#i just love that they say nothing in the elevator but their gazes really speak louder than a thousand words it's so intimate

[halfwayhearted]

omg i love ur account soo bad, i would rlly like to read about Spencer being jealous of Derek, for the reader to comfort him and try to help with his insecurities, lowk sad ik but pleaseee 🙇🏻‍♀️

Do You Realize? — Spencer Reid.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Summary: After the constant small, friendly touches between you and Derek, Spencer can't help but feel a pang of jealousy, wondering if there was something between the two of you.

Word Count: 615+

Disclaimer/s — Slight angst—not really, comfort (?), mutual pining, and teasing from Derek because hello.

A/N: HI. HI. HI. ALSO, I LOVE YOU SOOO, THANK YOU??? :3 I also struggled a little (a lot) and I’m aware that your request wasn’t done much justice, I’m sorry, but I hope you like, hey…

Spencer hated the sight before him. He did, a lot.

It was of you and Derek messing around—like always. Nothing new. His hand lifted to grab your arm so you could reciprocate his handshake after he had blatantly insulted you, making you drop it. But with one glance at his playful grin, you knew you couldn’t actually be upset with him, so you took his hand in yours, holding it for a second longer as you started to speak. Your voice stern.

“I better not hear a word from you,” you warned, “Like, seriously. If I find out, Derek, I’ll get Garcia.”

His grin widened, “Not a peep from me, lover.”

That was when you dropped his hand, your eyes narrowing in feigned annoyance as you turned and walked away. You stopped when you caught the gaze of Spencer. “No paperwork, I assume?”

He stiffened at the sound of your voice. You had caught him. Clearing his throat, he shook his head. “I, uh, I finished early. What about you?”

“Handed them in earlier. Are you heading home?”

Offering you a tight-lipped smile, the brunette nods his head, the only thing he can actually manage right now. He then grabs his leather messenger bag and slings it over his shoulder.

“Me too,” a short pause, adding, “Walk with me?”

‘Walk with me?’ Walk with you? Well, of course!

He nods again and walks up to you. You grab your own bag and make your way toward the elevators. The silence between the two of you was… quiet—quiet, but comfortable. At least, that’s what you had thought. Could Spencer say the same?

No. No, he couldn’t.

No, to Spencer, it was absolutely torturous. He was too busy over-analyzing things that probably weren’t even real problems.

It was just… he didn’t know. “You and Morgan seem close. Just last week, you were arguing.”

Your eyebrows pinched together. “Arguing? No, we weren’t arguing. It was more like... I don’t know, but it wasn’t arguing, I can assure you of that.” You trail off. “Did it really seem that way?”

“Well—no, not really. It didn’t seem that way. You guys just weren’t as touchy then. That’s all.”

That was when you became extremely confused. Since when did he, Spencer Reid, care about you being touchy with someone? Especially Morgan, for that matter. It was simply a friendly bond.

“It’s nothing,” you tell him. “If he needs a hug, I’ll give him one. A handshake? Sure. I’m sure he’d do the same; he would for anyone else on the team.”

Letting out a small hum, his grip on his satchel tightens. So, you decide to speak some more.

“Spencer, what’s on your mind? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m fine. Just thinking is all.” He replies, voice uncharacteristically stoic.

That’s when Morgan’s words from before come into play. He had basically insulted you, calling you dense for not seeing how the man beside you looked at you. How you looked at him the same way, yet you wouldn’t act on it for some reason.

It’s not like he would act on it either it seems.

Should matters be taken into your own hands?

You thought they should be.

When the elevator doors opened and you knew you’d be heading in opposite directions, you stepped out and turned to him, “Hey, Spencer?”

Meeting your gaze, he furrowed his brows and took his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You have nothing to worry about.” And with that, you simply walked away, too soon to notice the flush of his cheeks rising by the second.

Realizing he had yet to exit, he cast you one last glance before hastily making his way out.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @planetpedri ! ౨ৎ

[enha-stars]

✧ let me take care of you

pairing: soft!heeseung x reader (fluff, smut)

summary: you have a bad day and all heeseung wants is to take care of you, and well, you let him

warnings: crying, minor angst if you squint, swearing, fingering (f), kissing, sex, mdni

you gripped your keys, staring at the front door of your apartment. you don’t really remember how you got home or the elevator ride up to your home but none of that mattered. you were finally home and exhausted.

you were having a bad day. a really, really bad day. everything had been going wrong the moment you entered the office in the morning and you had enough. you had cried before leaving and were on the verge of tears now.

quietly, you inserted the key in the lock and turned, that small satisfying click was music to your ears. slowly, you pushed open the door and made your way inside, dropping your bag at the door. you sighed in relief and kicked off your shoes.

your body ached and your head throbbed, and you wanted to burn the clothes you were wearing. someone had spilled warm coffee all over your lap and you didn’t have any extra clothes so you had spent the whole day in sticky, coffee stained pants.

silently, you shuffled to the sofa and sank down. you just sat there, your back pressed into the soft back as you stared at the wall. you were so tired, so exhausted. you wanted to call out to your boyfriend, knowing he was most likely in your joined bedroom but your lips wobbled so you said nothing.

heeseung stopped typing when he heard the front door open and shut his laptop at the silence that followed. he got off the bed, throwing his laptop on the table as he made his way to the family room. you should be home by now.

heeseung paused at the entrance, staring at your unmoving body. his eyebrows furrowed as he assessed the situation. he glanced at the door and found your bag and shoes discarded on the side. he glanced back at you; at your tear-stained face and dark under eyes and he knew.

sighing, heeseung walked to you. he hated it when you had a bad day. “love, you’re home.” his heart broke when you simply looked up at him, eyes wide with unshed tears. he dropped to his knees in front of you, a frown on his lips. he rested his hands on your thighs and pressed his chest against your knees.

“tough day, baby?” his frown deepened when you nodded. you weren’t often like this. usually, when you had bad days, you were quiet and slightly angry. but heeseung knew it must have been a very bad day if you couldn’t even speak about it.

heeseung nodded and stood up. without saying anything, he slipped an arm under your knees and behind your back and lifted you up, deciding that you’d be more comfortable in your bed. you shut your eyes as you pressed your face into his neck.

all you wanted was heeseung to lay with you; to hold you until you couldn’t remember today.

heeseung mumbled sweet nothings to you as he walked down the hall and gently kicked the bedroom door open. he sat you down on the bed and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “i got you, baby.” you blinked up at him as he brushed your hair from your face. you watched as he walked to the bathroom and filled the tumb with warm water before grabbing one of his bigger shirts from his drawer and walking over to you.

he tapped your thigh and you spread your legs, letting him stand in between them. with gentle, soft hands, he took out your claw clip and massaged your head before setting the clip on top of his laptop. then, he began unbuttoning your blouse. eyes focused solely on the buttons. once he slipped the shirt off your shoulders, he unclasped your bra. he didn’t pay attention to how your nipples perked up in the cold air.

he stepped back and unbuttoned your pants. you winced when he pulled them down, the fabric rubbing against your burn. heeseung eyes widened at your painful gasp and he dropped his gaze to the redness on your thighs.

immediately, he dropped to his knees, his face hovering near the burn as his fingers twitched at your sides. “baby, what is this?” he glanced up at you, eyes filled with concern. “what happened?”

you looked down at the burn, wishing you had done something at the time to prevent the redness. “someone spilled their coffee all over my lap.” your voice was quiet, hoarse. your eyes connected with heeseung’s wide ones and you bit your bottom lip, trying not to cry.

heeseung’s heart broke even further as he frowned. he was angry, angry at the fucker who spilled their coffee on you but he was more concerned about your pain. he pressed a soft kiss to your knee before he linked his thumbs in the waistband of your underwear and pulled down, careful to raise the fabric so it wouldn’t brush against your skin.

once you were naked, heeseung stood and picked you up once again, taking you to the bathroom. part of you wanted to be embarrassed. you wanted to be able to walk on your own, to use your words, but a bigger, tired part of you just wanted to be taken care of like this.

heeseung sat down on the edge of the tub, holding you in his lap as he touched the water. he poured some of your favourite scented soap in the water before gently putting you in the water. you winced when the warm water touched your burns but soon sighed in relief. your head fell back as your muscles relaxed in the water, having been tense the whole day.

heeseung sat at the ledge, watching you with nothing but fondness in his eyes. you opened your eyes and looked back at him, smiling at him for the first time since you’ve been home. you wanted to ask him to join you but he was quicker. he quickly took off his pajama bottoms, leaving him in his boxers.

“lift your head, baby.” you lifted your head and moved your body as he stepped into the tub and sat at the ledge where you had been resting your head.

now, heeseung was sitting outside of the tub and you sat in between his legs, inside the tub. you laid your head back into his lap and sighed at the closeness. you closed your eyes and heeseung cupped water in his hands and wet your hair. you only opened them when he began to gently massage your head with soap.

unconsciously, heeseung began humming as he shampooed your hair. you focused on his soft voice, unable to control the tears that escaped your eyes.

once heeseung was done combing his fingers through your hair, he filled the bucket next to him with warm water and rinsed your hair, scrubbing all the soap out. he didn’t notice your tears, his own humming drowning out your rapid breathing.

once your hair had been rinsed, he laid your head on his lap and frowned at your pout. gently, he swiped his thumb under your eyes and pursed his lips at the tears. as much as he wanted to distract you from crying, he knew you needed this. so, as you cry, he massages your shoulders and neck. his hands working at the knots in your muscles, hating how tense they are.

after a few minutes, your body runs out of tears and you focus on heeseung’s hands. they’re soft yet firm as they press down on your skin. you let out a quiet moan when he pressed down on the space between your neck and shoulder and he smiles, glad to release some of your tension.

heeseung wiggles his toes in the water when the water cools down, no longer a comfortable temperature. he gently lifts your head as he steps out of the tub, grabbing two towels. without him asking, you slowly stand up. he smiles at you as he offers you his hand. you grab it and step out of the tub, right onto the grey mat.

although heeseung knows you’re fully capable of it, he uses the towel to dry your body. he dries your arms before traveling down your body, gently patting your thighs before rubbing down your shins. at the sight, you can feel warmth spread through your core. then, he wraps your body in the towel. he grabs the other towel and dries your hair before wrapping your hair in the towel.

you smile at him and he beams down at you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. you reach over and hand him another towel and his smile turns bashful as you watch him dry his legs. heeseung grabs your hand and motions you out of the bedroom. you follow him and sit on the bed, watching as he takes off his underwear. at the sight of his cock, your mouth waters. you press your thighs together, ignoring the slight pain. heeseung doesn’t notice as he pulls his pajama bottoms back on.

you watch him with dark eyes as he walks to you. he unwraps the towel from your hair, massaging your scalp with it a few times before laying it beside you.

“lift your arms, baby.” you do as he says and he slips his shirt on you, pulling off the towel. he leaves you on the bed as he hangs the towels in the bathroom and puts your clothes in the laundry.

when he’s back, you can only stare at him. your eyes glance at the clock and they widen. “seung,” you whisper. heeseung can’t even explain how good it feels to have you say his name. his heart squeezes in his chest. he steps closer to you. “what about the movie? we should get going.”

you and heeseung were supposed to go out today. a new studio ghibli movie had come out and heeseung had really wanted to see it. although you were in no mood, you would go if he wanted too.

heeseung blinks at you before he cups your face with his hand, his thumb grazing your bottom lip. “fuck the movie, baby. you’re way more important.” you try your best not to let your eyes water at his words. “tell me what i can do. do you want to sleep? or shall i make you something to eat?”

your frown deepens and heeseung wants to kiss you so badly but he just continues pressing down on your bottom lip. “but–” heeseung shakes his head, knowing what you were going to say. you say it anyways. “you really wanted to watch the movie.”

heeseung sighs before he crouches down, matching eye level with you. he uses his other hand to cup the other side of your face before he presses his forehead against yours. “you are more important than some movie, my love. how can i watch a movie when you’re upset?” he kisses your nose. “all i want is to make you feel better. offer you comfort any way i can.”

you shut your eyes at his words, unable to handle the tensity of his gaze; filled with so much love and affection. you nodded once before you opened your eyes. “will you lay with me? i just want you to hold me.”

heeseung smiles before nodding. he stands up and as you crawl further into bed, he pulls off his shirt. he knows that you always prefer laying with him while he’s shirtless because he runs extremely warm. you find comfort in his warmth; skin to skin in a non-intimate way.

heeseung crawls into bed and gathers you in his arms. you lay facing him as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in. you lay one hand flat on his chest while the other is thrown over his waist. his legs tangle with yours and you nuzzle your face into his neck.

he rubs your back soothingly as you breathe him in. “do you wanna talk about it, baby?”

you don’t say anything as you think about it. you didn’t really want to talk about it, but communication was important to both of you. you knew that if you were in heeseung’s position, you would want him to say something.

“i’m just so fucking exhausted, hee.” you mumble against his chest. he kisses your forehead as he listens, wishing he could remove everything unpleasant from your life. “nothing went right today and it was all too much.” his fingers traced small patterns on your back.

“i’m sorry, love,” he whispers. his breath tickles your ears and you sigh into him, clinging. “that sounds awful.” heeseung genuinely meant it. it took a lot to make you upset, being someone who always looked at the positive side of things. he wanted to squeeze all the negativity out of your body, willing to carry it all himself if it meant you would smile up at him.

you nodded as you shut your eyes. this was all you thought about all day; laying in bed with him, his strong arms around you. knowing he would take care of you, even if you didn’t deserve it. you loved him so much.

you and heeseung lay together, your eyes shut as he rubs your back, whispering sweet words of encouragement every now and then. you want to fall asleep, but you can’t. even though you’re exhausted, you can’t seem to drift off.

frustrated, you shift your hips, trying to find a better position and whimper when heeseung’s bulge rubs against your bare pussy. heeseung’s eyes fly open and he tightens his hold on you.

“baby?” he looks down at you and his eyes widen when he stares down at your watery, tired eyes. “what is it, love?”

you rub your pussy against his clothed dick and whimper at the feeling. heeseung watches as you squeeze your eyes close at the feeling and suddenly, he understands. when heeseung has a bad day, nothing makes him feel better than being inside you. he now knows that you’re the same.

he kisses your forehead and cheek before he grabs your chin and makes you look up at him. “do you want me, baby?” he nudges your nose with his. “hm? want me to fill you up?” he should have realized that this is what you wanted. your nails were digging into him, wanting to be as close to him as you could be.

you nodded, eyes wide. heeseung usually liked to tease you, but right now, all he wanted was to make you feel better. nothing was more important than taking care of you. “please,” you say.

heeseung smiles and kisses you, lips pressing against yours messily. as he kisses you, his hand travel down your waist, mindful of your burns. he slips his hand in between your legs, his thumb pressing against your pussy. “fuck, baby,” he whispered against your mouth. “you’re already so wet.” he rubs your pussy with his thumb before pressing down on your clit, swallowing your moan.

he coats his fingers in your slick before slipping a finger in, his rough skin caressing your gummy walls, reaching deep within you. when you moan, heeseung begins kissing your neck, sucking and nibbling. you press your forehead against his neck, sucking on his adam’s apple when he slips another finger in, and then another. the three fingers inside you worked fast, curling and pumping.

heeseung kisses you everywhere he can. he presses open mouth kisses to your neck and chin and then kissed your lips, tongues pressed together. your body began to shake and he knew you were close. you were squeezing around his fingers and he rubbed your clit with his thumb.

“that’s it, love,” he encouraged. he kissed your forehead and then your eyelids. “cum for me. let go, baby.” you moaned out his name as you cummed, nails digging into his back as he made you ride out your orgasm on his fingers.

he whispered quiet praises in your ear, pressing his lips against the side of your head. “such a good girl, that’s it.” once you began panting, he slowly removed his fingers and brought them to his lips.

you watched with blurry eyes as he licked his fingers clean, sucking off all your juices as he stared at you, nothing but love in his eyes. “you did amazing, baby.”

at this, you smiled and heeseung felt like the luckiest man in the world. his own eyes crinkled and he kissed you, ignoring your whimper as you tasted yourself on his tongue.

kissing you hungrily, heeseung used one hand to pull his pajamas down. you felt his tip graze your pussy and you jerked into him, sensitive. he slid himself against your pussy, using your juices to wet his dick.

“i got you, baby.” he whispered into your mouth. he lines himself with your entrance and slowly pushes in, your slick making it easy for him. you silently gasp as he stretches you, welcoming the feeling. heeseung whimpers as your pussy sucks him in and he moans into your neck when he bottoms out.

that’s how you lay for a few minutes; holding each other as his dick fills you up, connecting you both at the most intimate level. you kiss heeseung’s neck, needing more friction. “move, hee. please.”

heeseung nods, eyes squeezed shut as he slowly begins rocking his hips back and forth. you both moan as he fucks you slowly, filling you up just the way you wanted. once he’s fully in you, you squeeze around his dick and he whimpers, eyes opening. you grind on his dick and he can only bite his lip as you use his dick for your own pleasure.

and he lets you. he doesn’t move as you continue to grind on his cock, wanting your pleasure to come first. he holds himself back when you slowly start to move on his dick, knowing that it belonged to you more than it did him.

the sight of you trying to get yourself off on his cock is enough to push him over the edge. he’s sweaty and his eyes are blurry, and he is so in love with you. he hopes you never have a bad day again but if you do, he wants you to use him like this. when you open your eyes and look at him, he can’t help but kiss you.

“please, seungie.” you beg. “make me cum.”

hearing your words, heeseung loses control. he begins rocking his hips back and forth, pulling out completely and then pushing in, deep enough to feel himself in your stomach. you’re whimpering and gasping, and then you’re squeezing around him and he’s unraveling.

“i’m cumming,” you sniffle. “seung, please. i’m–”

heeseung slams into you, fucking you harder. he presses his face against your head as he pants. “cum for me, love.” his cock twitches and when he feels your cum soak his dick, he lets go. he continues fucking you as he cums, unable to stop.

you press yourself further into him, body sweaty and warm as his dick fucks his cum into you. you pull at his hair when you begin to feel overstimulated, but heeseung doesn’t stop. he rocks his hips into you until you’re both on the verge of tears.

once he’s stopped cumming, his muscles relax and he holds you tighter, kissing your forehead. he tries to move but you’ve caged him with your arms and legs. you look up at him and smile so widely he swears he could cum again.

“stay in me, seung. just wanna feel you.”

heeseung presses his lips against yours softly and keeps his dick in you. “whatever you want, princess.” he wanted to clean you up, wipe the stickiness from your legs and put some ointment on your thighs, but he would have to wait. right now, you needed him inside you, beside you.

you slightly adjust yourself and rest your head in his neck as he rests his on your head. he rubs your back, tracing small hearts on your shoulder until he hears your soft snores.

he smiles at you before kissing your forehead, tightening his hold on you before he drifts off to sleep. his cock still in you, keeping you warm and full and happy.

a/n: i love soft hee so much. there isn't enough of him on here. also, this one is for @karinasbaby because she is everything to me and appreicates soft hee as much as i do. also this was meant to be short but i got carried away 🤭

[matty-bear]

The Elevator Game Gone Wrong [M.S]

type: fic! 

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings: long , sfw , fluffy , paranormal activity , hint of getting an attachment (wink wink) , elevators , ritual run through 

summary: as you and the triplets join sam and colby in investigating the most haunted hotel in texas , the two ghost hunters suggest that Matt participates in a ritual called The Elevator Game . little did everyone know that the ritual would actually work and your boyfriend would get stuck in another part of existence . 

notes: i HAD to write a fic based off the SnC x sturniolo collab . n when I found that the sam n colby made matt do this ritual , i knew i had to write a fic based off it :3 hope you guys enjoy reading part one ! be on the lookout for part two <3 

WC: 7098

PT2

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Is the red light really necessary?” Nick asks, a single eyebrow raising as he watches Sam turn on a large red light and set it behind the camera propped up in front of them. 

