#the latter to his immediate regret

[dutybcrne]

Thinking and laughing a bit abt how much of a fucken shock the knights must have had when shy, never-strayed-from-Diluc’s shadow Kaeya up and became the kind of guy who would take a squad of knights to catch a criminal and purposefully set off a mechanism that at best spooked the shit out of everyone involved by the sheer risk it incurred upon the knights and their target at once bc he liked the thrill of seeing their responses to the sudden danger.

[verstappen-cult]

you come home after a girl’s night out to find charles lying on your bed, arms resting behind his head as he watches an action movie in your room.

“what are you doing here?” you ask, amused.

you leave your heels by the foot of the bed, walking to your vanity to take your necklace and earrings off.

charles smiles at you through the mirror. “waiting for you.” he says it so casually, so genuine, like he does not have somewhere to be, at the other side of the world, early in the morning.

“i missed you,” you feel shy admitting it, you saw him just a couple of hours ago, before leaving for the club with your friends. it’s not like you can’t live without him or max, but they have so little free time that all you want to do when they’re home is cuddle together and never leave your home. but your friends begged you to go with them and as much as you wanted to stay with your boyfriends, you also wanted to see your girl friends. “they played that song you like so much. it made me missed you even more.”

charles coos at you, forgetting the movie to, instead, make grabby hands. it makes you giggle but you are immediately sprinting to the bed, climbing carefully onto his lap.

“and what about you?” you play with the collar of his shirt, looking at your boyfriend from beneath your eyelashes. “did you miss me?”

“we missed you very much.” max enters the room making you smile even brighter. he walks to the side of the bed where both of you are and places a cup of tea on your nightstand. you pout at him and he leans to give you a little peck on the lips. “did you have fun? how much did you drink?” there’s genuine concern in his voice that leaves you flustered, feeling small and taken care of.

“oh, just two gin and tonic’s, and i’m definitely sober if that is what you’re asking.” max nods, smile on his face as he retrieves a make-up remover from your vanity. “and it was such a fun night!” you clap your hands, ranting about how one of your friends kept flirting with the bartender even when he said he was gay and definitely not interested.

“and what about you?” charles asks, playing with a strand of your hair. “did someone try to make a move with you?”

“as if someone would dare to try something.” that earns you a disapproving glare from your blonde-haired boyfriend. “everyone in monaco knows who i belong to.” you touch the tip of max’s nose with the pad of your finger. “only you two.”

max climbs on the bed next to charles, and the latter wraps his free arm, the one not on your waist, around max shoulders, hugging him tightly against his side.

you let max wipe the make-up off your face as they listen to you describe everything that happened that night, even the moment a group of girls approached you to say how jealous they were that you are dating two of the most hot and talented (you added that, they didn’t actually say it but you like to point it out every time you can) drivers on the grid.

“i like to know i make girls jealous.” you say without an ounce of regret, looking between your boyfriends. why would you feel ashamed, right? “and i like to know i’m the only one to have you both.”

[nouvxllev]

skill issues

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x G!p!Reader

Summary: in which you got reeled into a bandwagon of a fps game by mindy, anika, and chad.

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: smut. just pure smut.

a/n: i just love the idea of tara carpenter being a clingy partner (also my first time writing just a chapter full of smut.)

masterlist.

The clock ticked midnight. Probably even pass that. Actually, you didn't know anymore. Whatever was on your mind was completely erased and replaced by tiny pixels moving in your screen.

Ever since you've joined Tara's friend group, you've also been reeled into a bunch of activities they do on a daily basis. To binge watching scary movies you've begged them not to drag you in, to playing games they recommended to you.

You regret participating in the latter.

It's not like you were having fun, hell, you were having too much fun with this simple FPS mobile game they pulled you in, but the deep dark circles under your eyes were starting to show and you don't really eat anything except for the meals Tara cooks for you. Which are greatly appreciated by a kiss.

"Y/n, what the fuck!? I told you to cover me!" Mindy yelled over your headphones. Actually, it was Tara's headphones desperately lent over to you after days of quiet shouting that didn't really help.

You crouched in reply, knowing Mindy was spectating your character.

You killed, not one, not two, not even four people, but six at once in a group! 3 headshots and 3 body kills. You were pretty proud of yourself, honestly. You just started the game a few weeks ago and you're only getting better and better, you wanted to brag to Tara but she was fast asleep beside you. She was always beside you whenever you play those games with the group, cuddling you as you hold your phone up in the air, but she always ends up falling asleep when you do.

Chad laughs over his mic, "damn, we should've invited Y/n a long time ago. She's good at this game."

You laugh in response, bringing your voice to a whisper. "Even I didn't know I had this in me."

Ever since you and Tara finally made it official, you packed your things and said good riddance to your home and lived together with Tara. It was unexpected, even she was surprised by the spontaneous decision, but the two of you were happy in paradise. Not until you got dragged into the whole 'gaming with those two dipshits™ (by Tara Carpenter, of course.)'

"Anika—! Anika—Wait, shit Anika!" You scream, regrettably, while shooting the opposing team down. Obviously, the luck you had earlier had worn out and you were now staring down at your dead character, groaning.

"I didn't know they were there!" Anika apologized.

"Skill issue." Mindy chimed, you could tell she was leaning back in her chair, looking smug.

"Definitely." Chad blurted, a huff of air he let out.

You rolled your eyes. "Those who didn't carry the team with their 6-kill streak should actually shut up." You went back to the home screen after gg'ing the other team

"Another round?" You exclaimed, and the others cheerfully agreed in the background.

You forgot, for a split second, you were beside one of the most lightest sleepers in the world; your marvelous girlfriend Tara Carpenter. Someone could breathe in her vicinity and she'd almost immediately wake up. Which is why she's staring you down, burning holes in your neck, unimpressed look on her face.

"Y/n," she groaned, "I thought you'd be done by now."

You turned to look at her, and you could only hope it was the darkness fooling your eyes since Tara looked like she was about to scream if not for her reminding herself that you were her girlfriend.

You muted your mic, "One more round, I promise."

"You always say that." She whispered, her arms wrapping around your waist as you were sitting up and you almost melted in her arms, a sigh you let out.

You let your other hand let go of your phone and let your hand relax on her head, soothing her worries of you being on the verge of being one of those mentally unstable gamers who discarded their whole entire life.

Tara was still awake, you could tell by how she tilted her head slightly to look up at you and back to whatever game it is you were so engrossed in.

It was only a few seconds later before Mindy, Anika, and Chad were screaming into the mic and telling eachother to "defend, defend, defend!" or just curse at eachother.

And you, of course, was just resting in paradise while your girlfriend watches over you with half-lidded eyes. But you could tell she was trying to be awake.

You were getting into that headspace where your luck with getting kills increased, and damn were you so happy you could basically convince yourself you were the next top player at this game.

That was until you fumbled over a sniper shot, your finger slipping and your character dying. Your friends were yelling, laughing, but you couldn't focus. Not when Tara's hand was placed firmly on top of your cock.

You froze in place, your eyes, not focused on the screen anymore, but focused on somewhere in the darkness of your room. Her fingers tracing lazy circles around your clothed bulge, only getting larger the more she teases you.

You muted your mic, your hands clutching your phone as you suck in a moan. "Tara, wait, I'm—"

"—Playing?" She finished, looking up at you with her doe-eyes you knew you could never resist. "I'm sure you can play perfectly fine." She replied, her fingers sliding into the waistband of your shorts. You ultimately regretting, and thanking, that you weren't wearing anything underneath.

You were big, you haven't measured it yourself, but Tara worshipped it like it was (and is) so that was enough for confirmation. The tip of your cock was immediately leaking with pre-cum, and it didn't help when Tara kept stroking it, taking her time to graze her thumb along the head.

"Aren't you going to continue playing?" She looked at you, doe eyes and all as if she wasn't giving you the most perfect and maddening handjob you've ever received.

There was something in her voice, something that made you go fucking insane. And something that made you click that respawn button, playing it off as if nothing was happening down below.

You were desperately trying to get a kill, the amount of times you've pressed that damn respawn button was embarrassing. But how could you focus when the most prettiest girl was wrapping her warm lips around the tip of your dick, her hands taking care of the inches that wasn't in her mouth. Yet.

She removed her mouth away from your cock, a soft whine escaping your lips at the loss of contact, but then she adjusted her position. Her body going in between your thighs as she spreads them apart.

You almost, almost, went to heaven when she immediately reattached her soft lips to your dick and slowly started to go deeper.

It was almost pathetic how your hips bucked and your head was thrown back, your eyes rolling in pleasure.

And only a few seconds passed until she was bobbing her head up and down on your cock, her free hand tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Fuck, that turned you on even more.

You contemplated throwing the game, hell, even your phone, but Tara dug her perfectly manicured nails into your thighs when you were starting to put your phone down.

"Y/n, you're getting out of your game!"

"Noticed."

"I bet 20 bucks she's getting laid by Tara, right now."

The three of them, in order, Chad, Anika, and Mindy all teasing you for getting your dick sucked in the middle of the game. But you didn't care, at all. You didn't have enough trust in yourself to unmute and to deny all sayings, that were 100% true by the way, without having to hold back a moan.

"Fuck, Tara..." You manage to say in a whimper, your hand, which was supposed to be playing the game, was grabbing a handful of Tara's hair. Helping her take in what's left of you, and soon enough, her nose reached your chest, gagging a little bit in the process.

You were going crazy.

It was then you couldn't take it anymore. You grabbed her hair, a bit more forcefully, and started to shove yourself back and forth into her mouth. Your hips bucking and gradually getting speed. You could see how her eyes and jaw widened to take more of you. Spit and pre-cum dripping all over her mouth as she looked at you, tears staining her eyes while she closed them whenever she hit the base, gagging all over your cock.

You can feel your legs begin to shake, your head throwing back and your eyes rolling. But that didn't stop you from absolutely railing Tara's mouth against your dick until you've emptied yourself inside of her, forcing her to swallow all of your load.

A minute passed before you slowed down your movements, pulling an exhausted Tara out of your cock. She looked at you dumb, your own cum smeared all over her lips as a grin adorned her abused lips.

"I guess we can say I'm better than that stupid game you're always playing." She rasped, her voice hoarse.

"You did this because you were... jealous of me playing a game?" You chuckled, clearly out of breath. It was cute if you weren't so turned on by the fact Tara was looking at you like that.

She brought her hand up to her mouth, wiping away the excess cum with her thumb and licking it off. "I just wanted to tease you, baby."

You thought that was the end of it, not until Tara threw your phone and headphones away and started to climb on top of you, your still hardened cock right on top of her clit. You didn't even notice she wasn't wearing anything underneath as well until now.

"I'll get you a new one—" she breathed, "I promise. Just, please." She whimpered, god, fuck, you were going insane. "Just fuck me."

And that was everything you needed you hear.

You immediately flipped her around, "Y/n, what the FUCK!—" she screamed as you drilled your cock into her, your hips pulling out your dick and fully slamming it back into her pussy. A broken moan coming out of her lips.

"Shit... Tara, you're driving me crazy." Was all you could mutter before you went faster, your hands going to her hips to hold her steady, and your eyes were focused on your cock easily sliding in and out of her puffy folds, taking all of you at once while Tara could only moan, a new freshly coat of cum taking over your dick.

The way she squeezed around you, milking your cock for all it's worth, made you dizzy and your head start to spin. But that didn't stop you from completely destroying her bit by bit, aiming to break her down.

You pulled her closer to you, your hands going up to her shoulders and aggressively ramming her body against your shaft as if it wasn't so deep enough already. Tara couldn't say, mutter, or even speak a single sentence at this point.

You were fucking her dumb, and shit you loved it.

Your hands slithered up from her shoulders to her neck, lightly choking her before turning her head to you.

"You're so pretty like this, baby. So gorgeous and perfect." You muttered in her ear, every word coming to a hard thrust as Tara's mouth opened, attempting to say something but only coming out as a pathetic moan. "You wanna be fucked like a slut? Be fucked dumb out of your mind?"

Sliding your hands on her back, you pressed down firmly to create the perfect arch as her head was buried into the soft mattress, her hands curling up into a ball as she sobbed with pleasure. You can hear her moaning your name over and over again, screaming and sobbing muffled by the soft pillow under her.

"Answer me, Tara."

"Yes, please!" She pleaded, "God, oh my god." She gulped, her head falling back as she reached her second orgasm, her walls clamping down on your cock and cum dripping down from her abused and assaulted pussy.

Her legs gave up, but you didn't. You continued to ram into her, without a care that she was near peak exhaustion and her sobs were becoming more frequent. Your freehand that wasn't pressing down on her back going over to her clit, overstimulating her.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," you groaned, "Tara..."

"Cum'n me." She said, breathless, "please. Please, please, please, please—"

After that last plead, you came in her. Your body still thrusting into Tara as you lean towards her, "I love you. I love you so much, my favorite girl." You muttered, pressing kisses all over her cheeks and lips as she breathed for air. But that sweet moment didn't stop you from resuming to pound into her as if it was your last day on earth.

You kept your cock inside of her, pistoning it in and out as you stretched her pussy till it's limit. Until it recognized the shape of your dick, which, you succeeded. The both of you continued until Tara reached her actual peak of exhaustion and collapsed.

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

When Tara woke up, she was sore. Sore as fuck. Everything up and down from her head to toe was just relentless pain everywhere. That is, until she turned her head to see you just gazing at her. Softly. As if you didn't ruin her to pieces just hours before.

"Hey," you greeted her, a smile gracing your lips. Tara didn't realize, but you drew her a bath the second she passed out and took care of her yourself. Even changed her to her favorite outfit whenever she just wanted to lay around.

Tara smiled. Despite her sore legs, her sore everything actually, she still managed to cling onto you like a koala. Her arms crushing you as you hugged her back. "Hey." She whispered in your ear, kissing you gently. "Thanks, by the way. For taking care of me." She hugged you even tighter, which you reciprocated.

The two of you sat there for a few minutes, basking in eachothers presence and warmthness. Until you broke the silence. "Tell me the real reason." You pulled back from Tara's tight hug. (You tried to, she was unbudging.)

"I was." She raised an eyebrow, which you also reciprocated.

You chuckled. "I've been your girlfriend and bestfriend for a total of 3 years, Tara. You can't fool me."

She could almost roll her eyes right now if she wouldn't regret it later. "We haven't had sex in a while." She confessed, avoiding your eye contact. "Like, a whole month."

The adorableness there was to Tara Carpenter, the amazing girl you're blessed with, was beyond you. "You could've told me, Tara." You tucked a loose strand between her ear, "you know I like talking with you. Especially about something personal, or maybe something about in our relationship."

"I didn't know how to like," she paused, "really, really, express it." She explained, "also I couldn't since you were on that damn video game for weeks now!"

Yeah, you had to blame yourself for that. Or maybe the crew. "I solemnly swear to not play that game. Well, atleast that often." You held up your pinky, making a pinky promise that you always, always never broken in your life.

Tara chuckled, taking your pinky into hers. "Also your phone has been buzzing like crazy for the last few minutes."

"It's just Mindy bragging about she got rich because she was betting over our sex life."

"What!?" The younger Carpenter screamed.

"Don't worry too much about it." You shrugged it off. "Just a skill issue." You joked.

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

a/n: just needed to get this off my brain. idea popped into my head one random day and i've been thinking about it actually doing something about it, and it's probably something i need to do to take of my writers block!!

[lovexdeepspace]

“life without you.”

summary; months after breaking up with them, they come for reconciliation.

warnings; heartbreak, break-ups

note; wowowow the first part to this blew up and i am so beyond thankful for all the love! after this comes more requests :D

!! divider by @cafekitsune !!

first part | angst ending

“we should probably see other people.”

༊*·˚. xavier

it had been a couple of months since you broke things off with xavier and the way his face had contorted into one of subtle shock made you feel, well, better about things. although it had pained you to say the words, knowing that he was instantly hit with something — be it guilt, regret, sadness, whatever — made you feel better knowing it meant he still cared enough about you.

though the months of silence that followed had you second guessing that notion, no matter how many times you tried to tell yourself it was normal for this to happen and that you should take advantage of this time. you would never admit to anyone the many nights you would spend on your couch, waiting around late at night hoping that knock would come on your door and your sleepy hunter would be on the other side.

perhaps you ended up manifesting it one too many times, however, because now you stand pj-clad in your doorway with one hand on your hip and a raised brow as xavier held out a round, marshmallow-looking stuffed bunny to you.

“what’s this?” you deadpanned, knowing exactly what he was doing — you just wanted to hear him say it.

xavier’s lips pressed into a tight line as he avoided your eyes and muttered, “i really screwed up. i didn’t realize how good things were with you until i lost you.”

you stayed silent, motioning for him to continue when he glanced your way.

“i don’t deserve to ask you for forgiveness, let alone should i expect you to take me back,” he said, holding your gaze, “but i’d be even more of a fool not to try. i’m so, so sorry i put you in such a shitty situation.”

xavier pushed the bunny a little closer to you, brightening a bit as you took it into your arms. it was soft and downright adorable, a stuffed reflection of the man in front of you(though, again, something else on the list of things that wouldn’t be admitted by you).

“i don’t expect you to answer me any time soon,” he added quickly, filling the silence, “so i’ll just —“

“xavier.”

the blonde immediately shut his mouth, giving you his rapt attention. with a sigh you look from the bunny to him before extending a hand to him, albeit hesitantly.

“i was in the middle of watching a movie,” you said, earning a confused look. “do you want to finish it with me?”

if your heart wasn’t racing by that point, the way xavier’s face broke out in a grin before he grabbed your hand excitedly and pulled you into your own apartment had it pounding against your rib cage like a drum.

༊*·˚. rafayel

you recieved a torrent of snarky, snappy texts following your brief break-up with rafayel. he switched between gaslighting you that nothing was happening and that you were overreacting to him acting nonchalant about the whole thing; it was so bad that you had to block his number before you even got back to your apartment, which was a few blocks away.

it was weird to not have your phone blowing up all day long but, at the same time, the silence was a sort of reprieve while you dealt with the emotional repercussions of the whole situation. it allowed you some peace of mind and gave you the space needed to cope and, with the months that followed, grow more comfortable with not being in a relationship anymore.

you had finally found yourself at peace once again, keeping yourself busy with things to do like trying out the new restaurant downtown. as you were getting ready to head out, a knock came from your front door.

“just a minute!” you called, adjusting the collar of your blouse in the mirror before heading to the door and opening it. “oh.”

standing in front of you was rafayel and thomas, the latter giving you a sweet smile and a wave.

“nice to see you!” he chirped before giving rafayel a shove on the shoulder and gesturing to you. “i’ll be in the car.”

“good seeing you, too, thomas,” you called as he walked off, then turned to rafayel. “so. it took your manager forcing you for you to come see me?”

rafayel pouted at you and crossed his arms over his chest. “last i checked, you’re the one who blocked my number.”

you barked out a laugh, unsure as to why you’d be surprised about the audacity of this man. “well, maybe it’s because you tried to downplay my feelings!”

“well i’m sorry, okay?” rafayel retorted, matching your raised volume. “there, happy?”

“happy?” you echoed, running a hand down your face. “rafayel, if you really think —”

“you’re right.”

you froze, biting back the rest of your statement and raising a brow. “i’m right?”

rafayel nodded, dropping his arms to his sides. “i fucked up. like truly, undoubtedly fucked up. and here i am, thinking i can just say sorry and fix it all but that’s not how it works. i’ve got this whole front to keep up to protect my stupid ego but. . .” he sniffles and you realize there are tears in his eyes but he continues before you can speak up.

“fuck my ego,” he spat, clearly more angry at himself with every word he spoke. “my life has been complete and utter shit without you in it. i thought i knew what i was doing but i was wrong and i can’t even begin to express how sorry i am. i don’t deserve forgiveness or anything from you but gods you deserved an apology and i hope this is at least somewhat sufficient.”

rafayel sniffled again, the tip of his nose reddening as he wiped at his eyes. you were shocked to say the least, rooted to the spot as you watched the man you always thought to be so invulnerable breaking down in front of you.

slowly you reached out and your hands pulled his away from his face. he looked at you with wide, teary eyes as your hands cupped his face, your thumbs brushing the few remaining tears away. he whispered your name and you sighed, feeling all the hardened feelings towards the artist and your breakup softening to mush.

“i’ve missed you,” he whispered, leaning into your touch, and everything gets thrown out the window as you press a quick kiss to his forehead, then his cheeks, then the corner of his lips.

“i missed you too,” you said quietly. “come inside — i’ll tell thomas that i’ll drive you home later.”

༊*·˚. zayne

his coldness towards you was to be expected but still stung more than you could’ve expected. what made the break-up even worse was that you had to do it at the hospital and she was present for it all. you had tripped over your words and felt like a fool but knew, deep down, it needed to be done to prevent you from spending another sleepless night.

you had accounted for the way you’d feel when you’d find his clothes in your laundry; you’d accounted for the way your heart would surge whenever the rare occurrence came that you’d see him out and about in linkon city; everything was thought out and prepared for to avoid feeling too harshly.

what you had failed to account for, however, was how you’d feel when you came home one day to find zayne sitting on your couch with at least ten different bouquets of flowers surrounding him.

first it was shock — you quite literally dropped all your belongings. zayne raised an eyebrow at your reaction as if it wasn’t incredibly surprising to see him sitting in your apartment after having months of no contact.

second it was realization — you hadn’t taken your spare key back. as soon as it hit you your shock wore off and you groaned, running a hand down your face. after a long day at work this was the last thing you were expecting and needed.

last came the indifference. you gestured to him, then to the door. zayne stood slowly and walked around the bouquets, heading for the door. you were surprised up until he shut the door and headed back to his original spot on the couch.

“zayne,” you deadpanned. “that was a sign for you to leave.”

“do you really want me to leave?” the doctor asked, his steely gaze sending shivers down your spine.

no. “why are you even here?” you asked, defeated, purposely avoiding the question. “months of not talking and you suddenly appear in my apartment? what gives?”

“i need to apologize,” zayne replied bluntly, gesturing to the plethora of flowers surrounding him. “did the flowers not make that obvious? are they not enough? should i have gotten more?”

he looked somewhat distraught as he looked around him and you shook your head with a sigh to cover up the way the corners of your mouth twitched. you’d hardly seen zayne so stressed let alone stressed over flowers and if they were enough for you.

“zayne, the flowers are lovely,” you assured him. “more than i know what to do with, though.”

zayne nodded slowly, a bit more at ease. he stood once more and walked over to you, stopping right in front of you. he took a deep breath and looked you square in the eye, though you noted the way his eyes flitted down to your lips for a split second.

“what i did, how i treated you, all of it was unacceptable,” he said softly and you couldn’t help but already feel him worming his way through your walls. “i don’t know what i was thinking — or if i was even thinking at all. you are the most caring, respectful, and loving partner anyone could ever ask for. i was so lucky to have you by my side and i foolishly messed everything up.”

you wanted to reach out and wrap your arms around him, truly, but he still looked as if he had more to say so you held yourself back for a moment longer.

“you are everything to me,” he said, “and i will do whatever i need to do to regain your trust, your love, everything. however long it takes — days, months, years, nothing else matters to me more than you.”

you were in awe of the man standing before you, so moved by his words and actions that you couldn’t help but wind your arms around him and pull him close to you. you could feel him relax in your embrace, something that nobody else could do no matter what. with your cheek pressed to his chest, you smiled to yourself as you felt him press a kiss to the crown of your head and his arms wrap tightly around you.

“since i went a little overboard with the flowers,” he mumbled, “do you think we should take them down to the hospital and give them out to the patients?”

there he was. your zayne. sweet, compassionate, loving zayne.

taglist; @chim-i @reialbert @circusclownsam @yegrnn @kreishin @xmikanx @frobin4ever @keitthen <3 & all the anons that requested this!

[jeannineee]

coming up lavender, part one

cassian x reader x azriel

part two

author's note: heavily, heavily inspired by smoke signals and garden song by phoebe bridgers!! reader's power is almost like wanda's from marvel, for context!! as far as energy manipulation, anyway. it is felt far more than it is seen, though.

summary: reader grew up in the hewn city, and is set to marry someone of higher status in exchange for bettering her family's position at court, but what happens when things don't go as expected?

warnings: canon-typical themes of violence against women. harassment and misogyny. will def have angst, and there will be smut later on. this is an 18+ series.

"It's time, my lady."

The melodic voice of your most kindhearted servant, Celia, lulls you from your sleep. She peels the silk covers away from your body, and as you sit up, you know you don't have to look at her face to see there's pity lining it.

You're to be married, this afternoon.

You'd managed to mask your scent for years--mask the power growing just beneath the surface. But as you grew into womanhood, so did your magic. It became impossible to conceal.

