#ryn is like god this guy is so STUPID i want him (<as if ryn himself isnt dumb as bricks)

[lanshappycorner]

The vampire/human yaoi I have concocted in a lab, view them

[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!

[phoebehalliwell]

what are your thoughts on thruples? cause I keep thinking about Paige/Henry/Coop, especially with Henry and Coop's epic bromance in the comics

ooh that could be very interesting. personally, i'm game for throuples (tho i will say i Hate the word throuple i think it sounds gross just like you know moist or something so i usually just say "poly relationship") but i do kind have beef when it's like. like you know the meme "it doesn't have to be like this [blank] has two hands"? funny meme i do like it but i hate when a poly relationship is just kinda an excuse to merge two couples rather than something that like emerges as distinct relationships between all three parties. like bella edward and jacob as a couple like. shure because bella loves edward and bella loves jacob but jacob and edward really don't like have anything there it's more like roommates who share a girlfriend rather than a poly relationship. one piece of media that i think really did it well was siren on freeform which i highly recommend the first two seasons it kinda goes off the rails s3 and then was cancelled but the first two season it really spends time fleshing out all aspects of the relationships between ben, ryn, & maddie and it also actually goes canon which is lit 🤙🤙

but basically. if i were to do a paige/henry/coop, i think i would start with specifically a paige/coop bromance introduce henry into the mix & let it blossom from there so like. as previously stated. i think each leg of the triangle here needs to be strong n steady on its own so um underneath the cut is i believe a record breaking 6.6k

rip richard but we'll say richard also died in this au rip. and then, of course, kyle also died. idk if he's a whitelighter or not but the point is paige has this weight on her chest like god i can't save these people i can't save the people i love ouch everything hurts

& that's when coop shows up!

and we'll have his introduction plot be a fusion of heartbreak city and the magic hour where coop's got this relationship and it's perfect they're so in love but there's this demonic interference and it's gonna kill one or both of them so he busts down the charmed ones' door like hi you guys are protectors of the innocent right well i have some innocents in dire need of protection

to which this duty gets turfed to paige because piper idk has work and phoebe has a date and phoebe's like i can cancel it to help! and coop's like what no the whole reason i'm here is love go go find love paige can totally handle this

and paige is like :| because she really doesn't want this gig and coop's explaining it all to her how this love is going to be broken up by a magical death unless they stop it and paige is like okay look here coop let's not get our expectations up to high because in my experience almost all relationships end in a magical death and coop’s like !!!

and immediately does like a cupid reading on her and paige is trying to bat him away like ew no i do not need any love guru-ing right now okay let’s just fix your thing and then you can leave okay

and coop’s like no don’t you see? this is fate, the fact that it’s you and me on this, it means i’m meant to be here, i’m meant to help you find love

and paige is like uh no it means piper’s a mother of two and phoebe’s on a date while i am the tragic spinstress of magic school (which is still under her charge just bc it is we didn’t abandon it)

and coop’s like nope. it’s fate. and paige rolls her eyes and coop’s like come on, like you don’t believe in fate and paige is like actually i don’t! and coop just smiles at her bc he knows she’s lying and paige knows she knows he’s lying and she tries to sneer at him but it’s just insanely half hearted bc to be honest her heart kinda skipped a beat with that smile but no

absolutely not

dude, all she gets is cursed love, and now a cupid?

she can’t go through all that she can’t fight for love only to watch him die no she’s gonna ignore it he’s not that cute anyways oh fuck he totally is but whatever!!! doesn’t matter

so blah blah blah paige and coop save the day including one moment where idk there’s an explosion or something they have to dodge something hide for attackers something where they get thrown up against a wall faces inches apart from each other breathing heavy undeniably a moment which they both Immediately break because wooooah that is a little too much chemistry!! better act like that never happened

and you know next episode or whatever coop’s like okay let’s find you love!! and paige is like not now i’m at work and coop’s like in an alleyway and paige is like i need to look after my charge and then after that i need to grade papers and after that i need to order cauldrons and after that-

and coop’s like find love?

and paige is like no. i need to.... but um she forgot the rest of her list

and coop’s like find love excellent sounds great!

and paige is like anyone ever tell you you’re really annoying and coop’s like nope i’m a cupid :0)

and blah blah blah they’re arguing and something something w paige’s charge and paige is like i gotta go talk to him but coop holds her back because wait who’s that approaching him and paige is like fuck that must be his parole officer bc idk he’s doing something that is obviously breaking parole and paige is like aaaaaaa what do we do and then it’s a henry face reveal and both paige and coop are like woah.

but then paige is storming off trying to like try to fight henry and henry’s like what the fuck is this?? and coop’s running up like hi i’m also here and speed’s like i-cannot stress this enough-do not know any of these people and coop’s like you don’t know us yet and paige is like you can’t do this speed’s a good kid and speed’s like yeah!!

and henry’s like he was so very obviously breaking parole and paige is like he’s a kid and henry’s like a kid who’s been to juvie!! twice!!! and who should know the damn rules by now

and paige is like look something something clever talk bargaining whatever puts something of her own at stake and henry’s like you’re really gonna risk it all on this kid and paige is like yes. he’s destined for greatness. and speed is like yeah!! and henry’s like fine. whatever. but when the other shoe drops, you know like i’m gonna cash in whatever wager paige made here

& he leaves

and speed’s like thanks also who are you and idk we get a paige monologue something full of love and spirit and coop’s also there still and speed’s listening to this monologue kinda like um okay bc honestly? just met her five minutes ago this is kind of a lot but coop’s listening to this monologue like wow😍

so idk speed leaves and coop’s like hey so do you pick a fight with all the guy’s you find attractive and paige is like what

and coop’s like well i’m just saying you know with richard with kyle with me and now with henry i’m kinda sensing a pattern there

and paige is like did you just include yourself on that list and coop’s like i mean yeah duh

and paige kinda wants to argue back but her blush is giving her away so it’s best just to change the subject so what you think i should be going for the parole officer?

and coop’s like yes! didn’t you feel it there was a spark there passion energy something that with the help of yours truly can easily turn into love and paige is like yeah no. absolutely not.