“It adds a more dramatic effect to the video.” Sam shrugs, taking a few steps back to check if the light is fine in the viewfinder. 

“Well it looks rather terrifying in here so good job guys.” You say, holding up two thumbs up as a small smile spreads across your lips. 

“We try.” Colby smiles, shrugging his shoulders a little before he leans back against his arms on his spot on the mattress. 

“You guys ready to start?” Sam asks as he adverts his gaze from the camera to you and the triplets. 

“We were born ready.” Chris replies, a determined expression clear on his face as he nods faintly. Sam takes a quick glance over at Colby and waits for the male to give him a thumbs up before turning back towards the camera. Without warning, a spew of random sounds spill out of Sam’s mouth as he waves his arms about. Colby follows suit with the random shenanigan and you and the triplets laugh softly at the two before their actions come to a quick halt. 

“It is ritual time.” Sam states as he clasps his hands together and glances over at all of you. 

“Yay.” Nick says, his voice monotone as he wipes his mouth with his hand. 

“Love the sound of that.” Matt comments, earning a small laugh from his two brothers. 

“We are going to do something that we’ve never done before on this channel.” Sam starts, his tone nothing but serious as Nick and Chris let out small shouts of excitement. “We are going to be doing something called The Elevator Game.” 

As Matt and Nick begin to clap softly, Chris speaks up. “That sounds like a very pleasing game to partake in.” The male jokes, earning a small snicker from you as you clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle your laughter. 

“You guys said you love elevators, right?” 

“Big fans.” Nick replies with a small smile. 

“I hate elevators.” Matt states, his comment drawing laughter from the four other boys in the room.  

“Perfect!” As you take a quick glance over at Matt, Sam clears his throat for a moment before he continues, “That is very interesting because for this ritual, we need a singular volunteer.” 

As Sam slowly looks over and locks eyes with Matt, the rest of the boys look over at the middle triplet with large smiles visible on their lips. 

“Yes Matt!” Nick exclaims as he lightly nudges the said male's leg with his knee. 

Chris reaches behind you to land a singular hand on the older’s shoulder. “Do you wanna volunteer or should we just rule you in?” The male asks as he pats his brother’s back a few times. 

As you lean forward and take in a proper look at your boyfriend, a nervous expression can be seen clear as day on his face as he looks between all the boys in the room. You've known about Matt’s fear of elevators for a little while now. You knew the male would avoid them at all costs unless it was absolutely necessary. In fact, the small mishap that occurred between him and Chris about a year or so ago was the reason why this fear of his became a thing. 

During the duration of filming the collaboration with Sam and Colby, yourself and the triplets often took the elevator to travel between the different floors of the hotel you guys were investigating in. Matt, not wanting to draw attention to himself, dragged himself to the elevator everytime you guys went to a different floor. He always stayed in the corner closest to the door, being ready to exit the moment anything suspicious started happening. 

Speaking of which, when the small malfunction in the elevator occurred when you guys and the tour guides went to go to a different floor and the elevator started acting up, you immediately picked up on Matt’s anxious behavior. When Sam mentioned that someone should step out to see if the same issue with the doors would happen, Matt immediately volunteered and practically ran out of the elevator and stayed outside for a little while until you guys sorted the situation out. 

You had a feeling that Sam and Colby would ask Matt to do this Elevator Ritual when he mentioned his strong dislike for elevators. You knew that your boyfriend would immediately decline because that’s one of his fears but you also knew that the male wouldn’t wanna pass this opportunity up and seem like a pussy. 

“I’ll go on the elevator.” Matt states, earning excited shouts from all the boys, more specifically Sam and Colby. You raise an eyebrow at your boyfriend when he looks over at you. The male subtly takes your hand in his and squeezes your hand three times, signifying that he’ll be alright. 

“Face that fear, Matt.” Chris says as he gently claps his hands together, a proud smile visible on his lips. 

“So that means that Matt and I are going to go into the elevator and go through all 13 floors.” Sam says, his voice low as he looks over at the said male who sends him a little smile. 

“That sounds wonderful.” Nick comments as he nods his head and gently pats Matt’s knee. 

“Then you guys can stay in the lobby and be with-“ 

“Samantha!” Colby shouts, accidentally cutting the blonde off. 

“Yes, Daddy Driskill and Samantha will be accompanying you guys while we do the ritual.” Sam nods, earning excited shouts from Nick and Chris. 

“Yes! The big D!” Nick exclaims, excitement running through his veins as he claps a few times. 

“I am going to explain the rules of The Elevator Game now.” Sam says as he looks straight into the camera. “Now, since the game is a summoning ritual, it is said to, if it works, take us to another plane of existence. I don’t exactly know if that will happen but it’s worth a shot.” 

“Oh my God… That’s not terrifying at all.” Chris jokes as he lands a few playful pokes on Matt’s back. “You better be ready, kid.” 

“Also very important note, there is a chance that we may never come back.” Sam adds, earning shocked exclamations from you and the triplets.

“Isn’t that lovely.” You say as you subconsciously begin to trace circles on the back of Matt’s hand with your thumb. 

“Right? We might never come back.” 

“Chris, I think that’s a sign that you and I should get our license. Who the hell is gonna drive us around if Matt doesn’t come back?” Nick asks, leaning forwards a little to lock eyes with Chris. 

“Shit, you're right.” Chris mumbles, a single hand coming up to rub the side of his face. “Matt, please come back after you do the ritual. I really dont wanna have the responsibility of doing all the laundry.” 

“As long as you guys don’t jinx me, I'm sure I’ll be perfectly fine.” Matt reassures as he lands a soft hit to Chris’ back. 

“I agree with Matt. You guys can’t jinx us.” Sam says as he points a single finger towards all of you, causing you guys to all stick y’all’s hands up in defense. “Anyways, onto the rules.” The blonde digs in his pocket to fish his phone out. After unlocking the device, he pulls up the rules and instructions of the ritual. “So. We are going to have to push a series of buttons and make sure that no one else gets onto the elevator. If the whole place has 13 floors, which this hotel does, then it will summon something on the final floor. We will start in the lobby and go to four, two, six, back to two, ten, and then five. Five is the most haunted floor and the final bit of the ritual.” 

“I love the sound of this guys. I’m so excited.” Matt says, sarcasm laced in his tone as looks down at his lap and uses his free hand to ruffle his hair.

“Are you regretting volunteering?” Chris asks, a small laugh escaping him as he takes in the older’s stressed state. 

“Umm..” Matt starts as he lifts his head back up and looks ahead of him. “I’d rather it be me than you to be honest.” A unison of ‘oh!’s fill the room as Chris narrows his eyes at Matt. “I feel like you would just be better in the elevator than Chris would.” Matt adverts his statement to Nick as he reaches over to his left and lightly hits the older’s arm. 

“Alrighty then. I guess that makes sense.” Chris says as he rubs the slight stubble forming on his chin. 

“You just seem to be the person that’s less fit and prepared to do this.” Nick adds, his head slightly tilting to the side as he looks over at the youngest triplet. As you stifle a laugh and cover your mouth, Chris’ jaw drops as a fake hurt expression spreads across his face. 

“We got some sibling banter over here.” Sam says to the camera as he juts his thumb towards the three brothers. “Anyways, back to the rules of the game. Once we reach the fifth floor, the door will obviously open and it is said that on this said floor, especially knowing that it's the most haunted floor, a female spirit will walk into the elevator with us. To end the ritual, we must press one and go back to where you guys are.” 

A few excited shouts fill the room as all the boys shake their fists. “However!” Sam exclaims, cutting off the shouting as he gently clasps his hands together. 

“Of course there’s a however.” Nick mumbles, earning a small laugh from Colby as the red-head crosses his arms over his abdomen. 

“Rituals can never be all cupcakes and rainbows, you know.” Sam says with a small smile before he diverts his attention back to the camera. “If the ritual is a success, the elevator won’t go to the lobby. It will go up and start ascending. If that happens, that means we’ve successfully summoned something into the elevator.” 

“Are you serious?” Colby asks, a small laugh escaping his lips as he sends the blonde a shocked expression. 

“Is that when the chance of you guys not coming back comes into play?” You ask, a worried expression spreading across your face as you look up at Sam. 

“Yes.” The blonde replies, softly nodding his head as he turns around and locks eyes with you.

“Some Willy Wonka shit is gonna happen then.” Nick jokes, trying to lighten the tense mood filling the room. It seems to work as soft laughter comes from you and the rest of the boys. “We’re just gonna hear a loud crash as the elevator flies out of the hotel.” 

“We’re just gonna be flying into the oblivion.” Sam adds as he shoots his arm up to mimic the action of the elevator flying. 

“Yeah, I will not be very happy if that happens.” Matt points a finger at Sam as the latter laughs softly. “If I get stuck in this elevator, I feel bad for Sam. That’s all ima say.” 

“Awh.” Sam chuckles lightly as he brings a hand up to his chest. “Considering the amount of mishaps we’ve had with the elevator earlier, I really hope nothing bad happens.” 

“If shit goes down after we’re done with the ritual, you guys are gonna be next.” Matt points both his pointer fingers towards Nick and Chris who hurriedly shake their heads. 

“Let’s just hope you come back first.” Nick says as he lands a hand on Matt’s shoulder. 

“They will come back, don’t worry.” Colby reassures as he looks over at Sam and gently nods his head. 

“Well, we’ll never find that out if we don’t do it. So shall we get this ritual started?” Sam asks he turns towards all you guys, a large smile visible on his lips as he rubs his hands together. 

“Hell yeah!” Chris exclaims as he slips off the mattress. 

“Let’s all head to the lobby then.” As Sam walks up to the camera to shut it off, Nick and Colby follow Chris in exiting the room. After ensuring that the males leave and that Sam is busy with the camera, you look over at Matt who’s began to fiddle with the horse chain on his neck. 

“You really wanna do this?” You whisper, your voice low as you lean in closer to your boyfriend. 

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. It’s just an elevator, right?” Matt replies as he looks over at you. As he sends you a small smile, you gently nod your head and slip off the bed. You stick your hand out to Matt, who quickly takes it and allows you to pull him up to his feet. Before following Sam out the door, you land a quick kiss on Matt’s temple before guiding him out of the room. 

༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

Upon arriving in the lobby, Sam and Colby begin to set up their equipment as you and the triplets patiently wait in front of the elevator. 

“Alright.” Sam begins as he adjusts his hold on the camera in his hand before turning it on. “Any thoughts before we start Matt?”

“Umm…” Matt starts as he begins to rock back and forth on his heels. “I have to say that the nausea I’ve been feeling for the past five minutes or so has increased significantly.” 

“You’ve been feeling nauseous?” Colby asks, adverting his focus from the camera in his hand to look over at Matt, a worried expression clear on his face as he glances over at Sam. The two ghost hunters share a worried look before Nick speaks up.

“We’ve all been feeling a little nauseous.” Nick begins as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I started feeling it when we sat down to eat, Matt started feeling it five minutes ago, y/n started feeling it when we were giving candy offerings to Samantha, and Chris felt it the second we got here.” 

“That doesn’t sound very good…” Sam says, his voice trailing off as he gestures Colby to grab something in the backpack. “Maybe we should sage you guys again before we start the ritual.” 

“Should we do it here or go outside?” Colby asks as he digs inside the backpack laying at his feet. 

“We can do it here.” Colby gently nods his head before bringing the sage out. He gestures you and the triplets to stand in a line before he quickly waves the sage around the four of you. “That should do it. If you guys keep feeling nauseous, we can take a break.” 

“We appreciate it guys.” You say with a small smile. 

“Of course. Safety comes first.” Sam says, earning a firm head nod from Colby. “Anyways, you ready to start?” Sam turns the camera to Matt and gently pats his shoulder a few times. 

“Yeah, I’m ready.” Matt replies with a gentle head nod. 

“Are you not gonna say goodbye to your siblings and girlfriend? You may never see them again if the ritual works.” Colby asks as he gestures towards you, Nick, and Chris. 

Matt turns around and sticks his arm out to Nick, who sends him a glare before hesitantly shaking his hand. 

“A hand shake?” Colby laughs softly as Nick wraps his arms around Matt and brings him in for a quick embrace. “See, that’s much better.” After pulling away, Chris and Matt share a firm handshake before also sharing a quick hug. 

“Okay, I’ll start googling places where we can get our licenses.” Nick says softly as he brings a hand up to rub his nape. 

“Dude, I’m not dead yet…” Matt says, a hurtful expression spreading across his face as he pulls away from Chris who smacks his chest a few times. 

“Yet.” Sam repeats, a small laugh escaping his lips as he watches Matt playfully shove Chris back. As the younger giggles softly, Matt turns to you, his gaze softening as he immediately brings you in for an embrace. Collective ‘awh’s come from all the boys when Matt lands a quick peck on your lips and forehead. 

“Leave your license behind before you go to another universe please.” Nick says, earning a rapid head nod from Chris. After pulling away from the hug, Matt shakes his head and digs in his pocket to pull out his wallet. As he wordlessly hands Nick his wallet, Chris comes up behind him and grabs both his shoulders. 

“I call dibs on that one jacket in your closet by the way.” Chris says, a large smile plastered on his lips as he massages the older’s shoulders. 

“Wonderful, alright. We’re all just claiming all my shit.” Matt says with a soft laugh. As the male turns to face you, he raises an eyebrow when he takes in your smiley face. “You too?” 

“I only want a few stuff.” You defend as you hold up your hand and pinch your pointer finger and thumb together. 

“Yeah, okay. Like that’s believable.” As Matt laughs and shakes his head gently, the sound of the elevator dinging causes all of you to quickly turn around. 

“What the fuck?” Colby mumbles, his face falling as he looks into the empty elevator. 

“Did you guys push anything?” Sam asks as he points a finger at you and the triplets. 

“No. Swear to God we didn’t.” Nick defends as he holds both his hands up. 

“It’s fucking midnight.” Colby states after his eyes scan over the numbers plastered on the top of his Lock Screen. He shows the camera his phone to ensure that he's telling the truth before turning the device to you and the rest of the boys. 

“I personally would not go in there.” Chris says as he wraps his arms around his torso, a nervous expression clear on his face. 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t either.” You add as you reach your hand out to grab Matt’s. 

“Well, we can’t back out now. It is twelve o’clock after all.” Sam says, a heavy exhale leaving his lips as he looks over at Colby, the two locking eyes for a moment. “I think that we should start this ritual before more weird shit happens.” 

“Please be careful.” You say, your voice firm as you look up at Matt. The male looks down at you and gently cups the side of your face with a single hand, the pad of his thumb gently caressing your cheek in hopes of calming your sudden anxiety spike. 

“We will, don’t worry.” Sam reassures as he begins to walk towards the elevator. He looks inside the small space for a moment, ensuring that nothing and no one is inside before he hesitantly steps in. “You coming?” 

Matt quickly shifts his gaze from you to Sam who’s standing at the back of the elevator. “Yeah, I'm coming.” Matt replies. Before the male enters the elevator, he bends down a little to capture his lips in yours. He pulls back after a few seconds and gently caresses your face before joining Sam in the elevator. 

“You two be safe.” Chris calls as he moves to take a stand in between you and Nick. 

“Yeah, come back please!” Nick adds as he subconsciously wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer to him. 

“We’ll be back, promise.” Sam reassures as he sets a small device in the middle of the elevator. 

“Wait, I need photos for the prayer cards.” Nick states, a hand quickly digging in his pocket to fish his phone out. As he opens his camera and faces it towards Matt, the male holds up a small v, practically posing for the camera. You can’t help but giggle at the sight before Nick smiles proudly and puts his phone away. 

“Alright, we’re gonna start now guys.” Sam states as he walks up a few steps, his frame being inches away from the entrance of the elevator. After looking over at Matt and gaining a firm head nod from him, the two begin the ritual. 

“Please take us to another world.” Matt and Sam say in unison. The blonde reaches over to push a button to close the elevator and takes a few steps back to stand next to Matt. At the sight of the door closing, the male shouts out a small ‘oh god!’, a mix of fear and anxiousness filling his body as he eyes the door. 

“Matt, I love you have fun.” Nick says as he makes a small heart with both his hands. Matt sends the red-head a small smile before the doors finally close. 

“I really hope nothing bad happens.” Chris mumbles as he shakes his head slightly, nervousness bubbling in him as he stares at the closed elevator doors. 

“Me too.” Colby agrees as he forces his lips together in a straight line. The male momentarily turns his back to you and the two brothers to dig inside his backpack. After a few moments of searching, he pulls out two EMF readers and holds them out in front of him. “Which one of you guys would like to have the honors in holding one?” 

“I would love to have one.” Nick says, a small smile appearing on his lips as he bounces on his heels a few times. 

“Me too.” You add, landing a hand on Nick’s shoulder as the two of you step closer to Colby. The latter gently nods his head and hands the two of you an EMF reader. 

“Okay, how should we start this?” Colby asks as he leans his backpack against the wall and focuses the camera on you three. 

“We can start walking around to see if we get anything on the EMF readers.” You suggest with a small shrug. Colby nods his head at your suggestion and gestures for you and Nick to begin walking around with his hand. 

“Wait, didn’t the tour guide say that-“ 

“Your reader is going off!” Chris exclaims, accidentally cutting his older brother off as he points to the said device with his pointer finger. The youngest triplet seems to be correct as Nick looks down at the EMF reader in his hand and sees the device light up the first three levels. 

“You got anything yet y/n?” Colby asks as he zooms the lenses into Nick’s EMF reader to capture the activity. 

“Nope. Nothing yet.” You reply softly as you begin to walk a bit further away from the group, your eyes being locked onto the device in your hand the entire time. 

“The tour guide said that the bathroom is one of the most haunted places.” Nick states as he begins to gently wave the EMF reader about, trying to get it to spike up any further. “I think we should go see if we get any activity over there.” 

“Great idea, let’s head over there. Lead the way.” Colby gently nods his head towards Nick to encourage the male to lead the group to the bathrooms. The red-head complies and begins to walk towards a hallway a little ways to the right, the three of you following close behind him. 

“Let’s see…” Nick mumbles, more to himself than to anyone else. While you and the male walk around and inside the bathrooms, ya’ll don’t get much activity apart from a few spikes that went to yellow. 

“Let’s go back to the elevator. We’re not getting much.” You say as you walk out of the women’s bathroom, the door shutting behind you and coming in contact with the heels of your shoes. 

Colby nods his head and waits for Nick to return from the male’s bathroom before you guys walk back to the elevator. The moment you stand next to the elevator, your EMF reader spikes all the way to red. 

“Mine just went to red.” You say, your voice a little louder than usual to gain the attraction of the three males in the room. 

“Holy shit.” Colby mumbles as he quickly makes his way over to you. As he zooms his lens into the device in your hand, Nick and Chris come up to the other side of you and look down at your EMF reader. “Nick, you getting anything?” 

“Mines still at yellow.” The red-head replies, momentarily turning the reader so it can face the camera before he turns it back to face him. 

“Maybe we should pull out the onvoy and see if we get anything. You know, considering how much activity we’ve been getting around here already.” Colby suggests as he walks back to his backpack and pulls it open. 

“What’s that?” Chris asks, his head tilting slightly as he watches the ghost hunger pull a device out of his bag. 