Who were you marrying? You'd ask the question a hundred times, and received no response. Was he your age? Was he old and decrepit? Would you be his first wife? His fifth? Was he rude? Kind? The latter wasn't likely.

You were a prized mare, and the males of the Hewn City swarmed you like vultures to a carcass. They would rip each other apart--rip you apart, for a chance at having your power in their bloodline.

This day was bound to come sooner than later. You'd been raised for it, trained for it. Your sole purpose boiled down to being someone's wife. There was nothing for you outside of that. Or so your father would have you believe.

There were whispers. Shared between women and girls. Whispers of a beautiful city. Of starlight and freedom and peace. A city of dreams.

And, did you dream. Every night, you'd dream. Of grass beneath your feet, a warm breeze hugging your skin. A cloudless sky with the sun in your face. Of twinkling stars and planets you'd never reach in a thousand years. Ten thousand.

But this was the Hewn City. And there were no stars here.

Dreams were all you'd ever have.

"My Lady." Celia's voice tears you from your thoughts, brows still furrowed with worry. "You must ready yourself."

A curt nod, and you rise, following Celia to your bathroom.

She helps lower you into the tub. Lavender fills your senses as she cleans you; sweet and comforting. You hug your knees, and close your eyes, dreaming of a land you couldn't reach.

~~~

Hours later, your father circles you slowly, tightening your corset, fixing stray hairs. A scientist to a mouse. A tinkerer to parts.

A doll to be molded. A spectacle. Less than.

Your hands tingle with power, and you dig your nails into them. Take one deep breath. Then another. And another.

A huff of something resembling acceptance from your father, and your shoulders relax--as much as is possible, given the circumstances.

"This will have to do," he mutters, giving you a final once-over. "The ceremony is in two hours."

A roll of your eyes, which you immediately regret as he grabs your jaw, hard enough to sting. "Do not fuck this up for us. You know what you're meant for."

Normally, you'd recoil. Nod, and apologize. Instead, your eyes harden. Lips pull back as you snarl, "Careful, father. You'll ruin the prize."

His jaw drops, hand drawing back in preparation to strike, but he's interrupted as a courier enters the room. Your father's eyes don't tear from your form as the messenger whispers to him.

A few moments later and your father curses, pointing his finger in your face. "You're lucky."

You blink, confused.

"The high lord has called for a meeting with the court. You'll remain here until it's concluded."

Of course. As your power grew, your father shielded you from the high lord and his inner circle. Lest he ask any questions. Or want you for himself.

Your father gives no chance for you to respond before leaving you completely alone.

~~~

Two of your father's men barge into the room some time later, gripping your arms tight enough to bruise as you're dragged away. Panic rolls through you, gnawing at your bones as you swallow down bile and ask, "Where are you taking me?"

"The high lord wishes you to be presented to him."

Oh, you were going to die. Of that you were certain.

Stories you'd heard. The things he did. Able to shatter one's mind with half a thought.

The least he could do is take your father out with you.

You would laugh at the thought, if you weren't on the brink of emptying the contents of your stomach.

Minutes later, you're dragged into the great hall, forced upright.

Countless eyes are on you. Some, you recognize. Your father, Celia, other servants and lower lords. Men who had surely asked your father for your hand. Would you be marrying one of them?

Eyes slowly raise, and your gaze meets that of a beautiful man, with impossibly violet eyes, hair black as coal. Beside him, an equally beautiful woman, perhaps even more so, with honey-brown hair, and eyes that hold unmistakable kindness.

The High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court.

You swallow thickly. Once. Twice. And bow your head.

"Hello, y/n," the high lord drawls, almost bored.

You can only stare. Await your fate.

"It is y/n, isn't it?" he questions, voice louder, now.

If you were going to die, you wouldn't be seen as weak and fearful.

So, you square your shoulders, raise your chin, let your power out a bit; simmer under your skin, roll through the crowd surrounding you. Hide the surprise you feel as everyone reacts to it. "That's correct. I'm y/n."

A smirk from the high lord. "Excellent," he says, rising from the arm of the throne, where the high lady--Feyre--sits. His eyes scan the crowd, surely searching for the rest of his inner circle. "We'll be going. With her."

A sputtering cough, and your father is standing in front of you moments later. "H-High Lord, she is not yours to take. She is to be w-wed. Today. We have other females, should that be something you wish for."

Rhysand regards your father with disgust. "Your daughter belongs to no one. But she will be coming with us. Or would you rather face the consequencecs of hiding her from court?"

Silence.

Rhys takes a step forward, power unfurling from his fignertips in waves. "Furthermore, if you disrespect your High Lady again, I will rip your tongue out and feed it to you."

You can practically smell the fear seeping from your father's skin, but that doesn't stop him from trying to reach for you.

You step back, tripping over your dress, and stumble against something hard--no, someone. You crane your neck as strong hands grip your arms, much gentler than the ones that held you earlier. Gentler than any that have touched you, in fact. Though his face shows no kindness. A mask, you were sure.

Seven red siphons, impossibly tall. Small, barely-there scars lining his face and neck. Beautiful, in an earthy sort of way. As though he was made by nature herself.

Cassian, Lord of Bloodshed. The General of the Night Court's armies.

Your father stares at Cassian. And stares. Before finally, albeit reluctantly, conceding.

"Good," Rhysand says. "We'll be off then."

Rhysand strides towards you, places a hand on your arm, and sweeps you away into a night-kissed breeze.

[vivwritesfics]

Interviewers Are Assholes

The world didn't know about their relationship. But, once they find out, they refuse to leave her alone

(AKA I saw a martin brundle grid walk compilation and he asked someone 'who are you?' and i ran with it)

Loscar x reader

F1 Masterlist

"Are we doing Thanksgiving this year?"

This was not the conversation Logan and Oscar expected to hear from their girlfriend as the three of them stood on the grid. It was normally F1 staff, drivers, engineers, mechanics and such, along with celebrities on the grid before a race. But, dating two drivers on different teams meant not being about to sit in both of their garage at once (she was only human, after all).

So, they stood on the grid together before the race, chatting before the national anthem was played.

"It's kinda early to be talking about Thanksgiving, babe," Logan muttered, shaking his head.

She held her hands up, somewhat defensively. "Just trying to be prepared."

They'd been together for four years at this point. For the first two years of their relationship they hadn't had to worried about traditional celebrations from their countries of origin. But when they all moved in together, she insisted on it.

The first year they'd lived together, they'd gone to Florida for Christmas, spent it with Logan's family.

The next year they'd done Thanksgiving before heading to Australia for a traditional Australian Christmas, filled with seafood and everything.

This year, though, they had no idea what they were doing. Of course she was already stressing about it. It didn't surprise Logan and Oscar in the slightest.

Suddenly Logan and Oscar were looking past her. "What?" She asked, readying herself to turn around. But then Logan and Oscar were retreating. "Guys!" She called, readying to follow them.

There was a hand on her shoulder. She turned around, coming face to face with Martin Brundle on his grid walk. "Hello, who are you?" Martin Brundle asked.

It made sense. She clearly wasn't working for any F1 team, and she was surrounded by celebrities. The fact that she was talking to two of the drivers probably made him all the more curious.

"I am..." But she didn't have an answer for him. Who was she? It had been four years already, why were they hiding it. "I am a... wag," she answered, and immediately regretting it.

What she didn't know was that Logan and Oscar didn't get very far. They stood behind her, just out of view of Martin Brundle's camera, giggling as they listened to her struggle.

"Who's wag are you?" Martin Brundle asked, but he already knew. He'd seen them retreating as he walked over.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Good question, Martin," she said. "Who's wag am I?" Did she choose one of the boys? If so, which one? Or did she just come out to the world, tell everyone that she loved Logan Sargeant and Oscar Piastri?

She went with the latter, unaware of how much it would come to affect her. "Sargeant and Piastri," she said, scratching the back of her neck.

This might have been the strangest grid walk Martin Brundle had ever done. She didn't sound entirely happy to be dating the McLaren Driver and the Williams Driver. Don't get me wrong, she was happy to be dating them, but she was ready to kill them. Assholes.

"What kind of result are you expecting from them today?" She asked.

"Well, Martin, I'm always hoping they do well. Every Grand Prix they try their absolute hardest and every week I'm proud of them," she said, the perfect answer.

Lets just say, after the grid walk, the internet kind of blew up. Loscar was a somewhat forgotten ship, replaced by Landoscar. But it had returned and it was real. It was actually real!

As with everything in F1, some fans loved it, some fans didn't. But, most of all, everybody was so curious. Nobody knew this four year long relationship was a thing until a couple of weeks ago. Everybody, especially F1 reporters wanted to know everything.

Media days were completely filled with questions about their relationship. Logan and Oscar rarely got asked about anything else. They didn't mind. They were more than happy to talk about it.

But interviewers took it too far when they pulled her into things. She wasn't media trained in the way they were. She didn't have a PR team that prepared her with every answer for every question. That was how the grid walk had gone so wrong (or so right, if you asked the Loscar boys).

Oscar had gotten through to Q3, Logan hadn't. As always, she was there to comfort him, to hold him close after media duties. Media duties, which were taking ages.

But then the interviewer spotted her standing behind him. "It was recently reviewed to the world that you and Oscar share a girlfriend. How did that come about?"

The camera focused in on her behind him, as she furrowed her brow. It picked up no sound, but watched as her lips moved, forming 'what the fuck?' It was lost on her, and everyone, what this had to do with racing.

"Uhm, well, we've all known each other for our entire lives, it just made sense that we all dated," he said, clearly uncomfortable.

As soon as the interview was over, Logan wrapped his arm around her shoulders and walked her away. "Sorry baby," he said, kissing the top of her head.

"Why is it such a big deal to everyone?" She mumbled, shaking her head.

Most Wags weren't pulled in for interviews. The invasive questions had been a step to far already to the Loscar throuple.

This time, after checking on Oscar in the McLaren garage, kissing him before he went off to to his drivers room. She headed out, meeting the both of them at the car. She never expected to be accosted by an interviewer.

She didn't know his name, she didn't care. He grabbed her arm, pulled her on camera, and shoved a microphone in her face. "So, Y/N, what is it like to be dating to F1 drivers?"

There was a moment before she answered. Her brows were furrowed as she looked between the interviewer and the camera. "Why... why are you interviewing me?"

"The three of you have stunned the world with the announcement of your relationship. When did the three of you meet?"

"Uhm, I-Well... uhm... We've known each other for... sorry, why the hell am I being interviewed? This isn't... I don't want to be interviewed. Please leave me alone."

The interviewer bashfully turned to the camera, trying to recover. As soon as he looked away, she retreated, heading back towards one of her boys drivers room.

Oscar wasn't in his drivers room. He walked towards her, grabbing a hold of her before she had a chance to notice him. "Hey, baby," he said, pulling her close. "Is Logan not ready yet?"

Before answering, she turned back towards the exit, where the interviewer was still waiting. "Let's go get him," she said, pulling Oscar towards the Williams garage.

But Logan, too, was walking towards them. "Logan!" She called, throwing her arms around him. Oscar hung back. When she let go of him, they headed to the exit together. "There's a fucking annoying interviewer up there, and I want to kick his ass," she said, linking her arms through theirs.

"Kick his ass, baby."

They walked to the exit together. Once again, as they walked past the interviewer, he tried to grab their attention. Logan and Oscar were prepared to pull her past, to ignore him, but she stopped. She turned to the interviewer and grabbed his microphone.

"Just a PSA literally everybody," she began. The interviewer and the boys watched on with curiosity. "Our relationship is none of our business. Fuck off."

[thatbloodymuggle]

MASTERMIND (iii)

THREE - COLOR THEORY

SUMMARY: A child of light and dark, you are the Night Court’s best kept secret. After decades spent in hiding, you yearn to stretch your wings. But you quickly learn that freedom comes with a price, as you find yourself trying to outfox the fox in his own den.

PAIRING: eris vanserra x reader

WORD COUNT: 11.5k

SERIES MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: language, descriptions of violence, smut, oral (m receiving), thigh humping, fingering

You have always wondered if being born from Light and Dark was a blessing, or a curse. On one hand, it has granted you the ability to navigate life’s morally gray areas; to question everything and listen to opposing thoughts and ideologies. But on the other hand, your existence was born from a violent affair—and you can’t help but wonder if that Dark inevitably lives within you, shielded by the Light. 

Right now, more than ever, you believe the latter may be true. 

It’s been three days. Three days since you woke up to an empty bed beneath you and guilt weighing heavy atop. Three days since you self-sabotaged your entire mission. Three days since you reveled in the comfort of your enemy’s arms.

You thought the regret would be at its worst the morning after; you figured it would pass with time. But with each day, each hour, each minute that ticks by, breathing becomes just a little bit harder. You can’t even find peace in sleep; not when you are kept awake by images of Eris’s lust-filled gaze and the inevitable heartbreak on Mor’s face. If your own self-stirred panic isn’t enough, you also have the note that Eris left atop his empty pillow to worry about:

I apologize for leaving so soon, Little Bird, but I have some business to attend to. Do write back when you’d like to take a tour of the library. Don’t miss me too much.

The bastard left the proverbial ball in your court. Typically, you like being in control. But with your current frenzied mental state, the last thing you need is yet another convoluted layer to worry about.

Needless to say, you are about one misstep from exploding.

The crackling embers of the fireplace in your cabin stare back at you tauntingly. You hover your hands over the orange flames, letting the heat tickle your skin until the burning becomes too much, and you are forced to pull away. You wait a beat, before raising your shaky hands over the fire once again. Albeit brief, the pain seems to be the only escape from the assault of your traitorous thoughts. Yet, with each retreat of your hands, the empty paper and pen sitting on your bedside table glare at you expectantly. They seem to radiate a cruel impatience—as if Eris is slinking in the shadows, watching you.

Your hands begin to burn again, and you abruptly pull them away. Before you can raise them over the flames once again, you feel the scraping of talons against the cobblestone barrier of your mind.

You want nothing less than to talk to Rhys right now. But you know that if you leave him hanging, he will worry. Reluctantly, you let your walls crumble down, and a shiver runs up your spine as you feel his aura creep in.

Everything okay? His voice sings across your mental connection.

You gnaw on your bottom lip until you wince, swiping your tongue across the droplet of blood.

I don’t know, you relent.

He doesn’t respond immediately. But you can picture the cinch between his brows as he mulls over your answer. Be honest with me. I won’t share with the others, if you don’t want me to. Promise.

Your fingers dance over the flames once more. You can’t possibly divulge what has transpired thus far. But you certainly can’t hold it all in without going mad. The fire burns your skin, and you jolt back before responding.

Promise?

He replies instantly, Yes.

You start talking before you can convince yourself otherwise. I think I may be getting a little too close.

Your response is simple, straight to the point. But something about it feels…heavy. 

What do you mean ‘too close’?

You’re careful not to let your thoughts, your memories of what happened in that cottage, to breach your mental connection with Rhys. You stare into the orange flames, admiring how intertwine, before replying.

The ‘seduction from afar’ plan may need to be revised. I’m in too deep to keep my distance for three weeks.

Your heart thumps in your chest as you wait for his response. You subconsciously twirl the silver ring on your thumb, never peeling your eyes away from the blazing fire. Rhys doesn’t say anything for a while. Just as fear begins to creep in, his voice sounds through your mind.

That’s fine. You jolt at his response, and he continues. Between you and me, I don’t care what you have to do. Make him fall in love with you, break his heart, it doesn’t matter. Once you’re out of there, you’ll never have to see him again.

You physically flinch as the reality of your situation hits you like a truck. Three weeks, and you’ll never see him again. Three weeks, and it’ll all be done—there will be no witness to whatever fling you have, no one left to tell the tale. No one ever has to know. Mor never has to know.

Okay, you finally respond simply.

Just tread carefully, you can hear the strain in his voice.

You nod robotically, even though he can’t see you. With a quick farewell, you put up your mental barriers. You stare into the flames for a few minutes longer, until the mere sight burns your irises.

“Compartmentalization,” you mumble to no one in particular.

Finally, you peel yourself off the dust-covered floor in front of the fire. Your legs are wobbly as you take methodical steps towards your bedside table. The empty paper and pen are quivering in anticipation as you approach. Your hand moves with a mind of its own as you pick up the waiting pen and scribble onto the paper.

Does the offer still stand?

The second you set the pen back down onto the table, the paper vanishes into thin air from your fingertips. You wring your hands together as you sit down on the side of your bed and wait. You’re not sure what you’re waiting for exactly, but you wait. 

“Compartmentalization,” you say it again. And you say it a few more times. Enough to trick your mind into believing it and slow the frantic beat of your heart. Enough to don a mask of apathy as a crack sounds outside the front door followed by a sharp knock. 

You twist the silver ring around your thumb once more before standing, this time on steady legs. Your steps are calm and calculated as you tread towards the door. You take one last deep breath, ridding your body and mind of any residual apprehension. With your lips curled into a beguiling grin, you swing the door open.

Eris’s smile is almost as wicked as yours as he scans you from head to toe, drinking in your appearance.

“I was beginning to think you were avoiding me, Little Bird,” he smirks.

You pick at your nails nonchalantly, “I’m flattered I’ve been on your mind, but I’m not sure I can say the same.”

His vicious grin only widens, “You wound me, Birdie. But I must admit,” he dips down and lowers his voice to a whisper, “I quite like your bite today.”

You arch a brow and don’t so much as flinch at his proximity, “Are you a masochist, Eris Vanserra? Or does chasing after disinterested females turn you on?”

Your thinly veiled insult only eggs him on. It takes everything in you not to shrink back as he lowers his lips so they graze the shell of your ear.

“Are you sure you want to go down this road? Because last I remembered, you were a whimpering little mess—”

His sentence is abruptly halted by your fingers pinching his lips shut. His eyes widen in incredulity at your childish action, and a giggle bubbles in your throat at the sight. You release him and walk briskly past, leaving him dumbfounded behind you.

“Well, are we going or not?” you snark over your shoulder.

He falls into step beside you, and you jolt as he places his hand on the small of your back. His touch gentle, but commanding. You don’t dare look at him as he warns, “I’ll let this one slide, Little Bird. But don’t forget that my teeth are much sharper than yours,” he wraps his arm tightly around your waist, “And I’m not afraid to use them.”

Your rebuttal is cut short as he pulls you to his chest before winnowing you both out of the woods.

The Forest House is just as remarkable as you remembered it—even more so in the sunlight. The tangles of ivy enveloping the red-brick walls are a vibrant green, and the intricate details of the gate itself seem to glisten underneath the sun’s rays. However, unlike your last visit, this time sentries line nearly every inch of the expansive walls. Their taut faces and intimidating steeds exude a sense of savagery that makes your skin prickle.

Eris’s hand retreats to its spot on the small of your back, and you jump slightly as you are reminded of your purpose for being here. Reluctantly, you peel your eyes away from the curvature of the golden gates and cock your head towards his. The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement, and you can tell he’s holding back a comment from the twitch in his lips.

“Spit it out,” you feign annoyance.

He shakes his head with an airy laugh, “It’s nothing. I just like the way you look at the world—all wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, like you’re experiencing life for the first time. It’s cute.”

You frown. 

His comment, while innocent, puts you on edge for two reasons. The first, and the one that really makes your skin crawl, is his incessant ability to unknowingly point out parts of yourself that belong to you, rather than Athena Ellesmere. With each destination he takes you to, you do feel like you’re experiencing the world for the first time. But that’s not Athena—and with each of your quirks he reveals, he’s one step closer to sniffing you out entirely.

The second, well…

“Cute?” you deadpan.

His teeth flash as his grin widens, “Cute.”

You’re not cute. You’re supposed to be sexy, confident, untouchable—a femme fatale. Not fucking cute.

You know your bubbling frustration is futile, so you simply narrow your eyes into a warning glare and march towards the golden gates. You know that the pout on your face isn’t helping your case—but you can’t seem to wipe it off. The sentries shift on their steeds as you approach but return to their stationed positions when Eris falls into step beside you. They don’t so much as look in your direction as you pass through the gates.

“Once you are formally welcomed inside the gates, you are free to come and go as you please,” Eris’s fingers brush yours as he speaks, “So if you are in further need of the library after today, you can return.”

Your ears perk up at this, but you nod coolly. He leads you around the side of the large mansion, away from the front door, and lowers his voice to a murmur, “But I would prefer if you’d let me accompany you, if you should visit again.”

“Why? Want me all to yourself?” you snort.

He wears a playful grin, but his eyes are vapid.

“You know I do,” he teases, “But the beauty of this place is deceptive. Darkness lurks behind these walls, Little Bird.”

A shiver crawls up your spine, but you swiftly retort, “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“I know,” his voice is thick with trepidation.

You bristle at the way he speaks about you like he knows you. Yet again.

His hand returns to the small of your back as he leads you towards a small door, almost completely covered by thick ropes of vine. If he wasn’t guiding you, you would’ve completely missed the hidden entrance. You suck in a breath in anticipation as he pushes it open, wood creaking against rusted hinges. You hide your curiosity as you take in the burgundy carpet lining a hallway so long, you can’t see its end. The walls are built of centuries-old limestone, the darkness illuminated by flame torches.

You peel your eyes away from the hallway as Eris leads you to the left, down a steep, spiral staircase. Just like the hallway, it is built entirely of dark stone which holds a red hue thanks to the flickering flames of torches lining the walls. He steps in front of you, and you follow his lead silently as he leads you down the stairs. The steep wind of the steps is dizzying as you descend downwards, deep into the ground below, and into the heart of the tunnels of the Forest House. With each floor you pass, you picture Azriel’s map of the house. Finally, Eris takes a turn at the ninth floor you’ve descended. You follow closely behind and note the change in architecture. Gone are the limestone walls, and in their place, deep mahogany wood lined with a variety of paintings: family portraits, Autumn Court landscapes, still life’s. This hallway is also dimly lit with torches, but it holds a peculiar warmth unlike the others.

“How big is this place?” you voice echoes down the expansive hallway.

You know exactly how big it is. But you can’t stand the eerie silence. 

Eris’s voice rumbles lowly, “Miles long. It would take you half the morning to walk from one end to the other.”

Your eyes widen in mock astonishment—as if you don’t know that it is exactly 4.2 miles long.

“And you don’t get lost?” you ask.

“You forget I’ve had centuries of practice, darling,” he chuckles.

You open your mouth to fire another question, but a squeal escapes instead as you feel something wet bump against your right hand. You snatch your hand to your chest and look down to find a pair of beady, vermillion eyes staring back at you. You instinctively inch closer to Eris as you stare down at the creature in awe.

You know what smokehounds are. And you know that Eris owns a whopping twelve. But you weren’t quite prepared for the predator standing before you. Its fur is gray and sleek like smoke, and its eyes are the color of blood. Your initial fear fades as you realize, despite their crimson hue, its eyes are not filled with malice—but rather, curiosity. You cautiously lower the hand clutched to your chest back to your side, and slowly stretch your fingers apart. Its wet nose bumps your hand again, and you shiver at the tickling sensation as it sniffs you. A giggle bubbles in your throat as it sticks its tongue out and licks between your fingers. You tentatively stroke the side of its face with your knuckles.

“She likes you,” Eris hums beside you.

The smokehound nuzzles into your side, and you stroke the top of her head with your full hand. You know they are vicious creatures—you’ve read about how they can race as fast as the wind to sniff out any prey. But the creature standing below you seems as harmless as a fly.

“What’s her name?” you ask as you scratch softly between her ears. 

“Sage. She’s my oldest,” his hand joins yours as he strokes the back of her neck.

“I never pictured smokehounds to be so…affectionate,” you wonder aloud, curiosity piqued as she licks your hand again.

Eris laughs softly, “They aren’t. She must be drawn to you—the same way I am.”

You can feel his gaze on you but refuse to look in his direction as you fight the blush crawling up your neck. He withdraws his hand, and you follow suit as you continue your walk down the hallway, this time with Sage by your side. She trots beside you, close enough that your fingertips brush the silken fur on her back and her side rubs against your dress. Even as you continue down the dimly lit hallway, you can’t take your eyes off the elegant creature walking alongside you.

You nearly slam into Eris as he halts abruptly in front of two large oak doors. Just as you regain your footing, you nearly lose it again at the sight before you.

There are seemingly endless rows of books reaching at least fifty feet tall. An ornate rug of red and gold covers the stone floor, and hundreds of flickering candles are suspended in midair. Vibrant green ivy, much like the kind you’ve seen outside, wraps around each shelf. To top it all off, the ceiling is a mosaic of crystalline windows shining golden rays of sunlight down below—some kind of enchantment, you presume, given that you are at nine floors underground.

