#see the fruits of the hours and hours of work i've put in

[curiosity-killed]

y'aaaaalll the photos are so good ;A;

[stark-ironman]

What about a smut of reader being pregnant and hugh is so turned on that he did that

All Mine

He looks so daddy in the pic 😮‍💨😭

18+ No Minors

A/N: I got carried away with this. I've read plenty of pregnancy fics over the past few months and this is the result.

Warnings: Pregnancy kink, mentions of lactation kink, smut, oral (f recieving)

"Cannon-ball!" Ryan yells as he jumps off the diving board into the pool and you hear Hugh laughing in the background, making you chuckle and roll your eyes while cutting up some fruit. The two men just finished a stressing press tour so Ryan decided to come by and swim before he had to go back to his house.

A kick from your stomach makes you jump a little so you place your hand on the side, smiling as the little baby inside of you reacts to your touch but wincing when you can feel the baby trying to move around.

Putting the fruit and the drinks on a tray, you carry it outside and set it down on the table, noticing Hugh staring at you intently from the pool. "Oh shit, food! Thanks Y/N!" Ryan exclaims excitedly while running over. "Are you coming to eat, hon?" You ask looking at your husband. "I'll eat later. I'm enjoying the pool at the moment." He says with a small smile but you know that's not why he's staying in the pool.

"I'm going to go lay down for a bit. You two don't do anything that will result in a hospital visit." You lightly scold with a chuckle. "No promises." Ryan sings as he jumps back into the pool.

With one last look at Hugh, you head inside and go straight to your bed, turning on your favorite TV show with the volume low.

-‐---

You wake up several hours later and notice the house seems quieter so you get up and head to the kitchen for a glass of water. "Sleep well, love?" Hugh asks from the stove. You look over at him to see he's just wearing a pair of shorts, making your eyes travel down lower. "Yeah, I really needed it though I wish you could've joined me. What are you cooking?" You ask holding your back, trying to take your mind off of his outfit. "Spaghetti. You mentioned earlier you wanted some so I went and picked up the stuff when I took Ryan home." He says turning the stove off and walking over to you, pressing his chest against your back.

"Come on, love. Let me help you relieve some pain." He mumbles, picking up your belly. A moan leaves your lips, leaning into Hugh while he holds your belly. The strain on your back is relieved instantly, causing you to take a deep breath. You two stand there for what feels like forever, looking at him with a smile as you tell him he can lower your belly. He slowly lowers it and starts to kiss up your neck. "Do you know how turned on it makes me to see you pregnant, love?" Hugh mumbles, pressing against you as another moan slips out of your lips.

"I had to stay in the pool earlier because I was so fucking hard watching you walk around with your beautiful belly," He turns you around and kisses you deeply, "The fact you're growing my baby in your belly makes me the proudest man on the planet and I plan to show that to you everyday."

Hugh guides you back, removing your clothing piece by piece until you're bare on the couch. "Lay back, love. I've been wanting to worship your body since this morning." He states crawling between your thighs, kissing up one side before placing a kiss on your clit.

A moan falls from your lips as Hugh slides a tongue up your slit, feeling him start to slide his tongue in and out. Your hand cards through his hair, pulling on it every so often causing his moans to vibrate from between your legs. His tongue worked in long, hungry strokes, and his lips closing down on your clit every so often. "You taste so good, love. So responsive for me.." He slides two fingers inside of you, kissing his way up over your belly, over your breasts before finally melting against your lips.

You taste yourself on his lips as he moves his fingers expertly inside you, letting his thumb rub your clit. "Hugh.. fuck." You moan, arching your back. "What do you need, love? Tell me." He commands softly. "Want to cum... on your dick." You whine, looking at him with every bit of want and desire in your eyes, taking in the scene in front of you as he smirks at you.

His hair, tousled and hanging over his forehead. Your slick glistening his mouth and chin, making you moan slightly at the sight and you feel his fingers pull out, watching as he stands up. He takes his shorts off slowly, letting you take in how aroused he is for you, looking at you with need.

"See how hard you make me, darling? Every bit of this is all for you." He states as he lifts your legs up, sliding in between them as teases your entrance. "You look so perfect.." He leans closer, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking softly before moving to the other one, sending shocks of arousal to your core. He groans as he slides inside of you, throwing his head back as he feels your walls stretch around him.

"You take me so well, darling," He leans down and kisses you softly, "You was made all for me, weren't you?" You nod, moaning as he bottoms out. Hugh sits up, placing his hands on your stomach as he thrusts inside of you.

"I'm going to stuff you so full of my babies, you'll always be pregnant for me." You both moan at his words, both knowing that it's all you two want. "Might even try to drink from these perfect tits of yours." You moan, clenching around him, hearing his breath hitch as he thinks about it.

He leans down, breathless and needy as he kisses you feverishly. You kiss him back with just as much passion, feeling yourself start to clench tighter around him, and you both cum at the same time.

His moans fill your ear as he empties inside of you and you grip him tightly, trying to catch your breath. Hugh pulls out and walks over to the kitchen, grabbing a towel and wetting it before coming back over and cleaning you up, doing the same to himself.

"I love you, Hugh." You breath out, grabbing his hand as he helps you sit up. "I love you, darling." He kisses you softly. "Now, is that spaghetti ready?" You ask, making him laugh loudly, pulling you close to him.

[aurumalatus]

𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟒]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.4k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection, cursing, mentions of abuse/alcoholism, mentions of broken bones

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

author's note. i've been SO busy this week, but i hope this chapter still meets everyone's expectations ;-;. unedited for now, but please enjoy and pls pls lmk what you think! reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

↢ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥����𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚'𝗦 𝗟𝗢𝗦𝗧 𝗣𝗔𝗖𝗘

Kinich breaks his arm when he’s eleven.

It had, admittedly, been stupid of him. He’s always been partial to extreme sports, as many members of his tribe are, but he’d gone a bit too far that day with his grappling, and it all came crashing down in an unceremonious heap. He more than anyone knows how unforgiving the ground can be, so it’d been a foolish endeavor in the first place.

Dizzy, he tries to push himself to his knees before crying out in pain—it’s his right arm. He can’t put any pressure on it all, at least unless he gets used to the shooting pain that overwhelms his senses. He leans on it again, testingly, before wincing.

No, there’s no getting used to a pain like that.

Surveying the land nearby, he notes the sharp, menacing rocks that dot the riverbed—he’d been lucky to land where he did. He decides he won’t fill you in on that detail. After all, you’ll be mad enough as it is.

As far as he knows, you’re still at home at this time, but you’ll be out delivering medicines later as a courier—the village apothecary trusts you with the work, and there are few others willing to do it. Plus, you learn a few things along the way. Kinich notices that you’re becoming quite skilled in certain remedies.

In general, the work the two of you participate in is rarely safe—safe work doesn’t make Mora, and it’s hard to feed two mouths without coin. Kinich himself usually takes jobs that see more combat, involving Saurians or any other odd tasks. So it’s not uncommon that he comes home with injuries, but it’s never been this bad. Something like this spells out a lack of work for at least several weeks, maybe more.

He sighs, briefly considering whether or not he should hide it.

But you seem to have a sixth sense for these things, and he’s truly lousy at lying when it comes to you, so he decides against it. Instead, he rises to his feet, groaning at the feeling of his pants sticking to his skin, still soaked.

The journey home feels three times as long.

He hadn’t risked grappling again with one arm, so he had walked, the hot sun beating down on his skin. When he thinks about it, he can’t really remember how he had put up with having to walk everywhere—grappling truly saves him so much time out of his day. The small building at the foot of the mountain enters his sight after what feels like an eternity, an even smaller form standing just outside of it.

“Kinich!”

As he grows closer, a certain affection seeps into his chest at the sight of your grin, toothy and bright. You’re carrying a wicker basket on your hip, filled to the brim with fruits and vegetables—dinner for tonight, most likely. 

He never quite gets used to your excitement whenever he returns to the small house you share. It’s as if every day is your first day seeing him, or like he’s just returned home from a year-long journey. At most, he’d been gone a few hours.

“Hey,” he says, smiling faintly. For a moment, he almost forgets he has something to tell you, simply satisfied with your presence. It’s only when you scamper to his side that he becomes hyper-aware of his arm.

“Wait!” he hisses, just as you reach for him. You stop in your tracks, lips barely parted in an ‘o’ shape. He takes a cursory step away from you, blood freezing in his veins when your face drops at the distance.

“I broke my arm,” he quickly admits. Your brows knit together as you give him a once-over.

“What?!” you half-yell, nearly dropping the goods in your hands—Kinich has to catch the basket with his good hand, wincing at the volume.

“I was grappling, and I messed up, and I…I landed in the river.”

The whole thing sounds ridiculous as soon as it leaves his lips. You seem to think so too, based on the way you blankly look between him and his arm. You’re thinking, hard.

“And you’re sure it’s broken?” He nods, sighing. “I’m sure.”

Truly, he’s never experienced pain like that in his life—at least not the physical kind. His father’s beatings usually ended in bruises, but he was always able to escape out the door before they got to this point. But the way his arm hangs uselessly at his side is certainly unfamiliar.

Fingers pressed thoughtfully to your chin, you look toward the house.

“Well, I have the materials to make a splint, but that means you won’t be able to use that arm for a while.”

Kinich frowns. A while could be a long time, and time he isn’t working is time that Mora isn’t being made. The two of you could survive decently on your farming and hunting alone, but it would be hard labor for you. He’s unsure how much help he can be with only one usable arm.

“But—”

“—and I already know,” you interrupt smoothly, “that you’re not going to argue about that. Because that would make me really annoyed, right? Because your arm is clearly broken, right?”

Kinich presses his lips together tightly. It’s probably not the best idea to fight you on this. So he merely sighs, walking toward the front door.

“Fine.”

“Good!” you cheer, hoisting the basket to your side again, following closely in his wake. “Then I’ll make dinner for us, and you try not to make trouble for me!”

He rolls his eyes; he never makes trouble for you the way you do for him.

/

If there’s one thing that truly bothers Kinich, it’s being unproductive.

He’s not unreasonable about it, per say; after all, breaks can be productive too if they improve your work. But it’s to the point that there’s rarely moments where he truly isn’t doing anything. He’d grown up that way, always on the move, always doing something for the sake of survival.

That apparently includes moments when his arm is broken, set firmly at his side in a splint.

You’re preparing vegetables for dinner when Kinich plops into the chair at your side, quietly asking what he can help with.

You send him an incredulous look, still cautious about your fingers under the shadow of the knife.

“Your arm is broken, Kin.”

And you’re right, but the notion irritates him a bit—the idea of doing absolutely nothing while you prepare all the food. He folds his arms on the table, resting his chin atop with a scowl. His golden eyes passively watch each cut of the potato, the neat chunks gathering on one side of the cutting board.

“So? I can still help.”

A heated exchange occurs—you stare at him questioningly, and he stares right back, determined. Within the past few years, the two of you have reached the point of nonverbal communication. Sometimes, he truly feels like you can read his mind.

“Fine,” you relent, gently placing your knife down. You slide the basket of vegetables to him, gesturing towards it with your chin. “Pick out the good ones and give them to me.”

Kinich looks unamused, unsatisfied with the difficulty of his task, and his mouth opens like he’s about to say more when you shake your head.

“Please?”

And he really can’t take that look you give him, when your eyes widen and your lip juts out, so he merely sighs, pulling the basket closer to himself.

“Alright, alright.”

The room grows comfortably quiet, save for the even thuds of your knife against the cutting board. Kinich listens to your sonorous hum as you smile and sway to the sound of your own music. He takes his job seriously, too—he squeezes at each potato, feeling for the right ripeness.

“Is that a good one?” you ask, nodding toward the vegetable in his hand.

He frowns. “It’s okay.”

Kinich tends to be a bit strict about his vegetables—he gets it from his mother. Rarely is he ever truly satisfied with a harvest. Based on your impatient stare, you’re probably realizing this isn’t the best job for him after all.

“It’s probably good enough,” you say. Kinich looks at the potato thoughtfully for a moment before setting it down before you.

He still has trouble accepting the idea of being good enough.

You engage in a bit of small chatter, discussing your plans for the next few days and funny things that have occurred recently. Kinich enjoys these moments the most, the feeling of belonging, of caring—the way your eyes sparkle genuinely as he recounts his day, or the way you giggle hearing about the gossip overhead in the village.

“I’m gonna head to the market tomorrow, so let me know if you need anything.”

Your lip curls in disapproval, gaze drifting to his arm.

“I can go this time,” you say, concern written over your face. Then, you add teasingly, “since I know you hate having to get along with all those people in town.”

Kinich glares at you, sour.

“I know how to get along with people.”

You smile, and Kinich remembers when you told him that you like when he acts a bit childish, a bit more like you. It reminds you that you are the same age after all. It’s a bit difficult to realize in your daily life, when he’s always nagging and protecting and working. 

“Is that why all the others run away at the sight of you? Ever since we went to school, they’ve been avoiding you.”

And Kinich can admit that he isn’t the easiest person to get along with, but the kids at the village school aren’t the kind of people he wants to get along with anyway—the one day he spent in class made that much clear. They don’t understand the realities of living the way he does, the way you do. 

Really, he considers it a success that they seem to steer clear of him now.

“What about you?” he counters. “You’re not exactly a social butterfly, living out here in the woods. The most social interaction you get is in the market, just like me.”

It’s your turn to be offended, a pout crossing your lips.

“I’ll have you know they like me in the market.”

Kinich quirks a brow, handing you another potato.

“They like you because you take whatever price they offer,” he replies flatly. “I really need to teach you to barter.”

Everyone knows how notorious Kinich is in the market—he’s a menace with Mora in hand, even at your age. It’s one of the reasons that he’s so insistent that he be the one to do your shopping, besides the fact that he doesn’t like you traveling alone.

“I can barter,” you defend, pouting. “I just feel bad. What if they need that extra Mora?”

“You know we also need that Mora, right?”

Kinich flicks at your forehead with his good hand, faintly smirking when you sulk in response. Brushing off your hands, you lift the cutting board toward the pot on the stove. He lets his gaze follow you, curious.

“Enough about me,” you declare, glaring playfully. “If you want to eat, help me start cooking these.”

When Kinich eats that night, a simple meal of curry and rice, he thinks it might just be the most delicious food he’s ever had.

/

A few weeks later, Kinich finds himself lying side by side with you in your bed, staring at the ceiling.