and coop’s like come on why not he was hot and paige is like yeah well if he’s so hot why don’t you date him and coop pauses like hmm like genuinely consider and paige is like don’t do that

and coop’s like why not and paige is torn between don’t date him because i actually did feel that spark and i do kinda like him and also don’t date him because if you’re gonna date anyone it should be me but both those are too embarrassing to say out loud to her cupid so instead she just says conflict of interest

and we flash forward to later idk when the point is speed is doing graffiti on public property but not just like stupid pointing a spray can at something la la la like proper graffiti like an artform but as it is unfortunately public property that is Illegal so it breaks parole

so idk henry’s there and busts him and paige senses speed’s in trouble so she shows up and henry’s like good you’re here. i’m not actually gonna cash in the thing that you wagered because that’d be unfair, because i know the kid, i know that he always let’s you down and speed’s like hey man

but paige is looking up at the wall and she’s like don’t you get it and henry’s like ...no and paige is like it’s art. it’s a release, it’s a coping mechanism and speed’s like idk that’s all sounding a little bit pretentious for a bit of graffiti and paige is like you can’t arrest him for this and henry’s like it’s literally illegal. & i already let him walk once what part of this aren’t you getting

and then there’s like a. idk cop radio thing i don’t know how police work that’s talking about how whatever gang speed used to run with just robbed some place but they’re hot on their tail bc their getaway driver sucks and henry’s looking at speed bc speed Is the getaway driver hence the name and henry’s like how come you aren’t driving that car huh

and speed just shrugs and henry’s like no how come you’re not driving that car what you swap out one crime for another you’re getting busted either way and speed like shrugs 

and paige is like he’s creating art instead and henry’s like did they approach you to drive the getaway car and speed shrugs and henry’s did they approach you to drive the getaway car and speeds like yes man they did i said no and henry looks up at the art

and it’s some super nail on the head craving freedom thing a bird breaking free from a cage type shit and it’s gorgeous

and henry looks at paige like what are you, huh

and paige is like freelance guardian angel

and henry just uncuffs speed and speed’s like what are you doing and henry’s like go. next time you do this find a wall that isn’t public property

and speed can’t help it he kinda smiles n runs off and henry just looks at paige bc what the hell has this girl gotten into him bc normally he’s just got such a concrete shell but she’s smiling at him like he just made the right choice and he’s really gotta fight the urge to smile back. what the fuck

so he says something stupid and leaves

and later paige is doing something when boom coop is here invading her personal bubble bc that’s become their new mode of communication is there are one thousand empty chairs and coop is seated in one paige will walk over and sit on that same chair that’s how they operate bc again there’s this sense of longing for one another and they both know they can’t go for it so instead they just opt for this intense intimacy passed off as friendship

and paige is like met the parole officer again and coop’s like oh henry mitchell? and paige is like how do u know his full name and coop’s like did my research<3 and they’re talking blah blah blah idk and it’s both how to land a date with this guy and also heavy flirting at the same time. and then like phoebe walks into the room and they snap apart like magnets with the same polarity i think?? been a while since the fifth grade and their language just becomes so much more stifled

to which phoebe is vaguely aware and this is a change but we as the audience are super aware it’s a change meaning that their constant flirty banter is a choice on both parts they are both very consciously doing this

and then i don’t know there’s something bigger going on in the main plot which has been building and the main villain needs something magical from each type of being so a cupid’s next on the grocery list so idk coop is either out minding his own business getting coffee or he’s out on reconnaissance on henry when all of a sudden he’s attacked!! by idk an arrow seems convenient honestly we should do a bow and arrow an homage to in original cupid iconography

and henry’s in proximity and sees this and idk maybe they’re somewhere where there aren’t that many people just so you know u can be attacked by a bow and arrow and henry’s like what the fuck!??!?! running over to help him and he vague recognizes him as the angel’s friend but is mainly like holy shit did you just get shot with a bow and arrow and henry’s like i’ll call an ambulance i’ll drive u to the hospital

and coop’s like no no uhh can’t go with the whole i am actually a magical being i exist in no databases and also have no money so instead goes with the i have no health insurance and henry’s like hmm. fuck.

so the next thing you know coop’s on henry’s couch and henry’s doing rudimentary first aid and coop’s really trying to hobble away because if he can just get to paige she can heal this because she unlocked that power in like s5 or s6 in a more natural progression but henry’s not letting him leave because dude you have an arrow in your chest

and now we’re doing the hurt comfort schtick with the meaningful glances and also coop is shirtless bc well you know Arrow In Chest and he’s also in henry’s apartment which is offering a very weird sense of intimacy

and there’s also this kind of banter going because coop’s like no i’m fine i can leave this is fine and henry’s like dude. please let me at least try to help you and after that you can walk right out of here and go repuncture your lung. but just. while you’re. let me do what i can

and coop’s like okay because like. well i mean a) gotta keep up appearances like he’s mortal and b) henry’s kinda fine so sure he can play doctor what’s the worse that can happen

and henry’s like okay we gotta get this arrow out of you so um. any ideas on how to do that? and coops like yeah break off the feathered part and then pull the rest through

and henry’s just like yeah? you have experience with this? and coop’s like once or twice and henry’s like what do you do?

and coop’s like ... relationship therapist

and henry’s like are relationship therapists frequently attacked by archers and coop’s like yeah more often than you’d think 

and henry removed the arrow and the actual point stabby bit of the arrow is shaped like a heart just for funsies bc it’s for cupids but henry’s looking at this like relationship therapist hunting arrow??

anyways. henry is pressing some bandages against coop’s chest to staunch the bleeding and there’s a Moment there to which henry kinda falters because woah gay thoughts?? and the pressure lightens but then o shit i’m lightening the pressure don’t do that!! so he pushes hard and coop’s like aa!! and henry’s like fuck jesus and coop just kinda laughs like i guess you don’t patch up arrow wounds that frequently and henry’s like yeah actually you’re my first!!

something something something coop’s patched up and henry gives him once of his shirts because coop’s shirt had to be cut off him bc of the arrow and we get one of the classic how to i look / starstruck moments because hell yeah we do

and blah blah blah blah blah blah blah coop makes it home and paige is like where in god’s name did u get that shirt bc it looks nothing like what coop would wear in fact in kinda reminds her of

believe it or not, henry

hot parole officer henry?

the one and only

and paige is like you slept with him??? and coop’s like close. i was shot with an arrow and he patched me up

and paige is like !!! because you know main plot evil all this that coop takes off henry’s shirt so paige can see the wound and heal it and she’s looking at henry’s handiwork and it really is the old college try but that man is not a medic so now paige is laying her hand on coop’s bare chest and phoebe walks in and immediately turns on a heel like i’ll give you guys some space!!