“Wow,” you breathe. With your mouth agape and your eyes wide with wonder, you know that you are proving Eris’s earlier point. But right now, you couldn’t care less. 

You wander towards the shelves, Sage trailing behind you, and run your fingers gently along the spines of the books. The smell of parchment and wood is intoxicating, and your heart swells with joy as you scan the collection of classics. Some are so old; you presume they must be original prints. Others look brand new, completely untouched. 

One binding in particular catches you attention—well, ‘binding’ is generous, considering the book is barely hanging together by a thread. You carefully pull out the amethyst-colored cover and turn it over. Shattered Realms. 

“Is this an original copy?” you question, unable to peel your eyes away from the novel.

Eris looks over your shoulder, “Yes. It’s been passed down in my family for generations—although it originally belonged to the Night Court.”

Your lips twitch with amusement, but you force down a laugh at the irony. You glance at him over your shoulder, “How did it end up here?”

He takes a step closer to you, his chest inches away from pressing up against your back, and runs a finger over the binding of the book in your hands. His scent of sandalwood and nutmeg invades your senses.

“Many centuries ago, my grandfather was in a bit of a tiff with the Night Court High Lord at the time. He stole it during their feud.”

You smile softly and make a mental note to retrieve the book before you return to Velaris as a little souvenir for Rhys. You carefully place the book back in its spot before continuing your exploration. Eris follows closely behind, whereas Sage has found comfort in front of the fireplace. 

“Do you have any favorites?” you wonder aloud as you come to the end of the aisle.

“I have many,” his hand brushes yours.

You hook your pinky finger over his, “Care to share?”

“Any particular genre you’re interested in?” he curls his finger against yours.

You bite your bottom lip in thought as you mull over the options. Asking you to pick a favorite genre is like asking a mother to pick her favorite child. 

“I’ve recently been on a bit of a reading kick of philosophical essays,” you tap a finger to your chin in thought, “Mind-body dualism, introspection, all the good stuff,” you drawl.

Eris’s brows raise in surprise, “I never would’ve thought that philosophy pairs well with filthy little romance novels.”

Your eyes narrow into a glare, and you move to snatch your pinky away from his, but he swiftly intertwines your fingers. He’s dragging you down the aisle before you can protest, and you stumble to keep up with his swift feet. Eris leads you past rows of bookshelves, up a spiral staircase, and past even more rows of books. He doesn’t give you a chance to admire the collection of literature as he tugs you along. Finally, you halt at a small alcove decorated with stained glass windows.

Your eyes widen as you take in the collection of books written by countless ancient philosophers. But you force on a façade of indifference, careful not to fuel his already bursting ego even more. You hold your breath as he leans over you and pulls a book at least six inches out of your reach. The binding is tattered—not as badly as the original copy of Shattered Realms, but enough that you can tell it’s at least a few centuries old. He holds it out expectantly, and you tentatively grab it from his waiting hands. 

“I think you might find this to your liking,” he grins, “A collection of Tydeus’s correspondences with Lady Baldwin. It’s not an original copy, but surely the closest to it.”

He releases your other hand, and you clench your jaw to conceal your excitement. You’ve been searching for a copy of this for years now—ever since you stumbled across the collection of the ancient philosopher Tydeus’s works in the Velaris library. Your mother used to love reading the copy of his correspondences in the Day Court libraries, but that feels like a lifetime ago now.

“Tydeus’s ideologies are a bit archaic for my taste. But I suppose this will do,” you lie through your teeth. Eris chuckles lightly, observing the curious glint in your eyes and the way you hold the book with a delicate reverence.  

“There are wards around the house which prevent these books from leaving the premises, so unfortunately, I cannot loan it to you. And given your past thieving tendencies, I’m not sure I would want to,” he teases as he leans against the shelve of books.

Well, there goes Rhys’s solstice gift.

Your lips dip into a frown, “I know Vanserras are cruel, but I never imagined you’d be this twisted—dangling one-of-a-kind copies of ancient literature over my head only to pull them away.”

“Don’t fret, Little Bird,” he purrs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “You can read to your heart’s desire—inside the house, of course. I’ll show you to a place with a bit more…privacy.”

You gulp as his fingers linger against your cheekbone. His touch is electrifying, and you fight the instinct to chase after it as he pulls away.

“Okay,” you whisper, “Is it alright if I pick out a few more?”

His teeth flash as he observes the effect he has over you.

“Take your time. I’ll be keeping Sage company.”

He brushes past you, and you remain frozen in place for a moment. Get it together, you scold yourself internally. You will your mind to empty as you continue your stroll down hundreds of rows of books. You try your very best not to pick up everything that catches your eye—only those which really pique your interest. But even so, you quickly find yourself with a stack of books so high they nearly reach your chin. Your arms tremble underneath the weight, but still, you add a couple of atlases to your stack for good measure. You have no intention of reading them—but Athena Ellesmere would. 

Finally satisfied with your collection, you walk slowly back towards the front of the library. You rest your chin on the top of the stack, careful not to topple the tower of books. The winding staircase proves to be a challenge, and you nearly stumble twice. But by some miracle, you make it down unscathed, and approach the blazing fireplace.

Eris lounges on a couch with Sage on the ground beneath him. He scratches her ears nonchalantly as he flips through his own book. His neck cranes at the sound of your uneven footsteps, and a roaring laugh fills the room when he lays eyes on you.

It’s a sight he wishes will be forever imprinted in his memory—your arms wobbling underneath a stack of books nearly as tall as you, and your flushed cheeks peeking out on top.

“Some help would be appreciated,” you hiss.

He sets his book down and glides over, taking half the stack from your arms. You nearly moan in relief at the literal weight lifted off your shoulders. 

“A few more, huh?” he taunts with a wily smirk.

“A few means a small number. Comparative to your collection, yes. A few,” you grit your teeth.

“Whatever you say, Little Bird. Although I except a thorough review of each,” he sings.

Eris balances his half of the stack in one arm and wraps his other around your waist, pulling you tight to his chest. You save your own stack from nearly tipping over with a stumble. You aren’t afforded a chance to protest as he winnows you both away, leaving Sage sleeping peacefully in front of the fire.   

This time, you aren’t able to save the stack from spilling out of your arms as you land in a new room. Much to your displeasure, Eris’s pile of books is fully intact in his arms. You drop to your knees with a huff and begin collecting the books strewn about a patterned, crimson carpet.

“You’re a clumsy one, aren’t you?” he taunts from above you.

Your head snaps upwards and you open your mouth to retort but pause as you take in the new surroundings. Much like the library, this room holds a golden glow highlighted by swirling patterns of golds and reds along the walls. You can feel another fire blazing behind you, and just past the deep-seated sofa in front of you lies an enormous canopy bed. It suddenly clicks—you are in Eris’s private chambers. 

You cock a brow at the sight and a smirk tugs at your lips, “You know, if you wanted to get me in your bed all you had to do was ask.”

He sets down his stack of books on a small, wooden table in front of the couch and reaches a hand down to you expectantly. You tentatively place your hand in his, and he raises you up from the ground, pulling you to his chest with a sultry smile. 

“Is that an offer, darling?” his breath tickles your neck as he dips down to your ear.

Your cheeks flush as he caresses your jawline with his thumb. You clench your thighs as you are reminded of how his fingers felt inside you, dripping in your arousal. But before you can melt into his touch, you raise your lips to his ear and croon, “I’m not that easy. You’ll have to work harder than that, Fox.”

He presses his nose against your temple and groans, the vibration of it sending a tantalizing chill up your spine. Just as easily as he’s able to get you flustered, so are you able to drive him up the wall. 

You pull away from him, ignoring his whine of protest. He is absolutely shameless in his desire for you, and the thought alone makes your gut churn with delight.

You gather your stack of books from the ground and carefully place them beside the other half on the wooden table. You sift through the titles before finally settling on the Tydeus copy Eris recommended. You don’t so much as glance in his direction as you take a seat on the couch and kick off your heavy boots. The fire is just close enough that the flames warm your skin, and you all but sink into its comfort. You can feel Eris’s eyes on you, but you continue to ignore him as you stretch your legs out across the velvet expanse and open the ancient book. You aren’t even through the first page when you feel Eris’s hands on your calves.

You squeal as he raises your legs, giving himself space to sit beside you, before lowering them again so they are draped over his lap. You glare at him over your book, but he ignores your malice as he leans forward and picks his own book from the pile on the table. He leans back in his seat, his legs spread beneath yours, as he opens the book—a rare biography of one of the original Valkyries. Your own book sits limply in your hands as you study his profile—the plump of his lips, the shift of his jaw. You can’t help but admire the freckles dusted across the bridge of his nose. He is incredibly handsome, which simultaneously makes your job easier, and all the more difficult.

“I know I’m gorgeous but try not to drool on my centuries-old book,” he hums nonchalantly, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

You raise your leg to kick him, but he firmly grips your ankle and sets it back onto his lap without so much as a glance in your direction. He doesn’t remove his hand, letting it rest on your leg. With a huff, you return to your book. You are halted, once again, this time by his wandering hand. He teasingly pushes up the skirt of your long dress, just below your knees, so he can rest his hand on your shin. Your breath hitches as he rubs circles into your calf with his thumb, massaging it gently.

Reluctantly, you succumb to the comfort of his touch and return to your book once more. You page through Tydeus’s correspondences with Lady Baldwin. Their letters begin simply enough. But you quickly find yourself immersed in their debate over morality. Whereas the Lady takes a relative stance, Tydeus takes on an absolutist one. As their back-and-forth shifts to the dichotomy of good and evil, you are eerily reminded of your own inner turmoil earlier that morning.

“Anything good so far?” you jump as Eris’s gravelly voice cuts through the comfortable silence.

You meet his inquisitive gaze and note how the flame of the fire reflects in the amber of his eyes.

“My mother would have loved this,” you reply.

She did love it. You remember how she used to read it constantly in the Day Court—you never thought you’d be able to get your hands on a copy of it again. 

“Why is that?” he asks, curiosity laced in his tone.

You lower the book onto your lap, “She loved all of Tydeus’s works. She was a strong believer in the dichotomous division between ‘good’ and ‘evil’.”

Eris sets his own book down and rubs your leg with both of his hands. 

“And what do you think?” he challenges thoughtfully.

You shrug, “I’m not sure. On the one hand, I think morality is relative—that individuals are not uniform, and thus form their own ideas about what is ‘good’ and what is ‘evil’. But then on the other, I used to believe that there are some things we universally categorize as one or the other.”

“You don’t anymore?” he counters

You bite your lip and avert your gaze to the fire. The anxiety you managed to dispel earlier that day starts creeping in. Your gut twists uncomfortably as you reply simply, “I’m not sure.”

His hands slow, noticing your shift in demeanor. He studies the furrow of your brows as you stare into the fire.

“I think it is not morality that dominates the situation, but the situation that dominates morality,” he counters after a few beats of silence.

“A moral relativist?”

“I don’t like labels,” he shrugs.

The vibrancy of the fire is burning your eyes, but you keep them trained on the flames as you reply, “I suppose I agree with that—the problem is, it’s not the answer I’m seeking.”

“And what answer are you seeking?”

You long to reach your hands out over the flames until the heat sears your skin. The déjà vu makes your stomach churn.

“It’s not so much an answer as a direction,” you speak softly to hide the quiver of your voice, “I wish there was some way to know if I’m moving in the right direction.”

He chuckles, “Which brings us back to the question of absolutism versus relativism.”

You peel your eyes away from the flame, and your eyes lock with his. They hold a certain understanding, as if he can see straight through you and into your soul. Your body moves with a mind of its own as you sit up and subconsciously inch closer.

 “I suppose all we can really do is justify our actions for ourselves—and hope that others will agree with our division of morality,” you whisper.

His gaze darkens, and he bows his head towards you, “I think life is full of gray areas, and we can’t be faulted for how we choose to navigate them.”

His response strikes a chord deep within you. Your eyes flick down to his pink lips, just inches away from yours.

Compartmentalization be damned.

You lurch forward to close the gap, and he meets you halfway. 

The moment your lips meet his, every ounce of worry is swept away from your mind. You barely register the thump of your book hitting the ground as his lips glide against yours. His taste is addictive—a sweet peppermint that you can’t seem to get enough of. Your nose bumps against his as you climb on top of him, your legs straddling his lap. You cup the side of his face with your hands, deepening the kiss. He grips the small of your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip: a question. Your mouth parts: an answer. 

You snake one hand behind his neck and run your fingers through his crimson locks, tugging sharply. He groans, and just as he moves to deepen the kiss, you abruptly pull away.

His sounds of protest are silenced by your lips against the sensitive skin of his neck. You move tentatively at first, remembering how it felt to have his lips against your neck, and mimic his maneuvers. He tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of your neck, pushing you closer as a sign of encouragement. You become bolder, alternating between open-mouthed kisses, small nips, and swipes of your tongue. His groan of approval spurs you on, and you fiddle with the bottom of his tunic, pulling it up his chest. You draw back briefly to peel the shirt completely off his body before resuming your work.

“Who taught you how to do that?” Eris hisses as you suck harshly at the apex of his collarbone. 

  You grin at the blossoming purple hue on his pale skin and run your tongue over the spot soothingly, “A wily fox too clever for his own good.”

He pulls you back up, abruptly cutting your abuse of his neck short. You eagerly smash your lips against his once more and trail your hands down the expanse of his chest, dragging your nails lightly along his rigid abdomen. His hands loop around you and he swiftly yanks down the zipper of your dress. You eagerly shed the suffocating material, so it pools at your waist, exposing your bare chest to him. Eris moans at the sight of your peaked nipples and doesn’t hesitate to massage your breasts with his large hands. His lips trail down your neck, but before he has a chance to carry out the same treatment you’d given him, you slip from his grasp entirely.

Eris watches, stunned, as you slip off his lap and sink down onto your knees before him. His lips part as you nudge his knees apart, and lurch forward to trail open-mouthed kisses down his chest, to his abdomen, until you finally reach the waistband of his bottoms. He jolts as you brush your hand over the very obvious, and large, tent in his pants.

“Little Bird,” he mumbles as you palm over him, “You don’t have to do this.”

Your eyes flick up to his and you speak with conviction, “I want to.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps and you all but drool at the sight. He nods once, and you begin fiddling with his belt buckle. His hands move to help you, but you swat them away. You make quick work of the fastenings, and slowly drag the material down his legs, inch by inch. You know he’s growing impatient by the clenching of his abdomen. You flash him a sultry smile as you finally pull the material from his legs, leaving him in his underwear. His hands move to the waistband, but you swat them away again. 

 “Patience is a virtue,” you muse before nipping the skin of his inner thigh. He inhales sharply, and shudders as you run your tongue over the same spot, soothing the ache.

“Using my own moves against me,” he croons, but the strain is evident in his voice, “I’m impressed, Little Bird.”

Your heart thumps in your chest as you graze your hands along the waistband of his underwear. You dip your fingers underneath, and your confidence falters slightly. He runs a hand through your hair soothingly, coaxing you to continue. Your keep your eyes trained on his as you inch the fabric down his thighs. He raises his hips and releases a sigh of relief as his erection slaps up against his stomach, free from the confining material. You toss the garment aside haphazardly and take in the sight of his complete bareness.

The first thing you notice is that he’s big—well, you think so, at least, considering you have nothing to compare him to. His dick is much thicker than you’d imagined, with veins branching upwards towards the tip which is a shade darker than the pink of his lips. You can’t help but wonder how it could possibly fit inside you. A blush paints the apples of your cheeks at the thought.

Eris notices your apprehension, and he curls a finger underneath your chin so your eyes meet his. 

“Would you like me to talk you through it?” his voice is soft.

The amber of his eyes is warm, like honey. You nod shyly.

“Okay, darling. Can you wrap your hand around my cock?” the sweetness of his voice is a stark contrast to the dirtiness of the words tumbling from his lips. 

You rest your left hand on his thigh and raise your right hand, delicately wrapping your fingers around his girth at its base. You hold him loosely, and he releases a pleasured sigh at your tentative touch. 

“You can hold it a bit tighter, love,” he hums while stroking the shell of your ear.

You follow his direction with a nod.

“Now move your hand—”

You don’t give him a chance to finish as you slowly begin moving your hand over his cock, from the base to the tip. His lips part and he shudders at the motion.

“Good,” he rasps, “Now can you spit on it? Get it a little wet for me?”

Your cheeks flare, but you follow his request. You timidly lean forward and dribble over his tip, captivated by the way it mixes with the bead of precum before sliding down. You use your hand to spread it around, and the friction eases as your hand slides more freely. 

“I think you’re a natural, Birdie,” he praises through a gasp, “Can you twist your hand for me a bit?”

You twist your hand in time with your strokes, and admire the way his face scrunches with pleasure. You squeeze a bit harder when you reach his base, and his hips twitch. Testing the waters, you slowly lean forward and stick your tongue out, licking over his tip. Eris grunts at the action, and you feel a bit more confident as you wrap your lips completely around the head. 

A guttural moan escapes his lips as you suckle on the head, your hand continuously pumping his shaft. You pull off his tip, and your gut twists with desire at the string of saliva between the head of his cock and your lips. You lurch forward, flattening your tongue against the base and dragging it upwards, before wrapping your lips around the tip again in a teasing maneuver.  

“Fuck,” he groans, “Can you take me a bit deeper?”

You nod, pupils blown. Your hand resumes its stroking movement as you slowly, tentatively, slide downwards. Your mouth burns from the stretch of his girth, but you breathe through your nose steadily. You take him in, inch by inch, until his tip hits the back of your throat, bringing tears to the corners of your eyes. You keep your hand around the base of his shaft, pumping and twisting the length you can’t fit.

“So good for me, Little Bird,” he moans. His right-hand digs into the fabric of the couch until his knuckles turn white, and his left brushes the hair out of your face. “Can you move your pretty little mouth for me?”

You slowly bob your head up and down, timing the strokes of your hand with the rise and fall of your lips. Tears spring to your eyes each time his tip hits the back of your throat and spit dribbles down the sides of your mouth, but any ounce of insecurity is washed away by the sinful noises tumbling from Eris’s lips.

“Can you use your tongue for me?” his voice is strained.

You flatten your tongue against his length as you bob up and down, swirling it around his length to the best of your ability.

“Look at me, love,” he gasps through an animalistic groan.

Your eyes flick up and you peer at him through your lashes. His pupils are blown and his lips parted, brows scrunched with a vulnerability you never imagined you’d see.

“You look so pretty with your lips wrapped around my cock,” he rasps, “Wish I could keep you like this forever.”

You hum around him, and he shudders at the vibration. He tangles a hand in your hair, guiding your movements but not pushing you, slowly increasing your pace. Tears begin rolling down your cheeks at the delicious burn in your jaw and the back of your throat.

His chest heaves as he pants, “So close. Just a little more.”

You move with a newfound vigor at his words, finding a rhythm that keeps the noises tumbling from his mouth. You raise your unoccupied hand to the base of his cock. Experimentally, you brush over his balls with your thumb, eliciting raucous moan from Eris. He twitches in your mouth, and you do it again while swirling your tongue in a prolonged sweeping motion around his length.

“Fuck, Little Bird. I’m—”

He halts midsentence with an earth-shattering groan as his cock twitches violently in your mouth. You slow your movements as he reaches his high, thick ropes of cum painting the back of your throat. You splutter at the feeling, but continue milking him, swallowing his load. You stroke him gently, your tongue rubbing along him in a coaxing manner, until his thighs jerk, and his length softens in your mouth. You inch off him, stroking a hand over his thigh soothingly, and press one last kiss to his tip before pulling off completely.

You glance shyly up at Eris, and your chest swells with pride as you find his head thrown back in pure bliss. You rake your nails softly against his thighs, peppering feather-like kisses over his abdomen. His head lulls down towards you, and your heart skips a beat at the carnal look in his eyes. His hands are gentle as he wipes away the tears staining your cheeks before swiping over your mouth, collecting the saliva staining your lips. 

“You are an enigma, Little Bird,” he mumbles while intertwining your hands with his and pulling you back up. 

Your dress falls from your waist to the floor as you rise, leaving you completely bare aside from your panties. He pulls you onto his lap and you eagerly straddle him, connecting your lips to his. He groans into your mouth at the taste of his own release on your lips.

“Good?” you breathlessly ask against his mouth.

He pulls away from your lips with a chuckle and trails kisses underneath your ear as he mutters, “I haven’t finished so quickly in centuries.”

Your eyes crinkle with pride.

His lips meet yours once again, and you marvel at the way you slot together like the final two pieces of a puzzle. Mimicking his earlier move, you run your tongue along his bottom lip and he grants you entry, allowing you to deepen the kiss. His hands run down the curve of your back before settling on your ass, exploring your soft skin. Your gut clenches at the arousal pooling in your panties.

“Would you like to try something new?” he murmurs against your lips.

You respond with an affirmative hum, and whine as he pulls away.

He grips your waist, lifting you off his lap as if you weigh nothing at all, before setting you back down so you straddle just his left thigh. You jolt as your clothed arousal presses against the bare skin of his thigh.

Eris rolls his thumb over your swollen lips and whispers tauntingly, “Are you horny, Little Bird? Do you need some release?”

You nod shamelessly.

“Get yourself off, then.”

Your brows pinch with confusion, but realization dawns over you as he digs his fingers into your ass cheeks, grinding your clothed cunt against his leg. Your lips part in a silent gasp at the wave of pleasure that rolls through you. He guides you as you set a steady rhythm, grinding your throbbing clit against his thigh. The friction is electrifying, but you need more. The thin barrier of fabric separating you from him is suffocating. 

You whine pathetically, and he senses your desire. Eris pinches the flesh of your ass, and you lift your hips slightly. He removes his hands from behind you and you watch as they dip down between your thighs. You throb with anticipation as he hooks a finger underneath the fabric. Your arousal sticks to the flimsy material as he peels it aside, exposing your bare cunt.

“You’re dripping for me, darling,” he croons.

A long moan escapes your lips as you settle back down onto his thigh. With nothing separating you from him, you can feel how every ridge of his muscle stimulates your clit. He continues guiding you with his hands on your waist for a few seconds, before abruptly pulling away. 

You pause, mouth agape, as he stretches his arms over the back of the couch. Your cheeks flare in a combination of frustration and embarrassment as he leans back in his seat with a coy smirk on his lips.

He arches a brow expectantly, “Go on.”

You desperately want to wipe the smug look off his face—but your lust, your need for release, is too strong. You brace your hands against his broad shoulders and begin moving again. You groan at the way your clit slides against his bare thigh.

“You like making a mess over my thigh?”

You nod obediently.

He jerks his thigh once underneath you, and you cry out at the sensation.

“I need words, Birdie,” he drawls.

You roll your hips against him desperately and pant between gasps, “I love it.”

He shakes his leg at a steady pace, and the additional stimulation sends you reeling.

“Yeah?” he coos, “Tell me how it feels.”

Your legs tremble as your clit catches against the tensing muscles of his thigh.

“Feels filthy,” you mewl.

He grips your chin firmly, directing your gaze to his, before his arm returns to the back of the couch.

“Fitting for a filthy little girl, getting herself off on my leg,” he purrs, “I’m not even touching you and you’re a whimpering mess for me.”

His degrading words don’t even register, your mind clouded with desire. You can feel the tension building in your gut, and you pant with each roll of your hips. You try to increase your pace as you feel your high approaching, but your legs tremble underneath you, leaving that peak you so desperately desire just out of reach. 

“Please,” your voice trembles.

Eris knows exactly what you want, but he taunts you, “Please what?”

A fat tear escapes the corner of your eye and rolls down your flushed cheeks.

Your bottom lip wobbles as you whimper, “Touch me, Eris. Please.”

He swiftly pulls you off his thigh and lays you down on the couch. He crashes his lips against yours, your teeth bumping at the force. Eris doesn’t give you a second to catch your breath as he trails his hand up your inner thigh before sliding his middle finger through your slick, from your entrance to your swollen clit. Unlike last time, he doesn’t waste time teasing as he promptly sinks his middle finger inside of you. 

You cry out at the feeling of his finger deep inside you, and he curls it in response. He doesn’t hold back as he rubs your clit with his thumb while thrusting his finger, curling it against your g-spot with each maneuver. He latches his lips to your neck and sucks harshly while his unoccupied hand flicks over your peaked nipples. 

Your mind whirls at the sensation—the feeling of him all over you. It’s almost too much, having him everywhere. You desperately claw at his back, searching for something to stabilize you. 

Your stomach coils as you feel your high approaching again. He can feel you clench around his finger, and he groans against your skin, “You gonna cum for me, love? Finish all over my hand?”

Another tear rolls down your cheek, “Yes,” you blubber, “’M so close.”