You’d been telling him about something amusing you saw on one of your deliveries, and he makes a point to listen to all your stories, no matter how small they are. The moon is peeking over the horizon by the time that you finish, and Kinich glances over at his own bed across the room.

He’s not really sleepy yet, he reasons. You don’t seem to be either, based on the way you stare at his side profile.

“Your hair is getting long,” you murmur, taking a lock between your index and thumb. It’s a bit rough to touch—Kinich doesn’t tend to be gentle when he washes up. Neither of you really are, not when the river water is as chilly as it is.

He sighs, blowing his bangs out of his face. It’s a perpetual messiness that you think suits him, in a way.

“I know, it got in my eyes when I was grappling and I couldn’t see. That’s how I fell.” He glances at you, deadpan. “Should I just shave it off?”

The idea leaves you giggling—the image of it is certainly vivid. 

“I don’t think you should go that far, but I do think we have to do something. Otherwise, you might snap all your bones at this rate.”

He huffs, immediately defensive. “I would not—”

“I’m joking,” you soothe, chuckling. You card your fingers through his hair absentmindedly, humming—Kinich has to keep himself from melting into your touch. The room grows a tad warmer by the time your voice echoes again, barely a squeak from your throat.

“Can I try something?”

Kinich snorts. “You’ll have to be more specific, because last time you said that, it didn’t end well.”

Sitting up, you scoff. “I mean with your hair. Just to see if we can get a bit of it out of your face.”

You pat at the space in front of you, urging him up—he moves begrudgingly, already comfortable in his spot. Clambering to your knees, you peek at him over the top of his head. 

“Which part gives you trouble? This long part?”

Kinich hums thoughtfully, thumbing at some of the strands framing his face.

“Yeah, I guess. Some of the longer strands behind my bangs get annoying because they won’t stay.”

You nod. “Okay, let me try this then. Just sit still.”

Kinich follows along, hands neatly gathered in his lap. It’s a bit puppy-like, and you smile at the notion.

You don’t speak as you plait his hair, gently easing each strand between your fingers. It’s a certain kind of calm that tends toward the unfamiliar. Kinich feels a bit conflicted over the heat that spreads through the rest of his form at the contact.

He’s still trying to get used to a lot of things about you, despite how long he’s spent at your side—even now, the gentleness and kindness with which you treat him leaves him speechless sometimes.

“Your hair is pretty,” you state softly, looping a tie over the end of the braid. “So unique.”

He thinks that you’re the first person to have told him as much. There had been times when he caught his mother staring at the blond streaks of his hair, frowning—they likely reminded her too much of his father. A part of him is glad that he at least inherited the majority of his genes from her. 

“Thanks,” is all he breathes, staring down at his hands.

Your fingers brush over his ear, and a blush crawls over his cheeks.

“You’re welcome,” you yawn, stretching, “I’ll try to figure out something else to keep your bangs out of your eyes.”

That night, listening to your soft snores, Kinich watches the moon just outside the window. 

His hair doesn’t bother him anymore, he realizes.

/

A resounding crash rouses you from sleep.

When your eyelids split open, body pulsing with shock, the sun hits you first. Harsh rays slip through the curtains, pools of gold falling between your bedsheets. You’re quick to throw the blankets off, sitting up quickly. 

In the opposite corner of the room, Kinich’s bed lies empty, cooling with the morning dew. But he shouldn’t be gone, at least not yet—with his arm out of commission, he’s been taking time off work.

Your heart drops.

In a panic, you cover the space from your bed to the door in a mere two steps, and then you’re throwing it open, chest heaving.

The sight that greets you leaves you frozen where you stand.

Kinich stands in the kitchen, equally as flabbergasted as you are, surrounded by a shower of crystalline shards. His good hand is still raised, evidence of his own shock.

“Sorry,” he utters, hasty. He looks more disturbed by the situation than you do. 

You take a cursory step toward him. “W—what happened?”

He looks at the floor, then back at you.

“I was trying to wash the dishes,” he explains, sheepish. You peer over at the sink, bursting with soapy water. It would’ve been hard to do with one arm.

He’s still standing among the slivers of ceramic, sharp edges too close for comfort. You suck in a breath.

“Just…don’t move, okay?”

You snatch the broom from the closet—when you glance over your shoulder, Kinich is standing obediently still, a statue in your kitchen. Carefully, you sweep the shards away from his feet, before neatly depositing them in the trash.

Kinich lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He’d wanted to wake up early and clean up a bit so you could relax, but even that had ended in disaster. 

He glares down at his arm.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

It takes a bit of arguing to get him to take a seat away from the sink—Kinich finds something ugly curling around his heart at the idea. He’s heard enough arguing in this kitchen, and the memories aren’t friendly. So he takes a seat at the table despite his hesitation, unwilling to meet your stare as you check the floor for stray fragments.

You don’t seem to be angry about the broken dish—in fact, you seem to be angrier that he woke up early to do any of this at all. He doesn’t really get it. Though he’s becoming familiar with your habits, he finds that he sometimes falls short in terms of truly understanding you.

The cupboard falls shut—Kinich flinches at the sound, and then you’re padding over to him with a cup of water.

“Drink.”

The order barely leaves your tongue by the time you’re back at the sink, starting to clean at the rest of the dishes. You’d been upset moments ago, but you’re already back to being concerned about his hydration.

He stares at the drink, too long. If you notice his unrest, you don’t comment on it. 

A few minutes pass that way.

“Sorry that I broke my arm,” he finally mumbles, tracing the rim of his cup. A drop of condensation glides down the side, slow. He watches it pool on the table, seeping into the wood. 

“Why are you sorry?” you wonder aloud, scrubbing at a plate. “Did you hit the ground on purpose?”

He eyes your back. You’re so happy in everything you do, Kinich notes. Even something as simple as washing dishes, you do with your best effort—it’s admirable. You glance back at him when he doesn’t answer, and your gazes meet momentarily. He’s first to break the contact. 

“You’ve had to work way harder for weeks,” he replies, regret pouring from his words. “Because I fell from that stupid tree.”

A seed of fear plants itself in his heart. Despite your cheery disposition, he’s always wondered what you truly think of him. Typically, he’s satisfied with just being useful to you, being able to provide for the home that you share. But when he’s like this, he wonders if that standard will change.

Like this, he’s just a burden to you.

To his surprise, you merely shrug. “I had to work way harder than this when I was alone. And now, I get to work hard with someone by my side. I think that’s a better deal, isn’t it?”

Your words permeate the air, and Kinich sucks them in greedily—they fill his lungs, slow. He wonders if this house has ever seen such warmth before. Then, he wonders if you know the way your comment fills his heart, pulsing.

You crane your neck to look at him, another smile gracing your lips. Light pulls through the gauzy curtains over the kitchen window, a halo.

“Don’t you think that kind of relationship is priceless?”

At that moment, the blazing sun rises in Kinich’s chest.

[artsninspo]

"Best-friends"

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

plot: Best friends shouldn't have steamy dreams of each other. they shouldn't be the subject of each other's daydreams. they shouldn't be jealous when you flirt with other ... or should they? Angel's your best friend, but lately you've been pulling away in order to understand your growing feeling for your oldest friend. Feeling the distance angel stops by making all your feelings a little more real.

pairing: angel reyes x Reader

warnings: sweet 🥰 & steamy 🌶️

word count: 2.1K

authors note: hi, so I promised a draft purge months ago this is a little mayans imagine i've had for awhile for Angel, are we team Angel or EZ? Or both?

You guess the saying is true, men and women can’t be friends without one of them catching feelings. Unfortunately, this time it’s you who’s been bitten by the bug. You and Angel have been friends for so long it feels like he’s always been a part of your life. So much so that your family knows and welcomes him. You weren't always as close as you are now but in the past six months you’ve found yourself thinking about him more than usual. Stealing looks while he laughs, getting a little jealous when he flirts with the girls around the club and missing him more than you should when he goes on runs. Instead of leaning into it you've been trying to pull away and get a grip on ballooning emotions. In true Angel fashion he’s shown up anyways to complete a project you asked him to do since last month. You hand him a glass of fresh lemonade and he takes it wiping the sweat from his brow.

“I'm starting to think this friendship is unequal,” he huffs, taking another sip. You smile looking at the fruits of his manual labour. He’s built you two bookcases in the past hour. Aside from your need for a place to house your hobby, there's a benefit to having Angel performing the task in his wife-pleaser, slightly sweaty, muscles bulging as he lifts the heady wood, searching through piles of brackets, bolts and screws assembling them. His arms, his hands, his attention. Swallowing you look away from him trying to get a grip…

“You do the physical labour and I do the intellectual” you smile tapping the wood.

“Hmm, that’s how this works?” he asks looking up as he slides another shelf into place.

“Yup” you smile “Looks good”

“Where do You want them?” He asks standing. He’s substantially taller than you.

“Over there” you point. He moves them into place without struggle, looking down you find they're on wheels.

“You change your mind too much. I’m not gonna put my back out” he huffs in his angel way and you flip him off playfully.

“While my indecision marinates, my mom wants to know if you want to stay for dinner?” you ask.

“I thought we were going out to eat later?” he asks, raising a brow.

“You know how they are about home cooked meals versus spending money and eating out” you roll your eyes and he smiles.

“Why don’t we eat here then and hangout after?” He offers.

“Ok” you smile and repeats it mockingly in your exact tone. He’s missed you. You hadn't been around lately and it was grating on his nerves. He’d stay up late sometimes staring at the ceiling wondering if there was someone else you were spending your time with. He’d even woken up in cold sweats from nightmares of seeing you out with someone else.

You end up at Angels where you spend almost as much time as you do at your own home. It’s in desperate need of decoration and a feminine touch. He wouldn’t even have cookware and dishware if it weren't for you.

“Come on, the sick shit is about to start” he calls like a big kid from the couch. You smile relishing in the moments where he’s unguarded and animated. Where the smile overtakes the intimidating appearance of a large man with a muscular build and tattoos a part of a motorcycle club.

“Almost done” you shout, loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher.

“Y/N!” He shouts impatiently and you wash your hands quickly heading to see the action beginning. You sit beside him and he kisses the top of your head wrapping an arm around you. It’s a level of intimacy you don’t share with anyone else. You hold him back and he puts your legs over his. Your mom has said a thousand times that you’re too close to not be together. She thinks it’s a recipe for disaster and right about now you believe her. You don't know when you fell asleep but you wake up to Angel carrying you.

“It’s alright, I got you” he whispers, carrying you into his bed. You doze off again and feel him put a shirt over your tank before peeling off your leggings. You stir again when he comes back smelling like he just had a smoke. He heads to the bathroom. He gets into the bed gingerly considerate of your sleep. Sleepily you scoot over to his warm body and his arms find themselves around yours. You fall asleep in no time.

———-

It’s been awhile since you've  been woken up to morning wood. Angel's dream must be a good one. You smile sliding away from the active appendage and head into the bathroom. Evidence of your proximity is all over. You have a section in his bathroom. When you lift the face wash you smile because it’s lighter than usual. He’s been using it too. You find the dishwasher emptied  and start on breakfast. Angel comes in half an hour later looking like a daydream, with bedroom hair and sleepy eyes.

“Smells good” He mutters.

“I tried” you admit putting a plate in front of him. 

“What are you up to today?” He asks.

“Putting my books away”

“Those things are filthy” He jokes, eating the bacon with his hands like a caveman.

“Whatever” you roll your eyes and he smiles all the way to his eyes very amused.

“Aww she’s blushing” he teases.

“Shut up” you laugh sitting with your own plate.

“What’s up, you’ve been a little distant. Work or mama stressing you out?” He asks attentively. There’s no hiding from him.

“Maybe both”

“You don’t need the job. I told you you can manage the bar” he offers in a bid to keep you close.

“I didn’t go to school to manage the bar.”

“So what, you're gonna be like this for longer?” He asks.

“Explain how I’m being?” you ask suspiciously.

“Not in the moment.” He says “In your head and not letting me in” he says.

“We’ll I'm working through some things”

“What?” he panics internally.

“Personal things” you shrug casually looking into your plate.

“Come on!” He laughs. “We’re practically one person” he snaps, tossing his fork into the plate and sitting back.

“I’m getting my period, who knows it may just pass” you lie.

He deadpans, “You don’t think I know you get your period at the beginning or end of the month. You just lied” he says and you laugh shocked at his attentiveness.

“Angel!” you laugh shocked but he’s not amused.

“You’re seeing someone aren’t you? One of those sissy pretty boys you know I won’t approve of” he says making you smile.

“No, I’m not” you affirm and he relaxes a touch.

“Not a pretty boy?” He raises a brow.

“I'm not seeing anyone” you tell him honestly but it doesn't settle him.

“Y/N, you can tell me so I can look into him. You’ve only been here once this week” he says and you sit on his lap. It's what made Angel different from the rest of the guys you'd been friendly with. He wasn’t trying to control you, he'd be right by your side when the shit got sticky. He’d let you live and he’d clean up all the mess without judgement.

“I’m not seeing anyone, there’s no one you need to kill. I’ve just been trying to get my shit together” you explain and he holds you close.

“You can get your shit together here. There’s enough space for the both of us.”

“What happens when you decide to go steady with one of the barfly’s?” you ask leaning into him, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

“Not gonna happen” He laughs holding you close.

“Remind me to take you back to the gym. Gotta get you better at boxing in case one of these creeps you don't want to tell me about gets out of hand.” he says. He runs his thumb over your knuckles. You feel compelled to tell him the full truth. You get up and pour yourself some water.

“You’re doing it again, wait did one of the guys say or do something?” He stands.

“No, the guys are well, they're great in their own special way…” you shrug, turning your back to him.

“Y/N, you’re killing me here” Angel snaps.

“Angel, don’t feel weird about this okay?”

“No promises” he huffs, leaning forward attentively.

“I’ve been having, I don’t know…” you trail, having never been here before.

“Y/N spit it out” Angel says worriedly.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what us together would be like” You admit. He stills for a while before he finally blinks and his posture relaxes. When he finally takes a breath he places a hand on his heart. His eyes close and he shakes his head in amusement.

“Don’t ever fucking scare me like that again” he warns with a smile. It throws you for a loop. 

“I’m here thinking you’re hurt or sick or in danger” Angel snaps.

“I’m not sure I’m not” you joke and he smiles coming over.

“Way better than those books” he says standing in front of you closing the space between the both of you and running his hands down your shoulders to hold both of your hands.

“Huh?” you ask looking up at him.

