#this got a lot more attention than i anticipated so i just wanna put that out there just in case 'cause i know how some ppl are

[wacky-wonders]

these are fun to make

[bunniwords]

໑ৎ ׁ ׅ♡ ALIBI 🌀

part xxi - masterlist - part xxiii xxii. soobin sunk it

bunni speaks — i apologize in advance please dont hate me

︶︶ 　 ˚ ᡴꪫ synopsis — you are known for your brain rot anime content on twitter. so much so that you caught the attention of txt’s soobin on his secret stan account and became mutuals. what will become of this new friendship?

more under the cut!

“okay, and then what happened?”

“and then i read the letter and she said she liked me… more than gojo.”

soobin couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. when he got back to the hotel that day, he was kicking his feet and rolling in his bed, reading the letter another thousand times. his heart was going so fast last night that he was only able to get two hours of sleep before he was forced to get up for his next schedule in new york.

even with the lack of slumber, he was elated to tell his group mates about what had happened last night in the car. not a hint of tiredness in his bones. 

hitting soobin’s arm, huening started giggling for him. despite all of the shit they give him, they all always supported him and was beaming in anticipation for the two of you.

“she has a whole fan account with over ten thousand followers for that man,” yeonjun added. 

soobin happily and proudly nodded. that was right. you must like him a lot for you to make that kind of claim. 

“okay like did you guys kiss?” beomgyu wanted all the juicy details and he wanted it now. don’t get him wrong. he loves soobin and his conquest for love, but he’s been a puppy with heart eyes and was dancing around the details all morning. 

“wh-what—no?” soobin stuttered. 

“what?” the rest of them said in unison. even the driver was startled by them. 

“i… well, i couldn’t find the right time?” 

“oh my god,” yeonjun slapped his own forehead. 

taehyun groaned as he leaned back in his seat. kai had his jaw dropped, completely taken aback. beomgyu… well, he was laughing.

“you literally had it handed to you!” taehyun shouted, “she told you she likes you.”

“listen, i might not be that social with other girls, but even i know that you should’ve kissed her last night!” kai added. 

“isn’t it too early?” soobin mumbled.

“no!” once again they all shout in unison. 

“we leave the end of the week,” yeonjun sighed, “when you going to kiss her? over a webcam… come on, i know you can do better than that.”

“she probably thinks you don’t like her because you didn’t kiss her,” beomgyu said.

“no-o, she wouldn’t think that… right?” 

“did you tell her you liked her?”

“…”

“oh my god, soobin,” yeonjun looked like he wanted to cry from frustration. 

“why didn’t you tell her?” taehyun yelled.

“sooyn is over,” kai dramatically cried. 

now, you’re probably wondering what had happened last night for soobin to mess up that badly. well, to put it simply, he just wasn’t thinking. after reading the letter, soobin was in shock. you might even wanna say that he completely blacked out. he was definitely giddy about getting a confession from you, but he had no coherent thoughts in his head. 

poor guy didn’t even realize he never explicitly said he liked you. nor did he realize the look of disappointment (and confusion) in your face when all he told you was he really liked your letter and hugged you at the end of the night, before sending you off in a cab with the luggage full of gifts. 

“i said i liked the letter!” soobin shouted. 

“i didn’t think it could get worse,” beomgyu tightened his lip and shut his eyes.

“what now?” soobin whimpered. 

“you left it open ended!” taehyun added, “she’s going to think you’re friendzoning her. i mean, i’d think that too considering you’re a celebrity! and she’s a normal person!”

“okay, did you guys talk at all today yet?” yeonjun asked.

you haven’t messaged him this morning yet and soobin was rereading your letter before he had to rush for his schedule to even think to look at his phone.

soobin’s silence earned him more sighs from the rest of them. 

“our ship is dead… and soobin sunk it,” taehyun pretended to faint in his car seat. 

unsurprisingly, the boys were right. you indeed felt like your feelings were unreciprocated. 

[otomestatus]

Hello hi.

Any headcanons with Hakkai that has a tall gf (as tall as him)?

And he's also hidding his relationship from the gang because he doesn't want her to get involded with all that, but Takashi finds out and spills tea.

hello!! this was actually such a cute request i got really excited when i read it and immediately started brain storming LMFAO i wrote a lot more than??? i anticipated???

you gotta be in this for the LONG HAUL because we all know how nervous hakkai gets around girls. yuzuha is definitely the wingman in this situation at first without intentionally trying to be

i personally think hakkai would have a thing for tall girls and that isn’t to say he wouldn’t date someone who is short because what matters the most to him is that you both love each other and support each other, but i can definitely see the fact you’re tall being a bonus to him. and he especially loves that you’re the same height as him.

you wanna wear heels? don’t matter to him because he wants you feeling happy and confident.

if you’re someone who is insecure in your height, he likes to encourage you to do things you normally wouldn’t because of your height even though you’ve always wanted to.

you might be the same height as him, but his clothes still fit a little big on you too.

he’s always telling you that you could model and he’s surprised you haven’t tried to and he admits MAYBEEEE he’s a little bias but you’re also just so gorgeous. a total package

the only person who really knows about you two is yuzuha and it’s because it would be next to impossible keeping something like a girlfriend a secret from her, but she respects that hakkai doesn’t want anyone in toman to know. she’s incredibly amused that he isn’t even telling takashi even though it seemed like that would be the first thing he would’ve done

he makes time for you as much as he can because you make him smile like no other and there’s relief to be found in your presence

you honestly didn’t think twice about keeping your relationship extremely private because he’s always so attentive. he makes mistakes along the way and sometimes there are moments where you feel a little weird and insecure, but he tries his absolute best.

it’s definitely not going to be a forever thing either. keeping your relationship a secret is just temporary. he wants to know there is no chance you’ll end up getting hurt because of what he does with toman.

there were a few instances where you two were out on a date and had to hide really quickly because he spotted someone from toman. it always felt really silly and funny and there was a sort of thrill to sneaking around like that like you were playing hide and seek.

luckily you never have to worry about girls flirting with him when he’s with his friends because he’s just not gonna talk to them or look at them. or probably even breathe near them because they make him anxious.

he talks a lot about his toman friends to you though so you learn about them through osmosis. especially about takashi and takemichi. sometimes when you’re out with your friends or alone shopping you’ll recognize one of the major members he spoke about, but it’s not often. it is a little funny that you know them and they have no idea who you are. you feel like some sort of undercover agent.

HOWEVER, your relationship cannot escape takashi for long. you both had a good run for awhile there, but something is off. something is just not quite right and takashi cannot put his mf finger on it.

it all starts when he comes over to drop something off that hakkai forgot at his house the other night. only supposed to be a short little errand and yuzuha lets him because this is the most normal thing in the world. he attempted to meet up with hakkai first but he was being very adamant about not meeting him and just having yuzuha grab it for him. that was the first alarm bell.

what takashi didn’t need to know was that you both had planned out a date that day and would be out most of the day.

takashi asks yuzuha why hakkai was being weird and even showed her the messages, but yuzuha ain’t spilling shit. she keeps it casual. she’s telling him hakkai is always weird. so takashi hits her with the “where is he” and she’s trying not to sweat. what the fuck does she say… girl is maintaining eye contact, she’s not snitching, but she’s gotta come up with smth QUICK

“bowling.” yeah that sounds about right

takashi accepts this answer, but he knows something isn’t right. however…ain’t his business right?

that is until he steps into hakkai’s room to drop the item on his bed and LEAVE ( he does not leave ). there’s something in hakkai’s room that just…confirms his suspicion that something IS suspicious

there’s an earring on the floor. AN EARRING. it could be yuzuha’s, but why would it be? something is telling him it’s not

next time he sees hakkai he’s trying to see if he can subtly get some information out of him. he’s asking where he was the other day and blah blah blah. doesn’t mention the earring. hakkai seems to have his alibi all planned out though because he’s answering these questions easily. he was not gonna let takashi catch him slipping

he offhandedly mentions the earring to draken and draken isn’t entirely convinced it could belong to anyone BUT yuzuha because they’ve all seen how he acts with girls. draken jokes pigs would fly before hakkai manages to get a girlfriend. takashi isn’t convinced though. the math ain’t mathin.

however he gets a break in the case when he’s out grocery shopping. you, unfortunately, also happen to be there because you’re picking out snacks for the at home movie night date you planned with hakkai that evening. you’re both in the same aisle and out of the corner of his eye he notices something familiar. it’s the mf earring.

now this isn’t damning evidence by any means. lots of girls probably have the same pair, but the coincidence has him shook.

you, on the other hand, had recognized him IMMEDIATELY and you’re currently sweating your ass off right now because you have to act casual but this is takeshi mitsuya. this is the guy your boyfriend talks about who also doesn’t know about you just yet. you just wanted to have a peaceful and quick shopping trip but his presence is just so overwhelming

takashi takes this moment to compliment your earrings. you hesitate even answering, in fact, you stumble of your words a little trying to get out that thank you. and just so you don’t seem weird or awkward you add in the little fact that you had thought you lost one of them last week until your boyfriend returned it.

now THAT feels like damning evidence, but not quite. there’s nothing totally concrete, but he is feeling 100% confident that his suspicions are correct because thats too much of a coincidence. hakkai shinba has a mf girlfriend and he’s going to confirm this one way or another.

he’s sharing all this with draken (who doesn’t believe him) and mikey (who doesn’t know what’s going on) and he knows this sounds like a conspiracy theory BUT GUYS— HEY GUYS HEAR HIM OUT

meanwhile you and hakkai are blissfully unaware of all this happening. you do tell him about running into takashi at the grocery store and hakkai just kinda laughs about it. you both joke about how takashi ran into you, his girlfriend, and just had no idea about it. was completely clueless.

i know you’re all wondering when does takashi finally figure it out… and it‘s pretty anticlimactic. he spots you two before you even have the chance to spot him. you’re both at a cafe just chillin and takashi is walking by with his sisters and everything finally starts to fucking click. he’s getting the full picture.

actually he is quick to take a quick picture and send it to draken and gloat about how he was actually right all this time.

next toman captains meeting is intense. hakkai has no clue that just about all of them know about you now. he’s walking in blissfully unaware. takashi had spent a lot of time filling the guys in about how hakkai has a girlfriend and she’s as tall as him and really pretty ( these are boys we know that was a question that was asked ). honestly they were all shocked to find out he managed to get a girlfriend because he malfunctions when a girl even breathes near him.

mikey does not hesitate bringing it up. they’re all tryna be sneaky about it and make him nervous, but mikey is straight up like, “so, how’s your girlfriend!”

that’s when hakkai’s blood runs fucking cold. they’re all staring at him smirking and shit and he’s like oh fuck they know

regardless they are all impressed and congratulate him on finding someone because they didn’t think he had it in him.

[zealous-starlight]

Wow okay this has already gotten way more attention than I initially anticipated. Let's just hop right to it then!

To those of you that don't know, I'm making a TF2 visual novel! If you wanna learn more about that, you can check out this post for clarity. For now I wanna just explain the general idea for this thing.

So we are going to be following the player along this journey. I've yet to decide if I want to refer to the player as Y/n or if I want to find a codename for them yet, but for now that doesn't matter. They will be referred to with gender neutral pronouns either way, just so everyone can enjoy!

The basic gist is that you are an old friend of Ms. Pauling. She disappears from your life for a long while before calling you one night, pleading for your help. You agree, mostly because you owe her a huge favor (which I won't spoil for now). There's a year long time skip where it's revealed that she had recruited you as a sort of second hand to her, mostly just doing her paperwork. Every month or so the two of you take a trip to the base where you pick up paperwork and check on what needs replacing

The story picks back up with you and Pauling driving down the road in her car. It's about a month after the bread incident and the team has had to relocate to the cold front while the other base is fixed up so both you and Pauling have to do your check-ins there this month.

Little did you know an unlucky series of incidents would occur that end up with you, Pauling, and the nine mercenaries all trapped in the same building for the next month.

That's the general outline for the set up! As for the tone, I'm trying to stay true to a lot of the goofiness that TF2 has to offer so there will be plenty of the off the wall type humor in this. The level will heavily depend on the route you choose, some more serious than others, but all will have their moments. What I can assure you though is there will be plenty of intimate moments. This is a romance story after all!

I've got some bare bones plot written down and the different routes and such that you can take along the way, but it's still up for changing. I've got some stuff I wanna tweak here and there and plenty I still need to flesh out before I can even consider putting it down in hard writing, but I'm definitely working on it! If you guys have any suggestions or things you'd like to see change a little, feel free to let me know!

[indieyuugure]

Hi Indie !

First of all, I truly love your version of TMNT. Your dialogues are so good and the designs are great. In terms of writing it kind of reminds me of the Webtoon comic: Batman, Wayne Family Adventures in the way that it’s a brilliant take on a famous franchise.

Also, I kind of had a question and a request.

I noticed a change of style with the color scheme you have now compare to your previous sketches. Like before, Mickey’s stickers were colored and blood was red when those elements are now in black and white. My question is why the change ? Not that it’s a bad choice or it doesn’t fit in you aesthetic, I was just genuinely wondering😁.

As for my request, well I’m French and I really enjoy doing translation either from French to English or from English to French. Therefore I was wondering if you were okay with me doing a French version of your comics ? If you’re not, I totally understand so no worry😁

I can’t wait for the next chapter !!! I wish all the best !

Aw thank you so much! I’m so glad you love the art and the writing! I’ve never read that webcomic, but I’ve heard about it before! I’ll take it as a compliment! ^v^

That is an excellent question! Basically I wanted to reduce the colors on the pages to just the colors of one of the characters items.

I’ve actually been cutting down on color usage since TMS (April’s hair and Casey’s under shirt were colored red and mauve respectively in ROTP but not in TMS) since I felt that it made for some very odd color things, like it felt like too much color be stylistic, but too little to be fully colored? Idk I just didn’t like it, so in TMS every character was allotted two colors: one eye color and one outfit color. That made it a lot simpler and drastically decreased the feeling I had about the colors.

That reason is also why I cut Mikey’s sticker colors. I did think about it, but I decided against it because it felt odd to give Mikey three colors and everyone else one. He’s not the MC, so like, it just seemed like an odd design choice to continue with.

The removal of using red for blood is a bit more complicated. I actually considered making it red in Indie TMNT, but I ended up not because of a few reasons.

1: Red is Raph’s color, it should be used as such (every character only got one color anyway, reusing the color makes it feel less special that it’s there)

2: flushing, whether because of love or illness or embarrassment or whatever, was also being shaded with red because it’s caused by blood, and I just didn’t really like the way it looked? I dunno probably a personal thing? I won’t say why cause I don’t wanna put the thought in your heads, but specifically with Donnie’s face being red from his fever in TMS, I just didn’t like it.

3: I found that the color red makes wounds more graphic. Not sure why? I found with TMS I was having to censor Leo’s wounds more than I anticipated. They were originally so much more disgusting when the red was added that I had to add a lot more black to be comfortable with the drawing. I’m satisfied with my results, I think I struck a good balance, but it did kind get me thinking since I plan to make Indie TMNT just as gory.

Its original purpose for being added was because wounds were key plot points in both ROTP and TMS and I wanted you to pay attention to them and remember them. Now, that’s not to say they’re not important in Indie Tmnt, but I found with the increased violence I was adding (because murder is okay in this comic) it felt unnecessary. Almost every fight scene has splatters of blood that aren’t really that plot related, so it’s not the same as TMS which follows 2012’s no blood or injuries in fights rule until it’s shattered. So in addition to all the other reasons listed, I felt it was fine to get rid of the usage of red for blood and other injuries in this comic.

TLDR: I want each character’s color to be special and they only get one cause I’m lazy and I think it looks cooler. Red blood makes people squeamish but black blood doesn’t 🤷‍♀️ also less important in this comic

As for your request: YES!! I’m totally okay with it, you absolutely may! I would love that! However you decide to do it, just be sure you credit me as the original author of the comic and send me a link when your done so I can post it on the comic masterpost for anyone who wants the translation to read!

Good questions! :]

[entertaining-two]

My Biggest Problem With Bridgerton Season 3

I wanna start by saying if you wanna stay in the positive reviews for Season 3 I totally get it, I have been too because I do truly enjoy season 3 and seeing people tear it apart sucks a lot and can take the joy out of it for some.

My biggest issue with the season and take on what could've been done slightly better will be below 🥰

So I wanna start by laying out that I think the groundwork done in previous seasons really set up Penelope to have a story be flushed out and examined when it came time for her season. I think with Colin's character things were much more nuanced because it was a lot of internal work. But the main point is everything was lined up to have both of their characters reach good growth milestones within their season to wrap up their stories.

So going into season 3 I think for those of us who didn't read the books but knew the gist of what the story was about anticipated a certain level of attention put on Colin and how he had to come back into himself. He is a character known for trying to find himself, and we see it shown in trying to marry the first girl he remotely is interested in, trying to travel to find his purpose, trying to save his friends family, traveling again for more purpose, and then when he returns to the ton and has put on a facade. So when we finished the season my annoyance was that there was not much emphasis on Colin's journey.

They dove into Penelope's extensively, her battle to be seen, to have her purpose with Lady Whistledown and letting herself be loved. But Colin, we the viewer are so set up to misunderstand him this season which is why I don't blame anyone for not grasping his character at all because they don't give us a ton to work with.

Personally, as much as I adore Penelope's character and her importance to the narrative, her character got more growth and attention than Colin did and it was technically his season as he is the "Bridgerton" in question. I truly don't think that Jess or the writers knew what to do with him to get the audience to understand his story without centering it more around Penelope's perspective. I mean the big emotional moments of the story are centered around the Featheringtons, healing the relationship with her mother, healing the relationship with her sisters etc. Which is amazing I loved it, but also I felt like Colin was just kinda.... there. Especially in the second half.

So here is a list of a few things that I think could have improved the way we see Colin's emotional journey throughout the season (I will remind you again I have not read the book so take this with a grain of salt if it is super inaccurate to that).

Flashbacks: Both previous seasons give us flashbacks for the male leads, I think that it could've been useful here as well. A few that would have been nice to see would be Colin when he is younger with his brothers older and him feeling lost in the middle of them and Daphne. Colin and Pen when they were much younger laughing/speaking candidly to each other as they got older. Or flashbacks to Edmond and Violet because we know they were friends to lovers too, perhaps this is how Colin knows what love truly is.

Colin Traveling: I think a flashback to Colin on his travels and showing him receiving no letters from his family, alone in some city and trying to find comfort in a woman/ trying to find a connection but instead it's just sex/flirting and seducing someone. - I think this would have been much more impactful than having him in a brothel right away. He clearly doesn't love being there, he is there because he wants the connection that he lacks and this is the easiest way to get it. So if we got some context into why Colin comes back a different person, I think it would make it easier for people to understand this version of himself he puts on and make it more impactful when he stops acting this way and realizes he loves Pen.

Narrating: I know the only narrator we ever have is Lady Whistledown but I think it could have been an interesting parallel to have Colin narrate more of his journal entries as the Lady Whistledown discovery happens so that we can better understand how he feels about things. I've seen quotes from the book and it seems like a great deal of the realizations happen completely in Colin's head and we can always infer things based on actions and thats fine, but I think we would have had a deeper understanding of his inner workings if we had got this instead of Colin just sitting at his desk staring or writing and guessing at what he could be thinking/feeling based on past experience.

Give them more scenes: Everyone has been saying it but it's true. I think there are some spots that could have been longer conversations or just a conversation in general. For example: When Colin walks in on Penelope getting changed and we get that longing moment from Colin, I wish Pen would have asked him to stay or something of that essence, and then we could have gotten a heart to heart moment where Penelope lets Colin explain what he is feeling about this situation a little bit more, the war between loving her wanting her but also feeling betrayed. Even if it still ended in them not being on the same page and him sleeping on the couch I think it would have given us another scene that isn't as heated especially post their wedding and how it ended. They were almost coming to an understanding until the queen was there and I think having that raw conversation soon after would have been impactful for his character arc.

Last Convo with Violet Bridgerton: Something I was confused about in Ep08 was that we saw Colin prepare to sit his mother down and explain that Penelope is Whistledown after Pen send her a letter. And instead of seeing that we see the Featherington sisters excited by the details of their ball (fun but also I think the other conversation is more meaningful and that scene could have been shorter or just cut and instead explained when guests got to the ball). Violet is a major catalyst for the previous Bridgerton siblings and their story arcs. She is a binding force, a motivator, and usually the one that gives her child the words of advice/moment that is most needed. I know we got the Kate older sister moment about secrets with Colin which I loved, but I think for Colin's character who has long been a mamas boy sensitive one it would have hit hard to have one more scene with Mama Bridgerton. Especially because in part 1 we have two big conversations between the two of them: when she tells him that her and Edmund had the courage to ask in order to break from friends into lovers, and then when she tells him he's always been the sensitive one worrying for others and that Penelope might be getting proposed to. Both of those moments were catalysts for his next actions both emotionally and physically. So imagine a last conversation with her, him explaining not just who Pen is, but his own feelings hes been dealing with, letting the other person he has trusted with his feelings the most hear the worries that have plagued his mind for the past weeks since hes found out. Explaining his worry for Pen's safety, his families safety, and his feelings of betrayal and jealousy; Violet Bridgerton would absolutely know the perfect thing to say in that moment that helps get Colin over that last small obstacle. Because truly, we don't get Colin having a full heart to heart with anyone who knows who Whistledown is besides Eloise, and Eloise just asks if he can ever forgive Pen, but we need someone older, someone Colin trusts to give him advice and hold these complicated feelings and honestly Eloise was never going to be that character for him. We needed Mama Bridgerton, to lovingly hold her sons thoughts and feelings and tell him that it is okay that he felt betrayed by the person he knew best, that it's okay that he is perhaps a little jealous of her success, but that it was also okay to love her and forgive her. But also re-affirm to Colin that she is proud of him and he is capable of the success and purpose he strives for too. As well as put Colin's mind at ease in terms of how she accepts Penelope as Lady Whistledown, having his mothers approval of it may help him accept it too. Violets approval, Violets words of understanding and assurance would help untangle the confusing thoughts that then lead Colin to that final confession of love. It would make that scene all the more impactful knowing then more about the feelings that tangled through him that we are now privy to because he spoke about them to his mother, we would now understand more fully the emotional journey he had to go on to get to that point of forgiveness and understanding.

Make up scene: I think I speak for most of the #polin community when I say that we needed a longer makeup sex scene. I think with this new found understanding, post his admission of love and purpose that was so heartfelt and beautiful, it would have been all the better with a slightly longer scene where we perhaps got a few more lines of dialogue with these two. We needed a true makeup scene where they are giggly and happy that things are finally good and they can just be truly in love with each other once again without the angst between each other. I think this would have been very satisfying story wise when taking into account that (imaging that flashback scene to Colin on his travels) Colin starts so disconnected from who he is and very lonely, but would then end having been connected to his purpose and to the person he loves who loves him just as equally.

Ultimately I love Colin and his character and I do believe we got a lot of great moments with him, however I can't help but have wished to have more. I hope that next season we get a cute, sexy, domestic side story with him and Pen where we can see him be the Colin "my wife" Bridgerton that we all love.

Let me know if any of these points you also thought could work and maybe I write them into a fic of some sort 🥲🫠 Thanks for reading all my little thoughts 💕🥰

[mastermindmiko]

Ghost Love (Part three)

Pairing: Regulus Black + fem!reader

Word count: 6016 (It's the last part, so it's LONG)

warnings:

Hey! If you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist.

Requests are open

You were on the train back to London with your family. James and Albus were having an animated conversation about quidditch while Hugo joined in with a comment every while.

