#Coming in here real quick to say I’ll be on break until tomorrow

[lesbianturrets]

Hi !!!

[mintmatcha]

ennoshita x reader

cw: cisfem reader, intercrucal sex, fingering, shower sex, established relationship

Minors DNI banner by @/benkeibear

takes place 6 months after just the tip

“You know what I’m going to say.”

You try to play off your smile as annoyance, rolling your eyes with a shake of your head. You drop your bags by the foot of the bed and shed your coat, letting it crumple on the floor. “I’m going to take a shower. I remembered to bring conditioner this time.”

“You wouldn’t have to remember conditioner-” Ennoshita sing-speaks, watching you from his spot on the top of the mattress- “if you’d just move in.”

You exchange knowing looks. The idea makes something glimmer inside your chest, shiny and exciting. Your relationship is inching towards the year mark; moving in together is the obvious next step, especially when your lease is ending in two months.

You’re going to give in and live here, obviously.

But it’s fun to tease him.

“Hmm, nope,” you shrug, “I like my apartment.”

“I could move into your place,” Ennoshita replies too easily. He’s already prepared for bed, pajamas on and hair washed. It’s still early, but tomorrow’s a work day and he needs to be up early for the clinic. 

“And commute an hour to work?” you scoff, “You’d hate that.”

He smiles with his eyes, real and true. “I’d love other parts of it.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” you ask, “Seeing me change?”

As you shimmy your jeans past your hips Ennoshita shifts, moving ever so slightly in the corner of your vision. He tilts his head just a couple of degrees to watch you move with an uninhibited view, smiling slipping down, down, down, until his bottom lip catches between his teeth, pearly white against the deep hue of his vermilion.

“That’s one benefit.”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

His eyes crease with amusement, narrowing into half moons, sharp and hungry. “Like what?” he says, an edge of teasing on his voice as he adjusts deeper in his seat, legs spreading almost on their own as if you wordless invite you in. You step out of your pants, then strip off your shirt as well. Your underwear is the practical kind, skin tone with too much coverage, and yet he still reveres you all the same, that pearly clutch only growing tighter the more he marvels.

“Like you’re gonna eat me.”

Your boyfriend's smile only grows. “Come here and maybe I will.”

You take a delicate step backwards, hands reaching behind your own back to unclasp your bra. 

“No.” You let it fall and his eyes latch on to the curve of your tits, “You come here.”

When you dip around the corner, the bed creaks with the sudden release of weight and Ennoshita is quick to follow, fingers nimbly undoing his shirt buttons as he pursues you, sure yet patient, like a wolf on the hunt. By the time you make it to the bathroom, he’s eclipsing you; his bare chest presses into yours, squishing your tits against him as he catches you in a kiss.

The physical contact between you has developed. It’s more natural now, with edges of neediness that are so sharp that you think he might break-

But he hasn’t. 

Not that you’re upset. You cum more often than most of your friends, but you still find yourself craving a good hard fuck-

Especially in times like this, where you can feel his cock starting to harden against your stomach.

“I really do need a shower, Chichi,” you mumble halfheartedly. 

Ennoshita chuckles at the nickname, only squeezing you tighter. His eyes sparkle under the overhead light, their color melting into the black of his pupil, endlessly dark, yet bottomless with pure affection. You’d never tell him this to his face in fear that he’d take it the wrong way, but they remind you of a cow's eyes, soft and sweet and large, with  deep lower lids and thick eyelashes that sweep downwards over his iris. 

“Go ahead," he says, "I’ll wash your back.”

You love him. The ooey, gooey kind that sticks to your ribs and keeps you full well into the night. It makes you a little sick to think about, like you could choke on it if you swallow the wrong way. 

You let him peel the rest of your clothes from your body and you return the favor, both of you naked in the door of his bathroom and bare to each other. The tile is cold against the soles of your feet, but the rest of you is warm.

“Stop doing that,” you scold as Ennoshita departs with a kiss. He starts the tub, testing the heat with his fingertips every couple of seconds, rushing the water to heat faster. 

“Doing what?” he hums.

“Being so sweet.”  Steam is already starting to cling to the mirror as you both step into the tub and pull the curtain back. The warm spray pulls a sigh from both of you as you settle, facing the shower with Ennoshita to your back. He maintains a boundary, but you can feel him there, moving in the space right off of your skin, electric in anticipation it builds.

“I’m sorry," he says with no remorse in his voice. His lips brush over the nape of your neck, breath cool in contrast to the steam. "Can I make it up to you?”

You lean back, head against his shoulder, damp hair clinging to his skin as you try to see his face. The drum of water against your chest dulls your hum, steals the playful sounds in your throat as he finally touches you, pushing his hands up your sides until they are cupped under the curve of your tits. He lifts them slightly with the press of his fingers and you can feel how he swallows against you, thick with desire. 

”Can I?” he asks again. His touch travels up, greedy hands squeezing and pinching at your nipples, the slickness of water gliding between your skin. “Can I make you feel good?”

You nod and press back into him to savor the soft comfort of how his hands wander. One still cups at your chest while the other dips low, fumbling to part your pussy. His middle finger curls and bumps over your clit a bit too roughly as he tries to find it, eager yet clumsy. A runnel of warm water follows his arm, the flow pleasantly warm where it moves against you and the trickle between your legs teasing.

 With tentative circles, he falls into a rhythm, brushing over your hooded clit over and over as he mouths the back of your neck. The build up is slow, but there, and your hips wiggle reflexively against him when the urn becomes too much. His cock is now fully hard and nestled into the dip of your ass. It kicks in time with your whines.

“Chikara, ah-” You cling to his wrist, holding him in just the right place as heat overtakes your senses. Wantonly, you throw your foot on to the rim of the tub, knocking over bottles to give him more space to maneuver. He uses the space to stroke you more freely, in neater, cleaner motions.

“Right there, like that.” Your core tightens and you suddenly feel more empty than ever.

The longer you wait, the more ravenous for him you’ve become, your ache to be fucked almost physically painful some days.

“Move in and I’ll do this every night.” Ennoshita’s voice drips with want, “M-make you cum all you want. All you need.”

He pulls you closer. “Just say yes.”

You throw him a look. “You can’t ask now, that’s not f-air.” You squeak out the last syllable as he squeezes his other hand, grip slipping against the slick fat of your tit.

“Move in.” His teeth nips at the back of your neck, “And I’ll-” He stumbles over his words, then refocuses, voice firm, “I’ll fuck you.”

Shock stiffens your spine straight. He’s never suggested breaking his rule. Sure, you’ve skirted the line many times before, but you’ve never fully broken it. It’s his boundary to cross and, despite how much you want him, you’ve never pushed him on the issue. 

“Chi-”

“I want to.” He interrupts your worry by rutting his hips into your ass, water lubing his cock as it moves between your cheeks, “Fuck, I want to.”

He readjusts and you’re greeted by the firmness of his cock, pressing through the petals of your cunt. He grips on to your hips, tight enough flesh bulges through his fingers, and drags you back across his length. With every movement, he swallows back a groan, chest high and heavy with sounds he doesn’t want you to hear. Everything between you is slick from the shower, but when you look down, the head of his dick is glazed with thicker, shinier excitement. You are still pulsing, so close to your own high, and you wonder if he can feel your pussy twitching against him.

“I think about it all the time,” he says, voice fucked past the point of recognition,  “Holding you like this. Giving you what you want.”

He pulls back and pushes forward, faux-fucking you at a slow, controlled tempo. The shower provides its own lube, mixing with your own body’s excitement to ease his thrusts through the valley of your thighs.

“What you need.”

He pressed on your lower back to angle your hips forward and suddenly the sensation changes. The ridge of his cock catches against the sensitive bump of your clit, pulling another shock of pleasure from you. Each stroke makes you jump, pushing on to your heels with a whine. The rhythm is just enough for you to both get lost in it, hopelessly, aimlessly grasping for each other. 

“I’m honestly obsessed with you,” he teases, throwing your own words from way back when back at you.

Tight heart builds in you with every stroke, pulling infinitely stronger until every muscle in your body is taut in anticipation.

This isn’t enough, you realize. You need just a bit more.

You bring your leg back to the ground and cross your ankles, squeezing your thighs together tight. Ennoshita chokes at the sudden sensation, hips stuttering against your ass with sharp, wet claps. The new tension means his member smushed against you and every vein and ridge and texture is apparent with each rut into the makeshift pussy your legs have formed.

“Oh, shit-” he grits out, head dropping to your shoulder and arms wrapping around you tight, locking you in place against him, “Shit-

He spills on to your thighs with a mangled sob, cock jerking with each ribbon of spend. His whole body flushes with heat, all the way down to his shaking thighs. The feel of him, the sound of him, it's insanely hot, but your stomach still sinks as your own high starts to drift away. 

"Did you cum?"  he asks after a moment. Ennoshita trails sweet kisses down the curve of your spine as he lets you go, cock still locked between your thighs.

You shrug, trying to reach awkwardly behind you for him. "No, but it's fine."

Ennoshita pauses. "No." He runs his fingers through the last remnants of his cum that cling to your thighs, "It's not."

Slicked fingers find their way back to you, dipping deep within your folds to roll your clit. This time, he’s more confident, playing with you faster, needier, pulling whines out of you much easier than before. The feel of his spend adds to the delight, everything about both of you just wet, wet, wet.

The position is awkward, but he still manages to reach around and work his fingers into you, pushing his cum deep inside you. The fullness gives you a tremendous release, but also stokes the fire, forcing you to want more and more- more of him, more of his cum inside you-

“Where it belongs,” he says, as if he can read your mind, and you nod in agreement. Yeah, inside you is where it belongs.

Ennoshita grinds the heel of his palm into your cunt and it’s all suddenly too much. The string inside you breaks and you cum, hard. The sensation makes you sob, pulling in air so hard that you inhale the shower stream and you immediately erupt into a coughing fit. Ennoshita laughs, incredulous.

“Are you alright?” He pats your back. You gather yourself with a sniffle, standing to face him. His dark hair is wild, half wet and smeared across his forehead as he coos with sympathy, calm smile pinned deep into his cheeks.

“You came so hard you’re crying.”

“I did not,” you retort weakly.

“Okay, okay. If you say so."

He holds his arms open for you and you shuffle into them, that shower drizzle already starting to lose its heat. You should hurry and stop running up the utility bill, but instead you linger, savoring the innocent part of skinship. Ennoshita doesn't seem to mind, occasionally dotting kisses onto your crown.

“I will, by the way,” you whisper,  “Move in.”

He's unphased. You both already knew that you were going to agree. “Good.” 

“Not because of the sex,” you clarify, speaking into the crook on his shoulder. “Because of the ‘you.’”

“I know."  He hums to himself, throat buzzing under your touch, “Want me to wash your hair?”

You shake your head with a sigh. "Can't."

"I can't? Am I that hopeless?"

You peek up. He's watching you with those round, round eyes. "My conditioner is still in my bag, Chichi."

He laughs a bit too hard, sputtering a bit on water himself. "

"You know what i'm going to say, don't you?" His fingers tickle at your side, "If you lived here-"

"I already said yes!"

He laughs again and its musical to your ears.

[cupidlovemail]

( genshin impact ) tighnari x reader

reader :: gender-neutral, trainee doctor

genre :: angst, fluff

word count :: 2.9k

warnings :: tighnari gets struck by lightning, severe injuries, burns, blood, scars, mentions of being unconscious

characters :: tighnari, dehya, lumine, collei

Living in the rainforest had its ups and downs. It was fascinating to get first-hand experience and witness all of the flora and fungi it had to offer, however it was also possible that something would go wrong and you would get a very stern lecture from your boss. As a trainee forest watcher specializing in medicinal herbs and remedies, excelling at your job was critical. If something went wrong it was up to you to ensure the safety of the group and keep the situation under control. That is why today, after accidentally spilling a bottle of medicine you had been working on into the river, Tighnari sat you down to discuss the problems you were having.

"Do you have to be so clumsy? What if someone's life was on the line and you dropped all of the available medicine?"

"I wouldn't! It was an accident, the ground was just softer than I thought it would be and-"

Tighnari's sigh interrupted you, causing you to look at your feet in shame. He was a great boss but sometimes you felt like he was harder on you than the others. If Collei accidentally leaves something in camp it's because she is swamped with work, if you do it it's because you're scatterbrained. If another forest ranger trips and drops their food rations it's because the vines were dense in that area, if you do it it's because you're clumsy. Even if you think you are improving Tighnari always manages to find something to nitpick about your performance.

"Well, I guess it'll have to be fine. The medicine didn't contain anything that isn't native to this area so it shouldn't pose any environmental concerns. Just don't do it again." He makes quick notes in his pocketbook, likely documenting everything you did wrong today.

"I'll do better next time!"

"You always say that."

"I really, really mean it this time!"

"You always say that, too. Look, being a doctor is a hard discipline. These negative traits are not going to help you, institutions in the city won't accept it. You can't spill things, you can't panic under pressure, you can't-"

"Do you not trust me, Tighnari?" You ask quietly, cutting him off mid-sentence. You had listened to this speech many times before and did not want to hear it to completion. "I have helped people, I haven't harmed anyone in the entire time I've been here! You make it sound like I can't do anything right!"

"I'm not saying you're useless, I'm just saying you have a long way to go before you can become a real doctor."

"But I am a real doctor! I'm helping people, I'm making my own medicine, and I'm learning so much by being in the forest!"

"You're going to need a lot more experience, but that's why you're here. The other forest watchers are learning too, you're not the only one who needs to improve before they can succeed."

"Sometimes it feels like you don't want me to succeed at all." You mumble, low enough that any normal human would not have been able to pick up on it. Upon noticing Tighnari's ear twitch, however, you sense you've made a mistake and he lets out a long sigh.

"Look, I'm sorry. Why don't you take tomorrow off? Come back feeling refreshed, we all deserve a break now and then."

You decide to take Tighnari up on his offer, slowly trudging back to your house in Gandharva Ville. This time you wait to grumble under your breath until you are a safe distance away from his ears that pick up everything you don't want them to. With your back turned you don't notice the way Tighnari watches you leave, his tail swishing behind him and a worried expression on his face.

You collapse onto your bed, not realizing how tired you really were after a long day of getting in trouble. It takes all of your willpower to unpack your medicine bag onto your desk and change out of your adventuring outfit before falling asleep as soon as you get under the covers.

You wake up at the crack of dawn out of habit, ready to head into the forest on patrol as usual. You yawn, noticing a note left on the nightstand beside your bed.

"I'm going to Pardis Dhyai for the day, I've left Collei in charge. If you need anything, ask her.

Don't forget you have the day off.

- Tighnari"

You have to reread the note twice in order to comprehend what it was actually saying. It was rare for Tighnari to suddenly leave on such short notice, he liked to create a schedule and stick to it so you imagined something urgent must have come up. This, however, was your excuse to fall back asleep without being bothered. If Tighnari was being so insistent that you get some rest, why not take him up on his kind offer? You quickly fall back asleep, excited to have the rest of the day to yourself.

The curtain on the front of your home was frantically pushed aside, a flustered and panting Dehya leaning against your door frame. The commotion caused your eyes to snap open and you sat up, rising instantly from the bed to meet her where she stood. Forest watcher training taught you to be quick on your feet in an emergency, something that was paying off now.

"You," She paused, gasping for air. "You need to come now."

"What happened? Who's hurt?" You ask, watching as Dehya hunched over to rest her hands on her knees. "Did you run here? Where were you?"

"Pardis Dhyai. It's Tighnari." As soon as his name left her lips you were already hurriedly shoving herbs and other medicinal materials into your knapsack. Trying to be gentle with them was out of the question, the mere thought that Tighnari might be in any sort of danger left you to throw all rationality out the window. Just as you swung one strap of the bag over your shoulder Dehya grabbed your wrist, pulling you behind her and insisting that there was no time to waste.

The two of you sprinted as fast as you could down the dirt path that led from Gandharva Ville to Pardis Dhyai, the dust gradually turning into heavy mud at your feet. Dark storm clouds billowed above your heads and the crackling of thunder grew louder the closer you got. Despite not being as athletic as Dehya due to your different lines of work, the anxiety welling up in your heart caused you to keep a steady pace with her the entire journey. When the large arch marking the entrance to the research facility finally came into view the hair on your arms was standing up due to the electric charge in the air. Leading you to the main building, Dehya stepped aside to catch her breath as you were greeted by a worried Lumine.

"You're here!" She exclaimed, motioning toward an injured Tighnari on the ground.

Rushing over, you instantly dropped to your knees beside him. His breathing was ragged and he was struggling to keep his eyes open. His hair was frizzier than you had ever seen it but his ears still flicked toward the sound of your footsteps.

"He was fighting the Fatui with Dehya when..." Lumine trails off behind you, sighing quietly. "Lightning."

"Oh, thank the Archons that you're conscious." You breathe out a sigh of relief, digging around in your bag. "Where was he struck? Did he walk here? Did someone carry him?"

