affirms “but I wanted you to know”

So considerate and way too respectful of a person that’s supposed to be nothing more than an easily accessible reliever. It does something funny to your stomach.

“I think she likes you” why are you insisting? You shouldn’t care at all, it’s not your life and it’s not your place. You’re just a comma in the story.

“Too bad” Eren clicks his tongue and wishes you wouldn’t be avoiding his gaze, maybe then you’d recognize something within it without him needing to say the word.

As the paper ships continue to sail, a pin-drop feeling of despair suddenly washes over him at the thought of the material easily dissolving into the water, hundreds of wishes being swallowed and erased so easily. And still, in some distorted way, they’ll keep existing. Is that what he’s going to become for you, is that what he is? Just some paper figure that will lose consistency as soon as you step on that plane? Yeah, it’s exactly what he is and he was fine with it. Until each day spent with you has given him the feeling of wanting to be more than a fleeting detail in your summer, more than a cute story you’re gonna recall with friends and lovers once you’re back to a life he doesn’t belong to.

Will they recognize the crease you get between your eyebrows whenever you frown, deep in thoughts you never share? Do they know how you like your coffee, have they ever witnessed the charming inclination of your flirting? Are they already familiar with your witty comebacks and the way you laugh at jokes you don’t find funny just so that the other person doesn’t feel bad?

Did they ever have to bite back amused grins each time you tried to contain and swallow your annoyance only to fail miserably and explode in the face of clients who were being rude to Sasha? It was only a matter of time before you decided to help her on the mornings she was short on staff, until Niccolo showed up and made it easier. And yet you still feel the same responsibility to look after her, the same way you do for everyone else.

When Jean mentioned having forgotten to get a refill of surfboard wax, you casually made a stop to the store on your way to the beach and threw the small box at him. If Connie laments the lack of inspiration for his sketches, certain he won’t be able to get the job done before the deadline the publishing house has given him, you have entire sessions in which you both sit down and exchange ideas for charactes and stories and concepts for plots inspired by your beloved books. When him and Armin are done with surfing lessons or tired enough to simply catch a break from riding waves, most times you’ll materialize by the shore with two glasses of frozen lemonade and a knowing grin.

Why shouldn’t he get to keep you? Why don’t you want to keep him, your affection apparently solid enough to take his hand but not to stay? Is his fate really to melt away and be shoved in a far corner of your mind as nothing more than a fun summer fling?

“I couldn’t find another plushie” he clears his throat a little and when you finally look at him again, suddenly everything feels right “but you probably wanted something to remember this night by, so” the small keychain dangles from his pointer finger, even in the dark you’re able to discern the small silhouette. It’s Lapras.

Your lips part in surprise as you carefully hook one finger in the metal ring to slide the keychain out of his grasp.

“I know it’s flat and everything but I couldn’t find anything better. If only someone didn’t feel like giving up the plushie I worked so hard to knock down…” the teasing is good-natured and it draws an incredulous smile as your fist closes around the silly gift.

The firework show starts right as you meet his playful gaze, dozens of shells launched simultaneously in a cascade of shimmering yellows, greens and reds all reflecting in starry eyes that get to be so bright despite the darkness. The hand that’s not squeezing the keychain hard enough for the metal to painfully dig into your palm fists the towel you’re sitting on, it’s too close to the edge and you can feel little grains of sand making their way underneath your nails. Eren inches closer the same as you do, any other noise fades in the background when all you can hear is the loud thumping of your heart in your chest and all you can feel is the warmth of his breath on your lips as your noses are close enough to touch. Even when out of focus, he’s beautiful enough to take your breath away.

There’s hesitation, a thick tension coating the bubble enveloping the two of you and the small space left between what’s been and what’s about to change everything. He swallows, barely forcing himself to wait, to let you have control for once. But right as an invisible wire snaps and he gives in to gravity, closing whatever is left of the ridiculous distance between your bodies, someone plops down heavily next to you and you jump, lips grazing his chin as you turn with wide eyes. Eren exhales deeply, shutting his for a second.

“Can’t enjoy shit with Connie’s loud babbling” Jean pauses for a second, examining both your faces “did I interrupt something?” cautiously, his eyes dart from the shy look on your face to the way his friend’s glaring daggers at him.

“No” you’re quick to say “also, let him have his moment. You’ve been blushing on the phone for half an hour”

He opens his mouth in an outraged frown but is cut off by Eren’s chuckle.

“How’s Mikasa?” his arm reaches from around your shoulders to poke at his cheek with a harsh finger. Jean swats his hand away, cheeks dusted in pink.

“Shut up” he grumbles and makes a show of turning his attention back to the fireworks once more. With a giggle, you brush your hands off of the sand sticking to your sweaty palms, keychain secured in your lap. Eren doesn’t remove his arm from your shoulders, the weight of it equal parts foreign and comforting. You could easily get used to it, that’s what you think as you lean into him and let your head rest on his shoulder.

When you stumble back into his house late that night, sandals clumsily kicked off at the door, you collapse onto his couch right away. Your legs ache and your limbs feel heavy but the giddiness still hasn’t worn off and happiness is still stubbornly vibrating in your chest as you free your hair from the tight bun Sasha has forced it into. Eren sits next to you with a light groan, his feet hurt and he’s tired but it’s certainly not enough of a reason to refrain from pulling your legs up to rest on his lap, the gesture met with your weary giggle.

“Did you have a good time?” he asks, head tilted back and half-lidded eyes focused on your smile.

“The best time” you think of the little keychain resting in the front pocket of your bag and smile a little more.

Eren hums, fingers lazily massaging your ankles as his gaze flickers to the ceiling. He wasn’t planning on asking you to come over, his kitchen’s a mess and bedroom’s even worse. But right as you were parting ways and hugging his friends—now your friends too—goodbye, he just found himself blurting the question out. And although you’ll most probably find it hard to believe, it’s not even the sex he’s after. He just wanted the time spent together to stretch a little longer, when’s he ever going to have the chance to look at you dressed like that again after all?

“M’gonna fall asleep here if you don’t stop that” with an airy giggle, you faintly kick one of his hands away from your ankle. Eyes back on you, his lips curl into a tentative smile.

“What if you actually do?”

You tilt your head against the couch pillows.

“Pass out on your couch?”

Eren huffs, lightly pinching your ankle.

“Sleep here”

“How do you still have enough energy left?” you mutter to yourself and carefully remove your legs from his lap, escaping his warm touch. With a yawn barely hidden behind your palm, you tiredly motion towards his bedroom “fine, but I hope you know you’re gonna have to do all the work”

He snorts out a light laugh.

“I meant sleep, sleep”

You stay still for a second, then furrow your brows.

“So you don’t… desire me?”

Eren’s face changes instantly, dropping in quiet shock.

“What? No, I mean yes, I didn’t mean…” you cut him off with a hearty laugh, thoroughly enjoying the tender blush that blossoms across his cheeks. It’s his turn to frown and you can barely catch the small pillow he throws at you, a worn out idiot muttered angrily that only has you laughing harder.

“Fine” it’s surprising how natural it feels to accept and trespass a limit you’ve always been so careful to set for your own sake “but all my clothes are at Sasha’s”

“Just wear one of my shirts” he grumbles as he gets up from the couch and you follow suit, giggling when he shoots you another glare. Even if still feigning annoyance, he grumpily apologizes for the mess as he digs into his closet and picks up a clean shirt for you. You recognize it as he hands it, it’s one of the ones he throws on at the beach, usually when taking breaks at the cafe in between lessons.

“I’ll leave you to it” he clears his throat but then suddenly stops, one foot outisde the room and hand resting on the door knob “would you want me to sleep on the couch?”

Confused, you return a perplexed look.

“Why would I want that?”

Eren lightly scratches the back of his neck, not really sure how to word something you probably wouldn’t even guess he’s been paying attention to. You’ve never stayed, you have never spent an entire night in his bed. He never got to wake up next to you and has no idea if you’re a kicker or a bed hogger but that isn’t to say he hasn’t been dying to find out.

He doesn’t know how to properly say it so he simply resorts to the first true thing that comes to mind.

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable”

“You never make me uncomfortable”

The reply catches him by surprise, not because he finds it hard to believe but because you’re rarely ever this direct, gaze not faltering for a second while locked to his. With a small, almost shy nod, he shuts the door behind him to give you some privacy while you get changed.

He plans on keeping himself busy by tidying up the kitchen, frowning at his morning self who thought it’d be a good idea to leave a plate of unfinished eggs by the sink, leftovers of his breakfast now encrusted to the surface. But before he has the chance to at least attempt to scrape the remnants of what was once a decent portion of sunny side-up eggs, you peek through the door and call for him with a voice so thin Eren barely hears you.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, taking notice of your embarrassment.

“I don’t know how to take it off” you murmur and it takes everything in him not to chuckle. But it appears that you have memorized the meaning of each twitch of his lips, must be why you snort.

“I’ve never worn a traditional one! And I don’t want to ruin it, s’not mine” you grumble, not even giving him the time to acknowledge your fair reasons before disappearing behind the door once again. Eren clears his throat to disguise the little laugh that slips past his lips and prays you haven’t heard it as he makes his way to his bedroom.

You’re sitting on the bed, look at him with those big eyes of yours when he enters the room and for a fleeting moment he selfishly thinks he doesn’t want you to take the yukata off at all. Perhaps part of the night is still clinging to it, maybe taking it off means discarding each new, little moment tying you to him and starting from square one. Because he didn’t make up all those fragments still frozen in time and his memory, did he? His fingers in between yours in public for the first time, that look in your eyes when you took the keychain in your hand, the way he almost, almost got to…

“Hello? Do I have to call Sasha?” you’re standing now, waving a hand in front of his face. Eren blinks, snapping back to reality.

“Turn around” he demands, voice hoarse. You comply, mentally kicking yourself because of how the mere pitch is enough to send a shudder down your spine. It’s all you can think of as his fingers work their way through Sasha’s intricate ribbon, a few curses being muttered for good measure as he fumbles with the fabric, tugging and tugging in hopes of loosening it enough to take the obi off. Your back is pressed to his chest with each pull and it takes a deep exhale to keep yourself from leaning into him the way you’ve been dying to do for the entire night.

He pulls the bow one last time, not without a grunt, and the knot can finally be easily untied. You catch the obi before it falls to the floor and carefully fold it to then place it on Eren’s desk. It’s fine, he’s done, you can take it from here. So why does he keep you in place, hands on your hips a gentle warning to keep still as his arms wrap around you and his chest is finally flush against your back?

His fingers find the tight knot of the cord resting above your waistline and take their sweet time untying it, your heart stuttering erratically against your rib cage. Eren wonders if you can feel his heart on your back, it’s throbbing almost painfully and he swears whatever is left of his chest fucking flutters when you release the tension in your shoulders and melt in the embrace the cord was nothing but a pathetic excuse to initiate.

Yeah, he’s invited you to stay over with no malicious intent but what the hell? The damn thing is coming off, what’s going to be left of the night if he doesn’t seal it on you somehow?

He doesn’t let the yukata slip off your body, instead he accompanies it. Eren takes a second to appreciate the fabric gliding easily from his fingers, so cool, smooth and slick it reminds him of water. You do too. Just like water, a stubborn river or an unstoppable downpour with its persistent dripping, you have drilled yourself into his very being and patiently shaped every corner to make sure it could accomodate you and no one else.

Of course you don’t see the point in staying still: patience wears thin whenever he’s there for you to have. You barely ever allow him to take his time, always so eager to get what you want and him yielding without fail against his better judgement. Look at what you’ve become, just because he’s never been determined enough to teach you any better.

As you spin in his embrace, Eren lets you have it your way for a moment. He lets you take his face in your hands and dips his head to meet you halfway, a whimper already easing from your throat as you command his lips to part with the tip of your tongue. Again, he indulges you, lets you lick into his mouth and clumsily untie his yukata, allows it to unceremoniously pool at your feet. But you attempting to drag him toward the bed with you is where Eren draws the line.

His hands are not smoothing over your hips anymore, they feel everything else as they rise to cup your face. He only allows himself one harmless nip to your bottom lip, nothing but a gentle warning as his hold grows firmer to keep you in place while he finally kisses you the way he’s been dying to for so long. It’s unrushed and deep and he hopes to god the slow swipes of his tongue over yours are sweet because he’s certain he doesn’t want to taste anything else now that he’s tasted you like this.

“Eren…” it’s the only thing you have enough air in your lungs to rasp when he shows enough leniency to let you breathe, pulling back only to nudge the tip of his nose against yours.

“I’m here” he whispers back, head dipping lower to lightly nip at the spot where your pulse taps against your skin so fast it’s almost flattering. The way he lightly sucks at the skin of your neck draws another whine.

The change of pace, those butterfly kisses he slowly drags across your jaw are a novelty so unexpected you have to tighten the grip on his arms, sharp nails digging into the skin of his biceps as you urge him closer and attempt to steady yourself at the same time because you hardly trust your legs at the moment. When you breathe out his name again, mind short-circuiting as your head falls back to grant him more access, he hums comfortingly.

“What is it?” it’s exhilarating how you’re melting like soft butter under his touch and yet he’s the one feeling delirious over a hunger with smoother edges that now accomodates something bigger, something as tender as the sound you let out with a shuddering breath when he gently scoops you up and kisses you again while attentively settling you on his bed. You keep him close, arms around his neck not loosening for a single moment.

“What is it?” Eren asks again in a murmur, big hands resting on each side of your thighs to make sure they remain locked around his waist, abdomen tense to keep his balance on his knees and avoid crushing you.

You’ve never seen a gaze so intense, you never took it slow enough to count his heavy breaths and notice the painful thumping of your heart nor the unfamiliar wooshing in your ears. Holding eye contact is overwhelming and your stomach clenches at the coldness of one of your legs when one of his hands abandons it, knuckles leaving a scorching trail of pure fire behind them as they gently graze the right side of your face.

He lowers his head but doesn’t kiss you, nose pressed to your cheek in a way that makes it hard for the both of you to breathe, in a way that feels raw and desperate.

“Tell me” he’s so close it feels like he’s whispering the words into your very bones, for a moment you think you can swallow them. The hand he gracefully sneaks between your bodies draws a breathless gasp.

I love you.

Time stops. The thought rings so sharply in your head, you’re convinced you’ve voiced it out loud.

You love him, of course you love him. How could you not?

It’s such a stupid revelation and there’s really no excuse, no plausible reason to justify the tears that sting the corners of your eyes.

I love you.

Eren pulls back to breathe, or perhaps just to look at you. Even if you remain out of focus from such close distance, even in the dim light that bleeds through the door into his dark bedroom, he sees enough. The tip of your nose, your furrowed brows, lips parted and swollen. He’s too busy thinking he wants you exactly like this, all the time, to notice the slight trembling of your body underneath him.

He’s certainly made his point about not being in any rush tonight but still he is waiting for something, it’s evident in those devastating irises piercing yours. You tighten the hold of your arms around his neck, a bitter taste on your tongue as you pull him closer to whisper the wrong thing against his lips.

“I need you”

Against all odds, he deems it enough. He can read all there’s to read in your gaze alone, he feels it in the familiarity of your fingers through his hair and is determined to hear it in all the ways he wants you to chant his name over and over again, in every possible pitch and inflection. He wants it to be a prayer and a revelation.

You already have him, all of him, and you don’t even know. So it’s only fair he makes sure you finally do.

You stir awake and the first things you register are the arm draped over your waist and the soft breath tickling your shoulder. Your body stills, frozen, equal parts terrified of waking him and absolutely scrambled by the rapid succession of resurfacing memories bound to the previous night.

The cautious, minimal turn of your head against the soft pillow results in a hitched breath. He’s so close already and only seems intent on scooting closer, unintelligible humming somehow louder than the thumping of your heart as his hold grows tighter and he nuzzles further into you, nose effectively buried in the crook of your neck, lips pressed to your skin.

You feel dizzy. Mind’s all over the place, unable to pull itself together and make sense of the events that hold the power to potentially disrupt you life, change everything you have so carefully tried to keep together.

Not a single time Eren has been bad at sex, he’s never taken your pleasure for granted nor has he ever chased his without first making sure you were either getting your fair share or felt the determination to focus on him and only him. It just took a couple of encounters to memorize your body, the angles and rhythms and grips and praises and sometimes the harsher words that render you either boneless or a mess whose loudness he never even attempts to swallow.

Eren can be attentive, rougher and impatient on certain days, slower and languid on rainy afternoons, when he gets you ready for him with such care pleasure melts into pure anguish. It’s never enough, you always need more of him and are not even shy enough to hide it anymore, shamelessly asking with an all-consuming force gradually blurring into straight up demanding. That’s when his low chuckle echoes like a melody. He enjoys every second of the reactions that showcase the effect he has on you.

But everything about last night felt different, from the way he kept looking at you to the newfound feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours over your head while the most tender whispers guided you through your high.

He’s done nothing short of worshipping you, featerlight kisses trailing from your ankles to your inner thighs, the slightest touch more than enough for your back to arch, every inch of your body and nerves catching fire as he kept stroking your hair and pressing his lips to your eyelids, all while reassuring you of you good you were being for him, how beautiful you looked, how perfect you felt. It’s a miracle you didn’t end up melting into a puddle underneath him, because that’s where he kept you the entire time, never once allowing your hands to grant him relief or your mouth to do anything else but welcome his. It was just you, nothing else seemed to matter in his entire universe and Eren didn’t so much as catch his breath until you were reduced to a babbling, limp mess that couldn’t even think about how to spell his name correctly.

And then he’s kept you close, pulled you into his chest as if scared you were going to slip away like the sand you probably brought inside the house with those sandals anyway. He’s kissed your forehead, the apples of your cheeks, all while the pads of his fingers were busy drawing lazy, airy figures along the curve of your spine, the very last sensation you remember before falling asleep in an embrace so warm and protective.

He’s made love to you. What’s more, he’s made love to you like nobody else ever has and now there’s no further ignoring it. God knows if you’ll have the strength to walk away from it at all.

“Hi” you wince when his sleepy drawl vibrates against your skin, lips sealing the simple greeting right below your ear. It’s the first time you wake up next to him, the thought is enough to have the rate of your heartbeat spike.

“Hi” you whisper back. His hand traces a smooth pattern along your side, up and down, then it settles right where your ribs reside, thumb grazing the skin gently and feeling the little valleys in between the cartilage.

“How are you feelin’?” he’s still not raising his head, position either too comfortable or simply ideal to give you some extra time to adjust to… everything.

“Good” you murmur but Eren senses your discomfort and can feel the stiffness of your body. So he withdraws his arm and scoots away, retreating to his side and placing his head back on his pillow instead of using you as one. But now you can meet his half-lidded gaze and lazy smile, as charming in the early morning as it is in the middle of the night.

“How are you feeling?” you can’t help but ask in turn, which is weird and formal and draws a low chuckle.

“Never better” although he feels more than better, he feels the luckiest he’s ever been. He feels disgusting and psyched. He feels so in love.

“Great” you clear your throat as you pull the thin sheet further up. Eren keeps looking at you like he’s foolishly trying to map out your features. As if he needs to do that, as if they’re not already burned into his memory.

“Hey” he warns, fingers delicately flicking your forehead “no freaking out before breakfast”

You peer up at him from long lashes.

“I’m not freaking out” of course you are and of course he knows but that won’t stop you from frowning in protest, mockingly distorting his words.

“Sure you aren’t” he smiles to himself and rolls onto his back to rub his eyes with a loud yawn that has you giggling.

“What are you, a blue whale?”

He clicks his tongue, feigning annoyance as he stretches and intentionally avoids your gaze.

“That’s no way to talk to the man who’s about to put together the best breakfast you’ve ever had”

Although Eren doesn’t want to get up at all. He doesn’t need food nor water as long as he gets to have you right there in his bed, as long as he gets to hold on to the hope of having you like this again and again.

“Whatever we’re going to do about this presumption of yours” you hide your smile in his pillow but he simply shrugs, not sparing you a glance as he gets up with a groan and collects some clean underwear from one of his drawers.

He only leaves the room after he’s playfully thrown his shirt at you, softness settling in the corners of his lips as he suggests you take a shower while he carries out his breakfast duty. Your heart swells at the attentiveness of it all, at the space he’s trying so hard to give you in hopes that you feel comfortable enough to catch your breath. Not to run away.

With a long, drawn out sigh, you comply.

The shower feels nice and his shampoo smells so good you don’t mind the absence of your coconut scented one. Of course he also has conditioner, there really is no other explanation for that hair.

As you tiptoe back into his bedroom wrapped in nothing but a skimpy towel, you catch the glorious sound of something sizzling in a pan and it’s enough to bring a smile to your face while you shut the door and rest your back against it for a moment. Your eyes land on Sasha’s yukata, staring back at you from the ground in all its glory. You rush to pick it up and carefully fold it, embarrassment burning your cheeks at how little you’ve cared about not ruining it. Along with the cord and the obi, you let it slip into an empty paper bag big enough to contain it because there’s no way in hell you’re walking home in that.