and paige is like no it’s fine i’m healing him he was shot main plot and phoebe’s like oh

and then later phoebe’s talking with paige like okay you and coop tho. bc like. ik ik healing or whatever. but like. 👀👀.

and tbh paige has been waiting for this because she really needs to unpack bc like i know!! because coop and i have this thing and it’s a great thing but it like can’t be a thing it’s a forbidden thing but i want it to be a thing but at the same time there’s this other guy and i can’t get him off my mind and i’m worried i’m just viewing him as a safer alternative instead of coop but like. idk he was just my backup i feel like i would be more lukewarm about it. but i’m not. like. i’m really not i kind wish i was because i don’t know if i can do a relationship again especially because he’s mortal like i can’t have someone i care for die again so maybe it’s safer just to keep what i have with coop or maybe even to explore that further? and keep henry safe? but like this and that and this and that

and phoebe’s like buzzing because it’s been a while since she’s had such an interesting love mess to tinker with so the first thing she does is go to coop just to see what she can sus out there Meanwhile paige is with speed where you ask? p3. well, outside of it

speed is painting the side of the club with this amazing artwork and clearly there’s this vein of magic running through it with certain symbols all that and he’s using paintcans and paige has her paintbrush and is adding smaller pieces as well

and she’s like hey where’d you get like that idea or thing idea because they’re all like. runes or magical somethings or others and speeds like idk. saw it in a dream maybe.

and henry rolls up because he stopped at the manor looking for paige and piper directed him here and he’s just like. like he sees this amazing work and it’s a big heart full moment and paige and speed finish up and speed adds his little signature at the bottom and leaves and henry says he’s proud of him and speed acts like he doesn’t care but he does

so henry’s like hey how’s your friend and paige is like coop? yeah, no he’s totally fine and henry’s like really???

and paige is like yeah no um. my brother in law! is an army medic. so um. he was able to. yeah : ) which isn’t technically a lie because leo was he’s just also kinda frozen in a block of ice now so whoops

and henry’s like that’s good but the real reason he’s her it to like thank paige for you know like. seeing the light like maybe henry has become too bitter and jaded so it’s good to know that there are freelance guardian angels out there keeping the balance and you know watching out for these kids so thank you for just like. being a good person.

and he also looks at her art and he’s like this your coping mechanism and paige is like yeah [tragic backstory swap time!!] and both paige and henry kinda realize how they’re like almost mirrors to each other and henry kisses her and paige kisses him back but then stops because she likes him too much which means he’s gonna die

so she’s like sry i gotta go and henry’s like oh :\ because um. well. whoops. because like. god he so rarely goes out on a limb like that and for one moment there it felt like it was all gonna align like he wasn’t gonna get ditched but paige’s green punchbuggy is already peeling out of the lot so guess not

so phoebe’s determined that coop is indeed in love with paige so all that needs is a little nudging okay she’s on mission time to go

and then next thing you know paige is storming in all in a tizzy because she kissed henry and coop’s like this is great news and paige is like no this is bad news! and coop’s like ???

and paige is like no you don’t understand it’s like i’m cursed because whenever i love someone whenever i truly love someone they die and that kiss....... it was..... i can’t have henry die

and coop is like on full cupid mode idk a cupid monologue blah blah blah love <3 and it kind of heals paige both in a sense that it quells her worries but also in a sense that being around coop always seems to make her feel better like she just feels warmer feels safer when he’s around so um. she should probably. figure something out about that. esp in regards to henry. right?

anyways. coop for some reason or another runs into henry again (call it fate) and henry’s like hey r u okay? and coop’s like yeah : ) ! and thank you, by the way, for um patching me up and stuff and henry’s like yeah no problem but um look can i ask you a favor and coop’s like sure

and henry’s like you’re a relationship therapist right and coop’s like yeah 99% sure he knows where this is going and henry’s like like family and relationship counselling and coop’s now only like 40% sure he knows where this is going and he’s like sure and henry’s like great okay so um i’ve got this parolee who [plot background story idk there needs to be some familial healing something or other] is there like. anyway you can help out with that

and coop’s like totally!! and henry’s like oh thank god because like. therapy expensive.

and now we get another one of those moments like seeing someone in their element henry sees coop as he goes basically full cupid but rather than romantic love it’s familial and henry’s like in awe and he’s also kind like wow okay i’d totally make out with that guy like right now but like. like he just kissed paige. and he knows coop and paige are friends. so like. like he can’t do that right? is that too weird?

so family therapy a success and like as established forging bonds of love strengthens cupids so coop’s like word you know if you ever need this on a more regular basis and henry’s like i promise you’re gonna regret offering that and coop’s like not a chance and henry’s like i really have like nothing to pay you with and coop’s like you make these kids lives better. i don’t need payment and henry looks over and gets is Own aha moment of oh i do have a purpose and also i love my job type thing

but. there is another task at hand. because like. are you and paige?? like??

and coop’s like me and paige??? and he’s about to say no because no they’re not but now he’s thinking about it and they are kinda more than they are not but henry’s not asking about the minutiae of it so now henry’s just watching him go on this face journey before going why do you ask : ) and henry’s like no nothing i just thought like well i don’t know what i thought

and coop’s like haha yeah well you know it’s um. haha yeah! you know how it is. i mean. paige is amazing and henry’s like yeah she really is and coop’s like yeah and like she’s just got all this love in her heart and henry’s like i know!! and she’s so smart like you should see what she’s done with speed she got him this place where he can put up his own art and like blah blah blah and at this point it is just coop and henry praising paige to each other for about five minutes before they kinda realize what’s going on and they’re like hmm. well this is kinda weird. cuz now we both kinda sound in love with her.

and coop’s like listen. i know paige really likes you. like a lot

and henry’s like woah i’m gonna stop you there because um. like. i mean i don’t wanna sound weird but like. like we did kiss and then she kinda just ran off and i mean literally ran hopped into her car drove away type thing so. i don’t really think so. so :\

and coop’s like no i mean like okay yeah that did happen but dude you’ve gotta understand she’s had so much loss and henry’s like no i know she told be about her parents and coop’s voice gets real low leans in because this is Top Secret information and he’s like it goes beyond that and henry’s like what and coop’s like her past two boyfriends both died. one from a heart attack, the other was hit by a car (well, no richard was not hit by a car but when all the magic inside you fucks you up that bad evidently the wreck that’s left kinda looks like you were hit by a semi. ouch) and coop’s like so paige kinda just. thinks she’s cursed.