"He walked, Dehya only helped steady him. Why?"

"I'm checking for broken bones, if he can walk his lower body should only be fractured at the worst." You run your hands along Tighnari's arms, feeling for anything out of place. Moving up his body, you take his face in your hands and slightly move his head back and forth to test his neck. "Does this hurt?"

He quickly averts his gaze and shakes his head. You pull both of his pant legs up to see blood already scabbing from his knees down, likely due to the impact of hitting the ground after the initial shock. Tighnari shook in pain slightly as you cleaned the numerous cuts along his legs and applied medicinal bandages to stop the bleeding before you began working on the rest of his injured form. Lumine watched silently from behind you and Dehya stood near the doorway, seemingly keeping her eye out for anything else that could go wrong.

You could feel Tighnari's eyes watching you as you worked, expert hands moving their way up his body to search for any imperfections that needed to be addressed. Your normal nervousness had completely faded away and you acted like a professional. If he didn't know better Tignari would have assumed you were a licensed doctor and not still in the middle of your training. Each time you glanced up to make sure he was still conscious he looked away, refusing to meet your gaze for even a second.

By the time you got to his chest you requested that he remove his top to ensure you were not leaving any part of him left untreated. As soon as he shrugged it off, however, you could not stop the gasp from escaping your mouth. Starting from his right shoulder was a large, burning lighting strike pattern carved into his skin. The top of his shoulder was the worst, his skin was charred and peeling heavily due to the friction from his shirt. The lines trailing onto his back and chest got less severe the further down they stretched, but they were still a horrid color and smelled of burnt flesh. Tighnari tipped his head backwards and screwed his eyes shut, giving you full access to begin applying the medicinal poultice to his burns.

Lumine had stepped out of the building at this point, whether it be from the smell of burning flesh or because she was unsure how to help was unclear. The storm began to settle, the sound of thunder fading into obscurity in the background. Dehya took Lumine's place, kneeling beside you and occasionally passing more sterilized gauze when the ones in your hand became too dirty to use. Tighnari squirmed each time you touched the medicine to his wounds and you almost felt bad for him. Between the reassurance that he was still alive and your rigorous training taking over you had no time to focus on how either of you was feeling, the anxiety in your chest had long since faded and your job was the only thing on your mind. You silently thanked yourself for pulling so many all-nighters in the Akademiya reading textbooks and taking practice quizzes. While nothing could come close to hands-on experience, being able to recall specific information just when you needed was proving to be very useful. Once the final dressing was applied to his chest, you wiped your hands on your pants and let out a long sigh.

"That should be okay, the bleeding has stopped and I've looked at every part of the burn I could see. I'll have to change the bandages later but for now... for now, he's okay."

"Do you think it would be alright for us to take him back to Gandharva Ville?" Dehya asked, standing up and stretching her arms above her head.

"I think so, as long as we're careful. I don't want him walking alone though, can you help me Dehya?"

"I'm injured, not dead. I can walk." Tighnari says, speaking up for the first time. He stubbornly rises to his feet, leaning against the wall to steady himself as he catches his breath.

"You could be dead." You say, frowning at him. "Dehya and I will help you."

Still not meeting your gaze, Tighnari latches himself solely onto Dehya as she wraps her arm around him to hold him upright. You pause, quickly packing any unused materials into your bag and safely discarding what you didn't need. With the sun almost peaking through the clouds now, it was hard to imagine that such a terrible storm had occurred just brief moments ago. Or had it been hours? You reach up to rub your eyes, feeling as if you were waking up from a long nap. Being focused for so long in such a tense situation drained much of your energy and the trip back to Gandharva Ville was long and arduous.

Tighnari lay in his bed with a light blanket pulled up to his chin. His ears were flattened against the pillow and his normally soft hair was sticking out in all different directions. His breathing, while still ragged and uneven, had calmed down significantly since being in Pardis Dhyai and he was less restless overall. You had stepped out of the room to fetch clean water in order to change his bandages that had already been soaked through with blood. As you re-entered, his head turned away and he began to stare blankly at the wall. Sinking into the chair next to his bed with a sigh, you reached forward to move his bangs out of his eyes.

"How are you feeling, Tighnari?"

"Fine." He says curtly, still making no effort to look your way.

In the entire time you had known him he had never been this cold toward you and, with less of a life-threatening situation on your hands, your emotions began to re-emerge. He constantly told you that you needed to practice more before becoming a real doctor. Your emotions got the better of you, you could be clumsy at the worst times, and it was not uncommon for you to panic when the situation was tense. All of these factors were unfitting for a doctor, he insisted, so you continued to train in Gandharva Ville. And now, just after the two of you had an argument, you were the one sitting beside him as he slowly healed from his burns. What made you think you had the right?

"Tighnari?" You ask quietly, waiting for a response that he never gives. You notice the way his ear flicks as you talk, your only indication to keep going. "I'm going to go to the Akademiya tomorrow. I'll see if they have any doctors available to come and help you recover."

"No!" His gaze finally snaps to yours, a pained expression on his face. "You're my doctor."

"That's exactly why I'm going to see if there's anyone better available-"

"You just saved my life, what makes you think you aren't a good doctor?" He fully turns to face you now, wincing when the right side of his body touches the bedding.

"W-well, I'm still nervous. I almost panicked when I saw you on the ground, I didn't know what to do. I-"

"But you didn't. You didn't panic. You did everything exactly like you were supposed to, I couldn't have done better myself." Words of praise were rare from Tighnari and it caught you off guard. This time you were the one to look away from him, suddenly feeling embarrassed due to the intense way he was staring at you. Shuffling your feet, Tighnari let out a sigh when you didn't answer and relaxed back onto the bed.

"Do you know why I was so hard on you?" He said after a few moments of silence, his voice unusually soft. "Because you have so much potential. If you keep working I have no doubt that you'll be one of the best doctors Sumeru has ever seen. And... I was being selfish. If you're a full-fledged doctor, you're going to have to leave Gandharva Ville someday. There are much better opportunities in the city, it would be a waste to not take your talents there."

"Tighnari..."

"Well, now you know. Can we get this over with, please?" He gestures towards the pile of bandages sitting in your lap, pulling the bed sheet down to reveal what little part of his chest wasn't covered in either scars or gauze.

"Tighnari, I wasn't planning on leaving Gandharva Ville." You say, causing him to stop moving. He balls up the blanket in his fists and you can see the flaky skin move against the dressing on his shoulder. At least his home smelt less like burnt flesh, you opened every window he had to ensure it didn't become suffocating.

"That wouldn't be smart." Is all he says, now staring directly at his hands. "You have no reason to stay here."

"I have you."

His cheeks flushed a visible shade of pink and his ears began to twitch before he brought his left hand up to his mouth, trying to cover his face. "You can't just say things like that."

"I mean it. I'm happy staying here for the rest of my life. I love being so close to the forest, and I love working with you." Your eyes meet and you hope that he can see the seriousness in your expression. You stare at each other in silence for a moment, Tighnari's face getting redder with each second that passes.

"If you wanted me dead you should have just left me on the floor at Pardis Dhyai." He joked, something he always turned to when conversations became too serious for his liking. You decided to let him get away with it this time, he was going to be bedridden for weeks to heal from his burns and you did not want to add any more stress to his situation.

"Don't worry, I'll stick around. I am your doctor after all."

[formulawrite]

Something of yours // F.D

Summary: His new job comes with new benefits 

Warnings: Smut, Minors dni, Car!Sex

"IS IT REAL?" I scream looking at the car in front of me

"yes it's real, i'll be driving around in it now" he laughed at myreaction

since Felipe was announced as the young drivers programs he was getting a few thing from the team to make him official, but i didn't know an Aston Martin car was in the mix

"can i go inside and play with it?" looking at him with pleading eyes

"yeah have fun" he unlocked the car as I rushed inside to have a good look at everything, he also walks in the drivers side to show you the settings and new technology

"what?" he asks notices me looking at him with a weird smile

"nothing, i'm just really proud of you" he blushes a little and tilt his head to give me a kiss, the kiss escalates to a small make out session before I stop it

"maybe we should take this to your room" a little breathless from the kiss and fixing the top he messed up

"yeah we could... or..." he says looking around the car "this car needs a little bit of you in it"

"like what?" I tried to play innocent, but I remember what he meant by that when got his old car... his poor mom when she opened the door...

"you know, something of yours, like a neckless on the mirror, a hair tie on the hand break... or your pussy dripping on my leather seat." he whispered the last part on my ear giving it a kiss a small bite giving me chills.

"maybe i can pick a neck less for you to hang on the mirror" still trying to compose myself while he kept working on my neck

"and the other thing?" he whispered pushing his hand up my skirt

"we're in the middle of the street"

"it's midnight, the street is empty, it will be quick i promise." he looked around and turning his attention back to me "plus i know how much you love riding me in the car"

"i hate you so much" i laugh already lifting up my skirt 

"that’s all i wanted to hear" he reclined his seat for me climb on top of him undoing his pants enough pulling my panties to the side

he slid inside easily for how wet i was from his touches and words, i bounced on him using his shoulders for support hitting my head slightly on the car ceiling of, Felipe had his head thrown back and his mouth open, while grabbing my waist helping me go harder on him

"you look so gorgeous right now" he moaned opening my mouth and sliding his thumb inside while his other hand came down to give me a slap on the ass "you were made for me to fuck like this"

his words rushed through me getting me closer to my orgasm, it didn't took long until both of us ruined his black leather seat. I stayed on top of him for a bit to recover with my legs still shaking.

his rough touches turned gentle while he helped off of him and grabbing my face to kiss me talking mid kisses

"that... was... amazing... you... shou-"

we were interrupted by the car door being opened and closed in a rush, we got scared and tried to cover ourselves quiclky.

"sério Felipe? de novo?" really felipe? again? we heard his mothers voice outside of the car

"can't you two don't ruin a car for me for once?" she says already going back to the house

"i think she's starting to hate me" i say looking at him

"she loves you more than she loves me sometimes, plus it's not like she doesn't know we have sex" he pulled his pants back up and looked at me "remember new years last year?"

"well we were drunk and i didn't know how loud i was being" you laugh remembering his whole family teasing the both of you the next morning

"yeah that was embarrassing" he kissed my hand laughing at the incident "wanna finish this in the bedroom?"

"i'm sure we finished this here already" exiting the car and walking towards the house "and we deserve to give your mom an apology"

"we apologize to her, and then continue this in my bed" he says running after me

"deal” I scream going inside the house 

Notes: I hope you enjoyed it, and for tomorrow i got a bit carried away on a NSFW alphabet ;) I’ts Marcus btw

[hollandorks]

saved

matt murdock x original female character

chapter eighteen

Summary: Fleeing from an abusive relationship, Grace St. James goes to the only place she still has a friend: Hell’s Kitchen. She’s forced to live in her car and beg for a job from the law firm Nelson, Murdock, and Page all the while making sure her past doesn’t catch up to her. Enter Matt Murdock: cocky, handsome, and willing to let her live with him for free until she can afford to get a place of her own. Grace is drawn to Matt in a way she’s never been drawn to anyone, causing sparks to fly as they inevitably grow closer and closer.

a/n: phew, made it through being sick and the holidays and now I have time to post again! This chapter is...a lot. Literally. It’s over 10k words. I’d say I’m sorry but I’m not! There wasn’t a good place to break it up, and I don’t think anyone would want a cliffhanger where I’d debated ending the chapter, so here you go! A nice, huge chapter! 

***This chapter is NSFW. 18+! *** 

Series Masterlist 

word count: 10,409

She’d been stupid, naive, prone to giving in to his apologies.

She wasn’t that girl anymore.

She took a deep, steadying breath, and finally started working on the paperwork piling up on her desk.

Matt’s POV 

The day was over before Matt knew it. He’d been buoyed all day long, his three favorite people in the world surrounding him with laughter and light for the entire day. He hadn’t laughed so hard or so much in…well, a long time. 

They managed to all leave at the same time for once, Foggy wordlessly clapping him on the back as they left. Matt knew what his best friend meant with the motion–he was happy for Matt, for Grace. 

Karen’s phone chimed as she locked the office door behind them. “Ellison has something.” 

“Send it to me,” Matt said immediately. 

“Yes sir,” Karen said sarcastically, but her fingers tapped the phone screen anyways. 

Matt inserted an earbud to listen to the text Karen had copied and sent to him, frowning as he walked. He was aware of Grace standing next to him, her warmth a steady comfort as she talked to the others. 

At the intersection where they usually parted ways, Foggy hesitated for a second after saying goodbye. “Feel free to um…come in late tomorrow,” before he hastily walked away. 

Matt could feel Grace’s heart beating more quickly. Her skin temperature rose as she blushed. He loved when she blushed and he unconsciously leaned into the extra warmth. 

“Well, if Foggy’s alright with it,” she joked as they crossed the street. 

Matt didn’t respond. He was lost in thought. He was already planning on going out as soon as he got back to the apartment. He needed to move quickly if what Ellison had discovered was true. 

“Hey, want to stop to eat first?” Grace asked. 

“You can pick up something. I’ll meet you at home. I have something to do real quick.” He needed to get home and get to the warehouse now owned by the same security company the men supposedly worked for. 

“Are you okay?” she asked softly. 

He turned to face her, expression softening into a smile. “Yeah, just thinking about this case. I’ll see you at home.” The lie rolled off of his tongue easily. He hadn’t meant to lie, it simply…happened. He didn’t want her to worry, and he knew he could be there and back before she even went to bed for the night. 

Matt went inside the apartment with guilt weighing him down. He would tell Grace the truth when he got back, he decided. It was too late now. He wanted things to work with her, though, so he needed to be open. She’d already blown him away with her easy acceptance of his secret. Why would this be any different? 

The guilt worsened as he changed out of his work clothes. 

He shouldn’t have lied. He cursed at himself as he pulled on his armor. He really shouldn’t have lied. He’d worked for the past several years to reach a place of trust and honesty with Foggy and Karen, and he’d sabotaged that work with Grace the first chance he’d gotten. 

He paused as he started pulling on his boots and mentally berated himself. 

He missed the sound of the door unlocking and opening behind him and froze as someone entered the apartment. 

Grace’s scent and familiar heartbeat reached him a split second later and he relaxed a bit. 

“Oh,” she said, her heart stuttering in her chest. “I…got you food.” 

Matt tilted his head, several expressions flickering across his face before he settled on a carefully neutral one. “Thanks. I…have something to take care of.” The guilt worsened, heavy like lead in his veins.

“Oh,” she said again. “What is it?” 

“I’m–I–” he stammered. He’d planned on telling her the truth when he got back, but here she was, catching him in the lie. It was somehow so much worse than he’d thought it would be. He braced himself for the blow, for her anger, for her disappointment. 

She sighed. “You’re getting pretty familiar with this hook I keep letting you off of,” she told him. “At least eat real quick before you go do…whatever. Ninja flips.” 

Matt cracked a small smile. “I’m sorry, I know I said–” 

“It’s fine,” she said before he could dig himself even farther into the hole he was making. “Really.” 

“You’re lying,” he said softly. He didn’t need to hear her heartbeat to be able to tell. The tone of her voice was enough. Though her heart was evidence enough, too. “It’s not fine. You’re disappointed. I knew this–” 

“Matt, of course I’m disappointed. But it’s really okay. I don’t expect you to drop everything for me.” She held out the paper bag with his food. He could smell the grease and breading from one of his favorite fish and chip places. “Besides, you could have just told me you were going out. You didn’t need to lie.” 

He muttered something curses darkly to himself as he took the food. He’d brought this on himself. He always did. 

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t have to hear what you said to know it was more–” 

“Self-flagellating bullshit.” He sighed. “I just–this always gets in the way of my relationships. Every time. And I’m sorry it does, but this is important, and–” 

“Matt, I’m disappointed we don’t get to have sex immediately after we eat, not that you’re going out as Daredevil.” 

His head snapped up. “What?” He stopped breathing for a second as he parsed her words. 

Grace smothered a laugh. “Was I lying? No. Because it’s okay. I know what you do is important, and I won’t stop you or try to make you feel bad about yourself.” He heard a rustle as she shrugged and a crunch as she popped one of the fries in her mouth. “I may have been with an asshole for a really long time, but even I know you can’t just expect a partner to drop everything they do and tailor their schedules to you and your relationship.” 

Matt was still frozen in the same position. She…didn’t care that he was going out as Daredevil. And she wasn’t lying about it. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. After a moment, he laughed, a low sound that she felt more than heard. “You are–constantly surprising me.” 

“Refreshing, isn’t it? I already told you all of this. Looks like it only took–” She paused. “–roughly eight hours for you to forget it.” 

Matt strode forward and kissed her lightly. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m–I’m trying. I swear. And to show you that I’m trying, I’m going to tell you that I’m going after those assholes who came here last night, to try to get some information out of them.” 