All of the ghosts were doing something else and you were glad to spend time with your family without any distractions. You couldn’t focus, always gazing out the window. You and Regulus haven’t talked much since the party. Your interactions weren’t awkward but they weren’t the same either. It was mostly your fault, you couldn’t look at him without feeling your heart break. 

“We’re here.” Rose said, with a hand on your shoulder grabbing your attention. You nodded and grabbed your bag from above your seat. Your mom and dad greeted you, but you weren’t in the mood to smile despite missing your family greatly. 

You were in the long and tiring process of avoiding Regulus, it wasn’t that hard to ignore him considering that no one could see or hear him; but it affected you a whole lot. It’s been almost three weeks since you last had a proper conversation with him.

You always spent time together since you were eleven; he didn’t have anyone to visit except Sirius so he spent all his time with you. The longest time you hadn’t talked to him was a year ago where you spent two days unable to talk to anyone due to a lot of studying for your OWLs.

That resulted in the hugging incident, you got so excited from finishing your exams and seeing Regulus after what felt like an eternity; so you hugged him, well tried to. 

You could tell he was angry but he was also giving you time since he just rejected you; more like officiated your accusation. You didn’t know it was killing him much more than it was hurting you. 

You were sitting with your family, eating dinner a few days before Christmas. It was a tradition for each one of you and your siblings to invite some of your friends over for Christmas. You never invited anyone because you never had close enough friends to have them over for Christmas. “Mom, Dad.” You said looking up from your plate, setting your fork on the table. 

“Yes, Honey.” Your mom replied looking at you with a smile.  

“I wanna invite someone over for Christmas.” You said and the table was completely silent. Your siblings stopped eating and looked at you with wide eyes. Your dad cleared his throat and said “Sure.”

You could tell he was resisting the urge to say 'About time!'. He added.  “Who is it?”

Everyone looked at you in anticipation, and you could tell they all were curious about who you would want to bring over. You flushed at the attention, and you said “Frank.” 

Your dad blinked at you and said “Frank? That’s a boy.” He smiled but you could tell he was holding something back. “Neville’s kid, right?” 

You nodded, he hummed. “No-” He started. Then your mom elbowed him and gave him a stern look and looked at you sweetly. 

“Of course you can!” 

“Thanks mom.” 

                                   ***

“I heard you invited Frank over.” Regulus said his name with a sort of roughness that you only ever heard him use when he talks about his family -excluding Sirius and Andromeda- and Voldemort. You turned away from him, when he walked through your wall. You flushed and your heart ached. It was Christmas you didn’t need this, you wanted to be happy today. 

“You mean you stalked my family and found out.” You tried to keep your sentences to him short. You organized around your room, avoiding his gaze. Regulus scoffed at you trying to arrange your room, you never cleaned your room. He once saw your mom force you to do it, and you put up a huge fight. 

“I also heard he declined.” He added and if you looked at him you would see an arrogant smirk. He was relieved. He shouldn’t be and he felt slightly guilty. He should be happy for you, and Frank’s a good guy. He should've been happy for you and proud that you found a good guy. 

“He did.” You nodded, your face showed no emotion. You tried to rearrange the books you had on your desk, few of which you don’t even remember existed. Frank had declined the offer. He always visited his grandparents with his parents and his grandmother on Christmas as a family. You completely understood and you said that you’ll see him at school. 

“How are you feeling about that?” 

“Fine.” You sat on your bed, fiddling with your fingers, your gaze away from his own. Neither of you say anything for a bit and the silence that engulfs both of you is suffocating.

 “Alright! I can’t stand this.” He snaps, harshly. He walked to you and sat beside you on the bed. He sat as close to you as possible. 

“What do you mean?” you said in a meek voice. You tried to be oblivious and he rolled his eyes at you.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He asked. He tried to get you to look at him by leaning his face closer to yours. You looked at him and when you did, your heart jumped. His eyes were burning with rage and pain, you could almost always read him like a book. You missed looking into his eyes. Their color was always perfect in every place.

“No I haven’t.” 

“You're lying, and you know that. I want to know why?” 

“You know why?” You sort of pleaded. He wasn’t going to let it go, you knew that. This was Regulus you were talking about and he would never let anything that hurt you go.

However, amidst all those feelings, you were a bit mad. He broke your heart and he knows that, and right now he wants you to say it out loud, to spell it out for him.

“I just don’t understand why you would let it get this far.” You seethed, turning your gaze away from him and he could see the anger bubbling off of you. It was never a good sign. Was there no way for him to win? He couldn’t give you false hope because he would feel guilty. He couldn’t tell you to move on because he would be miserable. When he lied to you and told you he didn’t like you, you ignored him. 

“I told you I loved you and you rejected me! Of course I was going to need time.” You burst out, and you hoped that no one would hear you. They probably couldn’t considering your entire extended family was downstairs celebrating, and the noise could drown out fireworks.

You only wanted to get a book, and now you were stuck in this situation.

“'Needing time' isn't going around moving on-” He started and he knew he messed up. He wanted you to move on. He wanted you to be happy with someone alive for goodness sake. 

“Moving on?! You rejected me!” You continued to shout. Your eyes bore into his with so much anger, and both your eyes flashed with hurt. Your eyes stung. You continued, "What do you want me to do? Sit around all day because you don't love me back!"

"That's not what I meant-"

"You don't even want me, why do care what I do anyways?" You screamed at him.

“Because I fucking adore you.” He shouted. Your mouth fell open and butterflies flew all over your stomach. Whether they were from being terrified -matching your heartbeat- or from being excited you didn’t know. 

“What?” That was the only thing you said. You looked away from him, confused. 

The silence between you needed to be filled with something. Regulus couldn’t tell the need, because of his loud thoughts filling his mind. He looked at you and for the first time his feelings were out and he didn’t want to hide them so he didn’t. His mind is letting himself admit what he couldn’t let himself admit a long time ago. 

He yearns to know how soft your skin is and to feel every inch of your body. In that moment, his feelings were out and he needed every part of you; your hands, your chest, your thighs, your lips- Merlin! Your lips. He wants to kiss them so badly, he doesn’t think there’s ever been a day for the past three years he hasn’t thought about kissing your lips. He wants to put his lips on yours until his breath is stolen. So he did with nothing but desire and love, filling him up. 

For some reason when Regulus kissed you, you didn’t question how? You just kissed him back with a burning passion. You didn’t hold back after all the time you wanted to kiss him. He kissed your upper lip then your lower lip. He was savoring this, you could tell. It makes your stomach do cartwheels. 

He tilted his head to one side and leaned closer to you then to the other side and he leaned closer to you. You didn’t understand what he was trying to do. He suddenly inserted his tongue into your mouth and he started to massage your tongue with his. You moaned slightly and you threaded his fingers into his hair. He pushed you backwards, your back hitting your bed. 

He was intoxicated and his mind was clear. He kissed you feverishly. He groaned when you pulled his hair with the fingers you have in his hair. He pinned his hands above your head. You bent your leg, your knee brushing against his hip and he groaned at the friction. You grinned and grinded your hips against his, and he wondered what your hips would feel like under his finger tips. 

He released your hands and started to place his hands all over your body. However he couldn’t touch your skin from the large sweater you were wearing, so he lifted your sweater slightly and he put his fingers on your hips moving all the way to your hips and across your stomach. You shivered from his cold fingers. His mind cleared as he thought that your skin was better than he imagined and he couldn’t believe he could touch you. 

As soon as that thought went through his head, his hands went through your stomach. He crawled away from your body until his body wasn’t touching yours anymore. Your eyes were wide and they matched his. Your face was flushed and his hair was disheveled. He straightened his shirt and ran a hand through his hair, taming it. 

“I must be dreaming.” you heard him whisper. You couldn’t help but nod along. You couldn’t think straight. 

Fred went through a wall and he said “Come on, Potter! They’re opening presents.” You walked quickly with your parents, thankful for the opportunity to get away from Regulus. 

When you went out of the room, he fell on your bed, elbows on his knees and face in his hands; breathing heavily. “What happened?” Fred asked, cautiously. 

“I kissed her.” He said, his voice muffled from his hands. Fred laughed and he sat beside him. He patted Regulus’ back while saying “Nice one.” 

“I kissed her and I told her at Hogwarts that I didn’t love her.” 

“Why the hell did you do that?! You’re serious?” Fred said, the smile fading. 

“NO, I AM!” Sirius went through the wall, Remus and James followed him but Remus composed him acknowledging the uncomfortable atmosphere. 

For the second time that night, Regulus spilled his heart out and by the end of it. They were all determined to help him out. 

                                 ***

Everywhere you went you felt his lips on yours and his skin on your skin. It was like a drug, from the first time you felt him you just needed to get another taste. Your head still wasn’t clear even when you reached Hogwarts. It felt like your head still didn’t swallow the major events that happened during break.

He -as he said it- adores you and your stomach flipped at the fact. However your head was confused because he rejected you and no one could fall in love with a person in a matter of weeks. Also because of how you actually felt him, a part of you considered it all a day dream but considering how he was avoiding you it couldn’t be. 

Despite all this confusion, your heart couldn’t help but shout to your head “Who gives a shit?! He loves me! He loves me! He loves me!” Then your head would just shout back “He’s a ghost! He’s a ghost!” But then your heart would just gather all the evidence it needed to prove your head wrong; he kissed you, he told you he adored you, and he was undeniably jealous of Frank. 

The rollercoaster of thoughts and emotions was exhausting.

After multiple accusations from your brother’s about getting laid being the cause of your sudden happiness and an uncomfortable talk from your father, you decided to find a way for you to feel this happy all the time. Meaning, for you to be with Regulus. 

You spent most of your days from day to night in the library trying to not only find the cause of his sudden and -short timed- ability to touch you, but also how to make it stay longer; for forever, hopefully.

You bumped into Remus at the library and you tried to talk with him, but he looked uncomfortable doing so. You would be lying if you said that it didn’t hurt your feelings. Then he headed near the direction of the restricted section, you were surprised why Remus would go near that section; he was such a stickler for the rules despite being a marauder. He wasn’t, however, a student anymore so you could hardly say that he was breaking any rules.

What surprised you even more was the appearance of James and Sirius a few minutes later. Originally you thought they were here to wreck havoc, you weren’t sure how they could do that, being ghosts and all; but then they started browsing the shelves. They must have sensed your confused stare after a while because they came beside you and asked you where Remus was.

You tried to inquire on why they were here and why Remus was in the restricted section but once they heard where Remus was, they were off. 

You thought it must have been a marauders thing, but then Fred seemed uncomfortable with your presence as well. In times like this you would feel lonely and you felt the need to cry. Whenever you felt lonely, not only did you have the marauders to comfort you but you also had Regulus; but now none of them wanted to talk to you.

You wanted someone to help you, but who would? If you told Rose she would tell you to head to the hospital wing from how weird your dreams are getting and if you didn’t tell her she wouldn’t validate your emotions and that was somehow worse. 

You were currently sitting in one of the window seats in front of the library, after you had come from McGonagall's office to get something. 

It was past curfew so you weren’t worried that anyone would walk out and see you crying. You were studying and then the marauders walked in together and you had given up on trying to talk to them. They simply didn’t want to talk to you and you certainly didn’t want them to feel uncomfortable so you wouldn’t talk to them.

They had been going to the library so often that you rarely saw them anywhere else. After they came in, you couldn’t focus on your studies anymore because of your watery eyes making your notes blurry. You left the library with your stuff untidily organized in your bag, and you went to sit outside to let all your emotions out. 

It felt like the high of finally kissing Regulus was gone from the way your friends were ignoring you. At first there were only a few tears streaming down your face but then a few turned to a lot and a lot turned to sobbing. You put your hand over your mouth not wanting to attract any attention and especially that of a prefect that can give you detention.

You tried to wipe away your tears but there were too many and your sleeves were soaked so every time you tried to wipe your tears away they would just dampen your face. You let them fall, but you made sure that they wouldn’t fall on your Transfiguration notes. 

Regulus was heading to the library to help the marauders with their search. They had found a way to open books by themselves. They talked to the portraits which can see ghosts and the portraits talked to the teachers who then gave them a potion for the ability to touch non-living objects in this world, but as soon as their touch left the object they would return back to their place as if nothing happened; to ensure that it was if they didn’t exist.

He stopped in his tracks when he heard a sobbing sound, which sounded familiar. He could feel his heart clench from knowing what person was letting out their tears. 

He walked slowly towards you, making sure not to make a sound. He didn’t know how you would react if you saw him after he was actively ignoring you. The exact thing that caused his outburst during Christmas. He felt like a hypocrite.

He just didn’t know how to tell you that he was busy trying to find a way to be with you forever. He didn’t ask the marauders to help him, they just did and he certainly didn’t ask them to ignore you, they just did. They were no good at keeping secrets at least James and Sirius never were with their talkative spirits and their big mouths. 

You were covering your face with your hands in a way that he assumed was a fruitless way to quieten your sobs. His heart was hurting him, more than it ever was. You had cried before but he was always there to help you and even when he was it was never this much.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and he sat quietly beside you. He wanted to make you feel better, he ached to make your hurt leave you. He wanted to wipe all your tears away which he saw that you couldn’t from your wet sleeves. Your sleeves made him wonder how loud you’ve been crying and how hard you must’ve been doing so to make your sleeves reach that point.

His heart tore a piece of itself away. He could feel his fingers twitch from a need to wipe your face. He couldn’t think of a reason why you would feel this much hurt. 

Your sobs stopped abruptly and your eyes widened as you looked at him. He furrowed his eyebrows at your sudden reaction until he noticed his thumbs on your face wiping your eyes and his body touching yours. He sucked in a breath.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered as he pushed himself away from you. You fiddled with your fingers and he felt another urge to grab your hand and squeeze it reassuringly. So he did that. Maybe you didn’t love him anymore and you felt violated when he kissed you, it was your first kiss after all and he knew that. Maybe that was causing you this pain. When he opened his mouth to apologize, you interrupted him. 

“How do you do that?” You asked, your head aching from you crying and from the fact that he was once again touching you. His hand went through yours and your mood saddened once again when he pulled his hand from yours as if you were fire.

“Why are you all ignoring me?” You asked, your voice was timid and it cracked slightly causing a similar crack to go through his heart.

He knew by ‘you all’ you meant Remus, James, Sirius and him. He then realized that he was the cause of all your pain and suddenly he couldn’t look into your tearful eyes. 

“We didn’t mean to.” He said. 

“Then why did you?” You said, you couldn’t look at him either because the last time you saw him he was telling you he loved and was kissing you like no tomorrow. In truth, you wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to have been your first kiss and love. 

“I… I love you too much to give you hope when there isn't any.” He sighed.

It took him a great deal of effort to say those words, and he even took some time in the middle to gather some air in his lungs. The atmosphere around you both was heavy. You asked, “What hope?” 

“Hope that I can be with you when there is no proof that I know of that tells me that I can.” Yet, he wanted to add. That’s what he’s been doing, trying to find information on how he could be alive and people could see him so he can be with you for the rest of your life. So you can both act on the feelings you’re both so scared to open up about. When he told the marauders they were all shocked but helped him gladly. Sirius felt like it was about time to help his little brother out. 

“I might have something…” You trailed off and his eyes snapped to yours. Your eyes met and you leaned down to get your bag from beside you. He felt his heart beating out of his chest, and his eyes were following your every move. This was the thing that you were getting from McGonagall's office, you were surprised at how she didn’t question you further. 

You pulled out a time turner, and Regulus was confused until he understood. His face morphed into one of disbelief and horror. He stood up from beside you and shook his head vigorously. You stood up following him “Please. Just listen to me.” 

He started muttering no, and his eyes filled with nears and he looked to the ground. He couldn’t believe that he made you that desperate, to the point where you would even think of that. You bent down trying to make your eyes connect but he just looks away from you. “Think about it, Regulus.” 

“There’s nothing to think about.” He started walking away from you as he felt tears threatening to leak out of his eyes.

“REGULUS!” you shouted as you walked behind trying to talk to him. One word to describe how you felt was desperate. His mutterings of ‘no’ started to get louder. “You love me and I love you. If I go back in time before you died, I can be with you. Then we can finally be together.”

“NO!” He screamed, and he turned around to look at you. You halted and you looked at him, his face was red and tears were streaming down his face.

“How can you even think of that? Did you even think at all? If you go back I wouldn’t be the person you find! You’ll find another me, not the one you fell in love with. Not to mention that you’ll be leaving your family! They love you y/n do you even know how crushed they’ll be if you left!” 

You didn’t think of that at all, you didn’t think of any of the things that could have happened if you went back. The war might still be on, you could have changed things and made the war continue. “But, I love you.” You said, with a weak voice. 

His face softened entirely and he said “Merlin knows how much I love you y/n. That’s exactly why I can’t let you throw away what you have now, even though I know that whatever version of myself you’ll meet they’ll fall hopelessly in love with you no matter the circumstances.”

He opened his mouth to add something but then he closed it. He looked at you as if he was contemplating saying something and he did “I would do anything to be with you, and I promise that as soon as I’m able to touch you for more than a few seconds, I’ll marry you.” 

He walked away from you leaving you numb. You retreated back to your position on the window seat. You placed your things back in the bag and you looked at the time turner in your hands.

You threw it at the wall and as you saw the shattered glass, you started to cry again. Your heart was broken but you still couldn’t hate him, the only thing you hated was the world and how cruel it can be; as for the time turner, you’ll just make your father pay for it. 

                          ***

Numb was one way to describe how you were feeling after you were done crying outside the library, it’s as if you couldn’t feel a thing. Some Ravenclaw found you asleep with your tear stained cheeks, and you found out that you missed breakfast and the first class of the day.

You didn’t see any of the marauders but Fred came to tell you that the marauders, Regulus and him, were going away for a month. You tried to ask where but he said that they would tell you when they came back. 

You tried to get your life back on track pushing thoughts of Regulus and your last encounter away from your head. You had gotten good marks and you started to make friends. People still thought you were weirds but that didn’t stop some of them from befriending you.

You had made good friends, and they cared about you to the point that if anyone dared to even try to call you weird they would stand up to them. You were actually starting to feel happy. 

As for your ghost friends, they haven't come back; and it’s been more than a month. You were starting to worry, maybe they sold their ghost bodies or something. All your worry was gone when you, one random day, saw James coming to you, looking all smug.

“What?” You asked, you would ask where they’ve been but he looked too suspicious right now for you to care where they’ve been for the past month and almost a half. 

“You’re going to love this.” He said, giggling like a child. 

“Love what?” you asked.

“Come see this!” He said joyfully. You started to pack your stuff and James just said impatiently “There’s no time. Come on! Come on!” 

You disregarded your stuff and followed him to wherever he was going. He was flying so it was hard to keep up with him, but you easily could know where he was heading from the sound of his giggles.

You were in an abandoned hallway when you heard the giggling stop and you couldn’t find James. “James!”

You called out spinning trying to find him. You called out his name again and when you didn’t hear an answer you added “James! I swear if this is some prank of yours I’ll bring you back to life and kill you again.”

You heard footsteps and you looked to the source. Regulus was walking- no running towards you with the happiest smile on his face. You didn’t get time to question anything when his lips were on yours.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt that you just fisted in your hands. His hands were around you and they were holding you tightly. It was the softest most passionate thing you ever endured. 

When he pulled back the smile on his face didn’t fade but it only widened. You opened your mouth to say “What-” But he shut you up by putting his index finger on your lips and saying “Shhh” 

“I-” You started to say again but this time he silenced you by putting his lips on yours. It was his plan to kiss you and then for him to talk but he was so addicted to your lips that he couldn’t think straight when they were on your lips.

You kept pulling each other closer and closer to each other. Your faces were touching, your chest were touching and your hips were touching.

When Regulus switched the angle of the kiss, you felt something poke your hip. You pulled away flustered avoiding his gaze. “What?” he asked you confused, he thought this moment was perfect. 

“There’s something-I...uh your pocket.” You managed to say. You heard him laugh loudly and that made your cheeks heat up more.

“It’s not what you think, darling. Even though you do get me feeling like that quite often.” You were on fire from the nickname and from the fact. He continues, “That reminds me…” 

You looked back at him to find him leaning down on one knee and getting a box out of his pocket which you realized was the thing that poked you. Your eyes widened as he opened the box and when he started to say your name you leaned down on your knees and you said a quick ‘yes’ before you kissed him again. 

He kissed you back for a few seconds and he had a smirk on his face. “As much as I’m flattered by the fact that you said yes before I even asked you to marry me, I think you need time to think this over. I only asked you now because I promised and I wanted to, but if you prefer waiting until you graduate that’s completely alright with me.” 

You flushed at your eagerness and you said “Yeah, I think after graduating might be best.” He nodded and he closed the box and he placed it back into his pocket.

“In that case…” He pulled out another box from his other pocket and he opened it. You didn’t quite understand what happened in the passing minutes but what you remember is having a really passionate snog, and that you had a promise ring on your finger. 

You pulled away from his lips and you heard him groan, annoyed. You chuckled at the sound and you looked at him, saying “How is this-” you gestured between you both and your ring “happening?” 

“Since you came back to Hogwarts, and I had the best snog of my life. As well as me telling you I love you, I decided to find a way to be with you, with the help of brother dearest, wolfy and grand dad-” he said all their names in a way that made you laugh at all of them. “I found out that there is a way to make me go from being a ghost to being human whenever I choose, but the ingredients were all over the world so I needed to get them.” 

“Which explains why you left.” he nodded at your addition and he continued “Since I’m a great potioneer I had no problem making a potion, and here I am.” 

“But why did you spend so much time away?” You said and you could see regulus’ cheeks turn red. He cleared his throat and he was interrupted by Sirius saying “Because every ring we could find was not good enough. Seriously mate, no ring you found in seven different countries was good enough?” 

You heard Regulus mutter “I wanted it to be perfect.” You kissed his cheek, and his cheeks brightened. “I’m convinced that if you weren’t so eager to see y/n you would have spent an entire year trying to find a ring.”

You kissed him tenderly at the thought and he returned the favor. You heard James say “ugh, I’ve seen enough of that already.” Your head snapped to him and you said “You were watching us?”

He shrugged his shoulders and looked at you with a smirk. “They have a tendency of seeing and hearing what they shouldn’t.” 

“Aww, Reggie. You still on about that.” Sirius said, and the boys snickered. Regulus looked like he was both angry and embarrassed. Curious, you asked “What are they talking about?” 

“Nothing, dear y/n. It just seemed that my dear brother was so excited to be able to touch you that the first night he was able to do so, he couldn’t keep his hands away from himself, and he couldn’t stop screaming your name as he said all the things he wants to do to you.” Sirius said and you felt Regulus stiffen from beside you and your face was beet red in understanding. 

Remus scolded Remus and ushered both James and Sirius away to give you and Regulus some space. You smiles and looked at him grinning, but there was just one thing that wasn't adding up. You asked, "How were you able to touch me...before?"

"We meet a wizard, a very old one, that explained this to me." Regulus said, and he grasped both your hands in his firmly. He continued, "He explained that moments where a ghost and a person could only think of nothing else but each other are the moments when they can touch."

"Why haven't I been able to touch anyone else, then?" You ask, tilting your head slightly in confusion. Regulus' smile widens and he grazes your promise ring with his thumb before he says, "Because it only works if your my true love."

He smiles and leans down to kiss you once more. When you part, you smile with a sigh and say, "I like that."

"Like what?"

"The idea of being your true love."

                                 ***

“Regulus, calm down. My dad loves you.” You said holding regulus’ hand tightly as you were standing in front of your house waiting until he finally got the courage to go inside to meet your family formally.

