#twelve pack of hot dogs in one hand

[reddeliciousauce]

hal is a bbq sauce glizzy machine right now i think hes found a new calling

[ochrearia]

RBG ART PROMPTS LIST

All of these are things I'm pulling from my Poly Propaganda fanfic series because there are an alarming amount of drawable parts, either super vague or super specific lets get it.

(THIS POST WILL BE UPDATED WITH EACH NEW PART THAT COMES OUT BY THE WAY)

Part One:

BF smacking his dumbass leg straight into a metal pole while he daydreams about smooching GF and Pico

BF confined to the bed with an ice pack on said pole-smashed leg like a doofus

Part Two:

3. Pico relenting to GF holding his head in her hands, pushing his cheeks into the touch

4. Yourself shaking BF by the shoulders (THINK, MARK) telling him to snap out of his stupid fears

5. Pico and GF littering BF's cheeks with kisses after the scare

Part Three:

6. "I'm going to kiss the shit out of you if you keep this up." "Maybe that's what I want, hitman."

7. Little spoon BF big spoon Pico

Part Four:

8. Pico flaunting his new chromatics with a smug ass look and a mic

9. BF and GF with flushed faces because Pico's voice is hot

10. Pico laughing his ass off because he's got simps for his voice

Part Five:

11. Pico and BF fighting over the TV remote like toddlers

12. BF being an asshole abusing the fact Pico is ticklish

13. GF happy and indulging in the laughter of her boys

14. Any one of the three laughing w/ the provided synesthesia-induced colors

Part Six:

15. Pico gently holding a """"sleeping"""" GF in his lap while he talks out loud about how he's grown to love her

Part Seven:

16. BF and Pico riled up and pissed about some prick insulting GF

17. GF using her demon wings and purr to cuddle and placate them both

18. Flustered Pico because BF and GF always gang up to tease him

Part Eight:

19. BF being held by Pico and GF while he rides out a bad day

Part Nine:

20. All of the kisses in this part honestly there's a handful

21. Goofy smile and happy Pico because he's got silly butterflies in his stomach while he gets kissies

Part Ten:

22. 3 tired idiots in their sleepwear trying to unpack boxes

23. Trio piled together on a blanket-less bed, BF and Pico using GF's arms as pillows

Part Eleven:

24. FRIDAY NIGHT PAMPERIN'

25. "You can't go from frat boy to horrendously homosexual in two seconds!" "Waaa waaa it’s called bisexuality you ginger homophobe, pick a struggle goddamn."

26. GF and Pico taking the wildest double takes after BF admits to loving hearing them laugh

27. Pico whacking the shit out of BF with a pillow for the prior comment

Part Twelve:

28. BF and GF holding onto Pico for dear life while a thunderstorm goes off outside

Part Thirteen:

29. Absolute menace BF abusing the fact Pico and GF get all hot bothered and weak to his neck kisses

30. GF and Pico turning the tables immediately in revenge flustering the fuck out of BF

Part Fourteen:

31. BF's dream sequence

32. Yourself helping BF calm down + hug + Silly Billy music box lullaby

33. GF telling Yourself she's proud of him (accidentally sets him on an immediate spiral to a breakdown)

Part Fifteen:

34. Literally any of the three struggling with being touch-starved. Pick one or all

Part Sixteen:

35. Pico having a mental crisis over possibly being in love with both BF and GF

36. GF and BF comforting Pico after his outburst-breakdown

37. "Wanna be in a poly relationship with us?" "I'm scared about being in a relationship again but yes, yes I want to so badly"

Part Seventeen:

38. CUDDLE SANDWICH.

39. Pico hugging BF and/or GF like it's his last second alive

40. BF and GF joke fighting over who'd get to keep Pico in their pocket

Part Eighteen:

41. BF and GF dancing all silly in golden hour light

42. "My heart. My home. Together you are both, two people together as one. Where my love lies."

43. BF kissing the breath out of Pico

44. Stupid lovesick idiot snuggle pile

Part Nineteen:

45. Pretty tooth gap smile Pico

46. BF menace-ry

47. Puppy dog eyes GF

Part Twenty:

48. GF with her demonic features out being a hot girlboss

49. Dumbfounded BF having the hots for GF lmfao. Pico "Close your mouth BF fuck's sake"

50. Literally any part of the flirting. Jesus christ.

Part Twenty-One:

51. Koala-bear cuddly Pico

52. BF and GF reminiscing, also trying to get their stupid ginger to SLEEP DAMMIT

Part Twenty-Two:

53. Cherryblast kisses

54. BF dumbass smoking cigarettes and being distracted by random trinkets

55. BF MELTING TO UNDER-JAW KISSES

Part Twenty-Three:

56. Yourself/Silly Billy sticking halfway out the mirror talking to BF

57. BF absolutely yapping about being in love like a FREAK

58. Pico and GF in an absolute trance because Boyfriend.XML yaps. Literal heart eyes

Part Twenty-Four:

59. GF in BF's shirt

60. BF in Pico's sweater

61. Pico being an absolute sucker for both of them

Part Twenty-Five:

62. Pico and Nene about to kill the shit out of each other

63. "I DO NOT HAVE A LOVERBOY VOICE" -Pico, lying,

64. Darnell and Nene just being amused as fuck over how lap-dog core their friend has become

65. But in the same vein D and N are secretly really happy for Pico so it works out

Part Twenty-Six:

66. Pico losing it over the realization his two special someones trust him with their lives

67. Demon weighted blanket GF for Pico

68. BF spouting "I love you" over and over to the sleeping Pico in his arms

Part Twenty-Seven:

69. Pico calling BFGF freaks and attacking them /silly

70. BFGF with knowing looks watching Pico lean into their hands without thinking about it

Part Twenty-Eight:

71. Hypothetically, RGB existing as space debris for the rest of their lives, because they'd rather be together than alone

72. BF singing without his auto-tune microphone and absolutely enamoring GF and Pico

73. Pico kissing the knuckles of BF's hand because he would be a hand kisser.

Part Twenty-Nine:

74. Pico drowning in his own guilt and fear of being controlling over BF and GF

75. Yourself and Pico staring each other down like the stubborn shits they are

76. BF and GF terrified while Pico breaks down in their arms because seeing him upset makes them upset too

Part Thirty (M FOR SEXUAL CONTENT):

77. I mean it's just 1.8k words of body worship as of last update. Just any part of it tbh. Pico gets fucked up by GF and BF LMAOOOO

Part Thirty-One:

78. Pico completely asleep and being GF's personal teddy bear

79. GF using her magic to remove her offending musical emotions out of her head and glaring at them in the air

80. Pico having a heart attack over the form of how GF sees him, holding it to his chest and being so fucking in love

81. Pico also exploding into a blush because BF and GF kiss his musical self

Part Thirty-Two:

82. BF cuddled up against Pico's sweater nuzzling his nose in it

83. GF and Pico sad/angry that the world taught BF his birthday wasn't important

Part Thirty-Three:

84. Pico just horrendously collapsed on the couch because he can no longer move bitch is TIRED

85. BF CARRYING PCIO BRIDAL STYLE WHILE HE YELLS ABOUT NOT NEEDING TO BE CARRIED (he does)

86. Shy Pico soaking in the hot bath when BF and GF beg him to let them take care of him

87. All three of them in bed, Pico's nose pushed into BF's thigh while GF rubs his bare back in comfort

88. Pico squeezing the life out of an M-Raptor plushie

89. Freckle kisses...

Part Thirty-Four:

90. GF "I want to hold", BF "I want to be held", Pico "Both"

91. Pico losing the war against being sappy

92. GF in the kitchen with her scented candle hoard

Part Thirty-Five:

93. Pico singing to a "sleeping" BF

94. BF and GF arguing like an old married couple over who gets to be serenaded by Pico while he just sits there dying of embarrassment

95. Pico giving in and singing to both of them

Part Thirty-Six:

96. BF and GF flirting with each other calling each other pretty

97. A dozing Pico, comforted by his partners being flirty and loving behind him

98. Pico getting 3 seconds of victory by making BF blush calling him a pretty boy

99. GF giving Pico chin scritches that he enjoys far too much

100. BF getting Pico back, calling him a pretty boy and making him red in the face instead

Part Thirty-Seven:

101. Koala-Bear Pico with GF while she sleeps and he cuddles her for comfort

102. BF with Pico in his arms, petting comforting patterns into his back and singing the song "i5 pt. 2" to him with his real voice

103. Hypothetical post-fic trio cuddle pile where they're all tangled up in each other

Part Thirty-Eight:

104. Full demon mode GF with the black and red monarch butterfly patterned wings

105. Demon GF's lavender skin glowing with magic as she leaks the song of her emotions out into the air

106. Hurt/Comfort on the balcony, GF crying while clinging to BF and Pico

107. RGB back in bed cuddling with GF in the middle this time, for once

Part Thirty-Nine:

108. I mean. It's literally just about PicoBF and PicoGF makeouts... Staring directly into the camera like it's the office

109. But also BF calling Pico a "Needy Little Thing" on purpose

Part Forty:

110. More YS and BF shenanigans

111. BF bouncing around like an excited puppy about his poem

112. Pico not being able to Handle Poetry Written About Him

113. Storm of Demon Kissies for the boys!!!

[jjkeremika]

a bakers dozen (1/2)

mikasa ackerman x eren jaeger (eremika) — nsfw-leaning

twelve times eren gave mikasa a sweet treat

eren started baking as a hobby. at first it was an activity he shared with his mum, learning generational recipes and expert advice. but carla often chastised the poor boy for loose pours and inaccurate weights, and eren decided he preferred baking alone.

when he finally told mikasa and armin about his new passion, the quiet pretty girl said she’d love to try some, act like a taste-tester for the curious baker.

the hold her words had on his heart and mind were borderline embarrassing. eren spent the entire night searching through his mum’s recipe books and dog-earring sweets he thought mikasa might like, recounted everything he knew of her to decipher her favorites.

the simple stuff had to be first: cookies. the recipe was plain, a simple vanilla sugar cookie, but eren was confident—the only type he’d ever seen her pick from a tray while spoiled for choice.

as eren handed her the plate the next day, he second-guessed if maybe he should’ve decorated them, whipped up some icing and laced each biscuit with some dressage. he considered it all night—ultimately decided it definitely would be worse if he overwrought her sweet tooth, and left the icing for a future letter.

the lick of her lips after each bite caught and held eren’s attention. each crumb delicious enough to warrant its emergence. he felt himself holding his breath before she spoke, “i’m excited to try the next goodie,” with a pristine grin, her tongue still poking out.

the second recipe was a coffee streusel brownie, one gifted from mikasa’s mother for a holiday gathering. after two batches and a lifetime with ingredients on a scale, eren packed the product into a glass tupperware and dreamt of her tongue all night.

“hey, miks.” eren had a hearty smile, carried the brownies so elegantly. when he handed her the container, the way her lips pressed into an o at the dessert etched permanently into his brain.

he watched her take a bite, felt hot with his gaze fixed on her biting into the brownie, felt the restrictive hold over his chest as he intimately watched her mouth welcome the treat, noticed the way it sat so perfectly on her pink tongue. he swiped his tongue along his teeth, wanted to bite into her skin the way her pearly teeth sank into the treat.

she exclaimed in delight, covered her mouth with her palm to eren’s dismay, “eren! this is delicious!” her smile was unreal. “mum, dad, you have to try this!”

the third and fourth recipes were inspired by her fast approaching birthday. with armin planning a bash for the ages, eren was tasked with baking her cake. due to annie’s strong dislike of chocolate and armin’s strong like of annie, the party cake was designated a basic three-layer vanilla sponge cake. the text received a virtual and literal eye roll. armin was too amenable.

eren was less so, and opted to bake mikasa’s favorite cake instead: triple chocolate fudge cake. it was her birthday after all. while it was in the oven, melting chocolate coating his apron and decorating his arms, the guilt set in and eren started mixing the sponge cake too.

after spending hours stenciling birthday messages and test-writing in icing, when armin told him to hurry up, eren topped the sponge with a lavender message and prepared it for the party.

before she could eat the slice gifted by armin, eren pulled her to the side. “it’s not much, but.” he was nervous, his voice matching the shakiness of his hands as he held the chocolate cake. “happy birthday, miks.”

the love struck boy surprised her with the next dessert: red velvet cupcakes, buttercream frosting. it was under the guise of her mother’s birthday, but in reality eren was trying to see her.

he’d had a vision the entire time, of her biting into the cupcake, of the creamy frosting settling around her mouth and nose, of her licking her lips clean. eren debated putting some frosting on his neck, wondered if maybe she’d lick that spotless too.

the eager bounce of his cock against his restraining jeans once he witnessed her remove buttercream from her finger with a whimsy wrap of her tongue was rewarding enough. the sight provided a top tier memory reserve; a quick recall for when he was alone.

not much of a treat, but a sourdough dinner roll was perfectly suited for armin’s italian pasta night. eren spent two days preparing the best starter and dough for the occasion. the excitement on mikasa’s face when the rolls were unveiled paired better than the oils and dips.

the seventh treat earned a moan. one bite into the fluffy, airy croissant and a hearty, “m’oh, this is good,” eased out, matched with a delectable smile. she held the remaining croissant between delicate fingers, and eren watched with dilated pupils as she tilted her head back and closed her eyes.

with her neck on blatant display, eren’s mouth watered and he felt every tendon and ligament holding his muscles back, preventing himself from pouncing on her, caging his mouth from relentlessly exploring the soft flesh.

“eren,” her tone was questioning and soothing, the pronunciation of his name haunting the sound off anyone else’s lips, “do you remember those cookies you made? months and months ago?” he swallowed despite the dryness in his throat, couldn’t bring himself to vocalize his remembrance. “you should make those again.”

she never gave him a timeline, so eren assigned one himself. the next day. he was too excited to sleep. spent the whole night thinking of the crumbs sleeping on her thin bottom lip, wanted to be at the tip of her tongue when she evicted the remnants.

despite the drowsiness, he skipped the whole trail to her home. each sprite step furthering his gait, excitement and anticipation at seeing the beauty unraveling his stomach, eating away at the lining.

with her fingertips pristinely holding a sugar cookie, the other hand gently rubbing eren’s upper arm, she requested another baked good. “not to be your boss or anything,” she prefaced with a joke, poked the dimple as it appeared on his cheek, “but i would love if you made donuts.”

“sourdough?” the question was immediate. his brain already racing through previously-scanned pages of recipe books for an idea. anything she wanted of him, he’ll do. her giggle stretched his smile to both ears. he could feel the lighter wind around them.

there was more thought in dessert preparation this time. with armin’s birthday approaching and eren’s dislike of baking cake, donuts became the perfect alternative. eren shaped them into letters instead, small makeshift happy armin’s b-day donuts, with the leftovers molded into an m.

the donuts were a hit at the party, and eren waited until him and mikasa were alone to show her the remaining dough. “it’s an m… for mikasa,” he explained lamely, gesturing awkwardly, “for you.”

his torso was captured between her strong arms, hands clasping at his back to keep him in place. the warmth radiating onto his front, the gentle waft of lavender from her hair, the hollowness of her cheek against the rigid muscles of his shoulder.

“what else can i bake for you?” the words tickled her ear, the goosebumps prickling the nerves to life. she glanced up at him, pulled away slightly so she could really look at him. eren thought of kissing her.

she hummed, swayed lightly side to side, “hm, whatever your favorite treat is.” her raised eyebrows made her eyes seem rounder, more open to interpretation, more open to him. the sparkles in her grey irises were wanting, yearning flames. “i have a feeling i’ll like whatever you bake.”

he should’ve kissed her. but he closed his eyes, rested his chin on her forehead instead, her scent flooded his lungs, held it in until the organs were on fire, exhaled so slowly as to not disturb the thin, whimsical strands of black hair.

did he have a favorite treat? it’s been a while, but carla’s blueberry muffins—those were definitely his favorites.

once armin and mikasa arrived, the three of them dug into the muffins before even starting the movie. “ooph—eren!” mikasa moaned with a covered open smile, reached for his arm, “so good.” eren stretched his arm closer, tried to extend the duration of contact.

“yeah, ren, seriously,” armin muffled out through a full mouth, “you’re improving a lot.” eren blushed when he noticed mikasa’s unbreaking eye contact, still held firm on him even after he glanced to armin. “you should try baking savory pies too. beef and ale pie would be delicious.”

mikasa shaped her lips into a circle. “oo, good idea.” she pointed to their blond friend, then clapped her palms together. “next movie night.”

eren tapped his finger against the counter, invisibly pulled to mikasa’s hand inches away, like a magnet withheld from its faithful opposition. the smirk was small, like it was kept to himself, and he was already considering what dessert would pair well with her smile, what cookie crumb would cause her tongue to creep out.

the beef and ale pie was a hit, the leftovers eagerly eaten up by a starved carla and grisha after a fun night out. the crust was mikasa’s favorite part, even hand-feeding the baker part of her crust, her fingertips lingering on the tip of his tongue.

the action replayed in eren’s nightly dreams, and joined with the sensation of him in her arms, with the visual of licking buttercream off her lip—eren was reaching a limit he didn’t know he had, a boiling in a kettle he didn’t realize was on.

like a runner crossing a finish line, eren beat a personal record in inviting her over, to taste the lemon tart he baked during the lame afternoon and potentially start something new. something exciting.

“hey, eren,” mikasa greeted first, slipping her arms under his arms, around his waist, before eren could even close the door. eren hesitantly returned her hold, took even breaths to calm his formula one racing heart. eren wondered if she could hear his uneven heart beat, his stuttering breaths.

“thanks for coming.” the words were muffled by her hair, the temptation of a faint kiss to her hairline bordering irresistible. “i made a lemon tart.” his voice was foreign to his own ears, strained and focused, held back with a shrouded intent. “but i was thinking you could help me decide what to make next.”

she slipped her jacket off, exposed her tight, green long-sleeve shirt. the same dark green that she told eren he looked good in, the color that made his eyes pop.

“i already have a starter going, so i can make anything.” eren put his apron back on, tied it around his waist and pulled the sourdough starter out of the fridge. “so, really, it’s up to what you would you want to eat.”

“is this the tart?” her finger was pointing to the yellow dessert, where the whipped cream was starting to sink inside from being added prematurely. eren answered, and her finger swiped in the middle, popping it right into her mouth with a sweet hum. a sight for the ages. “delicious.”

the pink on his cheeks was pristine, and mikasa adored how no matter how many compliments she supplied him, he reacted as smitten and coyly as the first. eager to please, thrilled to know he has.

“do cinnamon buns sound okay?” the question caught her off guard, brought her out of her adoring trance. admiring eren was easy. finding herself lost in the admiration was easier. “i have a whole recipe book if you want something else. totally easy to change.” he was rambling, adjusting to projected unspoken objections. the flipping of the pages provided him adequate background noise. “so many recipes. like it’s so easy to pick something els—”

mikasa’s hand covered his, rubbed her thumb against the coarse skin. rough from regular handwashing between bakes and less regular moisturizing. “cinnamon buns sound great,” she murmured, “but i’d like to help you.” she stood up off the stool. eren immediately pictured her licking rogue frosting off her finger, off him. “can i have an apron too?”

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Light on the Darkside - Chapter Twenty Four.

Big thanks as ever to you all, the LOTD book club! :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty One Twenty Two Twenty Three

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed.

Words - 3,268

Warnings - 18+ throughout. Topics cover depression, suicide and eating disorders. Minors DNI!

“Oi! Put it down!” 

“But dad I can use it as a lance!” 

“Nah, son. No improvising medieval weaponry. It’s too sharp, drop it.” 

“N’aww dad! You get to play with weapons!” 

“That’s for music videos and album art. Put the bloody massive stick down, Wolf.” 

“Alright. If I find one that isn’t sharp, can I play with that one?” 

Closing his eyes, Steve groaned, brows furrowing as his best mate hissed with laughter at his pain. “That boy’ll be the fucking death of me.” 

“Can I, dad?” 

“Fine, go on, find another,” he called, watching his son run off at the speed of light across the muddy terrain. “Anything to save my pissing ears for five fucking minutes!” he then added in quieter tones, James still laughing.  

They’d taken the kids out to Kinver Edge for the day, a woodland escarpment four miles west of Stourbridge. It was over an hour away from where they lived, but definitely worth the visit. It brought back many memories.  

“Freya,” James warned, his child now taking over in the picking up something she shouldn’t stakes. “Put the rock down.” 

“I can’t! Need it!” 

“What for? I don’t trust that you’re not about to dash it at your sister.” And for a three-year-old, she had one hell of a throwing arm.  

“Demons!” 

“Ain’t no demons up Kinver, baba. Put it down.” 

“There might be, daddy! Who can say!”  

He couldn’t keep the smile from his face. “Well, if there is, you’re enough to see ‘em off all on your own, innit. You forget that you’re the chaos of the night, they don’t stand a chance.” 

The rock was dropped. “And I have the army of the dead!” 

“Yeah, you do!” he chuckled, Steve laughing at his side. 

“I love that kid to pieces, she’s such a riot.” he spoke, the pair watching as Freya pottered away over the mossier ground, Logan and Zara leading the pack in the distance along with Hugo and Otis, as well as Fenrir, Steve’s Northern Inuit dog. As soon as he’d seen them used as the dire wolves on Game of Thrones, he’d chewed Andrea’s ear off until she’d agreed they could get one.  

And James was stuck with French fuckery number one and number two. Because Ella had always wanted French bulldogs and he couldn’t say no.  

Continuing to walk, they navigated a path down to one of the draws of Kinver Edge, the famed and old red rock dwelling that apparently used to be inhabited by a herbalist until her death in 1617. Many folklore stories existed about the woman, most of which James and Steve had heard when visiting the place in their youth.  

“Ahh, the last time we were up here, sunshine. Getting stoned with them hot girls,” Steve began, the kids screaming with mirth on the other side of the rock formation, the dogs barking excitedly. “You over in that corner getting ridden by that bird you were seeing from... where was she from?” 

“Halesowen,” James confirmed, looking over, remembering his nineteen-year-old self, and the gorgeous twenty-year-old he’d been casually dating at the time.  

“And what was her name?” 

“Nicola.” 

Steve flicked his fingers, waving his hand in remembrance. “That’s it! That was her, and I was having a bit of her mate...” 

“Cerys.” 

“Yeah, her,” Steve grinned, remembering. “Oooh, that girl couldn’t half suck a dick. Telling ya. Quality blowjob skills, proper gorgeous an’ all. Fucking sky blue eyes and great big tits.” 

“Calm yourself,” James snorted, “but yeah, she was top grade sexy. Never told you this at the time, but after you and her stopped seeing each other, I was shagging her for a bit. She used to go up that rock club in Birmingham, XL’s. Gaz was seeing her best mate Nat, so yeah. Took me up there with him and it just happened one night. Broke the bed in Nat’s spare room giving her a damned good banging. Proper little wild thing, she was, innit?” 

Steve boomed with laughter at that revelation. “You fucking tart, Jim! Nabbing my leftovers, ya dickhead.” God, how they’d had some fun in their single years. “We were proper reprobates in our youth.” 

“Ain’t much fucking better now, man,” James chuckled, “just married ones with kids and mortgages and all that.” 

“Yeah, suppose you ain’t wrong there.” How different things were upon their return twenty-one years later. “Logan, don’t lick the rock, son.” 

“Why? Freya did!” 

“Freya, stop licking everything. It ain’t yours just because you lick it, we’ve talked about this,” James called, the tiny destroyer of worlds grinning at him, her mouth covered in red dust. And so, it continued... 

“Logan, mate, don’t pee off the side of the rock! There might be people walking below.” 

“Freya, don’t wipe snot on your sister.”  

“Wolf, that’s a branch. You’re not bringing a branch with you! Now look, the bloody dogs got in on it too! Fenrir, come back.” 

“Zara, don’t put mud on your face! No, it ain’t warpaint. Stop.”  

Steve was in hysterics at the last one, reaching for her as they caught up, dropping a kiss atop her head. “Something might’ve pooped in that, honey.” 

“Doesn’t smell bad, though,” she reasoned, giving him a quick hug before she was hurtling off again, threatening Wolf with a beating. 

“Yeah, you give him stacks, sweetheart,” Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “So how come big girl didn’t come along? She’s usually well up for this.” 

“Gone off swimming with her mates,” he revealed, unscrewing his water bottle and taking a few gulps. “That almost didn’t happen either, with the mouthful she was giving her mum this morning.”  

“Yeah? Guess I’ve got all this to come, but boys are easier. We just communicate in a series of grunts an’ all that.” 

“Yup, and girls screech, which was Lyra’s preferred communication at being told she wasn’t allowed to go to the cinema later. Like way later tonight. She knows she ain’t allowed out past eight, but nah. Really trying it on right now, so yeah, Ella is satan at the moment because she put her foot down and told her she’d be collected from Kitt’s at 6pm as arranged.” 

Steve clicked his tongue with a small grimace. “Nah, can’t be good, mate. Suppose it’s normal, though. Ain’t like we never challenged authority. Remember when we snuck out of your bedroom window and ended up in The Crown all night when we were fifteen?” 

Ahhh, the halcyon days of the nineties, where I.D’s weren’t checked if you looked eighteen, James and Steve looking much older than their years for both being tall and needing to shave from their early teens.  

“Fuck, yeah I do. Dad opening the back door and finding us on the shed roof pissed out of our heads, trying to climb back up to my room again! Sneaking us through the house so the duchess didn’t wake up. Man, if Lyra gets up to even half of what we used to, I’m gonna be going even more grey than I already am real fucking quickly, innit,” James laughed, remembering how cool his dad had been about it, wheeze laughing at the teenagers as they’d staggered around atop the shed. 

Their trip down memory lane was then disturbed by the demoness of darkness, shouting loudly. Freya did, after all, only have one volume. “Daddy! I’ve found a corpse!” 

James closed his eyes, wincing slightly. “I ain’t a religious man, but I pray when we get over there that it’s a bird or some kind of woodland animal, cos’ with her, you never know.” 

Steve hissed with laughter. “She’d not be scared, would she?” 

“Nah, she’d be there poking it with a stick screaming ‘why are you dead, though?’ and all that. She’s too much like me for her own good.” They caught up with the kids, seeing quickly that it was a dead and decaying badger, Steve moving quickly to grab Freya when she went to touch it. 

“Oi, no touching the cadaver, little destroyer of worlds,” he advised, holding her in his arms as she began to fiddle with his long, blonde hair. Gone were the days of dyeing it dark brown with his two bleached streaks at the front, Steve back to his natural colour, plus a few silvery grey strands he couldn’t be bothered to dye. Unlike James, who dyed his every three weeks to keep them at bay.  

“Uncle Steve, can I have piggy back?” 

He nodded, pointing a finger. “Yeah, but no kicking me, right?” 

A kiss to his cheek was delivered, Freya beginning to scramble around to his back with his help. “Promise no kicks!” A further three kilometres were walked that afternoon, returning to the carpark and going their separate ways. Ten minutes into the journey home and James had two sleeping children in the back of his truck, the dogs settled in the front passenger footwell also nodding off. Long walks were a sure-fire way to exhaust those with abundant energy, that was for certain. 

They arrived home at just gone six, Ella obviously out fetching their eldest. He couldn’t see anything obviously set out for dinner, deciding to order pizza in for everyone instead after quickly calling his wife to check. She thanked him endlessly, telling him they’d be back in ten minutes. He noticed she sounded a little terse on the phone, swiftly finding out why that was when she and Lyra entered the house not long after, the latter causing a fuss.  

“Zara, take your sister to the den, go on,” James spoke, jerking his head in the direction, not wanting them to have to suffer what would likely be a full-scale attitude fit. “I’ll call you when the food arrives.” 

His second eldest nodded, picking up Freya and heading out. Five seconds passed before the kitchen door flew open, the harbinger of said attitude stomping in. “Dad! Tell her she isn’t fair, because I cannot with her. I really can’t!” 

“Is this about the cinema again?” he asked, leaning against the dishwasher and folding his arms, turning to give Ella a kiss. God, she looked tense. He envisaged she would need a large drink and a shoulder rub later that night, both of which he’d happily provide.  

“It isn’t fair! Kitt is allowed out until ten, so why can’t I be?” 

“Kitt’s a little bit older than you. Once you’re thirteen we can talk again about how late you’re allowed out, but while you’re twelve, eight o’ clock is late enough,” he explained, being met by further exasperation. 

“You’re only saying that to side with her!” she raged, gesturing towards Ella as she took a seat at the island, combing her fingers through her hair a few times with a sigh. 

“I’m saying it because it’s a rule we set as your parents, and what we say goes.” 

A loud huff filled the air, Ella chipping in to try and deescalate the situation. “Kitt also has Danielle with him, so he’s only allowed out late because of that, since she can take them both home afterwards,” she reminded her, speaking of Kitt’s elder sister, who was seventeen and had her driving license as of a few months before. 

“She could have brought me home, too! Or one of you could have picked me up!” she screamed, James frowning. 

“Lower your voice, Lyra,” he warned, watching his daughter stomp to the fridge, pulling a carton of juice out aggressively. “She couldn’t have brought you home because it meant you being out past your curfew, and that ain’t happening. Same with us picking you up. Plus, even if the time wasn’t an issue, I’m knackered and so is your mum. We drive you guys around for this and that all week. Now, be bloody told.” 

“You dad is right, love,” Ella spoke, receiving a thunderous look, “and you know you had to be in at six tonight because you’ve got homework to do, which you really should be making a start on now instead of arguing with us.” 

“I fucking hate you!” 

Oh, now she’d done it. “Oi, less of that. You ain’t getting away with swearing at your mum like that. Room. Now.” 

“But dad, I...” 

“Lyra, get upstairs. Now. I ain’t joking.” 

Grabbing her juice, she flounced from the kitchen, slamming the door so hard the glass pane rattled, James moving to behind his wife to begin kneading her shoulders. “Fancy letting those magical hands wander lower, baby?” 

He laughed dirtily. “Yeah, and I’ll follow ‘em with my mouth later on, too.” 

Tilting her head back, she kissed the side of his neck, leaning against his chest when he wrapped two massive arms around her. “I approve of this.” 

“Thought you might,” he winked. “So, good day apart from big girl being a beast?” 

“Yeah, it was great,” she replied, heaving herself up and reaching for the bottle of Merlot over on the other counter, pulling two glassed from the tall, slim cupboard beside it. “I got all the house clean, laundry caught up on, then had that one session that I needed to rebook because of my dentist trip on Thursday. I even had a nap in the bath. Woke up all bleedin’ crinkly like E.T! How about you?” 

He took the glass of wine she passed him, moving to sit down at the island next to her. Sitting felt good after an eight-kilometre walk. Their dogs agreed, neither of the potatoes moving from their spot on the rug in the lounge, where they’d flopped down as soon as they’d arrived home.  

“Yeah, had a right top grade time, with Freya being Freya. She found a bloody dead badger and didn’t even flinch. Then on the way back, she went headfirst into a massive puddle. Got most of it cleaned off her but she’s gonna need flinging into the bath.” 

Flung she was after they’d all sat down to eat together, minus a moody Lyra, who Ella had taken a plate up to and received nothing in response. Once the youngest two were bath fresh and in bed, their parents happily sank down onto the sofa to watch a film, choosing Goodfellas, one of James’s favourites.  

“Oh, can I watch this with you?” Lyra spoke, entering during the first ten minutes of the film. It was nice to hear her a little more cheerful, but then again, they could both guess it was only because she wanted something. 

“Hmm, no, sweetheart. It’s got a bit too much questionable content for a twelve-year old,” Ella spoke, after thinking on it for a few moments. She didn’t want to be overly strict a mother, but with the foul language – much worse than anything James came out with in front of the kids – and the murder, plus drug use, she didn’t feel it appropriate. 