and henry’s like oh. because my god. that’s a lot to process. and that like. like makes so much sense because like if that happened to him he really wouldn’t be able to date again hell that did not happen to him and he’s already barely able to date bc of how afraid he is of getting hurt

but coop’s out here like henry it’s not you like i promise she really likes you i mean you’re a good man and you’re brave and you’re passionate and like you’re hot, obviously and coop theoretically starts complimenting henry from paige’s point of view but then it very clearly starts to dissolve into coop’s pov and we’re still riding that chemical high of the In Your Element passion henry has for coop added onto the good person bonus of yes i’ll continue to help you with this endeavor for literally no benefit and now he’s just rattling off compliments to henry and henry’s just like oh jeez 😳😳🥰

and there’s just like. the briefest moment of henry’s eyes darting down to coop’s lips and coop’s daze is kinda broken and he realizes that he’s just been telling henry how foioine he is to his face and there’s a moment spellbound lookin into each others eyes like damn this is kinda gay & then they’re making out

and then henry’s like ohhh my god what am i doing what have i done oh know because you’re paige’s friend you like paige and i kissed her earlier today and now i’m oh my god this is a bad idea right? this is a bad idea?

and coop’s thinking on it because like okay he has been trying to pair paige and henry together a) because they’d be cute together and she clearly likes him but also b) because he really likes her and he can’t be with her bc he’s a cupid so at least if she’s with someone else who she loves he can be happy knowing she’s happy. but now he’s here with henry and he shouldn’t be because Again he’s trying to pair paige with henry and he can’t be with henry bc as previously stated cupids can’t actually have relationships but he shouldn’t even be thinking that because henry isn’t for him but even if he was which he isn’t it wouldn’t work because he’s a cupid so um. yeah. this is a bad idea

yeah

yeah

no they’re makin out again.

anyways. l8r at p3 someone else who owns a local business sees the art on the wall outside and is like yo who did that because i would totally pay them to do idk my food truck or something and piper’s like i’ll tell u exactly who did that

so idk i think legally since speed’s a minor and a parolee henry has to be involved in the job getting process actually wait speed just turned 18. idk what any of this means but we’ll say henry needs to be there so piper gave paige the food truck guys digits and paige passes on the news to speed and henry and like. paige shows up at henry’s office to be like good news!!

and to level with you henry thought that like. after making out with coop maybe his feeling for paige would dissipate like maybe he was secretly gay this whole time and paige was just a safe route to project those feeling but paige comes in with this smile that puts the goddamn stars to shame and henry’s like nope!! still in love with her!!

and paige is like okay because like this is all set you know like this could even lead to a career in art for speed like and henry’s like yes absolutely but now that the initial glow of that has worn off they’re both kinda remembering that the last time they saw each other they kissed and then paige bolted so yeah they should probably address that

and paige is like look i want to apologize for just kind of. running out the other day. that really wasn’t. it wasn’t right and i know this sounds dumb but it really wasn’t about you i’m just i’ve been in this weird place and i do like you henry like i really do so i don’t want you to think 

and henry’s like i feel like i kind of apologize too because i kinda made out with your friend and paige pauses because like she really has no friends well i guess besides coop but like there’s and henry tacks on coop to clarify and paige just snorts laughing

like she has no idea why that’s so funny but it just kinda is like. what!!

and henry’s like yeah but it was like. it’s. he really likes you paige he really does care for you i mean i really care for you too and henry’s kind of playing both sides here because he does like. really like paige. and that’s why he wants her to be happy and it’s her choice who she feels who she’d be most happy with whether that’s hm or coop because honestly coop is p amazing henry wouldn’t be burnt losing to him because coop is a great guy and paige is just watching him ramble smiling and henry realizes he doesn’t know what he’s saying anymore so he just kind of trails off and gets kind of lost in paige’s smile because like. wow : )

and paige is just kind of there processing that information because um wow who could have seen this coming and honestly she’s still not over coop kissing henry that’s just so unbelievable entertaining to her she’s so gonna hafta prod coop about it later because dude what?? what? bro. bro. bro. like. like the two guys she’s in love with kissed like bro what!!!! lmao she would pay money to see that how tf did that happen. she would have loved to have been there. that’s insane. she really wished she was there. like. really wished she was there. hmm. should she stew on that a little more?

and henry’s like. this is awkward. i’m sorry. i don’t want things to be weird between us. and paige is like henry i think things have been weird between us since i first picked an argument with you in an alleyway. and henry’s like true!! and they’re laughing and there’s a beat and henry’s like i think i fell in love with you in that moment. and paige is like yeah?

and henry’s just. i mean like. look at her <3 but like. she deserves. like she deserves the best there is and he’s just some guy like some jaded hardass who lives in a crappy apartment and who always forgets how to do the right thing it seems not to mention all his fucking baggage like. she deserves better. 

and paige sees him kinda retreat and like she kind of pulls out of the moment too because she loves henry she does but like that fear that he’s gonna die is still there and she wants to fight it she just doesn’t know if she can but like. she really really does like him.

and now they’re both standing there again another moment turned to dust in the wind now they’re just two people standing there incredibly normal about it yep just two people nope paige is kissing henry ope okay yep they’re making out and boom someone’s knocking on henry’s office door o quick act natural because hi henry heard you needed like the legal paperwork because speed’s getting a job here you go and henry’s like 👍 thank you very obviously flushed and his coworker is like. what the fuck is going on in that office. but like. doesn’t really care enough to find the answer to that question.

so paige is like you should come to p3 l8r tonight to like celebrate speed getting a job blah blah blah blah and henry’s like i will be there

so later paige is getting dolled up in a fire outfit just adding the final touches when coop shows up bc phoebe said you needed to see me? (with phoebe’s strategy fully being in mind that paige looks hella fly right now but also is still in the manor an area paige and coop have kind of curated as their space also like once she goes to p3 it’s simply too loud too crowded to have a heart to heart like what is about to happen here which she would listen all unfold but piper unfortunately dragged her away to help with the boys but i’m sure it’s all going well)

and paige is like ....nope. and coop’s like ah. well. you look great. going to see henry? which he asks that question like he’s walking on very thin ice and paige is like yeah and i gotta say i can’t believe you kissed henry before you ever kissed me and coop just laughs like well!!