The shirt Eren has given you is long enough to cover your ass but certainly not enough to step outside without drawing scandalized looks along the way, so you dig into his closet some more and pick a pair of bermuda shorts that will certainly look ridiculous on you but remain the best option currently on hand.

After patting your hair dry with the towel to the best of your abilities, you grab the bag, your phone from his nightstand, and pray to be ready for whatever is coming. The flutter in your chest is not entirely unpleasant, right? There must be a way to make this work. Whatever it is.

It’s love, you goddamn idiot, a voice whispers from inside your dizzy mind. You pay it no mind.

“That was fast” Eren looks at you for just a second before returning his attention to whatever he’s cooking. You catch the smile anyway.

“Smells too good” you leave the bag to rest against the table leg and plop down on a chair. It feels like your seat already, given that he’s placed the mug you usually use right there, filled with coffee to the very brim. When he spins to serve the breakfast he’s prepared, Eren rolls his eyes upon meeting your already skeptical gaze.

“Just try it” he mumbles “I got a different one”

For you.

As you take a tentative sip, you notice everything he’s filled the table with. He’s pushing a portion of french toast in your plate right from the pan and taking a smaller one for himself, but there’s also a separate plate available for all the other options: fried eggs, herb cream cheese, strawberry jam, some honey, toasted bread.

He sits down next to you and meets your amazed gaze only to crack a boyish grin.

“I didn’t know what you liked”

“I’m impressed” you swallow the lump of whatever feeling got caught in your throat along with the coffee and raise the cup to indicate the object of your praise. As if he hasn’t already called all your bluffs.

“I get that a lot” he sticks his tongue out and it’s your turn to fondly roll your eyes.

It’s the first time you taste something he’s cooked and it’s so very painful to find out he’s good at yet another thing.

The intimacy of sharing a quiet, sunny morning at his kitchen table is not as overwhelming as you thought it’d be: he holds the power of making it easy and special just like everything else. You feel eerily at home, suddenly filled with giddy excitement at the prospect of experiencing more of these mornings. At the idea of him welcoming you into his everyday life with such ease, willing to buy expensive coffee if it means you accepting to stay long enough to drink it.

It almost makes you want to say it. As you laugh at the funny story involving one of the students he’s going to teach to in an hour, with your mouth stuffed with french toast and the urge to collect the cream cheese remnants from the corner of his lips with yours, you almost blurt it out.

I love you.

I love your smile and your kindness and how you stay awake for me if the wind blows too hard and I know you wonder if my roof creaks just like yours does. I love your life and your friends and how there’s so much space for everyone in a heart that may as well be as big as your beloved island. I love the touch of your hands and how you kiss me on the way home if no one else’s around and now I wish you could kiss me awake each morning.

“Stop” he playfully throws a crumpled up piece of his napkin at you. It hits you right between your brows.

“What? I’m not doing anything” you throw it back but he dodges it.

“You’re overthinking”

“I’m thinking exactly the right amount”

“Care to let me in so I can decide that?”

You open your mouth to entertain more of the familiar banter you hold so close to your heart but your phone screen lights up and the text you get is enough to capture your attention right away. Your heart drops to your stomach as you read it, the french toast still melting on your tongue now tasting bad enough to draw a pang of pure nausea.

“You okay?” you recognize the sincere worry in his voice, even as he attempts to keep it light.

“Yeah” locking your phone again, you place it face down on the table once more. You don’t think you can stomach a single other bite of food.

“I have to go now, will stop by Sasha’s to bring her yukata back. I borrowed that bag of yours, is that okay?” you’re not looking at him as you get up and he does too, confused.

“Yeah, of course” he follows suit as you quickly grab the bag still resting on the couch and shove your phone in it. Eren doesn’t have the time to enjoy the glorious sight that is you in his clothes, even with those ridiculous shorts everyone will surely be able to recognize as menswear.

But just as he thinks you’re going to leave him without sparing him a single glance, you stop in your tracks right before the door and turn around, the smile on your lips so artificial it makes his stomach churn with a sour feeling that erases all the sweetness that has coated his morning up until this very moment.

“Will you come over, later?”

There’s softness in the way you direct the question to him and he holds on to it for dear life.

“If you want me to” he replies with the same softness and something inside you just melts.

What you have to do is terrible, cruel in its unfairness, but unavoidable. So you should get to bask in a fantasy for a few seconds more, right? You should get to delay his disappointment, to give him a few more hours of peace of mind.

It’s heartbreaking, the way he perks up when you take his hand and bring the chapped knuckles to your lips.

“Of course I want you to” you don’t let go as you rise onto your tiptoes and tilt your head in a silent plea. You wish the relief he exhales right into your mouth could take root in your lungs.

When Eren kisses you, the crackling electricity is still there. But it’s the tenderness that makes your eyes burn, the way he takes your face in his palms and squeezes gently to make sure you’ll be looking at him as he pulls back enough to return your dazed gaze.

“We’ll figure it out” he says it so simply, so genuinely, you’re not sure you can get out of his house before he notices the tears.

You find it in yourself to nod and reach for another peck, because it’s probably going to be your last anyway.

I love you.

It’s that thought that carries you through the day, repeated over and over in your head until your lips follow suit and you’re muttering it like a madwoman.

You let the brief time spent with Sasha soothe your mind and it’s actually fine that she notices the redness of your eyes and the heartache embedded in your blank stare.

“Did he do something to upset you?” sometimes she reminds you of Armin, the attentive way she adapts her energy to match the one of whoever she is with is one of your favorite things about her. Although you’d much prefer a bubbly distraction at the moment.

“No, never” you reply with a small, bitter smile “I’m the one who’s about to do it, actually”

You tell her because she asks and because she’s part of the people you’re gonna have to say goodbye to. Since you’re absolutely not planning to go to the beach, you take your chances and ask her the odds of her breaking the news to everyone else.

“There’s no way in hell” she retorts with a glare so sharp it’s almost funny “they’d think you don’t regard them as friends. Connie would never forgive you”

With a light huff, you deflate against the backrest of her couch. Of course she’s right, they deserve a proper goodbye.

“I’ll come by tomorrow” you capitulate with a weary sigh and Sasha takes one of your hands in hers with a smile that never reaches her usual bright eyes.

“I’ll miss you” she almost whispers it and it takes everything in you not to choke up on your own I’ll miss you too as you squeeze her in the tightest hug you’ve probably ever given to another human being.

The first thing you do when you get home is get changed, his clothes are neatly folded and placed at the end of your bed because you can’t bear the idea of more of his scent clinging to your skin: you’re not even entirely sure the shower was enough to wash it off.

With a certain degree of fatigue, you pull the suitcase out from your closet, the sweltering heat of the room suddenly suffocating and unbearable. Even with the AC turned on, it feels like you can’t breathe.

You tear your clothes from their hangers, snatch them out of your drawers and toss them in your luggage, not even bothering to fold any of them. It’s better to do it today, you’re not sure you’re gonna have the strength to do it tomorrow and you definitely don’t want to spend your last day packing up.

Robert Lowell’s book is placed carefully on top of the chaotic mountain of clothes, it’s a gift you deem special and you’d hate to ruin it.

Connie’s sketch is stored in a plastic folder and you reserve it the same attentiveness as you put it right next to Armin’s book. It’s a stylized portrait of someone who barely looks like you: your eyes do not have that glow in them and your smile most certainly isn’t as bright. You like the overly accentuated features, he has a cool drawing style and it’s still so hard to believe he felt the urge to devote his free time to craft something so unique and meaningful just for you.

The sight of the tourist brochure draws a chuckle and you pick it up from your nightstand to open it and read Jean’s silly inscription for the umpteenth time.

She believed she could so she did: to a summer spent outdoors!

Right underneath, he’s scribbled a list of the best spots to visit, the vast majority of them comprising the forests he spends most of his mornings and afternoons guiding tourists through. You’re gonna miss his teasing smirk and predictable jokes, the way he nonchalantly worms his way into any conversation you’d be having with Sasha just to get a burger out of it.

One day you’re probably going to deem it hilarious, the fact that the brochure is what gets you. Fat, searing tears overflow at last, staining the stupid tank top Eren’s pulled over your head so many times you’ve lost count.

You end up sliding down to the parquet floor, knees to your chest as you sob pathetically, hiccup after hiccup until you’re shaking so bad you have to wrap your own arms around yourself in an attempt to calm down. Phone screen lights up again and you catch the preview of a text from Sasha, one picture attached.

Developing this today, so you can take it with you!

It’s most probably from the previous night, the only group picture you’ve ever taken in two months. If you close your eyes, you can almost feel the familiar weight of Armin’s arm around your shoulders and Connie’s chin resting on your head.

You catch your breath at last, cheeks burning and eyes puffy. Your limbs don’t carry enough energy to do anything else besides booking a one-way ticket, tossing your phone away and crawling onto your still perfectly made bed.

It’s funny, the hollowness your chest tightens around as you shut your eyes: you could swear the exact same spot had been so impossibly full of love and light just a few hours prior. It’s been so easy to get transported into some sort of fantasy world, a perfect reality that didn’t include your actual life at all. But you do have a life you have to get back to and it’s been foolish of you to allow yourself to forget about it. There’s a job offer you cannot afford to refuse because you’re two months behind on your rent, there’s the uncomfortable amount of stuff still waiting to be collected from your ex boyfriend’s house, the now irretrievably shifted dynamics of your friend group you have to navigate. And yet.

In two months you’ve met people that have made this holiday so special. Talking to them has given you the courage of opening yourself to the world like you used to do when you were younger and filled with hope. It felt like stepping into the sun after a long, dark, tiring night.

Who knew you could feel so free, wrapped in foreign embraces and inspired by unfamiliar routines, who knew you could meet someone who’d make you feel so lost and then, suddenly, found. Eren’s made you fall for him little by little, the invisible trickle of a covert fountain concealed by whispered conversations in your bedroom, failed dinners whenever you’d stubbornly insist on not letting him anywhere close to your stove, afternoons spent with your feet buried in the boiling sand in hopes to catch as little as a glance, the fleeting flash of a grin shot your way. He’s made you fall for him gently, the idea of crashing to the ground never once crossing your mind, bones still perfectly intact even at the mercy of his touch.

Eren’s disrupted you while keeping you whole. Even better, perhaps he’s given you an entirely new form. One that adapts easily to life and chases adventures and isn’t afraid of being seen.

You hate the idea of leaving him behind, insides churning at the mere thought of telling him you’re leaving with such short notice. But maybe it’s for the best. Those three words have been left hanging in the air after all, segregated in your minds and engraved in your bodies. You’re content with tricking yourself into believing that it’s a little less real, if you don’t say it. You feel it and perhaps he feels it too, but you’re just in time to nip what it is and whatever it may become right in the bud.

Unsurprisingly, the nap ends up proving to be absolutely useless and you wake up a couple hours later with a throbbing headache and an almost debilitating thirst. The birds outside are chirping mockingly as you lethargically drag yourself out of your bed and out of the room, the mess of clothes, bags and luggages still reigning supreme right in the middle of it clumsily stepped over without so much as a glance.

The living room is filled with corners you can’t look at, although you briefly wonder if the books stacked by the tv will be collected and eventually find a new owner.

After gingerly pouring yourself a glass of cold water, you climb onto the kitchen counter and check your phone. Sasha’s already had the picture developed is what you can guess from the picture of a big envelope she’s sent you a few minutes ago. There’s a flight confirmation email in your inbox and a text from Armin, asking why you’re not at the beach yet.

You actually end up turning the tv on at full volume while you finish packing, taking a break only to down a dry sandwich when the squeezing of your stomach gets impossible to ignore. No more pathetic tears gather along your lashes for the rest of the afternoon, turns out packing your things is a lot easier when you don’t care about how you’re putting them away. All your clothes are probably going to need a heavy ironing session once you’re back in Tokyo, quite the minor inconvenience.

When Eren arrives, he announces his presence as loudly as usual, dragging his saccharine helloooo because it always makes you laugh. He has bags in his hands because he’s once again stopped by the market just in case and is already grumbling about how you never keep your damn door locked when you get up from the couch to greet him.

“You really need to stop filling my fridge with so much food” the good-natured scolding meets the skeptical click of his tongue as he starts pulling out the groceries and piling them up on your table.

“Says the girl who raids said fridge and leaves it empty in the space of one evening”

You huff but Eren cuts you off before you can put together a comeback.

“It’s just some of Kukiko’s fruit and a few snacks”

“You mean those rice cakes, candy corn and ketchup chips you love?”

With a fond roll of the eyes, he finishes emptying the bags and waves a box of chocolate pralines half an inch from your nose. Your gaze flickers to the different products scattered across your table: peaches, figs, your favorite tourist-friendly ice cream and cream filled wafers. There’s just a tiny box of rice cakes.

“I actually wanted to get proper food and cook a nice dinner, you know, because you barely touched my fantastic breakfast” he flashes you a quick smile “but then I thought, I know this great place we’ve never been to and they make an incredible pan-fried salmon”

Eren knows something’s up, he obviously does. But that doesn’t stop him from taking your cheek in his hand to gently tilt your head up and let you meet his painfully hopeful stare.

“Will you let me take you out, tonight?”

Will you let me do this right?

Instead of taking a step back, you place your hand over the back of his to press his palm deeper into your skin. He doesn’t really know at what specific point he starts holding his breath.

“Eren, I’m leaving”

There’s a slight spasm of his lips, one that would’ve probably been imperceptible to a less trained eye.

“I’m aware” there’s a sour harshness in his tone he doesn’t try to bite back “I was hoping we could’ve talked about this later on”

Of course he knows you’re leaving. Still, the fact that this is the first thing you deem reasonable to bring up after the previous night, after that morning, is hurtful. Hell, he isn’t even allowed a full day of timeout from reality? Are you really that eager to remind him?

You press his palm a little harder.

“In two days”

The silence that settles over the small room is loud enough to make your ears ring, cheek brutally left cold as if your skin has suddenly turned scorching.

“What?” he attempts an incredulous smile “what d’you mean in two days? You said you’d leave in September, it’s barely August”

You take a quivering breath, forcing yourself not to lower your gaze.

“Something came up. I’ve been offered a job I really need and they want me in Tokyo by the end of this week, I really didn’t plan for it to—”

“Did you know?” he interrupts you with an aggressiveness you don’t recognize “this morning, as you were leaving, did you know?”

“Yes” you swallow the painful lump constricting your throat. He lets out a bitter laugh, one hand running through his hair in disbelief.

“Did you know last night, too? Before we fucked, I mean. That’s all it was to you anyway” he storms past you and before you can even think of stopping him, he’s pushed the door to your bedroom open. The sight of your packed up luggage makes him want to throw up on the spot.

It’d be so easy to indulge his version, allow it to gain consistency and distance yourself from whatever it is you’re both feeling. But you can’t bear the thought of betraying him twice, you decide you can’t carry the weight of a lie so big so you let it melt on your tongue.

“You know that’s not true” it’s pathetic, really, the strangled way words leave your mouth. Eren chuckles again, a sound so empty and dull compared to his real laugh. It breaks your heart, it makes you feel as if something’s clawing at your chest from the inside.

“What was it, then?” he challenges, it only takes two very angry, wide strides and he’s towering over you again “you can’t even say it”

“What good would that do?!” it’s unfair, it’s really fucking unfair that he’s handling the whole situation as if it’s hurting him more than it’s hurting you “what if I say it, then what? This entire thing was bound to end anyway! Even if I stayed, how do you know we wouldn’t end up going our separate ways in a month anyway?” so long for keeping tears at bay, you think as you angrily wipe your cheeks until they burn from the unforgiving friction.

“Fucking hell” Eren shakes his head with another mocking smile that makes your blood boil.

“What? Look at us, you’re already second-guessing everything about me!” you push past him and toward your couch, just to have something to lean against because your legs feel wobbly “acting like you’re the only one affected by this bullshit situation” words don’t come out as harsh as you’d like, dying in your throat instead as you fail to hold back a sob.

Eren stays by the sink with that irritating condescension he just couldn’t fucking spare you. As if you’re not shattered already, wondering how you’ll be able to put the pieces back together once more now that the edges are rougher and different and will probably never match each other again.

“You can’t do this. You can’t make me fall for you and then leave” he spits the last word like it’s venom and it actually burns on his lips. Eren’s never actually planned to ask you to stay, he never thought he’d be selfish enough. Turns out he was wrong all along.

When he says it, you can’t help the way your head lifts in surprise. He’s said it and there’s really no turning back now, no place to hide or run away to. It’s all over him, the disappointment you feel so responsible for, it’s in the way his fists seem to shake and in the sharp edge of his tight jaw. It’s in the way his eyes lack their usual spirit as they look back at you.

“That’s right” he mistakes the shock on your face for dread and allows for another smile to split across his face, nothing but a cruel mask distorting his features “bet that’s the worst fucking thing you ever heard, huh?”

It is. Because now your heart can’t stop its swelling and the flutter in your chest feels suffocating. It is, because somehow he’s fallen for you the same way you’ve fallen for him and if he’s experiencing half the sorrow currently knocking the wind out of your lungs, perhaps you should find it in yourself to be gentler.

“I’m sorry” you whisper it quietly, with a slight shrug and fresh tears staining your cheeks “I’m not doing any of this to hurt you. I wish I could decide to stay, just like that, but I don’t have a job and I’m behind on rent and, fuck, I think even the only coat I own is still at my ex’s house and…”

“What are we?” he interrupts you once more but there’s no aggressiveness this time. He’s quiet as he steps closer but you don’t dare look him in the eyes, choosing to focus on the milk white carpet beneath your feet instead. However, Eren’s not having any of it. With new found, blind obstinacy, he gets close enough to gently grip your chin and demand your attention. You’re a terrible liar and, by now, he knows all too well where to look for a lie in your stare.

“Tell me” he lowers his voice almost in a plea and the lump in your throat only grows in size when you catch the redness framing his eyes.

“We’re friends” you whisper “before anything else. I hope we’re friends”

His grip on your chin tightens.

“What else?”

“Eren—”

“I’m in love with you” he sighs, in disbelief at how easy it’s been to pronounce the words out loud at last, a familiar albeit pained smile finally making its way to his lips as he lets you go “am I really that bad of a contender?”

But he lets go of your chin only to take your face in his hands right as new tears start rolling down your cheeks, unfazed by how useless it is for his thumbs to try and wipe them away. That’s finally him, embedded in the tenderness he holds you with.

“I want this” he mutters “I want you and yes, that may go away some day but you’re letting it go away now. You’re not even willing to try”

It takes so much effort to find it in yourself to gently grab his wrists and pull his hands down.

“You’re asking me to give up my entire life. Sometimes love isn’t enough, Eren, sometimes someone has to be an adult and do the right thing even if it shatters them”

“I’m guessing you’re the adult in this scenario whilst I’m being what, the irrational brat?”

“Stop putting words into my mouth” you tiredly wipe your cheeks again, so exhausted you can barely take another shaky breath in “you want me to stay. I can’t do that, even if I fucking hate that I can’t. You think you’re the only one with a broken heart in the scenario, as you called it, so feel free to turn this into another sad story you’re gonna recall with the next tourist girl you sweep off her feet”

Eren thinks a raw slap would’ve hurt less. He looks at you like you’re someone he can’t recognize and finally takes a step back with a slight nod of his head, acceptance slowly setting over his features.

A beat passes, one where the only sound filling the room is your accelerated breath.

“You never asked if I’d come with you”

And just like that, something slams against your ribcage but it couldn’t be your heart because you're certain it has stopped beating.

“You’d never do it” your tongue suddenly feels swollen in your mouth, too big and heavy to assist you in properly articulating a sentence “I know you’d never do it. You always say you can’t imagine yourself anywhere else” desperation gets the best of you and your pitch turns squeaky. Eren smiles another one of his sad smiles, the ones you’ve met today for the first time and are sure will haunt you in your dreams.

“Have you ever even thought of asking?”

For a few seconds, you believe those are going to be his last words to you. That is until he turns around by the front door, just a second, maybe to take a look at you for the very last time. That’s the real breaking point for whatever is left in your chest.

“Don’t expect me to be around to say goodbye, tomorrow”

A fragment of time is all it takes for him to be out, all signs of him having ever been there at all still scattered across your kitchen table.

The AC system of Armin’s car is currently not working and you only find out once you’re seated in a boiling passenger seat. He chuckles when you turn to look at him in pure horror.

“You wouldn’t have let me take you if I’d told you. It already took me two hours of convincing as it is” he reaches across you to roll down the window, the hint of a guilty blush tinting the tips of his ears. His hair is lighter now than it was in the early summer and the flush of his cheeks is harder to detect now that his skin is tanned.

“I could’ve taken the bus” you rest your back against your seat with a light frown: the parts of your skin that are not covered by your thin tank top stick to the scalding leather right away.