“But you let me watch Guy Richie films and they’re full of the same!” she had argued back at her, as Ella knew she would. 

“Yes, but they’re not quite as graphically depicted.”  

A large huff left her mouth. “Treating me like a child.” 

“Newsflash, Lyra. You are one,” James offered, starting to feel his patience wearing a little thin. If Ella was being in any way unreasonable, he might understand the hostility, but in truth, she wasn’t. 

“You know what, dad? You used to be so much cooler, like even a few weeks ago but now you just take her side all the time! Tired of it!” Oh, god. Not round two. 

James merely shook his head, sighing hard through his nose. “And we’re tired of you being a drama queen over the slightest thing. Ain’t exactly like you’ve had a stifled upbringing is it, Lyra? You’ve spent virtually every summer since you were born at music festivals, we’re way more relaxed with things than our parents used to be with us, but nah. That ain’t enough, is it? Really getting tired of your shit, kid. The way you speak to your mum especially.” 

Leaving for the kitchen, her mouth threw back some further attitude. “Moody old bastard.” 

“Woah, no, no,” Ella spoke, pressing a hand to his chest and pushing him down when he went to jump off the sofa. If James was pushed too far, he had the tendency as ever to run his mouth, and loudly. Him and Lyra were entirely too similar in that respect, and it was the last thing she wanted to see happen. “Let me go, calm down.”  

She rubbed his chest fondly, leaning to kiss him before getting up, entering the kitchen. 

“What now?” Lyra snapped, Ella closing the door after her and pointing at the island. 

“Sit down.” 

“Don’t want to.” 

Her jaw tightened, eyes rounding. “I said sit down. Now.” Ella didn’t raise her voice a single octave, but the look on her face made Lyra understand loud and clear that she meant business, the girl moving to a seat, her mum standing adjacent. “Look, what you’re doing right now, all this gobbing off and pushing back against us, or rather me more often than not, I get it. You’re a teenager, it goes with the territory,” she began, Lyra rolling her eyes. 

“Here we go. Therapy bullshit,” she scoffed, Ella closing her eyes and counting to five. 

“It isn’t. This is me telling you I understand the mood swings, the challenging us. I wasn’t born at thirty-nine, Lyra. I was twelve once too, you know, and I was a gobby little cow to your nanny April as well. You need to stop throwing my job in my face at me when what I’m doing is no different to any other mother concerned for her child. And yes, you are a child still.” 

Her words were met with a sniff on nonchalance, Lyra beginning to pick at the ends of her hair as her mum continued. “Listen, you know your dad and I have been quite relaxed as far as parents go, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any rules. Life doesn’t work like that. It’d be nice if it did. I’d definitely like to tell the council to piss off on occasion with how much they bleedin’ rinse me for tax every year.” 

Despite herself, Lyra snorted, not quite able to bite back her little burst of laughter. “Suppose.” 

“If you met us halfway, too, we might be a bit more lenient with you, but as it stands, I don’t think we’re being too firm.” 

She continued the hair picking, her moment of being entertained over as the smirk returned. “Could have done that tonight and let me stay out, but no.”  

It was like running in circles, it truly was. “I’ve said all I need to on that front. Just try to meet us halfway, alright?” 

“Yeah,” she hummed, “whatever, mum.” It was a little less frosty than before, but her face said it all. While Lyra returned upstairs to head to bed, Ella collapsed onto the sofa, burying her head in James’s lap. 

“While you’re down there, little.” Emerging, she saw him wink, his grin widening considerably. “What?” 

“Dirty boy. But I will, don’t you worry. I need a damned good shagging to unwind a bit.” she spoke, turning over and stroking his thigh while continuing to watch the film. By the time they headed to bed, another few glasses of wine drunk, sleeping definitely was not on the agenda.  

In times of parenting hardship, they always had one another to fall back on. Or in that particular instance, fall onto a bed with. 

[spicymotte]

New Babylon Hellhound // Teaser 03

"Mr. Anton! It's so good to see you!" Jake's face lights up as the investigator enters the bodega. He waves and heads straight for the back shelves, while the owner's son sticks his head out from behind the counter. "Cigarettes, Mr. Anton?"

"Yup," Anton grumbles in confirmation, grabbing two large bags of dog food and slinging them over his shoulder. Jake is already busy stacking eight packs of cigarettes on top of each other and punching the numbers into the old cash register.

"Your dad's letting you run the store by yourself now?" the investigator asks, stuffing the cigarettes into his coat pocket one by one. "You think you're ready for that, boy?"

"Of course I am ready, Mr. Anton," fifteen-year-old Jake replies, a little indignant. "I've been watching and helping him for years. He had to go to the doctor this morning, and then Mom made him lie down. She says it's time for me to run the store by myself."

"Good, good." Anton fumbles in his back pocket and piles up a bunch of crumpled dollar bills on the counter. "And don't forget to charge me for the dog food."

"Of course not, Mr. Anton. Father would give me hell if I didn't do this right-" He stops himself in mid-sentence and looks sheepishly down at his hands. "No offense."

"Oh, come on." Anton waves him off. "It's no secret where I come from. Give my regards to your father."

"Will do! And come again!"

Anton leaves the small bodega and walks two buildings over. He can already hear the barking and howling from afar; a hungry pack that desperately needs to be fed. The curtains on the ground-floor windows are closed, but the fabric moves ominously and one, then two, curious dog noses appear at the window. The sound of jangling keys is enough to swell the barking into an excited chorus, and he can't open the door any wider than a narrow crack to push himself into the apartment.

"Hey, hey, he--!" He tries to calm the pack, but the smell of dog food and their beloved master pushes all twelve dogs into a state of high-pitched howls and excited barking. The door slams shut and Anton is pinned against it, surrounded by a mass of wagging tails and the sound of a dozen dog noses sniffing him to see where he's been all morning.

"Alright, alright-," he grumbles, fighting his way through the pack. "I missed you too."

As great as the joy of his homecoming is, attention quickly shifts to the bags on his shoulder. Wet noses nudge him demandingly, for breakfast time was over an hour ago - a cheeky thing to miss.

"Mrs. Li?" he asks into the apartment after he made his way to the kitchen. He rips open the first bag and takes the bowls out of the sink. "Mrs. Li, did you die while I was gone?"

"You wish!" The old lady comes in the back door and gives Anton an amused look. "I've been watering the plants in the garden. Because you don't do it."

"Plants? I don't have any plants."

"I've bought them." Mrs. Li shooed the excited pack of dogs into the living room, which was by now more of a dog room than anything else. Her old, gnarled hands lifted the remaining bag of food with ridiculous ease as Anton filled the last few bowls. "You only live on cigarettes and, oh, what, hot dogs? Shameful. So I got you some herbs and mint."

He grunts and carries an armful of bowls into the living room. The dozen dogs sit in a row on the sofa, more or less stacked on top of each other. Tails wag happily as the food is served, but only when told to do so do the dogs rush to their breakfast.

"Hey, Pearl-" Anton gently pushes the little Chihuahua lady aside as she synchronously lunges at two bowls, trying to eat from both. "Leave it. That's Newt's food." The second bowl is reluctantly released and the panting, drooling pug is finally allowed to feast to his heart's content. It is a controlled chaos in the apartment with the small garden in the backyard, a two-room apartment occupied by rescued street dogs. Anton included.

"You got up early today." Mrs. Li waves him into the kitchen, where she begins to make tea. He follows her gesture and sits down at the small kitchen table with one wobbly leg, where he lights a cigarette. The smoke quickly spreads throughout the kitchen and collects on the ceiling. Through his red sunglasses, the lampshade looks orange, for it is yellowed by all the nicotine, just like the wallpaper. The place is long overdue for a renovation…

"You have a new case." Mrs. Li reaches for his cigarettes and lights one for herself. The wrinkles in her face tighten as she grins broadly, revealing the beauty of her youth: A dragon-born lady, and she was a famous singer 220 years ago. A star in New Babylon. Now she rents the small house to Anton and takes care of the dogs when he is out there, doing his job. It is a very simple life, but she insists that it is all right. The main thing is that the rent is paid on time.

"Pretty big deal," he says. "A pixie got murdered."

"Pah! Serves them right," Mrs. Li snarls, pursing her lips slightly. "They meddle in things that don't concern them far too often. And they're good for nothing! With their sharp little teeth and these black, huge eyes-"

"Mrs. Li--," Anton sighs and straightens up, making the old wooden chair creak beneath him. He wants to tell her that he doesn't want to hear her ramble; he doesn't care how much the old woman hates the pixies - many people in New Babylon do. An unfounded hatred, in his eyes, but a widespread disease throughout the city. But the discussion with the old dragon is simply not worth it, so he ignores her words. Being involved in this case... he will have enough to do with people who have a problem with pixies down the line. "I'm going to the Silver Linings tonight. Got a message for your dear friend Maude?" Mrs. Li snorts, her nostrils huge. "Tell that bitch that she still owes me that damn money."

[vulpes-fennec]

@elainweekofficial Day 3: A snippet of the shenanigans that ensue when Elain and the Band of Exiles dog-sit Eris's smokehounds 🐶

“What in Cauldron’s name is happening?” Lucien’s hands were planted squarely on his hips as Eris Vanserra wedged past him. The High Lord of Autumn had shown up to the Band of Exiles’ manor with his entire pack of smokehounds bright and early.

“Oh!” Elain popped her head around the corner. “Good morning, Eris! Hello Isabella! Quenby! Yana and Collin!” She rubbed the passing hounds affectionately on their heads. With the dogs’ soulful brown eyes, soft and short hairs, lolling tongues, and wagging tails, who wouldn’t fall in love with them?

Eris tipped his head in acknowledgement. “Good morning, Elain.” 

“Smokehounds,” Vassa breathed in amazement, joining the throng at the door. The human queen’s sapphire eyes sparkled at the magical dogs jostling their way down the hall.

“I volunteered to watch Eris’s dogs while he went on his honeymoon,” Elain explained, turning her doe brown eyes towards Lucien. 

Lucien’s frown softened at Elain’s hopeful expression. They had only started courting very recently, taking things slowly the old-fashioned—human—way. It seemed Elain had taken the initiative to win his brother’s favor by not only memorizing all of Eris’s dogs, but by also offering to care for them.

“But agreeing to watch your dogs for the week is not the same as letting all of them move in,” Lucien protested. For Eris was unloading box after box of belongings into the living room. Beds, toys, food, treats, leashes, blankets…even little jackets. All twelve members of the pack, colored in varying shades of sleek gray, were sniffing furniture with their long, elegant noses.

“My dogs are very high maintenance,” Eris said defensively. “Besides, they like you the most out of all our brothers. You should take that as a compliment.” Eris smacked a thick packet into Lucien’s chest. Lucien flipped through the pamphlet, eyes growing wider and wider. 

“Give Collin a hot soak every night. Bridgett must be fed promptly at 6 in the evening. Silas only plays with the green wool ball. What is this?” Lucien read incredulously. 

“Those are the care instructions.” Eris rolled his eyes, implying obviously at the end of his response.

“You have twenty pages of—” 

“I don’t want to hear it, Lucien,” Vassa interrupted, giving Lucien a queenly stare with her blazing blue eyes. “I approved of having the dogs come over as well. I hope you enjoy your honeymoon, Lord Eris.” She bowed her head at the Autumn High Lord.

“Dogs!” Jurian’s voice echoed from the hall. “They’re here!” 

“Oh gods, here he comes,” Lucien groaned. The Mad General barreled into the room, his shoulder-length brown hair frazzled, shirt half-buttoned.

“I love dogs,” Jurian said enthusiastically as the hounds jumped up and down excitedly at the prospect of a new friend. “I used to be a dog whisperer back in the day.” 

“I’m sure you were,” Vassa muttered under her breath. 

“Saoirse, down,” Eris commanded as one of the females practically bowled Jurian over. “You know better than to jump on strangers.” 

“I’m sure they won’t remain strangers for long,” Elain giggled as Saoirse licked Jurian’s face eagerly. Vassa and Jurian’s faces bore huge smiles as they gave each hound plenty of attention.

After several minutes, Lucien looked at Eris expectantly. “Well, what are you waiting for? Don’t you have a honeymoon to pack for?” 

“I don’t want to leave them,” Eris said gruffly, turning away. 

“Please don’t tell me you’re crying.” Lucien sighed, rolling his eyes.  

“You wouldn’t understand, baby brother,” Eris snapped, wiping his eyes. “When you have children one day, you will feel the same way.” Elain blushed at the implication of Lucien with children. 

“They’ll be fine, Eris. I’m sure they’ll forget all about you soon enough.” 

“Lucien, don’t be cruel.” Elain swatted Lucien’s arm. “Your dogs will be in good hands, don’t you worry, Eris. Time will fly by sooner than you think.”  

Eris sniffled, glaring at his brother. “Thank you, Elain. At least someone here has some compassion.” 

***

Lunchtime feeding had been utter chaos. 

“Sit! Sit!” Jurian had instructed repeatedly. “You’re not getting food until you sit!” The hounds only wagged their tails at him, not a single coherent thought behind their eyes. 

Of course, they only listened to Lucien, whose flaming red hair and cadence of voice was most similar to their master’s. The fae male managed to get the hounds—Arienne, Bridgette, Collin, Erick, Isabella, Lea, Mateo, Phillipe, Quenby, Silas, Victoria, and Yana—chowing down grains, vegetables, and premium cuts of meat in somewhat orderly fashion.  

Now that it was afternoon, Elain and Vassa lounged on the lawn, watching Jurian and Lucien play with the dogs. An hour of strenuous exercise per day, Eris had instructed. Jurian and Lucien were both hardy warriors, but the dogs’ boundless energy seemed to be running them ragged. 

Several smokehounds—Phillipe, Isabella, and Arienne—ambled around, taking their garden sniffs very seriously. Elain kept a careful eye on them, making sure they did not ingest any of her carefully cultivated plants. 

Lea and Erick sat beside her on the soft blanket, their sweet eyes gazing as she munched on cookies and miniature cakes. “Sorry, darlings,” Elain apologized, “no snacks for you.” 

“Give the dog a little treat,” Vassa grumbled, her nose buried in a book. “They deserve the world.” 

Elain frowned. “Eris would not forgive me if he came back and found them several pounds heavier.” 

Vassa rolled her eyes with the confidence of a self-assured queen. “Trust me, you should be more concerned about getting Daphne and Helion’s approval. Lucien’s parents, remember?” 

Elain gave her friend a pointed glare as she threaded daisies into a chain. “Trust you? You’ve never had to meet Jurian’s parents.”  

“Fine, you have a point there. But why wouldn’t Lucien prioritize what his mother and his newly-found father, the High Lord of Day, think?” 

Elain dropped the daisy crown onto Lea’s head. The hound tucked its snout between its paws contentedly. She chewed her lip worriedly. “Do you think he—” 

Vassa waved her hand. “Oh, goodness, no. That male? He’s clearly in love with you. And you clearly possess strong feelings for him. Why you want to take things at a snail’s pace—”

“Snail’s pace!” Elain sputtered.

“Yes, Elain Archeron,” she intoned slowly. “The main characters in this novel have only known each other for six days, and they’re fucking already. You and Lucien have known each other for three years…have you even kissed?”

“Of-of course we have! I am not a prude!” 

Vassa tapped the cover of the book she was reading. Selkie’s Cove by Sellyn Drake. “This is a great story, by the way. Here, you should read it. For some inspiration.” The human queen winked, making Elain blush at its implication. 

Elain cocked her head. “Do you hear that?” 

“Hear what?” The sound of distant yelling grew closer and closer. It was Jurian. 

“Aaaahhhh!! Help meee!!” The human general came sprinting out of the woods, three smokehounds hot on his heels. Jurian zig-zagged around tree stumps and hopped over muddy patches, commanding the dogs to stop chasing him. Unfortunately, that only seemed to excite them more.

“Some dog whisperer you are,” Elain called out to Jurian. 

“Stop running!” Vassa shouted. “Use your assertive general voice, Jurian!” 

“Afternoon, ladies.” Lucien jogged over, grinning mischievously. 

“Something tells me you know why the smokehounds won’t leave Jurian alone,” Elain’s brown eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

“I may have slipped a piece of beef jerky into his pocket,” Lucien laughed softly. “He’s been lagging during our sparring sessions, so I figured he needed to work on his stamina.” 

“Stamina?” Elain nudged Vassa with a sneaky grin. 

***

Preparing dinner for twelve hungry hounds had been no easy feat. Thankfully, Jurian and Lucien’s expert knife skills had the vegetables and meat chopped up within half an hour. Promptly at 6 in the evening, per Eris’s demands.  

Vassa brushed Arienne and Quenby’s shiny coats with a soft bristle brush, while Elain read Selkie’s Cove by the crackling fireplace. Silas had his head on her lap, while Phillipe dozed off next to her. Lucien and Jurian were somewhere in the kitchen, opening up bottles of wine. A cozy night seemed to be in store.

“Hey, you! Mateo! Or is it Erick?” Jurian rushed into the room, for a smokehound was standing on the pink couch. 

“It’s Erick,” Elain remarked distractedly, engrossed with the utterly sinful smut. “Can’t you tell?”

“Well Erick is peeing on the couch!” Jurian wailed. “Shoo! Shoo!” The smokehound jumped off the hot pink cushion without a care in the world. Jurian dabbed at the dark stain with a cloth towel. 

“Good riddance,” Elain said offhandedly, returning to the book. “It was about time that pink monstrosity was disposed of.”

“What is happening?” Lucien sighed for the umpteenth time that day. 

“My couch! Noo!!” Jurian howled. The smokehounds around him howled in unison, bringing out a fresh round of giggles from Vassa and Elain.

Lucien ran his hands through his long hair, groaning, “I’ll bill Eris for another couch, Jurian.” 

Elain glanced up at Lucien, eyes glimmering with delight. “As long as it’s not pink, right?” she said innocently. “It was a shit interior design choice.”

[roosterbox]

The Hannibal watching finally resumes! I might have gotten back to it in December, but that month SUUUUUCKED for me, in ways I cannot begin to summarize.

But this is a new month. A new year, even! And I am ready.

Also I took notes

Season 2! We in it baybeeeee

Hanni doing what he does best - slicing dat meat

Oh hai Jack

Reflections

Oh shit son

The girls are FIGHTING

One one hand, go Hannibal. On the other, FUCK HIM UP JACK

Oh damn, DAYUM, Jack just fucking BODIES him, Jesus

Jack with the tie garrote for the win… hold up!

Glass to the neck! Ah, who could have seen it coming?

Jack: *record scratch* yeah that’s me. You’re probably wondering how I got here…

Twelve weeks earlier…

So is this entire season just flashbacks to show how we get from the end of season one to Mizumono? Because okay, that’s a way to do it I suppose.

Moar meat

Oooooh sea urchin too

Hai again Jack

Title drop

“I never feel guilty eating anything.” Lol Hannibal

Talking about Will. Jack feels guilty, AS HE SHOULD.

Hanni says investigate me, bitch

My baby boyyyyyyy ❤️

Him fish

The stag. He’s thinking of Hannibal.

Ah, Chilton! You look a lot better than the last time I saw you, lol.

Also, surviving what you did? Respect.

Speaking of Chilton, what an asshole. He’s only saved in the series because he’s played by Raul Esparza, but movie Chilton? No redeeming qualities. ZERO.

Cynthia Nixon!

She’s an administrator, huh?

Everybody trying to figure out what went wrong with Will. It starts with an H and ends with annibal

New case!

Poor guys, lol

Bedelia!

Hanni just wants to see bae

“I miss him.” *screeching into the void*

“Will is my friend.” *currently emitting a noise only dogs can hear*

Hanni: hey boo

Will: alright time to seduce a cannibal how hard can it be?

Light years from friendship, lol okay sure Will

Oh shit, damn. Will with clarity is hot as fuuuuuuuck. Hannibal doesn’t stand a chance.

Y’know, I like Mads Mikkelsen as much as the next guy, but that’s a liiiiiittle close for me

BEV! God I love her. And don’t worry, I know the terrible irony in my saying that. I’m not going into this series COMPLETELY blind, after all

“It’ll be your evidence that convicts Will.” Boy she sure looks happy about that, lol.

Time to see how the other half lives, eh Hanni?

Water bloated bodies, lovely

I love fountain pens

I think Hannibal is very turned on that Will knows him, in a sense.

I ❤️ Gillian Anderson

Seeing these interactions between Hanni and Bedelia, I can more easily accept them running off to Europe together. Bedennibal doesn’t hold a candle to Hannigram, of course.

THE DOGS ❤️❤️❤️

Winston!!!!1!! He goes home to wait for Will 😭😭😭

That’s right, blame the encephalitis

Chilton you motherfucker

Hypnosis time

Dang Will, this is so not relaxing, lol

Quite a feast

EAR

more food! And vegetarian this time! Hannibal, you’re branching out!

Will won’t talk to Chilton - he’s a smart cookie

Hannibal: he thinks of me so much? Awwww boo…

Packed subway train. Thank god I’ve never been on one. So many people near me would give me a freaking mental breakdown.

“Nice skin.” Asdfjklbfjblk this is exactly what would happen, my mind tells me

That guy’s probably dead

Inside the mind of a killer. Would be creepy if the show wasn’t named after the baddest killer of them all, lol.

Hey Zeller!

Jimmy! I love you too! Always gotta show love to one of the Kids in the Hall

Bev is still thinking 🤔

I freaking love Bev and Will’s friendship, seriously

Getting a consult

Ah, prison food. Not like the stuff hanni made for you, huh?

So… Hannibal forces a long pipe down Will’s throat. At what point exactly does this stop being subtle?

Wait, was it even supposed to be subtle? Lmaooo. (I am aware it was not)

And that’s the story of the ear

Jack, feeling contemplative. Still wondering what went wrong.

I’m still crying over Winston *sobs*

I still like Alana, dang it.

“Hannibal’s not guilty.” Lmaooo Jack you are a leading FBI agent, this isn’t a good look for you, my dude.

Side note: I love Jack, partially because he’s Laurence Fishburne, but even the Scott Glenn one is alright. But he is kind of a dick.

Moar fishing

Dreaming about Jack - Hanni would be so jealous, lol

My blorbo ❤️

Hannibal just stares at Will’s empty chair, lmaooo this pining loser

Is this the exact moment where it hits home for Hannibal that Will being in jail means he can’t see him as much? Lol.

Oh dang, my dude is still alive! What a fucking trooper.

That is quite a display of bodies.

And that’s Kaiseki, finished. Good cliffhanger, lol

(btw the fact that my twelfth note is the twelve weeks earlier caption? A happy accident, I assure you.)

[ficsforeren]

The Last Song - Chapter 12

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader feat. Armin Arlert

Genre: Rockstar AU, Friends with Benefits, Angst, Smut, Fluff, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn

Series Summary: Eren Jaeger has two personas, a charismatic lead vocal who has lost himself in fame, and a boy who struggles with depression, seeking for someone to bring him back to where he was twelve years ago. Where he only knew love in the form of your name.

Chapter Summary: What starts out as something that's filled with nothing but passion, turns into something intimate. And as you lay with him on your bed, legs tangled underneath the sheets, Eren decides to open up about his past.

Content Warnings: explicit sex (cunnilingus, blow job, fingering, hand job, car sex, dry humping, drunk sex, public sex, unprotected sex, one night stand, choking, treating women like objects, dub-con, corruption, face-sitting, sex toys, daddy kink, praise kink, slight degradation, etc), substance abuse (use of drugs, alcohol, tobacco), severe abandonment issues, childhood trauma, anxiety attacks, depression, adultery, physical abuse towards men and women, family issues, abusive parents, crude words, dark humor, mention of sexual assault/rape, harassment, car accident and child abuse.

Poster art by the most talented @rainbuniart (follow her on Twitter)

“Do you think I’m getting fat?”

You sneak a glance at the owner of the seductive husky voice who’s leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom. Twenty-five years old Eren Jaeger has his black Puma track pants hanging low on his hips, his bare chest still glistening with sweat after completing six sets of push-ups five minutes ago.

“You’re asking me if you’re getting fat?” You revert your eyes to your dresser, choosing a few outfits to pack into your suitcase. “Is that supposed to be a joke?” You know better not to take a glimpse of him when he’s shirtless like this to avoid losing track of the conversation. Especially when the little love bites that you painted on his skin the night before are showing more vividly this time. You were considerate enough not to leave any on his neck, but the scratch marks on his back and the little bites on his shoulders are turning purplish, enough to make anyone who sees them wince in both pain and repulsion. You’re usually not the type of person who got wickedly aroused from leaving bruises on your partner’s body—unlike Eren who found it to be such a huge turn-on to see angry red marks blooming on your skin—but last night… Last night was different.

“Hurt me,” he said with his hand curling around the front of your throat. His hips moved erratically against yours, pushing your body up against the headboard and it took all of you to focus on your breathing and match his pace, legs tangling tightly around his waist to allow him to penetrate you deeper. “Claw at my back. Bite me. Get possessive of me, baby, I want you to know that every part of me is yours to take.”

“But what if—“ You let out a startled gasp once he slid his hand down your navel, two slick fingers rubbing mercilessly against your clit. “What if someone sees them?”

“See, what? Your marks on me?” Seeing you timidly nod, his lips curved up into a smirk that was both sultry and dangerous. He fucked you harder, making you cry out his name. “I want them to see. I want everyone to know that I’m yours. Want them to know who fucking owns me.” He kissed you roughly, teeth nipping against your lip, tongue sliding against yours. When he broke away, his hips never stopping, he growled next to your ear. “And who fucking owns you.”

“I think I’m getting fatter these days.” Eren’s much lighter voice cut your flashback short, kicking you back to reality. You shift away from his line of view, praying for your heartbeat to return to its normal pace as your cheeks went into flames. “I really should lay off those hot dogs,” he continues, unaware of the dirty thoughts that just ran through your brain. He’s got a bottle of mineral water in one hand, bringing it closer to his lips. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he takes three big gulps, few droplets of water drip down to his chin, sliding down to his chest.

“Eren, you’re not fat.” You silently thank the Lord for not making fool out of yourself, standing on your tiptoes as you retrieve your beach hat from the top drawer. “If you’re fat, what does that make me?”

“You’re perfect,” he says, so casually with his arms crossed in front of him, laying one shoulder against the doorframe. “Even if you do get fatter, I would love it. More ass to squeeze for me during sex.”

“Please stop talking.”

“Sorry.” He chuckles, airy and gleeful. He sounds nothing like how he was in bed last night. Eren seems to be in a good mood today, which brings your smile to rise to your lips as well. “I don’t know, I just feel like my stomach is getting flabby ‘cause I haven’t been hitting the gym.”

“You literally have, like, twelve-packs of abs.”

“I still need to exercise more often. Hey, why don’t we—”

“I’m not doing any more sex with you today, Eren. My back is killing me.”

“I wasn’t thinking about that.” He rolls his eyes, but once the idea sinks in, he has to admit it’s a much more tempting offer. “Well, now I’m thinking about it. But honestly, I was just about to ask you to go for a run. Maybe we can get some hot dogs on our way back? It will be fun.”

“You literally just said you should lay off them.” You shake your head in amusement. “Maybe tomorrow? I have plans today.”

“Plans that are better than having hot dogs and a hot, sweaty sex in the shower with me afterward?”

You give him a scolding look and receive a naughty wink in return. “Yes, actually. As tempting as having shampoo in my eyes while you fuck me from behind, I do have better plans.”

“What, you’re going somewhere?”

“Yeah,” you reply, placing your swimsuit and a fresh new towel inside your suitcase. “I’m heading out to the beach.”

“Wait—Is that a bikini?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“But isn’t that, like,” Eren places his bottle away, sticking his hands into his pockets as he strolls closer. His eyebrows are furrowed in concern. “Too… revealing?”

You simply shrug. “It covers the parts it needs to cover.”

Eren snorts, clearly unsatisfied with your answer. A bit disgusted too, even. “And you’re gonna be wearing that in public?”

“No, Eren. I’m gonna wear it in my room. Alone. As I cry watching The Notebook for the fifteenth time on my iPad.” You playfully roll your eyes and he responds by narrowing his. Irked by your sarcasm, he moves to take a seat at the edge of your bed, unwinding his hair tie just to card his fingers through them before he ties them up in a bun once again. You can’t help but take a double look. It’s funny how something so trivial like tying his hair up can look so sexy when he’s shirtless. The way his back muscles ripple underneath beautiful golden skin, his biceps contracting—

“What?” He asks, noticing you’re staring.

You just look so goddamn hot when you’re tying up your hair. “Guess your stomach is getting flabby.”

“Oh, shit, for real?” He jumps back to his feet, pinching the thin—barely existing—layer of fat on his abdomen and showcasing more of those beautiful, prominent v-lines of his. Clearly, he’s oblivious to the fact that you just said that to hide your embarrassment. “Fuck me. Guess I gotta spend a whole day at the gym tomorrow.” Sighing, he throws himself on the bed, lying on his back with his arms spreading wide. “I thought you were going to stay home and finish your article today.”

“Get off my bed, you’re sweaty.” He ignores you. “I thought so too, but my deadline isn’t until, like, three days from now, so I’ll be fine. Pieck just invited me like fifteen minutes ago and since you were going to be busy for the rest of the day anyway, I thought why not just go hang out with my friends for the weekend?”

“Do these friends of yours—” Eren turns around to his side to face you, propping an elbow against the sheets as he puts an effort to sound as nonchalantly as possible. “—also, I don’t know, include guys or is it just like a girls’ day out or something?”

You stop what you’re doing, smiling a little to yourself as you close your suitcase. You take a seat on the edge of your bed, staring at him until he grows uncomfortable. “What?”

“Nothing,” you reply, holding back a smile. “Just thought you’re acting like a possessive boyfriend, that’s all.”

“I—” He chokes, immediately breaking eye contact. Even with the amount of melanin he has, his blush still comes out pretty apparent on his skin. “I was just… curious.”

You simply hum, nodding your head. “Well then, to answer your curiosity, my good Sir,” you emphasize with a snicker, “There will be a few male co-workers there, yes.”

“Is… Armin going to be there too?”

It still feels awkward to have his name being thrown into the conversation, but no matter how often you’d tried to convince him that nothing was going on between you and Armin, Eren still couldn’t let the matter go just like that. It’s not like he doesn’t trust you—of course, he does. It’s just that his insecurities are screaming at him, making him anxious and paranoid that you’d see more of his flaws and find comfort in Armin’s charming personality instead. You can understand how he feels, you suppose. You would’ve gone insane if he told you that he’d spend a day hanging out with Mikasa on the beach. But it’s only because you’ve fallen for him, right?

Things would be better if you could just tell him how you’ve been feeling about him lately. This need to have him to yourself, to love him, and for him to love you like you’re the only person he’s ever loved. But at the end of the day, you’re a girl and you have your ego to protect. You’re not going to be the first one who confesses, especially not when you’re still unsure of what you want to do afterward.

So, if he’s been trying to make you fall for him, why don’t you just do the same? Let him take the first step.

“Indeed, yes,” you tell him with an innocent smile when your lips are just itching to form a mischievous smirk. Truth is, you haven’t received any response from Armin just yet, but you sincerely hope he would show up. Wanting that pout to grow more evident on his face, you add, “Armin will be there at the party.”

And you’re right, not only does his pout turns prominent, his frown deepens. “Wait—a party?”

“Yeah. Porco has a beach house and we’re planning to have a little bonfire party over there. You know, have some barbecue, light up fireworks at night, tell ghost stories. Fun stuff.”