and paige is laughing too but there’s this undercurrent of you still haven’t kissed me :/ and coop’s like i take it henry told you and paige is like yep. and then made a very convincing campaign in your favor on how you’re evidently in love with me and you’re probably my better option, he loves me, too, but just can’t seem to hold a candle to you

and coop’s laughing and he’s like that sounds like something henry’d say, he’s really. he’s got a lot of love he just doesn’t seem to think he’s worth it.

and paige is like you think he’s worth it though

and coop’s like i do. you think he’s worth it too. and paige is like i do.

and there’s a moment of stillness because what the fuck are any of them doing and paige is like we can’t keep doing this. and coop’s like gonna hafta be a bit more specific there because i think i’ve broken more rules than i can count in the past 24 hours. and paige is wanna make that one more and coop’s like !? and then paige kisses him and coop’s like okay now’s the time where i would really love some clarification

and paige is like. well. i had to kiss you, right? and coop’s like sure? and paige is like because i’ve wanted to for the longest time because i keep pretending like i’m not in love with you because well you know you know me better than almost anyone else but like. i also love henry. and so i had to kiss you. as a test.

and coop’s like ...did i pass?

and paige is like that wasn’t the test and coop’s like what was and paige is like i don’t know. to see where my love is. to see if i love you or if i love henry or if it’s all just infatuation and relfections distorting how i feel and coop’s like okay. so... what’s the answer?

and paige is like i love henry. but then she kisses coop again and is like but i think i love you, too. and they’re doing that thing where they lack bubble space when they talk i mean paige’s head is basically on his chest and coop’s hands are on her waist and coop’s like okay. so where do you want to go from here.

because he’s a cupid you know his top priority is love in its purest form so if like paige’s love for henry like outweighs her love for him he will pretend not to be crushed and move on like he will. he’s saying he’ll do anything in the name of love but really he’ll just do anything for paige.

and paige is like i think you should kiss henry again and coop laughs and he’s like don’t joke about that because complete candor i totally would he is... amazing

and paige is like yeah, i know, and i’m not joking and it kind of clicks for coop like !! polyromanticism!!

anyways. paige And coop go to p3 and henry’s there and sees paige And coop and he’s like uh oh oh no because if paige chose coop like he’s happy for them he really is except he’s also kind of not because then he kind of loses paige And coop and um. that’s kind of a two hit KO. but wait!! that is not the case! what’s this??

anyways. quirky hijinks of sorts when phoebe sees that paige came home with henry and she’s like damn. my plan failed. and the next morning piper’s like i see ur plan worked and phoebe’s like yeah no need to rub it in and piper’s like ??? dude paige totally hooked up with coop last night and phoebe’s like no?? that was the other guy that was henry

and piper’s like that was definitely coop?? and phoebe’s like piper not every tall man with dark hair looks the same and piper’s like no shit do you think i don’t know what coop looks like he practically lives here and phoebe’s like yeah that’s how i know the guy paige brought home w her was Not Coop and piper’s like do you need new glasses and phoebe’s like shut up i’m right and piper’s like no ur not!!

and later that day they’re like. all brewing a potion in the attic and like while we have you here...... did you hook up with henry or coop last night and phoebe’s like because piper thought it was coop when i very clearly saw henry and piper’s like yeah phoebe hasn’t been sleeping well lately i think she’s started seeing things so go ahead prove me right and paige is just laughing like okay so i guess i gotta introduce u guys to my 2 boyfriends

[rynhaswritersblock]

tiktok famous (hc) - part three | p.p.

summary: you and peter doing various tiktok trends. y'all know the deal

warnings: ultra chaotic writing (i have nine other drafts forgive me i am a tad bit stressed), cussing as always, and HOPEFULLY GOOD WRITING??? oh and yes as always peter being Babey

+ + +

- HI!!!!!! BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE TIKTOK HCS!!!!!!!

- i got a few requests/ideas from y'all for more tiktoks so here we are

- tbh since so many new trends are constantly coming out i might just make this a whole ass SERIES but we'll see

- who knows if i can even handle that

- btw:: if i forgot one or there's one you really want me to write you can comment it and i'll try to add it to this!!! if it's too long since posted though i'll add it to my drafts <3

- OKAY TIME FOR CHAOTIC ENERGY

- as mentioned in past versions of this series

- tiktok dances are ADDICTIVE!!!

- and you literally broke a goddamn sweat learning supalonely but we're NOT GONNA TALK ABOUT IT

- and you and peter are hanging out one day

- and as all of these ideas happen

- you get ~inspired~ by the for you page

- you set up the camera, flipping it so that it's facing peter and not you

- the lil shit hasn't even noticed that you got up yet what a poop

- but as soon as the music starts playing he raises his head

- you're doing the supalonely dance like a fucking BOSS

- all while pretending to be looking at yourself in the camera

- you don't let yourself stare at the screen so you don't get distracted

- but

- of course

- peter is nodding his beat to the beat, clapping for you, and when you to the body roll thing on "drinking" he lets out a whoop that makes you wheeze

- when you finish you laugh, letting out a sigh and grabbing your phone

"not gonna lie, you ate that."

"i know."

- you sit back down next to him, heart rate in da Clouds, and start watching the video

- petey boi is just sitting there like a puppy, crooked smile on his face as he watches you

- in a few parts he's even doing the dance with you

- and he looks so in awe

- you can't stop watching it and smiling at the screen

- but then the fucker sits down next to you and is like "you should post that it was really good"

- so you show him it

- his face gets all red bc he's babey

"you were videoing me??"

- OKAY NEXT ONE

- so i think we all know the rosa videos

- for the b99 fans: rosa rosa rosaaaaaaaaaaaa

- she's a QUEEN

- and you constantly quote those things like

- every time there's a silent moment you're just like "you're fucking lying let me see" and the whole team (avengers squad) is like ayo stfu

- one day y'all are just hanging in the commons of headquarters

- we're getting the band back together!

- and you start videoing cause you're bored

- you point the camera at peter

"aye dude come here?"