“Us together, it would be way better than those books” he smiles. Your cheeks burn before you smile back. “It’s about time hermosa” he smiles leaning down and placing a kiss on your lips. It’s the first and hopefully the first of many.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask.

“It means I’ve been waiting for you to come around for awhile now” he says candidly.

“Since when?” you laugh shocked.

“Since the pool party” he says and that was nearly a year ago.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask.

“Showing you was better” he says and you think of all the ways our connection has evolved this year. You stand against the counter and he closes the space between you again. He kisses you harder this time. You make out like teenagers and it sends my heart racing. You’re breathless when it ends and you rest your head on his chest. He rubs circles onto your back.

“I just knew you were a good kisser,” he mumbles.

“I need to sort my room out, we can pick this back up later” you tell him wanting more but needing some time to process your excitement and all the new info.

“Why? You don’t need those books anymore” he says, appealing to every one of your senses.

“They aren’t all about sex Angel, just the few you happened to pick up” you reason and he shakes his head knowing it's another half truth.

“You into that shit? The guy getting a little rough and being dominant?” He asks playfully, grabbing you by the neck. He’s never been rough before and your smile answers the question. 

His eyes close in appreciation and excitement. “Shit” he smiles, coming in for another kiss. This one is soft in spite of your acceptance or his rougher side. It’s perfect though.

“You can tell me what you’re into when I’m done” you smile pushing him away determined not to walk into your home freshly fucked after a night out. After all the waiting you and Angel need more than a few hours, all day and all night.

“I’m a simple man,” he says in surrender. “Pretty sure I’ll like anything you do to me” he says, making you laugh.

“Walk me out” you tell him like you would any other time. He gets the door of your car for you as usual but when he hugs you he takes a handful of ass.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he says, validating your feelings.

“Make it a habit” you whisper, kissing his cheek. Angel steps back, closing the door with a full heart and a stiffy.

“Plan to” he smiles knowing there's absolutely no way he's gonna be able to keep his hands off of you. Not even after he's touched every inch of your skin and given you every inch of him. Not after you become a Reyes or after you have a little one making your stomach swell. Not after your home is filled with children and he has to sneak into the bathroom for some alone time in the shower. Not when his hair is more salt than pepper, not when his hands are too weathered to ride his bike anymore. 

Not ever.

*

thanks for reading 🖤 like and reblog for support.

[bigfan-fanfic]

Worth More than Gold (Reader x Laios Touden)

@alex126486 Reader first meeting laios in gold scraping , reader listens laios fascination on monsters and what they tasted like then asking he could cook one for him one day

"Do you remember? Back when we first started out with gold scraping?" You chuckle over at the tallman.

Laios doesn't look up from where he sits preparing the rest of the vegetables from Senshi's garden for you to fry up with the last of the basilisk meat and egg you're making. "Remember what?"

it's always been exciting being around Laios.

You were one of the Touden Party's three mages. Marcille with her explosive fire specialty, Falin with her cleric powers, and you with a specialty in protection and gnomish magic.

You once worked together with him as part of a gold-scraping band.

And it was then that he began talking to you all about his fascination towards monsters.

Little facts about the creatures you would face.

And when you gave no indication of disgust, Laios took the opportunity and ran with it, happily expounding upon monster features for hours upon end.

And when it became clear that you enjoyed his sessions of information -

he began to speculate with you about how monsters tasted.

Would a cockatrice taste more like chicken or more like reptile?

Do strangling plants have sweeter fruits than man-eating plants?

"Who knows? Maybe one day I'll cook you one."

Laios' jaw dropped, and he looked almost about to cry before he nodded seriously.

"That sounds great! What are you thinking of cooking?"

And years later, after traveling with Senshi deeper and deeper into the dungeon, you remember your offhand little promise.

"I once said I'd cook a monster for you. Way back when we were gold scraping."

Laios beams, and you know he never forgot. "I did! I didn't think you had."

"I hadn't, til just now. It must be so much fun for you to discover all the answers to the questions you've had."

Laios nods. "It's a dream come true!"

He glances over at a glum Marcille. "Though of course, saving Falin's the top priority."

"Of course." You nod. "Though if I can be honest, I've really enjoyed the stuff you and Senshi have made."

"That's great!"

"I know Marcille and Chilchuck tend to be squeamish about it-"

("Hey!" Marcille whines)

"-but I dunno. So-called 'normal' animals are pretty weird and gross too, but we eat them. Farming can be nasty too, what with fertilizer, but we don't consider crops gross. It's all just... part of a cycle. If you can make it taste good and it's safe to eat, then why not?"

Laios looks at you with something akin to awe. Chilchuck and Marcille look as though they have lost an ally to madness.

"Anyway, try this. I wanna know if I seasoned it enough." You hurriedly say, seeing Laios still looking at you with that strange expression.

He opens his mouth, seemingly expecting you to... feed him?

So you do, resting the chunk of cooked egg and meat on his tongue, feeling his mouth close around your fingers.

So innocuous, but so intimate, your fingertips compressed as his mouth moves from them, slipping out from the corners.

Part of you is going crazy, thinking one thought - that you've just put your fingers in a teammate's mouth and he just... ate from them. His lips touched your fingers.

His eyes flash up to yours. "Mmmmmm! That's perfectly seasoned."

"Oh! Uh... good." you feel your face heating. Chilchuck smirks over at you. "Good. Those vegetables, then?"

He happily hands them to you.

"Thank you."

"Hmm?"

"For keeping your promise. For cooking. For feeding me."

It's an odd way of phrasing it, but you enjoy the sentiment. "You are welcome, Laios... anytime."

He grins, and leans in close. "You might even be better at cooking than Senshi. It might just be that tallmen have different palates and spices they like, but I love it when you cook."

"I, uh... thanks. That means a lot."

You all but flee to prepare the stir-fry, lowering your gaze, smiling to yourself.

Maybe nothing happened yet, and he's just being nice.

But the friend you've had a crush on since those days of gold-scraping has just practically kissed your hand and complimented your cooking.

And that is worth far more than any gold.

[blissfullyecho]

March 2023 "That Girl" Challenge

Helloooo :)

This is the 31-Day Challenge that I've created for us to do together this month. It's just something simple and fun. Enjoy! - BlissfullyEcho

——————————————-

DAY 1: Deep clean your living space (bedroom, apartment, house, condo, camper, etc)

DAY 2: Deep clean your car (if you don't have a car, deep clean something else that you haven't done but should do: junk drawer, dresser, yoga mat, makeup brushes, etc)

DAY 3: Try a new (healthy!) recipe-- this could even be a healthy dessert or beverage

DAY 4: Try a guided meditation on YouTube for 10 minutes after waking up and before checking social media

DAY 5: Spend an extra 15 minutes working on something for school, work, hobbies, or your own personal development

DAY 6: Unfollow, delete, and block social media accounts and phone contacts that are just not part of your life anymore (or those who you plan on not having as a part of your life anymore)

DAY 7: Delete social media pictures that don't fit in with the best version of you. This could be the overedited photos, the thirst trap you put on there because that one person made you upset, etc.

DAY 8: Try a new workout that you haven't done. Pilates, ballet, barre, tennis, CrossFit, kickboxing, F45, cycling, running, swimming, etc.

DAY 9: Pamper your pet. Brush, clean, trim their nails, give them treats, etc. Go above and beyond for them today. (If you don't have animals, pamper yourself today!)

DAY 10: Enjoy the sunshine. Go outside (wear your sunscreen, sunglasses, and a hat) for 15-20 minutes and enjoy your own company and nature.

DAY 11: No phone 30 minutes before bed. Set your bedtime tonight, and set an alarm 30 minutes prior to that. Once your alarm goes off, put your phone on DND and read a book before bed. Read until you are tired enough to turn off your lights and sleep.

DAY 12: Watch a documentary about something and learn! Maybe it's something you've never had an interest in. Just please make it positive! No heartbreaking or tragic documentaries. Let's not invite that into our "That Girl" challenge.

DAY 13: Buy a self-care item. This could be a yoga mat, face mask, cleansing oil, the Bible, perfume, etc. It can be as expensive or inexpensive as you'd like.

DAY 14: Go out on a date with yourself. Take yourself out to do something you've never done/been to before.

DAY 15: Aim to drink at least 60oz. of pure water today.

DAY 16: Spend 30 minutes learning a language you've always wanted to learn (and if you love it, practice for 10 minutes a day afterward)

DAY 17: Turn your notifications off.

DAY 18: No social media today.

DAY 19: Do something creative today. Buy a canvas, paint, and a brush, and follow a Bob Ross tutorial; maybe buy a jewelry-making kit. Take today and be creative for at least 30 minutes.

DAY 20: 10,000 steps OR walk for an hour

DAY 21: Go through your finances and see where you can budget. Take this time to audit your subscriptions and see if you would like to cancel any recurring subscriptions to save you extra money each month.

DAY 22: Avoid eating animal products today. Just focus on whole grains, fruit, veggies, nuts, seeds, water, and vitamins.

DAY 23: Schedule any doctor appointments you might have. If you don't have to, then take today to create a to-do list for the next 3 days.

DAY 24: Spend some time deleting pictures and making storage space in your phone. Any way you can-- it doesn't have to be from deleting your photos.

DAY 25: Listen to a new podcast or TedTalk.

DAY 26: Check your credit report/score and see if there's anything you need to do/complete.

DAY 27: Clear your email inbox and unsubscribe from the companies you don't shop from anymore.

DAY 28: Touch up on your resume.

DAY 29: Sort through your closet and throw away, donate, and sell your clothes and shoes that you don't wear (and that you know you'll never wear again)

DAY 30: Sort through your bathroom drawers and cabinets and organize them.

DAY 31: Create a vision board for April.

[kcrossvine-art]

hi friends! :D y'all voted and fought neck and neck for this SO- heres the first entry into our little cooking journey of J. R. R. Tolkeins fictional food for his fictional little guys he puts in fictional turmoils for our enjoyment and awe!

 Before we get started i wanna say i owe my heart to all the LotR fans who upkeep the wiki, debate the cannon, and create their own versions of the foods mentioned. Both because of my love for people who LOVE (passionate people)(passion about anything) and because my own knowledge of this series is a little dusty. I've never seen the movies but I did read the books growing up. I'll be learning and remembering things from a fairly newbie standpoint, so no worries if you yourself arent familiar with the series! (and if you are familiar, hopefully youll forgive me!)

We will be making Lembas ('waybread') today! If you've made your own version of this please feel free to share it, similarly if you have any ideas for what we make next!

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to Lembas?” YOU MIGHT ASKWell so the funny thing is we kinda dont know. At least not entirely? The elves are dicks like that. But heres what we'll be using in ours-

Butter

Self-rising flour

Granulated Sugar

Raisins

A small dried fruit of your choosing

Almonds OR Pecans

EGG

Whole Milk

Heavy Cream

And if you would like for dipping-

Blackberry jam

To the extent i understand this is kinda like hardtack from the bri'ish military, but a fantastical version of it that actually tastes really good. Hardtack was a military provision with the texture of a brick that took a long time to spoil and could be easily carried with soldiers. So the texture we're going for is super dense, packed full with nuts and fruits (haha just lik-), but perhaps not that dense. We want something closer to a dog biscuit than actual tack.

I remembered something about corn being mentioned, thankfully the wiki clarified that no actually the british just referred to any grain as corn back in the day. Thank Fuck! Although I would like to try a version of this using masa in the future.

AND, “what does Lembas taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASK

Took a few tries but eventually got it perfectly chewy and dense

The raisins cook-in like little beads of flavortown sweetness

Cant speak for other fruits but for dried apple it softened up nicely, kinda matching the raisins in the end

Im a big pecan slut, pecans fuck on anything especially here. Crumble them on top after you coat the dough with the egg-mixture for some visual appeal

Somewhat flakey outside

The jam was my idea, it was nice but might be too sweet for some tastes

Would pair very well with a kiwi flavored drink

Or mead

I can see why this would a travelling provision. Its both sugary (a good thing when expending energy) and filling (also a good thing when youre travelling) while not being overwhelming with flavor (if youre prone to motion sickness. Horse sickness? Do get motion sickness on horses?)

Its like how if you're going hiking you want a good mix of sugars and salts, to balance your intake of water.

. If you wanna make it like the illustrations or the movie, use a cookie cutter for either triangles or squares . If you don't have a cookie cutter, an apple cutter also works ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ . try to keep the board you'll roll the dough out onto chilled before you use it, it seems better for the texture of the food though i dont entirely know why

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So from beginning to end, it took about an hour and half for the first attempt. Down to about 40 minutes for the second attempt. These are a real simple recipe because its not like a croissant where the margin for error is nonexistent. Middle-earth be damned my boy can work a grill.

I'd recommend storing in a tubberware container, but if you're deadset on using leaves please rinse and dry them first, and wrap the bread in either wax paper or saran wrap underneath. We dont have mallorn leaves in real life (as far as we know) but most salad greens should work, or as Marie Porter says (linked in the reblogs!) a banana leaf.

I really enjoyed the process of making this recipe, itd be really easy to batch-bake these en masse, and the process of eating said recipe. Like all jokes aside, i think this would be a great substitute for trailmix. Its not going to get smushed and even if it breaks a bit it wont affect the taste. It wont keep you fed for a whole day but pair it with some pickles or a salty snack and yeah itll keep your motor running.

I give this recipe a solid 10/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Let me know if you think I got something wrong, or if you ran into issues with the recipe. We're off to a strong start, lads!

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

6 TBSP butter, chilled

2 cups self-rising flour

1 TBSP granulated sugar

½ cup raisins

½ other dried fruit (strawberry slices, oranges, etc.), chopped

Handful of almonds or pecans, chopped

1 egg, well beaten

½ cup whole milk

4 TBSP heavy cream

Method:

Preheat your oven to 400 f.

Cut the butter into slivers/small pieces. With your hands, combine the butter into the flour in a mixing bowl until the mixture resembles coarse sand.

Chop your dried nuts and dried fruit until it feels right.

Mix in the sugar, raisins, nut, and dried fruit of your choosing

In a seperate bowl, beat the egg until combined, and then mix in the milk until combined. Keep a bit of this mixture to brush the tops of the bread.

Stir while adding the egg/milk mixture and the heavy cream into the flour. Mix just until combined into a soft dough.

Knead the dough until firm on a floured surface.

Roll into a half inch thickness and cut with a square or leaf shaped cookie cutter. (...or in my case, an apple corer).

Place on a lightly greased baking sheet, with about an inch of space between each piece. Brush the tops of the lembas with some of the mixture you saved earlier.