You wouldn’t tell him, but you were also nervous. All your family was in there along with all the Weasleys and introducing Regulus would mean that you would have to explain your gift. 

“He loved me when I was helping with Voldemort, not when I’m engaged to his daughter.” The reason why all your family gathered was because you and Rose had graduated from Hogwarts earlier today. It’s been more than a year since you started dating Regulus and you haven't told anyone.  

“He’ll love you regardless.” You tried to comfort him, and you looked at him with so much love. 

“I’m a Slytherin-” 

“So is my brother.” you cut him off. 

“I’m a Black.” He said, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes because now he was just trying to find a non-existent reason why your dad would hate him. 

“So is his godfather.” 

“I was a death eater.” He said and you knew he was always both made and insecure about that fact. He was a wreck when he first told you. 

“So was the guy that my dad named my brother after. Honestly, the only person you should be worried about is my mom.” You said. “I love you alright, and it’s kind of a rule that they love you too when I do.” 

“I loved you too.” He gave you a peck on the lips but you pulled him closer. You couldn’t seem to get enough of him since you lost your virginity to him last week.

He groaned into the kiss when you pulled his hair, and that’s when your father decided to open the door because he heard weird noises. 

Your entire family was stunned as you pulled away from your fiance. You dad had his mouth wide open as did the rest of the family except he and your mom were glaring at Regulus along with your brothers.

What a great start, you thought to yourself. Your grandmother -Molly- killed the awkward atmosphere slightly when she pulled you in the house and asked you how your day has been.

You could see the tears tracks on her face from all the crying she did today because all her grandchildren were not babies anymore. 

“Won't introduce us?” Your dad asked you from the couch opposite to the one you and Regulus were sitting on. You could tell that he was trying to figure out where he saw Regulus before. “Um, this is Regulus my-” 

“Finance!” James Sirius said from beside his girlfriend and all of your family looked at where he was looking -both your hands which had rings on them- “Yeah, we got engaged today.” 

“How are you here, Regulus?” your dad asked and regulus answered, “Very powerful potion.”

You explained to your entire family how this happened including your gift and your grandmother cried when you mentioned Fred spending time with all of them, and you could see your dad get teary eyed when you mentioned James and Lily. 

“Where are you living now?” your dad asked, everything was feeling alright to you. After your story, everyone seemed to be fine; and you could tell they were all much more accepting of Regulus. “Grimmauld Place 12.” Regulus answered. 

You leaned your head on his shoulder and he smiled at you quickly before he went back to your dad’s interrogation which turned into your mom’s after a few questions.

It was a long day, from waking up beside Regulus and him giving you a good luck shag, from graduating, getting engaged, and having Regulus meet your family, you fell asleep on his shoulder. Thinking, I could get used to this. 

[caffeineyum]

Muffins (Chapter 5)

@biomecharnotaurus little NSFW up top. Also I’m not sure how I feel about this one, but Alba gets nice things :)

Alba laid on her bed contemplating life. After lunch Johnson had tried to explain what he was asking. It sort of made sense and eventually he gave her a list of things to look up. Now Alba was even more confused and there was lots and lots of porn. She didn’t understand any of it and Alba thought most of it was very very weird. What the hell was the point of scissoring? Johnson had told her that he wasn’t the most knowledgeable on gay women but still, it was all so strange. Alba had never thought of doing anything like that with anyone. It was only recently that she had discovered she liked hugs. And now this?! 

Alba rolled over trying to sleep, finally decided that her confusion was ok for now. Until the same thought that had bothered her started to get to her again. How did Jane play into any of this? Alba’s eyes flew open. So far all she knew is that she liked Jane and she got the “warm and fuzzies,” as Johnson had called it when Jane hugged her. Avery had asked Alba ‘do you wanna kiss her?’ Alba thought that might be nice but that was extent of what she wanted. The rest was so damn new that Alba had no idea what to think. 

Regardless Alba knew she really liked Jane and that whatever this was she wanted it to continue. Jane was so wonderful and the woman made her feel human for the first time in her life. Alba determined that was the way to think about it. Nothing else was productive, she had no answers for the rest of it. 

The Spartan flopped over onto her back with a sigh and closed her eyes again. Regardless she needed sleep and Alba dared not to look at the clock. She already slept terribly and she anticipated feeling much worse than usual tomorrow because of this. 

Alba wondered what needed Jane’s attention during lunch and she hoped her shift had gone well. The Spartan had messaged her earlier, asking her if she was ok, the response was a ‘Thanks for asking!!! I’m all good Alba, they just needed more hands 😊😊😘’

Jane worked tomorrow morning, or should Alba say this morning. So she’s get to see her soon. Alba planned on taking the jacket with her and the two had some time at the gym planned later in the day. Alba hoped she would take the jacket. Even if the Spartan didn’t experience trouble with the cold she knew it was unpleasant and Alba wanted Jane to be comfortable. 

Finally the Spartan felt herself start to drift off and Alba let herself fall into a deep sleep….

Just as suddenly Alba jolted up awake, panting and dripping in sweat. The same nightmares, death everywhere, with Alba being helpless. She glanced over at the clock 4:07, Alba genuinely smiled through her panic. Muffin time. 

She got out of bed, pulled on her sweats and put the jacket on top of it. It had her name and stitched onto the chest with a zipper that went from bottom to top. Alba started her journey, hastily walking, still shaking. On nights like these she often had a harder time calming down. The less she slept the worse it was. 

Alba rounded the corner and ended up in the cafeteria. The Spartan looked around, no one was there and nothing smelled like muffins. 

“Jane?” Alba called out. No response, Alba walked over the counter, no Jane. This was weird, Alba stepped behind the counter now shaking even more. Where was she? 

Alba then heard something that sounded like a muffle scream. Immediately her heart rate shot up and she followed the noise into the kitchen. It was coming from a large metal door. Alba tried the handle, it was stuck. Was Jane stuck in here? Alba tried the handle again only for it snap off. 

Immediately her adrenaline kicked into overdrive, her breathing sped up and Alba felt her own heartbeat. Without any hesitation the Spartan stuck her hands in between the door and the frame. Then using the claws she had from her augmentations, dug them into the door and pulled. At first it didn’t budge, but then the whole thing gave way with a screeching cry. A wave of cold hit her as the door came loose. Alba retracted her claws and dropped the door. 

“A-alba?” Jane asked teeth chattering, standing in the doorframe. She was very pale and instantly the Spartan leaped over to her. 

“What happened? Are you alright?” Alba frantically questioned as she pulled off both of her jackets. Alba pulled them over the smaller woman then picked up Jane. She was cool to the touch.

“Frrr-eezer door got stuck on me,” Jane answer and wrapped her arms around Alba pulling herself close to the Spartan. “I’mmm ok, jjju-sst cold,”

“Hold on, let’s get you to the medics,” Alba started on her way out of the cafeteria. She was panicking, hypothermia was nothing Alba knew anything about and that only made her more nervous. 

“No itt’ss ok,” Jane spoke. “I jussst need to warm up, and if we don’t close that freezerr we’ll lose 25% of the ship’s food. Just get me a datapad, I can send a message to get someone to fixx ittt,” Jane pleaded. Alba looked down at Jane and their eyes met. 

“Ok,” Alba sighed. “Where is it?” 

“There,” Jane pointed next to the oven. Sure enough there it was. Alba walked over and bent over so Jane could grab it. Jane shakily grabbed the datapad and began typing. Alba turned on heels carefully so as not disturb Jane and started walking out of the kitchen. Alba wasn’t entirely sure where to go but medical still seemed like the best option. She passed the counter as Jane continued using the datapad. Alba continued on her trajectory towards the exit. 

“Where are we going?” Jane asked, her teeth had stopped chattering, but she was shivering. 

“Medical,” Alba answered. “I’m worried about how cold you are,” Alba’s voice wavered briefly, she was very worried. Jane reached up and touched Alba’s face, Alba stopped dead and jolted looking down at Jane. Her hand was cool. Alba wanted to reach up and cover Jane’s hand with her own to warm her red fingers.

“I promise I don’t need medical.” Jane smiled, looking Alba directly in the eyes. “I just need to warm up, plus you’re really warm so you’ve helped a lot,” Jane added. Alba stared down at her still concerned. “It’s not the first time I’ve been locked in a freezer Alba. I’m ok, really, just cold,” Jane chuckled and withdrew her hand from Alba’s face. 

“Ok,” Alba finally sighed realized that she had been holding her breath. “But I’m getting you a blanket,” she bargained. 

“Alright,” Jane laughed and rested her head against Alba’s chest. Alba continued with Jane in her arms making her way to her quarters. “Thank you,” Jane sighed, relaxing into Alba. 

“Of course,” Alba responded, as she rounded a corner. Walking directly towards her were two of her trainees. At first they froze then stared at the sight in front of them. Alba paid them no mind and simply walked past them. Taking another turn to her quarters. Alba opened the door and walked over to closet. She never used the blankets only the top sheet. Otherwise it far too hot for her to sleep. 

Alba opened the thing with her foot and using her teeth grabbed the blanket. She didn’t want to put Jane down, the smaller woman was still shivering. 

“I could have grabbed that,” Jane laughed as the blanket unfolded and flopped onto her face. Still laughing Jane reached up and grabbed the blanket wrapping it around herself. 

“But you were relaxing and you’re still cold,” Alba said genuinely. 

“It’s alright,” Jane began gently. “I’m not going to die,” 

“I-I know,” Alba stuttered turning a little red. Maybe her concern was a little overblown. Alba looked down at Jane her color was coming back. “You look better,” Alba observed. “Are you warming up?” Alba asked.

Jane nodded. “You make a good heater,” She smiled. 

“Thank you,” Alba felt a little heat rush to her face. “D-do you want to go back to the cafeteria?” Alba stuttered, looking down at Jane. She was buried under the much too large Spartan sized blanket as she looked up at Alba. Jane’s grey eye shone, as she smiled up at Alba. 

“You’re incredible,” Jane breathed. Alba’s face forced itself into a smile, and another wave of heat rushed to her face. The two women gazed at each other simply enjoying the other presence. Jane leaned closer to Alba pulling herself into the Spartan. 

DING! The datapad interrupted them. Jane pulled the thing from under the blankets and sighed checking it.

“Yeah we need to go back, the mechanics are there already,” Jane determined. 

“Ok,” Alba spoke and headed towards the door. Jane once again relaxed onto Alba as they walked. Alba walked out of her quarters and took one of the turns toward the cafeteria. 

“You got locked in a freezer before?” Alba finally asked thinking about it. Jane laughed.

“Yeah, those doors are terrible.” Jane chuckled. “They have the same one down on earth.” She added.

“How did you get out before?” Alba wondered, as they took another turn. 

“I forced my way out with a couple piece of metal shelving,” Jane explained. “Tried that here, didn’t work,” she frowned. “But again! Thank you! I wouldn’t have been able to get out without you,” Jane paused. “And thank you for the clothes and blankets,” She added.

“Always,” Alba nodded as they reached the cafeteria. 

Standing by the counter was a group of several people. Alba could hear vehement cursing coming from behind the counter. The rest of the morning was a bit of blur to Alba. Several angry mechanics questioned her about the importance of not folding a door in half to get someone out. And Jane had to do a lot of talking to superiors. During the majority of the morning, Alba didn’t let go of Jane. The smaller woman didn’t stop shivering until at least an hour and a half after the incident, which was when Alba finally put her down. No one questioned Alba but she noticed the many looks she got from people. 

Finally at around 6:00 the two of them got a break as the mechanics replaced the door and left. There was a little break room behind the kitchen and Alba finally sat down with Jane. She was still wrapped in the Spartan blanket and hadn’t unwrapped herself once. 

“Are you still cold?” Alba asked, wondering about the blanket. 

“Sort of,” Jane admitted curling into a small ball on the couch the two were sitting on. “It kind of feels like the freezer got to my bones,” Jane joked. 

“I-I can-,” Alba started, she opened her arms and Jane immediately took the invitation. Jane crawled on Alba’s lap, gently wrapped her arms around her neck and rested her head on Alba’s upper chest. Alba felt herself go bright red and was grateful Jane couldn’t see her face. Alba carefully pulled the blanket tighter around Jane and wrapped her arms around Jane embracing her fully. 

“Do u still want to go to the gym tonight?” Alba half blurted out.

“Of course,” Jane smiled. Alba unconsciously let out a Chuff. It was something that happened to her when she was happy. Her augmentations and DNA mixing with Siberian tiger were responsible. Jane stirred and Alba got redder than she thought possible. “What was that?” Jane asked looking up at Alba.

“Uuhh, I-I do that when I’m happy,” Alba explained. “It’s like the sounds big cats make,”

“Cool, I’m glad you’re happy,” Jane reached up and touched Alba’s face again. “I’m happy too,”

[a-dirty-secret]

Johnny's Girl - Part 4

Contains smut.

tw: dub/non-con, hematolagnia, dacryphilia, blood, violence, stalking, rough sex.

Saturday approached slowly. Since meeting you Johnny had stopped stalking you, and he missed seeing you every day. Although he'd never admit that to himself, he just decided depriving himself of you was making him extra horny and refused to think about it any further.

He'd planned on taking you to the house that day, locking you up in the basement and having his way with you, but when he got to the gas station he hesitated. He wasn't sure why he didn't take you, and after thinking about it he still couldn't figure it out. Maybe it was the thought of tricking you into trusting him, or maybe he just wasn't ready to end the anticipation yet, he didn't know.

Regardless, he couldn't get you out of his head. He replayed your interactions over and over, thinking about your soft voice and floral scent. A scent he couldn't quite place. He thought about the brief contact his lips made with your soft skin, closing his eyes as he imagined biting down and tasting you.

He arrived to your house and knocked, his eyes running along every curve of your body when you open the door. You had on a pair of jean shorts and a plain, tight white shirt. Johnny allowed his eyes to linger on your breasts, your nipples exposed through the shirt, showing him you had on no bra.

He bit his lip and finally met your eyes, noticing how flushed your face was because of his obvious display. You loved the attention, you knew what you were doing when you put on this outfit. "So, what do you want to do tonight?" You ask.

"Any ideas, darlin'?" He wasn't the type for typical dating. He'd grin and bear whatever date like thing you wanted to do until he could get you alone. Being around other people was too distracting, he wanted to be able to give you his full attention.

Little did he know, you're not really one for the dating scene either. You'd go out to the bar occasionally, if a coworker asked, but you preferred to be alone. "I was thinking we could just spend time here. I could make you dinner and we could watch a movie. How does that sound?"

"Sounds perfect."

***

After dinner you and Johnny sat on the couch, not really paying attention to the horror movie you'd chosen. He asked a lot of questions and found himself enjoying your sarcasm and sense of humor, something that showed more as you got comfortable with him.

Some of his questions were personal and intimate, and you'd tell him you didn't feel comfortable answering. He'd just shake his head, moving on to the next question.

"How many men have you been with?"

"It's rude to ask that on the first date, y'know."

"What, don't wanna answer? Too embarrassed?" he smirked.

You roll your eyes, "I've been with 3, all were underwhelming, I don't have high hopes for you."

He laughed, "Tell me how they were underwhelming sweetheart, I'll be sure to put the information to good use."

You blush, not sure if you're willing to respond. Johnny stares at you, unrelenting, determined to get an answer to his question.

"The sex was very... plain. They didn't really know what they were doing, or maybe they just didn't care if I got off, I don't know. What I do know is that you've been asking questions all night, it's my turn. How experienced are you?"

"Mmm.... A woman like you deserves better than that. I'm experienced enough to make you feel good, I can promise you that."

His words caused heat to spread between your legs, but you glared at him. "That's not an answer."

"It's the answer you get." He snapped.

You were somewhat taken aback by his sharp tone, but you too were determined to get an answer to your question. You look Johnny in the eyes as you straddle him, putting your arms around his neck. He freezes at your unexpected closeness, but grunts when you grind your hips into him roughly, the sound of his voice dampening your panties.

He puts his hands on your ass and squeezes when you grind into him again, slowly leaning down to whisper in his ear. "Answer my question and I'll answer any question you want, no matter how personal, or raunchy. Please, Johnny."

Suddenly his gloved hand was in your hair, pulling you back roughly to stare at him, his eyes clouded with lust, you felt him growing hard beneath you. "I've been with more women than I can count, sweetheart. I know what I'm doin'. Good enough?"

You grind your hips against him again and he moves your head down so his mouth is next to your ear, "Tell me what you think about when you touch yourself." He then grabs your ass again, grinding you against him at a slow and steady pace, you can feel through your clothes that he's completely hard now.

You place your forehead on his and close your eyes as light, breathy moans escape your lips, enjoying the way he feels even through your clothes. "I... I think about.. Mmm... Being degraded, being used, being.... forced." At the last word you squeeze your eyes even tighter in embarrassment, ashamed that you're admitting your darkest fantasies to a man you barely know.

Suddenly Johnny's lips crash into yours and your embarrassment is forgotten. He's not usually one for kissing, too intimate. He rarely kisses the women he fucks, but he had to get closer to you, to taste you. His kiss was rough and passionate, his tongue dipping into your mouth and colliding with yours. You whimpered into his mouth, so desperate for more stimulation that you were trembling.

He quickly moves you off of him and gets on his knees, removing your shorts and panties in one swift motion. "I have to fucking taste you." He says roughly, spreading your legs, removing his gloves and staring at your dripping wet pussy. "You're soaking wet, like a good little whore should be." He takes his thumb and presses it to your clit, applying pressure and causing your hips to buck, he uses his other arm to hold you in place.

"Oh god Johnny please! Please move! Oh god please!" Johnny's cock throbs as you beg and twitch, and he could have busted right there. He removes his thumb, licks up your slit then brings his mouth to your sensitive clit. Every movement of his tongue causes you to twitch like you don't have any control over your body. One of his hands trails up your stomach, rubbing your nipple lightly. Your moans are loud and consistent. He's so wrapped up in your taste and sounds he almost feels high.

He slowly puts a finger inside of you, delighting in how tight you are. He pumps his finger in and out at a decent pace and squeezes your nipple roughly, causing you to let out an even louder moan. "You taste so fucking good." He slips another finger in. "I'm gonna make this tight pussy cum all over my fingers, is that what you want darlin'?"

"Yes Johnny, please!" He forces another finger in, earning a long, drawn out moan as you get closer to your climax. You put your hand in Johnny's hair and he lets out a low groan, enjoying your touch more than he should be, more than he's ever enjoyed being touched. Your moans grow more and more erratic and he can tell you're close.

"Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?" That's all he had to say. Your walls contract around his fingers as you attempt to arch your back further than it can go. Your toes curl and you let out a scream trying desperately to close your legs, but Johnny just laughs and begins pumping his fingers into you fast and hard, the sound of your wet pussy filling the room. He brings his mouth back to your clit and you ball his hair in your fist, letting out moans that are closer to screams as he overstimulates your sensitive cunt.

"Stop! Oh please stop! Fuck!"

He laughs. "You're so pretty when you beg." He pumps his fingers even harder and continues working your clit with his tongue. Your second orgasm comes suddenly, so intense you can hardly breathe. Johnny's movements finally stop, his fingers leaving you. He puts his fingers in your mouth and you lick them clean. "Good girl. Now, get on your knees."

You comply, still desperate for him. "Such a compliant little slut." He grabs you by the hair and pushes your face against the crotch of his jeans, grinding his hips into you as he does so. "Stick your fucking tongue out, slut." You comply, and he guides your tongue along the bulge in his jeans.

He lets go of your hair and undoes his belt, pulling his cock out of his jeans. It was the biggest you've ever seen, you might be intimidated if you weren't so desperately horny for this man. You grip the base and lick the precum off of the tip, then proceed to lick up and down the underside, every once in a while leaving a sloppy wet kiss.

You lock eyes with Johnny's as you push his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue across the tip. He grabs hold of your hair again and pushes his cock in deeper, drunk on the feeling of your soft mouth around his length. He looks down and notices that you're so wet it's dripping onto the floor, and he breaks, grunting as he shoves his cock as far down your throat as he can manage and brutally fucks your face, lost in a haze of lust and desire.

After a while he pulls out and allows you to catch your breath, but the break doesn't last long, and soon he's back to the same brutal pace. "So fucking good." It doesn't take long before his thrusts become erratic, his groans becoming more frequent. With one final loud grunt and rough thrust he pushes himself so far down your throat your nose is against him and empties himself into you.

He pulls out and you cough and gasp for air, you thought for sure you were going to pass out. Tears stream down your face and spit dribbles down your chin, you were a mess. After buckling his belt he helps you off of the floor, sitting you on the couch.

He bends over, grabbing his gloves and your panties, putting them in his pocket. "A souvenir." He smirks, throwing you a wink and walking towards the door.

"Wait!" You didn't expect him to leave so abruptly. You walk over to him and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. He's stiff, but he returns the kiss. It's slow and tender, but soon his hand is on your neck and he's spinning you around, pushing you against the door and forcing his tongue into your mouth.

You moan into the kiss, feeling needy when he pulls away. "When will I see you again?" you ask.

"Soon, I can't stay away from you for long sweetheart." You move and allow him to leave, watching him as he goes. You hadn't intended on things getting so heated.

You go to your bedroom and lay down, thinking about what just happened with Johnny. His hands were rough and felt amazing against your soft skin. His lips were surprisingly soft, his kissing, however, was not. You fall asleep quickly, fantasizing about what your next encounter may bring.

[eyeslikewatercoolers]

write the sad wedding planner headcannon 🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️

Yes captain 🫡🫡🫡

From this post from earlier this week (...okay, now returning to my writing break :) )

“Now rub your hands together so the soap can bubble up and get your hands clean.”

“The water won’t be too cold this time, right Mommy?”

“No, I’m gonna make sure it’s just right while you make sure there’s no yucky germs on your hands.”

Sasha stood in the open doorway of the bathroom as she watched her wife and her daughter at the sink. She smiled to herself as she watched Delia splash water around the counter, neither knowing that she was watching them.

Potty training was a lot easier than what Sasha anticipated. She talked to other parents, and got countless vents about how much work and time it takes. But Anetra seemed to already know all the tips and tricks of potty training before they even started.

Within a month of buying a small potty for their toddler, Delia was already almost ready to start using the bathroom by herself.

Anetra shifted her eyes to see Sasha’s reflection in the mirror. She turned the water off as she looked down at Delia. “Looks like someone is home to see you.” She said.

Delia’s eyes brightened as she saw Sasha in the doorway, hands still dripping. Anetra grabbed the small towel from the rack and placed in her daughter’s hands. “Dry off your hands first, I’m sure Momma doesn’t want to be soaked.”

Sasha didn’t mind feeling slightly wet hands hug around her waist. “Did you have a good day, sweetie?” She asked as she gently moved her daughter’s long brown hair behind her ear.

Delia nodded, “I used the big girl potty this time.” She proudly said.

“Good job, I’m proud of you.” Sasha smiled at her as Anetra wiped the water on the counter. “You wanna meet us in the kitchen and help with dinner?”

Delia nodded as she started going down the hall. Once she got to the stairs and out of earshot, Sasha turned to her wife as she finished soaking up the water.

“You really have a knack for potty training, huh? You made this way easier than every other parent has told us about it.” Sasha pointed out.

Anetra shrugged, “I guess, but it’s like my fifth-time potty training someone.” She said casually as she put the towel in the hamper. “It just gets easier the more I get used to doing it.”

Sasha tilted her head in confusion as she followed Anetra out of the bathroom, “Wait, five times? What other kids have you been potty training?”

“My siblings. I was the oldest kid, so I had to teach them.”

