#you don’t both call the cops on yourself and also tell them the name of some rando who told you to do it

[xxaestheticallypatheticxx]

aaaaaaah

[morgana-larkin]

Hello, Idk if u're still taking prompts bc it's seems like you're working on a lot of it, but here's a rather, crazy prompt I have in mind (again) afkajdksjsj.

There's a teacher at Abbott for over a year who's somewhat a little private about her life. Particularly her love life which the Abbott staff seemed to have taken an interest of specially Melissa, who's being defensive when she's called out for being too nosey about the teacher, saying she barely knows a thing about her and it's suspicious that maybe she's actually a cop or secret agent lol. Talks of where's the next venue of game night been going around and the group decided [without the teacher even knowing] that the game night would be held at her rather, fancy house to the surprise of the staff, thinking they would see a glimpse of her priv life and finally meet her partner which is apparently non-existent and later on revealed she never had any relationship in the years of her existence, which also, surprised the group yet Melissa unintentionally let a rather loud sigh of relief and the staff and the teacher gave her a questioning look which she became defensive,again, and a stammering flustered mess under the teacher's gaze.

This was so fun to write. I think I steered a little off a bit but still stuck to what you wanted…(hopefully). I tried to make it light, fun and as cute as possible. As always not edited at all and I hope you like it!

On another note: I know I spelled Chessy’s name wrong, my phone autocorrected me and didn’t notice until I posted it. I thought no one would notice until someone messaged me anonymously about it. So I went back and corrected it. I got one more Melissa prompt and two Chessy ones, and I have started on chapter 8 of ‘Worth It’.

The Game of Love

Warnings: reader has a nightmare(small part near the end), I think that’s all…

Words: 3.3k

You walked into the break room after bringing your students to the cafeteria and headed straight for the coffee machine. You’re exhausted after the morning with your kindergarteners.

“Dear, you don’t look good. Rough morning?” Barb asks you and you chuckle.

“Ya I guess you could say that. I don’t know how you do it Barb. Keep them in line all the time, mine were acting like they had sugar all morning.” You tell her with a huff.

“You’re still quite new dear. I’ve been doing this for over 20 years. You just became a teacher 5 years ago and it’s your second year here.” She says calmly, and always the voice of reason.

“I suppose.” You tell her. You grab your coffee and your lunch from the fridge and then go to sit on the couch.

“Y/n, why don’t you sit with us today?” Janine pipes up and you look at her. You know that she wants to ask questions about your life to get to know you since you don’t tell them much. All you’ve mentioned is that you’ve been living in Philly since you were born, your parents are both lawyers, you have a girlfriend, and you got your teaching certificate 5 years ago. In reality you don’t actually have a girlfriend, you just tell people that since you’ve had many friends try to set you up with a woman and it never goes well.

“Um, ok I guess I could today.” You tell her and head over to sit with the trio. You want to open up a bit more to them. With both of your parents being lawyers, you learned to keep a lot to yourself.

“So how have you been? How’s Amelia?” Janine asks as soon as you sat down. Amelia is the name of your made up girlfriend and said you’ve been with her for 2 years.

“I’ve been good, Amelia as well.” You tell her. “How have you guys been?” You ask her and Janine and Jacob both go and rattle on about their day. While looking at Janine talk, you catch Melissa giving you a look. When Janine stops talking, that’s when Melissa chimes in.

“Hey kid, you never say anything about yourself, why’s that?” Melissa questions you.

“I just don’t talk about myself much, that’s all.” You respond back.

“Why? Why are you so secretive?” She pushes.

“I’m not secretive, there’s just nothing interesting about me.” You tell her and she rolls her eyes at you. “Why are you being nosy?” You ask her and she lefts out a huff.

“I’m not being nosy. It’s just, tell us something, like what do you and your girlfriend do on the weekend or something.” She tells you and you quirk an eyebrow at her. “If you don’t say anything, how do we know you’re not a cop or a secret agent or something like that.” She says to defend herself.

“Well I’m not either one, if you want I can show you my certificate and you can see it’s not forged. But you know both my parents are lawyers so I guess I learned to keep stuff to myself.” You say with a shrug.

“Alright.” She says.

“But to answer your question, Amelia and I don’t do much on the weekends. We’re more home bodies.” You tell her and she smiles at you and you blush a bit.

You excuse yourself early, stating you have to get your classroom ready for crafts, and the trio is talking about where game night is gonna be tomorrow night and Ava comes in to get a coffee.

“Why don’t we have it at y/n’s place?” Melissa says and they look at her.

“Wait, are you coming to game night? Cause you didn’t say either way.” Janine asks her and she shrugs.

“I never know what my plans are on Saturday nights.” She says.

“Did you just voluntold y/n’s place?” Jacob asks and Melissa smirks.

“Yep. We can surprise her.” Melissa says slyly.

“We have no idea where she lives.” Janine says.

“I do!” Ava pipes up and everyone looks at her. “What? It was on her application.” Ava says and pours a bunch of sugar in her coffee. Ava says your address and they all have their mouth open in shock.

“She lives there? That’s a fancy neighbourhood! How does she afford that?” Janine gasps.

“I bet her parents bought it for her.” Melissa says and crosses her arms.

“That would explain it.” Gregory says. “We can’t just show up at her place unexpectedly. We don’t even know if she’ll be home or let us in.” He adds.

“She just said she doesn’t go out on the weekends. And she might let us in, and if she does then we can learn more about her. You can tell a lot about a person from seeing their house. Why do you think I never let youse people over to mine?” Melissa says and they all nod in agreement.

“I’m sure she’ll let us in if Melissa was there.” Barb says with a knowing smile. Melissa whips her head around to face Barb

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She questions, confused.

“Barb you’re coming too?” Jacob asks. And Barb nods.

“My Saturday night is free.” She says, Jacob and Janine grinning. Both of them have never showed up to game night before, so the fact that they are now is exciting to the younger teachers.

“OMG, I don’t even know what game I should bring over now. Ava are you coming?” Janine says with a smile.

“Of course not, unlike you nerds, I actually have plans on Saturday night.” Ava says and walks out.

“So there’ll be 6 of us then.” Janine says.

“Oh we can always have a game that requires teams since it’s an even number.” Jacob states.

“Do you guys have a preference for a game?” Janine asks Melissa and Barb.

“A family friendly game. I don’t want to play one of those games with a bunch of sex questions and sex jokes.” Barb says.

“But those are the best ones.” Melissa says. “The less PG the better.”

“Oh how about the game of life?” Janine says. “But we can play as teams. So like you still have your own car and career, but combine income and losses.” They all agree on that and then they all leave to get their students to finish the day.

You are outside of your classroom helping your kindergarteners zip up sweaters and tie shoelaces. One of your students gives you a hug goodbye and you hug them back and tell them to have a good weekend. Unknown to you, Melissa is watching you from her door frame with a smile and soft eyes. Her class is across the hall and one classroom over so it’s pretty close and she has a perfect view to watch without getting caught. Or so she thought at least, she did get caught but not by you, but by everyone else.

The next day, you’re on your couch and wondering what to watch when the doorbell rings. You get to your door and open it and see Janine, Jacob, Gregory and Barb there there with a smile.

“Hello???” You ask them.

“Hi! We thought it would be fun to have game night at your place.” Janine says excitedly. “I brought the game of life.” And you look to see the game in her hands.

You were about to question them more as to why they chose your place without telling or asking you, you open your mouth to speak but then you see Melissa coming up to your door.

“Melissa, you’re here too?” You ask her and she smiles.

“Yep, can we come in?” She asks you and of course you can’t deny her.

“Ya come on in guys.” You say and step to the side to let them all in.

They all walk in and look around your place in awe. “How do you live in a place this big?” Jacob says and you shrug.

“My parents offered to buy me a place when I told them I wanted to be a teacher.” You say with a chuckle. “I declined at first but then the roommate I had drove me to almost wanting to stab him, so I accepted their offer so I don’t commit a murder.” You say and Melissa giggles at that. In reality everyone laughed, but the one you only really notice is Melissa.

“So where’s this girlfriend of yours?” Jacob says and you got so entranced by Melissa that your brain wasn’t processing properly.

“Girlfriend?” You ask him and they all give you a weird look.

“Ya, Amelia?” He says confused. And you suddenly remembered, although with the look they all have, you doubt they’ll believe you with whatever you say.

“I don’t see any pictures of you with another girl around here.” Melissa points out, looking at all your pictures on the wall.

“Alright, I don’t actually have one. I made her up, my friends kept trying to set me up with women and they kept not really going well so I made up a lie.” You say and Melissa lets out a loud sigh of relief and everyone turns to look at her. Melissa’s cheeks turn pink at being heard and put on the spot. “Something you want to say Melissa?” You ask her with a quirked brow.

“Um uh…n-no not really.” She stuttered out and everyone gives a confused look to each other. Barb decides to save Melissa in that moment as Melissa is unable to speak properly.

“Why don’t we go and set up the game?” She says and everyone agrees. You go to your living room and they set it up on the coffee table.

“I have some food I can put out for snacks, I’ll just go get it. Melissa, do you mind helping me?” You ask her and she turns to look at you.

“Uh , ya sure of course!” Melissa says and scrambles to her feet.

There was 2 reasons you asked her for help, you could have asked anyone but you wanted to be closer to her and show her your kitchen. You know from being in an Italian family, she loves cooking and would probably be in awe of your kitchen. And she was, as soon as you both entered, her eyes went wide and mouth open.

“You have an amazing kitchen.” She says and you smile at her.

“Thanks.”

“You must love cooking in it.” She says and you chuckle.

“I actually don’t cook much. I don’t always like doing it.” You tell her and she looks almost offended.

“What? But this kitchen looks like it’s made to be used a lot, to be used to do so much cooking and baking. I mean I would if I lived here.” She says and she set up a perfect opportunity for you.

You get a bunch of chip bags and some dips and place them on the counter. “Well you could always come over and use it as much as you like.” You tell her and her eyes go wide.

“Really?”

“Ya, if you want. I don’t mind.” You say and she smiles.

“I might take you up on that.” She says and you smile at her. “I think you just want to have some of my cooking.” She teases you and you giggle. You have had some of her cooking a couple times over the 14 months you’ve been at Abbott.

“Well I will admit that I love your cooking but you could come and use the kitchen and I don’t need anything in return.” You tell her and she laughs.

She helps you carry all the chips and dips out into the living room.

“Alright, here’s a variety of chips and dips.” You tell them and they all smile.

You then get into teams of two. You expect for Melissa to pair with Barb and for you to end up with Janine or Jacob. Unexpectedly, Barb asks Jacob to team up, and Janine asks Gregory. Melissa gives a look to Barb and Barb just grins at her. Melissa then looks to you.

“Wanna partner up with me.” She asks and you laugh.

“Well thank you for asking, even if there wasn’t any other choice.” You joke with her and she smiles. “I would love to team up with you.” You add and she grins and blushes a bit.

Unknown to both of you, everyone planned this, for you two to team up together and so they all picked someone to team up with before you guys got a chance.

You all pick out a car to use and whether to go straight to a career or college. Jacob and Barb both pick career right away and everyone else picks college and gets debt.

“Oh look at that, I can be either a teacher or a Doctor.” You say and everyone laughs. “I feel I might be a hypocrite if I don’t pick a teacher.” You say and pick teacher and then a salary. Melissa gets super excited and is able to pick firefighter.

“OH HELL YES!” She says as she picks firefighter immediately.

“What was your other choice?” You ask and she looks.

“Uh, accountant.” She says and looks confused at that and you laugh.

Everyone is having fun playing, there’s laughs, cheering and eating. The more the night goes on, the more touchy Melissa gets with you. Now she knows that you’re actually single, she takes the opportunity to flirt with you. She side hugs you when she’s happy with a victory, and sometimes she leaves her arm there for a bit, even after her turn is done. She’s placed a hand on your leg a few times, and everytime she does that, you blush. She rubs your arm when you experience a loss, like paying for the kids for something. “Damn demanding kids. How do we have 4 of them” You say with a pout and she laughs at that. You guys got the most kids and you picked 2 girls and 2 boys, the boys being twins.

You all end up playing again with the same teams but the rule being you can’t pick the same career. Everyone that picked college last time ends up picking career path just to switch it up a bit, while Barb and Jacob pick college.

This time while playing, Melissa has her arm around your waist for half the game and the other half on your thigh. You swear that life is testing you tonight. You and Melissa end up winning both times and Melissa grins at that. After the second time, you all end up watching a movie. The group ends up picking a horror movie, despite your reluctance since you get scared easily.

Everyone is sitting on either your couch or your 2 love seats. Barb and Jacob are spread out on your couch, while Janine and Gregory are on one of the love seats. So you and Melissa take the other seat. Barb and Jacob each use a blanket, Janine and Gregory share one, while you and Melissa also share a blanket.

Since your kids were so hyper today, you were more tired than usual and you were comfy leaning on Melissa a bit. Melissa has the one arm that’s closest to you, propped up on the back of the seat, with the other one on your thigh and her body is turned to you a bit. You end up getting scared pretty early on and accidentally go to hug Melissa during a jump scare. Melissa stops breathing for a second before she puts an arm around you protectively. “It’s alright, you’re safe, I got you.” She tells you and she smiles. Everyone pretends to not notice what happened and hide a grin.

Everyone then decides to leave but since Melissa had a few glasses of wine, so you offer to let her sleep in your spare room so she doesn’t drive home drunk.

Melissa ends up hearing you scream when you awake from a nightmare and she goes over and knocks on your door.

“Y/n, it’s Melissa. I heard you screaming so I thought I’d come to check if you were ok.”

You get out of bed and go and open your bedroom door. “I’m alright, I just had a nightmare. I knew I shouldn’t have watched the movie with you guys. I’ll be too afraid to sleep now, I guess it’s good that tomorrow is Sunday.” You tell her with a small chuckle.

“Oh I’m sorry hun.” She tells you as she leans against the door frame.

“It’s alright, maybe I’ll just watch something on my phone, maybe some stand up and fall asleep again.” You tell her and she looks at you then an idea pops up in her head.

“What if I slept with you?” She says and you look at her with wide eyes and her face mirrors that when she realises how that sounds. “I-I meant in the same bed and sleep… actual sleep not sex.” She defends and you giggle. In your tired state and full of adrenaline from the nightmare, you blurt out something before your brain has time to stop you.

“I wouldn’t say no to either one of those.” You say and she looks at you surprised.

“Really?” She tells you and that’s when it hits you what you said and a huge and noticeable blush makes it on your cheeks.

“Umm, I mean , I… I-I have no idea what I mean actually.” You say and put your hand over your eyes in embarrassment. Melissa takes the hand off your face then looks at you.

“Do you like me? As in a crush.” She asks and you nod, too embarrassed to speak. As soon as you nod, she has a big smile. “Really?” And you nod again. Melissa gets really excited and kisses you. You kiss her back and you both think that it’s wonderful, you both enjoy the kiss but then Melissa pulls back when she realises she didn’t admit her own feelings, verbally anyway. “I like you too.” She says with a huge smile and a sparkle in her eyes.

You giggle at that. “I figured by the kiss.” You tell her and she smiles warmly at you. “I would love the company in my bed to try and sleep, if you’re still offering.” You tell her and she nods.

“Of course. If you want we could cuddle. I was rather enjoying that on the couch.” She tells you and you agree. You cuddle in your bed and you manage to fall asleep wrapped in her arms and a smile on your face, and your nightmares didn’t come back that night.

On Monday morning you come into the break room and get a coffee as usual. You go and sit on the couch next to Melissa to watch the news. She looks at you and smiles and you smile back at her. Everyone is looking at you guys curiously then you see Melissa looking at you with a mischievous expression. She wraps a hand behind your head and pulls you in for a kiss, you kiss her back and hear gasps from everyone. Melissa pulls back after a few seconds and you see everyone grinning.

“Well it’s about time you two.” Barb says. “I’m glad our plan to make you team up worked.” And you both look over at her with a quirked eyebrow.

“You guys planned that?” Melissa says and you smile and lean on her shoulder while she wraps an arm around your waist, still questioning everyone.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

@lilfartbox1

If you want to be added then let me know!

[xchxsex]

2 Birds with 1 Stone: John Stone x afab reader

Warnings: mention of murder and suicide, graphic depictions, manipulation, oral (m receiving), degradation, praise, age gap, virgin reader, overstimulation, slapping

Being a cop had its ups and downs; you get to bring victims to justice, but you also witness some of the most graphic cases of abuse.

This case was no different.

Over some time, many girls have come up missing, all last seen at bars and all found getting into an old blue car.

They finally think they’ve found the man responsible: a man named John Stone who tended to keep to himself, living out far from the city.

You were called in to interrogate him, being one of the best at the station to get confessions. You were able to get inside their heads and trick them into revealing their darkest secrets and desires.

There’s just one problem with this man.

As you opened the case file, he immediately caught your eye. You were a sucker for the look of an older man, like many others. No wonder he got girls to come with him so easy.

This made you nervous. You tried to think of how to get him to talk, but none came to mind.

As you walked into the room, you tried to center yourself. If you couldn’t get him to talk, not only would families not be able to have their girls again, but it could also mess up your reputation.

Immediately he greets you with a slight smirk, his hands cuffed behind him.

“Well well well, aren’t you a pretty young thing.” He says.

You get a hitch in your throat and try to swallow it down. Sitting down in front of him, he adjusts his hips, moving them forward. As hard as you try, you can’t help but look down. Loose jeans, but with whatever is between his legs, they’re tight.

It’s been a while since you’ve been this close to any man. Your job took most of your time, or you just weren’t interested in those who asked for your number.

“Having a hard time focusing?,” he asks.

You quickly look up and meet his eyes. There’s a charm, a sexiness about them.

Crossing your legs and opening his file, your heart beating quickly, you start to ask him questions.

“So, i see you’ve served overseas?”

He smiles.

“Is that really what you want to ask?”

You bite your lip and close the files. You’re gonna have to be harder with him.

“No, it’s not. I want to know where all these girls bodies are. Their families deserve to have a proper burial for their loved one John.”

He laughs a sinister one.

“Can’t tell you where the bodies are… but i can tell you where i put the pieces.”

A chill goes down your spine. His smugness only makes you more curious about the man sitting in front of you.

“Let me ask you something,” he says,” why are you a cop? A little thing like you, if my hands weren’t cuffed, i could wrap both of my hands around that pretty neck of yours and choke you without you even being able to scream for help.”

The thought of his hands wrapped around your neck causes your body to react in a way you didn’t expect.

“And I’m also trained to take down men your size. I also have a taser and a gun that will cut you down to size if you try it.”

He laughs again.

“You’re a precious little thing aren’t ya? You forget that i was trained the same way darlin’.”

He’s trying to pick apart your ego, to make you feel threatened and scared.

“John, we’re getting off topic, you know where you put those bodies- pieces, stop calling me names and answer my questions.”

He knows he’s getting to you, getting you riled up is what he wants.

“Okay,” he settles into his chair,” then what do you want to know?,” he says.

You let out a huff, trying to keep your anger contained.

“You know what i want to know John, where did you put those girls?”

He bites his lip, looking down at your covered body. You catch his eyes wandering, ashamed at wondering what he thinks of it.

“You’re one of those good girls, I like you. Don’t worry little lady, I wont bite, unless you want me to.”

This might be a chance to wonder what he’s thinking.

“And what is a ‘good girl’ to you?,” you ask.

“A girl that doesn’t go around suckin’ and fuckin’ anything that walks, one of those girls that keeps their body to themselves. They stay covered, leaving it all to the imagination. You’re all covered up, not wearing a bunch of shit on your face. A natural beauty.”

You feel your cheeks flush at his words, holding what they make you feel from him. You can’t let him have the upper hand on you.

“See, if i was your daddy, i would be proud of you not dressing and acting like that.”

Not having a present father figure makes his words hurt more than they should.

“Actually my father is not around, my mom is who’s proud of me. I don’t need your validation.”

He tuts a little.

“You’re a sweet girl. I’ll tell you some things,” he says.

You let out a needed breath.

“Thank you, now-,” he cuts you off.

“But, only if you do a little something for me in return.”

Bargaining was something you had to do every now and then. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it went south.

“And what would that be?,” you ask.

He sighs. “You remind me of my wife. Killed herself a while ago. You’re sweet and innocent like her. Took two years of dating before she let me touch her, and god was it was amazing. I love usin’ a pretty girl that’s never been touched.”

You’re not sure where this is going, but the thought of him climbing on top of you and having you is beginning to make you throb.

“What exactly are you asking me?”

“Are you a virgin, princess? Cause you sure seem like it.”

You feel embarrassed now. How would he even know that about you?

“That’s none of your business,” you tell him.

“I take that as a yes,” he says.

“Okay? What is it that you want in exchange for information?,” you ask.

“I want you,” he says with no hesitation.

Your body responds quicker than your mind can, a whimper falls from your lips before you can stop it.

“W-why would you want me?,” you ask.

He licks his lips.

“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve gotten to fuck a good girl? M’ sick and tired of fuckin’ these whores around here,” he leans in closer to the table,” if I’m going to prison, i want to be the man to take your body and introduce it to a world of pleasure.”

The idea shouldn’t sound as good as it does. You guess it would kill two birds with one stone.

“So, if i let you have me, you’ll tell me where those girls are?”

“Im a man of my word sweetheart.”

Your mind is hesitant, but your body is ready to handle whatever John has in store for you.

“Okay,” you say.

He smiles. “Good. But not here, we need to go somewhere private.”

You agree, but where?

“Where would we go then?”

“You sneak us both out of here, we can hop in the car and go somewhere hidden. Then I’ll tell you where they are.”

It’s risky, but you always have your gun, taser, and your fight in you. If you can get him to confess, it will help many families, maybe even get you a promotion.

“Deal,” you tell him.

You stand up and get him out of the chair, quickly seeing his large stature compared to yours. You grab his arm and cuffed hands, leading him out of the interrogation room. Your boss stops you.

“How’d it go?,” she asks.

“I got him to talk a little. Im taking him back to his cell before i tell you,” you lie.

“Okay good. Ill see you soon,” she says.

You both leave, taking him out the back door, near the cells.

Letting him in the passenger seat of your police car, you make sure he’s settled and still cuffed. He might be charming, but you’re in charge of keeping him calm.

You climb in the drivers side, joining him in.