Bake for about 15-20 minutes, or until it turns a soft gold and the inside is chewy.

[acidblum]

Cold • A.A.

Wife!Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader (AU)

PALESTINE DO NOT BUY TLOU

AO3 PART II MASTERLIST

Summary: it hits you after a couple of years being happily married to Abigail Anderson, the daughter of the most infamous man on the countryside. that maybe it wasn’t happiness, and that maybe she’s hiding something from you.

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, MINORS DNI ,ANGST, INFIDELITY, GUNS, reader getting called a whore, lowk traumatic, Abby being unfaithful and downright rude.

Rating: EXPLICIT!!

Word Count: 3.05k

A/N: hey y'all, idk how to feel about this one….this is my first fic ever, i've basically taught myself English, anywhoo have fun reading y'all, luv yaa, likes and reblogs are very appreciated.

(this fic was written while listening to Cold by Chris Stapleton)

waking up to feeling up the right side of the bed trying to get closer to your wife. nothing greets you but utter coldness. no head kisses or the pleadings of five more minutes, not even a kiss goodbye.

dread fills you stomach while you look at the bedrooms door, getting up and asking yourself if you made a mistake that’ll make your wife go to work without waking you up with her kisses. leaving you needy and promising you that she’ll reward you with the best of time the minute she’s back.

you put on your clothes and your boots, going to check on the livestock. pathetic that you need them to cheer you up.

tending to the chickens for a bit, before checking on your horse Bear. gifted to you by Abby's father on your last birthday.

he always had a soft spot for you as a feared man, he’s the most gentle with you and showed his support to your marriage.

you scratch at his head, while he tries to stick his chin to into your palm, making you giggle a bit before you head inside to get dressed properly to go pick up some necessities from the farm market.

walking into the market you greet the farmer

“howdy lady Anderson”

“well hello mister Banks, I'm just here to pick up the usual, I'm a little bit short of tomatoes and beans, making Abigail's favorite dish today” you smile at the thought of her.

“she is most certainly lucky to have you for a wife lady Anderson.”

you smile it him waiting patiently, he comes back with more then you asked for, handing them to u and shooing you away

“don’t even worry about it, i’ve put more in there of your favourite fruits, go enjoy them”

you saunter your way back to the farm, knowing that Abigail won't be home for another two hours or so, the feeling of dread still haunting you while you try to brush it off.

she's been your wife for a good while now, you can sense something’s new happening that she’s not telling you about, she’s been constantly on edge lately.

you do not want to give into the feeling and ruin the happy facade that should be greeting your wife when she get's home.

you get the food ready, laying it on the table wiping you hands on the apron you've got on, you head to the bathroom to freshen up, taking off the apron folding it neatly lest Abby jokingly mocks you for always leaving your stuff all over the place.

you come out wearing a comfortable attire and right on time you hear Abby's footsteps that you know very well, your heart jumps with excitement of seeing her, you give her a moment to unwind tending to your hair before you walk out of the bedroom's bathroom and into the Livingroom's area.

seeing her standing there with undereye bags, obviously very wound up from today's work whatever it is, she looks very disheveled you walk up to her towering form.

"hey baby how was work today" hugging her hunched form while she takes off her boots before she stand up, wrapping her arms around your waist, smelling her soap of pine on your neck. you lean back locking eyes with her patiently, you tilt you head at her pouty face.

"well you know my dad but it was alright, nothing more then work"

you hum at her, nodding at the table "i made your favorite, just the way you like it" before you tilt your head for a smooch she looks at you reluctantly before giving you one.

your eyes widen before concealing the feeling of shock over how this is the first time she doesn't kiss you willingly, or asks for another one in return, you keep your hands on her chest fixing her collar and unbuttoning the top three buttons for her.

before your eyes catch on a spot of red maroon lipstick. the look of fear written all over you face, spit piling up in your mouth you feel that you might puke, you start pawing at her shirts collar pinching it between your fingers. trying to wipe it off to no avail.

she notices the frantic look in your eyes "wha-" before glancing at your fingers that are now painted with the remnants of the lip print left on her,  clearing her throat before gently sliding your hands off of her, and walking to sit down at the table, taking off her hat, laying it down on the table.

while your form is still there where you greeted her by the door, in absolute disbelief, you've never worn a red maroon lipstick.

and it might've been one imprint but it felt like it was all over her, and now it was all over your fingers. laughing at you for doing everything you could to keep your wife happy, just for you to be greeted like this.

she clears her throat looking at you before extending her arm to you with a pleading look "come sit down honey." you try to muster the ability to move, walking to her slowly accepting the defeat she made you feel, holding her hand where the sun hits her face painting her as a martyr, a goddess you had no problem worshiping. day and night, and that's how she reward's you.

you try to sit on the chair opposite her but she pulls you into her lap wrapping her left arm on your midsection, feeling her breath on your neck before she kisses your cheek and your neck in small quick kisses, you think that maybe this is her way of apologizing.

 getting off of her lap you walk to the counter pouring yourself a glass of wine

"really you're gonna drink this? instead of keeping me company and sitting down with me?" 

"i am with you Abby, i am always with but it seems that you're the one drifting away from me" holding the cup close to you. trying to feel an ounce of comfort, you feel none.

she shrugs you off and starts eating like a hungry wolf which tells you of how hungry she is, you pour her a cup of water before she chokes on the food you cooked for her eagerly, wanting nothing but to please her.

just to now hand her the cup with disdain written all over your face.

"what's her name?" 

she hums not getting who you're asking about "who's name honey" her mouth full of food.

"the whore that dared to fucking kiss you with her red lipstick just for me to see" your voice trembling and you can't but find yourself choking up and tears start filling your sad eyes.

she wipes her mouth with the cloth before gulping the last of cold water you've given her, giving you the coldest stare she could ever give you

"you better watch your mouth honey, don't forget who gave you this" twirling her finger all over the place as a means to remind you to just be thankful, telling you that you are her property now.

when she's done been claimed by someone other then you, her whole presence feels different to you.

you shake your head hurriedly. "jerry won't like that you're being unfaithful to me"

tears streaming down your face, trying to calm your frantic breathing thinking about whoever that gave her a reason to be exactly that to you.

unfaithful.

she snorts at you making you look at her " so you think my dad will like you accusing his only child and successor? of fucking infidelity?" her voice rises with each word she utters. eye bloodshed with no feeling of remorse or a hint of sadness.

she stands up putting the cup down off of your hand, holding your hand in her's, prompting you to look at her while touching your knuckles tenderly.

"i need you here, she means nothing to me, you’re the one i yearn for day and night honey"

bringing your hand to her mouth, kissing each of your knuckles slowly.

looking at you from under her eyebrows, with darkened eyes. she kisses your ring cladded finger as means of reminding you.

you look at her teary eyed, heart broken like no other motherfucker in this damned land, never knew she could ever be so cruel to you, feeling her coldness evaporating into your pores.

you smile at her weakly before she starts wiping you tears messily chuckling at you, obviously not taking your feeling in consideration 

the sun starts to set as the weather gets colder by the minute, making you shiver in her hold.

she tightens her arms around your waist. leading you into the bedroom you glance at the wall where she keeps her shotgun hanging off of it like a trophy.

you shake your head of the ill thought that just came up into your mind, jerry will have your head if he finds out that you're even considering doing it.

she starts undressing and you watch her go into the bathroom turning the water to take her usual cold shower, leaving you to tend to you wounded self.

getting ready for bed. you sit on the rocking chair facing the slightly left open bathroom door.

watching her tall figure under the water stream, in any other day she'll beg to take it with her and you'll do so willingly.

getting lathered up in her favorite pine soap, letting her pin you to the wall just the way she desires you to be. breathing hard from her loving on your body the way she likes. having your heated bodies under the cold stream of water. 

you start chewing on your nail, tears welling up in your tired eyes. with the thought of how you and Abby met.. whispers of how she can treat better then anyone on this forsaken land, hushed words of pure love between the two of you.

she introduced you to her father even after you've voiced your concern of him not taking a liking to you, he ends up gifting you a horse for your birthday. after you've pointed at how much you like horses.

she was very eager to settle down with you, seeing you as the perfect choice for her, was it a friend of hers that oh so innocently gave her a kiss on her shirt’s collar, or is it a new woman whom catched Abby's attention?

a woman who's just passing by that she felt she wont linger too long, so she can have as much fun as she could with her?

you notice Abby coming out of the bathroom with a towel around her hips, wiping your eyes as to not let her see you still thinking about what happened, you get up to light the candles.

you see her sitting down on the bed. putting on her pants and giving you a come hither motion, candles lit you walk to her and sit in her lap facing her with you hands on her shoulder's, she holds you waist in both of her palms. running them up and down your waist looking in your eyes intently, as a means of reading what you're thinking of.

"you're mad at me honey"

"n-no i could never Abby, i swear"

she moves her hand to hold at the back of your neck harshly

"you swear for me huh? think you could make a fool out of me?"

"no no Abby i swear i love you i-i swear"  you reach back holding her hand trying to get her to ease her hold on you, her piercing eyes looking into yours.

"awh baby you love me, but you had to ruin the day for us didn't you?"

she kisses you, your body going slack on top of her naked chest, kissing her always made you feel at ease even in tense situations. humming into your mouth she starts kissing down you neck while you hold into her wet hair, you start moving your hips on top of hers for a lick of friction but getting none.

"h-hah Abby please" 

you know you shouldn't even be here, on top of her. begging her for more, you should get on bear and ride as far as you could.

but you know it'll only be a failed attempt before the Anderson's find you and drag you back to Abby, you'll only disappoint jerry by running away. no one to turn to making them practically your only family. with nothing under your name, u are helpless.

you decide to give Abby what she wants, whatever she'll do you'll take willingly, she flips you on your back undressing you on top of your marital bed, leaving her paw prints all over your naked body making you clutch on the pillow hard from her intense way of loving you, not letting up until you writhe under her.

trying to not ruin the moment by remembering the woman with the red lips.

she kisses your head goodnight and snuggles into you holding your midsection for life, catching a glimpse outside the window, you see nothing but utter darkness and the shades of the trees, no sound other then her slow breathing and the sizzling of the candles burning, you get up with trembling legs sliding her arm off of you. 

as quietly as you could you stand in front of the shotgun, contemplating and questioning your choices, if you are really willing to do this.

"fuck it" you mutter to yourself before picking up the shotgun, checking the bullets, you think of how Abby should've never taught you how to shoot, you bet she'll never see it coming.

how foolish of you to think that.

the moment you go back to the room, you see her sat leaning on the wall with her silenced gun in her paw. you try to conceal the shiver that runs through you at her burning gaze.

you try to square up your shoulder, failing as her mouth starts to tilt upwards as a mocking gesture, still pointing the gun at her.

entering the room, she shakes the handgun at u "u thought u were smart didn't cha honey?" she looks at where u were lying down and then back at you. 

shaking her head disappointingly "your father won't be proud, hell my father won't be proud if we die, at each other's mercy." she clicks the gun making you flinch.

she stays silent for a moment before clicking her tongue and continuing.

"she has the most beautiful green eyes you've ever seen honey, it was very hard for me to reject her advances"  

" then let me go Abigail...please?" you look into her eyes pleadingly you know the outcome but you can't help but beg her for mercy on your soul, she points the gun at your head.

"we're both stuck my love, you by duty and me by love" 

you lower the shotgun, laughing out loud at her dumb poetic remark. leaning with your hands on your knees laughing frantically while she looks at you quizzically with a smile on her lips.

"by love? wha- what fucking love are you talking about, in this state Abigail? i stay at this forsaken farm, tending to you, your fucking spoiled chickens, sucking up to you and your lineage just to get by" firing a bullet at the wall in a moment of pure rage you drop the shotgun running out of the room, hearing the bed creak.

unlocking the door and running out onto the cold grass tickling your feet uncomfortably, it is raining heavily.

you glance behind you while running to the staples to get to bear, she's behind you with only her pants on, aiming the shotgun at your running form, your heart thudding with fear as you trip on your own feet trying to get up just to trip again, Abby is right there in front of your cowering form

"a-abby i'm s-sorry" you plead at her

"no you fucking aren't, you wanna act like a whore? because trust me honey, i'll treat you like one"

she brings the shotgun to your shoulder, nudging at your shivering form as if you were infected with something greater then fear.

“get up and walk, you do not want to get on that horse of yours” she spits her words at you.

looking at her questioning your choice of marrying her you try to stand up, she yanks you straight holding your arm tightly, cutting the blood circulation from your arm.

“a-aw” you wince

“you wanna get on that horse? well i’ll just have to shoot the both of you”

walking you inside double locking the door and hanging the shotgun as if nothing happened.

“go shower before you get into bed” she goes to wash her hands and feet, comes out of the bathroom nodding towards the wide open bathroom door.

you get in and wash your hair and body hyperventilating under the stream of the shower, cursing yourself time and time again trying to cry as silently as u could. 

you get out of the bathroom with a towel around your body, looking everywhere but at her.

you wear the first thing you find in your shared drawers, getting under the covers hugging your shivering body tightly, before she cuddles into you.

oh how defeated you just felt, you could only imagine the life you could’ve built….far away from the Andersons.

[ao3lestappeninchident]

for your song x f1 oneshots can you do “hold my girl” by george ezra with oscar? 🙂

Hold my girl/Oscar Piastri

A/N: Hope this is kinda what you wanted.

Song x driver masterlist

-

~I've got time, I've got love

Got confidence you'll rise above

Give me a minute to hold my girl~

Oscar had seen you turning into a quiet, sleepy person, instead of the happy you. Your studies had been taking a toll on you lately and you didn't know how to catch up on the missed work. Dark circles have formed underneath your eyes from the lack of sleep. You eat and drink less, forgetting about it while you were buried into the books.

Oscar hated seeing you like this. You loved attending a race,supporting Oscar inside the Mclaren garage, but that did mean missing a lecture and time to do school work. He hated himself for making you feel this way. He thinks it is selfish for him to ask you to be there when you have your own stuff, even though you agreed to it.

Every time he asked you if you were okay, you would say yes. Even though he knew you weren't. He tried to have you take a break from it, eat a good meal and get enough sleep, but he couldn't make you.

When he was away he always had a bad feeling. He couldn't force you to drink that one glass or give you a fruit bowl. You were alone and probably still in the same clothes as when he left

"I am going to bed, are you coming too?" Oscar said as he leaned against the doorway. You sat in front of the computer, reading an articol about god knows what, not looking up. He made his way towards you and rested his hands on your shoulders, making you jump. "Sorry, I thought you knew i was here."