Sasha stopped in her tracks and tugged on Anetra’s sleeve to get her attention. “You potty trained your brother and sisters?” She asked in disbelief. "Why couldn't your mom do it?"

Anetra turned to look at her wife, puzzled by the confusion in Sasha's eyes. "I helped her at first with my sister, but she got busy with taking care of the house and getting involved with the church. So I ended up taking over with my other siblings." She explained, but Sasha's face did not change.

"Neech..." Sasha sighed, finding a way to express her frustration in learning this. "That's not normal, and I think your mom took advantage of you by doing that,"

"What do you mean? I wasn't taken advantage of, my mom was busy and I wanted to help her out." Anetra said in defense.

"Would you make Kerri potty train Delia?" Sasha asked, hoping a rhetorical question could help her point.

"No, why would I do that? It wouldn't be...fair." Anetra said as she came to the realization of what Sasha was trying to point out to her. "I see what you mean now." She said, her eyes filling with sadness. She cleared her throat before continuing to walk down the hall.

"I need to start making dinner." The younger woman said with her arms crossed, looking straight forward.

Anetra was quiet while making and eating dinner. She only spoke when she needed to, but not for very long. She was quiet when getting ready for work, and simply waved goodbye to her family before leaving.

The next morning, Sasha woke up with the other side of the bed untouched. Part of her worried that Anetra didn't come home, but saw a shirt with the bar's logo and black skinny jeans thrown on the floor.

She found Anetra sitting on the living room couch in the darkness, wearing her old company T-shirt and boxers. The morning sunrise was just peeking through the closed blinds.

Sasha was the one who had more insomniac fits that caused her to miss out on sleep, so it felt different to see Anetra in this position. She felt more worried about her wife as she sat next to Anetra on the couch.

"Couldn't get any sleep?" she asked.

Anetra shook her head, "Too much on my mind right now."

Sasha didn't say a word. Instead, she opened her arms, letting Anetra move closer and place her head on her chest. She ran her fingers through Anetra's red hair, as they both sat in silence.

"I'm so stupid, I should have known my mom knew what she was doing by letting me pretty much raise my siblings," Anetra said, in a quiet voice. "Now it makes sense why they always put me in the daycare during church instead of the youth group," she said her thoughts out loud.

"It's not your fault all that happened," Sasha said, running her fingers lightly over Anetra's shoulder. "You were young, and didn't know any better."

"But I lost out on being a normal teenager." Anetra said, "Well, as normal as a Mormon teenager can be." she shrugged.

"You were able to get out of the church and your mom's family, and you aren't doing that to your own kids," Sasha said, sitting up slightly. "I know it was really hard for you, but I'm so proud of how far you've come."

Anetra sat up, moving to look at Sasha. "You always know the perfect thing to say, don't you?" she said with a slight smile, her hands enveloping Sasha's.

"That's because I married the perfect person for me," Sasha responded, squeezing her hand back. They enjoyed watching the sunrise through the living room window, and both were okay with the thought of moving on from the past.

[feuqueerfire]

Utsukushii Kare (S1, S2, Movie) Live Blogging

I can't believe I'm finally, finally, finally getting around to watching Season 2 and the movie (+ rewatching season 1).

I knew I liked this show well enough and the characters have stayed with me since watching it in 2022 but I didn't realize that Utsukushii Kare is pretty special because it's actually the very first live blogging post I did on this blog. It was February 2022 and now it's 2+ years later March 2024. Before then, I'd maybe tweet a thread of me watching but the tweets would be sparse because I didn't wanna spam people. I think I got the idea because I was writing so many Bad Buddy thoughts (also in Jan-Feb 2022) on my show tracking spreadsheet and that wasn't sustainable lol

Anyway, looking at these is making me remember that I'd been looking forward to season 2 from when I finished watching (from my live blogging ending thoughts) and had anticipated the release of it for months and months. Even more ridiculously, in my show tracking spreadsheet, the only thing I wrote for this show was a link to my live blogging and "If there was a sequel, I'd watch" bruh that's all I had to say and yet I'm finally watching the sequel 2 years later (while the sequel has been out for a year).

Anyway, enough chatter, I think I'm just delaying watching this show because I like season 1 and the characters so much and I'm just... nervous about my expectations.

Utsukushii Kare: Season 1

Probably won't be writing much because I already did the whole live blogging for this.

Also, it's weird that I haven't rewatched this? Why do I remember it so vividly if I haven't rewatched? I occasionally watch a bunch of tiktoks for the show and sometimes people mention it in podcasts, so maybe that's why? I was thinking maybe I'd watched reaction videos but nah, apparently I'd only watched that for 1 account back in April 2022. Once again, I continue to ramble instead of pressing play

Ep 1 (Mar 23)

Watched like 12 minutes before falling asleep

Ah, the fondness is coming back

Ep 2 (Mar 23)

Oh, the group going to Hira's house and the bike riding scene is here? in my head it was later

And the bike riding continues to be an incredible scene

Ep 3 (Apr 17)

Uhhh, I'm back after almost a month lol I think I wanted something much easier without complex dynamics at the time, so I'd watched Destiny Seeker instead

Oh, I'd forgotten about this tense scene after the contest

ahh the masturbation thing lolol

It bothers me that Kiyoi was nice again to those bully boys like why make good with them again? And when you're graduating no less?

that sudden kiss + pushing him hard enough that he falls to the ground + saying "see you again" before leaving really is just terrible and confusing lol

Ah, Hira really was always putting himself down and putting Kiyoi in a pedastal in these episodes + I remembered when somebody pointed out that in Hira's POV, there are many shots where Kiyoi is on elevated ground or taller/higher than Hira, so I noticed a lot of that in this ep

Ep 4 (Apr 17)

ack, the immediate 'stalker' to someone who ppl think is his fan is so T.T

"I want to kneel down at your feet right now" kills me every time

Koyoi's inability to communicate and Hira's idealized view of him are both so just . insane

ahh Kiyoi's POV from next ep

the episode starting with Hira saying "For several insipid years, all I did was grow up." while Kiyoi ends the episode with the same sentence

Ep 5 (Apr 17)

seeing Kiyoi lose his mind over Hira is so cathartic

ough, i forgot this hug that Kiyoi sees

I disliked the other guy more when I first watched it than I do now

Ep 6 (Apr 18)

Oops, went almost the whole day without watching anything

finger sucking scene

Ouch

the conversation at the school is just so good man, like ouch but hopeful

hehe cute biking

Overall:

Ahh, idek why I wasn't Gripped by this rewatch, like I like the characters and dynamics but it wasn't keeping my attention as much, maybe because it's a rewatch? Maybe my original rating of 6.5 was correct and I shouldn't have bumped it up to 7 but who knows, maybe I'll be reintroduced to the brainworms after watching Season 2 because I found ep 6 really engaging and was into it and S2 + movie will have new, unfamiliar stories for me.

Season 2

Ep 1 (Apr 18)

How soon after S1 is this season starting?

akkkk "Are you angry?" "Why?" "Last night I was too persistent" alkdjfasd;lkf

It's weird to realize that like... I'm older than them. I was several years older than them when they were in high school and now I'm probably 1-2 years older than them because Hira said graduation is approaching but it's weird still idk

not Mr. Suspicious lmfaoo

Hira kneeling and crawling around really is just a lot

it's so funny how Hira trembles in Kiyoi's presence because he's apparently standing too close, meanwhile we know for a fact that they canonically fuck

Hira's persistent fear that Kiyoi might die ?!

they're both so constipated in different ways, I'm dying like Hira's extreme lack of confidence about his looks and sense of self vs Kiyoi obviously being in love with him and wanting to reassure him but also not being able to compliment him truthfully and sincerely

Kiyoi's every sentence is a trap lmfao

omg I was so distracted by her, she's gorgeous and I love the outfit and jewelry

Kiyoi seething with jealousy ahh

lolol "today we're gonna do it"

oh my goddd what a good episode, I was giggling and dying and so engaged, I'm glad I love it so far because I was kinda nervous after not being as enamoured by S1

Ep 2 (Apr 19)

ah, i'm clutching my heart, flashback to the scene of when Hira taught Kiyoi about the tea olives or whatever and Kiyoi just desperately wanted Hira to say he likes him

return of Suspicious-kun plss

Is the other guy who's there for Anna gonna be significant? Either as an Anna s/o as well or as a Kiyoi hater maybe?

does Kiyoi want their love life to be more exciting?

aksldfj why are each of them so annoying like Koyoma's being like yeah Hira doesn't shut the fuck up about you and your drama at school while Kiyoi's like "Is Koyoma saying he sees a side of Hira I don't see? Is he trying to assert dominance?" like girl both hira and him are just dumbasses god bless

Koyoma on Kiyoi's ass for freeloading off of Hira and letting Hira do all the housework while he just pursues his acting or whatever ohh

pls Hira treating this shitty food as if it's from Olympus

Ah, Hira joining the photography competition at Kiyoi's encouragement (though the pressure would make me buckle)

Ep 3 (Apr 19)

Hira not making it to the next round of the competition but Kiyoi still being supportive, I needed to see this rn tbh

oh my god this is so sad man, they're literally always just on different lines of thinking because Kiyoi wants to be treated as an equal in the relationship while Hira thinks it would be an insult to think of himself as ever reaching Kiyoi's status

but it's so sad the way Kiyoi wants to obviously be known as Hira's bf (even though they can't) and the way he's hurting knowing that Hira wants Kiyoi and his parents to be completely separate owwww

omg? Hira saying I don't want to understand you? fucked up fr

Their relationship is often somewhat tragic because of their dynamic and how they see themselves and the fact that what they want from the relationship is different but this ep is so sad man

Ep 4 (Apr 19)

ah, good thing Kiyoi came back because they only have 1 episode of 23 mins left and i don't want the ending to be rushed lol

sorry accidentally got the ick when Kiyoi came and ordered Hira to get ginger ale in front of everybody even though ik it's like Dynamics but still why in front of dumbass bullies smhh

Hira not liking Kiyoi saying it's fine if he doesn't get a job after uni bc he can take care of them makes sense but then smiling happily when Kiyoi says "fine, then work like a workhorse and if you mess anything up for me I'll throw you away" is sooooo

huh? Why Hira didn't submit anything?

oh it's a different thing that Hira didn't submit for? Because he did indeed submit for the contest

woah, gasped at the fact that Hira is kneeling but at eye-level/slight higher than Kiyoi instead of lowering himself as much as possible

Hira being fed chocolate by Kiyoi, ah

great, delightful

Overall:

This season is about Hira and Kiyoi's relationship. They didn't become boring after getting together, they didn't magically end up being a perfect happy well-adjusted couple after getting together, nor were there random issues thrown just because; the struggles and hurdles are true to their characters and dynamics.

I was a bit afraid that I'd be meh about it because I was like fine but not Hooked on the S1 rewatch but the S2 was great, for real. I liked the themes and dynamics it explored and their character + relationship development and progression. I also smiled a lot and lost my mind a little at certain moments.

Strong writing, strong characters, strong acting, what a relief.

Rating: 7/10

Movie: Eternal

No clue what the movie is about actually, though there are a few gifsets/moments that I've seen that didn't appear in the series, so much be from here. + I saw one comment saying that Anna and Noguchi are supposed to be there more in the movie. oh also actually?? a kidnapping plot?? i heard it mentioned in a podcast i think

omg they're each recounting how they met the other to their own mentors

not the shrine ?!?! omg

I really don't know how to feel about Anna's fan like do we need to kill him or what?

what does Hira mean by him and Kiyoi drifting apart?

hah the divorce thing is here, I loved the gifset when I saw it and have had it in my likes for Months, gonna finally be able to reblog it

i think i saw a gifset or clip in this bathtub scene and I'm a great enjoyer of people discussing their desire for dubcon/cnc roleplay

Idk if I hate that I keep skipping all their makeouts/allusion to sex scenes like aghhh

I've also seen this part about hira apologizing for not having same free time as Kiyoi and Kiyoi grabbing his face in his hand to say stop apologizing, you've tried your best. i like it a lot

wait are Anna and Noguchi dating? I wanna know who the person Anna was talking about who has her heart but they can rarely meet because they're in the same industry. and it'd have the parallel of Hira wanting to photograph Kiyoi while Noguchi gets to photograph Anna

Noguchi used to be a scenario photographer?

ah, Hira didn't show up to the shoot with Noguchi and Kiyoi

pls why are they both obsessed with this award, he doesn't even have regular professional photography experience c'mon girls

oh, Anna's bf is some random actor from another company.

her fan is being... fine for now.

Aw, Anna

dang, they're bringing Anna to live with Hira's cousin

So does the aunt know that Hira and Kiyoi are like a thing or does she still think their fan/friend lol

Hira saying only Kiyoi is allowed to call him creepy and such because he's special + Kiyoi being like "he's creepy right?" Anna: "yeah" Kiyoi: Hey!

Ouch, yeah Hira saying he doesn't know what to shoot is crazy

Oof, Hira and Anna dating scandal

It must be so funny if you're watching this without knowing about EA celebrity dating culture (though even in SK, actors can date) and being like ? why is this a scandal ?

but i'm unexpectedly getting a celebrity-centric BL without seeking it out, which is great, esp bc when I seek it out I don't tend to find too many which actually give me what I want

random het sob story in the middle of my Utsukushii Kare but I like Anna so I'll allow it for like... 2 minutes

Ah, the kidnapping lol

oh it really is the Anna fan fuckhead aghhh how terrible, he's been off since the start

pls saviour Hira

Hira gets to photograph Kiyoi professionally yay

deciding to have one subject as your photo subject is crazy if you wanna be a professional but alright I'll buy into it

ah, conversation about beauty and age

gorgeous ending

Overall:

Great, fun, though not as emotionally invested as Season 2 because they're in a better place in their relationship in this movie (even if it's not necessarily Perfect). It was interesting to have new people in their lives like Anna and Noguchi and how their stories influenced them. I'm happy with where we're leaving off the characters after ~6h of show/movie.

Rating: 6.5/10

[prismaticpichu]

Numbers and Algorithm

We’re back at it again with the Ted Talk! I found the last one very cathartic as it touched upon things I’ve felt a whole lot in the past, so I’m gonna pluck another struggle out and try and talk it through, with the hope of maybe opening a heart or changing a toxic mindset or two.

Something I’ve found is that social media, in terms of algorithm, is a giant, sometimes stressful, fast train that never ever stops. You gotta cling onto it for dear life if you wanna stay on, and you gotta catch it at the right times to be successful. And that success? It’s reflected in numbers. Likes. Subscribers. Followers. Kudos. Bookmarks. You name it. The system is engraved into almost every interactive platform—and especially the ones where people share their creativity/work.

With a heavy, stubborn heart, I’m gonna say f*ck the numbers. I can’t think of another aspect of social media that messes with your brain and heart and self-esteem more. They can both cause an absolute heyday, jumping for joy, reaching the clouds, and crush your soul at the same exact time. And the thing is that it’s not something you can turn off either; when you’re on social media, I think we naturally want that attention, and that validation, and want to see our work balloon with high numbers. It’s toxic, it’s a little dangerous to the heart, but it’s a part of the contract when you sign up for the posting stuff online game. Needless to say, the most dangerous part of this system is what happens when those numbers don’t even reach the double digits. And what happens when we see others reach the thousands.

Imagine spending weeks on a drawing; you pour so much time and effort and love into it, and along the way, you can’t help but think how well it’s going to do online. It’s fanart of a beloved character! It’s funny! It’s great! All that excitement and anticipation pushes you forward, until the day that it’s done. Then you post it. The post accumulates 5 likes; zero retweets, zero comments, zero anything after the first day. That is… not a fun time. It crushes you. It makes you think what did you do wrong? Why is is not good enough to be viral? Then, to make matters worse, you go and see a meme of stick figures that reaches 900 likes—from a person who doesn’t have a huge following to begin with. Maybe even one that’s smaller than yours.

Whooh boy… jealously is such a big part of this. It’s such a big part of me, and I can try to deny it till the day I die. And I got that speeding train to blame for that (or a least a big chunk of it; I got my own problems). But… what do you do about this then? Well, something that’s helped me, something I’ve forced myself to nail into my head, is to accept two things: One, is that sometimes people just hit the algorithm right, catch that train at the right time, and you don’t. Something explodes in popularity because it was timed right with a trailer that just dropped, or an anniversary, or whatever. It’s how the game goes. Two, is that it’s important to remember that these people who snowball those big numbers, well, there’s a reason they did. I find that I can become blind to this because of envy—and that’s no good. People put time, and effort, and love into projects, and people will recognize that. Maybe the artist of that stick figure meme has an amazing sense of humor my brain refused to recognize. Sometimes you just have to plaster on a smile and support someone else who performed better than you, because ignoring/even trying to look for flaws in their work out of spite is incredibly unkind. Something else I’ve found is that when you praise someone, even if it doesn’t originally come from a sincere place, you might find yourself appreciating others’ work for real. And when that happens, that envy will begin to ebb <3

Finally, and similarly to praise, a huge factor of all of this is expectation. Expecting that fanart to do amazingly well, expecting that story to be gushed about, expecting people to care. The problem lies in what happens when those things aren’t met. Setting expectations is a subliminal thing, and not really something we control. But at the same time, it’s important to not get carried away with them—because that’s where the heartache starts. More than anything, you have to know your work is special, and meaningful, and worth it, without numbers reflecting that. Numbers will not always reflect the time and effort put into something, but that does not mean you did not spend a month writing a single chapter for a story.

We can’t mediate ourselves into telling ourselves we don’t care about numbers—it’s too big of a player in the game. And it’s absolutely okay to accept the hurt that comes with it; stifling it and pretending it means nothing may make you feel worse inside. Truthfully, as long as you know how hard you worked on something, and that worth is not defined by a thumbs up or hearts, then you will be just fine <3 You are hardworking, and strong, and worth a million likes on any platform. And you are incredibly, incredibly brave for putting your work out there!

[into-the-center-of-things]

day seven: lake michigan!!!

"glinting with sun-lit

summer casualities, the lake

opens its third eye"

Short single entry for today! Today was a lot of outdoor time! I got to splishsplash around a lot and meet more Chicago people which was really fun!

Once we got out of bed and got ready (@germfreeadulthood made us breakfast sammies and they were sooooo good, pictured below), we took the bus to The Point with the intention of swimming. @germfreeadulthood invited their friends to join us, so we floated while we waited for them to arrive.

The water was beautiful, and oh so cold! I haven't actually swum in a lake in recent memory, only the ocean (which I didn't like—just becayse I don't like being thrown around by the waves), so the water having a different feel to it and it having a more calm lull to its movement was a nice surprise.

The bottom was covered in rocks, which were actually very slippery from the algae. Not the greatest to balance on while you tried to get accustom to the water's rhythm.

@germfreeadulthood and I also briefly saw someone skinny dipping in broad daylight for like 5 minutes, then return to the rocks to put their clothes on and leave and we were kind of just staring in awe—like, who has the guts to skinny dip in the middle of the afternoon on a Monday???

Anyways. The other friends joined (F and J) and we actually stayed out at the lake until like 6 or 7pm and I actually had a lot of fun just talking to people—usually I feel really self conscious in new groups of people when I don't know the dynamics but I felt comfortable and everyone was really funny and not as difficult to converse with as anticipated. Also there was a bird we kept pointing at and making gestures at—forgot what it was, its not a cormorant, it is too small...

Other detail was us pulling balloons out of the water—I didn't really get this captured but we fished two seperate balloons out from the water and one of them flew off into the horizon, lifted by the wind, when we weren't paying attention. We were kind of surprised since it was like, bobbing in the water, so I didn't think it had the capacity to fly being half-inflated and all..oh well...

So long space cowboy...

We got hungry so we went to Trader Joe's and decided to meet at another person's apartment (J's) to eat and watch a movie. I used this as an opportunity to get some snacks for the train ride home—peanuts and bread and apples and tuna packets (since they have mayonaise downstairs at the cafe for the hot dogs...tbh it sounds gross but bread is good for you...issa dumb idea but I wanna try it so I don't starve or something).

Then we went back to @germfreeadulthood's apartment, I took a shower and then we went to J's apartment, which apparently has two very adorable cats named Pablo and (omg) Melon.

They were really nervous but wanted to he at least a foot away from us constantly, which was cute, like they wanted to know what was going on but wanted to maintain a safe distance. I was able to pet Pablo briefly but Melon only barely tolerated letting me be about 3 feet from her before she wandered off.

We ate some Mexican food that we picked up—I did not take a picture of my burrito because it was bad ): like texture-wise bad (mushrooms are so hit or miss for me because if it's slimy I can't eat it). So that was disappointing but the tea J made for us was good (: so it balanced out.

Then we watched We're All Going to the World's Fair, a movie directed and written by the same person behind I Saw the TV Glow.

I understood (or rather, connected with?) this significantly less than ISTTVG and I don't really know why. I'm reading reviews to try and understand what exactly I watched. Like it felt a bit unsettling in some places but there was a lot of distance put between this protagonist and the audience which I believe was intentional and I struggled with what I was seeing, especially with all the different tech aspects, I wasn't sure what year this took place and how the different tech ties into it (like why would you own a digital camera in 2019 if you have both a smartphone and a laptop??) and I just didn't grow up talking to strangers on Skype. I think I need to think about this movie more before I can really articulate my thoughts.

After that we went home, we have to leave by 10am to go to Indiana...specifically The Dunes, I requested we also explore the suburbs for the sake of my poetic research. We might also go to Gary because its a town that's kind of empty and depressing. I am absolutely relieved I didn't get sunburned, just very tanned. I feel exhausted. I can still feel the waves of Lake Michigan lulling me to sleep...

[becca-e-barnes]

Taking lees handcuffs and cuffing him to the bed. Putting his sheriff hat on telling him to be a good boy and obey his sheriff while you overstimulate him till he’s shaking and crying for his little sheriff to have mercy

Sorry, submissive Lee?? What the fuck, that's literally so hot. I could really see it, why have I never talked about this before? I'm all bothered by this rn

And I can't stop thinking about him being cuffed to the headboard while he's trying not to show you that he's really getting off on not being in total control. Just the way he'd whimper and whine and force himself to close his eyes because he can't bring himself to look at the confident smile on your face.

"Is that nice, Lee?" You tease, rubbing your wet core over this throbbing, neglected cock, not letting him into you just yet. As a man who lacks self control, this is torture. If he had his way, you'd probably both be finished by now, fallen into a tired heap on the bed. Not tonight though. Tonight, you were drawing it out, savouring your first chance to be in charge.

"It's real fuckin' nice, sweetheart." He groans, before tugging that plump bottom lip between his teeth. "Jus' wish you'd let me out of these cuffs. I wanna make you feel special. Promise I'll make you feel so damn good if you let me out."

"Have a little patience, Sheriff." You sound a whole lot more put together than you feel, lifting his hat from the night stand and setting it on top of your own head.

Oh, that got his attention.

"Fuck, stop it, baby. How am I meant to wear that tomorrow and think of anythin' but how pretty you look in it? 'Specially when you're wearin' nothin' else." He's drinking in the sight of your body like it's all he's ever fucking needed. It damn well might be.

"Shhhh, stop complaining and just enjoy it." You smirk, guiding yourself down on his length so he glides home.

"Holy fuckin' God. Angel, that's- o-oh, that's good. 'S too much. If you don't stop squeezin' me like that, we're gonna have a problem. Or a fuckin' baby." His self control is totally gone and if he had his way, you know he'd be slamming into you hard and fast by now. Thankfully, you're not just dependant on his self restraint tonight.