“Im leaving the cuffs on you. Where do we go?”

“Thats alright darlin’, drive off this road and take a few right turns. There’s some scrub brush around there people don’t pass by much.”

You drive off, following his directions. You feel him eyeing you up, wondering how your body will feel in his hands. While driving, you’re a little distracted as well, thinking about what he might look like under those baggy clothes. Part of you also wonders just what are you about to experience: will it hurt? Will it be bad?

Soon, you arrive where he said. You start to get nervous at the thought of him having you, but you’re doing it for good reasons. Course, one of those reasons is a little more personal than the rest.

You pull over off the road, letting yourself out before walking around and opening his door. You go to get in the backseat before he stops you.

“I need to see if you’re worth fuckin’ first,” he turns himself around to where his legs are out of the door,” you’re gonna need to prove it, pretty girl.”

“And how would I do that?,” you ask.

“How about you start by shuttin’ that mouth and getting on your knees, hm?”

You do as he says, slowly lowering yourself in front of him.

“Good girl. You obey my commands. How about you take off my belt and pants?”

You unhook the black leather, opening it to unbutton his jeans and pull down the zipper. You tug them down and are greeted with the sight of his length tightly packed into his dark underwear. Your insides twinge at the thought of it entering you, filling and stretching you out with ease.

“Now prove it to me. You suck my cock until i tell you to stop, and i suggest you listen to what i say.”

You’ve never been with a man in any sense. The furthest that you’ve ever gone was some light touching while kissing. This is all new.

“Never sucked one before have you? I get to be the first man in both of your holes hm?”

You nervously loop your fingers into his underwear, gently tugging them down until his cock springs up and out.

He lets out a groan of relief. “Get to it pretty girl.”

You wrap your hand around the base of him, your fingers barely touching all the way around. You slowly take him into your mouth, hearing him let out a grunt in response. Taking a few inches at a time, you settle into a pace that keeps you from gagging.

“Thats fuckin’ right little girl, you take that dick in that innocent little mouth of yours.”

His words cause you to choke slightly. Your eyes water as you come up.

“Take every inch down your throat and I’ll let you stop. Be a good girl and prove how much you want it.”

You take him again, working up to the depth you were at. Going deeper, you’re only halfway down him, not sure you can take anymore.

“Thats it baby, keep going. I want to watch you choke for me.”

You open up your throat as best you can, closing your eyes, working your way down until you feel the tickle of hair at the base of him.

“Good fuckin’ girl baby… one of em’s buried over between the lake and town line.”

You take his words as allowing you to come up. Tears dripping down your face, saliva dripping down your mouth.

“I love corrupting little girls into takin’ and beggin’ for a cock in their holes. I’ll fuck you nice and rough.”

You raise up and unlock the back door before he stops you again.

“What now?,” you say back, annoyed.

“Don’t take that tone with me little girl, or i wont fuck that little pussy of yours at all, understand?”

You hate that he has a power over you, but something about the way he talks like that to you makes you grow even wetter.

“Yes,” you say.

“Yes what?,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Y-yes sir.”

“Good girl, now, i was going to ask if you would take these cuffs off.”

That, you’re not sure about. He is still a wanted criminal.

“I don’t know if i should.”

“It’ll be hard for me to take your clothes off and grab onto your pretty curves with my hands tied behind me now wont it?”

He does have a point.

“Okay, but I’m putting them back on when we’re done.”

You take the keys out and let him out of the car to unlock his wrists. You put the cuffs back in your pocket.

Now that his hands are free, you can see how large they are. You need them grabbing onto your body, taking you the way he wants.

“Lay in the back,” he orders.

You climb into the backseat of the car, he follows, ending up on top of you.

“You still want me to fuck you?,” he asks.

“Yes,” you answer, with no hesitation.

He grabs hold of your body, kissing you roughly all over. You get his pants and underwear fully tugged down and off while he’s unbuttoning your top. It slides down your shoulders and lands in the floor. You’re left in a thin tank top with your bra.

He undoes your belt and tugs your pants down, revealing your thin, white underwear. He pulls away from you, seeing you laid underneath him.

“White’s a symbol of purity,” he begins to pull them down,” guess I’ll be takin’ these with me.”

He takes them off and puts them in his shirt pocket. He pushes your legs up, displaying you to him.

“Got a pretty little wet cunt on you.” He runs his fingers down your slit, slipping a finger into you. You wince at having something enter you for the first time.

“Nice and tight too, you want another?”

The more you open up, the more you crave him.

“Please,” you whine.

He slides another into you, his wide fingers stretching you more.

“Gotta get you nice and open before my cock tears you in half.”

He curls them up just right, finding a spot you never knew existed. You moan, grabbing onto the seat.

“Yeah? Making a mess on my fingers huh?” He smiles as he presses on your lower stomach.

“Show me those pretty tits,” he says.

You listen and do as he says, pulling up your bra to reveal yourself to him. He moves his hand and starts pumping himself.

“You’re getting me worked up babygirl.” Drops of pre cum drip on your stomach. His fingers still press into you, using the heel of his palm to rub your clit.

He takes his hand off his cock and gathers what dripped on his thumb, touching it to your lips.

“Clean it up dirty girl,” he invites you to suck it off. The mixture of you sucking his finger while his curl into you is building your pleasure.

His hand moves to your breast, squeezing and pinching your nipples.

“Yeah? You gonna cum on me? You wanna make a pretty mess on my cock next?”

“Mhmm,” you whine before an intense orgasm rocks your body. You moan, grabbing into his arm, fingers fucking you faster, prolonging your pleasure even more. Your back arches off the seat.

“Goddamnit you’re fuckin’ tight when you cum.”

Normally you would have finished by now, letting it subside as you caught your breath, but your body wont let go of it.

“Im still cumming,” you whine.

He smiles down at you.” Oh i know pretty girl, can’t wait to taste all that pretty cunt is giving me.”

Finally after what felt like hours, it subsides as his fingers slow. He pulls them out of you, admiring the wet, sticky mess you left behind. He brings his fingers to his lips, sucking the creamy mess off of them.

“Sweet, with a little bit of tang,” he says finishing up. “Now’s time for the real fun.” He unhooks and takes off the bra completely, throwing it aside.

Bare, you want to feel his skin completely on yours. You run your hands up his flannel shirt, wanting him to take it off.

“You want my top off?,” he smiles.

“Please”, you whine, moving your hands further up.

He gives into you, unbuttoning it and pulling it off. You’re finally satisfied being able to run your hands up his body, through his hair.

He towers back over you, pulling your legs on his. You start to get a little nervous. The feeling of his fingers hurt, and after seeing what he looks like, you know it’s going to hurt like hell.

“You ready for me?,” he asks.

“Yes,” you say, readying yourself.

He aligns himself at you, pressing in. It doesn’t hurt at first, but after a few seconds, it feels like fire.

“Ow,” you whine, digging your nails into his shoulders.

“Oh it’s gonna hurt darlin’. I’ll go slow. Tight little virgin pussy.”

He slowly slides in, closing your eyes tight, breathing picking up, trying to take him. Finally he stops, all the way inside you.

“Look at me,” he says.

You open your eyes back up, looking down to see him filling you up. The pain has subsided for now. You look back up at him.

“You okay? You’re openin’ up for me.”

“I think so,” you say, settling into the feeling of being full.

“It’s gonna keep hurtin’ baby. Just wait it out, alright?”

You nod, preparing for more pain. He starts to pull out and it begins to hurt again, but not as bad as before. He slowly moves in and out of you, waiting for you to fully open.

But when he moves into you a final time, pure hot pleasure shoots through your body. You let out a moan and he takes notice. He smiles, picking up the pace.

“Startin’ to like it, aren’t you?”

Tightening your body around him, you make out a “yes”, into his ear. His hand wraps around your neck and squeezes.

“Im gonna show you how a real man fucks a lady.”

He adjusts his legs up, moving further on top before slamming his hips into you so aggressively, you’re moving up and down with his movements. You cry out in unbearable pleasure, your body trying to fight back against it.

He holds your body close to his, completely pinning you down.

“So goddamn tight, you like gettin’ fucked like this, don’t you?,” he grunts in your ear.

“Yes, fuck!,” you moan, back arching further into him. You can’t believe you’re currently losing your virginity to a wanted man as an officer in the back of your own car.

He kisses you rough and sloppy, still pounding away at your insides effortlessly. His hand moves from your neck to your lower stomach, pressing down slightly.

“Feel how fuckin’ deep I am? Big cock stretching out your tight little womb,” he groans.

When he presses down, you can feel his tip hitting his hand through your skin, so deep you can feel him in your stomach.

“You know what i love even more than a good girl?”, he groans. “A good girl that can take a cock like a little fuckin’ whore.”

He raises up, lifting your hips up with him. The arch of your back causes him to go even deeper, hitting your spots even better. You grab hold of the seats as the only part of you touching is your upper back and head. You lift your legs up on his shoulders, pulling you even higher.

“God, thats the hottest fuckin’ thing Ive ever seen,” he groans.

You look down and see what he’s looking at. Because of the angle you’re at, your stomach is actually bulging outwards with his thrusts.

“You’re my dirty fuckin’ slut. Pretty little cock hungry girl,” he says with a slap to your cheek and a hand around your neck. You moan, that slap doing more to you than you expected. Your insides burn with a need of release, not knowing if he’ll allow you to relieve the ache.

“C-can I cum?,” you ask.

He leans over you, sweat beads forming on his forehead.

“Course you can babygirl, you’re being so good for me.”

It doesn’t take long before you’re grabbing on tightly to his body, coming undone around him while he continues to pound you into the seat. You’re crying out for him, begging him to slow down.

“Shut up and take it all, little girl,” he groans in your ear.

In a swift motion, he lowers you back down on the seat, quickly pulling your legs back on his shoulders.

“Fuck!,” you whine, extending your high out longer than you’ve ever felt.

“Thats it, dirty fuckin’ whore. Yeah? You like cummin’ around a cock don’t you girl?”

You’re finally starting to come down from it, but it doesn’t take long before you feel another one coming. Your legs are automatically trying to close, his neck stopping them.

“I suggest you keep those legs spread for me,” he leans in closer,” or you’re not cummin’ again anytime soon.”

You try and force your legs apart the best you can, wanting to be able to finish again. You pull them apart with your hands as you’re about to finish again.

“Bout to cum again already are we?,” he asks.

You nod, about to break for him. His hand wraps around your throat.

“You ask permission to cum sweetheart. Am i just gonna have to pull out before you make your pretty mess,” he leans in close to your ear, still pounding away,” or are you gonna be my good little cumslut and ask?”

“Please can i cum?!,” you cry, trying to delay it.

“Good girl. Cum for me.”

You moan out even louder, letting your mind and body unravel in his arms with an even more powerful orgasm than before.

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth and take it,” he growls.

Your hands go down to his body, trying to push him away, to get him to slow down as you’re screaming in an overstimulated pleasure. He takes your wrists and pins them down.

“Don’t you dare try and fight me, little girl.”

Tears are streaming down your face, his thrusts finally slowing down.

“Y-yes sir,” you barely make out.

His movements stop, lowering your legs down as he pulls out and away from you. Its not long before your legs are spread apart and pushed back.

“Now that tight little hole is nice and stretched out for me,” he says with a spank to your crotch. “Alright, you’ve proven that you can suck and take a cock, now i want you to prove that you can ride one.”

Your legs are shaking from him, numb from being pinned.

He sits down in the seat beside you, smiling at you with a shit-eating grin.

You can’t do anything but whimper and whine at him, causing him more joy.

“You gonna come on and show me, or do i need to get you up myself?”

You’re not sure what he means by that, but you know it probably wont be good. You manage to move enough to sit up, catching another look at him. Part of you wonders how he ever fit inside you. Reaching down, you see some blood on your fingers.

“Wait, I’m bleeding some,” you say.

He smiles. “Thats what happens when you get your little cherry popped. Now get your ass over here.”

You raise up and climb on him, sliding back down. You whine again at the feeling of being filled.

He kisses your chest and neck, still sitting on him. “You gonna start or am i gonna have to make you, sweetheart?”

You rock your hips on him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He rests his hands around your torso, rubbing your nipples with his thumbs.

“Bounce that pretty ass and tits for me babydoll.”

You raise up and down on him, resting your hands on his shoulders.

“Thats my good girl, working those pretty little hips on me.”

You feel yourself starting to drift, all you can think about is your pleasure. Even though your legs are in pain, you can’t stop bouncing on him.

“Aw, i know that look,” he rests one of his hands on your cheek, sticking his thumb in your mouth, inviting you to suck it,” sweet little girl is cock drunk.”

Not long after, he starts gripping you tightly on your ass.

“You wanna know how it feels to get your little cunt filled?,” he growls in your ear.

“Mhmm,” you whine, your hips meeting his thrusts.

He groans, pushing you all the way down on him, his tip resting snug on your cervix.

You feel the warmth of his seed spurting into you, making you gasp. It’s an instant sensation, one that you know you want to feel again and again. Bits dribble out as you raise up and off of him. You rest against the door of the car, completely used. Even after how rough it was and how exhausted you are, it was undeniably amazing.

You both grab your clothes and put them back on, you without your underwear. You fix up your hair and whatever else was messed up on your body.

He puts his clothes back on quickly and easily.

“Alright, you held up your end, I’ll hold up mine.”

At the midst of all of that, you almost forgot what you were doing it for.

“Good. That was the deal.”

“How about i take you to one myself?,” he says.

You agree, allowing him back into the car.

He directs you further down the road, getting even deeper into the brush around. He’s been quiet on the ride there, only talking to tell you where to go. I guess you wouldn’t really want to talk if you knew that you were going to go to prison for most likely the rest of your life.

“Stop here,” he says. You’re stuck to the very end of just a patch of dirt, the road ending a while back.

You get out of the car, looking around, not seeing much.

“I don’t really see-“, you’re cut off with Johns hand wrapped around your throat. A crushing feeling, not like when he took your body, causing your body to go into fight or flight. Looking at his hand, you quickly realize your deadly mistake.

You forgot to cuff him.

You try and break his grip free around your neck. You reach down to your taser, quickly realizing your belt is also in the car.

Pure evil is the only way to describe whats in your eyes, laughing as you begin to stop struggling, vision going black.

“Oh sweetheart, there’s no body here,” he brings you closer to his face,” it’s where I’m puttin’ you.”

[rozaceous]

the blorbo-ification of korvin kwan

set in a combo of @vermillioncrown's 'the pros and cons of digging your own grave' and my 'a sunset every hour,' i wrote a scene for verm as gift fic, because i was so affronted by how mean the narrative was to My Boy (korvin) and how much i wanted him to get wrapped in a blanket and also have a dental visit. hence the title--i spiritually adopted him in a hopefully less cracked version of 'you lost the rights to your oc bc you were mean to them.' (we've all seen the screenshots of those posts, right???)

so this is allie finding out that dick grayson has been hiding an entire twelve year-old from her. she is not well pleased lmao.

Allie’s pretty sure that she’s timed Dick’s work schedule correctly, but she’s also willing to wait outside the doorstep of his latest safe house until he arrives and soothes her frazzled nerves about his general state of being.

What Allie is not expecting is for not-Dick to answer the door, and especially she isn’t expecting that someone to be a wavy-haired East Asian boy who opens the door but doesn’t undo the chain lock, peering through the gap between door and frame all squinty-eyed.

“Um,” says Allie, eyes flashing to the 302 on the door, which is exactly the number it should be. “I’m…looking for Dick?”

The evaluative quality of the kid’s stare does not diminish. “You’re too young to be a girlfriend.”

She’s helpless against the instant full-face squinch that sentence causes. “We’re more like mutually adopted siblings,” she hazards, voice tight, and regretful that everything regarding the usage of Dick's name sounds inappropriate for the public, especially under-eighteens.

A pause.

“Mr Richard didn’t tell you he underwent child acquisition,” he observes.

“He didn’t, and he’s going to rue that fact until the day he dies.”

“Sounds like siblings, yeah. You’re Allie, then?”

“He talked about me to you but couldn’t be bothered to mention you to me?” she mutters, mostly to herself.

“I was trying to pretend to not-hear him talk to you on the phone. Not really possible in this shoebox.” Some of the squinting eases. “If you can prove who you are, I can let you in until Mr Richard gets back. Otherwise I’m calling the cops.”

Allie is…impressed by that statement, she's pretty sure. “I haven’t got a driver’s license yet, but I’ve got a learner’s permit and a library card. Sufficient evidence?”

A hand pokes through the gap, fingers making grabby motions. Three minutes later has her standing in the kitchen, shoes and coat off, and peering at the meal prep in progress.

“Korvin,” as she’s been informed is the kid’s name, “I know Dickard’s idea of a good meal is take-out, but what the fuck? Do you seriously have to cook it yourself if you want a vegetable?”

“Mr Richard makes sure I get fed,” is the dodgy reply, and Allie knows what covering for someone you don’t want to get in trouble sounds like. So she decides straightforward is best.

“Look, I love Dick to bits,” she tells Korvin. “But his life is held together by silly string, boyish charm, and Barbara. Fuck,” she realizes, pulling her flip phone from her back pocket. She holds the power button until the screen lights on. “Yeah, hope that freaks them both out and gets him over here tout de suite.” She puts her attention back on Korvin, who is regarding her with similar wariness as when he first opened the door. “My point is, if you’re not getting taken care of, you tell me, and I make sure it happens. Capische?”

Korvin seems a little too stunned or cagey or something to reply.

She flips her phone back open and opens her contacts before pressing the device into his hands. “Put your number in and text yourself so you can contact me. Which, by the way, is an ‘anytime’ kind of offer.”

Another, slightly wide-eyed look, and Korvin follows her instruction.

Twenty minutes later and even the way that Dick opens the door tells Allie that he knows he’s about to get the ass-chewing of his life. He slinks through the entry like a dog pretending it doesn’t know a thing about the torn up couch cushions, grinning brightly and waving at her across the apartment where she’s removing vegetables from the oven.

“Hey, Allie!” She’ll give him credit that nervousness makes his voice waver only slightly. “See you and Korv met!”

"Hm."

[ladybug023]

Cigarette Kisses and Regrets

Lalo Salamanca x OC Alejandra Romero

Notes: In this oneshot is set in the late 1980s, Lalo is sent by the cartel to infiltrate a police precinct that is defying them. But he never anticipated getting attached to Alejandra Romero, a cop who was assigned as his partner. She calls him Jorge or Angel Eyes since he's under the alias of Jorge De Guzman.

Also, they’re actually speaking Spanish for the entire conversation since it’s their first language and they’re in Mexico. But I didn’t want to full the entire page with translations so I just wrote it in English. I’ll be sure to add Spanish or Spanglish when they’re in America.

Lalo’s age: 30

Alejandra’s age: 29

Warnings: post sex, light cursing, nothing too bad.

——————————————————

Lalo Salamanca, going by the name Jorge De Guzman, stood silently by the open window of the bedroom. Wearing nothing but his boxers, he gazed at the moon shining brightly in the sky, illuminating the dark room with its soft glow. He was deep in thought, his mind consumed. He wondered to himself, was it guilt he was feeling? He raised a hand to his lips, taking a long drag from his cigarette before exhaling slowly. The smoke twirled and danced around him, forming a hazy cloud in the air.

Suddenly, he heard a rustling behind him and turned to see Alejandra stirring awake. "Why can't you sleep, Angel Eyes?" she inquired, her voice still drowsy from slumber. It was her love for spaghetti westerns that led her to nickname him Angel Eyes, as she said he reminded her of the character, particularly in his eyes and smile.

Lalo shrugged nonchalantly, smirking. "I don't sleep much," he replied, taking another drag of his cigarette. "But don't worry, I don’t need much of it anyways."

Alejandra sat up, her hair tousled from their time together. "I wish you would take better care of yourself," she said, concern etched in her sweet voice.

She was so considerate, Lalo's mind was already spinning with the idea of her quitting the police force and running away together. He could hide her away, keep her all for himself. It would be the perfect solution, the only way he could keep her safe. He never anticipated dealing with this kind of bullshit when he went undercover. To him, it was merely about fucking over a bunch of pigs, but then he met his precious Ale. She wasn't like the other swine - Alejandra was beautiful and sharp as a knife. One moment, she was tough and unyielding like steel, and the next, she was gentle and soft as silk. Over the time they spent together she became more than just his Sergeant and mentor, she managed to burrow her way into Lalo’s heart, despite it being as black as coal.

“Hey, what's going on in that head of yours?”Alejandra asked, sensing his unease.

“Just thinking about life," he said, he studied how lovely she looked in the moonlight. "You know, the usual stuff."

Alejandra sat up, wrapping the sheets around her as she moved to join him by the window. "Life, huh? What's there to think about?"

Lalo took another drag of his cigarette and then said, "I was just thinking, you know, about…us.” He noticed her shifting uncomfortably at the mention of them. Lalo figured it was because of the fact that their affair could get both fired. Alejandra was his superior after all. “Should we continue doing what we're doing or start something new?”

Alejandra's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about Jorge?”

Lalo took a deep breath before continuing. “I mean, we could leave the police force and run. Start fresh somewhere else," he said, his eyes searching hers for any hint of agreement.

Alejandra frowned as she looked at him. “As tempting as that sounds, we can't run away from our responsibilities. It’s our obligation to protect this town, and I won’t cower away from those wolves,” she said, conviction in her voice.

Lalo's heart sank. He couldn't tell her the real reason he suggested they leave. She’d never understand. “I don't think you understand how dangerous they are, Ale. They want to kill you,” he warned her.

“You mean kill us,” she corrected, raising her chin with pride. “And I'm not afraid of the cartel.”

Usually, Lalo found her stubbornness endearing and even attractive, but right now, it was getting on his nerves. “You know, one day your pride and righteousness is going to get you killed. Do you want to end up bleeding out alone like your father?” His words were much, much harsher than he intended. Alejandra’s eyes narrowed when he mention her father, her hero. She stood before him silently, one of her hands clutched the sheets against her chest and her other was balled tightly into a fist.

After a couple of moments of tense silence, Lalo relented.“I shouldn't have said that…I just don't want you to get hurt,” he added, his voice softening.

Alejandra’s anger slowly dissipated, reaching for his hands. “The reason I don't fear the cartel is because I have you watching my back. Angel Eyes, you and I can take them. I know we can.” she assured him, her cinnamon brown eyes sparkling with affection.