“I know” he offers a soft smile “but I really wanted to do this”

Armin hated the idea of you having to go alone much like everyone else but he was the only one free enough to have a few hours to spare that morning. Sasha insisted on letting Niccolo handle the cafe for the day but she doesn’t own a car and the backseat of Armin’s Ford Fiesta is already taken up by your luggage and backpack. You resisted up until the very end, stubbornly insisting on being perfectly capable of reaching the airport on your own, mumbling some nonsense about not wanting to be a bother until Armin had raised a hand, resolute.

So I don’t even get to give my friend a ride?

Connie was the only one to laugh at the tears rapidly collecting in your eyes but it was a sweet, accomodating sound at odds with his usual exuberant cackle. Even he found it funny and kinda concerning that you still couldn’t grow accustomed to being considered their friend.

“Thank you” you return his smile and Armin nodds, giving your shoulder a light squeeze before he starts the car.

The small vacation rental that has welcomed and taken care of you for more than two months shrinks and then disappears in the rear view mirror, the morning sun bouncing off the scraped off exterior you’ve grown fond of.

You now recognize the small streets, alleys and shops you pass by, going as far as to lean out of the window to check if Masaru-san, who always treats you to an extra muffin on the mornings you drop by to buy his fresh bread, is having a smoke outside his bakery.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” Armin’s gentle voice draws you back into the boiling car.

“Sure”

He shoots you a quick glance.

“Have you at least told him that you love him?”

You suck a sharp breath in, caught entirely off guard. There was never a direct agreement of not mentioning The Topic during the one-hour drive but, given how considerate Armin always is, silly you kinda thought that’d be implied.

“I know it’s none of my business” he quickly adds because of course he can’t help himself “but I haven’t heard from him in two days and I’m kinda hoping he at least has that to hold on to”

“You haven’t heard from him in two days?” it made sense for him not to be at the beach when you dropped by to say your goodbyes, you never expected for him to show up anywhere else until he could be sure you’d be sitting on that plane but to disappear off the face of the earth? Not even talking to his friends?

“No. To be completely honest, we’re worried. He’s never done this before” Armin keeps looking ahead of him, tone oddly flat as if he’s having a conversation about the most casual topic.

“We had a fight” you mutter “didn’t exactly say goodbye on great terms. He’ll come around”

“That doesn’t exactly answer my question”

It’s not like him to be so pushy and you suddenly feel like the heat is too suffocating, the vehicle too small, your lungs too rigid.

“No” you clear your throat “but he knows”

There’s no point in denying or feeling embarrassed about it. You’re positive everyone knows anyway.

Armin hums, seemingly pensive, but doesn’t say anything. Your neck itches and the pads of your fingers start tingling.

“What?”

“Nothing”

“Armin, just tell me”

For fuck’s sake—

“S’just that Eren can be really dense. I bet he’s convinced this was nothing more than a summer fling for you”

That’s not true, he’s one of the smartest people you’ve ever met. Well, when it came to most things anyway.

“He knows” you insist, heart rate spiking for reasons not entirely clear. Armin shrugs.

“If you say so”

A beat passes, silence stretching past a comfortable interval.

“What if he doesn’t?” you challenge, exasperated “even better, he’ll get over it sooner!”

Armin lowers his head slightly, hands sliding to the sides of the steering wheel.

“He’s in pain” it’s not an accusation, just a mere observation. And yet it hurts all the same.

“I am too” why is it so easy for everyone to forget that?

Little do you know, Armin is perfectly aware. Everyone is aware. You’re wearing that pain on your disheveled hair and the bags under your eyes, it’s embedded in your dull tone and in how easy it now is for any word to draw tears.

It’s not like him to get involved in someone else’s life, especially when the situation is so raw and delicate but not even him is willing to just sit and watch two people mutually agreeing to ruin each other and leave it at that. It may not be his place but he’s prepared to dismiss his usual reluctance.

“I know” he’s driving way too slow for someone who’s supposed to rush you to the airport but you’re too distracted to notice “sorry, that was insensitive of me. You’re right, it’s for the best, he’ll come around soon enough”

You don’t say anything back, attention harshly grabbed by the view behind him. The sun is high already and reflects in the sparkling ocean you’ve grown so fond of. The sussuration of the waves lashing the shore doesn’t quite reach you but if you close your eyes and concentrate, you’re almost able to taste their pungent, salty smell.

Will Jean have some time to bring his surfboard to the beach in the afternoon, after a morning of work? Is the cafe as packed as it always is in the mornings, the usual mob of tourists forcing Sasha and Niccolo in an exhausting frenzy? Which table has Connie decided to bend over to try and finish that comic of his? Are his fingers stained with ink or did he go for the digital alternative today?

What is he doing? Can he afford to just disappear, neglect the surfing lessons?

You remember seeing Eren for the first time, running around by the shore accompanied by Jean with that charming smirk of his, occasionally asking strangers to join a volleyball match if they were short on players. You remember thinking wow, that’s a person that probably has it easy. He seems happy, is attractive enough to pull pretty much anyone. He sounded friendly and was literally smiling every single time you’d catch a glimpse of him, day after day, never short on energy. And then, you’re still not sure why or how, his eyes had actually found yours once, twice, then often enough for you to decide to do something about it.

You still see it all in your head, painfully vivid and oh so alive. It comes in unforgiving flashbacks, from the first time he took your hand in his to the way you fell asleep in his arms less than three nights ago. And now you’re going away and what if Armin is right? What if he doesn’t even know?

“Stop the car” you murmur, mind not even quite catching up with your mouth yet.

Armin glances at you.

“What?”

“Stop the car for a second” you can barely stop yourself from slamming the brakes firsthand, hand brought to the column of your throat in a silly attempt to calm down. He quickly but safely pulls over, the car coming to a full halt when he turns off the engine entirely.

The first time you drew a sincere laugh, the first hushed conversation you shared on a humid evening.

I’m in love with you. Am I really that bad of a contender?

“You okay?” Armin is now only slightly worried he’s gone too far as he takes in the way your chest is heaving.

Have you ever even thought of asking?

“Hey—” you unfasten your seatbelt and escape his touch, quite literally throwing yourself out of the car only to slam the door and lean against it. Armin gets out as well and rapidly walks around the vehicle to check on you.

“What’s wrong? I have water, d’you want water?” if you weren’t so out of breath, you’d find his panic amusing.

“I’m fine. Sorry, just… give me a sec” the smile you offer him is probably more of a grimace but he’s too kind to point that out anyway.

Armin tries to give you the space to calm down but judging by the beads of cold sweat forming on your forehead, the process isn’t exactly going well. He feels guilty, mainly because his entire strategy has tragically backfired and he is on the literal verge of profusely apologizing until you meet his concerned gaze with heartbreaking despair.

“You think I should go to him?” your voice trembles and it takes everything in him to hold back the biggest smile.

“With some urgency” he quips immediately, motioning toward the car. He’s been dying to drive you there the entire morning.

You take a step forward, allowing him to open the door for you but make no move to actually step in again.

“C’mon!” he’s openly smiling now.

A beat passes, you shoot the car a quick glance and then return his smile.

“Keep an eye on my suitcase, will you?”

And then you’re just gone, sprinting in the opposite direction, dangerously close to passing cars and absolutely deaf to whatever Armin is yelling from behind you.

Incredibly, your legs carry you across the entire main street and your exceptionally keen senses assist you in dodging bikes and pedestrians and you think you may have accidentally run past Connie on the sidewalk at some point because you recognize a familiar go get him! already fading in the distance as you race until your lungs feel a second away from exploding.

The strappy sandals you’re wearing are absolutely inadequate for the marathon you’re running underneath the scorching sun and people look at you funny when you melt against the stand of a greengrocer to catch your breath. Nevertheless, with a hand pressing to a chest that’s never felt as tight, you’re soon on your way again, lips stretched into a frenzied smile and heart beating fast from both the physical effort and your favorite kind of anticipation. The idea of seeing him again gets your blood pumping, every other care or issue or flight disappears, literally fades to nothing in comparison to what you’re feeling at the thought of being in his arms again.

And yet you falter once you’re at his door, one palm resting against it and throat burning with every breath you attempt to take in, sweat dripping from your chin and running down your back. You’re far from having a plan or a solution to offer, the only thing you’re currently certain of is that you’re not gonna board that plane today. The rest, you can figure out together.

It takes some persistance and a certain number of violent knocks, your nuckles are burning by the time he yanks the door open.

“Jean, I swear to god if this is you again—” Eren freezes when he sees you awkwardly standing on the doorstep, phone trapped between his cheek and shoulder as he was clearly in the process of tying his hair back.

“Hey” you smile but then frown, puzzled “wait, who are you talking to?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it. Then opens it again.

“Thank fuck, talk to you later, bye!” a familiar voice chirps on the other line and you shut your eyes for a second because how could you fall for the oldest trick in the book? Haven’t heard from him in two days your ass.

“What are you doing here?” his guard is very much up and by the look of those dark circles you can only guess he’s slept just as much as you in the last two days.

“Uh, so, really funny story” you chuckle, painfully aware of your racing pulse and ragged breaths “Armin was driving me to the airport and we got to the seafront and he started talkin’ about you not knowing that I love you and stuff, which would be absurd because I’m sure you’re pretty much aware even if I never actually said it” you pause to clear your throat and take a hand to the currently cramping side of your waist “anyway, he said you’re dense and he was worried because they haven't heard from you in two days which, I now realize was a blatant lie but the point is, I started thinking about you and how much I hated our fight and the idea of getting on that plane because, well, I’m in love with you, disgustingly so actually, and I’m sure I’ll find another job and my landlord will understand and I was kinda hoping we could have more time to figure things out so maybe I could stay a little longer? If you still want me” you finish what’s probably the most awful, embarrassing, pathetic speech in recorded history with a coughing fit, throat basically occluded by sand. Perhaps you should’ve accepted Armin’s water before deciding to run almost two miles in a 95 °F weather.

Eren’s blank stare is far from encouraging and the more the silence stretches, the less you think it was a good idea to barge in there unannounced. But right as you take a tentative step back, apology already taking shape on the tip of your tongue, he reaches over with lighting speed to grab your wrist and quite literally slams your body against his, trapping you in a suffocating embrace.

“If I still want you?” he pokes fun at your words, distorts them with open incredulity “you’re so stupid”

“Eren, stop, I’m so sweaty right now!” your voice barely comes out, muffled by the fabric of his shirt. He only squeezes you tighter against him, lips pressing to the crown of your head.

“Say it again”

You are finally allowed to wiggle your way out of his arms but he keeps you in place, rough palms trapping your cheeks and puckering your lips. God, those eyes. How could you have believed you’d be able to leave them so easily?

“M’really fucking sweaty at the moment”

Eren smiles, pressing his palms harder, until your lips part.

“Not that” he’s willing to be patient now, because you have just granted him the only thing that makes him feel whole again. Time.

“Mmph—” you try to loosen his grip but he only raises his eyebrows expectantly, amused by your useless attempt “m’in lovewithyou?”

Just like that, his smile turns into one of those bright grins you adore but can barely return at the moment.

“Damn right” Eren meets your lips like that, pressing on your mouth firmly until he finally loosens his grip and you have some room to return his rough kiss right as he clumsily drags you inside and catches you when you trip on the cursed umbrella container he keeps by the door. You taste salty, just like the ocean, and he licks into your mouth with the softest groan when you lightly tug at the curling strands at the base of his nape.

“Let me hear it again” he mutters but how are you supposed to collect the required air in your lungs if he refuses to stop kissing you stupid?

Through the dazed state of your mind, you manage to whisper the words into his mouth at last.

“I love you” again and again and again, until your love and his violent adoration is all he can feel in every crevice of his body, in each jolt of the electricity buzzing through his veins.

But then Eren breaks the kiss so abruptly you lose your balance and awkwardly stumble forward, your brows knitting as he starts laughing so hard he has to rest his forehead on the curve of your shoulder, hot breath tickling your neck while he giggles so hard you’re both shaking.

“What?” as it always happens, you can’t hold back a confused smile yourself.

Still barely able to contain the fit of laughter, eyes crinkling adorably at the corners, Eren straightens up to meet your gaze.

“I had just booked a flight to Tokyo”

#eren yeager #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #aot #snk #aot fanfic #aot x reader #eren fic

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rewritingcanon · 10 months ago

Note

I just ADORE the idea of potter sibs learning lessons from their namesakes and being nothing like them :)

James being calm and studious and kinder than his namesakes

Albus learning how NOT to handle very specific social situations from his namesakes

And Lily is just like "FUCK them kids lmao"

YESSSSS literally.

james is more popular than his namesakes were (i like to think james and sirius were just impervious to popularity&they just gave 0 fucks, although sirius was default popular because of his surname and his attractiveness) because hes more welcoming and less of a dick and a nepobaby, but he’s emotionally distant with his peers and finds it hard to open up to others because he’s always a little suspicious of people (unlike james sr, who was an open book). he plays quidditch because he knows he should and it makes his mum happy and its kinda fun and hes kinda good but hes not that passionate about it. he gets amazing grades because hes studies a lot and not because hes a natural genius (unlike sirius, who didnt have to study hard for anything to pass comfortably). james a perfectionist, by-the-book person who struggles to think outside of the box, unlike his grandfather whos genius lied in nothing else.

albus reminds me more of his namesakes than the other two potter siblings, but he probably would appreciate the comparison the least. he’s quiet and lonesome and angsty with a ‘no one will understand me’ mindset, but severely attaches himself to the people he loves, and carries them with him throughout his life without ever moving on (all exactly like severus). hes cunning and always ready to martyr himself (both dumbledore and severus), but hes way more audacious and simple. he has a ‘1 + 1 = 2 end of story’ mind that he got from his parents that completely goes against severus and dumbledore’ long game of chess. albus does not care for such BS, hes still got that gryffindor dawg in him. he will go against every expectation set out for him on purpose (unlike dumbledore and snape, who will use their reputation to their advantage). also, albus is happy lmfao. its why he commits his life to himself and not to others like his namesakes did. he wants simple things like nicely-cooked dinners, warm houses, and to get married young and start a family. kind of like his dad and grandmother.

and lilyyyyy. she is all over the place. she is the quidditch star, the loud one in class, the person who fakes her report cards so her mum doesnt freak out at her. shes not studious like her grandmother, she attracts people to her and selects the greatest pick out of the litter for friends, and shes got a lot of friends (unlike lily evans, who’s love is so concentrated and loyal to very few, and luna who was socially repellent). she travels everywhere because shes a glutton for experiences, she doesnt plan ahead, shes will never be tied down— not even by true love and the prospect of staying with them forever. shes open like luna but her mind is more of a straight arrow than luna’s genius. lily grows up and never has any kids, not because she hates children but because she just never particularly wanted to. she never grew out of being reckless and impatient and impulsive, and she had always known that those traits would not be compatible with raising a child and she was okay with that (unlike lily evans who had always wanted to be a mother, and had dedicated herself to her baby).

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voidwritesstuff · 18 days ago

Text

Camcorder Stories.

Cw: War being self deprecating. (No surprise there)

Summary: The Four happen to be travelling with a human survivor who is a devoted learner of all things cinema. They're learning about human culture one way or another, even if they dont like it.

>A/n: Inspired by the lovely @darkdemeter and her amazing Darksiders writings. As A film student, I felt like I needed to share all this knowledge that has changed the way I watch films and other multimedia content. To share the hard work involved and the appreciation I have for it :DDD.

The horsemen had no concept of what Film was. Not even Strife,who was the most acquainted with humanity even before the end times.

But now the riders found themselves with a young human who had dedicated a good portion of their years to studying cinema. And much to their chagrin or excitement...

This human carried an old camcorder with them. And with tapes to spare.

Death:

Not even theatre was of particular concern or interest to the pale rider. He was never one for the arts,other than the art of necromancy, so at first he pays the human no mind when they begin talking about film.

"Oh hold on,I need to film this. Stand there at the edge of that cliff...I just need to fiddle with the ISO. So bright..."

Death was just looking at the Valley below,the sickly sun of the kingdom of the dead shone on his cold skin. The warmth was sticky and awful. But hes never been one to complain.

The tall bone towers stood on the far distance on each side of him, a perfect frame of Demise between the reaper himself.

His human companion fiddled with buttons and he could see the lense of the strange device the mortal held. He saw how it opened and closed like a predator's Gaze.

"Okay! There we go. Finally. Please stand there,Im going to do a traveling, then a zoom in And finish on a medium close up...you just stay there like in a reverse shot. " the human made a pause,as if thinking about their words "stay still,look Cool. Back to the camera and look forwards to either of those towers"

Death doesnt know why he indulges in these outbursts of cinematic inspiration. He thinks it helps his companion Keep their sanity..and it keeps them tame and less prone to trouble.

He can hear the mortal slowly walk to him. His ears catch the sound of their footsteps from his right. He can guess theyre putting most of their weight on their heels so they can turn upwards and close in on him to somewhat eye level.

The sound comes from his right to then begin walking a Straight line behind him. Thats the travelling.

This "useless" knowledge of film has been drilled into his mind against his Will. He knew a travelling meant this human would slowly move towards him from either of his sides.

After comes that close up. Those always put his hairs on edge. Like theyre sneaking behind him. He absolutely hates it. Even if theyre not even a threat.

Finally,the medium close up meant the camera would only film from his shoulders up.

He can hear the whirring of the camcorder as it takes in his form.

It cuts when the camera is right on his left shoulder.

"Satiated?" He asked,a gruff in his voice. The annoyance bellows from the base of his throat.

"Very..." he turns to see the human look at their recording"I know you hate doing second takes...I know you think this is silly but...I'd like one more take. Please? . Its not often that outside light behaves,usually its better to do all this in a studio-gives you more controll over the lights and shadows.. but this is almost a golden opportunity.."

He asks himself again why he indulges the mortal on these things. But he looks at how their eyes glimmer at the prospect of connecting with something so tied to them and their people that went on a horrible decline by the hands of things older and more powerfull than them.

And he cant squander their happiness.

Perhaps hes grown soft, perhaps hes intrigued by such arts.

"One last 'take'. Make it count,human"

The smile they give him could melt any Ice. And if the Creator willed it,maybe the one that wrapped his dead heart.

"Okay! Ill do my travelling from the left, then a zoom and finish on your right shoulder. I know theres not much difference but the sun is coming from the left...I think its going to be more dramatic that way!"

Death couldnt help but let out a low,low chuckle"One of these days,I'll make you show me all these things youre...filming"

"Death,after this take I'll show all of them to you. I promise" the human's voice sounds the happiest hes ever heard since meeting them "I think all this Will make a smashing docu-series. Ill give you credits of course, though putting "Special thanks to the literal horseman of the pale horse" sounds a little weird"

Another chuckle left the old reaper "With everything your people has been through,thats your concern?"

The human laughed,a sound so heavenly"Alright,alright,fair. C'mon. Stand there again and We'll wrap this up faster than you can say 'action!'"

Fury

Her opinions could make even the saltiest of film critics cry. And shes not ashamed on telling his human companion how pointless and useless their outbursts were.

But then she saw how cool she looked,and it fed her ego so much she changed her tune.

"Youre going to kill me because of this,Fury. But move to that lightsource there" the human Pointed at one forwards down the Hall of arcane lights they were in.

"Whats wrong with this one, mortal? " the she-horseman asked with her hands on her hips and a little annoyed glare in her white eyes.

"I can tell from how it looks here in the camera that this is an incomplete spectrum lightsource "

"English,human "

The mortal sighed,putting down the camera "Incomplete Spectrum Lights dont do well with colors that are a mix of two others. Your hair is magenta, the middle between blue and red. Depending on where you stand, its taking the color of your hair from bluer to redder. Not a nice look,and not the one im looking for "

She relented and Walked further down the Hall. She raised her hands in annoyance and said "Well? "

"Perfect!! Do something cool with your whip! -Oh I need to change the obturation velocity. "

"...human" Fury scowled.

"How quickly the lenses Open and close to register the image. The quicker it opens and closes the clearer the image of your whip moving Will be"

Fury saw them click a few buttons on their camcorder. The tech was foreign to them,only her watcher seemed to be aware of how they worked. So,when the human wasnt listening, the shadow being explained to her mistress what a camera was and how it functioned.

"There! Ready. Im not sure on what shot to use.."

She did say she didnt care for film knowledge. Shes heard it enough times against her Will but...

"Medium length shot. Didn't you humans call it an 'American Shot' too?" she asked,grabbing the Hilt of Scorn.

The human smiles,the glimmering of their eyes like theyre finally being acknowledged

"Or 'cowboy shot' yeah. You...you remembered! "

"Just because you said it a thousand times. "

By now,her mortal companion had grown used to her dismissal. "Uh-Huh sure. Ahem, alright. 'Fury being awesome ' take one! And...action!"

Just a few takes later,The human approached the horsewoman and showed her the display screen of the camera. Within it she sees the last take they did, which seemed to be the best one yet.

There truly is an art and a skill to it. How they move about to catch each angle, evading any lightsource that May betray their shadow and ruin the film.