You smile weakly, "Don't worry. Did you say something?"

He placed a kiss on your head, "I am going to bed, are you coming too?"

Your eyes widen as you look at the time, was it already that late. "I have to finish this, and I will come. You don't have to waite for me." You look at him as the Australian lets out a sigh.

"Alright, but don't make it too late. You need some sleep to make that brain work." Osar walks away towards the bedroom as you return to your studies.

As his head hit the pillow, Oscar already knew he wasn't going to sleep. Not without knowing you were there too. Oscar sat a timer on his phone for 30 minutes and grabbed a book. He will get you when the timer is done.

Flipping through the pages felt like eternity without your next to him. His mind couldn't make out to words, too tired to think. He looked at the time and saw that it had only 5 minutes left. He paused it and got out of the bed.

You were still seated in the same place as a half hour ago. How couldn'the bright screen not hurt your eyes?

"You are coming to bed."Oscar stated as he walked up to your again.

"I am not done yet,"You protested, but he turned of the computer and picked you up.

"Oscar, put me down. I have to finish it." He places you and the bed.

"Please, tell me what has been on your mind. Because I hate seeing you like this and ruining yourself. The room is silent even though you are here." He says as tears formed in his eyes. You sat silently on the bed, not knowing what to say to him. " I want to help you, but you have to tell me about everything that you are going trough."

"I am sorry" you breakdown and Oscar was quick to sit next to you and hold you. "I am just so worked up into studies and I want to pass my finals. "

In the last weeks it wasn' t often that Oscar and you were asleep at the same time, ate at the same time or were in the same room. You went to bed late, and woke up early, while he was out for a run. You grabbed some yoghurt and went back to your books and when Oscar came home he had to eat alone.

He strokes your hair, "Don't be sorry. I understand your school is important, but you need sleep to function. Those 2 hours a day aren't enough, and It hurt seeing you trough it away without realizing."

"It is really hard with you being away and I don't even realize that the day is over and the sun is setting. Just because my computer was empty, I went to bed." you slur over your words a bit.

"It is okay. I just hope you are willing to take car of yourself more. Lets get you to bed and have some sleep" he says as stands up and shakes your pillow. you smile at him as you lay in bed. As soon as your face hits the pillow you let out a yawn.

Oscar went to turn the lights of, before joining you. As you lay there next to him, he wrapped his arms around you. He didn't want you to leave. The next morning you would wake up in the same positions, Oscar holding you in his arms.

[lovings4turn]

ᯓ★ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐖𝐎 (𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒)

— or, lando wants to make your birthday special from the start

+ aka. some short and sweet fluff about lando celebrating your birthday with you . considering this a little gift to the absolutely wonderful @wintfleur who turned twenty today !!!! happiest of birthdays bestie ,, i love you so much !!!

you're unsure of the time as your eyes slowly blink open, heavy with a good night of sleep. birthdays, you believe, are the perfect excuse to wake up whenever you feel like it, no alarms necessary.

just as you push yourself up onto your elbows, a loud yawn escaping your lips, the bedroom door moves ajar to reveal a smiling lando, hair still messy and tousled like it normally is in the mornings.

"ah, so you're finally awake," he teases, wasting no time in making his way over to your side of the bed. "i've been popping in and out every ten minutes for like, the past hour."

lando stoops down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, pushing your hair away from your face as he pulls back with a fond smile. as he takes in your barely awake form, you swear you can see the amount of love radiating from his features; it's damn near golden, and you bask in his glow. 

"happy birthday baby."

"thank you," you smile, puckering your lips up for one more kiss. lando would have to be heartless to deny the birthday girl, after all, and so he grants your wishes instantly. 

"as much as i'd love to stand here 'nd keep kissing you, i have something i need to do. someone's special day, apparently."

lando’s expression is mischievous, and he wiggles his eyebrows at you as he slowly backs towards the door. 

over the course of your relationship with lando, you’ve learnt one very crucial lesson: never question him. especially not in moments like these, when he clearly has a trick or two hidden up his sleeve. and so you allow him to slink away, your curiosity piqued as to what he could have planned for you.

gentle clattering and a few mumbled curse words provide background noise as you slowly wake up further, the haze of sleepiness lifting the longer you sit upright. phone in hand, you scroll through the barrage of birthday texts and messages from your friends and family. a wide smile tugs at your lips as you allow the excitement of the day to bubble below your skin, electric and bright.

you sniff once, then once again, as a sugary, warm scent floats through the half-open doorway. you can hear lando hiss a little as the sound of a pan clashing into the sink prompts a laugh to escape you.

it doesn’t take a genius to work it out: he’s cooking. what he’s making, though, is still to be revealed. it’s far too late for him to think about baking a cake for you, yet the scent is no where similar to his usual breakfast of eggs or toast.

“you okay?” you call out, mirth lacing your tone.

“perfect!” comes lando’s response. “just stay put, gorgeous, i won’t be long!”

convinced, you do as told. and god, is it worth the wait.

lando swiftly reappears, an adorably out of tune ‘happy birthday’ accompanying his arrival. a large gift bag hangs from his wrist, and balancing precariously in his hand is a plate of pancakes.

they’re quite clearly homemade, a little uneven in size and shape, and topped with copious amounts of fruit and cream. baby blue candles are stuck into the top of the stack, the flames flickering mildly, and you think you could cry.

lando has never made you feel anything less than the luckiest girl in the world, but in this moment, you truly have no idea what you’ve done to deserve him.

he places one foot in front of the other, all of his focus directed to delivering your birthday breakfast to your lap safely. as his song comes to an end, lando presents you with your pancakes, his bright grin another sweet side.

the gift bag is placed onto the ground, and lando perches next to you on your bed, hand resting on your knee above the bedsheets.

“happy birthday, baby,” lando says, voice sincere. “make a wish.”

and when you blow out the candles, you don’t even need to make a wish; all you could ever want is right in front of you.

[kteezy997]

Chocolate Boss: part one // Willy Wonka

If I end up going to hell, it’ll be for this.

I blame @gatoenlaciudad

Warnings: smut, licking chocolate off reader’s body, nipple play, slight boss/employee power dynamic

Y/n was the chocolate factory’s most dedicated employee. She worked hard, stayed after hours, and really strived to make the business the best it could be. She was also a wizard in the kitchen, much like Mr. Wonka.

Willy admired his diligent employee, in fact, he had a bit of a crush on her. He’d seen her work with the candies, cakes, and pastries. He noticed that she had a real passion for it.

It was way passed closing, and Willy was heading out of the factory after a long day. He noticed that the kitchen light was still on, however. The aroma of fresh, warm chocolate filled his nose. It was divine. He knew exactly who was still in there.

He walked through the swinging doors of the factory kitchen. Y/n had a large pot of chocolate on the stove. She was stirring it, obviously stuck in her own head, thinking of whatever recipe or concoction she wanted to bring to fruition.

“Miss y/l/n, I don’t want you working yourself too hard. We should both really get out of here for the night.” Willy said politely, approaching her side.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wonka. It’s just that this idea has been in my head all day. It’s like a chocolate bar with strawberries and cream and ugh, it sounds so delectable.”

Willy raised his brow, “I love it. We will work on your idea tomorrow, just you and I. I can’t wait to see how it turns out.”

“Oh really?! Thank you, Mr. Wonka!” she exclaimed, hugging him.

He smiled with glee as he hugged her back.

“It’s a pity that this batch of chocolate will go to waste if I go home now though.” she said.

“That’s alright.” Willy replied with a wave of his hand. “We can start over in the morning.”

“Or…” she began stepping over to the counter across from the stove and picked up a fresh strawberry by its short stem. “Maybe we could try some?” She bit her lip suggestively.

Willy’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head and he swallowed hard. “Oh, yes, we certainly could.”

Y/n smiled in victory, “Here, Mr. Wonka.” She dipped the small fruit into the liquid chocolate, coating it up to the tiny bit of green at the top of it. Letting the excess chocolate drip off, she held it up to Willy’s mouth.

Carefully, he opened his mouth. He felt the warm chocolate on his top lip, then there was the bright pop of the fruitiness of the strawberry when he bit into it. The chocolate coating was an excellent contrast, like a creamy, decadent blanket surrounding the fruity taste.

“It’s perfect.” he declared dreamily.

“May I, sir?” she asked.

Willy cocked his head to the side, not really understanding what she was meaning. Next thing he knew, y/n was leaning in and her lips met his. He was surprised but definitely not disappointed. He indulged in her, opening his mouth up for her to explore with her tongue.

Now he knew what she was doing. She was tasting her creation in his mouth.

“Mm,” she moaned softly when she parted from his lips. “It is pretty good. Forgive me, Mr. Wonka, I had to taste it. I-I wanted to… taste you too. I hope this doesn’t mean I’m fired.”

“Far from it, my dear.” he said, assuring her.

“Oh, good.” she grinned. "May I kiss you again, Mr. Wonka?"

"Yes, please. And as I've told you before, you can call me 'Willy.'"

Y/n wrapped her arms around his neck, "Willy." she giggled, leaning in and kissing him softly, running her hands down his arms sensually.

He in turn, put his arms around her as well, and their bodies became flush with one another.

She parted from his lips but remained still just an inch from them when she said, "I've got an idea." She then stepped back and started to remove her clothing.

"Wait-what.." Willy stammered.

"Shh," she put her finger on his lips, silencing him for a moment, "let me try something."

Willy could barely breathe as he watched her get completely naked before him. He watched her painstakingly. She then dipped her hand into the pot of liquid chocolate. It dripped down her hand and she gave him a cheeky grin before smearing the chocolate onto her breasts, covering her nipples.

"Oh, Willy, can you clean this up for me?" she asked, acting innocently as she brought her chocolate covered fingers to her mouth and started to lick the sweetness off of them.

Willy cleared his throat. His cock was already hard, pressing against the fabric of his trousers. "Fuck." was his only verbal response at this point, but he was able to answer her with a head nod.

He sunk down a little bit to be eye level with her breasts. He licked his lips and put his mouth around her right nipple. He sucked and swirled his tongue around it as it puckered in his mouth, making sure to get every last bit of the sugary goodness off her tit. He couldn't help but moan at how delicious it was. Oh, how it turned him on. His two favorite things: Y/n and chocolate.

"Mmm, don't forget the other one, my sweet." cooed y/n, cupping his face as he suckled her.

He obliged and switched to her left breast, clearing up the rich coating with his tongue and lips. He looked up at her as he was latched onto her nipple, sucking softly on the tender bud.

"Willy, feels so good. You're getting me so clean." she praised him, giggling and running her fingers gently through his curly hair.

[eroselless]

PATO - TWO

series masterlist | part 1 | part 3

[charles leclerc x reader, carlos sainz x reader]

warnings: angst, talk of pregnancy, Spanish

note: Part 2! I already feel extremely invested in this and I started new adhd meds so I've been able to rlly hone in and work hard on it :) Let me know how you guys are liking it!

SPAIN, DECEMBER 2022, 3 weeks later

1st trimester/7 weeks/2 months

The kitchen is quiet, filled with the soft, earthy smell of morning. You sit at the kitchen table, hand smoothing out a frayed edge of a doily trapped under a heavy bowl of fruit. Morning sickness has left your face pale and drawn, the quiet offering no relief. 

Despite the warmth of the sun and the stillness of the countryside, you struggle to adjust. The noisy streets of Monaco seemed to bring you comfort, a reminder of Charles and how eventually he’d come home to you. But now here in the Spanish countryside, the hustle and bustle of the city is replaced by the bird's chirping gently, the wind clinks against the windchimes and the loneliness presses in. 

Aunt Ines moves around the kitchen, as if gliding, her movements brisk and efficient as she prepares a brebaje for you, a concoction to soothe your queasy gut. She places the mug in front of you and you recoil slightly at the smell, bitter and uninviting. It wafts up, mingling the scent of coffee and eggs. 

“Tomatelo, que eso ayuda con las náuseas,” she says, her voice gentle, her eyes warm with the kind of understanding that feels like pity. Drink it; it’ll help with the nausea. You take the mug, hands trembling slightly. You take a big gulp, ignoring the slight burn the liquid leaves behind. Your hands tremble slightly as you put the cup back down on the table.

“Gracias, tía,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper.

Ines watches you, her gaze intent and sorrowful, as if she can see the ghosts that sit at this table with you. She never even had the thought to hesitate to open her home to you, but there was no escaping her soft looks, her constant worrying. 

She learned to recognize the sound of you moving through the house in the dead of night, calling out for Charles in your sleep. That constant look in your eyes whenever you would check your phone for any missed calls, any proof that maybe he hadn’t fully forgotten you. Your belly was growing a little every day, a beautiful sign of love and life but the joy in your eyes seemed to fade as each day passed. 

“Linda, ¿por qué no vas por un pancito a la panaderia?” She gently suggests. Sweetie, why don’t you go get some bread from the bakery? You let out a groan and she can almost see your old self appear briefly as you sag in the chair, arms flopping down at your sides like a child. 

“I don’t feel like going out,” you mutter, half-hearted. She places her hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently. 

“I know it’s hard,” she says, her voice firm but soft. “But you need to get out a little. Some fresh air will do you good. And besides, you can’t stay cooped up in this house forever.” Her eyes flick down to your hand, to the way it rests over your barely-there bump. 

You sigh, mumbling a quiet bueno, okay as you get up from the table. Ines watches you pull your shoes on with a huff. She twists a rag in her hands, recalling how spirited you used to be. As you bid her a quick goodbye, she can’t help but shake her head as you check your phone one more time before tossing it on the table by the door. You were checking for Charles again. 

You looked for him in the mirror every morning, in your sheets, in your sleep. She could hear you cry in the early hours of the morning when you thought she was asleep. She could hear you talking to the baby, asking it questions, both love and anger pouring out in your words. 

Charles’s silence seemed to weigh heavy on your conscience. Was all the love shared in the two years you spent together just gone? Picked up by the wind and dropped into the ocean, sinking down to its dark depths? 

Ines would try her best to distract you from Charles and focus on the baby, gifting you a hand-knitted blanket and yellow booties. Each item was made with love and care, trying to remind you that you had love at your fingertips, in herself and the little bundle growing within you. 

You make your way to the bakery, the morning air cool against your skin. You can’t help but wonder what Charles might be doing. Were you occupying his thoughts as he was occupying yours? Maybe he was waiting on his phone, waiting for your call as you waited for him every day. You get pulled from your thoughts as a little boy skids in front of you, you let out a yelp as he scurries after a red toy car.