‘I don’t have your back…. You’re so alone and vulnerable, and you don’t even know it.’ He thought to himself. He masked his disappointment with a false smile.

She then took a cigarette and placed it in her mouth before standing on her tippy toes to light it using Lalo's cigarette, the tips met in what they called a cigarette kiss.

He understood now that he couldn't save his beloved Ale. No matter how much he wanted to keep her by his side, she would never join him. Her damn moral code would never allow it. Alejandra had once said that her father divided people into three categories: the sheep, the wolves who prey on the sheep, and the sheepdogs who protect the flock. Both Lalo and Alejandra were driven by their innate nature - she as a sheepdog, and he as a wolf. This meant that they were destined to destroy each other. He hoped that this fact would make it easier for him to do what he had to do.

As the first rays of dawn broke the horizon, Lalo felt a sense of longing wash over him. He knew that he couldn't stay with her forever, but for the fleeting time they shared, he wanted nothing more than to bask in her presence. The smoke from their cigarettes curled into the air, mixing with the light of the rising sun. With each inhale, he breathed in her essence, savoring every moment before it slipped away.

[winderlylandchime]

1/2We are officially on 3x13! He legit ran into the house, sat on the couch and like tapped it and didnt let me do anything else before.

‘Look at Brian all dramatic and sexy. OH LOOK AT BOTH OF THEM ALL DRAMATIC AND SEXY. Oh shit the cop didnt show? I forgot about that. Of course he looked hot Brian. It’s Justin’ ‘WHO THE FUCK IS KNOCKING ALL THE DAMN TIME AT HIS PLACE? (hunter shows up) ITS MY BOY HUNTER! HES ALIV- A CONDOM?! Hunter…i am both impressed and traumatized. (And justin showed up) aw they canceled gay as blaz- thats brians shirt! OH WAIT TILL HUNTER FINDS OUT THEY ARE MARRIED IN MY HEART’ the best scene of the episode is now up *starts hysterically laughing and rewinds it 2 times* ‘HE FUCKED A MURDERED!! MHM HE HAS A BOYFRIEND! OH HE SAID YEAH! *pauses tv* HE SAID YEAH! HE FUCKING SAID YEAH! I know season 1 Brian is sick to his stomach somewhere out there. BUT ME? I AM HAPPY AS EVER! HE HAS A BOYFRIEND! (brian kinda defends hunter or whatever) i fuck with this duo! They could have weird uncle/nephew potential…..if hunter just stops trying to fuck Brian.’ That scene between Em/Ted is up where they’re having sex ‘oh no. Ted no. Stop. TED, Emmett baby, YOU NEED TO RUN! I feel bad cause i like Ted but damn it Em RUN, i think there’s no saving him. TED STOP! Oh Emmett is breaking my heart, i cant watch this. ted is killing me.’ ‘HI BRIAN! GIVING A USED CONDOM TO A COP IS A DIFFERENT LEVEL OF ICONIC. I love this guy *points to the screen* i love you. *randomly stops ep on Brian and just stares at him for a minute* yeah’ *continues the ep* ‘THEY WERE PARTNERS? Of course they were. I fucking hate cops. Can we get rid of them in this show? Isnt it enough theyre already out there *points to window* ‘fuck, justin is in trouble..THATS RIGHT HIM AND BRI BRI WERE BOYFRIENDS BEFORE! he kinda did fuck the boss, didnt he? Good for you, Blondie! (Justin says that if its any consolation he was doing a kick ass job) *stops tv and starts laughing and literally falls back in the couch with his feet up in the air and kicks them* yes, you were doing a kick ass job! APOLOGIZE? Bitch, fuck you and your apology.’ Scene with Mel/Linds/Mikey comes on and all he says is ‘this is so fucking weird…and dumb’ Mikey asks Em when hes gonna apologize to Mel: ‘this is a little fucked up. I mean yeah, it was rude but she also should apologize to him because she has no fucking right to say that to him…*he then goes silent for a really long time*…you know who would’ve appreciated Em calling her a cunt? Brian. He’d laugh.’ ‘Oh Emy. No don’t defend Ted! No no no, you need to save yourself please baby boy! I love you too much to let you go like this!’ ‘BRIAN AND JUSTIN! THEYRE WALKING! Why arent they holding hands? Rude. Exactly Blondie, Bri Bri is right! Your education is important and it’s your ticket out of here! Okay, so you dont care about money but do you care about a house? Food? Health insurance? Exactly, so listen to my boy Bri Bri, and go there and apologize cause sometimes you gotta convince stupid people that they won. And finish your school cause that’s how you go places in lif- *looks at me in absolute horror* oh my god, i sound like dad. I sound like mom AND dad. OH FUCKING SHIT ON A STICK WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED? I mean brian is absolutely right but i dont wanna sound old like that so *whispers softly* fuck school’ ‘THE COP DID IT! Carl stop disappointing me! I kinda had some faith in you and then you ruined it!’ ‘BRIAN WHY ARE YOU BACK AT THE BAR? YOURE GONNA GET YOURSELF KILLED! HEY! BRIAN IS MORE THAN AN ASSHOLE. He is also pretty! shit he is not holding back, going for the kill with the photo. He actually cares a lot about this. BRIAN DO NOT GIVE HIM YOUR NAME. HAVE YOU NEVER SEEN AN EPISODE OF LITERALLY ANY CRIME SHOW?! *looks at me worried* if he gets hurt…no wait, if ANYTHING happens to Brian, i will burn everything to the ground! He has been through enough! *head in his hands at this point* Bri..Baby..Brian… why are you telling him all this..damn, i forgot about the Trump wannabe. *points to tv angrily* HEY! What did i just say? Get your hands off my Bri Bri! *looks at me angrily* NOTHING better happen to him. Not now. Not later. Got it?’

OH MY GOODNESS DEAR SWEET ANON!

They could have weird uncle/nephew potential…..if hunter just stops trying to fuck Brian <- wait until brother (and Hunter) finds out Hunter is straight! I do love the Brian / Hunter dynamic so much. So many iconic lines come out from it. Including THEE SCENE with “you fucked a murderer.”

Brian would appreciate Em calling Mel a cunt. He really would.

Dyingggg over your brother turning into your parents. It comes for us all at some point. I open my mouth and my mother comes out. It’s frightening.

How sweet that your brother is so worried for Brian… but he’s the main character, nothing bad happens to him beyond cancer (with a 99% survival rate) and a broken bone and s5.

[ivenothingtosaybutillsayitanyway]

I’ve seen so many posts and reels about people that felt like they were scammed while traveling in Italy that I’ve felt compelled to make this.

THINGS TO KNOW IF YOU ARE TRAVELING TO ITALY

(source I’m Italian and I travel a lot)

USING PUBLIC TRANSIT

Disclaimer: some things here might seem obvious and/or don’t apply only to Italy, but not everyone is used to take public transit and the Italian is the one Ive seen lot of people shit on

Do I need to validate my ticket?

the most complains I’ve seen were about the need to validate your ticket so here’s a rule of thumb. If the ticket has your name and an assigned seat on it, you won’t have to validate it. This is true for fast trains (frecciarossa and italo) but also all planes, most ferries and some long haul busses.

If your name isn’t written anywhere on it, if you don’t have an assigned seat, if it looks like this

or it has the word “convalidare” anywhere on it, you need to validate it. It works this way on small distance/slow trains (intercity and regionale but also trains like the ones that go around lake Como or the circumvesuviana or the ones that get you from the airport to the city center), city busses, metros and boats that do a bus like service (think vaporettos in Venice). IF THE TICKET HASN’T BEEN VALIDATED YOU WILL BE FINED.

Where can I validate my ticket?

trains and boats:

You’ll find a small machine at the start of the platform that will print the time and place on the ticket. If you don’t find the machine, it doesn’t work or you are running late you can get on the train and write it yourself with a pen.

busses:

The machine is on the bus, usually there’s two, in Rome they’re yellow. The ticket needs to be put in in the right direction, they usually have an arrow on it to help. If the machines are broken and you have a pen, write the time you got on the bus on it. If you don’t have a pen and someone asks to see your ticket TELL THEM the machines didn’t work.

metro:

You cannot get inside the train if you don’t validate your ticket at the turnstile. Usually there are a lot of them one next to the other so it will be very hard to miss.

side note I was writing this on a train (hence the pictures) someone tried to stab someone else. this was supposed to be a ode to public transit. and they made me call the cops. they where, of course, useless. and i am a little shaken. we’re also an hour late. i swear things aren’t always this bad, but be advised that they can be.

Where can I buy a ticket?

train and boats:

All the tickets you don’t need to validate, the ones with your name on it, you can buy online. Trenitalia and Italo, the two main train companies, both have apps you can also use.

All types of train and boat tickets can be bought at the station/port.

metro:

All metro stations have at least a machine where you can buy your ticket. In most cities (if not all) the ticket you buy in the metro stations is also valid for the city’s busses. In Rome you can also just tap you credit/debit card (or smartphone) on certain turnstiles and it will automatically buy a one trip ticket.

bus:

Most busses first/last stop have ticket machines. Central train stations are also a safe bet. If you are walking around the city the Tabacchi (the place where Italians buy cigarettes, you can recognize them by a T sign outside) also sell them.

Being able to buy a ticket inside the bus varies greatly from city to city. In some cities the driver will sell the ticket to you (sometime they’re pricier than the tickets bought at the station, they are not trying to scam you, is because that isn’t the preferred method and they are trying to dissuade people from slowing down the drivers), in others you might find a machine that only takes coins.

In Rome SOME busses have a machine that only accepts electronic payment.

MyCicero is a app that lets you buy a wide array of tickets on it, if you are in a pickle you could always check if they sell what you are looking for.

How do I know when the train/metro/bus will come?

The train station work just as an airport, you have two panels/screens with arrivals (ARRIVI) and departures (PARTENZE). Each row is about a single train and has all the information you need, the train number, the type of train (freccia, italo, intercity, regionale), where it comes from if it is an arrival and where it goes if it’s a departure, the time (it arrives/departs), the various stops it does and in which platform you can find it.

There is also a place for eventual delays.

Sometimes your stop won’t be the train’s last stop so be sure to check the train number (that you can find on you ticket) and the stops written on the PARTENZE screen.

On the metro you will usually find a screen directly on the platform that informs you about when the next train should come.

Busses are a little bit trickier they depart from their terminus on a schedule but with traffic you can never tell. Google maps tries to give you an estimated time of arrival but in my experience it rarely gets it right. I personally use Moovit (I live in Rome, it worked really well in Ischia too), it’s also very good to keep track of where you have to get out. The app has a free version with ads.

On busses you have to ask for the stop, if you are inside the bus there are buttons you can push that will let the driver know they have to stop at the next stop. If you are waiting for the bus and you see it coming you should step on the edge of the sidewalk and put your arm out. If no one tells the driver to stop THE BUS WILL NOT STOP.

Etiquette

This one is just for me but please follow these 3 simple rules because I take busses everyday and I hate most people I commute with.

1. let people get out before you try to get in. there’s limited space inside and the bus/train won’t leave without you but I will elbow a bitch.

2. put your backpack between your legs. once again there’s limited spaces and you are less aware of you backpack if it’s on your back. Big cities are full of pickpockets and that’s the best way to loose your wallet and/or deck someone in the face because you weren’t paying attention

3. for the love of god use headphones/earphones or silence your phone. it’s 7AM i don’t want to listen to the same 15 seconds of the same pop song over and over again.

HOTELS

When you do your check in 2 things will happen in Italy that don’t happen outside of Europe.

Tassa di soggiorno: even if you have already paid for your room you will be asked to pay the sojourn tax also known as the tourism tax. the prices varies from city to city but is usually just a couple of euros per person per night. This is not the hotel trying to scam you, but it stems from the idea that during your stay you are using public services for a city you don’t pay taxes in.

Asking for your ID: you have to give your ID to the hotel and if you’re not from the EU it has to be your passport. The receptionist will either take a picture of it or photocopy it. If you do a self check in you will be asked to send a picture of your ID. They are not trying to steal your identity, by law they have to declare (to the police!) the identity of the people that are renting their rooms. This is for a variety of reasons: it prevents money laundering, the trafficking of people and it makes it harder for people who are evading the law to move around freely.

[kay-elle-cee]

I fell asleep last night before I could you send you these but don't you go thinking I forgot

for the music asks: 102, 91, 88, 78, 79, 59, 51 (or pick the season you'd rather do), 47, 38, 34, 7, 6, 3 <3

The BEHEMOTH! I knew it was coming, yet I’m still drastically unprepared! Going to DO MY BEST.

Under the cut for length

102. What's your most listened-to album?

Receiptify is telling me my top all-time artist is Taylor Swift, so I’m going to have to go with folklore with the HUGE caveat that I have only had Spotify for the last 8 years of my 30-year life and I know for a FACT that A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out probably ranks pretty high.

91. which artist/bands have you seen most live?

In all honesty it’s probably a tie between Paramore and the band my husband toured with for several years (which I will not be naming 🙃). But I believe I’ve seen them both 10 times!

88. most overrated album?

Oh come on! Taste is subjective 😭

78. best songs of the 00s?

Okay I’m gonna do 5, no order:

Anybody by Jesse McCartney

Overprotected by Britney Spears

Typical by Mutemath

For A Pessimist, I’m Pretty Optimistic by Paramore

Northern Downpour by Panic! At the Disco

79. best songs of the 10s?

Again, 5 in no particular order:

Clarity by Zedd

Clean by Taylor Swift

Death By A Thousand Cuts by Taylor Swift

Hard Times by Paramore (very closely neck and neck with 26 from the same album, which I believe are two sides to the same coin)

Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen

59. Song you love to sing

I love to (attempt to) belt Santa Fe from Newsies in the car. But my karaoke go-to is Express Yourself by Madonna.

51. song of summer?

I think mine would have to be either Wet Dream by Wet Leg or What A Time To Be Alive by Fall Out Boy!

47. a song that makes you cry

I don’t know if using a musical is cheating but here I am. I can’t listen to anything that comes after Burn sequentially in Hamilton, and also My Love, My Life from Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again (the way I was AUDIBLY SOBBING in the theater…)

38. Good song for writing

Depends on what I’m writing! I’ll make playlists (like the one I have for my Slytherin Lily fic) BUT it’s not necessarily that I listen WHILE writing. I kind of like silence lately (is this a cop out answer?)

34. Have you ever read fanfic about one of your fave musicians?

*hastily kicks my circa-2009 Jonas Brothers self-insert fanfiction under the bed* Don’t do it, kids!

7. What is your favorite album?

Paramore’s After Laughter!

6. What is your favorite song?

EVER? That’s really tough but I’m going to stick with Last Hope by Paramore.

3. What is your favorite band?

Paramore!

OKAY I think I did it! Thanks for all the asks, Charles! Hopes this gives you a little more insight into my brain 😅

100+ Music Asks

[miekasa]

NICE.

+ pairings: eren yeager + (fem) reader

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

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

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

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

+ word count: 19k. i’m sorry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, baby. I love you.”

“Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Get off my line.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, no—of course not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was almost three thou—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It wasn’t mine, I was—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what’s it matter to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not avoiding him,” you frown.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sound like you speak from personal experience.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“His parents?” Jean cuts you off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you… told Eren yet?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is… is that why you—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiles. “I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink. “I… did you… smuggle weed all the way to France?”

“No, of course not!” he refutes, “…I got it here.”

You scoff, but don’t have the time to question him further before Eren’s tugging on your wrist and pulling you into the bedroom. You take to sitting on your bed while he rummages through his suitcase to retrieve a small, clear jar with several rolled joints inside and a lighter to match.

He shuffles next to you in the bed, mindlessly handing you the lighter while he unscrews the top off the jar. He takes out two of the joints, places one next to the jar on the nightstand, and tucks the other between his teeth. He asks you to hand him the lighter, and you do so wordlessly, distracted by the sight of Eren’s gaze and the blunt poking out his mouth.

“This’ll be fun, yeah?” He reassures you, “Technically, you let Hange take your weed virginity, but I’ll be better.”

“Can you not phrase it like that,” you roll your eyes, “You already took my virginity virginity, don’t be bitter.”

An all too smug grin settles on his features as he recounts the fact. “Besides,” you tack on, “I’ve never done it like this before. So, it’s still a first, kind of.”

Eren cups one hand around the joint, sparking the lighter with the other until it catches fire. He inhales, slow and deliberate, as if he were putting on a show, or a lesson, of sorts, taking the smoke into his lungs and out through his mouth.

You’d gravely miscalculated how attractive Eren would look doing this. Sure, he’s hot, you knew that, but the pronunciation of his jawline when he exhales, and the confidence with which he drags on the blunt is a stark reminder to you. He takes a few more hits, just as slow and sensual as the first, and the room begins to feel warmer.

“Come closer,” be beckons, smoke rolling off of his tongue with every syllable.

You snap yourself out of the haze of your imagination and scoot closer to him. He silently hands you the joint, and it feels heavy between your fingers. At the distance, you take in the smell—pungent and off-putting, but too familiar.

Eventually, you bring it to your lips, careful not to let your tongue press against the tip, and inhale slowly, like you’d seen Eren do before. You do your best to hold the smoke in your lungs for a bit, but seeing as the last time you did this you were amped up on adrenaline and drunk off your ass, the task proves to be much more difficult. It tickles before becoming uncomfortable and you exhale ungracefully, puffs of smoke punctuating your coughs.

Eren watches with a grin, amused at the sight of you fanning the excess smoke away with your nose scrunched in distaste. “You should have warned me you were gonna cough like a bitch.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you whine, trying to hide the hint of a smile creeping onto your face. You hand the blunt back to him, “You’re supposed to teach me, not tease me, asshole.”

Eren pauses his laughter, unsure of what to make of your tone; rushed, a bit embarrassed, but testy. It’s quiet while he stares at you, trying not to let the implication of your words run wild in his mind; but it’s futile when you’re pouting like that, the room is growing foggier, and he’s been semi-hard since you accepted his offer.

“Fine. Watch and learn,” he breathes, words coming out more jagged than he’d intended.

This time, he completely exaggerates every motion; he inhales at a tantalizing pace and flutters his eyes closed while he lets the smoke swish in his mouth, down his throat, and expand into his lungs. He cranes his neck upwards, and purses his lips to let the clouds exit in the streamline that follows the slope of his jaw.

Maybe it’s the drugs getting to you, but your mind is filled with nothing but sheer clouds that aren’t thick enough to block out thoughts of Eren. The weed is unattractive, potent in smell, and all kinds of wrong; yet, everything about him is soft, sultry, and pulls you in.

“Wanna try again, or do you need another lesson?”

You faintly mutter a profanity under your breath. His words end with giggles, a sign the drugs have already begun to take their effect on him, his expression is still smug. You forget Eren knows just how attractive he is. Motherfucker.

“Actually,” he cuts your train of thought, “I have a better idea, come ‘ere.”

Eren beckons you forward again, closing the gap between your legs so that your knees graze each other under the fabric of your clothing while you’re sat next to each other. He leans over, far too close into your personal space, as if to test something; he freezes when his nose is mere inches from your face, a dissatisfied scrunch taking over his features.

He reinstates his hold on your wrist, motioning your body backwards until your back is against the frame of the bed. He hums in approval, positioning himself next to you again, equally as close, but far more comfortable for what he has planned next.

“I’m—I’m gonna try somethin’, okay?” he stutters, the first word mistakenly coming out in broken German, “Just, don’t freak out on me. It’ll be good, promise.”

You nod, unsure of what you’ve just signed off on, but you don’t have time to ask questions. Eren takes another hit, then passes the blunt to his non-dominant hand. He turns to face you, leans forward, and places his free hand on the back of your neck to pull you closer; the expanse of his palm leaving room for his thumb to venture over the bottom half of your cheek.

Eren pulls you in until your lips are millimeters apart, and he can see the pattern of your eyes in beautiful detail. He shifts his hand now so that the majority of it covers your face, the pad of his thumb running across your bottom lip. He applies the perfect amount of pressure to pry your willing mouth open, and then, finally, exhales.

This time, you can taste it. It’s woodsy, and bitter, but the sweet undertones dance on your tongue. This time, there’s more to think about than just the smoke in your lungs; like the burn of Eren’s hand on your neck; the pressure of his thumb against your bottom lip; the proximity of his lips to yours; the look in his eyes.

“Feel good?” he doesn’t bother to pull away before asking, and the words ghost over your lips with the remaining smoke. You nod; he smiles. “Wanna try again?”

You let out a breathy note of affirmation, and then he’s inhaling and exhaling into you, and you welcome him with pried lips and a heavy thumping in your chest. The confidence with which he maneuvers his body and the drugs is nerve-wracking, yet comforting at the same time; he has an expertise and power that intimidates, but compels you to follow.

Together, you finish the first blunt, and Eren lights the second without missing a beat. His hands are more demanding this around; they guide you into submission, and he’s pleased to find that you’re willing to listen.

After the third exhale, you stop focusing on his hands, and more on his lips. After the fourth, you think you might be high—not to the stars as you infamously were during Moblit’s party—but with a comfortable, dull buzz in your head. Everything feels a little fuzzy, out of touch, but you host a burning want for something more, something tangible.

You don’t know it, but Eren feels the same.

After the fifth exhale, Eren pulls away, the blunt a simple stub as he flicks it away onto the night stand, and you miss him being too close. You miss his hands, you miss his warmth, you crave his touch.

“Eren,” you call, unable to think of or see anything but him in the haze. He answers with a strained, “Yeah?” keening towards the sound of your voice, wide eyes flitting all over your face.

It’s too much, too close, too hot. That’s when you cup his jaw, pull him forward, and meld your lips together.

Kissing Eren is painfully familiar, and unnervingly satisfying. It’s certainly not your first kiss with him; and, yet he has a way of making you feel like it is while reminding you of your history. His lips are soft, and they taste like smoke and the chapstick you swear by because he refuses to buy or test out his own.

You pull away too soon, gauging his reaction with blown-out eyes, before dipping forward to have him against you again. Then again, and again, and again, until Eren is tired of your leaving, and his hands are back on your neck.

This kiss is deeper, Eren searching to satisfy the hunger aching inside of him, and you’re happy to comply when his thumb is pressing at your lower lip again. You open your mouth for him and he doesn’t waste a moment, brushing his tongue against yours experimentally, and then flush into your mouth.

