#when he really wants to do me in he texts me shakespeare out of the blue

[seldnei]

In my opinion, if you want loving gestures that you didn’t ask for then it behooves you to look closely at what your partner does naturally. As an example: if I want a love letter, I’m going to need to ask Mr Seldnei to write me one, because his mind doesn’t naturally go there. But that man knows my order at every restaurant, knows the names of my favorite writers, and makes sure I get to ride the Haunted Mansion any time we go to Disney. Once I realized these were his romantic gestures, I started feeling very much like the lead in a romcom, even if I did have to flat out tell him I’d like flowers on my birthday.

So yeah, if you want something you’re not getting, ask for it. If you really want stuff you don’t have to ask for, start looking for what you’re already being given.

btw one of the key components of actually being in a healthy relationship is just asking for things that you want. i keep seeing posts on this website saying 'i really want to do/receive [X] but my partner has never done it'. just ask. 'nobody exchanges love letters anymore' ask. 'i want to have my partner's hair in a locket like the victorians' just ask. 'i want to be bought flowers regularly :((' literally just ask. your partner doesn't know they're being held to these expectations and that you're unhappy unless you tell them. it's so unfair to expect your partner to read your mind. 'it's less special if you have to ask :((' grow up and stop pretending you're the lead in a romcom. when people say communication is crucial they mean it !! just ask !!

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Violent Delights Have Violent Ends

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

WC: 1.8k

TW: Serial killers, murders, blood, referencing to infidelity,

A/N: This has been something I have been thinking about for a while. I hope y'all enjoy it!

Spencer did not realize that someone could know more about anything intellectual than he did. It honestly baffled him, when Hotch called him into the office, to introduce the two of you. 

“Spencer this is Doctor Y/N Y/L/N, Doctor Y/L/N, this is Doctor Spencer Reid.” 

He gave you a small smile, and a slightly awkward wave. You were beautiful, there was no doubt about it, an absolute plus to the fact that you were intelligent. He was captivated by your eyes but quickly coughed and looked back at Hotch. 

“Doctor Y/L/N—”

“Please Agent, call me by my first name after the initial introductions, Doctor makes me feel a tad bit ridiculous after like the second time.” You couldn’t have been more than twenty four, Reid deduced. 

Hotch smiled at you, nodding. “Please, call me Aaron, or Hotch, I feel the same way about agent. Reid,” He turned towards Reid. “Y/N, is going to be a consultant on this next case, and you two will be working closely together.”

Reid was suddenly excited by the prospect of working with a consultant. He usually dreaded them, but something about you made him excited to actually be able to converse intellectually with someone on the team. 

But luckily for Morgan, you were not what anyone was expecting. You all had boarded the jet, sitting around and chatting since you had a long flight from DC to Oregon, not really willing to get into the details of the case just yet. 

“So, Doctor Y/L/N, what made you choose Shakespeare?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Agent Morgan, if you keep using my official title, you’re going to be talking to the wall. Wanna try again?” 

His jaw dropped slightly, enjoying the banter you were providing. Derek Morgan was far from ugly, far from it. But he simply wasn’t your type. But that did not mean you couldn’t flirt back. 

“Well then, Miss Y/N, why Shakespeare.” 

You smiled, “Shakespeare is just another language. And I already speak French, Arabic, Spanish, some Latin, a little Greek, and I’m learning enough Mandarin and Cantonese to get by on my next trip to China. So understanding Shakespeare from a linguistic point, I’ve already got covered. Especially since it was something I could read easily from a young age.” 

JJ and Emily had stopped their conversation and turned to face you, eagerly listening in to what you have to say. 

“But, from a theatrical point, his writing is so incredibly intricate. There are layers upon layers of text and context and subtext throughout all of his plays and sonnets, not to mention the fact that Shakespeare can be transformed, moved from one thing to another incredibly easily. You have to factor in that he was a misogynist, anti semitic, probably-most-definitely racist, among all of the other things, but adapting his works throughout time is something I have a special interest in, particularly his portrayal of woman and how that has been changed throughout productions over the years, mainly focusing in comedies and this strange need for him to have happy endings end in weddings.”

The jet was all staring at you, while a smirk slowly slid onto Derek’s face. “Looks like you got some competition here, Pretty Boy.” 

You shrugged at Derek, and looked back at your phone. “I appreciate competition more than meaningless run-around conversations Derek. If you’re going to profile me, then just profile me. Or google me really. There’s no need to prod and pretend like you’re not trying to find out whether or not I’m single. If you wanted to ask me out, you should just ask me out.” 

Jaws on the plane dropped. Derek tried to stutter out a response but was cut off by Emily, smirking over at him. “Besides consulting on murder cases, what do you actually do with a PhD in Shakespeare?”

You looked up at Emily and shrugged. “Whatever I really want to do. It’s just flexible enough that I can bullshit a job I want and take it, excluding present company. Usually I consult in England with the Globe Theatre and the Royal Shakespeare Company, I also guest lecture Shakespeare for younger audiences, like high schoolers and first years in college because I’m still young enough that I could be considered nerdy by a high schooler, but have college freshmen not be able to talk to me because I’m just good enough to get away with it.”

“What did you get your undergrad in?” Spencer spoke for the first time to you since you met him, you smiled a little bit. 

“No one really asks me that.” You looked over at Spencer. “I have a bachelors in Directing with minors in English Literature, French, and Classics, and then I went on and got my Masters in Art History, since the visual aspect of the Arts is what interests me so much.” 

Rossi nodded, “Makes sense considering I’ve seen your thesis–very impressive.” 

“What did you write about?” JJ looked over at you. 

“I–” You started but Rossi interrupted you. “Actually, if any of you had done any research, or were familiar with the Theatrical Arts, you would know that her thesis was an incredibly well-received production of Hamlet that delved into the female psyche and experience.” 

Your jaw dropped slightly. “I-I didn’t think you, any of you would have even known that. Let alone had time to go and see my production?”

“Well, I have a fondness for the arts.” 

You shook your head. “Or incredible timing.” 

“Wha–timing?” JJ scoffed. 

“Well,it’s— the program was in London, and it was only running for a few weeks…”

“Rossi when the hell did you go to London?” Derek finally spoke up, slightly captivated by you, but not in the way Reid was. You were something else, something completely new, which meant he could learn, and you were something he wanted to learn everything about. 

“Well, right before I rejoined the BAU, I did a lecturing series over at Scotland Yard, and everyone had been discussing this production by the youngest female director to ever direct at the Bridge Theatre. I loved your use of, what were they, silks?” 

You nodded, slightly embarrassed, mostly in awe. 

“Ah yes, your usage of silks and the columns. I was on the floor, part of the cattle that was moved around. Very innovative use of that space, very impressive.” 

“I’d have to agree.” Hotch spoke up, and you turned to look at him, eyes even wider than before. He smiled at the look on your face. “When we got this case, and we were requesting you as a consultant, I watched the recording. Very good work Y/n.”

“W-wow, um, thank you so much Age–Hotch. I really appreciate it–from the both of you.” You smiled at him and Rossi. 

“I would love to hear all about this production, if you don’t mind me asking.” Emily slid across the aisle, taking the seat across from you, JJ doing the same, crowding Derek. 

“Well, as Rossi said, it was about the female experience, and my Hamlet, was absolutely incredible, really took on the queer aspect of the role since Ophelia was still a woman, and–” You explained the concept, the design, the thought behind all of it. Every single person on the plane was simply obsessed with you by the time you were done, asking questions when they were curious. It confounded Spencer how he had never really paid attention to that section of the world of academia, and he was almost beating himself up over it, because he had missed you this whole time. 

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

“Eyes look your last, Arms take your—this is Romeo’s death monologue before he stabs himself. And this other one, is ‘Be buried quick with her, and so will I’, which is Hamlet trying to fight Laertes after he learns of Ophelia’s death…And..this is the one from this morning ” You turned to the sheriff who was just trying to make sense of the fact that you just were able to comprehend and relay Shakespearean information after reading the images of the victim's blood used on the walls, so calmly. “Sheriff?”

“Sorry, yes. Yes” 

You frowned a bit, “They’re getting more violent. This is Brutus finding out Portia is dead–’with meditating that she must die once, I have the patience to endure it now…”

Reid looked over at you, “All of them are the men’s reactions to the death of their beloved.” 

You nodded and sighed. “That means, uh…If he has a list,” You walked over to the white board and started writing the names of the fictional couples on it. “He still has Antony and Cleopatra…Macbeth and Lady Macbeth,,,,and….”

“And what?” The sheriff looked between you and Reid, as you turned a little white. “The um. The last couple dealing with murder/suicide of each other is, uh, Othello.”

Hotch gave you a look. “Explain.” 

“What do you know about Othello?” 

Hotch furrowed his brow.

You took his silence as permission to ramble. “It’s just a theory but, it’s regarded as not only one of the most tragic endings to lovers, even beyond the stupid miscommunications of Romeo and Juliet, because Othello kills his wife, believing she had cheated on him, suffocating her to death on their marriage bed, and then once he realizes he’s been tricked by Iago, he kills himself next to her body. It’s horrendous.”

“If I had to guess, He’s forcing the husbands to kill their wives, and then he kills them..” Spencer followed up, analyzing the pictures across the tables. “Based on the way they were positioned—he’s setting them up as a series of muder-suicides, just like Shakespeare.” 

“Actually.” You picked up one of the pictures and handed it to Hotch. “I think it’s a woman.” 

“You just stole Reid’s line.” Derek mused from the doorway, handing you a cup of coffee, which you gratefully accepted. 

Reid huffed and rolled his eyes. “It’s not my line.” 

“It is.” Hotch said dryly as he analyzed what you had just told him. “Y/n, can you please get me a list of the monologues left, so we can try and figure out who might be his next victims, so we can try and link the victims we do have.” 

You nodded and sat down at your laptop. It was bugging you slightly at how much you enjoyed working on this case, working with the BAU, working with Doctor Reid. 

This was the most action your PhD had seen since you had written it. 

Part 2

[addisonnie]

you, me, & mary-jane

summary: dealer!ellie comes in clutch in more ways than one.

warnings: make-out sesh, cursing, terrible breaking bad references

a/n: surprise! another ellie fic because i refuse to do the schoolwork that i desperately need to finish! wooooooooo dealer ellie is yum. i actually kinda hate this! enjoy! oh god also listen to “meddle about” by chase atlantic while you read if you would like. ellie=chase atlantic okay bye

part 2 —> part 3

There are several things in life that you can live without. Weed is not one of them.

You’re huffing and borderline growling as you dig through various stash locations in your room. Closet, empty. Under the mattress, nothing but crumbs. In every single pants pocket? Zero. Zilch. Not one lush green nug was found.

What could be chalked up to a literal war cry left your lips as you sat on the floor with your head in your hands, “this is it. This is the end.”

Dina’s head poked up from the side of her bed, “what are you whining about down there?”

Leaning your head back onto the wall, you sent Dina a harsh glare, “you and Jesse smoked the last of it! And I’m flat broke, too!”

She sat up fully in her bed, eyes wide and crazy, “bitch! Don’t pin this on us! You said it was fine.”

“That was last night! This is today! Today I just want to smoke my silly little bowl and enjoy my silly little high.” You groan and knock your head against the wall a few times.

Fishing your phone from your back pocket, you open iMessage. Hopefully your plug isn’t busy right now. Last time you bought from him was in the parking lot of his youngest child’s soccer game. Maybe buying from a 40-something father of three isn’t always the best idea—at least he won’t rip you off?

Hey. You busy?

Tom usually responds right away. His clients doubled as his friends (you being his ex-babysitter) and he always loved to provide for them.

Who is this?

Well, that’s strange. Tom definitely has your number saved. And, Tom definitely knows who you are.

Don’t play, Tom. I want to buy!!!!

You watch the text bubbles pop up and disappear in the bottom corner of the screen a few times, showing that he’s typing out a response and deleting it over and over.

This is his wife. Don’t text this number again. He is married. And he does not sell what you want to “buy.”

You could really cry at this moment. Like, honestly and truly sob. A long huff leaves your lips and you knuckle at your eyes aggressively. Fucking bullshit. Tom’s wife was always kind of a bitch, to be fair. But you didn’t think she’d ever pull a Skylar White on you. What does a girl have to do to get some weed around here?

“Do you know any other dealers? I just got told off by Tom’s wife.” Dina laughed from her bed.

“My name is Skylar White, yo. My husband is Walter White, yo.” You couldn’t help but laugh, “that’s exactly what I was thinking!”

She sits up in her bed, hanging her tanned legs off the side, “here. I have mutual friends with this girl, think her name is Ellie? I heard she sells. Good prices too.”

Dina tosses her phone into your lap from where she sits and allows you to send the contact to yourself.

Hey. Is this Ellie?

———

Ellie takes a couple hours before responding.

It depends on who’s asking?

Your professor drones on about some random Shakespeare play and you can’t bring yourself to pay attention while you read over Ellie’s text.

Dina gave me your number, I heard you sell?

Man. I really hope you’re not a cop.

You chuckle at her text.

Not a cop. Twenty year old girl over here. I love One Direction.

That sounds like something an undercover cop would say.

Ellie made a good point. You scroll through your camera roll trying to find a recent selfie before landing on one you took a couple days ago. You’re clearly high in the picture, so maybe Ellie will take the hint.

Here. Proof. Not a cop :)

Pretty.

She sent her address in a separate text and informs you to meet her there around 7pm when she’s done with her night class. Your professor excuses the class and leaves the remainder of students to pack their things. 5pm. Usually you smoke before going to pick up. Clearly, that’s not an option today. What does one do while they wait if they have no weed?

———

Nothing. One does absolutely nothing if they have no weed.

You knock on Ellie’s front door and wait a few beats before stepping back from the doorway. The lock clicks before the dingy wooden door opens inward,

“Hey!”

Oh, damn. She is fine.

Her auburn hair is short and rests about an inch above her shoulders. It’s pulled slightly up into a bun and several short strands curl lightly along the nape of her neck.

“Hey! Ellie, right?”

She smiles, “that’s me.” The door is pulled open wider and she beckons you to come inside. A botanical tattoo swirls along her forearm and you find yourself staring at her awkwardly before you step into the house.

She tugs off her flannel and slings it over the back of a woven couch, leaving her in a fitted white tank top.

You suck in a breath, “how are you?”

How are you? Really? Who says that to a drug dealer?

She chuckles and slouches into the couch, patting the open spot beside her, “pretty good. How about you?”

“Honestly? I’m suffering.”

She laughs fully this time, “that bad, huh? Your dealer die or something?”

“God, I wish. His wife responded to my text and told me to fuck off, basically. That he doesn’t sell what I buy.” Ellie cringes and shakes her head, her lips pressed into a tight frown,

“she Skylar-Whited you? That’s pretty fucking rough.”

“That’s exactly what I said! Call me Jesse Pinkman, I guess.” Ellie shook her head again and leaned forward to grab a small mahogany box.

Her long fingers opened the lid and scrounged through the container before she happily hummed and held up what she was looking for. A joint was pressed between her fingers and she quickly snatched a lighter off the coffee table.

After she placed the box back on the table, she leaned back into the couch and stretched her arm along the back of it, her fingers barely grazing your shoulder. Ellie turned to face you and held the joint to your lips, “open up.”

Your face flushes as you do what she asked—demanded. Her fingers place the joint onto your awaiting lips and she quickly lights the paper, still holding the joint to your mouth.

What is this girl on? You can’t help but feel as if this is strangely intimate. Tom never held a joint to your lips! On second thought, it’s probably good that he didn’t.

You inhale and she pulls the joint to meet her own mouth as she watches you exhale.

“We can smoke this and then I’ll grind up some for you.” She passes you the joint this time.

“Oh—you don’t have to. I can take the nugs. I don’t want to trouble you.” You pass it back.

She smirks, the joint hanging from the side of her mouth, “no trouble at all. Happy to do it.”

“Is that what you tell all of your clients?”

Another smirk, “only the pretty ones.”

The joint is placed back into your fingertips and you are very glad, this way you can explain the extreme blush creeping up onto your cheeks as just you being overly high. Ellie has somehow moved closer to you, her thigh is pressed up against yours and the arm she has outstretched across the back of the couch skims the back of your shoulders. A chill rakes through your body, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Here, take it.” The hand she has resting behind your head snatches her discarded flannel and drops it into your lap.

“Oh—thanks.” She hums in response.

———

Ellis is funny as hell. Each sentence that escapes her plump lips makes less sense than the last,

“would you rather be trapped in a locked room with a gorilla, or with…with a shit ton of cockroaches?”

She’s sitting opposite you on the couch, her back leaning against one armrest. One of her legs is bent and squished against the back of the couch, her other is sprawled off the edge of the couch. Bit of a man-spreader, this one. Your back is pressed to the opposite arm rest and your legs are stretched outward, resting softly in her lap.