Fury catches the warmth and pride in the human's eyes. This is the first time shes seen them so content. Mortals needed little to be happy.

It made her heart squeeze. She almost felt...guilty for being so critical and mean about this,admitedly, unique art form.

"Not bad. Perhaps you'll even make this into something worth watching" she ruffles their hair to add her usual emotional distance, but the human is inmune to It.

"When I do,you and your siblings are invited to the red carpet premiere. You Better dress your best"

"I never dissapoint,human".

Strife:

The horseman of the white horse loved any and all things human related. Was this his way of making up after his failing at protecting humanity from corruption? Maybe.

Or maybe he just really likes the culture.

Not like he'd tell his human companion about why he seemed so interested in their filming.

"Okay heres a fun bit of info for you. Did you know we had an art form called stop motion?"

"I Didnt know, how does it work?"

He listened attentively as the mortal told him about the millions of variations of puppet models,the replacement, the neat little tricks to make things move and seem Real.

To him,stop motion animation sounded like a real labor of love.

"I had to make one for a class once. It was painful but fun"

"Do you still have the recording?"

"I...dont sadly. We made it on a digital camera and god knows what happened to it after this shit show"

"Oh...".

"But if you give me a few hours we can make one together"

Strife knows himself enough to be aware of his lack of patience. But he accepts the deal if only for the experience.

He sees his human companion,his Friend, work away at making a few tiny little puppets that they can pose. They use pine cones,Grass,rubble, anything that they can get their hands on.

The mortal sets the camera on a rock,making sure it cant be moved. Then, they spent the Next few hourstaking pictures and making the puppets move and do silly little things.

Strife defenetly didnt have the patience for this, but it was all worth it when he saw the animation they made together. How the doll moved about in its little scenario,how the arms hoist up some pebble.

" Ive never done anything like this" he had admitted as he cleaned his guns. This was his way of unwinding. "It was fun, but painful. You sure its not some human torture method?"

His friend laughed,shaking their head as they press record on their camera and begin to move it delicately to drink in all the details of the horseman's hands cleaning the gun

The campfire beside them gave the shot a dramatic light that flickered and danced in a way that made the metal glint. And with a low ISO (aka the camera's sensitivity to light) there was no oversaturation to ruin the recording.

"Watcha doing'?" The gunslinger asked, not stopping the cleaning of his weapons.

"A detail shot. Usually its for props. In this case, the props are your guns." They explained "I personally love detail shots. They showcase the love put into the props by the art department"

"Theres an art department?"

"Ya. Theres also a lights department, writers,directors, producers, special effects- like a fake wound-, a costume/clothes department.-"

"So Many people for one movie?"

"Mhm! I can tell you all about it "

"Sweetheart,we've got nuthin' but time. 'M all ears"

War:

Creator help the human that the red rider travels with. He knows little of things like theatre and magic and tech are a mystery to him in so Many ways. Had it not been for the watcher, the behemoth in crimson would have no clue and think its an elaborate human prank.

"Okay so in a movie,you'd have four stages. Pre- production,where the story and list of resources needed for the film get made. Production,which is getting everything on the list plus actors and catering and a bunch of other things. Filming,the fun part. And post-production, where everything comes together"

War raised his brows in surprise, his expression would have been hidden if it wasnt for the slight widening of his shining white eyes and his voice as he says "I...was not aware of how much was needed for such a seemingly simple thing"

The human was unaware of the expression he was making,seeing as their back was to his chest. Ruin trode lazily over the broken pavement.

"Yeah! You need a lot. Think about this,you need a scene in a home.." they begin,opening Their camcorder to put a tape within It "you can either make it within a studio- which means making everything from the ground up- or get a house with the furniture inside it "

He listens attentively "Im sure its more complicated than that...You'd need...lights? You have said that. And you told me natural light can be...tricky"

"Yeah!! " they sound so happy at his remembrance "For a home you manage to "borrow" you need to block out the Windows- unless theyre shown in the shot- and replace the light with artificial ones. But you'd also need people and services to haul the equipment to that home. "

They made a brief pause "a big guy like you would be useful. You May have a spot on the industry after all!"

"I dont see myself-"

"It was a joke,War"

"Right"

"Thats joke 1000 and counting" they breathed out,before turning on their camcorder. "Hey...I want a birds eye view of Ruin's head. Can get on your shoulders?"

He sighed "very well. Be careful"

The human climbs on him with ease. His armor provided foot holds and places to grasp. And its not the first time this happened...

War barely registers their weight on him. He looks up past his hood to see them record the sunset,turning side to side slowly in a panning motion.

"Natural light can be finnicky...but things like these can be breath taking...Wonderful shot"

At this,something comes to the rider's mind. "Why do you...record all these things? Arent they painful reminders? Do you do it to inmortalize yourself?"

The mortal looked down and smiled,shaking their head"in film,we tell stories. I want to tell this story...our story" the camera bends down to record him. And he huffs,all afluster.

"The nephilim are not worthy of remembrance".

"But you horsemen are. Your stories are worth sharing. And im making sure they happen. Your voice deserve to be heard"

"What makes you so certain?"

"I...Im not sure. Its just a feeling.."

He saw the way the human's brows knit together. They chew the inside of their cheek and turn the camera to take the view of Ruin's firey mane.

"Wonderful films have been made out of less. Sure,your stories are amazing and interesting- but thats not quite It. We have all seen stories of guts and glory,of massacres...but you horsemen are different. Unique."

"We're the accursed union of Angel and Demon. We're unique because we shouldnt exist "

He feels them kick him with the heel of their foot. "Dont say that about yourself. Good god" they sigh,looking at the sunset "theres nobody in this world like you four, youre unique in a wonderful way. You are a union of angel and demon but youre nothing like them. Youre uniquely independent, in a League all of your own. I seek to understand it I guess- I want to tell your stories because..."

The words are on the tip of their tongue. So annoying...

And War sounds almost...meek in asking. He hopes of acknowledgement, of being seen, as deep down as that feeling is.

"Because theres simply nothing like you,and I think everyone deserves to know how noble,how kind and how strong you are. Maybe we can even learn something from you for. Your courage and disposition are unmatched. As scarred as you May be,as hurt even...I just think you deserve to be shown and appreciated for your uniqueness"

The rider was unsure on what to say. They are perhaps the only being in existence that appreciates the four in this way. And...he quite likes it.

"No doubt you'll make it far in your carreer" he complimented after a long silence."few beings in existence have the heart that you do..."

He heard them chuckle, their shadow moving as they hook their feet under his armor to stand up and bring their camera further up,showing the low brush and lushness that begins to overtake the landscape. The blue hour fully setting in.

"Will you come watch what I make?"

It was so obvious there was a slight hint of humor. He could tell the human wasnt at all convinced he actually cared for their art.

Too bad he means to show them he does

"To see the fruits of your hard labor? Of course. "

He hears the slight sniffing,he feels the slight trembling..."Ill- ill get you the best- best seats at the theatre. I promise"

War raised his normal hand to wrap around their calf, as a comfort but as a steadying force. "Ive no doubt you'll uphold your word"

#darksiders #darksiders fury #darksiders death #darksiders war #darksiders strife #darksiders horsemen #darksiders x reader #darksiders 2 #darksiders 3 #darksiders genesis

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utterentropy · 6 months ago

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"(FUCK YOU YOU AQUAMARINE ANGRY LITTLE SHIT!)"

Atop the tall podium, rinsed in an iridescent, golden hue, a celestial rim washing down each corner; trimmed by a dusty silver, shivering with a pearly shine.

"[WHAT DID I DO, HUH? EXACTLY WHAT? DID I STAND WRONG? DID MY EYESIGHT MAKE YOU JEALOUS? AM I OFFENDING YOU WITH MY ABILITY TO SHUT UP?]"

The audience, cornered in the nooks of their seats, twitched and bowed at the rancorous uproar.

"(WELL IIIIIII'M SORRY, I HAD TO CARRY US ALLLLLL THE WAY HERE, YOU GODDAMN CUCK!)"

"Guys…" A well-heighted man, head the shape and hue of a noble planet. "You both won, you don't have to–"

"[WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'CARRY', YOU TURKEY-BRAINED BODY ODOUR-FRAGRANTED PURPLE MASS OF DEPRESSED RODENTS?]" Mind tightly roared from the crease of his lips, whipping his brand new sun trophy onto the podium; a hard, metallic clatter snapping into the flooring. "[IF IT WEREN'T FOR ME, WE WOULDN'T EVEN HAVE INFORMATION OUT THERE ABOUT OUR RIGHTS TO THIS SEAT!]"

"(ARE YOU KIDDING? EVERY CHONNY JASH FAN LOVES ME! I'VE GOT FUCKING APOLOGISTS! YOU'VE GOT PEOPLE WHO FRAME YOU AS THE NARRATIVE'S VILLAIN 'COS YOU SUCK THAT BAD!)"

"[YEAH, AND WHO WAS THE ONE WHO SET UP YOUR KEYBOARDS? AND TRANSLATED SHEET MUSIC INTO SOMETHING YOUR SORRY ASS COULD UNDERSTAND? AND–]"

"(SHUT–)"

"[AND FIGURED OUT HOW TO SET UP YOUR STUPID FUCKING AIR-CONDITIONER, BECAUSE–]"

"(I PAY FOR YOUR PAINKILLER PRESCRIPTION!)"

"['(OHHHHH, I CAN'T FOCUS IN THE HEAT! BUT I WEAR BAGGY HOODIES AND TWO-LAYERED PYJAMAS AND)–']"

"(AT LEAST I DON'T EAT MY GOLDFISHES!)"

"[AT LEAST I DON'T PLAY FNAF SONGS ON THE PIANO AT FOUR IN THE GODDAMN MORNING!]"

"(I WROTE THE BEST SONGS FOR OUR ALBUM! WITHOUT ME, OUR STORY OF HOW WE SUFFERED (MOSTLY BECAUSE OF YOU) WOULD'VE NEVER BEEN KNOWN!)"

"[NAME ONE PERSON WHO USES GOOD DAY AS AUDIO!]"

Words torn from mouth and crashing into each timorous ear surrounding the two, pronounced in a very ired, Australian tongue.

Arms furiously stretched and swung and feet stamped to enunciate visible outrage.

"Yeesh, Moon… I always thought our relationship was bad, but it seems like sun and moons across the universe can get so much worse…" Sun shivered, a quick tug on his coarse yet metallic collar, punctuated by a swift glance to his lunar counterpart. "Over where we're from, we have to deal with living in a giant animatronic mall and occasionally the works of cross-dimensional madness. But over there, it seems to me they really need to learn a lesson about getting along!"

"I could take them in a fight with a small dresser tied to my dominant hand." Moon stared, unblinking, body as stiff as a long rock.

The other contestants watched as the words were rocked and tossed in a staggering hatred.

At one point, Heart's wings had enlarged to mimic that of a threatened bird inflating its stance to appear larger; Mind's chest hummed with the overwork of his fans.

Suns and moons from all sorts of solar systems stationed across the multiverse watched in horror.

Two of them were those guys from Nimona, but I don't know dick about shit about Nimona so you gotta use your imagination for that one.

"Right right, you two have your trophy, just…" The celestial staff member disarmingly motioned their hands, gazing down at the two halves. "What are you going to do with your prize money?"

"(Oh, I'm probably gonna use it on an invasive wildflower and a seven hundred AUD life-sized Lopunny plush.)"

"[To pay off my severe prescription zolmitriptan debt that I'm four months behind on because I spent half my yearly salary on a car that I ended up crashing because of a migraine.]"

Happy tiny niche fandom winning against FNaF and Nimona for all who celebrate

Reblogs > Likes

#chonny jash #cccc #chonny's charming chaos compendium #cj hms #the Sun and moon duo tournament #cj mind #cccc mind #chonny jash mind #hms mind #cj heart #chonny jash heart #cccc heart #hms heart #cccc fic #chonny jash fic #cj fic #hms fic #cw profanity

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3-2-whump · 6 months ago

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(Re)Living a Nightmare, part 2

You're still here? Okay, it's not gonna get any better for our poor boy. Do read and heed the tags/CW.

Basic Summary if You Decide to Skip

Also please skim this chapter and this chapter if you haven't already, because they will be referenced heavily in the story coming up

TW/CW: rape/noncon, bound and gagged and blindfolded whumpee, creepy/intimate whumper, knife play, neither safe nor sane nor consensual, blood (lots of blood), victim blaming, internalized victim blaming, whumpee and whumper unknowingly triggering each other, blunt force trauma to the head (face), panic

NOTE: The inner thoughts and opinions expressed within do not align with those of the author, who themself has never and would never condone such thoughts and opinions in real life. Reader Discretion is advised.

All Thomas asked of him was to change into clothes he wouldn’t mind replacing, which usually meant that whatever Khaled wore would be torn/burned/ stained so irreparably that it’d just be thrown away after. Already based on that request, Khaled could guess he was in for a rough night. He had no idea how much worse it could get until he was blindfolded, bound, gagged, and carried out the apartment and down to the cold garage, where the hard foot-well of the back seat waited for him. The car revved to life, and his restrained body lurched forward as Thomas pulled out of the garage and drove them to fuck knows where.

Eventually they came to a stop, Thomas exchanged some words with the night-shift guard at the old house, and then they kept going until they parked. Khaled slowly started to put the pieces together. They were back at the old house, which probably meant Thomas wanted to take him downstairs, which meant whatever he wanted to do to him would be too messy or too specialized to do back at the apartment. What is he planning? Khaled wondered. He’s asked me to wear my most expendable clothes, he’s tied me up like I used to be when I was recaptured, he’s thrown me into the back like when I was recaptured-

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the car door opening. He blindly tilted his head toward the chill of the night and the distant sound of frogs singing. A pair of calloused hands hauled him up from the foot-well of the back seat and slung him over a broad shoulder. “Thought you could escape me this time, did you?” his master’s voice purred in his ear.

A pit of dread competed with the chill of the early spring night in his bones as Khaled realized what all this preparation had meant. Master wants to roleplay my escape attempts. He began shivering, though not just because of the cold. A warm hand rested on his buttocks to steady him as he felt himself being carried inside, through the hallway, and to the front of a very familiar door. Reliving his failed escape attempts but with an added sexual element was one of Khaled’s recurring nightmares. What cruel irony was this, that he had begged so enthusiastically no more than half an hour ago for this man to make his nightmare come true?

The familiar creak of a door opening preceded the dusty, dried-blood smell coming from the stairs leading down into the cellar. Khaled pleaded through the rag stuffed in his mouth and the tape sealed over his lips as they descended the stairs step by concrete step. He tugged at the zip ties binding his wrists and ankles, but all that did was dig the hard plastic further into his flesh.

The cellar in the basement was the only room in Luciano Antonio Costa’s old house that didn’t get renovated when they converted the rest of it into an office space. Mainly because its purpose as a room for torture and interrogation never went obsolete. Khaled didn’t have to see it; he’d been down in the T&I cellar enough times to have the layout committed to memory. Dusty, red bricked walls arched into a curved ceiling where two overhead lamps hung by thick chains, illuminating the large expanse below. A fireplace and all its accompanying iron tools sat to the left, and a rack lined with various instruments of torture was positioned to the right. In the middle was one large table with scratch marks furrowed into its edges, and many other types of equipment were either shoved in a corner or hanging from the ceiling, suspended by heavy chains and hooks like morbid chandeliers. Partitioning a back portion of the room was a large iron gate leading to a small offshoot of the basement, much like a door to a prison cell. Not much lay beyond the iron gate besides a hard-worn bench and several opaque plastic storage tubs full of mysterious items.

Khaled squirmed as he was lowered onto his stomach on top of the familiar table. “What were you thinking,” scolded the nightmare looming above him. A faint swish of a pocket knife and cold steel next to his skin made Khaled pause his struggles as his master cut away the zip ties. “Escaping in this cold weather without so much as a scrap of clothing on you –did you even have a plan?” he taunted. “I don’t know what your plan was, or even if you had a plan, but was it really worth freezing yourself to death?”

Khaled enjoyed the freedom of his unbound limbs for only a moment until his wrists were snatched into a tight grip and gathered in front of him. A coarse and scratchy material –rope, most likely –began entangling around and in between his wrists as his master continued talking. “We have a tracking chip installed inside of you, remember? You can never escape me; I will always find you.” With a forceful tug, Khaled’s hands were pulled in front of him, then he couldn’t move his hands at all. The other end of the rope must have been tied off to the ring attachment at the edge of the table.

His ankles remained free, if only to make it easier to take his pants off.

There were some light shuffling noises before the wooden table groaned under a newfound weight. Khaled felt the body heat of another person leaning over him. The cologne Thomas wore quickly overpowered his senses as the man hovered close. Khaled could feel his master’s breath on his ear and something hard and stiff against his backside. “The last time you tried to run away, a friend of mine advised me to cut your tendons,” Thomas sultrily whispered.

Oh god no. By now, Khaled knew which escape attempt they were reenacting, and, coincidentally, it was the one he had nightmares about the most.

“I don’t want to permanently cripple you though,” Thomas sighed, “mostly because it would be even more of a hassle to care for you, but I will cripple you temporarily, at the very least...”

He could already hear the hiss of the iron.

His panicked cries took on a new pitch of desperation. Without warning, his master’s fingers pinched at the edge of the duct tape on Khaled’s mouth and pulled, making him scream in pain. The rag was quickly removed, only for his tormentor to shove his index and middle fingers past the boy’s teeth to depress his tongue. “Suck,” he growled, “because this is the only lube you’re going to get.”

“Please, no, not this one, please, please no, not this, not this,” Khaled begged around the fingers in his mouth.

The fingers quickly withdrew before Khaled’s head was yanked back by the hair and then smashed onto the table. Stars danced across his blindfold, and a faint trickle of something warm and wet escaped from his nose.

“Let’s try this again.” Thomas shoved his fingers back into the boy’s mouth, burying them to the knuckle and making the boy gag. “Suck.”

Khaled shakily worked his head up and down the length of the fingers as his tongue lapped at each digit. He started to cry. As soon as the fingers withdrew, his pleas picked up again in earnest. “Please don’t burn me, please don’t burn me, please don’t burn me, please don’t burn me-”

“Would you relax?! I’m not going to burn you!” Thomas shouted above him. “What about any of this looks like I’m gonna burn you?!” Khaled heard a frustrated huff above him as his master yanked down his pants and underwear, exposing his bare ass and legs to the cold. The shed clothing was discarded, landing with a soft whump somewhere behind them. The two digits that were in his mouth forcefully entered him below, all pretense of play forgotten as they began roughly working him open. “Besides which, weren’t you the one who wanted to do this? You asked for this, you wanted this! You said you would be good for me!”

And he was right, he did say he wanted this. He asked for this to happen. So, with a defeated sniffle, Khaled went quiet and limp.

“So, are you going to be good for me now?”

Khaled’s bruised forehead scraped against the table as he nodded.

“Thank fuck,” Thomas grumbled.

I asked for this, Khaled told himself. The darkness around his eyes became damp as the blindfold caught his tears. I asked for this, I wanted this. He repeated it like a mantra as the man on top of him replaced his fingers with his cock and steadily screwed him against the table. I asked for this, I wanted this. Something tore down there as an unmistakable thin, warm, and sticky fluid trickled past the cock pummeling his hole. I wanted this. I wanted this…

I didn’t want this.

I never wanted this. Any of this.

I don’t want this. Slowly, the new mantra gained strength, and he let the words slip between his lips with every shuddering breath. “I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this-”

“Tough shit,” his master grunted.

Khaled pulled against the rope restraining his hands as he struggled against the body pressing into his. “I don’t want this! I don’t want this! I don’t want this! I-” Again, Khaled’s face was smashed against the table. He heard a faint crunch as a new river of blood flowed out of his nose.

“You can scream all you want, nobody’s going to hear you,” Thomas growled, “but for fucks sakes, can you please scream something less annoying?!”

Khaled kept repeating it between every sniffle, like a sad broken record. “I don’t want this,” he sobbed. “I don’t want this… I don’t want this…”

His begging finally outwore Thomas’ need to finish. “Fuck,” his master huffed, unsticking his sweaty torso from Khaled’s clothed back as he pulled out of him. Khaled collected his heaving breaths. It would be too naïve of him to believe his bitchy whining finally got through, but he would appreciate this moment while he could.