“Oh…” The blush disappears and now he turns a bit pale. “Will there be alcohol?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And you’re gonna drink?”

“You expect me not to?”

His voice grows quiet, almost like he’s mumbling to himself. “I’d like it better if you don’t.”

God, he’s cute. You chew on your lower lip to stop you from breaking into laughter. “They probably have some coke over there,” you assure him and his eyes slightly light up in relief. “Anything else you want to warn me about, Dad?”

“I’m not warning you about anything,” he scoffs, raising his chin. “I’m just, you know, being a friend.”

“Right, right. So, you’re okay with me wearing that bikini in front of my male co-workers?”

He tries his best not to be so transparent, but even though he manages to hold back his glower, his nose still flares in anger. “Now you’re just teasing me, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” Your giggle escapes you as you jump back to your feet. “Chill, Eren. Pieck’s gonna be there too and I’m sure she’ll get all the attention.”

“Why’s that?”

“‘Cause, she’s beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you, though.”

Your hands lay still on your suitcase as you try to ignore the little jerk your heart just did. How can he make every praise sounds so natural? “Is this one of your lousy attempts at trying to make me fall for you?”

“No, I was just being honest.”

And maybe that’s it. It’s because he wasn’t praising you. He was just stating out facts. Damn it, you curse inwardly, ignoring how hot your face feels at the moment. You gather your phone in one hand, scrolling through your notes as you mumble to yourself, “Okay, so what else do I have to bring?”

Without warning, Eren snatches your phone away and tosses it to the bed. “Hey, I was—” He stands on his knees, his hand taking you by the nape and pulls you forward. He slants your mouths together, talented lips parting yours to let you know the minty taste of his toothpaste on his tongue. He hooks one hand around your waist, yanking you close until you’re chest to chest before he spins you around, pushing your body down to the bed with him hovering above yours. He has his fingers framing your jawline, his right hand sliding down to caress the curve of your ass. “Eren, wait—”

“I want you,” he breathily says against your mouth, his fingers already gripping the end of your shirt.

“Now?” It sounds like a protest but you lift your hands in the air, allowing him to shed the fabric off your body.

“Now,” he confirms, large palm cupping your breast over your lingerie. His mouth is plastered to your neck, wet and hot as he maps his way down to your collarbones.

“Wait, I thought you said—” You squirm, arching your back a little when you feel his fingers gliding along your spine. He pops your bra open within seconds, dragging it away from your arms, and tosses it carelessly over his shoulder. “Eren, I thought you said you had a band practice in an hour—”

“I’ve practiced enough.” Even if it doesn’t make sense, he leaves no room for you to argue.

You attempt to push him away by the shoulders but with the way he’s sucking firmly around your nipple, you feel like it’s already everything you can do just to keep your head running. Eren pins you down against the sheets, tying your wrists together and holding them above your head with one hand, while his other one slips underneath your shorts. “Wait—”

He’s not stopping, taking the rest of your words away with his tongue hungrily swirling around yours. His fingers are rubbing against your clit from above your panties, already memorizing the way you like it. Your body responds to him naturally, like how it always does. He pushes your underwear to the side, breaking off the kiss just so he can bring two of his fingers into his mouth and coat them with saliva. “Eren—“

“Ssshhh,” he smirks. “I’ll be quick, baby. Wouldn’t want you to be late for your bonfire party now, would we?”

It’s not the first time you’ve seen him being possessive over you, and while it is somehow crossing the lines as you two aren’t exclusively dating, you always find him to be a thousand times hotter when he’s jealous. The way he’s so dominating, so dangerously aggressive, so naughty and obscene, light the fireworks in your stomach.

“F-fifteen minutes,” you gasp out when he eases not one, but two fingers deep inside you. “Fifteen minutes max.”

He chuckles, taking your earlobe between his teeth. “I’ll make you come in ten.”

Eren is never gentle when he’s jealous but that’s what makes it so much hotter. After all of the sweet, vanilla sex you’ve had with him, your body craves for the thrill that comes with the little pain among the pleasure he gives you. Eren knows well enough not to cross your limit. You don’t need a safe word. One look at you and he can already tell whether you want to stop or want him to go harder.

Just like now.

Eren pumps his fingers fast and deep, sliding them in and out of you until you’re clutching hard against his shoulders. “Fuck—Eren—” You can’t form a sentence, can only gasp his name, moan his name, just the way he loves it. He crooks his fingers inside, scissoring them, and applying pressure to your clit with his thumb. His mouth is painting bruises on your neck, teeth gritting against your sensitive skin and that sensation finally brings you back to reality.

“Wait—” You struggle to break free. “Don’t leave marks on my neck—mmph!”

Retracting his fingers from you, he plunges them into your mouth, forcing you to have a taste of yourself as he lowers his head, peppering sultry kisses on your throat. On the next second, Eren parts his lips and sinks his teeth on the part where your neck meets your shoulder. You let out a yelp, both in pain and surprise but he presses his digits flat on your tongue, silencing you effectively. You try to retaliate by kicking him off with your legs but he doesn’t budge. You’re not even strong enough to release your wrists from his hold.

Eren trails his mouth upward, now sucking a huge, nasty bruise on the side of your neck. A mix between a low moan and a growl escapes from the back of his throat as he takes your supple skin between his teeth. Once he’s finished, he breaks away, licking his lips as he marvels satisfyingly at his work.

He simpers, taking his fingers away from your mouth. “Now, you look even prettier.”

The pain still throbs on your skin, and you glare menacingly at him, baring your teeth. “You’re an assho—”

You’re cut off short when Eren brings his fingers down to abuse your clitoris once again, rubbing circular motions in a way that has you closing your legs around his hand. “What was that, Sweetheart?” He taunts but you can’t answer, just focusing on reaching your high because with the way he’s working his fingers on you, his pads probing against your entrance once again, you know it will only take a minute or two before you do.

Eren retracts his fingers, brings them into his mouth, and hollows his cheeks around them. He darts out his tongue, licking your juices off his digits, never taking his eyes away from yours as he does it. “You seem unsatisfied,” he coos. “Want me to fuck you with my tongue, baby?”

Okay, maybe you can even come within seconds. With scarlet cheeks, you nod. “P-please.”

Despite his merciless teasing, Eren is kind enough to fulfill your wish. Before long, you have your legs squeezing around his head, your fingers tangled in his strands. Now that you’ve done this a million times by now, you’re less embarrassed with what you’re doing. You use him as much as you please, grinding your hips against his face, moaning when the tip of his nose rubs against your clit. “Fuck, Eren—don’t stop—“

You’re ready, so fucking close to reaching your orgasm when Eren suddenly breaks away, wiping his glistening chin with the back of his hand as he sits on his heels. Your jaw hangs low on your face, gawking at him in disbelief. “Eren, what the hell—”

“You know what,” he says like he just remembers something, playing innocent. “I do kinda have to practice. You know, ‘cause we got some new songs to perform.”

And after he lands a cute peck on your cheek, he jumps down the bed, snatching a towel before he makes his way to the bathroom. “Tell Pieck I said hi,” he says, smirking as he hangs the towel around his shoulders with one hand pushing the door open. “Oh, by the way,” he stops, propping an arm against the doorframe. “It’s gonna show.” Seeing you frown, he taps one finger to his neck. “Maybe you should start packing a turtleneck shirt too, just in case?”

“EREN, I’M GONNA KILL YOU!”

***

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Pieck Finger nearly drops her magazine when she sees you walking to her spot wearing nothing but a pair of flip-flops, your string bikini bottom, and a salmon-pink turtleneck sweater with collar high enough to graze your jawline. She steps down from her beach chair, dipping her toes in the sand with her sunglasses pushed back to her head. As expected, Pieck looks unworldly beautiful in her backless halter bikini top, and you sigh, wishing you could do the same.

“Baby, baby, baby,” she approaches you, looking both concerned and ashamed for your sake. “I love you, but are you insane?!”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you grumble, throwing your bag on the sand and plop yourself down on the other chair, exhaling in bliss once the parasol above you provides enough shade for you to cool off.

“Honey, for the love of God, please take your top off,” Pieck pleads, wincing at the sight of you fanning your face with a paper fan. “I’m already sweating just by looking at you right now.”

“Can’t.”

“Why?”

Impatient and just painfully dying from the heat, you harshly tug on your collar, revealing the huge, nasty bruise Eren left four hours ago. “Sheesh,” she hisses, wincing. “Damn girl, what, did you get bitten by a dog or something? That looks too nasty to be a hickey.”

“Yeah, a huge, super annoying dog,” you mutter in vexation, snatching your phone from your tote bag. Checking on your messages, your shoulders slump when your eyes scan through Armin’s chats.

I’m sorry, but I can’t go today. I have a photo shoot scheduled in a few hours. Thank you for inviting me. I’ll be sure to go next time. - Armin.

It sounds a little bit too formal than usual, and perhaps it’s wrong to think about it this way but to you, his words feel too much like an excuse than an apology. This is the third time he has declined your invitation to spend some time together. You haven’t seen him in person ever since Eren came home two weeks ago.

The two of you still text each other every day, and every time Eren isn’t around, you make sure to give him a call. Armin sounded the same over the phone, with his nervous little laughter, his stammers, and his endearing awkwardness. Every call usually took an hour before it ended on a warm note, with your voice turning raspy from rambling too much about the latest book he told you to read (every recommendation he gave was brilliant). But something still feels off, like you’re missing a huge chunk of what makes you and Armin as close as you were two weeks ago.

Armin doesn't talk much about his personal matters or his feelings, especially ones that involve you. When you told him, “I miss you,” it took him a few unbearable seconds to answer, and it only come in a form of a whisper, “I miss you too,” as if he was afraid that saying it out loud would break the walls he’d been placing around himself. The walls that he had built to stop himself from loving you even harder, knowing that you were falling for someone else. And it hurts you, to know that you’re losing your best friend over romantic feelings. And the same goes with Eren too.

No, you tell yourself. Stop thinking about your stupid love life for a second and just have fun.

Fortunately for you, waves of laughter coming from the female passersby who are looking so fresh and comfortable in their bikinis manage to serve as a distraction. A bit more annoyingly than you would’ve wanted, but it's a distraction, nonetheless. “See, that’s not fair!” You throw both hands in the air, frustrated. “I could’ve worn something like that! God, I hate him so much for making me go through this! You know what I’m gonna do?”

“Bite his dick off?” Pieck offers.

“I’m going to pay him back for this. Ten times worse!”

“Yeah?” She reclaims her seat, offering you a beer from her cool box. “How?”

“I don’t know, like, steal his credit card and go buy myself a Porsche or something,” you mutter without thinking, still too furious to be planning your revenge at the time. Pieck simply chuckles, cracking open her bottle, and clanks it against yours before you both take a sip, moaning in content when the icy beer washes the burning in your throat.

“You know what you should do?” Pieck smacks her lips, staring into the distance to spot Porco Galliard and three other males playing beach volleyball with cheeky grins flashing on their faces.

“What?”

“Tell him you’re pregnant.”

You almost choke. “I—sorry?!”

“Yeah. To guys, it’s like the worst thing that can happen. Here, let me show you.” She hands you her bottle before she cups her hands around her mouth, shouting, “Pokko! HEY, POKKO!”

The blond-haired male turns his head, and once he sees Pieck waving her hand at him, he excuses himself from the game and runs to your spot. “Did you call me?” He asks a bit breathlessly, running a hand through his slicked-back hair. You know you’ve been friends with Porco for about a year and a half by now, but this is the first time you’ve seen him up-close without wearing his usual dress shirt. He’s maybe not as tall as Eren—he’s a little bit lacking in the legs department—but he’s just as lean and has enough muscles in his abdomens to distract you from anything else for a good five seconds.

“Yeah, I wanted to tell you something.” Pieck stands back on her feet, lacing her hands together as she acts nervous before him. “Porco—“

“Oh no,” he already panics, analyzing her with his thick eyebrows knitted together. “You’re calling me by my name. This is serious, isn't it? What’s wrong? Is my goldfish dead? Pieck, it only has been three days since I lent it to you! You can’t do this to me!”

You pull your knees to your chest, hiding the bottom half of your face behind them as you can feel your smile breaking.

“Porco,” Pieck tries again, face solemn as she tucks her hair behind her ear. “I know this isn’t the best time but I just spoke to her about this and she said I should tell you this as soon as possible.”

“Pieck, you’re scaring me.” A bead of sweat rolls down to his chin and you wonder whether it’s because of the game he just played or if he’s just breaking into a cold sweat. “Don’t tell me you—”

“I’m pregnant.”

“—gave me chlamydia,” Porco finishes at the same time but once he hears her words, the horror in his eyes increases by tenfolds. “You—what?!” He takes a step back, his hand going to his heart as his breathing turns rapid. “You’re pregnant? You’re pregnant?! You—I—how—when—”

Pieck turns around to face you, cocking her head in Porco’s direction with a smug grin written on her face. “See?”

“Yeah, I get your point,” you mutter, grimacing at the sight of the male still spouting out words behind her. “Now go tell him it’s a joke. He looks like he’s dying over there.”

But is it okay, though? To lie about something like that to Eren? Would it make you sound heartless? Insensitive? You feel like it’s a little bit too harsh to play it off as a joke, but then again, you’re also curious about how Eren will react in that situation. Will he panic like Porco? Will he try to find his way out of it? Will he leave you? No, it doesn’t sound like him.

What if he wants to take responsibility for it? You think, your cheeks heating up and you’re sure it’s not because of the blazing sun sitting above you. What if he wants to keep the baby?

You’re brought back from your daydream by the sound of Pieck yelping in pain when Porco pinches her nose. “Don’t ever lie about that to me again,” he warns her. “Ever.” He lets her go once she promises him so, and with that, Porco finally brings his attention to you. “Dude, it’s like forty degrees out here, why are you wearing a sweater?”

With a flat stare, you tell him, “Porco, I’m pregnant and it’s yours.”

***

“Eren, I’m late.”

You wait with your phone strapped to your ear, hearing some rustling sounds in the background and Eren muttering, “Fuck,” under his breath. By the sound of glass clanking and him hissing in pain, he probably just pours some hot coffee on himself. Eren stayed in his flat last night which is very rare as he usually just spent his nights at your place, but this makes it a lot easier. You’re sure that he can see through your lies if you tell him in person.

He sounds a bit breathless when he speaks to the phone. “Sorry, just spilled some coffee.” You’re impressed with yourself but you’re too nervous to even cast a smile. “Late for what?”

Okay, you should’ve chosen a better word knowing how gullible he can be sometimes. Taking a deep breath, you gather every bit of acting skill you own from the acting classes you took in fifth grade. When you speak, it comes as a shaky whisper.

“I’m pregnant.”

One, two, three. How many seconds have passed by in silence? You can hear his breathing turns heavy, as well as the little shiver in his voice when he vocalizes a weak, “What?”

He’s panicking, you can tell, but so are you. Somehow, even after it took Pieck the entire beach trip for her to convince you that this was the best prank to pull on him, you’re still not sure whether it’s right. But now that you’re already at this point, there’s no other choice but to continue. “Eren, did you hear me?” You repeat the question again, softly. “I said, I’m pregnant.”

“No, I heard you—it's just—” There’s another sound of glass clattering against marble, and you’re guessing, he’s placing his cup down with fumbling fingers. “It’s… Uhh… How? W-when?” He clears his throat. “How?”

“Well, when we have sex, it bounds to happen, I guess.”

“But—didn’t you—birth controls pills—didn’t you take those?”

He’s stammering like crazy and it makes it even harder for you to keep deceiving him. “Yeah, but I have to take one every day to make sure it works properly and I guess... I forgot to take one on the day we had sex.”

It takes an unendurable half a minute for Eren to just mumble a low, “Huh…”

You’re a breath away from ending all of this and come clean but your curiosity is eating you up inside. You want to know his reaction toward this. “Eren, are you okay?”

He doesn’t say a word. He probably can’t due to his jumbled thoughts, seeing how he’s been stuttering for the last minute.

“I wasn’t sure before so I went to see a doctor. And it turns out I’ve been pregnant for three months now,” you read the notes you wrote a few days before, one that’s already been reviewed and approved by Pieck. “I haven’t had any morning sickness or anything, so I didn’t know I was carrying your baby.”

You can hear the way he breathes sharply at your last two words.

“I know this must be hard for you to take in.” Eren, I’m sorry. “Honestly, I’m still processing everything myself—my fingers are shaking right now.” They are, but from lying over such an important thing like this.

Eren still resides in silence, probably drowning in his thoughts and having the hardest time trying to bring himself back to the surface.

“Look, I’m only calling to let you know,” you continue, sounding like you’re filled with disappointment when you’re sinking deep in guilt. “And it’s fine, you don’t have to take responsibility for it.”

Only then does he begin to speak. “What?”

“It’s fine, Eren. I’m not planning to keep the baby.” You perform an act, making sure that you sound like your heart is breaking. “It’s… I’ve signed up for an abortion.”

Somehow, the silence hits differently this time.

“Eren..?” you tentatively call, panic arises in your chest. Is he angry? Sad? Relieved? Which one is it? “Will you say something, please?”

You have three guesses of how he might reply. One, I don’t know what to say. Two, I still can’t believe this is happening. Three, we can’t talk about this over the phone, I’m heading to your place now. The third one seems to be the most plausible knowing how he’s been treating you so far, and you’re ready for it. So when he takes a deep breath and says, “I gotta go,” you’re stunned to your toes.

Then the line gets disconnected.

***

Eren hasn’t contacted you in fourteen hours by now—still counting. Sunrise turns into sunset and now it has sunk entirely below the horizon. Regret and dread start to swallow you inch by inch, making your heart leap up to your throat.

You’ve been trying to call him. Twice. Five times. Eight times—they were all directed to voicemails. You’ve sent him text messages, telling him that, “Eren, it was a joke. I’m sorry. Please call me,” and, “Eren, I’m not pregnant. Please stop freaking out, I need to talk to you.” But none of them gets replied.

The clock has struck ten pm and the moon is concealed behind grey clouds. It’s about to rain, you think, heavily too from the rumbling sound that slips through the windows of your apartment. The storm hasn’t washed the earth just yet but it already swirls heavily inside your chest. “I screwed up,” you murmur against your pillow. God, I shouldn’t have done this. Why did I ever think this was a good idea?

What am I going to do now?

Should you visit his place? What if he sees you and freaks out again? The fact that he’s avoiding you because of this… Is it… Is he scared? Does he seem like the kind of irresponsible person who will abandon you because of this? It’s hard to believe. He’s been so gentle. So caring. Despite not having the bravery to openly confess his feelings for you, he’s been treating you like nothing but a lover, which is why you’re so confident that he’s going to be okay with you teasing him this way. Even if he’s not, he’s been your friend for over a decade. He won’t leave you because of this, will he?

There’s a voice inside your mind, answering with a sinister smile: he left you once, why do you think he won’t do it again?

And it’s a sickening thought—one that makes your stomach lurch—but with more seconds passing by, the louder the voice rings in your head.

The rain suddenly pours densely outside, tapping ponderously against your windows.

“Fuck.” You pull out your phone, sliding your thumb through your emergency list, and pray to dear God that he’ll answer this time around. The first two calls are, again, directed to voicemails. You try one more time. “Pick up, pick up, come on, Eren—“

There’s a ringtone—his ringtone—and it’s coming from the other side of your door.

Frowning in confusion, you step down from the couch, the hem of your dress falling to the middle of your thighs. “Eren?” You curl your hand around your doorknob, twisting it open.

There, standing in his black jeans and blue denim jacket with his sleeves pulled up to his elbows, is a man you’ve been wanting and dreading to see in what feels like forever. His lips are parted to desperately refill the air in his lungs, his chest heaving up and down with every intake of breath. He has his phone ringing in the pocket of his jeans; a bouquet of roses is gripped tightly in one hand. He’s drenched from head to toe with his hair half tied, half sprouting out of his bun.

“Ere—”

You haven’t even finished calling his name or sliding your thumb on the screen of your phone to end the call when Eren gathers your cheek in his hand, slanting his mouth hard against yours. His lips feel like ice, as well as the fingertips that frame your cheekbones. “Eren—” You gasp against his mouth, fingers curling around his wrist to stop him. “What—”

“Don’t do it,” Eren states out the second his mouth is separated from yours. “Please…” He bends his head down slightly to match your height, closing his eyes when your temples are pressed against one another. He rests his lean fingers on the side of your face, and you can feel the little shivers that run through his tips, unsure if it’s because of the cold or something else.

In this proximity, you expect the air to be filled with the taste of his signature bergamot perfume, but you can only smell him—that exotic scent that reminds you of summer, blooming flowers, and the laughter you shared with him. This is so unusual, as he rarely forgets to wear his perfume, knowing how much it drives you crazy. He must have been so distraught. “Don’t…” You swallow your breath. “Don’t do what..?”

He expands the gap, rubbing comforting circles on your cheekbone with his thumb as he peers into your eyes. “I want you to keep the baby,” he says, with so much determination and solemnity, you feel a wave of panic washing over you.

“What?”

“I’ll take responsibility for it,” he adds and there’s no quiver in his voice, no uncertainty in his stunning jade green eyes. “I’ll pay for everything. I’ll move into your place—or—or you can move to my flat and we can—“

“Eren—”

“I’ll quit my job if I have to. You won’t be alone, I promise. I will always be here for you, through it all—I—” He silences your protest with his lips, eyebrows stitched together as if he’s about to break from feeling too much. “So please,” he begs in a whisper, taking your hand and squeezing it, firm yet gentle. “Please let me keep our baby.”

Two things are running in your head and they’re such complete opposite from one another that you start to feel dizzy. The first one is that you’re happy. You’re so, so immensely happy and relieved and just a bunch of other nice feelings that you can’t yet describe because Eren is here, in your arms, kissing you softly with glassy eyes and frozen lips from running through the rain for you. He didn’t forsake you. He even offered to sacrifice everything for your sake, which brings you to your second thought:

What the fuck am I going to do?

His touches feel so light and tender on your skin. “Baby..?” He turns anxious as he waits for your answer. “Please say something, you’re scaring me…”

You lace your fingers together with his, smiling and hoping it comes out as sweet and reassuring instead of forced and awkward or filled with guilt since that is exactly how you’re feeling right now. “Let’s, umm…” Your voice already betrays you, shaky and raspier than usual. “Let’s just take a seat first. Coffee?”

“Shouldn’t you lay off of that?” He questions with a frown and you freeze. “Caffeine can cause birth defects and miscarriage.” At the sight of you furrowing your eyebrows, baffled by his words, he sheepishly adds, “Yeah, I kinda did a little research,” scratching his cheek while he’s at it.

He even did his research! You want to die. You literally, sincerely want to die for being such a horrible, horrible person for agreeing to do this prank. It’s easy to blame Pieck for this as this was her whole idea to begin with but you were the one who executed it. This was all on you. You fucked up, and you fucked up big time.

“Eren.” You retract your fingers away from him, clamping both hands tightly in front of your stomach to keep yourself composed. It doesn’t work. “There's something I have to say.”

“But you’re right.” Eren carefully circles one arm around your waist, bringing you further into your apartment. “We should sit down. I don’t want you to get tired from standing too much—”

“No, no.” You pull on his hand before he can escort you away to your couch. You lay down your phone on the coffee table, fingers curling into tiny balls of fists. “I’m fine like this. Listen, I—”

“But you’ll get tired—”

“I’m not pregnant.”

The sound of the ticking clock, the storm, and the rumbling clouds are mixed into one but they don’t sound nearly as loud to your ear as the little whisper that breaks past his lips. “What?”

“I’m…” You take a step back, unable to meet his eyes. “I was… This was just a joke.” Never in your life had you ever felt this awful and ashamed. One glance at his face and you feel like you just committed the most atrocious, unforgivable crime in the history of mankind. And if you could turn back time, you would but right now, what else can you do but apologize? “I’m sorry…”

Oh God, he must hate me so much right now. What am I going to do? All these emotions waging inside you are threatening to spill in the form of your tears, and you nip hard on your lip, wishing it would sustain. “Eren, I—”

“A joke?”

His voice turns a pitch lower, almost like a growl and you’re petrified to your bones. Eren straightens up. The previous tenderness in his eyes fades instantly, replaced by something cold and bitter. “You’re not pregnant?” His voice turns grim.

“I…” You fist hard on the hem of your dress, making the fabric all crumpled underneath your palm. “I could’ve been—“ An awkward chuckle escapes you, a desperate effort to ease the tension. It fails miserably. If anything, it only makes his glare even more menacing. “But no.” Your shoulder slumps forward in guilt. “I’m not pregnant. P-perfectly ovulating though, if you want to try.” Your mouth is running on its own, attempting a horrible joke that makes you wish you rather be dead than taking another second standing in front of him like this.

“Oh my God, I’m gonna kill you,” is what you’re expecting him to say. But he’s perfectly fine with keeping himself reticent, doesn’t retaliate, doesn’t even look like he wants to. “Eren..?” You call out as he walks away, heading toward your kitchen. “Are you—uh—are you angry?”

He slams the bouquet of roses he brought you into the trash bin with a force hard enough to make it toppled over to the ground.

You flinch, fear crawling on your skin. Both your mind and your heart are running thousands of miles per hour. “Eren, I’m sorry—”

“Oh, you’re sorry!” He scoffs, faking a laugh as he throws both hands in the air. “She’s sorry, everyone, and the world is wonderful again!” The sarcasm is as loud as his voice that bounces off the walls. If you didn’t have soundproofed walls, your neighbors would’ve surely gone to call the cops on you.

You muster all the courage you can get. “I’m—I don’t know what I should say to make—”

“Well, you sure as hell know your way to make such a convincing speech earlier this morning.” He runs a hand through his hair, pushing back his bangs and you could see droplets of rain sliding down from his forehead to his chin. “I didn’t know you could lie like that. What, like, did you have a script prepared or something?”

You manage to stop yourself from glancing at your phone sitting on the coffee table where you’ve got your prepared dialogues written inside. “N-no.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t know.” Eren snorts loudly, revolted with your act. “You’re probably lying about it too.”

Your nails are sinking into your palms when he closes the distance. “Eren, I really am sorry.”

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t make me feel any less pissed, unfortunately.”

He’s standing tall and strong, looming above you but it’s not his posture that intimidates you. It’s the fact that he’s truly angry with you, in a way that you’ve never seen him act this way before. “I was just—” You swallow thickly, your throat feels like it’s catching on fire. “I was just trying to get back at you.”

“What?”

“R-remember what you did that day when I told you I was going to go to the beach to see Pieck?” You brave yourself to speak, even when your fingers are shaking. “You gave me a nasty hickey on my neck. I had to wear my turtleneck sweater for the entire day because of that.”

His jaw drops in repugnance, unable to comprehend. “You faked your pregnancy over a goddamn hickey?”

Now that he stated it like that, you realize just how fucking dumb you’re being. “I was angry.”

“It was a harmless joke.”

“It’s summer, Eren. It was almost forty degrees that day and I had to wear—”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he spits back, sarcasm standing thickly in his voice. “It must have been excruciatingly painful that you had to sweat, and not like, say, spending hours pacing back and forth in your room trying to figure out how to raise a fucking baby!”

Now that he’s raising his voice, you can’t help but yell at him too. Your voice still breaks, but your ego won’t let you lose. “I’ve called you so many times to explain! It’s your fault you didn’t answer!”

“Yeah, ‘cause I thought you were gonna ask if I was okay with the abortion and I was still trying to look for the right reasons so I can convince you to say no!”

You open your mouth but your voice leaves you. Your heart is moved by his words, with regret and guilt pulling you down like an anchor tied to your feet. “Eren…” You sound exhausted, speaking so quietly that you can barely hear it over your soaring heartbeat. “I’ve texted you too. You’d know I was joking if you had seen my—”

“You told me you were joking about your pregnancy over a fucking text?!”

The way his voice booms across the entire room acts like a hand squeezing tightly around your heart. “Several texts, if that, uh, could make you feel better.”

His jaw clenches, suppressing the venom-like words that are about to spill from his mouth. “You’re unbelievable,” he says through gritted teeth. “You’re a horrible person, you know that, right? I would never lie about something like this to you.”

Hot tears sting your eyes. “I… I know.”

“Don’t cry.” It’s not a plead, it’s an order you must obey.

You quickly wipe the tears away before they could line your cheeks, keeping your mouth shut even when you’re feeling like you’re about to burst. Taking a deep breath, you look at him straight in the eyes. “I’m sorry,” you say, nothing more and nothing less.

Eren sighs, running his hand frustratedly through his hair. “Whatever. Let’s just pretend this never happened.” His combat boots make angry stomping sounds as he storms toward the door. Growing frantic, you catch him just in time before he can swing it open.

“Eren, wait, I—”

He spins you around and has your body slammed against the door. Your hand that catches his wrist is now held above your head, his fingers pressing tightly against your pulsating veins.

“You think this is funny, don’t you?” There’s something in the way he whispers the words, so lowly behind clenched teeth that makes you shiver. “Getting me all riled up.”

You bring your face to the side, leaning further back until your head is pressed against the wooden surface. “I didn’t mean it to go this far,” you murmur. His gaze is so intense, you feel like you’re about to be burnt by it.

“Should’ve thought that through.”

He’s right. There’s nothing more terrible than what you just did to him. You should’ve known better. You’re on the verge of apologizing again, but knowing how words don’t suffice, you land both hands on his shoulders and stand on your tiptoes.

And you kiss him.

“No,” Eren says, almost snarling as he stops you by pushing you harder against the door.

Nibbling on your lip worriedly, you reach out a hand to stroke his cheek, asking in a whisper. “I can’t kiss you..?” You know you’re not playing fair but you’re desperate. You want—no, you need to fix this before he goes away. You don’t want to part with him like this. “Eren, I want to make it up to you.” You look so damn irresistible like this, even when you’re not trying to be. The way you’re looking up at him from underneath your bangs, the way you nibble slightly on your bottom lip as you grow even more anxious with every passing second, the way your eyes are pleading for his forgiveness. Eren loves this look on you, and you know how much it arouses him too.

Unfortunately today, it’s not enough. “You’re gonna have to do a lot more than talking to make it up to me, Sweetheart,” he coldly says.

“Then I’ll do anything,” you breathe out and you can see his jaw clenched. “Anything you want.”

He takes a deep breath to maintain his calm as if he’s on the verge of snapping at you again. “Anything?”

You weakly nod, licking your lower lip as a sign of your anxiety acting up and his eyes follow the way your tongue swipes across the skin. To him, it’s like you’re seducing him even more. “Anything,” you breathily repeat, igniting sparks inside his stomach. “So, please…” You hold onto his collar, pulling him closer as your eyes drift to his lips. Your breath caresses his skin as you whisper, “Please don’t leave me like this.”

There’s a pause where you can see a battle waging in his mind but it doesn’t take long before his hand is pressing against your throat. He lifts your face by pushing his thumb against your chin, eyes hooded as they look down on you.

Eren sinks his head low, eyes shutting close in passion as he lets his lips draw motions on yours. His kiss is rough, ravaging your lips with a ferocity that leaves your legs weak and your senses dazed. Over and over, Eren lets his lips explore yours, filling you with a heat so intense, you’re on the verge of melting in his arms. And he kisses like he’s not afraid of hurting you with it. He wants to make you bruised, your lips swollen red until they match the color of the blush that spread on your face. The taste of his mouth fills up your senses, beckoning your body to arch into the hard warmth of his.

He still has one hand holding your wrist against the door, with his other one resting on the back of your neck, applying enough pressure on your nape to guide you closer to him. “Again,” he says when you break away to take a breath and it’s not simply a demand, it’s an order. So you kiss him again and he angles his head to the side, deepening the kiss. His tongue slithers in, passing your teeth to savor the aftertaste of the coffee you took earlier.