He groans when you rake your fingers into his hair, and pulls back with a hissing noise when you scratch at his nape. Large hands move to grip at your waist, and he pulls you into his lap with a concentrated gaze—a brief second for him to admire the sight of you on top of him, before he resumes kissing you. He sucks on your tongue, rolls his past your teeth, and bites on your bottom lip.

You know he relishes in the sounds he elicits from you, and under any normal circumstance, you’re willing to put up a fight with him, but not now. Now, you let him unzip the back of your dress and snake his hands beneath the fabric. The rubbing motions of his hands turn into gripping, gripping into grinding, and eventually, an unfiltered moan slips past your lips when you feel Eren’s erection roll against you.

“Fuck,” he pulls back with a suck of your swollen lip, “You’re so hot.”

Eren quickly switches your positions so that he’s hovering over you. You chuckle lightly underneath him, taking the opportunity to run both your hands through his hair and cradle his head in your hold, “Haven’t done anything yet.”

“I know,” Eren murmurs, dipping his head down to press kisses into your neck, “Still so sexy. So pretty, always.”

Eren bites a hickey into your collar bone, and everywhere he can touch; your neck, your ears, your cheeks, your lips. Your moaning serves as the spark to keep him going, but he’s barely coherent himself the way you keep pulling at his hair and grinding yourself against him. Even through his clothes, you can feel how painfully hard he is.

He barely catches your tongue between his lips when you moan again, sucking harshly before bruising his lips over yours again. His hands are grabby again, finally pulling your dress completely off of your body, leaving it to form a puddle on the ground. They’re back on your as soon as possible, massaging over your tits, and running his index finger over your nipples.

“Eren... Eren, please,” you whimper, chest heaving as you look down at him. He rolls his index finger over your right nipple, with his left hand teasing the other with his thumb. You can’t tell if the look in his eyes is a product of the weed, or just his glassy, borderline predatory stare, but it makes you shiver with pleasure when he wraps his mouth around your nipple and sucks.

“I want you.”

“Want you, too,” Eren hums, pulling back with a thin trail of spit from your breast, before moving to give your left nipple the same treatment, “More than you know.”

You keen to him when he teases his teeth against you, finally having had enough you force him off of you with a tug of his hair. “Then take off your clothes.”

Eren blinks, wide-eyed but glazed all the same. He chuckles lightly, a blush spreading over his cheeks as he nods. He sits back on his knees, pulling his shirt over his head, forgoing undoing the buttons, and pauses briefly with his hands over the zipper of his pants.

“Please tell me you’re not that gone that you forgot how to undo your zipper,” you tease him, chest still heaving from his previous ministrations. Eren smiles, doe-eyed and hazy, and shakes his head.

“No,” he reassures you, finally undoing his zipper and shimmying his pants off his legs, “Was trying to remember what underwear I was wearing. Didn't want it to be embarrassing.”

His honesty makes you laugh, and Eren pauses for a moment to soak it in. Even like this, even with him stumbling over the steps to undress himself, and you almost completely naked in front of him, he can make you smile. There’s something equally sexy and endearing about your giggles; a juxtaposition that makes him want to hug you or kiss you or something in between. And you—you like the look in his eyes even through your giggling; the way he smiles back and blushes and tells you exactly what he’s thinking.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, “Don’t think mine are particularly sexy either.”

Eren hums, shuffling back on to the bed so that he’s between your legs, and leans forward to kiss you again. He still can’t seem to keep his hands off of you, his fingers immediately flying to your underwear and peeling them off your legs, pulling you closer despite the lack of space between your bodies.

“Yeah, doesn’t matter,” Eren echos, tossing the offending item to the side, before cupping your face in his hands, “I’d still wanna fuck you in your granny panties.”

“You wanna fuck me?” you question, eyes sparkling and hopeful.

“Yeah, I do,” Eren can’t help but to smile again, happy and high and drunk on you, too, “Will you let me?”

Your feverish nodding is all it takes for Eren’s mind to go hazy again; clouded with you, you, you. You pull him into a kiss, arching your body into his, and running your hands down the sides of his back. He moans at the feeling, punishing you by nipping at your lower lip and pressing your stomach back to the mattress with his palm.

Your eyes meet his as Eren lines himself up with your cunt, teasing your folds with the head; but it doesn’t take long before he finally pushes in, sheathing himself inside you completely without movement. He waits a minute, whether it’s to make you comfortable, or to gather his own bearings, you’re not sure; but when he’s ready, he flashes you a smile and waits for one in return, before he starts thrusting.

You know Eren’s not gentle; rough whether or not he intends to be by virtue of his size in comparison to you, but you seem to have forgotten just how capable he is of making you lose your senses. He has you gasping, grasping at him at him unintelligibly, feeling full with his cock inside of you.

Eren groans, borderline growls, when he feels you clench around him, when he sees you shaking beneath him. He could do this all; could watch you all day.

“So pretty, the prettiest. Prettiest girl, my favorite girl,” Eren praises, eyes raking up and down your thrashing body, “My favorite fucking girl.”

“You—you, too.”

“Yeah? I’m your favorite, too?” Eren coos, reaching out to guide your arms over your head, the force of his body pinning your hands down; you can hardly gasp before he lacess your fingers together, and gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“Promised you, didn’t I? That I’d be good to you, be on my best behavior,” Eren reminds you, leaning forward.

He eyes your necklace—eyes glued to ring around it—bouncing with your body. He bends his head down to kiss it, bites at the skin near it; a possessive streak overcoming him as the diamonds shine against you. “I said I’d treat you good, always. Meant it.”

He stutters, when you squeeze him back; fingers tightening around his hold, your pussy clenching around his cock. Your whining is insistent, and mixes with Eren’s low moans and guttural noises. Eren doesn’t let up his pace, fucking you fast and deep, and it’s only a matter of time before you feel a knot twisting in your belly.

You attempt to move your arms, searching for a release of the feeling building up inside of you but Eren is strong; stronger than you, and he keeps you in your place. Keeps your arms pinned above you, keeps his palms pressed into yours, keeps his lips hovering above yours, just out of reach.

“Eren,” you call his name through shaky moans.

“Yeah? What, baby?”

“Kiss me.”

And so he does, his lips needy and hungry over yours. Eren fucks you and kisses you through your orgasm, tasting your moans on his tongue in timing with him cumming inside of you. You don’t let up; kissing him lewdly while you both come down from your highs.

“So good,” Eren croons against your lips, down your jaw, into your skin, “So good for me.”

You both moan in chorus when he finally pulls out, Eren’s head laying on your collar, nose nuzzling into your neck. He lets your hands free, and immediately you wrap them around his back, holding him close as you both attempt to catch your breaths.

You don’t know how long you lay there like that, with Eren on top of you, and your thumb rubbing circles into his cheek while he sleeps soundly. Maybe an hour, maybe more, maybe less; but the euphoria of your sex doesn’t quiet seem to fade.

It might last all night, maybe even for the rest of your trip but you don’t mind. You think back to earlier in the evening, when you’d caught his gaze after your dance. The feeling isn’t all that different; warm, and fuzzy, and too much and not enough all at once. It feels good, it feels like Eren.

You hum softly to yourself, careful not to wake up the sleeping boy on your chest, when you realize exactly what these two moments have in common: a rare event in which Eren is still in front of you, steady and stagnant, no running or chasing; and you don’t want to let him go.

Sometimes Eren thinks you act oblivious on purpose just to fuck with him, because there’s absolutely no way you—or any human with a functioning nervous system and social cues—can’t tell that he’s completely, stupidly, and embarrassingly in love with you.

Long gone are his days of trying to deny it or get over it. He realized that sophomore year of high school—almost eight years ago—that no matter where he went, what kind of drug he inhaled, or how hard he tried, you’d be permanently etched into his heart. That doesn’t make it any less exhausting, and, in fact, only makes it more astounding that you haven’t caught on yet. Honestly, Eren’s considered hiring a private psychiatrist just to make nothing’s wrong with you.

Amazingly, the remainder of your vacation continues just like the former half. The only exception being that now you’re in Paris. And that he’s shamelessly coerced you into letting him fuck your brains out on several occasions. But besides that, everything’s chill.

Just two best friends traveling through France together and stopping to fuck in any semi-private location they can find. Just two peas in a pod walking along the Champs Elysées at damn near midnight. Just two best buds with linked arms tasting (see: feeding each other) every macaron flavor they come across while violinists play stupidly romantic, classical music in the background.

He knows he should probably talk to you about it, but for some reason he can’t. Like telling you would make it all too real, and give it a meaning that could so easily be taken away from him; give you a reason to want to leave him. Right now, it’s just a fantasy, and he’s free to keep dreaming, believing that he’s special and worth enough for the affection you’ve shown him.

He doesn’t want to be one in a list of your boyfriends, or fiances, or husbands; he wants to be your only one, and if he can’t be, then he’d rather be stuck to your side as your best friend. At least that way, in someway, he could remain special to you; not a forgotten, ordinary ex of your past.

Though, a best friend who he’s sleeping with regularly and he’s in love with and will always be in love with is starting to sound a lot like a husband to him. At least, the kind of husband he would like to be to you.

You call his name, asking him if he wants to try another sweet. Eren rolls his eyes. What he wants is to fuck you, and marry you, and have you bless his stupid little existence with two runts for kids that look like him but act like you so his life savings don’t run out by the time they’re twelve. But sure, he’ll settle for having you feed him another macaron in the meantime.

“This one tastes just like the coconut one,” he mumbles, chewing his way through the pastry you’d stuffed into his mouth whole.

It’s the seventh bakery you’ve stopped at tonight, and even though Eren’s growing pretty sick of the sugary treats, he’ll walk with you to every damn bakery in Paris tonight if that’s what you want.

He blinks at the thought. He’s so lovesick it’s disgusting. And he wouldn’t do a damn thing to change it.

“That’s probably because it’s almond and coconut flavored,” you say, wiping the stickiness from your fingers onto a napkin.

“I didn’t taste any almonds.”

“I don’t even think you could spell almond, much less tell me what they taste like.”

Eren simply pouts in refute, leaving you giggling at his expression. He doesn’t know if it’s possible, but you seem even prettier in Paris than in Nice. But, that’s probably his rose-colored glasses speaking.

“You think there’ll be macarons at the reception?” you question, biting into yet another pistachio flavored treat, “And if not, would it be rude to bring my own?”

He chuckles. “Yes, babe, I’m sure there will be macarons there.”

He’s always loved Paris, even when his mom moved away here and left him in New York, and he’d always loved it more when you’re with him. He feared that having to attend another, what he considered to be wasteful, wedding in arguably one of his favorite places in the world would leave a bitter taste in his mouth; but, thankfully, he’s only fallen deeper in love since being here.

“You sure you won’t be sick of them by tomorrow?” he asks, watching you debate between taste testing another variation of vanilla bean or rosé.

“How could I get sick of them?” you answer offhandedly, not sparing him a glance away as you choose the pink snack. How could he get sick of you.

“By the time we get back to New York you’ll have forgotten all about them,” he scoffs.

“Don’t worry I’ll quit it soon. I’ll have to eat something solid if I wanna take my meds and go to bed,” you spew with a smile, unaware of what you’ve actually just said, “But they are delicious and I have no regrets.”

Eren pauses. Then so do you, mouth stuffed with sickly sweet.

“I mean—”

“I know, you know,” he cuts you off, “About the meds and stuff.”

You look like you could pass out, or scream, or cry, or everything in between. Eren figures saying more is better than saying less, so he continues.

“I saw a bottle in the bathroom a few months ago,” he admits shyly, but careful about his tone, “Didn’t understand half the words on the label, but it had your name on it so I just, uh… Googled it.”

Of course he knows. Eren’s always kind of known, just never had the words to express it. He imagines that’s what you’re feeling right now.

“Oh,” you finally gape, “Why didn’t you, um… you know, like, say… anything?”

“It seemed like your secret to tell,” Eren shrugs, features softening out, “Besides, I figured you’d tell me when you wanted to.”

Eren’s always been better at showing than saying, anyway. He hopes that his actions, small as they may seem, might have provided you with any sort of comfort in the past few months. Maybe even before that, too.

“Oh,” you repeat, continually blinking at him, “That’s… that’s it? You’re cool with it?”

Now it’s Eren’s turn to blink. “What do you mean am I cool with it? They’re your meds.”

“Yeah, but like… you’re not mad I didn’t tell—”

“Of course I’m not mad,” he cuts you off with a soft smile, “It’s not really my business. I mean, like, you’re my business because I care about you, but you have your own private stuff, too, which is cool. Besides, when I was, uh, researching it, I learned that it can be hard to tell people stuff like that even if—”

Eren shuts up when he feels your weight against him and your arms wrapped around him. Shell shocked, he takes a moment to hug you back, and slowly comes to rest his chin atop your head after leaving a flurry of kisses.

“You didn’t have to look it up or do any kind of research, you know,” you mumble softly into his jacket. Eren borderline chortles, but only hugs you more tightly.

“Of course I did. If not for you, then for myself, because I meant it when I said I’d never seen half the words on the prescription before in my life,” he replies, heart glowing at the sound of your small chuckles.

He’s expecting an equally witty response, but you surprise him when you pull back just enough to face him, a hazy smile on your face. “You’re amazing, Eren.”

Don’t blush, fool. Don’t blush, fool. Don’t blush—fucking idiot.

“Yeah, I’m pretty great,” he boasts, leaning back into the coolest pose he could muster up while ignoring the growing heat creeping up his neck. It’s all in vain as you reach over to playfully tug at one of his ears.

He thinks you’re pretty like this. All the time, but most notably when he has you in his arms. So pretty, that he has to lean forward to kiss you; you don’t seem to mind, if the way you smile into the kiss is any indication of your feelings. Eren finds himself mirroring your grin; moving his arms from around your waist to the sides of your face.

The workers in this poor little café probably hate the two of you, but he doesn’t fucking care. He’s got his favorite girl in his arms right now, and you taste like almonds and coconuts and like the love of his life.

And he should tell you. Eren wants to tell you, and he finds himself wondering if those same intrusive, fearful thoughts were part of the driving force behind your own reason to keep your secrets from him.

You pull away from him, hands lightly draped around his neck, and you smile like you’re shy—like he hasn’t known you your whole life. Still, Eren finds himself smiling back; and thinks that if you were brave enough to tell him how you were feeling, then he should do the same.

“(_____), I… I gotta tell you something,” he starts, voice soft as his fingers curl around your waist a little more tightly, “Though, I’m kind of hoping you already know.”

You blink at him, almost innocently. Eren bites the inside of his jaw; you’re going to have to stop doing that before he jumps you again.

Better now than never, he supposes. He tries to shake his nerves when he takes your hands in his, completely covering them with his palms, and closes his eyes. Despite that, you try to offer him comfort, squeezing his fingers as best you can; and Eren takes that moment to thank his lucky stars for whoever decided to put you in his life. Because he knows that no matter what, even if he royally fucks this up, you’ll find some way to be there for him.

He slowly blinks his eyes open again, gaze resting on the ring around your neck. A faded chuckle escapes his lips when looks at it. The only one who got the wrong idea about his gift was you. But, he supposes that’s his fault; he never did explain it, after all.

“It’s nothing… It’s just that, I’m in—”

But Eren’s startled by a voice that makes him freeze. He almost wants to believe he misheard it, but he can hear the telltale clacking of vintage heels on the floor of the bakery and he knows that he didn’t mishear a thing.

Eren turns his head, and sure enough, there is his mother, in all her five foot glory, adorned in designer clothing from her beret to her shoes. With a fucking street urchin on her arm.

“Well, well, well, what a lovely surprise,” Carla beams, red lipstick perfectly in place even after a long day of wear.

Eren’s eyebrows draw together, as he takes in his mother and her fiancé standing in front of him. He can just barely register you calling out towards her, carefully maneuvering yourself off of his lap, and into the neighboring chair; but still keeping your right hand wrapped around his left. He can feel you squeeze it—whether to give him comfort, or warning, he’s not sure yet; probably both.

“It’s so good to see you!” you beam, excitedly offering her and Mitchell a seat across from the two of you at the table. Eren opens his mouth to refute, but you squeeze his hand again; a warning.

Carla leans forward to encase you in a hug, exchanging cheek kisses, and leaving Eren to stare at the street rat across from him. Mitchell seems to know better than to make eye contact with him, irises scattering from Carla’s back to the décor of the bakery while the two girls catch up.

“We missed you at the rehearsal dinner on Sunday,” Carla recounts, eyes fluttering to Eren’s briefly. One look into her son’s eyes, and she understands why; one look into his mother’s eyes, and Eren knows she has him all figured out. “I was worried you might not show at all.”

Eren strategically averts your gaze when you turn your head towards him, choosing to look at his mother instead.

“I didn’t even know there was a rehearsal dinner,” you tell her, tone polite, but Eren can hear the clear jab directed towards him, “I’m sorry, I—we would have gone, otherwise.”

“No need to apologize, darling,” Carla smiles, “I’m sure you two were very busy.”

“We were,” Eren cuts in, words definite. He sees a hint of surprise flash in his mother’s eyes briefly, expertly covered up with her sweet demeanor. She only nods in understanding, sitting back a bit to wrap her arm around Mitchell’s.

“What are you even doing here, Ma?” Eren questions, even as you do the same with his hands under the table, “Isn’t it bad luck to see the groom before the wedding.”

“After the third or fourth wedding, you grow tired of pleasantries and superstitions, my love,” she replies, “This place makes Mitchell’s favorite macarons, we thought we’d share a few before the big day. Maybe get some tea as a pre-celebration.”

The topic of sweets has you speaking up once again, engaging both his mother and Mitchell in a discussion about them, and your other findings from bakery hopping earlier. If Eren didn’t love you to pieces, he would have left the table a long time ago.

It carries on much longer than he can bear to endure; almost an hour of you, and his mother, and Mitchell making pleasant conversation while he tries his best not to brood beside you, but it’s futile. He feels like a little kid again. Stuck at the dinner table with his mother and a man he was being forced to get to know, only for him to become a stranger to him in a matter of months.

Eren grinds his teeth into each other when you laugh at something Mitchell says. He’s not going to sit through his any longer; or ever again.

“Well, this has been fun,” Eren says, voice blatantly monotonous as his cuts through the conversation, “But we should all probably head back go to bed. Big day tomorrow.”

“Eren, we should—” but, he stands up quickly, hand wrapping around yours to force you upwards too.

He doesn’t care to look at you, knowing the dissatisfied expression he’ll be met with. He fishes for his wallet and pulls out too many Euros, neatly tucking them under an unused knife to pay for the meal.

Eren’s steps out from between his chair and the table. “We’ll see you guys tomorr—” But is stopped before he can take three steps away.

His mother’s hand wrapped around his wrist. She stands, significantly shorter than Eren’s full height. “Actually, Eren, could I borrow you for a bit?”

And he doesn’t want to, because he knows exactly the conversation waiting for him. But he looks down at her, lets his eyes flicker to you, and back to her, and he knows he doesn’t have the heart to walk away. Not even if he tried.

He sighs with a shallow nod. He can feel your hand on his shoulder, the proud smile on your lips when you tell him that you’ll meet him back at your hotel. Mitchell ensures him and Carla that he’ll make sure you get back safely, and Eren still can’t stand the guy, but he’s grateful that he can at least be of use for something.

Eren kisses you on the forehead briefly, a promise to you and himself that he’ll finish his confession later. After all, he probably should come to terms with the woman who taught him what love is before he vowed to love you for the rest of his life.

The walk to his mother’s hotel is silent, Eren choosing to keep to himself, hands stuffed in his pockets to prevent his mom from holding them. He’s probably acting like a child, but isn’t that what he is to her; isn’t that she treats him as.

“Look, Ma, you don’t need my approval to marry him,” Eren grumbles, when they finally exit the elevator into the hotel room, “It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Of course I don’t,” Carla offers him a small grin, even if he won’t look at her directly, “But it matters to me.”

“Why does it matter now? It didn’t matter with Keith, or Henry, or Henri with an I, or any of the others,” Eren mumbles, reluctantly taking a seat on the stool opposite the vanity.

His mother tracks his movements with soft eyes and an amused grin as Eren absentmindedly bends a knee and begins to fiddle with the hem of his pants. Just like he used to when he was upset as a child.

“It mattered then, too, Eren,” she tells him, sitting on the stool and facing him.

He’s surprised by her words, his wide eyes giving him away even if he attempts to act unfazed. “It didn’t seem like it.”

Carla opens her mouth to speak, but closes it, words stuck in her throat. She watches Eren’s hunched figure, her tall son not even bothering to look her in the eyes. She exhales slowly; if he were five feet smaller, he’d have tucked himself under her arm, still refusing to look at her, but he’d have snuggled his head into her side while he pouted anyway.

“I suppose it didn’t,” she admits, “In the end, the love wasn’t enough to make it last, then.”

Eren is quiet for a bit at that, pulling at his pants leg. “And… and you love him enough, now?”

“It’s more than love, Eren. It’s... happiness—for yourself and another person—it’s being okay with somebody knowing you now, and forever. Whichever version of you that is.”

“Then why did you marry them before?” Eren asks, “If you knew it wasn’t enough, if you knew it was just going to end up as another big mistake.”

“Maybe the marriages were a mistake, and some of what came with them, but I don’t think the feelings were,” Carla muses, “Love is never wasted.”

“How can you say that?” Eren questions, disbelief and exasperation painted on his face, “Of course it is—you wasted your time, and your money, and your—your everything on those people who couldn’t care less about you now!”

“Eren—”

“You let them into our house,” Eren speaks over her, “You let them into your life, and they left. They always left—”

“Eren—”

“—And you even let some of them come back! Everyone, you let everyone have another chance, another anniversary, another wedding,” He’s ranting, crying, hot, irrational tears streaming down his face; hiccups interrupting his speech, “So—so, so if it’s not wasted and everyone gets another chance and another chance and another chance—why didn’t he come back, huh? For his?”

Eren’s standing now, arms flailing every which way during his breakdown, but his mother doesn’t try to stop him. She lets him continue, hears him out.

“If it’s love—if it’s not wasted, and it’s real—then why didn’t he come back? Why didn’t he want to? Why—why didn’t he want me? Why did I end up the bastard?”