Again, weirdly intimate.

“Oh. Fuck, probably the roaches? Just step on ‘em. Yanno?”

She gasps and latches onto your sock-clad feet, “sickening! Me and that gorilla are gonna be friends.”

You squint at her, “you gonna sell him some Mary-Jane?”

“Yup,” she pops the ‘p’ and passes you the remainder of the joint. Your fingers skim over hers and she blushes a bit, nudging your finger with hers.

“Hey—so how much do I owe you?” You immediately regret ruining the moment the second the words pass your lips.

“Well, flattery works with me—“ you cut her off, “oh yeah? I would’ve kissed you earlier, had I known that.”

She flushes, “you can—um. You can still kiss me. If you want.”

And, just like that, your eyes turn into hearts and start beating rapidly. You surge forward and press your lips to hers, smiling into the kiss when she flicks the joint out of her fingertips and grabs your cheeks, pulling you closer.

Her mouth melds to yours and immediately has you panting like a bitch in heat. She moves one of her hands to pinch at your hip, grasping and probing at you until you wind up straddling her lap. You press your chest into hers and squeak when you feel her hand push your hip down, effectively grinding you down onto her. A strangled whine leaves your lips as she pulls away and begins kissing down the column of your throat.

Her mouth is wet and firm while she sucks and nips on any naked skin she can find, moaning when she feels your fingers card through her hair. Your hips continually rut into hers and she quickly sets a different pace, gripping your hips and dragging you forward and back on her lap. Ellie moans when you grab her hair and pull. Her face is removed from your neck at the force of your tug and she pants to catch her breath before opening her eyes to meet yours.

“How’s free sound?” She gives you a crooked smirk and presses an open-mouthed kiss to your throat.

“Sounds like I’m ripping you off, Ellie.”

She groans and throws her head back onto the couch, “I love the way you say my name. And it’s not ripping me off, babe.”

And you’re blushing again. Babe. She called you babe.

She continues, “think of it as a little sampler. Free shared joint, some ground up weed, and some Ellie.”

You grab her cheeks and squish them together, “only if you swear this sampler is offered to me only. Can’t have anyone stealing my deals.”

She brushes your hands off and smirks again, “like I said earlier, pretty girls only.”

“You said ‘girls’ plural.” She laughs.

“I’ve got three clients. A grown man named Joel, one of the sociology professors—don’t tell anyone I said that. Then you. And I’m a lesbian, so…” She trails off at the end of her sentence and looks down at your lips again, hands splayed across your thighs.

You kiss her again. It’s short and chaste and it leaves Ellie chasing your lips for just one more. Two more. Three. How’s five sound?

She presses kisses to your puckered lips over and over, “all,” kiss, “the weed,” kiss, “you can,” kiss, “dream of.”

Ellie finally pulls away to fully look at you, “I mean it. You can have all the weed you want if you keep kissing me like that.”

————

When you finally clamber off of her lap and detach her hands from your hips it’s almost one in the morning. She sighs while she watches you stuff your ‘goody bag’ into your purse, slipping your shoes back on. Her fingers beckon you back to the couch and she taps your right leg until you bend it and rest your foot on top of her thigh. You were planning on walking home with your shoes untied, but Ellie’s nimble fingers quickly double knot each of your shoes; She presses a kiss to each of your knees before letting them straighten back out.

Her hands find your hips again—shocker— while she walks you to the front door. A kiss is pressed to your lips one last time and she gives you a firm squeeze when you lean in to hug her.

“Come back soon. Fuck that guy, I’m your new dealer for life.” You smile and step outside, “okay.”

She definitely tied your shoes too tight and you make a mental note to fix it when you’re out of her eyesight. As you’re walking down the sidewalk that leads you to campus she calls your name,

“Get home safe, yeah? Text me when you’re back!”

You will definitely text her.

[theragethatisdesire]

much ado about nothing chapter 7 - plug!eren x reader - 18+!!!

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. minors and ageless blogs, please do not read below the cut.

okay so i guess the responses i got on my "i have writer's block wahhh" post worked because GUESS WHAT I FINISHED THIS MORNING. this chapter!!! i have been aching to share this (even when it was half-done), i literally cannot wait any longer. this is an eren pov chapter so you guys already know it's going to be fun. lots going on, and please don't hate me for the end, i promise there's a master plan in place!!! i hope you guys enjoy :-)

specific cws: smut, rough sex, use of names (both endearing and derogatory so take that as you will), drinking, swearing, i want to give eren a giant hug

-

“Love sought is good; but given unsought, is better.” - Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare (Act III, Scene 1)

Eren has no excuse for any of it. No excuse for stepping in, for throwing Floch against the bar. He knows you, knows you have enough experience with awful men to know how to handle yourself. He just couldn’t help himself.

And now he’s gone and acted out again without thinking. The cold winter air sobers him up, brings Eren back to himself, and when he looks down at you, all cute and furious with him, the heat in Eren’s veins dies. A pregnant pause stretches between you both, you with your arms crossed and glaring up at him, and Eren, surely with hearts in his eyes, looking down at you, something apologetic beginning to write its way into his features.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

Well, so much for that. The venom in your voice reignites Eren’s temper, fans the flames back into a full-blown inferno.

“My problem?” Eren growls, stepping closer to you. “What the fuck is your problem? I was just getting that prick out of your face. I’d think I deserve a thank you more than anything.”

“It wasn’t your place,” you huff.

“My place?” Eren nearly shouts, exasperated. “You’re the one who wanted to be friends so badly, was I supposed to just sit back and watch while he drooled all over you? Give me a fucking break.”

“That’s not– ugh, you’re really fucking frustrating, you know that Eren?”

It’s like watching all the ghosts of his past jump out at him through your teeth; Eren flinches, feels his fury rushing in his ears like a tidal wave.

“I’m–? Fine, fine, yeah, I’m the frustrating one. Definitely not you, throwing a goddamn temper tantrum over the stupidest shit imaginable, makes perfect sense. Really putting that smart little head to use, aren’t you?”

“Oh? ‘My girl’?” As soon as the words hit him, plunging through his chest like daggers, Eren’s blood runs cold. So you had caught his little slip-up. “What the fuck was that, then?”

Eren stutters, words caught in his throat at the worst possible moment. “Y-you know, like my girl, like you’re my friend or whatever.”

“Uh-huh,” you eye him disbelievingly, “you may as well have hiked your leg up and pissed on me in front of him. Am I supposed to be your fucking property or something because we had sex? Is that it?”

“What? No, I–” you’re faster than him, cutting him off.

“Don’t you already have your hands full with your ex?”

That crosses a line, pushes your fight into an entirely new territory. Eren’s eyes narrow. “Are you really bringing up Breeze right now? Like she…Jesus, like she even fucking matters?”

He watches the way you flinch when he says her name, the way your eyes widen, something he hadn’t expected out of you after with your little snide comments today. Interesting.

“She doesn’t matter to me, but I know she matters to you. As your friend, I’m just letting you know it sounds like a bad idea.”

“What’s a bad idea?”

“Getting back together with her,” you say, like it should be obvious.

It hits Eren like a truck; so that’s what’s gotten into you? You think he’s getting back together with Breeze, as if you didn’t text your ex that you were “totally in love with” on that godforsaken night at Paradise? Eren can still hear the slur of your words in that maddeningly confusing voicemail.

“Even if I was getting back with Breeze,” Eren snorts at the very idea, “which I’m not–”

“Oh yeah?” you counter, stepping forward to nearly touch your chin to his chest with how severely your head’s tilted up at him, “never took you for a liar, Eren.”

“A liar? When did I fucking–”

“Sasha saw you two at 104 the other day. You’re not fucking slick, you know.” Eren hates that tone in your voice, smug and wounded all at once. He wants to tear his own hair out.

“Oh, so you just know everything, don’t you?” Eren’s voice is shaking under his efforts to keep it at a low volume, keep you with him outside of your little bar and just make you listen to him. He watches your posture change ever so slightly, a shoulder turning towards him. “I was telling her to leave me the fuck alone.”

“Over coffee?” Your voice is still clipped, snarky. “Sure, Eren.”

Eren tries to keep himself in line, but his temper gets the better of him yet again, shooting out sharp and lethal. “Isn’t it a little hypocritical of you to avoid me over that, when it’s really you that’s getting back with your ex?”

Your eyes shoot open, and you spin on your heel to fully face him. “What?”

“You think I didn’t listen to your little voicemail?” Eren seethes, the full-bodied ugliness of his anger warping his face into a scowl. You don’t deserve the brunt of his temper, he knows you don’t, but he’s failing at every turn to reign himself in.

“You can’t throw that in my fucking face, I don’t even remember it,” you cut him off, eyes narrowed into little slits.

Eren freezes in place. The world around him seems to slow; the only thing tethering him to this plane is the way you’re looking up at him, furious and beautiful in the buzzing neons of Scout’s. He knew you’d been drunk, but not that drunk.

Hey, Eren– fuck, Stor, leave me alone! I’m just gonna talk to him really fast! Sorry, Historia’s all over me because I did something bad. I– I texted my ex, Luke. I never told you about him because he’s like, the worst, you’d hate him. But the funny thing is, I don’t even think I care? Maybe I do because I really was like, totally in love with him. Maybe he’ll text me back and we’ll fall in love again. But…I don’t know, Eren. I think about you all the time. I think I…I think I like you. Not like a friend, more than that. Wait, fuck, can I delete this? Just…I don’t know. Call me tomorrow or something. I want to talk about it before I can go down the black hole of Luke all over again. I know it’s not what you expected, and maybe you don’t feel the same, but…maybe we can just– shit, Historia, don’t hang up the–!

“Whatever I said was bullshit, I didn’t mean a word of it. I’m not getting back with my ex, or whatever else I came up with while I was blacked out.”

Your present-tense voice, affirmative and clear, snaps him out of his daze. I didn’t mean it. Every word of that voicemail that Eren knows so well, has basically memorized after listening to it day in and day out, trying to analyze every little drunken intonation of your voice– it was bullshit. Eren steels his jaw, musters up all the willpower he can dredge up in his body.

“You didn’t mean it,” his voice sounds alien as it leaves his mouth, distant.

“Yeah, exactly,” you’re mean, you’re so mean, not even stopping to acknowledge the sinkhole ripping open in Eren’s chest, “so before you rip me a new one, make sure that you’re not thinking about where you’d rather be right now.”

So you’re not just mean, you’re oblivious, it seems. For some reason, even through the shattering, crushing feeling erupting beneath Eren’s hoodie, it infuriates him. You just don’t see it, don’t see him. You didn’t mean a word you’d said to him in that damned voicemail, so he can’t tell you necessarily. It crosses his mind that maybe he can show you; the last dying ember of Eren’s rational line of thought sparks and spits at the idea in protest, but eventually chokes out, slowly dying in the tidal wave of emotion that takes him over.

“Oh, I don’t have anywhere else I’d rather be,” Eren's voice starts low and venomous, but it escalates with each passing word, “trust me, I showed up just aching to get into it with you. Just dying to have you rip me apart for something that I didn’t even fucking do!”

Not even a lie, honestly.

“You’re such an– ugh!” You shriek, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes.

“A what? Say it.”

“An asshole!”

“Is that what I am?” Eren’s backing you up against the bricks, making good use of his height to tower over you. Some sick part of him relishes in the way that, while your eyes remain blazing furiously enough to send a weaker man to his knees, your height difference forces you to cower under him. “An asshole?”

“Yeah,” you counter, glaring up at him defiantly, “you’re a fucking asshole, Eren.”

His proximity to you is making him dizzy and a little unhinged, and through the drinks and his anger and the mere inches between your heaving chests, Eren feels his blood start to run hot in an entirely different way. The leash he holds on his own temper, his own throat-closing desire, is dragging along the floor as he backs you fully against the wall, and Eren’s too wound up to bring himself to care. 

“That’s not what you were calling me when I had my head between your legs, now is it?”

That shakes you, makes your jaw drop a little. Eren’s vaguely aware of your fingers twitching and clenching at your side, inwardly braces himself for a slap to the face. “Well, you weren’t acting like an asshole then.” 

Eren smirks, leans into his own cruelty. “What, you jealous that you haven’t been getting all of my attention? Is that what’s got you acting all mean?”

“Cut it out, Eren.” Your eyes are telling him you’re still mad at him, furious even, but Eren doesn’t miss the way the rise and fall of your chest grows ever so slightly more frantic, the way your tongue darts out anxiously to wet your lips.

“Or what?” Eren leans down, boxing you in with one arm on either side of your head.

“I– we’re not doing this.”

“Doing what?” He widens his eyes innocently. “What am I doing?”

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” you hiss, but if you ask Eren, it sounds an awful lot like a moan is lodged in your throat, like your words are lacking the conviction that you’re trying to muster. He pushes himself in closer to you, noses mere inches apart, a wicked grin splitting his face.

“Is it working?”

Eren’s lips meet yours at the same moment that his hand whips out to catch your arm where you’re swinging it up to slap him. A broken little whimper leaves your mouth, spills into his, as your arm slackens in his grip. Eren feels your free hand fist into the hair at the nape of his neck, lets a groan fly out into nonexistent space between your lips. He’s been driving himself crazy thinking about this moment, the next time he’d get to feel your mouth on his again if it ever even happened, what you taste like, the little noises you make. The moment that’s been keeping him up at night is finally here, inflating his wounded ego like a balloon, and it feels fucking good.

You bite a little too hard into his bottom lip, the tangy, copper taste of Eren’s blood leaking into the kiss, making it clear that this doesn’t mean everything has settled between you both, but for the time being, Eren doesn’t care. All he cares about is the way your plush thighs feel wrapped around his waist, how easily he can scoop you up and pin you against the wall, the little moan that slips from your lips when he presses the length of his body entirely into you.

He doesn’t take his time, doesn’t savor the moment like he’ll surely wish he did tomorrow; Eren devours you, running a hand up your bare leg and under the hem of your skirt, grabbing a handful of your ass, squeezing at your hips.

“Bet you’re wet under this short little skirt, aren’t you?” Eren huffs into your mouth, sucking on your tongue.

“Fuck you,” you spit, squeezing your thighs tighter around his hips.

“Is that what you want?” Eren whispers, dizzy and drunker on you than the three Jameson shots he’d knocked back at the bar.

“I–”

“Been thinking about it?” Eren can’t stop himself, trying desperately to keep his lips on yours through the spill of words from his mouth. “Maybe that’s why you’ve been so mean to me, grinding all up on me in that club, teasing me, then running off. Just wanted a little love, didn’t you?”

“That depends,” you pant, moving your face to kiss up his neck, leave little nips in your wake. Eren groans deep in his chest, pushing against you even more insistently.

“On?”

“How bad you really want it,” you bite into his earlobe, steal another shaky groan from him.

Eren’s not a submissive guy, not by any means, but the thrill your words send running through his veins just about makes him drop you.

“Want me to beg?” Eren growls, shoving into you and biting deep at the junction of your neck and shoulder. “I’d only ever beg for you, baby.”

“Is that what you’re going to do? Beg for me when you’ve got another girl waiting for you?” Your anger has fizzled into a bitter sarcasm that goes straight between Eren’s legs and knocks him right in the ego all at once, tongue tracing the shell of his ear.

“Fuck– you’re my girl, my favorite girl, did you forget?” Eren grabs your face, forces your head back against the brick so you can look at him, eyes blown wide with lust and glossed over, mouth open in a desperate pant. “Told you the first time, you’re the best I’ve ever had. Didn’t think I was just fucking around, did you? It’s just you, only you.”

“Could have fooled me,” you dig your teeth into the thumb Eren’s worked between your lips, making him suck in a sharp ouch between his lips, “sure don’t feel like your favorite girl.”

“Sounds like I need to fix that, then,” Eren lets a hand trail down between the little space he’s leaned back to create between your bodies, finds his way to the damp fabric of your panties, “oh, who’s the liar now?”

“Don’t– fuck,” your eyes roll back in your head when he starts pressing into where he knows your clit is, rubbing insistent circles over the cloth just to elicit that reaction from you, rip the control right out of your pretty little hands. Eren chuckles down at you, dark and dangerous, amused at how quickly you melt for him.

“Thought we weren’t doing this?” He parrots your words from earlier, nosing at your neck. “Thought I was an asshole?”

“You are,” you grit out through a clenched jaw, but Eren notices the little forward push of your hips, notices that you’re trying to hold yourself back from rubbing yourself into his palm.

“And that gets you wet,” Eren counters, grinding the heel of his palm up into your clit and wrenching a little gasp from you, “bet you liked watching me in there, bet you would have loved watching me kick his ass for you.”