“Disculpa, señora!” He looks up, eyes wide, grinning shyly, and you smile in spite of yourself as he darts off.  Sorry, lady! You watch him as he wanders off, finally catching it. Another boy, older, follows after him. You both watch as the little one, maybe 3 years old, flicks at the tires of the car, laughing as they spin. He beams up at the older boy and they smile at each other, conversing and giggling as they continue their way down the street. There’s a bittersweetness to it, this simple joy, this little fragment of a family you now craved to have.

The streets are lined with charming little buildings, bustling with kids and adults alike. You can soon smell the yeasty scent of bread trailing down the street. You breathe deeply as you reach the doors of the bakery, greeted by warmth and the delicious smell of freshly baked goods. Walking through the threshold of the baker, a kindly old man smiles at you as you enter. 

“Buenos dias, señorita,” he says. “What can I get for you today?” You manage a small smile. “A loaf of your freshest bread please.”

He nods and disappears into the bakery. You pull out some coins, settling in the warmth of the cozy bakery, trying to draw some comfort from the soft glow of warm lighting and the inviting scent of cinnamon and sugar. You close your eyes for a second, hand resting on your tummy. It's grown since the night on the train. If you pulled your shirt tightly against your body, you’d be able to see it starting to poke out. You wonder what the baby will look like. Would she look like you? Or would she inherit the features of her father? Would it even be a she? Or would it be a little boy, the image of his father? 

The baker calls for you, pulling you out of your brief daze and hands you the loaf wrapped in brown paper. You hand him the money and thank him before heading back home. 

Your walk back is easier, your mind occupied with thoughts of the baby. You cradle the warm bread against your chest, eyes flickering to its crispy outside. You’ll carry the baby like this someday. 

Back at the house, Ines is waiting for you. She leans on the doorway, a smile on her face. She takes the bread from you, walking into the kitchen. 

“No tan mal,¿cierto?” She teases lightly. Not that bad, right? You nod, almost smiling. 

Putting the bread down, she pulls you into her arms, holding you close.

She feels her chest fill with relief as you relax into her arms, face tucked into the crook of her neck. You hold onto her, feeling as if she’s trying to transfer some of her strength to you. Her arms feel safe and you lean further into them, letting your walls down, just for a moment.

A WEEK LATER 

There's a gentle hum in the air, laughter echoing in the kitchen as you sit on the kitchen counter, a bag of carrots in your lap. You bite into one, handing another to your aunt as she chops them up and tosses them into a simmering pot full of celery and potatoes. 

“Do you remember when Jorge used to feed the dog his bottle?” Ines says, chuckling, shaking her head. Her children are older than you, occupied with their own families in different corners of the world. “He was so terribly convinced that the dog needed it more than he did.” 

You laugh, remembering your cousin’s antics, and it feels good, genuine, the laughter bubbling up from some forgotten place. “And Mateo used to put his toys in the fridge! Mom would always find action figures next to the milk and cheese.”

Ines laughs again, a bittersweet smile on her lips. “Esos peladitos, always keeping us on our toes.” Those little guys. 

You laugh at her comment, hopping off the counter as you hear your phone buzz on the kitchen table. Ines chastises you as you do so, telling you you shouldn’t be jumping around like that. You brush your hands on your pants, not caring for the slight orange residue they leave behind, and reach for your phone. 

The laughter seems to fade from the room, the joyful noise dying in your chest. You blink a few times, words on the screen not fully registering in your mind. The headline stares back at you, the words blurring as tears fill your eyes. 

You barely register throwing the phone down before bolting out the door, the weight of it crashing over you as you collapse at the edge of the garden, gasping for breath, the betrayal clawing at your chest. Your aunt looks back at you from her spot at the sink. 

“Mi amor,” she calls for you, moving quickly to follow after you. “¿que paso?” What happened? You don’t answer, fingers gripping at the dirt as if digging your hands in deeper will stop the word from spinning around you. Your chest feels tight and the air only seems to get hotter as you stand there. You want to scream. Inside, Ines watches you, wiping her hands on a rag before picking up the phone with the screen still on. Her heart fills with dread as she reads: 

Prince of Ferrari, Charles Leclerc, moves on with a mystery woman after split from elusive girlfriend.

She swipes at the screen, eyes scanning over the pictures attached to the headline. Charles sits at a table, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He’s leaning into the woman, noses almost touching as he leans in for a kiss. There’s a smile painted on his face, his arm draped around her shoulders. The pictures show him gradually getting closer until his lips are pressed to hers. 

She presses a hand to her mouth as she puts the phone down, making sure to swipe the page away before making her way out to you. You’re sobbing, with your head in your hands. Your shoulders shake with the force you’re using, so much Ines thinks you could heave. 

“Lo siento mucho, mi amor,” she consoles as she nears you. I'm so sorry, my love. She pulls you into her chest, her own tears dripping down her face as your body wracks against hers. Her hands rub soothing circles on your back. 

The pain feels unbearable, a mix of betrayal and heartbreak.The man you love, the father of your child, moving on without a second thought. You think of the nights you cried for him, the mornings you searched for his presence. It felt like a cruel joke. 

“Casi ni siquiera ha pasado un mes,” you manage to choke out between sobs. “Y asi como nada.” It's barely even been a month, and just like that.

Ines pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes. She brushes away the hair that’s begun to stick to your cheeks. Your eyes look beautiful as they continue to drip. There was so much beauty in your tragedy. 

“We’ll get through this,” she whispers firmly. “One step at a time.”

You nod, taking a small comfort in her words. They don’t do much to ease the crushing weight in your chest. Any hope you had for a future with Charles crumbles before you, replaced with an uncertain reality. You can’t manage anymore, clutching at her as if she was the only solid thing left. She holds you tight, her love wrapping around you like a warm blanket, offering the only solace you can find as the world seems to crash around you.

.˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚.

The weeks pass slowly and you find yourself sitting on the porch day after day. You find yourself on the porch, staring out at the world as the seasons shift around you. There’s something almost surreal about it all, the way life moves forward even as you feel frozen in place. Your morning sickness dwindles, some days better than others. It's yet another crisp morning that you find yourself sitting there, enjoying the sound of the wind chimes and birds once again. Ines pokes her head out the door, peering at you. 

“Linda, te puedo pedir un favorcito?” she asks, her face in a little grimace. Sweetie, can I ask a little favor from you? You look up, nodding your head silently. She lets out a sly smile.

“I’m running low on a few things for dinner tonight and I can’t go to the market with all the chores I need to finish.” she winces. You know what’s coming and you relent, getting up to grab a grocery bag. 

“Thank you, Mija,” she says, pressing a kiss to your head. “I just need some tomatoes and carrots and maybe a loaf of bread.” you nod fervently at her request, not stopping the shadow of a smile that appears on your face as she hobbles away to grab a pen and paper. With a list in hand, you step out into the bright morning light.

The market is just a short walk away, and as you make your way through the quaint streets, you try to focus on the task at hand, pushing thoughts of Charles to the back of your mind.

The market is alive with activity, vendors calling out their wares, and the air filled with the mingling scents of fresh produce and baked goods. You wander from stall to stall, selecting ripe tomatoes, crisp lettuce, and fragrant herbs, your basket slowly filling with the ingredients Ines needs.

As you reach for a bundle of carrots, you hear a voice call from behind you. You turn, eyes widening as you see Carlos approaching you, arms wide and a smile playing on his face. 

“Es tan lindo verte,” he says, eyes crinkling with a warm smile. It's so nice to see you. He pulls you in close arms wrapping around you completely. You relax a little, finding comfort in seeing a familiar face. A mixture of emotions hits you as he holds you. His presence is a reminder of the world you left behind, a reminder of the love you lost. 

“Hola, Carlos,” you reply, managing a soft smile. He lets go, eyes looking over you. 

“You look… different,” he observes. His face is full of concern as he looks you over closely. Your smile fades as he does, the color rises in your cheeks, an unspoken truth hanging between you. Your bump is sticking out a little more as you enter your second trimester. Your shirt is pulled back against your tummy, caught between your side and the bag you’re carrying. The growing babe even causes your belly button to start to poke out. “Yeah,” you murmur, tugging your shirt loose. “I guess I’ve been going through some changes.” 

You feel a blush rise to your cheeks as he reaches for your small belly, stopping abruptly.  “Are you…?” he trails off, his voice filled with surprise. 

You nod, and Carlos can’t tell if your expression is of pride or shame. He nods sympathetically. He’d heard about what happened with Charles, whispers spreading quickly through the paddock as the news broke. But not this, no one had mentioned this. “Charles doesn’t know. He doesn’t need to.” The words fall out, bare and raw, and Carlos nods, understanding without needing further explanation, your eyes plead with him. 

He nods, eyebrows furrowed. “Lo siento mucho,” he says, reaching out and placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. I'm so sorry. Though Charles didn’t share you much with the world, you did occasion a race every now and then, mostly hidden away from the cameras. When he saw Charles step out on town with someone else, he suspected something had happened. 

You nod, a lump forming in your throat. “Yeah,” you whisper. His hand lingers its spot, sending a strange sense of comfort to wash over you. Despite the pain you’d been carrying with you for the last few weeks, the genuine kindness he was offering you seemed to alleviate it a little.

"Listen," Carlos begins, his voice gentle. "I know things are tough right now, but if you ever need someone to talk to or just a shoulder to lean on, I'm here for you." 

His words catch you off guard, and you find yourself blinking back tears. "Thank you, Carlos," you whisper, feeling a swell of gratitude in your chest.

He offers you a warm smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Anytime," he says softly. "Cuidate, okay?” Take care of yourself, okay?

With a final nod, Carlos bids you farewell, leaving you standing there in the bustling market square.

tags: @kravitzwhore @janeh22 @apollosfavkiddo @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @tremendousstarlighttragedy

[tallulah477]

The Olo’eyktan’s Brat

Kinktober Day 29: Dirty Talk

Pairing: Jake x Fem!Human!Reader

Warnings: Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Oral (female receiving), P in V, Brat taming, Size Difference, Restraining holds (holding someone in place so they can’t move), Dom Jake, Sub Reader, Creampie, Belly bulge, Use of pet names (babygirl, princess, little monster), Slight cockwarming at the end

A/N: Credit to @eywaite for finally calling out my misspellings on Na'vi words that I've been misspelling this whole time 😭

Word Count: 3.6K

Summary: You’ve been acting like a brat all day and Jake is tired of your attitude and decides to put you in your place.

Translations:

Skxawng - Moron / idiot

Olo’eyktan - Clan Leader

Jake doesn’t know what’s gotten into you lately.

You don’t know what’s gotten into you lately. 

Normally, you’re not like this. This . . . needy. But Jake has been so busy lately, always busy helping The People, running interference during disagreements between council members, or leading the patrol run along the Omatikaya border to check for security. 

He’s an important man. A great and dependable leader who was clearly born to not only save the Na’vi from the destructive ways of the humans, but also meant to lead them with a strong heart and powerful will to keep them protected. He works long hours, up before the sun most days, his previous marine life keeping him on a disciplined schedule that has him up and around before the first patrol even goes out. He’s The People’s Olo’eyktan from that moment on and, even as his mate, it can be hard to get in front of him during the day.

But after the eclipse settles, the mask comes off and then he’s just Jake. The evening is your time together and he’s made it clear time and time again that he holds his special time with you in his heart. He’s always proven to prioritize your time together: by day he’s Jake Sully, Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya Clan, but by night he’s Jake Sully, skxawng extraordinaire and the love of your life. 

And you’ve never had a problem with this arrangement before, never felt like you weren’t valued or appreciated as his partner - never felt like you were ignored. 

Until recently.

For the past week he’s been coming home later and later, stuck at work doing whatever clan related business that is apparently so important, it just couldn't wait, and you’re special alone time with the man you love has had to be pushed aside when he comes home each night exhausted and spent from the grueling day he’s endured. 

At first he was apologetic about it, coming home with a “Sorry, honey. Work was crazy.  Y’mind if we just cuddle tonight?”. And you felt so sorry for him, saw the tiredness and unease on his face and nodded sympathetically, offering to give him a nice massage after he ate the nice meal you prepared for him. 

A few times you would test the waters, hoping to tempt him into some playtime with a coy look and a sultry little “Hi, daddy,” but he would just shake his head, gruff voice murmuring a low “Maybe tomorrow,”. He always makes up for it the morning after, waking you up before he leaves your shared hut with a kiss on your shoulder and nuzzling his cheek against your face mask with a sweet sounding “Heading out, baby. See ya later, okay?”

And it was okay for the first few days. Things happen, things pop up and get in the way - you get it. But then it happened again, and again . . . and again. And then suddenly, it’s not okay anymore. He apologizes each time and you know that each apology is sincere. He’s not avoiding you on purpose - he has responsibilities to fulfill and you can’t take him away from that.

But your heart aches all the same. The pang of feeling ignored eating away at you slowly and you miss him so much you feel sick with it. So you go out on the search for his favorite fruit - an elusive variety of yovo fruit that tastes almost exactly like strawberries from Earth. Thankfully, you’re able to find a few, and you head home with a smile on your face knowing that he’s going to be so happy when he sees what you found him.

When you get home, you peel the fruit, slicing it up and carefully cutting them into different shapes, just like your mother used to when you were little. You try your hand at creating new things, using the point of your knife to create little ikrans and direhorses out of the fruit, even managing something that can be considered passable for an atokirina. You nibble on the leftover bits as you carve, lifting up your mask to pop them in your mouth every once in a while, and you display your work on a large fig leaf and wait for Jake to come home - proud and impressed with how everything turned out and knowing he will be too.

Except evening comes and goes, and then night settles over the village and Jake still isn’t there. You know it's stupid, but you can’t help it. You miss him so much and haven’t spent time with him in what feels like forever. And you're heartbroken at the fact that you spent so much time and effort trying to make a nice little gift for him and he’s not even here to appreciate it. 

You crawl into bed angry that night, falling into a restless sleep that only serves to make you more exhausted in the morning. You felt Jake slide into bed beside you late into the night, felt him slip his arm around your waist like he always does and pressed a kiss to your temple. But you pushed him off, brushed his arm from around your waist and scooted towards the edge of the bed away from him. You heard his frustrated and confused “fuck, okay . . .”, but he didn’t push it.