“Let go, Little Bird,” he coaxes while slipping another finger inside of you.

The added stretch sends you over the edge. You all but scream as shockwaves of pleasure roll through your body. Your toes curl and your nails dig into his back as your vision spots. His fingers slow, but he keeps rubbing your clit as you ride through your high. He continues until your hips jerk from the overstimulation, and your hands go limp around his neck. You wince as he pulls his fingers from you and watch through hooded eyes as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, licking up every last drop of your arousal. Your chest heaves as you catch your breath, your mind spinning in a post-orgasmic haze. 

Eris softly strokes your cheek with the back of his hand before dipping down and capturing your lips with his. This time, the kiss is slow—no bumping teeth or clashing tongues. You wrap your fingers around his wrist, relishing in the intimacy of it all, until he pulls away.

An airy laugh passes through your lips as he rests his forehead against yours.

“You’ll be the end of me, Little Bird,” Eris mumbles. He places a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose before collapsing on top of you. You grunt at the weight, and he shifts over enough so that he isn’t restricting your breathing, but his bare body remains draped over yours.

 “The end is but a beginning in disguise,” you tease as he nestles his nose against your cheek.

He chuckles, his breath tickling your neck. 

“How were you made so wise?” he muses.

“Wisdom isn’t born, Fox. It’s learned,” you trace your fingers along the arm draped over you, “And I have a lot more living to do before I can even come close to it.”

“Well, I think you’re plenty wise,” he curves a finger underneath your chin and tilts your head towards his.

Your nose is millimeters apart from his as you gaze into his amber eyes. Their golden hue is vibrant, much like his lopsided smile. But suddenly, something inside them dims, and the corners of his lips twitch downwards. Your brows furrow as you note the subtle change.

“What’s wrong?” you whisper, brushing back his crimson locks.

Eris shakes his head, “It’s nothing.”

You quirk a brow, “Clearly not.”

His hardened stare doesn’t stray from your eyes, but it seems to be searching for something. A chill crawls up your spine at his scrutinizing gaze, as if he’s trying to read your darkest thoughts. You’re suddenly aware of how exposed, how vulnerable you are to him right now—both physically and emotionally.

“Your eyes…” he pauses, as if searching for the right words, before continuing, “Do you remember the first night we met?”

The crinkle between your brows deepens, “How could I forget?”

He wets his lips before replying, “I told you your eyes were familiar.”

Fuck.

You pray that he doesn’t feel the uptick of your heart and continue stroking his arm steadily.

“I just realized,” he continues, “Who they remind me of.”

Panic washes over you, but your expression doesn’t falter, and you maintain your soothing touch.

“Oh?” you hum nonchalantly, “Who may that be?”

Eris shifts his gaze away from the eyes in question, and instead watches the rise and fall of your bare chest.

“A woman I knew a long time ago,” he finally replies.

You continue threading your fingers through his hair as you contemplate your next words. You are breeching unfamiliar territory, and one wrong step could doom you.

“Was she important to you?” you ask cautiously.

He doesn’t respond for a while, and his body is tense over yours. You wait with bated breath for his reply, your curiosity growing with each passing second.

“I don’t know.”

It’s not what you were expecting—but you aren’t sure what you were expecting, exactly.

You mull over his response, nibbling on your bottom lip in thought. Pressing him further feels like a violation—not only of his vulnerability, but of Mor’s. But curiosity is gripping you like a vice. This is the first time in a week you’ve gotten him close to talking about the Night Court, you justify to yourself, don’t let the opportunity slip through your fingers.

“May I ask what happened?” you inquire tentatively.

 He grunts and rests his head in the crook of your neck, “It’s not exactly a bedtime story, darling.”

You frown, unsure how to press him further without raising suspicion. 

He must notice your disappointment as he sighs, “I can practically hear those gears turning in your head, Little Bird. Would you really like to know?”

You nod. He traces shapes over the expanse of your stomach as he contemplates where to begin.

“Many centuries ago, my father arranged for my marriage to a daughter of the Night Court,” he speaks slowly, “It was purely political—a chance to strengthen the alliance between our courts.”

This is so wrong, you think to yourself. But you make no move to stop him.

“She did not want the union. So, the night before the wedding, she escaped—into the arms of another male, hoping that if she tarnished her…purity, the wedding would be called off.”

Tears prick your eyes as you know exactly what’s coming next, but you blink them away.

“Her father was—is—a cruel man. As cruel as my father,” the steadiness of his voice falters, but he continues, “When he found out what she’d done, he tortured her with a brutality unlike any I’ve witnessed. He left her, stripped naked, at the border of our court, with a sign that she was ours to deal with.”

You’re grateful for his sparing of the details, because you’re not sure you’d be able to hold yourself together.

“I found her that morning, while out with my guards,” he stops, and for a moment you don’t think he will continue. But he releases a deep sigh, and barely speaks above a whisper, “I demanded them not to touch her.”

Anger bubbles in the pit of your stomach, and it takes everything in you not to scream. You feel nauseous, the reality of your predicament suddenly sobering—the reality that you’re lying naked on a couch with a man who left your sister for dead.

 “If I or any of my guards touched her, she would have been stuck in Autumn—doomed to a life she did not want, according to my court’s laws. If I had…” his voice trembles ever so slightly, “If I had touched her, my father would have killed her on the spot. So, I left her there. I knew her…her friends would come save her. But it was not a decision I wanted to make.”

The fury trembling in your bones settles, and your mind reels over his recount of the events. This is not the version of the story you’ve heard from Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel. He could be lying—but what reason would Eris have to lie to you, when he is blissfully unaware of your relation to Mor? More than that, you’re unable to ignore the sincerity, the distress in his voice. 

“Do you regret it?” you whisper so quietly; you’re surprised he can hear you.

“No,” his response is immediate, “Not for a minute. I gave her a chance to live. Even if she doesn’t see it that way. But I’ll never be able to get that image out of my head…of her pleading for help, and me being unable to grant it.”

Your mouth is dry and you’re sure he can feel the thundering of your heart. Your head is a muddled mess, to say the least. 

“Gray areas,” you whisper simply.

We can’t be faulted for how we choose to navigate them, his earlier words ring through your mind. But not faulting him feels like the gravest betrayal you could commit.

A humorless chuckle tumbles from his lips as he echoes you, “Gray areas.”

His head sinks further into the crook of your neck and he runs his thumb soothingly over your abdomen, unknowingly combatting the pounding of your head as you process the onslaught of new—and unexpected—information. 

“Do you still align with the Night Court?” you change the subject boldly but keep your tone nonchalant.

Fortunately, he doesn’t seem fazed by your question. Unfortunately, he doesn’t entertain it either.

“I like to keep my business separate from the bedroom,” he rasps against your neck, and you shudder at the tickle of his breath.

You purse your lips into a humorless smile, “Compartmentalization.”

“Forgive me, darling,” he muses, the seriousness of his tone gone, “But I can’t bring myself to discuss pompous High Lords while lying atop a beautiful, naked female.”

“You think I’m beautiful?” you tease half-heartedly.

He raises his head from your shoulder and looks down at you, the fox-like grin that had momentarily disappeared back, “I don’t think, I know,” he brushes his nose along your jawline, “You are the most delectable little thing I’ve seen in centuries.”

  You feel his groin twitch against your upper thigh, and you roll your eyes, “You are insatiable, Eris Vanserra.”

He laughs and your heart sings at the sound, despite your reeling mind. He presses his chest against yours and stretches his arm out to the floor. You watch curiously as he rolls back into his previous position with your forgotten book in hand.

“I’m not quite sure if Tydeus qualifies as a bedtime story either,” you arch a brow.

He shrugs with a cheeky grin, “Well if you ever plan on getting through that mountain of books, you’d better get started.”

Eris holds it out expectantly, and after a moment of contemplation, you grab it with your free arm. You untangle your other hand from his hair and wrap it around his shoulder so you can balance the book on your stomach with both arms. He squirms over you, and you squeak he accidentally elbows the side of your breast.  

“Careful,” you hiss.

“My apologies, Little Bird,” he coos as he finally finds a comfortable position on his side. One arm rests underneath your neck, while the other remains draped over your stomach behind the book. He drops his head onto your shoulder, so he has a full view of the book in your hands.

“I’ll let you know when to turn the page,” he nods his head against you, encouraging you to begin.

You squint but relent as you see his eyes moving back and forth, reading the text before him. You can feel him smiling below you as you focus your gaze on the page in front of you and pick up where you left off earlier. 

You’re nearing the end of the page when Eris taps the side of your hand with his finger. He waits patiently for you to finish, and both of your heads shift when you flip the page. You fall into a comfortable rhythm. He taps your hand softly each time to indicate when he’s finished, and you alternate between who finishes first with each flip of the page. The rise and fall of your bare chest moves in time with his breath against your skin, and despite your nudity, you don’t feel an ounce of shyness.

As you read, you can’t help but think that this must be what heaven feels like: orange flames warming your skin as you lounge on a couch reading with a gorgeous, and very naked, male on top of you. But there’s just one tiny problem—the gorgeous, and very naked, male in question.

You feel your thoughts slip from the book and urge yourself to focus on Tydeus’s philosophy rather than dwell on your anxiety. You find yourself so immersed in one passage in particular, that you don’t notice the way Eris’s breathing slows, or how his head lulls against your chest. You reach the end of the page and wait patiently for his signal to continue. Your brows cinch as the seconds stretch into minutes. You look down and realize that the heir to the Autumn Court throne, in all his glory, is sleeping like a babe using your breasts as a pillow.

The book lays forgotten in your hands as you observe him. Even in his softest of moments, his features still hold a certain sharpness. But right now, he looks…peaceful. His cheek is pressed up against the flesh of your breast, and with his eyes closed, you notice that his eyelashes are much longer than you imagined. You long to trace your fingers over the freckles splattered across his nose, to feel the curve of his nose. It’s hard to think that the male before you is capable of any cruelty at all.

But he is. 

And you’re gazing at him wide-eyed like a lovestruck teenager.

 You wish you could speak to your sister right now. You’re not sure what you’d say—maybe nothing at all. Maybe looking into her eyes, which are so similar to yours, would reveal some hidden truth, buried deep under centuries of hatred. Or maybe they would hold disdain—disappointment directed at you, for rolling around with a male who hurt her deeply.

Eris snores softly, halting your train of thought. Your chest tightens and the flames of the fire start to burn your skin. You can’t stay here. More importantly, you have a job to do.

You set the book down on the floor beneath you, and cautiously shift your body. He grunts in his sleep, but doesn’t stir, as you carefully slip out from underneath him. You hiss as you tumble onto the ground below and pause to make sure he’s still asleep. His snores don’t falter, and you rise from the ground.

You make quick work of gathering your clothes, cringing at the dried arousal covering your inner thighs and panties. Just as you’re about to slip out of his chambers, you turn back to take one last glance at his sleeping form. You gnaw your lower lip, a pang of guilt tugging at your heartstrings. Against your better judgment, you search for a scrap piece of paper and pen to leave him a note, as he had done for you.

‘Till we meet again, Eris Vanserra

Your lips purse—simple, yet effective. You set the note down on the wooden table and drape a throw blanket over the sleeping male in case he has any unexpected visitors. You don’t dare look back as you creep towards the doors.

The creaking of the rusted hinges has you cringing as you ease them open, inch by inch, and peer into the hallway. It’s empty—thank the Mother—with the only movement coming from the flickering flames of torches on the walls. 

You slink into the shadows as you move to your left down the hallway. Assuming Azriel’s map is correct, Eris’s office is two floors above his personal chambers, about one mile to the left. Despite the sizeable distance, you don’t risk winnowing for fear of someone catching you.

As you move along the walls, there’s a heavy weight on your shoulders. You can’t help but feel guilty for playing with his feelings and using them to your advantage—especially following the vulnerability he showed you tonight. But you remind yourself that, even in life’s dimmest gray areas, your loyalty to your family is unwavering.

Your heart thumps in your chest as you scale the winding staircase, keeping an eye out for any guards or lurking Vanserras. As you make your way down the next hallway, identical to the last, you move as swiftly as you can. The sooner you’re gone, the better—but you can’t deny the unease that grows with each step. On one hand, you hope you’ll find something to report back to Rhys. But on the other, you dread finding something that may contradict your image of Eris thus far.

Your steps are featherlight, and by the grace of the Cauldron, you make it to your destination without any setbacks. You press your ear against the door before slowing pushing it open.

The room is much like Eris’s chambers: swirling yellows and reds along the walls, a blazing fireplace, and a deep mahogany rug carpet covering the stone floor. In the middle sits a large, mahogany desk, covered in parchment. You creep forward, careful not to make any noise. You run your fingers along the polished wood of the desk, glancing over the papers. Nothing stands out as you shuffle through them. You search through his cabinets, rifle through the small bookcase in the back, and even check beneath the cushions of the chairs. All you can seem to find is polite, and uninteresting, correspondences with various courts, and menial to-do lists. You check each possible hiding place but come up short once again. There’s absolutely nothing here.

You’re not sure whether to feel relieved or frustrated—or perhaps, both. You glance at the grandfather clock in the corner of the dimly lit room. 3:06. You contemplate redirecting your search to Beron’s office, but you remember from Azriel’s map that it’s six floors down, and approximately two miles away on the opposite side of the house. If you were to go now, there’s a chance the sun would be rising by the time you’re ready to leave, leaving you defenseless without the dark of the shadows. 

With a sigh, you check over the room once more to ensure nothing is out of place before making your exit. You leave just as you came, slinking into the shadows along the hallways as quiet as a mouse. As you navigate the winding tunnels, you wonder if Eris is still sleeping soundly by the fire, or if he’s aware of your absence. And as your thoughts drift to the crimson-haired heir, you find yourself moving faster—as if escaping the walls of the Forest House will erase him from your mind. 

The wind is even more chilling than usual in the dead of night, you realize as you finally make it out through a side door. You make quick work of the courtyard, using the shadows to your advantage to avoid detection by the sentries littered throughout. When you finally make it out, you will the air to twist and fold around you, winnowing you back to your ransack cabin just as the sun begins to peek out from the horizon. Your limbs are tired, but your mind is racing. You know that sleep will not be kind to you. So, you kick off your boots and plop yourself on the dirty floor in front of the fireplace.

You find yourself just as you were before; hovering your hands over the orange embers until the burn becomes too much, and you are forced to pull away. Again. Over and over. As if the pain will grant you some sense of clarity. As if nothing has changed since you were last sat here. As if you aren’t falling further into the fox’s trap with no way out.

Being born of Light and Dark can be a difficult thing. But there are far worse evils in the world, some lurking just around the corner. 

taglist:

@lilah-asteria @goldenmagnolias @myromanempiree @i-know-i-can @hannzoaks @olive-main @lilylilyyyyyy @batboygirlie @stuff-i-found-while-crying @moni-cah @6000-fandoms @melsunshine @roseodelle @rcarbo1

[thinkingaboutbetterdays]

protector. ( chase davenport x reader )

You bumped into Chase on his first day, and he had stammered countless apologies, swiftly picking up your books and holding them out to you with a smile. And from that moment on, Chase always paid attention to you during classes or in the hallways. Whenever you entered a room, he was immediately drawn to you, and it quickly became common for Leo and Adam to tease him about his attraction.

Bree questioned him months later when you were paired with Chase for a class project, but he never made his feelings known. She knew Adam and Leo's remarks cut deeper than he would admit. So he never asked you out.

You were at your locker when Trent approached you, and you inwardly groaned when he leaned next to you, knowing he would ask you out again. And you would have to turn him down again.

But this time Trent was more persistent.

He took the books from your hand and you glared at him. "Give them back."

"Go out with me."

"No."

"Then I'll hang onto them for a while." He smirked.

"Trent, give them back!" You tried to take them back, but Trent held them out of your reach.

Chase walked out of the cafeteria with Adam and Leo, the latter drawing his attention to the situation. Chase walked over to your locker and stood next to you as he spoke to Trent.

"Give her the books."

Trent laughed, "Aw, the nerd has a soft spot for you. How adorable."

Your glare darkened, "Don't be a jerk."

"She is way out of your league short stack. Why don't you walk away before you get hurt, huh?"

Adam saw Chase's expression change and tightened his hold on his backpack. "Uh oh."

You gasped when Spike took over, grabbed Trents shirt, and pinned him against the lockers.

"No, you are going to get hurt, punk." He barked. "Give her the books or I turn you into a pretzel."

"Here! Here!"

You took the books and held them to your chest, biting the inside of your cheek as you watched Chase, now Spike, shove Trent into the lockers.

"Chase, that's enough." You placed a hand on his bicep, drawing his attention.

For a moment, his grip faltered as if he was breaking through, but Spike wasn't done yet. He looked at Trent, who held his hands up, eyes wide as he glared at him. "If I see you troubling her again, I will hang you from the flagpole."

He shoved him aside, and Trent scrambled away. You watched him flee before looking at Chase who lowered his head, meeting your gaze moments later with regret and embarrassment. You opened your mouth to thank him when he dashed away, with Adam and Leo following close behind.

You had no shared classes after lunch period and you couldn't rest without thanking him for protecting you. So after stopping home, you went to the Davenport house, knocking on the door.

Tasha answered the door and let you inside to wait in the living room while Bree, who had been in the kitchen, headed to the lab to tell Chase you had arrived.

"Oooh, Chase, your girlfriend is here!" She grinned.

Chase immediately began to panic. Since arriving home he had hidden in the lab, trying to get his mind off the incident, while Adam and Leo teased him about you.

"Uh," He paced the floor, trying to think of an excuse. "Tell her I'm not here."

"Tasha already told her you're here," Bree said, pursing her lips when she saw how nervous he was about seeing you again, after avoiding you in the hallways for the rest of the school day. "She probably wants to thank you."

"Or tell me she thinks I'm a freak and never wants to see me again."

"You've shared classes with her for over a year, I think she already knows you're weird." Bree knew that the teasing from Adam, Leo, and herself hadn't helped his confidence and stepped forward to place a hand on his shoulder. "She saw him and didn't freak out. I'd say she passed the test."

Chase thought back to the way he felt Spike weaken when you touched his arm, the look in your eyes taking away his anger, his need to protect you so strong that it was the only reason he couldn't hold him off completely.

Your eyes held no judgment then, and as he approached the sofa, meeting your gaze when you stood up, he couldn't see it now either.

"Hi."

"Hey." He held his hand up awkwardly.

"About today -"

"I'm really sorry for -"

"No, no, don't be." You moved closer, sending him a smile that eased the tension in his shoulders. "I came here to thank you. Trent has been bugging me for a while and I would've let you - what was it? Turn him into a pretzel?" Chase blushed, glancing at his feet. "I didn't want you getting in trouble because of me."

Chase lifted his gaze, your eyes locking, and you hoped he didn't notice the blush on your cheeks. He did. And it gave him the confidence he needed.

"Would you like to go on a date?" He asked, quickly adding, "With me."

Your smile grew as you nodded, "I'd love too."

His toothy grin took your breath away and you looked away before you could faint at the sight, picking up your bag off the sofa.

"I'd better head home. My mom will be expecting me."

Chase walked you to the door, and you stepped outside. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

You sent him a smile, "Definitely." You leaned in to kiss his cheek and he stood frozen, uttering a quiet 'Bye' as you walked away.

His lips slowly formed a large grin as he headed inside, closing the door. Tomorrow couldn't come around soon enough.

[ode2rin]

MAKE YOU MINE .ೃ

pairing. itoshi rin x gn!reader

genre. best friends to lovers | pining | light angst to fluff

content/warnings. 3.1k+ wc | reader is in a toxic relationship with their boyfriend (not rin lmao the bf is unnamed) | characters are aged up to 18 ! | blue lock happened much much later here | profanity | a bit heavy in narration | minimal proofread

in which: rin was never ready, so he watches you go with your boyfriend, wishfully thinking it was him instead.

💭 thank you for the request @/saetorinrin (unaffectionate)!

best friends are supposed to knock some sense into you, that's what they're for. 

fortunately for you, your best friend of twelve years, itoshi rin, has always been quite good at it. right now, you're hoping he'll at least be kind while doing so.

“i don't know why you keep on going back to him. he looks like a fucking bull reincarnate, and he treats you like what? yeah, like a pup he dogs around.” 

that’s wishful thinking, though. none of rin's words are known for their kindness.

you've known since a tender age of ten that both itoshi brothers have a knack for colorful insults — or rather, they insist it's a form of descriptive artistry. moments like these make you wish you could smack your younger self for befriending your teal-eyed neighbors. you really should have avoided them like the plague from the very first glare they shot your way.

if you did, you wouldn't find yourself sitting on a swing in the park near both of your houses, while rin spends the past few minutes expressing his displeasure about you getting back with your ex.

but what’s done is done. growing up with them wasn't all bad, except for that messy fiasco between sae and rin that left you caught in the middle, trying to mend their broken bond.

in the end, you chose rin’s side. for what reason? that's a reminiscence best saved for another day.

right now, your priority lies in letting rin hear a piece of your mind for his way of describing your ex — or boyfriend? actually, you're not sure anymore.

“you’re being mean, rin.”

“and you’re being stupid, y/n.”

“you won’t get it.”

“won’t get what? that you’re being treated like absolute shit?”

that’s it. he pushed enough buttons now. you stood up from the swing to face the 6-foot tall man in front of you. 

“you won't get it because you’ve never loved anyone before! and you sure as hell have never been fucking loved!”

rin, before this moment, was sure he's accustomed to pain. 

but now, he realized he wasn't.

realizing what you've just said to your best friend, your eyes widen, and you immediately reach out to touch his arm, frustration turning into regret. you didn't mean that — god, you really didn't.

“rin, i... i didn't mean—”

“save it.”

you were right about the latter. but the former? rin wants nothing but to let you know otherwise. if only you goddamn knew. but that's just it for rin too — wishful thinking.

because you're not done loving your boyfriend, and he knows he's merely using that as an excuse. if honesty were to intervene, he wouldn't be ready to let you know.

how many years does one need to be ready to confess to their best friend of more than a decade anyway? he doesn't want to find out.

rin heard your whispered apology, and his heart sank. he watched as you lowered your gaze to the grass beneath your feet, the weight of regret palpable in the air.

“come on, it’s getting dark. let’s go home,” he suggested, voice tinged with concern.

“actually, he’s picking me up here. mom knows already.”

of course. of course, he's picking you up blocks away from your house. is that how things work now? if it were up to rin, he'd personally ask your mom to take you out on a monday evening. you know, like a respectful person would do?

yet again. if it was him. another wishful thinking.

“where the hell is he, then? i am not leaving you here,” rin stated, his frustration once again seeping through his words.

“he's just a little late —”

“or ditching you again?” 

“rin, please. just leave. i don't want to start again,” you pleaded, the exhaustion evident in your voice.

“fine.”

every step rin took away from you felt like chains dragging along, pulling him back with reluctance and impending regret. but he knew he had to leave. 

he didn't have a place to stay here, not in this park, and certainly not in your heart.

it had been a week since you got back together with your ex, and in that time, rin hadn't uttered a single word to you. his silence was a constant presence, weighing heavily on the air between you. in the past, you found solace in his silence, finding comfort in the unspoken understanding that existed between you. but now, it felt suffocating, as if every attempt to say his name would only add to the tension.

you didn't blame rin for giving you the silent treatment. after all, the hurtful words you had spoken had cut deep.

rin had been harsh, yes, but you knew it came from a place of concern. he was your best friend, and looking out for each other was what you do. deep down, you couldn't deny that there was some truth in what he had said about your boyfriend. there had been moments when he treated you poorly, but that was normal, right? every relationship had its ups and downs, and this was just one of them. and perhaps, in rin's eyes, you were being stupid, but when weren't you, in his opinion?

still, you should have known better. you shouldn't have said what you did. not when you know yourself that he’s been loved. even if it was hidden and unspoken, it still counted, didn't it?

but despite the silent treatment, rin never failed to walk you home. even when he was wearing his sweaty jersey after a rigorous practice, he would be there outside your classroom, waiting for you. walking behind you, not saying a word, but his presence was felt. occasionally, he would walk beside you, especially when you were about to reach the busy side of the neighborhood.

every single day of the past week, he had walked you home.

and even back then starting from the days of school, rin never lets you walk alone in the dark.

today, however, you had to tell him that you wouldn't be walking with him. you had a date with your boyfriend, and he was waiting for you outside the school.

grabbing your bag and heading towards the door, you caught a glimpse of rin's duffel bag and his back. he was waiting for you again. rushing over to him, you spoke up.