Eren pauses, waits to hear if you’ve got anything to say for yourself, but you’re already half-gone, rolling your hips against the steady rocking of his hand and whining in your throat. He smiles– god, you really are his favorite.

“Say it,” Eren growls into your skin, slipping a finger past the fabric of your panties to slide it into you, not the whole thing, but just a knuckle, just enough to make you shudder in his arms, “tell me you need me, want to hear you say what this perfect pussy’s already telling me. C’mon baby.”

Just as your mouth opens, either to answer him or snark at him, Eren can’t be sure, a cat-call from across the street snaps both of you out of your haze, your eyes flying wide. You shove at him, wriggling in his arms until Eren mercifully drops you to your feet, reaches down to right your rumpled little skirt for you. You glower up at him, look him up and down, and just when Eren’s about to bullshit some excuse to run home, fuck into his hand with your name on his lips, you surprise him.

“I mean, after all that, the least you can do is walk me home.”

The necessary steps of Eren closing your tabs, walking into the whipping winter wind, walking through the streets silently with Eren side-eyeing you as you storm along, arms crossed petulantly, commence. They go by in a blur; Eren’s not even sure he should be doing this right now with the lack of blood flow to his head. You don’t make eye contact, and if Eren had any more conscious thought at the moment, he would think you’re already regretting this before it happens, but he can’t bring himself to care, not yet.

He’ll kick himself for this as soon as the sun rises, but for now? The only thing he’s worried about lies wet and pulsing for him under the hem of your skirt.

The moment you’ve gotten the door open, Eren’s got you shoved up against the wall again, letting his hands find their way under your skirt and grabbing at your ass with a quiet groan.

“Historia?” he questions, nipping at your earlobe just because he can.

“Ymir’s,” you pant, pushing him off of you and practically storming to your bedroom. It hits Eren that for all the time you’ve spent together, he’s never actually seen your bedroom. He thinks that maybe he’ll do a little investigating of his own once he’s fucked all the fight out of you.

Safely behind the door of your bedroom, Eren wastes no time in yanking his shirt over his head, reaching for yours only to find that you’ve already rid yourself of the cute little sweater he had been admiring from down the bar back at Scout’s. You’ve got a pretty lace number underneath, one that Eren almost doesn’t want to take from you, but he reaches behind you and unclips it. Eren plans on taking and taking and taking everything you’ll give him, just for tonight, because the sinking feeling in his chest is telling him to do it while he can; a girl like you never sticks around a guy like him for long, and he’s already done himself the favor of ruining most of the potential your relationship had anyway.

“Eren– oh,” the broken whimper that leaves your lips snaps him out of his thoughts, reminds him that he’s got one of your breasts in his palm and the other nipple between his teeth. Eren wraps his free hand around your back, pressing his splayed fingers between your shoulder blades to arch you closer to him until he’s so full of you he can hardly breathe.

He’s going to keep taking from you, take until he drowns in it.

“Feel good? Missed me?” Eren’s words come out a little garbled around the flesh in his mouth, but you get the message all the same, managing a sarcastic eye roll through your arousal. You decline to answer him, but Eren can read your body, so he digs his teeth in harshly to the little swell of fat on the underside of your breast, sucks a bruise in to cut that eye roll of yours right in half. Eren smirks when your eyes flutter closed, a reluctant hand coming up to thread through his hair. “Thought so.”

“Can you just–fuck–get on with it?”

“Uh-uh,” Eren straightens back to his full height, backs you onto the bed until your knees catch and you fall onto your back, glaring up at him defiantly. “Gotta get you ready for me, right? I’m sure you remember.”

He eats up the doubt that flickers across your face, the memory of the first time you’d taken him all over your expression. Eren reaches beneath your skirt, pulls your panties down your legs delicately, rubs his hands along your thigh-high stockings with an appreciative swear under his breath.

“There’s a zipper on the back,” you wiggle a bit to try and reach the fasten of your skirt, but Eren slaps a firm hand onto your hip, pins you back onto the bed.

“Think I’m letting you take this off? After you were teasing me with it all night?” Eren says, stretching his body over yours, taking full advantage of his size to cage you in.

“I wasn’t teasing,” you huff, “these are just my clothes.”

“Anything you wear is teasing,” Eren brings his fingers to your core, swipes through the wetness gathered there, “especially when you look like this.”

You open your mouth to retort, but your jaw goes slack when Eren rolls over your clit softly, rubbing little circles into it at the perfect speed, the perfect pressure. He’s not interested in teasing you too much, he wants to feel you break on him as many times as you’ll grant him the pleasure. Once your little gasps have begun to swell into quiet moans, Eren ventures down, pushes his middle finger into you, all the way to the hitch. Eren answers your widened eyes and your little gasp with a sharp hiss between his teeth, marveling at the way your walls cling to his finger, sucking him in when he slides out and back in again.

“Just like the first time,” Eren murmurs, leaning down to take your collarbone between his teeth, “are you always this tight?”

“I– I don’t– more, please.”

Eren smiles around the mouthful of your skin he has, feeling his heart swell at how cute and airy your words come out, how clear it is to him, even if it’s only for this precious moment, that you’re just as desperate for him as he is for you. He grants your wish, working a second finger in beside the first, curling them cruelly against that spot in your walls that he knows gets your heart racing.

“Eren,” you keen, arching off the bed and tossing your head to the side.

“So tight baby,” Eren says in awe, pulling his head to watch as your cunt leaves little white streaks on his fingers, “so warm, can’t fucking wait to get my cock in you.”

“P-please,” you sputter, hooded eyes sparkling at the mention of it. Eren thinks wildly that he might be falling in love with the little unshed tears that prick your eyes when you start to get close, the little broken pleas you give him.

“You gotta cum for me first.” Eren works his fingers faster, can feel the fluttering of your cunt around his fingers. He realizes how worked up he must have gotten you outside of Scout’s, how you’re so wet it’s dripping down your soft skin onto the sheets, and you haven’t even cum yet.

“I’m– I just want you to fuck me,” you say, whiny and pitiful.

“I will,” Eren coos, “missed this messy little cunt so much, I promise I’ll fuck you, just give me one first. Gotta make it fit, right?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, hips bucking up towards him. Eren watches, drinks the sight of you in: skirt pulled up around your waist, legs spread wide open for him, slick spread all over the inside of your thighs, bottom lip tucked so tightly between your teeth he worries you might draw blood. He commits the sight to memory, his pretty little student all strung out and begging for his cock, begging him to make you cum. If he remembers right, if he curls his fingers just a little more harshly–

“Eren–” your head shoots up suddenly, eyes flying wide open, fists tightening in the sheets.

“Right there?” Eren grins, sharp and half-crazed, raising his eyebrows at the reaction the new angle has brought out of you.

“Right– oh, oh my god, I–”

“Give it to me,” Eren urges, working his fingers even faster, “come on, baby, show me how much you missed me.”

With a cry, you twist and thrash under him, cumming almost violently. Eren drinks it down, leans down to press a kiss against your open mouth, pins your body to the bed so you can’t run from the vicious waves of pleasure wracking your body. 

“There’s my girl,” he mutters, licking against your tongue, “such a good, good girl for me.”

When your orgasm finally starts to ebb, Eren doesn’t let up, not entirely; he keeps his fingers working in a slow drag through your walls, appreciating the way your muscles twitch and the way you feebly shove at his wrist.

“Eren…” you trail off weakly, fingers finally locking harshly around his hand and pulling him from you, “too much.”

“Thought you wanted me to ‘get on with it’?” Eren snorts, finally obliging your earlier request and sliding your skirt over your legs, tracing his fingers up and down your thighs once you’re fully bare and beautiful underneath him, taking mental snapshots of every inch of smooth skin that he’s lucky enough to have under his touch.

“I do,” you say, eyeing him with a glint of annoyance in your eye. It just makes Eren smile bigger; you’re so cute when you’re mad.

“Whatever you want, baby,” Eren says, situating his hands under your arms and practically throwing you up against the pillows at the head of your bed. You widen your legs so he can crawl in between them, kissing his way up your torso in a self-indulgent, tender way.

“Do we, um…” you start to question him, and Eren’s close enough to your face now that he can feel your cheeks warm. He sits up a little, arches a questioning brow down at you.

“What?”

“Do we need to use a condom?”

Eren frowns, confused. “I mean, after last time, I thought you were on birth control.”

“I am,” you confirm, nodding slowly, some odd emotion flickering over your features that could be anger, could be heartbreak, “but I don’t know if, like–”

“I haven’t been with anyone else,” Eren catches your meaning, feeling his heart thud heavy and loud in his chest, “not since…”

“Oh,” you exhale quietly, nodding, “okay.”

“You?”

“Uh, no,” your voice is so low Eren almost doesn’t hear you, but he watches your head slowly lull side to side in confirmation, “no one else.”

Eren can’t excuse the rush of relief that courses through him, the swell of happiness to learn that no one’s gotten to see you like this since the last time he had. It goes straight to his cock, hard and drooling between his legs. Before he can get too wrapped up in the emotional side of things, Eren leans in hard to the horrible, possessive thoughts that have constricted him, laying himself over you and taking his cock in his hand, swiping it through the mess between your legs.

“Good.” He even surprises himself with that, looking down on you with dark eyes, eyes that promise ruin.

“Please,” you give him one more breathless plea, Eren swears you know too well how to snap his composure clean in half.

He pushes himself in, choking on a moan at how tight you are, vicelike and suffocating around him. A broken groan flies from your lips, your fingers tighten their grip on his biceps until Eren’s sure you’re going to break the skin, but he’s beyond caring. His mind wipes completely blank, save for the hot, wet heat that’s enveloping him, beckoning him to snap his hips forward viciously and be done with it. With what little self-restraint he can muster up, Eren flicks his eyes up to yours.

“So…it’s so–” another whimper cuts you off, and Eren can feel your thighs twitch on either side of his hips.

“Too much?” Eren manages to reign himself in, back out another inch or so.

“No,” you wrap a leg around his waist, shove him further into you and wrench a deep, guttural groan from his chest, “feels good, keep going.”

“Careful what you wish for,” Eren breathes, trying to retain any semblance of control over this situation, give you that dominant dirty talk that he knows gets you off instead of turning into a whimpering, moaning mess at the feel of you clenching around him. He bottoms out, feeling himself fuck all the way up into your tummy, head falling down onto your shoulder.

Eren manages to keep his pace slow and gentle, rolling his hips into yours like he’s making love to you, not saying goodbye. Little satisfied sounds are slipping out of your mouth, but Eren can see a flicker of consciousness in your eyes; you’re not drooling for him, out of your mind with want, not like the first time. He frowns.

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re…I don’t know, you seem like you’re somewhere else,” Eren hates having to admit that he notices, that he even cares, and the unsteady creak of his voice reflects that, just making him hate himself even more. You don’t seem to notice his vulnerability or, if you do, you aren’t affected by it. You simply raise an eyebrow at him.

“I mean…it’s good,” you say, eyes flitting around the room, like you can’t quite admit whatever you’re going to say while looking him straight in the eyes, “but I want you to fuck me.”

“I am fucking you.” Eren’s frown deepens into a scowl of annoyance. What, is he not good enough for you now?

“Well, literally speaking yes, you are fucking me. But,” a nervous giggle slips from your teeth, riling the anger starting to bubble under his skin again, “I’ve heard a lot of rumors about you.”

“Why are we talking about this while I am literally inside of you?”

“Because I want you to fuck me,” you raise your eyebrows meaningfully, canting your hips up towards him. It clicks– as much as Eren wants to show you what he feels because he can’t tell you, fucking you like an animal, as he’s prone to do, is what you want. Eren’s been so wrapped up in trying to relish whatever time he may have left with you before you inevitably cast him off to the side again, he’s not been paying attention.

“You want me to fuck you, huh?” Eren thrusts forward a little harsher, a little more pointedly. Your eyes roll back, a slow, indulgent smile spreading across your face.

“I want you to fuck me like I know you can,” Eren feels your arms wrap around his neck, pulling his ear to your lips, “unless that last time was all luck. Surely all those rumors aren’t false, are they?”

Eren knows you’re trying to get under his skin, to bite at him through the haze of the heavy air weighing down on both of you, to rekindle that anger that you had brought out of him outside of the bar. What is he going to do with you, incorrigible little thing that you are? If Eren Jaeger was a better man, he would stop this all right now, force you both to talk through the sharp, spiky things that hang in the balance between you two.

But Eren Jaeger is not a better man, he’s only a man, broken and needy and tucked into his favorite place on earth, with the girl of his dreams below him urging him to fuck her brains out. Is he really to blame?

Eren rips himself out of your grasp, standing tall and menacing on his knees over you.

“I’ll fuck you,” Eren grits out through a clenched jaw, grabbing you by the back of your thighs and shoving your knees towards your head, “but you better be ready to put your money where your mouth is.”

“Yeah? Well– oh,” a sharp, shrill cry of your own making cuts your voice off when Eren snaps his hips forward, brutal and unforgiving into the wet heat of your cunt. He doesn’t stop there, immediately pulling out and snapping forward again, hitting somewhere deep inside of you that, based on your face, he knows no man has ever been able to reach. He smirks, all cocky and cruel, setting a harsh pace that’s got you clawing at the sheets.

“What? Is it too much?” Eren whines down at you condescendingly, eating up the way you’re already whimpering and moaning. He can see tears glistening at the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall.

“No, no,” your voice is broken, breathless, “it’s– fuck, it’s so good, Eren–”

“Is this what you wanted?” Eren growls down at you, locking one strong hand around your throat. “Wanted me to fuck you like the little slut you are?”

“Yes!” Your admission comes out in a choked, watery cry, the tears in your eyes finally beginning to run down your temples. Even if it wasn’t written all over your face, Eren can feel how much you like it; your pussy is fluttering, pulsing around him, begging him to keep going. He drives his hips forward like a man starved, a man whose life depends on fucking you until you can’t walk straight for a week.

“Who knew?” Eren muses to himself, wiping the tears from your face. “Who knew my pretty girl was so filthy?”

“I, I–Eren,” you moan wantonly, thighs shaking under his firm grip. Eren should hold himself back, knows that you’re going to be so sore in the morning, but a sick part of him is glad for it. Let you walk around campus with the throbbing ache of him inside of you, maybe he’ll fuck you so hard that little twinge in your belly when you sit down never goes away.

“Say it,” Eren urges, squeezing your windpipe, “tell me how much you love it, tell me how bad this pussy missed me.”

“I–” you choke out around his iron grip on your neck, “I m-missed you, I love it w-when you fuck me–”

“Fuck you like a whore?”

“Fuck me like a w-whore,” you wheeze out, face reddening with shame. Eren loves it, wants to kiss the blush off your cheeks and swallow it whole.

“That’s right, baby,” Eren releases your throat, watches the way you heave and gasp as the air flows back into your lungs, only to be punched out by the force of his thrusts, “you love my cock, don’t you?”

“Yes, I– oh my god, Eren, I–”

“What?” Eren sneers, smirking wickedly down at you, “is my smart girl already so fucked out she can’t talk?”

“No, I– I just– fuck!” You’re so loud for him, if he knew that fucking you within an inch of your life would get him this, Eren never would have bothered playing nice in the first place.

“‘ve barely even started,” Eren laughs, mean and sharp, “and you’re already fucked so dumb you can’t even think. Think you can cum for me, just like this?”

He doesn’t even have to ask; he can feel the way your cunt’s starting to tighten around him so harshly that it nearly pushes him out. He’s bullying his way back into you on every thrust, forcing you to open up for him, to take what he has to give. Inwardly, Eren hopes to god you do cum soon; he’s not going to last, not with you spread out beneath him crying and wailing his name. Eren doesn’t think he can hold out much longer without filling you up, watching his cum seep out of you.

“Eren, Eren, Eren–” your nonsensical babbling has started to take the shape of his name, Eren can feel his ego swelling and swelling to the point of bursting. There’s a tone of warning in your moans; the onslaught of an orgasm is threatening to pull you under.

“Don’t you dare hold out on me,” Eren slaps your thigh hard, the tacky, wet sound of it echoing through the room, somehow finds the wherewithal to piston his hips even faster, “want to feel it, feel you cum on me.”

“I’m going to, I’m going– oh Eren–”

Eren practically snarls, leaning over to spit in your open, waiting mouth. “What are you waiting for? Don’t you–fuck–want your pretty cunt stuffed full of me? I’ll give you yours, just gotta cum for me and give me what’s fucking mine. Go on–”

Eren’s rambling is cut short by the loud, raspy sob you let out, clenching down around him so hard it almost hurts, drawing a loud, long hiss from him. He looks down past your quivering thighs, sees the frothy white that’s streaking his cock, and he’s done for. He grants you a few more sloppy thrusts, and then with one final snap of his hips, he stills, holding himself as deep inside as he can manage, pumping you full of him.