"I know baby, I know. It feels nice. But I need you to be a good boy. I won't let you blow your load just yet." You work yourself slowly on him, rubbing your clit with one hand, holding his hat on with the other and he swears this might be the death of him.

"Just take the cuffs off, toots. I'll be good to ya, I promise." He knows you won't let him get off yet and he's far too needy to wait as long as he knows you'll want to.

"No, Lee. Now shut the fuck up or I'll give you something better to do with your mouth." It's a line you've stolen from him but you didn't anticipate the groan it draws from the Sheriff beneath you.

"Y-yes ma'am. Fuck." His voice is barely louder than a breath but you certainly heard it. He has entirely surrendered, more than aware that he's at your mercy. Tugging on the cuffs is futile. He knows better than anyone that he's not going anywhere with these around his wrists so he might as well relax and enjoy the slow slide of your wet heat onto his cock. Maybe if he begs enough, you'll take pity on him and in that moment, he realises he's really not above begging for you.

[jadeddaydream]

Wild Thoughts

Pairing: Sevika x Reader

Summary: You decide to get Sevika riled up

Word Count: 1420

CW: Riding, Rough Sex, Lack of Aftercare

Notes: i just wanna be her gf and light her cigars for her

You moved in the red lights, hands sliding up and down your body, head swinging back and forth to the music in the background; hips swaying to the beat.

She was watching. You wanted her to watch you.

You moved a bit more sensually, raising your arms in the air and bringing them back, rotating yourself while whining your hips. You felt your curves, gaining more attention from the people around you; but you only wanted her eyes on you. You kept your eyes closed, stepping towards the booth where she was sitting. She looked you up and down, you swaying your hips and smiling provocatively; wanting more than just her eyes on you.

You finally stepped inside the booth, those who sat near your lover getting up to move; knowing exactly what was going to happen next. You placed your leg on one side of her lap, leading to your form straddling hers. You placed your hands on her shoulders, your lips curling up into a seductive smile.

Sevika pulled out a cigar, you automatically reaching for the lighter that was in the pocket of your jacket. You lit it, placing it under the item; watching as the tobacco product lit up. You then put the lighter back in your pocket.

"I'm bored," You pouted, stroking the side of Sevika's shoulders.

Sevika blew out a stream of smoke and chuckled heartily, replying to your comment with; "You sure didn't see bored on the dance floor." Her hand reached up to settle itself on your hip. “You looked like you were having lots of fun.” She slotted the cigar between her lips, blowing it in your face now. You weren’t fazed by the smoking, shifting your body to lean more into her touch, sensing the jealousy in her tone. "But I have something I wanna do that's even more fun." You traced your hand from her glowing cheek to the top of her neck.

She grabbed your wrist, her fingers tracing over yours. "Is that so?" She asked inquisitively, but she simultaneously caught your drift. You got up, Sevika lacing her hand with yours. She circled you, before taking you to the back. You smiled in anticipation, chills sending themselves down your spine. You followed her, your lover opening the door.

"Lock it.” She ordered, you following and locking the door. You turned to see her on the couch that sat in the middle of the room Sevika patted her lap and you rushed to take a seat. You had her chest to your back and you felt her chest rise and fall from behind. Her hand rested on your thigh, the warmth of her skin sending a slight thrill through you.

You leaned back to lay your head on her shoulder. “What now?” She commented, gripping your thigh a bit. You grinned, the jacket you were wearing fell sliding down your shoulder, the strap on your shoulder falling along with it. You giggled lowly, you trying your best to look innocent; Sevika being completely aware that you were far from it.

You leaned forward; whispering in her ear like you two weren’t alone.

“I have no panties on.”

Pulling away and batting your eyelashes, you watched as Sevika’s steel eyes went dark. She slid her hand from your knee to the underside of your dress and slowed when she came closer to your inner thigh. You knew the ways to drive her crazy, and this was one of them. She finally dipped her hand under your dress, cupping your throbbing heat, her fingers sliding in between your dripping slit. You shuddered, biting your lip when her eyes met yours again.

You leaned in closer, your face only being a few centimeters away from hers. “Wow,” Sevika breathed out, wiping her warm hand against your inner thigh and sliding it from under your clothing. You pouted, realizing that you were going to have to beg for what you wanted. You turned, massaging her shoulder, now straddling her lap.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” Sevika spoke, her voice a slight rasp. “So, so bad.” You moved your hips a bit. “I’ve been waiting for you all this time,” You continued, frowning. “Please Sevika, I want you, so, so bad.” Your hand landed on the side of your breast, leaning forwards; waiting for her to kiss you.

She did, mashing her lips against yours. The kiss was rough, the scar on her lip rubbing against yours. She grabbed your ass, squeezing it tight. You gasped in her mouth, Sevika breaking your kiss; you then whined when she backed away from you.

“Take this off,” She fidgeted with the strap of your dress. You complied, the entirety of your dress over your head. As soon as it dropped on the floor, Sevika made her way to the column of your neck; biting harshly and leaving soft kisses behind. A hand moved to play with your breast, Sevika stimulating your nipples and then pinching them. She sucked hard on the top of your other breast, a large mark on your skin.

You moaned, feeling yourself become wetter at your lover's attention. “I’m going to ruin your pants,” You whined, Sevika replying with, “Doesn’t matter.” She finally touched you where you needed it, smacking the inner part of your thigh before moving to your sopping cunt.

She rubbed your clit in small circles, covering her fingers in your wetness; prodding your hole with her thick digits. “Please,” You whispered in her ear, running your fingers through her hair. She finally inserted them inside you, your back arching in response.

“Ride them, baby,” Sevika commanded you, your body slowly grinding before speeding up and riding her fingers. She watched you as you fell apart, breath heavy and breasts bouncing. You kept a tight grip on her shoulder, biting your lip before sobbing loudly as she moved her fingers inside you. It made you slow your pace, Sevika noticing your body reaction’s towards her. She curled her fingers against your walls, torturing you.

“Faster, I don’t wanna see you stop at all.” She commanded you, you replying with a quick nod and another moan of her name. She watched as you fell apart on her fingers, making a mess all over her fingers, wrist, and even reaching her forearm. The wet slaps of your cunt meeting her palm echoed against the walls, the music of your moans following afterward.

“Fuck.” Sevika spoke in awe at your desire for her, to please her, the way you’d do anything for her with no question. Your messy cunt leaked all over her, and she let you. You met her eyes, mouth agape, and eyes clouded over with nothing but lust and hunger. You tossed your head back, bouncing aggressively on her thick fingers. White covered her digits, you were close and she knew it.

“Sevika,” You whined at the feeling between your thighs and the ache of your limbs.

“Cum for me,” She spoke, enjoying the way your legs shook and your moans echoing through the air. You came, a loud wail coming from your lips, a hot sensation of pleasure coursing through you harshly; to where you felt like your blood was boiling and melting your veins. You came all over her, wet and sticky.

Panting from exhaustion, Sevika kissed you; your lips slotting against hers. She pulled out and away and pressed her soaked fingers against your lips. You obediently opened your mouth, Sevika pressing her digits against your tongue. You moaned at the taste of yourself and from the pure eroticism that transferred itself in Sevika’s eyes. When you were finished she pulled them out, a thick line of saliva connected her fingers and your mouth. You then fell on the couch next to her, crossing your legs to soothe the tingling of the space in between your legs.

Sevika grabbed a bottle of liquor sitting on the table next to her. She took a sip, before turning to you.

“Want some?” She gestured, you nodded before grabbing the bottle and taking a sip; the burn of alcohol invaded your throat.

"Still bored?” She asked sarcastically, you rolling your eyes and making her smile. “No, I’m perfectly entertained.” You moved to rest on your knees, closing the space between you and Sevika. You reached out to whisper in her ear.

“But I might need a little more help to be completely enrapt.”

She chuckled before grabbing your hip.

You were in for a long night.

Author Notes: I hope y’all can see a recurring theme lol

[miekasa]

NICE.

+ pairings: eren yeager + (fem) reader

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

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

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

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

+ word count: 19k. i’m sorry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he questions. His tone is actually genuine and it tempts you to roll your eyes.

“What it always means, Eren,” you sigh, stepping into the elevator, “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

“Thank you, baby. I love you.”

“Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Get off my line.”

He doesn’t have time to throw in another pitiful “I love you” before the line goes dead and he’s met with static silence. He hangs up the station telephone with a silent chuckle, turning around to face Armin and Officer Hannes.

“Someone’s coming to pick us up,” he says, trying to focus on Armin’s sigh of relief and not the warmth creeping up his neck and into his cheeks, “I’ll, uh, call a tow for the car in the morning.”

The cop, too tired to care, only shrugs, and pays them no further attention. He hands Eren a plastic bag with his car keys and newly suspended license, escorts him back into the cell, and returns to his desk. Eren gives Hannes the finger while his back is turned.

Beside him, Armin is still quivering; bouncing his leg up and down, fiddling with his fingers, gnawing on his bottom lip. Eren frowns, a heavy wave of guilt washing over him as he takes in the younger’s anxiety ridden state. It wasn’t fair that Armin could have potentially suffered legal consequences because of his stupidity.

Eren’s lucky that Hannes was sleazy enough to accept his bribe and let him off with minimal punishment. With that they were doing, things could have ended up far worse for the both of them tonight.

“I’m sorry, man,” he apologizes, hands stuffed in his front pockets, “About tonight, I mean. We—I shouldn’t have done that, not with you there.”

Armin looks up at him with sparkling, doe eyes and Eren wants to punch himself in the gut for making him go through all of this, even if it didn’t amount to an actual arrest. “You couldn’t have known this was going to happen.”

“I could have prevented it,” he says. Because it’s what you would have said, too.

“It’s not your fault, I wanted to come, remember?” Armin tells him, redirecting his gaze to the grey floor of the precinct cell. He takes a deep breath, almost calming down completely when a sudden thought reignites his nervous ticks, “You… they’re not gonna tell my parents, right?”

“No, no—of course not.”

Armin was legally an adult; he, nor Eren, nor the police had to tell his parents anything. Sure, Hannes could rat them out, but honestly that sounded like way more work than he was cut out for; not to mention he’d be bound to reveal that he let them off easy for a couple thousand bucks.

Armin nods, “And… that wasn’t Erwin on the phone, right?”

“Are you kidding me? He’d murder me on the spot,” Eren says. He pauses before tacking on, “I, uh… I called (_____).”

“Oh,” the younger gapes, “She’ll kill you, too.”

“Yeah,” Eren sighs, scratching the back of his neck in nervous anticipation, “Trust me, I know.”

“You have your access card on you, right, Armin?” you ask. He nods sheepishly, hand on the car door handle.

“Thanks again for coming to get us,” he says meekly, “I’m sorry about waking you up and everything.”

You offer him a warm smile through the rear view mirror, “Don’t worry about it, I’m just glad you’re safe. Text me when you get up tomorrow, okay? We can get brunch, my treat.”

His face lights up at the prospect of free food, and he nods once more, enthusiastically, but his expression falls again when he speaks, “Okay, and I’ll, um, pay you back for the tickets and stuff as soon as I can—”

“It’s fine, really, don’t worry about it,” you repeat.

“It was almost three thou—”

“You forget who you’re friends with,” you cut him off with a smile, “Don’t worry about it, okay? It wasn’t your fault.”

Armin’s eyes dart to Eren quickly, before clearing his throat, a light pink tint to his cheeks. You know that the prospect of money can be a sensitive subject for Armin, one easily triggered by his very environment, but this wasn’t negotiable on your end. You know that Armin doesn’t like the feeling of owing anyone anything, but he knows he won’t get you to budge; so, he quietly nods, appreciative of your generosity, before bidding you and Eren a final goodnight and sprinting towards the dorm. Once you see that he’s safely inside, you wave one last time, and wait for the door to shut behind him.

Slowly, Eren turns to the driver’s seat to look at you. You were eerily calm when you came to pick him and Armin up from the station. You didn’t yell, cuss, or punch him in the face like he expected. You politely talked to the officer, thanked him for his service, paid their fees, and up until now, you’ve shown no signs of being angry with him at all.

The two of you drive back to your shared apartment in complete silence, Eren too confused, and borderline scared, of initiating a conversation. He wonders if you’re too tired, or if you really don’t give a damn anymore, but when you pull into the underground lot of your building and put the car in park, he finds out the silence was simply the calm before the storm.

You take your hand off of the gear shift and turn towards him. It’s a quiet stare down for nearly a full minute before you break the mime act with a slap to his thigh.

“Drag racing? Are you out of your fucking mind? Of all the stupid shit you’ve done—and you’ve done a lot of stupid shit—this has got to take the cake. Just what the actual fuck were you thinking?”

“Ouch!” he inhales sharply, rubbing over where you’d hit him, “We were just having fun! Then these other guys showed up and started talking shit so—”

“Having fun?” you echo, “You couldn’t think of anything fun to do that’s not illegal in every borough of New York City?”

Eren feels his cheek flush, but he only huffs with the illusion of disinterest, “I don’t know why you’re freaking out so bad. I’m a good driver, it was those other squids that got us into shit, I’m telling you. They showed up looking for a fight, then ran like a bunch of pussies when the cops came.”

You exhale slowly, shaking your head in disbelief. You seem to have no other words to say to him, choosing to step out of the car and slam the door behind you. Eren quickly follows, slamming his door equally as hard, and hot on your trail as you march towards the elevator.

“(_____), come on, enough with the silent treatment,” he whines when you stick yourself in a corner of the elevator after pushing the button to the penthouse, “I told you I didn’t start shit, Armin and I got ratted on.”

“I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about whether or not they started it, Eren. You’re still the problem here.”

“Me? How am I the problem?” he pulls back, eyebrows drawn together in genuine confusion, “I just told you I didn’t do shit.”

You scoff, crossing your arms and shifting your left leg, “I’m not doing this with you right now.”

“Doing what with me?” he presses, tone growing icy.

“This, Eren!” you reiterate, “I’m too tired to hear your bullshit right now.”

The elevator dings and opens into your apartment. You push past him, continuing your deliberate strides through the living area, and to the stairs, but Eren catches you with a hand on your wrist before you can go any further.

“Will you fucking stop that,” he growls, “If you’ve got something to say, then stop running away from me, and just say it.”

“Funny,” you sneer, pulling your wrist away from him and settling both your feet on the bottom step, “You’re one to talk about running away from things.”

He takes a step back, standing just a notch below you, perfectly frozen in place. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means your little drag racing episode was not only dangerous and immature, it was you running away from your problems like a spoiled child, yet again.”

Eren’s features narrow at your accusations; eyes fading into hooded slits, lips curving downwards, and voice bobbing low, “I’m not running away from anything.”

“Oh, please, Eren,” you roll your eyes, arms retreating to their crossed position in front of your chest, “Cut the bullshit.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” But he bets that even in the dim lighting of the apartment, you can see the tips of his ears growing red, just like they always do when he’s lying.

“Oh, really?” you ask, eyes widening in mock surprise, “You don’t think I don’t know this whole thing has something to do with the fact that your mom came home on Friday?”

Another pause. “Who told you that?” He asks, but it comes out more like a statement.

“Nobody had to,” you snap, “Jean said he caught you with a sack of coke over the weekend, and I knew something was up.”

“It wasn’t mine, I was—”

“I said cut the shit, Eren. If I went up into your room right now I bet your ass I’d find more than enough of it in a shoebox somewhere.”

He retreats, almost bashful, but unapologetic all the same. “Fine, whatever, I did a few lines. Big deal.”

“The big deal is that you think this is fucking normal, and now you’ve upgraded from coke to getting yourself arrested! It’d be one thing if you were acting like a misfit on your own, but to drag Armin into it because you—”

“Drag him into it?” he echoes with the snare of sarcasm dripping from each syllable, “You talk about Armin like he’s six. I don’t know why you think he’s some helpless little baby, but you have no goddamn responsibility over him. He’s not your fucking charity case.”

“I never fucking said he’s my charity case—don’t you ever fucking say that,” you say, “Having some basic respect and concern for my friends isn’t charity.”

“Wake the fuck up! You baby Armin when he’s a grown ass man. I didn’t force him into the fucking car to get sympathy points from you.”

“Grown? Armin is barely nineteen, disowned by his parents, is on a full fucking ride to an insanely expensive university, and you got him arrested tonight! Do you know what could happen if NYU found out? They could fucking kick him out, take his scholarship away—and then what, huh? Or were you just gonna buy off the headmaster, too?”

“You’re acting like I fucking planned for it!”

He’s screaming now, voice bellowing throughout the apartment, face red—and he doesn’t mean to, he doesn’t mean it at all; but it’s late, and he’s tired, and those shouldn’t be excuses, but he’s too prideful to back down.

“Of course you didn’t! You didn’t plan for anything, you were just being a reckless, irresponsible asshole like always,” you tell him, too blind-sighted by anger and the need to chide him that you miss the teary undertones in his words.

“And what’s it matter to you?”

“It fucking matters to me when you call at some godforsaken hour asking me to pick you up from prison!”

He takes a step forward, right leg elevated by the same step that both your feet rest on. “Well, what else am I supposed to fucking do!” He shouts even though he’s mere inches from your face, “Tell me just what the fuck I’m supposed to do instead!”

“You’re supposed to act like an adult and fucking talk to someone!”

“Who the hell am I supposed to talk to, huh?” he presses, taking a step forward and forcing you to retreat backwards, and up a step, “My mother who’s never home or her bastard boyfriend?”—another step forward for him, another step backwards for you—“The step-brother I can’t get in contact with?”—one step forward; one step backwards—“Or maybe the dad I never had, right?”

“Me, Eren!” you yell back with equal vigor, throwing your hands up at your sides, and planting your feet firmly. “Armin, Mikasa, Jean—anyone! You have people who fucking care about you! Stop treating us like correction officers, we’re your fucking friends!”

There’s silence for a while, just you and Eren staring at each other, heavy breathing, waiting for the other to make the next move. He opens his mouth, but when he tries to speak, his resolve washes away, his throat tightens and the words get sucked back in.

It would be easy to keep yelling, screaming, blaming you for blowing up on him. He used to think the scolding he got from you after pulling some stupid stunt was the worst part; but now, he thinks it might be his favorite part. He hates to hear you scream, and it hurts to see you cry, but if you’re yelling, you’re angry that he hurt himself; you care that he’s okay.

“I—” he stutters, words quiet and broken, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to get like this tonight, it was an accident I—”

“You never mean for any of it to happen, yet it always does,” you interrupt, voice soft yet strained, “I know you have your own shit to deal with, but so does everybody else.”

“(_____), please, you’re right, okay? I should have said something before,” he admits, mouth small as he voices his confessions, “I should have talked to you or one of the boys, but I—I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

He’s groveling now. Mouth in pout, eyes wide, voice small, and honestly, he thinks he might cry. At this point he doesn’t care if he does.

“I want you to mean it,” you finally say, and when he looks up, he hates the look he sees in your eyes. It’s something between sad and hurt and empty and it’s awful. Someone like you shouldn’t feel that way. He shouldn’t make you feel that way.

“I—”

“When you’re ready to tell me exactly what’s going on with you—what’s happening that made you think going to jail would be better than facing your issues—I’ll be here to talk,” you continue, eyes watering, “But until then, goodnight, Eren.”

Eren winces when you turn around and ascend up the remaining stairs. He flirts with the idea of following you, going to your room to finish talking, but you’re probably angry enough to have it locked. His room is up there, too, but he opts for part of the sectional, laying down with the palms of his hands kneading against his closed eyelids.

For as long as he can remember, you’ve been there for him. Your friendship, at times, was like a game of tag—Eren always on the run with you loyally chasing after him; he’d always run amuck, and you’d always be there to catch him in the act. Now, it’s five in the morning, there’s no more yelling, no more chasing, no more racing, but he’s still running.

The following morning, you take Armin out to brunch, as promised. Jean tags along too, something about hanging out with the two of you being infinitely more entertaining than his genetics lecture. It doesn’t seem like Jean knows anything about Armin and Eren’s late night antics, so you don’t bring it up yourself.

Oblivious, Jean chats your ears off as if nothing is awry. Whether he knows it or not, he does a great job of distracting Armin from his own thoughts. They both eat to their heart’s content when you remind them you’ll foot the bill; and you don’t bat an eye when Jean convinces Armin to order his third round of pancakes. He deserves it.

Afterwards, Jean convinces the three of you to go window shopping with him in SoHo, claiming that he needed inspiration for his latest fashion assignment (you don’t question why he’s taking a fashion class as a biology major, but you suspect it has something to do with Mikasa). Window shopping soon turns into actual shopping, so almost completely unprompted, and with little effort on his part, Armin gets a few pieces of clothing on your behalf, while you try to ignore Eren’s words itching at the back of your mind.

Armin’s not a baby, but he certainly is a kid with a rough past and rough relationship with his parents at a time in his life where he arguably needs them the most. A little extra support from his friends wouldn’t harm him.

It’s nearing six when the three of you are wedged in a small booth inside a café, indulging in overpriced hot chocolate. Three sips into his second cup, Jean excuses himself to the bathroom, leaving you sitting across from Armin.

“You know, you don’t have to keep buying me stuff to make up for Eren,” Armin says, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I’m not trying to make up for him,” you sputter, careful not to spill your drink over your lap, “You had a rough night. Just accept my gifts, don’t be a brat.”

“I do accept them. Erwin’s been eyeing that Off White sweater for, like, three weeks now. He’s gonna have a hissy fit when he sees me wearing it.” You chuckle, and he continues, “But you know, as much I love spending time with you, you can’t use me to avoid Eren forever.”

“I’m not avoiding him,” you frown.

“You said you were going to take us to brunch, and then spent the whole day with us.”

“Funny, I recall you saying something about how much you love my company about thirty seconds ago.”

“He’s called you at least ten times today.”

“I was spending the day with my favorite NYU student… and Jean,” you bat your lashes, “I see you maybe once a week. I live with Eren, I have to see him every day.”

Armin calls your name with a pout, “He’s sorry, you know.”

“Not sorry enough,” you mumble. Armin opens his mouth to say something again, but then Jean’s sliding back into the booth, chatting about how he’s finally come up with the perfect anniversary date for Mikasa.

Armin doesn’t notice your sigh of relief, but he does take note of the way you wipe away your notifications when a text rings through. If Eren could spend his days running away from his problems, then you could, too.

Despite being arguably the greediest of you all, Jean loves company, so he doesn’t hesitate to say yes when you ask to crash at his place after your shopping escapades. You expect to be welcomed with sounds of screaming, laughter, and loud music, but to your surprise his apartment is completely silent upon your entering.

“Bertholdt has class and Marco has a meeting,” he prompts, as if he could read your thoughts. He shimmies his coat off his shoulders and tosses it over the bar in the foyer.

Their apartment has the same amount of rooms as yours and Eren’s, but is all stretched along a single floor. It’s more of a maze, really, with intricate turns, and hallways, that all more or less open up into the expanse of the foyer and bar. Their living room is your favorite part. A dark, brown leather sectional wraps around the back three walls and an oversized flatscreen encased in an ebony frame takes center stage. A collection of vinyl records litters the walls above the couch; each of the boys contributing their favorite discs as décor.

“If he has class, shouldn’t you have class?” you question, fingers dragging over the ridges of the closest record.

“I’ve had class all day, but that doesn’t mean I go,” Jean shrugs, walking up behind you and taking your jacket off your shoulders and your bag from your hand, “Besides, Bertholdt will probably cut half-way to go see Reiner, if he can even stay awake that long. Going with him is just as productive as staying home.”

“You’re all a mess,” you scoff, turning around as a cheesy grin grows on Jean’s lips. His smile is infectious, and soon you catch yourself grinning just because.