“rin, i won’t be able to walk with you today. we’re going out. he’s waiting for me outside.”

rin simply looked at you, then nodded. he turned his back to you, but you could swear there was something he wanted to say.

that was the thing with itoshi rin. he never spoke when you needed him to.

rin was right. he had always been right. and you, well, you were just fucking stupid.

as you reminisced about the earlier screaming match with your now ex-boyfriend, tears threatened to well up in your eyes.

i’m such a fucking idiot.

you had known deep down that you had settled, but you never expected him to stoop so low. part of you wanted to say good riddance, but the truth was that time spent with a person would always leave a mark, whether you wanted it or not.

it was past 9 pm, and that prick had the audacity to drop you four blocks away from your own house. you wanted to scream at him, to demand basic human decency, to drop you off at your doorstep. but another part of you, fueled by the remnants of pride, refused to beg for the bare minimum again. so, despite your nervousness about walking alone in the dark, you slammed the car door in his face and decided to walk the rest of the way on your own.

it had only been five minutes of walking when you felt the first raindrops fall on your forehead. the realization of what was about to happen made you want to scream at whoever was watching from above. how dare they make you this unlucky?

great. just great.

the drizzle quickly escalated into a full-blown rain, showing no signs of stopping any time soon. a few blocks ahead, you spotted the park where you and rin used to hang out. 

even in your darkest times, he’s still in your mind. it’s funny as it is ironic.

if only you had stayed content with loving your best friend from afar, maybe you wouldn't be feeling this hurt, right? 

maybe you wouldn't have ended up looking for love in all the wrong places when the only place you truly wanted it to blossom had been right beside you all along.

exactly ten minutes before rin’s usual bedtime, his phone rang, your name shown on the screen. and for some reason, he could feel his heart leap out of his chest from how fast it was beating.

something was wrong.

without wasting a second, rin answered your call on the second ring.

“hello?” he said, anticipation heavy on his heart. he needed to hear your voice.

but anticipation was immediately replaced by seething anger and heightened worry as he heard your sniffs on the other end of the line.

“where are you?” 

“rin... i know you're mad at me, but i didn't know who else to call–”

“it's raining. where the hell are you?” rin's voice grew heavy with indescribable anger, each word dripping with his overwhelming emotions.

“he dropped me off near the school, but i'm here by the park now. i–”

"stay where you are. i'm coming. don't end the call. i need to know you're safe." or else i will fucking lose it. 

it’s these times that rin was glad he’s an athlete. within five minutes, he arrived at the park, his strides quick and determined. he would have reached you even faster if it weren't for the umbrella he was holding and the sound of your sniffs and sobs on the other end of the line, causing his heart to sink and his steps to falter.

he doesn't even let a goddamn mosquito come close to you, but that asshole had the audacity to make you cry? how dare he.

the rain had lessened compared to its earlier downpour, it was now more of a drizzle. but if you had been here before calling him, that meant you had been standing under the rain for almost an hour. with that realization, rin thinks your ex should watch his back from now on; he would never know when a ball might come flying straight at him — accidentally, of course.

as rin reached the park, his eyes scanned the area, searching desperately for you. and there, in one of the benches, he saw you. your head was tucked into your knees, one hand hugging them tightly while the other clutched the phone to your ear.

he swore, he fucking swore, he could feel his heart pounding in his throat at the sight of you.

ever since you entered rin's life, you taught him a lot of things. you taught him everything about how life was better when you had someone to lean on. 

but most of all, everything rin knew about love, he knew from you. 

and when he realized he loved you but couldn't let you know, the love he knew became intertwined with all the pain he learned.

this is hurting him. you, you were hurting him.

maybe you were right all along.

“you're right, y/n,” rin whispered into the phone, his voice barely audible as he stood a few feet away from you, the umbrella slipping from his grasp. he still had his phone pressed to his ear.

rin couldn't hear anything but the pounding of his own heartbeat and the soft pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the ground.

how many damn years does it take to work up the courage to spill your guts to your best friend of more than a decade? rin found out that sometimes, all it takes is one look at them in pain to make you throw caution to the wind. screw all the timing and planning.

“rin…” you called out, looking around to locate him.

locked in a gaze, time seemed to stand still as rin's eyes traced the contours of your face. your eyes, red-rimmed and soaked from the rain, revealed what you had endured. your drenched clothes and disheveled hair painted a picture of you running around in this rain. he couldn't help but think that you looked like a wounded soul, stripped of your own heart.

“you're right,” he repeated once more, and he was certain you could hear him, judging by the look of confusion on your face.

it wasn't a “now or never” moment for rin. 

it was a now or never love another soul ever again moment. because to rin, it will always be you and him in the end. and that’s no wishful thinking, but a promise he made to himself.

there will be no after you, but just you. that was it for itoshi rin. 

so he has to let you know. the hell with what happens next.

“about last week, you’re right about that. i would never get it,” he paused, taking a deep breath, “i would never get how someone could ever treat you this bad by someone who claims to love you. because i have loved you since we were kids, and i would rather die than leave you out here alone in the pouring rain.”

if this was what you called love, then maybe you taught him wrong. 

rin could see how your eyes widened at what he said. and right then and there, he prepared himself for the worst.

it’s happening.

rin ended the call. he couldn't bear to hear your immediate response, fearing the rejection he had long braced himself for. with the umbrella in hand, he made his way towards you, his eyes focused on the wet ground, avoiding direct contact with your gaze.

you can reject him later. he needs to get you home first.

“come on, let’s go,” was the only thing rin said. he placed the umbrella over your head, shielding you from the rain while he stood exposed, allowing the droplets to soak him further.

you gazed up at him, seeking his eyes, “can you look at me, rin?” 

and see the look of pity in your eyes? even at these moments, you’re cruel to him. 

“i don’t want to.”

undeterred, you persisted, “why?”

because i’m about to lose you.

“i made peace with it a long time ago,” rin admitted, “let's just go. you're going to get sick.”

“say it again.”

your gaze held unwavering, demanding more from him. there was a longing in your eyes, a hunger for honesty. you craved his words, his confession – you need rin to speak now or else you will never know peace.

“no.”

“then i’m not going anywhere. say it agai —”

“fine! i have loved you since we were kids and i have loved you ever since i'm yet to even know what it was i was feeling for you! now, please, let’s go!”

silence enveloped the park. but rin could hear his own heart beating in rhythm with the soft pitt patts of the rain.

this was it then? twelve damn years. all those years, now dissipating like raindrops lost in the drain.

the rain continued to pour, serving as a backdrop to the delicate dance of emotions unfolding between you. each droplet seemed to echo the passage of time, washing away the years of looking at you in a lovelorn gaze.

rin knew where this was headed. he may not have watched many romance movies, but confessions like these – he had seen them before. this was yet another addition to the countless stories of shattered dreams lost to the rain.

but then as fate would have it, it will always intervene.

and so, as if a radiant sun had broken through the stormy clouds, a smile bloomed on your face, casting away the shadows of doubt in rin's mind.

“i’ve been waiting for those words my whole life, itoshi rin.”

rainbows really do appear after the pouring rain.

but only for a fleeting grace of moment in the sky.

“but i can’t, rin. not now. i’m too hurt to love you freely.”

the confession escaped your lips, heavy with the weight of past heartbreak and lingering pain. and to rin, it felt as if the rainbows had faded, leaving behind a somber reminder of the scars etched deep within.

it would be a lie not to admit that he was disheartened, but nonetheless, rin understood. 

but rin was no saint; he can be selfish. he wants to be selfish for you. so there he knelt, bringing himself eye to eye with you, his hands gently cupping your cheeks. 

“i’ll wait. i can wait,” it’s not a lie that the younger itoshi had a penchant for being selfish as he is selfless. 

but he has waited for you for as long as he has learned to kick a ball. so what's a little more?

“are you sure?” the question escaped your lips, a plea for reassurance.

if it means it’s you and him in the end after all, then he’s nothing but definite.

rin's hands on your cheeks tightened gently, his voice a gentle murmur that danced along the edges of your heart, “take all the time you need. by the time you're done, i'll make sure to make you mine.”

the raindrops, cascading around you like tears from the heavens, seemed to pause in reverence as rin's words hung in the air.

as the rain began to subside, rin leaned closer, his forehead gently pressing against yours. your eyes closed, feeling his breath mingling with yours, you hear him softly sighed against your lips.

“i’ll treat you so good, y/n. so good. fuck, you have no idea.”

sure, you’re the first person itoshi rin has ever loved. but he can show you. better than your shitty ex ever could.

if there’s anyone who can most definitely show you what love was truly like, it will be him.

for a few precious moments, time seemed to stand still as both of you remained in that intimate embrace, rin's hands tenderly cradling your face, and your gaze locked in the depths of his teal eyes.

“let’s go home?” rin asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“only if you’ll walk with me.”

rin's lips curled into a small, affectionate smile at your hushed response. he reached out, extending his hand toward you, a silent invitation. “i've been doing that for the past years.”

and he’ll continue to do it. 

few years from now, he will make sure he’s the man you’re walking with. be that on the way home, or down the aisle.

because to itoshi rin, it will always be you and him.

note. no thoughts, just pure vibes here. just kidding! here's the first request in my milestone event, and i enjoyed writing this despite it being shitty as an outcome. thanks for reaching this far!

💭 back to: milestone event

[solarmorrigan]

I have a lot of thoughts about Steve who craves physical affection, who thinks of his worth in terms of what he can do for other people, and who got very drunk at high school parties. This is one of them

CW for heavily implied past dubcon (not between Eddie and Steve). Please take care

-

Eddie has never seen Steve drunk.

At least – not up close. There had been a few high school parties back in the day where Eddie had passed by the “Keg Stand King,” but since he’s come to know Steve personally (intimately), Steve has barely touched alcohol.

He’s told Eddie the story of being drugged against his will and how he doesn’t want to repeat the feeling of losing control, and how he doesn’t like not being able to drive if he needs to, and how the hangover would probably just trigger a migraine anyway – and, really, he just doesn’t drink much anymore.

Yet tonight had been a special occasion: Robin’s birthday. She herself isn’t much for alcohol (for at least some reasons that match up with Steve’s), but drinking, she said, feels like a part of the birthday experience. She’d somehow gotten Steve to match her beer for beer, for “emotional support,” and it hadn’t taken long for the both of them to become entirely inebriated.

Time has apparently greatly eroded Steve’s tolerance.

Eddie had distantly expected him to be kind of a bitchy drunk—and he had become a bit cattier, for sure—but mostly he’d just become affectionate. There had been hugs for nearly everyone, and he’d spent the latter half of the party slowly migrating into Eddie’s lap, plying him with constant kisses on the cheek and giggling ridiculously at nearly everything Eddie had said.

It had been sort of adorable (not that Eddie will tell him that; no, he’s going to sit on that information until it benefits him).

It’s a little less fun now that he’s trying to cart Steve up to his room and into bed. Steve is a bit wobbly, and a lot heavy, and is much more interested in trying to cling to Eddie like a koala and bury his face in Eddie’s neck than he is in actually walking anywhere.

“Y’know, we could cuddle to your heart’s content if you’d just let me get you to bed,” Eddie points out when he and Steve have stalled out partway down the hall, leaning against the closed door to the bathroom.

Steve hums vaguely, tightening the grip he has on Eddie’s t-shirt. “But you’re out here,” he mumbles, nuzzling into the crook of Eddie’s neck.

A shiver travels down Eddie’s spine at the feeling of Steve’s warm breath ghosting across his throat, but it doesn’t go much further than a gentle, dying flutter in his gut. As affectionate as Steve has been, as hungry for contact as he’s acted all night, there’s been nothing sexual about it. It’s been all hugs and sweet kisses, not heated embraces and sloppy make outs.

Besides– Steve’s drunk. Eddie’s not going to take advantage.

He wedges a hand between himself and Steve and gently pushes Steve back.

“I’m coming to bed with you, you colossal dork,” Eddie says.

Steve blinks at Eddie, slightly unfocused. “Oh.” He finally heaves up and away from the wall, grabbing Eddie’s hand to tug him along as he weaves unsteadily down the hall. “Well why didn’t you say so?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, all affection. “Where else would I be going?”

Steve stops when they get to his room, apparently pondering the answer.

“Away?” he finally volunteers, half-questioning, as if he’s hoping he’s wrong.

“No, baby,” Eddie assures him immediately, leaning in to give him a quick kiss. “I’m staying. Gotta make sure you don’t choke on your tongue after you pass out, anyway.”

“’m not that drunk,” Steve says; he rolls his eyes and then immediately seems to regret it, reaching out for Eddie’s shoulder to steady himself.

“Uh huh,” Eddie drawls. “Okay, time for bed, big boy.”

Grumbling, Steve releases Eddie to shuffle over to the bed, where he flops down on his back with a sigh, jeans and all.

“Alright, not exactly what I meant, but I can work with this,” Eddie says, kneeling on the bed by Steve’s hip.

They’d managed to ditch their shoes in the entryway, but they’re otherwise fully dressed, and Steve is going to be uncomfortable if he tries to spend the whole night in his belt and jeans.

Steve squirms a bit when Eddie reaches for his belt buckle, as if he’s not quite sure whether to move away or not.

“Eddie…” he groans – an exasperated sort of groan, rather than the usual way he groans Eddie’s name when he’s squirming on the bed.

“Just hold still,” Eddie shushes him with a quick pat to the hip.

He gets as far as pulling the tongue of the belt through the buckle before Steve’s hands shoot out and grab Eddie by the wrists. His grip is surprisingly strong, considering how uncoordinated he’d been tonight, and Eddie stills immediately.

“Steve?” Eddie looks up to see Steve staring down at him, wide-eyed and apprehensive; hell, if Eddie didn’t know any better, he might say Steve looks… sort of frightened.

“Not– not tonight,” Steve says, enunciating carefully, and Eddie’s confusion only increases.

He doesn’t want his belt off tonight? Is that what he’s worked up about?

In the wake of Eddie’s baffled lack of response, Steve only grows more insistent, tugging Eddie’s hands away from his waist.

“Not while I’m–” Steve breaks off, licking his lips nervously. He shakes his head and adds quietly, “Please.”

Brows furrowed, Eddie stares at Steve a second longer. “Not while you’re…?” Then the penny drops, and Eddie jerks away from Steve so quickly that Steve barely has time to let go. “Oh shit, no. That’s not– no, I’m not– Steve, fuck, no, that’s not what I’m doing.”

Steve stares up at Eddie, the anxiety he’s a little too drunk to mask still lingering in his eyes.

“I promise, I was only trying to get your belt and pants off so you’d be more comfortable. For sleeping!” Eddie says quickly. “But you can keep them on if you want. Hell, put on more layers. Do you want a jacket?”

Distantly, Eddie realizes he’s rambling and tries to stop; it doesn’t seem to be helping.

“I– I know I was kissing you,” Steve says, then glances away with a grimace, seeming a bit more sober now. “Practically throwing myself at you. ’m sorry, I just–”

“Don’t be sorry. Don’t be,” Eddie says firmly. “Even if you were throwing yourself at me—even though you weren’t; like, I can tell the difference between cuddly you and horny you, okay?—but even if you had been, you can still say no. You can always say no. But I swear, Steve, I was only trying to get you comfy, that’s all.”

For a moment, Steve just breathes, processing Eddie’s words as carefully as his sloshed brain will allow.

“Are you still going to stay?” he finally asks. “Even though I don’t want to have sex?”

“Of course,” Eddie blurts, some dizzying combination of baffled, anxious, and incensed. “I’m only gonna leave if you tell me to.”

And even then, he’d only go as far as the couch downstairs (just in case).

Slowly, Steve nods, then reaches for his belt to pull it off in a series of determined, clumsy movements. He drops it on the floor when he’s done but makes no move to remove his jeans.

Eddie, following suit, resigns himself to an uncomfortable night. He strips off his jewelry and his own belt but leaves his pants on.

All the lights go out, save for a small, dim lamp on Steve’s desk, and then Eddie crawls on top of the covers with Steve, pulling the blanket from the end of the bed—a gift from Claudia—up over both of them.

A little of the churning, anxious mess in Eddie’s chest eases when Steve immediately plasters himself to his side, resting his head on Eddie’s chest (and Eddie just knows there’s going to be drool there come morning, but he can’t bear to move him). All the same, even as he hears Steve’s breathing even out into sleep, Eddie can’t get his mind to rest.

What has he done to give Steve the impression that he’d try to fuck him when he’s too drunk to really say yes? What has he done to make him think he’d leave if Steve doesn’t put out?

Nothing.

Genuinely and truly, Eddie can’t think of anything. There have been plenty of times they’ve hung out, even shared a bed, and they haven’t had sex. Sure, they’re active, but they do actually do other things together.

There have been other nights where sex has seemed like a sure thing, only to be halted by an apologetic look from Steve and the start of a migraine. There have been times Eddie’s called it off because his anxiety has reared up and bit him in the ass. There’s never been anger over it.

That leaves two options: it’s either an imagined scenario stirred up by anxiety and insecurity and alcohol, or… it’s based on a different experience, in a different time and place.

All things considered, Eddie has a terrible, sinking feeling that he knows which one it is.

[seeingivy]

see you soon

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting fic

songs mentioned: birds of a feather by billie eilish, see you soon by beabadoobee (small mention + name of chapter), and this love by taylor swift

previous part linked here

Eren’s embarrassed when he wakes up the next morning. 

Not immediately. Because when his eyes finally flicker open from the sunlight streaming in from the windows, the only thing that he feels is an overwhelming headache and a dry patch in his throat. His head spins slightly when he sits up, eyes puffy underneath his fingertips, and he regrets ever taking advice from two borderline alcoholics just because it was their wedding. 

But when he’s finally able to somewhat endure that pulsating feeling in his head and fully flicker his eyes open, he looks to his left to find you still in his bed. 

It wasn’t a dream. 

He was almost half convinced that it was – that you weren’t actually whispering into his skin that you loved him still, borderline begging him like he once did to you in the dark of night. 

He was wrong. 

He leans forward, tucking the stray strands of hair out of your face, only to find that you’re still fast asleep, your breaths deep and labored. Eren can’t help but smile as he brushes the back of his hand against the softness of your cheek – knowing you’d be irritated that you fell asleep with your makeup on when you woke up and borderline homicidal from your hangover. 

It’s only when Eren moves slightly to the right that he catches sight of your neck, and the little purple mark he accidentally left last night, that the regret, the deep searing embarrassment, seeps in. 

Because all he gets are flashes of the night prior – of his lips on your neck, of how badly he wanted the begging to be true, of the warmth that was pooling in his stomach when he passed out next to you. 

He got too carried away. Maybe you had too. 

There were a hundred possible reasons that could explain what you said – that the sweetness of the wedding had gotten to you, that you too were plagued by the eerie deja vu, or really, that the sinking feeling that things were ending and you’d never see each other again was starting to feel too permanent, that you wanted to pretend. 

Eren pauses. 

That’s what it had to be. 

It was for posterity. That things were ending and…and that simply had to be the last time that you kissed. Not an awkward half kiss with Levi and Hange watching, one that would be displayed to nearly thousands of people in a few months.

You had already given the people enough. One that had to be just yours, after everything else you had given. 

Eren can feel the regret digging into his gut as he lightly pushes his hand out of your grasp and decks downstairs. 

--

There’s an urgency to it. The need to repeat what you said to Eren, exactly the way you said it last night. 

Because it was one thing if he didn't love you and was trying to spare your feelings. And it was another if he really didn’t remember – and the possibility that he really did love you back was still intact – that it was just lost on deaf ears. 

You were positive that he did. That it had to be the latter and not the former – because Mikasa and Jean wouldn’t push you, Connie wouldn’t give Eren more hurt than he could handle, and Levi wouldn't be talking you into it if it wasn’t something that was good for you. 

You just had to muster the courage to do it again.  

You slip your hand into Eren’s at your side, ignoring as everyone starts crowding around Levi and waiting for instructions, and lightly pull at his hand. You look up and watch as he processes the sensation, almost wholly confused by it as he looks down at you. 

You wonder if he even realized when you put your hand in his. 

“Can I talk to you about something?” you whisper. 

He slips his hand out of yours immediately. 

“What?” 

His eyes are nearly boggling out of his skull and you cringe. Maybe you shouldn’t confess your love while he’s still hungover. 

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to make it like a thing. I just wanted to chat, whenever you have a second.” 

Eren frowns. 

You don’t know what it means. You don’t know what any of it means – that you leaned forward and he let you kiss him, that Levi had tried to convince you to do this, and that for the first time, you’re actually not sure if you’re doing the right thing. 

“Eren. Y/N, could you pay attention?” Levi asks. 

You whip your head to the side to find the group of them all looking at you, as you awkwardly pull your hand out of Eren’s and give Levi a nod. You can feel your hand shaking at your side as you shove it into the warmth of your underarms, giving Levi and Hange the indication that you’re paying attention. 

“Earth to Eren. Are you with us?” Hange asks, head hanging forward as they wait for a response. 

You turn your head back to him to find that he’s still staring at you and you swallow hard. You raise your eyebrows at him, which is enough to restore some semblance of bearings to him, as he shakes his head, almost like he’s disoriented, and turns to Levi. 

“Sorry. Ye-yes.” Eren responds, though you barely believe him. 

“Okay, well. If you guys do this well enough, this is the last scene we’ll film.” Levi states.

There’s a quiet murmur that goes around the room, as you watch everyone give each other almost excited glances, and note that Levi fights every muscle in his face to not smile. There’s an almost unsettling, but electric finality in Levi’s words – and really, in knowing the fact, that it’s likely you’ll all get the scene done in one take and then be done with it. 

And that for the majority of them, they’ll walk away and never return again. You wonder if Eren will walk out of here with you, like you were so sure he was going to a few hours ago. 

 You turn your head to the side, to Mikasa who offers you a halfhearted smile. You return it. 

“Let’s walk over together then.” Levi states. 

The smallest glimmer of hope that was flaring so brightly in your chest dims the slightest bit, but it’s stubborn. At the very least – you’d get your point across. That Eren had his doubts, rightfully so, but you were going to make your point abundantly clear. 

That you won’t let this love die out a second time. 

Mikasa wraps her arm around your wrist, and Connie wraps his arm around Eren’s shoulder, as the group of you all drag your feet to set for the last time.

--

Eren gets to direct the last scene. 

It’s Levi and Hange’s wrap gift to Eren. They had given him full reign to write so much of the last season and to them, it was only fair that one of the best things he had written, one of the perfect ends to the season, would get to fully play out the way that he had imagined it. 

And that he’d get to sign his name on with theirs at the end of it. 

From your vantage point, with his little fake head secured in your hands, you can tell that he’s excited. He’s animatedly pointing everything out to the crew, adjusting the lights and the positions as you all wait for your marks, teeming with your own nervousness. 

You love him. You want to scream it from the rooftop. 

“You’re looking awfully happy.” 

You look to your right to find Jean, Mikasa, and Connie at your sides, each of them looping in an arm in with you, as you all direct your gaze back to Eren. 

It’s almost hard to process what it is that Connie just said, or really even feel it. All you can really produce is a heavy sigh, one that they all recognize too well, as you lean your head against Mikasa’s. 

“Did you guys kiss last night?” Mikasa asks. 

“Yeah.” you respond. 

“What? You did what?” Connie asks, easily broken from the bittersweetness of the moment – which is replaced with his excitement. 

“We kissed.” you repeat again. 

“Holy shit. Holy shit, you fuckers actually did it!” Connie states. 

“I mean, we didn’t actually –” 

“Not you two, dumbass. Jean and Mikasa. I told them their stupid getting you drunk plan wasn’t going to work. And I was fucking wrong.” Connie states. 

You turn to the two of them, who give you sly grins, as you elbow Jean in the side. 

“Well, it didn’t actually work. I started confessing to him and he didn’t believe me because I was drunk. If anything, you made that more embarrassing for me than it needed to be.” 

“Wait, you’re not happy then? He didn’t say it back?” Mikasa asks. 

“No. I mean, not really. He just kept saying that I didn’t mean it. I don’t think he realized that I was being honest.” 

Connie pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“I told you two. It was him that we should have been focusing on, not her. You know how he is.” Connie whispers irritatedly. 

“Excuse you. She’s way worse than him. She definitely needed more coaxing than he did.” Mikasa responds back. 

“Well, look at where we are now. Poor idiot is so hopeless that she said exactly what he wanted and he didn’t even fucking believe it.” Connie states. 

“I’m going to talk to him.” Jean states, making a move to walk towards him. 

You reach forward, wrapping your fingers around Jean’s bicep, and pulling back. He looks down at you, an almost seamless blend of irritation and frustration spreading across his face, that you can’t help but smile at. 

“Don’t tell me you have cold feet now.” Jean grumbles. 