Eren looks his mother in the eyes for the first time in the duration of their conversation with that final question; with his vision blurry, and chest heaving, and cheeks wet. Carla has no words to say; can only carefully open her arms, and wait for her son to come crashing into them. And he does; and it rains and pours, and Eren holds onto his mother for dear life, and onto the pieces of her breaking heart.

“Am I not good enough to have that kind of love?” Eren asks through tears, “Am I not special enough to want to know?”

“Eren,” she finally speaks, moving to cradle his head in her hands, “You don’t have to be special or good, to be known or loved. It’s enough that you were born. That’s enough to make you deserving of love.”

She doesn’t mind the tears against her palms or the hiccups of Eren’s breathing, “And you already have it.”

And Eren looks at her with eyes wide and wild like a child, staring at the first person to have ever loved someone as messed up, and plain, and ordinary as him; and he can feel more tears bubbling at his eyes.

“Ma, I’m—I’m so sorry,��� he chokes out, wrapping his arms around her even tighter, chin resting on her shoulder while his shake through his tears, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Carla hugs her son as close as she can, like he’s five years old and the apple of her eye and she can take all his pain away. “You don’t have to be. You’re my son, and I’ll love you always.”

It feels like they have all the time in the world like that, to hug and cry and apologize; but Carla hopes Eren knows that he was always forgiven; that he never had anything to apologize for in the first place.

“She loves you, too, baby,” she coos, holding Eren as tight as possible, “But you have to let her know that. That you accept it.”

“Do you think she knows?” Eren asks, words muffled into the fabric of her clothing, “That I love her, too?”

“I do,” Carla confirms, pulling away to look at Eren in the eyes; his beautiful, shining, green eyes, “But I don’t think that either of you really realized it. I mean, you did give her an engagement ring, darling.”

Eren huffs at the memory, “She thought it was a gift.”

“Because you gave it to her as a gift.”

“I thought it was pretty obvious.”

“Love has a way of making people blind,” Carla muses, “Especially two lovesick semi-adults with too much money on their hands.”

Eren’s cheeks grow pink at the accusation, “It’s your money!”

“Yes, and I’m very happy to have it,” Carla chuckles, motioning for Eren to stand up. He does, and she looks up at him with glimmering, proud eyes. “Now, go, shoo. You have a girl to propose to, don’t you? There might be two Jaeger weddings this weekend.”

Eren nods, certain of himself for the first time in a while. He turns on his heel with a vigor igniting his footsteps, but pauses when he reaches the elevator. He makes a sharp turn, running back to his mom one last time, and squeezing her suddenly, and tightly against him.

“I love you, mom,” he says; the words too foreign on his tongue, and he vows to not let them be a stranger to his vocabulary from here on out.

“I love, you, too, Eren,” Carla calmly wraps her arms around her son one last time, “And I always will.”

You half-expected your walk back to your hotel with Mitchell to be painfully awkward, but he proves to be a pleasant conversationalist, even in Carla’s absence.

You know that Eren isn’t fond of him, but you wish that he would at least give him a chance. There’s no way to know if a marriage—if any relationship—will last forever, but, sometimes, you think it’s not about knowing about forever; but, rather about wanting it to make it there; about willing to go the distance with that person.

You can see that want, that willingness that works alongside love in Mitchell and Carla’s relationship, that stands out from her past marriages. You get the feeling they’re going to last; and that, most importantly, they both want it to, too.

It’s quiet out as you both walk the streets of Paris, Mitchell taking the time to point out small notes in architecture that interest you. You readjust your jacket as a gust of wind washes over you, careful to make sure your necklace doesn’t snag against your clothing.

“That’s a beautiful ring,” he calls to you gently.

“Thank you,” Surprised, you quickly let out an embarrassed cough, looking down to your left hand resting atop the uppermost button on your coat. “It was a gift.”

“I meant that one,” Mitchell corrects, carefully gesturing to his own neck to indicate that he was talking about the ring on your necklace, and not the one on your finger.

“Oh, thank you,” you repeat, “That one was actually a gift, too.”

The older man hums, continuing your walk to your hotel. “Must have been one hell of a gift. I don’t know many people who give out engagement rings as presents.”

“Oh, no, no, no, it wasn’t—it’s not an engagement ring,” you tell him, feeling a warmth creep up your cheeks even in the chilly atmosphere of the night, “Eren gave it to me, actually, a few years ago—it was a Christmas gift.”

“Eren, huh?” Mitchell smiles fondly, “That makes sense. Carla tells me how much he cares about you.”

“You—she does?” you stutter. Mitchell nods. “I—I mean, I care about him, too.”

“Enough to accept an engagement ring from him, it seems,” Mitchell taunts, “I’m no specialist, but I know a Harry Winston piece when I see it. They’re not cheap.”

“Trust me, I know,” you scoff, “I almost killed him when I saw how much he spent on it.”

“And you took it, anyway?”

“Well, he—he was supposed to return it,” you defend yourself, “Because I didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea! But he just, well, he gave me the other one instead, so I wear that one on my hand.”

Mitchell pauses, just as you both stand to the entrance of your hotel. “And what was the wrong idea you didn’t want people getting.”

“That... that...,” you pause, thinking back to that Christmas day.

Even though Eren is known for spending ludacris amounts of money, the ring came as a genuine surprise to you. A couple thousand on shoes, sure—you’re victim to that yourself; a couple hundred thousand on a lavish vacation wasn’t out of the ordinary, either; but a million, maybe even more, on a ring that you could have only ever asked of him in your dreams was another thing completely.

And, sure, even a few million didn’t mean much to you or Eren at the end of the day, but it wasn’t just the price; it was the object of the money, too. To accept a house, or a car, or a jet for that amount is something you could rationalize; but a ring seemed foreign, and far out of your league.

Then there was the display and value it held beyond money. It’s beautiful, gorgeous, but more than that, it’s tailored to your exact liking. The synthesis of your aesthetic and everything you could ask for, garnished with the memory of Eren in the very design; the diamonds you love, the flowers that remind him of you, and the way they stems wrap around each other and the petals meet in the middle.

A small gasp leaves your lips and instinctively, you reach to clutch the ring in your hold. There was no way this was an engagement ring... Eren hadn’t proposed to you when he gave it to you—in fact, he was so casual about it, that it had you stunned that he hadn’t thought to consider that other people might think it meant something more than what he intended it to be.

But, looking back, it seems like you’re the only one who didn’t understand what was going on. Because Eren told you, even then, that he’d wanted you forever; you didn’t know how to hear him. It was all right there—not just in the ring, but in all his gifts, in the entirety of your friendship.

Eren loves you, more than you could ever know.

“It’s an engagement ring,” you say aloud, but more to yourself than to Mitchell, “Oh my god, it’s an engagement ring.”

Mitchell can’t do anything but smile at your revelation. You’re practically bouncing off the walls, connecting the puzzle pieces of your relationship in the middle of the street at damn near midnight, but you don’t care; because it finally feels right, and it finally, finally all makes sense.

“He, but he never pro—oh my fucking god, I’m going to kill him.”

You feel elated and confused and happy and murderous all at once. Eren wanted to marry you; Eren loved you. He wants you for the rest of his life, and you’ve been too blind to see it this entire time.

Still, you think that maybe a verbal proposal might have helped to open your eyes a bit.

“Mitchell, I have to—”

You’re cut off by the echo of your name coming from the opposite end of the street, and you can just barely make out of Eren’s figure in the faded lights of the street lamps. His name falls from your lips like a whisper, and you hardly register Mitchell’s amused, soft laughter from beside you.

“I think that’s my cue,” he says, patting you on the shoulder, “I better get back to Carla. Something tells me you two have a bit to talk about.”

You can barely nod at him, eye still wide and stunned, but a smile on your face even in your fearful anticipation. You don’t have time to thank him before he turns away, bidding you goodnight; and then you have something else to focus on, as Eren’s footsteps grow louder, and his silhouette grows sharper the closer he gets to you.

He practically crashes into you, chest heaving, hair wind-swept and wild from his running. He puts his hands on your shoulders, to steady himself physically and mentally, labored breaths ghosting over the top of your head.

“Hi,” he finally squeaks; and that stupid, big, dopey grin is on his face.

It’s ridiculous, so utterly ridiculous that you can’t help but greet him back. The two of you stand there, smiling like fools for god knows how long, before the realization strikes you for a second time.

Eren opens his mouth to finally speak, but a pained squeal leaves his lips instead as he feels the back of your hand slap his chest. “Ouch—hey, what was that for!”

“What the hell do you think you were doing proposing to me without telling me?” you screech, packing another punch to his chest for good measure, but it’s a poor barrier and does nothing to stop your tears from falling, “You’re an idiot, I should kill you for this, you know that, Eren Jaeger?”

Eren laughs softly, only to be heard by you in close proximity. He takes your offending hand in his, and reaches for your other, pulling both of them between your bodies. He can feel tears welling in his own eyes, as he looks down at the necklace, glimmering perfectly under the moonlight.  

“In my defense, the first thing you told me to do when I gave it to you was to return it.”

“I might not have said that if you told me what it meant,” you can hardly choke out a laugh through your tears; and Eren can’t stop his from falling either, “It’s insane, you know. This whole thing—to ask me to marry you at 19. For me to not realize until we’re 21.”

“I know,” Eren agrees, inching closer even though there’s barely any room between you, “I know. But I know I love you, every version of you. I always have, I always will.”

You close your eyes as Eren’s hands move to your face, gingerly sweeping your tears away from your cheeks. He feels too close, it feels like too much; but you don’t want him to move.

“You know... if you had asked me, then,” you start, blinking your eyes open with a sniffle; you’re met with Eren’s emerald greens one with far too much hope and love glimmering in them, “I—I don’t even know what I would have said.”

“And if I asked you now?”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, slowly raising your hands to wrap around Eren’s wrist, and lower them to your neck, before looking at him again, “Ask me.”

Eren blinks, carefully trailing his hands up and around your neck, nimble fingers undoing the clasp of your necklace. He hardly lets the chain pool into his hand before it’s tossed aside, and the ring is still between his thumbs and index fingers as he lowers himself on to one knee.

“You are the love of my life, and there’s not a single version of life—a single version of you, or me—where I don’t want to be with you forever,” Eren says, “And you know how shit I am with my words, but I fucking mean it. I swear to you, that I’ll do my best every day to show you how much you mean to me; marry me, and I’ll prove it to you, I swear, I will.”  

Your lips are wobbling at Eren’s confession below you, and you can just barely beckon him upwards in your state. He’s hardly back on two feet before you’re pulling him against you, ghosting the word “yes” on his lips before you kiss him.

You both melt into the kiss, Eren’s hands skillfully cupping your cheeks, while he keeps the ring in his hold and bruises your lips together.

“You don’t have to prove it to me, Eren,” you assure him, hand shaking when you pull apart and let him slip the ring onto your finger—where it belongs, “You already have.”

For his first birthday as a married man, Eren requested something intimate. He wanted just a small celebration with all of your mutual friends, some good food, alcohol, and lots of fun.

Supposedly simple and intimate for him entailed renting out the top floor of the Whitney, which was currently encasing an exhibit portraying some kind of abstract modern art that allowed for a very drunk Eren and Armin have to entertain themselves by trying their best to recreate the paintings using very flawed couples aerial yoga.

The art, paired with the dimmed lighting, Jean’s choice selection of overtly sexual music, and Eren’s pick of overpriced champagne also meant that Marco, Bertholdt, Connie, and Sasha found everything ten times funnier than they were—which meant they were a million times louder than usual.

Jean stands next to you by the bar, watching as Eren attempts to hold Armin above his head by holding on to just his waist. They’re unsuccessful, of course, resulting in both boys toppling onto the ground as the majority of their older friends laugh along.

“Lucky me, I get to take him home at the end of the night,” you drawl, turning to the bartender to order another drink.

She smiles, easily preparing your martini and sliding it you with an inquiry. “That’s your boyfriend? The tall one with the brown hair?”

“No,” you sigh, eyes closed for a moment before taking the glass between your fingers. “That’s my husband, unfortunately.”

× even more notes: this fic. is my baby. it’s been a draft of mine for over two years at this point. it’s gone through various fandoms but i’ve never quite been able to complete and post it, so i’m very happy that it’s finally here! i hope you all enjoyed, and i just wanted to say that i’m glad to finally have been able to share this with you all!

[vquacki]

It's My Fatherly Duties!

It's My Fatherly Duties!

Short DAD Scenarios 

Characters: BONTEN - Rindou Haitani, Ran Haitani, Sanzu Haruchiyo

~ Inui Seishu, Kokonoi Hajime, Izana Kurokawa, 

~ Souya Kawata (Angry), Nahoya Kawata (Smiley)

Warning ⚠︎︎ : Mature content, cussing, MINORS DNI

Note : requested, I added some characters. Hope ya don’t mind! These are pretty short, just little things I put together. Word barf kinda..? Anyways- I hope you enjoy :))

R I N D O U 

His lashes fluttered open when he heard a loud crash coming from the hallway, along with a string of cuss words sounding like his daughter's voice. 

“What the hell was that?” You groaned, not a single word was uttered from your husband when he sprung out of bed, bolting to the bedroom down the corridor.

“Tohru?!” Rindou yelled, flinging open the door. Revealing your teenage daughter fully dressed, half way through her second story window. A facade of pillows under her blanket seeminging meant to be her ‘sleeping body’.

“Oh dad, I-”

“What the hell are you doing” The man was fuming by the ears, pajamas ruffled when he jolted out of his slumber. 

“Is Tohru okay?” You peeked from behind the broad shouldered man. 

“I was just going to get fresh air!” Your daughter lied, making up a somewhat excuse to appease her angered father. 

“Hey Tohru! Hurry up and get down here!” You heard a boy's voice call out, looking over at Rindou’s face to see the man's darkened expression.

“Who the fuck is down there? Is that a boy?!” He growled, stomping his feet over to the glass. Pushing past his daughter to take a look. 

“Oh shit- her dads here. Let’s book it!” The kids whispered, but loud enough for Rindou to make out, hastily running down the dark street. 

“You little shits! Don't you dare come back here!” Rindou growled, slamming the window shut in the process. 

“What! Dad!” Tohru whined, 

“You're so grounded young lady!” Rindou shouted, not caring for the sleeping neighbors beside his shared condo at three in the morning. 

“Rin, she was just having some fun!” You defended, you were also like her when you were her age, trouble makers run in your blood. Actually Rindou couldn't even talk- he was running roppongi at her age.  

“No! She's just too young to be hanging out with boys!” Rindou’s brows joined together as he withered in front of you. 

“But we dated when we were her age-” You deadpanned at him, 

“Grounded! My final answer!” 

R A N  

Ran was coming home from a late night bonten meeting, mouth agape when he saw his daughter’s feet dangling out from her window. 

Fearing the worst he sprinted to the ground below his child, hands outstretched to catch her if she were to misstep. 

“Mitsuri!” His voice boomed,

“Eh? Dad?!” His daughter stuttered, slowly slid out the window, climbing down like she had done this many times prior to this awkward occurrence. 

Toes easily touching the grass with ease, not a scratch upon the females porcelain skin. 

“Ran?” You yawned, cracking the door ajar. It was late, you waking up to your husband's screams outside your house. 

“Mitsuri, what are you doing climbing out your window like a maniac?!” Ran scowled, hands running through his messed up hair. Sweat dripping down his temple from the not so pleasant adrenaline rush. 

“I was just gonna hang out with some friends..” your daughter answered, fingers gripping the edge of her shirt, scarily waiting for her dad’s reaction. 

“At this time of night? .. out your window?”

“Ye-”

“Phone privileges. Give me it.” Ran demanded, palm stretched out. 

“But-” no question she was a tad bit spoiled by her father. You being the bad cop, while your husband played the good cop for his beloved daughter. 

“If you want to go anywhere all you got to do is ask!” Ran plucked the phone from his daughter's hand, a wave of relief washing over him. Secretly thanking whatever being watching over him that it wasn't some sort of gang related subject. 

“This is what you get for spoiling her!” You laughed from the sidelines, hand clutching your stomach.

“This is your fault too ya know!” Ran argued. 

“I’m the one who tries to discipline her! But someone always lets it go!” You emphasized the special somebody. 

“Whatever” Ran sighed, This was a lesson for the usual carefree man, a special lesson he wouldn't forget in the many years to come with his unborn future children. 

S A N Z U 

It was Sanzu’s best day of his life when his daughters were born, the two only being about one year apart. They were spoiled to the core, anything they wanted their money liberl father blessed them with. He thought they were the sweetest things ever, them both being a daddy's girl after all. 

He never would have expected to see both of his daughters outside his humble abode, standing beside two boys, most likely a double date. 

He stared in shock, hands pressed firmly against the glass, teeth gritting. 

“Huh? I tucked them into bed an hour ago” You rubbed your eyes, riding yourself of the sleepiness threatening to drown you. The pink haired only tutted his teeth, swifty twisting the door knob to confront the four children outside. 

“Oh you better run” your oldest daughter whispered, gesturing for the boys to make haste from her deadly father. 

“You better not come back here, unless you want trouble you fuckers!” Sanzu yelled, red in the eyes from anger. Not bothering to chase after the two scoundrels. 

“Dad, mom! What are you guys doing awake?” Your youngest asked, sheer panic in her eyes, watching her insane fathers unpleasant smile. 

“I swear you two will be the death of me” Sanzu uttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. A irked gleen in his orbs as he stared them down. 

“They were just friends dad, stop overreacting” the older daughter said, 

“I- You little shi-” He bit his lip to suppress his anger fueled words, knowing well it would definitely hurt his precious children's feelings. Having regretted it later if he were to say those sinful words. 

“Now now Sanzu, let's head to bed” You wrapped your arms around your lover, dragging him inside the house. 

“You can sort out their punishment tomorrow, after a good night's sleep” , coating him with reassuring words. That day he learned how misjudged he was of his children, even so he still loved them with all his heart.

I Z A N A 

Izana had his feet kicked up, relaxing in his office while he watched the moon. He had a clear view, the street lamps positioned next to the sidewalk, the side of his beautiful house facing his office window. He was enjoying his free time, mind taking over his body while he thought about his life choices. He was in ease until he saw his son's window light up, a long string of rope being tossed out the opening. 

Sitting up from his chair, he rushed over to his clear casement. Throwing his window open, a boy and girl standing beneath his son's window. The two holding the rope still as your child tried to slid down. 

“My my Yuki, where are you off to?” Izana laughed, nerves finally relaxing when he figured out what was going on. Calmly settling into the frame, head leaning on his chin. It wasn't like he had the right to be upset, he did much worse when he was his son's age. Robbing, fighting, killing. You name it, Izana’s done it. 

Sneaking out was nothing compared to what he did, but he wasn't gonna just let his son go. He was more wise now, he knew for a fact he didn't want his son to end up anything like him. Sure, he wanted the boy to have fun, but in a normal kid way. 

“Dad! Um- I”

“You better get your arse back up that window before I drag you around with that rope” Izana smiled, Totally different from the sentence he was portraying. Not forgetting his manners, giving a nonchalant wave to the other two kids. 

“Zana? Who are you talking to?” You asked, placing a cup of tea you had prepared for Izana on his desk. 

“Oh no one doll” Izana answered, closing the window before walking over to you. 

“Let's go to bed, yeah?” He proposed, trailing his hands around your shoulders, guiding you to the door.

“But the tea I made”

“Im tired~” 

Overall the male wouldn't want to talk further about the situation, nor would he discuss it with you. Trivial matters held no place between you both, as long as the child did not dare do it again. 

I N U I 

Inui wiped the sweat dripping from his forehead, the AC wasnt working at the motor shop. Him, draken and yourself were sweating bullets, the hot material around you not helping. You had decided to help the pair around the shop, cleaning what you could. Or helping with cashing every customer out, it would've been an easy task if it wasn't blazing hot. 

Leaving your daughter home alone, obviously thinking she’d stay and do her teenage things. You couldn't be more mistaken, astounded as you watched her fiddle around with a boy across the street at the ice cream parlor. 

“Y/N please don't tell me that Kagura..” Inui’s jaw dropped, the wrench that was once in his clasp dropping to the ground. Startling the concentrating Draken that was crouched over a motorbike. 

“What's wrong Inui? Y/N” Draken twisted his body around, raising a brow when you two just started muttering to each other like two creeps. 

“Is that... a boy” Inui held his chin between his fingers, squinting to get a better view of his kid. 

“You trying to catch flies with your mouth Inui? Close your yap” You whispered, 

“Y/N! She's too young, I feel like I just held her in my arms not too long ago. She can't get married just yet!” Inui argued, he would've been on the verge of tears if he didn't have a reputation to uphold. 

“What? The fuck are you on Inui? She's probably just with a friend!” You patted his back, reassuring the man. 

“Boys and girls can be friends ya’know” you added.

Cueing the two children across the road from you, feeding scoops of ice cream to each other.

“I don't think friends do that..” Inui looked over at you, eyes widening when you swung the motor shop’s door open. Hands coming around your mouth to amplify your words,

“Kagura, is that your boyfriend?” 

“WHAT?” Inui almost fainted, the ledge behind him holding his wobbly frame up right. 

“I didn't know you guys would be here!” Your daughter jogged across the street, leaving the boy sitting by himself. 

“And no! Just a friend” She answered your embarrassing, blushing as she stared down at the ground.,

“I sense some lies” you wiggled playfully at the flustered girl. 

“What! Anyways, Sorry I left the house without telling you” Kagura apologized, 

“Just don't do it again, without my permission..” Inui stated, 

“Especially not with a boy.”

K O K O N O I

Bribing people is his forte, and if they did not obliged? Threatening always did the trick. 

And that's exactly what he did when he saw his descendant out with a male. All was dandy until the boy came running back, babbling about how his girl was the so called ‘love of his life’.

“Hey brat, you got a death wish?” Kokonoi asked, leaning against the door frame. 

“Koko go easy on him, he’s just a kid” You nudged the man, a mischievous grin plastered on the males face. 

“And I kinda think it's cute” You said, a small smile erupting from your daughter that was not so far behind her parents. 

“I approve, kid! I like your romantic drive!” You clapped, 

“Y/N!” Kokonoi pouted, 

“You better not try to bribe him with money again” You threatened, waving a finger at the whiny man. 

“Yeah! I like him too, dad!” Your daughter agreed. 