Before he can stop himself, Eren’s crashing into you, bringing your lips to his in a messy, frantic kiss, open-mouthed and teeth clacking together. He can feel your body shaking violently underneath him, rocking with wave after wave of post-orgasm bliss, but he can’t seem to break himself from you, collapsed and clutching onto your smaller frame like it’s the only thing tethering him to this earth.

“Eren,” you finally say weakly, voice muffled as you smack at his shoulder, “you’re heavy.”

“Sorry,” he grunts, rolling off of you reluctantly. Your crumpled, naked form is still there, still so tempting and soft and warm. Your eyes are shut, so you don’t see Eren’s tentative hand reach for your hip, just wanting to rub a thumb comfortingly over the bone there, before he pulls back, second-guessing himself. A few pregnant beats pass by, Eren biting his tongue and holding his breath as he waits for you to make the first move, to direct him into how to speak to you after what’s just happened.

“I need to shower,” you finally say, words coming out in a breathless admission.

“Yeah,” Eren answers lamely, sitting up and looking around your room. There’s postcards from almost every country imaginable, tacked above your desk and fluttering in the breeze from your heating system. The desk itself is a wreck, dozens of papers and books scattered around in seemingly no order. Eren notices a little stuffed teddy bear tossed onto the floor and picks it up with a smile, placing it back against your pillows.

“Are you…”

“Am I…?” Eren looks at you, hoping that his pleading gaze isn’t too horribly obvious.

“I think Historia will kill me if she sees you leaving in the morning.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, Eren swears he can see something like regret fly over your face, and you turn your back to him instantly, scrounging around on the ground..

“I don’t know,” Eren wheezes through his shellshock, trying to force out a nonchalant chuckle that only sounds strangled and tense, “she’s pretty short. I don’t know how she could manage it.”

“You’d be surprised,” you slip a bathrobe over your shoulders and grant him a mirthless smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

Eren dresses in the heavy silence that’s fallen over the room, pulling his shirt over his head and having to inwardly brace himself to face you. Eren’s comfortable with himself, probably knows a little too well that he’s an attractive guy, but he feels completely naked even fully clothed when he turns around to see you, standing all cozy and fucked out and sleepy in your fuzzy robe.

“So…” Eren trails off, wanting to smack his own face for speaking first.

“Have a good night, I guess,” you look up at him and then quickly away, chewing nervously on your bottom lip. Eren steels himself, lets every bit of courage he can find in his body rise to his mouth, forcing it to move.

“Are we, you know, good?”

“Good?”

“We said a lot of things to each other back there,” Eren can’t meet your gaze, can practically feel his face burning as he scratches anxiously at the back of his head. When he forces himself to look at you, there’s something odd and unreadable in your eyes. Are you sad? No, you’re smiling. Well, sort of smiling– it looks contrived, not real. But you’re not angry, not entirely.

“Yeah, I’m good if you are.” That stupid, insincere smile is still twisting your features. 

Eren doesn’t like the look of dishonesty on you, but he’s fought enough for tonight. He’s sad, spent, and tired, and he figures it’s hopeless anyway.

“Okay, good,” he makes his way to your bedroom door, fingers twitching for the feel of your skin under his, eyes damn near watering, “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“See ya.”

And with that, Eren’s left alone in the cold of your apartment hallway, alone and sickened by the feelings of satisfaction and longing swirling in his chest.

[emilvr]

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° boyfriend spencer !

oh lord have mercy this man is sooooo ( ∩ˇωˇ∩)♡all my boyfie spencer thoughts in one place.. <3 this man deserves a happy ending and if cm won’t give it to him i certainly will!! click the link 4 a surprise … & also send me ur spencer reid thoughts before i collapse!!

warnings: just swearing/slight suggestive tones (like smooches..) and gender neutral reader i think !!

spencer, at least— according to derek, is a tough nut to crack. he doesn’t trust easily at all, and the fruits of your labour may not actually show until years down the line. but if there’s one thing about him you could never doubt, is his loyalty to not just you, but his entire team. especially when he tells you, “i’ll do anything you need me to. always.” and the earnest tone he whispers it in, his brown eyes flickering up to meet your [e/c] ones. the soft, glowing warmth of the love of a thousand lifetimes burns bright in his irises and you will find that you simply don’t care how long you have to wait for him to allow you to hold his heart in your hands.

he may not say i love you in the traditional sense; but it is as clear as the turning shades of the leaves in autumn. it’s clear in how he wants to know everything about you: the things you deem mundane and unimportant, the things that make you embarrassed and the things that make you avoid his eyes as you grin childishly. it’s clear in the way he remembers everything, which isn’t all that surprising given:

“did you know i actually have an eidetic memory and an iq of—“

“187. yes i know, spence. what a smart cookie!”

(in response, he flushes always when you coo the words ‘smart cookie’, although in the same breath he will stare at your face and whisper ‘angel’ in your ear like you’ve been sent down from the heavens just for him.)

he treats you like you’re made of delicate rose petals, and a touch that is too forceful will cause you to wither away. his lips graze your cheek gently in a kiss, his fingertips softly pet the top of your head and slowly follow the curve of your cheeks to the slope of your nose. and when you giggle and go “that tickles,” he’ll only grin in response and nestle his nose into the crown of your head and hum knowingly.

although, most infuriatingly, he will not make the first move. now, doesn’t mean he won’t drive you absolutely insane with soft smiles and eyes full of love and want. he puts all of shakespeare’s sonnets to shame, truly. he keeps it up until you break and march over to his apartment with wobbling lips and twinkling irises (and emily’s encouraging “go get ur mans!!!! GET HIM!!!!” text on your phone. her, jj and penelope are the worst enablers ever.) and even then, he stands still (like the whole world has come to a standstill, really) and waits for you to utter the words. he waits, quietly and patiently. his attention is on you.

“it’s okay. you can say it.”

“you’re torturing me here.”

“am i?”

“‘am i?’ i will pretend you never said that, smarty pants. you infuriate me.”

“ooh, big words.”

“hey! i can talk fancy too!”

“mhm, i’m sure you can angel.”

“not fair. i love you, by the way. more like adore you. or any other word you can think of.”

“i can think of a few.”

in the before, he may tease you when you put a hand on his shoulder or trace the outline of his knuckles; but don’t let the teasing trick you. spencer is atrocious. a mess, even— without you. when you get pulled into a case three days before him, he spends the three days with absolutely zero sleep. and when jj and emily (knowingly, grand masterminds!) ask him if he’s doing okay, he just barely grumbles out a: “i can’t sleep without them anymore. feels cold. not right.” jj awe’s at him and clutches her hands close to her chest, whilst emily barks out a laugh and goes “oooh he wants them baaaaad!”

the grumpiest thirty-something year old man you know, by the way. smug as shit, too. lays with you in bed, head on your stomach as you call him pretty.

“but am i the prettiest?”

“oh, absolutely, my love. there is not a man in the land prettier than thou!”

“ … -__- can you ever give me a normal reply.”

“hehe.. absolutely not.”

henry knows all about you. against his will. someone save this boy he knows your birth date and time of birth down to the hour. knows your big three against his will. (despite the fact that spencer says astrology “isn’t scientifically accurate” … my when i’m in a big ass loser contest and my opponent is in-love spencer walter reid….) spencer puts henry to bed and starts rambling:

“the other day, [y/n] and i were in the kitchen and it suddenly hits me how effortlessly beautiful they are, i mean seriously, i feel sick th—“

“uncle spence. please. i want to go to sleep. i’m gonna call mama.”

“not your mom. please.”

(he tells jj and will when they get back from their date. you wake up to 23 text messages from jj saying “marry this nerd please henry can’t do this anymore!!!”)

also may i propose: classical music lover spencer, rock music lover emily, pop music lover jj and [y/n]. spencer absolutely gives you shit for your music taste and jj threatens him by saying she’ll marry you before he does. he goes pale at the thought. goes even paler when jj starts calling you “her darling baby” … your whole relationship is tug of war between jj, emily and spencer. spencer won’t try tug of war with derek like ok whatever you say handsome!!!

also, there have been many times spencer has woken up in the morning and reached his hand out to stroke your cheek and give you a kiss, when halfway he opens one eye and sees either jj or emily sleeping behind you. he’s the third wheel. in his own relationship.

and it’s all great until you give emily or jj too much attention and he starts sulking at home like… bitch you are in your thirties. and then you have to kiss all over his face and jokingly (or not???) call him your ‘pookie’… he sticks his tongue out and goes ‘bleurgh!!!!!” but we all know he loves it. silly scorpio man is fooling no one.

also read: candid photos of him where he always looks good ??? and when you mutter “you make me sick.” he takes it seriously and you spend the next week buying him his favourite donuts and kissing him until his cheeks go pink. most dramatic man ever!!! now does he pretend to be upset so you kiss him all the time… who knows.

he also places his forehead on yours when he gets overwhelmed and can’t calm down. and starts giggling when you go “helllooooooo!!” but in like, the way where your voice hits several octaves. a very, very giggly boy around you. and he also always has cold hands, and goes “oh no sweetie looks like i have to hold your hands!” (emily makes a gagging sound)

but truly, he is the softest man /ever/. when you two lay in bed at night and he leans down to kiss you, he goes so slowly that his eyelashes brush against yours and your chest starts to throb with how fast your heart is beating. he leans forward slowly and the kiss he presses to your lips is so soft that you squeeze your eyes closed because looking at him sends you into cardiac arrest. doesn’t kiss you much in public, but the way he looks at you makes up for it. eyes crinkled in the corner, brown irises reflecting your beauty as if you’ve been blessed by aphrodite herself. his chest lifts and trembles slightly, index finger twitching with the need to hold yours <3 (emily catches him in the act and she grins, then goes ‘booooo’ and cackles how he’s ‘whipped’ — which makes derek’s head snap up.)

also he absolutely calls you bunny and pretty like no one say a word to me… bunny is the cutest term of endearment ever im gonna throw up and throw myself down the damn stairs!!!

&&— marriage is absolutely in the cards for you two. he looks down at you, chin tilted, and he can’t imagine a future where he doesn’t watch you style your hair every morning or watch you grumble over a stain that won’t come out of one of his cardigans. (“spence, baby, you got anymore sweaters that need washed? i’m putting a woollens wash on!” and he blushed a soft fuchsia and has to resist the urge to cradle your face in his palms.)

although he has faced many tragedies and painful memories in his life, you’re his solace. the pain of his father leaving, his mother’s illness, prison, his drug addiction— you provide him with the normalcy and soft, angelic happiness that makes him smile until his cheeks hurt.

spencer (look at the absolute beauty i pulled by being an autistic nerd) walter reid <3

[anghraine]

I've been trying to peer pressure my bff into watching Much Ado About Nothing with me (my fave Shakespeare comedy), and he wanted to have everything in our house set up first etc etc. But he agreed to watch it yesterday and we had a lot of fun absolutely cackling at, well, almost everything.

I do think it's one of the most purely funny Shakespeare plays that are still really good, especially when performed/directed well. We were watching the Joss Whedon version—yes, I know, but I bought it back when it came out and it's still my favorite—and Nathan Fillion's Dogberry is an utter delight, and honestly there are a bunch of script and directorial choices that make it my favorite.

I particularly like Amy Acker's Beatrice: she can be charmingly witty, vulnerable and hurt, sweet and supportive, an adorable dweeb, and ferocious and hard as nails. The way her face changes in the grand romantic scene with Benedick is fantastic—there's this moment where you just see her features harden before she says "Kill Claudio" that I love. I also really loved how often she's visually framed with Hero in the later part of the story: sometimes literally holding her but often visually paired with her in a way that highlights her priorities.

Benedick is pretty good in this version, as well—not as impressive as Acker or Fillion, I'd say, but I like how Benedick initially seems to be a rather callous asshole only for him to be gradually revealed as the most profoundly decent man in the play—not that the competition is steep, but still—especially with regard to women, and how he's, well, also an adorable dweeb until it really matters, at which point he turns deadly serious. And I really like their dynamic once the story gets rolling.

I also love that it doesn't back away from how shitty Claudio is while keeping to the text of the play. He and Don Pedro seem the gentler, sweeter, more romantic characters early on, but the text itself becomes an indictment of them (and Leonato!). My best friend, who hasn't read this/seen another version of it in years, was just like "She's not wrong!" when Beatrice told Benedick to kill Claudio, and shouted "STAB HIM!!!" when Benedick confronts him :D

I really like the performance of Leonato, as well—the way this thus-far affectionate, mild seeming patriarch becomes the most proximate threat to Hero (it really feels like he might snap her neck at any moment) and only seems able to conceive of Hero as a potential victim when told so by other men is terrifying. And Hero herself has a sweetness and dignity but also charm that I enjoy in a character who can be a bit limp in performance.

I do prefer Keanu's Don John though, for peak unpopular opinions.

Of course, I was also reminded of my Pride and Prejudice is to Much Ado as Clueless is to Emma theory, haha. The Much Ado elements are thoroughly overhauled, rearranged, and modernized in plenty of ways, but I think P&P still draws a lot of raw material from it. And I think it's interesting to look at not just Elizabeth and Darcy as Beatrice and Benedick(/Don Pedro, since Darcy combines elements of both), but things like how Austen works to recuperate Claudio in Bingley (not altogether successfully IMO honestly, but a valiant effort that works well enough) and displaces the worst elements of his character onto Wickham. It's not the only influence but it's very striking.

(This is not an original observation, lol; the first time the comparison was made in print afaik was in a March 1813 review of P&P, which had only been published a few weeks earlier at the end of January.)

[noondefensesquad]

omg you saw it too!! Can you give us a detailed review too pretty please? But if you prefer not to, I totally understand!!

unfortunately my memory sucks and i saw it over a week ago at this point so i'll try my best 😅

i was sitting in row N so closer to the back and there were two people with ipads taking notes on things to change which was cool because im nosy. however, they didn't make a lot of notations and from what i could read, it mostly had to do with lighting so i don't expect much to change when i go see it again in a few weeks.

i love jamie's work and have seen his productions before but was still taken aback by the darkness at the beginning of the play. you can see tom on the screens (i loved the usage of cameras and screens so they could have full use of the theater) as he's backstage and the heavy breathing put me on edge because i was like

then tom sat at the front of the stage and cried and because he is also such a pretty crier and maybe that's my own weird kink i had the biggest smile on my face. however, the girls in front of me were about to cry with him 😂 tell me this didnt do something for you!

but when fran came out, the people around me sat up. she's phenomenal and i want more people to talk about her performance because she's the star of the show. the way she delivers her lines is so funny and they have a great balance of making it feel current while delivering the original iambic penameter.

then as soon as fran and tom came face to face, the audience audibly reacted. not loud enough to be distracting but enough that you know they were into it. i was in love

lots of shakespeare stuff happened, tom took off that sweatshirt and came out in that vest and multiple people gasped. you can see his abs through the shirt 🫠 and when the nurse squeezes his arm and basically says juliet i get it, that line got a huge laugh. my internal monologue was just

this is a married man this is a married man this is a married man

and then intermission came and i talked to the people around me and this was the conversation

fran is so pretty, talented, funny, amazing, we love her

tom's haircut

tom's arms 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

is zendaya the jealous type or would she say yes that's my man (i had to pretend to be very normal about this conversation and said absolutely the jealous type i have no sources 👀)

how do we get to the stagedoor in time to see them (the amount of texts i got about those videos because i am RIGHT THERE with the most in love expression on my face)

the chemistry is unbelievable and we didn't want the show to be over

somehow we made it to the end of the play and i'll be honest, the second half is my least favorite part of the play so it was also my least favorite to watch. i love how silly and romantic the first half can be and the second half is more doom and gloom. i will say, when this exchange happens

"will you speak well of him that killed your cousin?"

"shall I speak ill of him that is my husband?"

my friend and i audibly said "oop" and that got laughs in our section. the best thing about this play was their delivery and when i read r&j, i couldve never imagined how much fun it could be coming from jamie.

anyway, at the end, we rushed out to the stage door and it was insane to see how the street cleared when tom left. and security was the best. really such sweet guys and if you see them being mean to people, they spend the whole time giving instruction is the friendliest way so those people deserved it.

the we got to speak with fran who is the sweetest and signed my customized r&j book with her face on the cover and my programme

can't wait to go see it again in a few weeks. i wish i could have every second imprinted on my brain

[ineffably-smote]

Macbeth, David Tennant - A very subjective, spoiler and emotion filled review

Just walking out of seing Macbeth at the Donmar and I have Feelings. Unsurprisingly, I primarily went to see it because David Tennant was in it. I love the play, big fan of Shakespeare but the trip to London was most certainly motivated by a very specific actor. Hence the highly subjective review. Fortunately, I also happen to quite like Macbeth. We studied it at school, and it holds a special place in my heart (back then, Hamlet was my favourite Shakespeare play but honestly, after tonight, I’m not so sure anymore. Anyway, I digress). It was my first time actually seeing an actor I’m a fan of in real life, so obviously the entire time my brain was just going oh my god that’s David Tennant oh my god that’s David Tennant like I actually could not comprehend it. The man I’ve spent hours staring at on a little screen is suddenly real, and right there. So yeah, that took me a hot second.