“No. I really appreciate it, from all of you guys, but…” 

You turn your head to look back at him, only to find him already looking at you. You shoot him a smile – one that he doesn’t really fully return – before you turn back to the three of them. 

“I don’t need your help anymore. I think I’ve got it from here.” you state. 

The three of them give you weary eyes before Jean leans forward, eyebrows raised as he questions you. 

“You’re not still drunk, are you?” 

“No. I just know what I want.” you respond. 

You shove him off, earning you from Connie, and proud smiles from Jean and Mikasa, who move to take their cues again. And each of you quietly stand on your little marks, the tape so worn into the ground from the years and years of walking over the hard floors, that it’s basically disintegrated into the wood. 

Your response to Jean echoes in your head. That you’re not not drunk, that you just know what you have to do. 

You can’t help but note it all as you stand there, how final it all is, with Eren and otherwise. That the light on the right is still kind of broken from the time it fell during season two, that your names are still scribbled into the wall all the way at the right, and that it’s your second to last time standing there. 

Your final with everyone else being here. 

“On your cue, Y/N.” Eren states, giving you a firm nod, as he focuses his eye on the viewfinder. 

You take a deep breath and try to stop the shake in your voice, and clutch the softness of the little pillow in your arms harder. But before you can start, you can’t help but turn back, the subsequent tears collecting in your eyes, more bittersweet than they need to be for the scene. 

“You good?” Levi asks. 

You feel your chest pang as everyone looks up at you, concentration broken from their focusing, as they all offer you a smile. 

“Yeah.” you whisper. 

You turn back to your cue, noting the disintegrating tape again, as you take a deep breath. 

“Armin.” you whisper. 

He turns his head and runs over to you, the screams coming out of his throat so agonizingly painful, that it nearly makes you flinch when he comes over. And it takes a few seconds – for you to sensitize yourself to the screaming – for you to really look at Armin, who's now crouching on the ground with you. 

You have to swallow down the tears. That this is Armin, twenty-five years old, self assured and confident Armin, and not the awkward little kid you met ten years ago. That he’s stumbled, fell, but made amends, and that really – his future's so bright that you swear you might be blinded by it. 

“You remember now too, don’t you? When Eren came to visit us?” 

You wonder if any semblance of Armin’s tears are real – if he really is sad to let this go, if any of them will hold onto this and them as hard as you’re going to. If it’s so agonizing to him to walk away from here and to leave this part of him behind. 

“Yeah. I heard…the result of your choice would make the power of the Titans vanish from the world.” Armin pants. 

You turn your heads, as you watch Eren pan the camera to the left, where all of them are waiting. Armin slips his hand in yours as he Eren moves the camera away from you, his tears making no inclination of ceasing.  

Jean’s voice nearly makes you flinch. All you can think of is Jean crying at Marco’s funeral – that was always tried to act so cool and tough but that there were still the smallest, deepest, sensitive parts of him that seemed to shine through in odd moments. That he had spent a whole year in the hole with Mikasa, just to crawl out of it on top, that he’d get to leave here by her side. 

“I remember now. You fucking moron.” Jean murmurs. 

And each consequent voice that you hear, that belongs to people that have been so intertwined in your life – so deeply woven into the fabric of everything you’ve known, everything you’ve ever dreamed of since you were fifteen – makes the burning in your eyes consequently get worse. 

“Eren…you’re really a…” Reiner starts. 

“Eren told me that my mom would go back to being a human being.” Connie states. 

That’s not a line from the script. Not the exact one anyways. But you know Connie well enough to know what he’s really referring to – the second chance at life that he got to give himself when he chose to get sober. And really, the second life that he probably gave his mom too. 

Annie’s line is the one that gets you. 

“He told us to live long…but what about you? We never asked for you to do this. You suicidal blockhead.” she murmurs. 

But really, that’s what it is at the core of it. That after you left here, you would all live long – but each of you would be moving in different directions. That some of them would stop dead in the center of the race like Marco or run too far in the wrong direction like Historia. 

That you’d start off in pairs but have to finish the race alone, that some of you would drag along in the middle and never really make it to the end. 

That no matter how the race ended, it wouldn’t be all together. 

There was always that consolation every other time you said goodbye. And weirdly enough, it reminded you of that almost blissful feeling you would have when elementary school would end as a kid. That you’d get to spend time away – but the promise of returning would always be there. 

It was almost like practice. To rob yourselves of each other’s company whenever you took a break, but never really, because you did always get to come back. 

You can’t help but cry when it’s Falco’s turn. 

“Gabi!” 

And maybe even worse when it’s Levi’s. 

“Did you see that? Seems like this is it. What you dedicated your hearts for.” Levi whispers. 

You wonder if Marco’s watching. If he’s seeing every corner that Eren’s panning too – Gabi knocking Falco down from being so excited to hug him, Annie and her dad in one corner, Reiner and his mom in the next. Of you and Armin in the last frame. 

You have to swallow down the block in your throat. 

“If I stayed here, they wouldn’t give Eren a proper burial.” 

Armin sighs. 

“Let him rest somewhere quiet.” Armin states. 

If you got to have it your way, that’s what you and Eren would get to have. That you’d get to rest somewhere quiet, together. It’s a plagiarized thought – one that you stole from Eren, that he wrote first. 

But it was almost too perfect. The thought of you and Eren leaving here, taking a few months off in his sweet little cabin in Ireland, where no one could touch you. He’d lie in the grass, you’d watch the moon, and skinny dip in the ocean whenever you wanted. 

“Eren always took a nap near that three.” you state. 

Armin smiles. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I think it’s a good place.” 

And you count them – seven steps until you're out of frame – clutching onto the little pillow that’s meant to be Eren’s head in your hands, as you switch on your heel when you’re done. And all fifteen of you turn your heads, eyes expectant as you look at Eren, whose own green eyes are glimmering with tears as he says it. 

“I think that’s a wrap guys.” Eren states. 

And there’s fifteen pairs of legs dragging to the center, until you’re a terrible mess of tangled arms, and snot filled tears. It’s Connie’s giggly voice and Gabi’s complaining that fills the air – and it’s such a sweet ache that it’s almost painful. 

And really – each memory, so arbitrary, so formative – seems to come bubbling to the surface as you stand there, with Reiner’s elbow dangerously close to your eye and the faint smell of Jean’s cologne in your nose. 

Levi clears his throat. 

“Can I say one thing?” 

You all pull out of the hug, limbs still intertwined in every which way, as you look at him. He clears his throat a second time – which should have been the first sign that you wouldn’t be able to stomach what it was that he was going to say if he could barely get it out in the first place. 

“There aren’t any words that I can give you that can really put justice to what it is I feel, for each and every single one of you.” Levi starts. 

You preemptively wince. It already hurts. 

“There is something deeply rewarding about this career and it is most definitely the part that people don’t expect. It’s never been a thing that I really understood, because really, there are so many parts of it that are…are so antithetical to who I am as a person.” Levi states. 

He turns to Hange, extending an open arm, before continuing. 

“I’m deeply fond of my privacy. I would hate for anyone to know about my love life, let alone speculate on it. And I truly hate a system that, down to its core, is destined to knock people down, to profit on the torturous part of creating art. I never understood why this was something that people dreamed of, why little girls would decide their entire career after watching someone give an impassioned speech on a television screen.” 

The group of them all turn to you, teary eyed smiles, as they all offer a quiet laugh. 

“I got a taste of it. I acted in my first real movie, La La Land, and fell deeply and inexplicably in love. Not only with the love of my life –” 

He offers Hange a wink. 

“But, with the world of acting itself. To pretend to be a jazz artist in Los Angeles, a secret spy in the United Kingdom, to live through the highs and lows of life – time and time again. Sometimes I almost found myself getting obsessed with it – letting everything else go, to be someone else. To live a hundred lifetimes in the short one I’ve been given and that really, I’d still get the chance to go miles and miles further, to live a hundred more.”

Levi pauses. 

“This is the second time that I’ve found myself having a life I’m finding hard to let go of.” 

He turns back to Hange. 

“The important parts followed me where I wanted to go the last time…” 

And he turns back to you, sparkling tears falling out of his gray eyes, as you swallow a whimper. 

“But I know they won’t this time. And god, have you all given me the biggest headache of my fucking life. You’ve all run a hundred directions and…and I’ve chased you all down to each one of them.” 

You all laugh. 

“I’ve never seen a group of people who are so motivated to have difficulties with one another. Like genuinely, every time I’d come out on top of something, someone else decided to have an issue. One person gets engaged and suddenly I’m hearing you’re begging outside his door everyday for him to take you back. Or you’re breaking each other’s cameras and blocking each other's numbers.” 

You turn to Eren, who offers you a joking wink. 

“But…I’ve never seen a group of people who are more passionate. Never had people that I wanted to follow to every corner, that I felt so moved to do right by. And I could never be more thankful to have people who were willing to walk with me and my vision, to truly and really, give meaning to the idea of dedicating your hearts.” 

Falco presses his cheek to your shoulder. 

“Thank you, kids. I know that I’ve made the right choices in picking each of you and I’d do it all again with you in a heartbeat, chasing and all.” Levi finishes. 

No one’s able to muster an appropriate response in words. But Eren gives Levi his wrap gift – which seems to be just right. It’s a single page, an arbitrary page ripped out of one of the old scripts. 

“What the hell is this?” 

“It’s from Marco’s script.” Eren states. 

You all peer over Levi’s shoulder, noting the scene and getting an eerie sense of deja vu – of the first time that you were caught off guard with Marco’s death scene. 

[Marco]: We haven’t even had a chance to talk this through yet. 

And underneath, his inscription on the page. 

levi, if this was your idea, i want you dead. you can’t just kill me off! 

(just kidding! i know you love me so much that you’ll bring me back somehow :D) 

--

Of course, Levi somehow made it harder than it had to be, again. He had made it a rule at the end of filming each season – that you weren’t allowed to give each other real wrap gifts, because you were always going to be coming back. 

It was a strange tradition that occurred after. Since you weren’t allowed to give each other real wrap gifts, it led to everyone getting gag gifts for each other – something that was obviously started by Reiner and Connie – and wholly responsible for the stack of knick knacks that were stuffed in the back of your closet upstairs. 

You feel a tap on your shoulder, only to find Eren at your side.

“Your turn.” 

You feign shock, pressing your hands on your heart. 

“You got a gift for me?” 

“Shut up. I technically have two gifts for you, but I can’t give you the second one until later.” 

You watch as Eren digs his hands into the folds of his shirt, before pulling out the key necklace that he’s been wearing all of these years. And subsequently watch as he yanks it over his neck and gestures for you to come closer. 

“The key necklace?”  you ask. 

“I believe this is technically stealing a prop, but you know, what they know don’t know won’t hurt them.” 

You frown as he places it over your head, yanking your hair out of the chain and readjusting it at the center of your chest. 

“Why do you look so annoyed?” 

“Well, now my gift looks unoriginal.” 

You reach for the bag on the counter, before handing it over to Eren. And you watch the smile spread across his face as he pulls the red scarf out of the tissue paper, and presses it close to his chest. 

“The scarf?” 

“Yeah. I had the costume designers add our initials on the inner side, because you know, I actually got permission to give you that as a gift.” 

You watch as he finds the stitching on the scarf, running his fingers over the black thread, before setting it down and opening his arms up for you. 

“You know, you’ve always been such a goody two shoes. You’re supposed to steal this stuff from set and then make it a funny story for the press later."

“But of course. I’m so glad you’re still so humble to be giving me pointers about how this all works years later.” 

“One of the things I pride myself on is how grounded I’ve stayed throughout the entire process,” he responds. 

You both laugh, as Gabi and Falco come up to your side, excited smiles on their faces. You both give each other a confused look, before looking down at the two of them. 

“Hi guys.” 

“Hi Eren. Hi Y/N. We have a gift for the two of you.” 

The two of them hand you a little package wrapped in white paper. 

“The one on top is for Eren. And the second one is yours Y/N.” 

The first thing that falls out of the package, that’s meant for Eren, is the magazine cover that Scott had actually mailed you a few weeks prior. And the second is one that you’ve entirely forgotten about, from an interview that you had done with Danny and Sareen. 

“Well, you’ve always been shit at giving gifts Falco, but this kind of takes the cake.” you mutter. 

“That’s obviously not the gift, dumbass!” 

Gabi shoves him in the side. 

“The magazine actually reached out to the two of us about doing a similar cover with our inspirations and an interview based on that. And for both of us, that’s always been the two of you. Not only because this is literally your show, but you’ve always been that for both of us. And they agreed to let us include Hange and Levi too, so it could be a whole Generations of Attack on Titan type of thing.” 

You smile. 

“I know you can’t take back all the shitty interviews and stuff you’ve said. But at least whenever someone looks up Vogue USA, it’ll be us that comes up next to you instead of them. I figured that was at least a little bit better, you know?” Gabi says. 

You and Eren turn to each other, eyes nearly glistening, as Eren crouches to his knees to get on Gabi’s level. 

“You’re one of the best people I know, you know that?” 

“Eren. Don’t get all corny on me!” 

“You started it! But really, you’ve got a bright future ahead of you. Both of you do and I’m immensely proud of you.” 

You crouch on the ground with the two of them, Falco joining suit next to you, as you wrap your arm around him. 

“You’re both going to make one promise to us, okay?” Eren asks. 

“What’s that?” 

“You’re always going to be on the same side. No matter how popular either of you get or what anyone tries to tell you, I can promise you – you’ll be much better together than you are apart. And I don’t want you to forget that.” 

You watch as Falco and Gabi look at each other, self assured smiles on their faces, as they turn back to you, bright eyes. 

“Deal.” 

“That’s a promise.” Falco repeats. 

The two of them wrap their arms around you one more time, before pulling back. 

“Gabi, stay back, okay? I have a gift for you.” you state. 

You watch as Gabi’s cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink, as she tucks the stray flyways around her ears. 

“Oh! You got a gift for me? You didn’t really have to.” 

You shake your head. 

“Are you crazy? Of course I did. And even if I didn’t have to, I really wanted to.” 

You reach for the little box, before handing it to her to open. 

“One of the first birthday gifts that everyone got me here was a little leatherbound notebook to write my lyrics in. Ever since then, I’ve only ever written in that – or other ones like it once I ran out of space. But it’s a good space to scribble out ideas, or even just fragments of words. Sometimes I find myself going back to phrases that end up being really big for songs later. And if you’re going to be a serious songwriter, I figured you’d need one of your own. And I’d be honored to give you the first one.” 

You watch as Gabi squints her eyes at you, trying to blink the wetness out of her eyes. 

“Really?” 

“Mark my words, you’re going to be the one to watch. And I’ll be right there at your side, whenever you need something.” 

You watch as she looks down at the book, running her fingers down on the softness of the leather, before she picks up the pen. 

“The pen?” 

You smile. 

“I hear you’re a big fan of this song I wrote called like…New Year’s Day or something like that. Well, that’s actually the pen that I wrote it with…and most of my songs actually. I wanted you to have it.” 

“I can’t take that from you.” she responds, pushing it back into your hands. 

You shake your head. 

“You most definitely can and will. I know you’ll make good use of it. And well, I think there’s a right time to give things up and pass them on.” you respond. 

You watch as she smiles bigger, clutching it close to her heart before she reaches forward and gives you an almost too energetic and excited hug. And you watch as she runs approximately four feet away to where Falco is standing, as she excitedly shows off the gift. 

Falco turns over to you and gives you a sly wink – wholly satisfied with the fact that he had a hand in giving her the perfect gift. 

You make your way over to the center of the room, where Niccolo’s waiting, as you knock on the table top. He gives you a smile as everyone turns their heads over to you, each of them nursing gifts in their hands. 

“I have something for all of you, if I could just have your attention for a second.” 

Niccolo’s at your side, handing you the acoustic guitar, which is enough to get all of their attention as they all scoot closer and take a seat on the couch or the floor. 

“I figured that it was only fair that you guys got to be the first to hear this news.” 

You give Niccolo a nod, as he fixes the right picture onto the projector. It’s a picture of two polaroids side by side – the one on the left being the first group picture that you took on the first day of filming season one and the one on the right being the first picture from the start of season four. 

And at the bottom, your handwriting in black marker – the letters spelling out Birds of a Feather. 

“I’m so excited to share with you guys that my fifth studio album, one that’s entirely mine, is going to be coming out on June 11th.” 

“No fucking way. You…you’re coming back for real?” Reiner asks. 

You give him a nod and watch as all of their faces spread wide in shock, before you’re met with a sound of the sweetest cheers. And they all start whispering to each other excitedly, pointing out their faces on the cover, as you all gesture for them to be quiet with your hands. 

“I wasn’t done. That would be such a lame thing to announce right now.” 

“What do you mean? I’m about to go crazy about this on Twitter.” Connie responds. 

You roll your eyes. 

“The reason that I wanted to tell you guys is because I wanted to show you guys the tracklist.” 

You give Niccolo a nod, as he switches it to the next slide, and watch as they all read it. 

“Wait. These are…these are our songs. That you wrote with us.” Sasha states. 

“That’s right! Birds of a Feather is the last song on the album because it’s the first one that I was able to write by myself. But every single one that comes before it is one of our songs, so I figured that it was only fair that you all got writing credits for them. I wouldn’t have been able to write that one if you hadn’t gotten me to write the ones that came before.” 

Connie stands up from his seat. “You’re giving us all writing credits?” 

You give him a nod. 

“Oh my fucking god. I’m about to be an Institute Award winning writer.” Connie says. 

You snort as they all laugh, before walking up closer to read the set list, each of them pointing out their respective songs. You look over your shoulder at Niccolo, your new tried and trusted producer for the foreseeable future, and blow him a kiss. 

“The eleventh song is blank.” Reiner states. 

“Right. I haven’t written that one yet. It’s for Eren’s request, I just haven’t had a chance to get to it yet.” 

You watch as Jean shoves Connie in the side, before leaning closer to you. 

“Calling it now. Some variation of the word love or lover is going to be in the title.” Jean states. 

Connie snickers as you roll your eyes and gesture for them to return back to their seats and Niccolo hands you the guitar pick. 

“Okay, well. This one is Birds of a Feather, guys.” 

And I don't know what I'm cryin' for I don't think I could love you more It might not be long, but, baby, I Don't wanna say goodbye

Birds of a feather We should stick together, I know (till the day that I die) I said I'd never Think I wasn't better alone (till the light leaves my eyes) Can't change the weather Might not be forever (till the day I die) But if it's forever it's even better

You look to your left, your fingers slightly stinging from the metal of the guitar strings as you turn to Eren, Levi, and Hange and smile. 

I knew you in another life You had that same look in your eyes I love you, don't act so surprised

The group of them all give you a set of cheers – Connie and Gabi pressing wet kisses to your cheeks and Mikasa ruffling your hair – as they all excitedly get closer to the screen and take pictures. It gives you a chance to find Historia alone on the couch, as you offer her a smile. 

“Is it meant to be a big fuck you to me that you put everyone’s songs there but mine?” Historia asks. 

You roll your eyes. 

“The exact opposite actually. That song is my gift to you actually. It’s yours, entirely. It was a little bit too personal of me to share without your permission. And even if you give permission, I think you should be the one to share that with people and get full flowers for the masterpiece that you wrote.” 

Historia smiles, leaning her head against your shoulder. 

“I was about to write a whole song about how much of a bitch you were.” she jokes. 

You snort. 

“Don’t worry. I was already writing a counter response about how much I loved you.” 

You watch as Historia wrinkles her nose before leaning forward and leaning her weight against you. Her grasp only seems to get tighter as you return the affection, soaking in the sweet vanilla smell for one of the last times in the foreseeable future. 

--

The following morning happens too fast. Because Jean and Mikasa are finishing getting everything packed up and Niccolo and Sasha are eating breakfast, and in the blink of an eye, the three hours you had dwindled down to all of you standing on the porch, teary eyed. 

And it’s really silent, quiet hugs and smiles, before the sets of cars arrive, that you all really turn to each other – and realize that you have to leave. 

And you’re able to handle it considerably well, with Eren at your side, the two of you swallowing down that scratchy feeling in your throat as you say goodbye to Sasha, Niccolo, and Reiner. And it goes well for the most part, watching each of them duck their heads into their cars and give one last wave before they drive away. 

That is until Connie, Jean, and Mikasa walk up to you, each of them with the biggest of smiles on their faces. 

“Hey guys.” Mikasa says. 

You clear your throat, trying to shake the tears that are rising up away, as you look at her. 

“Hey.” you respond. 

“That was the first thing you ever said to her.” Jean states. 

You widen your eyes. 

“Really?” 

“No. I’m just fucking with you, I made that up.” 

You shove him in the side, as the group of you laugh, before Connie pulls all of you closer, everyone linking their arms around each other's shoulders and making a little circle. And you all lean your heads against each other – unable to muster any semblance of words that can put meaning to any of the feelings – as you watch from afar. 

Niccolo and Sasha leave together, but not before Sasha blows all of you one last kiss. Gabi and Falco are accompanied by a very annoyed Colt. Reiner’s last hug is to Hange and surprisingly, he’s the first one to break Levi. 

“Our car is the last one there, the black.” Jean states. 

You and Eren give each other a look, as you all unlock your arms from the circle and smile at each other. 

“Enjoy your honeymoon, guys. And don’t give us a godchild too fast. I still haven’t gotten over my fear of children. Or pregnant women…” you state. 

“You’re scared of pregnant women?” Jean asks. 

“You didn’t know that? They like freak her out.” Eren states. 

“They don’t freak me out. I just…can’t think about it for too long. So give me some time, Mikasa.” 

The two of them shake their heads, almost like they’re annoyed by the thought, before they pull you in for their last hugs. And you can’t help but feel your heart sink as you watch the two of them walk away, at the last wave as they offer before they get tucked into their car. 

Connie’s the last one standing. 

“My car’s here too.” Connie states. 

You and Eren turn to face him, getting the slightest shiver from the cold air, as you both turn to him. 

“I’ll see you guys again?” Connie states. 

You both smile, biting down on the hardness of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling too hard. 

“Of course you will.” 

“I’ll be the first to visit you guys wherever you end up after filming that last scene.” 

You and Eren turn to each other and smile, before shaking your heads at him. 

“Okay, Connie. We’ll get together.” Eren states. 

Connie smiles, reaching forward to cup one of your cheeks and place his free hand on Eren’s shoulder, before he squeezes both of your skin. 

“I’m glad. Now that I’ve given my last ditch effort at attempting matchmaking for the two of you, I’ll finally be able to tell you all about my girlfriend.” 

“Your what?” you ask. 

Connie gives you a wink. 

“See you guys later.” he responds, walking off with his bag. 

You and Eren turn to each other, eyes wide. 

“He has a girlfriend?” you whisper. 

“I didn’t know he has a fucking girlfriend. You know, you can’t just fucking say that and walk off into the fucking distance, Connie!” Eren shouts. 

“Watch me!” Connie responds, tucking his head into the back of the car, before slamming the door shut.

Eren crosses his hands over his chest. 

“What a fucking prick. That’s way dramatic, even for him.”  

“I will admit, that’s so on brand for him that I can’t even be annoyed about it. “

“I’ll fucking say.” 

You and Eren stand there on the pavement, socks cold on the gravel, with Levi and Hange standing a few feet away on the porch, as you watch the cars drive off and feel the silence hang in the air. And it’s only when Connie’s car disappears into the horizon that the thoughts return – the doubts of what you and Eren would actually have to confront now – as you turn over to him at your left. 

“Hi.” 

Eren smiles. 

“Hey.” 

“Ready to talk?” 

Eren nods. 

“I’m all yours.” 

You and Eren trudge back to the front, where Levi and Hange are waiting, as you trail back in and lock the door behind you. 

“Can you meet us at the table? We’re just going to grab the scripts and then talk about the next few days.” Hange asks. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

You and Eren walk down the hall, hands brushing against each other, as Eren turns to look at you. Hange and Levi return within the minute, each of them handing you a script with your names inked in bright green marker. 

“I thought there wasn’t any dialogue for this. Like last time.” you state. 

“We’re doing something a little different than last time.” Hange states. 

“We’re going to film this that Hange and I wrote scene three days from now. And you’re not allowed to see each for those three days, until we film that scene.” 

“What?” you ask. 

“The scene is fairly simple, but…we need you guys to really nail it. But besides that, I want you guys to really get into the character work for it and really think about what it would be like to see each other after time apart, to be isolated like that alone.” 

“Yeah, yeah. That’s fine and all. But can we like delay the whole…not seeing each other thing for like an hour?” you ask. 

Levi frowns. 

“No. That’s like the entire point. It doesn’t exactly work if you get to talk before it happens.” 

“Okay, I get that. But..” you start. 

“No buts. You’re going to do this. It’s just three days. You guys have willingly gone without talking for longer than that.” 