He suppressed his sobs and tilted his head to follow the footsteps and shuffling sounds Thomas was making as he tried to guess what would happen to him next. Khaled heard the faint schwing of a different knife being unsheathed. It cut through the flimsy fabric of his t-shirt as his master finally completely undressed him, tearing away the scraps of cotton the knife didn’t excise from his body. “You said you would be good for me, but you have been anything but!” A twisted strip of cloth was wedged between his teeth and hastily tied off at the back of his head. His master’s hand pinned him down by the back of the neck, crushing him against the table with the weight behind it. “You said you missed me, but you’ve only fought against me this whole time!” Khaled screamed into the gag as the tip of the knife sank in between his shoulder blades. Its blade dragged tortuously and deliberately through his skin as his tormentor continued griping above him. “You’re a fucking liar, you know that?” The knife mercifully lifted from the trough it had carved, only to be plunged into a new area of Khaled’s back. “Do you know what I do to liars, boy? I make them pay!” The raw wounds on his back wept with blood as the knife kept slicing, spilling over his sides and pooling underneath his stomach and the table below. It was hard to cry with a gag in his mouth and a broken nose full of blood. He gasped for breaths between sobs, never quite getting a satisfying breath before the pain of the knife would make him scream again. His tears slipped past the saturated blindfold and tracked down his cheeks to join the pinkish smear of saliva, snot, and blood he could feel covering the lower half of his face. “This is for Callahan!” The knife drove down and sliced another line through his skin for each name the monster dropped. “This is for Trémeaux! And Robinson, and Martinez, and Kruger, and Kościelsky, and this-” The knife dug deeper this time. Khaled bit into the gag as his nerves screamed in agony, the steel scraping something hard as it dragged against his back. “-this is for my brother; he is never coming back! Tony is never coming back, and it’s all because of you!” the monster above him roared.

It was in that moment, between the terror and the pain, that Khaled realized with a fascinated horror that his master was reliving a nightmare, too. I need to snap him out of it if I’m getting out of this cellar alive, he realized. So, he set his own trauma and pain aside and began doing what got him into this mess in the first place. The twisted cloth had loosened just enough. He pushed it out of his mouth with his tongue and started begging as if his life depended on it, because this time, it really did.

“I didn’t kill him!” he cried. “I didn’t kill him! I didn’t kill him! I didn’t kill him!” Khaled screamed well past the point his throat hurt. “Master, please, I didn’t kill him, I didn’t kill any of them! I didn’t kill him, I didn’t kill him, Master, I didn’t kill him…” If the knife had stopped cutting into him and the rope around his wrists had been untied, Khaled was too far gone in his panic induced catatonia to notice. “I didn’t kill him… I didn’t kill him…” he rasped through a throat torn raw from screaming.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood

#whump writing #heavy chapter ahead #tw rap3 #tw noncon #tw blood #tw victim blaming #internalized victim blaming #creepy/intimate whumper #bound whumpee #gagged whumpee #blindfolded whumpee #knife whump #neither safe nor sane nor consensual #blunt force trauma to face #whumpee just has the worst time #whumpee and whumper accidentally trigger each other #is this too dark?#is it too late to ask now that i've already posted it?

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blonde-love · 1 year ago

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Rings with a promise sealed with wine…

Summary: An old friend of Larissa's visits her office, reminiscing about an old promise that unfolds in a night of love, passion, and wine.

Warnings: Smut, cunnilingus, I don’t know(?)

Parts of the story:

Rings with a promise sealed with wine… [1].

Rings with a promise sealed with wine… [2]. Soon.

Rings with a promise sealed with wine… [Extra]. Soon.

Author's Note: Hello, I'm sorry if this writing is a disaster, actually English is not my first language and this is my first fanfic, but I hope I have done a decent work… any constructive criticism is really appreciated! There is also an extra part of this that I don't know if you want to read...

The academy had changed since the last time you had visited it, although it still maintained most of its essence, there were small modifications here and there, which made sense considering the many years that had passed since then. You had evolved, so it was logical that the place would too, especially under Larissa's command now.

You sighed remembering her, wondering how she would have become too, thinking that surely she would still be that beautiful and intriguing lady with light hair and blue eyes as when she was young all those years ago...

You were a few years younger than Larissa, but you had met her at one of her speeches at the academy. She was always as upright and neat a student as she could be, so she quickly caught your eye when you saw her, just perfect. You chatted a bit when it was over, she presumably proud of her work, saying that you could do the same if you tried hard enough, so you really pushed yourself to make it through a few years later even though she wasn't around to see it…

You stood in front of the door that had her name engraved on it, looking doubtful as you raised your fist to knock, biting your bottom lip uncertainly. You finally filled yourself with so much courage as you could before knocking on the door a few times, overly nervous as a couple of seconds passed in silence that felt like eternal centuries until a voice was finally heard inside.

“Come in”. A beautiful voice called out, so you followed the lead, walking into Larissa's office, looking at her, she sitting at her desk.

You let out a longing breath when you finally looked at her; her hair tied beautifully, an almost whitish blonde, while her blue eyes moved reading the text on the paper in her hands, wearing a beautiful elegant dress...

“Good evening... To what do I owe your pleasant visit?”. She asked as she finally put the document in her hands to the side to look at you, realizing that you weren't one of her students, snapping you out of your trance, jumping slightly in place and finally closing the door behind you.

“Good evening, Ri-… Lari-… Principal Weems”. You said, regretting using that nickname or her name, too scared of how things would evolve between you after so many years.

Larissa's eyes narrowed as she heard you hesitate, being too familiar to her, not knowing exactly where she'd seen you from before. Nearly three decades was too long to remember properly.

“I... I come to visit, I don't know if you would like to see me... I...”. You started to ramble, until she interrupted you.

“I know you?”. She asked almost like a sigh that the wind would have carried away if you hadn't been so nervously attentive to her.

“Y-Yeah... I mean… yes... you might not recognize me now”. You muttered foolishly, shyly approaching her desk, swallowing hard and removing a ring from your thumb, placing it on Larissa's desk.

The older one looked at it skeptically for a few seconds, not understanding why you would leave it there until she realized that in fact the original owner of the object was her.

“[Y/n]”. She called your name under her breath, knowing who you were then, since the ring had been given to you so many years ago as the seal of a promise that both would fulfill your goals no matter what obstacles stood in the way when you consoled her to try to push aside her negative feelings about she comparing herself to Morticia.

“Yes…”.

“You… you don’t…”. She looked at you without finding the right words, getting up from her seat to approach you, placing that ring back on her index finger.

When she was close to you, you took a step back due to her imposing figure. You remembered her being tall, but not that tall, especially with the heels she normally didn't wear when she used her school uniform so long ago.

“What are you doing here?”. She finally asked, looking at you with those blue eyes that you had fallen in love with when you were in high school.

It took you a moment to answer, because you simply couldn't, with the sight of that ethereal woman in front of you, who had become the most beautiful person in the world over the years if she wasn’t before.

“[Y/n]”. She called, placing a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently and bringing you back to the ground.

“Ah… yes… That…”. You stuttered for a moment, before taking a deep breath, looking up at her burning fireplace. “The promise... remember?”.

“The promise…”. Larissa repeated almost mechanically, looking at the ring before returning her gaze to you once more…

“I came to return it… you said that was the deal when we exchanged them… that we would return them once we both met our goals…”. You remembered, looking at the hands of the taller woman.

“Oh… I-I… had forgotten…”. She confessed, and that's when you realized that she wasn't wearing any ring besides the one you just gave her, proof of her words, evidence that she hadn't considered you as you did for her during all those years.

“I…”. The words caught in your throat, feeling partially disappointed by that, taking another step back. “Yeah... sorry, that must have been a young joke...”. You shrugged, trying to downplay the importance it clearly held to you, the woman clenching her jaw as she realized you really did take it seriously.

“[Y/n], listen…”. She tried to say, but you shook your head.

“No, I understand. Still, I couldn't stay with that, it's too expensive… Anyway, I'm glad that apparently things turned out well for you, becoming the director of Nevermore is impressive”. You assured, a smile on your lips, tightening your grip on your bag.

Silence reigned in the room, discomfort running through your body, looking down at the floor after a few seconds.

“That was all... At the entrance they told me that you were a little busy, maybe I shouldn't interrupt you anymore”. You said, with the best smile you could get in that situation. “It was good to see you again, Weems”. You turned, walking in the direction of the exit before she stopped you, placing a hand on your wrist and pulling you back.

“Wait a second…”. She asked, acting on instinct more than logic, getting you to turn once more to look at her. “You… grew up…”. She muttered seeing your appearance.

That would be a logical statement, almost bordering on the absurd, but not for her at that moment, since upon seeing you more closely she realized that you had indeed changed and, just like her, you had become a woman, so beautiful in her eyes, going against the image she had of you, because when she thought of you, usually had in mind the face of a young adolescent, a little clumsy and distracted, not an attractive woman.

A small laugh escaped your lips at her, smiling genuinely at her this time. “You too”.

“Sorry... Would you like to stay and chat a bit and have some wine, perhaps?”. She proposed, tempted to touch your face for a moment before dropping her hand without even getting close enough to you.

“It would be a pleasure... if you're not too busy, of course”. You muttered, to which she smiled softly.

“I'm not”. That was a lie she hoped you wouldn't find out. “Come on, sit down”. She requested, pointing to a seat near her fireplace, walking to a cabinet until she pulled out a bottle and a couple of glasses, placing them on the table in front of the sofas.

You sat down, analyzing her movements as she served you; her hips as she walked to reach the bottle, her hands as she performed each of her actions... You ended up looking away in embarrassment. You weren't a teenager to go on with that.

“Here you have”. She said, handing you the glass of liquor, erasing her insecurities about her invitation by looking at you once more like an adult, sitting next to you before taking a small sip from her own glass.

“Thank you…”. You said shyly, your lips moving closer to the glass and drinking too.

Larissa stared at your mouth perhaps more than necessary, noticing that you were wearing some lipstick and realizing that she had never seen you use it before, when you were young you always clinging to the idea that you didn't need it.

“Mmm… the wine you drink is quite good…”. You said, savoring the taste, she blinking a few times in bewilderment, blushing as she realized she'd been staring longer than she should have.

“I have good taste. I guess you became a doctor considering the return from a few minutes ago”. She communicated, referring to the ring you had given her, to which you nodded.

“Yeah, actually for a couple of months, but it took me a while to find you… that was until I talked to Morticia. I ran into her by chance... well... not so much... her daughter broke into my work area last year's vacation to try to remove some pieces that we had preserved in formaldehyde, but those are minor details”. I narrated while remembering the incident, drinking a little more.

“Oh… Wednesday Addams…”. She muttered, placing her fingers on the bridge of her nose with a frustrated expression.

“She entered this year to study here, right?”.

“Unfortunately... It's been a disaster... Morticia must have been simply incapable of raising a decent daughter...”. She commented with annoyance, taking a longer sip of wine before pouring more for both of them.

“It's just an Addams, I guess”. You said, remembering so many things about her parents in their student days. “Maybe she inherited some of Morticia's... particular charm...”.

“I still don't understand what you saw of her when we were young”. She announced out of nowhere, quite confusing you.

“To Morticia?”. You asked in confusion, tilting your head to one side for a moment.

“Yes, you were crazy about her in high school as I remember”. That confused you even more.

“She's always had her thing, but I didn't like Morticia. When I was younger I was more into blonde girls, you know”. You commented without thinking, deeply embarrassed as you realized your own words.

“Blondes?”. She asked, to which you nodded sheepishly. Larissa had always thought you had a crush on Morticia with all your frequent visits to their bedroom, but the black-haired girl wasn't the real reason you went to the Ophelia Hall.

“Something like that... well... actually my experience with people was almost null since I was in love with the same person for many years”. You commented, laughing a little at yourself, now you being the one who poured some liquor to both of you, nervously drinking from your glass.

“Oh my… I didn't know you had a date in high school”. Larissa said impressed, moving closer to you with interest on the subject.

“I didn't, I never really told her”. You shrugged, downplaying the matter. “She was a couple of years older than me, and she probably never would have seen me as more than her... admirer to put it in a way”.

“Aw dear... What year was she in? Did I know her?”. She asked, both taking another drink, to which you nodded your head.

“She was from your generation actually… and I'm sure you knew her pretty well”. You muttered, giving a couple of faint hints, to which Larissa thought, trying to remember as many blonde girls that were her age as she could.

“Rose?” She asked and you denied, drinking some more. “Miranda?”. She suggested again, shaking your head once more and sipping your drink, following this pattern a few more times, Larissa pouring you some more liquor as she realized you'd finished it.

“I was more into… tall girls…”. You murmured softly, a soft blush on your cheeks from how little resistance you had to the alcohol and the nervous sips you were taking faster and faster.

“Tall girls…”. Larissa repeated, her mind wandering away from the answer, though somewhat closer than before.

“Yes… tall… blondes… blue-eyed… elegant…”. You said, drinking unaware of the fog that was beginning to build in your mind, placing a hand on the sofa as you leaned into her unaware. “Shapeshifter who gave speeches about the importance of introducing our society with normies”.

And that was when the realization hit Larissa like a bucket of cold water. “You…”.

“But she never realized...”. You repeated, about to take another drink when Larissa placed a hand on your wrist, drawing your attention to which you turned to her, noting the deep blush on her cheeks that reached her ears.

Of course it made sense when she thought about it, that girl's silly blushes when you were younger, how you refused to change with her at little sleepovers, how much you offered to help her no matter what she needed… the flattery, the discreet gifts…

“Oh look…”. You murmured noticing the reddish tinge on her ears, gently touching the skin with your fingers as you set the glass down on the table and approached without thinking. “They are red…”. You said innocently too close to her ear, your hot breath hitting her skin, causing a shiver to run through the older one, who placed one of her hands on your arm to stop you.

“Yeah…”. She admitted sheepishly, turning to look at you only to realize that you were both so close to each other, your ragged breaths mingling with each other.

“You smell like wine…”. You commented vaguely, to which she chuckled softly.

“You more than me, that is a fact…”. She said, realizing that your eyes rested on her lips for a moment, your hand coming down from her ear to rest against her cheek.

Larissa's heart began to beat faster, looking at your eyes as if they were the most expensive jewels in the world and then at your lips as if they were some more of that delicious drink you had been consuming during the night.

“Was it me you liked?”. She asked in the middle of the silence, to which you nodded gently.

“So much... You were so attractive, brilliant, perfect in every possible way of the word...”. You said softly, your voice somewhat hoarse. Larissa swallowed at the sound of you, that tone of voice making her feel things she never thought she would feel for you in her life.

“Do you still think so?”. She asked, almost in a low whisper, but you didn't answer, instead just sighing softly, smiling for brief moments before closing your eyes and leaning in, both lips brushing against each other in a kiss.

The older one moaned softly at the feel of your lips pressing against hers, closing her eyes and leaning in, reciprocating the show of affection, enjoying the taste of her favorite drink in your mouth, not thinking twice about receiving you when you straddled her, sitting on her thighs while she placed her hands on your waist, gently pressing you against her, she licking your lower lip, to which you opened your mouth gently, allowing her entry to savor you even more, letting out a lecherous moan as well.

After a few seconds, you both finally pulled away, gasping for air after the kiss, breathing heavily, both noticing the lipstick smudges on your lips, two different colors blending better in some places than others.

“Larissa...”. You called softly, your lips sliding down her neck like a light ghost, too intoxicated not only with the wine but with her, with her figure, her smell... her taste...

“Mmm… darling, I don't think I should have served you that last drink…”. She commented, clutching at your head and letting out an unholy moan as she felt your tongue snake around her neck.

“Perhaps, although I am glad to receive that extra courage…”. You murmured, licking her neck once more, she moaning softly, feeling your lips suck on her skin before she pulled your hair back.

“No visible hickeys, dear”. She announced, although it was already too late, since her skin now had a mark that she would have to cover later.

“Oops...”. You said with fake regret, your fingers slipping down the front of her dress, beginning to unbutton her clothing. “Perhaps I should find a more suitable place…”. Your pupils were dilated, staring longingly at Larissa's exposed breast, her red lace bra peeking out after letting go of a few buttons, your tongue beginning to lick the newly uncovered skin, leaving a hickey on one of her breasts now.

“Mmm... my dear, you are playing with fire right now, if you continue you must bear the consequences”. She warned, pressing harder into your hips.

“I'm curious to find out those consequences...”. You murmured, sucking once more on a second mark before soothing the skin with your tongue, gasping for air in a strangled moan as Larissa pressed down on you, her thigh between your legs. “Ah...!”.

You looked into Larissa's eyes, realizing that she was just as affected by the whole situation as you were, her eyes full of desire, leaning over your neck to begin to leave open-mouthed kisses on your skin.

“Do you really want that, naughty girl?”. She asked in your ear, watching you sway your hips against her thigh, nodding a couple of times at her question. “You really are quite a case…”.

“Rissa... please...”. There was that pretty nickname, coming out of your lips in a desperate way, too eager to feel it and to alleviate that pain that had been building between your legs for a while. The blonde hummed content to hear you, her hand sliding to the back of your dress to unzip it, letting it fall over your waist, exposing your black bra, she smiling to see you exposed like that, caressing your chest.

“Come, help me with this…”. She requested, to which you stood up for a moment to let your dress fall all the way around your feet, also exposing the matching panties, Larissa biting her lower lip at the sight of you.

Just as pretty as you were, Larissa taking no more time to grab your thighs and pull you up, her carrying you easily enough, devouring your lips once more with hunger, her tongue dipping in as if it had been done thousands of times before, your two bodies fitting in perfectly as she led you to her bedroom.

She released her lips only when she dropped you onto the bed, pulling away to lock the door before turning back to you, slipping out of her dress and heels.

You took a quick note from her room, obviously as elegant as her, but you had better business that mattered more to you right now, spreading your legs in a silent invitation to the woman who looked at you before stepping between them, her lips on yours for a few more seconds before caressing your thighs, pulling you apart with a moan when her fingers got too close to your center.

“[Y/n]”. She called to you softly, caressing the same place as before, causing another chill. “Do you really want this?”. She asked, though neither of you was exactly in the best state of lucidity, but she wanted confirmation of your consent anyway. She would never do anything you didn't want.

“Yes Rissa... do you want it?”. You asked, she kissing you softly on the lips before answering.

“Of course…”. She murmured, sliding her hand up your chest, you sitting up for a moment to undo your bra, letting your breasts fall for her to look at, Larissa letting out a breath as she looked at your nipples. They were hard, desperate for attention as much as the rest of your body, so it didn't take long for her to connect her mouth over one of them, licking the bud before sucking, leaving you with a pleasurable sensation and a moan, your hands on her back unclasping her bra too, she pulling away for a moment to take it off and toss it to any side of the room, letting your curious fingers touch her too, moaning when you pinched one of her nipples just the way you liked it.

But you both really needed more than that, so Larissa lowered her hand slowly over your body, running her fingers over your nipple, stroking gently before moving down your stomach, sucking gently on your neck, while letting your hands one on her head and another on her white sheets, she finally brushing her fingers over your clothed pussy.

“Look how wet it is here dear…”. She murmured running her fingers once more, drawing a pleasurable moan from you as she pressed more firmly on the bulge of your clit.

“Larissa… please…”. You begged softly, lifting your hips for more friction. You really needed her, more of her, all of her, but the woman placed her hand on your hip, anchoring you to the bed.

“Please what, dear?”. She asked, pretending she doesn’t knew what you wanted.

“Please Rissa… fuck me…”. You stretch your legs closer to her, pushing aside your panties to give her a glimpse of your bare pussy, completely wet from her. “Don't make me wait any longer after all these years… please…”. You begged again, a tender smile on the woman's lips as she leaned into you.

“Sure dear, I'm sorry”. She murmured against your ear, playing for a moment with the elastic of the only clothes you were wearing. “Would you let me take this off?”. She asked, to which you nodded almost desperately, the woman laughing softly as she removed your panties... “Impatient, aren't we?”.

A shiver ran through your body when the cold air from her room came into contact with the humidity of your pussy, that part contracting, Larissa licking her lips when she saw that.

“Just look at this, how precious…”. She said as if she were looking at the best piece of art in any most famous museum you could think of, running her fingers over the liquid to collect a bit, looking at her wet finger and licking it as she looked into your eyes, drawing you a moan of anticipation as you watched her take it clean out of her mouth.

“Rissa oh my god...”. You said, closing your eyes when she again slid her finger over that sensitive part of your anatomy, rising above you to admire your entire body in full nakedness.

“You have really become a divine woman my love… my good girl…”. That, that was the fucking nickname that she had used with you all through high school and that had made you feel so many things with your raging hormones.

“Rissa...”. You stifled a moan and arched as she began to insert one of her fingers into you. You had noticed that they were long, quite graceful and beautiful, their perfect touch on you, though they certainly felt even better on the inside.

“Tell me [Y/n] Who does this good girl belong to, hmm? Who has she stood for these years to get her pussy full?”. She asked, finally reaching to the knuckle, gently pulling her finger in and out to gently dilate you, the bottom of her palm crashing against your clit each time, resulting in a shiver from you with moans each time.

“To you Larissa... ah... for you... everything for you...”. You moaned, clinging to her shoulders as you trembled under her touch, being so wet it didn't take much to slip a second finger inside.

“That's right, precious… good girl…”. She fawned as she began to curl her fingers inside you, bumping into a spongy area inside you that made you arch, her other hand placing her thumb on your clit to trace circles over the swollen bud, a bit of her ego seeping in as she traced her name with her finger on your bud, smiling as your pussy finally contracted for her.