(Excuse the piss poor image quality, I took this with shaky hands without looking or bothering to focus the cam)

The Staging

Still starstruck and a bit dazed, one thing really really stood out to me: the staging. It was so, so good. I knew it was going to be minimal from the pictures I had seen, and it was, but it was also so insanely real. There were barely any decorations, and half the cast and the musicians were hidden behind a glass screen doing background noises and gestures. From where I was sitting I could not see them much, but could definitely hear them which added to the overall atmosphere. The stage was also really tiny, and the play benefitted incredibly from it. All the action was happening in one tight space that had been put to use incredibly well, particularly the banquet scene but I’ll come back to that because it deserves its own paragraph.

The way they chose to do the soliloquies was so fitting - all the actors start to move in slow motion - everyone else slowing down and just the characters speaking moving was so good, it made sense.

The Headphones

I’m a bit mixed about the headphones. They were amazing for the vibes, we could hear whispers and they really heightened some of the emotional speeches in the play - because when someone is struggling with guilt and trauma it makes sense for them to be mumbling rather than yelling. So that was really great. However, especially in the scenes where the actors where yelling/ loud I preferred to take them off a bit cause it felt more real that way. I’m so used to hearing actors voice on recordings, it does hit different when you can hear them for real. But, as I said, personal preference and that’s what’s nice, you can take them on and off as much as you want.

Famous Speeches

There were three speeches I was quite interested to see how they were going to be adapted - scorpions and dagger for Macbeth, and out damned spot for Lady Macbeth. These are classic, everyone knows the words, the plot but they managed to make it feel real in a new and touching way. I think here the headphones were quite helpful because they allowed the actors to actually whisper parts of those lines. They were so subtle, so embedded in the text they felt so natural which imbued them with all their power. I saw in a review Cush Jumbo’s out damned spot speech be described as “haunting”, and I wholeheartedly agree.

The Macbeths

I didn’t like Macbeth, the character, very much when I first learnt about him. His actions didn’t make sense to me, I couldn’t quite comprehend in my 21st century little brain how he went from I’m super loyal to the King to I will freely murder children for shits and giggles. But now, now I understand. It makes sense, it’s believable. And that’s a mix of the acting choices and teh overall setting. Like the opening scene, instead of presenting Macbeth as a glorious hero, he is presented to us as a traumatised hero. He spends the first few minutes washing the blood of his clothes, haunted by noises from the battlefield. And that sets the themes quite nicely, not ambition, as Tennant specified in an interview, but guilt and trauma. There are so many ways to interpret Shakespeare, that’s the beauty of it, and I think this version of Macbeth just resonated more with me (maybe because ambition I don’t quite understand but guilt I am intimately familiar with? Or maybe because it was David Tennant? I don’t know, probably a bit of both). Tennant delivers a convincing Macbeth. Yes, you can see his ambitions play out, but also his fears, his guilt, and that makes him into a complex three dimensional character that you want to understand.

And I absolutely loved this version of Lady Macbeth. Not just a powerful woman who bullies her husband into become an evil murderer (because again, here we can see traces of that in Macbeth from the start), but an ambition woman in love, with her husband, with power, and not quite healed from the trauma of loosing her child. Again another review said she is more of an enabler than a manipulator and I quite liked that description.

My Favourite Scenes

God the banquet scene. The one with the ghost of Banquo. An absolute masterpiece. I did not expect that scene to hit that hard. It was raw, it was powerful and even if Tennant was facing away from where I was sitting, even without seeing his face I could feel the emotion, the whole audience could. In a video essay on Tennant, @davidtennantgenderenvy highlighted how in almost every role he played, there is it is the classic Tennant breakdown moment, and breakdown moment it was. Not with tears, not as expressive as he sometime is but just enough for a King trying to hold it together but fear and guilt breaking through. I was absolutely overwhelmed and it was beautiful. The set up for the scene was amazing too - there were ceilidh, celebrations, I adored the contrast between these fast pasted scenes and guilt ridden whispers of the couple. And the way everyone sat down around the stage and suddenly it looked like a banquet table ? Just perfect.

Another really cool moment, less on the emotional side but more on the visuals was when Macbeth goes to get the second prophecy from the witches. Almost the whole cast is there, running around, moving, almost dancing and it gives the whole thing a mystical atmosphere. There���s smoke, Macbeth falls, is carried up high Jesus style, cowers, rises, it’s so busy and insane all the while there are whispers and whispers in the headphones - it manages perfectly to feel like a mystical moment.

Descent Into Madness & other cool things

For Macbeth, having the kid running around scene after scene, haunting him, and then scene where he kills him - GOD it’s powerful. Lady Macbeth’s descent into madness was so well characterised, I also loved the glass on the background that locked away some of the cast. Just wild. The actor that played Malcom actor was also really cool, and Macduff and Ross, big fan of all of them.

Overall I am overwhelmed with emotions. Tennant is truly one of my favourite actors - from Good Omens to Staged, Jessica Jones, even Harry Potter but also Mad to be Normal, Nativty, There She Goes, Around the World in 80 days, Doctor Who (god I’ve started a list, never start lists cause you’ll forget people) and so, so many more, I was truly beside myself with excitement and expectations for tonight. And it did not disappoint. I do not want to leave the theatre and I pray they release a recording of this because I want it imprinted on my soul.

(Side note: I don’t know how to use tumblr very well, for some reason whenever I try to reply to ppl it posts from my other blog? Anyway @raquel-and-sergio is in fact me)

[propertyofwicked]

never have i ever... | rafe cameron

had a troll pt 2

part 1 here

not my gif<3

warnings - very very slight sexual references if you really squint

rafe could tell you had been distant with him the last week, but he didn’t know why. he imagined it was your brother and his obvious dislike for your relationship, but considering you had been fine after john b had first found out he didn’t understand why it had suddenly become an issue. everytime he asked you what was wrong, you responded with some excuse about just being tired from work. 

you weren’t avoiding him on purpose - well, maybe you were. the anonymous texter was adamant, and you had been drawn into this mess, spiralling slightly and spending every free moment thinking about it. you had been cheated on before, and the sinking feeling that came from being told rafe was with someone else behind your back was all too familiar. as a result you had hidden yourself away from him, always using work as an excuse and hiding in the kitchen if he came into the club. he had begin to give you the space he thought you wanted so the last thing you expected was for him to come crashing through your bedroom window at 3am, waking you up and dragging you out with him and into his car.

he didn’t speak, he just drove the two of you across the island, his hand clutching the steering wheel so hard his veins popped out and were perfectly highlighted by the full moon. 

“rafe are you going to say anything?”

“are you? you haven’t spoken to me in a week.”

“yes i have, i sent you a text earlier?”

“oh sorry “going to work now. talk later” you really have a way with words y/n - does shakespeare know about you?”

“sorry,” you mumble, not sure how to respond.

“no y/n. i don’t want your apologies - i want you to talk to me. have i done something? has john b done something? if he has ill kill h-”

“he hasn’t done anything rafe. i promise. it’s just...” you trail off, not sure how to approach the topic of the anonymous texter, knowing he’d told you to ignore it. luckily, you didn’t have to respond as a text notification filled the silence for you. you turned the phone slightly, careful not to show too much so that rafe couldn’t read it

“oh. i see,” rafe pipes up, sighing loudly as the realisation hits him,” y/n, i told you to ignore it - is this why you’ve been ignoring me all week?” he says, pulling the car to the side of the road and turning to look at you. 

you head dropped slightly, turning away from him in shame. you expected him to shout, or at least get angry and yet his hand reached up to cup your jaw and turn your face to look at his. his jaw was soft, not tense and angry as you had expected - and his eyes looked sad, almost sympathetic.

“let me read the messages,” rafe says, slowly taking the phone from your grasp. he scrolls through the chat, reading the lies this person was spreading about him - he was happy to see that you were still defending him. you had confided in him about being cheated on before, and he soon realised why you had become so distant. locking the phone and placing it on the dashboard, rafe pulls you over to come and sit on his lap so that you were straddling his waist and had no way of avoiding his stare. 

“y/n, i love you,” rafe starts, his voice soft and eyes staring into yours, his hand reaches up to tuck the hair behind your ear and makes itself at home on your jaw, “i promise you none of this is true. when i’m not with you, i’m thinking about you. you can ask top if you want, he’s actually starting to get pissed ‘cause im ‘whipped’ as he puts it. i love you, and i only want to be with you. whoever this is, messaging you, has it out for me, and for us. id never do anything to hurt you. ever.” 

it was nice to hear him be so compassionate, he was always kind and loving but he rarely said it, rafe cameron is not a man who says how he is feeling - he’d much rather show you. a tear slips from your eye, but he quickly wipes it away and presses a kiss to where it had fell. 

“i didn’t believe what they were saying you know, i just couldn’t help but fall into the trap.” 

“i know sweetheart. you don’t have to worry about me. ive got enough scratches on my back to let people know they can’t have me,” he adds, smirking slightly as you hide your face in his shoulder. 

-

you woke up late that morning, the late night adventure with some added fun in the back of rafe’s car had taken it’s toll on your already fatigued body. you get out of bed and head down the hallway, deciding a shower is probably necessary - but murmurs of the pogues in kitchen stop you in your tracks. 

“you’ve done some fucked up shit before john b, but this is a whole new level,” sarah says.

“don’t get me wrong, we all hate rafe for the shit he’s done but y/n has never been happier, especially with everything she’s gone through recently,” jj follows on, “texting her anonymous threatening messages to get her to break up with him is psychotic bro.”

what. 

it was john b? this whole time? had he been sending those texts and waiting to hear your sobs through the thin walls of the chateau? surely not. this was a joke right. without even thinking, you feet had carried you into the kitchen. jj and the rest of the group stood on one side of the table, with john b with his head in his hands - atleast he looks guilty. his head raises at the sound of you walking in and he feigns a smile hoping you hadn’t heard the conversation.

“it was you? this whole time?” you asked, voice laced with venom. he nodded slowly, realising he couldn’t hold the façade any longer. 

“look, y/n im sorr-”

“no, save it. i don’t care,” and with that you turned on your heal, back into your room, where you began to cry. you rang rafe, and he picked up immediately as he always did. you didn’t say anything but he could hear your sobs through the phone, and without a second thought he was in the car coming to pick you up. 

[rapha-reads]

I tried to resist the urge but at the end of the day ranting about Romeo and Juliet is my most favourite thing to do, and ranting about vampires is also in my top 10 regular hobbies, so...

Louis, Lestat, Armand and Balthasar, or, a R&J x IWTV unplanned rant.

Under the "read more" because it got long.

Balthasar is introduced in the play as "Romeo's man", often modernised in various adaptations as his valet or his page. The footnote in The Arden Shakespeare 2012 edition states that:

"Shakespeare introduced the name for the part in the play, though it is not, of course, his invention. The name, which is also found in Comedy Of Errors, Merchant of Venice and Much Ado, occurs only once in the text of R&J, even though the character speaks nearly 30 lines in the final act."

Three things from that only: it's a common enough name, at least in Shakespearian texts, that the character could be switched for another one; he's so inconsequential that he barely even managed to make his name known ; yet despite his apparent unimportance, his role at the end is extremely crucial in closing in the tragedy.

What lines does Balthasar speaks and whom does he speak to throughout the play?

Man waits until Act III scene 1 to make his entrance. Given his function as Romeo's man, you'd think he'd be a bit more present before that point, but no, Balthy waits until everything's gone bad to arrive like "Grandma, it's me".

Romeo asks him "How doth my Juliet? That I ask again, / For nothing can be ill if she is well." The beginning of his answer could lead you to think that he's about to lie so that Romeo can still be "all well", but, naaaah, sike, he's here to deliver news and he's going to do his job. And the way he does it doesn't leave any details to the imagination:

"Then she is well and nothing can be ill. Her body sleeps in Capel's monument, And her immortal soul part with angels lives. I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault, And presently took post to tell it to you. O, pardon me for bringing these ill news, Since you did leave it for my office, sir."

"Her immortal soul"... We'll come back to that point when we'll get to the vampires. Interesting to note that he says he saw with his own eyes Jules' laid down in the Capulet's tomb, but there's no indication in the text prior to that line that he really did. Some stage adaptations have Balthasar lurking around as Capulet and Cie put her in it, most movies totally ignore Balthasar's entire role - which I will come back to in the second part too. In a way, one could think that Balthy didn't see anything, he just heard the news like any other Veronese people, and didn't wait for more information or even actual confirmation and hurried on ("took post") to tell his master. Which, he does say it himself, that's his job, to keep Romeo informed of the going-ons of Verona in general and Juliet in particular. But, man, what are your sources, actually? Whose your informant? What authenticity does your information have, except from "source: myself"?

And then homeboy has the audacity to tell a desperate and ready to commit all kinds of violence Romeo to "have patience. / Your looks are pale and wild, and do import / Some misadventure." You think?? After this we lose track of Balthy while Romeo goes soliloquising looking for his cuppa poison. ... I don't want to tell you how to do your job, Balthy, but aren't you supposed to always follow your master closely...? How are you losing him so easily? Well, to be fair to him, Romeo does send him to "hire those horses", but that's a really thin excuse.

Balthasar reappears then in the Comedy of Situations that is "everybody and their mothers come visit Juliet's body" (you know, Warm Bodies did have a point; the zombies and necrophilia jokes do write themselves). First he enters with Romeo, and then for once shows some working brain cells when Romeo tells him to peace out and he tells himself "For all the same, I'll hide me hereabout. / His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt." Yes, thank you Balthy, maybe stay inside the crypt itself... Nope, okay, I don't know where he hid but Paris "14yo is perfectly acceptable to marry when I'm 30" Escalus makes his own appearance unbothered and unstopped. Great scouting skills there. Granted, he was the first on the scene actually, but if Balthy really hid close by, he should have witnessed the altercation and maaaaybe stop it. But no. I think he's having a drink with Paris' page. Current body count: 3 (yeah, Juliet's not dead yet, for those following).

Then Friar Laurence arrives on the scene. Oh, hello, Friar My-Ideas-Will-Definitely-Work-Trust-Me-Bro. Balthy emerges from the shadows (from where? Who knows, not me and certainly not Willie the Bard himself; homeboy was lurking, planning the best moment to reappear to create maximum chaos I guess). Their discussion goes something like this:

Laurie: who're you? Balthy: come on bro, you know me. Laurie: oh, hey Balth, so nice to see you? But what the heck are you doing here? Balthy: yeah I'm here with Romeo that fail emo lord lol. Laurie: Romeo? Whaaaat? How long has he been here? Balthy: eeh, 30 minutes? Maybe 45? Dunno but it's been a while. Laurie: Jesus fucking H Christ, okay, let's get into the fucking crypt. Balthy: no thanks, without me. I told Romeo I was leaving and if he sees me still here he's going to break my neck. Laurie: ugh, fine, you coward. I'll go alone and I'm not even afraid. Actually I lied I'm scared out of my mind but I'm better than you so nah! I'm going in. Balthy, walking away: oh yeah, another thing, I was napping, ahem, keeping watch, and I think I dreamed, I mean, hallucinated Romeo killing another dude. But I don't think that's real. Anyway, hasta la vista, losers! [Exit] (sadly not pursued by a bear)

I paraphrased, naturally. And... That's Balthasar's last lines. So to recap: he's supposedly Romeo's man, hence, by his job's function, supposed to always be with him and protect him; he only appears at the end of the story to make sure that no one else can get to Romeo first and maybe tell him about Laurence's plot. He always says he's going to keep an eye on Romeo, or tries to get him to stop, but actually never does anything. Literally, by his own admission, while he's supposed to make sure Romeo doesn't do anything drastic visiting Juliet's tomb, he took a nap: "As I did sleep under this yew tree here"! And the only two people he speaks to are Romeo, whose sole purpose at this point is to die, and Friar Laurence, whose role is to fake-kill Juliet, which leads to both of them dying.

Given all of those elements, one could then consider Balthasar's role in the play as an agent of Death. Death being a character in Her own right in the play, according to some readings (I admit, the idea of Death being the one pulling the strings as Fate would do is something I very much like but is very much inspired by the French musical).

So. Balthasar, agent of Death, purposefully or accidentally, but undeniably, leading the main character to his own death and carefully not stopping nor even interacting with characters who could stop the final act.