You glare at him. 

“And you complained plenty about that. First you want us to talk to each other and then you’re physically stopping us from doing so?” 

Hange gives you an apologetic smile as Levi stands up, shuffling off towards the end of the hallway, as Hange follows. You turn to Eren, heaving a deep sigh as you look at him. 

“I guess I’ll see you in a few days?” Eren asks. 

“Yeah. You know, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when they said that we were going to be here alone.” 

Eren shrugs.

“Me neither. But that’s just kind of how it goes.” Eren responds. 

“I’ll see you in three days, I guess.” 

Eren smiles. 

“It’ll pass by before you know it.” Eren offers. 

--

Eren wondered if the time was passing as slowly as it was for you as it was for him. 

The slow rotation of things that he had been using to fill the time on the first day – walking the length of the block, packing up the last of his things, and flipping through all of the books left in his room – were doing little to help him on the second day. 

In all honesty, he was starting to get antsy. Too nervous for his own good. 

And every little nervous thought that he had – about whatever it is that you had to say to him, the sheer embarrassment of letting himself go too far the night of the wedding, of never getting to feel the safe comfort of this house again – was culminating his headspace into a wasteland for good thoughts. 

Eren wondered if it was possible to feel nostalgia for something if he was still in the depths of it. Or really, he knew for a fact that you could – but just wasn’t sure how it was exactly possible. 

Because deep in the pit of his stomach, he was dreading the fact that in two days, the three of you were going to lock up this house and never return. That even if he got to return, it would never feel the same as it did before and whatever time he had spent here, it had already passed by him in front of his eyes and he hadn’t noticed until it was almost over. 

It was a different sort of nostalgia, he supposed. Because it was one thing to be outside, playing with your friends for the last time and not realizing it was the last, but another to know that you were standing in the halls of all you had ever known and knowing in full that you were going to walk away from it and it was never going to be the same. 

Eren reaches for the box closest to him, filled with the polaroids that he had picked to keep, and picks the first one out that he could find. 

A picture of you and Armin at his sides, your cheeks resting on his shoulders in front of the brightly lit candles of his sixteenth birthday cakes. 

It almost bothers him. That he can’t remember the exact moment the picture flashed – or really anything that happened after. But there’s the smallest amount of solace that Eren gets from looking at the pictures too. 

Only because he knows that the person in the picture, who was so inexplicably happy, is still buried somewhere deep within him – and that at the very least, he’ll get to carry that person wherever he goes. 

There’s a knock at the door, followed by a pair of footsteps that belong to Hange and Levi, who plop down at his side. Eren quickly tosses the picture back into the box, before offering the two of them a smile and hiking his knees closer to his chest. 

“You okay?” Hange asks. 

Eren smiles. 

“Just feeling nostalgic.” 

“Tell me about it.” Hange responds. 

“How’s Y/N?” Eren asks. 

Levi turns to face him and gives him an irritated glare. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

Eren rolls his eyes. 

“Yes, Levi. That’s obviously why I asked.” 

“If you must know, she’s very irritated with me. She gave me some choice words when I had breakfast with her yesterday morning.” 

“Yeah, well. She had something she wanted to talk to me about. We kind of –” 

“You guys kissed while you were drunk at the wedding. Well, she technically initiated the kiss and the second and the third. And it was only because she got carried away after you didn’t believe her when she was trying to tell you that she loved you.” Hange finishes. 

Eren turns his head to the side. 

“What?” 

“She told us.” 

“Well, she told you wrong. She did try to…confess to me and begged me to kiss her, but I was the one who leaned forward. And the one who kissed her the second and the third time.” Eren clarifies. 

Levi snorts. 

“You remember?” Levi asks. 

“Do you think that’s just something I can forget?” Eren asks. 

“Well, my previous source seemed to think it was plausible.” 

Eren frowns. 

“She doesn’t remember.” Eren mumbles. 

“Well, you did have a lot to drink.” 

It suddenly makes sense to Eren – almost too much sense. The reason that you were so insistent about talking was because you weren’t sure that he reciprocated the feelings. Not because you were so bothered by what had happened that night. 

“She really said that?” Eren asks. 

If you were the tiniest shred of overthinking capacities like Eren did, which he knew for a fact that you did, he figured that you had already spun the story ten different ways in your head. That you were probably simmering over there, nervously itching to say what you had wanted – similar to the way that he had felt for weeks when you had actually returned. 

“She thinks you don’t remember anything that happened that night. And because of it, she’s going to repeat exactly what it was that she said to you, again. Just to know the answer for sure” 

Eren leans back against the frame of the bed, angling his head up towards the peeling wallpaper on the ceiling. Hange and Levi join him at his sides, the three of them watching hte fan spin around and cast shadows on the wall. 

“Why are you telling me?” Eren asks. 

“Do you believe in signs, Eren?” Hange asks. 

“Hange.” Levi berates. 

“Fuck off. Answer the question, Eren.” 

Eren pauses. 

“Sometimes. Why?” 

Hange leans to the side, before handing him a book. 

The Complete and Collected Poems of Maya Angelou. 

Marco’s poetry book. 

“You know, this was a gift to you guys. Why are you giving it back?” 

“Open it to the marked page.” 

Eren sits up, spreading his fingers over the top of the pages before he finds the dent and pulls open to the page. 

Have enough courage to trust love one more time and almost one more time. 

“Right. Are you about to give me a whole lecture about –” 

“Look at who marked the page.” 

Eren looks back at the bottom of the page, only to find his own writing staring back at him. And it’s only then that he remembers that this was a gift that Marco had given to him – at his last birthday party before the two of you broke up, when you passed out in his bed from how exhausted you were instead of blowing out the candles with him. 

“Not that I believe in any of this shit, but…but we were cleaning up the room before we were going to come talk to you before going to bed. And it just fell on the floor, straight off the shelf, and opened to that exact page.” 

Eren gets it now. 

“Do you believe in signs, Eren?” Hange asks, again. 

Eren slams the book shut. He wasn’t exactly the superstitious type, but he could trust in the things that he knew were tried and true. 

And Marco did make a promise to haunt him from the grave. And he was never one to break a promise. 

“Yes. I most definitely do believe in signs.” Eren answers. 

--

“Levi. Did you…did you empty this out?” 

“Why on Earth would I do that?” 

You set the glass jar down, before dropping to the floor and running your hands over the tile to find the slip of paper – the request that Eren had placed in the jar months prior – now nowhere to be found. 

“Why are you on the dirty floor?” 

“My paper is missing. I-I didn’t take it out in the past few days, I think it might have gotten shuffled up with everyone moving and all that.” 

“What was on it, kid?” Hange asks. 

You lean back on your heels, wiping the dust from your fingers, as you feel your heart sink in your chest. 

“Eren’s request for my song.” 

“Oh! Just ask him to write it again.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll just do that.” 

Except that’s not good enough. Because if your hunch was correct, Eren wouldn’t write what he wrote the first time again – whatever it was that he scribbled onto the green slip of paper. 

“Yeah. But ask him tomorrow, when you’re done filming.” Levi states.

You glare at Levi. 

“No one is breaking your stupid rule, Levi. Relax.” you respond, as you make your way to leave the room. 

“You’re not eating lunch?” 

“I’m not hungry anymore.” you respond. 

You drag your feet across the floor as the frustrated tears start to accumulate in your eyes – burning warm and hot as you make your way down into the hall and slam the door shut behind you. And you can’t help but lean down across the wood and watch as the tears fall onto your knees, the pounding in your head being a culmination of every horrible thought that’s danced across your viewfinder in the past few days. 

Slowly but surely, any hope that you had on the first day had all but dwindled down into nothing on the third day. And the courage, the deep insistence that you had to talk to Eren face to face, has simmered down when the fears started getting louder. 

Because, maybe, it was really for the better that Eren didn’t remember. And that maybe, this is exactly how you and Eren were supposed to end. 

You walked in the wrong direction. And then he did too. And weirdly enough, the stars still aligned so you would both end up here, before you had to leave again. 

And if you really count things in the grand scheme of things, there was nothing you could do but be grateful. 

Well, really, if you wanted to stay optimistic – and keep your promise of leaving here different than the way you returned – you had to be optimistic. 

You had to be determined to find the good, even if there wasn't any. You’d root it out of every nook and cranny – and even if you couldn’t find it, you were going to make it for yourself. 

You reach for the box off of the desk, filled with the polaroids you have tacked on the wall, and reach for the on the top. 

It felt like cheating – stealing a polaroid that you weren’t in – but you couldn’t help but take the picture of Sukuna and Eren standing together, trying to act cool by not smiling at the camera, and keep it for yourself. 

You find solace in the fact that Eren’s loved. That Eren loved you and that you loved him – and that a part of you always will. 

Eren always seemed like there was more than he was putting off and really, every conversation that you had ever had with him since he was a kid had left you wanting more. Only because you could tell – that deep down – there was more than he was letting on, hundreds of things and memories that he was waiting to share with you. 

It was really the best thing about him – knowing that you would never tire of being around him. Because he’d tell you something new, teach you a new set of chords on the piano, or tell you about memories of his that you weren’t privy to experiencing next to him. 

You wonder if it’ll be different when you see him years down the line. 

If he’ll grow his hair longer, if he’ll have hundreds of more memories that he wants to share with you, and if you’ll be able to walk the path back to where you started after time away. 

You reach for your notebook, to the last free page in your lyric book and scribble three words at the top. 

See You Soon 

--

The nervousness leaves you the morning you film. It’s almost serene, the feeling having settled into your bones, as you sit in the chair – watching them blow the hair dryer through the ends of your hair for the last time. 

“You’re just going to sit out there in the little meadow. Eren will meet you there when he’s ready and we’ll just kind of keep continuously rolling. You can do whatever you want or…or whatever feels right. We’ll cut when you film the scene.” Levi explains. 

You nod. 

“What if Eren never shows up? Are you going to roll for three hours?” 

“Well, he’s getting ready in his trailer, so I don’t think it’ll be that long.” 

You look over your shoulder at the trailer, before turning back to him. 

“Okay, well. See you out there.” Levi responds, giving one last squeeze to your cheek. 

You take a slow start to getting out there. Linger back to hug the hairdressers and makeup artists one last time, dawdle by the food cart and spend your sweet time eating the scones, before you make your way out to the meadow. 

The little cabin that the crew had constructed was perfect. Complemented by the little flowers barely blooming nearby and the clouds whistling through the air – the smallest part of you ached that it was real and not just four ply walls with nothing inside them. 

You take a seat on the bench just outside and hike your knees to your chest. You pull the sleeves of the pink cardigan over your palms, before nestling your nose into the softness of the scarf – perfumed the same way with a mix of the fresh detergent smell and the flowery perfume that the costume designers douse the clothes in. 

You try to memorize everything exactly the way it is. The blades of grass dancing in the wind of the cold air, the sun peeking out through the patches of the clouds, and your heart racing in your chest. 

You feel a tap on your shoulder, which you know belongs to Eren at your side. 

You look to your left to see him sitting there, his hair freshly cut. It’s considerably shorter – the exact length it was when you met him. 

“Eren.” you whisper. 

It almost doesn’t feel like he’s standing there. 

“Y/N.” 

It’s a kind smile that he offers you, one that goes to the depths of his green eyes. You can’t bear to look at it, and instead, choose to focus on the smallest bloom of flowers out in the distance. 

“Levi cut your hair again.” you mumble. 

Eren shakes his head. 

“My idea.” Eren responds. 

You twist the laces of your shoes in your fingertips – the plastic a the end of the lace almost fraying from how overworn the shoes are – as you try to swallow the block in your throat and make polite conversation. 

“Any reason why?” 

“You like it better this way.” Eren states. 

You feel your throat dry. 

“What?”

“You love my hair short. You told me that on the night of the wedding.” 

You pale. He remembers. He remembers every word of your drunk ramblings – including the fact that you mentioned that his hair looks the best to you when it’s short, because it’s the exact length it was when you fell in love with him. 

Eren stands up, before turning back to you and extending his hand out. 

“Are you ready to finish this?” Eren asks. 

You take a deep breath, before putting your hand in his, and giving him a nod. 

“I’m ready.” you respond. 

The tears that come are warm and hot and they arise quickly in the few seconds that Eren takes to walk to his cue. Because what he had just said had just registered in your head. 

He cut his hair short because you like it better that way. 

Eren’s hand is warm on your shoulder, as he lightly shakes you. 

“Y/N. Wake up.” 

You open your eyes to find the tears blurring your vision, which you’re silently thankful for, as you try to look in his direction. 

“You’ll catch a cold.” Eren murmurs. 

The tone he uses – it’s the exact opposite of the gravelly tone that always catches you off guard, the one you hate for its harshness. Only because it felt wrong, because it was so antithetical to the Eren you knew. 

You shake your head, trying to remember your lines from the scene. 

“Eren? Huh? When did I fall asleep?” 

“You must have been really exhausted.” Eren responds. 

“I just felt like I had a really long dream.” 

Eren turns around and smiles. 

“Let’s just take it easy and do nothing for the rest of the day. I caught some huge fish so…Y/N…why are you crying?” 

You reach up, wiping the wetness you were unable to blink away from your cheeks. 

“I don’t know. I suddenly felt like I shouldn’t be here.” 

Eren frowns, taking a deep breath, before he turns to you. You can make out that his hands are slightly shaking at his sides. 

“I’m sure Armin has been desperate to find us. But I couldn’t plunge Historia into hell and commit into an endless cycle of killing and I couldn’t bring myself to bring genocide upon everyone else outside the island.” 

Eren pauses, as he balls his hands into a fist at his side. 

“Let’s just go…live out my remaining four years in peace and quiet. Just the two of us, with no other people.” 

You recognize that tone too but this one almost makes you wince. Because it’s the quiet begging – that you heard once on the beach, years prior. 

“You’re the one who said that, Y/N. It was your idea.” he whispers. 

You stand up, looping your arms around his torso as you bury your head into the side of his neck and get a strong whiff of his cologne. 

“Yeah. I’m sorry I said that. I know we promised to not talk about that.” you whisper. 

You can feel Eren shaking underneath your touch as he brings his hands up. 

“Can we make another promise? Once I’m dead, throw this scarf away. You’re going to live a long time after this.” 

You pinch your eyes shut, in anticipation for the next line. 

“Forget all about me. Please, Y/N.” 

You swallow hard, before pulling back to look at him, and his deep green eyes. 

“I’m sorry. I can’t.” you whisper. 

Eren gives you a silent nod, before he leans forward, and slots his lips against yours. It’s the opposite of four nights ago and in no way fiery, burning, or searing your skin. It’s the exact opposite – warm, tender, and final. 

Eren pulls back, reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ear, before you hear Levi’s voice. 

“Cut! That’s a series wrap on Attack on Titan.” 

There’s a group of resounding cheers, as you and Eren pull back, and give each other a lingering smile. Eren raises his fingers to his lips, tracing the skin, before Hange’s absolute manhanding of him directs his attention away. 

--

You toss and turn in the bed for three hours before you give up on sleeping all together. 

It’s the only reason that you’re trudging back over to the set in the cold, the key pressed into the palm of your hand and the book tucked into the warmth of your arm. 

You’d thought long and hard about all the lasts you were experiencing in the past few days – which is precisely why you were utterly shocked that you had forgotten about this one. 

It was only in your tossing and turning that you realized you hadn’t even paid a last homage to the piano that you learned to play on – and the sudden thought of it had your legs moving before you even realized that you were marching over there in the dark of the night. 

You take the key and jam it into the lock, wiggling the entire knob before the door clicks open, and you march into the unexpected brightness of the set. You’re taken aback by the golden lights still being left on, before you hear the tune of the piano being played in the back corner and follow your way to the sound. 

You walk closer to find that it’s Eren playing. 

He’s leaning over the piano, fingers lightly pressing the keys, as he hums along to the tune. You ball your hands into fists as you walk up next to him, clearing your throat, and take the seat next to him – slightly breaking his concentration from the humming. 

“Do you mind if I join you?” you ask. 

“Not at all. I was waiting for you to get here.” Eren states. 

You give him a weary look, before placing your book on the stand right next to his, before placing your hands on the keys and trying to mimic the tune that he was playing. 

“How did you know I was going to come?” 

“I had a feeling. I’ve been seeing signs.” 

You shake your head, fighting the urge to smile. 

“And what did the signs tell you?” 

“It’s not exactly that they told me something. It’s more like they were pushing me, if that makes sense.” 

You nod. 

“Pushing you where?” 

“Only place I want to be. To you, of course.” Eren responds. 

You take your hands off the keys and place them at your sides, before lifting your legs and criss crossing them on the piano bench. Eren seems to follow your cue, because he pulls his hands off the keys too, and slides over so his legs are on each side of the bench and he can face you properly. 

“Can I tell you something?” Eren asks. 

You can feel your heart racing. Like you’re imagining what’s happening. 

“You know that feeling you get sometimes, that…that this might all be like a bad dream and you’ve just woken up from it?” 

You shake your head. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

Eren reaches forward, reaching for both of your wrists before interlocking his fingers with yours. 

“Those few seconds that you really notice things…when…when you can see the love in the room.” Eren whispers. 

You tilt your head to the side, confused. Eren shakes his head, filled with an almost infinite patience to make you understand, as he leans closer. 

“I’ll give you an example. When I was a kid, I waited at a bus stop for my mom to pick me up. It was one of the rare times that she was late and I sat there and really thought about it. That she was my mother. That I only get to have one mother and she was always going to be mine – and that really I was grateful for it.” 

You smile. 

“I had another one. One of my last days of school, I met these two people who had apparently been waiting to meet me for a really long time, who wanted to pitch an idea to me. All of my teachers were telling me that it was really important so I made my best effort that morning – trying to do my hair nice despite the fact that I was filled with a nervous ball of anxiety – and made my way over to the room at the end of the class. I walked in and Hange and Levi were sitting in the chairs, leaning back and arguing about something. Every shred of nervousness I had left me the second I walked through the door and was replaced with the exact opposite when they introduced themselves to me.” 

“I’m starting to get it.” you respond. 

“The first time you slept next to me, I –” Eren’s voice cracks. 

You pale. And Eren pauses, trying to shake the nervousness from his voice, as he looks back up at you, green eyes swimming in glistening tears. 

“Eren?” you whisper. 

“The first time you slept next to me, the moon glimmered across my ceiling through the window. There were five or six seconds where there was a pale light shining over you and me, together, and I could see that you have a mole on your left cheek and another one on the side of your neck. And it was the first time I thought that I wanted to be able to stop time just there – just right there – and live in that moment forever so I could memorize what you look like. My heart was aching and it was tender in my chest because I didn’t want to move forward.” 

You bite down on your cheek, trying to stifle the tears. 

“I’ve had hundreds of those moments with you. Tracing starlight on your skin, hearing you sing at the piano, every single fucking time you’ve blessed me by kissing me. Every single one I’ve had, that you’ve…” 

Eren shakes his head, before the tears start properly falling from his eyes. 

“Every single moment you’ve privileged me by giving has made me want to stop time and stay there, with you in it, forever.” 

You swallow the hardness in your throat down. 

“Why are you telling me this?” you whisper. 

“Because I want more of them. I want so many more of them.” 

Eren looks down, his tears falling flat against the backs of your hands. 

“I want to be selfish. You’re the love in the room. You’re my moon. You’re every fucking thing I can think of and you’ve in every single good thing that I see. You take all my love with you wherever you go and I’m tired of being apart from you. You….you’re the only fucking thing I’ve wanted since the first time I’ve ever met you and everything has conspired for you and I to be here right now – and for you to let me back in.”  

“Eren.” you whisper.

“Please.” 

Eren breaks a smile. 

“Please, I don’t want to beg. I can if you want me too but, just –” he starts. 

You smile back, recognizing the same words that he had repeated to you on the beach. 

 “But do you still belong to me?” Eren asks. 

You offer him a smile, as he lifts your hands, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. 

“Please say yes.” he whispers. 

“I was only ever going to be yours to begin with, Eren.” 

You watch as Eren pinches his eyes together, like he’s almost in pain – as he recognizes what it means – before he leans forward, tucking the stray hairs behind your ears. You give him a smile and he leans forward, almost hesitant as he closes the space between you two and smiles into the kiss. 

It’s infinitely better than the last time that you and Eren kissed on this bench, for the first time, almost ten years ago. 

Because it’s laced with all of the love that you’ve experienced with Eren – the warmth of the early love, the aching yearning in the middle, and the sweet return after all this time apart. 

He still feels the same. He’s still your Eren. 

Eren leans back, hands shaking and breathing hard as he leans against your forehead, his eyes pinched shut. 

“I love you.” Eren whispers. 

“You said that already.” you respond. 

Eren leans back and glares. But all you can do is smile – before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the side of his cheek. 

“I love you too.” you repeat. 

You lean forward, pressing your ear against Eren’s beating heart as he wraps his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you can’t help but burrow yourself deeper into his embrace – unable to stop the quiet tears from escaping your eyes and staining his shirt. 

“Do you think Marco’s dancing in his grave wherever he is?” Eren asks. 

You laugh. 

“For sure.” you whisper. 

Eren smiles, wiping the tears away from your eyes. 

“You know, you’re kind of stupid.” Eren says. 

“What?” 

“How did you remember the other night wrong? If you kissed me first, how did you end up with the hickey?” 

You bring your hand up to your neck, touching the skin. 

“That’s a hickey?” you ask. 

“What did you think it was?” Eren asks. 

“I don’t know, I kind of remember hitting my head when we were drunk. I assumed it was another inebriation-related injury.” 

Eren smiles, before leaning forward and pressing three kisses to your cheeks. 

“No. That was me. Kissing you.” 

You roll your eyes, as you lean forward and press your fingers into the dents of his dimples. 

“Speaking of, I have something for you. Well, more like I stole something from you, but…you get the idea.” Eren states. 

“What is it?” 

Eren reaches into his pocket, only to procure a green slip of finger, and holds it right in front of your face. You snatch it out of his fingers – recognizing his scribbled writing on the top – before you shove him in the side. 

“You took this? I thought it got lost in the mix of packing and everything.” 

You open it up and read Eren’s handwriting, of the request he gave you months prior. 

I know how you feel. You don’t have to say it. 

“This is…” 

“The stage directions from Season Two. When we were supposed to kiss, before it got cut out. I wrote it.” 

“Yeah, I can tell. Your handwriting is still as shit as it was when you were twelve.” 

Eren pauses, before snatching the slip back from you. 

“I mean, I was the one who wrote it into the script. I was helping Hange and Levi with scenes long before we knew about it. And I wrote that about you.” 

You smile, clutching the little slip close to your heart. 

The same Eren – with hundreds of gestures that fall deaf to your ears, that are never for show, and just an act of love  – letters to the Institute and stage directions filled with every part of him. 

“And I wrote the song for it too, if you want to hear it.” Eren finishes. 

You give him a nod, as you both slide your legs over the bench again, and Eren sits up and braces his fingers against the piano keys. You rest your head against his shoulder, smiling as he presses a kiss to the top of your head, before his voice fills the air. 

Clear blue water High tide came and brought you in And I could go on and on, on and on, and I will Skies grew darker Currents swept you out again And you were just gone and gone, gone and gone

In silent screams In wildest dreams I never dreamed of this

This love is good This love is bad This love is alive back from the dead, oh, oh, oh These hands had to let it go free, and This love came back to me, oh, oh, oh Ohh Oh, oh, oh

Your kiss, my cheek I watched you leave Your smile, my ghost I fell to my knees When you're young, you just run But you come back to what you need

Unbeknownst to you and Eren, you’re not the only ones who have trouble sleeping that night – and you’re not the only ones who figure that spending time on set would be a good use of the time. It’s why Hange and Levi decide to trek to the set in the middle of the night. 

And when they make their way over to the set, they wriggle the door only to find that it’s already wide open and that the sound of the piano is filling the acoustics of the room. And to their sweet surprise, it’s because it's you and Eren – sitting at the piano together, pressing kisses to each other’s cheeks. 

“Levi. They’re –” 

“I know.” he whispers. 

Hange looks over at Levi, only to find him smiling from ear to ear. 

“Should we say something?” 

Levi looks over at the two of you and shakes his head. 

“No.” he whispers. 

Hange smiles, before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“Let’s go back to bed.” 

“Yeah. I can finally rest in fucking peace.” Levi responds. 

--

Eren makes you breakfast the following morning. It almost gives you deja vu – but the good kind – watching him make the bowl of ramen as you stand there by his side, sitting on the counter and dangling your feet over the granite. 

Eren uses his free hand to hold yours. 

“Does it make you sad?” you ask. 

“What?” 

“That this is like our last time eating ramen in this house together.” 