“It’s basically a device that gives us yes or no responses through questions we ask.” Colby explains as he crouches down and sets the device on the floor. After turning it on and waiting for it to light up, he looks up at the three of you who are already intently looking at him. “Something just has to physically tap it like so for us to get a response.” Colby sets his pointer finger on the device for a moment and awaits for it to beep a few times and light up yes before he pulls away.

“That doesn’t sound too difficult.” You ponder aloud as you take a momentarily glance towards the EMF reader in your hand. 

“It’s not difficult whatsoever. Would you guys like to start asking some questions?” 

“Absolutely.” Chris replies with a small smile as the three of you take a seat around the onvoy. 

“If there are any spirits that would like to communicate with us tonight, please make yourself known by using this device to answer our questions. All you have to do is come up and touch it to let us know what your thoughts are.” Colby calls out, his head turning around a few times before he turns his focus back to you and the two brothers. 

“What should we ask first?” Nick asks gently, his eyes staying fixed on the EMF reader in his hand. 

“Do you think that Sam and Matt are gonna make it back to us?” Chris asks, anxiousness laced in his tone as he practically stares down at the onvoy. A few beats of silence pass by before the device dings a few times. 

Colby lets out a small gasp of surprise at the sound and leans in close to the onvoy. “It says yes!” The male exclaims happily as he zooms the lens into the response. 

The moment the male reads that aloud, the sound of the elevator dinging alerts the four of you. Quickly, you all turn around and collectively let out sighs of relief as the doors open and reveal Sam and Matt. 

“You’re done already?” Nick asks, his mouth agape as he watches the two males step out of the elevator rather quickly. 

“Yeah, we practically flew through all the floors.” Matt replies, a small, proud smile visible on his lips as he approaches the four of you who are still sitting on the floor. When the male stands behind you, you quickly turn your body to face him, a large smile spreading across your lips, as you immediately reach for your boyfriend’s hand. As you caress it gently and bring his hand up to your lips to land a small kiss on his knuckles, Sam takes a stand next to him. 

“Did you guys get anything?” The blonde asks as he stashes the device him and Matt were using in the elevator in his pocket. 

“No.” Colby replies with a frown. “We literally asked a single question.” 

“Yeah, the one question I asked is ‘Do you think that Sam and Matt are gonna make it back to us?” Chris adds as he gets himself up from the floor and dusts his pants off a little. “The moment it said yes, the door opened.” 

“It was crazy timing.” Nick comments as he follows suit in getting up off the floor. 

“Really?” Sam asks, his jaw dropping slightly as he looks over at Colby with pure shock in his face. 

“Really.” Nick confirms with a firm head nod. “We didn’t have time to ask a bunch of questions. Chris was the only person that got to ask a question.”

“Well, Sam and I encountered no issues while we were doing the ritual. We went through all the floors with ease. However, we didn’t really get anything with the device we were using. I mean, we did get a few words but I found them to be more random than anything.” 

“Yeah, that has got to be the fastest ritual we’ve ever experienced.” Colby comments, his head gently nodding as he looks between Sam and Matt. 

“It was pretty easy, nothing too difficult.” Matt says, his gaze falling to yours and his intertwined fingers. 

“Would you like to do it again then? But by yourself this time?” Sam inquires, a single eyebrow raising as he looks over at the brunette. 

Silence fills the lobby as you all stare at Matt, awaiting for his response. You manage to catch your boyfriend’s face falling slightly as he looks over at Sam, his eyes slightly wide as he locks eyes with him. Sensing the male’s sudden anxiety spike, you begin to play with his fingers in hopes of grounding him a little. 

Matt blinks hardly a few times as he looks down at you, his eyes basically pleading for you to answer the question for him. At the brunette’s gaze, you pick your free hand up and land a soft poke on his chest, signaling that it’s his call. You watch as the male sighs before he picks his head back up and looks up at his two brothers who shrug at him. Matt forces his lips together and looks over at Sam, his right hand coming up to his nape as he locks eyes with the blonde. 

“I would- I don’t-“ Matt sputters, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he digs in the pocket of his pants. “I’d have to write down the numbers…” 

“Is that a yes then?” Sam asks, excitement glossing over his eyes as he zooms the lens onto the male in front of him. After Matt gently nods his head in response, collective shouts of encouragement sounds from you and the boys. 

“You sure you wanna do it alone?” Chris asks as he walks up to the brunette, a single hand coming up to rest it on his brother's shoulder. “The chance of you never coming back is still there. You’ll be fully alone in another universe.” At the younger’s statement, Nick lands a harsh hit on Chris’s bicep, signaling him to shut up with an intense glare. 

“Well, you guys better start looking up ways to get me back if the ritual actually works.” Matt replies, a nervous smile overtaking his features as he begins to fiddle with the horse chain around his neck. 

Colby goes to add onto the conversation however, the sound of the elevator dinging alerts all six of you. You all turn around to face the elevator, fear running through y’all’s bodies at the sight of the doors opening more slower than usual. 

“I think that’s a sign, Matt.” Sam says as he lands a hand on the said male’s shoulder. 

“I guess I’ll go then. Could you text me the numbers?” Matt asks with a soft sigh. As Sam gently nods his head and fishes his phone out of his pocket, Colby walks up to the brunette. 

“You wanna take this camera?” The ghost hunter asks as he holds the said device out in front of him. 

“Sure.” Colby sends Matt a small smile when the male hesitantly takes the camera from him. 

“Matt, please be careful. Like I'm being so for real. I have no idea what we would do without you.” Nick says, a frown overtaking his features as he walks up the middle triplet and lands both his hands on his shoulders. 

“I will, don’t worry. If you guys focus on asking questions, I will be back in no time.” Matt reassures, a comforting smile spreading across his lips as he brings the red-head in for a quick embrace. 

“Wait, me too. I want a hug as well.” Chris whines as he quickly makes his way over to the three of you. Nick pulls away with a small eye roll and steps aside to allow the younger to get his hug. 

“I sent you the numbers. You can head in when you’re ready.” Sam says, his voice soft as he picks his head up and looks over at Matt, the hand that’s holding his phone digging inside his pocket to put the said device away. 

“Word.” Matt replies. After Chris breaks away from the hug and steps back, Matt looks over at you and takes in your worried features. “I promise I’ll be alright. I’ll be back in no time.” Your boyfriend gently cups your face with his free hand, the pad of his thumb gently caressing over your soft skin. 

You gently nod your head, the faint frown on your lips not faltering as you look deep into your boyfriend’s blue irises that hold a sense of anxiousness. Matt brings your face closer to his to bring you in for a quick kiss. Before pulling away, he nibbles on your bottom lip for a moment. 

The brunette removes his hand from your face and gives you a small smile before he turns around to face Sam. “I’m ready.” The male says. 

“Alright, go ahead and step in.” Sam instructs as he gestures towards the open and empty elevator. Matt immediately does as instructed and hesitantly steps inside the elevator, a heavy sigh escaping him as he raises the hand that’s holding the camera. “You know what to say.” The blonde says with a smile as he gives the younger male a thumbs up with his free hand.  

Matt looks straight at the camera, his tongue slipping out of his mouth to drag over his slightly chapped lips momentarily, before he begins the ritual. “Please take me to another world. I may regret saying that but hey, see you guys later.” Matt takes a final glance at all of you standing a few steps away from the doors of the elevator before he steps toward the panel full of bottoms. 

“We love you Matt!” Chris exclaims, both his hands coming up to cup over his mouth to get his voice to project more loudly. 

“Be safe!” You add, sliding over to Nick and wrapping an arm around his. You manage to catch Matt waving goodbye before the doors of the elevator finally shut. 

“Guys, go subscribe to the Sturniolos.” Sam states as he turns the camera in his hand and points at it. 

“And comment about how ballsy Matt is. I’m actually so shocked about how he’s been doing this whole investigation. He’s usually never this open and talkative during stuff like this.” Nick says as he crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Yeah, I'm actually really proud of him. He's doing phenomenal.” Colby compliments as he gently claps a few times. 

“Let’s just hope he hasn’t been too open today. We don’t want him to get any-“ Sam gets cut off by Colby harshly digging his elbow into his side. The blonde winces softly and flinches at the touch, his eyes narrowing as he sends a glare towards his friend. 

“Get any what?” You ask, panic flooding in you as you take in Colby’s serious expression. 

“Nothing. We should start asking some questions before Matt comes back.” Colby replies, a small smile appearing on his lips as he turns back around. You share a worried look with Nick and Chris before the three of you, including Sam, join Colby in sitting on the floor around the onvoy. “Who would like to ask the first question?” 

“I would.” Nick says, picking his head up to lock eyes with Colby. After gaining a small head nod from the male, he takes a deep inhale before speaking, “Was sending Matt alone a good decision?” A few beats of silence pass by before the onvoy dings. Nick bends down slightly to read the response. “Yes!” 

“Will Matt find more information regarding what happened at the hotel?” Chris asks as he brings his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on them. The onvoy dings seconds after the question. “No…” 

“Alright..” You mumble. You clear your throat before asking your question, “Will someone join Matt in the elevator when he reaches the fifth floor?” Like earlier, the onvoy immediately dings as it lights up a response. “Yes. Well isn’t that nice. Doesn’t make my anxiety worse at all.” 

The boys all giggle at your statement as you rub your face with both your hands. 

“Is Matt in any danger?” Sam asks, momentarily turning the camera around to put himself in the frame before he turns it back around. Again, the onvoy immediately dings a response. You and the boys take a moment to pause and exchange anxious looks before yall lean in and read the response. 

“Yes.” 

༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

20 minutes have gone by as you and the boys took turns asking questions to the spirits willing to communicate with you guys. Some of the questions have gotten rapid responses while others have taken a little longer to reply. As time slowly ticked away, you felt anxiety bubble inside of you. Matt should’ve been back by now considering how he and Sam returned in less than 10 minutes when they did the ritual. You found yourself continuously looking over at the closed elevator everytime someone else in the group spoke up to ask a question, hoping that the doors would open and reveal your boyfriend. Unfortunately it never happened and the doors remained shut. 

“Okay, I'm getting really worried. He should be back by now.” You say, your gaze on the closed elevator doors shifting up to the number 10 glowing brightly in large, bold lettering. 

“Well, he’s on the tenth floor right now. All he has to do is go to five and come back.” Sam says as he takes a seat against the wall facing the elevator, his arms coming up to cross over his chest. 

“Okay true but what’s taking him so long?” Nick asks, a single hand coming up to his mouth. As the red-head begins to bite on his polished nails, Chris takes a glance over at your focused state. He forces his lips into a straight line, worry and anxiety filling his veins at the thought of Matt not returning. 

“He’s at five.” Colby states as he points at the glowing number atop the elevator. The rest of the boys join you and the ghost hunter in looking over at the elevator. 

“Please come back.” You whisper under your breath, a sudden lump forming in your throat as you swallow dryly. As you shakily exhale, a sudden poke on your side causes you to jump rather harshly. “What the fuck?” You mumble as you quickly hug your torso and turn around.

“What happened?” Chris asks, his head whipping around to look over at you. 

“Did one of you guys poke me?” You ask as you lift your head up. 

“None of us touched you.” Colby says as he lifts both his hands up in the air. A wave of nausea suddenly hits you as you slowly turn around to look at Sam, the sight of him looking at you worriedly causing your stomach to churn. As you go to question the blonde, soft giggles bubble up your throat as you feel a series of rapid pokes travel down your other side. After the feeling vanishes, you stumble to your feet and run over to where Nick and Chris are, fear washing over you as you desperately rub your sides to try and get the ghostly feeling away. 

“Samantha.” Sam mumbles under his breath, his eyes slightly going wide as he looks over at your panicked state. 

“Samantha, if that's you, please leave her alone. You do not have permission to touch her.” Colby states, his tone holding a sense of authority as he takes a few quick glances around the room. 

At the mention of the child’s name, Nick’s eyes widen in a mix of terror and shock and he quickly looks down at you. Without a word, he wraps his arms around your slightly shorter frame and brings you flush against him. 

“Samantha, are you messing with y/n?” Chris asks as he wraps an arm around your shoulder, his gaze falling to the unused onvoy on the floor. 

The said device immediately beeps in response. 

Colby lifts himself up from the wall he’s leaning against and walks up to the onvoy. His tall frame bends down slightly before his eyes skim over the response. 

“It says yes.” Colby says, his gaze lifting up from the device and shifting over to Sam. The two share a frightened look as you feel your heart drop to your feet. You quickly turn around and bury your face in Nick’s clothed chest, your breath beginning to pick up as you clutch onto the male’s arms rather desperately.

“It’s okay.” Nick whispers as he rests his chin on the top of your head. As he begins to rub comforting circles on your back with his palm, the sound of the elevator dinging pierces your ears. You quickly lift your head and look over at the elevator, the rest of the boys soon doing the same. 

“Matt?” You call out, your voice cracking slightly as you slip out of Nick’s hold and run to the elevator. 

“y/n wait!” Chris exclaims, his arm extending out to go to grab you and pull you back. His attempt fails however as you slip through the opening of the elevator, not even waiting for the door to fully open. The moment you step inside, you feel your breath get caught in your throat .

Matt isn’t in the elevator. 

And the only thing inside is the camera and his horse necklace. 

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[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 3

content warning: small food mentions, a little suggestive at parts so MINORS BEWARE, sexual tension?? 😗, insecure thoughts about a plus size body (may or may not be triggering for some), a few mean girls, college party, alcohol, drugs, mentions of throw up like once, a bad look for sororities (sorry, y'all are probably very wonderful people)

word count: 3.2k (NOT A DRABBLE WTF 😭) not proofread, if you see a mistake lmk

GymRat!Miguel's workout playlist is here! I had to stop myself from adding more songs because it’s already so long lol. I didn't even include any cool down songs.

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who wakes up without having to hobble to the bathroom for once. No morning wood because his dream of you was soft this time. You two were cuddled up on a couch with the world’s most fluffy blanket. He smiles to himself as he drags his feet to the bathroom. It was if dancing clouds and bubbles were floating around his head.

GymRat!Miguel who’s able to sit and chat with Ms. Beatrice longer today because his class doesn’t start until that after noon. He compliments her on the egg sandwich from the other day and she squeezes his cheeks when she thanks him as if he were a baby.

GymRat!Miguel who tinkers in the engineering building as he waits for lunch. He joined the small but mighty robotics team as soon as he found out there was one. There was a fighting robot division, and he needed to figure out the problems with his team’s robot sooner rather than later.

GymRat!Miguel who spots you at the student center having your lunch. He wastes no time to grab his food and book it to your table. He calls your name before he gets there, not wanting to startle you. You smile when you look up surprised to see him there.

"Can I join you?" he says, trying not to seem out of breath with how fast his heart is beating.

"Yeah," you say, arranging your things around. You push your computer to the side as he places his burito bowl on the table. "I'm finally getting to see you outside of lab."

In his mind, he takes a note of you being in the student center at this time. He wants to make eating with you a routine thing.

"What were you watching?" he asks, trying to curb the rush that your presence has on him. He opened up his bowl and started to mix his food, waiting patiently for your answer.

"This is a little embarrassing but," you pause to dump one of your nuggets in sauce. "I was watching someone explain the downfall of Chuck E. Cheese." Your voice gets softer as you finish your sentence, eyes avoiding his gaze.

You were so cute. And it's almost as if you've never met him, the ultimate nerd.

"Nothing wrong with wanting to know why more and more locations went from five animatronics to one. Or how they started to sell their pizzas under ghost kitchens," he says, taking a bite from his bowl.

You looked at him and your smile grew. Miguel could only think 'there she is. there's my girl.'

The two of you chatted about everything from malfunctioning Chuck E's to your classes to your food. Miguel was through the roof.

GymRat!Miguel who offers to carry your art portfolio case for you to the art building. Anything to extend your time together. Plus, why should you have to hold it when he's here? He holds the doors for you and presses the elevator buttons before you can even think to.

GymRat!Miguel who really loves when the elevator door closes and he can look down at as you talk away. Just for those few seconds, the outside world is quiet and it's just you two. In another world, he'd kiss you before the doors open. In another world, he'd tilt your head up and have you look at him when you speak, he wanted to read your eyes too.

You're staring at him expectantly, eyes reminding him of baby deers. He tilts his head at you, wondering why you're staring at him.

"Miguel the door is open. We have to leave before it closes," you say.

He's instantly broke back to reality.

"Right! Sorry," he says, heat rising on the back of his neck. He steps out and holds his hand in front of the opening so that the door doesn't close you.

"Thank you," you say, a giggle under your breath.

Miguel has done some pretty embarrassing things when it comes to you, but he didn't think it would bleed into when he was actually in front of you.

In this world, he needed to not give you the creeps. Get it together.

GymRat!Miguel who is ecstatic that you still want to come work out with him. You all plan to meet that Friday. You don't know what you want to work out, but you say you're excited. Miguel has tonight, Wednesday, and Thursday to plan the perfect workout for you.

Should he go buy a bottle so he can make you a smoothie? Or should he offer to buy you a smoothie afterwards? Do you even like smoothies? Maybe he should invite you to breakfast. Would you want to eat right after you worked out? You needed to eat to make sure you can speed up the healing process though....

GymRat!Miguel who waves you goodbye when it's almost time for your studio class to start, mind filled with so many questions.

Your friend turns to you immediately when Miguel is gone.

"And who was that?" she says, eyes shocked.

"He's a guy from my lab. His name is Miguel," you say, grinning in your hands. You felt like kicking your feet in the air, but alas, no time.

"He's super hot. Like, seriously," your friend says, moving her taboret next to her workspace. "I would hit it. Constantly."

"Please stop talking," you say, laughing along. "I'm not even sure if he goes for girls like me. I'd rather not get my hopes up." You wanted to keep yourself in reality and falling for Miguel might put you too close to the land of delusion. You figured that Miguel was just super nice, especially after you two worked so hard for that lab project.

Your friend stops and looks at you, she slams the liquin tin on the table and puts her hand on her hip.

"First of all, those "types of guys" love big girls, so don't give me that. Second of all, are you not seeing how he looks at you. He's giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes, like, ever." She picks the liquin tin back up and starts scooping aggressively at the sides. "You gotta be more confident! You're gorgeous, anyone with a functioning brain can see that."

You stand there stunned, shocked at your friend's outburst. "I am confident!" Partially true. "I just...don't want to be hurt."

"I understand that, but have you even asked if he likes you or not?"

You shake your head no.

"Exactly. The night is still young," your friend says, pointing her palette knife at you. "And if you don't go for it, I will."

"Oh my god, shut up," you say, throwing a crumbled shop towel at her. You still kept her words in the back of your mind, storing it for later.

GymRat!Miguel who paces in front of the campus gym, waiting for your arrival. He got up extra early and gave himself a pep talk in the mirror. It wasn't a date, per se, but he felt that it could lead to one if he played his cards right. He decided to just invite you out to eat, figuring you would bring your stickered-water bottle.

GymRat!Miguel who spots you before you even call his name. He waves, smile taking over his features. You wave back, and it isn't until you're ten steps away that he finally takes in your full outfit. Another two-piece that was going to be the death of him, the only thing was that this was in the flesh. He cursed under his breath before you got closer, brain short-circuiting at the fabric hugging your skin.

"Ready to go?" he asks, forcing himself to not look at your body and to look at your face.

"Yeah! I'm a little nervous but I'm ready to work," you say, following him to the door.

He opens the doors for you, "Nothing to be nervous about. You're in good hands."

He brings you to his locker so you can put your bag in there, not wanting anyone to snag your belongings.