And that's who Louis-as-Lestat compares HIMSELF to. Yeah, Louis calls himself Balthasar, let that sink in. So, spoiler alert for those like me who haven't read the books, but Armand later on is going to lie and tell Louis that Lestat died in the fire that burned down the theatre, lie that Louis will totally believe and that will certainly influence the decades of his relationship with Armand. We know Louis is absolutely not over Lestat, we know Lestat is weak at this point, and wants to scare Louis but also get him back, and we know Armand is a lying liar who lies and twist the truth to better serves him. And we know Armand was jilted by Lestat and while he (genuinely?) loves Louis, he's also bitter that Louis got what he himself couldn't get. We also know that Louis is extremely conflicted by his vampiric nature, that he's a stone cold killer but he's also constantly trying to get away from it, that he hates himself and all vampires but also hates humans and all of humanity. We know Louis feels immense guilt at what he thinks is Lestat's murder, and that this guilt is weighing on him enought hat he conjures up a mental Lestat to follow him around and sass, bitch, moan, comment and critique for him.

So, why is it interesting that Dreamstat calls Louis a Balthasar?

Let's go back to two points already evoked earlier. Balthasar makes a point of mentioning Juliet's immortal soul - in the text, it's evident enough, they're Catholics, Heaven, Hell, bla bla bla. Transposed to the idea of vampires, it does lead one to question first if vampires have souls, secondly, what are the limits of immortality. It links to Louis' questioning of his faith, the morals that he fiercely defends but abandons rather quickly when they don't suit him anymore, and his survivor's guilt vis-à-vis his brother first and Lestat secondly.

The second thing is the way Balthasar is generally erased from the known Romeo and Juliet narrative. From an intradiegetic POV, Louis could mean it as "I'm Balthasar because this story is not my story, I barely even appear, only at the very end, and even then, I'm not important, and I certainly do not want to be the focus of attention" (which could also be linked to the coven complaining that Louis hunts sloppily and will expose them all, and that's actually a point in the Death's emissary column, huh). From an extradiegetic POV, the writers might have chosen to compare Louis to Balthasar because in most screen adaptations, the first part of his role is given to Benvolio (announcing Juliet's death) and the second part (talking with Laurie) is totally erased. Which means that people who haven't read the play (or have but aren't totally obsessed with it *cough cough*) and only know the story through the movies or the musical, would have NO idea who Balthasar is. And that's what Louis tries to be: a nobody, a Monsieur-Tout-Le-Monde, unimportant, invisible, unknown. The way Balthasar is for everybody. Quasi inexisting.

And the final part of the parallel, and that one is definitely extradiegetic, is that Louis brings Death wherever he goes (although maybe in a way, after Lestat and the woman vampire in Romania, Louis thinks that of himself too, but let's not go there just yet). His arrival in Paris is what disturbs the equilibrium of the coven, makes Armand questions what he's doing here and how long he can keep going like this, drives Claudia even more away from him, and intensifies the resentment and inner conflicts of the coven. Which will all lead to the theatre burning dow, the coven dying, Claudia dying, Lestat presumed dead and 70 years of toxic married Loumand. Unintentionally, the way Balthasar seemingly unintentionally too, doesn't protect Romeo, which leads to not only his and Juliet's but also Tybalt and Mercutio's deaths (and Paris too). Unintenionally, but who's pulling Balthasar's strings, Death, Fate itself? Who's pulling Louis' strings? Armand? Lestat? Or is he such an unreliable narrator that he's passing himself as a victim of circumstances while the reality is that he's fully aware of what he's doing...? To be determined.

If you've made it to here, thank you so much and don't hesitate to tell me what you think! You can find my Tybalt/Mercutio fic here, and my essay on adaptations of Tybalt and Mercutio on screen here.

[fumiyami]

51. knows every bit of gossip in 1A (either just from being observant or from Mina!!)

52. doesn’t really care for hero merch (unless it’s something like an accessory/something he can wear) but still gets it free from hawks unwillingly

53. he spaces out a lot so everyone in class 1A thinks he’s just being all broody and dark but in actuality he’s either staring at his reflection (if he’s zoning out at a mirror/window) or talking to dark shadow in his mind

54. SO GOOD at arguing and comebacks but doesn’t use that skill often

55. I imagine his parents to be like in a dark gothic gang or something like that (maybe that’s where he got his way of speaking from🤫)

56. when he’s older and a pro hero I imagine his fan base is mostly just goth kids and teenagers who look up to him!!

57. LOVES having his feathers stroked (or preened by dark shadow) but doesn’t ask for it or anything usually

58. speaking about his feathers, since they’re all over his face/head that area is warm during the winter and usually overheats in the summer

59. ALSO he hates the fact that summer is so hot since I can tell he’d be sweating if he had to do hero work like running around and fighting villains in THAT HERO COSTUME.

60. has a massive sweet tooth though not many people would expect him to

61. has a bunch of nicknames like “fumi” “mika” (one that I got from a fanfic) as in like fuMIKAge “toko” and then there’s mina who adds adjectives to the start of tokoyami like that one time she called him angryami!!

62. collects the most obscure things ever

63. once he like settles into UA and gets more confidence he sets up a secret tiktok or whatever account where he does song covers and his own original songs!! (class 1A find out and they go wild)

64. once got tricked into getting tipsy by hawks (got this one from a fic!!)

65. sometimes he wants to dress more gothic but i’ve seen how hard it is to find super cool masculine looking goth clothes☹️

66. due to the fact that he’s partially a bird whenever he gets sick the symptoms don’t show up for a while so when they do show up it’s BAD.

67. once accidentally misspelled his classmates names and no one’s letting him live it down

68. has a collection of rings

69. love language is definitely mostly gift giving!! (and all the other ones but mostly gift giving)

70. wears contacts cuz he refuses to get glasses that actually fit him and then wear them

71. as a baby (chick) he didn’t speak for like 3 years (just small chirps and stuff) until one day he just randomly started speaking full sentences?? skipped the whole starter tutorial😣

72. can and will randomly say some creepy fact like “if you nurture little bits of surgically removed brains then it will grow eyes.” “YOU’RE STARTING TO SCARE ME SCARYAMI.”

73. actually really enjoys gossiping but would never admit it

74. also loves shopping!!

75. mr aizawa’s favourite student (one of aizawa’s voice actors, english I think, told us this was true!!)

76. somehow knows who everyone has a crush on, who’s dating and who hates each other (mina pays him in apples for info on the drama they’re gossip buddies trust)

77. can mimic voices and sounds SO easily

78. he only gets really super mad when someone ignores him or goes into his room without permission!

79. can (but probably won’t) argue on why being goth and being emo are different things

80. birds sometimes follow him thinking he’s one of them (he is but would never admit it)

81. HATES quirks that can make people laugh involuntarily (he gets flashbacks into the past with miss joke😖😖)

82. isn’t as introverted as people think but is usually judged like that

83. got his red choker as a gift!!

84. LOVES collecting pins and keychains and stuff like that

85. someone once mentioned mating season to him and he still holds a grudge

86. is able to perfectly understand Shakespeare’s texts and speak like him

87. CAN ROLLER SKATE.

88. he can hit really really high notes (like think ballad of Jane doe from ride the cyclone) while singing but refuses to do that front of most people

89. makes playlists for people but in the end either forgets to show them or gets too nervous

90. once accidentally flew into a window and hawks will never let him live it down

91. planned to be a writer/journalist when he was younger

92. will subconsciously copy what other people say which is how he started saying revelry in the dark

93. SUPER ticklish but makes dark shadow come out before anyone even gets close to hearing his actual laugh

94. genuinely likes the taste of birdseed but refuses to let himself enjoy it

95. is always seen with closed eyes because he’s always just naturally tired so this is his way of resting without actually resting!

96. everyone thinks he’s always annoyed or mad or something cuz that’s the way his face looks when he’s just neutral :((

THIS IS A PART 2 OF MY OTHER HEADCANON VIDEO A BIT AGO SO THATS WHY THE NUMBERS ARE ALL WEIRD!! ALSO I LOST MOTIVATION TO DO THIS ONE SO THEY KINDA GOT WORSER EACH TIME😰

[bigfootsboytoy]

My theater kid bullshit has collided with my Teen Wolf obsession and provided me with this scenario, please enjoy:

Stiles is falling behind in one of his English classes. Not because he doesn't understand the material or anything. He understands just fine. But unfortunately, his last two big papers were less than his best and turned in late. Thank you, vengeful witches, for ruining his academic standing. At first, the teacher seems very hesitant to give him any sort of extra credit. That is, until they start working on a Shakespeare unit and Stiles turns out to be kind of a Shakespeare genius. The language just kind of clicks for him. He's always been a talker, and he enjoys the way the rhythm of iambic pentameter flows off the tongue. Plus, he's able to spot all the countless dick jokes and innuendos that seem to fly over everyone else's head.

Knowing that Stiles can read Shakespeare with so much ease, the teacher makes him a deal. He'll grant the extra credit Stiles wants to get him back up to his desired GPA...If Stiles auditions for the production of Hamlet the school is putting on.

He wants to say no, he really doesn't want to add "rehersing for a play" to his list of things to worry about. Lacrosse season ending had him actually looking forward to a bit of extra free time, being part of Hamlet would really dig into that. But he wants the fucking extra credit, so he decides he's going to audition, and tank it. It'll get him at least some of the points he needs, and he won't have to actually be part of the show.

But then auditions come around, and Stiles finds himself shocked by just how BAD half of the students are. The lines aren't that difficult to read, and he knows at least 90% of the students reading them aren't intentionally doing badly. After hearing the monolugue assigned to them be butchered so badly for the 20th time, Stiles ends up forgetting his whole plan to tank his audition. He reads the scene perfectly out of pure spite and respect for the text because it's actually a pretty good monologue when it's done correctly!!

He gets cast as Hamlet. The lead part. So much for having free time.

Cue Stiles working on the play while also dealing with the usual pack business. The shenanigans, the teasing, the potential for ship content. There's so many possibilities with Stiles unintentionally becoming the lead in a Shakespeare play.

[teddy06writes]

Much Ado About Nothing

Alfie Solomons x fem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of drinking,

Premise: It's a Much Ado About Nothing AU, with Alfie as Benedick and Reader as Beatrice

Useful links: click here for a plot summary of the play, here for access to a version w/David Tennant and Katherine Tate, here for a proshot of a production at the Globe, and here for a wonderful video essay that discusses the plot and has a very insightful tangent about Judaism in Shakespeare.

{I've got a lot going on right now what with the production I'm in being in tech, plus even if I'm doing a simplified version of this, it's still quite a bit of work to go through the script bit by bit, I've decided that I'm going to just release the bit that I have done, and then if people really want more I'll do it in parts}

{Most dialogue is either directly quoted or paraphrased directly from the original text}

It was a beautiful day in the seaside town of Margate, and for the first time in years, you and your family were finally able to enjoy it. The war had been over for months, and with the arrival of spring, it felt like the world was finally alive again.

You were out lounging on the veranda with your cousin Esme, and her friend Ada, enjoying the fresh air when you heard footsteps coming down the gravel driveway. Esme sat up, in her deck chair, "Are we expecting company?"

"I didn't think so." You frowned.

Ada was already at the railing, peering around to try and make out who it was, "I don't recognize him- but he is wearing an army uniform!"

Esme let out a squeal, all but jumping up out of her chair and rushing over to look over Ada's shoulder. You let out a groan, reaching for your drink.

It only took a few moments for your uncle, Johnny Dogs to come bursting out onto the veranda, a letter in hand, and followed closely by Polly and the messenger Ada had seen, "I've learned, in this letter, that Tommy Shelby and his unit are coming to Margate, this very night!"

Esme let out another squeal, quickly chattering away to Ada, filling her in on the events of the Unit's last stop in Margate just before the war.

"He was very near by this," The messenger offered, "They were just getting into town when I left them."

Johnny Dogs nodded, "And how many gentlemen did you lose in this- action?"

"Our unit seems to oppose the rest of the war: we lost few of sort and none of name." The messenger said proudly. This prompted another little burst of excitement from Esme.

"A victory is twice itself when the achievers return home in full number."

Johnny aimed a pointed look at her, reading a bit more from the letter, "It says here, that Tommy has bestowed much honor on his younger brother John."

You chuckled as Esme went bright red, practically glaring back across the veranda with the look of someone caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"Much deserved on his part, and equally remembered by the Sergeant Major. He bore himself beyond the promise of his age, doing, in the figure of a lamb, the feats of a lion. He has indeed better bettered expectation than you must expect me to tell you." The messenger excepted the drink offered to him.

You pulled yourself up out of your chair, "I pray you, has signor Mountanto returned from the war, or no?"

The messenger turned to you with a frown, "I know none by that name, Lady."

"My cousin means that Captain Solomons from Camden town." Esme spoke up, glad the attention was finally gone from her and her crush.

"Oh, he's returned and as pleasant as ever."

You let off a scoff, "I pray you, how many has he killed and eaten in this war? How many has he killed, for I have sworn to eat all his killing."

"Niece, you tax Mr. Solomons too much." Johnny Dogs scolded.

Polly chuckled from where she'd taken up your empty chair, "But he'll meet with you, I have no doubt."

The messenger still focused on you, "He has done good service in the war, lady."

You raised an eyebrow, "You had stale food, and he helped you eat it. He's a very brave eater. He has good stomach for it."

"And a good soldier, too, Lady."

"And a good soldier to a lady," You shot back, "But what is he too a lord?"

"A lord to a lord, a man to a man, stuffed with all honorable virtues."

"It is so indeed," You nodded, punctuating your words with a sip from your drink, "He is no less than a stuffed man. but for the stuffing- well, we are all mortal."

"You must not mistake my niece, sir," Johnny Dogs interrupted, quickly explaining, "There is a kind of merry war between Mr. Solomons and her: they never meet but there is a skirmish of wit between them."

You groaned, "He learns nothing by that!"

"It's true enough." Ada teased.

You crossed to the rail of the veranda, leaning back against it, "In our last conflict, four of his five wits went halting off, and now the whole man is governed with one. So that if he have wit enough to keep him warm, it marks the difference between he and his horse. It is all the wealth he has left, to be known for a reasonable creature."

The messenger let out a laugh, "Truly?"

"Aye," You nodded, "Tell me, who is his companion now? He has a new sworn brother each month."

"Is it possible?"

"Very easily possible, he wears his faith like the fashion of his hat- it always changes with the next block."

"I see, Lady. The gentlemen is not in your books." The messenger nodded as if he finally understood.

"No, and if he were I would burn the whole library." You nodded in a agreement, "But truly, who is his companion? Is there no young man who make voyage to the devil with him?"

"He's mostly in the company of the younger Shelby brother: John." And as he gestured back toward Esme, who blushed again, you had to hand it to the messenger: he was a quick learner.

"Oh lord," You groaned, "He will hang upon him like a disease. Alife is sooner caught than the pestilence and the taker always runs mad. God help young John, if he has caught the Solomons it will cost him much to be cured of it."

The messenger chuckled, "I will hold friends with you lady."

You grinned, reaching out to clink your glass to his, "Do, good friend."

"And you'll never run mad niece?" Your uncle asked.

"No, not till a hot january." You quipped.

Before anyone else could retort, the sound of gravel crunch under tires filled the air, and Johnny Dogs was leading the way off the veranda and around the side of the house to meet the new guests.

There in the driveway, your little party was met with the grimmer one of Mr. Shelby. Thomas himself was leading the way towards the house from the cars, flanked by the others as he called, "Johnny Dogs, you've come to meet your trouble. You know the fashion of the world is to avoid cost, yet you encounter it."

Johnny Dogs let out a barking laugh, "Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of you and your good men. For trouble being gone, comfort remains and when you leave- sorrow abides and happiness leaves with you."

"You brace your charge too willingly." Still, Tommy allowed himself to be dragged into his hug. When they seperated, Tommy caught sight of the rest of the party, "Ah, then this your daughter, Esme."

"Her mother has many times told me so."

Finally disentangling himself from the ruckus being made by the soldiers now that they were out of Tommy's orders, Alfie appear at his side, "Were you in doubt sir, that you asked her?"

"Ah, Mr. Solomons, no, for then you were only a child." Johnny said, slapping him on the back.

"You have it full Alfie, and we can tell what kind of man you are for it," Tommy, turned making his way back to Esme, "Surely the lady fathers herself. Be happy lady, for you are like an honorable father."

"If Johnny Dogs be her father, then she would not have his head on her shoulders for all of Margate!" Alfie laughed, but the group had already moved away, as Tommy caught up with the rest of the household.

From where you had found a perch against the side of the house you sighed, "It's a wonder you will still be talking, Alfie. Nobody marks you."

"What-" Alfie slowly turned on his heel, taking in the sight of you, lounging in the sun, "My dear Lady Disdain- are you yet living?"

You smirked, raising your glass towards him mockingly, "Is it possible disdain should die when she has such food to feed on as Alfie Solomons? Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come in her presence."