“They were released?” she asked. He heard a note of fear in her voice. A trace of moisture in the air as her palms began to sweat. Her heart raced. 

Matt’s hands traced her jaw, her neck. “I’m not going to be gone long,” he said. “I promise.” He inhaled her scent even as though it was tainted with fear. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” He’d never meant a promise more in his life. He would protect her, no matter what. And what he was about to go do was the first step in that. 

She took a deep breath and her heart calmed almost immediately as she breathed. “Sorry, I just–” She shrugged again. Even the sweat on her palms dissipated. 

“You’re…weirdly good at that.” Matt listened intently as her body calmed further. He’d noticed her calming herself quickly before. 

“I’ve lived with fear for a long time,” she said softly. Anger stirred at her words. Fear of that man that she’d been with. “Now, here. The man behind the counter gave me a funny look when I asked what your order was. He thinks I’m stalking you, probably.” 

Matt didn’t comment on what she’d said. All he did was take the bag from her and say, “I won’t be long. I swear. And I’ll try to keep an ear out for anything happening, okay?” He would be on high alert for anything and would do a loop around the neighborhood first, just to make sure nothing suspicious was happening. 

“Be careful, please,” she said. Her next words almost knocked him off of his feet. “I still plan to pay you back, you know.” 

Matt groaned because he knew exactly what she meant by that. “Stop trying to get me to stay home.” 

“I’m trying to get you to come back,” she said. 

Matt was quiet for a moment. “I will,” he said earnestly. “Don’t worry about me.” 

She kissed him again, and then he was gone, out of the roof door without looking back, slipping the devil’s guise over his face as he went. 

–

Despite Grace’s words, guilt plagued Matt as he moved across the city. His gut reaction had been to lie to her about what he was thinking about, about what he was doing, and she’d caught him anyway. He didn’t know how to do this, how to be with someone who knew his secret and accepted it. He still wasn’t entirely convinced that she did accept it. 

Matt was convinced that, even though things were starting off well, Grace would eventually come to resent him, to resent his time as Daredevil. 

Because he had learned one thing in his years being a vigilante–he didn’t want to stop. He couldn’t. It was as much a part of him as his DNA was. He had come to terms with that fact and it had taken a lot of work to find peace with it. 

But God, did he want to do right by Grace. Not just because she’d been with an abusive asshole for years, but because she deserved someone to treat her well. Matt knew he wasn’t up to the job and yet she still wanted to try with him. 

The hope that Matt felt overshadowed every other emotion. 

Matt’s mind might be a thousand miles away–or, more accurately, about a mile back in his apartment–but his focus was still on those men. 

Anger quickly rose on a wave and washed away his thoughts about Grace. Those men had broken into his home to take her. To take her back to her asshole of an ex, the man who had beaten her, the man she was terrified of. 

Ellison’s work had been quick and thorough. He’d tracked the security company the men had claimed to be a part of, and had somehow even used his many connections to find out where the men went after being released. 

When Matt had gotten the information from Karen, he hadn’t been surprised. 

The security company had recently bought the warehouse that Grace had told him about. 

No doubt the security company was a shell that Dean Bennett owned. 

Matt would dig into all of that later. Getting a paper trail to connect nefarious things to Dean Bennett was a problem for another day. 

Right now, he had a score to settle with the men who had broken into his home. 

The warehouse was mostly empty. From what he could tell from his perch on the roof closest to the building, they were setting things up to make it look like an actual security company was running it. No wonder it had been empty when he’d first investigated–Dean Bennett was using a legitimate business to cover up his crimes. Or something that was going to look as close to a legitimate business as it could get. 

He heard at least six people inside, one of them moaning loudly about being forced to work late. Four of them were the men who’d just been released. 

Matt’s blood heated. A calmness washed through him as he straightened from his perch. 

He was going to get some answers. 

It was easy enough to find the breaker box for the first floor of the warehouse. It wasn’t quite sunset yet so he needed all the darkness he could get. He’d been in a rush to get to the men before they disappeared. 

He could hear cursing from most of the men as the warehouse was doused in shadows. 

The first man went down quickly and quietly. Matt stashed him in the office, which was now actually being used as an office. 

The second man came to investigate. Matt couldn’t believe his luck–out of six men, the first two he took out weren’t from the group who’d broken into his apartment. He pulled the second man’s unconscious body into the office too, divested them of their guns and phones, and stepped back out into the shadows. 

He focused on the echos in the building to locate the other four. Two were talking amongst themselves, completely unconcerned. A third was headed his way. 

He almost missed the fourth, who had snuck up behind him while he’d been taking care of the first two. 

The first gunshot was so close it rang in Matt’s ears. He’d moved right before it had gone off, the whisper of air moving around the barrel alerting him to the man’s presence just in time. His aim was true and his fist connected with the man’s wrist. The gun clattered to the ground. 

Matt struck again, quickly, knocking him out as another gunshot rang out from behind him. He ducked and rolled out of the way. 

The three remaining men surrounded him. 

Anger rose in him again, blinding him momentarily. These men had broken into his home and had been trying to take Grace back to the man who had hurt her for years. 

Matt shouted as one of the men got a good hit to his ribs as he whirled and kicked at another. Four down, two to go. He received another blow, to his mouth this time, and he spat blood without losing momentum. He was too angry to feel the pain and simply used it to fuel his anger. 

There was only one man left standing, his arm hanging at his side, shoulder dislocated. 

“What do you want with Grace St. James?” Matt demanded. He could have gone about it more carefully, but he didn’t want to. It didn’t matter–he wanted word to get out that the devil of Hell’s Kitchen was protecting Grace. Then maybe that asshole Dean Bennett would think twice before trying anything else. 

“Who?” the man asked, clearly confused. He wasn’t lying either, wasn’t faking. 

Matt paused, fists still raised. “The girl you were sent to kidnap. What did you want with her?” 

When the man didn’t answer, Matt hit him. Then he kicked his knees out from under him and grabbed him by the shirt. He leaned in close, letting the guise of the devil stare the man in the eyes. He could scent the man’s fear as clearly as if it were his blood, pouring from his body in waves. 

“What were you going to do with the girl?” Matt shook the man. 

“I–I don’t know, I swear! We just received an address and a payment. We were supposed to bring her back here and wait for the man to come back! That’s all! He gave us a cover story and bailed us out, I don’t know anything else I swear.” 

“Who hired you, then?” 

The man coughed and Matt scented blood. A few of the man’s teeth were loose from the blows Matt had delivered. 

“I don’t know his name, the payment came from a shell company. He gave us a burner number, that’s all! We don’t care where the money comes from, we just–” 

Matt’s fist cut off any more words. He dug through the unconscious man’s pockets and took the cell phone. 

Now he had to figure out how to connect it all to Dean Bennett. 

Matt went home with disappointment lodged in his chest. He’d hoped for more tangible answers to take back to Grace. 

His blood warmed at the thought of Grace waiting for him back at the apartment, at not having to hide. As he leapt over rooftop after rooftop, Matt allowed himself a small smile. 

Grace’s POV 

True to his word, Matt wasn’t gone long. He was back within two hours. Grace was sitting on the couch, a book in hand that she wasn’t reading, when the rooftop door clicked open. 

As soon as she heard it she jumped up. Matt was…limping as he came down the stairs.  

“Are you okay?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. He waved a hand at her as he made his slow way down the stairs. 

“Fine,” he said gruffly. “Just took a couple of hits.” 

“How the fuck did you ever sneak around like this with me living here?” she asked as he toed off his boots at the bottom of the stairs and then let his helmet thunk to the ground. She tried not to ogle him in the Daredevil armor as he moved about the apartment. But God, it was hot. 

“I waited until you were asleep,” he said, as if it should be obvious. “And when you caught me a couple of times, I lied. Sleepwalking, insomnia…” 

Grace made a face. “Oh. Right. I forgot about that. I was so worried you’d sleepwalk right off the roof, too.”

He grinned at her. “You’re a pretty heavy sleeper, you know,” he said as he fumbled at the back of his neck for something. There was a slight noise, and then he was tugging a zipper down, revealing the muscled expanse of his back. 

Grace couldn’t help the little breath that escaped. “Please tell me you’re not wearing underwear under that thing.” Her blood heated even further. She’d had a bit of a crush on Daredevil ever since her first encounter with him, and knowing he was Matt, and knowing what Matt could do with his mouth and his hands…

Matt coughed and laughed. “Sorry to disappoint. It chafes pretty bad without it.” 

He turned to face her and she gasped for a different reason. One side of his ribs was bruised. She noticed, too, that the corners of his mouth were bloody. 

“Jesus,” she said. “You said you were fine!” Matt tried to brush past her to the kitchen but she caught his arm. He sighed but stopped. She grabbed his jaw and tilted his head to the light, making sure he didn’t have any hidden head wounds or anything. Then she stooped to look more closely at his ribs. “So does ‘fine’ mean you actually got the shit beat out of you? Your ribs might be broken or something, Matt.” 

“You should ask Foggy about what I looked like when he found out I was Daredevil,” Matt said in a dry voice. “This is nothing. I would call it a typical night, but it’s actually a lot better than that.” He tilted his head slightly and pressed his hand lightly against his ribs. “Nah, they’re not broken. Just bruised.” 

“How can you know for sure?” she asked. “Pain levels?” 

“No, I–someone once told me I have x-ray fingers.” 

Grace snorted. “Really?” 

Matt grabbed her left hand and brushed his thumb across her skin. “I can tell this wrist was broken. It didn’t heal quite right, either. The bones shift against each other more than the ones in your right hand.” 

Grace yanked her hand away as if shocked. “A parting gift from my ex.” All of the heat had left her blood at the reminder. 

Matt gently took her left hand again and placed a soft kiss right where the fucked up bones were. Her pulse stuttered. He was half-in his Daredevil outfit and treating her as if she was made of glass, something delicate to be taken care of. The contradiction between the two things did something strange to her that she didn’t dislike. 

“We’re going to take him down,” Matt said in a quiet voice. 

Grace had to glance away from his intense expression. “I’m not so sure it can be done.” 

“Don’t say that.” 

Grace scoffed. “Matt, the stuff he’s been getting away with, for years…He’s powerful. He has connections. He’s basically untouchable. I mean, those guys already got released–” 

“Grace, did you ever hear about a man named Wilson Fisk?” Matt interrupted. His fingers were drawing distracting but soothing circles on her hand. 

“Of course. You guys had him locked up, he got out, caused chaos, and then put him away again.” She shrugged. “The FBI was even involved or something. Everyone heard about it.” 

“Trust me, I doubt this guy is as powerful as Fisk ever was. And we got rid of him. For good. He’s locked up so tightly he doesn’t see another living person except when they drop off his meals through a flap in the door.” Matt raised his eyebrows. “Do you understand what I’m telling you? It might not be easy, but it can be done.” 

She sighed and rubbed her free hand over her eyes. “Okay, okay.” 

“And if I can’t get to him as Matt Murdock, then Daredevil might have to make a special trip outside of Hell’s Kitchen.” 

“Okay. I’m still not convinced we shouldn’t just send a hitman after him, but…Okay.” She squeezed his shoulder and stepped around him to get an icepack from the freezer. She gently held it to his bruised ribs. Matt’s large hand covered hers. She cocked her head as her words brought back a memory. “Who is Mank Trastle?” 

Matt gave a loud, surprised laugh. “Well, do you remember the Punisher?” 

Grace’s mind was blank for a long moment. Then it clicked. “Oh. Frank Castle? Wait–Karen’s friends with him? Wait–isn’t he dead?” 

“Yes, Frank Castle. And I don’t know if I’d call it a friendship, but they’ve helped each other out. And no…he’s not dead.” Matt’s hand tightened as he gently extricated himself from her and went towards the bedroom. “God, there’s so much you don’t know–” 

“Well, I mean…I at least know the basics right?” She trailed after him as he kicked the suit off the rest of the way. She watched his muscles with fascination but her eyes kept snagging on the rapidly darkening bruise on his side. God, he looked good in nothing but his underwear. But she really needed to stop focusing on that. “You’re Daredevil, and a lawyer, and you put Fisk away, and Frank Castle isn’t dead.” 

“I also fought ancient ninjas and had a skyscraper dropped on top of me, pretended that I didn’t make it out alive, and tried to kill Fisk before my better nature won out.” Matt’s voice was bitter as he yanked open a drawer and pulled on a pair of sweatpants. 

Grace’s eyes snapped from her inspection of his ass to his face. “You–what–a skyscraper?” 

Matt sighed tiredly and sat on the edge of the bed. One of his hands dragged across his face. His knuckles were bruised. She was pretty sure it was from the night before. “I…want to preface this by saying I'm not trying to go through the self-flagellation thing. But I always struggled with this…darkness in me. And there was a time that I wanted to give up. To give in and let Matt Murdock disappear. I finally got to a place where I accepted that I want to be both, that I have to be, but that darkness still…it still consumes me sometimes. And I want to be up front about that with you. So you know what you’re getting into.” 

Grace sat next to him, their shoulders touching. “Do you know what I was thinking today as I was going through all of those photos, looking for evidence to back up the absolute worst years of my life?” 

“What’s that?” 

“That that life…it was nothing but shadows with brief flashes of light. And no matter how hard I try to forget it, it’s impossible. That time of darkness is…is a part of me. A part I might always struggle with. There’ll still be times where a certain scent makes me panic, or when a man raises his hand in a particular way that makes me think he’s going to hit me, or times when I wake up thinking I’m back inside those shadows.” She reached out for Matt’s hand. “I’m not saying I know what it’s like to be you, or deal with the kind of darkness you deal with…but I get it, to an extent. My eyes are wide open, Matt.” 

He blew out a breath and squeezed her fingers. “I don’t understand,” he finally said, slowly, as if he was choosing his words very carefully, “how I found someone like you.” 

“I believe I came into your office and begged for a job.” She bumped his shoulder with her own. 

“I mean it,” he said in a low voice. “I already told you, Daredevil has always complicated my relationships in one way or another. I don’t want that with you, but every time I bring it up, you shrug it off.” 

“I’m not shrugging it off,” she said. “I accept it. Respect it, even. I kind of even had a crush on Daredevil.” Her face flushed even though she wasn’t exactly embarrassed of the fact.  

“That’s not what I meant.” He made a frustrated noise. “I–When Foggy found out, it almost killed him. And me. Our friendship was obliterated, and it took years to get to a good place. Sometimes I can hear in his voice that he still doesn’t understand, that he still doesn’t necessarily like it. And then when I tell you, you immediately just–don’t care. Not that you don’t care, but it’s like it wasn’t a huge deal. And that’s–a lot for me.” 

“I always thought Daredevil was kind of hot,” Grace mused. She hated the idea that his longest, most meaningful friendship had barely survived the truth of him being Daredevil. But she took comfort knowing they were in a good spot now, at least. So she joked to lighten the burden for him, if only a little. “This is like a dream come true for me.” 

Matt laughed and shook his head. “Joke all you want–it’s a big deal for me, and I just–I–appreciate it. I don’t want to mess this up.” 

“So you keep saying. Don’t worry, I’ll let you know if you mess up, just like I hope you let me know if I mess up. That’s what a relationship should be.” 

“Is that what this is?” Matt asked, a different note of emotion entering his voice. He turned his head as if to look her in the eyes. “A relationship?” 

Grace’s heart fluttered. “I’d like it to be.” 

“I would too.” 

She reached up and cupped his jaw to tilt his face towards her. She kissed him carefully, aware of the blood she’d seen on his lips earlier. He made a small noise of protest when she pulled away. “As much as I’d really, really like to continue this, your ribs are busted and I don’t want to make it worse.” 

Matt sighed. “I’m sorry I didn’t stay earlier.” 

“It’s alright, Matt, I promise. We should probably go on a proper date first anyways.” She smiled at him and couldn’t help but press another kiss to his lips. 

His thumb traced the line of her jaw. She shivered at the touch. “Mm. You’re right. I’m usually much more of a gentleman than this.” 

“Trust me, I’m very okay with you not being a gentleman.” The night after Josie’s flashed through her mind, Matt on his knees painted in red light. 

“Is that right?” Matt’s smile turned cocky. She made herself look at the bruise on his side to remind herself why she couldn’t jump him right then and there. Because she really, really wanted to. She even debated, briefly, asking him to put the Daredevil suit back on, then shook the thought away. 

“It is. But your ribs are busted, and we didn’t get much sleep last night. And I–want to do this right as much as you do.” She really did–she wanted it all with him. The dates, the getting to know each other, the late nights spent talking about nothing. All that, and more. 

He kissed the top of her head. “My ribs aren’t busted. Just bruised.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Same difference. One wrong move and they’re broken, and the mood is killed. And I really don’t want to have to be careful.” She shoved the thoughts of what it would be like to lose control with him away from her mind. 

Matt chuckled. “I guess you have a point. In that case, I’m going to take a shower.” 