Your free hand grasps harder against the collar of his shirt, fisting the fabric as if you’re holding on for your life. You push his jacket off his shoulders and he helps by releasing his hold from you but only for a few seconds until it slides off his arms and lands on the floor. His hands find your face again, holding you by the jaw, and tugs your bottom lip between his teeth. Eren doesn’t feel as cold anymore; he feels scorching hot when he presses his hips against yours, muttering, “Fuck,” under his breath the second he hears your muffled moan. He squeezes your hip, his long fingers digging into your behind as he rocks you into his arousal.

“Eren,” you whisper, sliding your hand down his body to palm his hardness over his jeans. Your fingers thread through the damp hair at the base of his neck, keeping him close enough so he can feel your hot breath caressing his skin. Eren breathes heavily, biting his lip as his eyes follow the way your hand is playing with his zipper. He rocks his hips forward, aching for your touch.

His need for a release becomes your need. With your lips reddened and bruised by his kisses, you brave yourself to ask the question. “Do you… want to have sex?”

“I feel like teaching you a lesson, that’s what I want.” He grabs a handful of your hair, tugging it back until your throat is fully exposed. He sinks his head into the crook of your neck, the tip of his nose almost grazing your throbbing veins. “You’re really getting on my nerves today.”

You almost hiss at the pain when he harshly sucks on the spot that connects your shoulder to your neck. “You can be rough with me,” you tell him between soft moans. Sometimes you wonder if deep down you’re a masochist because being handled roughly like this? It isn’t bad at all. “Or even mean, if you want.”

His hand wanders south, slipping between your legs. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He’s not touching you down there just yet but you find yourself arching your back, wanting desperately for that friction. “Just let all that anger out through—“ The little scream you make is muted by his mouth when he abruptly lifts your body by the back of your thighs. Your legs naturally find their way around his waist, your arms entwining his broad shoulders for support. The rainwater that drenched his clothes seeps through your dress, making you tremble from the cold—or maybe it’s the way his mouth is drawing sinful movements against the column of your throat that does it, you’re not sure.

Your bedroom is only twenty steps away but Eren doesn’t have the patience to even take another one. With one hand supporting your back, he swipes his other one from one side of your dining table to the other. Your half-read magazine, eyeglasses, and unlit candlesticks fall to the floor, clattering against the tiles.

“W-wait—here?” You stutter as he pushes your body down, your head knocking against the wood from how careless he’s being.

“Here,” he confirms, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. He places his palms on your knees, spreading your legs wide open so he can settle in between.

“But the bed—ah!” You’re being yanked by your legs, sliding down the table until your bodies are connected again by the hips. “Eren—”

“I want to fuck you here.” His voice turns deep and gravelly, asserting dominance over you. He runs a hand through his hair, taking off his hair tie and let his hair fall to his shoulders. “You got a problem with that?”

You swallow your breath. “N-no.”

“Good.” He pushes your dress up to your stomach, grinding his hips against your wetness as you prop your body up with your elbows, wetting your lip in anticipation.

You can feel his zipper rubbing over your underwear, a string of expletive breaks free from your mouth without filter. “Let’s just—”

“You want it?” He cuts you off, and you know he didn’t say it to tease you. He wants to see just how desperate you are to have him throbbing inside you. He pushes forward again, making sure that you can feel the way his cock is begging to be released from its confinement.

You grind your hips against him, rocking harder against his hardness, wanting him inside you with such intensity you could scarcely breathe. “Eren—”

“Answer the question.”

You freeze, fear and excitement mixing into one. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I want it.” It sounds like a sigh the way you say it. “Please.”

“Then do the work.”

He’s being merciless and you love it. It doesn’t feel like him but it fits him. Somehow, you always knew that he must have this side of him—this dominant, feral alpha male who loves having his control over you. It’s a nice change from the sweet, sweet Eren Jaeger who kissed you so tenderly a moment before you drift away to sleep, who held your hand with a sheepish smile written on his face when your parents weren’t looking. These two sides of him complemented each other so well, and being treated like a princess has been nothing but wonderful, but it’s about damn time for him to treat you like you’re nothing but a sex toy to satisfy his needs.

“Tell me what to do,” you say, sitting up on the table and draws him closer to you by tangling your legs around his waist. Eren inhales sharply when your fingers unbutton his jeans, playing with the zipper. “Want me to use my mouth on you?”

“Later,” he promises as he takes your hand and pushes it down his jeans. You almost gasp when your palm makes contact with his cock. He feels so hot, throbbing with a noticeable vein bulging on the side. “I wanna fuck you first.”

Your stomach flips at how blunt he's being. You stroke him once, twice, before you start working on his pants. Pushing them down until they pool around his thighs, you guide him until his tip grazes your entrance.

“Eren…” You lean up forward to kiss him but he stops you with his fingers curling around your throat, keeping you in place. When you gulp, he can feel your throat moving underneath his palm. He knows how much you like kissing him during sex, and usually, he’d want it just as much, but not today. Today you’re under his control. You can only kiss him when you’re allowed to. You do your best to distract yourself away from begging even further for a taste of his lips. Your hips are moving on their own, rubbing your clit against his slit.

Eren is surprisingly less impatient than you are. His hooded eyes explore your features, heavy and intense. He places his thumb on your lower lip, pushing it down until he can see your tongue breaking past your front teeth. “You’d do as I say?” His voice is silky smooth, but it lacks the usual warmth. You nod. “Use your words.”

“Yes—” He lays the pad of his thumb flat on your tongue before you can finish the word. You close your mouth around it, hollowing your cheeks as you gently suck on his finger.

His eyes glaze with lust. “Seducing me, Sweetheart?”

You release his thumb with a pop, lips moving to his index finger, and twirl your tongue around the tip. Maintaining eye contact, you answer, “I’m trying to make it up to you.”

“You’ll have to do more than just that.”

Trying your best to satisfy, you hook your fingers around his silver necklace and bring his face closer to yours. His parted lips are expecting for another consuming kiss, which he would grant, but you only let yours hover above his before you move to his ear, moaning softly as you close your lips around his earlobe. “I’ll do anything,” you whisper, raking your fingers down his back until they slide underneath the hem of his jeans. “I promise I’ll be good tonight.”

You’re not sure what but something clearly snaps inside him because Eren is pushing you back to the table, his hands fisting the collar of your dress and rips it open. This is one of your favorite dresses and now almost every button is torn, bouncing down to the floor.

“Damn it,” you almost growl but you let him run his teeth against the juncture of your neck.

“Favorite dress?” Eren smirks as he snatches your bra away with one hand, throwing it over his shoulder. You answer with a glare and he seems more appeased than irked with the reaction. “Now, now.” He drags his thumb across your lip, smearing what’s left of your lipstick to your cheek. “Who promised to be good tonight?”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow, loving it when you’re just as angry. He finds it to be thrilling, more satisfying when he gets to wipe that nasty glare off your face and replace it with your face contorting in pleasure. “Getting angry, baby?” You look away, scowling at the wall but when Eren bends his head down and takes your nipple between his teeth, your body betrays you.

“You knew I loved this dress.” Your pout doesn’t last long once his tongue on your skin starts to feel good. Your hands find home in his hair, grabbing a handful of his strands when he sucks around your bud.

“Doesn’t mean I care.” He pulls away far too soon, almost making you mewl at the loss. He taps two fingers against your mouth. “Open up.”

With a scowl, you separate your lips and he shoves them inside. Your initial reaction is to choke around them, eyes turning glassy but you don’t give him the satisfaction for long. You suck on his fingers from the base to the tip, coating them richly with saliva.

He draws his fingers away. “Spread your legs.”

You obey, and Eren slips his hand past the elastic band of your lingerie, two fingers sliding easily against your folds. “It was—” You chew on your lip to contain your moan. The stimulation he’s giving you is sending tingles all over the place. “It was expensive—the dress.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t give a fuck.” Still rubbing you up and down, he curls his hand around his length, pumping himself at the sight of you arching your back to rub yourself against the pads of his fingers. “You look better without it anyway.”

“You—ah!” The way he just slides his entire cock in one try catches you off guard and you both moan at the friction—his comes from pleasure, yours from the pain. Your mouth is parted in a silent scream, your body's forced to adjust to his size without proper lubrication. Jolts of pain run like electricity to every inch of your skin, your hands sliding off the counter. “Fuck, wait—” you sob, your arm reaching out to curl around his wrist, both for support and to stop him from moving. You throw your head back at his sudden thrust, hand gripping along the edge of the table. “Eren—g-go slower.”

“You heard what I said.” His grunts are almost animalistic. He’s pounding into you from the side of your lingerie, fingers hooking against the fabric, and tugs it to the side so he can see the way he's sliding in and out of you. “I’m not planning on being gentle tonight.”

The pain doesn’t stay forever. Once you become wetter from the friction, he can slide in more easily. The sound of his skin slapping against yours is obscene, combined with the rough little moans he emits from the back of his throat. You grind your hips against his, widening your legs and Eren reaches a new depth. You let out a strained cry as you surrender in his hands, biting into your knuckles to stop you from turning into a sobbing mess.

Eren takes a handful of your breast, squeezing it as he picks up the pace. “Goddamn. How come you’re still so tight—” he hisses in pleasure, swaying his hips back and forth. “After I’ve fucked you so many times?”

The way he speaks, the way he moves—it doesn’t sound like him at all. “You’re doing things so differently today,” you say, trembling when he suddenly grazes something inside. “Still, ah, you’re still angry about the prank, huh?”

“You tell me.”

Eren pulls out completely only so he can yank you down the table until you’re landing on your feet again. He flips you around, pressing your stomach against the edge and keeping his hand placed on the back of your skull to keep your cheek pressed against the surface. He tears your dress away and pushes your panties to the middle of your thighs, leaving you bare and exposed. He thrusts hard into you from behind, making you stand on your tiptoes as he pushes you forward.

“Don’t hold back your voice,” he says, tugging at your roots so you have no other choice but to lift your head and land your eyes on the ceiling. “I want to hear you cry.”

Even if you try to keep your voice contained, you can’t. He’s hitting the right spot, sliding in and out your walls so perfectly, your knees begin to shake. Your panties slip off your legs, and without restraint, Eren hauls one of your thighs up. “Keep it there,” he says when he has you stretching out one leg on the edge of the table while keeping your other foot glued to the ground. It’s your goddamn luck that you’re pretty flexible, otherwise, you would’ve pulled a muscle with how hard he’s fucking you in this position.

He snakes a hand to the front of your throat, pushing you closer to his chest until you have your back straightened with your palms pressed flat on the table. “Tell me.” His lips are grazing against the shell of your ear as he speaks, “Are you still going to lie to me after this?”

“I—”

He lifts your face, kissing you upside down and smashing his mouth roughly against yours. The tip of your nose brushes against his adam’s apple, your bottom lip trapped between his plump ones. He delves his tongue inside your mouth, a little growl escaping as he relishes the taste. “It’s a yes or no question.” He curls his long fingers around your throat, choking you until your knees go weak. “Which one is it?”

“No,” you cough out, eyes turning watery with how hard he’s pumping into you. “I won’t—” He takes possession of your breast, squeezing it until you yelp in both pain and pleasure. “I won’t lie to you ever again. I'm—I'm sorry—ah—”

“That’s right,” he says, taking the way you're tightening your walls around him to drive both of you closer to the edge. His movement goes frantic, hips moving erratically at the sensation of having you using his whole body as your support. If he doesn’t have his arms around your throat and your stomach, you would’ve fallen face first against the table. Your muffled moans are getting louder, with him swallowing each and every one of them. When you’re done, he pulls away completely, making you whimper from the loss as you wish you can still have him moving inside you as you ride out your orgasm.

“On your knees, baby girl.”

The sudden pet name makes you shiver and you instantly drop down to the ground as commanded. You obediently part your mouth, taking him in as deep as you could. You nearly gag around him, tears prickling the corners of your eyes but it only takes a few times for you to bob your head up and down before he spills hotly inside your mouth. “Suck me dry.” He watches you, loving the tears that form in your eyes as you do as you’re told to do. “That’s right. Harder.”

You cough, his essence flooding your mouth.

“You can’t spit it out,” he says as he draws himself away. “Come here.” Eren yanks you up by your wrist, forcing you to stand on your wobbly legs. His gaze lays heavy on you, cupping your cheeks with his large palms. "Open your mouth." You part your lips, letting him see the way his cum pools on your tongue. “Now, swallow it.” You can tell how much it turns him on to see you this way. Wanting to please him, you swallow everything in one gulp. Eren presses his thumb on your bottom lip, tugging it down and he watches closely as a little bit of his essence dribble down to your chin. “You’ve got my come dripping out of your mouth. Lick it all up.”

When you told him it was okay for him to be mean, you didn’t think he would be this merciless on you. “Do it,” he repeats as he sees you wasting time. You dart out your tongue, swiping it over your bottom lip, feeling the saltiness of his cum on your tongue once more. Eren helps by swiping his thumb over your chin, and tells you to brings it into your mouth. You suck on his finger, lightly biting at it as you grow annoyed at his cocky smirk. “Naughty kitten,” he chuckles, “Swallowed everything?”

You wipe the back of your hand against your swollen lips. “Yes.”

“Good.” To your surprise, he kisses you and he does it until your head swirls. He can taste himself in your mouth, not fond of the taste but loving how he tainted you with it.

Once he lets you go, you’re left a bit dazed. “Are you… still angry with me?”

He softly chortles against your mouth, lips moving much gentler this time. “A bit.” Your knees teeter underneath your weight and he wraps his arms around your body to keep you from slipping. “What?” He smugly asks, almost mockingly. “Tired already?”

You decide to let him off the hook just this once. “Yeah.” You wince at the pain jolting from the back of your hips. “And I think I’ve got cramps.”

He blinks twice before he bursts out laughing, almost like a child with his viridian eyes turning into a pair of crescents. “No more rough sex for you then, Grandma.”

“Shut up. I think I can handle one more,” you challenge him as he carries you in his arms with one hand behind your back and another one underneath your knees.

“Yeah?” He raises an eyebrow, mirroring your dirty grin. “I can go for one more. Should we do it against the wall this time?”

“On the bed, please.” You grimace. “Grandma’s got cramps.”

“You’re adorable.”

***

“How the heck did you have the stamina to do that?”

You’re lying down on your back, still fully exposed with your eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Eren chuckles at your response, rolling to his stomach as he lies down next to you with only his jeans on, zipped but not yet buttoned. Slipping his hands underneath the pillow, he presses his cheek against it. “Well,” he replies, “I run around on the stage for four hours while carrying a nine-pound bass guitar. I can hold you for a whole day in that position.”

“Thank God your dick doesn’t last as long.” He attempts to wipe off your snicker by poking the side of your cheek. You turn to your side, facing him. “You’re still angry at me?”

“No,” he murmurs, eyes blinking sleepily. “But try pulling that prank again and I’ll make sure you won’t be able to walk for days.”

“Yet, surprisingly, I’m very tempted to try.” He rolls his eyes at your words, reminding you of the old days. “I’m sorry for being so immature. It wasn’t funny.”

“That’s all right, I’m used to it.” Eren reaches out a hand and you lean closer as he swats the bangs out of your eyes. His eyes turn gentle, matching his velvety voice. “Are you okay? Was I too rough on you?”

“You were, but it was hot." You toss a lazy wink at him. "Just a bit tired, I guess.”

“Then get some sleep.”

“Will you stay for the night?”

“Do you want me to stay?”

Every bit of you already screams the word yes without needing him to finish his sentence. You wish he could stay with you like this, and not just for tonight. You wish he could just lay out one of his arms for you to sleep on, with his other one holding you securely by the waist. You wish he could whisper sweet nothings to your ear until you drift away, and do the same thing to you when you wake up. Maybe you’re just feeling a bit sentimental after what happened, but if you could be honest with him, you would say, “I want you to stay with me like this, and I wish you would never let me go.”

But these words could never reach your lips. You don’t allow them to. So you reduce all these lines into a simple, “I do,” and hope that he can figure the rest by himself.

There’s a pause where he waits as he knows there are still things you want to convey. His eyes are begging you to be honest with him but you avert your gaze. Your heart races too fast to speak.

“Kiss me,” he says.

“W-what?”

“Kiss me.” He turns to his side, propping his head with his elbow on the bed. “If you can’t tell me with words, then kiss me. Kiss me like you’re begging me to stay.”

You turn scarlet. “I’m not gonna—”

“Well, then, I’m leaving.” But as soon as he has one foot off the bed, you pull him back by the wrist.

“You’re so annoying,” you mutter as you chase after his lips and he meets you halfway with a smirk. With the way he’s dominating the kiss, he barely leaves any room for you to portray your feelings, but instead, you can feel his. The intensity of the passion he has for you, the neverending desire. But the butterflies in your stomach only come alive when the kiss turns tender, softer than anything you’ve shared with him today. They spread their wings when Eren sighs into your mouth, grabbing your face like he always does as you both fall back to the bed.

“Okay,” Eren says in satisfaction, acting smug. “I’ll stay.” He dodges your playful punch, retaliating with a cute peck on the nose.

“What were you planning to do before?” You lay your head on his chest when it’s over, idly playing with his necklace.

“What do you mean?”

“When you thought I was pregnant,” you elaborate, tilting your face slightly to the side so you can see his. “You said you wanted to keep the baby. Were you being serious?”

Eren promptly turns his head upward, choosing to face the ceiling instead of witnessing the curiosity in your eyes. “I don’t feel comfortable talking about this.”

“When you said you were going to take responsibility for it,” you crawl closer, keeping your mischievous grin to yourself as you trail your fingertips over the muscles of his abdomen. “Does that mean you were planning to marry me?”

He doesn’t answer, but you can see his blush spreading from his neck to his ears. Your smile turns impish. “Eren,” you tease him, “If I was really pregnant, do you think we’d have a boy or a girl?”

He sits up so abruptly, throwing the covers until they’re all draped over your head. “What kind of question is that?!” But you’re laughing and you’re laughing so hard, it starts to rub off on him. “Stop it, it’s not funny,” he shouts but not utterly convincing. He’s even smiling by now. “I said, stop laughing!”

“Have you thought about their names?” You can’t help but ask between your giggles. “I think Irene would be kinda cute for a girl. It has your name in it.”

“Oh my God, I’m going home.”

You pull him back to you by hooking your fingers around his pendant, brushing your lips against his in the lightest of kisses, wanting him to know how grateful you are for how kind he was being to want to take the responsibility and raise a baby together with you. Even if he did it out of impulse without putting too many thoughts in it, the fact that he cared enough to show up here with a bouquet of roses and a whole speech ready to be spoken… It already means more than you could ever ask for.

You end the kiss but keep your lips hovering close enough to his. Through half-lidded eyes, you gaze deeply into his emerald ones, trailing your fingertips lightly along his cheekbone. Eren tilts his face to the side, brushing his lips against the lines of your palm. His eyes closed in bliss as he drowns in the comfort of your touches. Bringing his hand to cover your knuckles, he presses your palm flat against his cheek. “If I did,” he murmurs against your skin. “Would you have said yes?”

“What?” You know what he’s asking, you just can’t believe that he is.

Eren’s voice has never sounded more serious. “If I had asked you to marry me, would you have said yes?” At the sight of you gulping, he adds, “Be honest.”

“I—“ Your eyes are shaking, not sure if you want to maintain your gaze or let the world fall beneath your feet and swallow you whole. “I, uhh—”

A little burst of laughter spills from his lips as he fails to restrain it. “What are you panicking about, idiot?” He flicks your nose, his chuckles rumble deep through the air. “I was just joking.”

He’s so afraid of rejection that he thinks it’s easier to pretend everything is a joke, like how he always did in the past. He’s nothing but a coward and it’s such a shame, because unbeknownst to him, the word, “Yes,” was about to depart from your lips. But maybe that’s how it should be. How can you talk about taking each other’s hand in marriage, when you can’t even profess your love for him out loud?

A moment passes by so heavily with you lying down next to each other. You use one of his arms as your pillow, snuggling close to his chest, but you’re both frozen still. No playful touches. No affectionate kisses. Nothing.

I shouldn’t have asked that question, Eren submerges himself in regret with his eyes plastered to the ceiling. Why did I have to ruin everything?

I should have said yes faster, you ponder at the possibilities, lying your head on his chest, listening to his constant heartbeat. Now the moment’s gone, and I’m not brave enough to bring it up again.

Desperate to find a way to break the tension, you drag your eyes to the arm he lays above his stomach, observing the tattoo he has printed on his inner forearm. “You never told me a story about this before,” you utter as you run your fingers lightly over its shape. “What is it about?”

“Well… It’s a lone wolf tattoo.” He gently takes his wrist away, raising it in the air so you both can rake your eyes through the details. “Wolves live in packs because cooperation allows them to take down larger prey. They’re stronger in numbers, they rely on each other’s strength to survive. But a lone wolf… These wolves are more dangerous. They’re independent. They’re fearless. They’re more tenacious when it comes to survival, as they don’t depend on the others.” And maybe that’s how Eren wants to be. He wants to be able to stand on his own feet, doesn’t have to rely on anyone else but his own strength. Or trust anyone else, for that matter.

“But isn’t it lonely?” You whisper back, bringing his arm closer to your face so you can inspect the drawing. “Maybe the reason why wolves live in packs doesn’t solely revolve around survival. Maybe they just want to connect. To have a bond. To have a family.”

“I don’t need a family,” he says, almost immediately that it breaks your heart. There’s bitterness in his tone, so thick, you almost drop his hand in surprise. But when he turns to you, his gaze softens. I have you and that’s enough. The unspoken words run through his head as he lightly plays with a few strands of your hair. That’s more than enough.

Settling his arm over your waist, you turn toward him, swatting the bangs out of his eyes. “Eren,” you tenderly stroke his cheek. “What happened to you during those years when we were apart?” It will make him seem suspicious if he suddenly looks away, so he simply closes his eyes, focusing on the heat your skin offers him instead of the compassion that gleams in your eyes. “Ever since college,” you continue, “I always wondered what happened because every time I asked you about your family you started acting like this. Dismissive. Sad. Lonely. But you’re never alone, Eren.” He slowly opens his lids when he feels your lips brushing against the skin of his temple. “I’m here for you. So, if you ever want to talk about it, I will be here to listen. Anytime you need me, I’ll be here.”

Sometimes he wonders… God must have been so kind to him to allow you to step into his life. You and your big heart, you and the warmth you spread with your every touch, every kiss, and every smile. You and the endless joy you pour into his shallow heart. And what can he give you in return? What do you need from him?

I can’t give you anything…

“I know it’s hard to talk about,” you tell him, eyebrows knitted in concern. “And I know you think you’re good at pretending everything’s fine, and maybe you are. Maybe I’m just overthinking things. But I see how sometimes you just blanked out during conversations, like something just triggered you and you tried to shut off your feelings. It’s okay to take time, I’m not going to force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I just want you to know that I worry about you.”

She wants you to be honest with her, that’s all she asks, Eren realizes and you’re right, he’s not the great actor he thinks he is, and he’s sick of pretending—sick of keeping everything to himself. Every day he feels like a walking timebomb, about to run out of time and explode at once while dragging his closest ones down with him.

Okay. He makes his decision. I’m going to tell her. He’s going to take the risk; to put his faith in you. She’s not going to hate you, he convinces himself, he’s not going to judge you for what you did. She’ll accept you no matter what. Just believe in her.

I’ll believe in you.

“I think…” He starts, heavy and agitated, so you lace your fingers with his, casting him a reassuring smile. And that’s all he needs. “I think it had been going on ever since junior high, but it was on my first year of high school when I found out,” he pauses to take a deep breath. “That my family was breaking apart.”

Your heart squeezes. “What?”

“You remember when you asked me whether I was close to my family?”

“You said you didn’t talk much with your dad, but you were close to your mother.”

“Yeah…” His tiny smile doesn’t seem as genuine. “Well, I thought I was close to my mom. Turned out that wasn’t true. I didn’t know her at all. I never pegged her as a liar, but in the end, that was all she was.”

The boy lays your intertwined hands above his chest, right over his heart to keep it steady. “There was this one day where I didn’t feel like going to school. Not wanting to make my mother worry, I went there anyway but I told my homeroom teacher that I felt sick after the second period was over. He bought it and he permitted me to go home early. They wanted to call my parents to pick me up but I told them not to because my house was only a couple of blocks away. I told him they were busy, and it was true. Dad was working out of town, and Mom, well…” His chuckle sounds cynical, cold. “I thought she was at the office like usual.

“So, when I got home, I expected the house to be empty but then I heard noises coming from my parent's bedroom. It was nine past eleven in the morning, I remembered it precisely because I did a double-check with my phone. I was so confused because Mom was supposed to be working yet I heard her voice coming from upstairs. As I stepped into the hallway, I saw that my dad’s coat wasn’t there on the rack—he said he wouldn’t be back until late at night. Instead, there was this trench coat that looked so expensive, I was sure it didn’t belong to my father.

“So I went upstairs, not sure if I was nauseous because I barely had eaten anything since morning or because I had a hunch of what was going on. I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want to find out but my curiosity was eating me up inside and I just—” He stops, exhaling heavily through his nose. He grows restless, his face contorted in what seems like a mix between anger, frustration, and hurt. “I just couldn’t believe that my mother would bring another man into our house so I had to see it with my own eyes.

“The bedroom door was slightly open and the more I stepped closer, the more I could make out their words. I still remember how the man laughed, asking her, ‘What if your husband comes home and sees me fucking you on his bed.’ His voice sounded familiar, though I couldn’t figure out who it was just yet. Didn’t have the time either because, on the next second, my mother mirrored his laughter. She said, ‘Let him see, I don’t care.’

“I felt chills running down my spine. My knees were shaking. I couldn’t believe I heard those words come out of her mouth. I froze on my feet, feeling like my throat was catching on fire. Then my name came up in conversation. He asked her, ‘What about your son? What would he think if he saw her mother sucking another man’s cock like this?’

“I was so afraid of hearing her answer. But she only laughed, laughing in the way I never heard her laugh like that before. Her voice was muffled, like she had something in her mouth when she answered with ‘Eren will still love me. No matter what I do, he’ll never stop loving his mother.’ But her tone was contemptuous. She was mocking me for it.”

His jaw clenches at the memory, and you tighten your hold around his hand, not just to support him but to calm your palpitating heart. His agony is so vividly written in his voice that you don’t have to hear the words he said to understand his feelings. Being raised in such a loving family, you couldn’t begin to imagine how awful it must have felt to be betrayed by your loved one like that.

“I’m okay,” Eren says, noticing how you're holding him too tightly. He kisses your temple once and it breaks you because you’re not the one in need of comfort. But Eren already knows without you doing anything for him. You’re already providing more than he could ever ask for just from lending your ears for him.

“I didn't dare to step up,” he continues. “Didn’t have the bravery to stop them. Instead, I turned around as quietly as I could, and I ran away. I had no money in my pocket and my head felt like it was seconds away from exploding. I remember how I threw up on the side of the street, feeling utterly disgusted and disappointed and everything else that I didn’t know how to put in words. I went back home before dinner, still carrying my backpack with me. And I saw my mother setting up plates on our table. She greeted me like usual, kissed me on the cheek, and instead of returning her embrace like I always did, I broke away.

“I hit my head against a wall trying to get away from her touch and she looked at me funny but I tried to smile. And I apologized for acting so weird, I told her that I got paranoid ever since I finished reading a horror novel my friend let me. She did this laugh that I had always loved, but at that time, it felt like another lie. She patted my hair and I just froze there, wishing that I could just stop existing so I didn't have to go through this anymore because I knew it would happen every day. Me, pretending like nothing happened. Like she was the best mother a son could have.

"She didn’t say a word, only making gestures for me to eat my supper. I didn’t. I couldn’t. I hadn’t eaten a single thing since morning but I went straight up to my room. I told her that I’d eat after I was finished with my homework and she didn’t care enough to check whether I was lying. And I spent the entire night sitting on the bed with my back pressed against the wall, wondering how could someone—someone who you thought you understood the most—lie so easily.”

When he pauses, his lips turning white from how tightly he presses them together to keep himself composed, you stroke the back of his hand with your thumb. “Did you cry when it happened?” You question him.

“I don’t think I did,” he answers. “I don’t think I ever did.” He shifts his weight, turning on his side, and silently asks you to do the same. You follow his lead, facing the wall as he completes the dip of your spine with his chest, his arms trapping you by the waist.

“Why?” You whisper, feeling his warm breath caressing the tiny hairs on your nape.

“I don’t know,” he says, heaving a sigh. “I always feel like when you cry, it only makes the pain grow stronger. Makes the feeling more intense. And I didn’t want that. It already took everything of me to make things bearable. I didn’t want to make it any harder than that.”

His voice breaks slightly at the edge of his sentence, and it drops a heavy weight on your chest. You want to turn around to check on him but he tightens his arms around your body. “Eren—”

“Stay like this,” he says quietly as he pleads. “Just stay like this for a while, it’s fine.” I don’t want you to see me right now.

The shiver in his voice matches the one running through his fingertips and you take one of his hands, lays a gentle kiss on the middle of his palm before you hold it firmly between yours. “Then, what happened?”

Eren takes a deep breath, basking in the rosemary scent of your hair and for a moment, he can convince himself that he’s no longer in the past. He’s here, matching his breathing to yours, exchanging body heat in the comfort of your bed and he feels… okay.

So he continues. “I decided that maybe pretending like I didn’t hear anything was better. My mom certainly did so and she was a brilliant actress while I wasn’t. And every time the three of us had breakfast together, I would just stare at her, looking at the way she laughed so sweetly to my dad. It wasn’t sweet, it was fake. I was still grateful, though, that I only got to hear her voice instead of seeing her with my own eyes when that happened. I don’t know if I could stay sane if I did.

“And I hoped it was a one-time thing, but it wasn’t. She kept seeing him. Now that I knew what she did, I realized that the clues were everywhere and I managed to pick up every single one of them, even when I had tried my best not to dwell in it any further. I kept quiet about it, holding all of these feelings to myself, and never, not once, did I ever tell my father about it. But I didn’t do it because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. I did it because… I didn’t want my mother to hate me.

“But one day, I couldn’t stand it. It just felt so wrong and I wanted her to stop. So, I told her that I knew. I told her that when she brought another man into our home, I was there. I can’t remember how I expected her to respond, but I recall how Mom didn’t even flinch. Didn’t even look surprised. The only thing that changed from her expression was her smile. It stayed on her face but it never reached her eyes. And I remember how she put her hand on my face, stroking my cheek. She pressed her finger to her lips as she called my name, and she said this, ‘Let’s keep it a secret between us. You love me, don’t you? If you love me, you’ll stay quiet.’ And I couldn’t say no, because I loved her. I was disappointed in her, so disgusted with what she did that every time I thought about it, I felt like throwing up, but I still adored her, like how a son would. My love for her was blind, unconditional, and she used it to her advantage. She knew I’d take her side no matter what shitty things she did behind our backs. She only needed me because I made her feel like she was a good person all along.

“Then, she revealed her side of the story. She told me that he was her boss. He had a wife but he felt lonely, and my mother was too. She said it would be something I’d understand once I became older. How even a marriage that started with love could become nothing more than just a status to uphold to fit better in the society. I asked her if she still loved my dad, and she said yes, but she also loved him—the man who gave her what my dad couldn’t give her. I asked her if she loved me and she smiled at me and said, ‘Of course, I love you, Eren. You’re my son.’ For the first time in forever, I could see directly through her lies. In the beginning, I was so desperate for her affection, that even when her love for me was nothing but a facade she put on to keep me quiet, I was thankful for it. But with more time passing by, I realized that I couldn’t do it. I could no longer pretend everything was fine.