- everybody groans and peter gives the camera a sassy look, tilting his head

"you're gay? i fuckin-"

"language," steve mutters

"-knew it dude!" you smile, zooming in on the camera

- peter gets a confused look on his face

"wait no i'm bi"

- tony effin SHOOTS UP

- sitting like there's a goddamn board in his back

- and he slowly turns his head in your direction

- eyebrow raised

- you bust out laughing and so does everyone else, including peter

- tony's looking around like "hey what the FUCK is HAPPENING"

"stark, you didn't know?"

"NO??"

- lol we stan bi peter parker

- aight BACK TO THE SHITS AND GIGGLES

- so you and peter are obsessed with that quirky tiktok bartender girl who makes all the drinks

- i forgot her name but she's like

we're gonna do 2 ounces so that's 1, 2, 3, 4! we're gonna give it a nice strain! andddd shake shake shake shake! fun, right?

- yk what i mean

- hi it's editing ryn it's her tiktok is like paradise bartender

- and so one day

- jk one NIGHT

- it's like 2 am

- and you and peter are like

- let's make lemonade. but like. Fake Alcohol Version Because We're Underage

- and so y'all run to the kitchen

- you almost crush and die from slipping on your socks

- the two of you and laughing and giggling as you run and around and get all your materials

"where is the fucking STRAINER"

"bitch idk help me find the lemon flavor packets"

- it takes FAR too long but y'all are finally ready

- you start recording and the two of you are already laughing

"hey guys so today-"

"TODAY" he pushes you to the side "we're gonna be making LEMONADE!"

- the two of you keep laughing as you shove each other trying to be the one in charge

- so basically

- peter gets water all over the counter

- some of the ice flies out when you shake it

- the strainer DOESN'T WORK AND ALL THE STUFF GETS EVERYWHERE

- and the small amount that lands in the cup tastes like whispering lemon

- like hella watered down there's like nothing there

- the lemon is SHY

- and then in the last 10 seconds of the video bucky walks in

- and he's like wtf... wait y'all are making lemonade??

- and the three of you end up making lemonade for real and drinking it while watching infomercials

- at two in the morning

- fun, right?

- those videos are so satisfying NEXT TIKTOK

- thank u ritxal for the idea !!

- so our boi PETE HERE

- is hella addicted to those cool pov videos

- and he gets a really good idea even though it would make him a SIMP

- he ends up deciding FUCK IT I'M MAKING ONE

- MY TIKTOK ACCOUNT IS PRIVATE ANYWAYS

- so he sets up his phone and jumps around to get ~~in the zone~~

- feeling stupid as hell

- he films one of those ones where it's the "from the other side" *noise!!!!!!!!* one's yk where the ppl are like "are you sure you want to __?" and it has the yes and no buttons

- you know

- i hope

- and he puts the text on it and shrugs, posting it

- meanwhile you're home and you get the notification that peter posted a tiktok

- obviously you click on it because

- uh

- because

- and you watch it and gasp because the caption says pov and ur like who tf is this man peter never posts povs

- you watch as peter is looking nervously at the camera and text pops up saying "are you sure you want to give up?"

- he presses yes and you're like oh god oh peter wait is this a sign shit FUCK

- a new text bubble pops up saying "do you want to see her?" and you fucking yeLP

- you're like holy FUCK WAIT WHO IS HER???? WIFE???? DAUGHTER?????? HUH!!!!!!!

- and then he presses yes

- and the screen goes black

- you see urself in the screen

- and you basically DIE

- a wheeze so hard that it hurts flies out of your mouth and you IMMEDIATELY PRESS DUET

- you start filming with your phone facing the ceiling and as the beat drops (or whatever when it's like ahhhh!) you pop onto the screen, smiling

- and you're like RANDOM CONFIDENCE BOOST WHATEVER POST

- and then BACK TO PETER'S PLACE

- HE GETS THE NOTIFICATION AND IS LIKE WHAT

- AND WHEN HE SEES YOU POP ONTO THE SCREEN HE'S LIKE HOLY FUCK

- AND SO HE FACETIMES YOU

- YOU ANSWER OBVI

"y/n what the hell"

"did you like it?"

"maybe"

- okay i wanna do another pov one so here we go

- i'm sure everyone here is acquainted with the "they call me tiago.. i don't know who's margo" ones

-  these are lowkey difficult to write out so i'm just gonna lay it out for you as best i can

- really trying here

- so peter posts the boy's voice part ("no no no... they call me tiago. i don't know who's margo? i just hit this lotto" etc etc etc)

- and when it's like idk who's margo he just holds a stare with the camera in like an InTiMiDaTiNg way

- even though he's babey and a literal puppy it actually like.. works

- and when you see it you're like yes so you post the other part (that people never do lol "her name is margo" etc all the female voicing)

- and you hold the stare too and EVEN LIKE RAISE YOUR EYEBROW SUGGESTIVELY AND GIVE HIM THE LOOK IYKYK

- so BASICALLY

- i'm really trying here i can visualize these tiktoks perfectly but GOD if i don't struggle a bit while writing them

PETER'S CAPTION: pov: we're rivals on separate missions but you keep screwing with my plans so i try to intimidate you

Y/N'S CAPTION: pov: we're rivals on separate missions but i found you cute so i decide to mess around with your mission

- OH BY THE WAY THE TWO OF YOU LIVE AT AVENGERS HEADQUARTERS AND HE POSTED "YESTERDAY" SO YOU DECIDE TO POST "TODAY" AND WALK OUT OF YOUR ROOM TO WHERE HE WAS IN THE COMMONS RIGHT AFTER YOU POSTED

- can y'all tell how messy my brain is holy shit

- pls forgive me i keep getting random ideas but IT ADDS TO THE CHAOS SO IT'S FINE RIGHT

- OKAY

- BACK AGAIN

- so you post and walk out and as you turn the corner to the commons you can hear the sound play and have to stop a moment to silently scream

- thankfully no one else was in there except for peter (whose back was to you) otherwise you woulda looked INSANE

- you walk up behind him and smile as he laughs slightly and watches it another time, pulling his phone closer to his face to read the caption

"holy shit," he mutters

- he closes his eyes and smiles and tilts his head back, resting it on the back of the couch (🥺)

"you like it?"

- lol

- this kid SHOOTS UP

- HELLO

"oh my god, y/n, what are you doing"

"coming to hang out with you??"