In the morning, he tries to greet you the same as he always does, leaning over to press his lips against your shoulder, but you cover the spot he always kisses with your hand before he can - a silent rejection. You hear him shuffle slightly behind you before his raspy voice breaks the silence.

“Baby, what--”

“Bye,”

Your interruption leaves him speechless. You’ve never spoken to him so coldly before, and part of you wants him to push you, to demand to know what the problem is so he can fix it. The other part is still so bitter about being left alone and forgotten that you just want him to go away. In the end, he sighs and dresses for the day, leaving the tent without another word. 

Your anger stews throughout the day, boiling deep in your chest so hot you feel like you could tear the whole hut apart in your rage. How dare he leave you? You clearly needed him and he just left. He ‘always makes you a priority’ your fucking ass. 

When evening rolls around and the eclipse is setting, he comes home. It’s earlier than he has been and he smiles when you look up at him from where you're mending a rip in one of his loincloths. You return his greeting with a bored look before averting your eyes and returning to your mending. 

Immediately, the grin wipes off his face and his eyebrows scrunch in confusion. 

“Babygirl, what’s the matter?”

“Don’t call me ‘babygirl’,” You snap, gripping the fabric between your clenched fists. 

Normally, the pet name makes you feel all good and gooey inside. But now it just grates against your eardrums. 

“Don’t call you—okay, how have I messed up this time?” 

You throw the loincloth down and stand from your seat, heading for the entrance flap of the hut with an irritated huff. “I’m leaving,”

Jake grabs onto your arm as you pass, blue hand so massive it wraps around the top of your arm and even curls over some of his own fingers. 

“Let me go!” You shout, trying to pull out of his hold, but his grip holds firm.

“What is up with you, woman?”

“LET GO!”

He pulls your squirming body closer to his, dragging you against him.“Hey, calm down--”

“Fuck you!”

His face darkens at the curse, eyes narrowing dangerously as his grip on your arm tightens. And then suddenly you're hoisted up in the air, pressed against the wall of your hut as Jake holds you up with a firm grip just above your elbows. You squeal as he manhandles you up, held high above his head, your feet dangling nearly 7 feet off the ground and unable to move or do anything except hang there at his mercy.

“What have I told you about using that language with me?” He growls, and despite your anger, the sound immediately goes to your core.

The position he has you in leaves his face just inches from your pussy. You can feel his hot breath against the thin fabric of your loincloth, and your body’s reaction to his tone is undeniable, unable to help the whine that falls from your lips at the feeling.

“Only said during pleasure,” You whimper.

“‘Only said during pleasure, what?” 

You whine, squirming against the wall as you feel wetness start to pool between your thighs. “Only said during pleasure, daddy,”

“Good girl,” He praises, amber eyes focused upwards to look at your face. “Now, you wanna tell daddy what’s going on?”

His voice is so soft when he asks, the deep timbre caressing your eardrums. Tears well in your eyes at the tone, the tone that screams ‘you’re safe’ and ‘tell daddy what’s going on so he can fix it’, and the emotional dam that’s been brewing in your chest snaps.

“You left me,” You cry, and Jake’s eyes fill with surprise at the admission. “You’re never home anymore. I never see you,”

Guilt flashes over his face and he nuzzles his face in your bare stomach. “Aw shit, baby. M’sorry. I know I’ve been busy lately. But you’re still my best girl. You know that,”

Your fingers itch to touch him, to run your fingers along his toned shoulders and chest like you’ve been denied this past week. But you can’t with the position he still has you in, and your legs swing slightly, kicking against the wall. 

“Missed you,” You whisper. “Missed you, daddy,”

Jake smiles at the addition of the intimate title and he knows he’s at least temporarily forgiven. His large amber eyes meet yours as he says, “Missed you too, princess,” and you have just a second to let the happy smile stretch across your face at his words before he’s digging his flat nose into the front of your loincloth and breathing in deeply. “And I missed you, too,”

His eyes are dark as he looks back up at you, heat swirling in the beautiful golden irises. Your breathing hitches when his teeth latch onto the front of your loincloth, sharp canines tearing through the fabric like it’s nothing until it falls from your body and to the floor in tatters. 

He attacks your pussy like a man who’s starving, face pressing into your folds and licking up your slit, groaning like he’s been dying of thirst for days and your juices are finally his saving grace. 

You moan loudly as his lips suction onto your clit, head thrown back in pleasure, and your legs try to wrap around his back but the position is too awkward and you have no leverage to use to get you there. 

He growls against your cunt, your arousal sliding down his chin as he pulls back just enough to speak. “You taste so good, doll. Gonna keep being a good girl for me while I eat your pretty pussy?”

“Mhmm, yes, daddy,” You whimper. “Feels so good, daddy. Please keep going,”

Jake chuckles, the vibrations shooting through your sensitive clit. “Oh, now you wanna be nice? Just a few minutes ago you were cussin’ me out,”

You don’t get a chance to respond before he’s eating you out again, warm, textured tongue dragging along your swollen nub and quickly ushering you towards orgasm. Your hips do their best to rock against his face, and your arms are starting to become numb from Jake’s iron hold and being forced to support your weight, but you don’t care. Can’t care. Not right now, not when the coil in your belly is heating up, threatening to snap any second. It feels like forever since you’ve gotten to have this, forever since you’ve had him here, with you, between your thighs, where he belongs. And you're desperate, so desperate that you can’t breathe, can’t get enough air into your lungs and the wet sounds your pussy is making as he completely devours you makes your face scrunch up in unrestrained pleasure.

He’s desperate, too. You can tell in the way he’s aggressive with you, hands bruisingly gripping your arms as he mumbles into your cunt. “Tastes so good, babygirl. Come on, ride daddy’s face.”

With another final harsh suck of his mouth around your clit, you cum, eyes squeezing shut as stars shoot across your vision. Your orgasm hits you explosively, and you shake and convulse against the wall as you cum on Jake’s relentless tongue. Your legs are beginning to feel like jello and you can do nothing but hang there, legs scrambling against the onslaught of your orgasm wanting to squeeze shut, wrap around his head, do something.

One of your knees bend, foot pressing hard against the wall you're pressed against as your pussy pulses in its aftershocks. It doesn’t stay for long though because Jake growls and sets you down on the floor, and your shaking limbs can barely keep you upright. But it doesn’t matter because he rips his loincloth off, large cock slapping his belly as it’s released from its constraints, and he’s lifting you back up against the wall, arms held tight in his grip and his tip nudges at your entrance. 

He rubs against your leaking hole, a back and forth motion that has you keening in his hold. He smirks, face glistening in the low light of the hut, as you whine a desperate, “Please, daddy. Please, please fuck me,”

“Aw, does my little brat think she deserves to be fucked?” Jake teases, fangs peeking out between his lips as he grins. 

“Yes! Yes, daddy,” You whine, hips trying to bear down on his cock. “I need it! Please, please,”

“You were being so naughty earlier,” He teases. “So disrespectful, and now you think your needy little pussy deserves daddy’s cock?”

Tears fill your eyes at his words, frustration bubbling inside you from how hard he’s pushing at your patience. You waited for him all week. You’ve been good - so good, so understanding and helpful and fuck - all you want him to do is put his thick, blue alien cock into your tight, drenched pussy and fuck you until you can’t breath and he’s being mean.

“I deserve it! I deserve it!” You cry, wriggling hard in his grip. Your cunt slides against his hard length as you struggle, coating it even more in your arousal and Jake’s nostrils flair just a little, picking up the scent. “Need you,”

“Look at you,” Jake coos. “So desperate for daddy. My little whore. You just missed me, huh? Feeling a little lonely and didn’t know how else to get daddy’s attention?”

“Yeah,” You breath, air catching in your lungs when the tip of his cock nudges at your entrance. 

“Missed daddy so much you decided to be a brat, hm?” He doesn’t push up into you. Instead, he lowers you down, your back sliding against the wall as he presses you down onto his cock. You whine, desperate and pathetic at the pressure and stretch of his thick head at your clenching hole. “Knew that would get daddy’s attention. You know how much I love to put my little slut in her place,”

You moan, loud and needy, as he breaches you. He lowers you down carefully, and you stop breathing when the mushroomed tip of his cock spears you open, pressing inside you insistently despite his mindful movement. “Fuck, daddy. Yes, yes, yes!”

Your small body swallows him whole, tiny cunt wrapping around his cock like it was made for him, welcoming him into your depths as he lowers you down further, inch by agonizing inch. There’s a bulge in your belly when he bottoms out, and you look down at it in glee as your hole flutters around his length.  

“Couldn’t even try to talk to me about it,” Jake’s voice is nothing but a gruff growl as he draws you back up, hands gripping tightly on your arms as your walls drag along him until only the swollen tip is left inside you. “No, you had to jump right into being a brat. Just had to fuck around and find out, didn’t you?”

You whimper as he slides you back down, length filling you up again, the bulge once again making an appearance in your stomach. You bite your lip, trying to hold in another needy whine. You’re partly successful, the sound breaking from your throat nothing more than a cut off squeak. But as he moves you again, and again, lifting you off his throbbing cock and slamming you back down, moving your body the way he wants like you’re nothing more than a ragdoll - his own personal fleshlight - you can’t keep the blissful grin off your face as you eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Shouldn’t even be fucking you right now,” Jake grunts, the tip of his cock barreling into your cervix with each thrust. “I’m just giving you exactly what you want. Rewarding you for being such a little monster,”

“D-daddy, f-fuck,” You moan. Your legs are shaking from where they’re hanging below you, tingly and useless, swaying slightly in the motion of Jake’s movements. 

When your eyes refocus, they lock onto Jake’s intimidating stare. His eyes are blown wide, his normally wide yellow eyes have been taken over by piercing black, pupils like blackholes threatening to swallow you whole in their intensity.

“Should take you over my knee instead,” He breathes, hot breath fanning over your mask and fogging up the glass a little. “My princess needs punishment to keep her in line, right? A firm hand to properly remind you who’s boss around here. Teach you to show your Olo’eyktan some fucking respect,”

His words shoot fire through your veins, the looming threat more like a heartfelt promise in your eyes, and the coil in your belly tightens as you feel your orgasm approaching. You keen, nodding frantically as your fingernails dig into your palms. “Yes! Yes, daddy! Need you to punish me. Put me in my place - ah!”

He tilts his hips slightly, cockhead rubbing perfectly into that special spot that makes you see stars. He chuckles as your mouth falls open, eyes widening as you stare at him, gaping like a fish as you fight through the pleasure. “Do you have something to ask me, babygirl?”

“P-please,” You grit out, whines and moans ripping from your throat as you try to get the words out. “Please, d-daddy. Please can I c-cum?”

“Aw, my pretty girl wants to cum? You wanna cream all over daddy’s cock? Squeeze it nice and tight with your pretty pussy until daddy fills you up?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, please? Daddy, please, can I?”  

Jake grins, sharp canines digging into his bottom lip. He stops moving you on him, holding you firm against the side of the hut as his hips piston into yours, setting a brutal and unforgiving pace as he mutters a gravelly, “Go ahead, baby. I want my princess to cum on my cock,”

You scream, eyes squeezing shut as the coil in your stomach snaps and your orgasm tears through you. Your legs shake uncontrollably, heels banging against the wall of the hut as they unconsciously kick out, and your fingers curl into unknown signs as you gush around Jake’s pounding cock. 

Through your giddy, fucked out haze, you can feel Jake’s hips stutter against you. He groans, low and guttural as he presses in hard against you, and you let out a content sigh at the feel of him cumming inside you, shooting rope after thick rope of release inside your greedy pussy and painting your walls white  - filling you up so good you think you could sing songs of praise to Eywa about how amazing it feels.

When he’s done, he doesn’t pull out. Instead he stays lodged inside you, hands moving from your arms to wrap around your waist, pulling you away from the wall and cradling you in his arms. He turns and lowers himself carefully to the floor so as to not disturb you so much, and holds you against him, one big hand rubbing soothing circles on your back while the other supports your head. 

“Y/n, you alright?” He asks, nudging your head gently.

You hum, exhausted, but do your best to nod your head anyway.

“Baby, I’m sorry I haven’t been around that much lately. I can see how it’s affecting you. I want you to know that you’re my number one priority, so I’m going to do my best to cut off duties early enough so that I can come home and spend time with my special girl. You deserve that,”

You let his words wash over you and tears once again prick at your eyes, this time with overwhelming emotion. “I’m sorry I was such a brat,”

“You’re not a brat,” He says, fingers sliding gently through your sweat slicked hair. “You’re an angel. My angel,”

He takes a deep breath, eyes cutting across the room to the small wooden table with the fig leaf cradling the various carved up pieces of fruit.

“I saw the fruit by the way. They’re adorable, just like you,”

You don’t say anything, but there’s a small smile on your face as you press your cheek snugly against his chest.

**Special thanks to @pandoraslxna for the prompt!

Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife @erenjaegerwifee @f-cklife

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Little Girl Gone Mob Boss AU Headcanons

A/N: Alright my brain woke up feral this morning with a bunch of head canons for my new series that I've been working on so here you go the fruit of my labor. Also there are mentions of t*row up, mentions of killing, and actual depictions of killing so please read at your own caution. 18+ HC are marked as such

Minors/men DNI

SFW

-Y/N buying Wanda all the pretty rings and necklaces because you love seeing her wear them

-Wanda shows you pictures from high school when she was emo which is something you hadn't expected from the suburban mom

-After you learn this information you slowly add things to her wardrobe such as black skirts like she used to wear and band shirts and fishnetting

-The first time you see her in a little black pleated skirt you go feral. Luckily the boys are at school and you take her right on the kitchen counter

-She decides to wear skirts more often after that. Usually when she wants something.

-You slowly teach the boys how to fight, but don't introduce them to anything dangerous. Not until they're much much older.

-Wanda also eventually gets in on the self defense lessons

-Wanda and you go out regularly for date nights and taking the boys out trying to keep your lives as normal as possible

-When you propose to Wanda it’s at a fancy restaurant where you guys have a private room

-She says yes (of course) and you couldn’t be happier

-You guys decide to have your wedding in Sokovia and do a traditional Sokovian wedding

-When you guys have your first dance you include the boys where you start the dance together then you dance with Billy and her with Tommy and then you two switch off.

-You guys end up having a baby girl after getting married

-At this point the boys would be old enough that you offer the choice to them of joining and both do say yes, but Billy focuses on the business side of things and asks to go to college for business. He ends up double majoring in Business and law.

-Tommy also goes for a business degree, but ends up switching to go into nursing and becomes a Trauma Certified Registered Nurse to be able to deal with injuries that happen in the family business.