"Then is courtesy a turncoat. But, it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepting," He wagged a finger in your direction, "and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart- for truly, I love none."

"A dear happiness to women!" You cheered, pushing off the wall to stalk closer to him. "They would else have been troubled by a horrid suitor. I thank god and my cold blood that I am of your humor for that, I would rather hear a dog bark at a crow than a man swear that he loves me."

Alfie barked out a laugh, pointing a finger your direction, "God keep your ladyship in that frame of mind! So some gentleman or other can escape a scratched face!"

"Scratching could not make it worse, if it were such a face as yours."

"Well, you are a rare parrot teacher!" Alfie scoffed.

Your face suddenly felt hot, and you scrambled to retort, "Well better a bird of my tongue than a beast of yours!"

"I would my horse had the speed of your tongue and so a good continuer. But keep your way, in god's name, I am done." He all but waved you away, turning to follow as the rest of the company began to make their way into the house.

You sat for a long moment, watching him disappear, before shaking your head and making your way back around towards the veranda, muttering, "You always end with a jade's trick. I know you of old."

[theragethatisdesire]

much ado about nothing chapter 5 - plug!eren x reader - 18+!!!

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. minors and ageless blogs, please do not read below the cut.

i have successfully kicked my writer's block to the curb and am ready to pick back up on plug!eren!!!! woohoo!! this is the part of the story where it gets really plot heavy and there's a lot of moving parts, so it's been a fun exercise to write and brainstorm. if anything is confusing or u have any theories/questions PLEASE hit my inbox i'm so down bad for plug eren i could talk about him for days.

get ready to meet a new character who is......not the best lol. this is also the first chapter written in eren's pov :o things are about to get interesting!

still haven't caught up? series masterlist HERE <3

specific cws: mentions of smut but nothing outright, alcohol use, swearing, u know the drill

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“If music be the food of love, play on. / Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, / The appetite may sicken and so die.” - Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare (Act I, Scene 1)

Eren is, admittedly, a romantic person, especially given his occupation. Not romantic in the cheesy, buying-flowers and kissing-in-the-rain sense, but he appreciates the little details of life. He loves autumn, when the leaves catch on fire with the changing of the season. He loves the little crook of a woman’s neck, that slope where it goes from tendon to shoulder to collarbone. He can appreciate a good bourbon; after years of raiding his dad’s stash, he developed a palate for it early on. Eren’s romantic nature leads him to believe in signs. When the universe tells him something, he listens.

The text still sat in his inbox unopened, marinating in its own bizarre, heartbreaking nature.

> heyyyy lover boy! i’m back from austria! missed u, let’s catch up ;)

Eren knows that Breeze knows him, knows him well enough to understand that his three-week radio silence isn’t a no, it’s a maybe. He hates himself for not immediately texting her back and telling her to fuck off, but after his conversation with you, he thinks it might be the universe telling him it’s safe this time, that he won’t end up a shell of himself. Maybe.

You had been firm in your assertion that you and Eren were better off as friends, and as much as he wanted to fight it, Eren respects women. As much as he can when he’s prone to wrenching their jaws open and spitting in their mouths while he’s balls deep inside them, at least. He’s disappointed, but he respects it, and if he’s honest, he likes you.

He likes your sharp humor, likes the way you tend to keep your hair up off of your neck, likes the way your eyes light up when someone gives you an excuse to talk about your studies. He hasn’t been “just friends” with a woman in a long time, but it’s refreshing, an excuse to go grab a coffee and shoot the shit like a normal person instead of lurking in the corner of a frat party handing out pills like a perverse ice cream truck.

The last three weeks of “friends” have been the best Eren’s had in a long time. You’re easy, that’s what he likes about you. He can drop the cold mask he wears so often, giggle over a stupid meme, listen intently as you prattle on about some long-dead 18th-century author that was “so ahead of her time!”, smirk when you chastise him for doodling little hearts and flowers all over your coursework.

Sure, he still steals a glance down your shirt when he can, and he’d never admit it, but he thinks about you late at night. He thinks about you when he’s in the shower, when he’s got himself in his hand, panting and swearing under his breath, but he manages to feel enough guilt over it to still consider you a friend. You’re caring and considerate and easy, wholesome fun, unlike someone that’s made a sudden reappearance into his life.

After that first night, just when he was starting to entertain the thought of promoting you from one night stand to official fuck buddy, the closest thing to commitment Eren allows himself to maintain these days, Breeze swept back into his life, and you hit the brakes on him. While it may not have been the sign he wanted to receive, Eren’s a romantic, and he listens to the universe, especially when it goes so far out of its way to tell him something.

He’s decided to let Breeze stew for a little while longer. Campus will be clearing out for Thanksgiving break soon, along with most of his business, and he’s going to wait until his hands are empty of work and you before answering her. Plus, she had flitted off to Europe after college like their entire relationship had been nothing more than a passing phase; Eren’s owed at least a little bit of pettiness, right?

> paradise ath 1130! see uthere ;)

Eren snorts at your text. Being as uptight as you are about grammar (you’re constantly hounding him about his texting style, and he’s been making them even more incorrect just to hear you berate him), he knows you’re not just texting quickly, you’re drunk.

“Yo, ‘min!” Eren calls into the kitchen, an excited flutter already rising in his chest beneath his hoodie.

“Yeah?” Armin’s head pops around the doorframe, a dab of ketchup on the corner of his mouth.

“Wanna go to Paradise later?”

“The club?” Armin’s nose wrinkles. Connie’s head appears right beside Armin, a wide grin splitting his face.

“Oh, hell yeah,” Connie answers for both of them before Armin has the chance to shoot the idea down, “who’s going?”

“Like you don’t know the answer to that,” Armin scoffs, ducking back into the kitchen with a roll of his eyes.

“I never took her for a ‘club’ type of girl,” Connie adds air-quotes to emphasize his confusion.

Eren mulls that over for a moment; he doesn’t really take you for a club type of girl either, but from the sound of it, Historia and Sasha have already done the job of getting you good and drunk and talking you into a night on the town. Eren’s always wanted to see what you’re like when you’re well and truly fucked up; every time you indulge him with a story from college, he ends up laughing so hard he’s clutching his stomach and gasping for breath.

Supposedly, when you go all out, you drop the mom-friend act and become a little less tame; is this Eren’s opportunity to get an eyeful for himself? He’s not waiting around to find out.

Eren shrugs. “Come help me make these runs and we’ll go. Armin, you’re driving.”

The drop-offs are uneventful, and as soon as Eren steps foot inside the club, his nose scrunches with distaste. Ironically, he’s never been into the partying scene, much preferring a quiet beer at Scout’s or a blunt on the couch to a club. The music’s horribly loud, bass thudding through the fabric of his hoodie and beating against his chest, and as he looks for you, he can barely see through the mass of bodies and the fog machines. You’re here? It’s difficult for Eren to imagine you, in your favorite flannel and those cute little Vans he likes, tucked against the bar throwing back your signature craft beer. As Connie urges him and Armin in the direction of the bar, calling for green tea shots, Eren nearly regrets his decision, until fingernails dig into his shoulder, spinning him on his heels.

“Hey, you.”

Eren blinks stupidly as you grin up at him through thick, black lashes. He’s never even dared to imagine you like you are now, piercing eyes gazing up at him through a heavy dusting of makeup and the shortest, tightest dress Eren’s ever seen hugging every inch of your curves. You look sinful in a way he’s never seen you before, not even when he was holding you tight to him and wrenching out orgasm after orgasm from your body. He gulps.

“Holy shit– hey,” he lets you pull him in for an overexcited hug, bites down on the inside of his cheek to distract himself from the bulge already swelling in his pants.

“I missed you!” You pinch his cheeks, much to Eren’s dismay.

“Just saw you yesterday– quit pinchin’ me. What are you even doing here? Didn’t think this was your scene.” Eren has to actively keep his eyes trained on your face; there’s a little bead of sweat traveling down the expanse of skin between your breasts that’s making his mouth water. Friends, he scoffs in his mind. Are you trying to kill him?

“Well, it’s not, but Sasha says I need to be more fun, and Stor says I need to find a boyfriend.” You gesture around like it’s obvious. Eren cocks an eyebrow, ignoring the inappropriate envy that twists in his stomach at the mention of the word ‘boyfriend’.

Boyfriends never like the guy friends, it’s practically a law of nature. If you’re dating around, it’s only a matter of time before some square in a button-down steals you away from your coffee dates and movie nights with Eren, but he can’t get too caught up in that now, not when you’re looking up at him all dizzy and sexy and bursting at the seams.

“Don’t know if this is the place for that.”

“That’s what I said!” Oh, you’re drunk drunk, all of your movements overexaggerated and shaky. It makes him want to laugh seeing you like this; his little book nerd, trashed and mere inches away from having her ass out at a club. Well, either laugh or drag you into the bathroom to bend you over the sink. He can’t be sure.

“Hey mama!” Connie shouts over at you, handing you a shot. Eren has half a mind to snatch it out of his hand after catching the slurring in your voice, but he’s too late; you throw it back without so much as a shudder, grinning all wide and wet and pretty when you swallow.

“I didn’t think you’d actually show up,” you tell him, pulling him down by his collar so you can speak into his ear. Eren has to bite back a groan at the feel of your hot lips against his ear. Friends, he reminds himself urgently, pushing you back from him but keeping his hands firm on your hips, relishing in the way your flesh gives under his grip.

“You know the rules. You call, I come.”

“That’s what she said,” you snicker, pinching his cheek again.

“Cut that out!”

“Make me.” Oh fuck, Eren’s going to die. He’s going to die if you keep looking at him like that, bottom lip tucked between your teeth and fuck-me eyes on him.

“You’re not being very friendly,” he manages to choke out, trying his hardest to give you a suspicious look through the dizzying wave of images that flash through his brain. You with your mouth full of him. You spread out on his bed, back arched and fingers twisted in his hair. The little “o” your mouth made when you rode him for the first time. Eren wants to smack himself, jump in a cold shower, something. Get a grip, dude.

“Maybe not,” you shrug, eyes darting over to the bar. “Hurry up and grab a drink, I wanna dance.”

“Not much of a dancer,” Eren admits, taking the beer that Connie hands him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll do all the work.”

Eren isn’t sure if he likes or loves the sound of that, powerless against that stupid little dress you’ve got on as you drag him behind you to the mass of bodies he had so disdainfully eyed on his way in. He’s greeted by a loud round of shrieking, one more pinch to the cheek by Historia and a slap on the ass from Sasha. You make a show of teasing him for how pink his face gets, but luckily, your friends are instantly distracted by Armin and Connie’s arrival right behind him. You pull him back down, glossy lips pressed right against his ear.

“I really like this song.” You’re barely audible over the pounding music, but even if Eren hadn’t heard what you said, he’d get the gist from the way you grind against his thigh, slow and sensual. Maybe you are actually trying to kill him.

“Yeah?” He’s breathless, irreparably and embarrassingly caught in the little web you’ve woven.

“Yeah.” You’re moving harder against him now, throwing your arms around his neck and grinding your hips into his. Eren’s only thought is to let his hands fly back to your hips, let you use him like a stripper pole to show off.

He can feel eyes on him, not the eyes of friends, but of other men around him, wondering who the lucky asshole is that’s getting the royal treatment from a girl as hot as you. If he were to be truthful, it’s getting him off, how every eye is on you and, by proxy, him, holding you like a lifeline as you let the beat rock through your body.

So this, this is the party girl you claim to have living deep inside you. This seductive, electric creature moving tantalizing against his body, this is the source of the stories Historia tells him that make you blush? How you could ever be embarrassed of this is beyond him; you’re like a little devil, sent straight from hell just to torture him, and Eren’s mouth is watering.

Song after song goes by, and you don’t let up, don’t let him catch his breath for a moment, moving from facing him to pressing your ass into his crotch and then back again, arms above your head or wrapped around his neck. Eren wishes he was mentally sound enough at the moment to feel ashamed that you can absolutely feel how hard he is through his pants right now, but he’s drunk on you, letting you press into him so insistently he has to tug your dress down for you, letting you drive him so crazy that he’s grateful for the loud music now. He’d die if Connie or Armin could hear the way he’s grunting and groaning low under his breath, powerless underneath you.

Suddenly, as if you haven’t just been riling him up for the last half hour, you back away enough to face him, shaking your empty cup and him and mouthing something that Eren’s still too dizzy to make out.

“Huh?”

“Get me another drink!” you shout over the bass, laughing at him.

Eren nods stupidly, darting away from you before he can grab your jaw, pull your lips to his like he so desperately wants to. Finally out of the throng of bodies, he can feel his head clearing, some semblance of sanity crashing over him. What the fuck has gotten into him? It was just one night, and you’ve kept him at arm’s length ever since, only seeing each other under the guise of coffee, or a beer, or Eren insisting you need to continue your education in the wonders of horror films. You’re drunk, that’s the only explanation; drunk and teasing him like you aren’t going to wake up and throw him right back into the friendzone. He rests both elbows on the bar, shaking his head like he’ll be able to knock some sense into himself if he rattles his brain around a little.

Eren orders your vodka soda and a beer and a shot for himself, something to clear his head and keep his blood pressure manageable. Hopefully, at least.

When he turns around, drinks in hand, that plan flies out the door. There you are, center of the dance floor, hands above your head and hips moving like you’re intentionally trying to make him lose his fucking mind. He tilts his head in interest when a man approaches you, grazes his hands over your hips like he means to start grinding against you. Eren can feel his own hands tightening around the bottle and the plastic cup in his hand, but he holds himself back; he’s got no claim on you, and if you’re willing to entertain the man (who, if you ask Eren, is way below your standards), who is Eren to stop you?

You surprise him in the best way: when the man touches you lightly, you whip around, brows furrowed and a little glitter in your eyes so mean that even Eren nearly flinches. He can’t read your lips in the low light, but he snorts to himself anyway as the man puts his hands up and backs away from you, eyes wide. As if nothing had happened, you spin back on your heel, facing a cackling Sasha with a shrug.

Eren feels a wide, proud smile blooming on his face. As much as he feels an unwarranted protectiveness towards you, he likes watching you get your teeth out and stand up for yourself. Before he can make his way back over to tease you, a voice from his left makes his blood run cold.

“Rennie?!”

Two thin arms are tossed around his neck before Eren can even respond, the familiar scent of vanilla and coconut enveloping him.

“Breeze?” Eren chokes out, too shocked to keep his composure. She pulls away from him and grins, a little diamond glittering from her right canine tooth.

“You didn’t text me back, you tease,” she swats at his chest, snags the vodka soda he’d bought for you right out of his hand, taking a sip. Eren takes the opportunity to swallow hard around the lump in his throat, one last tentative glance towards you before he turns his gaze back to Breeze.

She’s cut her hair, something short and choppy that swings around her ears, and fuck, she’s still just as pretty as he remembers, little freckles on her button nose visible in the darkness of the club.

“Didn’t think you wanted to see me,” Eren shrugs, forcing his face to remain schooled into one of cold apathy. She had left him, like he was nothing to her. He hates her, he realizes, god, he hates her so much it burns in his veins. Breeze cocks her head, frowning.

“Why would you think that?”

“You fucking left me, Breeze, don’t be stupid,” Eren makes a move to steal the drink back from her, but she holds it close enough to her chest that he’d have to practically grope her to take it, and his fingers recoil at the realization.

“Are you double-fisting, or did you buy this for someone special?” She teases, brushing right over Eren’s bristly demeanor. When he doesn’t answer, she raises her eyebrows. “It’s for someone. Well, point her out! Is she cute?”

Breeze turns on her heel, standing on her tiptoes to glance through the crowd. Before he can stop himself, Eren’s grabbing her upper arm, spinning her back to face him with anger blazing in his eyes. When he meets her gaze, her baby blues are alight with mischief, and he knows that no matter which direction he moves, he’s losing whatever little game she has him trapped in. That was the thing about Breeze; Eren was always losing her games.

“Fuck, just…just stop it, Breeze. What are you even doing here?”

“I’m back in town, didn’t you see my text?” Breeze shrugs innocently, sipping your drink.

“Okay, well, welcome back,” Eren deadpans, leaving her question hanging in the air between them. He turns back to the bar to order another cocktail for you, having given up hope of getting the first one back from Breeze, but she’s relentless, has always been that way. She slides up to the bar beside him, smiling demurely up at him.

“I missed you, you know.”

“Wouldn’t have guessed,” Eren scoffs, rolling his eyes. Breeze flinches, but Eren knows her better than that. It’s all an act, it always is.

“I never realized how much I hurt you,” her fingers grazing over his cheek nearly burn with how cold they are in contrast to the heavy, thick air around them, “‘m sorry, Rennie.”