Grace couldn’t help the images that flashed through her mind, unconsciously clenching her thighs together. Down girl, she told herself. She was trying not to sleep with him, damn it, but her mind was doing its best to rile her up anyways. 

Matt paused, his hand gripping the bathroom door frame so tightly it creaked. His nostrils flared, and she realized that he knew exactly what just went through her mind because of his enhanced senses. 

She flopped back on the bed with a groan. “Sorry,” she said, voice muffled from her hands covering her face. Another thought occurred to her. “God, you know every single time I have a sex dream don’t you?” She made a face, wincing. 

Matt’s jaw flexed. “Yeah,” he said tightly after a moment. “Yeah, I do. But I swear I try really hard not to notice.” 

“God, that’s embarrassing. I swear I’m not a sixteen year old with raging hormones, I just–” 

“It’s alright,” he said. He hadn’t moved a muscle. Even worse, he was still only in sweatpants, and the vision of him without his shirt on was really doing a number on her. “I–don’t usually notice so much but I’m so…in tune with you it’s hard not to…notice. Not to…react.” She noticed that his face was flushed, his breathing faster than it had been, that hand still gripping the door frame like a lifeline. 

Oh, she thought. 

Matt Murdock was really turned on, and was trying to act like he wasn’t. 

She bit her lips so hard she tasted blood. Matt still hadn’t moved. Her thighs clenched unconsciously again. 

Voice strained, he said, “You’re making it really hard to take things slow, Grace.” His voice was edged in gravel, scraping her skin raw as the words danced up her spine. 

Grace stood and walked very slowly towards him. Did she imagine it, or did the wood of the door frame creak as his muscles tensed even more? Matt looked like a man about to snap.  

And Grace wanted to make him snap. Wanted him to lose control, like he’d done to her the other night. 

There were things she could do that didn’t involve anything near his bruised ribs, after all. She turned the thought over in her mind. There were definitely ways she could pay him back without him having to move a muscle. Things she really wanted to do. 

She pressed her palms to Matt’s muscled back. A tremor went through his frame as her hands slid up his spine to his shoulders. His skin was so warm it was almost hot. One of her hands grabbed loosely at the back of his neck while the other trailed down his arm and down to the hand gripping the wall like it was holding him up. Or holding him back. 

“I thought you were going to shower, Matt,” she said in a husky voice she barely recognized. 

“I was,” he said thickly. She felt him swallow hard. She let her hands explore every inch of his back and shoulders and arms that wasn’t bruised. Another tremor went through him and she heard him exhale shakily. She pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. She wondered if stuff like this–a lover’s touch–was something his senses amplified even more. 

She wanted to find out, but now wasn’t the time. 

She gripped his hips lightly, then stepped back and ducked under his arm. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice so tight she knew he was barely hanging on by a thread. 

Grace looked back at him over her shoulder. She pulled her shirt over her head. “If you’re not going to shower, I am.” She turned the shower on so the water would warm up. 

She shimmied out of her pants then unhooked her bra. Matt still hadn’t moved. She could hear him breathing heavily behind her. She pretended she didn’t notice the effect she was having on him, even though he could tell how fast her heart was racing, how aroused she already was. 

Her underwear were lace again, a nice black pair–not that Matt would know about the color. But she was certain he could hear the difference in material as she very slowly slid those off, too. Matt gasped and she knew she was right. He knew her underwear were sexy, even if he couldn’t see them. 

She stepped into the warm spray of water and let out a little sigh. The water really felt nice. She closed her eyes and brushed her hands over her breasts, down her stomach, to her thighs. 

When she opened them, she saw Matt through the glass door of the shower. He’d finally let go of the door frame and seemed to be fighting with himself. 

Grace touched herself and was rewarded by his head snapping towards her. With a noise of frustration she could hear over the water, Matt stripped off his sweatpants and kicked them to the side. She saw how much he strained against his underwear. Her mouth went dry as he got rid of those, too, and she was finally rewarded with the sight of Matt Murdock entirely naked. His tongue darted out to wet his lips.

In her haste, she hadn’t turned the bathroom light on. Matt was illuminated through the open door from behind by a soft magenta coming through the windows. Grace stared at him, and knew he knew she was staring. His head tilted to the side, hearing what the sight of him did to her, and that goddamn cocky smile spread slowly across his face. Her eyes dipped down and her entire body flushed at the sight of just how aroused he was. 

With the edges of his naked body framed in purple, Matt stalked towards her slowly, purposefully. 

“I thought you wanted to take things slow,” he said, the words half a growl. He looked almost…predatory. But instead of being afraid, Grace was even more turned on. Her heart was racing so fast she felt a little faint. 

“I’m just taking a shower,” she said, but the innocent words were breathless with anticipation. “I never said we were having sex.” 

Matt stepped into the water, closer and closer until her back hit the cold tile wall. She bit back a gasp. She glanced up at Matt, water cascading over his hair and face and his deliciously muscled shoulders. 

One of his hands moved, and she tensed at the anticipation of his hands on her body. 

When he stepped back, she blinked in surprise. Matt squirted some shampoo into his hand and started washing his hair as if nothing was happening, despite the raging hard on he so obviously had. 

Grace frowned, then reached for the bar of soap. She lathered up her hands and smoothed them over Matt’s shoulders. He froze again. She said nothing, working her way down across his abs and around to his back, careful to keep just enough space between them that no other part of their bodies touched. She was careful, too, to avoid the bruises on his side. She was determined to make him feel only pleasure, no pain. 

He was breathing heavily again, his eyes closing as her soapy hands brushed his hips and down the front of his thighs. She couldn’t help it–her hands slid around to his back and then lower, gripping his ass quickly before letting go. Matt jolted. 

“Sorry,” she said breezily. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” 

“Is that the only thing?” he asked, still cocky and sure of himself. 

In response, she reached out and brushed across his cock. His breath stuttered out of him, a pained noise coming from his throat. 

She stepped closer, their bodies pressing together, skin sliding against skin, as her hand grabbed him firmly. 

“No,” she murmured. “That’s not the only thing.” Her hand started pumping him as the other continued exploring his muscles. His hand smoothed down her back and grabbed her ass. She nipped a spot on his neck as her hand kept moving very slowly around his length. “I promised I’d pay you back, didn’t I?” 

Matt’s mouth opened, but he seemed incapable of speech as her other hand joined the first. His free hand smacked wetly against the wall as his body shuddered. 

Grace had never been so turned on, except for maybe when Matt had been on his knees in front of her. 

“Last night,” Grace said, then moaned as Matt cupped her breast. “This is what I was imagining. That you had joined me.” He panted, breath hot on her neck before he kissed her there, right where her pulse hammered beneath her skin. “I imagined–Fuck.” He’d lightly pinched her nipple, a jolt of electricity sparking down her entire body. “I imagined that night when we kissed on the counter. I imagined doing that again, but naked. You fucking me there.” 

Matt kissed her, mouth open, his tongue demanding. The hand that had been on the wall gripped her neck. She didn’t think someone grabbing her neck could be so fucking hot, but she grew even more turned on. 

But she had a plan in mind, first. 

Grace pulled away with the kiss with a desperate gasp, extricating herself from Matt, who almost whined. It took all of her willpower, but she managed to step away from him. 

He went still as she got to her knees. She looked up at him, blinking water from her eyes. His hand fumbled in the air before it came to rest on her shoulder, like he couldn’t tell where she’d gone. She didn’t think he was breathing. 

“You don’t–” he murmured, but his words cut off with a loud moan as her lips wrapped around him. His other hand tangled in her hair. Matt cursed as she moved slowly, her tongue tasting him. God, she never knew that this could be so fucking hot, either. She’d never enjoyed doing this before, but it was almost as good as if he’d been touching her, pleasing her. Her thighs clenched together again and Matt’s hips jerked in response. She choked lightly and he tried to back away, but she gripped his ass with both hands and held him there. 

“Grace,” he choked out. “Fuck.” 

The way he said her name made her moan around him and his hips jerked again, fucking her mouth like he couldn’t help it. She felt like she could come just from pleasing him. She remembered Matt on his knees, his mouth on her, the desperate noises he’d made. She understood perfectly how much he’d enjoyed it, enjoyed watching her come undone from just his mouth, because that’s how she felt at that moment. 

Matt’s movements became quicker, more erratic, and he suddenly half-shoved her away. 

His hands lightly cupped her face and he drew her upwards to kiss her roughly. His hands were all over her, like he couldn’t get enough of her, of touching her. The water poured over them, making their skin slip and slide against each other. 

He spun her around and pinned her against the wall so quickly she gasped. The tile was freezing against her aching breasts, a delicious contradiction to the heat of Matt as he pressed his chest against her back and sloppily kissed down her neck and across her shoulder. One of his hands kneaded her breast while the other slid down, down, down. 

The first brush against her clit made her jerk forward, but Matt’s hand on her chest kept her in place, pressed tightly against him. His cock was pressing against her hip and ass. 

A desperate noise fell from her lips as Matt’s fingers slipped into her. 

“Fuck,” he said again as he felt exactly how turned on she was. The hand on her breast came up to loosely hold her throat and the sensation sent another bolt of pleasure through her. She’d had no idea she liked that until he did it. And the fact that it was Matt, that she knew without a doubt that he wouldn’t hurt her, made it an even headier sensation. 

His fingers worked relentlessly, and she came hard around within minutes. Matt moaned as she clenched around him. She shuddered through the orgasm, stars in her eyes, her body tensing and relaxing as she came down from the high. 

She whirled around and went straight back to her knees. Staring up at him, she said hoarsely, “I’m supposed to be paying you back.” Then she took him into her mouth again and set a relentless pace, her tongue moving as she took him deep into her throat, one hand wrapping around the base. 

“Grace, I’m–” he tried to say, trying to pull away, but she only took him deeper, faster, and he came with a sharp cry. His hips jerked as she tasted him, almost coming again from just the sounds Matt was making. He was shaking as she used her tongue to keep him clean. 

When he finally stilled, she released him with a wet pop and then stood on shaky legs. Matt leaned his forehead against hers, panting as he tried to catch his breath. 

“I can’t stay away from you,” he said in a low voice.

“Then don’t,” she said, a challenge. Matt kissed her, lingering against her. 

“I mean it,” he said. “No one has ever made me so crazy like you. No one’s made me lose control like you. Not even–” 

It’s the way his words cut off that doused her in a cold chill as if the hot water had run out. Matt moved away, just enough, his expression troubled. Grace picked up her shampoo. Might as well finish the shower, she thought, though apprehension curled through her limbs and weighed her down. 

“Not even…?” she asked carefully. She made sure to keep her expression light, her heart steady, employing years of techniques she’d used to keep calm in terrifying situations. This wasn’t terrifying though–it was something else, an emotion she wasn’t familiar with. She ducked her head into the water to rinse out the suds. 

“Elektra.” Her name was a resigned sigh on Matt’s lips. He reached out before she could condition her hair, taking the bottle from her. Grace closed her eyes as his long fingers worked gently through the tangles. She hummed. The gesture was sweet, intimate, even more so than what they’d just done. 

“Ah,” Grace said as he worked the substance into her hair. “She the one who gave you the pink silk pajamas?” 

Matt huffed a laugh. One of his hands steadied her shoulder as he guided her head under the water to rinse. “No, though she would have been the one to buy me something expensive like that.” 

“What happened between you? Sorry–you just said before…” She bit the corner of her lip. “You said before that Daredevil always came between you and your relationships.” 

Matt didn’t say anything. He picked up the bar of soap–someone knowing that she’d been using his scentless soap instead of her own–and started lathering her body. His hands kneaded tight muscles, and she almost moaned at the sensation. It wasn’t sexual, but like him washing her hair, it was intimate. 

Right when she assumed he wouldn’t answer the question, Matt said, “She died.” 

Grace sucked in a breath. “Oh, Matt. I’m sorry.” 

“I–It was complicated. We weren’t…together at that time. But we could have been, if things had been different.” There was a tortured look on Matt’s face. She could see the pain in the tightness in his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. She didn’t want to press but the urge to know was almost overwhelming. It was all over his face, the love he’d had for this woman, the pain he still felt over her death. It was consuming her, this new, unknown emotion, dark and twisted and sharp in her gut. 

“I’m sorry,” she said again as the soap washed from her body. 

Matt switched off the water and reached out for their towels. “I should probably…tell you about her.” 

Grace suddenly had a name for the emotion. 

Jealousy. 

Matt touched her cheek with the back of his hand. He followed her into the bedroom. Her heart had picked up a bit and she hated that he could hear it. She didn’t want to care so much about a dead ex of Matt’s, but she did. 

“Only if you want to,” she said as she pulled out some pajamas. “It’s okay if you don’t want to.” 

Matt stood there, bathed in soft blue light from the sign outside, his head tilted to the side, towel slung low on his hips. Listening to her heart. To her lie. The light shifted to a darker blue. Water glistened across his chest. 

“You want me to,” he said, and it wasn’t a question or even an accusation. Merely a fact he was stating. 

Grace made a frustrated noise. “Stop–eavesdropping,” she said, which earned her half a smile. “Of course I do, but I respect your boundaries.” 

“I want to tell you about her,” he said. At the words, something within her eased and settled. 

“Then you have to put clothes on first.” He seemed confused, a little wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows. “You’re too distracting,” she said, waving a hand at his body. 

Matt chuckled, but went to the dresser and pulled out underwear and a t-shirt. The droplets on his skin darkened the material of his shirt after he tugged it on. “Better?” 

“Much better.” 

Grace went back into the bathroom to finish her nighttime routine. Matt followed her and leaned against the open door, his arms crossed. She didn’t press, merely waited for him to tell her what he was going to tell her. 

“Elektra and I met in college,” Matt said after a couple of minutes. “We met at a fancy party Foggy and I were crashing. I left with her in a car she’d stolen, even though she was the daughter of diplomats and could have bought any car she wanted. She was…chaotic. Full of life. Unafraid. She had a mean streak, a sense of darkness and violence in her that took me a long time to see. I stopped going to class and almost flunked out. Our relationship ended with her taking me to the house of the man who’d ordered the death of my father. She tried to get me to kill him.” 

Grace’s breath hissed through her teeth in a sharp inhale. Questions brimmed at the tip of her tongue but she kept silent. 

“And when I didn’t give in, she left me.” Matt laughed without humor. “She left me, and it broke me. Foggy was the one who picked up the pieces, really. And then one day she showed up in my apartment here after Karen and I had gone on a date.” Matt rubbed at his hair with one hand, flinging water everywhere. Grace watched him, rapt, leaning back against the bathroom counter. “She tricked me into helping her, into getting involved with the Hand, and doing the one thing I’d sworn never to do–join Stick’s stupid holy war.” 

“I’m sorry,” Grace said, unable to help herself. “I just–Stick? The Hand?” 

Matt hummed and took a deep breath. “Sorry there’s–so much you don’t know. I don’t want to overwhelm you, but so many of the things that have happened to me, especially since becoming Daredevil, are all tied together. Stick is the blind man who trained me as a kid after I lost my dad. He taught me to fight, to use my abilities, and to do the two together. He actually trained Elektra too, but I didn’t know that until later. The Hand was…remember how I mentioned ancient ninjas? The Hand was this secret, ancient organization that Stick was training me to fight.” 

“That is…so you are a ninja?” Grace decided to joke, because maybe that would ease the shadows that were so clear on Matt’s face. He was in pain still, from all of this, from everything that had been done to him. She hadn’t missed that he said this Stick guy had trained him as a kid. 

“Something like that.” Matt’s jaw twitched. 

“Elektra was a ninja, too?” 

“Something like that,” he said again, softer. “Stick showed up in the midst of all of that, convinced that I had to join his cause with Elektra against the Hand. So I gave her a choice. To do things my way, to be with me, to be good, or lose me and fight in Stick’s war and give in to the violence inside herself. Because she–she enjoyed killing, and when I realized that–” He swallowed hard. “I knew she could be better, and she chose me. She and I understood each other, understood the violence that drove us both. And I wanted her to see that she could choose that path–to fight, but to do it in a way that wouldn’t break her. But the Hand–the Hand killed her when we fought them, before we could find out how things could be.” 

Grace covered her mouth with one hand. To love like that, and to lose someone you loved, someone who chose you over everything they’d ever known–she could see why Matt said he struggled with that darkness, and still struggled. “What happened to the Hand?” she asked after a moment. “Earlier you said the Hand was.”

“Well,” Matt said slowly. “This is where it gets hard to believe.” 

“Harder to believe than an ancient organization of ninjas and you being a blind ninja?” she asked skeptically. “It can’t be much harder to believe than that.” 

Matt walked away and sat at the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees, head bent as if praying. It was her turn to lean in the doorway, watching him lay himself bare to her in a wholly different way. 

“The Hand brought Elektra back,” he said so quietly she was sure she’d misheard. 

“Back?” she repeated. “Like, they saved her after that fight?” 