You guys start at the track, walking a lap as a warm up. Usually Miguel would do a lap or two of jogging, and as much as he wanted to watch you bounce, especially on him, this was a beginner workout. He didn't want to scare you with how intense he can get. While walking, you guys chatted about little things. Miguel tells you how wasn't nearly this big four years ago, ensuring you that the path to get here can be hard. You tell him that you just want be healthy, not caring if you lost weight or gained muscle. Miguel was secretly happy to hear this because he liked your body the way it was, but he would roll with whatever you were feeling.

GymRat!Miguel who helps you stretch. You both sit on the floor and face each other with your feet touching. Miguel saw how much smaller your feet were compared to his and his heart fluttered. His mind was filled with a million voices rambling off new things about you.

"She's focusing so hard"

"How can a gym outfit be so hot"

"She's so close to me when we do this stretch"

"Her hands are so warm"

"Maybe I should have stretched her from behind too"

That last thought gets Miguel to move you guys to the next part of the routine. How is his head always in the gutter?

GymRat!Miguel who starts you off with dumbbells, giving you the 5 lb weights to start. He starts you off with a few shoulder and arm exercises, giving you tips and praise along the way. His touches linger on your arms as he corrects your form, watching your body intensely. His constant "good"s, "one more''s, and "uh huh"s hit you right in your core. You're thankful that you're out of breath and heated from the workout, otherwise you would have melted before him.

GymRat!Miguel who pulls out all of the stops, using the heavier weights for his sets. He screams on the inside when you cheer him on. You clap at the end of one of his harder sets, happy that he pushed himself. He bows in silly way, sweat dripping down his face and laughing at your actions.

GymRat!Miguel who spots you while you use a heavier weight to do squats. You wanted to go for the 15 lb weight even though it was your first time doing weighted squats. He didn't want you to fall over, so he stood behind you and held his hands in the air by your waist as you went down. He knew that he was supposed to be focused, but he couldn't help but to glance at your ass a few times. God.

GymRat!Miguel who ends off your workout with the bikes, you guys making it a small competition. He stands and cycles, watching as your jaw dropped. You started to stand but got a little scared and gave up quick. Miguel couldn't have that. He stopped moving and got up to be by your side.

"You got it! Don't be scared," he says, watching you work.

"I literally can't do that," you say, cycling a little faster.

"Sure you can! Try it, I'm right here," he says, encouraging you.

You fight your fear and stand up and cycle. "Oh my god," you say, breaths coming out hard.

"That's it, that's it," Miguel says, voice warm as he praises you. "You're doing so good. Keep going."

You push until you can't anymore, Miguel cheering at your side.

GymRat!Miguel who guides you to the showers after your workout. It sucks that he can't be in there with you. His imagination can only get him so far.

GymRat!Miguel who waits for you to come out of the bathroom, ready to ask you to go for smoothies and breakfast. He hopes you say yes.

GymRat!Miguel who is in awe again at how you look. How many two-piece sets did you have? How does he survive them every single time? He mutters up the courage to ask you if you wanted to go get smoothies, adding on that he would pay. You glow and say yes, stating that you love smoothies. He's soaring.

GymRat!Miguel who brings your food to the table, two wraps and two smoothies. A protein shake for him and a fruit smoothie for you.

"That was a really good workout today. You definitely put me to work," you say, unwrapping the straw to stab it through the top. You hum at the flavor as you take a sip.

"Good?" Miguel asks, and you nod your head with your thumb up. "I'm glad you liked the workout. I was excited to have a partner."

"A partner? Why didn't you invite us to join?"

You both look up to see a few girls standing by the checkout counter. Miguel notices them as the sorority girls from his literature class. They walk over to your table, eyes twinkling as they take in Miguel.

Miguel chuckles awkwardly, not knowing what to say. He didn't think he had to deal with them outside of class too.

One of the girls look at you and goes, "Oo are you a personal trainer?"

You're taken aback, eyes scanning between the girls. You're about to open your mouth to respond but Miguel gets to them first.

"No, we're workout partners," he says, snapping at the girl. "And we're kind of having a conversation right now so is there anything else that you guys want to say?"

The girl cowers a bit at Miguel's words, laughing as if he told a joke and twirling her hair. The leader of the pack turns to Miguel, "Sorry about that. We wanted to see if you could come to our party tomorrow night. It'll be super fun and we would love to see you there."

A party? Miguel hadn't gone to one since he moved on campus. He always wanted to experience a college one. He turned to you and saw that you just tapped at your phone, not looking to the girls.

"I'll go if I can bring her," Miguel says, tapping his foot against yours. You look up, shock in your eyes,

Some of the girls slump, and the leader tightens her smile, "Fine! That's cool. I'll send you the details later."

The girls walk off and you stare at them, eyes squinting.

"They're an interesting bunch aren't they?" you say, continuing to eat your wrap.

"Right?" Miguel says, turning back to you.

GymRat!Miguel who comes to your dorm, ready to walk you to the party. He knocks on your door, a little nervous. He had on a nice top, the top open a little bit and a thin chain around his neck. After a while, you opened the door and gobsmacked him again with your outfit.

"Wow," he says, standing in the door like an idiot.

"Is it bad?" you ask, body glowing.

"No, you look amazing," Miguel says. "Ready to go?" He holds his arm out, softly smiling at you.

You nod and intertwine your arm through his.

GymRat!Miguel who takes in the atmosphere, frat guys yelling by a pool table, a few girls dancing with red solo cups, some people making out on the couch.

For Miguel, it was a lot.

He turned to you, yelling to ask if you wanted a drink. You say yes and you both make your way to the kitchen.

There, you both are met with the sorority girls crowding the kitchen. Some of them are passing some pills around and others are chatting by the island. One of them looks up and sees you guys lingering by the entrance.

"Miguel! You made it! Come on have a drink," she pulls him closer in the room. "Want a xannie?"

"I'm good," he says, handing you a cup of Pink Whitney. You take a sip and turn your nose a little bit. You might have to suck it up to get through the night.

"I'm so glad you made it. I have something that I've been meaning to show you," she says, batting her eyes. She convinces him to follow her up the stairs.

Miguel yells over his shoulder that he'll be right back.

You stand in the kitchen, fingers tapping against your cup. You felt a little silly and out of place. You didn't know anyone else here and the people were cliquey.

You joined a few games of beer pong, trying to enjoy yourself, but you couldn't help but to think about Miguel.

You dance a little, joining some random girls in the middle of the room. The music is ok, but you were just trying to have a good time. After an hour or so, you get nervous. Miguel hasn't been back in a while.

You head back to the kitchen, thinking maybe he could be in there.

"If you're looking for Miguel, he's probably deep in a bed right now," one girl giggles as she comes up beside you, grabbing another drink.

"What?" you say, eyebrows furrowed.

"Yeah girl, why else would he be gone so long? I tried to go up there and the doors were locked. Just text him tomorrow."

Your hand grips your cup tighter, watching as the girl goes back into the thick of the crowd.

You decide to wait a little longer, scrolling on the same three apps back to back for another hour. You look at the time again and the 3 am stares back at you mockingly.

You figure that he's really not coming back down and open your Instagram to give him a text.

“Hey Miguel! I’m gonna go ahead and go back to my dorm. It's getting pretty late."

You walk back to your dorm, arms wrapped around yourself to brace from the cold.

GymRat!Miguel who finally makes it to a bathroom that's not occupied with some one hovering over the toilet. He feels out of it. Throwing back a few too many shots. He was trying to get back downstairs but there was always someone there to pull him back, offering something.

A shot? Sure.

A pill? No.

A game? Maybe.

The girl who brought him up there tried her best to get in his pants, but if he was being honest, he didn't even remember her name. Or any of the names of the girls that came in afterwards. He declined every one of them, just wanting to get some air.

He was able to check his phone.

3:35 am.

He sees your message and feels sick. He runs downstairs and out the door, the cool air sobering him up a bit.

"Fuck," he says hands to his head. He squats and texts you back.

"I am so sorry. I got caught up. Did you make it back safely?"

It was so late, there was no way you would respond. He fucked up.

He texted Gabriel, maybe his drunk mind pushing him to seek help from his little brother.

"So if I invite a girl to a party and leave her what are the chances that she will text me back? :((("

"Dude. It's almost 4am. And where is this so-called game that you have? Ik you're not asking me about anything"

"Gabri :(((("

"I'll be honest, she's probably blocking your number. IF she even has it lol"

Yeah. He fucked up.

dividers by: @yeribbon 🩵

a/n: Miguel's gym playlist is such a jarring difference from my own gym playlist. 😭 I left you guys with an extra long addition today because I have soooo much hw that's piling up and it's tearing me apart.

As always, leave a like and reblog. Leave comments please. 🥺 I want to see your reactions! Let me know how you feel. 🩵

taglist: @ghost-lantern @miguelhugger2099 @slushycoookie @emelie-s-h @lake-lili @obsessed-with-miguels-ass @scaleniusrm @superiorspiderass @lexluvswriting @flordelalunas @froggygal @vmpz8sauceee @famouscattale @nixinluv02 @jada-of-arcadia @spideykid22 @what-the-jams @julia4today @tojishugetiddies @samjinxx @sleeklyalisha @the-pan-liquid @prongs-lover @kikaaauu @urlocallocachica @wanderlustingcastaway @peachey-pie @ch3rry-bl1ss @girl-of-multi-fandoms @love-kha1 @manlikemilesmyguy @sillysillygoofygoose @monticellohoe

[beannoss]

with you, all in tangles (2)

3 times Yor blows kisses to Twilight and one time Twilight blows a kiss to Yor

For the @twiyorbase fluff fest! No content warnings, T-rating; manga spoilers. One chapter per day matching the daily prompts. Today's prompt: fall in love. And a note: @cantareincminor pointed out that pt 1 reminded of fanart of Yor blowing kisses to Twilight and it turns out there are at least two (2!) amazing pieces out there: this by @tazuransi and also this by @une08! They're both so cute and funny, they must have sunk into my brain, giving inspiration for this fic 😍😘 <- Part one (1) | Part three (+1) ->

Yor waved to Anya as the school bus pulled away and jolted a little in surprise when Twilight took her hand as soon as she'd dropped it from her wave. At her jolt, Twilight loosened his hold, murmured, "We don't have —"

"No!" Yor tightened her hand around his, bringing it up to her chest impulsively. "I'm just... I'm not used to this yet.”

Twilight studied her, and Yor held his gaze through her blush and against the urge to shy away. After a moment, he tipped his head, smiled a little. "All right," and he tugged gently, bringing their hands down to hang between them. "Shall we?"

Strictly speaking, the hospital where Loid worked wasn't exactly on Yor's way to to work. But since... since two days ago, they had walked together each morning. Twilight first, yesterday, to city hall, and now Yor, today, to the hospital.

Two days ago was when Twilight had said, Nothing needs to change, but there's something I want to tell you, and Yor had looked at the stiff hold of his neck, the uncertain cast of his eyes, the way his breathing was just a little elevated, all signs he was nervous, except that while Twilight often felt much more than he was comfortable with, he was never nervous and so she had flustered which had set Twilight to withdraw into himself in a way Yor had learned meant he was trying to think quickly to avoid panic, which made her fluster more, until finally Twilight had blurted out his feelings, and

And everything had stopped.

And Yor had breathed out.

And Twilight looked a little stunned when she smiled at him, even though she felt a little tremulous. When she said, Oh, I feel the same, she had told him softly. I have for months.

And everything had changed.

Or, she supposed it would be more accurate to say, everything was in the process of changing.

Twilight tugged her hand again, and Yor took a step forward, and then, just like that, they were walking together. "Will it be a busy day for you?" he asked.

"Mmm, no, I don't think so," Yor said, looking off to the side to consider. "Actually it's a little quiet at the moment." And in case he was asking about her other work, she added, "No reason for overtime."

Twilight made a thoughtful noise. "So you'll be home for dinner?"

"Mhm, should be!"

"I'm glad to hear it," he said, voice warm in a way that sent little shivers all through her body.

"And your day?" she asked, giving a little swing of their hands between them to release some of those shivers. She felt Twilight's eyes slide to her when she did. Knew he'd be tamping down on some amusement if she looked. Yor bit her lip against her own.

"My day should be fairly normal," Twilight finally answered. "I don't anticipate any extra patients."

"I should hope not," Yor said darkly: extra patients really meant side missions. "You have too much to do as it is. She must give you a break."

Twilight was quiet for a moment, then said in an undertone, "I'll let her know to sleep with one eye open. That she's on your list."

Yor gasped — Does he think I meant I'd break Sylvia — ?! Turned to him urgently. "That isn't what I meant! I would never —"

But Twilight was looking back at her with a mild expression, his eyebrows raised over eyes bright with humour.

"You're teasing me," she accused, and Twilight grinned slightly, "Possibly."

"Loid," Yor complained. But she knew she wasn't fooling him. Her cheeks were warm and her smile was too wide, too pleased, too there. Twilight had been trying to teach her some small amount of acting and subterfuge. She had so far taken to it poorly. 

But, she could tease him, too. Yor lifted her chin, saying, "I'd only do something like that if you gave me very, very good reason. Or,” she raised a finger on her other hand, which was a little awkward, carrying her bag but she ignored that. “Or,” she repeated seriously, “If you ask very, very nicely.”

"I see," Twilight said, and Yor could hear the smile under his serious expression. "It’s always useful to gain insights into the decision making of your employer. I'll bear that in mind."

"Mm. It’s very complicated,” Yor told him lightly. “But I’m sure if you work hard enough at it, you’ll come to understand.” Then, the fizzle of delight overwhelmed, and she laughed. 

Taking her by surprise, Twilight drew to a stop, pulling her around to face him. She opened her mouth to ask what he was doing, when he ducked down, pressed a swift kiss to her cheek.

Yor touched her fingers to the spot he kissed, and blinked up at him as he withdrew. He gave her a small smile, and just as he made as though to keep walking, Yor darted up onto her toes, ducking under his hat to kiss him quickly on the lips.

As she spun away, tugging his hand to continue walking, a quiet, "Hehe!" escaped her. Beside her, Twilight let out a soft breath. It was a sound she had come to understand he made when feeling... When feeling something tender. If he thought Anya was cute, or if he thought Yor was, was... was something. She shied away from naming what that might be. But he was feeling tender, anyway, and that kept her smiling. She was feeling tender, too.

It wasn't long from there to the hospital. They stopped across the street from the entrance, hesitating. It's all so new, Yor thought, looking up into Twilight's soft expression. She felt as though she didn't know what to do so much of the time, and certainly didn't know now. But it wasn't as stressful, this not knowing. This was Twilight after all. He never minded when she didn't know.

And it seemed like he may not know exactly what to do, either.

"Well," he said after a moment. "Have a good day, Yor."

"You too, Loid!" Yor rolled up onto her toes, dropped back down again. "See you later!"

"Mm," Twilight agreed. He looked for a moment like he might kiss her again and Yor's breath caught. But he glanced at the hospital, and evidently thought better of it. With a final squeeze of her hand, he let her go, and started across the street.

Yor waited. She probably should leave too but… She wasn't ready to go. She tightened her hands around the handle of her bag, wanting to watch him for as long as possible. So she stayed, waiting to see him in.

He knew, of course he did, with the finely honed instincts of his trade, that she was still watching. Just before the door he turned, raising his hand in a wave.

Yor lifted her hand to return the wave, then on impulse brought her fingers to her lips instead. Kissed them and blew the kiss to Twilight with a wink.

And it was a thrill, his small smile, his small blush, the way he looked away but ducking his head like he was filled with some emotion he didn't know what to do with. She knew — she understood — Twilight was still learning that it was okay to feel nice and to feel good, and that those things wouldn't be taken away. That Yor wouldn't let them be taken away from him. And that, in particular, he could let Yor make him feel nice and good and safe. That had been from before two days ago, when they were trying to be good friends to one another alongside their other shared responsibilities.

That little duck of his head, that little blush, that little smile, was as loud for Yor as if he'd shouted something to her from across the street. 

She swung her bag, and had a bounce in her step as she turned to her office. The song she hummed was one of Anya's silly little happy songs, and Yor laughed to herself. Maybe Twilight wasn't the only one figuring out how to feel very good and very nice things. Glancing at her watch, she calculated the hours until dinner.

Part three (+1) ->

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

hii love, how are you doing? 🫶🏻

so, i just read your latest pietro hcs and it's SO GOOD😭 (like everything else that you write, i'm literally in love with your writing) and i had an idea

can i request an angry love confession from pietro after him and the reader go to a mission together and she puts herself at risk to save him?

like, they're friends with benefits, but are distant bc both of them had developed feelings for each other, but neither say anything bc they think the other only wants sex, like you said. the reader putting herself at risk during the mission to save pietro it's the last straw for him, he gets angry and freaked out by the idea of losing her. so, after the mission, they're arguing and it ends up leading to an angry love confession 😏😏

hii lovie!! im sorry this has taken so long, it took me ages to figure out how to get them out of the danger part, so I took a break from it and had no luck so left that part blank. but you’ll see what I mean😭 and im doing well, hope you are too. thank you :(( you’re so sweet!! thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

MISTAKES AND CONFESSIONS

pietro maximoff x female reader

word count. 869

link to fwb hc’s

As of late, things with Pietro have been a little confusing - tricky, if you will - the complications of being friends with benefits making themselves more apparent after every meet-up.

Everything was going well, all going as planned, until the unforeseen moment when you actually fell in love with him. At the beginning of your elevated friendship, you both promised it would be strictly hook-ups, no strings attached, nothing else. And that's what you did - up until three weeks ago. 

After a while, you found yourself declining his invitations to meet up, like you were starting to pull back from him. It grew more difficult to be around someone so unattainable, to have the constant reminder of his romantic disinterest, so instead, you withdrew yourself to make it less painful. 

So now, when you cross paths at the compound, instead of a nervous hidden smile behind your hand, you avoid his gaze completely - turning your attention to the weather app on your phone.

It wasn't easy to ignore him, but it was getting there - that's what you told yourself, anyway. 

All of your attempts to avoid Pietro got flipped on its head when the two of you got paired together for a mission - to retrieve intel from an enemy base. It was supposed to be a low-risk assignment: get in, collect the information and get out, but nothing is ever that simple.

As soon as you and Pietro stepped foot in the room of said intel, you noticed a red hue shine from under his foot. You immediately tugged at his arm, halting his movements when you realised what you had both walked into.

"Pietro! Wait, wait, wait," you call out, gripping at his upper arm. "Don't move. Keep still," you ramble, eagerly looking around the space.

"What is it?"

"The room— it's got these— I don't know, just keep still," you breathe out a reply, feeling flustered. 

"It's okay," Pietro offers a brief moment of reassurance, keeping his eyes glued ahead - keeping still as instructed. "Are you okay? Are you on one, too?" he hesitantly asks.

"No, no, but you are and— I don't know what to do. Nat taught me what to do with these and— god, why isn't my brain working?" you mumble, frustratedly speaking your mind when you think about the possibility of something awful actually happening to Pietro - to both of you.

"Draga, it's fine. Really, it's okay," he whispers, slowly extending his hand behind, like he was awkwardly reaching for you.

"No, keep still— please. Just let me think," 

"You should go,"

"No, give me a minute," 

"Please, milovat. You need to go,"

"I said no. Just give me a second,"

You even your breathing, running an uneasy hand over your forehead as you assess your surroundings. 

----- after ------ (im sorry about this, my brain broke)

You avoid each other's gaze, separately processing everything that happened - how you were both about to be blown to pieces, how you were willing to let yourself die to get Pietro out.

"That was so stupid," Pietro mutters, keeping his eyes fixed on a tree ahead.

"Excuse me?" you reply, neck whipping around to face him.

"That was so stupid," he repeats, emphasising each word.