“Ah… ah… Rissa… that feels good…”. You moaned, your legs shaking sweetly for her, arching at the pleasurable sensations.

“Your pretty pussy is happy to have my fingers in it…”. She said, dropping to her knees on the ground. “I bet it will feel even better with my tongue too…”.

“Wha-? Oh my-!”. You moaned in an exceedingly indecent way as the texture of her tongue flattened against your clit, her fingers continuing inside you, your legs instinctively closing around her head, but she placed one of her hands on one of your thighs to prevent that.

“Nothing like that my dear, I don't want to have to honor the firm principal they say I am by having to punish you... so spread your legs for me...”. She ask before plunging back into your pussy, you helping her grip with one hand on your thigh to pull the leg she wasn't holding against your own chest, just as she requested, opening you wider for her.

Deeper moans began to come out as Larissa's attentions increased, the inside beginning to clench in certain patterns more quickly, your free hand on Larissa's head…

“Rissa…! Oh god… I'm going to…”. You were breathing more and more heavily, requiring all your effort to formulate a fairly congruent sentence.

“You're close, aren't you? Come on darling, drop it for me”. She said, requiring a few more thrusts with her fingers and tongue before you collapsed, bucking and moaning her name aloud as your orgasm crashed into you, Larissa carefully pulling her fingers out.

“Fuck…”. You moaned at the sense of loss, shaken and gasping from your climax, watching the woman lick her fingers just like she had at the start.

“Very well done my dear...”. She murmured, getting up from the ground, to which you sat up, intertwining your fingers with hers.

“It's your turn…”. You looked at that woman's soaked panties. “Lie down on the bed…”. You asked softly and the woman nodded, following your instructions. Your breath caught in your throat as you saw her, her bare breasts resting on top of her, her panties drenched only for you and her head rested on the pillow, her hair a mess, golden curls falling carelessly over her shoulders. “God… you are simply more beautiful than when we studied here…”. You breathed, spreading kisses down her bare chest.

“Is that so?”. She asked incredulously. “I'm…grateful to hear it darling, but I'm afraid time hasn't been kind to me”. She muttered, to which you chuckled softly.

“Oh dear, I assure you that it is so... you are like one of those wines that you like so much...”. You murmured, lowering yourself between her legs. “Simply more delicious with the passing of the years…”. You whispered against her pussy, your tongue tasting the smear of liquid on her red underwear, eliciting a strangled moan from the woman.

“Ngh… then you should drink me, dear…”. She said suggestively, so you took the liberty of sliding her panties down her legs, leaving little kisses on her thighs.

“Can I bite here?”. You asked, planting a kiss on one of her thighs not quite sure if her skirts or dresses would fully cover it.

“O-Of course…”. She gasped when she felt your teeth against her porcelain skin, letting her head fall back against the pillows, her pussy twitching happily before your eyes, a sign that she'd liked it.

“If you knew the times I had wet dreams about you in high school…”. Your tongue getting closer to where she needed you.

“Wet dreams?”. She asked breathlessly, your tongue sliding around her entrance, parting her lips with your fingers to expose her even more, her clit twitching as if greeting you impatiently.

“Yeah… or the sinful thoughts in your school speeches… how much I thought about fucking you in front of everyone and then berated myself for having such thoughts about you…”. You said, hot breath hitting her wetness.

“That- Ah!”. A moan escaped her lips as you thrust your tongue inside, your nose pressing against her nerve cluster on purpose, watching her close her eyes and lean back against the pillows once more.

Sure enough, you drank her like a fine wine, savoring her delicious flavor on your taste buds with each lick you took, occasionally interspersing your fingers when you decided you wanted to leave more hickeys down her thighs so she could see them when she took that perfect director facade off after a tiring day at work, and hopefully you too would be there to see them and maybe do more.

Larissa's moans were simply music to your ears, a lusty harmony that filled the room as did the wet sounds of your mouth, her leg hooking over your shoulder to press you closer to her core.

“Ah… [Y/n]”. And when you looked up, oh my god that damn view.

You were between her legs slurping her tastefully with her thighs decorated with your passion marks, but that wasn't all, as the woman placed her hands on her own chest, kneading and pinching her nipples while her mouth was open, panting and moaning meaninglessly, her cheeks flushed, her eyes more black than blue at that point, her hair already completely out of place falling freely, the eldest trying not to miss the sight of you devouring her, getting her eyes to roll back with pleasure from time to time.

“I'm going to cum… ah… darling…!”. She warned, to which you smiled softly, slamming three of your fingers in to rub her sweet spot as you sucked on her clit, watching her arch fully, moaning gutturally as her head sank back into the pillows.

The principal ended up panting, just like you a few moments before, so you lay down next to her with the same exhaustion as her, trying to compose yourself, seeing her turn on her back to look for something in her dresser next to her, thinking it was your signal to go.

You were about to sit on the edge of the bed when you felt her hand catch your wrist.

“Mmm… Stay… if you don't have something to do…”. She asked sweetly, so you smiled, laying back down, this time her pulling you to her chest she caressing your back gently, her hand clenched into a fist with something inside.

“Larissa?”.

“Um... I really hope there isn't someone else waiting for you at home if you know what I mean...”. She said hopefully, realizing that she hadn't asked about it before doing it with you.

“Of course not... and I hope it's the same for Larissa Weems...”. You whispered, planting a kiss on her cheek, hearing her laugh softly.

“No… although I would like there to be… a woman a couple of years younger than me… doctor… with your eye and hair color… by name [Y/n] I don't know if you find a suitable candidate…”. Now it was you who laughed.

“I think I know someone very interested in the proposal…”. You murmured, both leaning in for a kiss, this time without raw and pure lust, but something more chaste, with the same immense love and appreciation that you had for each other after so long.

“Here…”. She whispered, opening her palm and showing the two rings you had exchanged, hers that you gave her when you arrived and yours that she had put on her dresser some time ago.

The difference between the two was clear, a gold one with expensive jewels and a cheaper one but quite beautiful. You thought she would hand you the second of those, being the one that originally belonged to you, but instead she placed on your thumb her ring, placing a kiss on the object on your finger afterwards.

“A new promise, which I swear to always keep in mind…”. Explained. “Staying together, so that we both get to know each other again, to have more nights like these and days that we can enjoy”.

“Mmm... seems like a good promise to me”. You whispered, placing your ring on her little finger as you both intertwined your fingers gently.

A pair of beautiful rings that sealed a promise in a night of love, passion and wine...

“Would you like to go to Jerico for a coffee tomorrow?”. She asked softly, her voice sleepy as he placed a kiss on your forehead.

“A date?” You questioned and she agreed. “I'd love to…”. You said, being equally tempted for Morpheus to take you to the world of dreams.

“Good night, my good girl”.

“Good night Rissa...”.

#larissa weems #larissa x reader #larissa x y/n #larissa weems x reader #fanfic #smut #weems

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madsfrank · 1 year ago

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'*•.¸♡ 𝕬 𝕾𝖍𝖔𝖙 𝕲𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝕭𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖇𝖔𝖓 ♡¸.•*'

-ˏˋ Directory ˊˎ -ˏˋ AU ˊˎ -ˏˋ Pt.2ˊˎ -ˏˋ Pt. 3ˊˎ

Pairing II Cowboy! Carlos x Fem! Reader

SFW II Angst, Fluff, City themed reader,

WC II 799

Content II x reader, country motif, ranch, farmland

Synopsis II Living with your relatives in the country wasn’t going to be easy. Your nearest neighbor was a rancher a few miles down and better yet, her cows constantly got loose on your property. Maybe the only plus side was the young ranch hand who came to retrieve them.

Ever since you could remember, you lived in the city. At least around it. Surrounded by fast food and phone service centers, you found yourself living life from strip to curb.

Being a freshman in collage on summer break, you found yourself back at home. This year, many of your friends had moved on to forming or apartments. The ones who stayed at home found themselves tied up visiting relatives or clubbing with new found freedom. You weren’t completely left out, however. No, your parents had arranged a surprise for you.

Two months in the backwoods of Montana. After all, Aunt Clara and uncle Mike had been dying to visit you.

At their 90 acre ranch.

You were comfortable at home. Sure, you he nothing against the country. But you did have something against getting up at the ass-crack of dawn to feed chickens led by the rooster of your nightmares.

No, you liked the country. It was just….mucky. You’ve been to the ranch before when you were a young kid. You don’t remember much about the ranch, just how some cattle carried you a few miles out. Some boys found you and brought you back.

You do remember stopping in their home, they had to clean you up a bit after the cows dragged you through the mud. You remember the sensations of warm rags against your skin and the voice of a woman gently scolding you for running back with the cows.

These memories are soon brushed away. Swept out of your mind by the facts of packing up your clothes and leaving your home. You weren’t upset to leave your parents, you needed a new view. But, you weren’t sure if a trip back to the country was the change you needed.

As you found yourself packing your bags, you wondered if those neighbors still lived there. You didn’t remeber much. However, you wondered if all seven of the brothers still lived there. You used to talk to a few of them as a young child. You don’t remember their names much, maybe…was it, Carson? No. You chose not to think much about it.

You were to be taken to the airport. Your relatives would be waiting for you at Harlowton Airport. From there it was a direct trip to Wheatland County. That was another thing you didn’t care for in the country. The county names…Wheatland…Carbon?

Your parents drove you in. The whole time giving you warnings on what to do, who to avoid, who to trust. You were in collage, but they still treated you this way. They probably always would.

When you touched down, you quickly managed to find your folks. They were still very sweet, asking questions about your major and your parents. You forgot how nice their hospitality was.

Their home was a county away and on these country roads, the drive seemed to go on forever.

The house was still how you remember. A long one-story farmhouse, grey with use. Smoke still billing from its long chimney. House tended by a few ranch hands.

The land was still impeccable. Long open territory with Morgan horses heavy with years of hard labor and tough skin.

Your family only kept horses, goats, and chickens. But my, was there hundreds to watch over. You had your work cut out for you upon arrival. Even out the window of the car door, you could see all of the coops and barns which lined the acres.

Your relative’s home reminded you of a certain pre-cut ranch house you knew from some old story when you were younger.

They had a spare room kept for you. Mostly plain wooden interior with a few tapestries. A cows hide sprawled across the floor.

It smelled like a ranch. That and the faint scent of supper. Corned beef and mashed potatoes. Your family always ate hearty.

You managed to unpack a few bags of clothes and toiletries before you were called into the kitchen. You helped serve the food along with you uncle. The three of you found yourselves lose in talk. You asked when you could visit the horses, what their names were, and what you would help do.

As your night came to a close. Your family asked you pick a movie. They wanted to see what people in the north enjoyed. It was calming, they gave you tea and a blanket and the three of you relaxed for a while. Waiting for the morning tasks to be at hand.

Your first day there had gone well and when you woke, you could visit the horses and livestock. You were definitely excited to meet the silver turkoman in her stable and the chickens in their coops. Life was gonna be much different for the next couple of months.

≪ °❈° ≫ Authors note: I hid a reference in here…comment if you find it! ≪ °❈° ≫

#carlos oliveria x reader #carlos x reader #carlos oliveira #Carlos olivera #resident evil #resident evil 3 remake #resident evil 3 #resident evil fanfiction #Carlos #re3 #re3 carlos #re3 remake #re au #re3make #carlos oliveira re3 #my works ૮₍˶ •. •⑅₎ა♡

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poledancingdinos · 6 months ago

Text

Soundtrack of Debauchery - Part 3

Pairing: Young!Syverson X OFC (Jessie) X Mike (Hellraiser)

Word Count: 11 118 words

Warnings: SMUT, D/S vibes, Vaginal Fingering, Masturbation, Spanking, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Alcohol, Drug Use, Angst, Canon-Typical War Situations/Trauma

Taglist: @raccoon-eyed-rebel @amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @enchantedbytomandhenry @narnianaos @geralts-yenn @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @sillyrabbit81 @lena-banena @mrsevans90 @confessionbrain-writings @electricfashionbookszipper @rosecentury

Story Masterlist

Masterlist

As Jessie pushed through the door of her apartment, out of breath from dragging eight heavy grocery bags up five flights of stairs, she was greeted by the sound of her boyfriend cursing up a storm.

She set everything down in the kitchen, taking the time to put the cold stuff away before she investigated what had her boyfriend kicking up such a fuss.

She'd expected to find him with his headphones on, playing one of his online games but, to her surprise, she found him in a tangle of sheets—and not the sexy kind.

The mattress was on the floor, propped up against the bed frame, the sheets were in a pile on one side of the room while the pillows were stacked on the other and in the middle was Mike holding the large king size duvet and duvet cover.

“What the hell is going on in here?”

Mikey jumped, letting go of the blanket as he spun to face Jessie.

“Shit, youʼre back already?”

Brows furrowed in confusion, Jessie checked the time on her phone.

“I was gone for almost three hours.”

Mike’s face dropped, looking around at the messy bedroom.

“Really?”

Jessie nodded, stepping further into the room.

“I… I know you’ve been working extra hard trying to get things ready for when Nate gets home so I thought I’d check a few things off your list.”

His eyes stayed downcast as he scratched the back of his head and Jessie’s heart damn near melted along with the surge of panic that had been elicited by the sight of the upturned bedroom.

All of the sudden, Jessie had thrown herself at Mike, causing him to let out a small ‘ompf’.

Taken aback, Mike hesitated a few moments before returning the embrace and pressing his cheek into Jessie’s hair.

“Thank you.”

Letting her go, Mike huffed. “For what? I just made everything into a bigger mess than when you left.”

He’d wanted to help shoulder the ridiculous load his girlfriend had begun to carry from the moment she heard Sy was going to be home but obviously he was incapable of doing something as simple as washing their bedding. He’d been utterly defeated by linen.

“Are the sheets clean?”

“Yeah, I left them on the floor because I needed the basket for the clothes I put in afterwards. I got stuck trying to get the covers back on the blanket and the mattress. I don’t know how you get the duvet to go in flat. No matter what I do it just ends up in a tangled lump.”

They had one of those bug proof and waterproof mattress covers that fully wrapped around the mattress and zipped shut. Jessie wasn’t afraid to admit that getting the damn thing back on the heavy king mattress was one hell of a workout. Mike had never been the one to change the duvet cover, nor had he been the one to take it off since Jessie had stripped the bed before leaving so he had no way to know that there were ties in the corners.

“I’ll help with those then you can finish making the bed while I put the groceries away.”

Together, they held the mattress on its side, working the tight protector over it before lifting the whole thing back onto the frame and zipping it shut. Next came the duvet which they shook out and laid out on top of the mattress.

Jessie reached for the cover which she flipped inside out while Mike watched attentively. “See these little strings in the corners?” She held them out for Mikey to see. “They tie to the loops in corners of the duvet so that it doesn’t get all bunched up inside the cover when you use it. I like to lay them on top of each other and tie the upper corners first.” Jessie demonstrated what to do on one side while Mike copied on the other. “Then I flip the cover right side out over the duvet and pull it down little by little. That way the blanket stays flat on the bed the whole time and I don’t have to worry about holding it up or making lumps anywhere. When you get to the bottom, you tie off those corners and you close it up.”

It was all very simple once she’d explained it and Mike felt a little silly that he hadn’t been able to figure it out on his own but Jessie hadn’t made fun of him or shooed him out of the room. No, his beautiful, sweet, patient girlfriend had taken the time to teach him what to do.

“Thanks, babe.” He pulled her closer, placing a kiss on her cheek. “I can finish up from here.”

“Thank you for helping. I know it probably seems like I’m going a little crazy but Sy has been gone for so long and he hasn’t even seen the apartment since we signed the lease. I just want this place to feel comfortable and homey.”

Mike hugged Jessie tighter and she pressed her cheek against the soft, well-worn cotton of his shirt.

“Home is anywhere you are, babe. He’ll appreciate all the effort you put in but you’re always going to be his main focus.”

She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed the reassurance that Sy would be happy no matter what he came home to. The last week had been spent organizing and reorganizing every room in the apartment. Yesterday Mike had come home to find Jessie on her hands and knees, scrubbing every inch of the bathroom. Today her focus had been the kitchen which also included a massive shopping haul to get all of Sy’s favorite snacks and enough food to hopefully last the ten days he was home without someone having to take a few hours out of their day to get more. Laundry had been on her agenda for the evening and tomorrow morning she planned to vacuum and mop so that the place smelled fresh as he walked in.

With a final squeeze and a peck on the lips, Jessie returned to the kitchen to unpack the groceries. Mike joined her a few minutes later, making quick work of the remaining items before sending Jessie off to watch a show in the living room as he made dinner. He wasn’t as skilled a chef as Jessie but he was great at greasy stoner food which, by the look of his girl, was exactly what she needed.

Once his loaded nachos were in the oven, he went down to the building’s laundry room to pull his clean clothing out of the dryer. By the time heʼd fished folding everything, the cheese on the nachos was deliciously bubbly and golden.

He insisted on dishing up the food himself, bringing the plates into the living room where Jessie was able to enjoy a quiet evening for the first time in over a week.

Before they went to bed, Mike made sure Jessie was extra relaxed by making her cum on his tongue, two dexterous fingers pumping inside her, then took her to bed where she fell asleep to the comforting scent of freshly cleaned sheets.

Sy was dog tired after the fifteen hour flight home from the Middle East, the subsequent flight back to Pittsburgh and the Uber ride to what was technically his apartment. At least, it was his apartment on paper though he hadn’t so much as spent a single night in it. He’d gotten a little bit of sleep on the plane but it wasn’t enough to make up for nine consecutive months of shitty sleep.

The driver dropped him off in the first available spot on the busy street and Sy walked the rest of the way to his building where he froze in front of the door. The key was in his hand but he felt strange using it to let himself in even if Mike and Jessie were expecting him. There was a nagging voice in his head that told him that he should ring the buzzer like any other guest would.

He’d changed out of his uniform already so he didn’t draw as much attention from passersby as he stood there, internally debating what to do.

His phone chimed in his pocket, momentarily interrupting his train of thought. Pulling it out, Sy laughed as he read the words on the screen.

Mike: I saw you pull up. Get your ass up here already.

Without any further hesitation, Sy unlocked the door and began the walk up the fifth floor. When he arrived at the top, Mike was casually leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Took you long enough. Are stairs getting too hard for you in your old age?”

“Mike, I’m twenty-six not ninety-six.”

“That’s what I said—old. You’re officially closer to thirty than you are to twenty.”

With a scoff, Sy approached, dropping his duffle and pulling his annoying little cousin in for a bear hug. Mike clapped him twice on the back, laughing as he did.

“I missed you too, kid.”

“Alright, listen,” Mike began as they pulled apart, “Jessie’s been freaking out all week trying to make this place perfect for you so: boots off in the hall, tell her that supper smells nice and there’s a bottle of bleach under the bathroom sink. Don’t be afraid to use it.”

Sy couldn’t help but smile fondly as Mike spoke. He wasn’t thrilled that Jessie had been stressing out about him coming home but he was glad she had Mike looking out for her.

Wordlessly, Sy kicked off his boots, leaving them by the door before stepping into the apartment. There was music coming from the kitchen which was on the other side of the hall from the door. If Jessie was in there cooking, she most likely hadn’t heard Mike open the door.

“Come find me when the food��s ready,” Mike said as he crossed the apartment to one of the two bedrooms and closed the door.

From the living room, Sy went left, walking into the dining area. To Jessie’s great dismay, the kitchen was absolutely tiny. There was only about four feet of counter space between the stove and the sink. The fridge was in a small nook perpendicular to the rest of the kitchen. If the door was open, it partially blocked the stove.

Still, she’d insisted that it was better to compromise and choose a place with a bad kitchen and low rent rather than to pay a few hundred dollars more a month for a nice kitchen that would never belong to them.

Jessie had proven time and time again that she could cook an amazing meal on absolutely anything. This time was no different. The scent of whatever she was stirring on the stove was making his mouth water and there was what looked like homemade crusty bread and a chocolate cake cooling on the counter.

The next song began to play and Jessie wiggled her hips to the beat. She was wearing extra tight skinny jeans with a loose fitting knit sweater that stopped a few inches above her waistband.

Before he could think better of it, Sy crossed the space in three wide strides and gave her a quick spank before sliding both hands to her stomach and hugging her from behind. Jessie jerked as she startled but she didn’t make a move to turn around, instead blindly swatting his hands.

“Michael Lucian West, you promised no shenanigans today!”

Ouch, full name. Jessie was definitely wound up too tight.

“I made no such promise,” Sy growled against her ear, his hand sneaking under her shirt.

“Nate!”

Dropping the spoon, Jessie turned in his hold and crashed her lips to his. Sy had the foresight to switch off the burner before he put two large hands on her ass and hoisted her up, moving them over to the rarely used table. It was so rarely used, in fact, that there were only two chairs.

As soon as Sy set her down, Jessie was undoing his pants and slipping her hand inside to grab his cock.