Matt was shaking his head before she was finished. “No. We buried her. We had a small funeral, Stick and I. And then–I don’t know, they did some kind of ancient ritual or magic or–I don’t know what. But they brought her back somehow, without her memories, turned her into a perfect weapon they called the Black Sky.” 

Grace shut her mouth quickly when she realized it was hanging open. “I–You’re right, it’s pretty unbelievable.” 

Matt scoffed. “Yeah. It is. I saw it–well, experienced it–and I still couldn’t believe it. I held her as she died, and then, weeks later, she was trying to kill me.” 

“But what happened to the Hand? And she–you said she died.” Grace rubbed at her temples. “I’m sorry, it’s just–” 

“No, I know how it sounds. Trust me. The Hand built a skyscraper at Midland Circle.” 

“Oh,” Grace said as several pieces clicked into place at the name. She remembered seeing the collapse of the building all over the news. It had been sensationalized, although no one had been reported dead. For weeks, there had been debates of terrorism, a coverup, versus what they said had happened, which was a fault line causing the collapse. “Is that…the skyscraper that almost killed you?” 

“Mm. Yeah. I’m getting to that part. Long story short, I had the help of some…other people with abilities to fight the Hand throughout all of this. Elektra killed Stick and kidnapped Danny Rand–” 

“Danny Rand?” Grace said. “Sorry, I swear I don’t mean to interrupt but–billionaire Danny Rand?” 

“Yeah. He’s a ninja too, basically, but there’s more to it that isn’t relevant to this.” Grace blinked at Matt as he spoke, dazed. Danny Rand was also a ninja, which seemed less believable than Matt being a blind ninja. “They took him to Midland Circle, and what they were trying to accomplish was going to obliterate the city. So we went to rescue Danny and to stop them. They planted bombs to collapse the building. We went forty stories below the building to get Danny…and I sent the others out.” 

There was another long pause. Grace thought that, even if Matt had sight, he wouldn’t be seeing what was right in front of him. His gaze and mind were far away, down below that building and whatever had happened down there. 

“I didn’t expect to make it out alive, but I had to try. Elektra recognized me, and I had to try to appeal to her, get her to see that she could be good. With me. But–” His voice cracked slightly on the word. “The bombs went off, and the building came down. I–somehow, I made it out, but her body was never found. And the Hand…the rest of them were wiped out down there, too.” 

Grace sank on to the bed next to him. She hesitantly reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Jesus, Matt,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry for everything you went through.” 

Matt bobbed his head in a nod. “Yeah. Me too.” 

“I can’t believe–I mean, the woman you loved died twice, a building fell on your head, and–and you’re still living. You aren’t just existing, you’re living. You’re…if not happy, you’re getting there. You…amaze me.” Her gaze was hungry as it roved over him. Matt Murdock was a walking, talking miracle. A man who had faced every kind of darkness, who had faced death, and had come out on top. 

“Some days, yeah,” he said. He blinked and seemed to surface from the memory as if coming from deep water. “Foggy and Karen–they’re the ones who got me to see the light again, so to speak. After Fisk was released, we tried and tried to take him down and it didn’t work. And that darkness–the very same darkness that made me want to die in that building–it consumed me. I was going to kill him. Up until the very last moment, I was going to kill him. But I didn’t. And Foggy and Karen–they saw that goodness within me, and they kept me from going down that path.” He swallowed hard again.  

Her hand slid down his arm to lace her fingers with his. “I’m so, so glad.” 

He tilted his head to face her. “Me too,” he said softly. “Because it all led to you.” 

Her breath caught. “It’s–I’m not that special.” The words stuttered out of her as warmth settled in her cheeks. She wasn’t like this Elektra woman, who Matt said had been like him, who had understood him. Grace was just…no one. A girl who’d been dating the wrong guy, who’d ended up in Matt Murdock’s orbit by sheer chance. 

“Grace,” Matt said, her name a soft protest. “Do you not remember how this conversation started?” 

She blinked. All her mind conjured up was what they’d done in the shower and then his gentle hands washing her as he talked. “I’m sorry, the only thing coming to mind is…inappropriate.” 

He flashed her a grin but a hint of the shadows was still there. “I was telling you that no one had ever made me crazy or out of control like you do. Not even Elektra.” 

He sounded so earnest–so convicted–as he said it that she wanted to believe him. But a woman like Elektra, a woman he’d tried to save twice, who he said had understood him like no one else had understood him…It was hard to believe that she could come anywhere close in comparison.

“Please tell me what you’re thinking,” Matt finally said. “I can’t stand hearing what your thoughts are doing to your body and not knowing.” 

“I’m–I’m just normal, Matt. I’m nothing special. I’m not rich, I’m not a ninja, I’m not some secret badass who understands you on a deep level.” Humiliation washed over her like hot oil. It choked her. It stole her breath. “I just…ended up begging you for a job by chance.” 

“Grace.” Her name was almost a prayer. She closed her eyes. She fought the emotion rising within her, because it was so familiar to her–she wasn’t good enough, and she never would be. Matt touched her chin. “You don’t have to be rich or a ninja or a secret badass for me to like you. For you to be special. I’ve learned how kind and good you are, and that’s attractive to me.” 

She made a soft noise of protest that was halfway a scoff. “Besides,” she said, ignoring him. “Is it–even a good thing that I make you crazy and out of control?” 

He rolled his eyes. “That’s what you’re worried about here?” he said. “I meant that as in…I’m crazy about you. And you make me–want to kiss you every second I’m around you. You make me make bets with you when I’m drunk just so I can touch you.” 

A small thrill went through her. “You can touch me whenever you want, Matt,” she said softly. “I just–sorry. I’m new to the relationship thing, believe it or not.” 

Matt smirked. “Me too. My last serious girlfriend left me in college because I wouldn’t kill a man, then died, was resurrected, tried to kill me, and died again.”

“Elektra was your last serious girlfriend?” she asked, surprised. 

“If you can even count it as serious. I loved her, if that’s what you mean, but our relationship was never…conventional. It wasn’t…healthy. It might have been, if things had worked out, but…Otherwise I had a few dates here and there, one night stands…that’s about it.” He shrugged. 

“My only serious relationship was set up by our parents and it turned out he’s an evil bastard, so…” She chewed on the corner of her lip and fiddled with a thread on the sheets. “So is this…serious?” 

“If you want it to be.” His voice was so soft, so gentle, she wanted to cry. “But I want it to be.” 

“I do, too. But I don’t think this counts as a conventional relationship, either. I mean, we worked together and lived together first. Then there was the whole bet thing…And we haven’t been on a proper date yet.” Grace nudged his knee with hers. 

“I think I like it better this way,” he murmured before he kissed her. “I’ve never been friends with a woman before dating, unless you count my two dates with Karen.” 

“Matt, I think you’re a whore,” she said around a laugh. 

“A whore?” he repeated with raised eyebrows. 

“Yeah. I mean, you’ve had one serious relationship, have never been friends with a woman before dating, apparently had a lot of one night stands…You’re a whore.” She laughed again at the expression on his face. 

“It does sound kind of bad when you put it like that,” he said. 

“I’m kidding, though. It’s just funny to hear you say it like that. We’re a pair, aren’t we? We’ve each had one serious relationship and neither of them were…healthy.” Grace bit back a yawn as she talked. She wanted to stay up with Matt all night. She’d never enjoyed someone’s company so much, even when he was talking about his badass ninja ex-girlfriend. 

But of course Matt’s head tilted and he said, “You’re tired. You should sleep.” 

He went to stand but she grabbed his wrist. “You might as well start sleeping in the bed, Matt.” At his clear hesitation she hurriedly added, “If you want to.”

“I do, I just–don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

“It won’t make me uncomfortable, I promise. Besides, there’s plenty of room.” She stroked a finger across his wrist. She studied him, his tension, and decided to switch tactics. “Please? It makes me feel safer with you next to me.” 

It was the truth, and Matt knew it. He immediately softened. “Of course,” he said. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head before rounding the bed and slipping between the sheets. 

Grace followed his example with an excited shiver. She felt almost giddy about having him sleep in the bed with her. He wanted their relationship to be serious–something she’d never imagined could be true. And now, here he was, laying beside her like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

She curled on her side to face him. She pillowed her head on her hands and studied him openly. “I should have probably asked which side of the bed you sleep on.” 

“The middle, actually,” he said with a quirk of his lips. He was on his back, but he rolled onto his side to face her. “So I might end up on top of you.” 

Electricity prickled through her at his words. “Trust me, I would have no problem with that.” 

His grin flashed in the darkness. “I don’t think I would either.” 

“I’m just–used to sleeping on this side, is all. But I can switch, however it makes you most comfortable.” 

He reached out and with unerring accuracy brushed a strand of her hair out of her face. “I’m plenty comfortable, don’t worry.” The lines of his face had softened. He was tired too. She’d almost forgotten that earlier he’d been out as Daredevil, fighting, going up against at least one or maybe all of the men who’d broken in. 

Grace yawned. 

“Sleep, Grace,” Matt said as his hand moved from her hair to stroke the side of her face. The sensation was calming. Her muscles unclenched and her body sank a bit deeper into the mattress. 

“Mm.” He gently brushed his fingers across her forehead and over her cheek. The repeated movement was making her more tired. “Goodnight, Matt.” 

“Goodnight.” 

Within minutes, sleep had claimed her with its long fingers, pulling her under and rocking her on gentle waves.

Next Chapter

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[okskz]

Chelsy Moments.

elsy + chan

a look on how elsy and chan’s relationship is :)

just how I did bimi moments, I wanted to do one for elsy and chan. hope you guys enjoy and please feel free to leave some feedback because it is always appreciated!

[8th member of got7/soloist]

1am calls

“what are you doing up so late?”

elsy smiled through the phone, deciding on facetiming chan. “I wanted to call you and knew you’d be up around this time.” she answered. “and been missing you.”

chan’s lip curved up into a small smile, trying not to get distracted by just that line elsy had said to him. elsy always had a way of saying things that chan always adored. “miss you too.” chan said back, it being awhile that the two had seen in each other in person. with being so busy, they hadn’t find the time to be with each other.

“you’re always working.” elsy told him. “why don’t you take a break right now?”

“because if I take a break I waste time to finish this song. and plus, I’m almost finished with it.”

“oh bang chan, you have always been the same from when I first met you.” chan smiled once again, taking a small glance at elsy. she too had a grin on her face and that made chan smile wider as he let out a small laugh. “I just love what I do.”

elsy had let out a yawn as she laid her head down on her pillow. chan took notice of elsy rubbing her eyes. “you should sleep, els.” the girl was quick to shake her head. “I’ll sleep when you go back to your dorm, and sleep.”

“actually, it’s 1am. you should leave now. save your work for tomorrow.”

“not happening, my love.”

elsy gave chan a soft smile after hearing those two words, deciding not to argue back with him. either way, elsy knew chan wouldn’t listen and would continue working on music.

after a few more minutes of talking, silence came between the two as chan concentrated real hard on finishing his work. elsy was still laying in bed, slowly closing her eyes.

chan didn’t realize elsy had fallen asleep on the call until he had closed his laptop. “woo! finally finished-“ he immediately stopped talking when seeing elsy sleeping peacefully. chan smiled at the girl, “goodnight, my love.”

sick

“how are you feeling now?”

“not any better.” elsy sighed, letting out a cough right after. the girl had been sick for about two days and had yet to feel any better. she felt horrible and chan could hear it by her voice and as well as her cough. “I can barely sleep now.”

it was close to midnight and as much as elsy was tired, the girl just couldn’t fall asleep. she was always woken up by her cough. “have you eaten?” chan asked. elsy shook her head no. “not really.”

“I’m coming over.”

“no! don’t do that, bang chan.” elsy said. “I don’t want you getting sick.”

“doesn’t matter, els. I’m coming over right now.” he said. “but it’s late!” elsy said right back. “see you soon, my love.” elsy couldn’t say one word as chan had finished the facetime call. she let out a cough, now waiting for chan to arrive soon.

and when a few minutes passed by, elsy’s door swung open with chan coming inside her apartment. elsy felt to weak to look up from laying on the couch, but she knew it was chan since he knew her passcode to enter. “oh look at you.” chan cooed as he sat a plastic bag down on the coffee table. he lifted elsy’s legs up so he could sit down and placed her legs on his lap. “still not feeling your best?” elsy shook her head at his question, rubbing her eye. “no, and I haven’t gotten much sleep.”

“here, I brought you some soup.” chan said getting it out the bag, along with a spoon. “eat it, then you can go to sleep. I’ll be here with you.”

“you don’t have to do that, chris.”

“I want to, I can’t leave you all alone like this.” he said. chan had taken the opportunity to be with elsy, instead of working on new music. “I’m not going to sleep until you do.” elsy gave him a soft smile as she slowly sat up, engulfing chan into a tight hug.

elsy ate the soup slowly while chan watched her. they had the tv on for background noise. and when she was finished eating, she rested her head on chan’s lap. “go to sleep now. I’ll be here with you.” chan slowly ran his fingers through elsy’s hair. she had her arms wrapped around his torso as she slowly felt herself drift off to sleep.

soon after, chan fell asleep, sitting on the couch. elsy had finally had her full sleep time.

surprise

elsy took a seat once she got inside the venue. she was attending one of the stray kids’ show in LA, but she hadn’t told chan about it. so he didn’t know elsy was there. “do you think he suspects something?” she questioned hannah, her being there as well and being the only one to know elsy was attending. hannah knew elsy wanted to surprise chan. “I don’t think so. does he think you’re in the states or something?”

“no, but I have been pretty dry with him.” elsy chuckled. “and he usually knows something is up when I only respond with one word messages.”

“we’ll then I guess this will be a great surprise for him.”

after much screaming and cheering, as well as singing out loud, elsy and hannah were on their way backstage to stray kids’ dressing room. they had left a little before the show ended, not wanting to get caught by the members. “I say we scare them.” hannah suggested, she laughed with elsy as the two found some hiding spots. elsy picked behind a sofa, while hannah picked behind a tall plant.

“that was a great show!” felix said as he barged into the dressing room with the others following behind. “boo!” hannah jumped out, startling everyone. “hannah?!” chan exclaimed. “jesus, you scared me.”

“that’s what we were hoping for.” she said.

“we?”

“surprise!” elsy slowly stood up on her feet from hiding behind the sofa, all eyes on her. the girl instantly made eye contact with chan and he ran towards her. the two engulfed each other into a tight hug. “oh my god! what are you doing here?!”

“well you know I was going to be here in LA to record a few songs, so I thought maybe I should stopped by and see you.” elsy smiled as she wrapped her arms around chan’s neck. “you did amazing out there.” she kissed chan on the lips, causing the boy to turn red. he tend to get shy when showing PDA around his members. “I definitely like this surprise.” he giggled.

his members began to tease at chan, causing him to turn even more red. “yah! turn around, everyone of you!”

caught

elsy giggled a lot more as she took another sip of her drink. she was sat on her couch next to chan, having a glass of wine. but the girl could feel herself becoming tipsy the more she drank, her face already being a tad bit red.

and she was laughing uncontrollably, which only caused chan to laugh with her.

the two decided to stay in, not wanting to go out like they had plan. which made elsy take out some wine. chan drank a few sips here and there but it was elsy who kept gulping down drinks. she had lost count after her fourth.

“I wonder when bam and yugyeom are getting here.” she said. “I’m almost done with this bottle.”

“and its only been you drinking, els.” chan chuckled. “might want to keep it down, no?”

elsy shook her head as she chuckled. she went and grabbed chan’s face and brought their lips to each other. she moved in sync with his, not wanting to let go of chan anytime soon.

the girl even went ahead laid back on her couch, bringing chan down with her. elsy only broke the kiss to take off her shirt. “elsy-“

“it’s hot.” she giggled. the girl could see chan’s red face. he would tend to get a little shy when their make outs turned into this, but nothing more would happen. but tonight felt different and maybe the two were finally ready to take that next step.

it was chan’s turn to take off his shirt, which he rarely ever done. so that made elsy think tonight would be different. chan went back down to kiss elsy again, her arms wrapping around his neck and fingers running through his hair. right when elsy had unclasped her bra and was going to throw it on the ground, her front door and swung open.

“lee jiyeon- oh my god!” bambam shouted as he turned around quickly. elsy let out a scream as chan tried covering her chest. “what is going on- oh, elsy.” yugyeom came in from behind bambam, laughing out loud.

“so this is what you guys do alone? have sex?!” bambam exclaimed. he still was laughing hysterically. “no!” chan and elsy said in sync. “I swear, I’m changing my key so you two never come barging in again!” elsy pushed chan off of her and grabbed his shirt to cover her chest and left the living room.

“I’m with it.” bambam said. “so I never have to witness this again in my life!”

chan let out a laugh as he sat on the couch. now the attention of the two was on him. “what’s so funny, lover boy?” bambam snorted. “you think we want to come in and see you like that with our member.”

the three began to laugh as elsy came back with clothes on. “wow jiyeon, first jin-“

“stop it.”