“Dad was still clueless. He was still as in love with her as always, foolishly so, and it made me sick because I couldn’t do anything. I had no one else to talk to. I didn’t have anyone to ask for help. So I thought, maybe if I told Dad about this, then he could do something about it. I was desperate. I wanted my family to go back to how it was. I want her to stop so I resorted to this option.” Eren turns pensive. The sound of the ticking clock on the wall is louder than his breathing. “And it was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my life.

“I just came home from school when I saw my father leaving in his car. He didn’t even notice me standing on the other side of the street. He was in such a hurry, driving like he had someone chasing after his tail. Confused and frightened, I went inside the house and I found my mother sitting on the floor with her back leaning against the wall. There was a broken vase next to her, scattered all over the floor and her shoulder was bleeding, dripping blood all the way down to her palm.

“I rushed to her side in panic, helped her get back on her feet but she shoved me to the side, driving me against the wall with her nails sinking deep into my shoulders. Her eyes were bloodshot, tears streaming down her cheeks and there were bruises all over her face. She was bleeding through her nose, her hair was a tangled mess. She shouted my name, telling me that it was my fault her husband beat her up. That if I hadn’t said anything, everything would’ve stayed the same. We could’ve still been the perfect family. Could’ve still shared laughter at dinners. She said it wasn't my father who did this to her. It was me.

“The house was a mess when she left that night with nothing but anger and she directed all of that at me. I told her I was sorry. I told her that I regretted telling Dad about it but she slapped me on the face and she left. And she never came back. Never sent me a message even to this day, no matter how many letters I've sent her. Never tried to contact me even when my face was on the cover of magazines. She just pretends I don’t exist in her life, and I wish I could do the same. But I can’t.

“Dad became even stricter than he already was. He thought I would leave him too, so every time I went home a little bit past curfew, he would start attacking me with questions. And if he didn’t get the answers he wanted, he would take out his belt and beat me with it until it felt like the skin on my back was peeled away. I never fought back during the first few months it happened, mostly because I thought I deserved it. Because I was the reason why my family was breaking apart, like what my mother said to me. My dad wasn’t doing well after she left, both mentally and physically. He lost so much weight, his skin getting paler and paler. I couldn’t stand seeing him that way, so if beating me up allowed him to get better sleep at night, I would take as much pain for his sake as I could. Because everything that happened was my fault.” He closes his eyes, sinking his face a little deeper in the crook of your neck. “It was my fault,” he mumbles, almost inaudibly, “My fault… My fault…”

You’ve never heard so much pain in someone’s voice before. So much, that it brings hot tears prickling at the corner of your eyes, your heart feeling like it’s being carved slowly by a dagger.

It’s unbearable to stay like this. To know that he’s in desperate need of comfort but he doesn’t even allow you to hug him. You understand why he doesn’t want you to see him like this. Perhaps if the roles were reversed, you would’ve done the same thing too. That’s why you have been keeping yourself quiet all this time, even when every nerve in your body is begging for you to turn around. You want nothing more but to wind your arms around his neck, embracing him close until he knows that it’s okay to break apart because you will be here to glue everything back together again. But you don’t have his permission to do it, and you’re not going to force him to do anything he doesn’t want.

So if it’s silence that he needs, you’ll give it to him.

“One day,” Eren speaks once he has regained a little bit of himself back. “I was having a rough time at school. My grades were falling apart, and I was about to lose my scholarship if I couldn’t get them back up soon. When I got home that night, my father was drunk. He asked me questions and I didn’t reply. Dad couldn’t think straight and he threw his bottle at me out of rage. He aimed it at my head but he missed and it shattered once it fell to the floor. I knew he probably didn’t mean to hurt me that way but I was so furious—so, so angry that I wished my father was dead so I didn’t have to endure it any longer. My way of thinking started to change. I began to blame everything on him. He was the reason why she cheated on him in the first place. If he had been kinder, if he had been able to satisfy her needs, she wouldn’t have gone to someone else for comfort.

“So, I fought back. I tackled my father to the ground and I punched him. Once. Twice. Thrice and I lost count. When I got back to it, my father had passed out on the floor. His face was bleeding but I couldn’t tell whether it was his blood or mine because the skin on my knuckles was torn apart. I had a cut on my forearm too when my dad tried to fight back. He’d snatched a piece of glass from the floor and slit my skin with it. That was the reason why I got this tattoo on my arm. I wanted something to cover the scar. I can’t stand looking at it.

“And that night… That night I looked for you,” Eren tightens his hold around you, his voice breaking as much as he is as he confesses further, “I wrapped a bandage around my arm, stole my father’s wallet and I took the bus. I went to your house and it was already late, probably around ten and I knew I shouldn’t have come especially when I hadn’t spoken to you in three years but—” A sob almost escapes him, but he bites his lip. He’s squeezing you so tightly in his arms, it’s almost suffocating but you let him. “I really, really needed you then.”

You can feel your own emotions driving you to the edge and you can still somehow hold back your tears by sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, focusing more on that pain instead of the one building inside your chest. But the more he speaks, the more he sounds like he’s seconds away from having his tears falling to stain his cheeks.

“And it was selfish of me for wanting you to be there for me and I knew that,” he says, talking in whispers as if he was confessing his sins. “I was going to apologize to you. But I saw you there on your porch, your hands on the railings of your fence. You were laughing with this boy I didn’t know, and I saw you kissed him once before he left and I just…” He chokes. “I couldn’t. You seemed… so happy. I didn’t want to bring you into this mess I was in, not again. I didn’t want to see you worry about me, ‘cause I knew you would. You deserve to be happy, even without me in your life, so… So, I left.”

And you can’t hold it back anymore. Breaking free from his arms, you turn around and throw yourself at him. Eren lands back on the bed with his air being knocked out of his lungs, and you fall apart in his arms. Torrents of your tears are falling to his bare chest, colliding against the pendant that lies above his pulsating heart. Your body convulses with every sob, your throat hurts, burning like you haven’t drunk anything in days, even when all you’re doing right now is silently screaming at his chest, fingers clawing against his skin.

Eren cradles your head in his arms, slowly sitting up from the bed and settling you down on his lap. “Hey,” he gently whispers, like you were the one who needs to be comforted when it should be the other way around. “It’s okay—“

“It’s not okay, you idiot!” You embrace him tighter, speaking through gritted teeth. “Why didn’t you reach out to me?!” You knock your fists against his chest as you shout. “We were so close—why did you leave?!”

He catches your wrists, noticing the quivers in your hands. “Like I said—“

“I heard what you said, I just don’t want to accept it!” You lift your face, your eyes peering into his emerald ones and they’re shaking, surprised by the emotions that swirled behind your irises. “You didn’t want me to worry?! Didn’t want to drag me into your mess?! Eren, how could you think that?! I wouldn’t have minded it at all! I would’ve been so glad to see you again—there was nothing more that I wanted than to see you—to be there for you—and you just—” You can’t speak, too choked up on your tears, too overwhelmed to function. “Eren—"

And he kisses you because there is no need for words to be said. He understands. Now he truly understands how you feel. He’s no longer afraid to seek help. He’s no longer afraid to be judged because he knows you won’t. He’s no longer afraid of baring his soul out in the open.

So he kisses you like it’s the only way to stop himself from breaking even further. He kisses you like he’s trying to convince himself that he deserves to be loved too, even if it’s only for a little. He kisses your lips until he can swallow every sob you try to contain. He kisses your eyes until he can wash every tear away. He kisses your cheeks until the only stain that paints your skin is the sweetness of his lips.

“Eren, it’s not your fault,” you say as soon as he gives you a chance to take a breath. “It isn’t your fault that this happened to you. Nothing of it is.” You hold his face in your hand, pressing your temples together as you both close your eyes and listen to each other’s breath. “You don’t deserve to be treated like this. You never should’ve blamed yourself for this. You didn’t do anything wrong.” You caress his cheek, gazing deep into his hooded eyes. “This isn’t your fault.”

Your last line strikes deep within him and he realizes that it’s… something he has been waiting to hear. Maybe all this time, he just wanted someone to forgive him. Maybe he just wanted someone to hold him like this and say the sentences you just spoke. Because once your words echo through his ears and he lets them sink further into his heart, his eyes turn glassy, glazed by the tears he’s been holding for years to himself.

He switches your positions, gently lays your body down on the bed as he hovers above you. His eyes rake over your features, in the same way yours do over his. “How do you always know,” he speaks so softly, holding you by the jaw with his thumb rubbing soothingly against your skin,“…the words I needed to hear?”

Eren leans down to steal a kiss, his lips barely moving as they are pressed gently against yours. Beneath all that sadness and loneliness, you can tell how there’s also a glimmer of happiness growing larger and larger with every kiss he shares with you. He chuckles lightly when he sees another tear slide down your cheek. “Why are you still crying?”

“Because—“ you snivel, your breathing sounding as shaky as your voice. “Because you’re not crying so I’m—I’m doing it for both of our sake.”

With the softest of giggles, Eren kisses the tear away, his lips meeting your cheek so softly, like a feather caressing your skin.

“Come here.” He lies down next to you and gathers you in his arms, slowly trailing his fingertips up and down your spine as you wind your limbs around his neck. Eren’s smile is fragile, but it’s the most beautiful one you’ve ever seen. He tucks your hair behind your ear, embracing you close.

“You’re so warm,” you sigh, hugging him tighter.

“You too.” He kisses your shoulder languidly. “Do you feel better?”

“Why am I the one who’s being comforted?”

“Because you’re the big baby.” He treats you like a child, nuzzling his nose against your strands but if it makes him happy, you’ll let him do it as much as he wants.

For a moment, he lays his chin on your head, his arms never disentangling from your body as he hugs your waist. He patiently waits for you to calm down, basking in your scent and being grateful for every inch of your skin that’s connected to his.

When you have no more tears to be shed, you pull away to meet his eyes. “Did you ever try to find your mom?”

Eren raises one hand in the air, splays out his fingers and you clasp yours against his, your fingers filling each other’s spaces perfectly. “I visited her once,” he professes, playing with your hand. “On the day before I went on my first tour two years ago. I finally achieved something that I could be proud of— even if I was only the opening act, it was my first world tour on two different continents. So I braved myself to see her. I thought she’d forgive me, and maybe even be proud of me. I kept telling myself that on the way to her new home. She was staying with the same man. He ended up divorcing her wife for her and they got married and stayed in his house. Levi got the address for me, and it took me months before I could knock my hand against her door. But I did.

“So, I stood there on her porch, waiting for her to open it while holding my breath. When she answered the door, I saw how her eyes widen in surprise but only for a split second before they turned cold. I had this whole speech ready to be spoken but the second I saw her, I couldn’t find the words. She didn’t seem to age a day, and it brought me back to the night when she left me. I only got snapped back to reality when she spoke to me. She didn’t say my name, didn’t even say hi. With her hand still glued to her doorknob, she asked, ‘Why are you here?’ And I turned stiff, even more than I already was. There were so many things I could’ve said. I miss you. I’m sorry. Can we go back to how we were—so many things I could’ve spoken to her but I said none because she didn’t give me the time to think.

“There was this little boy, who looked just like her, and he came running to hug her by her legs. He called her Mommy, asked her who I was and what was I doing there. She stroked his hair, speaking in the softest voice I’ve ever heard coming from her and she said, ‘Why don’t you go play with your sister?’ And I realized then that she already had a family. One that she felt truly belonged, with children that she sincerely loved. She didn’t even introduce me to him. She kept treating me like I didn’t exist, and I thought then I’d be used to it, but it still hurt. When I tried to speak, she cut me off. ‘Don’t ever come here again,’ she told me. ‘I’m finally happy without you and Grisha in my life. I’m not going to let you ruin it, not again.’ And she closed the door on me, not even taking one last look. And that was it. I never saw her ever since.”

It takes you a moment to keep yourself composed, otherwise you’ll just start crying again. So that’s why he’s so scared of being in a relationship, you muse. He’s afraid that once he truly loves someone—loves them just as much as he loved his mother—they’ll turn their backs away from him again. And if that happens, what can guarantee he’ll have the strength to pick himself back up?

Eren places a soft kiss on your lips when you haven’t spoken in a while. “You okay over there?”

When you take a deep breath, your body still shakes slightly from how hard you were crying before. “I’m sorry, but can I say one thing?”

“Sure.”

“Your mother is a jerk.”

Eren blinks twice, completely caught off guard before he bursts out laughing. He lets you know just how wide his smile is as he presses his lips against yours. When he breaks away, he sighs with his eyes turning a little bit hazy. “Thank you,” he whispers, gazing into your eyes as he rubs comforting circles with his thumb over your cheekbone.

“F-for what?”

“For crying on my behalf.” He carefully pushes your fringe away from your eyes. “For being in my life.” His smile is so serene and delicate, it causes your stomach to somersault. “I wouldn’t be here—wouldn’t be who I am today if it wasn’t for you. You saved me.”

The honesty in his words nearly stops your heart from beating, and you look away, cheeks bursting in flames. “You’re giving me too much credit.”

“I haven’t given you enough.” He moves down to press a sweet kiss to the soft skin that covers your heart. “I wish I could find the words to say more.” As he breaks away, he takes a hold of your hand, drawing his lips near your knuckles and let them linger as he vocalizes his words. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He turns it around, pressing your palm against his cheek. He smiles so beautifully, so soft, like a painting of a man adoring his lover from afar. “I’m so glad to have you in my life.”

You know you will never be able to stop crying if he keeps saying these words to you. Eren crawls down to pepper tiny kisses from your chin to the skin that covers your heart. Hooking your fingers around his necklace, you tug him close until his face hovers right above yours, his breath falling on your lips. “Come back to me,” you tell him, arching your back and tangling your legs around his.

“I’m already yours,” Eren answers with his mouth descending upon yours, and this time, he’ll keep it there as long as he can. He swallows up your cry, steals your breath, and stops your heartbeat with his lips moving beguilingly on yours. And it’s different—the way he touches, the way he kisses, the way he softly gasps and moans your name because your hearts are connected, deeper and stronger, two souls mingling into one. The absurd fluttery feeling in your stomach makes you squirm and Eren soothes you down by intertwining your fingers together, his lips moving lower to your jaw.

He doesn’t speak a line, nor a single word. He doesn’t tell you you’re beautiful, doesn’t tell you how complete you make him feel. This time, he lets you figure everything out on your own. He lets you feel, feel more of him, feel more of his everything, until you’re completely drowned and you stop wanting to come back to the surface. Every caress of his fingertips on your skin speaks its own praise. Every kiss of his lips on your spine speaks its own need. Every moan speaks its own desire. You let him pull you down to whatever it is he’s leading you, whether it’s an endless dream, a surreal reality, heaven or hell, you’ll follow him. You’re the light that leads him home, and you’re the fire that keeps him alive.

Eren closes his eyes and muffles your shaky moans with his own, submerging you with his desperate kisses, wet with tongue, and colored with both lust and affection. The night is long, the hours go slow, but even eternity won’t be enough for you to consume what you have for each other.

“Can you stay?” He gasps against your mouth as you lift your hips and he meets yours halfway down. “Will you stay with me just like this?” He sounds like he’s about to break apart and you wonder why. When you stroke his cheek, he quickly curls his fingers around your wrist, kissing the lines of your palm again as if he can’t help but praise every inch of your body whenever he has the chance. With his eyes closed and his eyebrows adjoined in the middle, Eren whispers, “I don’t ever want you to leave me.”

I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.

His words shatter your heart. It’s more of a plead than a confession. He has dismantled every armor, every guard he’s put around himself, and with his heart growing as vulnerable as a newborn child, he’s begging you to stay. And there’s no need to think, no moment shall pass with hesitation.

“Yes,” you cry out, pulling him down to you before you cradle his head in your arms. You lay a kiss on his temple, your fingers carding through his silky dark locks. “As long as you need me to.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

Eren claims every sweet inch of the softness you offer him, he laces the heady sensation into every caress and lets it sink into your senses. You feel a throbbing sensation between your thighs from the chaos of vibrations in your body, and it sends your head spinning. Before long, you’re gasping his name, kissing him to contain your cry and he follows with a groan.

Eren moans your name as he feels like he’s nearing the edge, ready to crash into you. His hips are picking up pace, but never as frantic or erratic as they usually are. Tonight, he’s not burnt by lust. He’s not consumed by neverending desire. He’s drowning in love, in passion, in you.

Your hand slides down his shoulder as you lift your back. If there’s still an inch of gap between your body and his, you’d close it. “Your heart’s pounding so hard…” You say, smiling a little with your fingertips pressing against his chest. There’s no mischief in your eyes, only adoration.

Eren, still slowly rocking his hips against yours, covers the back of your hand with his larger palm, pressing it further against his heart. He can feel how it’s about to leap out of his chest, burned by all these emotions he has for you.

His movements come into a halt, and with a frown, aching to seek release, you call out his name. “Is something wrong…?”

With a shuddering breath, Eren bares his soul. “I love you,” he says, surrendering everything he has, pouring everything he has locked and he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care if you won’t say it back. He realizes that happiness does not only emerge when your love is answered with the same passion. Happiness is already there in his heart just by loving you. He loves you. He just loves you so ardently, it kills him to not have the words leave his lips. “I’ve never loved anyone else as much as I love you.” His voice has never sounded so mellow, so fragile as if every word he vocalizes steals a piece of his heart. “I’ll never be able to love anyone else the way I love you.”

Saying those three words is a huge step, one that you have never been able to take. You were always so shrouded with your fears, with the thought of losing a friendship over a relationship. But it doesn’t have to be like that, does it?

Love is not a complex little thing. It doesn’t have to be. It’s not something to be understood. It’s not something to be thought of endlessly. It’s not a choice to be made. It’s a feeling, and feelings are meant to be felt. And what you feel right now is that you are truly, desperately, in love with him too. You just love him. Entirely. Infinitely.

You take his hand, fingers gliding against the shape of his wolf tattoo. You can faintly feel the scar underneath the ink, the scar that has inflicted so much pain from him over the years. You plant a kiss over it, hoping that it will replace the painful memory, even if it's only for a little. “I love you,” you whisper against his skin, and you didn’t say I love you too because you don’t want to sound like it’s merely a reply. You want your words to sound like a confession, because that’s what it is. You’re confessing to him, just like he confessed to you. Your words have the same depth, have the same intensity, your eyes casting the same loving gaze. You’re both the same, taking the same risk because you know you can’t have it any other way. You just love each other so much that you’ll risk it all.

And I’ll never be able to love anyone else the way I love you.

Eren watches with his heart pulsating madly, crimson cheeks smearing colors to his ears. Mumbling something under his breath, Eren laces your fingers together again and he holds yours tightly as he pins your hand against the bed. Your bodies begin to move, with Eren kissing you like he’s never had a taste of your lips before and you return each one with the biggest smile you can make. You pull him close with every strength that you have and you let him stay in your embrace. In this life or another, you will let him stay.

***

Three words. These three words you just said to him have been the only ones Eren could think about, the only ones he will think about for the rest of his life.

You’ve fallen asleep almost right after you reached your high, too exhausted and sleep-deprived to keep your eyes open and Eren lets you wane into your dream as long as you want, even when his heart still thunders from your response. He can’t sleep for the rest of the night, but he already feels like he’s dreaming. Or maybe he has been sleeping all along and this is all just a nice, sweet dream his mind fabricated to keep his heart elated.

It just feels so surreal.

There are a few hours left until the break of dawn and Eren spends every second lying on his side with you curling up to his chest. He gently runs his fingers through your strands, his nose buried in your hair to catch a whiff of your sweet scent. Whenever you stir in your sleep, a tiny smile would break on his face and he’d push your hair to the side so he can lay a sweet kiss on the spot between your eyebrows.

He feels so complete. So content, but at the same time, uncertain. Now that the room has fallen into silence, the demons inside his head come alive, echoing the same words over and over again.

Maybe she didn’t mean it that way when she told you she loved you.

Maybe it was just platonic.

Maybe she just got carried away by the heat of the moment.

Maybe she said it because she felt sorry for you.

Maybe you just heard her wrong.

Maybe, maybe and maybe. His list is endless, and he desperately seeks for confirmation. He needs to ask you about this but he knows damn well that as soon as the sun is up, and you sit there on your bed, rubbing your eyes away from sleep, his bravery will also vanish into thin air.

I’m just going to wait, he settles, If she meant what she said, she’ll say it again.

Eren swallows his shaky breath. “You’ll…” He strokes your cheek, his fingers quivering. “…say that to me again, right..?”

He’s only answered by your soft breathing. Eren turns around to lie on his back, sighing softly with his eyes glued to the ceiling of your room. With his thoughts screaming inside his head, he steps down the bed, wears his jeans back on, and notices the little box he has kept hidden inside his pocket.

It took him hours to finally get this little present sitting on his palm, going from one store to another to find the perfect one that could match the beauty of your smile. He wanted it to be perfect. He had everything all planned out.

His heart throbs as he steals a glance at you, perceiving the way you’re sleeping so soundly, he’s sure you’re not going to wake up anytime soon. “God, I must be going insane,” he mumbles to himself but he pops the box open, snatches the little thing hidden inside, and carefully crawls back into bed.

Eren wets his lips, nervous and terrified beyond belief but he tries his best to keep his fingers away from trembling. He takes a hold of your left hand and slowly, with bated breath, he places a diamond ring on your fourth finger. He pushes it forward until it’s settled perfectly, its rose gold color gleaming faintly under the soft glow of your bedroom lamp.

Eren finally releases the breath he’s been holding, waves of joy surging wildly inside his chest. “It…” He sounds like he’s about to cry and laugh at the same time. “It fits…”

It’s perfect. You’re perfect. And he closes his eyes as he kisses the ring on your finger, his delicate smile grazing against the diamond. “I want to be yours forever,” he whispers, holding your hand to his cheek. “Want nothing more than to wake up next to you each day. Want to watch that stupid Mr. Darcy movie you like over and over again until I can recite all the lines to you,” he chuckles once, “Want to write love songs for you—ones that could make you blush, or maybe silly enough to make you laugh.” His face turns pensive as he turns his desire into promises. “I want to take care of you every day. Want to love you every second of my life. I want—“ He catches himself, voice breaking as a new wave of emotions washing over him. “I want to have a baby with you. I want to be your husband and come home to you every day. Want to have a house where we can live together, away from all of this. To share laughter in the morning and kisses before bed. Just you and me, until the end of our lives.” Closing his eyes, he brings your hand closer to his face, his lips brushing against the ring. “So, please... Please marry me...”

But his words never reach yours. You can’t see the tears that prickle the corner of his eyes, threatening to fall. You can’t feel the warmth of his lips on your skin. You’ve drifted too far to notice.

And Eren only has the bravery to let the ring stay for a few minutes longer. After that, he’ll pretend it never exists and he’ll keep it that way until he can hear you say those three words to him once more.

Until he can fight the demons inside his head.

***

Next Chapter

A/N: Massive thanks to @justasketch for reading a 20k chapter despite her having one of the busiest weeks in her life. You're the best bro, I love you to the moon and back ❤️

Tagging: @tasteless @l6ffys @vivi-et @halparkebitch @fwess @littlemochi @thebeardedmoon @luvtaromilktea @didiyogo @xximthefoolxx-blog @coyloves @erenbean​ @tehehebri @justasketch @infnteen @naiomiwinchester @spiderlingh @doyochii @ahornyenby @jeagersruletheworld @sakurashell @the-princess-button @resonancesoul thanks so much for reading, lovelies! Let me know what you think ❤️

[cdroloisms]

I really love when people write about c!wilbur manipulating c!dream so I was wondering if you could write on about the smp realizing that c!wilbur manipulated c!dream into being a lap dog for him but a hell lot of trouble for then and if you could add c!wilbur taking advantage of the fact that dream is a god during a fight that would make my day. Hope you have a great day.thank you. Love your work.

ooh yeah - c!wilbur is back and GGG-ing as good as ever, , which Really makes you think abt what it’s gonna be like when he interacts with c!dream again. this ended up being a little more c!sapnap centric than i intended, hope that’s alright haha. (and thank you so much for the kind words!) 

tw: implied abuse, torture, drowning, dismemberment, manipulation, unhealthy relationships, emotional distress, dark content, prison arc/pandora’s vault, c!sapnap critical? not really?, dark portrayal of c!wilbur (typical MAD duo shenanigans)

Sapnap isn’t expecting to find anyone when he storms out in the middle of the night - he’s tense, they all are after the fiasco at the prison, but really his thoughts are filled with Karl once again going inexplicably radio silent for days on end and Quackity ignoring all of his questions with a simple “i’m busy” that he’d failed to follow up even twelve hours later, so Dream and Wilbur and whatever the hell happened that left Pandora’s Vault - obsidian, indestructible, tall and dark and proud - half-crumbled and sunken into the sea are just about the last things on his mind.  

Even so, he’s not an idiot, so he had enough foresight to pack a few potions and gather his armor and weapons before stepping into the summer night - it’s cool under the moonlight, a soft breeze cutting through the otherwise stifling weight of the humid air, and the comfortable night is enough to make his anger die down, just a little. Kinoko Kingdom glows soft and warm from the lanterns Foolish had scattered all over the place, thick with the earthy smell of fungus and flowers, and he takes a deep breath before walking to the city outskirts to hopefully clear his mind.

He’s no stranger to late-night walks; his temper had always been fiery, even as a child, and he’d figured out pretty early on that the easiest way to deal with it was to walk or run until his brain was too tired to think anymore. Walking at night also meant he could take out some of his frustration on mobs as well as the satisfaction of setting a random patch of forest on fire without worrying about burning down someone else’s property, and once he got good enough with a sword and shield to come and go relatively unscathed, Bad had stopped his worrying enough to let him do whatever as long as he came back in time in the morning. Sapnap frowns as he hacks at a random branch in his way with an axe, watching as it falls in a spray of leaves and crashes to the ground; he hasn’t seen Bad in a while, not since he became obsessed with the whole Egg thing. Quackity had mentioned some cryptic things, and Karl was adamant that they avoid the Egg as much as possible, but he probably should’ve at least visited, or something. Bad always knew what to say when it came to messy things like this.

Though - Sapnap laughs wryly - it’d never been this bad, before. Karl distant and absent, Q somehow even more so with a new glint to his gaze that sent a shiver down his spine. George, usually asleep, never around, expression perpetually foggy like he doesn’t know where he was. Dream- evil, insane, awful, somehow so familiar it hurt and too much of a stranger to recognize. He wonders when it all got this bad. He wonders what it says about himself, that he didn’t notice until it was far too late.

“Fancy seeing you out here.”

Sapnap whirls around, sword drawn; the figure staring back at him doesn’t even flinch. His eyes narrow at the sight, stance widening, shoulders tense.

“Wilbur?” He keeps his voice wary, guarded, trying his best to keep surprise from coloring his tone. Wilbur grins at him, tight-lipped, the planes of his face faintly lit by the moon shining over them, facial features only barely visible in the dim light. Without really meaning to, Sapnap cranes his head to look around at the surrounding forest, but nothing moves or makes itself known outside of the figure still staring at him, smirking. “What- what are you doing here?”

And where’s Dream?

Because Sapnap might not know much about what went down at the prison and what Dream’s plans are and the whole mess that he’d been so desperate to put behind him and utterly failed at doing so, but what he does know is that the two of them - Dream and Wilbur, Wilbur and Dream - had been all but inseparable, strangely attached to each other in a way that spelled out nothing but trouble for the rest of them. The rest of the server had been compiling sightings of the two in the hopes of being able to stop whatever it was that they had planned, but Sapnap knows his former friend, brother, and even if he doesn’t know Wilbur, his reputation more than precedes him: the two of them are smart, not to mention paranoid as fuck, and the rest of them have a better shot shooting targets in the dark than figuring out whatever the hell was going on in their heads with the two of them working together. Either way, he knows that they’d never been sighted apart - it was always Wilbur standing on a hill with Dream sitting next to him, or Dream hacking through mobs as Wilbur followed, or the two of them stepping into a fortress and leaving minutes after - until now.

“Could ask the same of you,” Wilbur laughs, just a shade to the left of friendly, and the moonlight scatters through the leaves and glints off his glasses. “Don’t be so tense, man! I’m just going on a walk, thought I’d enjoy the night. Didn’t see anything like this in Limbo, you know.”

Sapnap winces at the reminder, that Wilbur is here and alive in defiance of law and reason and the universe itself, but Wilbur barrels on, seeming unaware of his unease.

“Anyway - how are you doing, man? Haven’t seen you around in a while.” He leans back, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, stance loose, relaxed. “I’d ask Dream, but he’s been in prison for a bit, you know? Most of what he knows is pretty - ah, outdated, not that I tell him that.”

“What are you planning?” Sapnap snaps, grip tightening around the handle of his sword. “You and Dream. What do you want?”

“Who’s to say we want anything?” Wilbur seems to grin wider, and the expression on his face is unsettling, makes something cold slither up his spine. He shakes his head to rid himself of the feeling, half-wishing it was brighter so he could better see the other’s eyes.

“I mean-” he stutters. Because Dream always wants, he almost says, bitter and angry, that all-too-familar swell of betrayal rising in his chest at Dream, forever insatiated, forever wanting, forever looking for more more more. Because if he were to escape, and if he were to want nothing, then what did that mean for the rest of them? Because if he didn’t want, if he wasn’t left wanting, then did Sapnap ever mean anything at all? The thoughts stick to his skull like tar, words clinging to the roof of his mouth as it goes dry. Wilbur seems to stare at him, unimpressed, and he feels his face go hot.

“He’s not- he’s dangerous, you know,” Sapnap says instead of answering, because untangling the awful, knotted feelings that make up his remaining ties with Dream, half-frayed and neglected and forgotten, is more work than he can handle and more emotions than he has the energy to bear. It doesn’t matter, in the end, because Dream is still dangerous; he knows that, resolutely, and maybe it’s lucky, that he found Wilbur without Dream whispering plans and manipulations and meaningless words by his side. It’ll give him a chance to warn Wilbur, bring him back to their side instead of risking his life (again) in the company of his friend-turned-tyrant. Dream is dangerous, whether he wants or not, because Dream is Dream and he’s been in too many manhunts to face him with anything less than one hundred percent confidence. “You don’t want to be with him, Wilbur. He’s hurt- so many people.”

Wilbur’s expression doesn’t change, seeming as indifferent to the words as ever; if anything, he looks a little amused. “Really,” he hums, almost to himself. “Dangerous, you say?”

“He’s Dream,” Sapnap insists, because it’s the truth, and it’s the simplicity of it, really. It’s Dream, and Dream is dangerous whether he’s on your side or not, forever ruthless and unheeding as long as he gets what he wants. He’d been in Wilbur’s place, once, convinced that Dream’s strategies and planning and infallible logic had meant they had no way of losing. He knows better, now. “You’ve fought him before! He doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t care about anything.”

And if the words are a little more bitter than they should be when he says that, who but he is going to notice?

Wilbur’s eyes stay on his, completely silent, expression unreadable. The quiet gets awkward quickly, Wilbur’s expression seeming unchanging, nothing but the faint rustling of the leaves around them to break the stillness of the air, and Sapnap feels his gut roll uncomfortably as he looks off to the ground, waiting for Wilbur to react in some way, any way. It’s hard, he knows, to realize that someone you thought was on your side had been using you the entire time, he’s been there before and he gets it, but- it’s still strange, how still Wilbur has become. How he still hasn’t reacted - is his expression going to change?

And suddenly, starting quiet and then swelling in volume, Wilbur begins to laugh.