"Are you kidding?" you snicker. "If you had minded where you were going we wouldn't have had to done all that."

"So you're saying it's my fault?" he retorts, face grimacing.

"Yes. I am," you retaliate. "It's your fault."

You both sigh, growing frustrated with the conversation. It was as if there was so much left unsaid, it all coming together like a whirlwind of mixed emotions - everything from your failed 'relationship' to no contact to just now. It was like you were both holding back on everything, too scared to bring up the subject that tarnished your original friendship. 

"I told you to go, and you didn't. That's not on me. That's on you! Don't blame me for things we both messed up on."

"Me? That's rich,"

"Yes, you! Nothing is ever your fault, is it?" he sneers, the argument changing subject.

"You never listen! Always thinking about yourself,"

"Bullshit," he dryly chuckles, unamused smile on his face.

"I don't want to do this. It's boring and tiring," you cave, waving your hands in sign of defeat. "I give up. You win."

Pietro huffs, rubbing over his temples. "If you had just gone..." he murmurs, talking at the floor.

"I couldn't! I couldn't leave you,"

"Yes, you could. You should've gone. You could have died," Pietro's words soften as if it all hit him how real it was - how he could have lost you again, but for good. "You could've died."

"So could you," you turn to face him, meeting his saddened eyes. 

His hands drop to his side as he steps towards you, walking to close the gap - the closest you had been in weeks. He keeps his gaze solely on you, looking over you like you're no longer a distant memory, like he was seeing you in a new light - the way he was supposed to see you.

He cups your cheeks, holding your face in his hands. "I could have lost you again."

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

pietro taglist: @astermath @thewinterv @earth-elemental18 @lunnnix @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @randomawesomeperson102 @queerponcho @selfryed @daenerys-supremacy @dontknownameauthor @mrsbarnesxxx @honestly-who-even-is-this @simplyreflected @apxtowiris

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Apartment 13 | Seo Changbin

-> Pairing: Seo Changbin x Witch!Reader

-> Request: No. This is a repost from my old account. It was part of my Halloween special.

-> Synopsis: Y/N finds out she's moved next door to a possible witch hunter but at least he's cute.

-> Warnings: Rumours, nosy neighbour, mentions of witch hunters.

-> Word Count: 982

-> Requests: Open.

Changbin Masterlist | Tag List Sign-Up | Requesting Guidelines

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. Likes, comments & reblogs are welcomed and appreciated, thank you.

“I’ve heard some rumours about her?” A neighbour confronts Changbin as they stand outside their apartment building. Changbin was waiting outside for Bang Chan to drop off his coat that he left at his apartment. The nosy neighbour has caught him curiously watching her. “You might not want to get involved with her.”  

Changbin looks towards at the nosy neighbour before his eyes shift back to the new neighbour that’s having a conversation with the building’s doorman. There’s a friendly smile on her lips and a kindness in her eyes as they seem to be talking like they’ve known each other for a long time.  

“The thing about rumours is that most of them are usually false,” Changbin says looking back at the nosy neighbour with an unimpressed look.   

This woman is well known in the building to be the biggest gossip and the one to spread any rumour she heard whether it be true or false. He’d heard her weekly book club gathering is nothing more than a gossiping session. Every time Changbin sees her, she has something new to talk about and he was getting sick of listening to it. Her speaking to him ended today.  

“And unlike you, I can form my own opinion about someone without having to listen to rumours and gossip,” he says and walks over to Chan’s car, who just pulled up. Chan not having much time to exchange pleasantries on his way to work, he takes his coat and thanks him before heading back inside the building.  

He makes his way onto the elevator and just as the doors are about to close, they reopen and his new neighbour steps on.   

“I really thought I was going to miss that,” she speaks, her voice soft and almost too quiet for him to hear. After seeing the button to their floor has already been pushed, she turns to him and holds out her hand. “I’m Y/L/N Y/N. I just moved into apartment 13.”   

‘Unlucky number,’ he thinks in his head as he introduces himself. “Seo Changbin, apartment 11.”   

“I don’t think 13 is an unlucky number,” she says. His reaction causes her eyes to grow wide in shock as she realizes she said it out loud.   

He looks at her confused, a little curious and somewhat weirded out. “I never said it was.”  

Her eyes grow wide, her cheeks flushing red from embarrassment and panic sets in as she realizes she had said that out loud. “I uh... People usually... 13’s always been known as an unlucky number so... Thank you for saying what you did to that lady out there.”  

Now Changbin looks even more confused. The apartment building doors were able to cancel out most of the noise coming from the outside street. There’s no way she would have heard the two of them talking from where she was standing talking to the doorman inside.   

“She’s the building’s gossip queen,” he tells her in almost a warning. “If you don’t want to get caught up in it, you should avoid her the best you can.”  

“I’ve already heard what she’s been saying about me,” she admits, her gaze falling to the floor of the elevator but not out of embarrassment. She’s been many places where she became the subject of people’s idle gossip. The rumours follow her wherever she goes. All she can do is ignore them the best she can. “I guess you’ve already heard it. I’m cursed. I’m a witch. I made my ex fall in love with me and then sacrificed him in some satanic ritual.”   

“I’ve heard. It doesn’t mean I believe it,” he says looking at her, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. She didn’t look or seem like the murderous type, but this is the first time they’re talking. He doesn’t know a thing about her.  

“Maybe you should,” she whispers as the elevator doors open, and steps outside.  

He frowns in confusion and steps off the elevator just before the doors close again. He looks down the hall. Y/N is no longer in sight. The floor is empty aside from him.  

“Why does he have to be so cute?" Y/N says scolding no one in particular, after she teleported herself into her apartment. She hurries into her bedroom, the diary her mother left her shooting from its hiding spot into her hands.  Flipping through the pages, she stops on the one she’s looking for. Handwritten in bold letters is Changbin’s surname with witch-hunters and cursed written next to it. Going through the pages again she tries to find answers to the questions running through her mind.   

“If he’s a witch hunter, then why can I hear his thoughts? He also never mentioned the mark,” she continues, looking down at the black swirl pattern covering her arm. "Was he pretending not to see the mark? Can he still see the mark if I can hear his thoughts?"

From what she’s been taught a witch hunter’s thoughts are protected from witches but the only way a witch hunter could tell if someone is a witch was the tattoo like markings that cover their left arm. A light witch, with her final breath, had added it to the witch hunters curse so no more innocent humans were killed due to a hunter’s hatred for the supernatural being.   

“What if the witch hunter curse has ended? Can it end? So many questions, and no answers. I thought this was meant to help me, mother.”   

She tosses the diary on her bed just as there is a knock on her apartment door. Exiting her bedroom, she walks to the door and looks through the peephole finding Changbin there with what looks like a bag of food.  

“Again, why does he have to be so cute?” she quietly groans and against her better judgement, opens the door to greet him.   

Tagged: @staytiny2000 - @kpopmenace143 - @alexxavicry - @jedi-dreea - @rainydayteacups

@tinyelfperson - @laylasbunbunny - @skz1-4-3 - @pinkies-things - @kayleefriedchicken

@everythingboutkpop

[k1ttykatsu]

TEACHERS PET! - melanie martinez

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ pairings: Professor! bakugo x student blkfem!reader

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ summary: if i’m so special why am i secret?

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ warnings: sir kink, oral(fem&male),unprotected sex, creampie, spit, classroom sex, voyeurism? degrading, praising, daddy kink, talks about breeding, slight age gap (readers like 20 while bkg is like 25-27), hair pulling, thigh kink, katsuki loves your little school uniform, panty stealing,cum play, corruption, yummy buldge, authority kink, pussy slapping, crying, face slapping.

⋆·˚ ༘ * ⋆·˚ ༘ * wc:3.2k

*ੈ✩‧₊ ೋ kay speaks: ello! kay here, trying out a new format for the new year! i haven’t seen a teacherbkg! in a while so why not (lol) just wanted to say this storyline is not realistic in the LEAST! don’t sleep with your professors please. enjoy!

“and that’s chemistry!” your professor blurts out as he finishes his lesson. the last class of the day! you thank god that the long boring lesson that  barely keeps you awake is over . the thin line between you and sleep was your super hot chemistry professor.

finally your body allows itself to drift off to sleep, only for it to be awakened by your teacher for what feels like seconds later. “miss y/l, you’ve been asleep for 20 minutes now, class is over” the professor speaks, head buried in a book as he bites on the eraser of his pencil.

glasses at the tip of his nose before he looks up to glare at you now. you instantly feel hot under this gaze causing you to carefully look around. “i’m sorry, didn’t realize” you coyly gather your stuff. as you're picking up your book bag from the floor you decide to be a cheeky little shit and bend down enough  to show off your lacy black underwear, that barely covers your ass.

“when you're finished i need to talk to you y/n” you hear your name and jump at it. the way it flows out of his lips, the way he subtly bites his lips after he says it, the way it makes your cunt clench around nothing. “yes sir” your voice feigning innocence as you make your way from the elevated back of the classroom.

tits bouncing from the way your partially unbuttoned blouse opens up and shows your cleavage. his eyes trained on the way your thighs jiggle from each step. you place your book back onto the floor right beside his desk. “yes?” your big doe eyes look the man deep in his soul, he.

“you’ve been sleeping a lot in class, is everything alright?” you think for a minute before answering. “no, my roommate keeps me up all night, her boyfriend is always over” you try to insinuate what you mean, putting emphasis on the words all night and boyfriend.

“mhm, really? tell me more?” fucking perv. but you indulge in it telling him they have sex about every night, the sounds, the smell all makes you wanna roll up into a ball and die!

“mhm, just sounds to me like your a little jealous” he rolls his chair back from his desk and he point out your hands balled up into little fist making him laugh.  “t’s not funny suki!” you whine before sitting on the man’s desk right between him and his desk.

he slides in so he’s closer to you andis sitting facing you. “i know baby” his words are coddling but you don’t want words anymore you want action. “no! i’ve been patient with you  and you're not giving me what i want, what you promised me suki!” your lips in a small pout. “i always gotta wait till you’re ready but what about me?”

he’s listening, he swears he is, you just make it so hard when you're sitting on his desk looking like the sexiest, most fuckable little thing alive. “i know, but i’ve been working sweetheart, you know that you're my special girl” his hands find their way to that pretty ass that’s perched up on his desk.

“you say that all the time but, if i’m so special, why am i secret?” he hears it in your voice, you're gonna break and not the way he wants you to break. you're crying because of him, how he treats you. he feels bad, he feels like the worst man on earth, treating a pretty thing like you that bad.

“i didn’t know you felt that way sweetheart, lemme make it up to you?” do you wanna comply or do you want to be bratty? “you’ve had too many chances katsuki, maybe it’s time for me to give aaron a chance.” you try to scoot off his desk quickly before you feel a cautious smack placed on your face. (not hard enough for it to be domestic)

“the hella gotten into you?” you roll your eyes hard before speaking up. “obviously not you” you hear your sassy tone as you speak. you watch his face scrunch up before seeming trying to calm himself down.

“are you seriously being bratty right now?” you try to scoot off the desk again while also failing again. his hands grip your thighs making a quiet moan fall from your lips. “by the way we have a quiz next week, you should study” you hate the way he completely changes the topic.

“if i pass this quiz will you give me yo’ babies?” you lean down and speak seductively into his ear. his semi hard cock jumps at the action making him pinch your thighs a little harder. “i’ll give them to you right now if you stop acting like a whiny bitch” you moan at the thought of his hot seed filling you up to the brim.

you moan out in agreement before you feel his hands get closer to your sticky wet cunt. “please sir?” you hear him chuckle and shake his head. “now that i’m giving the slut what she wants i’m sir?” you shake your head before pouting. “i always call you sir, even in class when your teaching”

of course he took notice of that, how could he not? everytime that word come out of your pretty little lips he wants to fuck you right on his desk.

“aaron asked me if i could call him sir, y'know” you see bakugo’s jaw clenching immediately. “you’ve been calling other boys sir y/n? knew you were a slut” he takes his hands off of you and grimaces at the sight of you.

“of course not, you're the only one for me” you plead as you take his cheeks between your hands squishing them to look at you all cross eyed, “never betray you, ever!” you emphasize as you scoot closer to him.

trying to push your core onto his stomach but he stops you. “needy” he flick your forehead with a smile on his lips. he loves when you reassure him that he’s the only one you’l ever touch, love and fuck.

“do you love me sir?” your big doe eyes focusing on his ruby red hues. “of course, the love of my life” he’s not lying, he does love you inside and out, the only girl who truly understands him. “i want you” you whine into his lips as you bring him closer and closer.

he places his lips onto yours and he tastes the sweet mango candy you were eating in his class. sweet as candy.

the kiss gets deeper as leans in more, you hear the sound of pencils and paper hitting the floor as you lean farther back into his desk. “wanna eat ya’” he moans into your mouth causing you to whimper loudly before disconnecting your lips from his.

you push yourself a little farther so he could have enough space to get down to business. he spreads your legs apart, eyes widened when he sees how wet you really are. “all for you” you practically moan out as the cold air hits your covered pussy.

he adjusts his chair so he’s sitting low enough for his mouth to reach your cunt, he pulls your panties down slowly, teasing you. once there down he pockets the lacy cloth quickly. spreading your fold’s watching your slick spread with it.

“such a pretty pussy” you clench around nothing as he prods around your cunt. puffy lips looking appetizing as he begins to rubs your clit slowly. your eyes shut slowly as he rubs your bean. little moans slip through your pretty plump lips.

“so sensitive” he taunts as he spreads you open. “mouth’ please ki” you moan as you spread your legs farther to tempt him to just put his mouth on you!

he listens and does what you ask, putting his lips on your cunt, placing little kisses making you grind your cunt into his face. as you're in the moment, eyes closed and slightly humming you feel a harsh slap being placed on your pussy.

a loud moan leaves your lips as your back arches, flushing your chest against his forehead. “gotta be quiet baby, don’t want anybody to hear us.”  you apologize quickly before you feel the man scoot his chair away from your leaking cunt and quickly move to lock the door.

once he comes back he dives into your pussy, pulling back to pucker his lips spit falling from them and landing on your pussy. “babe” you moan out as your leg hooks around his shoulder and your fingers find themselves laced into his hair.

you feel yourself getting closer and bakugo could tell that you're close too. you push his face further into your pussy as you arch your back. moans and whines flying out of your mouth when he harshly sucks and nibbles on your clit.

“ki! baby i’m gonna cum” he feels your nails digging into his scalp causing him to moan and whimper in your cunt. “love you so much” he mumbles sweet praises as he ravages you. that’s what brings you over the edge, your legs locked around his head as your hands grips his roots.

your thighs begins to shake while his assaults on your clit begin to slow down. “so good” you barely hear him as you suffocate him with your thighs. your high hits you like a mac truck, your moaning and whining into the air, all your self control is out the window as you cum on his tongue.

the feeling of him lapping up your sweetness sends you to overstimulation as you unhook your legs and push him back. once he faces you, the feral look on his face makes you smile. a big smirk on his face before he licks your cum off of his lips.

“so good,” he says before bringing you closer for a passionate kiss. you taste yourself on his lips making you grind back into the man causing him to holt your movements. “if you keep that up i’ll cum in my pants” you giggle before nodding at the man.

placing one more kiss before you push him back and stand up only to sink back down unto your knees. the man quirks and eyebrow at you watching your every move. he watches the way you bite your lip as your eyes settle on his growing bulge. the way your breathing hitches as your fingers prod around his clothed cock.

he watches as your pretty pink acrylics unbutton his pants with no trouble whatsoever. he shimmy’s his pants down to help you out a bit causing you to thank the man. but before he shimmy’s his underwear down you stop him.

your hand tightened around his restricted bulge causing him to whimper out. “shit” you laugh at the eagerness of the man. you place a kiss to his clothed cock causing him to twitch beneath those pretty lips of yours. his hips jerk up as u place another kiss onto him. “want you to face fuck me ki’” you plead with thoes big doe eyes of yours.

“you want me to fuck up that pretty throat of yours?” you nod your head intensely causing him to laugh. “unbutton that shirt pretty girl”  and you do what he says. unbuttoning your shirt while he frees his coco from the restricting underwear.

you examine his cock for what feels like the 50th time this month and it never fails to amaze you. the pretty pink tip oozing pre cum making your mouth water at the sight.

“want you to take the whole thing okay?” you nod and before you know it you see the man grab the base of his cock and bring it towards him. a glob of spit falls from his lips and landing right on his tip.

he jerks his cock a couple times before he grabs your ponytail and you know to open your mouth quickly. he shoves his cock between your lips making you gag instantly.

“love a good gag reflex” he mumbles as he guides your head up and down his thick shaft. he sees the bulge in your throat causing his hips to jerk up some more. tears flood your lash line from how deep he’s in your throat.

he picks your head up off him and you begin to cough. spit sputtering out of your mouth as you try to catch your breath. spit dribbles down your chest and lands on your tits. the shiny substance catches his eyes, making him take his fingers and glide it between the spit, covering his fingers in it before placing it in his mouth.

your eyes roll back at the scene before you making you want to get back to work. he gets the hint and your mouth is back on his cock. his moans and deep groans spurring you on as you let him use your mouth as a personal flashlight. your space out to the point where you're just focused on the cock deep in your throat.

smack!

a loud and harsh smack is placed on your cheek causing you to moan around him. the vibration from your moans causing his hips to stutter and before the both of you know it he’s cumming down your throat. “shit! fucking love you” his high takes over as you sit on your knees beneath the man, watching his reaction from the things that your mouth did to him.

he takes his semi hard cock out of your mouth and watches the trail of spit and cum it leaves on your face. “c’mere” he picks you up off your knees and places you to straddle his lap. the sight of you with cum and spit on your face and tits, hair a mess, and swollen lips makes his cock rock hard again.

“wanna fuck you, put a baby in my pretty pussy” his possessive side shows but he doesn’t care, he want you to walk around campus with his baby in your stomach. he doesn’t care if he’s risking his job, he just want you.

“want you to fill me up suki!” you moan in his ear while your bare cunt grinds against his cock. your slick lathering him up so he knows he doesn't have to prep you any more. you feel the strong man pick you up with one hand while he holds his cock in the other.

he teases his tip and traces it around your leaky cunt, relishing on how wet he’s made you. “that wet from sucking cock? your crazy” he laughs as he finally inserts himself into you. you moan in his ear as your body recoils into his. “don’t call me crazy” your voice is high pitched as you stretch yourself out on his cock.

“ki baby!” you screeched into his ear causing him to grip your ass once you finally sank down. “so tight” he whines into your neck, placing love bites into your neck. “i love you” you pick his head up and make him look you in the eyes. “love you more, then you’ll ever know”

you begin to bounce on your teachers, boyfriend's cock. your tight walls squeezing him just right as you take charge over him. “why am I a secret ki?” you whine out as you feel his hands gripping the fat of your thighs. “not a secret, everyone knows!” he huffs as you grind your hips down more.

you want to focus on his words so hard but you can’t, the way his cock hits your cervix repeatedly. “oh my god!” you pull on his blonde locs causing a whimper to slip through his lips. “shit! i’m close” bakugo decides to fuck up into to your heat, the curve of his cock hitting your inside perfectly.

“ki pleaseee!” you moan as you hide your face into his neck. sucking love bites onto his jugular causing his hips to hit deep inside of you. he needs to see your face when you cum so he takes it upon himself to pull your head back by your ponytail.

“wanna see you cum” his hands grab onto your tits pulling down your black lacy bra. “babe” your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel yourself clench around him. “you’ve gotta cum now” he demands as he fuck up into you harder.  “fuck you look so hot bouncing on my cock” you squeeze your eyes from the immense amount of pleasure you're feeling.