- he sighs as you come and plop down next to him

"what the hell is this"

- he shows you his phone

"a tiktok"

- he smiles and shakes his head (doing that thing where you like look down while doing it and it's so CUTE)

"yeah. i got that."

- NEXT TIKTOK

- alright guess the scenario

- just fucking guess

- i'll wait

- ...

- you'd best BELIEVE that y'all are chilling at headquarters in the commons rn

- where da HELL ELSE

- and

- like LITERALLY EVERY OTHER TIKTOK THAT I WRITE OUT IN THESE

- YOU AND PETE BE CHILLIN

- AND YOU SET UP YOUR PHONE

- god i'm starting to question if i'm capable of writing literally anything else damn

- peter's in the background of course

- and it's this godforsaken audio i'm sure most of you have heard

- you know the one where it's like fast music and then it goes "mm, yeah" and it's usually accompanied with a video of some really pretty girl fake moaning and like rolling her eyes while pushing up her hair??

- well

- all of that

- everything i just said

- is exactly what you do

- and the thing is

- as soon as peter hears the audio he recognizes it

- are we gonna talk about the fact that peter probably spent at least a whole night watching those videos because 1) girls are really pretty and 2) every time he heard it he could vividly imagine you doing it??????? no??? okay

- so he like

- sits up

- does the thing where he rests his forearms on his knees and leans forward, glaring at you through the camera

- and in the background

- if you're paying attention

- peter FLIPS HIS SHIT WHEN YOU DO THE "MM YEAH" PART

- he tHROWS HIS ARMS IN THE AIR LIKE WHAT THE HELL DUDE I THOUGHT I GAVE YOU SIGNS THAT EVEN THOUGH WE'RE NOT A COUPLE AND WE BOTH KNOW YOU LIVE YOUR LIFE OUT OF SPITE,, DOING SOMETHING LIKE THAT ON VIDEO IS ABSOLUTELY OFF LIMITS!!!!!!!

"Y/N!"

- it's still recording and you turn around and laugh, throwing your head back as he jumps up and grabs you by the waist, pulling you in

- the two of you start play fighting just like elio and oliver from cmbyn (but a bit less steamy yk?? more innocent yet still w a bit of tension yeye)

- needless to say you keep that video in a very special place of your heart

- and so does peter like once the two of you stop wrestling you realize that the video had just been looping behind the sound of your laughter and fighting y'all watch it and it loops a few times while the two of you are silent and he finally goes "can you uh. can you send that. to me. ???????"

- next oneeeeeeeeeeeeee

- thank u lilmissquackson for the idea <3

- so in this one you and petey are dating

- and y'all decide to do the put a finger down challenge lol

- but instead of using an audio y'all decide to switch off coming up with ones on the spot

"put a finger down if your boyfriend tackles you every time you're standing near a couch or bed"

"put a finger down if your girlfriend still calls you dude"

"put a finger down if your boyfriend once webbed you to the wall because you wouldn't stand still when he was trying to kiss you"

"put a finger down if your girlfriend used her telepathic powers to keep you out of her room when she was mad at you"

"put a finger down if your boyfriend took TWO YEARS TO ASK YOU OUT"

"put a finger down if your girlfriend started laughing after you told her you liked her"

"put a finger down if you only started laughing because it TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH"

"put a finger down if your girlfriend showed no signs of liking you before you decided to ask her out"

"put a finger down if your boyfriend is the most oblivious boy in the world"

"put a finger down if you're in love with your girlfriend but haven't said 'i love you' yet because you're scared she won't say it back"

- your jaw drops and turn to him

- needless to say you were very glad to have caught your first "i love you"s on camera

- SIDE NOTE you did not post cause after you and peter watched the video back y'all were both like "we don't wanna be THOSE bitches"

- next one woop

- thank u MrsLillianAmbrose for the idea !!

- okay buds

- so here's the thing

- i hate to under-perform

- but i feel like the best way to get the full effect of this tiktok is to watch it and then just roll with me here

- SOOOOO (if u can)

1) open tiktok 2) search @_tharealjohnnyyy_ 3) go to his account (or it might just show up when you search) 4) and scroll to the "ways to cuddle" video 5) it was posted in february 2020 if that helps give u a time reference lol

- OKAY

- I HOPE Y'ALL GOT TO WATCH IT

- I TRIED JUST PUTTING IT IN HERE BUT WATTPAD WOULDN'T LET ME AND I COULDN'T FIND IT ON YOUTUBE (let me know if one of u does!!!)

- if u weren't able to watch it (i'm so sorry) i'm gonna do the best i can to at least make this entertaining

- WOOP

- so if you could see the tiktok that's really all this is

- you and peter doing literally the same thing

- y'all are giggling in between positions and peter struggles to set the camera up every time it falls

- he ends up just webbing it to the ceiling

- and in the end the two of you fall asleep in the reverse OG position with your fingers playing with his hair 🥰🥰

- i hope that was good enough im sorry AH

- next!!

- thank u Mendesmycam for the idea <33

- okay so y'all know that sound

SOMETHING ABOUT YA GORLL

REALLY MAKES MY HEADDDD WANNA TWIRLLLLLLLLLL

- or whatever the lyrics are

- those tiktoks are SO FUNNY

- AND YOU DECIDE TO COPY THEM

- so you grab a chair and sit peter down in the middle of the room and set the camera up

- luckily for you he has a bag of cheez-its in hand that you plan to utilize later

- babey has a confused look on his face as he watches you press play and he shoves some more cheez-its in his mouth

- the music starts playing and you just about bust out laughing as you walk all around him, running your hand across his chest

- his heart is racing he's like AYO WHAT THE FUCK IS GOIN ON

"y/n what the hell are you-"

SOMETHING ABOUT YOU GIRL

- you practically snap into a weird position

- ur freaking arms are out in front of you and you're on your toes and knees are bent and you're hunched over and it's like

- a very interesting pose

- peter BUSTS OUT LAUGHING

- his eyes are all crinkly as he bends over in the chair

- you just about break but you manage to keep a straight face as you start dancing around weirdly

- needless to say you look like a goddamn CONTORTIONIST

- peter can't stop wheezing

- you make one of your hands in the shape of like the italian man hand this iykyk and fucking SWAN DIVE YOUR FINGERS INTO HIS CHEEZ-IT BAG

- meanwhile peter's STILL DYING

- and you take the cheezits and lean back, sprinkling them all over you (like the popcorn one if you saw that tiktok lmao)

- and the video finally ends and you get to laugh

"y/n what the hell was that"

"i don't know i thought you might enjoy a little entertainment"

- and of course

- that's exactly when no other than SAM WILSON fucking strolls in

- hey how y'all doin'- AHHH (get yo fucking dog bitch! ~it don't bite~ YES IT DO GET YO-)

- sorry got distracted

- and he hears you and his head SPINS ON OVER TO Y'ALL'S DIRECTION

"a little what now?"