“You want something to drink?” he offers, throwing your coat over his elbow and tilting his head in the direction of the bar.

“You’re bad at mixing drinks,” you remind him, but follow him anyway.  

Jean laughs, not bothering to deny the jab. He doesn’t try his hand at anything mixed or complicated this time; simply offering you a glass of your favorite red, and pouring himself a smaller amount.

He puts the album you were gawking at earlier on the record player, the two of you sinking into the couch as lovely melodies radiate throughout the apartment.

He spends the first hour bitching about how Marco’s supposed to become a CEO in less than a year, yet has the attention span of a squirrel; but the playful lilt in the brunette’s voice, and the begrudging smile on his face lets you know that it’s all love. He gushes about Mikasa for a good half hour, cramming you with stories about his girlfriend’s talent for sewing and fashion. You also learn that Bertholdt’s been busier than usual these days, and Jean suspects it has something to do with a secret lover.

You pinch your eyebrows at his hunch. Bertholdt’s never been one for dating. He’s had many friends with benefits in the past, but they weren’t relationships, nor were they secrets. In fact, you don’t think that he could keep a secret to save his life.

“Why would he be hiding it if he were seeing someone?” you question, swirling your newly refilled glass.

“Dunno,” Jean shrugs, “But it’s sus, I’m telling you. He’s been oddly busy for someone with a 2.3 GPA. Either way, I’ll pry it out of him eventually.”

“You’re so fucking nosey,” you chuckle, watching the mischievous, satisfied grin settle onto his features.

“I kinda think it’s Armin,” Jean says after a while, downing the remaining wine in his cup, while you choke on your own drink.

“Why on Earth do you think if Bertholdt had a secret lover that it’d be Armin?”

“Because he was in love with him for, like, two years in high school,” Jean says, as if the information should be painfully obvious.

“Yeah, and Bert also hooked up with a million different people in high school.”

“That doesn’t mean he wasn’t still in love with Armin.”

“I don’t think Armin’s kissed another human, let alone is in a secret relationship with one.”

“Hm, true. I forget he’s still a virgin.”

“Hey—there’s nothing wrong with Armin being a virgin, leave him be.”

“I know there’s nothing wrong with it,” Jean whines, “But it’s so—he doesn’t have to be. Armin’s cute! And very attractive—dare I even say sexy. He could go outside and get laid right now if he just tried.”

“Stay humble, Jean boy. If I remember correctly, you only started breaking hearts a year ago,” you tut. Jean’s nose goes pink as he shoves you away when you continue, “But, if you’re so concerned with Armin’s virginity, why don’t you go help him out with it.”

“Actually, if I remember correctly, I think that’s more your gig,” he shoots back, a smug smile tugging on his lips. “Not to mention, I’m not trying to get beat up by Annie. Though, I wonder how much longer it’ll take before she finally snaps. Hey, maybe the both of you can tag team him, I’m sure Annie wouldn’t mind, and it might even make Armin less nervous to have you—”

It’s your turn to shove him now, throwing in an extra punch when his head bobs back with laughter. You’re very certain Annie would mind; you would mind if someone inserted themself in your kind of, sort of, not really relationship, and ruined your four years of pining.

“Speaking of lovers,” Jean prompts, once his laughter dies down, bending his knee and turning closer to you. “Why are you and lover boy fighting? Trouble in paradise?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you hum, sipping your drink in between words. Jean’s eyes pinch together. “Marco and I would never fight.”

“My god, will you let your Marco fantasies go already? You’ve already caused him one sexuality crisis,” Jean groans, “You know I mean Eren.”

You sigh, lowering your glass and reaching forward to pinch his cheek. “It’s nothing you have to worry your pretty little head over.”

“Please,” he scoffs, flicking your offending hand back, “He’s been texting us nonstop since this morning at, like, nine. I didn’t even know he was capable of waking up before noon.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes, but Jean continues, “Why he would ask us for advice on you is beyond me. He knows you better than all of us combined.”

“And why you’re saying all of this is beyond me.”

“Oh, come on, what’d he do,” Jean pushes, borderline whines, as he puts his empty glass down in a cup holder embedded in the couch. He’s always been the most prone to gossip, but you forget that wine makes him even more of a nosey prick. “Must have been pretty bad. Or stupid.”

“Try both,” you mumble, “Well—I don’t know, it wasn’t… the worst thing anyone could do, but it was really fucking reckless—and why he did it, I couldn’t even tell you. I don’t know what goes through his mind half the time, but I swear he must have been on crack last night.”

“He probably was. On crack, I mean. I told you, I took an ounce from him over the weekend, but that was after Eren and Ymir did, like, five lines.”

“Do they really do that regularly?” you nearly cry, a hand massaging your temple, “Fucking Christ, if he really was high while driving, I’ll kill him myself.”

“Well, I don’t know if regular is the right word,” Jean ponders, “Maybe for Ymir, but god knows what she’s on half the time, anyways. Besides, coke isn’t the worst thing they could do.”

“You sound like you speak from personal experience.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs, pausing when you shoot him a disapproving look, “Oh, come on! You’re no angel, either—if memory serves, you were high as shit at Moblit’s birthday party, and kept singing the star spangled banner all night.”

“Yeah, on weed! One time! It was on a rooftop and the stars were out and it has the same rhythm as the happy birthday song, cut me some slack!”

He finds laughing at your expense to be much more fun, however, as he continues to chuckle while you throw a fit. He’s also not one to let a topic of gossip go undiscussed, and has no problem bringing the conversation back to Eren.

“It’s because you two don’t talk, you know,” Jean tuts, “That’s why you fight like this.”

For the second time, the younger’s words have your eyebrows growing close together. “I mean, I guess—but it’s more than that. Eren and I live together, we obviously talk, but—”

“I know, I know, but just hear me out, okay? You and Eren talk about a lot of things, yeah, but you also… don’t. And sometimes you don’t have to, because you guys, like… get each other.”

“Wow. What a way with words you have, Jean Kirstein. You should write a self-help book.”

“What I mean,” he sneers, unhappy with the sarcasm being thrown his way, “Is that you guys understand each other in weird ways. It’s actually kind of cute—sometimes a little freaky, in all honesty. It’s why you don’t always have to talk about serious things. But you take it for granted and let shit bottle up, and then get in denial about it until you blow up in each other’s faces.”

“Please, you barely passed one philosophy class and now you think you’re Plato.”

“You’re doing the in denial thing right now!” he taunts, “Come one, when you two fight like this, what’s it usually about?”

You sigh, sinking back into the plush leather of the couch, and wrapping your hands around a fluffy throw pillow. Thinking about arguing with Eren isn’t particularly something you like to do, and truthfully, you don’t really get pissed at each other that often. Not to the point of ignoring each other, at least.

“I don’t know,” you drawl, “Drugs, me forgetting things, him doing stupid shit, him thinking Mikasa could do better than you, school, drinking, the fact that he leaves his big ass shoes at the top of the stairs for me to trip over and fall to my death every morning, when—”

“His parents?” Jean cuts you off.

“I—we don’t really… it’s not so much fighting over his parents, it’s all the stuff he does to deal with his parents. He never gives his mom’s boyfriends a chance, and he never really talks about why, either. I know he’s secretly just angry and insecure about his dad, but… I don’t know. That doesn’t really make it better.”

“True,” he nods, “See—he doesn’t talk about it.”

“I know, and I told him that last night, too, but… it’s a sensitive subject for him—his dad, I mean,” you sigh, “And you’re right, he shouldn’t bottle his feelings up, but, on the other hand he’s watched his mom get married five times. I don’t always blame him for not wanting to talk about it.”

“Yeah, but just because it’s hard to talk about doesn’t mean he shouldn’t,” Jean lolls, “Wouldn’t you have rather he said something than have done whatever stupid shit he did to make you want to sleep here tonight?”

“Okay, Socrates, I get it,” you lighten up, “I’ll talk to him—or get him to talk to me. Are you happy?”

“Quite,” he says, annoyingly chipper as he rises from the couch. “I hate seeing my favorite power couple fighting.”

Jean knows his words would elicit a slap to his arm, so he takes off just before you can reach him, prompting you to chase him out of the living room and down the hall. The brunette cackles ridiculously loudly as you scream his name with profanities sprinkled in-between. You catch a hold of the bottom of his shirt and pull him back, finally flicking him on the forehead.

He accepts his punishment with pride, offering you a signature smile in return while you both catch your breaths. It’s a sweet moment, the two of you looking at each other with stupid smiles on your face, exhalations tickling your cheeks.

Jean’s eyes break the gaze first, as he looks down the remainder of your face, and back up to your eyes again. His words could get caught in his throat, but he doesn’t let them—he shakes his head, and swiftly turns around, beckoning for you to follow him.

“Come on, we can steal Marco’s clothes for your pajamas this time.”

Jean spends all of three minutes pulling apart Marco’s dresser before swiping a t-shirt and Christmas themed pajama bottoms from his room. He tosses them in your direction before leading you back down the hall and to the left, opening the door to the guest bedroom for you, before leaving you to change.

They have more than one guest bedroom, but this one is unofficially yours. Little pieces of you can be found littered throughout the room, from spare jewelry to mismatched makeup. You spot a single, gold, teardrop shaped earring on the vanity and sigh as you run your fingers over it.

You swear you’d lost it a few months ago. Trust Jean to put it away for safekeeping without telling you he’d found it. The boy in question returns moments later, knocking while walking through the door with your purse in hand.

“How’d you know I was about to ask you to get that?” you question, a smile on your face as you retrieve the small bag from his hands.

Jean offers you a cocky grin, “Cause I’m the best.”

“Don’t go getting a big head, now,” you tease, “Or, well, an even bigger head.”

Jean ignores your insult, as you take a seat at the edge of the bed, fishing through your bag for your phone to plug it in for the night. He’s about to turn around and bid you goodnight, when the flash of something orange peeping out of your purse prompts his next thought.

“Hey, you picked up your refill, right?” he asks innocently, “It should have been ready last Thursday.”

You sigh, head falling slightly when you close your bag and place it on the vanity. “Uh… no.”

Jean’s mouth is already open, ready with equally friendly and scolding words, but you cut him off before he can talk. “I was going to on Thursday, but I had class late, and then I forgot on Friday and I haven’t really had time since then. But I have a few left-overs from the last two months, so I’ve been taking those!”

Jean’s mouth closes, but his eyes narrow as he begins to walk towards you. You know he’s putting two and two together, so you speak ahead of him again.

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t have any left over, but it’s only five, I promise! I’ve been really good, lately.”

Jean’s eyes remain in concentrated slits, but his resolve is waning when he reads over your expression. His facade fades as he takes the final steps towards you to stand directly in front of your body.

“Okay,” he says, voice soft through his smile, “I’ll go with you to pick them up tomorrow before I drop you home, yeah?”

It elates him more than it should to see the smile you flash his way. Unfortunately, it’s short-lived, as his next question leaves your face twisted with guilt.

“Have you… told Eren yet?”

You consider lying and saying yes, but something tells you Jean won’t buy it. Your silence seems to speak loud enough, as his shoulders drop with a quiet sigh.

“I want to, I just… well I’m mad at him right now, and even when I’m not… I don’t know why it’s so hard,” you confess.

“He’d wanna know, you know,” Jean says, and it’s not the first time he’s said it to you, either. “You know he wouldn’t judge you or anything.”

“I know that. But, truthfully, if I had things my way, not even you would know, Jean.”

It was an accident that Jean found out that you’d been taking anxiety medication.

It was at somebody’s house party where the majority of your friends and their guests had gotten piss drunk. Reiner’s date had suggested mixing their alcohol with molly she’d supposedly had in her bag. In her drunken stupor, she’d mistaken your purse for her own, but luckily, a not so drunk Jean had noticed the label didn’t match her name, and snagged the bottle before the worst could happen.

They ended up not finding her molly, anyway, but it’s a moot point. Jean had cornered you about the bottle later in the week with honest intentions; he’d been concerned that might be another kind of drug disguised by a prescription veil. However, you’d assured him that it was indeed your prescribed Lexapro, and not a shady mixture of black market substances.

And, he’d been more than understanding in the aftermath. Quite frankly, he had somewhat made it his business to ensure that you got and took your medication on time and felt comfortable getting to and from your therapy appointments.

It’s endearing in a way that made you pause and count your blessings sometimes. Jean had been nothing but unequivocally supportive in his understanding about anxiety and had gone the extra mile to comfort you where need be. It made you wonder why you hesitated to tell Eren on several occasions.

It was probably the very nature of anxiety itself that had you doubting your trust in Eren. You wanted to tell him—of course you did—but, you couldn’t. You know that Eren would do everything in his power to make it better, even if that was just being. You know that he’d want to know and he’d kill to understand. But you couldn’t possibly burden him with your problems, not when he has a million of his own.

The one person in the world you wanted to tell, you were terrified of talking to. And you know it’s irrational to be afraid of him, but you can’t seem to control those thoughts. It’s a tiring, consuming, endless cycle.

Jean watches the way your gaze lowers to the floor. He knows exactly what you’re thinking, and, god, he swears if he could take that train of thought away from you, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

With a heavy heart and tired eyes, he takes a final step forward and wraps his arms around your body. He counts three, four seconds before you hug him back. He raises a hand to the back to your head, cradling your face into his shoulder and squeezing you tightly.

“Hey, I’m proud of you, you know that,” he speaks, just a notch above a whisper, “I know you’ll tell him when you’re ready.”

“I will,” you murmur into the fabric of his shirt. You hug him back a little tighter and close your eyes, “Thank you, Jean.”

And Jean holds on, and hopes you know that he wouldn’t let you go, “You’re welcome, (_____).”

You come home to find your entire apartment littered with flowers; in the hallway, on the sectional, atop the counter, up the stairs.

There are several boxes of your favorite macarons stacked in a small pyramid on the kitchen island, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you checked the labels to find that they were shipped straight from the south of France this morning. There’s too many bottles of Ace on the coffee table, sparkling next to a basket of what looks like your regular skincare products. A pretty, gold bow rests atop an even prettier pair of red-bottomed heels, and if you’re not mistaken, that’s a limited edition, vintage YSL clutch on the sectional, resting against your favorite throw pillow.

You sigh, making your way to the couch to pick up the orange envelope sticking out of the handbag. Just as you’re about to open it, you hear footsteps, and a voice that follows.

“You’re back,” Eren chirps from mid-way on the staircase, “I, uh, there’s catering coming from Butter coming soon. I know it’s your favorite,” he continues as he descends the stairs.

He has his hand on the back of his neck and there’s a faint, pink tint to his cheeks as he slowly makes his way towards you. You cross your arms, looking him up and down when he stands in front of you.

He’s wearing dark jeans and a tweed sweater with patches at the elbow. His hair is split down the middle, longer than usual, so the ends of sweep over his eyelashes; and there are telltale signs that he’d been toying with it.

“Eren, what is all of this?” you finally ask, shifting your weight to your right leg.

“Part one of my apology and explanation,” he replies, a hopeful timbre to his voice. You roll your eyes, but he continues anyway, “Actually, part two is in that envelope.”

Skeptical, you unfold your arms and open the envelope. You don’t know what you were expecting—a card, maybe tickets to a musical or something; but what you definitely weren’t expecting were two tickets to Paris.

“France?” you look up, tickets in hand, “You don’t get it do you? You can’t just buy all of this shit, jet us off to Europe and expect everything to be okay.”

“No, no it’s not like that—I swear!” he interjects, hands moving sporadically, “It’s just, well… Can we sit? Then I can explain everything.”

Eren looks at you with those big green eyes and that sad pout to his lips, and you find yourself sighing and taking a seat on the couch against your better judgement. There’s a small smile to his lips when you do—a little victory—and he sits next to you, your knees resting against each other as you face him.

He’s shaking, and your resolve to punish him with whatever solid exterior and half-assed silent treatment dissolves as you take his left hand in your right, and recall your conversation with Jean. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s me, Eren. You can talk to me.”

When he feels your smaller hand envelop his, the shaking stops, and for a moment, it feels like he can do this, like everything is okay. He smiles, and takes a deep breath.

“The other night, you were right, about my mom and her boyfriend coming home,” he starts, words slow and heavy, “I didn’t even know she was coming—I knew she was visiting this month, but she didn’t tell me when, and I thought it was going to be just her, you know? But then she showed up with him, and, well, I don’t know. I was upset. She’s been home for a week now, and we haven’t even gone to dinner or anything.”

He pauses, and you squeeze his hand for reassurance, “We were supposed to get lunch on Thursday, but she cancelled. Had some meeting or something, I don’t know, I don’t care. Friday comes and she says she wants to have dinner, right?”

You nod, he continues. “I thought it was just going to be us, but he was there. That’s when she told me that… that they’re…” he squeezes his eyes shut, “They’re engaged.”

Your mouth falls into a small o-shape. Everything made perfect sense now.

It’s not that Eren didn’t love his mother, quite the opposite actually. He’s a mama’s boy through and through; she’s his role model, his everything, he adores her. Her career as a designer often takes her on long business trips, most frequently as prolonged stays in Paris, so much so that she relocated her primary office there shortly after Eren graduated high school.

Now, she only visits home for one or two weeks at a time, sometimes only for the weekend. Upon her decision to permanently relocate, she planned to leave Eren under the unofficial supervision of Mikasa. Instead, Eren bought Mikasa her own three-bedroom apartment in Midtown (according to his logic, it was better for her to have her own place than to move in with Jean), and a shared two-story penthouse for the both of you that overlooks Central Park.

Eren misses her more than he cares to admit, but he puts on the same facade every time she comes home because he hates the company she brings.

Paris is where she met her newest boyfriend, Mitchell, and Eren swears he hates that man with every fiber of his being. It’s not saying much, though, not when Eren’s hated every single one of his mother’s past romantic partners, right down to his own father.

“Is… is that why you—”

“Rented a brand new Corvette and went drag racing at one in the morning?” he chuckles, “Yeah. It was stupid, I know, but I was just angry, I guess. I dunno what I was feeling, but it wasn’t good.”

You nod, wrapping both of your hands around his now and offering him a warm smile. He smiles back, just for a moment. “That’s what the tickets are for, actually. The wedding.”

“They’re getting married in France?” you question, to which he nods, “On the first? Isn’t that a little short notice to plan a wedding?”

“I think you’re underestimating the power of Carla Jaeger,” he chuckles, “Apparently, it’s been in the works for a few months now. He proposed with fireworks or some shit. Said she wanted to tell me in person, though.”

“This ticket is for next week,” you say, rereading the dates on the papers. “The wedding is three weeks from now.”

“Well, I kind of figured we could take a little vacation before then,” he grins, “I texted most of the boys earlier, and they can probably come to the wedding, but I want to spend some time with you before it gets hectic, you know? Consider it an end of the semester present.”

Your eyes flicker down to your hand, still wrapped around Eren’s, when he starts to trace circles into your skin, “I thought I just told you, you can’t jet us off to Europe to fix things.”

“You did,” he hums, “And I know I can’t—I’m not trying to, I just… Truthfully, I reserved the plane and the hotel a few weeks back and it really was just going to be a surprise for us—well, more like a gift for you because I know you’ve been busting your ass in chem—but then… everything else happened, and I think a break sounds perfect before I watch my mom get married for the sixth time.”

You watch him continue to toy with your hands for a while, processing your conversation. It was typical of Eren to surprise you like this, so you can’t figure out why this particular present leaves you feeling warmer than usual.

“You sure you don’t need a break from me?”

Eren beams and takes the opportunity to lace your fingers together. “Nah, you’re annoying, but not Jean level annoying.”

You scoff, “I’m telling him you said that.”

“It’ll sound better coming from you, anyway,” he shrugs, “Besides, I might just murder Mitchell if you’re not there with me.”

You chuckle, on the verge of accepting his proposal, but the mention of Jean prompts another thought to cross through your mind. “I’d love to, but I… I don’t know. I don’t want Armin to spend the first few weeks of winter break here all alone.”

This Christmas would mark one year since Armin had seen, or even talked to, any of his immediate family members, with the exception of Erwin.

Last year, you all tried to salvage the damage by sticking around so, at the very least, he didn’t have to feel alone. You and your friends decided that Armin ought to be celebrated, not ostracized for any aspect of himself, so you all chipped in for a cute, impromptu trip to the Catskills so that everyone could be together and close to home.

This year, however, there seemed to be quite a few conflicts of interest. Even if Armin was one of the boys who was planning on attending the wedding, you doubt he had plans leading up to it. You know that Marco, Bertholdt, Mikasa, and Jean had invited him to go to Aspen with them, but Armin declined the offer. Similarly, Connie, Sasha, Annie, Reiner, and Ymir would be off to Dubai as soon as classes ended; an invitation Armin had also turned down.

You weren’t sure what Erwin’s plans were, though you’re certain they involved his own friends in some way or another. At the very least, it was unlikely that he would leave his younger brother completely stranded over the break; but you didn’t want to make plans without knowing Armin wouldn’t be alone.

“He won’t, actually he’ll be closer than you think,” Eren reassures you, “Hange and Moblit wanted to go skiing anyways, so Erwin is taking all of them to the Alps instead of Aspen. Armin doesn’t know yet, but he’s going with them.”

“Shouldn’t Erwin spend his break campaigning, and not skiing? Last I checked, he wasn’t too popular in Queens”

“Ah, you know Erwin,” Eren shrugs, “He has a way of making people devote themselves to him. He’ll win the election with or without campaigning, trust me—the point is, that little baby Armin will be safe and sound under Erwin’s protection, and you don’t have to worry about him.”

“How come you get to call him a baby?”

“Because I’m a hypocritical asshole who doesn’t deserve you, but is hoping you’ll come with me anyway.”

Eren smirks, but there’s a genuine undertone to his words as he moves his fingers to toy with the ring around your pointer finger. The same one he gave to you two Christmases ago. Well, kind of.

The ring he originally gifted you was a Harry Winston piece, with an encrusted band that wrapped into two sunflowers, both made of classic, white diamonds with emeralds sparkling in the center. After seeing the design, and the price tag, you demanded that he take it back, or at the very least, get it sized to fit on your index finger or thumb so that people didn’t get the wrong idea.

Instead, he came back with a simple, silver chain for the original ring to hang from, and the current ring on your finger; a rose gold band with tiny diamonds studded around it. Likely equally as expensive, but more appropriate according to you.

“Fine. But you have to be on your best behavior,” you agree, paying no mind to Eren’s thumb twirling your jewelry, “Do you promise me no drag racing or antics of any sort while we’re there?”

Eren shakes his head at the memory, eyeing the first ring that sits against your chest.

He smiles. “I do.”

The afternoon after your last exam, you bid the remainder of your friends goodbye, grab your bags, and hop on a plane with Eren. It arrives in Paris, but you’re rerouted off to Nice before you can so much as blink at the Eiffel tower; you’d be staying there for the two and half weeks leading up to the wedding, in a small villa.

You had to hand it to him, Eren really outdid himself. It’s dark and nearing three in the morning when you arrive, but even in your sleepy stupor you can admire your accommodations. The villa is secluded, the perfect distance from the water, and decorated lavishly almost to your exact liking. You wouldn’t be surprised if Eren sprung it on you that he’d bought the place, and wasn’t merely renting it for this vacation.

Every day after that, Eren proves he was honest in his intentions of this being a getaway gift to you. He’s planned every activity under the sun—from hot air balloon rides, to helicopter tours, to jet-skiing. The days are certainly fun and filled with beautiful memories, but there’s something special about Nice at sunset; something about the sound of gentle waves brushing up against the beach, and the spotlights carved from sun-cast shadows on the buildings.