“i’m cumming!” you scream out into the empty classroom. your pussy clenches around him triggering his orgasm as well. he holds you down against his hips as he emptied himself into you. your body shakes as you cum around his dick.

“i love you” you cry into his neck, high off your orgasm and your emotions are running high. he instantly gets out his post- orgasm headspace and snaps back into reality. (oh! there goes gravity. sorry) 

“what happened, did i hurt you?” he pulls you out of his neck and grabs your face. tears flooding down your face as you look into his scarlet eyes. “i-” you hiccup, “i just love you and- and i don’t know” you can’t even get your head straight.

you're running high off emotions and don’t know exactly what you want to pinpoint. “i love you too, why are you crying?” he’s holding you like you're going to break and you feel like you are with the way he’s talking to you.

“if this is about you being a ‘secret’ your not, your not exactly subtle” you look at him confused as hell so he takes that as a queue to continue. “why do you think no one interrupts us when we have a little rendezvous y/n?”

now that you think about it no one ever question when you walk with bakugo to his car, sneak off into his classroom when you obviously don’t have that class. or even the two of you walking around campus together.

“what about principal nezu?” you think about the college's headmaster. “we agreed on some terms, you're graduating in a month so agreed that as long as i’m fair with grading and grade you based on your academic performance not your personal performance” you giggle at the end of his sentence.

he takes his thumb and wipes your tears and places a kiss on your forehead. “pretty girls don’t cry over stupid shit” he mumbles into your forehead making you smile. “okay let’s go home ki” he nods his head and scoots himself closer to his desk.

he holds the base of his cock as you slide yourself off of him. a whine slips out of his mouth making you giggle. you sit back onto his desk and watch him slip himself back into his boxers and then pull up his pants.

you look around for your panties and you can’t find them anywhere. “i have em’” you shake your head before sinking down onto your feet. bakugo picks up your bag before picking up his bag.

he grabs your hand and the two of you walk out of the classroom. as the two of you walk out of the school he whispers into your ear “you better hope your not wasting my cum”

[potterandpromises]

not just another bloody mary (your beauty never ever scared me)

Missing scene from 3x07. I wanted to write Tobert's thoughts about Mabel staying at Theo's. This ficlet doesn't exactly show Mabel and Tobert as having the strongest of relationships, but could be viewed as pre-OT3, or just pre-Theobel. I kept it pretty canon complacent. Title is from Mary on a Cross by Ghost. Also on AO3

Across the room, Mabel speaks into her phone in fits and starts until she hits a dramatic, sort of tacky tone. She completes a reading of Theo's script just after midnight.

Tobert isn’t even sure why he stays.

“Can you help us with these boxes? Lester left us the good luggage cart.”

“Sure." He doesn't ask who Lester is. “Where are you taking them?”

“Theo’s dad is in prison so we’re going to store most of it at his place.”

“Right, right.”

They load the boxes onto the cart. On the second trip, Tobert looks around Teddy Dimas’ apartment. It's both exactly how he imagined it from the podcast and nothing at all like he thought. It’s dark, and clean, if dusty, and is that a photo of Sting?

The last dozen boxes are to be loaded into Theo's car and taken to his apartment. “I can help with the rest of this stuff too.”

“Oh, you don’t have to," Mabel says.

“I want to.”

In the elevator behind Theo’s back, Tobert wants to say more. “I knew you were moving, but I didn’t realize you had to be out so soon.”

“Theo offered to let me crash at his place like, a month ago.”

“Tight.” He would have offered, too, if he’d known.

The elevator dings open and Theo, two boxes hoisted in his arms, steps to the side. He and Mabel exchange smiles that are, absurdly, too warm for the occasion. Theo nods slightly and Mabel steps forward. Ladies first. Tobert drags the luggage cart behind them.

They load the last of the boxes into the car. Everything fits, with no room in the backseat for a third. So, Tobert can’t help Mabel finish moving in, the way he would have liked.

“What’s your address?” Tobert asks, and feels foolish; Theo's leaning into the backseat. He moves a box to the floor.

“I’ll text it to you later," Mabel says.

She leans forward, kisses him, and he thinks— he thinks— he sees the corners of Theo's lips upturn, briefly, in a smirk.

He likes Theo, really. He’s a fascinating person. He’d love to get to know him better. It’s just some outdated ideas about men and women and whether they can be friends floating around his head that makes his stomach uneasy.

That, and the general vibe between the two of them in the podcast; the way Theo's reputation proceeds him.

“Goodnight.” Mabel waves.

"Text me when you get there." She disappears into the passenger seat.

Theo catches his gaze for a moment, maybe accidentally. And Tobert tries to imagine Theo’s apartment. Is it a studio, like Tobert’s? Or can the heir to a chain of successful Greek delis afford extra walls, and more then one bed?

[worshipme]

if yaz thought she was being 'too extra', then tyler thinks he's underdressed compared to her. he'd argue that there were only so many things you can do with a pair of slacks, a button down, and a jacket... but still. he just hopes that she thinks he looks good. she's the only one he wants to impress, anyway. "no, not too extra. you can truly never be too extra." tyler assures her while they make their way to the elevator with their hands laced together.

it's when they're standing in the elevator that tyler feels those nerves start to settle back in. here they were. the date has started and everything is real. she's the one to break the silence and tyler's pulled out of his thoughts. he turns to look at her and he feels her growing shy under her praise and gaze. "thank you." he whispers just before he's leaning in to kiss her forehead.

it gives him a bit of relief - knowing that she thinks he looks good. well, not just good, but handsome. he's aware of his attractiveness, but it means the world coming from the one person he really wants to impress in the world. he hopes he'll continue to impress her today. "would you believe me if i told you i was nervous?" he asks her.

"like i know it's nothing entirely new. i love being able to spend time with you like this - a date. i know that we've already established that we aren't entertaining anyone else and are exclusive, but i'm just..." his voice trails off as he struggles to find the words to describe how he feels. the doors open and tyler leads the way out of the lift and off towards the garage. "i think it's because i really want to impress you today that i'm nervous. while i know i don't have to do a lot, i want to do that for you."

they approach his car and it's the big surprise he has for her. it had taken him a while, but he finally found a florist that actually had stargazers in their store. that in itself was truly a shock since they weren't in season but tyler could only praise human creation for allowing him to get yaz's favorite flowers. (special shoutout to greenhouses). he also wanted to thank his window tint for hiding the surprise waiting for her in the passenger seat. if it weren't for that, then the surprise would be ruined the second that they started walking towards his car.

"which, speaking of impressing you," he begins to say as they approach the passenger's side entrance of his car. tyler lets go of her hand to open the door for her to reveal the large bouquet waiting for her in the seat. "these are for you." there's a nervous smile that's etched itself on his face while he reaches instead and pulls out the bouquet. he holds it out for her to take, and tyler prays that she loves it.

post-dated 11.11.24:

As she looked at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t help but exhale several deep breaths. She wasn’t entirely sure that this was nerves - it couldn’t be. Her and Tyler at this point were already well acquainted, so the danger of the unknown when it came to dating wasn’t entirely applicable here ... yet still, she wanted to make a good impression for him.

Outfit after outfit laid on her floor in her indecision before opting for a tight, black dress with several revealing cut-outs. She had been going back and forth while she did a small turn in the mirror. Was this trying too hard? Was there even such a thing? She knew just from her comfortability with Tyler that he would be fine with her just wearing a paper bag … but it wasn’t good enough for her. He deserved to have her at her best, just as he had done the same for her since they began whatever blooming relationship this was beginning to be.

“You think this is fine, Tofi?” She spoke to the dog like he’d give her any kind of validation and in own way, he did. With a wag of his tail and expression, happy as ever. Leaning down, she pressed a kiss to the top of her pup’s head before grabbing her purse to head out the door. “Be a good boy. I’ll be back later.” She hushed as the clinks of her heels followed her out the door, leading her to Tyler’s front door. And with a baited breath, she knocked.

[kaepop-trash]

can we get the first time johnny and y/n hook up in no time to blame

Next Time

It's finally here! Maybe Johnny is just the slow burn guy. Or maybe it's just me being in a lazy headspace lately. This was not edited in hindsight.

Requests for this are still open!

_

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Sex, Making Out, Oral (female receiving), Touch Starved Characters, Friends With Benefits, Soft!Dom Johnny with a Tendency Towards Hard!Dom, Hints Of Degradation Kink, They're Both In Love With Other People, It's Just a Little Complicated And Messy (Intentional).

WC: 4.9k

_

"How was your week at work?" Johnny questioned as they were halfway up the elevator ride. The mundane question felt strange after the silence that had jelled between them since the cab. It made her look up at him, wide eyed and lost, to meet the usual warmth of his gaze. 

A breath passed and she swallowed the ball of nerves in her throat, willing herself to match his demeanor. "The usual. Nothing to be worried about." She shrugged, her eyes turning to wander the small space. "How was yours?" She asked the moment she remembered her manners.

"The same." He pursed his smile, "Nothing to be worried about."

She could only nod in response. It was hard to come up with something to say back, not when her mind was churning.

"Did you cook that octopus yet?" He questioned after a moment, once again speaking like this was just another day they were hanging out.

The question made her look up, the words initially drawing no thoughts before her mind gathered back and recalled the previous evening. 

The supermarket had fresh octopus that you had to buy in bulk. Johnny had agreed to take half when she had asked.

"No. I was thinking about cooking it tomorrow." She explained. 

"Did you have a recipe in mind?" He asked, lifting his back off the elevator's wall. It dinged to a stop at his floor at the same time.

"Not really, I was just going to see what I had." She spoke after they got off on his floor.

"Great." He turned to her, walking with his back to his path. It made her realise that Johnny was a little drunk. "You can make my half for lunch tomorrow instead." He smiled, turning around to walk properly after.

Oh. It took her a beat to get what he so delicately implied. They stopped at his door, his keys jangling while she began to fidget with the hem of her dreas. He pushed the door, holding it open before turning to her.

(Y/N) took a step closer, "Do you want to have it spicy?" She questioned with a devious smile, already knowing the answer.

"No." He stated, following behind her into the apartment. 

She switched the light on, taking her shoes off. "It's a pity really," Once discarded, she stood back straight and brushed her hands on her hips . "That you have the tongue of a toddler." She clicked her tongue.

Johnny finished taking off his own shoes, standing up so close to her that she had to crane her neck up. The closest he'd probably ever stood to her.

Oh. 

She raised her head, noticing how low his chin fell just to meet her gaze.

Oh.

He raised a brow, "What's a pity is how many of your taste buds are damaged for you to be okay with eating as much spice as you do." He mumbled.

She laughed, the reasoning one she hadn't heard before. Her pat on his chest was meant to push him back. In reality it gave her enough time to slip into the living room.

"I'll make your bland octopus. Don't worry about it." She nodded, looking around like she needed to. Like she didn't know his apartment better than her own new one.

"That's alright." He stepped closer, carving a place out in her personal space one again. So close. The heat from his chest was close enough to be felt through her dress. (Y/N) crossed her arms in a subconscious attempt to curl into herself. 

"I'm not worried about anything." Johnny mused, his tone as casual as it was on most days. Even though today was a far cry from most.

"Good." She answered.

"Are you?" He asked.

She considered the question. Wondering how she could answer it in a way that didn't sound burdensome.

"No I just." She paused, thinking over her words before giving in to the truth. "I hate change." She confessed, those three words leaving her feeling more exposed than she expected.

Johnny circled around to stand in front of her with a curious gaze. Cupping her cheeks in his palms, he lifted her head and met his gaze with a warm smile.

"Hey, it's still me." He moved his face closer, "I haven't changed. I'm not going to. It's us. We're best friends, remember?" His hands landed on her shoulders to give them a reassuring squeeze.

Her cheeks dusted pink, the words never failing to assuage her. She gave him a smile, stepping closer.

"That isn't going to change. Never. I promise you." He smiled with a nod meant to convince. She nodded back, some of her nerves disappearing.

"Johnny." Her voice was fragile, mind toying with a difficult question. Her heart jumped when he hummed, giving her the gentlest smile that gave her unprecedented butterflies. "What if we regret it?" She whispered.

The question scared her for strange reasons. One one hand it felt like a necessary thing to ask before they did something they could never take back. On the other, as she only just realised, she was scared that he'd agree and want this to stop.

"Then we don't let it ruin our friendship." His gaze didn't waver.

There was something about his words, how he chose to frame his declaration. Of course, it was something a person like Johnny would do. He didn't claim to control what they might feel later; but he could say with certainty what he'd do about it irrespective. It made her look at him with a renewed clarity. 

Johnny with his eyes furrowed from concern, one hand on her arm and the other against her neck. His thumb stroked over her pulse in soothing circles, waiting for her to speak.

Except, she didn't know what to say. So her hand reached out for his face but she lost her nerve and settled for his chest. Without looking up to him, she gave him a nod. Worried about how he'd react, she was taken aback when he snorted with mischief in his lilt.

"You have an important mission to look forward to after all." His thumb brushed right under her bottom lip, "You promised that octopus will make me like seafood. This could be the real make or break of our friendship." The mix of his actions and words left her dizzy, like two different people had suddenly combined into one. 

His words, nonetheless, did what they were intended to do. It was easy to fall back into rhythm with him. Even as the tempo seemed to be changing into something yet to be appreciated.

"And you don't want it to be spicy?" She questioned. Her own words did what she wanted them to. He looked taken aback— if only for a moment.

Then he stood up straight, arms still on her shoulder. "How bad can it be?" He asked like it was a dare, one hand reaching over so he could use his fingers to run through her hair.

It was hard to focus long enough to even form a response. Each time his nails grazed too close to her scalp, her senses melted away further.

"I guess we'll have to find out." Was all she could form, fighting against the urge to close her eyes. A pleased smile formed on his lips at the words. 

He took a step closer, already cosy in her personal space. She felt her insides squeeze. This close, it was like she was seeing Johnny Suh in a whole new light.

Had he always been this irresistible? She wondered, suddenly forced to confront the realisation she has been holding off. 

Slowly, through the past months, the idea she held of this man had chipped away the more she got used to him. His each action, words and disposition turned so familiar that she could slowly begin to see them in a newer, closer, light. 

Each gaze he gave her, each time his fingers found a new part of her skin to innocently toy with. It was like a slow unravelling of the Johnny she had once known. Like he was chipping away at her mind to make just enough space to fit in this new side of him.

"I can work with that." He stated, leaning over to kiss her forehead. A newly minted type of intimacy that hadn't existed before was sealed with it, one she surprisingly found herself taking to like fish to water.

When he drew back, one hand slid down her arm and stopped to thread their fingers together. He looked down at it with a sad smile, his mood suddenly turning solemn when he looked back up. 

With a distant gaze he pushed her hair off her shoulders, dragging his fingers through the back of her head till her eyes fought to roll back. He kept up the efforts while she fought back her urge, both silently watching the other for several moments before Johnny parted his lips.

"Can I ask you something?" His voice dropped lower.

She hummed, having closed her eyes just moments before. He stayed silent for another moment and it gave her the window to focus on the sensation of his skin against hers.

"Do you miss being held?" It was a simple question. One that made her eyes shoot open with a jolt. 

Combined with the look on his face, the words made her feel irrevocably vulnerable. Her speechless look must have been an answer enough because he smiled with meek solidarity.

He tightened his grip on her back, tugging her towards him with a gentle grip. Her breathing broke into a fit, rising till it felt like she was gasping. 

He was embracing her. In a way that he never had, Johnny held her against him with an extremely soft hold. A hold that nonetheless bled a certain amount of destitution that tugged at her heart.

"Yeah, me too." He chuckled once he pulled away, cupping her cheek to look at her with fragile eyes.

So close. She could see the mole on his cheek, one she had seen countless times before but never observed. Her senses blurred at the corners like she was looking at an old picture. Like a photograph that was fading at the corners from age. In this light Johnny looked like a relic: beautiful and just out of reach.

She dared to inch her fingers to his neck in retaliation for the thought. Silent understanding passed between them with a nod from her. One that made closing the leftover gap a little easier as she embraced him.

Her head rested against his chest, arms circling his waist with a reassuring squeeze.

"I get it." She confessed with a whisper. And being here, in the comfort of his embrace, she meant it too. In fact, she now knew that this was one of the things they both shared a mutual understanding of.

Pulling away just enough, she took the chance to kiss him. Something sparked in her as he seemed to melt into her, all their doubts and hesitation giving way to something entirely new. As she dragged her tongue over his, all trepidations began to evolve into the electric need to finish what was started weeks ago.

Johnny's thoughts bounced between being clouded from desire and razor sharp from sensation. "Bed." He groaned against her lips, biting his tongue like anything beyond the single word would give away his swirling apprehension. He pressed his pelvis against hers, a vulgar attempt at making his case.

They stumbled back a few steps, wadding towards their intended destination. The sound of her knocking against something made him freeze. Johnny pulled back just as she groaned, concern replacing every other emotion in his eyes as he looked down.

"I told you this coffee table is too high." Her bottom lip jutted out. "I always hit my knee." Eyelashes fluttered as her eyes opened.

He kneaded her calf where he assumed the impact happened. The displeased pout that formed on her lips would make him laugh at her on a different day. But today he needed to force an amused smile.

"You're just too short." His eyes refused to look away from her now swollen lips, glistening and flushed thanks to him.

"Asshole." Her gaze was scathing. It did nothing but entice his most closely guarded desires.

"Are you all talk, or do you know how to bite too? I've always been curious about that." He let the long held question out. Her brows lifted in surprise and it only made the smirk that emerged on his face more triumphant. "Just bark then, I suppose." He shrugged, hand slipping into hers as he guided her without distraction this time.

"Which one are you?" She asked as they walked into his room. He watched like he was studying her, noting the way her eyes fell to his bed and she swallowed. When she turned though, there was no panic in her eyes. 

Johnny licked his lips, caging her between him and the foot of his bed.

"Nothing like you, I'm afraid." He promised, using a single index finger to push her into his bed.

Tossing his last shred of shame out the window, his eyes raked over her frame. He watched her chest rise and fall faster with each swipe of his gaze, his fingers clenching the bedsheet. His bedsheet.

Johnny took a moment before he let his thoughts get ahead of him, brows furrowing from necessity, “How do you feel about this? You're okay?" He asked what he believed was the right question to ask in this situation.

"Yeah." She nodded, "Of course." A tiny chuckle slipped through her lips, like she thought asking that question at this point was ridiculous.

"Of course?" He mocked her, "Is the choice that obvious?" He gloated, lifting one knee to press into the mattress beside her.

"Yeah, I mean." She stopped, looking him over with a kind on intense attention that heated his skin. Johnny didn't think he could get shy, yet he could feel the blood rise from his neck till his cheeks radiated warmth. 

Her lips slowly parted as she thought over whatever was making her eyes glaze over. Then she pursed her lips and snapped out of it, breaking eye contact to look down at his chest. "Look at you." She pointed at him, "You should have been the one in the magazines. Despite those dreadfully ill-fitted sweatshirts you always wear." She quipped, lips twitching at a corner.

Despite the obvious compliment the words were, Johnny slightly deflated. Like he was expecting something else. Something beyond an appreciation of his outer shell. But it wasn't what this was, he reminded himself.

"You can't judge the clothes I wear on my off-duty days. 'In the magazines', huh?" He wriggled his brows at her, leaning over just enough to let his knuckles slide up her torso. “You aren’t so bad yourself, baby.” He downplayed his thoughts exponentially.