“You're like twelve, go play chess or something” Kokonoi barked, crossing his arms in disapproval. 

“Dad, I'm sixteen!” 

“That's what I said” 

S O U Y A 

He almost had a panic attack at the sight, having to shield the man from the scene playing out. Your twin daughter saying their goodbyes to their dates, followed by a kiss. You removed your hand when the boys were no longer in view, riding off in their motorcycles. 

“Shira, Nihra” You held Souya up by the shoulder, the light headed male limping towards the worried kids.

“What's wrong with dad?” Nihra questioned, eyeing her ghostly pale father. 

“He's out of it” You giggled, 

“I'm not crazy am i?” He stood tall, letting go of the arm you had draped around him. 

“There was boys-” His voice cracked. 

“You saw that dad?” Shira sweat dropped, watching as her fathers should leave his body. 

“Next time ask before you go out” You smiled, you weren't too strict on the two. They were Souya’s children, earning most of their adorable traits from him. Even his fighting skills. 

“This better not happen again, i'm trusting you” Souya grumbled.

“Sorry pops” The two girls remorsefully sollied the man, both hooking onto one of Souya’s arms as they helped his shell into the house. 

N A H O Y A 

Nahoya was beyond pissed, infamous smile widening. Taking fast steps towards your daughter and her significant other. 

“Look boy, I don't know who you are. But my daughters not up for grabs” Nahoya grinned, cracking his fingers. 

“O-okay sir” the boy was jittering, body trembling from the males intense arua. 

“If I catch ya here again” he used his finger to slash his neck, motioning to the death that would happily greet the boy if they were to ever meet again.

“Yer dead meat kiddo”  Nahoya laughed, watching as the boy ran for his life. 

“Dad, that was really extra!” Your daughter sneered, a pout on her lips. 

“Shut up!, you're grounded rat!” Nahoya shouted. 

“Yeah Nahoya, there was no need to threaten the poor kid. He looked like he was gonna piss himself.” 

“Exactly the effect i wanted”

End Note : as I said this was a word barf T-T, so it’s quite short.

Reblogs & Notes are always appreciated! Take care! ♡︎♡︎

[jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue]

Our little love part 2 - mafia/yandere au Drabble {angst + fluff}

As always please let me know what you think, I am actually going to go to bed now my brain is angry with me for not sleeping.

It seemed the cycle was never ending, you fucking up and pissing them off, them punishing you by drowning you in their love, only letting you come up to breathe so you could swim in your own guilt and submit to them.

You wince as the victim to your latest fuck up gets another blow to his chest. Taehyung and Hobi held onto his arms as Jungkook and Jimin kick and punch the poor individual. You know not to speak, it’ll only make things worse. Temperament was a fickle thing in their lives, trust was everything, and you still had to build yours up again.

“Y/n help please,” Kai whimpers as you stood with your arms crossed looking away.

“Don’t fucking say her name,” Jungkook growled before punching your ex colleague in the face. You’re frowning, the need to beg them to stop was fighting for exit on the top of your tongue, but you bite it down and pray Kai doesn’t say another word. You know if you do as he asks they’d kill him. Your punishment was to watch silently.

Yoongi strolls up behind you, hands in his pockets before he rests his head on your shoulder, watching the display in front of you both.

“Nothing to say little love?” He whispers as your friend groans out in pain.

Please don’t kill him, you want to say, but you just shake your head in defeat. You want to believe they’re better than this, but the evidence of the contrary was never hidden from you. They showed you every side of them whether proud of it or not with bold eyes daring you to stop loving them, pushing your boundaries and morals waiting for you to snap. But the breaking point never came, you loved them, you shouldn’t and you knew it, but you did. You were completely and utterly theirs, yet still they treated you like you hadn’t seen the worst of them. Like you would run away the second you realised they were monsters, not that they would let you run far, only far enough to let you take a single breath before making you drown in them once again.

Yoongi wraps his arms around your waist, keeping an eye on your reactions. The asshole deserved it, not that they cared either way, he tried to take you away from them, that was enough.

Kai was your old partner before you took a very early retirement, what you didn’t know was that he continued the case you were working on before you left; the case of the seven men you now loved and the reason you quit said job. He had called you to meet up for old times sake and you, very naively in Yoongi’s mind, decided it was harmless. But if it was harmless why didn’t you say anything to the boys? You thought Kai didn’t know the reason you handed in your resignation, but he had been keeping an eye on you all before he realised you were the key to their downfall. He knew you harboured some feeling for him in the past and thought you’d reciprocate when he tried to flirt his way into getting his hands on the evidence you collected, he didnt know you burned it all. You lied to him and said you lost it, same difference anyway. This prompted plan b from him.

“Y/n they’re criminals,” he had said to you. “You’re a cop at heart you can’t love them.”

You floundered at his words when you realised he knew, and yet he still asked you to betray them.

“Kai I think I need to go...”

It was a mistake, you knew it then, but he followed you out onto the street and you hoped tonight the men you loved weren’t keeping an eye on you. Maybe naive was an understatement.

“Are they coercing you Y/n! Do they have something on you or are they threatening you?” He calls after you. “Because the Y/n I know would never love killers, what have they done to you?”

It was when he reached his hand out to grab your arm that your boyfriends decided to show themselves from the shadows. Which lead to the situation now, Kai beat up and bruised beyond recognition, and you forced to watch. He falls unconscious and they let him drop to the floor, you hate this side of them, it was cruel and cold but you’d never leave. They turn to face you now, their anger still present despite the last hour of releasing it onto your old partner. They don’t miss the way you’re shaking, the shallow breaths as you try and keep your tears to yourself. As much as you hate their violence, you hate their disappointment in you more.

——————————————————————————

You’re sitting in Joonie’s lap for what you call the debriefing of your punishment, this happened way too often in your opinion. You look down but he wasn’t having it today, tilting your head to look at him by your chin.

“Why did you get punished today little love?” He starts the same way as usual.

“I went out without telling you guys where I was going or who with,” you say while fiddling with your fingers out of nervous habit.

“And?” Hobi sits across from you in a chair, legs straddling the back and an elbow rested on top with his fist holding up his face. Hobi was hardest to pacify, he was ruthless and unforgiving and while that didn’t extend to you, you still had a hard time with his stubborn anger.

“I met up with Kai, and I let him touch me,” you’ve done this too many times before to not know how it worked. Kai’s ‘touch’ obviously meant nothing to you but for them it was the worst crime anyone could commit against their little love.

You remember the time you nearly tripped in the park and a guy steadied you politely, but you still had to hold Jungkook back from throwing hands.

“Kookie would you rather I fell and hurt myself?” No he hadn’t wanted that so he grumbled in agreement still seething but you cooled it down. “Instead of hitting him maybe you should thank him,” it was a joke but it made the youngest scoff.

“Baby girl why can’t you just be good?” Namjoon’s sigh brings you back to the present. “Why do you always have to test us like this?”

You didn’t mean to, you want to say it but the words are stuck below the sob in your throat. You actually whimper as his tone, bottom lip wobbling pathetically. He hadn’t even told you off properly, but you already felt like a mess as he bathed you in his disappointment. That was the common consequence of your actions and you hated it, you couldn’t do anything right.

——————————————————————————

“Jin do you need help with the food?” You ask your eldest boyfriend politely, he was frowning and you thought it was because today’s meal was too much for him to handle alone, his tone of voice made you realise it was because of you.

“No, I’m alright,” he doesn’t look at you as he speaks and you’re left gaping at him like a fish. Jin loved it when you cooked with him, it was your bonding time without the others, although Yoongi would join you from time to time. The others also tried but Jin wouldn’t let them anywhere near the kitchen, they hogged you enough anyway.

You feel your soul deflate, still standing there as he ignored you.

“Are you mad at me too?”

The way you said it made his heart twinge with guilt, but the others were right you wouldn’t learn and your first betrayal was still fresh on their minds. He sighs and you turn away, refusing to crying in front of them for the tenth time that day. What was wrong with you? Ever since that day where they found out who you really were you felt like you werent enough anymore, you tried so hard to make up for it all but you kept messing up. You weren’t like this before, but after seeing the hurt you put them through you were constantly on edge and second guessing yourself. You wish you could go back and stop them from ever finding out.

Jin hears the sniffle as you walk away and he can’t go through with it.

“Wait little love,” he calls for you. “I forgot to cut the onions, would you mind?”

You shake your head, you didn’t mind, but you didn’t trust your voice to answer for you. Youre grateful to Jin for giving you this task, it hides the fact you’re crying, but you know he doesn’t miss it.

——————————————————————————

Jimin and Taehyung were giving you narrowed stern gazes through dinner, it put you off your food which resulted in getting told off by Jin just after he branched out to you in the kitchen.

You felt alone, like the seven men you loved were against you and there was no one to blame but yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly before getting up and removing yourself from the dinner table and dining room, ignoring all of their stares. You decide maybe an early night is best, you could start again fresh tomorrow. You don’t get too far up the stairs before a hand pulls you back, you turn to see Jimin with Tae a few steps behind him.

You’re so used to seeing them laugh and play around that it feels like you’re looking at different people. Even during missions or gun fights, the youngest three were always joking their way through the bloodshed, keeping scores of who got the most headshots and other grotesque games. You remember the time Jimin and Tae called you during he middle of a shoot out, arguing with you and each other over who you loved more out of the two while you begged them to not get shot or killed.

“Why did you go see him Y/n?” Jimin asked, he wore the demeanour he used for enemies and it takes you back to that night.

“I... h-he said he wanted to see me to catch up,” you explain but you know it’ll fall on deaf ears.

“And you thought that was a good idea, to see your old cop buddy?” His tone makes you feel stupid, you weren’t stupid.

“He was my friend Jimin,” you say in disbelief, you know in the end it was a mistake but at the time it didn’t seem like the worst idea in the world.

“You’re ours,” Taehyung moved forward, towering over you even though he’s a step below you. His face is close to your own, eyes burning into yours as he looks disgusted at the words that left your mouth as if they’re still attached to you. “How do you think we felt when you went to see another detective? Do you have any idea what was going through our heads?”

“Tae I love you,” you lean away from him, searching his face for a hint of softness and love in his gaze, but there was only fire. “You know I wouldn’t, you all know I wouldn’t, I left that life for you why would I turn back to it?”

He stalks away from you without a word, Jimin close behind, giving you a final cold glance before leaving you alone. You thought your love could make them better but if anything you made their darkness worse.

——————————————————————————

Jungkook needed to vent, the only way he knew how was physically. Obviously it wasn’t the cleverest thing he’s done, taking rounds with the punching bag only to open up the cuts on his hand from beating the bastard earlier. He mutters a few curse words under his breath, why did you make matters worse? Maybe they were being harsh on you before today, finding any excuse to punish you a little, test your boundaries and see if you would run, but today they honestly feared that was what happened. They thought you chose to leave them and go back to the life you had before them, but they’d never let you go, they couldn’t let you go. Despite everything you loved them and they worshipped the ground you walked on. You were everything for them now, there’s be no point to any of them without you. Why didn’t you understand that?

He throws another punch to the bag, spreading his blood across them, it hurt like hell, but the thought of you running back to your old partner still played on all of their minds. He wanted to cry, he wanted to find you and beg you to never leave them, they’d be nothing without you.

There’s a knock on the door and he finds you on the other side, waiting for permission to come in. You never waited for permission, it makes him frown, maybe they were too harsh on you today. He could see you shuffling your weight, insecurity screaming through your eyes, you feared his rejection more than his anger.

He notices the first aid kit in your hand, you must’ve heard him. He doesn’t let the fluttering in his chest reach his face as he sits on the bench, waiting for you to come to him.

His gaze is expectant, daring you to cross the threshold and face him, you were no coward, you didn’t fear them the way others did, why were you behaving so meekly now? You force yourself to move and sit beside him, setting the kit down and pushing your hair back behind your ears. He doesn’t move his gaze away from you, even with the sweat and hair hanging in front of his face.

You carefully take a his hand into yours, sucking air between your teeth at how injured it was.

“I’m sorry you hurt yourself because of me,” you say, eyes on his bloodied knuckle as you press the ointment against the open wounds. “Are you sure you want me to stay, I keep hurting you...”

You try to sound like you’re joking, that you’re okay and the hurt isn’t weighing you down with your doubts. He frowns, they really did take it too far. He sets down the cotton wool from your grasp, taking both of hands into his before kissing each finger delicately without letting you look away.

“You’re perfect little love,” Jungkook says, reassuring you with no question in his voice. “We’re the ones who don’t deserve you, we’re mean and cruel but we’re never letting you go.”

You remember how loving they were before that night, maybe while they accepted the truth at face value they could never really forgive you in their hearts. Maybe that’s why they were being like this, they didn’t love you the same way anymore.

“Do you love me?” You had to know, the doubt was eating you alive.

He looks at you as if you’re insane, maybe you are, you don’t know anymore.

“Little love, don’t you see how much we love you?” He asks sincerely. “We would do anything for that love even if it made you hate us, you belong with us, and no one is going to take you away.”

You could see the crazed look in his face grow as he spoke, you believed him, the honestly worn like a heart on a sleeve. But his answer bought a wave clarity to your hazed vision, you made them like this, you made them worse, you had to leave.

[thestarrynightslover]

I'll Make It Okay for You - Part 2

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

Word count: 2,765

Warnings: Discussion, yelling, some angst, mentions of drugs, drug abuse, drug withdrawal, rehab facility and insecurities/self-sabotage (very, very slightly, tho). 

Summary: You can read Part 1 here. What happens when (y/n) (y/l/n), Harvey’s secret crush and a junior partner at his firm, openly defies him in front of everyone? 

Disclaimer: I don’t own the show Suits, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: I think that this turned out better than Part 1? As always, I’m not sure, though. Just to make it clear here, I’m still on season 4 of Suits, so didn’t wanna get too much into any canonic details, self-preservation, lol. Anyhow, I hope you like it, and, ofc, feedback is always appreciated.

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

You and Harvey stayed in the embrace for a while, as you sunk in all the comfort emanating from him. He'd even started stroking your hair. The whole situation felt so intimate, that, by the time the two of you finally pulled away from each other, it was almost as if there was this cloud of embarrassment hovering around you both.

"Err… I'm s- sorry, I shouldn't have, um-" You started saying nervously but he cut you off.

"No, it's okay. And, um, I'm really glad you told me what happened… It's definitely a lot to deal with. And I was a complete asshole this morning. So I'm sorry." For a moment both you and Harvey just smiled at each other, sitting there in a comfortable silence. Until he decided to break it: "So, um, did you get her a lawyer? I'm assuming you wouldn't wanna represent her yourself because it could be problematic…"

"No, uh, yeah. It would be problematic.” You corrected him. “But the most I could do was make the cops get her a public defender, cause I called my dad when I was on the way there and he just wouldn't have me paying for anything else. He is a retired cop, so the pension isn't too great, the pride though… And I’m already covering Lisa's treatment because it's her best shot, but this…"

"And he wants to teach her a lesson." He completed what you were trying to explain.

"Yes."

"And you don't agree with him?" Harvey asked, almost reading your mind.

"Well, it's complicated. Because when I see what Kat's doing with her life… I get just as frustrated as my parents, and I really do want what's best for Henry." The fact that your sister wasn't what's best for her son was only implied. "But she's my little sister, you know?" As he nodded in understanding, you went on: "I wanna help her, but, at least for now, I think I'm just gonna wait and see if mom and dad change their minds… Which I think they will do! I mean, my dad was a cop for years. He knows what those places do to people. As much as we all desperately want her to get her shit together, I don't think that prison is where she'll succeed in doing so." You finished, voice filled with concern.

"Well, I don't think I would be as lenient, and compassionate, as you are, but I do see your point." Harvey told with a sympathetic smile. "Besides, she is your sister. And, trust me, I know what it is like to go out of your way to keep a sibling outta trouble." He added with a tired sigh, making you wonder how much you really knew about the man sitting in front of you.

"Either way, now I don't see much that I can do for her at the moment. Gonna try and have her attorney keep me posted, of course, but…" 

"Yeah…"

"I just… I can't help but feel guilty about all of this, you know?" You said, after having stood up and turned your back on him, finally letting on what was bothering you the most to the other lawyer.

"No, not really, I don't." He stated simply while you just looked back at him with a shocked expression on your face. "I mean, there's not a single approach on this that makes me think you're to blame for anything." He explained himself, standing up as well this time.

"Harvey, I-"

"No, (y/n), let me stop you right there. What I see here is a family going through a rough situation with one of its members. Then three of the other members just try to do everything they can to get out of the initial situation, while another one just keeps making more problems for her family. And, right now? Today? You walked out on your bosses, risking a lot, to take care of your nephew. So, tell me again, how is it that any of these things happening to your sister are your fault when you’ve done nothing but help everyone in that goddamn family of yours, huh?" He asked you in a sarcastic tone.

“Well, it is very much my fault because I’m her big sister! I should have been there for her! Advising her, helping her, just, just being her friend…” You confessed your regrets to Harvey. “But, instead, I was too busy making my career.”

“And what the hell’s wrong with that? Look, I’m a big brother too. I get it. Ever since we were kids our parents imbued us with the role of ‘the responsible one’, always telling us to look after the youngest… But, hey! If you just threw all of your work up in the air and left running every time your sister had a run-in with a problem, you wouldn’t have made it this far! Not in this field anyway!” He practically spit the words in your face, going to battle with your self-sabotage, which was a very new side of you for him. “And you’re a freaking great lawyer! One of the best that firm’s ever seen. So don’t be sorry that you didn’t sacrifice all of that for being better than the amazing sister you probably already were!”

“You simply can’t know that.” You stated in a low voice, not really knowing how to respond to everything Harvey had just told you. He really thought all that about you?

“Yes, I can!” He yelled back, stepping closer towards you. “I can know that for a fact, because,” he started again, his face pretty close to yours this time, “because, I’m beginning to finally understand, even if just a little bit, who you really are. And because I always notice all the little things when it comes to you, which, in my experience, is how you actually get to know someone. You know, the details.” He told you in the sweetest tone, giving you a charming-Specter-like smile, he leaned closer, if that was even possible, God, was he gonna kiss you?

You had to pull away slightly, just enough for him to get the message. And, boy, how you regretted it! Sure, normally, you’d have a ton of bad things to say about him, but after that night… It wasn’t really that bad of an idea, the one of Harvey kissing you. No, nuh-uh! What were you thinking?! If much, you and Harvey were beginning a friendship there! And you couldn’t, or wouldn’t, let some ridiculous thoughts about how great he smelled rob you from that opportunity! Your inner struggle was interrupted by him saying:

“Hum, I- I should probably go, right? It’s, um, it’s getting pretty late…” He said nervously. You should be relieved right now. Because this assures that things between you and Harvey (your new friend?) aren’t gonna go too off the railroads anytime soon.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll, uh, I’ll walk you to the door.” So why is it that you sounded almost disappointed when you said that? “You know what they say, you gotta walk people to the door if you ever want them to come back…” You joked a little, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, right.” He shot back simply, with a small smile on his lips. “Bye, (y/n). Have a good night.”

“Thanks, you too.” You watched him turning around to leave when you remembered there was something else that Harvey deserved to hear from you. “Uh, Harvey!” You called out.

“Yeah?” He asked, turning back around to face you. And before you could even think it through one more time, you were already jumping in his arms, wrapping him in a tight hug.

“Thank you. For tonight. For everything.” You told him, as he slowly put his arms around your waist, hugging you back.

“It was no problem, (y/n), really. That’s what friends are for.” And, just like that, your day ⎼ turned into night ⎼ had gone from Earth to Hell, and, now, to Heaven.

                                                       ---

Around 7:30 in the next morning, as you gathered some of your work stuff, you heard someone knocking on the door. Who could it possibly be this time? You asked yourself while walking there to open it.

Once again you were surprised to be met by none other than Harvey Your-New-Friend Specter standing at your doorstep. With your supposedly locked-up little sister in tow. What the hell?

“Before you say anything,” he started, “this time I come bearing gifts!” He practically beamed at you, as Kat threw herself in your arms.

“Yeah- yeah, um, I can see that.” You stated, still very confused with the whole situation.

“Thank you so much for sending your friend to bail me out, sis!” Your sister squealed out. She looked so pale and thin; winter-like clothes on, even though it was only the beginning of the fall; and she was shaking. Effects of a rushed withdrawal, you guessed. “You’re the best! Now, where’s my little baby?” She asked you, as if everything that had happened was nothing.

“He’s, uh, he’s in a day-care facility. The best in the city, you have nothing to worry about.” You informed her, who seemed rather relieved to hear that news. “Can you, uh, can you please stay here for a minute while I talk to my, uh, my friend in the office, Kat?” You asked her with a calm smile on your lips.

“Yeah, of course. I’m not gonna break anything I promise!” She told you, sounding a lot like a wicked child.

“No, um, I know you won’t. If you want something to eat, please, help yourself.” You assured her, motioning to the kitchen.

“Oh, no! I’m not hungry! Mr.Specter took me to a diner before we came here.” She let you know, which just made you even more surprised, and confused.

“Oh, he did? Well, that was very nice of yours, Harvey. So, come with me?” You asked him in a sort of mockery tone while pointing to the room he’d just been in, the night before.

As soon as the two of you stepped into the office, Harvey started desperately: “(y/n), before you come at me for not running this by you first, just, please, hear me out for a second.” He pleaded with you, to which you just nodded your head. “So, last night. I heard what you said about your dad, and you don’t have to worry about paying me anything. I’m representing your sister as a friend of yours.”

“Wait a second. You mean you’re taking this pro-bono? Harvey, you do that and the whole firm is gonna know. And you promised.” You quickly accused him, even though you were very thankful for the way he just stepped up to solve one of your problems.

“I know! Let me finish, will you?” You nodded again while muttering an apology. “I’m not going to break your trust. And I’m not handling this pro-bono. The only people I’ll have to loop in are Jessica and Donna. And you know they won’t say anything.” He told you, but you were still a bit confused. “And, before you even ask, no, that doesn’t mean that either you or your family will be paying me anything. Also, I got your sister a spot in a top-of-line, very discrete, rehab facility, I have a friend over there, who said we can drop her off at any time. I just, um, figured that it’d be the best if she got professional help this time. Plus, on my talk with her, she agreed to sign papers that make you and your parents Henry’s temporary guardians. I really think that Kat wants to turn her life around this time, (y/n). She was very- Did I do something wrong? Because, err, you know me… I always find it easier to ask for forgiveness instead of permission, but, this time, I really did think that this would make you happy...” He trailed off with a confused look on his face while scratching the back of his neck

“Oh, I am happy.” You told him, still looking absolutely stunned.