“Goodness,” Wilbur drawls through his chuckles, voice low and dark and sending chills down his back. “I thought he was exaggerating, man - you really do hate him, don’t you?”

“What- what’s so funny?”

Wilbur smiles, teeth flashing white as the faint light from the moon bounces off of them, “I have to give you my thanks, truly. I’d thought that Quackity did the most of it, or Sam, but you- I really couldn’t have guessed.”

Sapnap’s head is spinning. Wilbur’s expression is positively gleeful, eyes dancing, smile wide and brilliant, bouncing from one name to another with little explanation to how any of them tie together. Sam? Quackity? Nothing is making sense. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh Sapnap,” Wilbur croons. “You really don’t know, do you?”

He twists his hand in a flippant gesture, eyes directed into the forest surrounding them.

“Let’s just say that his, ah- stay, in Pandora, wasn’t exactly what I’d call a five-star experience. But you know that, don’t you?” Wilbur directs a flat smile his way, and Sapnap swallows, throat dry. Briefly, images flash behind his eyes - walls, dripping with crying obsidian, the lava’s heat hard to bear at his back, even for him, mining fatigue pulling at his limbs and making them heavy. How startlingly bare the cell had been, even through the haze of his anger, Dream, slumped in a corner of the cell, barely moving, barely even breathing as it seemed sometimes, sunken-in cheeks and sagging shoulders speaking of nothing but a bone-deep exhaustion. “Apparently, being psychologically and physically tortured for months on end has an interesting effect on the human psyche. Even more so when, say, your best friend comes once in the entire time to tell you that he’ll kill you if you ever try to escape.”

“How-” he trips on his own words, lungs seizing, “how do you know that?”

“He tells me things. A lot of things, really. Did you know it takes one and a half regen potions to reattach an arm after it’s been cut off? It takes three and a half for a leg, he thinks, but the blood loss made it rather hard to remember.” Wilbur steps forward. “Did you know that scars created by healing potions tend to be much thicker and more prominent than those made by regens? Or that he can hold his breath for a little more than two minutes before passing out?” Wilbur smirks, jagged, threatening. “Did you know that I can tell him just about everything, and he’ll believe me because there’s no one else to tell him otherwise?”

“Wh- what?”

“I’ll be sure to tell him what you said; I’m sure he’ll love to hear how his brother is doing.” Wilbur waves. “And when you see Quackity, be sure to give him my thanks, will you?”

“Wilbur, what- come back-”

And with a flash of purple particles, Wilbur disappears, leaving Sapnap alone in the middle of the forest. Stasis chamber. His heart pounds in his ears, breathing all-too-loud, and he stares desperately at the empty space where Wilbur had stood like it’ll bring him back again.

Fuck, he swipes his hand across his face, startled when it comes back wet. What does he do now?

[honeyedhoseok]

Blue | 01

genre | jeon jungkook x reader; lifeguard!JK but this isn't really a lifeguard fic; soulmate!au if you squint; smut; angst

word count | 9.9K

summary | that summer with jungkook was blue--a shade that carries with it a tinge of melancholia that you should have accepted from the beginning.

or,

to say that you fell in love with a color was an overstatement, but to say that you fell in love with him was an understatement.

a/n | i've been writing this to avoid my responsibilities. hope you enjoy! <3

series masterlist

It rained the first day Jungkook worked at the pool.

You’d heard the news of a few new lifeguards starting that day, but you’d been too busy serving ice cream at the snack bar to really get anything other than a quick glance at the lifeguard stand before you were locking eyes with the next greedy customer in line.

It was the beginning of summer, with the air sitting hot, dry and heavy on the normal patrons of the pool: older moms who sunbathed and gossiped with their friends while their kids splashed in the shallow end and gave the lifeguards something to do. Teenagers too cool to actually get in the pool littered the sides, only dipping their feet in while using expensive Ray Ban frames like a headband to hold their hair out of their eyes while they talked with their friends.

The forecast had mentioned some scattered storms, but normally that just meant getting everyone to come inside for a few minutes until it passed. The storm that day, however, had plans of sticking around a little bit longer.

You were passing a cup of strawberry shortcake soft serve out the window when the first clap of thunder sounded, followed by a lightning storm that sent the lifeguards in a tizzy. Multiple whistles blew at the sudden appearance of a storm, and the atmosphere was a rush of splashing and commotion as people made their way out of the water and to their belongings scattered in chairs on the sides.

“Well, that came out of nowhere,” your coworker, Jihyo says, sidling up beside you to look at the clouds looming over what was supposed to be a normal day at the pool. “Wonder if we’ll get to go home early?”

“I hope not,” you reply. “I need these hours, damn it. The Blooming Festival is in a few weeks, and I plan on taking off at least three days to soak it all in.”

Jihyo rolls her eyes. “Yeah, you’ve only mentioned it, maybe, every day I’ve worked with you so far?”

Serving ice cream at the pool was just a summer job. You were working there to make some money so you could do things with your friends, put gas in your car, and occasionally splurge on a new outfit or pair of shoes. It was supposed to be as normal as every other summer you’d worked there in between college semesters—until he showed up.

In fifteen minutes, the pool was shut down completely; all of the patrons were packed up and back in their cars after an announcement from your manager that the storm was forecasted to not let up for at least another hour and a half.

“Oh, we’re definitely going home,” Jihyo says, shutting the serving window and twisting the lock. “When’s the last time Seokjin shut down the pool indefinitely?”

You purse your lips, leaning back against the counter behind you and looking out at the pouring rain behind Jihyo. The wind was starting to pick up now, leaves and debris filling the once-clean surface of the cerulean water of the pool.

You start to make a bitter remark but the sound of heavy, slapping footsteps cuts you off, followed by a loud pounding at the back door. Jihyo looks toward the source of the noise with furrowed eyebrows, tilting her chin up stubbornly.

“More twelve-year-olds coming to demand that we restock Moose Tracks?”

“Hey, Moose Tracks is a classic!” you call at her back as she goes to unlock the door. “It’s not their fault you keep picking unpopular flavors to order each week—like Mint Chocolate Chip!”

The back door opens, and the shop is suddenly flooded with voices following Jihyo back into the small space.

“MCC is the goddamn classic, Y/N,” Jihyo says, stomping back into the conversation like she never left off. “Don’t ever bash it again, or I’ll stop ordering Sea Salt Caramel for your uncultured ass!”

You want to laugh, but you’re too distracted by the hoard of boys—lifeguards—trailing behind her. Yoongi and the two new guys crowd your space suddenly, and you find yourself backing up into one of the corners and trying not to look as embarrassed as you felt for just arguing with Jihyo over ice cream flavors, of all things.

The boys are soaking wet, puddles collecting at their feet on the tiled inside of the kitchen, but they seem unphased by it as they huddle in. Thankfully, one of them comes to your rescue.

“I’m with her,” he says, giving you a nod. His smile fills up his whole face as he talks, making his eyes turn into little crescent half-moons. “Sea Salt Caramel is where it’s at.”

The other lifeguard doesn’t say anything, gaze focused over your heads outside where the wind is knocking sunbathing chairs over. You realize then how tall he is—possibly half a foot or more than you—and the thought that if you were close enough, your nose wouldn’t even brush the dip of his clavicle, has your cheeks burning.

He and the half-moon lifeguard have similar builds: long, lean body statures, almond-shaped eyes, the same dark hair that falls in wet strands in their eyes. You wonder if they’re related. Maybe the taller one is the older brother, you think.

“The great ice cream debate,” Yoongi murmurs suddenly, sounding bored. “How about we have some and solve this problem once and for all?”

As he reaches for one of the serving spoons, Jihyo’s arm flies out, smacking it out of his hands. It falls with a clatter onto the counter, and he looks at her with an animated expression of surprise and disgust.

“Uh-uh,” she says, wagging a finger at him. “It’s like Seokjin’s only rule for us.”

“Seokjin can kiss my—“

As if on cue, the back door swings open and Yoongi shuts his mouth as Seokjin comes in, looking incredibly dry due to the floor-length plastic covering hanging from his umbrella.

Leave it to Seokjin to own something as extra as that, you think.

“Get comfy,” he says as he steps out of the plastic, shaking water off the top that splashes onto your scuffed, white Keds.

You gaze down, realizing only then that none of the lifeguards are wearing shoes. Yoongi’s pinky toe is edging dangerously close to a melted puddle of chocolate ice cream you forgot to clean up, but you don’t have the guts to tell him in front of your manager, so you shoo the thought away and focus on the grim look on Seokjin’s face. He’s chewing gum and looks slightly annoyed at the thought of all five of you huddled inside instead of doing work.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” he says, “but I need you guys to stay here until the storm calms down. It should pass in an hour or two.”

Jihyo frowns. “And if it doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll send you home.”

She grins triumphantly.

“And I’ll need you to come in early tomorrow to clean up that mess out there,” Seokjin adds, giving her a sickly-sweet smile. He blows a bubble with his pink chewing gum for emphasis, the pop resonating in the small space.

Yoongi frowns and Jihyo’s mouth drops open. The new lifeguards seem as surprised as the other two, and they eye Seokjin curiously, probably trying to figure out what kind of manager he is. Even after all this time working for him, you don’t really know the answer to that question, either.

“Any more questions?” he asks, tone leaning somewhat on annoyance. But then again, that’s how Seokjin always sounded.

Jihyo shakes her head and Yoongi gives him a deepened frown in answer.

“Good. You,” he says, looking pointedly at Yoongi and mimicking his annoyed expression. “See to it that Hoseok and Jungkook get acquainted with the rules.” He steps inside his clear cocoon of an umbrella, reaching down to zip it up above his head. “And I’ll let you know when it’s safe to go outside and clean up.”

Jungkook, you think. You know immediately that it’s his name because it just fits him. You feel yourself rolling the unspoken syllables around the inside of your mouth, wondering when you’ll get the first chance to say them aloud.

Yoongi salutes half-assedly, and Jihyo elbows him in the side after Seokjin turns around and makes his exit. After the back door is shut, the five of you visibly deflate, and Yoongi sucks his teeth.

“That guy,” he mutters. “One of these days—”

“I wish you’d learn your lesson and stop messing with him,” Jihyo says, interrupting whatever nasty comment was about to spill from his mouth. “It’s probably because of you that Seokjin wants us to stay, instead of going home in this god-awful weather.”

“Why doesn’t he like Yoongi?” Hoseok asks, eyes flickering to the chestnut-haired, simmering boy to his left.

“His most recent offense?” Jihyo ponders, crossing her arms over her chest as she thinks. “Not showing up for his shift—threedays in a row.”

“I was sick,” Yoongi says dryly, narrowing his eyes at her. “What did you want me to do? Not stay in bed and get better?”

“Oh, your bed must suddenly have relocated to the pool hall at five in the afternoon, huh?” she says, tilting her head to the side in mocking. “Snapchat locations don’t lie, Yoongi. If you’re going to play hooky, do it better.”

Hoseok chuckles. “Damn, man.”

Yoongi, never one to back down from an argument, flicks his brown fringe out of his eyes. “Why don’t you teach me then, Little Miss Stomachache?”

“I had cramps!” Jihyo says indignantly.

“You’ll learn that being around these two is like being around an old married couple,” you murmur to Jungkook and Hoseok as Yoongi and Jihyo’s voices rise louder and louder in contest. “They get along like cats and dogs.”

Jungkook grins at your comment, and you think your heart stops a little in your chest before starting an accelerated rhythm that has you feeling light. His lips pull back prettily over his teeth, his cheeks balling a little from the force of it.

“I’m thinking cats and dogs might actually be more civil than this, to be honest,” Hoseok says, gesturing to an annoyed Yoongi threatening to rub his clammy, wet feet on Jihyo’s bare, shorts-clad legs.

In the time that you had worked there, there were very few civil moments between Jihyo and Yoongi. You think that maybe they were civil when Yoongi first started, and you remember faintly a comment made by Jihyo that Yoongi was “cute” and maybe that they exchanged numbers at some point—but then rumors went around that Yoongi said Jihyo was too loud and controlling, and Jihyo said he was a selfish bastard, and you think they’ve been sworn enemies ever since.

“You’re probably right,” you say finally, giggling at Hoseok’s comment. You stop abruptly when you see Jungkook’s eyes fall to your mouth at the sight of it splitting open with a grin. They linger there for a moment before he speaks for the first time since entering you and Jihyo’s space.

“What did you say your name was, again?” he asks.

His voice is soft and low, almost a lilted hum, and it catches you off guard in comparison to his very boyish, young features. You expected it to be higher, to sound almost preteen-like, but it’s nothing of the sort—it immediately has you questioning how old he is in comparison to Hoseok.

“Y/N,” you say. “Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself, I guess.”

Jungkook smiles again, and this time it feels like one especially conjured up for you.

“Y/N,” he repeats, the sound of his tongue rolling over the syllables sends a little zap to your insides. “You um, have a little something there, on your shirt.”

He takes one hand out of his blue swim trunks and points to your breastbone, where a dark splotch of chocolate ice cream sits over your sternum.

“Aw, fuck!” you murmur, facing burning as you spin around on your heel, grabbing the nearest hand towel and dabbing at your shirt. “These kids—”

“It wouldn’t stain like that if it was Mint Chocolate Chip,” Jihyo sneers suddenly, cutting whatever Yoongi was about to say to her off. She grins triumphantly at the stain, returning to your argument from earlier. “Would it?”

You flip her the bird, still dabbing at the fabric—but you can’t help but revel a little in the cute smile Jungkook gives you as he watches you fuss over yourself, digging around the kitchen space for anything to save you from the ice cream on your shirt.

After that fated day, your mind lingered on Jungkook incessantly. At the pool, you glanced at him more often than not from the serving window of the ice cream stand, committing him to memory. You found yourself reminiscing over the upended triangular shape of his upper body, the lithe muscle covering his shoulder blades, the image of a whistle poised between his rosy lips, his teeth pressed tightly against the metal, his body wet and glistening as he rose out of the pool—

“You’re literally drooling, Y/N,” Jihyo says, breaking you out of your reverie by snapping her fingers in front of your face. “Why don’t you just, I don’t know, go talk to him?”

“I will,” you say indignantly. “I told you—I’m waiting.”

“It’s been three weeks.”

“Yeah, I know,” you say, nodding. “Still waiting.”

“Jesus,” Jihyo sighs. “I didn’t want to do this, but you know he’s only here for the summer, right?”

You freeze in the middle of cleaning the counter. “He’s what?”

“You heard me—you have less than three months, Y/N,” Jihyo says firmly. “I know rushing isn’t your style but, uh, you might not have a choice this time.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me!”

You hate how your voice sounds pitiful and whiny, but your heart is literally sinking at this news—three months? Less than three months? Where was he going? What would you do with your time when he wasn’t there to look out the window at? It dawns on you suddenly that you won’t be there in three months, either. School started back at the end of August—your sophomore year.

“Why didn’t you let me know you were interested in him?” Jihyo crosses her arms over her chest. “I’ve been watching you fawn over him for all this time, just waiting and hoping you’d confide in me, but no.”

“What was I supposed to say?” you retort glumly. “That I like the lifeguard that seems the least interested in my existence? Yeah, no, I’ll save myself from that sadness train going nowhere, thank you very much.”

“Maybe I can help you,” Jihyo says with confidence, turning to the window. “Hey, Jungkook!”

You freeze. “What? What are you doing?”

Jungkook looks your way, raising an eyebrow above his black Ray Bans. Jihyo leans out of the serving window, beckoning him over with a wave of her hand.

She turns to you. “Look how easy this is going to be.”

You swallow to combat the sudden tightness in your throat, watching with bated breath as Jungkook climbs down the lifeguard ladder and walks to you two, his feet slapping a little on the wet cement surrounding the pool.

“What’s up?” he says, pushing his sunglasses back on his head and unknowingly releasing the full intensity of his doe-like eyes.

You inhale a small gasp that Jihyo obviously hears, because she lightly presses her Ked-clad foot on top of yours below the counter.

“Me, you, Y/N, Hoseok,” Jihyo says with a confidence you could never muster. “Dinner and a movie on the boardwalk this weekend?”

Jungkook’s eyes pass from hers to yours for a split second, and your pulse picks up speed in your veins. If he seems surprised from the random invitation, however, he doesn’t let it show on the easy-going expression that he wears.

“Sure,” he says. “Can you remind me when it gets a little closer? I’ll have to make sure my parents don’t have anything planned.”

Jihyo flips her hair over her shoulder, casually producing her phone from what feels like thin air. You blink down at her hand, realizing this was her plan all along.

“Put your number in,” she says. “I’ll make us a group chat. We should probably have one anyways, since we work together. You know?”

Jungkook nods and puts his number in before handing it back to her. A commotion happens in the water behind him, and he glances over his shoulder with concern. “I should probably head back,” he says. He gives you both a small smile before he flips his sunglasses down over his eyes again, hitting a slight jog back to the lifeguard stand.

When he’s out of earshot, Jihyo texts rapidly on her phone. When she’s done yours vibrates three times in your pocket: the start of the group chat, you’re sure.

“And that, my friend,” she says, giving you a grin that could rival the Grinch when he decided to steal Christmas, “is how you get the ball rolling!”

Unfortunately, Jihyo’s plans—which she has annoyingly coined as Operation: Get Y/N Laid—don’t stop there.

On Thursday, just two days before the plans, she convinces Hoseok to come with her to something before the meet up that’s going to coincidentally make them late so that you and Jungkook have time to be alone.

When she tells you this, it’s as she’s making a double scoop chocolate cone, but you can’t help the overwhelming urge that comes over you to put your hands around her neck.

“Ack! Y/N! Let go!” she says between breaths with wide eyes. “I’m going to drop the ice—”

“You’re so dumb!” you yell, squeezing a little harder. “That’s such an obvious ploy to get us alone, he’s going to realize it!”

Jihyo finally squirms out of your grip by turning her head and licking your arm. The warmth of her tongue makes you recoil, and she gasps with relief as air floods back into her lungs, looking at the now-lopsided cone in her left hand.

“Now how am I supposed to give this to that little brat outside?” she says, frowning. “His mom will come and eat me alive if I hand this slop out of the window.”

“You probably deserve it,” you say sourly. You lean your hip into one of the counters, crossing your arms over your chest. “Take your plans back, Jihyo.”

“I can’t,” she says calmly. “Hoseok is already in on it.”

“He’s what?!”

“He’s in on Operation: Get Y/N Laid,” she says again, with that same ridiculous manner of calm, like you didn’t just make her life flash before her eyes thirty seconds ago. “Stop freaking out—he wants to give you some time alone just like I do. So, he’s not going to say anything to Jungkook. The plan will go on like normal, you will just have to do a little acting when we don’t show up on time. Got it?”

In all honesty, it’s not the worse plan she has ever come up with. But you don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing so, so you keep your current frown plastered on your mouth for a little longer to let her know your displeasure with the sudden turn of events.

“Oh, don’t you go all pouty on me,” Jihyo says, wagging a finger at you as she trashes the cone you messed up and grabs another. She scoops more ice cream out of the container below her, giving you a look that reminds you of a mother watching her children open Christmas presents after telling them they weren’t getting anything for months. “You’ll thank me later—right after you tell me if Jungkook has anything worthy of talking about.”

“I’m sure he does,” you respond indignantly, falling right into her trap. “He’s intelligent.”

Jihyo hums a nod before brandishing the new cone, two scoops of chocolate perfectly centered and balanced on top of each other. “Before long this will be you two—are you a top or a bottom, though? I forgot.”

You groan in anguish as Jihyo lets out a cackle, opening the window to your stand and handing it out the impatient little boy that waits outside. You’re grateful for the breeze, although its simmering warmth does nothing for the same feeling that has settled high on your cheeks, dusting pigment there reminiscent of a similar shade of red Jungkook sometimes sports on his swim trunks.

The day of the boardwalk date, you find yourself sprawled out on the floor in front of your closet in your underwear and bra, contemplating why you ever purchased every single item of clothing in your closet.

These kinds of freak outs are normally reserved for the pressing dates in life—first day of college, nights out with the girls, birthdays—but today, you find yourself freaking out over the instance of having to wear the perfect outfit in order to feel comfortable around Jungkook.

Comfortable, and most importantly, pretty.

You shuffle through your two final picks, laying them across your bed in order to get the full effect of what they might look like on. They were both incredibly simple—your college wardrobe either consisted of exercise shorts and t-shirts and hoodies or going out clothes that were much too revealing for a fun night on the boardwalk. But you fret over them some more, so much that you almost have a nervous breakdown and text Jihyo to call the whole thing off.

But the slight hum of your phone vibrating your bed stops you before you can do so. It’s from Jungkook, and you heart beats a little off kilter at the sight of his name popping up on your phone screen.

Jungkook 5:15PM : We still meeting at 6?

It’s directed to your group chat with him, Jihyo and Hoseok. You take a deep breath. Jihyo had told you that she wasn’t going to respond to any messages until the last minute, to really sell her “emergency” that she had to bring Hoseok along on. You were driving separately, as was Jungkook, but the two of them had decided to conveniently carpool a day prior.

Y/N 5:18PM : I’ll be there! Park at Pier 14, it’s the closest one to the boardwalk

Jungkook 5:20PM : Yes ma’am 😊

You smile down at your phone, biting down on your bottom lip softly as you read the message over a few times before clicking the screen lock button. You prop your hands on your hips, deciding that it’s now or never. The nights got chilly in the summer when the sun wasn’t beating down as heavy, and you hated being cold. So, you choose the outfit on the right—a simple, oversized pullover and bike shorts, paired with some scuffed white sneakers, and rush into the bathroom to get ready so you’re not late.

You get to the pier at exactly 6:01 and search around for a parking space.

A part of you feels like this is a bad plan. Especially when you look down at your phone after cutting the engine and realize that Jihyo has texted you something that makes your stomach drop.

Jihyo 5:59PM : Haha…bad news

Jihyo 5:59PM : DON’T KILL ME

Y/N 6:02PM : Please, no!!! What is it!!

Jihyo 6:03PM : The check engine light on my car came on as I was leaving Hoseok’s. Don’t panic. We are waiting for AAA to come get us and take us back to his house so he can drive. I repeat: DON’T. PANIC.

“Okay, okay” you say to yourself, taking a few calming, deep breaths in. “At least she has a plan? This can still work out. I’m not panicking. Yet.”

Y/N 6:03PM : When are they estimated to be there?

Her messaging dots appear and disappear for a few minutes and your anxiety skyrockets.

Y/N 6:06PM : JIHYO

Jihyo 6:07PM : between 6:45-7PM…

Y/N 6:08PM : THE MOVIE STARTS AT 7:05 YOU ABSOLUTE

There’s a knock at your window that has you almost jumping out of your skin. When you look up, you’re met by the wide grin and big, childlike eyes of Jungkook. He peers at you through the tinted glass, looking a little sheepish at having scared you on accident.

All your anxiety about Jihyo having an actual emergency disappears as you unclick your seat belt and scramble out of the car to join him.

“I really didn’t mean to do that,” he says, stepping back and giving you space to swing your door open. “Is everything all right?”

“What?” you say. “Oh, yeah. Everything is fine. Well—sort of.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow at you. “Did something happen?”

“Jihyo is having car trouble, so her and Hoseok are going to be late.”

You bite down on your bottom lip, shifting your weight from leg to leg. The outing was supposed to be all of you as a group—and originally, them being a little late wouldn’t have been such a problem. But you were thinking thirty minutes max, not an hour and a half!

You’re relieved when Jungkook shrugs. “Oh, okay,” he says. “Well, I’m still cool with walking around until the movie starts if you are ?”

You nod with enthusiasm. “Right—we’re already here, might as well go do some stuff?”

Jungkook smiles again, and you finally take a good look at him. He’s wearing a dark t-shirt under a black zip-up hoodie and a pair of chinos—a simpler outfit that looks way too good on his tall, lean frame. You hadn’t seen him in much other than his swim trunks because the only time you two really saw each other outside of this singular moment, was at work.

Of course, you weren’t complaining about that aspect. You could probably pencil out in detail the muscles of Jungkook’s upper chest and stomach, the way water rolled off them when he got out of the pool, the way they flexed when he pulled his whistle to his mouth. That is, if your drawing skills weren’t absolute shit—so bad at that a kindergartener could probably put you to shame with snapped Crayola’s and disproportionate stick figures.

The sun has already sunk below the horizon, taking with it all the heat and warmth of the day and leaving you with a slight breeze that could give you goosebumps if you let it, and a sky the deepened color of cornflowers.

It’s twilight, you realize, as you trail beside Jungkook from the parking lot cement onto the wooden planks of the boardwalk. A backlit, blue-hued time of day that you absolutely adored during the summertime because you still had just enough light accomplish the activities you wanted to.

Not that you needed to worry about light at a time like this—the bright boardwalk stadium lights are almost blinding, and because it’s the weekend, the two of you find yourself periodically weaving in and out of the crowd that seems to get busier and pushier the further you walk.

Jungkook takes the lead, his taller frame holding more of a reason for people to move out of the way than yours. You watch the back of his head the whole time, noticing the way his raven hair reflects the light—shiny and clean and looking incredibly soft.

“How about a snow cone?” he calls over his shoulder. “It looks like there might be somewhere for us to sit up there.”

He points ahead and you call out an agreement to him, hoping to be heard over the ruckus.

You realize that the crowd isn’t going to let up anytime soon—people have no qualms about walking in between you two, and you find yourself speeding up in order to not be further separated from him.

At some point Jungkook glances behind him again and realizes your struggle. He slows his pace, and you happen to look down and realize he is holding out the long sleeve of his hoodie for you to hold on to.

“Don’t get lost,” he says with a grin. “This snow cone will be worth it, I promise!”

You return his smile, holding onto his arm with a light touch as he continues to lead through the crowd. You curse Jihyo silently in your head—despite her fake emergency turning into a real emergency, she was right about one thing: time alone with Jungkook was something you couldn’t pass up.

When you finally make it to the snow cone cart, you let go of Jungkook’s arm quickly. He looks at you with suspicion as you snatch away, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a shit-eating grin, like he knew exactly what he was doing to your racing pulse by offering you his touch.

“What flavor do you want?” he asks, looking at the menu stand on the right. “My treat.”

You both immediately point to Tiger’s Blood, and Jungkook seems pleased with you.

“Good choice,” he says. “If you picked Pina Colada, I was going to lose it.”

You giggle. “You don’t like coconut?”

“No,” he says, frowning. “I snuck some of my mom’s Malibu one time without realizing and I almost barfed.”

You laugh again, shaking your head. You realize that you still don’t how old Jungkook is, and while he orders your snow cones, you look at him with scrutiny. There was something young about his eyes and face, the roundness of the tip of his nose and cheeks making you believe he was younger than you. But his body—good grief, his body—and the sharpness of his jawline and said otherwise.

When you’re both seated at a picnic table, you decide to ask him.

“Why?” he says. “How old do you think?”

You take a timid bite of your snow cone, relishing in the satisfying crunch of ice between your teeth. “Hmm, I know you’re college-age. Just wondering how old.”

“That story I told about sneaking alcohol was from a few years ago,” he says, laughing. “I’m twenty-one.”

“Oh.”

“You’re only nineteen, right?” he says, but it doesn’t seem like he cares much that you’re younger.

You nod. “But my birthday is in September.”

“So is mine,” he replies with a grin. “We’ll have to try to celebrate together, somehow.”

You try not to let on how happy his suggestion makes you—that months from now, you two will be friends that throw parties together, or possibly more—and you settle into your seat, munching happily on the cold treat that is slowly turning from ice to mush in the paper cone in your hands.

“So why the pool?” you say a few moments later. “Did you work at another one before ours?”

Jungkook blinks. “I have my CPR certification from another part time job I had at a gym,” he said. “I don’t know why they made us get it, honestly.”

You laugh. “Maybe in case one of the meatheads lifted too much at once?”

“Maybe,” he says, grinning. “But the gym couldn’t work around my school schedule anymore. So, when I came home I saw the pool was looking for a new part-time lifeguard and I applied.”

“You only come home during the summer?”

Jungkook nods, but a look of annoyance flashes across his face before he answers. “There’s not much for me here, honestly. I like school and being on my own, away from my parents.”

“I get that.”

It was something you could both agree on. You didn’t realize freedom could taste so sweet until you moved into your dorm on campus. You could stay up when you wanted, sleep when you wanted, go out when you wanted. As long as you kept your grades up and didn’t lose your scholarship for your parent’s sake, you were literally allowed to do whatever your heart desired.

“It’s too far away to fly back and forth, anyways,” Jungkook adds, suddenly. He tilts his paper cone back, dumping all of the remaining liquid into his mouth before crumpling it in his left fist.

“How far?”

“California.”

“Oh. Why there?”

Somehow, you were taken aback to hear that he’d chosen a school so far from his home. You wonder suddenly if the sullen look he’d given your earlier had more to it than you realized.

Jungkook ignores your question—like you expected—and stands up. You scramble to finish the remains of your cone and he holds his hand out for your trash. You give it to him, feeling the slight brush of your fingers against his palm that reminds you of earlier when he’d offered his arm. He doesn’t this time, but you find yourself wishing he would again. Or that you two were close enough for you to reach out and grab it without his permission.

“That’s a story for later,” he says, giving you a look meant to soften the blow of his hard statement. “I don’t want to talk about it right now—it’ll ruin the mood.”

You nod slightly, bringing your bottom lip back between your teeth to gnaw on. You hadn’t meant to upset him.

“Is there anything you want to do?” he asks, looking around. “We have about thirty minutes before we should head back to the car for the drive-in movie.”

The boardwalk was in full swing as the night progressed, the sky now a deep shade of indigo behind him. You stand with him, leaning onto your tip toes in an effort to recognize any signs further down the wooden path.

“The arcade, maybe?” you suggest.

Jungkook fake clutches at his chest, staggering with clumsy steps to one side. “A woman after my own heart,” he says theatrically. “I might faint.”

You laugh loudly and roll your eyes to cover up your own heartbeat thumping wildly in your ears. You use the rush to match his energy: “I’m only saying it because I want you to win me a plushie.”

Jungkook smiles, his eyes full of light and mischief at getting to show off his skills. “That, madam, is a deal. Let’s go.”

Jihyo still hasn’t texted you by the time you and Jungkook exit the arcade.

You want to send a scolding text to her, but in reality, you don’t really care if they show up anymore. Jungkook seems to have forgotten they were coming—he doesn’t look at his phone once while you two flit from game to game in the arcade.

You’d watched from the side as he entered a water pistol race with a few other patrons of the boardwalk. He sat down on a stool right in the middle of everyone, leaning over the gun and closing one eye for better accuracy. His tongue poked out between his lips, his form rigid and unyielding until the announcer blew a whistle to start the race. You held back a laugh at his seriousness, pressing a hand to your mouth in case he looked over at you.

He did, but only once the flashing lights above his booth went off, signaling him as the winner. He’d hopped off the stool and raced over to you, placing a hand above your elbow before pulling you over to claim your reward from the prize table.

You chose a blue and white dolphin that was just big enough to be slightly comical. Jungkook carried it over his shoulder as you two walked back toward his car, giddy from the excitement of playing carnival games and teasing each other all the while.

“Okay, but you wouldn’t have even beaten me at basketball if yours didn’t come to my side and knock my shots off course constantly!” Jungkook insists. “You’re a sneaky little thing.”

“Why can’t you just admit my two-pointer is better than yours?”

“Y/N,” Jungkook says, shaking his head in disappointment. “I’m almost six foot and you’re what—five-one? You simply can’t be a better shot that I am because of your genetics. I’m sorry.”

Your mouth drops open. “I’m literally five-three!”