"Ego is not a good look on you, I'm afraid. A big head will throw your proportions off." She tried to keep her tone neutral, like her cheeks weren’t visibly red despite the dim room. "You stand behind the camera, all your days are off-duty days." She reminded him, biting down on her bottom lip when a hand slid between her thighs, coaxing them apart with gentle strokes.

"You need to watch your tongue." He hummed. His hand slipped under her dress, cold fingers against balmy skin causing her to wince. Johnny smirked, "You're lucky I'm being generous with you tonight." Despite the lack of force in his words, her stomach churned at the warning.

"How generous do you think you're being right now?" She hummed, raising a brow in a rush of daring.

Johnny smirked like he'd been waiting for her to ask that all night. "Want to find out?" He questioned, almost stumbling when she nodded.

With a surge of daring, the bolder of his two hands cupped her heat, thump pressing into the fabric. Her hips jerked up, a desperate whimper slipping past trembling lips.

The inhale Johnny took promised to leave him a little light headed and he was compelled to give up his high ground, leaning down completely till his chest grazed over hers.

"I've decided I'll be nice to you today." Johnny spoke against her ear. 

"Why? Are you usually not?" Her whisper trembled against his jaw.  When she squirmed, he had to bite down on her earlobe as caution against whatever sound threatened to leave his lips. It made her moan in a way that threatened every resolve he had.

"No. I'm not." His words were clipped— a last ditch effort at being civil. "But that's something we can worry about later. I don't have the patience to discuss this at the moment."

"Discuss what?" She swallowed.

"Boundaries." His lips brushed over her jaw. Johnny buried his nose into her hair and this time his deep inhale did deliver it’s threat. White spots exploded at the back of his eyelids like fireworks.

"John." (Y/N) said with a hint of curiosity.

"Later." His teeth nipped at her flesh. "I promise."

Her hand came to his chest, gripping at his t-shirt, “No Johnny, listen just–” She paused when her voice turned breathy. "Can you please just–"  She clenched he fist tighter.

This time he heard it clearer, right under the surface of the anxious tremble in her voice, the delicious sound of restless desire.

He pulled away, arms hoisting him up. For a breath, he just looked at her. "You keep babbling like this for me, Peanut. " He smiled when she pawed at him lightly, "And I promise to make you feel so good." He mewled when her other hand came to cover her face. “Do you want that?” She nodded quickly, squirming against his chest. "Such a good girl." He cooed, kissing her forehead.

The words did something to them both. Johnny dropped his arms, keeping himself propped on one elbow. The other tugged her hand away from her face. "And how does a good girl like you want to be fucked?" He asked.

“God, please.” She groaned, “Any way, do what you want. Just–” She held her tongue again.

“Just what?” He asked, partially hating his own need to keep up the teasing.

“Johnny.” She whined, hand coming up to his neck to pull him towards her.

But the man wouldn’t budge, focusing on his well earned reward.

“Just what, baby?” His voice was softer but no less resolute. "I can do anything till you tell me what you want."

“Just fuck me Johnny.” She spat out, eyes colouring with an intoxicating mix of arousal and shame before she squeezed them shut. It had an unprecedented effect on him and Johnny decided to hold onto that for later.

“Someone needs to be taught how to ask nicely.” He mused. Her brows creased in distress and he finally decided to put them both out of their joint misery. The sound of his belt hitting the floor made her eyes open, seeing how he had stood up without her notice. “Later.” He growled, fingers doing a quick work of his own clothes before his hands gripped the bunched up end of her dress. 

He gave her a look that accurately conveyed his demand. She lifted her hips off the bed and he yanked the dress off like it had committed a personal offense.

Johnny dropped to his knees like it was second nature to him and he couldn’t really comprehend where his generosity was coming from. Maybe change was going to be commonplace between them both.

Before the last item of clothing could even hit the floor, she was squirming against his tongue. He shelved his gloating for a different day, focusing instead on earning each jumbled sound coming from her throat. He listened to the way her moans increased in frequency, growing more urgent as her thighs squeezed his head tighter. 

Right as her fingers clenched his hair in a death grip,  he slid one conclusive finger into her.

"Oh my god, Johnny." His name melted into a whine against her tongue as her core did the same against his. 

Any ounce of self-control he had left dissipated when he felt her walls squeeze his finger in waves of her climax. The groan that he let out against her was involuntary, but the way it made her paw at his shoulder caused him to take note.

"Too much?" He asked, pulling away once she came down from her high.

Their eyes met just as his tongue poked out to lap his own lips clean. He would have dismissed her scattered inhale as a consequence of her orgasm, but he felt her clench against the finger he still had in her.

"Just look at how your cunt is drooling for me, (Y/N)." Despite his honest effort at keeping himself in check, the words stumbled out with reckless abandon. She clenched again and Johnny had to wonder if he'd underestimated her after all. He needed to wait to find out, he chastised himself.

"Are we good?" He asked the deliberately vague question, scrambling to his feet when she scrambled to nod.

He sighed when his pants finally came off, the space only getting tighter by the minute. He gazed at her through his hair, catching the slow slide of her tongue over her lips.

"Like what you see?" He couldn't help himself from asking, expecting a quip from her like he was used to. Instead she swallowed, looking up to him with wide doe eyes and a distracted nod.

Stray thoughts intruded his mind, images of her eyes tear streaked and her lips around his twitching cock. The image dug itself into his heating skin before he could swat it away. He had to push it down with a personal promise he kept repeating like a prayer.

Next time.

With that, he couldn't afford to waste anymore time. His knees dug into the mattress and his hand pushed her legs open wider. A single breath was spent appreciating the view under him. Then he lifted her hips into the air and mustered some leftover control to stop himself from burying into her in one go.

It would have been easy for him too, "So ready for me, aren't you? I wish you could feel how creamy you are for me right now, (Y/N)." He groaned, her rapid clenching only spurring his uncontrollably filthy tongue on.

"Just," He gritted his teeth as he pulled out slowly, "Perfect." He groaned, pushing a little further in. "So eager to swallow all of it aren't you?" He asked, scoffing when she whined again. Yeah?" He questioned, fist clenching into his sheets when she nodded again. "Such a greedy little thing." He spoke before he could stop himself.

"Johnny please." The plea was a quiver above an outright sob. A fresh wave of liquid need pooled in his veins and he slammed the final inches into her.

She jerked against the bed, hands slapping onto his balmy shoulders. Her lips formed an 'o' and their eyes briefly met before another thrust made hers roll to the back of her head. Johnny lost count of the number of things that were burned into his memory, every thought in his mind evaporating till the only thing he worked on was the pistoning of his hips.

On a better day, he'd take his time to enjoy each scrape against her insides. But for now he let two fingers tug against her clit. 

Next time.

When her legs began to shake, he took one of her hands off his chest to bring to her clit, a silent order to keep up the effort. She followed through impressively and Johnny could focus his hands on angling her waist in the way that wrung the most obscene sounds from her. 

He wasn't sure of anything once he felt her began to shake from her climax. Her walls convulsed around him and that was the rhythm in his mind as he gave into his own release, sighing as the condom around him filled with his warmth.

His body slumped into her, pulling away almost immediately when the weight audibly knocked the air out of her.

Johnny winced, rolling away onto the bed. "Sorry." He sighed when his back hit the cold sheets.

"No, that's alright." She responded between her still stabilising breaths. It made him turn to take in the sight of her chest heaving, not feeling like an imposter when he did so.

Several moments passed as they silently gathered their thoughts and breaths, coming down from the highs of their impulses.

"Johnny." She called him weakly. Looking up, his eyes met her sheepish ones and the man couldn't help the rising panic in his chest. 

That one look was enough to remind him of the elephant in the room, the one he shockingly did not think of till this very moment. He watched her silently, in wait for the dreaded next lines.

"I'm hungry." She said, grimacing at her own words, "Sorry." 

Johnny blinked, wondering for a moment if he perhaps misheard her. He hadn't expected those words at all, the relief making a short laugh leave him. He got out of bed, lips splitting into a grin the next moment, one that came from relief and endearment.

__

(Y/N) wadded through his kitchen with practised ease. There was a comfortable silence because she knew where everything was and because they were both justifiably exhausted. The only things that were different was the large t-shirt that brushed over her thighs as she moved; and the way his unwavering gaze on her made her skin glow with warmth.

"There." She placed a plate in front of him, walking around to join him. Gingerly, they picked up a sandwich each.

Johnny groaned with a pleased smile growing on his face. "Oh this is good." He spoke with a stuffed mouth, the childlike appreciation making her laugh and blush.

He sat up straight with his eyes zeroing in on the sandwich, like he felt he owed it the attention. The movement made her eyes fall on his chest, swallowing dry at the sight.

"Where's your shirt?" She tried to sound casual about it, eyes falling to the plate nonetheless.

Johnny shrugged, "I don't really wear a shirt to sleep. I used to wear them around when you stay over to be polite" He spoke between his bites, voice muffled as he swallowed.

"Why stop now?" She only partially joked, not sure if she could get used to the display.

With a small scoff, he dipped his head to look at her face, "You're just going to have to get used to it, Peanut." He quirked a brow. 

She hummed, chest erupting into fizz that popped in her ears. "I can do that." A gulp followed with her words. "There are worse things to get used to." Her efforts remained focused on sounding nonchalant.

"Like what?" He questioned, sitting back and causing her gaze to follow him back up.

She pressed her tongue into her cheek, toying with her answer for a second. "This alter ego of yours that comes out in bed, for one. That might be a more challenging learning curve."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Johnny mumbled, lips curling into a smirk before he even finished his statement.

"Okay." She said, mostly because she did not feel equipped for this conversation yet. 

"It can come out in other places too." He pinched the corner of his mouth between his teeth, "I'm not picky."

"What a terrible thing to say to someone right after pulling out of them." She joked, relieved to see him laugh at the mention.

Once he finished eating, a hand was extended to put his index finger under her chin, tilting her head higher.

"That was a good sandwich." He complimented, leaning over to brush a kiss at the corner of her mouth. "That is something I'm picky about." He added just to be cheeky, lips covering hers immediately after.

Her hands remained frozen by her side for a second, taken aback by the gesture. But she felt herself lean into his chest soon after, new instincts beginning to form around him. 

Her hand came up to his chest, now cold from being exposed to the air. His hands in turn slid up her thighs, pushing her t-shirt higher till he stopped at her waist.

His tongue slid over hers and she moaned into his mouth almost immediately. Her cheeks turned hot but she could only pull him closer to her, wanting more. That admittance alone made her dizzy and her fingers clenched the hair at the base of his neck.

Johnny pulled away with a stuttered groan slipping past his lips. Opening her eyes, she met with a gaze that promised to swallow her whole. It made her squirm in her chair, only inching closer towards him.

Then he squeezed his eyes shut, took a breath and opened them, the light returning to them. "We should sleep. It's late." Johnny sighed, like he didn't want to follow his own advice. But he was right, and she tried to nod without letting her disappointment show.

"Yes, we should." She nodded to herself mostly, refraining from adding the last part of her thought. Like she was still wary of over assuming. 

There was always next time.

.

Character from: No Time to Blame

Send me an ask about any scenario from this you wish to read and I'll try my best to write it.

[miekasa]

NICE.

+ pairings: eren yeager + (fem) reader

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

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

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

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

+ word count: 19k. i’m sorry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, baby. I love you.”

“Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Get off my line.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, no—of course not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was almost three thou—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It wasn’t mine, I was—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what’s it matter to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not avoiding him,” you frown.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sound like you speak from personal experience.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“His parents?” Jean cuts you off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you… told Eren yet?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is… is that why you—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiles. “I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You—you, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah? What, baby?”

“Kiss me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t taste any almonds.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I mean—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eren—”

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

“Eren—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought it was pretty obvious.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you took it, anyway?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eren loves you, more than you could ever know.

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

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

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

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

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

“Mitchell, I have to—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And if I asked you now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[shangchiswife]

loki- speechless

summary: y/n and loki go to one of tony stark’s parties and everyone has their eyes on y/n.

warnings: alluded smut

word count: 1020

"Well well, darling," Loki said looking at you from the top of the stairs, "You look ravishing,"

"Don't I always?" You asked him, playfully grinning.

"Yes but tonight, just... wow," He told you with a look of pure lust in his eyes.

You and Loki were about to leave your house to go to one of Tony's fundraiser parties for Stark Industries. As much as you and Loki hated going to these parties, Tony insisted that you guys went to try to make up for your villainous pasts. In reality, you both knew that Tony wanted you guys there to attract press, but it made the Avengers happy so, how much harm could it really do?

"Is THE Loki Laufeyson speechless?" you smirked up at him.

"Any man would be speechless if they saw you like this, darling."

"Well, I guess we will find out soon enough. We need to go my love, or else we will be late,"

"No," Loki said, "You are not going out like that. You look too sexy and that is reserved for me and me only."

"Babe, we don't have time. Come on, let's GO!" you said while grabbing Loki's arm and basically dragging him out of the door.

The limo ride had been a very long, awkward one with Loki staring at you mostly your chest, longing was evident in his face.

"As flattering as you are, my face is up here," you say.

"Darling, I'm not an imbecile, I am simply just admiring you," he replied.

"Yeah, well, you can do that later tonight. Anyways, we are here, let's go. Need I remind you to behave?"

"Where's the fun in that, my love?"

You and Loki take the elevator in Stark towers, all the way up to the rooftop where the party was being held.

As you step out of the elevator, you immediately feel everyone's gaze land on you.

You look over to Natasha who is looking you up and down with a grin. You then turn to look in front of you and see Loki's older brother, Thor, making his way towards you.

"Here we go," Loki said under his breath while squeezing your hand.

"Ah, hello, little brother," said Thor in his arrogant voice. He then turned to you and immediately stared down your chest.

"My face is up here, big boy," you say while snapping your fingers up at his face.

"What do you want, brother," Loki said with a distasteful tone on the word brother.

"I am here to support Tony in his fundraising. Anyways, Y/n," he said, turning to you, "Why are you here with my brother when you could be here with me, the God of Thunder?"

"As enticing as that sounds, Loki has more of a personality than you would ever have,"

"What is that supposed to mean-" he asked, looking offended.

"It means you're boring, brother," Loki interrupted, "Come, Y/n," Loki said turning to you, "Let's go get some drinks and mingle around for a bit,"

"I would love nothing more," you say, smirking up at him.

You and Loki walk up to the bar to get drinks.

"One tequila, please," Loki asked, giving his most charming smile to the woman bartender.

"Of course," she said, batting her eyelashes at him. "What about her?" she asked, still looking at him.

"I can speak for myself, thank you very much," you told the woman, who was obviously interested in Loki.

"That's my girl," Loki whispered in your ear.

"Okay, then, what would you like?" the bartender said with an obvious tone of disgust.

"Nothing," you said, smiling sweetly at the bartender.

"Well, I'll just get that tequila," she said, walking away.

"Come, my love, we don't need to waste any more time with her," Loki said while grabbing your waist and leading you towards Tony.

You and Loki made your way across the rooftop, everyone watching the both of you. The men captivated by your appearance and the women captivated by Loki's.

"Welcome, Reindeer Games," Tony said to Loki.

"Don't call me that, Stark,"

"Yeah, yeah," Tony said rolling his eyes, turning his head towards you.

"Well, hello, Miss Y/l/n," He said, smirking at you.

"Hello, Tony," you said to him.

"How are you liking the party?" he asked.

"Dreadful, as usual, we're leaving soon anyways," Loki said, cutting into the conversation.

"Aww, but you guys just got here," said Bucky Barnes, walking up behind Tony.

He looked at you then did a double take. You could see his facial expression change into complete lust.

You smirked at him then turned to Loki and pulled him down for a suave kiss.

You looked back up at Bucky and saw him looking at Loki in jealousy. It was just too easy for you. Making all of the men at this party fall at your knees.

"Well, Mr. Barnes, Loki and I both know that we would have more fun at home then we ever would here," you smirked while squeezing Loki's hand.

"Maybe I could change that?" said Bucky arrogantly.

"And that is our cue to leave. I would say it was fun, Stark, but I don't want to lie. Come, darling, we have better things to do," Loki said, grabbing your lower waist and leading you out.

You could obviously tell that Loki was jealous of Bucky and most likely, Stark as well.

Why wouldn't he be? They are both attractive, successful men. They are the "good guys" and literally fight against crime. What he didn't know, though, was that you were completely intoxicated by Loki. Wherever he went, you followed and wherever you went, he followed. You guys were soulmates. You didn't know it yet, but you were.

"We're home, my love," Loki said, waking you up from your nap in the limo. He gave you a gentle kiss on your head and led you upstairs.

"Now," he started, leading you to your bed, "This is where we will really have fun,"

Your heart thumped in your chest.

This was going to be a long night.

[loveandthings11]

Here it is! A finale followup/fix-it fic, featuring the immediate aftermath and a time jump to a hopeful future ❤️

Founder

He thinks he’ll sit on the bench forever. He thinks it might be forever. Hope was in a different life. A marker has been laid. The Waystar CEO is dead and so are all his heir’s aspirations. His life is dead.

He needs a new one.

Colin keeps a distance. A kept man, his mouth kept shut. Kendall told him to talk to him, but he knows he never will. He can’t blame him.

He thinks he’ll be haunted forever. There’s nothing left. He left the haunted house but it’s haunting him. All he can see are his worst fears that became real memories. He’s blind and he feels watched in his own mind. He wishes it would stop. The water looks inviting. Cold. Freezing, almost. Like it could make it all stop.

Betrayals echo in his ears.

“They are a pair of randos.” 

Kendall doesn’t fight on the floor for a pair of randos. He tries to remember the last time he’d fought anyone. Age… no. He can’t remember. It was never. He feels like nothing. Nothing he does makes any difference. His whole life. 33 years of one goal, and it failed. It’s gone now. He’s out.

He’s out.

The only thing he has is the conviction that he was right. He could have done it. And they are his kids no matter what Roman thinks. 

Roman has no idea what he and Rava went through. The way they were there for each other. How when he couldn’t look at her she’d cupped his face and told him she only wanted him no matter what. He’d felt like he was denying their dream. He’d felt terrible, inadequate, and Logan’s constant interrogations weren’t helping. But he’d made sure it happened for them and she’d done everything to make sure he knew that in her mind, the kids were 100% theirs. Hers and his.

He glances at his phone and sees eight texts from Stewy.

“Fuck, Ken I’m sorry man” “It’s gonna be okay.” “Tom’s a puppet with two masters” “Kendall” “Come on” “Fuck. Are you okay dude? Seriously.” “Where are you?” “Can you just fucking like this if you’re alive?”

Kendall sighs. It takes too much energy to sigh. He holds down the last text to give it a thumbs up. One person stuck with him.

His phone vibrates again. Connor. Huh. Two people.

“Hey. I’m sorry to hear it, Kenny. But that place was bad for all of you. Full of toxic gas. Breathe easy. Ice cream when you’re ready.”

He’s a good father figure.

Kendall’s mind wanders back to Sophie and Iverson. 

“You don’t have any kids.”

Yes he fucking does. He has to see them. He didn’t think he could get off the bench, but somehow he feels himself being pulled up. It’s a force bigger than him.

It’s dark when he rings for Rava. He didn’t call first, he couldn’t bear any more rejection. She had a feeling he’d come as soon as she saw the headline and sighed a tragic sigh. She can feel the pain before she sees it. The elevator opens and she lays eyes on a former twenty-five-year-old full of hope and excitement and love. So much love. He’s forty and he’s full of pain.

He can’t even look at her. 

“I’m so sorry, Ken,” she whispers.

He barely nods and opens his mouth to speak and closes it again, taking in a quick breath.