“Jesus, Sweetheart, give a man a warnin’.”

“Doesn’t feel like you needed a warning to me.”

The warning wasn’t to have time to get hard, the warning was to keep from coming at the barest touch. He caught hold of Jessie’s wrist, pulling her hand out of his pants and over her head until she had no choice but to roll onto her back with Sy looming over her.

“Behave,” he warned, moving her other arm so that he held both wrists in his hands, “or I’m gonna have to find creative ways to teach ya patience.” Sy nipped at her ear then attacked Jessie’s neck with his lips. The hand not pinning her wrists in place pushed her sweater up to reveal her lace covered breasts.

Sy was definitely an ass man but he loved Jessie’s tits. They were a nice handful without being so large that she always needed to wear bras for support which meant that sometimes she wore what she called bralettes. Mike and Sy just referred to them as her sexy sports bras. They were his favorite because there was no lining behind the see-through lace, allowing him to see just how turned on she was by how her nipples pressed against the thin fabric.

He circled one hard bud with his thumb, silencing her gasp with a hungry kiss. Jessie squirmed under Sy’s touch, wrapping her thighs around his waist and pulling him closer.

She lifted her hips to grind against him but a sharp pinch on her nipple caused her to yelp and drop back to the table.

“I said, behave.”

“Make me.”

With a growl, Sy freed himself from Jessie’s hold by hooking an arm under her knee and rolling her onto her stomach so that her feet were on the ground and her front was flat against the hard wood. A sharp spank echoed through the small room, followed by three more in quick succession.

“You act like a brat then I’ll treat ya like a brat. Shirt off, bra too.”

While Jessie pulled her sweater over her head, Sy unfastened her jeans, working the tight denim down her legs. Once he’d tossed the garment aside with her panties following soon after, Jessie was left naked while he was still fully dressed.

“Put your hands on the table.”

The deeper than normal tone of Sy’s voice made Jessie’s whole body shiver in anticipation. She planted both palms on the table, resisting the urge to look at her boyfriend over her shoulder.

Jessie wasn’t sure what had come over her. It hadn’t been her intention to jump on Sy the moment he walked through the door. She’d planned to welcome him home with a hot meal and some quality time all together but it was like something inside her had snapped.

Getting the apartment ready for Sy’s return had kept her mind busy over the last several days but the instant she saw Sy, it was like all the worry she’d experienced since his deployment had come crashing back.

She’d needed to know that he was real. She needed to know that he was there, living and breathing in front of her.

There would be time for slow love-making later. Right now, Jessie relished every sensation that bordered on that edge between pain and pleasure because that meant that the man she loved was back home, safe and sound.

Thankfully, Sy seemed to be more than willing to indulge her mood, kicking her legs further apart and putting her pussy on full display.

Stepping back as he ripped his shirt over his head, Sy took a moment to appreciate the view.

“Fuck me, that’s a beautiful sight.”

“Syyyy,” Jessie whined. Her clit was throbbing with need but with her legs spread wide, she couldn’t even squeeze her thighs together for some relief.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he taunted, pushing his pants down his thighs. The answer to his question was already obvious by the way she was practically dripping onto the floor.

“I need you.”

“Do you now?” Sy stroked himself while trailing a hand up the inside of her thigh. “You feelin’ empty?” he asked, leaning forward to nip at her shoulders.

“Yes.”

His hand continued to creep upwards at a torturously slow pace, finally coming to circle her clit. “You need to be filled?”

“Yes!”

One finger slid through her folds, easily pushing inside. “Is this what ya need?” Her core clenched around him, searching for more.

Jessie made a disgruntled noise. “No.”

Dropping his underwear to the floor, Sy added another digit. He pumped two long fingers in and out, making Jessie moan when they pressed down against her front wall and reached that place hers never could. “How about this?”

“No.”

A cry of frustration filled the room when Sy’s fingers disappeared but it quickly turned into one of relief as his cock took their place. Pushing all the way in, Sy didn’t stop until Jessie was pinned between his hips and the table.

Brushing Jessie’s hair aside, Sy rested his forehead against the nape of her neck. “And this?” he choked out. “Is this what ya need?”

“Yes,” she said on an exhale.

Wrapping an arm around Jessie’s front, Sy took a moment just to feel. His calloused palms moved down the soft skin of her stomach, following the curve of her hip to her thigh before retracing its path back up to palm her breast.

When he no longer felt like the slightest movement would push him over the edge, Sy gave a tentative thrust. And fuck him if it didn’t send a burst of pleasure all the way down to his very core.

Chasing that feeling, Sy repeated the motion, eliciting a moan from the both of them. As his pace quickened, Sy planted a palm on the table next to Jessie’s and grasped her hips with the other.

Every slam of his pelvis against her ass was punctuated by the sound of the table knocking into the wall. If the neighbours happened to hear the noise, the accompanying grunts and moans left no room for doubt as to what was happening on their side of the wall.

Sy’s peak was approaching far too fast for his liking. In a desperate attempt to stave it off, Sy pulled out, spinning Jessie around and lifting her to perch on the edge of the table. This time, when she wrapped her legs around him, he didn’t protest, choosing to kiss her instead.

Her hands clawed at his back as she scrambled for purchase, the vigor of his thrusts not diminishing in the slightest. The change in position added delicious pressure to her clit, causing her to clench around Sy’s girth.

“Fuck! Baby, I’m sorry, I’m so fuckin’ close,” he panted, knowing he neared the point of no return. Jessie couldn’t form words in response so instead, her half-hooded gaze found his as she nodded her understanding. She was right there with him.

Her head fell to his shoulder, looking down at where they were joined and seeing Sy’s bare cock disappear inside her. She unintentionally clenched at the sight, pulling a string of curses from Sy as his rhythm faltered and he spilled himself deep inside her. Following close behind, Jessie’s body shuddered, her walls milking every last drop of Sy’s release.

They remained like that, wrapped in each other’s embrace for what could have been seconds or minutes as they came down from their high. Eventually, Sy pulled out, resulting in a trail of cum to escape as well.

“Oh shit.”

Jessie didn’t need to open her eyes to know that Sy had just noticed the lack of condom.

“It’s okay,” she reassured, letting herself lay back on the table. “I’m still on birth control.” Not trusting her legs to hold her, she decided that the table was as good a place as any to rest for a minute.

She heard Sy move around the room, turning the tap on and off before a wet cloth gently swiped over her core. Soon, she was lifted into Sy’s arms as he walked them, completely naked, out of the kitchen.

Mikey was usually the one to wrap himself around her for a post-sex cuddle. She had to admit, clinging to Sy like a koala, she could see the appeal.

Sy assumed that the room not currently occupied by Mike would be their bedroom and he was pleased to see he was right. Gently, he laid Jessie on the bed, putting one of her blankets over her so she wouldn’t get cold as he searched for something comfortable for her to wear.

As much as he liked her skinny jeans, they were not the most comfortable for an evening of lounging at home. He opened every dresser drawer, pulling items out as he went. At the very bottom, he found the clothing he had left behind, neatly folded and organized. He distinctly remembered telling Mike to shove his box of clothes at the back of their closet along with his few other belongings but one of them had apparently disregarded his request in favor of giving him his own drawer.

He pulled on fresh underwear, his favorite black sweatpants and one of his old t-shirts before dressing Jessie in her own flannel bottoms and another one of his shirts.

“I was supposed to be the one doting on you.” Jessie gave him a sleepy little pout. The look was so adorable he couldn’t help but kiss her.

“Mike said you’ve been workin’ yourself ragged all week and ya made me an amazin’ dinner for tonight—which I hopefully didn’t ruin by interruptin’ ya. The least I can do is clean up the mess I made.”

The sound of a door opening pulled their attention to the hall where an amused Mike stood with his arms crossed.

“I figured that it was safe to come out since the building has stopped shaking.” Mike laughed as he dodged a pillow Jessie threw his way. “Sorry, Sweetcheeks but I’m fucking starving.”

“Dinner might have gotten a little cold by now. Can you put the stove on medium and stir the pot every now and then?”

“On it.”

Whenever Jessie entrusted part of her cooking to Mike he took the task very seriously. He would be damned if he ruined her careful efforts by letting something burn or overboil. She’d made something with a French name which she had said was essentially beef stew with a red wine base. His stomach had been growling non-stop for hours.

Sy put a hand out to help Jessie up.

“The food smells great, Sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Let’s go put Mike out of his misery, I bet he’s been waitin’ all day to get a taste.”

They made their way across the small apartment, still holding hands.

“You would lose that bet. He’s been sneaking bites whenever I go to the bathroom.”

When they joined Mike in the now quiet kitchen, he was just finishing up setting the table.

“You’re lucky the kitchen wall is made of brick or we would not be getting our security deposit back.”

Mike had pulled the table out of the corner to allow for a third chair to be added, making the damaged wood visible. They had no attachment to the table they had picked up for thirty dollars on marketplace so the sight just made the three of them laugh.

“You should check the food and I’ll go get my gaming chair.”

Jessie stirred the contents of the large dutch oven, nodding to herself when she deemed the food ready for consumption. “Sy, can you slice the breed?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She pointed him to the knife, cutting board and the wicker basket, instructing him to put a clean towel under the bread. It was still warm as Sy sliced it and he was all the more impressed as the crust crackled and the light, fluffy inside was revealed.

Mike rolled into the kitchen, using his chair as a sort of scooter by putting one knee on the seat while his other leg pushed off the floor. Save for their bed and mattress, that was the most expensive item of furniture in the entire apartment. Once they’d found all the communal pieces of furniture, Mike had used his remaining savings to finally buy a decent chair for his home office.

After graduation, Mike and Jessie had both searched for jobs in a multitude of cities. Sy had just been stationed in Fort Campbell pending his deployment and with Mike working in computer programming, he was able to find a fully remote job with a company which was, ironically, based in North Carolina near Sy’s old base.

The deciding factor had been Jessie finding that Pittsburgh was a good place to be for someone looking to make it in publishing. Moving there left them farther apart than they wanted but Mike and Sy had convinced her that it was the best long term move for her career to start out in one of the top cities for her industry.

“Who gets to sit on Butt Stallion?”

“I’m sorry,” Sy looked over his shoulder as he placed the bread in the basket and folded the towel over it to keep it warm, “did you just call your chair Butt Stallion?”

“Hell yes, I did,” Mike said, spinning the chair to point at the giant unicorn print on the backrest. “Butt Stallion.”

Most men would probably have balked at the idea of having a unicorn print anything in their office but Mike had been thrilled to order that design. Unicorns fucking rocked. It didn’t hurt that the whole collection had been on clearance either. Apparently the way to attract female gamers was not to use an aesthetic reminiscent of a five year old’s princess tea party. Who knew.

“If you’re offerin’ up Butt Stallion, I won’t say no.”

“Have at her.”

They took their seats around the table, Sy sitting at the end with Jessie and Mike on either side. Taking his first bite, Sy released a low groan, immediately shoveling another spoonful into his mouth.

“That good?”

“Sweetheart, this isn’t good, it’s fuckin’ fantastic.”

Jessie preened under the praise. Cooking meals for her boys was definitely one of her favorite ways to show her love. Mikey loved to eat and he made sure to always show his appreciation when she made more elaborate meals.

Mike didn’t mean to let Jessie do most of the household chores but she didn’t have any specific schedule and if happened more often than not that Mike would get home to freshly washed sheets or sparkling clean floors. Since he didn’t want Jessie to feel like she had a child rather than a boyfriend, he usually did the dishes or made supper on weekdays.

“So, what are your plans while you’re here? Other than marathon sex with Jessie, I mean.”

“I dunno. I guess I was so focused on gettin’ home that I didn’t really think ‘bout what came after.”

“Did your parents say if they were coming finally?”

“I think they said they had a flight next Monday evenin’. They wanted to come out when you were both back at work.”

They’d each managed to take some time off while Sy was home. Since Mike worked remote, he mostly took half days because that still allowed Sy to hang out and talk if Mike wasn’t in a meeting. Jessie took Mondays and Fridays off both weeks, giving them long weekends together.

“They won’t be staying here will they?” Jessie didn’t mean to sound unwelcoming but the apartment was not made to house five adults and she was not thrilled at the idea of Sy arranging for his parents to stay with them without so much as a warning.

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart, last I heard they had their eye on an Airbnb.”

“Good, that would have made for awkward breakfasts. This apartment is not as soundproof as I thought.”

Jessie laughed. “I could have told you that. You scream like a banshee whenever you play online.”

Pausing with his spoon halfway to his mouth, Mike’s head tilted to the side with the most adorable little frown.

“Is that why you always go to the library when I play? I thought you just took advantage of the nights I was busy to go out.”

“Mike, I use an e-reader, I don’t have any other reason to go to the library. Haven’t you ever noticed there are never any books lying around?”

Mike looked over his shoulder at the pristine living room, seeming to picture what it looked like seventy-two hours prior. Though Jessie had cleaned any clutter in the apartment, she was right about there never being any books on the coffee table or by the bed.

“Shit…” He scratched the back of his head with a wince. “Sorry, Sweetcheeks.”

Jessie simply smiled fondly. “It’s okay. It forces me to get some work done without procrastinating. When you had that marathon gaming weekend I got three separate freelance jobs finished.”

She didn’t speak much about her freelance jobs since there wasn’t much she could say about them but they knew that beta reading stories for aspiring writers was not always an easy task. There were times where Mike could see her cringing from across the room. Nonetheless, she had perfected the shit sandwich method in order to provide professional and constructive feedback.

“Still, I’ll try and watch it from now on.”

The rest of dinner went by in much of the same way. There was some good natured bickering, Mike and Jessie caught Sy up on what had been going on in their lives and Sy told a few funny stories from his deployment that weren’t classified.

The boys did the dishes, refusing to allow Jessie to help so they sat her down at the table with a cup of herbal tea and had her ‘participate’ by telling them where everything belonged. Once the kitchen was back to spotless, they all cuddled up on the couch with a movie that had been released while Sy was away. It was the latest in one of Sy’s favorite series and neither Jessie nor Mike had seen it yet, preferring to watch it for the first time all together.

Squeezing three people on their couch was not the easiest of tasks since Mike and Sy both insisted on having as much of their body as possible in contact with Jessie’s. Eventually Sy settled on one end with Leah resting her back against his side. Mike was stretched out on the remaining length of the couch with his head on Jessie’s lap.

When Sy noticed Jessie beginning to nod off, he made Mike sit up so Jessie could stretch out instead, her head resting on Mike’s lap and her feet over Sy’s. By the time the credit began to roll over 2 hours later, Jessie was fast asleep.

Sy carefully stood, moving Jessie’s feet to the couch before lifting her into his arms. The fact that she was already wearing her sleep clothes allowed him to let her sleep and simply tuck her into bed.

“Wanna follow me to the roof?” Mike asked as Sy shut the bedroom door.

Going up to the roof would allow them to speak freely without worrying about waking Jessie.

“Sure, lemme just grab a beer.”

“And a jacket. With the wind it can get pretty cold up there.”

Sy found a thick hoodie in the entryway closet and took two beers from the fridge before following Mike out into the hall and up the stairs.

They sat on the old patio furniture Mike had dragged up. He didn’t smoke very frequently anymore but on the few occasions he did, he made sure it wouldn’t smell in the apartment. He made quick work of rolling his joint then lit it and took a long drag.

“I need to ask ya something before ya get done with that. And I need ya to be honest with me.”

In a surprisingly considerate move, Mike blew his smoke away from Sy. He noted that he’d also sat himself down wind so it wouldn’t blow back onto them.

“Okay, what’s going on?”

“Do you wanna get married one day?”

Mike’s eyes narrowed, a small smirk pulling at his lips. “I know gay marriage is legal but I think marrying your cousin is still frowned upon.”

Sy rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to punch Mike in the arm. Of course Mike would crack jokes when Sy was trying to have a serious conversation.

“I mean in general.” Sy shifted in his seat, taking a moment to uncap his beer. “Forget who you’d be marryin’, is marriage something ya want?”

Mike fiddled with his grinder, using his thumb to spin the top.

“I don’t know, it’s not really something I ever thought about.” Okay, that was not entirely true. Mike had briefly considered what it would be like to get married when Jessie had gone down a Pinterest rabbit hole and was looking at different wedding color schemes. He took another inhale of his joint, holding the smoke in for a little longer than normal before finally blowing it out. “Do you? Want to get married, I mean?”

He looked at Sy from the corner of his eye, not wanting Sy to catch his gaze and read him as easily as an open book.

“Growin’ up the way I did, how could I not? If I’m half as happy as my parent after thirty years of marriage I’ll be a lucky fuckin’ man.” His parents were the picture of wedded bliss. They’d been high school sweethearts and voted best couple in their yearbook. “Pop still talks about how beautiful mama was on their weddin’ day.”

Mike’s body went stiff for just a moment before he seemed to force himself to lean back in his seat.

“Yeah, well, I’m glad mom never got married. The fucking jizz donor would have have gotten half of every dime she made and he didn’t deserve that.”

The tone of Mike’s voice didn’t match the words he’d spoken. To the untrained ear, he would likely have sounded angry but Sy knew there was something else in there.

“So you’re sayin’ you’d prefer it if ya didn’t get married?” Sy pushed. “Even knowin’ that you’d never do that to Jessie?”

“I don’t know, Nate!” Mike stood from his chair, standing to put his joint out against the brick wall of the interior roof access door. He turned and leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do I like the idea of Jessie being my wife? Fuck yeah, I do. Is getting married something I’ve always dreamed about? No, absolutely not. It’s not like we can both marry her anyway so if getting married is something you want then it’s better if I don’t think about it too much.”

Sy’s face went soft, realizing what was bothering his cousin.

“Mike,” he said, keeping his voice calm and reassuring, “can you sit down? Please?”

The younger man looked up, his eyes betraying the emotional turmoil he was experiencing. Wordlessly, he obeyed, reclaiming his seat.

“If ya disagree with what I’m about to say, the conversation ends here,” Sy affirmed. “I won’t say anything to Jessie and we don’t bring the subject up again until one of us is ready to pick out a ring.”

He paused, waiting for Mike to give a small nod in understanding.

“You’ve done a lot of growin’ up in the last two years. It’s like meetin’ Jessie has helped ya see what I’ve always known. You didn’t suddenly become a man that’s capable of takin’ responsibility and bein’ a good stable boyfriend. You’ve always been that guy, it just took the right girl to make ya want to be him instead of the party boy. I’m so fuckin’ proud of ya for steppin’ up. I know that our relationship with Jessie is unconventional to say the least but I’m glad you guys have each other. It makes it easier to be away knowin’ you’re there, that she’s not just sittin’ at home waitin’ on a phone call that might never come.”

“Nate…” Mike was starting to think he knew where things were going and he didn’t like it.

Sy ignored his interruption, needing to get everything out. “I didn’t mean for this to be a conversation about who gets to marry her. I know that legally speakin’ it can only be one of us but I think we can both agree that if she wanted to marry us both, it wouldn’t matter who’s name was on that piece of paper, she would be my wife just as much as she would be yours. The reason I asked at all is because…” Sy took a deep breath, steeling himself for the last part of his speech. “I want to marry Jessie before I go back. If something happens while I’m away, I want her to get the death benefits. It would give me peace of mind knowin’ that you’d have the extra income and that ya wouldn’t have to carry the financial burden on top of everything else. But if being legally married to Jessie is something that is really important to ya, I will respect that. The payments would stop if she ever got remarried anyway.”

The silence stretched out as Mike processed everything he’d just heard. His brain wasn’t working at full speed but he was still lucid enough to fully understand the gravity of Sy’s words and it scared the shit out of him.

“What brought this on, Nate?”

Sy palmed his nap with one hand as he picked at the label of his beer with the other.

“We uh… We had some close calls.”

Mike shook his head, his mouth agape as he stared at his cousin.

“It’s more than that. You’re the most annoyingly rational person I know, you wouldn’t be jumping to marriage from a few close calls.”

“You know I can’t talk specifics,” Sy grumbled but Mike didn’t let him avoid the question that easily.

“I’m not asking you to give me specifics, I’m asking what the fuck happened out there to make you think about all this? This isn’t just a passing thought. You had the time to think about what it would do to me and Jessie if we lost you. You had the time to think that maybe having a bit of extra cash would make the grieving process easier. You had the time to look up whether or not that money would still be coming in if Jessie got remarried to me. What the fuck happened?”

Mike’s voice had gotten progressively louder as he spoke and Sy was grateful they were having this conversation outside of Jessie’s earshot.

Sy leaned forward, resting both elbows on his knees and rubbing one hand over his mouth.

“Everything,” he whispered. “Everything happened. Not just the shit we lived, the shit we saw…” he swallowed the lump in his throat, not sure whether he should continue but Mike leaned forward as well, showing Sy that he had his full attention. “The first time we saw a kid get killed, we were in the city. The kids were runnin’ around the square. We could hear them laughin’ from where we were waiting in the humvees. Then one of ‘em stepped on a landmine.” It wasn’t necessary to say anything more. “The second time, it was in a small village. This little girl was in the path of a stray bullet. The next half dozen times it was a lot of the same. Different cities. Different circumstances. What never changed was the fact that those kids were in the wrong place at the wrong time. The worst sound I will ever hear is the gut wrenchin’ scream of a mother findin’ her child like that. I can’t get it out of my head.”