It’s just after dinner time, bordering on your eighth night here, when you and Eren are walking along the cobblestone streets that border the beach, the length of your sundress flowing every which way with the breeze, and the tail of Eren’s blazer flailing like a cape behind him.

He looks nice tonight, but, truthfully, he always does. He claimed he hadn’t put on the casual green suit because of your outfit, but you swear he was wearing khakis before he saw your dress. The tips of his ears go red when you tease him about it at dinner, but it doesn’t really matter to you; he would have looked good, regardless. Those suits are made for him, after all; tailored to fit perfectly, and designed by his own mother.

The streets tend to settle down after six, locals and tourists retreating indoors or heading to the beach to relax and draw in the evening. Tonight, however, there’s much more commotion than usual on your route.

“Maybe we should take the long way,” you suggest. On the tips of your toes, you realize that there’s some kind of special event happening in the square, filled with lights and music that grows louder with every step you take.

But the crowd and the lights and the smell of food only piques Eren’s interest. “No way—let’s check it out!”

You don’t have the time to refute before his long legs surpass your own stride, headfirst into the sea of people. You can only follow with a smile and a shake of your head. The soft green of his suit jacket serves as your guide as he navigates through the crowd, but the closer you get to the center, the more people there are.

You can feel palms of your hands growing uncomfortably warm as you become hyperaware of just how many people there are. You clutch the end of your dress in your hand, for both practicality and as a sort of comfort mechanism, as you try your best to calm the anxious wave threatening to crash against you.

With a deep breath, you begin to walk again, unaware of Eren’s actions until you physically walk into his hand, long fingers poking at your belly. You hadn’t realized he stopped walking, or that you’d caught up with him, and your eyebrows crinkle when you look down to see Eren’s left hand extended behind him and towards you, palm facing upwards.

He doesn’t say anything, or look back at you at all. Only wraps his larger fingers around yours when he feels the weight of your hand in his, and continues to guide you through the crowd, his pace slower, and hand firm around yours.

The mass of people becomes more spread out when you approach what appears to be the center of the event; and it looks like a party, maybe a wedding of some sort. There’s food and champagne galore, and more than enough happy guests dancing along to upbeat music in the streets.

Eren’s eyes light up as he takes in the scene, “You wanna dance?”

“What—Eren, no!” you refuse, “We cannot crash these people’s party!”

“Why not?” he counters, without a care in the world, “Seems like an open invitation to me! Come on!”

And for the second time that evening, you find yourself being pulled into his schemes; this time in the direction of the open space dubbed dance floor.

You’re both terrible and ostentatious and people start to watch, but it doesn’t matter because you’re smiling too wide and laughing too hard to care. Eren has a way of moving both with and against the music, forcing your body to follow his lead.

He shouts something over the noise, but you don’t have time to register his words before he laces your right hand with his left, and places his right hand on your waist. There’s a blink of confusion for a moment before you’re being swept off your feet and into a dramatic dip. You don’t have time to secure yourself against his shoulders, but Eren does a fine job of supporting you with a single arm against your back.

From what you can tell the song is far from over and the dramatic pose is completely unwarranted, but you and the crowd alike are victim to his charm. You indulge yourself, looking up at him with eyes too fond to memorize every feature of his face in this moment; the way he’s laughing with that big, dumb, wide smile of his that makes his nose crinkle and his eyes light up.

You’re too busy looking at him to hear Eren’s voice calling out to you, or even realize that he’s moved you from your pose to standing back upright. He’s equal parts amused and concerned at the glazed over look in your eyes.

“Hello? Anybody home up there?” he teases, elongating the vowels and squeezing your waist to alert you.

The reminder of his hands on your hips pulls you back to reality, your eyes fluttering down to his arms, then back to his face. It feels stuffy suddenly, too close to function.

“Yea—yeah! Do you wanna get a drink? Yeah, let’s get a drink!” you exclaim, haphazardly pointing and walking towards the food.

You don’t see it, but Eren looks on with glittering eyes, his verbal agreement heard only by himself as you veer towards the buffet. He can still feel your body in his grip, still see the specks of gold in your pupils as he lingers on the back of your silhouette lovingly. And before you can realize, he snaps himself out of it—an out of body experience similar to yours a few moments ago—before catching up with you.

You end up socializing for much longer than intended. Eren makes friends with everyone, to no surprise, and, uncharacteristically, you feel influenced by his actions, and converse with a few people yourself. You let him take the lead, though. Partially because he’s better at it, and partially because you just like listening to him speak French.

“Hey, we should probably get out of here,” he whispers into your ear after waving goodbye to a lovely couple you’d just met, “Before the host of this party realizes we’re miles better than his actual guests.”

You nod with a smile, more than happy to play by his rules for the evening. He offers you his hand again, that same, dopey smile on his face when you take it.

He leads you out of the crowd and back on to the path to your villa, the smell of warm food and sounds of vibrant music growing dull as you venture further from the celebration. It’s much darker than it was when you began your trek back from the restaurant, but beautiful all the same.

Your sandals pad against the wooden dock that leads up the villa, and Eren unlocks the door silently, ushering you inside before entering behind you.

“I know I said I wanted to leave, but I’m not really tired yet,” Eren confesses, pulling his blazer off of his shoulders.

“Me neither,” you say, placing your small wristlet on the table with a shrug, “What do you wanna do though, I’m not—”

“Great!” he cuts you off, smile too big. You narrow your own in suspicion. That tone of voice with that look on his face usually meant something mischievous, at best. “Remember when you said the first time you’d smoke would be with me, and then pranced away and took a bowl from Hange and got high as shit at Moblit’s party?”

“Why does everyone remember Moblit’s party but me!”

“Don’t worry about it,” he chuckles, waving the topic away, “Anyway… Do you wanna smoke now?”

You blink. “I… did you… smuggle weed all the way to France?”

“No, of course not!” he refutes, “…I got it here.”

You scoff, but don’t have the time to question him further before Eren’s tugging on your wrist and pulling you into the bedroom. You take to sitting on your bed while he rummages through his suitcase to retrieve a small, clear jar with several rolled joints inside and a lighter to match.

He shuffles next to you in the bed, mindlessly handing you the lighter while he unscrews the top off the jar. He takes out two of the joints, places one next to the jar on the nightstand, and tucks the other between his teeth. He asks you to hand him the lighter, and you do so wordlessly, distracted by the sight of Eren’s gaze and the blunt poking out his mouth.

“This’ll be fun, yeah?” He reassures you, “Technically, you let Hange take your weed virginity, but I’ll be better.”

“Can you not phrase it like that,” you roll your eyes, “You already took my virginity virginity, don’t be bitter.”

An all too smug grin settles on his features as he recounts the fact. “Besides,” you tack on, “I’ve never done it like this before. So, it’s still a first, kind of.”

Eren cups one hand around the joint, sparking the lighter with the other until it catches fire. He inhales, slow and deliberate, as if he were putting on a show, or a lesson, of sorts, taking the smoke into his lungs and out through his mouth.

You’d gravely miscalculated how attractive Eren would look doing this. Sure, he’s hot, you knew that, but the pronunciation of his jawline when he exhales, and the confidence with which he drags on the blunt is a stark reminder to you. He takes a few more hits, just as slow and sensual as the first, and the room begins to feel warmer.

“Come closer,” be beckons, smoke rolling off of his tongue with every syllable.

You snap yourself out of the haze of your imagination and scoot closer to him. He silently hands you the joint, and it feels heavy between your fingers. At the distance, you take in the smell—pungent and off-putting, but too familiar.

Eventually, you bring it to your lips, careful not to let your tongue press against the tip, and inhale slowly, like you’d seen Eren do before. You do your best to hold the smoke in your lungs for a bit, but seeing as the last time you did this you were amped up on adrenaline and drunk off your ass, the task proves to be much more difficult. It tickles before becoming uncomfortable and you exhale ungracefully, puffs of smoke punctuating your coughs.

Eren watches with a grin, amused at the sight of you fanning the excess smoke away with your nose scrunched in distaste. “You should have warned me you were gonna cough like a bitch.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you whine, trying to hide the hint of a smile creeping onto your face. You hand the blunt back to him, “You’re supposed to teach me, not tease me, asshole.”

Eren pauses his laughter, unsure of what to make of your tone; rushed, a bit embarrassed, but testy. It’s quiet while he stares at you, trying not to let the implication of your words run wild in his mind; but it’s futile when you’re pouting like that, the room is growing foggier, and he’s been semi-hard since you accepted his offer.

“Fine. Watch and learn,” he breathes, words coming out more jagged than he’d intended.

This time, he completely exaggerates every motion; he inhales at a tantalizing pace and flutters his eyes closed while he lets the smoke swish in his mouth, down his throat, and expand into his lungs. He cranes his neck upwards, and purses his lips to let the clouds exit in the streamline that follows the slope of his jaw.

Maybe it’s the drugs getting to you, but your mind is filled with nothing but sheer clouds that aren’t thick enough to block out thoughts of Eren. The weed is unattractive, potent in smell, and all kinds of wrong; yet, everything about him is soft, sultry, and pulls you in.

“Wanna try again, or do you need another lesson?”

You faintly mutter a profanity under your breath. His words end with giggles, a sign the drugs have already begun to take their effect on him, his expression is still smug. You forget Eren knows just how attractive he is. Motherfucker.

“Actually,” he cuts your train of thought, “I have a better idea, come ‘ere.”

Eren beckons you forward again, closing the gap between your legs so that your knees graze each other under the fabric of your clothing while you’re sat next to each other. He leans over, far too close into your personal space, as if to test something; he freezes when his nose is mere inches from your face, a dissatisfied scrunch taking over his features.

He reinstates his hold on your wrist, motioning your body backwards until your back is against the frame of the bed. He hums in approval, positioning himself next to you again, equally as close, but far more comfortable for what he has planned next.

“I’m—I’m gonna try somethin’, okay?” he stutters, the first word mistakenly coming out in broken German, “Just, don’t freak out on me. It’ll be good, promise.”

You nod, unsure of what you’ve just signed off on, but you don’t have time to ask questions. Eren takes another hit, then passes the blunt to his non-dominant hand. He turns to face you, leans forward, and places his free hand on the back of your neck to pull you closer; the expanse of his palm leaving room for his thumb to venture over the bottom half of your cheek.

Eren pulls you in until your lips are millimeters apart, and he can see the pattern of your eyes in beautiful detail. He shifts his hand now so that the majority of it covers your face, the pad of his thumb running across your bottom lip. He applies the perfect amount of pressure to pry your willing mouth open, and then, finally, exhales.

This time, you can taste it. It’s woodsy, and bitter, but the sweet undertones dance on your tongue. This time, there’s more to think about than just the smoke in your lungs; like the burn of Eren’s hand on your neck; the pressure of his thumb against your bottom lip; the proximity of his lips to yours; the look in his eyes.

“Feel good?” he doesn’t bother to pull away before asking, and the words ghost over your lips with the remaining smoke. You nod; he smiles. “Wanna try again?”

You let out a breathy note of affirmation, and then he’s inhaling and exhaling into you, and you welcome him with pried lips and a heavy thumping in your chest. The confidence with which he maneuvers his body and the drugs is nerve-wracking, yet comforting at the same time; he has an expertise and power that intimidates, but compels you to follow.

Together, you finish the first blunt, and Eren lights the second without missing a beat. His hands are more demanding this around; they guide you into submission, and he’s pleased to find that you’re willing to listen.

After the third exhale, you stop focusing on his hands, and more on his lips. After the fourth, you think you might be high—not to the stars as you infamously were during Moblit’s party—but with a comfortable, dull buzz in your head. Everything feels a little fuzzy, out of touch, but you host a burning want for something more, something tangible.

You don’t know it, but Eren feels the same.

After the fifth exhale, Eren pulls away, the blunt a simple stub as he flicks it away onto the night stand, and you miss him being too close. You miss his hands, you miss his warmth, you crave his touch.

“Eren,” you call, unable to think of or see anything but him in the haze. He answers with a strained, “Yeah?” keening towards the sound of your voice, wide eyes flitting all over your face.

It’s too much, too close, too hot. That’s when you cup his jaw, pull him forward, and meld your lips together.

Kissing Eren is painfully familiar, and unnervingly satisfying. It’s certainly not your first kiss with him; and, yet he has a way of making you feel like it is while reminding you of your history. His lips are soft, and they taste like smoke and the chapstick you swear by because he refuses to buy or test out his own.

You pull away too soon, gauging his reaction with blown-out eyes, before dipping forward to have him against you again. Then again, and again, and again, until Eren is tired of your leaving, and his hands are back on your neck.

This kiss is deeper, Eren searching to satisfy the hunger aching inside of him, and you’re happy to comply when his thumb is pressing at your lower lip again. You open your mouth for him and he doesn’t waste a moment, brushing his tongue against yours experimentally, and then flush into your mouth.

He groans when you rake your fingers into his hair, and pulls back with a hissing noise when you scratch at his nape. Large hands move to grip at your waist, and he pulls you into his lap with a concentrated gaze—a brief second for him to admire the sight of you on top of him, before he resumes kissing you. He sucks on your tongue, rolls his past your teeth, and bites on your bottom lip.

You know he relishes in the sounds he elicits from you, and under any normal circumstance, you’re willing to put up a fight with him, but not now. Now, you let him unzip the back of your dress and snake his hands beneath the fabric. The rubbing motions of his hands turn into gripping, gripping into grinding, and eventually, an unfiltered moan slips past your lips when you feel Eren’s erection roll against you.

“Fuck,” he pulls back with a suck of your swollen lip, “You’re so hot.”

Eren quickly switches your positions so that he’s hovering over you. You chuckle lightly underneath him, taking the opportunity to run both your hands through his hair and cradle his head in your hold, “Haven’t done anything yet.”

“I know,” Eren murmurs, dipping his head down to press kisses into your neck, “Still so sexy. So pretty, always.”

Eren bites a hickey into your collar bone, and everywhere he can touch; your neck, your ears, your cheeks, your lips. Your moaning serves as the spark to keep him going, but he’s barely coherent himself the way you keep pulling at his hair and grinding yourself against him. Even through his clothes, you can feel how painfully hard he is.

He barely catches your tongue between his lips when you moan again, sucking harshly before bruising his lips over yours again. His hands are grabby again, finally pulling your dress completely off of your body, leaving it to form a puddle on the ground. They’re back on your as soon as possible, massaging over your tits, and running his index finger over your nipples.

“Eren... Eren, please,” you whimper, chest heaving as you look down at him. He rolls his index finger over your right nipple, with his left hand teasing the other with his thumb. You can’t tell if the look in his eyes is a product of the weed, or just his glassy, borderline predatory stare, but it makes you shiver with pleasure when he wraps his mouth around your nipple and sucks.

“I want you.”

“Want you, too,” Eren hums, pulling back with a thin trail of spit from your breast, before moving to give your left nipple the same treatment, “More than you know.”

You keen to him when he teases his teeth against you, finally having had enough you force him off of you with a tug of his hair. “Then take off your clothes.”

Eren blinks, wide-eyed but glazed all the same. He chuckles lightly, a blush spreading over his cheeks as he nods. He sits back on his knees, pulling his shirt over his head, forgoing undoing the buttons, and pauses briefly with his hands over the zipper of his pants.

“Please tell me you’re not that gone that you forgot how to undo your zipper,” you tease him, chest still heaving from his previous ministrations. Eren smiles, doe-eyed and hazy, and shakes his head.

“No,” he reassures you, finally undoing his zipper and shimmying his pants off his legs, “Was trying to remember what underwear I was wearing. Didn't want it to be embarrassing.”

His honesty makes you laugh, and Eren pauses for a moment to soak it in. Even like this, even with him stumbling over the steps to undress himself, and you almost completely naked in front of him, he can make you smile. There’s something equally sexy and endearing about your giggles; a juxtaposition that makes him want to hug you or kiss you or something in between. And you—you like the look in his eyes even through your giggling; the way he smiles back and blushes and tells you exactly what he’s thinking.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, “Don’t think mine are particularly sexy either.”

Eren hums, shuffling back on to the bed so that he’s between your legs, and leans forward to kiss you again. He still can’t seem to keep his hands off of you, his fingers immediately flying to your underwear and peeling them off your legs, pulling you closer despite the lack of space between your bodies.

“Yeah, doesn’t matter,” Eren echos, tossing the offending item to the side, before cupping your face in his hands, “I’d still wanna fuck you in your granny panties.”

“You wanna fuck me?” you question, eyes sparkling and hopeful.

“Yeah, I do,” Eren can’t help but to smile again, happy and high and drunk on you, too, “Will you let me?”

Your feverish nodding is all it takes for Eren’s mind to go hazy again; clouded with you, you, you. You pull him into a kiss, arching your body into his, and running your hands down the sides of his back. He moans at the feeling, punishing you by nipping at your lower lip and pressing your stomach back to the mattress with his palm.

Your eyes meet his as Eren lines himself up with your cunt, teasing your folds with the head; but it doesn’t take long before he finally pushes in, sheathing himself inside you completely without movement. He waits a minute, whether it’s to make you comfortable, or to gather his own bearings, you’re not sure; but when he’s ready, he flashes you a smile and waits for one in return, before he starts thrusting.

You know Eren’s not gentle; rough whether or not he intends to be by virtue of his size in comparison to you, but you seem to have forgotten just how capable he is of making you lose your senses. He has you gasping, grasping at him at him unintelligibly, feeling full with his cock inside of you.

Eren groans, borderline growls, when he feels you clench around him, when he sees you shaking beneath him. He could do this all; could watch you all day.

“So pretty, the prettiest. Prettiest girl, my favorite girl,” Eren praises, eyes raking up and down your thrashing body, “My favorite fucking girl.”

“You—you, too.”

“Yeah? I’m your favorite, too?” Eren coos, reaching out to guide your arms over your head, the force of his body pinning your hands down; you can hardly gasp before he lacess your fingers together, and gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“Promised you, didn’t I? That I’d be good to you, be on my best behavior,” Eren reminds you, leaning forward.

He eyes your necklace—eyes glued to ring around it—bouncing with your body. He bends his head down to kiss it, bites at the skin near it; a possessive streak overcoming him as the diamonds shine against you. “I said I’d treat you good, always. Meant it.”

He stutters, when you squeeze him back; fingers tightening around his hold, your pussy clenching around his cock. Your whining is insistent, and mixes with Eren’s low moans and guttural noises. Eren doesn’t let up his pace, fucking you fast and deep, and it’s only a matter of time before you feel a knot twisting in your belly.

You attempt to move your arms, searching for a release of the feeling building up inside of you but Eren is strong; stronger than you, and he keeps you in your place. Keeps your arms pinned above you, keeps his palms pressed into yours, keeps his lips hovering above yours, just out of reach.

“Eren,” you call his name through shaky moans.

“Yeah? What, baby?”

“Kiss me.”

And so he does, his lips needy and hungry over yours. Eren fucks you and kisses you through your orgasm, tasting your moans on his tongue in timing with him cumming inside of you. You don’t let up; kissing him lewdly while you both come down from your highs.

“So good,” Eren croons against your lips, down your jaw, into your skin, “So good for me.”

You both moan in chorus when he finally pulls out, Eren’s head laying on your collar, nose nuzzling into your neck. He lets your hands free, and immediately you wrap them around his back, holding him close as you both attempt to catch your breaths.

You don’t know how long you lay there like that, with Eren on top of you, and your thumb rubbing circles into his cheek while he sleeps soundly. Maybe an hour, maybe more, maybe less; but the euphoria of your sex doesn’t quiet seem to fade.

It might last all night, maybe even for the rest of your trip but you don’t mind. You think back to earlier in the evening, when you’d caught his gaze after your dance. The feeling isn’t all that different; warm, and fuzzy, and too much and not enough all at once. It feels good, it feels like Eren.

You hum softly to yourself, careful not to wake up the sleeping boy on your chest, when you realize exactly what these two moments have in common: a rare event in which Eren is still in front of you, steady and stagnant, no running or chasing; and you don’t want to let him go.

Sometimes Eren thinks you act oblivious on purpose just to fuck with him, because there’s absolutely no way you—or any human with a functioning nervous system and social cues—can’t tell that he’s completely, stupidly, and embarrassingly in love with you.

Long gone are his days of trying to deny it or get over it. He realized that sophomore year of high school—almost eight years ago—that no matter where he went, what kind of drug he inhaled, or how hard he tried, you’d be permanently etched into his heart. That doesn’t make it any less exhausting, and, in fact, only makes it more astounding that you haven’t caught on yet. Honestly, Eren’s considered hiring a private psychiatrist just to make nothing’s wrong with you.

Amazingly, the remainder of your vacation continues just like the former half. The only exception being that now you’re in Paris. And that he’s shamelessly coerced you into letting him fuck your brains out on several occasions. But besides that, everything’s chill.

Just two best friends traveling through France together and stopping to fuck in any semi-private location they can find. Just two peas in a pod walking along the Champs Elysées at damn near midnight. Just two best buds with linked arms tasting (see: feeding each other) every macaron flavor they come across while violinists play stupidly romantic, classical music in the background.

He knows he should probably talk to you about it, but for some reason he can’t. Like telling you would make it all too real, and give it a meaning that could so easily be taken away from him; give you a reason to want to leave him. Right now, it’s just a fantasy, and he’s free to keep dreaming, believing that he’s special and worth enough for the affection you’ve shown him.

He doesn’t want to be one in a list of your boyfriends, or fiances, or husbands; he wants to be your only one, and if he can’t be, then he’d rather be stuck to your side as your best friend. At least that way, in someway, he could remain special to you; not a forgotten, ordinary ex of your past.

Though, a best friend who he’s sleeping with regularly and he’s in love with and will always be in love with is starting to sound a lot like a husband to him. At least, the kind of husband he would like to be to you.

You call his name, asking him if he wants to try another sweet. Eren rolls his eyes. What he wants is to fuck you, and marry you, and have you bless his stupid little existence with two runts for kids that look like him but act like you so his life savings don’t run out by the time they’re twelve. But sure, he’ll settle for having you feed him another macaron in the meantime.

“This one tastes just like the coconut one,” he mumbles, chewing his way through the pastry you’d stuffed into his mouth whole.

It’s the seventh bakery you’ve stopped at tonight, and even though Eren’s growing pretty sick of the sugary treats, he’ll walk with you to every damn bakery in Paris tonight if that’s what you want.

He blinks at the thought. He’s so lovesick it’s disgusting. And he wouldn’t do a damn thing to change it.

“That’s probably because it’s almond and coconut flavored,” you say, wiping the stickiness from your fingers onto a napkin.

“I didn’t taste any almonds.”

“I don’t even think you could spell almond, much less tell me what they taste like.”

Eren simply pouts in refute, leaving you giggling at his expression. He doesn’t know if it’s possible, but you seem even prettier in Paris than in Nice. But, that’s probably his rose-colored glasses speaking.

“You think there’ll be macarons at the reception?” you question, biting into yet another pistachio flavored treat, “And if not, would it be rude to bring my own?”

He chuckles. “Yes, babe, I’m sure there will be macarons there.”

He’s always loved Paris, even when his mom moved away here and left him in New York, and he’d always loved it more when you’re with him. He feared that having to attend another, what he considered to be wasteful, wedding in arguably one of his favorite places in the world would leave a bitter taste in his mouth; but, thankfully, he’s only fallen deeper in love since being here.

“You sure you won’t be sick of them by tomorrow?” he asks, watching you debate between taste testing another variation of vanilla bean or rosé.

“How could I get sick of them?” you answer offhandedly, not sparing him a glance away as you choose the pink snack. How could he get sick of you.