“Minus two.”

“Oh, whatever!”

Jungkook laughs loudly, throwing his head back from the force of it. You pout alongside him, but you can’t help the telling smile that creeps onto your face. You like this side of Jungkook—it was so different from the stoic and quiet lifeguard you knew him as before.

“The drive-in is just a block that way, right?” he asks once you two come up on the parking lot. He shifts the dolphin higher on his shoulder, stopping in his tracks to turn and look at you. “I can drive us in my car, if you want.”

Your eyes widen a little at his suggestion. You didn’t even think about the fact that if Jihyo and Hoseok weren’t here, it would just be you and him watching the movie together.

“Oh—um, I mean,” you stumble over your answer. “If that’s okay with you?”

“I offered, didn’t I?” he says with another laugh. He gestures to the stuffed animal perched on his shoulder. “Plus, we’ve got a nice seat cushion, here.”

You smile and nod before following him to his car. It’s a little navy SUV—something you didn’t expect him drive at all. He seemed like a “car guy” for some reason, one that would have driven something old and sturdy and loud.

“This is—cute,” you say, for lack of better wording.

Jungkook sucks his teeth. “Man, why does everyone say that?” He groans. “This thing is great on gas, okay? And look at all this trunk space! I mean, if you lived all the way in California—"

“Hey, hey,” you say, holding your hands up in defense. “I’m sorry, that was terrible wording. Did I say cute? I meant cutely efficient. You didn’t let me finish.”

Jungkook laughs again, nodding. “That’s what I thought you meant, yeah.”

He throws your dolphin in the backseat and then opens the passenger side door for you to get in. Your cheeks are hot as you move past him to settle into the seat, giving him a timid smile as he shuts the door behind you. You watch him walk around the front of the vehicle, lit up by a neighboring car’s headlights for just a fraction of a second.

He’s handsome to you while doing the most mundane of things, and your heart hurts at the thought. You couldn’t have a crush on him. He was your coworker for one, and for two, he didn’t live there. He went to school across the country, and he was only home for three incredibly short months. There would be nothing to your relationship, so you couldn’t let yourself fall into the trap of having a crush on someone so, well—unavailable. You pinch yourself hard on the thigh as a seal of reminder: this could not, would not, happen.

The slam of the car door brings you back to reality. Jungkook presses the start button on his dashboard before clicking his seatbelt across his upper body.

“You good?” he says, looking over at you with a furrowed brow. When you nod, he backs the car out of the space, his hand on the back of your headrest for good measure.

You take a few uneven breaths in and out at the action, forcing yourself to remain looking out of the front windshield and to not turn your head towards him even a fraction. You know doing so would put your faces at an incredible proximity, and you what the hell did you just pinch yourself over if you weren’t going to stick with it!

“Any word from Jihyo and Hoseok?” he asks. “It would be cool if we could still get dinner with them afterwards, at least.”

You pull your phone out of your crossbody. The screen lights up to no new unread messages, so you sent Jihyo a quick text in your private chat.

Y/N 6:58PM : Update?

It sends but doesn’t get read immediately in normal Jihyo fashion.

“Hm, maybe the tow truck is there, and she can���t talk,” you say. “I hope everything’s all right.”

“Me too,” Jungkook says. “But this is fun—with just us two.” He pauses, glancing over at you. “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah, of course,” you say quickly, giving him a smile. “I’m having a great time.”

He seems sated by this information, but you’re not sure why. “I’m glad.”

Jungkook drives you to toward the movie parking lot—a grassy field with neat rows of cars guided by a parking attendant in a bright, orange vest—and Jungkook reverses in the directed spot in the middle row of cars. You can see the screen perfectly, but only out of the back window from the way he parked. That does little to deter your excitement, though.

“The screen is huge!” you say in awe, twisting in your seat.

You look on as it plays movie trailer previews for remaining months of the summer, and the thought flits across your mind just how many you might get to see with Jungkook before your time was up.

“You’ve never been to a drive-in?” Jungkook asks. “We gotta make this one extra special, then.”

You look over at him with an eyebrow quirked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Jungkook begins, unlocking the car doors, “I’m pulling out the big guns.”

He hops out and heads to the trunk of the car. You scramble after him, shutting the passenger door behind you and joining him where he stands with the trunk popped open. You watch as he lowers the second row of seats flat after moving the dolphin plushie and a conveniently-packed duvet. You look at him with raised eyebrows as he unfolds the blanket across the flattened seats, making you two a perfect spot to lay in the back of the car while watching the movie.

Jungkook sees the suspicion on your face and chuckles, scratching the back of his head. “I just thought we might want to be comfortable if we’re going to be watching a movie for two hours, you know?”

You ignore him and climb in through the open trunk, settling down with the dolphin as a cushion for your back. “Where’s the popcorn?” you ask, laughing. “This is perfect.”

Jungkook holds up a finger. “One moment, m’lady.”

He takes off from the car and you sit up on your elbows, watching him jog up to a stand at the front of the drive-in parking lot that was selling snacks and drinks for the occasion. You pinch yourself again for good measure when he comes back a few moments later, reminding yourself of your pact. Just because you two were alone, in the back of Jungkook’s car, laying down, about to watch a movie together, alone, didn’t mean anything!

The scent of butter and salt fills your nostrils as Jungkook returns, handing you the popcorn and drinks as he climbs into the trunk and settles beside you. He sits cross-legged and digs into the pockets of his chinos to reveal candy in both hands.

“Sour straws or gummi bears?” he asks.

“Gummi bears, but I want a sour straw, too.”

Jungkook laughs. “Agreed.”

As you two dig in, the beginning of the movie flickers onto the big display screen. People pass by Jungkook’s car on their way to the food stands at the front, and you and Jungkook settle against the giant dolphin propped on the back of the front seats.

“I’ll have to figure out a way to repay you for all of this,” you say quietly in between sips of fizzy Coke. “You keep paying for everything before I can offer.”

“Would you rather us go Dutch?” he asks in the dark.

He’s incredibly close to you—his forearm brushes against yours when he moves because the dolphin only spans so far when you lay it down. It wasn’t the biggest prize, because you didn’t want to carry around a massive plushie, but it certainly wasn’t the smallest they had, either.

On screen, the heroine is introduced going about her daily life. She gets ready, brushes her teeth and hair, puts on her makeup for a normal day at school. When she pulls up to school, a sleek, black motorcycle is parked in her usual spot. A little ways from it, she notices the culprit—an extremely handsome guy holding a bike helmet within the crook of his arm as a swarm of cheerleaders surround him like he’s the coolest thing since sliced bread.

“Yeah,” you say honestly. “I mean, I hate the thought of depending on other people.”

Jungkook turns to look at you as you say this, and when you glance at him, there’s an emotion plastered on his usually friendly face that you can’t pinpoint.

“Consider it our first date,” he says finally, with a shrug. “Then you don’t owe me anything and you’re not depending on me, either.”

Your heart lurches in your chest. “Oh—um—well—”

Jungkook tilts his head down as he bites into a sour straw, pulling the candy away from his clenched teeth so it makes a small pop as it separates. He nudges you with his shoulder that is already leaning against your own.

“Did you see that?” he asks with a chuckle. “The stunt doubles are so noticeable in this movie—they have totally different builds than the main characters.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and manage a breathy laugh. A date. The word echoes within the chambers of your mind, repeating over and over like he just yelled it into a cave at the top of his lungs. It reverberates around your skull until you feel your skin buzzing from the meaning.

So much for your pact when he was saying things like that so casually. God, you couldn’t wait to get Jihyo alone to tell her everything.

The movie continues, and a glance down at your phone lets you know that it’s only thirty minutes in when Jihyo finally texts you back.

Jihyo 7:36PM : Hoseok and I aren’t going to make the movie. We’ll just explore the boardwalk until you two lovebirds are done and then we can get food!

You relay the information to Jungkook—leaving out the lovebirds bit. He nods in understanding.

“I figured they wouldn’t—but I’m glad we’ll get to see them,” he answers. “Hoseok texted me a while ago and said Jihyo’s engine light was on because she slams on her brakes too much. He thinks he has whiplash.”

You giggle. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

“My little mom-car doesn’t seem so bad now, does it?”

“I told you I liked it! I would totally pick my kids up from soccer at 6PM on Thursday in this!”

Jungkook throws a half-popped kernel at your forehead. “Rude.”

“You said the mom thing first!”

“Because I’m allowed to pick on Cheryl—she’s mine.”

“Cheryl?!” You dissolve into a fit of giggles. “Please—don’t tell me—”

Jungkook takes the weight of his shoulder pressed against yours and pushes you over with it before you can finish your sentence. You lean away from him but bring the force back with your own shoulder, fighting him for more room on the dolphin-plushie-turned-back-rest.

You two battle for a second, pushing against each other like children until Jungkook lifts his arm up and around you, cocooning you in his warmth and bringing you to rest fully on the right side of his body. He’s leaning a little against the corner of the back of the SUV and you are nestled within his side body, feeling the heat of his chest pressed against your cheek. You breathe in and out before you realize that maybe, you should move.

You go to sit up, but Jungkook says, “Wait, stay. You’re warm.”

It’s not you that’s warm—your face, sure—but Jungkook’s body feels like your own personal heater. You try to relax, leaning against him once again in a better cuddling position with your head resting on Jungkook’s chest, right below his collarbones. You can hear his heartbeat this way—thudding what you think is a little faster than normal underneath the layers of his thin hoodie and T-shirt.

“Are you comfortable? Can you see?”

You’re not sure, but you think he sounds a little breathless—from the sudden change in your positions, or the tussle before, you can’t tell which is the culprit.

“Yeah,” you say, shifting a little so that you’re more on your side rather than just leaning over onto him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great,” he says, and again, it sounds like there’s a hint of smile in his voice.

You can’t focus on the movie after that. Jungkook is too close, his intoxicating scent swirling into your nostrils with every inhale, your head rising up and down with each breath he takes. This was what friends did, right? This was totally friendly. He just wanted you to be comfortable. You repeat this to yourself as Jungkook’s hand—that was once just dangling over your shoulder—begins to trace soft patterns into your side.

You close your eyes, focusing on slowing the thumping of your heart, timing your inhales to let him know that this is okay. This is totally fine. You aren’t freaking out. You’re just here, enjoying everything that Jungkook had to offer you.

It’s fine. He’s fine. You’re fine. Maybe he was just touchy—some boys were like that, after all. Some friendly relationships included tons of skinship. You just weren’t used to it, and you needed to quickly acquaint yourself with the fact that this was how it would be with him if you continued to hang out.

Before you know it, you’re so lost in your thoughts you don’t catch most of the end of the movie. In fact, you don’t even realize it’s over until the credits are rolling and people are moving around you again, the sounds of car doors and trunks slamming as people get ready to move onto their next activity.

It’s only 9PM, but it’s dark outside—the blues of the sky that had enticed you so much once before had faded to an indescribable navy, a blue so deep that it looked black. If you focused, you could see the minute twinkling of stars past the stadium lights on the outskirts that blink on after the movie is over so everyone could exit in a timely and visible fashion.

Jungkook yawns, patting your side. “I think I fell asleep for a moment—I was so comfortable here.”

He laughs in spite of himself, and you give him a breathless chuckle in return. “Sorry if I made your side sore.” You get off of him, scooting over to give him a little room to sit up straight.

“Sore?” he asks incredulously. “Y/N, you’re like a feather. I’m not that breakable.”

Boy, did you know. Thoughts of his muscular stomach flash in your mind, and you will them away. He watch him reach up to close the trunk as people begin to move outside of the car, cocooning you two back into a comfortable darkness from the tints on the back windows.

“Still.”

“Still, what?” he says. There’s a small silence that ensues. “You’re so nervous around me. Is it me?”

“What?” you say, furrowing your brow. Your skin pricks with the same nervousness that you are about refute. “I mean—”

“I know I’m pretty standoffish at the pool, but I don’t mean to be that way,” he admits. “I just felt like I was in this new place with all of these established relationships and rules. You have Jihyo, and well, Hoseok and I are close, but we’re not best friends.” He pauses. “I was really surprised when Jihyo invited me out with you all.”

“Surprised,” you repeat quietly.

His words absolutely contradict the Jungkook you thought you knew. But maybe that’s how it would always be—you realizing he had his own motives and reasons for being the way he was, and you not understanding a bit of it until he decided to divulge you in them.

“Yeah, surprised,” he nods. “I feel out of place, here. If I’m being honest.”

“But you live here.”

“I don’t have any friends though, because I’m gone for nine months out of the year,” he says, shrugging. “I didn’t have any in high school, either. It was just—I don’t know. I didn’t like it here, so I didn’t see a reason to have any ties.”

You can’t really wrap your head around it, but you realize Jungkook is being vulnerable to you in this moment. You don’t want to make him regret it, so you reach out to him—the closest thing to you is his hand, resting on the duvet between you two—and you run your fingers over the soft skin in a timid, unsure fashion.

“Jihyo and I will never say no to new additions to our friend circle,” you say with a smile. “It gives us reasons not to kill each other if someone else is watching.”

Jungkook chuckles a little, holding your gaze. The trunk of the car is still closed, and most of the crowd has dispersed to other parts of the beach where the boardwalk is still alive and filled with weekend nightlife.

“That’s good to know,” Jungkook says softly, looking down at your hands on the blanket. He slides his underneath yours and links his fingers through the spaces in between.

“Y/N—” he says, leaning closer to you, “—thanks. Really.”

You lean closer as well, feeling the magnetism of your two bodies being pulled together in the dark. Your breath comes out in unmeasured puffs, threatening to give away how nervous you are. You’re glad Jungkook can’t really see you anymore, and you’re certainly glad he can’t hear the unsteady beat of your heart as your faces inch closer and closer. As the quiet of the night cocoons you two like a soft blanket, there is no noise other than your heartbeat in your ears as Jungkook’s mouth hovers over your own.

You feel his unsteady sigh outwards as he says, “Are you sure you’re not—”

You use your remaining courage to stop him before he can finish his sentence, closing the distance between your mouths into a soft, sweet kiss. It stays that way for a moment—closed-mouth and innocent—before Jungkook brings his hand to the back of your head and deepens it, pressing his mouth hard against your own in a way that is a command all in its own.

Your lips part involuntarily and Jungkook’s tongue presses softly against the ridge of your mouth, tracing the outline until he is exploring the inside with ease and expertise. As your tongues lace together, you find yourself placing heavy hands on his chest, slightly wrinkling the collar of his shirt with your nails before you slide your hands up and over his shoulders and hook them together behind his neck.

Your head tilts to the right and you push back against him, following the energy and putting it into the most passionate kissing session you’ve had—well, ever. Jungkook places his hands on your hips and pulls you over him so that you are straddling his waist, his experience showing as he places you right on top of his hardening member. You have no choice but to feel it between your thighs and the thin material of your bike shorts—a decision you certainly didn’t realize would come in handy when you’d picked them out a few hours ago in your bedroom closet.

You two kiss and kiss and kiss, getting lost within each other for what feels like hours. You can’t allow yourself to disassociate and think about anything other than what was happening in the moment—although there was a part of your brain that couldn’t believe it was happening, surely.

You were kissing Jungkook. Jungkook was kissing you—no, it was more than that. He was touching you: his hands making a lazy trail up your back, in between your shoulder blades and over the hump of your shoulders until they entangled in your hair and kept your mouth criminal to his. He was breathing you in: making a trail away from your mouth, down your jaw and neck, where he settled on sucking small, reddened splotches into the thin skin just around the collar of your pullover. You want more of him, but more would have to wait.

Jungkook pauses underneath you, much more intact with the real world than you are because he shushes you politely so that you can hear it: the tell-tale sound of your phone humming the vibrations of an incoming call.

“It’s Jihyo,” he says in the darkness, allowing the brightness of your screen to illuminate your faces, inches apart. He hands it to you, and you clear your throat in an attempt to sound less breathless than you actually are as you greet your friend.

“Where are you?” she asks—but it sounds more like a demand. “I know the movie is over by now. You haven’t answered my texts. Are you okay?”

“What?” you say but shake your head. “I’m fine, sorry. Jungkook and I were trying to find our way out of the theatre parking lot. It’s really crowded over here so we had to wait for our turn.”

In the light of your phone pressed against your cheek, you can just barely make out Jungkook’s knowing smirk in the dark.

“Hoseok and I are waiting at Pier 14. Did you two still want to get dinner?”

Jungkook nods in answer, leaning forward a little to press his lips softly against the center of your throat while you talk. You take a calming breath in and out as he mouths at the skin there, swiping his tongue over the space lightly before continuing to kiss away any of your troubles. You close your eyes again, feeling like you’re disappearing under his soft touch before you realize Jihyo is still waiting on your answer.

“Dinner sounds good,” you manage. “Text me an address—you and Hoseok can choose. I don’t care.”

You hang up before she can protest. Your mouth hovers over Jungkook’s, lips pressed together in a solid line.

“That wasn’t very nice,” you admonish him, placing your hands on his firm shoulders. “I was trying to talk.”

“I know,” he says in a soft tone, breathing out a laugh. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“You better.”

He gives you one last lingering kiss—one that steals the breath from your lungs and makes you feel lightheaded before he lets you go. You feel warm all over as you two crawl toward the front of his car, returning to your seats while stealing knowing glances at each other.

You don’t want to dwell on the thoughts too much, but a lot had changed in the last hour that you couldn’t even wrap your head around, much less understand and come to accept. Your lips tingle as your mind flies through the events again, attempting to see you and Jungkook from a third-person perspective in your mind, but really just focusing on the way it felt when he was kissing you, touching you, breathing you in.

You knew one thing for certain, though: your pact with yourself was up. You weren’t just diving into the shallow anymore. You were in the deep end.

[trash-monkey]

Disappeared

Chapter 2

Slowly they rise their hands into the air when they heard me cook the gun and the growling of both dogs, their height is around my shoulders as I stand at six foot, hair black as coal with a undercut, wearing a black tank top with blue jeans and boots but everything is thin and worn with age, a large plain backpack sits on their back as I take notice of their thin limbs that's packing muscle. Suddenly with shocking speed they turned kicking the gun out of my hands before tackling me to the concrete causing me to scrape my face and hands against it, pain fliers up as the hot ground burn the raw skin. I didn't try to fight back as I can feel something sharp is being held against my throat and to see a blade when I glanced down, I turn my eyes to the short man before they widened at the familiar face and dark eyes.

"Mr. Ackerman?" I blurted without a thought causing him to hold the blade closer to my throat with narrow eyes, he was my high school history teacher and he was mostly strict but there were rare days he was lenient.

"Mr. Ackerman, it's me (Y/N) (L/N). I was a student at (random name) high school and you're the history teacher, I had you during fourth period at eleven to twelve ten." He leans slightly closer before mumbling brat under his breath as he move the blade away and got off of me, he put his blade away before grabbing my gun off the black top and hand it back to me once I got up. I give him a nod and put it back into it's holster before opening the truck's passenger door and get the med kit I keep in the glove box to bandage the scrapes so they don't get infected, I even put one on my face.

"You alone?" He asked once I got done and saw him leaning against the truck, I nod as I walk back to the last store I was looking through before I got interrupted with Lily trotting by my side.

"You coming or not?" I asked once I saw he's not following but he quickly caught up as I pass through the door and went back to looking but kept a close eye on him to make sure he doesn't turn crazy or try to kill me. I may know him from being a teacher at one point but you don't know what happened to him all this time out there.

"You got a place?" I asked after getting fed up with the awkward silence.

"No, how long have you been here?" He leans against a wall as he watches me.

"I got a place two towns over and have been there for two winter now, I only came over here to get supplies before winter hits again." He looked like he got the bad end of this whole mess as cuts and bruises lay on what skin I can see plus he wasn't this thin the last time I had seen him, guessing he has trouble finding food.

"Look around, grab anything you want or need and toss it into the truck." He doesn't say anything as he began looking around but I can see he doesn't like being told what to do by a teenager/adult, hopefully I don't regret my decision of taking him in. It's also the most logical thing to do when you think you're the last human on earth but you suddenly finally see someone and it'll be awkward as you stay cautious at first until you learn to trust each other, isolation for too long is never good. I smirk to myself when I saw Lily sit by Mr.Ackerman feet looking up at him with puppy eyes to get him to pet her as he glares at her.

"Don't worry, she or the other dog wouldn't attack until I say so." I said before going into the back to see what they have and found some canned food, gallons of water, couple boxes of candles with matches, news papers that I can use for fire in the winter when I can't use wood, anything other things that I can use and move it all onto the trailer.

"Mr.Ackerman get all winter clothes you can it's not long until winter." I told as I go out the door the last time and head to the music store they have in town which is across the street so that Mr.Ackerman has time to look around as Lily stays by his side. I look through the many aisle and grab what I like, before I know it Mr.Ackerman walks in.

"Grab what you like, I don't use the generator in the summer to save gas when we'll really need it in the winter." He give me a nod, was he really this quite before?

"You ready?" I asked after a few minutes passed, he nods.

"Lead the way, brat." I rolled my eyes at his name calling and head to the truck, I let Lily in in the back next to Dot before sliding into the driver's seat.

_______________________________________________

[nightingaelic]

FNV Companions react to being re-united with the Courier after the Second Battle of Hoover Dam (NCR Best Ending)

TW: Blood, gore

As the screams of men, metal and guns petered out, movement on the Hoover Dam slowed. The sun was low, red as the ground beneath it, and the heat rising from the concrete and hundreds of gun barrels gave the area a faint shimmer. Most of the Legion lay dead or dying, their last gasps covered by the sounds of NCR soldiers calling to each other, looking for friends or officers or just reassurance that what had happened was true.

Victory.

Arcade Gannon: Though plenty of the NCR heavy troopers were popping off their helmets as the battle came to a close, Arcade kept his on out of fear someone would recognize him. The Brotherhood of Steel attendees appeared to be of the same mind, so he did his best to linger between the two groups and hoped both would assume he had arrived with the other.

Someone slapped the side of his metal-encased arm, and he looked down to find the courier beaming up at him, gasping like they had just run a marathon. "Hey, Six," Arcade said, surprised. "I thought General Oliver would've packed you on a flight to Shady Sands by now."

"Not yet. How're you holding up in there?" the courier asked breathlessly. "Looks like it'd be an oven under the sun."

"Oh, it is," Arcade assured them. "But it also stopped a few bullets and a machete or two, so no complaints here."

The courier bent over and put their hands on their knees. "I saw Daisy... saw her chopper off with the others after the fighting stopped. Oliver's confused as all hell, he doesn't know who they are, where they came from or where they went, but he's got bigger problems to deal with right now than chasing them down."

They looked up with a grin. "Thanks. Tell them all I said hi."

Arcade laughed. "Will do. And thank you."

"For what, dragging you and your only surviving family into this?"

"Well, yeah." Arcade looked down sheepishly. "Fortune favors the bold."

The courier nodded. "Fortis fortuna adiuvat."

"You remembered?"

"Of course I did." They gestured at the broken and scattered weapons and men of Caesar's Legion that lay around them. "After today, we're running low on people who know how to speak Latin."

Craig Boone: Though the other NCR snipers around him packed up their gear and headed toward the dam, Boone stayed put with his rifle until the courier made their way up the rocks to his position. They waved when they spotted him, and he put up a hand of greeting as well.

"And it's over," they said, plopping down to take a seat next to him and dangle their legs over the drop-off.

"Yep."

"Was that you who got that shot in and made Lanius drop his sword?"

Boone smiled. "Mm-hmm."

They smiled back. "Thanks."

The two of them sat together in silence, watching the activity below. Boone's smile grew and grew, wider than it had in years.

"Do you want to go down and join in?" the courier asked, when a group of NCR soldiers started putting broken defenses and wooden Legion weapons into a pile to burn.

Boone straightened his sunglasses and looked toward the horizon. "Yeah. I do."

Lily Bowen: "Pumpkin!" Lily bellowed when she spotted the courier across the dam, leaning on the concrete barrier next to the edge. She pushed her way past several surprised NCR troops, who yelped and jumped out of her path. "Pumpkin, are you alright?"

"Lily." The courier was pale, nursing a jagged wound on their arm. "I'm okay, Lily. I just need..."

Lily barred anyone else from approaching them as they rooted around in their pack. Finally, they extracted a stimpak and jabbed it into their arm, hissing as the medicine found its way into their bloodstream.

Lily inspected the cut carefully. Aside from its ragged appearance and the blood surrounding it, the wound was clean. The stimpak was working its magic, and the redness seeping out was already slowing. "Is that better, dearie?" she asked.

"Much." The courier sighed and leaned back against the concrete. "Legate Lanius had a sword. Not as... as big as yours, but big enough to slice me up when I got too close."

"You rest, pumpkin." Lily sat down on the barrier next to them, careful to hold her hat on in the breeze. "The fight is over now. Leo is quiet again."

"Mmmm-hm." The courier nodded sagely, before turning to face the steep drop below to the bottom of the dam. "We did it."

"How do you feel?"

The courier opened their mouth to answer, but instead threw up over the barrier and into the crevasse below. Lily carefully patted them on the back and produced a box of gum drops from her overalls pocket. "Here. For your breath, dearie."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: "Courier!" Raul pushed his sombrero back with the tip of his revolver, scanning the battlefield atop the dam. "Six, dónde estás?"

An injured NCR soldier looked up from the curb he was sitting on. "What's a ghoul doing here? He's not with us, is he?"

"Chinga tu madre," Raul swore, pausing his search. "You see the courier anywhere around here?"

"Raul!"

He turned back to the devastated landscape and there they were, jogging through the mess of bodies, shell casings and busted concrete. Raul laughed and spread his arms in relief, in welcome. The courier dropped their gun and threw themselves into his embrace, ignoring the blood and dust that covered his costume. Truthfully, they were just as covered in the battle's detritus as he was.

"I lost you so quickly," they breathed hard in his ear. "No wonder... no wonder they call you the ghost vaquero."

"Mij@." Raul embraced them tightly, then held them at arm's length to inspect them. "You had me worried. I thought I was the one who was going to have to track down twelve mariachi bands to play at your funeral."

The courier grinned. "Still want your medal?"

"Think the NCR'll give me one?"

They made a face at that. "If they wanna give me one, they'll have to give you one, too. Come on. I want to see the look on General Oliver's face when I tell him that you did just as much work here as me."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: A lone NCR trooper stood by the nearest flag pole, hoisting a scrap of fabric high above the scene. Cass could make out the two-headed bear emblazoned upon it, and something in her heart rose. She was still standing there, watching the red star whip in the breeze atop the dam, when the courier made their way over to her.

"Cap for your thoughts?" they asked.

For a moment, Cass tried to find the words for that feeling inside her. When she failed, she turned away from the flag. "Nah. Nothing you don't already know. What next, Six?"

The courier scratched their head and looked around. "Clean-up. Round up the Legion boys who are still kicking, grab everything that isn't nailed down before anyone else does, and pull this place back into some kinda shape."

"And then?"

"And then we drink." The courier pulled out their canteen and offered it to Cass. "But here's a little something for right now. Go on, keep it."

Cass drank deeply. Whiskey, just the way she liked it. "The NCR did good today."

Her traveling companion smiled. "We did good today."

"Mmm, not yet." Cass waved them off. "Don't lump me in with the bear before the work's all done. Ask me later, we'll see how I feel."

"Way I see it, if you had any actual qualms about this, you wouldn't have come," the courier replied with a chuckle. "But I'm damn glad you did."

They'd walked off toward the NCR top brass before Cass could answer, but she let the wind take the words anyway, small as they were. "Me too."

Veronica Santangelo: As soon as the courier was finished speaking to General Oliver, Veronica pulled them away and unearthed a handkerchief from inside her robes to wipe away the worst of the gore from their face. "Eugh. Is this... did somebody explode on you?"

"Hard to say." The courier pulled out their own bandanna and began wiping Veronica's face down in return. "How do you feel?"

Veronica laughed and accepted the help. "Honestly? I'm not sure what my parents would think of me fighting for the NCR, but for New Vegas it seemed like this was the best chance at stability. I don't regret it, if that's what you're asking."

The courier gestured at the Brotherhood of Steel Knights and Paladins that were milling about next to and among the NCR soldiers. "Your family doesn't seem to regret it either."

"Yeah." Veronica brightened somewhat. "They actually came. That ought to show both the Elders and the NCR that this, this is possible."

She watched her brothers and sisters from afar, making awkward introductions and conversation with the defenders of the dam and even comparing power armor pieces with the NCR heavy troopers. She smiled faintly.

The courier followed her gaze. "Did you want to join them?"

"No." Veronica looked down at her power glove, flexing the joints as if lost in thought. "No, that's okay."

ED-E: The courier found ED-E stuck beneath a collapsed barricade, where it had been knocked during the fighting by a lucky Legion swipe. They pulled the eyebot out and dusted it off. "You okay, buddy?"

ED-E beeped its reassurance and pulled itself from the courier's grasp, shaking in midair to dislodge any remaining debris. It did one final loop-de-loop to lose a large splinter before blasting its triumphant music at top volume.

Surprised, the courier laughed. "That's right. We did it. We won."

Rex: The chaos around Rex began to fade into the background, overwhelmed by the scent that clung to the courier at his side. A rush of endorphins, dopamine, a whiff of serotonin- Rex didn't know the words, but he knew what they meant when mixed together in that way. Relief. Happy relief.

The cyberdog yawned, signaling his own stress, and looked up at the courier. They noticed his movement and dropped down to his level immediately, running their hands through the ruff of fur around his neck and inspecting his mechanical parts carefully. "Good dog. Good boy. We did good today, you and me."

Under their touch, Rex relaxed. He opened his mouth to pant. It had been a long, hot day.

[stayatiny]

The King ~Chapter Four

Pairing(s) King!Werewolf! Bang Chan x Human!Reader Series Warning(s) – Swearing, Violence, Wolf Dynamics, Smut (in later chapters) and along with others that will be added later. Chapter warning(s) – Lots of Swearing, almost fight A/N – Thank you to everyone who has followed, like and reblogged. I feel someone shaking me awake. I crack one eye open to see Hannah. She’s in everyday clothing. “Hey, Y/N, its time to get up its 10am.” I sit up, rubbing my eyes. “Your brother brought you some clothes. I'll help you get dressed if you need to,” she said. I throw my legs over the side of the bed. I was able to stand on my own and put weight on my ankle. “Good it looks like you can get around on your own now. But do you still need me to help you?” I shook my head. “No, I think I got it. But if I need you, I’ll call you,” I say grabbing my clothes. She nodded, happily and sat on the bed. I was still hobbling not really wanting to put weight on it yet but some. My brother brought me a t-shirt and jean shorts and even some sneakers. I finish getting dressed and handing my dirty clothes to Hannah. Jay even thought about packing a scrunchie for my hair. He knows me so well.