Sy’s eyes burned but he fought back against the emotions bubbling under the surface or he would break down before he finished. He was used to it by now. He’d been keeping those emotions at bay for months.

“I’m not sayin’ it’s the same, but… I keep picturin’ that scream comin’ from Jessie.”

Mike was not above pulling Sy into a bear hug. The distance and the angle of their chairs made it more of an awkward side hug but neither man complained. There was no telling how long they stayed that way but when Mike felt Sy’s grip loosen, he pulled back, leaving only a firm hand on Sy’s nape.

“I get where you’re coming from. Money isn’t everything, though it sure as hell makes life easier when you have it. But Nate, asking Jessie to marry you for the death benefits?” He shook his head at the idea. “How do you think that’s gonna make her feel? I don’t disagree that it makes sense for you to be the one she’s legally married to one day but she deserves better than a half-assed proposal and a courthouse wedding. Your career is already taking so much away from you both, don’t let it take this from her too.”

Objectively, Sy knew Mike was right but he still couldn’t help but feel like he needed to do… more.

Sy cleared his throat taking a sip of beer to chase away the tightness. “Are you guys doing alright with rent and stuff? Do you need me to send more money?”

Though he recognized the change in topic for the diversion it was, Mike didn’t stop it. They’d both said what needed to be said and they’d both gotten their point across.

Since signing their lease, Jessie and Mike only allowed Sy to pay a few hundred dollars for rent and utilities each month. They didn’t want him paying a third of everything without actually living there so they had compromised by letting him contribute as much as a storage unit would cost since that was essentially the only benefit to having an apartment while living on base.

“Yeah, we’re doing okay. We aren’t starving and all the bills get paid on time but Jessie’s been working side-hustles to try to put some money aside. Her job isn’t as hands-on as she’d hoped so she’s probably going to have to pay more for an editor if she ever decides to self-publish one of her manuscripts.”

“She ever end up tellin’ ya what the hell she’s writin’ about?”

Talking about Jessie was the best way to lighten the mood. They were both like love-struck puppies and any mention of Jessie immediately made them smile. Seeing her picture every night before he went to sleep had gotten Sy through some thought ops.

“Nope. I know she used to write fanfiction which is posted online somewhere for everyone to see but she won’t even tell me what her username is or what fandom she posted in. We have a deal that if I read something and guess that it’s hers she’ll come clean but I haven’t had any luck so far.”

Sy didn’t know much about fandoms or fanfiction. He’d mostly heard the popular kids in school make jokes that fanfiction was basically just bad porn written by friendless middle-schoolers. Back then, he hadn’t had time to open any book other than the mandatory reading so he was not in a position to judge the veracity of those claims.

“So she probably writes romance then, right?”

“That’s my guess but who knows.” Mike leaned back, crossing his feet on the table. “Maybe I’ve been reading enemies to lovers when I should have been reading eldritch horror. If I at least knew which actor she was thirsting over I’d know if I was on the right track.”

A sly grin pulled at the corner of Sy’s lips. “You still talk to Jessie’s old roommates?”

His cousin frowned at him. “Yeah,” he confirmed, a hint of suspicion in his voice. “Why?”

“I’ve got an idea. Gimme your phone.”

When Mike handed over the device, Sy checked the time, noting it was just past eleven which, for a bunch of recent grads who liked to party their weekends away, was still early. Perfect.

Putting it on speaker, Sy called the one person who knew their girl better than anyone else.

“Mike! I wasn’t expecting to hear from you guys this week. Isn’t Sy coming home?”

“Actually, Mel, we’re both callin’. Mike and I need your help with something.”

“Damn Sy! Glad you got home safe. What’s up?”

“We’re surprisin’ Jessie with a trip up to this little cabin in the middle of nowhere for a quiet weekend. We wanna plan for a movie night but there won’t be any Wi-Fi or cell reception out there so we won’t be able to just scroll through Netflix until we agree on something. The plan is to download a couple of options but we can’t agree on anything. Mike suggested we pick something with her favourite actor to get her all hot an’ bothered but this dipshit says her favourite actor is Channing Tatum when clearly it’s Chris Evans. Can ya please tell Mike he’s wrong and I’m right?”

Catching on to the ruse, Mike’s face lit up. “You can’t tell me Magic Mike is a bad choice! It’s literally meant to make girls wet!”

“You don’t seriously believe Jessie would prefer to watch a bunch of hairless pretty boys shake their asses in speedos over a fucking super soldier.”

“First,” Mel cut in “lemme just say it’s fucking adorable that you guys are surprising Jessie with a romantic getaway. Second, you’re both dipshits because you’re both wrong. Her favourite hunk is Alexander Skarsgard. She was fucking obsessed with True Blood even if she refuses to rewatch anything beyond season four. I promise that if you make it through Tarzan, she’ll ride you boys like wild broncos all night long.”

Mike placed a series of excited smacks on Sy’s shoulder and Sy had to wave him off before Mel could hear and question what was happening on their end of the line.

“Got it. Thanks Mel.”

“No problem! Tell her to give me a call to thank me for all the orgasms.”

As soon as they hung up, Mike took his phone back and began furiously typing.

“Alexander Skarsgard plays Eric Northman in True Blood,” he said more to himself than to Sy. He continued muttering as he typed, eventually sitting back and scrolling through what Sy imagined were his search results.

“What exactly are ya lookin’ for?” Sy finished off his beer, placing the empty out of the way in case Mike got too excited and began pacing.

“I’m hoping that one of the usernames will jump out at me but if they don’t, I’ll click through a couple of users to see if the posting timelines fit with when I know Jessie was active and start reading those.”

“How many results are there?”

“For this pairing? A hundred and forty-two.”

Sy assumed a pairing was a specific couple though he wasn’t sure how Mike would know which one to look at.

“You’re hopin; that you’ll just stumble on the right story out of a hundred and forty-two results? We don’t even know if that’s the right character.”

“It’s a hell of a lot better than ten thousand plus results. This is manageable. Jessie didn’t have a computer until she was fourteen and she hasn’t posted anything new online since she started working on her own novels two years ago. That narrows down the timeline.”

Sy opened his mouth to tell Mike that he was grasping at straws but Mike whooped before he could get a word out.

“Oh shit… Oh fuck, this has to be hers.”

Stunned, Sy’s mouth now hung open for a different reason. “I know I got ya a lead but you’ve been lookin’ at this for months. Now, after two full minutes, you think you’ve actually found it?”

“The fucking username is ‘Jasey_Rays’ this has to be her.”

With a shake of his head, Sy indicated he didn’t understand the link. Mike looked up from his phone long enough to answer the unspoken question.

“Online, people tend to call you by a shortened version of your username. Usually it’s the first word or first syllables. Having her online name sound like her real name is an easy choice.” He’d always wondered why some of Mike’s friends called him Jabba. Apparently it was because his gaming username was ‘JabbaMikeez’. “Then there’s the fact that ‘Jasey_Rays’ is also a play on Jasey Rae which is a song by All Time Low, a band she most definitely knows seeing as she grew up in fucking Baltimore.”

He had to concede that what Mike was saying made a lot of sense. Even if he did sound like he was trying to prove a conspiracy theory by connecting pictures with red string.

“Is Jessie into CNC?” Mike asked after a moment of silence.

“What?”

“Consensual non-consent. You know, where she pretends to fight you off and struggle but it’s with the intention of you overpowering her and giving it to her rough.”

No amount of locker-room talk could have prepared Sy for that question or the casual way Mike described CNC. Sex, or lack of it, was a frequent topic of conversation on deployment but Sy didn’t usually contribute much of his own interests.

“Why does it matter?”

“I’m checking the story tags to see if it sounds like something Jessie would write.”

“Why are you askin’ me? It’s not like I’d have been able to do that with her from an ocean away.”

“I don’t know,” Mike made a vague gesture towards Sy, “you give off dom vibes, maybe you guys talk about these things when you have phone sex.”

“We’ve never had phone sex.”

Mike dropped his hands to his lap, his head jerking towards Sy.

“What?! Bro, what the fuck are you waiting for?”

“There’s no fuckin’ privacy when I get the sat phone. It’s not like I could take care of myself and I don’t want the guys overhearin’ and have them know what gets Jessie off.”

A shiver travelled down Sy’s spine at the idea of his squad jerking off to thoughts of Jessie.

“So what, you stick to sending her horny texts and dick pics?”

“Mike, if I’m usin’ the sat phone it’s because there’s no fuckin’ cell service. Even when I was out here I never sexted with Jessie.”

“Now I understand why your banging was on the Richter scale earlier. Jesus…”

He went back to scrolling his phone. “Okay, which one of these do you wanna read? We’ve got—”

“What do you mean which one do I wanna read? This is your harebrained idea.”

“Yeah but if we both read something and I’m right we can both pick a scene and act it out with her.”

That… did sound kind of fun. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in exploring some kinkier practices with Jessie. Not CNC. But Mike hadn’t been totally wrong about the dom vibes either. This was a good way to bring that up. That was, if Mike was right and he’d really found Jessie’s account.

“I’m not pickin’ anything to read unless I know those are hers. That username business could just be a coincidence.”

“You try finding proof then.”

Mike shoved his phone in Sy’s hands, instead busying himself by rolling another joint.

The website on the screen looked similar to a library catalogue. There were no pictures or personal posts, just titles and summaries. It was no wonder that trying to find Jessie’s account without any hint on where to start would have been an impossible task.

Though he loved Jessie to death, the idea of reading vampire porn was not an appealing one. There was no way he was going down that rabbit hole without being absolutely certain it was hers.

Sy was about halfway through the list when one of the titles caught his attention. He recognized it because it was a lyric from a song he’d heard a thousand times. He’d held Jessie in his arms as she sang every word on the weekend they first met. “What’s Generation Kill?”

“Nothing sexy about the show so I wouldn’t expect there to be any smut in those stories.” Mike obviously misunderstood why Sy was asking. “It’s the HBO version of a story by a reporter who spent some time in Iraq with US Marines,” he explained, holding his joint between his lips as he dug his zippo out of his pocket.

Dammit. That actually did sort of confirm it. “This is hers,” he stated plainly, handing the phone back to Mike.

“Wait really?” he asked, a plume of smoke escaping as he spoke. “How do you know?”

“The chapter titles of the Generation Kill story are lyrics from the song Hero of War by Rise Against. Jessie knows every word by heart. That’s as close to confirmation as you’re gonna get without askin’ her.”

“Nate, you’re a fucking genius, you know that?”

Sensing that he had well and truly lost Mike’s attention—not that he minded—Sy stood from his chair. “I’m gonna go join Jessie. Don’t stay up too late.”

“I won’t. Thanks for your help.”

Sy made his way inside, double checking that the door was still propped open and Mike wouldn’t get locked out. As quietly as he could, Sy stripped down to his underwear and slipped into bed beside Jessie. She was on her stomach with one knee raised in a half frog but when Sy put an arm over her back she rolled over, mirroring her previous position with her head on Sy’s chest and her other leg over his stomach.

Holding Jessie tight against him, Sy breathed in the scent of her shampoo, committing it to memory. It was surprising how much he’d missed the little things like that or the way she hopped around when trying to put on extra skinny jeans. At twenty-two years old when he’d been fresh out of college, twenty years seemed like child’s play. Now, it was beginning to look like a lifetime of missed moments just like this one.

Eventually, Jessie’s soft breathing lulled him into a light sleep. It wasn’t until Mike joined that he was able to drift off completely, knowing that his family was safe and sound by his side.

Jessie woke to an empty bed, something she hadn’t expected to happen with both of her men being home. Looking at her phone, she saw that it was only shortly after nine which was still early on a day where no one had to be anywhere.

She stepped out of the bedroom, noting that the office and living room were both empty which meant the boys were likely out or in the kitchen. By the sound of things, it was the latter. After a pitstop in the bathroom, Jessie crossed the apartment, pausing when she heard Mikey speak.

“Dammit, I think I fucked this one too.”

Remaining out of sight under the arch that separated the small dining area from the living room, Jessie allowed herself to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“You were supposed to turn the heat down,” Sy’s still gruff voice answered.

“I did! It’s not chunky like the first one, but it looks nothing like the video.”

“Mike, the eggs are gettin’ cold and the ham is gettin’ burnt.”

“I’m trying! Easy hollandaise my ass.”

Realizing what had the boys bickering so early in the day, Jessie moved out of her hiding spot. Eggs Benedict were her favorite breakfast food but she didn’t make them often because they were a hassle to prepare. Jessie feared the tension might boil over if she didn’t intervene and help them out.

“You can reheat the eggs in boiling water when you’re ready to plate.”

Both men spun towards Jessie, Mike holding a saucepan and a whisk, Sy holding a slotted spoon. If they hadn’t been mid freakout, Jessie would have found the sight quite amusing.

“Hey Sweetcheeks.”

The kitchen was a mess of pots and pans, three plates sitting on the counter with English muffins waiting to be toasted.

“Show me the sauce,” she requested gently as she approached Mike. He was wearing a faded grey t-shirt with blue and black plaid flannel pants. He was adorably sleep rumpled but his eyes betrayed his anxiety which was likely caused by his failed attempts at making a hollandaise.

Jessie examined the sauce, giving it a quick stir. “The sauce broke, let me see if I can fix it instead of starting over.”

Mike’s shoulders slumped but he nodded in acceptance, putting the pot back on the double boiler.

“Can I make you coffee, then?” he offered, knowing that coffee was a safe bet. All he had to do was put the water and grounds in the machine and he knew exactly how much milk and sugar Jessie liked. He’d long since memorized how she took all of her favorite hot beverages

“Yes please,” Jessie said, placing a peck on his cheek before she turned to Sy who had apparently decided that shirts were not needed in the kitchen—even when frying Canadian bacon. He wore jersey shorts and nothing else, leaving his tanned skin on full display. “Can you get some fresh water boiling to reheat the eggs? You won’t need much since they are already cooked.”

They each focused on their respective tasks. Taking direction from Jessie, Mike put the buns in the toaster then assembled the different ingredients on the plate. Goddess that she was, Jessie managed to salvage the sauce. Though Mike could tell the texture wasn’t perfect, he prayed it would still taste good.

Before they sat down to eat, Jessie wrapped her arms around Sy’s neck, giving him a quick kiss before doing the same to Mike.

She kept him close, making sure he met her eyes as she whispered, “Thank you for making me breakfast.”

Mike touched his forehead to hers. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry you had to fix what I fucked up. Again.”

“Mikey,” she said, shaking her head, “I fuck up hollandaise two out of three times, that’s why I know how to fix it. You guys did ninety percent of the work, I’m not going to complain about helping you for the last ten.”

His arms tightened around Jessie, crushing her to his chest as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. When he finally released her, he had her take a seat on Butt Stallion at the head of the table. Every time Mike made that sort of mistake, it felt like he was lacking a rudimentary skill he should have already developed as a twenty-three year old. And every time, Jessie was there with a few helpful tips and encouraging words to help him bridge the gaps. It didn’t make the discouragement magically go away, but it sure as hell made him feel better. He hoped one day he’d be able to return the favour.

It was one of the reasons he was so hell bent on reading her work. He wouldn’t be able to help with the editing but he could discuss ideas with her, read her drafts as she progressed to give feedback or simply be there to talk her off the ledge when she wanted to throw her computer at the wall. He wanted to be her safe space the same way she was for him.

She’d said before that she loved talking about her fanfiction online but that she didn't discuss her book ideas publicly because she didn’t want anyone to make the connection between her (hopefully) paid and unpaid works. Something about how her novel was essentially fanfiction with the names changed. He had a feeling that, like him, she was probably her own harshest critic and he worried that without someone having her back, she might never have the courage to put her first book out there.

Beside him, Jessie took a giant bite of her food, moaning at the taste.

“That good?” Sy joked, throwing her own words back at her.

“Absolutely.”

With a weight lifted off his shoulders, Mike tucked into his meal. He’d had no idea what to expect, having never eaten that dish before, but he could easily see why it was his girl’s favorite.

Once Jessie was pleasantly distracted by her food, he decided it would be a good time to put into effect the plan he’d come up with the night before. He’d read two of the shorter fics he suspected were Jessie’s and one longer story. The contents had been both expected and unexpected.

It was obvious there was a lot of thought put into building the world from the longer fic. There was both depth and complexity to the characters and their backgrounds which impressed him. The shorter stories had been straight up sex but it hadn’t made him cringe like he thought he would. No, instead, they’d made him hard.

He shot a glance at Sy, nudging him under the table. Sy raised a questioning brow but seemed to guess what was about to happen from the look on Mike’s face.

“Hey Sweetcheeks,” Jessie looked up from her food, pausing to take a sip of her coffee, “I saw this post on Instagram and I wanted to try it with you. Finish the sentence. ‘I’ve never told a lie—’”

“‘And that makes me a liar. I’ve never made a bet, but we gamble with desire. I’ve never lit a match with intent to start a fire. But recently the flames are getting out of control.’” Mike would have been satisfied with the first sentence to prove she knew the song but of course Jessie was an overachiever. “You could at least make it a little harder. You might as well have said ‘It was never a phase, it’s a lifestyle’ and belted out the chorus to Dear Maria, Count Me In.”

She took another sip of her coffee, sitting back in her chair.

“Alright, what about this one,” Sy said, knowing exactly what Mike was trying to prove. “‘A hero of war, is that what they see.’”

“Just medals and scars. So damn proud of me.’ As opposed to the version of the chorus from earlier in the song which is ‘A hero of war. Yeah that’s what I’ll be. And when I come home. They’ll be damn proud of me.’”

Feigning nonchalance, Mike looked down as he stabbed a piece of egg with his fork. “Seriously, all the signs were there with the emo music, I don’t know why I never thought vamp sex was your kink.” He lifted the fork to his lips, chewing the small bite as he waited for Jessie’s reaction.

Both boys waited as Jessie put the pieces together, a definite blush creeping up her cheeks. For a moment she stared wide-eyed at Mike before her mouth snapped shut and she glared at Sy. “How the hell has he been trying to figure that out for months and you get it in less than twenty-four hours?”

Sy let out a deep belly laugh. “I make a living on strategy and tactical decision-making, Sweetheart. It’s nice to be able to use it when the only thing on the line is the possibility of Mikey getting to act out vampire sex.”

Jessie’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Okay, so tactically speaking, who blabbed?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he lied, his voice dripping with amusement.

“I mean, which one of my old roommates blabbed?”

The boys shared a guilty look.

“Technically,” Mike defended, “she just told us you had a thing for the viking vampire.”

Jessie let out an exaggerated sigh, proving she wasn’t actually mad at either of them. “And who wouldn’t? Tall, blond, gorgeous. And the fangs…” She fanned herself, batting her lashes like a school-girl.

Mike squawked. “And what are we, chopped liver?”

“Meh,” Jessie waved him off, returning her attention to her food. “You’re not that tall. Or blond. You do have nice baby fangs though.”

Mikey showed off said baby fangs with a wide grin before following her lead and taking a giant bite of his food.

“So, if Mikey wanted to act out the vampire sex, does that mean you called shotgun on the werewolf sex?” Jessie asked Sy.

Mike made a choked noise, falling into a coughing fit. Once it finally subsided enough for him to take a breath, he washed it down by chugging half his glass of orange juice.

“What werewolf sex?” he asked breathly.

“Oh, did you not see those?” she asked coily, knowing damn well he hadn’t by his near-death experience. “It’s the ones with Alcide as the male interest. He’s played by Joe Manganiello.”

Sy was actually familiar with that name. He was one of the ‘hairless pretty boys’ from Magic Mike although he was more familiar with him from his role in Spider-Man.

“I thought that was just another vampire. Isn’t that what the whole show is about?”

“Yes but it’s a world where vampires are real. Of course all the other supernaturals exist as well.”

He had to admit, if Mike was the vampire of the trio, he was undoubtedly the werewolf which made him wonder what Jessie would be. Probably a succubus. Okay, maybe more of a nymph, but you’d think she was a succubus the way she had him and Mikey all riled up.

“You know, we should do an escape room or something while Nate is in town.” Having cleaned off every last crumb from her plate, Jessie stood to put it in the sink. “Put that big brain of yours to good use,” she teased, wrapping her arms around Sy from behind.

“Ooh, that’s a great idea, Sweetcheeks. There’s a horror room I’ve been hearing about ever since it was rated one of the top ten escape games in the world. I don’t think three people is enough to finish it in time, though.”

Sy turned his head to look at Jessie over his shoulder. “What do you say? Wanna try it out?”

“Only if one of you promises to hold my hand if I get scared.”

“Deal,” the boys answered in unison.

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