“By the time we get back to New York you’ll have forgotten all about them,” he scoffs.

“Don’t worry I’ll quit it soon. I’ll have to eat something solid if I wanna take my meds and go to bed,” you spew with a smile, unaware of what you’ve actually just said, “But they are delicious and I have no regrets.”

Eren pauses. Then so do you, mouth stuffed with sickly sweet.

“I mean—”

“I know, you know,” he cuts you off, “About the meds and stuff.”

You look like you could pass out, or scream, or cry, or everything in between. Eren figures saying more is better than saying less, so he continues.

“I saw a bottle in the bathroom a few months ago,” he admits shyly, but careful about his tone, “Didn’t understand half the words on the label, but it had your name on it so I just, uh… Googled it.”

Of course he knows. Eren’s always kind of known, just never had the words to express it. He imagines that’s what you’re feeling right now.

“Oh,” you finally gape, “Why didn’t you, um… you know, like, say… anything?”

“It seemed like your secret to tell,” Eren shrugs, features softening out, “Besides, I figured you’d tell me when you wanted to.”

Eren’s always been better at showing than saying, anyway. He hopes that his actions, small as they may seem, might have provided you with any sort of comfort in the past few months. Maybe even before that, too.

“Oh,” you repeat, continually blinking at him, “That’s… that’s it? You’re cool with it?”

Now it’s Eren’s turn to blink. “What do you mean am I cool with it? They’re your meds.”

“Yeah, but like… you’re not mad I didn’t tell—”

“Of course I’m not mad,” he cuts you off with a soft smile, “It’s not really my business. I mean, like, you’re my business because I care about you, but you have your own private stuff, too, which is cool. Besides, when I was, uh, researching it, I learned that it can be hard to tell people stuff like that even if—”

Eren shuts up when he feels your weight against him and your arms wrapped around him. Shell shocked, he takes a moment to hug you back, and slowly comes to rest his chin atop your head after leaving a flurry of kisses.

“You didn’t have to look it up or do any kind of research, you know,” you mumble softly into his jacket. Eren borderline chortles, but only hugs you more tightly.

“Of course I did. If not for you, then for myself, because I meant it when I said I’d never seen half the words on the prescription before in my life,” he replies, heart glowing at the sound of your small chuckles.

He’s expecting an equally witty response, but you surprise him when you pull back just enough to face him, a hazy smile on your face. “You’re amazing, Eren.”

Don’t blush, fool. Don’t blush, fool. Don’t blush—fucking idiot.

“Yeah, I’m pretty great,” he boasts, leaning back into the coolest pose he could muster up while ignoring the growing heat creeping up his neck. It’s all in vain as you reach over to playfully tug at one of his ears.

He thinks you’re pretty like this. All the time, but most notably when he has you in his arms. So pretty, that he has to lean forward to kiss you; you don’t seem to mind, if the way you smile into the kiss is any indication of your feelings. Eren finds himself mirroring your grin; moving his arms from around your waist to the sides of your face.

The workers in this poor little café probably hate the two of you, but he doesn’t fucking care. He’s got his favorite girl in his arms right now, and you taste like almonds and coconuts and like the love of his life.

And he should tell you. Eren wants to tell you, and he finds himself wondering if those same intrusive, fearful thoughts were part of the driving force behind your own reason to keep your secrets from him.

You pull away from him, hands lightly draped around his neck, and you smile like you’re shy—like he hasn’t known you your whole life. Still, Eren finds himself smiling back; and thinks that if you were brave enough to tell him how you were feeling, then he should do the same.

“(_____), I… I gotta tell you something,” he starts, voice soft as his fingers curl around your waist a little more tightly, “Though, I’m kind of hoping you already know.”

You blink at him, almost innocently. Eren bites the inside of his jaw; you’re going to have to stop doing that before he jumps you again.

Better now than never, he supposes. He tries to shake his nerves when he takes your hands in his, completely covering them with his palms, and closes his eyes. Despite that, you try to offer him comfort, squeezing his fingers as best you can; and Eren takes that moment to thank his lucky stars for whoever decided to put you in his life. Because he knows that no matter what, even if he royally fucks this up, you’ll find some way to be there for him.

He slowly blinks his eyes open again, gaze resting on the ring around your neck. A faded chuckle escapes his lips when looks at it. The only one who got the wrong idea about his gift was you. But, he supposes that’s his fault; he never did explain it, after all.

“It’s nothing… It’s just that, I’m in—”

But Eren’s startled by a voice that makes him freeze. He almost wants to believe he misheard it, but he can hear the telltale clacking of vintage heels on the floor of the bakery and he knows that he didn’t mishear a thing.

Eren turns his head, and sure enough, there is his mother, in all her five foot glory, adorned in designer clothing from her beret to her shoes. With a fucking street urchin on her arm.

“Well, well, well, what a lovely surprise,” Carla beams, red lipstick perfectly in place even after a long day of wear.

Eren’s eyebrows draw together, as he takes in his mother and her fiancé standing in front of him. He can just barely register you calling out towards her, carefully maneuvering yourself off of his lap, and into the neighboring chair; but still keeping your right hand wrapped around his left. He can feel you squeeze it—whether to give him comfort, or warning, he’s not sure yet; probably both.

“It’s so good to see you!” you beam, excitedly offering her and Mitchell a seat across from the two of you at the table. Eren opens his mouth to refute, but you squeeze his hand again; a warning.

Carla leans forward to encase you in a hug, exchanging cheek kisses, and leaving Eren to stare at the street rat across from him. Mitchell seems to know better than to make eye contact with him, irises scattering from Carla’s back to the décor of the bakery while the two girls catch up.

“We missed you at the rehearsal dinner on Sunday,” Carla recounts, eyes fluttering to Eren’s briefly. One look into her son’s eyes, and she understands why; one look into his mother’s eyes, and Eren knows she has him all figured out. “I was worried you might not show at all.”

Eren strategically averts your gaze when you turn your head towards him, choosing to look at his mother instead.

“I didn’t even know there was a rehearsal dinner,” you tell her, tone polite, but Eren can hear the clear jab directed towards him, “I’m sorry, I—we would have gone, otherwise.”

“No need to apologize, darling,” Carla smiles, “I’m sure you two were very busy.”

“We were,” Eren cuts in, words definite. He sees a hint of surprise flash in his mother’s eyes briefly, expertly covered up with her sweet demeanor. She only nods in understanding, sitting back a bit to wrap her arm around Mitchell’s.

“What are you even doing here, Ma?” Eren questions, even as you do the same with his hands under the table, “Isn’t it bad luck to see the groom before the wedding.”

“After the third or fourth wedding, you grow tired of pleasantries and superstitions, my love,” she replies, “This place makes Mitchell’s favorite macarons, we thought we’d share a few before the big day. Maybe get some tea as a pre-celebration.”

The topic of sweets has you speaking up once again, engaging both his mother and Mitchell in a discussion about them, and your other findings from bakery hopping earlier. If Eren didn’t love you to pieces, he would have left the table a long time ago.

It carries on much longer than he can bear to endure; almost an hour of you, and his mother, and Mitchell making pleasant conversation while he tries his best not to brood beside you, but it’s futile. He feels like a little kid again. Stuck at the dinner table with his mother and a man he was being forced to get to know, only for him to become a stranger to him in a matter of months.

Eren grinds his teeth into each other when you laugh at something Mitchell says. He’s not going to sit through his any longer; or ever again.

“Well, this has been fun,” Eren says, voice blatantly monotonous as his cuts through the conversation, “But we should all probably head back go to bed. Big day tomorrow.”

“Eren, we should—” but, he stands up quickly, hand wrapping around yours to force you upwards too.

He doesn’t care to look at you, knowing the dissatisfied expression he’ll be met with. He fishes for his wallet and pulls out too many Euros, neatly tucking them under an unused knife to pay for the meal.

Eren’s steps out from between his chair and the table. “We’ll see you guys tomorr—” But is stopped before he can take three steps away.

His mother’s hand wrapped around his wrist. She stands, significantly shorter than Eren’s full height. “Actually, Eren, could I borrow you for a bit?”

And he doesn’t want to, because he knows exactly the conversation waiting for him. But he looks down at her, lets his eyes flicker to you, and back to her, and he knows he doesn’t have the heart to walk away. Not even if he tried.

He sighs with a shallow nod. He can feel your hand on his shoulder, the proud smile on your lips when you tell him that you’ll meet him back at your hotel. Mitchell ensures him and Carla that he’ll make sure you get back safely, and Eren still can’t stand the guy, but he’s grateful that he can at least be of use for something.

Eren kisses you on the forehead briefly, a promise to you and himself that he’ll finish his confession later. After all, he probably should come to terms with the woman who taught him what love is before he vowed to love you for the rest of his life.

The walk to his mother’s hotel is silent, Eren choosing to keep to himself, hands stuffed in his pockets to prevent his mom from holding them. He’s probably acting like a child, but isn’t that what he is to her; isn’t that she treats him as.

“Look, Ma, you don’t need my approval to marry him,” Eren grumbles, when they finally exit the elevator into the hotel room, “It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Of course I don’t,” Carla offers him a small grin, even if he won’t look at her directly, “But it matters to me.”

“Why does it matter now? It didn’t matter with Keith, or Henry, or Henri with an I, or any of the others,” Eren mumbles, reluctantly taking a seat on the stool opposite the vanity.

His mother tracks his movements with soft eyes and an amused grin as Eren absentmindedly bends a knee and begins to fiddle with the hem of his pants. Just like he used to when he was upset as a child.

“It mattered then, too, Eren,” she tells him, sitting on the stool and facing him.

He’s surprised by her words, his wide eyes giving him away even if he attempts to act unfazed. “It didn’t seem like it.”

Carla opens her mouth to speak, but closes it, words stuck in her throat. She watches Eren’s hunched figure, her tall son not even bothering to look her in the eyes. She exhales slowly; if he were five feet smaller, he’d have tucked himself under her arm, still refusing to look at her, but he’d have snuggled his head into her side while he pouted anyway.

“I suppose it didn’t,” she admits, “In the end, the love wasn’t enough to make it last, then.”

Eren is quiet for a bit at that, pulling at his pants leg. “And… and you love him enough, now?”

“It’s more than love, Eren. It’s... happiness—for yourself and another person—it’s being okay with somebody knowing you now, and forever. Whichever version of you that is.”

“Then why did you marry them before?” Eren asks, “If you knew it wasn’t enough, if you knew it was just going to end up as another big mistake.”

“Maybe the marriages were a mistake, and some of what came with them, but I don’t think the feelings were,” Carla muses, “Love is never wasted.”

“How can you say that?” Eren questions, disbelief and exasperation painted on his face, “Of course it is—you wasted your time, and your money, and your—your everything on those people who couldn’t care less about you now!”

“Eren—”

“You let them into our house,” Eren speaks over her, “You let them into your life, and they left. They always left—”

“Eren—”

“—And you even let some of them come back! Everyone, you let everyone have another chance, another anniversary, another wedding,” He’s ranting, crying, hot, irrational tears streaming down his face; hiccups interrupting his speech, “So—so, so if it’s not wasted and everyone gets another chance and another chance and another chance—why didn’t he come back, huh? For his?”

Eren’s standing now, arms flailing every which way during his breakdown, but his mother doesn’t try to stop him. She lets him continue, hears him out.

“If it’s love—if it’s not wasted, and it’s real—then why didn’t he come back? Why didn’t he want to? Why—why didn’t he want me? Why did I end up the bastard?”

Eren looks his mother in the eyes for the first time in the duration of their conversation with that final question; with his vision blurry, and chest heaving, and cheeks wet. Carla has no words to say; can only carefully open her arms, and wait for her son to come crashing into them. And he does; and it rains and pours, and Eren holds onto his mother for dear life, and onto the pieces of her breaking heart.

“Am I not good enough to have that kind of love?” Eren asks through tears, “Am I not special enough to want to know?”

“Eren,” she finally speaks, moving to cradle his head in her hands, “You don’t have to be special or good, to be known or loved. It’s enough that you were born. That’s enough to make you deserving of love.”

She doesn’t mind the tears against her palms or the hiccups of Eren’s breathing, “And you already have it.”

And Eren looks at her with eyes wide and wild like a child, staring at the first person to have ever loved someone as messed up, and plain, and ordinary as him; and he can feel more tears bubbling at his eyes.

“Ma, I’m—I’m so sorry,” he chokes out, wrapping his arms around her even tighter, chin resting on her shoulder while his shake through his tears, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Carla hugs her son as close as she can, like he’s five years old and the apple of her eye and she can take all his pain away. “You don’t have to be. You’re my son, and I’ll love you always.”

It feels like they have all the time in the world like that, to hug and cry and apologize; but Carla hopes Eren knows that he was always forgiven; that he never had anything to apologize for in the first place.

“She loves you, too, baby,” she coos, holding Eren as tight as possible, “But you have to let her know that. That you accept it.”

“Do you think she knows?” Eren asks, words muffled into the fabric of her clothing, “That I love her, too?”

“I do,” Carla confirms, pulling away to look at Eren in the eyes; his beautiful, shining, green eyes, “But I don’t think that either of you really realized it. I mean, you did give her an engagement ring, darling.”

Eren huffs at the memory, “She thought it was a gift.”

“Because you gave it to her as a gift.”

“I thought it was pretty obvious.”

“Love has a way of making people blind,” Carla muses, “Especially two lovesick semi-adults with too much money on their hands.”

Eren’s cheeks grow pink at the accusation, “It’s your money!”

“Yes, and I’m very happy to have it,” Carla chuckles, motioning for Eren to stand up. He does, and she looks up at him with glimmering, proud eyes. “Now, go, shoo. You have a girl to propose to, don’t you? There might be two Jaeger weddings this weekend.”

Eren nods, certain of himself for the first time in a while. He turns on his heel with a vigor igniting his footsteps, but pauses when he reaches the elevator. He makes a sharp turn, running back to his mom one last time, and squeezing her suddenly, and tightly against him.

“I love you, mom,” he says; the words too foreign on his tongue, and he vows to not let them be a stranger to his vocabulary from here on out.

“I love, you, too, Eren,” Carla calmly wraps her arms around her son one last time, “And I always will.”

You half-expected your walk back to your hotel with Mitchell to be painfully awkward, but he proves to be a pleasant conversationalist, even in Carla’s absence.

You know that Eren isn’t fond of him, but you wish that he would at least give him a chance. There’s no way to know if a marriage—if any relationship—will last forever, but, sometimes, you think it’s not about knowing about forever; but, rather about wanting it to make it there; about willing to go the distance with that person.

You can see that want, that willingness that works alongside love in Mitchell and Carla’s relationship, that stands out from her past marriages. You get the feeling they’re going to last; and that, most importantly, they both want it to, too.

It’s quiet out as you both walk the streets of Paris, Mitchell taking the time to point out small notes in architecture that interest you. You readjust your jacket as a gust of wind washes over you, careful to make sure your necklace doesn’t snag against your clothing.

“That’s a beautiful ring,” he calls to you gently.

“Thank you,” Surprised, you quickly let out an embarrassed cough, looking down to your left hand resting atop the uppermost button on your coat. “It was a gift.”

“I meant that one,” Mitchell corrects, carefully gesturing to his own neck to indicate that he was talking about the ring on your necklace, and not the one on your finger.

“Oh, thank you,” you repeat, “That one was actually a gift, too.”

The older man hums, continuing your walk to your hotel. “Must have been one hell of a gift. I don’t know many people who give out engagement rings as presents.”

“Oh, no, no, no, it wasn’t—it’s not an engagement ring,” you tell him, feeling a warmth creep up your cheeks even in the chilly atmosphere of the night, “Eren gave it to me, actually, a few years ago—it was a Christmas gift.”

“Eren, huh?” Mitchell smiles fondly, “That makes sense. Carla tells me how much he cares about you.”

“You—she does?” you stutter. Mitchell nods. “I—I mean, I care about him, too.”

“Enough to accept an engagement ring from him, it seems,” Mitchell taunts, “I’m no specialist, but I know a Harry Winston piece when I see it. They’re not cheap.”

“Trust me, I know,” you scoff, “I almost killed him when I saw how much he spent on it.”

“And you took it, anyway?”

“Well, he—he was supposed to return it,” you defend yourself, “Because I didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea! But he just, well, he gave me the other one instead, so I wear that one on my hand.”

Mitchell pauses, just as you both stand to the entrance of your hotel. “And what was the wrong idea you didn’t want people getting.”

“That... that...,” you pause, thinking back to that Christmas day.

Even though Eren is known for spending ludacris amounts of money, the ring came as a genuine surprise to you. A couple thousand on shoes, sure—you’re victim to that yourself; a couple hundred thousand on a lavish vacation wasn’t out of the ordinary, either; but a million, maybe even more, on a ring that you could have only ever asked of him in your dreams was another thing completely.

And, sure, even a few million didn’t mean much to you or Eren at the end of the day, but it wasn’t just the price; it was the object of the money, too. To accept a house, or a car, or a jet for that amount is something you could rationalize; but a ring seemed foreign, and far out of your league.

Then there was the display and value it held beyond money. It’s beautiful, gorgeous, but more than that, it’s tailored to your exact liking. The synthesis of your aesthetic and everything you could ask for, garnished with the memory of Eren in the very design; the diamonds you love, the flowers that remind him of you, and the way they stems wrap around each other and the petals meet in the middle.

A small gasp leaves your lips and instinctively, you reach to clutch the ring in your hold. There was no way this was an engagement ring... Eren hadn’t proposed to you when he gave it to you—in fact, he was so casual about it, that it had you stunned that he hadn’t thought to consider that other people might think it meant something more than what he intended it to be.

But, looking back, it seems like you’re the only one who didn’t understand what was going on. Because Eren told you, even then, that he’d wanted you forever; you didn’t know how to hear him. It was all right there—not just in the ring, but in all his gifts, in the entirety of your friendship.

Eren loves you, more than you could ever know.

“It’s an engagement ring,” you say aloud, but more to yourself than to Mitchell, “Oh my god, it’s an engagement ring.”

Mitchell can’t do anything but smile at your revelation. You’re practically bouncing off the walls, connecting the puzzle pieces of your relationship in the middle of the street at damn near midnight, but you don’t care; because it finally feels right, and it finally, finally all makes sense.

“He, but he never pro—oh my fucking god, I’m going to kill him.”

You feel elated and confused and happy and murderous all at once. Eren wanted to marry you; Eren loved you. He wants you for the rest of his life, and you’ve been too blind to see it this entire time.

Still, you think that maybe a verbal proposal might have helped to open your eyes a bit.

“Mitchell, I have to—”

You’re cut off by the echo of your name coming from the opposite end of the street, and you can just barely make out of Eren’s figure in the faded lights of the street lamps. His name falls from your lips like a whisper, and you hardly register Mitchell’s amused, soft laughter from beside you.

“I think that’s my cue,” he says, patting you on the shoulder, “I better get back to Carla. Something tells me you two have a bit to talk about.”

You can barely nod at him, eye still wide and stunned, but a smile on your face even in your fearful anticipation. You don’t have time to thank him before he turns away, bidding you goodnight; and then you have something else to focus on, as Eren’s footsteps grow louder, and his silhouette grows sharper the closer he gets to you.

He practically crashes into you, chest heaving, hair wind-swept and wild from his running. He puts his hands on your shoulders, to steady himself physically and mentally, labored breaths ghosting over the top of your head.

“Hi,” he finally squeaks; and that stupid, big, dopey grin is on his face.

It’s ridiculous, so utterly ridiculous that you can’t help but greet him back. The two of you stand there, smiling like fools for god knows how long, before the realization strikes you for a second time.

Eren opens his mouth to finally speak, but a pained squeal leaves his lips instead as he feels the back of your hand slap his chest. “Ouch—hey, what was that for!”

“What the hell do you think you were doing proposing to me without telling me?” you screech, packing another punch to his chest for good measure, but it’s a poor barrier and does nothing to stop your tears from falling, “You’re an idiot, I should kill you for this, you know that, Eren Jaeger?”

Eren laughs softly, only to be heard by you in close proximity. He takes your offending hand in his, and reaches for your other, pulling both of them between your bodies. He can feel tears welling in his own eyes, as he looks down at the necklace, glimmering perfectly under the moonlight.  

“In my defense, the first thing you told me to do when I gave it to you was to return it.”

“I might not have said that if you told me what it meant,” you can hardly choke out a laugh through your tears; and Eren can’t stop his from falling either, “It’s insane, you know. This whole thing—to ask me to marry you at 19. For me to not realize until we’re 21.”

“I know,” Eren agrees, inching closer even though there’s barely any room between you, “I know. But I know I love you, every version of you. I always have, I always will.”

You close your eyes as Eren’s hands move to your face, gingerly sweeping your tears away from your cheeks. He feels too close, it feels like too much; but you don’t want him to move.

“You know... if you had asked me, then,” you start, blinking your eyes open with a sniffle; you’re met with Eren’s emerald greens one with far too much hope and love glimmering in them, “I—I don’t even know what I would have said.”

“And if I asked you now?”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, slowly raising your hands to wrap around Eren’s wrist, and lower them to your neck, before looking at him again, “Ask me.”

Eren blinks, carefully trailing his hands up and around your neck, nimble fingers undoing the clasp of your necklace. He hardly lets the chain pool into his hand before it’s tossed aside, and the ring is still between his thumbs and index fingers as he lowers himself on to one knee.

“You are the love of my life, and there’s not a single version of life—a single version of you, or me—where I don’t want to be with you forever,” Eren says, “And you know how shit I am with my words, but I fucking mean it. I swear to you, that I’ll do my best every day to show you how much you mean to me; marry me, and I’ll prove it to you, I swear, I will.”  

Your lips are wobbling at Eren’s confession below you, and you can just barely beckon him upwards in your state. He’s hardly back on two feet before you’re pulling him against you, ghosting the word “yes” on his lips before you kiss him.

You both melt into the kiss, Eren’s hands skillfully cupping your cheeks, while he keeps the ring in his hold and bruises your lips together.

“You don’t have to prove it to me, Eren,” you assure him, hand shaking when you pull apart and let him slip the ring onto your finger—where it belongs, “You already have.”

For his first birthday as a married man, Eren requested something intimate. He wanted just a small celebration with all of your mutual friends, some good food, alcohol, and lots of fun.

Supposedly simple and intimate for him entailed renting out the top floor of the Whitney, which was currently encasing an exhibit portraying some kind of abstract modern art that allowed for a very drunk Eren and Armin have to entertain themselves by trying their best to recreate the paintings using very flawed couples aerial yoga.

The art, paired with the dimmed lighting, Jean’s choice selection of overtly sexual music, and Eren’s pick of overpriced champagne also meant that Marco, Bertholdt, Connie, and Sasha found everything ten times funnier than they were—which meant they were a million times louder than usual.

Jean stands next to you by the bar, watching as Eren attempts to hold Armin above his head by holding on to just his waist. They’re unsuccessful, of course, resulting in both boys toppling onto the ground as the majority of their older friends laugh along.

“Lucky me, I get to take him home at the end of the night,” you drawl, turning to the bartender to order another drink.

She smiles, easily preparing your martini and sliding it you with an inquiry. “That’s your boyfriend? The tall one with the brown hair?”

“No,” you sigh, eyes closed for a moment before taking the glass between your fingers. “That’s my husband, unfortunately.”

× even more notes: this fic. is my baby. it’s been a draft of mine for over two years at this point. it’s gone through various fandoms but i’ve never quite been able to complete and post it, so i’m very happy that it’s finally here! i hope you all enjoyed, and i just wanted to say that i’m glad to finally have been able to share this with you all!