- AIGHT GUYS

- LAST ONE

- Y'ALL ARE AT HEADQUARTERS CAUSE WHERE DA HECK ELSE

- this time you're in peter's room though

- and i'd like to imagine this one with the cool led lights because 1) tiktok and 2) i feel like peter would have those in his room

- y'all are just chilling watching hot rod (GREAT MOVIE BTW)

- and

- peter sets up the camera

- not to mention his heart is RACING RN CAUSE HE'S A NERVOUS BEAN

- and he hits record and leans back, letting out a sigh

- you don't even notice his phone literally right there cause you're just enjoying the movie

- a few seconds into the video and petey is like Visibly Freaking Out

- but a funny part plays and you laugh, looking over at him to see if he found it funny too

- he notices you're turning your head so he's like YES I LOOK AT TV HOT ROD MOVIE I AM LOOKING THAT WAY AND WASN'T STARING AT YOU OR THE CAMERA YES THIS IS A FUNNY PART I AM LAUGHING

- and then you look away

- and then he looks at you

- and ever so lightly grabs you by the chin

- and pulls you to him and plants his lips on yours

- finally, dumbass

+ + +

huzzah

i hope u guys enjoyed !!!!!!! ヽ(✿ﾟ▽ﾟ)ノ

[hopeful0romantic]

Get to know me thingy

Uhhh I was tagged in this by @wizardess-shitpost—

Well, I mean technically @why0am-i-like0reblogs was tagged but that’s me, so lmao—

And I have too much anxiety to tag others in this so oof :’)

Uh, okay so, here—

How tall are you?

I’m short as hell at 4’11” :D

What color and style is your hair?

So, my hair is long, straight, and light brown with two blond streaks in the front—one on each side. It goes down to my ass and is usually kept down but is sometimes in a pony tail or braid.

What kind of student are/were you?

The kind that teachers say “have potential” or whatever the hell but don’t try. I don’t give a fuck, sooooo. I just want them to leave me alone.

What color are your eyes?

Simple answer: blue.

Elaborated: gray blue?? Sometimes greenish blue?? Mainly gray blue I guess. I’ve been told by a couple tho that they see a bit of green in them.

When were you born?

March 3rd

What’s your fashion sense?

Uhhhh casual//comfortable????

I just where funny(ish?) or comfortable t-shirts that are too big for me, almost always a jacket cuz I feel comfortable wearing one, jeans (every now and then leggings I guess), and combat boots.

Although I won’t lie—I do have a very feminine side that longs to wear dresses and look pretty and—y’know—like a girl—

Do you like school?

I fucking hate school. So much. The only reason I have to maybe like it was I get to see my boyfriend along with my ONE friend.

What school do/did you go to?

Currently a small town high school.

Used to go to one in Killeen, Texas for second half of kindergarten to 2nd grade, that was a shitter school full of racist little kids.

Went to one in Elizabethtown, Kentucky for 4th and 5th grade. Very good school 👌

Was also homeschooled for second half of 2nd grade along with 3rd grade. My mom did a pretty good damn job if I do say so my self (and I say so!)

Where were you born and where do you live now?

Both the same place, good ol’ corn field and cow state of Indiana, lmao.

Full Name?

Just like @wizardess-shitpost, I also go by a different name.

Online, I go by RynTinTin.

Ryn for short, obviously.

Do you wear braces?

Nope.

Do you have any regrets?

A shit ton! :D

How many? Too many to remember!

What are they? Embarrassing shit that I’ve said on impulse, mostly ;D

Favorite book?

Oh god, there’s a lot—

At the moment I’m really liking Dragon’s Keep and Dragonswood by Janet Lee Carey. I love the writing style and the pace of it so I’d like to read more books written by her.

I’m also a fan of Warrior Cats and Harry Potter. Mortal Instraments is good too, although I haven’t continued reading it in a LONG time—

I’ve also somewhat gotten into Liz Braswell’s A Twisted Tale books :0 I’ve only started reading one but they all sound really interesting and I really wanna read more—

Favorite TV Show?

~~Supernatural~~

Do you wear glasses?

Yeppie—doodle—roonie, I certainly do

Favorite pastime?

Probably writing??? Whether it’s my own project, something I plan to post, or a writing assignment for my creative writing class. All are fun 👌

Dream Job?

I’d love to be an author ❤️ if not, maybe work in theater??? I am somewhat interested in being a theater actor because I believe it’d be fun!! But also author 👀 lol

What countries have you visited?

The only country I’ve ever been in is the great ol’ USA, lmao :’)

Scariest nightmare?

Well. I used to have night mares when I was a little kid. Me and my mom call then the bear dreams lmao. All I remember of them was that I was always getting chased by a bear. My mom says I started screaming bloody murder in my sleep.

An emotionally scary one, though, was one where I told my crush that I liked him and all that happened was awkward situations :’) he said he didn’t like me back although being friends was still aight. Which, isn’t the worst, but god it was so fucking awkward in the dream and I hated it.

(I’m dating him now tho so lololololol suck on that, stupid dream!!!)

Any enemies?

Oh yeah lmfao. This one bitch named Lavender. She (purposefully) took m best friend from me and is now continuously trying to get the attention of my boyfriend. There’s more to it, I swear, but there’s too much and I don’t wanna start ranting about this whore. (She literally took another guy to prom who has the same first name as my boyfriend lmfaooooo—I’m gonna smash her head through a damn window)

Significant other?

Yes 💕💕💕 I love him

Do you believe in miracles?

I don’t know, actually.

I mean it must be a miracle if this d00d I adore apparently feels the same about me—😂😂😂

Honestly tho—I think maybe??? I guess I lean more towards yes than no.

How are you?

I’m either extremely shitty or extremely happy, there’s no in between recently lmao—