“Chris wanted to make sure that you ate before meeting with him. He knows that you have a lot of questions.” I nod and follow her into the dining room. She linked her arm with mine. I used to roam around these halls with her and Chris when we were young. Before our parents died, our family were the closest nobles to the royal family. So much so that us kids would play together. We hung out and played together constantly. But when I turned twelve, our parents were killed by the king. “Our chef made some French toast and hash browns. I think those are still your favorite, right,” she asked. I nodded. I’m surprised she remembered that. Although I was twenty now, I still eat like a child. “Good.” We continued in silence as she opened the dining room door to see Jay and Chris sitting at the table. “Good morning, Y/N,” Jay said letting me sit by him. I sat quietly while they talked. Chris smiled at me as I sat across from him. I half smiled back. “Did you sleep well?” I nodded looking around the dining room. Nothing really changed except the wall color was now a pale cream color instead of navy blue. I looked over at Chris. He was in a plain white shirt now, but I noticed some stray blood on his face. It was too small of a splatter to be his. I shudder to think on what happened to the suspect. I had heard that his three years as a king he is quite brutal when it came to crimes against his people human or not. Hannah pointed it out to Chris as he wiped his face. “Good. Food should be ready soon and then we can talk, okay?” I took a sip of water. “Okay.” We ate while talking about the olden days of our childhood like nothing ever changed. “Okay, I have to go to work. Chris will make sure that you get home alright?” Jay hugged me and kissed my forehead. Great alone again with Chris… “Y/N, come with me.” I hear Chris say. He grabs my wrist lightly and pulls me into his office once again. It brought back the memories of me finding out the truth a pang of guilt and sadness surging through me. “I’m sure that you have a lot of questions.” He sat in his chair waiting on me to say something. “Just one. Why?” He let out a sigh. He got up and stood in front of me leaning on the oak desk. “From what we gathered, they knew that you wouldn’t have a normal life and they though that killing us would make it better for the humans. But in all honesty, it probably would have led to another war between the two. I don’t blame them for wanting better for you,” he explained. “Why am I just now finding out about this?” Chris frowned. “You should have been told when it happened. I wish someone had I feel like you would have been around more had you known the truth.” I feel myself blush. I do have to admit that I did have a crush on him when I was young. “Maybe I would have. Everything is so different now that you are king.” He frowns again. “I’m still the same guy just with power and not as awkward.” I chuckle. He was. I was getting ready to hug him when fucking Miranda busted through the door. Motherfucker… “Chrisy, I was so worried about you,” she said going to hug him, pushing me out of the way again. I roll my eyes. Hannah followed in after her. “Miranda, leave my brother alone and go home. Also how did you even get in the castle grounds they’re off limits to the public right now?” Miranda smiled. “My mother works for yours remember so she let me in to see Chris,” she said putting her hands on her hips. She glared at me. “What is she doing here then,” she huffed and then pointing to me. I clenched my fist and my teeth. “I mean considering Y/N’s brother works here and my brother was protecting her last night. I also believe that’s its none of your fucking business to know why she’s here. Their family is still one of the most powerful families out there so I would watch who you’re talking too.” Hannah is in her face. Holy shit I forgot how kick ass she is. “At least my family didn’t commit treason.” Before I knew what I was doing. I lunged forward but Chris grabbed me holding me by the waist. “She’s not worth it, Y/N,” Chris

whispered in my ear. I kept trying to get after her. “You need to leave,” Hannah said, looking like she’s ready to her herself. Miranda flicked her hair back. “Fine then but wait till everyone hears that the human is hanging with the big dogs again.” She left out of the room leaving the tension at a high. Chris still held me in case I went after her. “Are you alright now?” I looked at Chris. I fixed my shirt that had raised from him grabbing me. “Yeah I’m fine,” I huffed. Not really but I didn’t want to end back up into his arms again. “I’ll tell mother that Miranda was let in. Why don’t you take Y/N back home? I’m sure she has work tomorrow,” Hannah said, looking to her brother. Oh yeah right full moons a thing. “Right. I’ll walk you home. Do you still know the back way?” I nodded as we left the office. We would take a lone path behind the castle that led to our house. I was tired and ready for a hot shower and my bed. Chris led to the path it was only slightly overgrown with colorful flowers, weeds, and vines. Even though grown over the ghost of a path still remained prominent. “It looks so different out here. But there again it has been years since I’ve been through here,” I said then letting out a nervous chuckle. “Yeah I didn’t realize how beautiful the flowers are through here,” he says smiling. I blush lightly. He grabbed my hand leading me down the path. “You know as kids we were pretty wild, right?” I looked up at him and nodded. “Yeah we were even up until…you know. We were always in trouble.” Chris nodded as we neared our back gate. As we reached my house, Chris stopped me from going in his eyes changing color. “What’s wrong Chris?” He pushed me to the side of the house gently. He points to the door. Its slightly ajar but I never open the back door “Stay here. Someone’s been in your house besides your brother,” he explained and headed in. My hearts starts to pound while waiting for Chris to come back. After a lifetime, or about 10 minutes he comes back out. “You’re gonna wanna see this,” he says following me into the house. Everything was still in place until I got to the basement door. I stared at Chris. He gave me a nod letting me its okay. “What did you keep down here?” My brows knitted together that’s when it hit me. “When my parents papers and journals were seized when the assassination attempt was made what ever was left my uncle put down in the basement,” I said flipping on the light. As light filled the room, I see everything thrown around papers, documents, even our baby pictures laid scattered on the floor. Chris bent down to look at what’s left of the papers. “There’s nothing here but old grocery lists, drawings you and your brother did, and receipts. What ever it was they didn’t find it and left.” I nodded. But what were they looking for?

[princessphilly]

Tag list:  @ohpuckyeah @joelsfarabee @besthockeyfics @dreamer1430 @defiant-mouse @miracleonice87 @lovethepreds @linkingdolans @chicagostylehockey @heatherlcrosby87 @hockeywocs @shortstacks-blog @heatherawoowoo @newlibrary @markymarkstrom @iangiemae @puckbitchesgetmoney @missymore @himbos-on-ice @fiveholegoal @no-pucks-given @pagirl6866 @willieshakesqueer @nazdaddy @whatishockey @alphalib22 @romanseggy @laurenairay @konecny-s @cutiesara23 @myhockeyworld87 @extratragic @squidlywiddly87 @stuff4me2do @allinangel93 @mydarkestsecretlol @t0xickisses2 @nhlboyshavemyhart88 @tangercrosbyschultzfan25887 @shelbsatans​

CW: soft smut, mentions of miscarriage, fucked up doctors. 

This is definitely it. Sid and Nina’s story is over but you will see them in the other fics of this universe, including a huge part of Plain Jane

Nina stared at the boxes. It was time to pack but at the same time, she couldn’t do it. 

They were so excited. A baby so early in their marriage had seemed scary but Sid and Nina were ready. They had picked out colors, a room for a nursery, and had begun to discreetly pick up supplies. 

It was nineteen weeks; still early but they were getting ready to announce. Then there was the blood in the toilet three days ago when Nina woke up and went to the bathroom. And now, their first, a girl, was gone. 

The doctor was sympathetic, and said it happens a lot. Most pregnancies never make it to birth, she said. But it hurt that their girl was now an angel. Nina sniffled as she packed the pack-and-play back into the box. 

“Hey, why are you doing that? You’re supposed to rest!”

Nina looked up, tears in her eyes. Sidney rushed to her, lowering himself to the floor. Gathering his wife in his arms, he soothed, “Pretty girl, we’ll have more.”

“But-but-“

Nina’s tears turned into sobs as she relaxed in her husband’s arms. Her momma had a history of miscarriages: what if that meant that there would never be a child?

As if he could read her mind, Sidney replied, “it doesn’t matter, I love you no matter what.”

**

Nina was sleeping, finally getting some rest. Matthew was napping on Sidney’s chest, his little boy still red but much calmer. 

It hadn’t been an easy birth for Nina. This was their third pregnancy but first child to make it past the 2nd trimester. And Matthew decided to come out three weeks early, November 26 instead of his due date of December 17. 

The door opened and Matthew stirred a bit before settling back down. Sidney looked around: his mother was curled into a chair, reading a book while Tracy was scrolling her phone on the couch. The proud grandfathers had gone out to get lunch for everyone. 

Walking in, the doctor said, “The nurse said Nina is healing nicely but we will have to do some stitches. Your son is a big boy.”

Sidney gave him a tentative grin. Matthew was 9lbs, 4 oz and 22 inches long. He was on the bigger side. The doctor continued, “When I stitch her, I can give her a husband stitch, if you like.”

“What is that,” Sidney asked, wrinkling his nose. 

Trina interjected, “Don’t you dare, Sidney.”

In a soothing voice, the doctor said, “it’s an extra stitch to make your wife as tight as she was before she gave birth.” He winked at Sidney. 

Sidney looked at his mother before responding, “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“No,” Nina managed to say, opening her eyes. “I heard about that stitch and I will sue if you do that to me.”

“You heard her.”

Sidney gave the doctor a hard look as he shrugged, preparing to give Nina only the necessary stitches. Passing his boy to his mother, Sidney said, “I’d like a different doctor.”

“What, I’ve been-”

Sidney took out his phone, ready to start making some calls. The doctor left, grumbling under his throat. Nina gave Sidney a grateful smile before dozing off again. 

**

One of the hardest things for Sidney was the fact that it was best for his boy not to grow up in Canada. As a proud Canadian, that rankled him. He wanted Matt to be more Canadian than American. But when a video of 2 year old Matt skating and hitting a puck dead center into the net made major news, Sidney knew he had no choice. He wanted Matt to have more of a childhood than him, to not feel like he had to be the next one. 

So, his family spent most of the year in Pittsburgh and summers in Cole Harbour or on different vacations. Sidney knew that his son was still “famous” but Matt was still treated as a kid. With Nina’s extended family, there wasn’t any preferential treatment. His kids were the same as their cousins in Nina’s family, giving his children normalcy Sidney never had as a child. 

Sidney raked a hand through his silver hair. As much as he wanted Matt to go his own way, it still freaked him out that his son chose to be a *goalie* out of all positions. He winced as he heard a shot hit the post. Then Matt made a glove save and Sid clapped.

“That’s not the talent I expected but he’s already showing signs of being a better goalie than center, Sid.”

Sidney turned to his longtime mentor and now close friend, Mario. Shrugging, he replied, “I just want him to be happy. He’s happy, I’m happy.” 

Sidney smirked. “Plus, Chloe is going to be the best woman’s hockey player ever. She’s 8 and she’s already playing with 10 to 12 year old girls.”

“True,” Mario conceded. “You’ve transitioned from pro to hockey dad.”

“Eh, can’t forget Aja and Morgan. I’m a hockey, figure skating, soccer, and dance dad. Not bad for a fifty year old washed up player.”

“Who’s washed up?”

Sidney grinned as his wife bumped him with her hip. His baby girl was holding Nina’s hand, her hair pulled up into a dancer’s bun. Chloe was right behind her, still clad in her hockey gear, Aja trailing behind with a book in her hands. 

“I am,” Sidney drawled. 

Chloe piped up, “No you’re not, Daddy! You’re still the best hockey player ever!”

“Yup,” Morgan added while Aja nodded, absorbed in her book. 

“No, you’ll be the best hockey player ever, Chlo’,” Aja stated, closing her book. “Daddy will be the best men’s hockey player.”

As Aja firmly nodded, Sidney and Mario laughed. 

**

Nina let out a breath. It was crazy how just one touch from Sidney made her hot, even seventeen years later. His lips were trailing down her neck, one hand cupping her breasts. “Can you be quiet for me, pretty girl?”

“Uh huh,” Nina breathed out. Sidney’s other hand was exploring her folds. She was getting wet but menopause was finally calling so Nina knew they would need some help. Leaning away from Sidney, she pulled out the lube from the drawer. 

“Thanks, pretty girl, but I’m more interested in burying my face in your pussy,” Sidney laughed. 

Nina replied softly, “No problem. You know my mom just came back from her cruise so the girls will go find her first this morning.”

“Even better. Spread your legs for me, pretty girl. You know what daddy wants.”

Nina let out a giggle that quickly turned into a muffled moan as she felt Sidney’s tongue gently lick through her pussy, his nose nudging her clit the way she liked it. He ate her slowly, bringing Nina close to the edge but never letting her go. Then Sidney stopped, kissing his way up Nina’s body before kissing her, letting Nina taste herself. 

Wrapping her legs around his waist, Nina urged, “Please, Sidney,” managing to keep her voice at a whisper. Before he could answer, they heard some girlish giggles and they both paused. 

“I locked the door last night,” Sidney whispered into Nina’s ear. Nina giggled then moaned as she felt Sidney’s fingers spread the cool lube over her pussy. Then he entered her, nice and slow.

“Love you, pretty girl,” Sidney whispered as Nina arched against him. She was clenching around his cock; he wanted to go slow and savor it this morning but Nina had different ideas. 

Nina whispered, “Love you, too,” her fingernails digging into his back. Then she squeaked as Sidney withdrew, turning her onto her hands and knees.  

**

“Momma, you promised to make breakfast today.”

Nina straggled into the kitchen, her robe wrapped tightly around her body. “Morg, it’s 9:30 in the morning on a Saturday, it’s still morning.”

Chloe piped up, “You’re usually up before us everyday, Momma.”

Nina shared a look with Sidney who squelched a laugh. He had planned to just go one round with his wife but it turned into three to start off the day right. 

Sighing, Nina grabbed bowls to prepare waffles. Morgan added, “Mimi made waffle batter already, Momma.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Nina sincerely stated. 

Tracey shrugged. “I figured I’d give you a break since I’ve been gone. You know I love my grand girls.”

Matthew yawned as he walked into the kitchen, his hair sticking up all over his head. “Hi,” he sleepily said before going to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of Gatorade. 

“It’s too early for energy drinks, Matt,” Sidney chided. 

“Sorry, Dad.”

Matthew was about three weeks from turning twelve and the whole teenage era was coming fast. Now, he was sleeping in and staying up late. Nina sighed, it was too early for one of her babies to grow up. 

“I would have woken up earlier but these girls had to jump on my bed at 7am, Dad,” Matthew complained. “They said your door was locked. Why do they always have to bother me?”

“Because we love you, Matty,” Aja said with a mischievous smile. “And some girl sent you messages while you were asleep.”

Matthew glared at his little sister. “Girls are ugly. Especially girls like you.”

Sid and Nina shared a look. Sid just had “the talk” with Matthew and they were both happy he still saw girls as ugly, at least for now. Tracey said, “Oh baby, that’s no way to talk to your little sister.”

“I’m sorry, Mimi,” Matthew said, giving his grandmother a kiss. “Momma, can we have blueberry waffles today?”

“Plain waffles,” Nina said firmly. “You can add blueberries, strawberries, or peaches as a fruit topping.”

“No chocolate chips?”

Chloe and Morgan gave their mother their biggest puppy-dog eyes. Nina shook her head. They then give Sidney the same look, saying together, “Daddy, can we have chocolate chips with our waffles?”

Sidney laughed as he picked up two of his girls. “You two already know the answer to that!”

Chloe pouted as Morgan laughed at the silly faces Sidney was making. Sidney added, “It’s Saturday so you know today is ice cream day after dinner. Did anyone feed Maddie?”

Nina giggled as she turned on the grill. At the mention of her name, Maddie, their dog, ran into the kitchen. Pharaoh, their cat, followed Maddie in, stretching before walking around her legs. As her family noisily talked, Nina sighed in happiness. She loved her family, life was perfect.

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Slutty Christmas Elf

~with softness~

@electricrituals​ hit me with this delightful prompt : “Hey babe! <3 I have a Christmas prompt idea if you're interested... I'm thinking Geralt is a Mall Santa (unwillingly, probably because he lost a bet, most likely to Lambert) and Jaskier is one of Santa's Elves. Sparks fly and things get NSFW in a... broom closet? Bathroom? Anywhere they absolutely should NOT be ;)” and you bet your ass I sat in the corner of the living room after Thanksgiving dinner listening to Mariah Carey and Kelly Clarkson sing Christmas songs while writing some hoey Christmas smut on my phone. 

Warnings: well its smutty so 18+ plz, anal fingering, anal sex, gentle dom vibes (no i currently cant write Jask any other way), trying (and failing) to keep quiet, v inappropriate use of a mall storage closet lmao, not a whole lot of up front communication but what is consent if not showing up to a closet for a booty call?  A shitload of swearing - as usual

________________

"You promised, Geralt. Sit your ass down and get the fat pads on your thigh. They'll get sore if you don't." Lambert dangled the red Santa hat in front of Geralt's face with a devious grin. 

Geralt snatched it out of his hands, "Technically, I didn't even lose the bet…" 

Lambert had been walking away but he turned around when he caught the mutter, "Oh, I'm sorry? How many wings did you eat?" 

Geralt rolled his eyes and shoved the hat over his hair. 

"How many? Couldn't hear you!" 

"Twelve…" Geralt sighed. 

Lambert grinned, "That's RIGHT. Don't bet your Saturday on hot wings with me," he damn near skipped back behind the camera. 

Geralt sat for light tests and someone slapping him with a makeup sponge full of blush before he was finally allowed to go get his coffee. 

In the green room all the elves were lounging around, most on their phones, but one was hopping on one foot trying to get those stupid little booties on. 

He only barely had time to set his coffee down before he had an arm full of swearing elf.

"Fuck! Shit, I'm sorry. The cunts just don't fucking fit." The elf stood himself up, using Geralt's shoulder to keep upright as he finally yanked the bootie on. 

Geralt chuckled, "You know this is a kids event right?" 

The elf straightened up, hand formerly gripping Geralt's shoulder now sliding down his biceps as his bright blue eyes sparkled, "Then why'd they hire such a handsome Santa?" 

Geralt blushed, sure the makeup wasn't going to hide his embarrassment, "Lost a bet," he stammered. 

"Good thing we both have more wholesome friends," the elf winked, nodding over to a blonde girl with a guitar on her lap, "I'm Jaskier." 

"Geralt!" Lambert hollered from the hall and Geralt deflated, his eyes nearly rolling out onto the ground. 

"That's me," he squeezed Jaskier’s elbow before walking away, "You gonna stay standing without me?" 

Jaskier grinned, "I'm already swooning." 

Geralt did his best to keep himself from giggling as he jogged back over to Lambert. 

Jaskier, it turned out, was actually very good with kids, especially the ones who were scared but Geralt absolutely didn't pay close attention to him at all. He most certainly didn't look at his ass when he bent down to tie a kids shoe, and he would never glance over at him whenever he heard a particularly musical peak of laughter. Nope. Not Geralt.

Jaskier caught him looking more than he'd like to admit, winking every time. It sent a little swarm of butterflies through his insides and he'd only just met the man. Honestly who the fuck did Geralt think he was? 

When lunch break was called Jaskier made an excuse to sashay up to him and lightly hip-check him, "Hey there big guy. Enjoy your show?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Geralt nearly lost his breath, "So that was intentional?" 

Jaskier rested his elbow on Geralt's shoulder and lowered his voice as Geralt instinctively placed a hand at his back, "We've got an hour and forty minutes before lunch is over…" 

Geralt's eyes bulged but he felt a heat shoot through his body at the suggestion, "How do you want to spend the break?"

Jaskier licked his lips and stood on his tiptoes to whisper in his ear, "Supply closet past the bathrooms. 5 minutes." 

Jaskier snagged his wallet before he jogged out of the greenroom and down the hall. Geralt was frozen in place. 

Was he really gonna do this? He didn't even know Jaskier’s last name. He might not even have a condom on him. Unless there was one in his gym bag? Yep. He was definitely gonna do this... maybe. 

Lambert appeared out of nowhere while he was rifling through his bag, "Hey! Wanna get lunch at the taco place? My treat." 

Fuck. 

"Uh… rain check? I have uh… have to let Roach out." Geralt snagged his keys and wallet, praying Lambert didn't hear the little crinkle of foil he's hastily tucked into a card slot. 

Lambert quirked an eyebrow at him but shrugged it off, "Long as you're back on time." 

Geralt was speed walking down the hall, internally debating just how good of an idea this was. He might just walk past to his truck and actually go let his dog out. Nope. He glanced up and down the hall before cracking the door open. 

It was dark. Fuck. 

Before his self esteem could take a nosedive the door next to it opened and Jaskier leaned out, "That wasn't five minutes. Get in here. If Lambert finds us that's on you." 

Geralt cupped Jaskier's face and pressed their lips together, kissing him back into the dimly lit room and closing the door behind him, "He's caught me doing worse." 

"Mmm! Top or bottom?" Jaskier squeaked between kisses as he unzipped Geralt from the ridiculous Santa suit. 

He pulled back to step out of the onesie, left in his briefs and undershirt, "What?"

Jaskier was already peeling off his green leggings, "You wanna fuck? Or be fucked?" 

Geralt's cock twitched to life as he sheepishly admitted, "Be fucked." 

Jaskier groaned and bit his lip as he dug a condom out of his wallet, "Merry Christmas to me." 

Geralt chuckled, tossing his condom to Jaskier, "You're getting my hopes up." 

"Oh, darling," a dangerous look flashed in Jaskier's eyes, "pants off, face the door." 

Geralt shivered at his tone and did as he was told, pressing his hands to the cold metal and glancing back over his shoulder. Jaskier tore open one of the packs and rolled the condom over his fingers before coming to stand behind Geralt. 

"Are you going to be good and stay quiet for me?" 

Oh fuck. Geralt's breath hitched at his words and his cock ached to be touched. He bit his lip and nodded vigorously. 

Jaskier ran his other hand over his shoulders and back, guiding his feet back a bit so his ass was better presented, "You like that? Being told what to do? Giving up control?" 

Geralt pressed his forehead on the door, his breath coming in gasps already, "Yes, just don't call me 'honey'."

Jaskier pressed a kiss to his shoulder, "Wouldn't dream of it. Ready?" 

Geralt nodded and Jaskier dragged his two fingers over Geralt's hole, making use of the lube on the condom as best he could. Geralt shivered, and pushed out a breath to keep from moaning as Jaskier massaged his rim. 

"That's it, just relax. Let me make you feel good." Jaskier whispered in his ear, stroking his side and kissing the back of his neck, "Do you want to touch yourself?" 

Geralt hadn't even realized he was waiting for permission but fuck did he want to, "Please?" 

Jaskier stepped to the side a bit, still massaging Geralt while he tipped his chin toward him and kissed him, "Do what you want, love." 

Geralt gripped his cock and pumped ever so slowly, stifling another moan. Jaskier mouthed at his jaw and behind his ear as he slowly pushed one finger in, just to the first knuckle. Geralt's rhythm faltered and he gasped, "More." 

Jaskier's breath was shaky as he began pumping and curling his finger, looking for that lovely little spot. 

"Two," Geralt gasped, "you won't reach it without two fing-ehmm!"

Jaskier did exactly as he was told and a wave of pleasure rolled through Geralt's body, "Like…. This?" Jaskier curled his fingers again and held the pressure on Geralt's prostate for a few seconds while Geralt trembled. 

He whined as he nodded, canting his hips back. 

Jaskier stilled his ministrations and gathered Geralt to his chest to whisper in his ear, "I thought you said you'd be quiet for me?" 

"I can," Geralt whispered, "I promise." 

Jaskier hummed and pressed his palm over the center of Geralt's chest, "I'm going to add another finger. But you have to keep quiet." 

Geralt's hand pressed over Jaskier's, "I will. I will." He panted. 

Jaskier did as he'd said and Geralt bit down on his lip, finally feeling almost full. Jaskier began pumping again, pressing his own erection against Geralt's hip, "Good boy." 

Geralt rocked back against Jaskier's bulge, fucking himself on his fingers, "I'm ready." 

"You sure?" 

"One hundred percent." 

Jaskier pressed against his prostate one more time before slipping his hand out, making Geralt shudder and bite his knuckle to suppress a groan. Jaskier had the second condom out and ready almost immediately, lining himself up at Geralt's entrance as he ran his hands over his back in long soothing strokes. 

"You tell me when," Jaskier cooed, "pause for pause, stop for get out, work?" 

Geralt nodded and repeated the code before leaning against the door on one elbow with his palm flat against the metal, "Go ahead." 

Jaskier moaned as he slowly and steadily pushed in. Geralt twisted his hand over the head of his cock and almost forgot how to exhale he was so full. Jaskier slowly began rocking back and forth, maybe a centimeter or two at a time. As he started to thrust in earnest the bells on his costume started to jingle in time. 

Geralt tried to ignore it, but it was just so ridiculous and he was going to start laugh soon, "Jask, p-pause," he chuckled.

Jaskier froze, a hand coming to Geralt's neck and jaw, asking him wordlessly to look at him, "what is it?"

"The bells. Its- fuck it's too funny." 

Jaskier laughed as he peeled his shirt off and tossed it in a heap with his leggings, "Thank gods, they’re annoying." 

Geralt huffed in amusement as he rocked his hips a bit but his breaths quickly turned to pants as Jaskier picked up his pace again. For as quiet as he'd told Geralt to be, Jaskier was moaning wantonly whenever Geralt clenched or hummed as he brushed his prostate. 

Geralt had given up stroking his cock in favor of squeezing at the base for a while when Jaskier finally said he was close, staving off his orgasm as long as he could. The sweet slick fullness mixed with the near panic of constantly being on the edge was intoxicating and Geralt wanted to hang onto every second. 

Jaskier held his hips and squeezed like he'd really wanted to dig in and Geralt wished he would, "Are you-?" 

"Yes," Geralt really wasn't sure how he formed words, his whole body was pulsing and shaking. 

"F-fuck! Oh, Geralt. Sonofa-hmmm." Jaskier came with rough thrusts, keeping one hand wrapped around the base of the condom as he rode out his orgasm. 

Geralt gave himself three good pumps and that was all it took to send him over the edge. He barely kept his legs under him as he shook and groaned while Jaskier pulled out to dispose of the condom. He pressed his cheek against the door and sighed at the relief on his slightly sweaty skin, only mildly aware of Jaskier getting dressed behind him. 

"Geralt, how do you feel?" Jaskier brushed some stray hairs out of his face. 

"Hmmm."

"Good hmmm?" 

Geralt nodded and pushed off the door, running a hand through his hair to pull himself together. 

Jaskier didn't seem to be in a rush though, helping him get dressed and clean up in his rather hazy afterglow. He lead Geralt over to one of the benches and sat down, pulling Geralt into his lap, straddling his hips. His arms wrapped around Geralt's waist and pulled him close, one hand snaking into his hair and lightly scratching little circles on his scalp. Geralt hummed in exhausted pleasure and laid his head on Jaskier's shoulders, wrapping his arms around his ribs. 

"For as scary as you look, you're a big softie," Jaskier laughed, giving him a little squeeze. 

Geralt heaved a sigh as if raising his head from Jaskier's shoulder was a monumental effort, "I thought you said 'handsome'?" He teased, looking to Jaskier's lips as if to ask permission. 

Jaskier pressed a soft kiss to his lips, overwhelmingly gentle for a quickie in a supply closet, "Scary good-looking," he mumbled between kisses. 

Geralt let out an amused huff and before he could stop himself, asked, "Wanna go get lunch?" 

Jaskier pulled back to look at him in bewilderment. 

Geralt scrambled to take it back, failing miserably, "Unless- I mean. We fucked in a mall closet I'm not saying- i- fuck, I ruined it." 

Jaskier placed a finger over his lips and smiled, "I'd love to." 

[whumperooni]

Okay but your hc that rappa is actually a good partner made my heart go brr 🥺 he's so beeg n beefy and so fucking dumb like my man's got one braincell that's half dead anyway but he loves his little wifey and is SO protective, he pulls you into his lap and crushes you against him while rubbing and nuzzling his head against you he just really appreciates his lovely lil pup and how you actually care for him ;;

yes yes yes 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

lub dat dummy thicc man ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

I’m combining both of these since I’m sleepy, but please know that you’re both beeg brained ♡

tags/warnings: nothin’ really! just some mentions of oral, the smallest smidge of daddy kink

🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊

“Kendo, dinner’s almost ready!”

There’s a gruff cheer that sounds in response, but you’re pretty sure it’s not from your announcement of food about to be served up. Huffing fondly, you grab a beer and poke your head into the living room, shake your head with a smile whenever you find your monolith of a husband watching tv with a glazed grin. It looks like he’s about a twelve pack in- he’s got to be getting close to tipsy about now.

Honestly, you’ll never stop being impressed by how much beer your man can pack away before he even starts feeling a buzz.

Still smiling, you wander into the room and hold the beer bottle up like an offering, giggle whenever Kendo looks over at you and grins even wider.

You’re yanked onto his lap as soon as you’re within arm’s reach and a happy squeal leaves you when he wraps his arms around your waist, crushes you against him. He belches and he barks out a laugh when you let out a whiny “Kendo!”, crushes you even closer to him as he begins to nuzzle into your hair.

He needs a shower and he definitely needs a change of clothes. But that musky smell is something you’re used to, something that has you wriggling against him as it washes over you.

Kendo smells like a man- primal and fierce, so very strong.

“What kinda grub are ya makin’ for me tonight, pup?” he asks, arms flexing around your waist. “Smells real good, sweetheart.”

The praise has you flushing with pride and you beam up at him, let him snatch the beer from your hands.

“We’re having fried chicken, green beans, mashed potatoes, brown sugar carrots, and some of those little yeast rolls you like,” you tell him- hands resting on his chest, a small giggle slipping from you when he cracks the bottle open and downs it in one big gulp. “And I made a pie earlier, too.”

“Ah, shit, babe- yer really spoiling me.”

“Of course I am,” you coo, fingers curling into his chest hair, nails scritching over the squishy flesh that hides all those big, rippling muscles of his. “I gotta take care of my man. You got a fight tomorrow, baby, and I wanna make sure you’re good to go.”

Kendo snorts, but he grins- big hands grabbing your waist and pulling you even closer, keeping you still as he ruts up against you.

“I’m always good to go, pup!”

Hell yeah he is.

You giggle and then you mewl, throw your arms around his neck as he humps his thick dick against you. He’s hard already and just knowing that has you wet- has you pouting whenever the timer goes off in the kitchen.

“Babe,” you whine, head tilting back even as you do so he can snuffle against your neck, lay wet and smacking kisses over your throat. “Babe, I gotta get the food outta the oven!”

Kendo just snorts- hot air puffing against your neck, hands gripping your waist even tighter. You’re lifted without warning and you squeal whenever Kendo stands, when you’re thrown over his broad shoulder. He laughs as you squirm and he gives your ass a smack, has you laughing too as he hauls you off to the kitchen.

He turns the oven off with just one hand and he throws the door open, grabs a towel and grabs the chicken from the stove, sets it on the counter and immediately turns to leave the room once again.

“Babe- the food!”

“It’ll be fine, pup,” he tells you. “We can heat it up- right now I wanna eat somethin’ else.”

You flush and you squirm against him, let out a giggle and then a pleased little coo whenever one of his big hands slides up your thigh.

“Mmm, eat as much as you want, Kendo,” you purr- legs spreading as much as they can while you’re still thrown over his shoulder. “It’s all for you, baby.”

“Fuck yeah it is.”

Just a few more steps and then you’re in the bedroom, then you’re tossed on the mattress. Kendo is over you in an instant- broad frame blocking the light spilling in from the hallway, a grin on his face. You reach for him and you curl your fingers into his messy hair, meet his grin with one of your own as you yank him down so you can crush his lips against yours.

A rumbling little growl sounds from him and it makes you shiver, has you rocking against the hand that pushes up your skirt.

“God, I fucking love you,” you mumble, moan against his lips.

You feel him grin against you, feel his big, strong hand yank your panties down your thighs.

“Love you too, darlin’. Now spread those pretty lil legs for me, pup- daddy’s hungry.”

A breathless giggle slips from you and you spread your legs for Kendo, watch him as he rises and then shuffles down.

A happy sigh leaves you as he buries his face into your cunt and you smile as Kendo eats you out with an eager, sloppy greed; you arch your back and mewl when he tosses your legs over his shoulders.

What a man- you’re so lucky to have him in your life.

The food grows cold in the kitchen, but you don’t care- it’s just as good when it’s heated up hours later, just as good as you munch on it while you curl up with Kendo on the couch and watch some shitty, silly movies with him, laugh and snuggle up with him and the dogs.

You fall asleep that night happy and warm- arms thick as trees wrapped around your body and rough lips pressed to your forehead, a smile on both you and Kendo’s faces.