NSFW 🔞 

-Both you and Wanda are switches

-the first time you two try and do things and she calls herself ‘Mommy’ it sends you into a PTSD panic attack because of Natasha calling herself Daddy.

-Wanda soothes you back down and is such a soft Dom the whole time and everytime until you ask for more.

- “M-Mommy please r-rougher,” your lips parted, tongue out as you try to roll your hips on her strap. She's edged you for hours into a blissed out state.

- “Whatever my princess wants she'll get.” She grabs your hips with a bruising force as she sinks deeper and moves her hips roughly until you're screaming and crying and begging Mommy to let you cum

- “You've been such a good girl. Go on cum for Mommy baby. You deserve it for being such a good girl.” 

-The first time you were on top you weren't sure because you had never done it, but you wanted to try it. 

-You realized how good it felt but struggled with what you wanted Wanda to call you. Mistress, Master, Sir, Ma'am, King, Queen, Goddess, Owner, Handler, Boss, Captain. You two felt like you went through everything until one night Wanda tentatively brought it up,

- “I know how you feel about it, but maybe…we could try Daddy?” Her words throw you through a loop. “I think it could be helpful even. You'd be such a better Daddy than her.” Wanda puts a reassuring hand on your thigh. “You'd be the best.”

-It's her words of encouragement that make you give it a try because she just sounds so soft and genuine.

-You have Wanda beneath you, a pretty collar and leash on her as you slowly sink inside of her with the cum filled strap the two of you recently purchased. 

-Once your hips start moving, slow at first, you're hitting that spot that she loves and she just moans out, “Right there Daddy! Please Daddy harder!” And you go absolutely feral as you pump harder and rougher, pulling on her leash as you do so, both of you having a rather quick build up, “Gonna breed you baby. Gonna have my babies inside of you. You're gonna give me a set of twins right?” Wanda is so blissed out that all she can manage is, “Yesh Daddy m'gon cum!”

-During the aftercare Wanda assures you of how much she loved it. She could see how worried you were over becoming more like Natasha, but her words soothed you.

-As you two were cuddling up, watching TV afterwards she spoke up, “Would you actually want another set of twins?” You shrug, “if it happened I wouldn't be upset, but I'd love to even just make one mini us.” You tell her wholeheartedly which brings tears to her eyes. “I love you Wands. I wanna spend forever with you. I know this lifestyle isn't ideal for a family, but-” she cuts you off with a bruising kiss as she crawls into your lap. “I love you too Y/N/N. We'll make it work. I fell in love with this, with you so we'll make it work.”

NSFW Mob life HC

-You still take care of business mostly at home.

-The basement is off limits to the boys and is under several locks along with a fingerprint scanner and a pass code only you, Carol, and Maya know. 

-One day Wanda comes with you to the basement even though you've told her a million and one times that she doesn't have to be involved in the business she insists. 

-She watches a side of you she's never seen before. The side that Natasha created. It's almost as if she's watching Natasha pull strings on you.

-You torture someone for hours before getting the information from them. You grab your gun and look at Wanda, eyes cold as she trembles.

- “You can look away darling.” You tell her, but she doesn't, eyes fixed on you as the man begs and pleads for his own life, but he made the mistake of being on the wrong side of things, on Natasha’s side. 

- “If I let you go Natasha will pick up where I left off. Slowly torturing you until you die a slow and painful death. This is mercy.” You tell him and fire your gun right between his eyes. Blood and brain splatter everywhere. Especially on you.

- “Carol, clean this mess up and show Kamala how it’s done. She needs to learn. I need a shower and I need this all done and out of the house before the boys get home. I'm gonna send Maya out with America to check up on the info we were given.” 

-You turn your attention to Wanda holding out a hand to her, “Come on darling. Shower.” There was some blood on her and you helped her upstairs. Wanda didn't talk the whole time until you were drying her hair on the bed. “How do you do that?” She whispers and you barely catch it.

- “When Natasha trained me. I actually threw up a lot. It disgusted me to my core. I had a hard time handling it, but everytime I did something right she'd praise me. Reward me. The last time I killed for her she praised me because I only threw up after I killed the man. Now I'm…it's like I'm not me. I dissociate from it in the moment.” 

-Wanda turns towards you, crawling into your lap, nuzzling against your neck and letting her hands get under your shirt and onto your back for more skin contact. “Thank you for taking care of us. I always appreciated it before, from the moment you saved us, but now after seeing what you do…I can appreciate it even more.”

-After much back and forth Wanda wants to help out. At first you have her work in your office at the computer on record keeping, but she says she wants to get out of the house so you allow her on safe calls. Mainly to get money from people along with Kamala. 

-You never let her go into dangerous situations. 

-You always make sure Maya tails the two girls when they go out especially when Wanda first starts, but you see that Wanda is able to handle her own.

-One time Wanda comes home trying to hide all the cuts, scraps, and bruises after fighting with someone over their rent.

-You freak out when you see it and after cleaning her all up the two of you go back out and you take care of him in front of Wanda. Showing her how to overpower someone bigger.

-You keep the man on edge making him constantly think that he’s going to die until he’s begging for his life and has pissed himself.

-There comes a breaking point between you and Natasha which leads to an all out war between your two mobs

-After a lot of loss on both sides Natasha and you go at each other which ends up with her losing her life when she can’t just accept how things are now.

-Though Yelena wants to kill you over this Kate convinces her not to

-You and Clint come to an agreement of a truce. Which ends the decade long fight at this point

- “I didn’t want it to end this way.” Tears streamed down your face as your knees crashed to the hard ground beside Natasha’s body. “You were terrible to me. Treated me like I was nothing and yet I still wanted to see you change. To be better!” Wanda holds you as you cry and shake in her arms not realizing all the emotional turmoil that you felt towards Natasha even after all these years.

[alexa-fika]

Guide in the Darkness (Smoker x f!blind!child!reader x Fujitora)

A/N This is for the Anon that asked for toph!reader and I completely butcher the request so bad that I deleted it within the hour. Also sorry for the lack of uploads, got off a plane and have been unpacking since, and I start work tommorow but I will try to still upload daily!

Dividers by @/saradika

The muscular man sighs as he hears another crash coming from his daughter's quarters, opening the door, he glances at a vase smashed on the floor.

“Thought I told you to stop breaking things on purpose,” he grumbles, blowing out the smoke from his cigars in a thick cloud

“This is so stupid! I can’t do anything, Dad! The moment im on a boat, I’m so useless! “She screams, slowly sinking down to the ground and sobbing

A heavy sigh of irritation escapes Smoker's lips as he drops to his knees before his daughter, kneeling to the same level as her. A heavy hand touches her shoulder in a reassuring manner. A warm and kind gesture, but his face remains straight.

“And destroying your furniture will fix that; how?”

“Shut up! Shut up, just shut up!”

Smoker lets out another sigh as his cigar puffs out more smoke, and a heavy eyebrow raises at her harsh tone. His face is stern, but a certain tenderness behind his eyes is revealed when he speaks to his daughter

She pushes his shoulder away, but Smoker just grabs her with his other arm again.

"Is that so?" Smoker responds simply. Silence fell after he spoke those words, neither of them saying anything nor moving from their positions.

“I’m sorry…” she mutters

Another gentle sigh escapes his lips as she does this. His rough exterior fades for a moment as he speaks to her. His eyes no longer piercing through her own, now much more warm and kind.

"It okay,” he grunts

“Come with me; I have someone I want you to meet.”

She dries her tears slowly, standing up

“Who is it?”

"Just follow me." He rises back to his feet, the same look in his eyes once more as he holds out his hand for her to take.

He guides her off the boat, where they walk for a while until they reach an office within some Marine headquarters, closing the door behind them once she is inside.

"My, my, what a young beauty she is, Smoker..." Fujitora said kneeling in front of Reader.

“You must be around ten right now aren’t you”, smiling as a small affirmation leaves the girl.

“Last time, you were but a baby." The blind admiral grins, tapping the end of his cane against the ground.

"I am Issho; many people call me Fujitora; however, you may do so too if you so desire.”

“Umm, hi,” she mutters, hiding behind her father’s legs

“She’s just a little timid” Smoker remarks as he turns to Issho, nodding slowly at him.

A small gesture, as always, placing a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

“Why are we here?” she mumbles

The tall man sighs once again and moves closer to his daughter.

He crouches down to her level again and takes hold of her shoulders with both hands.

"Reader, the man standing there, he is a Marine like me. And he is also blind.”

Reader stills at that and turns around towards Fujitora, using her devil fruit to locate him easily

“You’re also blind?”

Issho smiles widely, putting his cane down on the ground as his eyes shine.

"Yes, I am."

The admiral's smile fades as an eyebrow arches. A small hand finds its way into his and is immediately swallowed into his hand like a grain of sand.

"I don't believe I've ever met a child with a devil fruit, let alone a logia type." He chuckles softly

“Mind telling me what you are capable of?

“I...I use it to sense everything around me,to ‘see,’ but I can only do that when im on land; when I go on the ship with Dad, I become useless.”

Smoker's face softens once more as she explains herself to his coworker

"I am sorry to hear you feel useless when you cannot sense anything. However, I can assure you that you are not. It is simply a limitation that you have, but I believe you can overcome it. Do you want to know a secret?" Fujitora asks her

She nods timidly but remembers that the man before her had the same affliction as her

“Y-Yeah”

"You are more than just a devil fruit. No matter what you may lack, you still have feelings, a will of your own, and loved ones. Those things are the most important part of being human. Never forget that, young one. We should meet up later so I can discuss your training a little more in-depth. I promise you that we will find a way to make you feel more confident in yourself. Just don't give up, and never lose sight of the truly important things. I know it’s scary to be truly blind in an already dark world, but I promise you, you will get through this; I will help you.”

She stares at the man before her for a minute, tears starting to fall from her eyes as she sniffles, nodding her head

“Thank you,” she cries hugging him

Smoker smiles as her daughter embraces Fujitora , finally finding a mentor she can relate to

“Thank you,” he grumbles to Fujitora

Fujitora nods his head, his expression remaining stoic despite the kindness and affection being shown towards him

"No need to thank me. If I can do anything at all to help her overcome these struggles, it is my duty as her mentor, after all. I must prepare her to be the very best marine that she can be, even if that means I have to make some special arrangements for her."

“Mentor?”

“Fujitora is gonna teach you how to use and master Kenbunshoku Haki,” Smoker said, blowing smoke from his cigars once again

“…I have not mastered the use of it; it will help you ‘see’ even without your devil fruit, so you will be able to find your way even when you are not on land,” he finishes, taking another puff

She grins, turning around towards her dad and jumping into his arms

“Thank you, Dad! For always helping me and not giving up.”

Smoker remains silent for a moment, as if surprised by his daughter's sudden affection toward him. He then wraps his arms around her and pulls her in tight. It’s the fondness for her was clear, although his usual reserved and aloof demeanor din’t really allow for much overt affection

"You're welcome. Should we head out? I think you’ll have a busy day tomorrow.”

She nods, turning her head back to Fujitora

“Bye-bye Fujitora! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Funitora nods, smiling at her genuinely way before saying goodbye

"Farewell, little one, you were a pleasure to meet. Rest assured that you are in the best of hands."

This is much better, sorry y’all it was killing me inside that I made such a bad piece to the point of having to delete it and deleting a request by doing so.

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

[neiptune]

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

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

PART 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was less than an hour long hike”

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

“So you don’t want any snacks?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Kukiko?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A silent laugh shakes him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, no.

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

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

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

Oh, no.

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

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

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

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

“No. You’re nothing like him”

“Ouch?”

You huff, impatient.

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

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

Not so ouch-worthy, after all.

“Well, that sucks”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Amicably?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop moving”

“But it tickles!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Almost. Just missing lipstick”

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

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

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

Sasha’s eyes widen.

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

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

“Hey, I never said that!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you shitting me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry. Yeah, okay, let’s do it”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sasha giggles.

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

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

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

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

I don’t know what came over me.

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

What if she hates it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yo, you look hot as shit!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, they’re still—”

“They’ll find us”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe you should stay, then”

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

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

Why?

Ask me to.

Tell me why.

Convince me.

I can’t.

But do I want to?

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

“I’m sure he’d love that”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You roll your eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not too bad, the locals are very friendly”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wanna join us? Porco’s here too!”

He smiles.

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

She juts her bottom lip out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We need a new strategy” Jean whispers angrily.

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

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

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

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

You lift your cup with an apologetic smile.

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

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

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

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

“Wait a second—”

“Please, can we go?”

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

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

“Mmmh, what about Floater?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I guess” she concedes.

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

Armin huffs.

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

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

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

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

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

“A friend? Who?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, thank god you are”

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

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

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

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

He squeezes even harder, Armin cursing under his breath.

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

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

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

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

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

You huff but maintain your composure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug, mirroring his smile.

“Fuck, can’t believe I missed that”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hiro, miss”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“People lookin’ at you?”

“You looking at me”

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

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

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

“Guess I really did”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What if you actually do?”

You tilt your head against the couch pillows.

“Pass out on your couch?”

Eren huffs, lightly pinching your ankle.

“Sleep here”

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

He snorts out a light laugh.

“I meant sleep, sleep”

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

“So you don’t… desire me?”

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

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

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

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

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

Confused, you return a perplexed look.

“Why would I want that?”

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

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

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable”

“You never make me uncomfortable”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I love you.

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

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

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

I love you.

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

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

“I need you”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You peer up at him from long lashes.

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

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

“What are you, a blue whale?”

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

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

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

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

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

With a long, drawn out sigh, you comply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For you.

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

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

“I didn’t know what you liked”

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

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

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

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

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

I love you.

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

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

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

“You’re overthinking”

“I’m thinking exactly the right amount”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will you come over, later?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I love you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Will you let me do this right?

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

“Eren, I’m leaving”

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

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

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

You press his palm a little harder.

“In two days”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His grip on your chin tightens.

“What else?”

“Eren—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you ever even thought of asking?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure”

He shoots you a quick glance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That doesn’t exactly answer my question”

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

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

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

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

“What?”

“Nothing”

“Armin, just tell me”

For fuck’s sake—

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

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

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

“If you say so”

A beat passes, silence stretching past a comfortable interval.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Armin glances at you.

“What?”

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

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

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

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

Have you ever even thought of asking?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“C’mon!” he’s openly smiling now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Say it again”

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

“M’really fucking sweaty at the moment”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I had just booked a flight to Tokyo”