“It’s fine.” Eren hates the way he twitches and nearly leans into her touch when she swipes her fingers over him. How many times has he thought about this, seeing her again after all these years? Everything he’s planned out, everything he’s ever wanted to say is lodged in his throat, a jumble of letters and words so squished out of order that they no longer hold meaning. He doesn’t love her, not anymore, but his body reacts before his brain can stop it, a conditioned response.

“Can we talk about it soon? Maybe over coffee?” Blue eyes blinking up at him earnestly.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Breeze,” Eren rolls his eyes, swallowing thick around the knot in his throat.

“There is,” she insists, “I brought this amazing espresso blend back with me from Florence, and–”

“If I say yes, will you leave me alone for tonight?” Eren can feel the exasperation in his tone, can feel the weight of his mistake weighing on his shoulders. It’s fine, he tells himself, he’ll make up some excuse and get out of it. A long conversation with Breeze about their breakup is the last thing he needs.

“Maybe,” Breeze tucks her lip in between her teeth, a little smile playing at the corner of her mouth, “unless you change your mind.”

“We can talk or whatever another time, but I’m going back to my friends, okay? Go find yours.”

“You’re my friend,” Breeze purrs, one hand stroking over Eren’s bicep, “and I haven’ seen you int–”

“Don’t push it,” Eren nearly growls, scowling down at her. He knows half of the hatred buzzing through his veins is reserved for himself, but he’ll unpack that at home with a blunt, not in the middle of the club with you waiting for him on the dance floor and Breeze staring up at him hungrily.

“Always wound so tight,” Breeze hums, reaching a hand up to squish his cheeks, “but fine. I’ll see you soon.”

She miraculously leaves him there with nothing but a wink, taking your vodka soda with her; Eren’s shoulders slump in relief. Knowing Breeze, it was a wonder she hadn’t tackled him right there. When he turns around for the second time, two drinks in hand, you’re already staring at him. Shit.

You don’t look mad– and why would you be? You’re friends, Eren reminds himself. There’s no reason for you to know who Breeze is; he’s never told you about her, and he never planned on doing so. Eren knows Historia, though, well enough to believe that she told you everything from the godforsaken moment he walked into your apartment that day. 

He doesn’t like that look you’ve got, though; again, not mad, but he can see the gears turning behind your eyes. Eren has to practically force himself to walk towards you. Your head’s cocked in confusion, something watery and hesitant glimmering in your eyes through the low lighting. If he didn’t know better, he’d say you almost look hurt, but that wouldn’t be fair, would it? You didn’t want him, you had made that abundantly clear.

“Sorry it took me a while. Long line.” Eren hands you your drink, nearly wincing at how naturally the clearly false statement rolls off his tongue.

“Mhm,” you nod, downing nearly half of your drink in one long slurp. Your movements aren’t fluid and dynamic anymore; you’re stiff as a board, bouncing back and forth on the balls of your feet along to the beat of the song. “I…I actually have to pee, do you mind holding this?”

“Now?” Eren blinks, confused. “I just got your drink.”

You offer him a tight smile. “I wanted to wait ‘til you were back, so you could watch my drink. And so you didn’t think I ran off on you or something.”

“Oh, yeah, go ahead.”

He watches you slink away into the crowd, watches the dozens of eyes follow you, surely wondering what happened to the little firecracker in the middle of the dance floor. Eren knows you get like this sometimes, suddenly pensive and nostalgic, knows that per your own admission, you like to handle it yourself. He hadn’t done this to you, had he?

A firm pinch to his cheek distracts him, pulls him down a foot below his normal standing height. Could everyone just stop pinching his fucking face? “Shit, ow!”

“Was that Breeze?” Historia yells directly into his ear. Eren, six-foot-something of hell on wheels, blushes furiously.

“Dude, was that fucking Breeze, or am I too fucked up?” Connie echoes Historia’s sentiment from over her shoulder, eyes comically wide. Armin’s peering around him, eyes flitting back and forth between Eren, Connie, and Historia as he tries to understand what’s happened.

“Who cares?” Eren snaps at Connie. Historia’s grip on his face loosens, releases entirely. If Eren didn’t like the look that you had given him, he hates the look Historia’s shooting at him right now. All daggers and disappointment. She turns on her heel without another word, making a beeline for the bathroom and dragging Sasha along behind her. Eren doesn’t miss Armin’s eyes either; stripping him to the bone without saying a word.

“Quit looking at me like that,” Eren scoffs, waves a hand in Armin’s direction.

“When did Breeze get back into town?” Armin shouts over the music.

“A few weeks ago,” Eren admits, avoiding Armin’s eyes and looking for a spot at the bar where he can escape the heavy gazes of his friends, run away to drown this conversation in a shot of whiskey.

“Did you–”

“I don’t know, man, you know how she is. She just showed up.” Eren knows he’s being unnecessarily gruff, but in his defense, the last hour or so has been a whirlwind of memory and emotion and lust that he doesn’t have the capacity to deal with.

Armin nods simply, takes a sip of his beer. Eren’s known Armin since they were kids, and he knows Armin can read him like a book. If he had a little less pride, Eren would pull Armin to the side and ask if he can make any sense of what’s going through Eren’s head right now because Eren sure as hell can’t. There’s you, with your skimpy dress and your flirty eyes, grinding on him like you’re going to take him home and fuck him stupid again, like you hadn’t demanded an honest-to-god friendship that Eren happens to very much enjoy. On the other hand, there’s Breeze, flighty and just as much of a ghost as she is a real person, popping back into his life and batting her blue eyes at him like she’d never left.

You’re his friend, and Breeze is his terrible ex. There shouldn’t be a choice here– there isn’t, it’s just the way things are, but Eren feels stuck at a crossroads for some reason.

He finally gets fed up with the music and the bumping of bodies around him and storms off to the bar again, biting back the urge to snap at Connie and Armin who he knows are hot on his heels. Eren’s just looked up from the shot of whiskey burning its way down his throat, acknowledging the dizziness that’s come with his drinks for the night, when he spots you.

You don’t look angry, that’s a small mercy you unwittingly grant him, but you’re cowering. Historia, even being shorter than you, is practically pinning you to the wall outside of the bathroom, shouting at you with her finger in your face. Sasha doesn’t look all too pleased either, arms crossed and a deep scowl written into her features. Eren gets a glimpse of your phone in Historia’s other hand that she’s waving around erratically, and wonders what the hell happens in women’s bathrooms. He’s not exactly sure what prompts it, but he checks his own phone. Nothing.

“Are they fighting?” Connie asks, nose scrunched as he peeks around Eren’s arm.

“Looks like it,” Armin nods, wincing as you try to make a grab for your phone from Historia, resulting in Sasha saving you at the last second from face-planting as Historia holds it out of your reach.

“Should we, like, do something?”

“Absolutely not,” Armin and Eren echo each other, looking at Connie as if he’d just suggested they all walk into oncoming traffic.

Eren watches as Historia grabs you by the wrist and drags you out of the bar, your feeble protests doing nothing to stop her insistent steps. Sasha follows both of you, gently pushing you along by the small of your back and shooting a regretful glance at Connie, mouthing a sorry as you all make your exit. It’s hardly been five minutes before Eren’s phone buzzes.

> had to leave. do you mind paying our tab if i venmo you? it’s under reiss.

Eren bites the inside of his cheek again, not worrying in the slightest about covering the tab, but more so the reason for your abrupt exit.

> yeah i got u everything ok?

> thanks a ton! see u next time.

It’s purposefully avoidant, especially coming from Historia, who never misses a chance to make fun of you good-naturedly. If you had been sick in the bathroom or far too drunk to stay, she would have come out and said it. Eren throws his card down, going to pay the hefty tab you and your friends racked up, but not daring to pay his own. After all of the shit that’s just gone down, he owes himself at least one more drink.

Once he’s signed, he pulls out his phone again, thumb hovering over your text thread, then Breeze’s, then yours again. Mindful of Armin’s prying eye over his shoulder, Eren sighs heftily and shuts his phone off, leaning in to order another shot. The following morning’s approaching quickly, whether he wants it to or not, and he’ll save his fucked-up emotions for the daylight.

[mxtantrights]

famous dc!au (dick's version)

TRACK 7.5: DARK RED

You hit pause on the video and speak into your phone. Your friend Theo had called you and asked about the process of filming and auditioning. You answered al his questions and then he wanted to go over something specific about the videos. When you pulled it up he told you to sync it so you can watch in real time together.

When it got to the part where it finally shows the footage from Dick’s camera your friend started whistling and hollowing. You didn’t understand and had to pause the video.

“What are you screaming about?” you ask.

“What am I—don’t you see what’s in front of you?”

“What are you talking about?” you ask again.

“He’s in love with you!” He shouts

You shake your head in confusion. What? That couldn’t be right? That could not be right at all. Yes, Dick flirted. Yes he had a way of making your stomach flip upside down and make your cheeks go hot. But you always thought that was just Dick. You don’t have any other behavior to base any of Theo’s allegations on.

“Theo I don’t think that’s what it is. He’s just like that.” you say.

Theo laughs, “Of course you don’t see it. You were always oblivious to this kind of stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” you ask.

“The love stuff, the feelings stuff.” he clarifies.

“I literally don’t know what your on about.” 

“For as long as I’ve known you, you just don’t see what’s right in front of you when it comes to romance. I mean there was the guy at your retail job, the other guy at the bar, what was the name…” he trails off.

“Casa Vodka?” You ask.

“Yes! The owner was totally head over heels for you.” Theo answers.

“No he wasn’t.”

“They named a drink after you. That wasn’t just for fun,” 

“Theo, you think that Dick Grayson, like The Dick Grayson is in love with me?” You ask honestly this time.

Theo sighs on the other end of the call. “I am looking at this music video and there is no way he can act that good.” Theo answers.

“Okay but we had just met that day. How could he have been in love with me when we first met?” 

“Love at first sight—come on! I know you read Shakespeare in high school.” Theo laughs.

You laugh at that too, “I definitely did and maybe that’s why I don’t see the lovey-dovey stuff. It ends in heartbreak.”

“Not always.”

-

Dick leans his head against the coach. The tub of ice cream in his lap long gone, and the movie playing on the screen long forgotten. He can’t get you out of his mind. He wants to text or call you and ask if you wanna hang out. But he knows that his manger and the music video director are going to also be reaching out to you about a second appearance. 

Honestly he can’t unscramble his head.

“Why don’t you just take the plunge and confess your feelings.” a voice from behind him says.

Dick turns around, knowing full well who the voice belongs to and not feeling scared at all. Why would he? He’s at the manor so really a bunch of people are walking around at all hours. But this voice was one he hadn’t heard in a few weeks. 

“Hey Jay bird.” Dick says.

Jason reveals himself and takes a seat with his brother on the couch. If Jason wasn’t shooting the last scenes for his film, he was home with his beloved partner. Dick was envious. He wouldn’t say anything to Jason though. 

“Are you done wallowing?” Jason asks.

Dick pouts, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“I’m talking about the ice cream, the cheesy rom-coms and your general facial expression.” Jason answers.

Dick looks over at Jason with a straight face, “This is my normal face.”

“No that is your ‘I’ve got it bad’ face. So what can I do to help?” 

Dick grabs a pillow and sits back into the couch. The pillow braced against his chest like he is preparing to go into battle. Jason wants to laugh badly but he keeps it in for now. Dick doesn’t say anything for a few moments.

“How’d you do it?” Dick asks.

Jason doesn’t answer at first. Partially because he doesn’t understand the context of the question. Until his mind lights up like a Christmas tree and he realized exactly what Dick is asking him. He smiles to himself. 

“You know funny story about that. A year or so back, Bruce brought me a book cover and sweetheart was on the cover.” Jason says.

Dick looks over slowly, his eyes going comically wide. “Oh my god!”

“I know, the world works in mysterious ways.” Jason chuckles.

“No I mean—well yes, it does. But wait that still doesn’t explain how you pulled off your relationship.” Dick says.

Jason shakes his head, “I didn’t have a game plan if that’s what you’re asking. I just tried my hardest to not fuck it up.” 

“Yeah I’m kind of doing that right now. But how’d you get the confidence to go after what you wanted?” Dick asks.

Jason smiles, “I didn’t. My sweetheart just came over one day and then all of sudden we weren’t tiptoeing around each other anymore.” 

Dick nods his head, “Huh.” 

[invisibleraven]

smiling when the phone rings and their picture pops up for Rulie because I am a sap please and thank you

Julie, as a rule, was not technically allowed to have her phone on her while she was working the register. She was supposed to be making coffee, restocking the sugar, and cleaning the tables instead of checking her Insta notifications.

However, she had all the mindless stuff done, the store was dead, and her manager was on his lunch break, so she didn't see the harm in pulling her phone out for a quick scroll.

She thought about shooting Flynn a text but she was supposed to be revising for her make up history exam on Monday, and if Flynn didn't scrape out a C her mom had threatened to take her phone away for a month.

Jule pocketed her phone when the odd customer came in, but the afternoon was dragging, and there was only so many times she could check the already full stir sticks and creamers.

Thankfully the boredom lessened when Kayla came in for her shift. "Hey Kay, what's new?"

"Same old same old," Kayla replied with a shrug. "Trying to not fall asleep reading Gatsby for Fernández's class."

"Ooof, I did that last semester with Clarke, I just listened to the audiobook. Thank goodness we're doing Shakespeare now."

"Ew, pass."

Julie's phone rang as Kayla slung on her apron, and glancing around to make sure she wouldn't get in trouble, she pulled it out, smiling when she saw the picture decorating her screen.

She and Reggie had taken it last summer at the lake, he had shaken off the lake water like a dog, making her shriek, then pulling him in for a snap, their smiling faces squished together. Reggie's freckles were out in force, along with a small tinge of red across the bridge of his nose from the sun, while Julie was sun kissed and smiling so hard her eyes were half squinted.

"Hey Reg."

"Hey Ju Ju Bean, did you finish the chemistry assignment?"

Julie rolled her eyes affectionately, "You know I did, I'm off in an hour so we can go over it then if you pick me up, save me the bus fare."

"Your car on the fritz again?"

"Stupid radiator overheated and papi is at an all day shoot."

"I can bring my tools if you want, give 'er a looksee," he offered.

"You're the best cariño," Julie said with a sigh. "See you in an hour? I'll even throw in a latte."

"Bless you and you knowing my love of caffeine," Reggie replied. "See you then darlin'!"

Julie ended the call, slipping her phone back into her pocket. She turned to apologize to Kayla, but the girl had a shit eating grin on her face which was...a little confusing. "What?"

"Girl I didn't know you and Reggie were like, a thing!"

"What? We're not-" Julie waved her hands at her. "We're just friends!"

Kayla looked at her, crossing her arms. "Jewel, I like you, but you suck at lying."

"I'm really not!" she insisted.

Kayla peered at her, then gave a look of understanding. "So you're not together. But you want to be."

Julie was sure she was flushed from this accusation, but shook her head. "Why would you say that?"

"The look on your face when you saw it was Reggie calling for one," Kayla replied. "I sure as hell don't look that dopey when someone I only see as a friend calls me."

Julie put her hands to her hot cheeks, shaking her head. "No, I just...I..."

Did she like Reggie? They had been friends forever, so she knew they got along. He was her anchor, her clown, her shoulder to cry on. Plus he wasn't bad to look at.

"I...I think I might like him," she said, quiet and subdued.

"Then go for it girl!" Kayla encouraged.

"No, we're friends... I can't."

"You can," Kayla insisted. "Because Jewel? He looks at you the exact same way."

"How do you know?"

Kayla just pointed to the parking lot where Reggie's truck was waiting, a good half hour early, a wide smile on his face and a soft look in his eyes.

Oh. Oh.

Kayla shoved her bag and a latte at her. "Go get your man."

"I'm not off yet!"

"I'll cover for you, now go!"

Kayla all but pushed her out the door, and Julie turned back to scowl before facing Reggie who was beaming, holding the door to his truck for her, that soft look never fading. Julie looked back at Kayla who was giving her a thumbs up, and then made a shooing motion.

"You're early," she remarked to Reggie.

"I wanted my coffee," he said with a shrug. "Come on, your chariot awaits."

Julie handed him the latte and got in, then looked at Reggie, who was still holding her hand from helping her up. Neither of them letting go until a car backfired up the road.

"Um, we should go," Reggie stated. "I wanna get that homework done before I looked at your car."

"Maybe after we could catch a movie?" Julie suggested, being bold.

"And a slice?" Reggie asked, looking hopeful. "Sounds like a date."

"Well what if it was?"

A beat, then-"I'd love that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He shook himself then, finally turning the truck on. "Well let's go, if I'm taking you out then I gotta work fast."

Julie grinned, reaching out to take his hand as they drove off and resolved to buy Kayla a coffee their next shift together.