[sadeswrites]

Out for Smokes

Commission Story for moikheck on Instagram/Twitter

Heavy flakes of snow momentarily stuck to the living room window before melting against the warm glass. Josh barely paid them any attention as he sat on the couch. All light had been extinguished except for the sole lamp seated on the end table next to him. He was deep into rereading the third book in his favorite series, and not even the sounds of the furnace blasting could draw his attention away. He couldn’t stay up much longer, as it was a school night, but he allowed himself one last chapter.

Footsteps broke the unseen tension in the room, created by loud boots connecting with the old wood frame of the staircase to the second floor. Tom appeared from the entryway, layered under thick winter clothing. He reached into the coat closet beneath the stairs, stirring up enough noise to finally break Josh’s focus.

“Here, Josh, take this.” Tom lobbed the coat his way, which covered the book in his hands.

“What? Why?”

“I’ve gotta head to the gas station real quick for a pack of cigs, and Mom said to take you with.”

An exasperated sigh left his lungs. “I’m good. Mom says your smoking is a bad habit, and I don’t want to go. I’m almost done with this chapter.”

“I understand, but I don’t think she’ll like that answer.”

“Is she having an episode again?”

“Yeah.”

“You could have led with that.”

Josh carefully set the book down, doing his best to remember the page he’d left on, and slipped effortlessly into the coat. Then he threw on some sandals and joined Tom out the front door.

The biting wind immediately hit him. It whistled across the yard and through the pine trees that lined the road, carrying with it a sizable amount of snow. The pathway to Tom’s rusting red truck was buried under six inches of the stuff.

“Hold on, I need to get different shoes.”

“Jesus, Josh. Come on.”

He stepped inside, threw on a pair of boots much larger than his own feet, and rejoined his older brother. Together, they made it to the sputtering vehicle, and he reached for the passenger door.

“Absolutely not,” Tom said. “Backseat.”

“But Mom lets me sit—”

“But I’m not Mom, and right now, you’re my responsibility. Backseat.”

Josh did as instructed, taking his spot in the back passenger seat. His brother turned the key in the bucket of rust, which struggled to start. He seemed more frustrated than usual, but Josh knew better than to prod about it. Things had been rough lately.

“Is it going to be safe to drive in this weather?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fine. The truck has driven through worse. We’ll just need to take it real slow. Our five minute trip to the gas station will probably actually be ten.”

“Ten minutes? I should’ve brought my book.”

“Play with the toys back there, then.”

“These are baby toys. I’m too old for them. I haven’t played with these in years.”

“Then don’t. I don’t care.”

The words hung in the air for a while as he slowly backed out of the driveway, making sure that there weren’t any other cars dumb enough to be out in the blizzard.

“Sorry, bub. I don’t mean that. I’m just in a bad mood.”

“I know.”

“How was school today?”

“It was alright. Today was the book fair.”

“Did you get anything?”

“No. I haven’t gotten my allowance in a month.”

“Oh. Sorry. I spaced it. Is there another book fair day?”

“Yeah, they’re still doing it tomorrow, but all the smelly pencils are gone.”

“Remind me when we get home. I’ll get you your allowance.”

The road, which was already buried under snow and in abysmal condition, was made worse by the impossibly low visibility threatening to run them off course. He pounded the dashboard once or twice when the engine made some weird noises, but they remained quiet for a few minutes until his headlights dimmed.

“No! Come on!”

He pounded his horn and carefully worked the brakes, bringing the truck to a full break right as it died.

“What happened?”

Instead of answering, his brother buried his head in his hands. He remained motionless for a long time, and Josh thought he could hear a sniffle. Only when the threat of the cold leaking into the vehicle greeted their skin did he pull his head away.“It’s alright. The battery died is all. We have a jumping kit back home, so I’m gonna go grab that. Stay bundled. I won’t be long.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just have a long run ahead. Give me fifteen minutes. Do not leave the car for any reason.”

“Okay.”

His brother quickly opened and slammed the door shut and immediately ran in the opposite direction, leaving Josh in the silence of the dead truck with nothing to do but think and shiver. It was essentially pitch black outside except for the snow caking against his window. As the cold encroached, he slipped his arms out of the sleeves of his coat and against his chest, trying to conserve the heat.

Sixteen minutes of sitting in the cold, thinking about the cold, and ultimately wanting to not be cold passed before his brother appeared at the truck, opened the driver side door, popped the hood, and set up the jumping kit, which had its own heavy battery. Then he came back inside the truck while the device charged up.

“Did you happen to grab my book?” Josh asked.

“I was a little preoccupied trying to make sure you didn’t freeze to death out here. So no, I didn’t grab your book.”

The cold, which he’d now become accustomed to, had infiltrated the entire vehicle, clinging to his cheeks and nose. Waiting for the truck to start was excruciating, made more so by the fact that it took three tries and ten total minutes to get it restarted. The heat returning was more than welcome, and he pressed his hands to the vents as Tom went to retrieve the jumping kit.

“Okay. We’re good to go now. Just a quick trip. We’re almost there.”

“I’m getting tired.”“I know, dude. We’re almost there. Then you can go to bed, alright?”

After a little slipping on the road, he got the truck moving again, and slowly the lights of the town outskirts appeared in view, dim at first against the torrent of snow. Josh watched the buildings crawl by, all with lights and signs mostly off. There still wasn’t a single other car on the road.

Tom slammed his hand on the steering wheel. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“What?”

“They’d better be open right now. They have to be.”

They pulled into the parking lot right out front, and Josh watched as his brother strained hopelessly against the glass doors of the gas station. They didn’t budge. He kicked the brick wall, turned, opened his truck door, got in, and slammed it shut before resting his head on the wheel.

Finally, he let out a cry. It started low at first, but before long, he was sobbing. Josh didn’t know what to do, so he sat there as his older brother let out his emotions.

When it didn’t stop a minute or two in, Josh finally spoke up. “Is everything okay, Tom?”

His brother looked up, eyes puffy. “No, bub. Everything’s not okay. It’s Mom. She...” He coughed and wiped his nose.

“Did it happen?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it happened. She, uh... was having another one of her episodes. It was a long one. And then she looked at me. Looked at me. Do you remember the last time she was able to do that? And she smiled. And that was it. That was... she was... she’s gone now.”

His brother’s voice shook, and Josh didn’t fully understand what was happening, but he did know what his brother meant.“Is she safe now?”

“Yeah, buddy. She’s safe. No more seizures. No more episodes. No more pain. I didn’t want you to see her while I was going out for smokes. That’s why I made you come with. Sorry it was a waste of time. It’s your bedtime. Let’s get you home.”

“Okay.”

Tom threw the truck in reverse, and at the same speed they’d arrived, he scooted through the town. It all felt a lot darker. A lot colder. Once they’d hit the tree line that bordered the town, the feelings only magnified.

“Did Mom love us?”

“Yeah, she does—she did. Why?”

“Because she wasn’t very nice.”

His older brother looked at him through the rear-view mirror. “I know. Especially the past couple of weeks. But she did. She loved us as much as a mother could. She wasn’t trying to be mean. I don’t try to either. It’s just... there’s been a lot going on since Mom started having her episodes, and I’m doing my best. I’m sorry I haven’t been good to you. You don’t deserve it.”

“Okay.”

The trees abruptly reached their end, bringing them to the field near their house. In the spring, there were always corn or beans, and he remembered watching the crop duster planes fly by, spraying manure all over. The house stank for a week after, and it drove his mom nuts. Then fall and winter came, and the crops were always gone. One year, there was a section that hadn’t gotten harvested, and the corn froze and withered away.

“Did Dad love us?”

At first, his brother didn’t respond, and continued on to the house, which they were surely almost to by now. If only he could see anything out the window, he might be able to tell exactly where they were.

“Tom?”

“I know. I heard you. You know how Mom had issues?”

“Her episodes?”

“Yeah. Well, Dad had his own type of episodes. Except in his episodes, he was really mean. More than Mom. He hurt us. He hurt her, and he hurt you, and he hurt me.”

“What did we do?”

“Nothing. Especially you. You were too young. But he was a mean person.”

“What happened to him?”

“One day, during one of his episodes, he was being mean to you again. He was hurting you. And I got in the way, and I stopped him.”

“And then what?”

“That’s it. Now he can’t hurt you again. I kept you safe. I took care of it. Took care of you.”

“Okay.”

Finally, the house was in sight, and as they pulled into the driveway, Tom sat with the truck on, staring at the garage door. It was impossible for Josh to figure out what was going on in his head.

“Do you want to go see her?”

Josh thought about it for a moment. “Yeah.”

Tom turned the truck off, and they hopped out at the same time. Josh did his best to step in the spots where footprints had already flattened the snow, but still got some in his boots.

When they got inside, he took them off, dusted the snow from his feet, and then removed his coat. Tom led the way up the stairs, taking them slowly and softly. Josh was tired of slow and opted to run up them alongside and past his brother.

His mom’s room was all the way at the end of the upstairs hallway. Tom flipped the hall light on, and they approached the closed door.

He looked up at his older brother. “Is it scary in there?”

“I’m not sure, bub. Do you want to hold my hand?”

He answered by taking the outstretched hand, and together they pushed the door open. His mom was laying in bed, eyes closed. The machine next to her, which was usually beeping steadily, was now silent, its screen off. The tube that was wrapped around her mouth had remained.

As he approached his mom, he could feel tears coming. She was in a better place. A safe place, like Tom had said. She wouldn’t be in pain any longer. But he was still sad. He loved his mom.

Tom came up from behind and rubbed his back as he held his mom’s hand. It was cold, the way he felt when sitting in the truck all alone, waiting for his brother to get it restarted.

Maybe that’s what cold was: death. Cold kills the corn in the fields outside. Cold froze the air in his lungs while sitting in the truck. Cold even killed the truck battery. And now his mom was cold, and she would never wake up.

He stood by her side, crying for a long while. Tom sat down in the chair next to her bed and let out a shaky sigh. “I need to go make a call, buddy. After that, it’s going to be bedtime. You’ve gotta go to school tomorrow so you can get something at the book fair.”He reached into his pocket and grabbed his wallet, revealing a twenty and handing it to his younger brother. Then he stood up and left the room. Josh heard him talking to somebody, telling them his name and where they lived, and talking about their mom.

That’s when he noticed the cord of the machine wasn’t in the wall where it was supposed to be. He looped around the bed and plugged it back in. The machine beeped loudly in one long tone and flashed some warnings. His eyes moved to his mom’s, and he watched, hoping somehow they would open back up.

Tom reentered the room, phone down at his side. “Okay, Josh, time for bed now.”

“It didn’t work.”

“It’s alright. I’ll take care of it with the ambulance drivers. Go brush your teeth and get your pj’s on.”

“What do we do now?”

His older brother got down next to him and put his hands on his shoulders. “We’ll be okay. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll take care of you, just like I always have. But right now, I need you to go get around for bed. We’ll talk more after school.”

He ushered Josh out of the room and carefully closed the door behind them. The younger brother did as told, going through his routine, trying not to think too much about his mom in the other room. He said goodnight to his brother, who was pacing cross-armed down by the front door with his last cigarette in hand, and retreated to bed. He was still more than awake when the paramedics arrived half an hour later, but opted not to get out of bed to see them take his mom to the ambulance. A few minutes after that, Tom knocked on his door and cracked it open.

“Still up?”

“Yeah.”“No worries. I’m gonna struggle to sleep tonight, too. Here, I brought your book, in case you can’t get any rest. If you need something—anything—you can come knock on my door. I’ll be sleeping in my room tonight.”

“Okay.”

Before his brother could close the door again, he quickly called out to him.

“What’s up, Josh?”

“I love you, Tom.”

His brother smiled softly at him. “I love you too, bub.”

[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!

[twistedmusings]

A/N: Planning to post some finished requests tonight thankfully but I wanted to share something super self indulgent with you guys since I just recently got an Alexa! I'm still kind of in a funk (since classes are STILL not over with) so thank you everyone for your kind words in my inbox q wq For now I only have Riddle and Leona...but if everyone likes it I'll make an effort to finish! I kinda am working on Azul's as we speak >:3 Warnings: Boys missing you terribly, Riddle justifying the breaking of rules and Leona realizing that he is talking to an inanimate object.

The Ramshackle Prefect leaves to go to RSA for a month, following a lead that could get them back home. And while the dorm leaders do miss them terribly, it seems one of them is hiding something.

. .

“AZUL-SHI DO SOMETHING.”

The Octavinelle dorm leader barely listened to his friend's request as he also crowded over Idia’s phone, the other five dorm leaders looking down at the screen as a pair of familiar eyes stared back at them.

“Where is Idia? Can you please hand me back to him?”

Riddle blinked at the sprite on the screen before looking back at Idia with a frown.

“Explain yourself, Shroud.”

Idia whimpered as he hung his head low in shame.

“[Y/N]-san...I mean...the Prefect left to go to RSA for a whole month, right? Crowley said it was to help them find a way back home but apparently there was some trouble there too and...and he brought them to fix it...”

Malleus’s neutral expression changes into something a bit sadder while Kalim lets out what everybody was thinking.

“To take them away so suddenly...I didn’t even get a chance to give them a goodbye party!”

“They’re only away for a month, Kalim.” Vil’s eyes stay on Idia’s phone screen.

“But I’m sure a party would have let them know how much I would miss them!”

Riddle clears his throat, “That still doesn’t explain anything about what I am seeing. Why in the world do you have something that looks like...that looks so much like them on your phone!”

Idia was sure this was hell. Of all the people to catch him using his phone during a dorm leader meeting, why did it have to be Riddle? What was he even supposed to answer to that question! That he missed talking to [Y/N]-san about the new animes that were releasing this week that he had purposefully made an AI from data Ortho had collected on them and their mannerisms?

He would rather die!

“I--I was testing a new AI! Just...for schedules and stuff like that! And I didn’t have anything else to base it on so I just took [Y/N]-san’s information and made a prototype! It’s not just going to go out to the public like that! They can customize it however they like--!”

Azul hums as he taps the screen, the sprite giggling as he touches their cheek before looking up at all of them expectantly.

“...A prototype, huh.” he smiles and leans back while taking his phone out, “Everybody stop crowding around him, we might as well be breaking his arm slowly at this point.”

The rest of the dorm leader's move back with only some protest, Idia’s eyes shining as he looks up at his other friend.

“Azul-shi…”

The dorm leader of Octavinelle grins, “If it’s a prototype then that means it needs users, correct? More people to test it out?”

“Eh?”

Azul puts his phone in front of Idia and smiles at him like he was just about to close a rather important business transaction.

“Well then I want the prototype as well. Download it to my phone, will you?”

“Eh?!”

Idia presses his phone to his chest as if Azul was about to take it, looking around nervously as the other dorm leaders take their phones out and set it in front of him.

“If it’s an application for scheduling then I could use it to keep Heartslabyul’s matters in check. I’ll take one too.”

“Ruggie is gonna be busy during exams...this thing better work as an alarm.”

“Surely this would help me keep track of my schedule for both the Monstro Lounge and school. I’ll take one with a statistics program built in, Idia”

“Oh!! I want mine to be able to sing! And can I also get them in Scarabia’s dorm uniform? I want to see what [Y/N]-san would look like!’

“I’ll take that as well. I also want a photo re-touch feature as well as one hour updates as to what is going on in my Magicam account.”

Each phone was placed in front of him as Idia felt his head start to spin. He just wanted to keep this thing a secret only for himself! He wasn’t even planning to release it, it was all just a lie so they wouldn’t know his greatest shame!

A shadow was casted over him, Idia looking up slowly as Malleus smiled and placed his phone down.

“I am eager to see your finished product, Shroud.”

The tarts in front of him looked absolutely delicious.

Trey had really outdone himself this time. The strawberries were cut into perfectly neat shapes and the glaze over them made them so mouth wateringly shiny that he could practically taste the sweet treat without even having to taste it!

Which only made his want of one grow even more.

“And here comes the next batch.” Trey smiles as he puts down another plate in front of him, Riddle’s eyes now staring at that plate while his vice dorm leader cleans himself up.

“When did you say the Unbirthday party was going to be today?”

“A-At three o’clock sharp.”

Trey nods as he looks at the clock in the kitchen.

“Perfect. I promised to meet Jade to get some herbs he has been growing as well as letting him teach me how to make this one soup they had in the Monstro Lounge about a week ago.”

He grabs his phone and heads out, leaving Riddle with a quick goodbye and a promise that he would make it back as quick as possible.

Leaving him all alone with two plates filled with his favourite treat.

The dorm leader looks around once...then twice...checking if anybody was coming into the kitchen before going back to stare at the plates.