Eren smiles and squeezes your hand three times. 

“No.” he responds, before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

You push him slightly. 

“Levi and Hange could come any minute.” 

“Are you twelve? Why would we hide this from them?” 

You pause. 

“I don’t know. I…I was kind of thinking that we’d wait to tell people, or at least everyone, until we…I don’t know. Get some time to ourselves.” you respond. 

Eren smiles. 

“I like it. We’ll do whatever you want to.” 

You frown. 

“Well, I don’t want you to follow my lead just because. If you want to scream it from the rooftops and tell everyone, I am more than happy to do that.” you clarify. 

“No, no. Really. I don’t want to tell anyone – just Levi and Hange.” Eren responds. 

You smile. 

“Okay. I can do just Levi and Hange.” 

“Are you praying on our downfall? Why did I just hear my name?” Levi asks, as he shuffles into the room and spares the two of you a glance in the kitchen. 

“But of course! What else would we do in our free time?” you respond, as you give Hange a nod as they set the kettle for Levi’s tea. 

Eren waits for the noodles to boil as he turns around, opening his arm up and tucking you into the crook of his arm, as you loop your arms around his torso. Levi spares a glance to Hange, before looking back at the two of you. 

“Do you two have something you want to share with the class?” Levi asks. 

“Nothing you haven’t guessed already.” you respond. 

Hange gives an excited squeal, before reaching forward and wrapping their arms around the two of you and screaming in your ears. 

“I am so fucking happy for you guys! I almost burst into tears when I saw you guys kissing last night!” 

You feel your eyes widen. 

“You saw us what?” 

“Levi and I were feeling all sentimental and stuff so we wanted to go over to the set just to soak it all in for the last time. When we got there, the two of you were kissing! I wanted to interrupt but I figured you know…give you your privacy and all that.” Hange squeals. 

“Thank god.” you murmur. 

It would been infinitely embarrassing if Hange and Levi were there to watch what happened after. 

“Hange. Part of leaving them there alone was also not mentioning the fact that we saw them there.” Levi deadpans. 

Levi gives Hange a passive glare, before turning back to the two of you. 

“Don’t fuck it up this time.” he states. 

You both smile. 

“We won’t.” 

“Good. Well, I’m happy for you two. I can tell that the love was worth the wait and…and all the trouble too.” 

You both look at each other and smile, before Eren turns around and starts plating the bowls. And you sink in the feeling – trying to paint all the details to memory – and compare them to the first time the four of you ate together. 

After Eren broke the bowl because of your noise cancelling headphones, Levi and Hange telling you what method acting was for the first time – Eren promising that you two were going to be the best. 

“Hey, Levi.” 

“Yeah?” he responds. 

“Did you find out anything about the people who are buying the house after us?” 

Levi turns to look at you. 

“Why do you ask?” 

You shrug. 

“I don’t know. I just want to make sure that it was someone who was going to love the house just as much as we do.” 

Levi looks back at you, before giving you a smile. 

“It’s a young couple. Margaret and Bruce. They’re big into music so they wanted the set space for the acoustics.” 

You turn back to Eren, eyes wide, as he presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“I’m not sad about this breakfast at all. We have a hundred more in front of us.” he whispers, before taking the two steaming bowls to the table where Hange and Levi are sitting. 

You shake your head, unable to contain your smile, before you jump off the counter and join the three of them. 

Together, but not for the last time.

--

next part linked here

an: one more. someone ask for the birds of a feather track list i have it ready.

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[satansindexfinger]

Hc of The brothers and accidental kiss

Note: Thanks for the request! I'm a sucker for these ahshd

Warnings: none

Summary: You leaned over the demons shoulder, intending on handing him a report/class notes. You called his name while doing so, naturally prompting him to turn his head your direction... only for your lips to connect due to the miscalculation of distance between your faces.

Fluff; GN! MC, Lucifer; Mammon; Leviathan; Satan; Asmodeous;Beelzebub; Belphegor

Lucifer

Oh.

O h. Lucifer certainly didn't expect to meet your lips when he was about to thank you for handing the paperwork. He had been too engrossed in his work to notice where you were situated.

Aside from his pupils dilating, he makes no visable reaction. Expects you to be the first to separate from the kiss. Definently not because he's internally flustered beyond belief and stuck in place. No sir.

Once you pull away his eyes will linger on you for a few beats, taking in your expression; you liked that, right? Your face is adorable when you're flushed like that. It takes Lucifer every bit of will he has not to let his own blush show.

Has the nerve to appear completely unbothered and even smirk.

"Well.. that was unexpected. I must say, I am kind of dissappointed - it wasn't a proper kiss. How about we try that again, if you don't mind? Come closer."

Mammon

It takes a moment for Mammon's brain to send him signals about what's happening. As soon as it does, this man is shooting backwards so fast he trips over air and falls on his back.

An absolute mess. Stuttering, blushing, covering his mouth, the whole nine yards. His fingers keep trailing on his lips, you notice. Cannot look you in the eyes to save his life.

"W-what's the big idea, sneakin' up on me like that?! Scared the crap outta me.. give me a warnin' n-next time, ya dumb human! How bold can ya get, doin' that to me?!"

Mammon, you're the one who turned.

Once he's calmed down he gets back up and makes an attempt to face you again. Albeit with a blush going up his ears and fingers still on his lips; as if he's savoring your exchange.

"No fair.. I wanted our first kiss to be special, damnit. So this one doesn't count, okay?!"

Immediate regret felt and tantrum thrown after he realizes what he just said.

Leviathan

If you thought Mammon had a freakout... oh boy. Levi is ten the times embarrassed and overreacting. Looks like he's committed every possible crime; he's that emotional about it.

Both hands covering his overly red face, speech too frantic for you to understand aside from a few 'sorry's and some self deprecating comments.

The situation reminds Levi of a certain anime and that only makes him more flushed, and somewhat wistful. He liked it, dont get him wrong! He just thinks you might have not appreciated it like he did.

Please reassure him. The avatar of envy needs it as to not regret it for the rest of his life.

"A-are you sure it's okay? I mean, we just k-kissed, y'know?! This kind of thing only happens in my fantasy world.. wait, h-hold on, I didn't mean-"

Has trouble looking you in the eyes after that little incident. Keeps the memory of it close to his heart though, and always will.

Satan

It takes him off guard for about two seconds. In those two seconds he debates on whether he should deepen the kiss, since it's something he's been wanting for awhile, or if he should pull away. He decides on the latter as he wants to confirm your feelings (if you have any) before doing that.

"Ah.. sorry about that. I didn't realize you were that close."

Treats it like it's no big deal, but his heart it hammering inside his chest. And you don't miss the faint blush on his cheeks as he coughs in his hand in an attempt to change topic.

Thanks you for the notes and makes casual conversation, hoping to change the mood and pretend the kiss never happened.

Satan's eyes seem to, unconsciously, trail towards your lips when he's talking to you for the next week or so.

Try as he might he cannot forget that brief moment and will bring it up to you, asking if you liked it and if you'd rather get a proper kiss from him.

Asmodeous

Surprised as he is, Asmo wastes no time in keeping your lips pressed just a second longer than would be considered accidental. It's his way of enticing you, hoping you liked the taste of him enough to ask for more.

Pretends to be shocked, squealing and giggling like a high school girl. All the while teasing you like

"Oh, sorry honey! Then again.. was it really an accident~? It's okay to admit you just wanted to kiss me! I would never deny you that. You were so sneaky with it too~ Ahh, it's adorable!"

You'd think the avatar of lust doesn't think much of it.. if it weren't for all the situations he'd tried to get both of you into where just a turn of his head would result in you "accidentally" kissing again.

Is honestly flabbergasted you don't intentionally seek out his lips after that! Maybe he should try harder to captivate you next time~

Beelzebub

It takes you pulling away sharply for Beel to realize what had just happened. He's a bit frozen in place, the hands holding his snacks at a standstill while a faint blush decorates his face.

"Ah, sorry... thanks for the homework, MC."

His face doesn't return to its normal colour the rest of the day. He apologizes again if he's made you uncomfortable, even if it was an accident and he had no way of predicting it.

It is kind of a problem for Beel.. he enjoyed the taste of your lips, brief as it was, more than any kind of food he'd put past them. He's hungry in a way he didn't even conceive before.

But Beel is respectful. Will not bring the incident up until you do, and if you do he will make it known he enjoyed it.

"Sorry again, MC. It's just... I want more. You don't have to kiss me again if you don't want to but.. Could you?"

Belphegor

Tries to appear unbothered and apathetic but the colour on his cheeks, going all the way up his ears gives his true feelings away. He cannot meet your eyes too, trying to distract himself.

"Jeez... thanks for the papers, but you didn't have to get all close like that. What if I butted my head on yours? You'd probably be crying instead of giving me the face you are right now."

Belphie, you can't even see their face with how you refuse to look at them-

Waves his hand in an attempt to dismiss you and assures you he's got whatever it is he needed the notes for.

Although as soon as you make your move to leave, Belphie is giving you a confused look and tugging at your sleeve.

"Really? You're gonna pretend this didn't happen and just leave me like that? I don't think so. Either tell me what you thought about it or just.. let me redo it."

[mrkis]

nct dream reaction :: being teased by their s/o

𝗥𝗘𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗗? 〚𝗬𝗘𝗦✗〛/ 〚NO〛 ⟶ nct dream reacting to their s/o being bratty? love your work ♡ much hugs for you!

𝗔𝗡| love you! also, i somewhat changed it a little bit of this req because i hardcore struggled thinking of something bratty without repeating myself. however, i still tried to make it as interesting and pussy dripping as i could. hope you don't mind!

𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗞

Mark has a lot of patience, especially since being the leader of six other members who constantly try to get under his skin every second of the day. So, automatically, he has a lot of patience when it comes to you too. But there's just something about today specifically that's letting your bratty nature get to him, his jaw clenching and fingers tightening around his pen as he tries to scribble down lyrics for a new song he's working on while your own wandering fingers are touching his body, riling him up.

Kun's sitting at the desk in front of you both, chunky headphones sitting on his head that bobs gently to each beat he tests out, taking no notice in either of you as he's too sucked into his work, unlike Mark who so desperately tries to be on the sofa behind, elbowing you every time your hand sneaks between his thighs, groping the flesh to tease him.

"Babe" He warns, voice low and sultry as he suddenly grips your wrist, catching you off guard. He puts his face closer to yours, tilting his head to the side as he whispers, "Do it again and I'll make you regret it"

𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗝𝗨𝗡

Watches you expressionlessly with his arms crossed over his chest as you try your hardest to rile him up in public, trying to make him crack and break. Renjun keeps his eyes locked on yours to slightly intimidate you, to make you quit your little flirtatious and teasing antics towards him. He's hard, without a doubt, his cock is straining uncomfortable in his pants but he's known for his poker face, so he keeps up his own act, pretending how everything you were doing wasn't getting to him like you hoped it would.

"Just give in" You whisper to him, stroking his face tenderly with a grin as his eyes narrow at you. "You can try to hide it but I know if I shove my hands down your pants right now, your cock will be hard and ready for me to take... isn't that right, Renjun?"

Renjun's tongue prods his cheek at your sultry tone, shaking his head with a chuckle, façade dropping slightly before he leans closer to your face, "You think you have it all worked out, don't you? When you truly know that all I have to do is touch you and you'll be done for... try me, baby... do it"

𝗝𝗘𝗡𝗢

Sits back with his hands in his lap as you act up in front of him, eyes never leaving your figure as you tease him with your mood comments and flirtatious gestures towards the Haechan who sits on the opposite side of the couch in amusement. His tongue prods at his cheek when he sees your hand float a little too closely to Haechan's inner thigh and the latter, as sneaky and teasing as he was, provokes the situation even more by shuffling closer to you, your hand almost touching the front of his pants.

Joy fills you seeing Jeno so affected by your ways, excitement buzzing through your veins when you think about the punishment you'll receive later on in the bedroom. You want everything Jeno can give you which is why you send Haechan a look that he immediately understands, testing the waters even more as he goes to grab your hand.

"Let him touch you and I'll fuck you open over the coffee table, and trust me... i will not let you cum"

𝗛𝗔𝗘𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗡

Haechan's gaming time was supposed to be over a few minutes ago, but truthfully, he stayed on a little longer because he enjoys hearing and watching you get bratty. You're mumbling complaints after complaints, a playful pout present on your features as you scoff and twist around in the bed, burying your head into the pillow as you grumble about how he never does anything for you and threatening to grab your vibrator from your nightstand drawer if he wasn't going to please you.

He laughs as he stands from his gaming chair, stretching out his back as he walks over to the bed, tauntingly crawling above the sheets and slithering between your legs that open upon his arrival. His grips your thighs, squeezing the flesh in his palms as he smiles,

"You want me that bad?" Haechan teases, smiling even wider as you begin to snap at him, shushing you by dragging you closer to him, pressing the front of his boxers to your ass, the bulge growing with each subtle grind, "Show me how bad you want me"

𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗠𝗜𝗡

Can't stop the genuine smile that spreads across his face as he realises what you're doing, elbows resting on the table as he watches you flaunt around the kitchen dressed in his shirt and your underwear, purposely bending over all surfaces possible to show off your ass. You've been at this all morning, giving him slight attitude and teasing him with your gestures and items of clothing that you knew he liked seeing on you. It didn't fully click in his mind what exactly was going on until he caught you sighing to yourself, mumbling quietly about how all your efforts to get fucked had been for nothing. But you weren't a quitter, you don't give up. And Jaemin loves that about you.

"You're so cute" Jaemin admits after sitting in silence for so long, grin widening as you finally turn to face him with a glare.

"I wasn't trying to be cute. I want to be sexy..." Your voice trails as you walk up to him, standing between his spread legs as he shifts in the chair. Your hands come up to tangle in his hair, "I want to be enticing... irresistible... tempt—"

"Are you going to keep talking?" Jaemin cuts you off, tongue poking out to wet his bottom lip as his hands trail up your thighs, squeezing the flesh of your ass, "Or are you going to let me give you what you've been desperately craving?"

𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗡𝗟𝗘

"Hey, what are you doi—stop, I'm trying to—" Chenle sighs heavily as you sit on his lap, disrupting him from watching a show on his phone, shoving your head in front of his to block his view of the screen. He laughs softly, "Are you serious?"

You don't answer him as your arms curl around his shoulders, grinding your hips down onto his and smirking at you hear the sharp intake of breath, his hands coming down to grip waist. You've been trying to make him give you all of his attention when he had came over to stay for the night, expecting your time to be filled with cuddles and make-out sessions which you, with your fingers crossed tightly, hoped it would lead into him dicking you down. You craved him so badly, wanting to his cock stretch you out and make you see stars. You yearned for his touch, his lips, his attention.

"I want you to want me, Chenle" You tell him, letting out a soft moan when you feel the drawstrings on his pants graze against your clit. "I want you to want me as much as I want you"

"You're so greedy" He tuts, letting his phone fall out of his hands and onto the sheets as he grips you tightly, pulling you closer to him. "Can you ride me? Remind me of how pretty you look bouncing on top of me"

𝗝𝗜𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚

"You're... you're acting this way because I wont let you give me head?" Jisung asks in disbelief, pointing his finger at himself as you finally admit to why you've been acting so weird this late evening. Jisung has never seen you act in such a way: feeling him up, sending him already saved naked pictures of yourself, whispering dirty little things in his ear every time you brush past him. Especially with how he's always been so giving and tends to your needs whenever you ask him. He would do anything you asked of him.

But today was a little bit different. He was busier than usual, wanting to get chores over and done with. (chores that were actually supposed to be done a few days ago but got so side tracked doing other things) So Jisung couldn't really give you his full attention. He thought that maybe you were horny and wanted him to go down on you or something, but he didn't expect you to act so bratty and tease him all because you wanted to give him head.

"Yes" You sigh as if it was the most obvious thing, dropping to your knees and tugging on the zipper of his jeans, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you look up at him with pleading eyes, "Let me suck your cock... please?"

©𝗠𝗥𝗞𝗜𝗦

[brucewaynehater101]

Adding on to my previous ask, what do you think the others reaction to finding out about why Tim cut his hair and/or what it meant to him?

I feel like dick would feel so sad for ti and what he lost

Jason would feel even more regretful about the tower for the hair

Damian and Bruce I'm not sure

Cass would try to convince to grow his hair back again

(he never grew it out cause he didn't feel safe enough to do so)

Sorry if it's incomprehensible, I wrote with my face half squished into my pillow cause I had to get the thought out before I could fall asleep

For anyone wanting to read the OG post, here

Tim, in this AU, usually kept his hair up. Therefore, it's not a stretch to say he didn't tell the others how vital his hair was to his self-worth, connection to his parents, or reassurance that he's loved. Perhaps, in their ignorance, they even made comments on how Tim keeps his hair so long or seems to spend longer getting ready. It was meant as light-hearted teasing because they didn't know just how important his hair is to him.

The reveal for this AU depends on how much drama, tension, and angst you want.

Does it happen immediately after? If so, it might take awhile for Jason or Damian to care (just cause they don't like Tim at this point). There might be a wee bit of "damn" in their minds, but they have the realization much latter of how fucked up it was.

Does it happen after Tim has already forgiven Jason? Jason may not realize it's something he needs to apologize for and goes through the angst of thinking they aren't doing as good as he thought. Tim doesn't blame Jason because Tim made the choice to cut his hair. He was upset, which he's over by this point, but he never blamed Jason. However, Jason now blames himself and will need to work to forgive himself.

Now. How do the Bats respond/feel about this reveal?

As far as Dick and Damian, have you read the fic "Mama Bird (but its your big brother ready to fight god)" by Yellow_sprouts? The fic is by a Tumblr account I adore on here @batfambrainrotbeloved. Anyways, I love their concepts for chapter 4 here. It examines how Dick and Damian, due to their cultures and upbringing, see hair as something to cherish and spend time taking care of.

While in this hc/au I didn't tie Tim's feelings about his hair to cultural/spiritual beliefs, feel free to hc that. On the other hand, I feel like Damian and Dick might understand more or differently due to their own cultural thoughts about hair. Even if Tim's treatment and care of his hair isn't related to cultural beliefs, they might still understand just how important it is (especially if they grew up with their own loved ones [Mary and John Grayson and Talia] washing their hair, taking time to teach them about different products/treatment, and making the entire process a bonding/loving moment). It would be a huge deal if, after Damian and Tim start getting along, Damian offers to help Tim with his hair (which has grown quite a bit by this time).

Jason can also be tied into the cultural understanding if you'd like, or he could just process it as taking another thing from Tim he didn't realize was precious. If Jason also comes from a culture that cherishes hair, lots of angst to be explored there (maybe his feelings about commiting such a taboo but originally justifying it because hair probably doesn't mean the same thing to Tim). Jason having cultural or spiritual ties to hair could also fuck with his mental state and that white stripe. How can he do his self-care routines to the reminder of all that he's suffered through?

Cass has known from the beginning how much Tim's hair means to him. For timeline sake, let's say she appeared to the Bats after TT (otherwise, she would have hunted Jason down to beat his ass up). The two of them from the start use hair as a way to bond.

David Cain probably never taught Cass to value herself in that way. It's nice for Tim and Cass because no words are needed. They can feel the love and comfort through the actions and soft touches. Cass is taught to value herself, that even something like her hair is worthy of time and dedication. She is human, even down to her hair follicles.

This act has nothing to do with her abilities. While she should feel pride and accomplishment for the strength it took to utilize abilities given to her through pain/abuse into something for herself, this activity is about Cass being herself. Tim cares about her and wants to show her that no matter what she can and can't do. Cass is gone often like Tim's parents, but this moment of hair care is a constant reassurance of theirs.

Steph and Babs find out later. Maybe they are told about it by Cass sooner than the big reveal, but they don't tie it to what happened at TT. They also don't want to intrude on the intimate familial bonding of Tim and Cass during this moment, so they never try to invite themselves to it. After the reveal, Barbara invites Tim, Cass, and Steph over for a self-care day. It's not necessarily about hair (so as to not pressure Tim to share), but Tim appreciates the gesture.

Bruce depends on if he's a good dad or not in this.

For good dad Bruce, he is the definition of "doesn't really understand but trying." He stalks the Drakes' old finance records to find out what products they used to keep some in stock at the Manor. He does a ton of research on hair care and cultures (and ends up learning about how it might be important to Dick and Damian). He may be a bit overbearing and cross boundaries (by inserting himself into Tim's routine), but he is trying. After Tim tells him to back off, he does.

For Bad Dad Bruce, he's an asshole about it. Maybe he makes some comment about how Tim shouldn't keep his hair long anyways since it's a liability >:(

Tim probably can't get himself to allow it to grow long again until Bruce gets lost in the timestream. By virtue of simply not having enough time to cut it properly, it grows out. He almost cuts it off before he returns to Gotham, but he remembers how happy Cass was for him that it was long again.

[universal-imagines]

hii! i was wondering if you could write something for kagami & midorima where they give their s/o their jacket! thank you so much (and if you can’t that’s totally okay)

❆﹝ borrowing their jacket ﹞

kagami taiga.

When Kagami asked you to wait for him while he finished practicing, you didn't expect to sit on the bench for two hours. By now, it was dark out and chilly. Not that either of those things was unforgivably terrible, just a tad inconvenient. 

The first wasn't even an issue, if you were being honest, because your boyfriend would be walking you home. But the latter would have your teeth chattering embarrassingly the whole way there.

While he packed his things, you debated whether to ask Riko if she had a spare sweater, but just as you were about to, you felt something soft fall on your head.

"What in..." You fully expected it to be some dirty towel of Kagami's, but after yanking it down, you realized it was his jacket. "Oh."

"Wash it for me, yeah?" He grinned.

"Can't you just let me believe you're being nice for at least a second?" You glowered at him playfully.

midorima shintaro.

Maybe Midorima did warn you about the temperature dropping below a comfortable level by evening, and it's possible you chose to ignore him. But honestly, who wants to carry a long coat around all day?

It would have covered your whole outfit and been too warm to wear until nighttime. However, as you hugged yourself and shivered just slightly, you had to admit you were starting to regret it.

"Shin…"

By the turn of his head and look in his eyes, you knew he was expecting you to call him. Anyone else would have assumed he was annoyed, but you knew him better than that.

"I warned you."

You wanted to pout and argue with him, but there wasn't anything that could save you.

"…I know, but I'm cold."

He sighed, adjusting his glasses.

For a moment, you thought he was just going to ignore you, but he soon turned to face you.

"Remember to give it back once you're done with it," he shrugged his jacket off and placed it over your shoulders.

"What if I want to keep it?" You smiled, feeling the warmth immediately spread throughout your back and arms.

"Then it can be your lucky item."

please do not use any of my works, in any shape or form, without permission.

[eldritch-spouse]

Greed and pride demons would be aweful customers at retail

But imagine the horrors of Wrath and lust demons

They'll wither be yelling and fighting you or fucking sloppily on the table you have to wipe down

[I love doing funny retail scenarios so much.]

" IT SAYS THERE'S A FUCKING DISCOUNT, YOU DUMB CUNT- CAN'T YOU READ?! "

He's got the manic stare of someone who has very little to lose, and an axe on his back which you're almost certain is stained with the blood of another client, if the scream earlier was any indication. Whatever. You're not security.

" Sir- "

He slams both fists on the counter, making it crack on both spots. You're not paying for that. " DON'T SIR ME, I KNOW WHAT I SAW. IS THIS FALSE ADVERTISING?! ARE YOU SHITHEADS FUCKING WITH ME? I'LL BREAK EVERY BONE IN YOUR WORTHLESS WORM BODY! "

You hesitate. Professionalism demands you tell this moron that there's a date limit on the discount, survivalism says you should just give it to him for free and avoid getting your brains splattered like a ripe melon. You end up doing the latter.

" ... Not at all sir, you're right, please excuse my mistake. It's- It's actually free. " Please don't kill me.

" Fucking bitch. " He spits on the floor before leaving with his 'free' item.

You take a moment to relax and catch your breath before calling the next client over, immediately regretting it when you see the look he's giving you, and the hand very unsubtly crammed down his pants. The demon doesn't break eye contact once, panting as he places his items on the counter -God, you don't want to touch that- and leans closer to smell you.

" Wow, you're really submissive, huh? " He purrs. Your honest desire is to throw the items outside and see if he'll run after them.

Your eyes glaze with the urge to be literally anywhere else. " Would you like a bag, sir? "

" I bet you moan all cute. " He takes a bag anyway, paying at least. " I was kind of hoping he'd bend you over and fuck you on this counter hhn. "

" Please leave... "

His hidden hand hastens. " Ohhn say please again. "

You don't know how much longer you can last in this.