“Then why, uh, why don’t you look happy?” He asked, sounding a bit hurt.

“It’s just that… I’m kind of surprised. How did you even think of all those things?”

“I, uh, it’s like I said yesterday, I notice things about you. And I really listened to what you told me last night. So I just started thinking about ways that I could solve this thing for you, ways that I could make you happy again throughout all of this storm.” He told you and it had to be the sweetest thing you’d heard from Harvey (hell, from anyone!) in your entire life. “But I understand that I overstepped, and I’m-” But since he just wouldn’t stop talking anymore, you had to cut him off in order to shut him up.

His eyes were in absolute shock for a moment, as he just stood reactionless in your grip. But then he got the message and pulled you closer, grabbing your waist tightly while your hands stood firmly wrapped around his neck. You were pretty sure that neither one of you was still breathing at that point, but you didn’t care. Because, God, his mouth tasted so good in yours, it was like they’d been made to kiss each other. The despair both of you were investing in the kiss was huge, but it was turning into a calmer kind of fire, as the air started becoming too necessary again. He pulled your mouths apart for a minute, you resting your forehead on his shoulder.

“You know…” He started, still catching his breath. “When I mentioned you coming at me, I hadn’t really envisioned this.” He joked, a victory smile on his lips.

“Ah, well, you know how upset it makes me when you simply won’t shut up.” You shot back with a shrug of your shoulders, smiling at him.

“Huh. Wish you would’ve shut me up like this every other time.” He mocked, earning a smack in the arm from you. “Ouch! Why’d do that?”

“Because you were being a dickhead, ruining our moment.” You gave him a fake irritated glance.

“Oh, c’mon! Tell me you didn’t think about it too!” He challenged, and you didn’t feel like giving him that kind of win at the moment, so you just pulled him back in for another kiss. One that may have lasted a little longer than it should have, considering that you two still needed to take Kat to rehab and, then, go to work so you could try and save your job. But, what could you do if he, and his body, and his mouth, and his eyes, and his everything were the only things that mattered?

As he rested his chin on top of your head ⎼ that was laid on his chest ⎼, you looked up, pulling away a little, him making sure you wouldn’t fall off the small couch. “Thank you, Harvey. For everything you did. For listening. For being here right now. For everything.”

“Don’t thank me, (y/n). You’ll never have to thank me for anything. I just want you to promise me one thing.” He stated seriously.

“What?” You asked, a bit hesitant.

“That, from now on, you’ll tell me all about it, every time you have a problem.” That was easy enough, you thought. But, you being you, simply had to ask.

“So that you can be here for me?” You questioned him with puppy eyes.

He just chuckled lightly. “Well, that too. But, mostly, so that I can make it ⎼ whatever it is ⎼ okay for you.” Your heart was on the edge of not being to take it any longer. What could have you possibly done to deserve that man?

“Okay, I promise.” You said, watching his expression begin to soften already. “But, only if you promise me the same. Because I wanna make it okay for you too.” While you thought Harvey was simply gonna say yes, he started laughing at you.

“Always the kick-ass corporate lawyer, I see.”

“Would you even have me any other way?” You joked back, more relaxed now.

“Yes, of course! I’d have you in any way you came to me. Which is why I promise too.” With that, you didn’t have any other choice but to kiss him again, because crying over the fact that Harvey Surprisingly-Romantic Specter was an absolute cinnamon roll was not an option.

Taglist: @just-a-girl-with-alot-of-issues​

[poisoned-peppermint]

Part 4 of incorrect quotes because i feel obligated to make more due to the sheer number of people who liked it

Dream: My dearest beloved fuckos, is a fun, gender-neutral way to begin a speech

George: See also, esteemed bastards

Bad: Gentlefolk, Ferals, and Domesticated cryptids. 

Sapnap: My fellow yees and haws

~~~~~~~

Techno:Hey I know skyrim is revered as a classic but are we just going to ignore the fact that the entire game only had like 3 voice actors

Wilbur:Stop right there criminal cum

Techno:My ancestors are smiling at me, bastard, can you say the same

~~~~~~~

Foolish:When's your bedtime :)

Purpled: Whenever I next collapse in purely up to the gods

~~~~~~

Ranboo:Human skin is a fursuit for skeletons 

Tubbo: i’m going to debone you like a fucking trout

~~~~~~

Bad:You’re enough

Bad: love yourself!!!!!!! or suffer my wrath!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dream:And by wrath I mean love!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bad:no I mean wrath!!!!! You reading this, if you don't love yourself I’ll beat you with a stick!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

~~~~~~~

Bad:I hope everyone is today well! And tomorrow!!!! After that you’re on your own.

~~~~~~

Bad:what am I supposed to do all day while you’re at work

Skeppy:I don’t know, what do you normally do while I’m gone

Bad: wait for you to get back

~~~~~~

Velvet:For my next stunt, I’ll wake up at 5am on the day I can sleep in

Ant:Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.

Velvet:Early to bed and early to rise makes me a massive bitch

~~~~~~

Tubbo: 3:23 AM make a wish

Ranboo: I wish that you would go to sleep

Tuddo: Yeah well I wish I grew an inch taller every day as you get an inch shorter until you’re as flat as as a piece of paper and I’m 11 feet tall

Ranboo: You’re going to die of a mixture of skeletal instability and heart disease.

Tubbo: Yeah but I’ll look good while doing it.

~~~~~~

Bad:Disrespect me again and I’ll determine your bodies resonant frequency and play a jaunty horn solo that boils your miserable organs inside out 

~~~~~~

Quackity: If I were dating you?  Well, heh. Let’s just say horses wouldn't be called horses anymore

Karl: hey what the honk does this mean…..I’m shaking what does this mean!

~~~~~~

Skeppy: Are you ok?

Bad wrapped in a burrito blanket drinking his 6th cup of coffee: Yes, this is exactly what mental stability looks like

~~~~~~

Sam: My hands are cold

Ponk: *holds their hands*

Ponk: better?

Sam: My lips are cold too

~~~~~~

George at dream’s funeral: can I have a moment alone with them?

Sapnap: of course *leaves*

George leaning over dream’s casket: Now listen, I know you’re not dead.

Dream: yeah no shit

~~~~~~

Skeppy, jokingly: I should have Bad kill you for that.

Bad, peering around the corner: Who do I need to kill?

Skeppy: Wh- no, I was just kidding around.

Bad, pulling out a switchblade: No, who’s bothering you

~~~~~~

Bad *watching the news*: Some idiot tried to fight a squid at the aquarium.

Skeppy *covered in ink*: Maybe the squirt was being a dick.

~~~~~~

Peacock: *spreads feathers at Bad*

Skeppy: It’s trying to attract a mate

Bad, extremely confused: *shyly lifts top*

Skeppy: No!

~~~~~~

Sapnap: Karl, do you eat olives? My dad wants to know

Karl: No, I hate olives. Olives are the spawn of satan. I hate olives so much my mom forced me to live in Mount olive for the rest of my childhood as a curse from the olive gods. Do you understand how much olives have ruined my life? I'm so offended that you asked me that have some consideration for people who have been abused by olives please!

Sapnap: K A R L ……….they’re just olives!!?

Karl: JUST OLIVES EXCUSE!

~~~~~~

Tommy: If you’re bored you can simply close your eyes and rotate a cow in your mind. It’s free and the cops can’t stop you

~~~~~~

Wilbur: is there anyone even named sheldon irl?

Tubbo: my class turtle from 6th grade :)

Wilbur: that’s a turtle

Tubbo: When god sings with his creations, will a turtle not be part of the choir?

~~~~~~

Ranboo: No bcuz why do ppl like salad?? What’s so good about it

Tubbo: chew leaf like god intended

Ranboo: No

Tubbo: Abandon god and see what he does next time you lift your hands in prayer

~~~~~~~

Tommy: Guys, there’s a monster under my bed and it’s really ugly.

Wilbur, on the bottom bunk: Honestly, fuck you.

~~~~~~

Quackity: So according to the cease and desist order I got, apparently you can’t ‘legally’ be a lawyer if your license is ‘cut out of a cereal box’.

~~~~~~

Puffy: If you had too, what would you give up food or sex?

Bad: Sex.

Skeppy: Seriously, answer faster.

Bad: I’m sorry honey, when they said sex I wasn’t thinking about sex with you.

Skeppy: It’s like a giant hug.

Puffy: Ant, what about you? What would you give up sex or food?

Ant: Food.

Puffy: Okay, how about sex or dinosaurs?

Ant: ……...Oh my God it’s like the movie Sophie’s Choice.

Gumi: What about you Velvet? What would you give up sex or food?

Velvet: Oh… um… I don’t know, it’s too hard.

Gumi: No, you gotta pick one.

Velvet: Um, food… no, sex… no, food…sex… food. Ugh! I don’t know! I want both! I- I want Antfrost on bread!

~~~~~~~

Tommy, holding a gun: If the conspiracies about life being a simulation are true WHOEVERS CONTROLLING MY SIM I JUST WANNA TALK.

~~~~~~~

Bad: Why are you guys acting like this?

Boomer: Oh, we’re not acting. We really are like this.

~~~~~~

Techno: Dream has only knocked me out three times this week. Our friendship is really developing.

~~~~~~

Tommy: You’re pathetic!

Wilbur: You’re pathetic-er!

Techno: You’re both losers.

~~~~~~

Bad: I wish I could help you, but I shorn’t.

Skeppy: Bad, please!

Bad: What part of shorn’t don’t you understand?

~~~~~~

Tubbo: Why did you leave Wrestlemania on for Michal?

Ranboo: They need to learn how to protect us.

~~~~~~

Antfrost: I regret getting dragged into your heterosexual tomfoolery.

~~~~~~

Bad: Strawberry milk doesn’t taste like strawberry OR milk.

Skeppy: Go the fuck to sleep Bad!

Bad: LANGUAGE!!

~~~~~~

Ranboo: Tubbo, please calm down.

Tubbo: I asked for two large fries!

Tubbo: *dumps fries onto table*

Tubbo: But all they did was give me a MILLION FUCKING LITTLE ONES!

~~~~~~

Bad: That was the worst throw ever. Of all time.

Skeppy: Not my fault. Somebody put a wall in the way.

~~~~~~

Wilbur: When you’ve been on the internet for as long as I have, you develop thick skin.

Tommy: Navy blue isn’t your color.

Wilbur: Navy blue brings out my eyes you prick! *Chases after Tommy*

~~~~~~

Bad: *Pulls a glass a water from out of nowhere*

Puffy: Where did you get that?.

Bad: My pocket.

Puffy: How do you keep a glass of water in your pocket?

Bad: Skills.

~~~~~~

Tubbo: I will come to your house after work and knock on your window at 11 AM. You will not open the curtains, knowing full well what awaits you, but the knocking only grows louder, more demanding. Finally it stops, your ears ringing. You nervously let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You're safe now. Minutes pass by and you start to relax. And then you hear a knock at the front door. Like before, you stay still and clutch the blankets around you. You try to tell your self that it's just your imagination. Maybe the milk man? But why would he come so late? Everyone else was asleep, save for Naomi who was playing video games down stairs. To your relief, the knocking stops after a few. Minutes and you breath easy once more. Until you hear a knock on your bedroom door. You don't move. It's just your imagination. She isn't here. She can't be here. You tell yourself, shutting your eyes and willing yourself to sleep. The knock comes again, but with horror you realize that it came from the closet inside your room. You know that you have no choice. You get up, climbing out of bed with shaking limbs. You walk to the closest, trembling, and holding back the tears threatening to spill over your porcelain cheeks. You hesitate with your hand over the closet handle. Maybe it's just your imagination? She's not really there. You can go to sleep and laugh it off in the morning. Your naive thoughts are cut off by another, more demanding knock on the closet door, inches from your face. You know what you have to do. You open the closet door, and there she stands. Chuck e cheese, the mouse looms over you in the dim light. It's soulless eyes boor into you. It raises its arms, and you flinch as it begins to floss at lightning speed. Tears spill over your cheeks. This is the last thing you'll ever see.

Ranboo: Wait, Chuck e cheese’s pronouns are she/her? Trans Chuck e cheese? Good for her.

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Would you like something to drink? *They opened the fridge* We have water, milk, juice, spiders, Dr. Pepper-

Quackity: Spiders?

Bad: Spiders it is then.

Quackity: No, that wasn’t-

*But they were already pouring him a brimming glass of spiders…

~~~~~~

Puffy : Make her pussy wet not her eyes.

Velvet : Make his dick hard not his life.

Punz : Break her bed not her heart.

Skeppy : Play with his boobs not his feelings. 

Ant : Get on his dick not his nerves.

Bad : Always salt your pasta while boiling it.

~~~~~~~

Wilbur: Bet you can’t eat 15 crayons!

Tommy: Bet you I can!

Phil: *sips coffee, checks to make sure 911 is still on speed dial, and goes back to reading the paper*

~~~~~~~

Ant: We need a way to lure in new customers?

Ponk: Maybe we could have some fun, interactive events!

Skeppy: Badboyhalo bath water.

Bad: ABSOLUTELY NOT!

~~~~~~~~

Fundy: GET BACK HERE YOU DUMB FUCK!

Wilbur: LET ME RUN FROM THE CONSEQUENCES OF MY ACTIONS!

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Mint is just cold spicy.

Pummel party Squad: …

Gumi: What the actual fuck is wrong with you.

~~~~~~~~

Quackity: Isn’t it amazing how I can feel so bad and still look so good?

~~~~~~~

Tommy: Why does my arm shake and turn bright red when I’m eating dirt?

Phil:

Phil: Why are you eating dirt?

Tommy: Did I ask you if I should eat dirt? No, so answer my question.

~~~~~~~

Tubbo: I wish I could control wasps and bees to sting my enemies.

Quackity: You’re too young to have enemies.

Tubbo: You don’t even know.

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Is there a cactus where your heart should be?

Puffy: What’s up your ass this morning!

Bad: *walks in* …Hi!!

Puffy: Hmm… nevermind.

Skeppy: WAIT NO!

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Ha! Don’t you know the trappers trap can trap the trapper?

Skeppy: I must be losing it, I’m quoting Bad.

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Bad, I sense hostility.

Bad: Good, because I hate you

~~~~~~~

Bad: Are you a painting?

Skeppy: What-?

Bad: Because I want to pin you to a wall.

Skeppy: OH GOD I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO SAY YOU WANTED TO HANG ME OR SOMETHING-

~~~~~~

Tommy: You’re giving me a sticker?

Phil: Not just a sticker. That is a sticker of a kitty saying “me-wow!”

Tommy: I’m not a preschooler.

Phil: Fine, I’ll take it back-

Tommy: I earned this, back off!

~~~~~~

Dream, sweating: George, there’s something I need to ask you-

George: Finally! You’re proposing!

Dream: How’d you know?

George: Dream, you’ve dropped the ring five times during dinner.

George: I even picked it up once

~~~~~~~~

*Bad and Skeppy looking at a locked gate into a park*

Bad: Aw. :(

Skeppy: You know what they say.

Bad: Please don’t-

Skeppy: BE GAY DO CRIME! *hops gate*

Bad: Frick-

~~~~~~~~

let me know if ya’ll want more <3

[ghostedgwen]

make it hurt | p.parker (part four)

𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾 : 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝖽𝗎𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗍(?) 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 - 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀/𝗌 : 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾, 𝗂𝗇𝗃𝗎𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌, 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝗀𝗎𝗇𝗌, 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀

𝖠 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗉𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 - 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖺 𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗌 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖲𝗉𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗋-𝖬𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉

...

You should have known this will come back to bite you in the ass because right in the middle of a crowded Time Square is a man with flames coming out of his hands. You look down to see Spider-Man swinging below you and call out to him.

"Are you seeing this, bug?" You ask and heard him yell 'yes' from below you. You nod encouragingly to yourself, let's hope you don't get roasted tonight. "Alright, let's do this."

Firetrucks lined up behind the army of police cars and you make a landing in front of them, taking in the appearance of a man in a black hoodie with literal flames coming off his hand and you blink in surprise, seeing him closer now.

Spider-Man lands beside you, posing low to the ground, and he slowly gets up to drink in the appearance of your newfound villain.

"This is so not a sea creature villain," you tell him with a groan. "Think we'll be okay? I got homework."

He gives you a chuckle. "We got this, you have my back, right?"

"Always, Bug. You got mine?" You ask him and he nods.

Spider-Man approaches an officer and you frown at the man setting fire to everything around him. He keeps his hand moving to surround himself with fire and keep the cops away, their guns pointed and not yet taking the cue to shoot.

He hasn't exactly done any damage just yet but with him in the middle of a crowded street setting off flames - that's not exactly saying 'I'm friendly, and warm' so you grimace, listening in on Spider-Man's conversation with the cops.

"What's the situation here?"

"Oh, it's you and the other one." You make a face at 'the other one' but chose to ignore it, looking around and seeing how there are civilians around that are potentially at risk if things don't go well.

"Witnesses say he walked into the middle of the street and just lit his hands on fire, he's been like that for a while," the cop explains. "He hasn't done any property damage or cause harm - but he's also not talking."

You click your tongue, eyeing the man and he kept his eyes darting around. As if he's searching the crowd. Spider-Man comes up from behind you and calls out to him.

"Hey, flame dude!"

"Flame dude, really?" You raise a brow at him.

"Not the time to insult my naming skills, ____." Spider-Man tells you and you nod, turning to the guy on fire that now has his attention on both of you. "Hey there, bud - what's up?"

"You're the Spider guy." The man spoke in a deep voice - as if his voice had been pitched down and you frown at that. "And Midnight."

Okay, well, that's a switch in roles.

"Nice to meet you, sir." You greeted politely, unsure how to approach a guy with fire coming out of his hands - you're not exactly sure you can use your abilities against that, flying would help but you're not sure fire and metal would be a good match.

"What's going on here, bud?" Spider-Man asked, taking a careful step forward. You frown at him, why is he approaching the arsonist? Does he not see those scorching flames? Last you checked, Spider-Man isn't fireproof.

"I need to see her."

"Who is 'her'?" You ask, switching glances between flame dude and the slowly approaching Spider-Man.  

"I don't know. My memories are all blurry, but I know I have to see her."

"Okay, why not calm the flames down before you hurt anybody?" Spider-Man asked, reaching his hand out, and he's a step away from touching the flames surrounding the guy.

"But they're pointing guns at me, I have to protect myself."

You crinkle your nose. "I think they're pointing the guns because of the flames."

"Yeah, she's right. Just calm down and we can figure this out, yeah?"

You wonder if Spider-Man's got a hobby for adopting super beings now. This does make you curious about how others got their abilities - Spider-Man said it was a radioactive spider for him and for you -

"I can't calm down, I can't think!" The flames grew a little bigger. "I have to see her!"

"Woah - easy there, buddy." Spider-Man called out.

"Do you have a name?" You ask him, any clue to identify who this man is and figure out who he's looking for before he creates chaos. No one wants that.

"I don't remember."

that's rough. Spider-Man looks over his shoulder and he meets your eyes, you two are lost - you have no idea what to do now. He's not backing down and he also has no idea how to help himself.

"Do you have it handled, Spider-Man?" A cop asked, "Because we'll be left no choice but to shoot - there's too many civilians, we can't risk it."

You tried to get a feel of all the metal around you and there's so many - too many in fact, that you should be able to hold your own, if it comes down to that. Looking up, you see snipers positioned and gritted your teeth.

This is so gonna be messy.

"You heard that, bud? You have to take it easy, calm down and we'll find her for you - "

"I need to see her and I need to see her now."

"This is hopeless." You tell Spider-Man, but his composure didn't waver, he's really convinced he can talk this guy down from this? You highly doubt that, he's confused and he doesn't remember anything - his judgement is clouded and therefore he's only gonna be harming himself and others.

Capturing him would be the smart thing to do.

"No, it's not." Spider-Man said, and you frown at that.

"We have to worry about the civilians." You remind him, looking out to the crowd of people watching the exchange. "And this is taking too long."

"One more lesson for hero 101," Spider-Man pauses. "Everyone is worth saving."

But right on cue, the sound of a gun being fired off was heard and you were quick enough to act and stop the bullet mid-air. You look at it and realized it was aimed at Spider-Man. The gunshot might've triggered him because the flame dude is now threatening the cops surrounding him.

Spider-Man acted fast, getting them out of the way using his webs, and the firefighters began moving behind you. You look around, looking for the source of the bullet, and find a guy in the rooftops with a sniper.

"You handle your new best friend," you tell Spider-Man, lifting yourself off the ground. "I need to take care of something else."

You flew to the roof, landing quietly and seeing only the gun was left - whoever took the shot isn't here. You stood still, feeling the shift in the air and quickly turned around to find a gun pointed at you.

They really make it so easy - they're so reliant on these guns and you've seen plenty of them just give up the moment they lose it. They could at least be a little more creative and less predictable.

"One wrong move and I'm blowing your head off." He tells you.

You stood still, eyeing him, and you take in the typical appearance of a criminal you meet almost every night - some guy with an air of overconfidence and a whole load of audacity but that's just about it with these guys.

"What do you know about the flame dude and the girl he's looking for?" You ask, hoping he'd at least provide answers before you end this face off in under a minute.

"I have no clue." He replied and you watched him for a moment, trying to figure out if he's lying and he's not, so you roll your eyes. "But I do know that one of you pesky heroes are gonna die tonight."

You flick your wrist and sent his gun flying a few feet away, and he looks at it in shock. "You're useless." You tell him and land a solid punch right across his face, rendering him unconscious. You grab him by his coat and began flying down, handing him off to some officers on standby and searched for your partner.

Right below a billboard, he's battling the flame dude and mostly dodging attacks. You wonder if his webs are fireproof - you had no time to question that when he was thrown back to a tall stack of metal ladders and got out of the way in time to avoid the flames aimed his direction.

In turn, that melted the metal and the stack began tipping over - you held your hand out and held it in place before it landed on the few civilians that were in the vicinity and cursed under your breath.

"I don't get paid at all for this." You grumble and instead tipped it over to the opposite direction where it landed on an empty space on the road, no innocent bystander harmed but your partner is still occupied with the flame dude.