It wasn’t like he was going to grab one

The Unbirthday party today would be using pastries that Trey had made yesterday. It was the third of the month so the rules required a completely different pastry. The strawberry tarts were most likely for tomorrow.

So Riddle could wait. He was the Heartslabyul dorm leader after all so not only could he wait but he was required to wait! As the dorm leader he was to set an example and he couldn’t let himself be seduced so easily by just two plates of such yummy looking tarts--!

He quickly takes his phone out and looks down at the screen, face flushing as he tries to remember how Idia told him to open up the new app.

“[Y/N]-san…?”

A face peeks out from the corner of his phone, smiling as it recognizes his face and steps out while giving him a polite bow.

“Good morning, Riddle-san! What can I help you with?”

He can’t help a small rush of excitement at seeing the Prefect’s face after not seeing them for two weeks. Riddle would make an effort to stop and talk to them whenever they made their way to Heartslabyul that not seeing them for so long had almost thrown him off his schedule.

And...he missed the conversations he had with them.

As the dorm leader and a student in NRC he didn’t necessarily have time to go to any other events or take part in any of the shenanigans others would get up to, not that he necessarily wanted to, but it was entertaining when the Prefect talked about it with him.

It felt like they were letting him into their world.

So maybe this substitute would suffice...it was a scheduling app after all so it wasn’t like he was using it for pleasure only.

“Would you please repeat rule 56 of the Queen’s handbook?”

The AI clears their throat as a book animation appears before them.

“Rule number 56: On the third of April, black tea should be served along with pineapple tarts. Followed by a game of cards in which the loser must pour the Queen tea for the rest of the Unbirthday party.”

Riddle sighs as he looks back at the plate of tarts.

“...I guess I’ll wait until tomorrow…”

“Wait until what?”

He looks down at the AI, the sprite blinking in confusion as it waits for an answer. Idia had mentioned adding a conversational feature…

“There is no rule about what to eat tomorrow so I decided that we would have strawberry tarts.”

“Are those your favourite?”

Riddle nods and steps out of the kitchen, making his way to his room as he stared back at the open door.

“They are. Ever since I was little. I couldn’t have many because of--”

He decides to not go deep into the subject.

“I’m sure Trey’s pineapple tarts will be excellent. I will just have to wait until tomorrow to enjoy the strawberry ones.”

The AI hums before the book animation pops up again, looking down and flipping a couple of pages before speaking up.

“Riddle-san. While it does say that black tea should be served with pineapple tarts...it does state that it should be done for the Unbirthday party and the Unbirthday party only.”

He frowns, “Your point?”

“I am sure no rule would be broken if only the Queen has a tea party before the Unbirthday party. From what I am seeing here--”

They flip a couple more pages.

“There is no rule about a tea party of one enjoying a strawberry tart.”

Riddle blinks before looking down at his phone, the sprite smiling as they shut the small book and lets it disappear with a ‘poof.’

No rule would be broken...if it was only a tea part of one?

He looks down at the AI when he hears them giggle.

“Riddle-san looks really happy.”

A blush covers his face at being called out on how big his smile probably was.

“Did I help in any way?”

The dorm leader takes a deep breath before smiling as he looks down at the phone and presses his fingertip on top of their head, rubbing it back and forth as if they were petting them. Something he knew he could never really do with them in real life lest he was looking to get odd looks.

“More than enough. Would you like to accompany me during this tea party?”

“Yes please!”

Riddle nods before looking around once more and clearing his throat.

“And...would you refer to me as ‘dorm leader’ from now on?”

The sprite nods as they give him a polite bow.

“Yes, dorm leader!”

He would need to send his report of the app as quickly as possible, Idia had really outdone himself this time...maybe he could ask if he could get them dressed up in the Heartslabyul uniform?

Riddle still wished you would hurry back.

“Leona-san! Please wake up!”

The blankets on the bed wriggled a bit as the phone was tousled over from one side of the bed to the other, the sprite inside frowning as they tried again.

“Leona-san! Please wake up! Ruggie-san texted you!”

A hand comes out of the blankets before holding the phone up.

“Read the text out loud then.”

Sighing, the AI pulls the text up and reads out loud.

“Please be awake by the time I get there, Leona. I need to make sure I get your signature on these papers for the dorm budget. If you don’t I’ll hold your lunch captive!”

Leona’s face finally pops up from under the blanket, the man sitting up and running a hand through his hair as he speaks up again.

‘Oi. What time is it?”

“It is 3:14 in the afternoon, Leona-san.”

“And when did Ruggie send the text?”

“At 3:00 o'clock.”

He groans and lays back down, the pillows flying about as he holds the phone to his face and smiling when he sees the sprite looking down at him worriedly.

“You really do look like them…” Leona whispers before tapping the screen so that he is poking the sprite’s cheek, “What is that face for?”

“I’m just worried for you, Leona-san. Too much sleep is a symptom of some sicknesses so--”

“Hah? You think I would get sick so easily?” he yawns and stretches, “I’m different from humans. Beastmen need a lot more sleep than regular humans do so...I’m just doing what my body tells me.”

Green eyes watch a notepad appear before the AI as they write down the information, smiling as they close it up and watch it disappear.

“I’ll keep that information in mind so I can serve Leona-san better. Thank you so much.”

Leona blinks at the words before a lazy smile crosses his face.

“Serve me better, huh? Never thought I would hear you say that.”

Usually the herbivore would be frowning and telling him to get up and actually take charge of his dorm and how he didn’t act like any grown up they knew. The sprite, however, tilts their head in confusion before speaking up once again.

“I am yours, after all.”

“Damn right you are.”

He looked at the phone a bit more, the sprite smiling up at him as he poked their cheek or patted their head. A part of him wondered if you would react like that with him as well. You always seemed so annoyed with his antics yet you never failed to come back to talk to him, telling him how he needs to get his act together if he is ever planning to go back to the Afterglow.

Leona would bet money that if he patted your head out of nowhere you would be highly flustered. Getting praise from him was something that didn’t happen often, after all.

“What day is it?”

“The 12th day of April, Leona-san.”

Another two weeks of you being gone. He frowns and closes his eyes as he thinks about you meeting those other students. RSA was just full of idiots...like his brother--

“Dammit.”

He slams the phone down but blinks when he hears a small yelp, turning the phone back around to find the AI looking rather frazzled with their eyes closed and hair all over the place.

“Shit. Are you....okay?”

Great, he was asking an application if it was okay. He could understand why Idia would hide this, right now he felt like he was crazy.

“Y--Yes! It was just unexpected!”

The sprite fixed itself up quickly and smiled back at Leona.

“Are you okay though, Leona-san?”

The dorm leader chuckled and nodded as they set the phone down gently and laid down next to it. At least that part was very much like you, worrying about others before focusing on yourself.

“You’re not going to complain? I almost just threw you.”

Without missing a beat, the AI stands up and looks at him.

“Leona-san is still working hard despite his body telling him to sleep. My program tells me that it would be a natural emotion to feel frustrated if you are not allowed to do something you want. Normal actions of frustration speak of physical manifestations such as kicking, punching or throwing. I was simply calculating it for it to be the latter and for it to happen towards a pillow. I’ll make sure to fix my calculations next time.”

He shakes his head and sets the phone down gently.

“Weird thing. You shouldn’t forgive someone so easily after they wronged you.”

“But you didn’t wrong me, Leona-san. I didn’t feel any pain. I just want to make sure you are feeling your best! You are my number one priority!”

This machine is going to make him go insane, he knows you would never say that but the fact that Idia had gotten your voice down so well that it was almost as if you had just told him he was your number one---

He was already getting a headache.

“Set an alarm for an hour. Ruggie will take around that long anyway.” Leona lays down and wraps the blankets around him.

“Of course. Alarm set for one hour. Would you like to be woken up with a personalized message?”

Leona hummed before grinning.

“Wake me up by calling me ‘King’.”

The sprite fixes its settings before giving a polite bow.

“Yes, my King. Please enjoy your rest.”

After this he would send his report to Shroud and maybe ask for an outfit upgrade. He only needed to show him some Afterglow clothes and the nerd would probably be able to make the AI wear them, right?

Whatever, the moment you came back Leona would make sure that you gave him some headpats for making him wait so long.

[krappykawa]

fake dating headcanons with atsumu, oikawa, and kuroo

ANON ASKED: “hi i really like your writing 🥺🥺 could i request fake dating with atsumu, oikawa, and kuroo? like they told their teams that they have a girlfriend but they dont lmao so they ask one of their classmates to pretend to be their gf so the team can meet her? and they end up falling for her along the way :)) i look forward to reading more of ur works!! 💖”

atsumu x f!reader, oikawa x f!reader, kuroo x f!reader

genre. fluff

warnings. language

word count. 6.3k

note. DAMN this one got away from me ... 6.3k words for a headcanon post ...... sorry anon i’m not sure if you wanted a long post but i mean, here we are lol 

note 2. had to repost because something was up with the tags lol i hope it works fine this time

ATSUMU.

- the team has a favorite twin and it’s osamu, we all know it

- one day after practice, the team finds out that one of the first-years managed to get a girlfriend

- most of the inarizaki vb team is single at that point in time so it starts a conversation about relationships

- somewhere in the conversation, aran says, “osamu, man. I can’t believe ya haven’t gotten a girlfriend yet. yer easily one of the best-looking people in the school.”

- osamu just shrugs, but atsumu’s like “huh??”

- “hey ‘samu and i have the same face. don’t cha mean that we’re some of the best-looking people in the school??”

- the guys in the locker room exchange glances

- aran‘s like “look, atsumu. don’t blow up on me or anything, but most girls don’t really want to date you.” (keep in mind that aran’s strictly speaking about the girls that aren’t a part of the miya twins fan club)

- “and why the hell not?”

- at this point, aran’s looking at literally everyone in the room and pleading with his eyes for help because he doesn’t want to start a fight with atsumu

- suna takes pity on aran and says, “hate to break it you, miya, but girls don’t want to date a guy who’s a massive asshole”

- now, atsumu could care less if the entire goddamn world thinks he’s an asshole, but it rubs him the wrong way that his teammates think that osamu’s a better catch than he is

- sibling rivalry pride or whatever

- so atsumu goes “i think my girlfriend would disagree because oh will ya look at that, she’s dating me!”

- he was most definitely not dating anyone

- osamu raises an eyebrow at him because to his knowledge, atsumu didn’t have a girlfriend

- “since when did you have a girlfriend?”

- osamu looks at atsumu with knowing eyes and smirks. “yeah sumu, who’s this girlfriend of yours? I don’t think i’ve met her yet.”

- atsumu knows he’s gotten himself in some deep shit

- but still he’s still full of pride, so he says, “i’ll bring her by to practice tomorrow.”

- now miya atsumu has a dilemma because there are some things he just shouldn’t lie about (because now he’ll never live it down if he can’t figure out a way to get himself out of this one)

- atsumu knows that he’s got that fanclub that would probably be more than willing to date him, but the thought of being in their presence for longer than two seconds makes his skin crawl because he doesn’t think he could handle the excessive screaming

- so that night he decides to go to the bakery down the street that he frequents because they have some of the best macarons in town

- you’re one of the bakers at that bakery that works the shift when he usually comes in for his weekly macarons so you two are acquainted

- you also go to inarizaki, so you hear the rumors that circulate around atsumu, but you don’t really pay much attention to them because he’s not that bad whenever he comes into the bakery

- like sometimes if he tries to only order 2 macarons but notices that there are only 5 macarons left, he’ll buy them all just to make your life easier

- when he comes in that day, he has this troubled look on his face. “hey y/n. can i just have my usual? oh and an iced matcha.”

- you like to keep tabs on your regulars and what they order, so when he orders an iced matcha, you know that something’s probably up (he never orders drinks from there because he said that his brother would kill him if he didn’t bring him home a drink too and having to carry the two drinks up to their apartment is hassle enough)

- you’re in the middle of making his drink when you decide to ask him what’s up “everything alright?”

- it’s almost time to close up and you two are the only two left so you figured you had time for small talk

- “i may have outright lied to my team about havin’ a girlfriend.”

- “you don’t?” that surprises you because so many girls at your school have a crush on the miya twins (you would know because your best friend is practically in love with osamu)

- when atsumu shakes his head dejectedly, you don’t quite understand what he’s so down for

- “you do know that there are like 50 girls that are practically lining up to date you right?”

- “yeah, but they’d expect a real relationship and i’m no good at those.”

- “why not?”

- “i’m too argumentative, let's just say, plus i’ve been told that i kinda come off as an asshole.”

- “and volleyball right?” you would know since he always comes into the bakery after a practice and he looks like he’s both dead and alive

- when you hand him his matcha and packet of macarons, he pauses

- “listen, don’t take this the wrong way but yer single right?”

- you almost smile to yourself because wow for a guy so attractive, his way with words isn’t great

- “i am.”

- he stands there for a good 20 seconds just looking at you with that look in his eyes that tells you that he’s trying to ask you something but he doesn’t know how to do it

- “you want me to act as your fake girlfriend don’t you?”

- cue atsumu chuckle @%EUTYDJBCJWER)*&# hhhhfs

- “ya know, i’m kinda seein’ why i get called an asshole all the time. it doesn’t sound as great when ya’ say it like that.”

- you agree to pretend to be his girlfriend, but on the condition that your best friend will be able to tag along if osamu’s gonna be there

- and that’s the start of it

- you visit his practice the next day before work and his team looks at you in surprise because they were 100% sure that having a girlfriend was just another one of atsumu’s lies

- they all kinda stare at you a little extra too because you’re really pretty

- “aye, get yer asses back to volleyball and stop starin’ at my girl like that.”

- you know it’s all fake, but him saying that kinda makes you blush anyways

- when you first agreed to fake dating him, you weren’t expecting that you’d have to spend too much time with him (he did tell you that he wasn’t looking for a real relationship) but that changes because osamu’s insistent that atsumu should at least try to be a good boyfriend and eat lunch with you and stuff

- you’re both aware that osamu doesn’t buy your little arrangement one bit

- atsumu’s got this raging pride when it comes to his twin brother, so he actually listens because now he’s made it his personal mission to convince osamu that you and him are actually dating

- it takes a while for you two to get into the hang of it, but once you do, it’s like a regular routine

- you and your best friend eat lunch with the twins (you and atsumu both watch as your best friend fumbles her way into talking with osamu), you drop by before work to give atsumu a kiss on the cheek before practice, he drops by the bakery after practice nearly everyday, and you come to his games while wearing a jersey that he lent you

- his teammates like you a lot and tease atsumu all the time because they claim that you’re way too good for him

- surprisingly, he always gets a little protective when they say things like that and always slips an arm around your waist

- one day when you’re over at his apartment, you help atsumu learn how to make macarons (with some help from osamu)

- it takes a while because he would get mad at the macarons when they would come out in weird shapes

- “stupid macarons! they got it out for me i’m tellin’ ya! they’re being like that on purpose!”

- LITERALLY A CHILD

- you learn to like that about him though

- dates with him are usually on the weekends (you both drag osamu and your best friend out with you) and it’s always something fun that osamu suggests because atsumu wasn’t joking when he said he sucks at real relationships

- most of these dates consist of holding hands as you walk around the streets until osamu sees a restaurant he wants to try out

- he always insists on feeding you at least once in your meal

- he also loves doing the walrus-chopsticks face?? (he only started doing it because he liked hearing you laugh)

- as time passes, you two start going on dates without osamu and your best friend (atsumu always claims that it’s because he wants to show osamu up, but you start to notice that osamu doesn’t even find out about these dates most of the time)

- you secretly like these dates better than those with osamu and your best friend because atsumu feels more at ease and will develop a softer tone around you during these dates

- eventually, he starts to always greet you with a forehead kiss whenever you’re in public (you’re not sure if he does it just because his brother is watching, or if maybe he might be starting to like you)

- you try to make your brain forget that most of the time, he kisses your forehead before osamu even walks in

- one day after practice, you’re waiting for him because you didn’t have a shift at the bakery that day

- he walks out of the club room looking mildly pissed and you’re a little wary

- but then he gets to where you’re standing and just pulls your waist towards him and full on kisses you

- mind you, this is your first kiss on the lips with him

- it’s not a quick peck either, like you can hear the wolf whistles from his teammates in the back and you’re left breathing hard and flushed pink afterwards

- damn if that’s what his kisses are like, you suddenly wish he’d do it more often

- “what was that for?”

- “nothin’”

- sometime in the future you find out that he did that because his teammates were once again talking about your relationship and one of them joked that atsumu paid you to pretend to be his girlfriend

- he knew that what you had wasn’t necessarily real, but he just had the urge to kiss you then (he swears to you that he doesn’t know why)

- he does know why. it was because it was starting to slip his mind that your relationship was fake and the reminder made him a little mad at himself

- he realizes that maybe he’s fallen in love with you when osamu brings it up

- atsumu had asked for osamu’s help because he wanted to surprise you by making you mochis for your upcoming four month anniversary of being his fake girlfriend (typing this out was so funny, this man is so whipped he doesn’t know it)

- “ya know, when i first met y/n, i was sure that it was all fake and that you’d slip up about it one day. i guess i was wrong.”