“You didn’t come to the funeral.” It’s not what he meant to say. She looks down. “You- you should have come to the funeral.” He wasn’t even thinking about it. Where did that come from?

“Well- it was safer-“ she starts.

His voice is low and soft.

“That’s bullshit. I would have kept them safe.”

“Did you come here to talk about that?”

His face falls further and he shakes his head, dropping his gaze.

“I really am sorry,” she says, trying to look into his eyes. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now. This whole week… Jesus. Your dad, and- this…”

“Wouldn’t want you to imagine it.” He stares at the floor ten feet in front of him. “I’m sorry. Can- can I see the kids? Please.” Usually she’d say no this late, but she knows he needs them.

“Of course. If you don’t mind them being asleep.”

He walks quietly to the door of Sophie’s room and pushes it open just a tiny bit. Seeing her sleeping peacefully, safely, in her own soft bed plants a seed in his heart. He hopes it can grow there. He walks over and leans down to kiss her forehead. He tiptoes next door to Iverson’s room just to get a glimpse of his son. His son. He’s breathing quietly and Kendall goes close and listens for a minute while he re-learns how to breathe himself. He brushes the hair off Iverson's face, careful not to wake him. Maybe there will be a ray of light if the seed grows a leaf.

He gently pushes both their doors closed and turns to go back to the great room. Rava steps toward him as he walks back in and wraps her arms around him. He drives her insane but he’s still her Kendall. He’s still the same man she’s always loved. At first, he’s still stiff, trying to remember how to do and be. This can’t be a true situation. He’s not here in life. He stays put with his chin over her shoulder for a minute. She worries about how cold he is. He pulls back only a bit, staying close enough that her arms are still draped around him. He sniffles and she looks at him. She can feel the sadness falling off him in waves. She reaches for a blanket on the armchair and wraps it around his shoulders.

“Roman said the kids aren’t real.” He struggles to get the words out.

She closes her eyes.

“Okay… can I finally say something I’ve not been allowed to say?”

He nods.

“I think you are better off without them. Roman and Shiv. They just… they kill you. Look what just happened. You don’t ever have to go through that again. They want to go? Let them.”

She doesn’t relish the pain on his face and squeezes his hand.

“Well… they’re gone.” He’s almost disturbingly still as he gazes at nothing. “I’m gone.”

He finally looks up at her. Allows her to see the shining tears, the bags under his despair-filled eyes, the empty void he’s falling into. She reaches her hand out and touches his cheek. The same one nestled into her for so many years, creased with laughter, kissed every morning.

“No,” she says softly. “You’re on your way back.”

She gently pulls him toward her again and lets him fall apart as she leads him to the couch. Numbness gives way to heart-wrenching sobs and she silently cries for him too. She knows. She hugs him in that spot for as long as he needs. It’s a long time. She squeezes him tightly because they’re not reading into things tonight. She’s keeping him safe. 

He’s the father of her children. 

“I could have done it.” It’s choked out. He just needed her to know.

“I know,” she nods. She means it. “But now, you can do anything.”

Eventually, his tears run out. Tears always do. They give way to his slow breathing and sipping water. She keeps her arm around him and walks him into her coziest guest room. There are still boundaries, she reminds herself. She gets a pair of sweats out of the dresser drawer and he puts them on. He feels like he can barely move as he climbs into bed. She tucks him in before leaning down to kiss his head. He needs to remember what kindness without any motive feels like. He closes his eyes while she runs her fingers through his hair for a moment from the side of the bed where she’s standing.

“Can you…?” he trails off. She had a feeling. He keeps his eyes closed so he can’t see her reaction. “Please?”

“I’ll have to get the kids up early.” 

“Okay.”

She’s never seen him so defeated, so empty, and she can’t walk away. She brushes her hand over his hair again and climbs in next to him.

“We’ll all have breakfast. Okay? You, me, and the kids,” she says reassuringly.

He nods, the most movement he can muster. His eyelids flutter open to look into her eyes for a second.

“They are real,” he whispers. She sees him in there, buried deep inside.

“I know.” She holds his hand. “And you are their real dad.”

Three Years Later

Kendall glances at his new sneakers and nods approvingly as he strides down the hallway amid the pulsing background beat. They’re the focus of his ensemble. Obviously. Kendall mostly wears his own designs these days. Jess pops out of her office, the sleek Royco Records sign on the wall reflecting her heels as she clicks down the hall. She’s traded her pencil skirts for five-hundred-dollar jeans to match her new company culture and salary, but the stilettos have stuck.

“Ken. You have a visitor in the conference room.”

“Yeah? Catching me before I even get to the door. Are you sure you don’t want to go back to being my assistant?” He smiles.

“Actually, I think I’m better as your executive VP,” she answers with a small smirk. “Also, this company would fall apart without me.”

“Uh huh. Whatever you need to tell yourself,” he says. “Who’s waiting for me?”

He peeks through the door and nods. Stewy swivels around in his sleekly padded armchair, suave as ever and full of news. Kendall swings the glass door open and walks over to clasp his hand and pull him up for a hug.

“Come to beg me for a job?” Kendall smirks.

“Thought you might need some more of my money,” Stewy returns.

“Oh, I don’t need your money. Things must be getting even worse than I thought over there, though.” Kendall grins with some darkness in his eyes.

“Tanking,” Stewy confirms. “This month is disgusting. Or delicious. Tom’s fucking it since Matsson got bored.”

“Still keeping ATN the focus with tech eating the world,” Kendall says disapprovingly, shaking his head and resenting his own knowledge. He can’t help reading the headlines. Or the articles. He’s rebuilt the house, but the foundation is still there. His therapist tells him to quit reading about it, it’s not good for him. But he’s quit so much since the fateful board meeting. There’s no scotch in his office anymore, he tells her, exasperated. It’s a big improvement after the first six months. Things were not good for a while, but he feels a tiny bit better every day now. Sometimes he allows himself just a little bit of self-sabotage in what he reads. A little less every month. He goes back and forth between hoping Waystar succeeds and hoping Tom fails.

“That’s right. I wonder how you know about ATN’s business plan,” Stewy says sarcastically. He knows about the not-so-secret readings. Kendall nods and looks away for a second. “Sorry. I’m- sorry. I actually do have a reason.” He opens his arms. “I resigned from the board.”

Kendall looks more cheerful at that.

“Oh- yeah?”

“I mean, do I look like a charity? I’m not seeing growth on that.”

Kendall knows it should still be profitable for at least a while and smiles to himself.

“Finally out of there, huh? Well… welcome back from the dark side.”

“Yeah…” He glances at Kendall to gauge him before continuing. “I just couldn’t handle any more of the Puppet and his sickeningly tall Sycophant running things.” Stewy’s careful. There were no Waystar mentions allowed here for the first couple of years it was open.

Kendall scoffs and shakes his head.

“Right, well… yeah, no surprises there. And how’s- uh…”

“Your sister? Whispering strategy in Tom’s ear in the car I guess, she doesn’t come to board meetings anymore.”

Kendall nods.

“Well, Roman said he wants all the sibs to get together at the mausoleum for the three-year anniversary of- of Dad,” Kendall says, waiting for the reaction.

Stewy raises his eyebrows and his eyes widen.

“Wooooow,” he draws it out and looks a little concerned. “You gonna go?”

“Uh, yeah. I think I will. Connor’s going, so… I guess it’s- it’s the right thing to do. For Dad.”

Stewy nods.

“Well, if you need an escape-“

“Yeah. Thanks,” Kendall says genuinely. “Hey, if you want, we have that new rapper from the Bronx in two weeks at MSG. It’s gonna be fuckin’ insane. I discovered this guy and he’s, like, next-level shit. Mind-bending, like- you- you just gotta see him. Backstage? You and me?’

“Hell yeah! There gonna be a better spread than the old company’s bullshit?”

“Yes, Stewy. I will make sure the food is refrigerated.”

“Glad to hear it.” He smirks and Kendall shakes his head.

“Okay. Good!” Kendall checks his watch. “I gotta go. I’m swinging by to pick up the kids. And- Rava,” he grins without meaning to. “We’re actually taking them to Rava’s parents house for the weekend.”

Stewy gives a smile of disbelief and raises his eyebrows.

“We?”

“Uh, I mean, trial basis. For her,” Kendall laughs. “I don’t know. Kind of a fuckin’ miracle, we’ll see.” He turns and starts walking out of the conference room. Stewy looks endlessly amused and follows him out.

“Did you go to one of those love potion ladies in the park? A psychic? Did you find a genie, Ken? Like, I can’t even conceive of a world in which-“

“Okay. Fuck off,” Kendall smiles. 

“Dude. Seriously. It’s good to see you like this.” The smile was elusive for a very long time. 

“Yeah.” Kendall nods. “If you fucking say I told you so…”

“Nah. You already know. It’s good to be out of the shitshow. Freedom is always gonna trump the guilt-laden lead shackles of that place.” Kendall looks at the floor and Stewy senses the emotional wave. They happen occasionally- much less over time, but he tries not to cause them. “Sorry.” He pulls Kendall in for a real hug and lets it pass for a moment. Kendall takes a deep breath as Stewy looks around.

“I always say this, but this place is fucking cool.” He rubs his back. “Hey. You built this shit,” Stewy says approvingly as Kendall pulls back with a happier expression on his face. He nods.

Kendall glances up the hallway as they start walking through it, noticing its unique lighting fixtures hanging from the ceiling, bricks on one side and glass offices overlooking the city on the other. The walls are adorned with his favorite records, his top clients’ music, the design team’s most popular sneakers in lighted display cases. Kendall picked every detail with the best designers Jess could find. The pride comes back as he takes it in. This place is his.

“It’s- yeah, it’s pretty amazing.”

Stewy looks down at Kendall’s colorful sneakers.

“Yeah. But your new design is- what is this? This is ridiculous,” Stewy says, gesturing at the shoes. Kendall chuckles.

“Must be hard not to have taste,” he says dryly. “Maybe the concert will make you feel better. See you in two weeks?”

“That’s right,” Stewy agrees and pats Kendall’s shoulder. “Go get your kids.” He makes his way out the door. Kendall turns toward the corner office and pauses before going in to get his favorite suede bomber jacket. He nods with a feeling of peace as he looks at the gilded lettering on the glass underneath Royco Records.

Kendall Roy

CEO

Founder

A/N: Thank you to @capricornmuffins for the brilliant idea of Kendall designing sneakers and having lots of hope and potential in the future 💖

Not sure if you take requests but a follow up fic from Ken after today going home to his family………it would mean the world…please…

🥺💕 A ray of hope in this devastating moment~ I do take requests, especially this one. I’ll work on this for you! Brokenhearted Ken girls all need a fix ❤️‍🩹

[maehara-san]

─ 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧

You gently leaned against Todoroki as you held onto Iida's shoulder. Mr. Aizawa stood in the in front of the dorms speaking about what your classmates had done. Your mind however was far away from all its senses.

After he was done speaking he lead you into the building that would become your new home. "Are you sure you are okay?" Iida asked as he helped you up the steps, with Todoroki closely behind.

Katsuki on the other hand, scowled seeing how they were getting to close to you. His hand formed into a fist, "Why the hell are they getting so touchy with her..." he mumbled.

His behavior did not go unnoticed by his red headed friend. "What's wrong Bakugo?"

"Nothing." He hid his hands into his pockets and followed everyone else.

"I'm fine." You smiled slightly, "The doctor said I'll be back to my old self in a couple of days."

Midoriya let out a relieved breath. "That's good to hear. We were worried about your condition, you ended up passing out three times."

"I'm sorry about the scare I gave you, I didn't mean to worry you."

"Don't apologize." Momo spoke, "We are glad you are okay and that's all that matters."

You nodded shyly smiling. You could feel the pair of eyes you've been trying to avoid ever since you were allowed to come back to school. Every move you made you knew he was looking at you.

"Here are the dorms." Mr. Aizawa said, "The boys dorms are on the left side while the girls dorms are on the right."

"Wow this is a mansion!" Uraraka exclaimed as your classmates were also in awe at how huge the building was from the inside.

"I'll leave you to settle in and unpack your things. Don't stay up too late, tomorrow you've got class." He said.

"Yes, sir." Everyone replied.

Once he was gone your friends started to pick out which room's you guys wanted. You on the other hand just wanted to go to your room.

You quietly left them all and started to go down the hallway to the elevator doors. Apart from the pain you were feeling on your leg, you needed to be alone for a while.

Each time you saw his face, it only brought you horrible flashbacks. That day he was kidnap, it was as if your whole world had collapsed. The love of your life was gone and you weren't even able to hang on to his hand to save him.

Since his return and your discharge from the hospital you've been avoiding each other. Everyone could tell but decided to keep quiet about it. The last thing they wanted was to add more fuel to the fire.

"Come on..." You muttered hitting the buttons rapidly. "How the hell did the elevator become so slow all of a sudden?!"

"You're going to break the elevator."

You retreated your finger back towards you, standing quietly. Katsuki looked off to the side with his hands in his pockets, repeating the same behavior as you.

A long silence hung in the air, neither of you knew what to say. The guilt was eating you both alive yet no words or an apology came out of you.

The doors opened and you walked in first keeping your gaze to the floor. Katsuki walked in afterwards but stood on the very far left corner. You pressed the button to the last floor not bothering to ask him which one he preferred.

Katsuki's lips parted then they closed again, hesitating to speak. His gaze not leaving your injured body. Seeing you in the condition you were in, made him feel angry not only at himself but at those villains as well.

The elevator then stopped, as soon as the doors opened you made your way to your side of the girls dorm. He headed towards the left side ready to turn when he stopped. Deep down he knew he had to be the first one to speak even if you were still hesitant to talk to him.

A sigh escaped your lips as you continued down the hallway. You mentally kicked yourself for being a coward. "I can't keep doing this... I already lost him once to the villains... what if he really does end up hating me?..."

Before you were able to turn back fully around you bumped into him. Your eyes slowly moved up, following the all very known body to come face to face with those beautiful red orbs that you love.

You swallowed hard. "Katsuki..."

"Are you okay?" He asked in a stoic tone.

"I-I'm fine..." You stuttered, "The doctor said I will be back to walking normal-."

Katsuki then blurted out, "You shouldn't have gone off by yourself."

"What?"

He clenched his jaw as he spoke. "Don't what me, you know what I'm talking about. You should have never done that if you hadn't you would have been fine without that injured leg."

"Look I know I messed up!" You exclaimed, pausing for a moment you tried to calm yourself down. "I was trying to help you from being captured by those villains. I did not want to let go of your hand but Dabi pulled me back... I tried fighting him off to grab you but he was too strong-"

"Which is why I told you to leave it the pros." He looked you in the eyes, almost glaring. "I told you to stay out of the way before you got hurt."

"You really think I'd be the kind of person to stay behind and watch as you got taken away?!"

"Yes." He said, "For once you should have listened to what I had told you to do!"

You broke the stare, shaking your head. "I may not be the strongest in the class, or the smartest to begin with." You blinked away the tears. "But I wasn't going to stand by and see the person I love be taken away by the fucking league of villains! The last thing that crossed my mind was my safety, the only thing that mattered to me was to know that you were okay! Is that so wrong?!"

"Yes!" He yelled. "God damn it Y/n! How do you think I would have felt coming back and knowing you were-" Katsuki stopped, biting his lip. This was the side of him he had never showed. Ever since you both got together last year, despite it all he never cried in front of you. He was always strong headed and cocky. Yet somehow his eyes were becoming watering the longer he spoke.

"What?!" You were about to ask him again when you saw him almost bending over in front of you. His gaze was on the floor while he rubbed his face. There was a change of air around you, it suddenly felt cold but filled with love at the same time.

"Katsuki?" Your eyes were filled with worry as he kept staying quiet. "What's wrong?" You gently laid an arm on his shoulder.

Feeling your sudden touch, brought him back. He lifted his head. Your eyes widened in surprise as you saw his eyes were red, filled with tears.

"Do you have any idea how I felt after I was rescued that night?"

You shook your head. He stepped closer to you this time not leaving any space between you both.

"I was afraid." He explained, "I didn't care about if I was injured or if there were any other villains left out there. The only thing that crossed my mind was you, Y/n." a sad look crossed his face. "I couldn't comprehend why you had to be the one to get injured because of me." Tears began to escape from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. "All I wanted was to kill those bastards that hurt you. I only saw red. I was afraid of seeing you dead on that hospital bed because I was too weak to protect myself and you."

"Katsuki..." You started to cry as well, it was difficult to believe that Katsuki was finally letting his walls down. "It wasn't your fault."

"It was!" His voice cracked, "I-If I wasn't stubborn or cocky then All Might w-would have been still... the number one hero and you wouldn't have to deal with t-the pain."

You held both his hands in yours despite him refusing to even look at you. "You don't need to keep blaming yourself for something you couldn't control. Those villains had everything perfectly executed. No one knew what to expect everyone did their best to protect you. And I know you pushed Midoriya back so he wouldn't have gotten sucked in either."

"I-I didn't do enough..." He stuttered. "I should have used my quirk... I-I could have done something."

"You did enough with what you knew at the moment you were in danger." You slowly cupped his chin then moved your hand to hold the side of his face. Slowly but surely he leaned into your touch and closed his eyes.

"I know if you would have been made aware of their plan you would have kicked their ass like you always do. But you didn't and that's never going to be your fault." You added, "All Might went in to save you because you're his student and someone he cares about. I know all the teachers and our friends wouldn't hesitate to do it all over again to save you... I know I wouldn't."

A sigh escaped his lips, his breathing returning slowly back to normal. "I-I know I'm a pain in the ass sometimes... a-and you probably can find someone better than me." He admitted, then opened his eyes looking at you with a different gaze that went beyond just care. "But when I heard you were injured and in serious condition I couldn't imagine myself without you... I didn't want to go back the place where we met and not see you every single day..."

"I never heard you speak like that before..." You shyly said, "I'm quite surprised."

His cheeks turned pink. "I-I was worried."

A chuckle escaped your lips, making him feel butterflies as he heard you life for the first time in what felt like forever. "I like that you showed me this side of you... I really loved it. I want you to feel comfortable around me enough to bring those walls downs when you need someone."

Not caring about who ever saw, he smiled genuinely at you. A bubbly feeling filled your chest seeing him smile.

Katsuki then took your hand that held your cheek, into his. He carefully intertwined his fingers with yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "You're not allowed to die before me you got that?"

"We're training to be pro heroes Katsuki. I'm pretty sure it'll be impossible to keep that promise." You smiled.

"I don't care." He said. "If you die I'm bringing you back then killing you again for getting killed by a measly little villain."

"Then promise me you will stop being so reckless too and I'll promise to not get hurt either."

He smirked then shook his head. "You won't have to worry about that there's no way in hell I'm dying before I get a chance to surprise All Might."

"Aaaand you're back to being you."

Katsuki pulled you into his chest and held you tightly against him. You broke out into a smile as he hugged you. He kissed your temple, then buried his face into your neck. A sense of calmness was felt in him as he smelled your scent again.

You wrapped your arms around his waist hugging him tightly as much as you could. It was silent apart from the laughter of your classmates being heard a floor below you and the chirping of the birds that could still be heard coming from the window.

"I love you." Katsuki mumbled into your neck. "I love you too much to see you go..."

Your heart was beating rapidly upon hearing his confession. He felt tense, nervous that it was too early still to say it but hoped you would feel the same way.

You sniffled, but smiled repeating those same words back. "I-I love you too... Katsuki."

He smiled feeling himself feel at ease knowing you felt the same way. His hold on you tighten, not wanting to let go. You happily stayed there beside him until he was ready but secretly wished it would never end.

☆ 𝙙𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 ☆ 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