You fly towards them, taking turns with Spider-Man to try and land a blow on him, using the metal scraps around you to throw them at him while Spider-Man tries to wrap him up in his web as a makeshift rope to tie around him.

"This fight is dragging on too long." You complained and and lift yourself off the ground higher. "Distract him for me."

Spider-Man failed to reply and kept moving, narrowly dodging flames and you gather metal while you stood suspended in the air, bunching them together and grabbing as much as you were able to before looking down and yelling for Spider-Man to get out of the way.

When he did, you dropped the giant ball of metal scraps on the guy and landed right after. You observe the mountain of scraps, unmoving, and it was quiet for a few seconds until they began flying off - he did not just set himself on fire under all that and break free by melting them.

You couldn't dodge the giant piece of sidewall girt and it landed on your shoulder, knocking you back  a few feet away and left to stare at the man in shock as you feel the pang of pain in your shoulder.

You look down at it and it's dislocated. "Fuck."

The man - now his entire body covered in flames and his clothes are basically ashes - began walking towards you, you couldn't move from the floor. The pain from your shoulder almost paralyzed you, Spider-Man blocked him.

Standing in front of you and shaking his head. "Let's not do this, buddy," Spider-Man is still trying to reach his hand out. "You're scared and confused, not a criminal, so stand down."

"I don't even know who I am, so what do you know, Spider-Man?" The guy asked, stepping forward - looking over at the damage he's caused, and began flying off.

You drop on the floor, no longer using your normal arm to prop yourself up and groaned in pain. That was very messy and you didn't even manage to capture the guy, and of course he can fly now too.

How convenient for all of you.

"Night," Spider-Man dropped to his knees and grimaced at the sight of your deformed shoulder. "Holy shit, that looks bad."

"How comforting." You roll your eyes and this time you mean it.

He carefully slides an arm under you and lifts you up. You can still stand - despite the pain but you're unsure about walking.

"Paramedics are coming, can you hold out?" Spider-Man asked and you shake your head.

"I can but the civilians can have them - just get me to a rooftop and pop this stupid thing back into place."

He was hesitant but there were a lot of civilians injured - the injury caused was minor and he's thankful for that but there were a lot of them that still needed assistance. He nods at you and began swinging off.

Gripping your waist to make sure you don't slip off - only being able to use one arm to hold onto him was an added risk to the whole swinging mode of transport.

He lands you two on an empty rooftop, carefully sitting you down and crouching down to inspect your injuries better. You hiss and grimace in pain, trying to adjust to your position on the floor.

"Don't just stare at me, Bug." You tell him and he nods, hands hesitantly reaching out. "You done this before?"

"Yes - " He answered, way too quickly that it was almost suspicious but you let it slide. "You ready?"

"No," you answer and let out a shaky breath. "Are you gonna make it hurt?"

"It'll be quick, I promise." Spider-Man replied, voice so soft and low, and his hold on your arm was gentle so you quickly calmed down. "Ready?"

He asked again and this time you nod - you had expected a countdown from him but the moment you nodded - he popped your shoulder back into place and the scream you let out will be sure to alert some people within the vicinity.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry -" Spider-Man apologized over and over until you stopped writhing in pain and calmed down, you just sat there glaring at his mask as if you didn't personally ask him to fix your shoulder himself.

Realizing this - you shake your head and dismiss his chant. "It's fine - remind me not to dislocate anything ever again."

He chuckles at that and also flopped on the rooftop floor, heaving a sigh and groaning at the forming bruises on his back from the amount of times he collided with obstacles to avoid being roasted.

"What's the deal with that guy?" You ask, massaging your now fixed shoulder. "I'm holding a grudge for my shoulder but I kind of feel bad - he seemed so confused and lost."

"He is, and I wish we were able to help."

"You can't help someone who doesn't want it, Bug." You tell him with a shrug, and you let your head fall back, now lying on the floor and looking at the stars. He looks down at you.

"That from experience?"

"I guess so," you reply and felt him shift, also lying down now right next to you, and you laugh at your current positions. "I should go home, that was a lot."

"Yeah it was," he stared at the stars like you did. "But you did great - what was that bullet all about?"

"Just some asshole taking advantage of the flame dude distraction, it was too easy and I handled it quickly."

He grins. "Look at you," he cooed. "You are doing great. Way better than I did when I started."

"Well, I have a good teacher."

"You're right."

.

The following morning, you felt well-enough to pretend you didn't dislocate a shoulder from the previous night, and were very thankful you didn't get any burns.

Your sister watches you play with your cereal from her spot, leaning against the counter with a coffee cup in hand, frowning at you through the rim of her mug.

"What's going on with you?" She asks.

She noticed the changes, the shift in the air and how you were starting to feel like a stranger, but didn't think to pry. Knowing you were never one to be interrogated but usually you hid well - not right now though.

Spacing off during breakfast and playing with your food? Something is very wrong with you and she's worried.

"Nothing," you shrug, and even you couldn't convince yourself. "Just tired."

And that wasn't a lie, you feel like rolling around the place instead of walking and you never realized how taxing nightly patrols are in the human body until you had that one big confrontation last night.

"Okay. . ." she places her empty mug in the sink and turns back to you. "Hey."

You look up, raising a brow at her, and she walks over - placing a careful hand on your cheek and caressing it with her thumb lightly. "You'd tell me if it was anything serious, right?"

"Right." you nod, despite yourself. "You should go to work, you'll be late."

She gives you a smile and nods, walking back to her room to grab her purse and she heads for the door.

"Okay, I'm off!" She yelled, opening the front door. "I love you!"

"I love you too!" You yelled back and heard the door close, leaving you alone with your thoughts and you push your bowl aside, slumping over the table and stretching your arms out with a groan.

Being a superhero is so tiring and you are struggling to find a balance. You miss Peter, you wanted to hang out some more, but couldn't find it in yourself to keep lying. He trusted you with so many of his secrets, and so it felt wrong to hide from him.

But you also knew you didn't want to rope him into your crazy life. It's bad enough that your sister will be put at risk, being related to you, you can't drag Peter into this.

What kind of friend would you be to introduce him to your dangerous world?

to be continued. . .

tags : @lauraneedstochill @silverwindpyv @insomniacprentiss @iprobablyshipit91 @softpeachysoul @itscheybaby (send an ask or comment to be added ! <3 )

[queenshelby]

Roommates – Part Four

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 2,385

Warning: Smut

Note: This plays in 2020. Please interact. Your interactions and comments mean a lot to me.

Just as you were in the middle of your morning routine following a night filled with erotic dreams about your roommate, you heard a loud knock on the door.

You quickly turned off your vibrator and chucked it into your bedside draw before pulling up your panties and singlet and walking into the hallway.

When you opened the door, you were surprised to see James. His face was flushed and he looked like he had been crying.

‘You don’t fucking answer my messages and calls anymore’ he said and it quickly became clear to you that he must have been drinking all night when you smelled his breath from the distance.

‘You shouldn’t be here James, please leave’ you said firmly, knowing that his visit wasn’t permitted under the current lockdown restrictions.

‘Just hear me out Y/N, please’ he begged once again after he had been trying to get back together with you for the past four months and, whilst you initially maintained contact with him, you no longer responded to his messages and ignored his calls for the past two weeks.

‘There is nothing more to discuss James. I am through with you’ you said before you tried to shut the door on him but, just as you did, his foot caught in the doorway and he pushed his way into the hallway.

‘James, honestly, get the fuck out. You cheated, more than once, and I am done with you’ you huffed out and thought that, clearly, he would have received the 2,000 Euro engagement ring he had bought you in the mail by now.

‘You can’t just throw away what we had Y/N’ he went on to say and, just as he did, Cillian returned from his morning run.

‘Get out of my house James or I will call the Gardaí’ Cillian said calmly as he noticed that you were distressed.

‘Alright Murphy, go ahead, call the fucking cops’ James huffed out angrily and, before you knew it, James pushed you with your back against the wall in frustration.

‘Y/N, please fucking listen to me. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen’ he pleaded again with a whiny voice but his grip on you was becoming rather aggressive.

‘James, stop, you are hurting me’ you shouted out and, just as you tried to push him off, Cillian grabbed James by the back of his t-shirt and pulled him out of the house.

‘That’s enough James, fuck off and leave her alone’ Cillian said harshly and, when these words left his lips, James turned around suddenly and hit Cillian across the face with his right fist.

‘Jesus James’ you panicked as you quickly walked over towards Cillian and him but, when James realised what he did, he was quick to run off.

‘Fuck, Cilly, are you alright?’ you asked as you watched him hold on to his face.

‘I am fine’ Cillian chuckled before acknowledging that his face would likely be swollen before Lindsay would arrive in the evening.

‘I am sure she won’t mind Cilly’ you said before giving him a hug and thanking him for defending you and making James leave.

‘Y/N, I stink, you probably shouldn’t…’ Cillian said but you didn’t care and hugged him anyway, pressing your half naked body against his.

Ironically and almost surprisingly, you actually didn’t mind the scent of his sweat covered body. You could still smell the deodorant and aftershave on his skin and the hint of mint from the toothpaste he used that morning on his lips.

‘Let’s get some ice on this, hmm’ you then said before forcing him to sit down at the kitchen table while you prepared an ice pack for him.

After you wrapped the sachet of ice into a thin cloth, you gently pressed it against Cillian’s cheek which, already, had turned red.

The skin on his face felt soft and slightly moist and his deep blue eyes gazed into yours for a brief moment while his lips smiled at you.

His smile was warm and beautiful and you couldn’t help but pay attention to the large freckle on his upper lip.

‘So, uhm, I…uhm…I think I might go and get dressed’ you eventually huffed out after you had gotten lost in his eyes for a short moment.

Cillian nodded in response and, just as you walked away from him, an unfamiliar feeling washed over his body.

It was a feeling he couldn’t explain and it was almost unique in a way. In addition to his arousal which, by this point, had also formed in between his legs again, he felt shivers run over his spine and down into his stomach. These shivers felt almost like flutters and made him feel uncomfortably warm.

***

It was 5 o’clock and Cillian was out, walking his dog and getting some Aspirin from the nearby pharmacy following his incident with James and you decided to have a bath before the said storm was scheduled to come in later that evening.

Despite, you really needed to get your mind of the fact that Cillian was about to shag Lindsay which, in the past, hadn’t bothered you but, more recently it did. In addition, your friend Laura continued to nag you about updates on Cillian’s life, telling you that she was still very much in love with him and asking for your help to turn things around between them.

The sky had already darkened and you decided to gather all of the scented candles Cillian had in the house and carry them to the bathroom. You arranged them all around and poured yourself a glass of red wine before settling in the hot tub which was facing the backyard through a one-sided window, meaning that no one could see inside.

With Cillian being out, you didn’t bother closing the bathroom door and allowed the heat from the fireplace in the living room to radiate throughout the house.

Just as you sat in the half full tub and watched as the steaming water began to fill it completely, you reached for your phone and ipods to listen to something relaxing.

When, finally, the tub was filled completely, you lowered yourself into it allowing the bubbles to overtake your body. Your knees were slightly bent as you laid back and your breasts were floating on the surface just barely exposed to the air above the water. Your hair was floating and the bubbles were popping all around your head while you listened to an audiobook narrated by Cillian.

His voice was always something you enjoyed listening to, now more than ever and you closed your eyes to take in this moment of solace.

But, just as you did, Cillian’s face appeared beneath your eyelids and your heart instantly skipped a beat. You wanted to feel his strong hands on every inch of your wet body and, with those thoughts in mind, your hand began to caress your ass cheek while thinking about him. With each stroke you moved a little further up your thigh and back down the back of your ass. Your pussy lips were throbbing and wet from more than just the warm water, begging to be touched.

You were in a trance, listening to Cillian’s voice through your headphones as you slowly began to pleasure yourself and, with your mind being so far gone, you didn’t even realise that Cillian had returned home from his walk early as it was pouring with rain outside.

‘Y/N?’ he shouted through the house as you were nowhere to be found until, eventually, he realised that you may be in the bathroom.

With the bathroom door open, he looked inside only to find you with your eyes closed, facing the opposite direction towards the large one-sided window.

‘Y/N, shit, I am sorry’ he huffed out and, as you continued to run your hand up and down your naked body, he realised that you had your headphones in and didn’t hear him.

Cillian turned around quickly and you released a gentle moan that softly echoed in the bathroom. In your mind, you wanted him more with each touch of your hand but, of course, he didn’t know that.

When Cillian heard your moan, his manhood immediately went on alert and whilst he knew it was wrong, he couldn’t help himself but turn back around and watch you.

Unbeknownst to you, Cillian watched you as one of your hands was massaging your breast while the other slowly spread your legs exposing more of your pussy to the warmth of the water. It crashed against your lips like waves in the ocean and they were pulsating, begging for more.

‘Jesus, look away, fuck’ he said to himself quietly inside his mind as he stood there motionless and with a raging erection. He wanted to strip down naked right there and join you and it took all of his willpower not to do exactly that.

‘Hmm’ you moaned again as you listened to Cillian’s voice through your headphones and took your fingertips and tightly squeezed your clit. You could feel your juices being released and your legs spread wide as your hand pressed and caressed your mound.

‘Fuck’ Cillian’s mind said again, urging him to walk away and, just as he had built up enough strength and turned around, he heard you again.

‘Cillian’ you huffed out but with your eyes still tightly closed and feeling each sensation you were creating as you indulged on the sound of his voice.

Cillian immediately turned around in a panic, thinking that you had caught him watching you. Why else would you have said his name, he wondered.

To his surprise, when he turned around in a panic, you still had your eyes closed and continued to pleasure yourself. Your hand was working over your mound from top to back and teasing both of your holes now and, with Cillian watching, you continued to touch and tease yourself, caressing the inside of your thighs.

Perhaps he was imagining you calling out his name he thought. You couldn’t possibly have said his name while you were masturbating. Clearly, his mind was playing tricks on him and he was sure about it.

Then, the unimaginable happened. You stood up inside the tub in all of your naked glory. Bubbles were running down your body and the smell of vanilla was in the air as you climbed out of the bathtub.

Cillian was quick to disappear into the hallway and thought that, perhaps, he should have closed the bathroom door. But then, he heard his name leaving your lips again and, just as he went back to see whether you were, in fact calling for him, he watched you lean against the vanity with your headphone still inside your ears and your fingers running over your outer walls of your pussy before teasing your clit with a soft abrasive touch.

In a trance and consumed by pleasure, you dropped your towel to the floor and squeezed your clit between your fingertips as you stood there with your eyes shut. The candle lights still danced in the room, bouncing off the water drops still on your soft skin.

All of your tattoos were on full display and so were your piercings, including the one on your clit which Cillian became rather curious about.

He could not take this any longer and watched you desperately as your body cried out and you responded by slowly inserting your index finger into your cavity and sliding it back out. You did this a few times until she pushed it in deep and held it there, massaging your inner walls. Then you added a second finger into your hot pussy pushing some of your juices out onto your hand.

Cillian swallowed harshly when, eventually, you removed your fingers from your hole and placed them one by one into your mouth, sucking them clean.

‘Jesus fucking christ’ he thought and, despite the fact that he knew that Lindsay would be visiting him in the next hour or so, he turned around and made a quick run to his bedroom.

Seeing you like this was too much for him and, without giving it a second thought, he unzipped his jeans and pushed them down half way in order to release his raging erection.

Leaning against the dresser in the bedroom, he began to stroke his hard shaft vigorously, thinking about what you did in the bathroom at the same time as he was seeking relief.

Just as Cillian was stroking his cock hard and fast while thinking about you, you thrusted your fingers in and out of your pussy while thinking of him. Eventually, you began to pound your pussy, slapping your clit with each thrust. Faster and harder bringing yourself to an orgasm.

Just as you came, your moans filled the entire house, thinking that you were on your own.

‘Oh god, yes Cillian’ you groaned and there was no mistaking it. It was his name he heard when you came and this alone sent him over the edge, causing him to cum hard onto the pile of dirty clothes besides the dresser.

Just as he stroked the last few drops of cum from his shaft, he heard the doorbell ring.

Quickly, he grabbed one of the t-shirts from the pile of clothes and cleaned himself up before walking downstairs and opening the front door.

‘Hey Sweetie’ Lindsay said, carrying two shopping bags.

‘You are early’ Cillian said before giving her a brief kiss.

‘I wanted to surprise you and thought I would cook for you. For Y/N too, of course. At least this way, you can finally introduce us properly and I don’t feel like your beck in call’ Lindsay explained.

‘Sounds great’ Cillian said somewhat flustered just as you walked through the hallway almost completely naked.

‘Oh my god, you are home…fuck’ you shouted, covering your breasts with a towel and Cillian couldn’t help but sigh.

He thought about you, calling out his name as you masturbated and now he was in his hallway with Lindsay who clearly wanted to mark her territory.

 Tag List:

@lilymurphy03 @deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-my-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney@missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15  @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r  @tellingyouastory  @captivatedbycillianmurphy​  @namelesslosers​  @littlewhiterose​  @ttzamara​  @ttzamara @cilleveryone  ​

@peaky-cillian​

@severewobblerlightdragon​  @ysmmsy​  

Cannot Tag (please check your settings):

@l0tsofpennies @trolleydolly @avonlady1985 @chrisevanshoeee @daydreamingnymph @fookingshelby  @thenattitude

[winderlylandchime]

And we are officially at 3x12: ‘come on Brian, don’t act like you don’t care about the backroom being closed. You said it yourself: you love public fucking’ ‘Damn, maybe Michael is actually gonna be cool if Hunter sticks around. I can’t believe they are actually keeping him like a stray cat. *looks at me all fake seriously* this is a good time to tell you, mom and dad also found you outside like that.’ ‘Im gonna need them to leave Emmett alone! Everyone leave him the fuck alone! I feel so bad for him- mel can you stop acting like Emmett is on a trial?’ HUNTER IS ABOUT TO MEET BRIAN!!!! ‘HE DOES EXIST BITCH! BRIAN FUCKING KINNEY! What did I say?! Everyone has a crush on Brian! Okay, i like Hunter now.’ ‘TED YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT! I feel so horrible for you but i am willing to put my feelings aside to rip your head off! Emmett deserves happiness not this shit’ ‘damn Ben can’t catch a break. His man AND his stray kid both being obsessed with Brian. No wonder he’s boring. SHIT HE KNOWS THE DEAD KID! OF COURSE A FUCKING COP DID IT. Why am i acting surprised? Carl, i had some faith in you, please dont fuck this up fully’ and now the infamous Deb at Brians party scene ‘DEBBIE IS BACK AT BRIANS! COME ON BEST FRIENDS! *pauses tv and looks at me* is this what I look like to you when I’m watching this show? Wait. Is this what i looked like when i asked (our uncles name) how gay sex works? Oh my god, I am Debbie at a gay orgy! Wait, is she expecting Brian to save the day with this cop killer thing? So the theme of the show is: blame Brian, use him for help and money and be mean to brian, got it’ ‘he told Justin about the dead kid picking up a cop? Yeah Brian is officially caring about it because no way is he gonna ignore just- oh Teddy, this is heartbreaking. Emmett baby, you’re above this. I get it but fucking hell you deserve better. Who the fuck does Mel think she is to just call Emmett that?! OH SHIT EMMETT CALLED HER A CUNT! GOOD FOR HIM! Thank you emmett. I know it’s bad to be happy about this but she is very rude sometimes. Im still angry for how she treated Brian about that life insurance or whatever.’ BRIAN AND HUNTER SCENE IS UP!!! ‘Hunter go hom- peanut car! BRIAN! Now this duo is something i can fuck with. So hunter and Brian. Or Jen and Brian. Or Daphne and Brian..so basically everyone except Mike.’ And the bar scene is up ‘this is the most depressing bar ever no wonder its a cop bar- are they trying to find the cop- HEY HE HAS A BOYFRIEND! SO HANDS OFF!(hunter offers to pay Brian) everyone is willing to pay him. Hunter. Justin. At this point, give me 4 more days and I’ll pay him too. BRIAN BE CAREFUL WITH THE COP, why are you asking so many questions? Who do you think you are? Oprah? He has no business looking this pretty while horribly interrogating a murderer.‘ And now the sad Ted and Emmett scene is up ‘NO TED! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS GOING ON WITH HIM? EMMETT GET OUT. LEAVE. DONT LET HIM DRAG YOU DOWN TOO. EMMETT HE NOT ONLY WANTS TO DO DRUGS HES ALSO TELLING YOU HE CHEATED! Emmett nooooooooo’ and the best part of the ep is up: Britin hustler scene!!! ‘Oh damn Blondie, look at you looking fine as fuck! Absolutely no dying young will be happening on my watch Brian! *waves his hand towards Justin* yeah, whatever he just said. Too big words for me right now. Do they have matching jackets or is he wearing Brians clothes? Brian really cant escape teenagers who have a crush on him. *said at the same time as justin* EXCUSE ME? He’s the boyfriend! See hunter, the reason Brian laughed is because Justin has owned his ass for the past 3 years! Blondie…you’re 19. And you were a stalker stealing credit cards at 17. That is considered an annoying teen’ ‘NOO HUNTER DON’T GO WITH HIM! FUCKING HELL THIS SHIT BETTER NOT GET HIM KILLED. I actually got attached to the little fucker’ And to end this on a good note, he went out to call his friend to tell him about the episodes and a cat scared the shit out of him and now he’s afraid to leave the house. At 36. I have a 5 year old child that I’m babysitting, who has a crush on Gale.

I’m snorting about him telling you your parents found you like that. That’s some peak sibling behavior.

He likes Hunter because of his crush on Brian? So relatable. I’m so excited he’s at this part.

So the theme of the show is: blame Brian, use him for help and money, and be mean to Brian. What’s that meme that’s like “you did it, you broke qaf down to its bare essentials? That’s this.

Emmett is so lovely during this arc, and so relatable. I agree with your brother about everything.

Do they have matching jackets or is he wearing Brian’s clothes? I die! Brian really can’t escape teenagers who have a crush on him. YUP. I love Justin’s complaining about teenagers. That is such an iconic and hilarious scene.

You are doing such a good job babysitting. And he does have a crush on Gale. He’s going to find out that Gale is straight and wow, I want to know his reaction.

Thank you for these summaries! I love them!