- atsumu doesn’t say anything to that because in his head he’s trying to convince himself that “no. this is all still fake.” but it’s hard to convince himself of that when his hands are covered in the rice flower that he’s using to make your favorite dessert for your four months of faking being together

- he tries not to think about what osamu said when he gives you the gifts later that night

- he tries not to think about it when he gets that funny feeling that he’s been feeling for a while now when he sees the way you light up upon opening the box of mochis

- he most definitely tries not to think about it when you accidentally give him your second kiss of the relationship because you were caught up in the spur of the moment

- it’s on the way home back to his apartment that night that he realizes he’s fucked

- because good god he’s fallen for you

- he tries to break it off after that

- you’re confused at how sudden it is, but you let him break it off because at that point you’re already in love with him and are still too scared to say it because you keep remembering how he always said that he didn’t want a real relationship

- IDIOTS IN LOVE YOU'RE BOTH SO .

- he tries to go back to normal after that

- but for the love of everything he just . can’t

- his eyes always linger a little too long on the door right before practice because you would always come see him before going to work

- his feet would instinctively move in the direction of the bakery after practices until he realizes what he’s doing and forces himself to go home

- his eyes would scan for your figure wearing his jersey during games until he remembers that you probably weren’t there and that you most definitely wouldn’t be wearing his jersey

- he wants to kick himself because the reason he asked you to be his fake girlfriend in the first place was because he didn’t want a real relationship

- yet here he was. wallowing because if there’s anything more he wants, it’s a real relationship with you

- osamu gets fed up with him eventually

- “take yer ass to the bakery right after practice. i’m not letting you into the apartment until you see her.”

- and surprisingly, he actually listens to his twin brother

- he walks into the bakery for the first time in a while and says “hey y/n. can i just have my usual? oh and an iced matcha.”

- you look up at him then because you vividly remember that night. how could you not?

- you’re in the middle of making his drink when you decide to ask him what’s up “everything alright?”

- “i may have outright lied to myself about loving you.”

- you nearly drop the drink in your hands

- “‘tsumu? what are you on about?”

- “i know i said that i’m no good at real relationships. but i’ve found that i want to learn to be good.”

- a pause

- “i want to learn with ya.”

OIKAWA.

- this poor boy is always the butt of the jokes that come from his team

- seriously though. it’s always “tease oikawa day” (he teases them back so it’s all good)

- but one day, they’re all in the locker room when hanamaki brings up this girl that he’s planning on asking out because he’s not sure how to do it

- oikawa, being the little shit that he is, goes “step one, makki. have my face. step two, have my amazing personality. step three, ask her out.”

- he barely ducks in time to miss the shoe that comes flying towards his head

- “makki! such unbecoming behavior! my advice is perfect!”

- matsukawa snorts and says “perfect advice my ass. you can’t even get anyone to like you. let alone go out with you, crappykawa.”

- “don’t spread lies, mattsun.” oikawa clicks his tongue like a mother scolding his child. “or do you seem to forget the dozens of confessions i get on the daily along with the girls that you three complain about all the time because ugh shittykawa’s gonna make us late if he keeps talking to them” (he’s so dramatic lol he says that last part in this weird, whiny voice)

- iwaizumi scoffs. “doesn’t count when you reject every single one.”

- “i do not!”

- “right. right. as if you don’t make them cry because you’re so nice about rejecting them too.” (oikawa frowns at that one because he doesn’t mean to make them cry)

- “yeah, shittykawa, you’re pretty bad at love in general. i’d die before listening to your advice.” (this one is from matsukawa)

- “there’s also the fact that the girlfriend’s you did have all broke up with you because you would rather cuddle with a volleyball than cuddle with them.” (this one is from hanamaki)

- oikawa scowls at them “i don’t cuddle my volleyball.”

- “sure you don’t. just like you most definitely don’t have a name for it either.”

- “leave iwa-chan the second out of this!” (he drew an angry face on his volleyball too because he claims it looks like iwaizumi)

- iwaizumi groans. “i hate you. so so much.”

- at this point, oikawa knows they’re right, but he’s also really prideful. “and besides. i would suggest taking my advice because i got a girlfriend just today!”

- he most definitely did not

- “sure you did. hey mattsun, i bet a week tops until she breaks up with him.”

- “nah i’ll bet five days.”

- after practice, oikawa came up with a plan for the next day to get himself out of the hole he dug for himself

- he usually got confessions before school, so he told iwaizumi that he was going to school early to practice and instead waited for a girl to confess to him

- but the moment he saw this second-year walk up to him with a little box, he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it

- he couldn’t do that to this innocent girl

- and he tries to say yes to her. he really does.

- but he can practically hear his older sister’s voice yelling at him about how “even when you get popular and get confessions from people left and right, i don’t want you leading anyone on. you only accept a confession if you actually like them.”

- he’s probably more scared of his sister than he is of his own mother, so he says no to that second-year, even when she starts to frown and walk away

- he’s leaning against the gym and rubbing the bridge of his nose when he hears you

- “everything alright?”

- you two were pretty close because he found out that you had a crush on iwaizumi in your second year and tried to set you two up (it didn’t work because he’s pretty bad at being a wingman)

- even when iwaizumi rejected you, oikawa had already grown to like your presence, so you two stayed friends despite how his best friend broke your heart

- “y/n-chan! what are you doing here so early?”

- “just returning a book to the library before the librarian knocks down my door and kicks my ass for having an overdue library book. what are you doing here so early?”

- “would you believe me if i said that i was practicing volleyball?”

- you look him up and down, and the smell of fresh cologne reaches your nostrils. his uniform is neatly put together.

- “looking like that? no, no i would not.”

- “well, what would you believe?”

- “i don’t know .. the truth maybe?”

- “the truth is embarrassing and is defamation to my good name.” that makes you raise your brow at him.

- “okay now i only want to hear the truth. i will not accept anything but the truth. now tell me, what kind of embarrassment have you proved yourself to be this morning?”

- “so mean, y/n-chan! now i see why you so very adored our precious iwa-chan.”

- you groan because you don’t want to remember that rejection. “oh just hurry up and embarrass yourself instead of embarrassing me.”

- “but it’s quite embarrassing.”

- “come on, spit it out.”

- “i may or may not have told iwa-chan, makki, and mattsun that i have a girlfriend when i don’t have one.”

- you look at him like he’s the dumbest person you’ve ever met, because at that moment, you really believed that he was. “couldn’t you just … i don’t know … accept one of your many, many confessions?”

- oikawa tells you about his fear of his sister and the second-year that just confessed to him

- you find yourself admiring his sister because she’s probably the one person on this planet that can humble oikawa tooru (the next person to be able to do so will be you, but you don’t know that yet)

- after hearing his explanation you get an idea. “can’t you ask someone to fake being in a relationship with you? you know, so you don’t get the angry sister devil/angel thing on your shoulder?” (LOL if you don’t get what the angel/devil thing that i’m talking about is, it’s like when you have an imaginary angel and a devil that sits on your shoulders and criticizes every choice you make)

- “are you offering, y/n?” he has that shit-eating grin on his face again, so you know he’s mostly joking

- “hmm, i don’t know. i think you’ll have to formally ask me to be your fake girlfriend. it’s only polite after all.”

- oikawa blinks for a second because he didn’t actually think you were serious. “what?”

- “are you going to ask me to be your fake girlfriend or not? maybe throw in a flower and i’ll say yes.”

- oh. oh.

- well, he wasn’t going to let what might be his only opportunity to get someone to fake date him pass by

- he looks around and sees a small flower on the ground and picks it

- he takes both your hands and puts the flower in one of them before saying, “y/n-chan will you, take me, oikawa tooru, as your loving pretend boyfriend, and save me from irrevocable embarrassment?”

- you laugh in his face because he’s trying so hard not to laugh through his “proposal.”

- “minus points for not getting on one knee but i guess i do.”

- you mainly did it because you may have already gotten rejected by iwaizumi, but you did like the possibility of being friends with him, and fake dating oikawa would probably let you do that

- you also kind of felt bad for oikawa, knowing that he wasn’t exaggerating how embarrassing it would be if his teammates found out he was lying

- when you and oikawa walk up to the seijoh third-years while holding hands, makki and mattsun are jostling each other while iwaizumi looks mildly surprised

- “see matsun! pay up!”

- oikawa and you both look in surprise as mattsun reluctantly shoves a few bills into makki’s awaiting hand

- oikawa’s looking between them both. “what bet did you use me for this time?”

- “i bet mattsun that you and y/n secretly liked each other.”

- blink blink

- iwaizumi sees the mildly awkward situation brewing so he says, “anyways, y/n if you ever get tired of this dumbass, you’re more than welcome into our group. we’ll just kick oikawa out.”

- after that, you and oikawa fall into a dating routine easily (you have a pretty busy schedule too so both you and oikawa understand each other schedules well)

- usually this is where oikawa’s relationships fail. he spends so much time with volleyball and the team that he doesn’t really spend time with his significant others

- it’s different with you though. maybe it’s the fact that the stakes aren’t so high because it’s only a fake relationship after all, or maybe it’s because unlike his past significant others, you don’t mind spending most of your time and “dates” with the other seijoh third-years, or maybe it’s because he remembers that locker room conversation and he wants to prove to makki, mattsun, and iwaizumi that he can be a good boyfriend (even if it’s a good fake boyfriend)

- dates with oikawa are usually laid-back because he’s tired from practice (so like walks in the park, getting ice cream, or study dates where you don’t get much done because you spend most of it just laughing and cooking in his kitchen)

- you find that he’s secretly a decent cook (the only thing keeping from saying that he’s a good cook is because he can’t cut vegetables for his life, and he also managed to accidently burn the onions you were trying to caramelize).

- neither of you acknowledge the fact that since nobody’s there to see those dates, you two technically don’t have to go on them since it’s only a fake relationship

- oh and takeru LOVES you

- seriously. he thinks you’re probably the coolest person ever (he tells you one day that he thinks you’re even cooler than oikawa and oikawa is a pouting mess the rest of your day. you can only pull him out of his slump when you jump on his back and force him to run to the bakery and buy milk bread)

- sometimes you’ll come with oikawa when he needs to watch takeru

- as takeru teaches you how to receive a volleyball, oikawa will watch you two with a little smile on his face (this loser is so whipped like man people passing by reminisce on how they were young and in love once because oikawa looks at you like that. oikawa doesn’t notice that he’s doing it though.)

- you sometimes spend time at his house with iwaizumi or on select days just by yourself (mostly for study dates or for watching weird sci-fi movies that oikawa seems to love)

- since you’re at his house so often, oikawa’s mother takes a liking to you because “you finally got her boy to care about something that isn’t volleyball.”

- it’s when oikawa groans a “moooom” in response that you start to feel those pesky butterflies

- oikawa will run up to you after games and just hold you tightly (he tells himself that it’s because his fan club and the team are watching, but really it’s because he can’t thank you enough for being there because he just plays better when you’re watching)

- my god, dUDE . he has no idea that he loves you like . MAN .

- mattsun, makki, and iwaizumi always tease oikawa about how you’re so much cooler than him

- oikawa whines to you and says, “y/n-channn they’re being mean again!”

- “what do you want me to do about it?”

- oikawa pouts like the baby he is and says, “kiss,” while pointing to his cheek. you give in and a round of groans comes from mattsun and makki. oikawa looks so smug and those pesky stomach feelings come back. iwaizumi is smiling to himself.

- speaking of iwaizumi

- you two become best friends after he finds you looking dejected as you wait for oikawa to get out of practice. you confided with him about how your relationship was all pretend. you might have also told him that you may be teensy bit in love with his captain

- iwaizumi tells you that, “there are some things you just ... can’t fake. the way that shithead looks at you is one of them. trust me.”

- he also tells you that his suspicion that you and oikawa had this weird spark was what kept him from ever reciprocating your feelings and why he rejected you (oikawa literally tried being your wingman before by texting iwaizumi things like “did you see how pretty y/n was today? don’t you think she was pretty?” and “iwa-chan! y/n is so funny and that’s coming from me, so she really is funny! i think maybe you should talk to her to see what i’m talking about (≧◡≦)”)

- at this point everyone knows that you’re in love with oikawa for real (except for oikawa himself)

- everyone also knows that oikawa’s fallen for you (except for oikawa himself, and you because you refuse to believe it)

- the moment he realizes he’s in love with you is on another one of those dates that you both know you don’t have to have but still choose to have anyway

- you’re making milk bread and he’s helping to measure the ingredients when he turns around to see you covered in flour and he just kinda stops

- and he realizes

- like yeah he’s been getting that small tugging feeling with you a lot over these past few months

- but now he finally realizes it’s because he’s in love with you

- he’s staring for a long time and for a second you think he’s going to make fun of your flour-coated self, but he’s staring at you with that look and you’re confused

- “everything okay? is there something wrong? did you mess up the measurements?”

- then an idea hits him

- “something’s wrong. it’s kind of embarassing though.”

- “what is it?”

- “no but it’s really embarrassing.”

- “what .. what is it?”

- cue cheeky little grin. “i think i might’ve fallen in love with my fake girlfriend. i don’t have another flower to ask her out though. i hope she doesn’t say no.”

- you kiss him for the first time then and take pride in the fact that you get him covered in flour in the process

KUROO.

- it happened the second day that you were at the tokyo training camp

- kuroo was with bokuto and a few of the karasuno first-years when bokuto started telling the first-years that kuroo had a girlfriend because he saw kuroo helping you carry your bags the day before (listen . this man is like . clueless when it comes to emotions sometimes i’msosorry)

- kuroo got this confused look on his face because he thought he would remember getting a girlfriend. “i do?”

- “don’t you? remember the girl you were holding hands with yesterday?”

- this was all some big misunderstanding

- so basically what happened was this: you’re shinzen’s team manager and you were tasked with carrying bags of equipment to the training center. kuroo was waiting for kenma to finish talking with lev (more like trying to avoid though lmao) and noticed that you were struggling so he came over to help

- kuroo figured that bokuto must’ve seen him holding the bags for you and assumed that something must’ve been going on (or maybe he looked over for the split second when kuroo held your hand in order to transfer the bags to his hand)

- he was about to clear things up when lo and behold, you walked into the gym

- “kuroo look! it’s your girlfriend! hey, come join us!”

- bless bokuto’s soul. bless that poor, oblivious soul.

- you walked up to them and looked at kuroo like “what??”

- you remembered him from the day before, but you didn’t remember ever agreeing to being his girlfriend of any sort

- he smiled apologetically at you and asked to talk to you on the side

- “what’s going on? why did he call me your .. girlfriend?”

- “look i’m sorry, bo’s a little … i don’t know. he saw me carrying your bags yesterday and assumed. i’ll clear things up, don’t worry.”

- when you two headed back to where bokuto is standing, it was obvious that kuroo’s smooth-sailing explanation wasn’t happening anytime soon

- because lev was there, and so was yaku

- “KUROO-SENPAI? THIS IS YOUR GIRLFRIEND? SHE’S VERY PRETTY SENPAI!” (bless lev’s soul too. another part of the extremely oblivious club.)

- yaku took no hesitation in teasing kuroo. “since when does kuroo ever get any girl to like him? this is new. no offense, of course.”

- kuroo tried clearing up the air by saying, “guys- listen this has all been som-“

- hinata doesn’t let him finish either lmao “YOU’RE THE TEAM MANAGER FOR SHINZEN!” (extremely oblivious club member number 3 here)

- “a team manager, kuroo? what’d you do to get her to say yes? is she a chemistry nerd too?”

- “bo-“

- they kinda just went like that back and forth, and kuroo kept getting interrupted

- you were just laughing to the side because it was kind of funny

- you also kinda felt bad for kuroo because damn his friends had like no faith in his romantic skills at all??

- maybe that was what made you say it, but after his friends were done teasing him you said, “he’s kind of a catch though, don’t you think? nerdy and funny is a girl’s dream isn’t that what they say?”

- kuroo blinked at you because what??

- once kuroo got you alone by asking you to take a walk outside of the gym, he asked, “so … what does this make us?” (surprise, surprise, he never got the chance to tell them about the misunderstanding)

- you just shrugged because really how bad could this be? “i felt bad at how much they were teasing you, so we could keep up the fake boyfriend/girlfriend thing for the week. it shouldn’t be too bad. plus it’ll save you the embarrassment of having to tell your friends that you didn’t actually get a girlfriend.”

- you guys did pretty good for the week of the training camp

- you’d cheer him on in secret if he got a spike or a block during a practice game while simultaneously still watching shinzen’s game

- you two walked around the halls when bokuto was watching just to keep up pretenses

- you learned that he’s a major nerd during these walks, which you found really endearing

- on the last day of camp, he tried to throw pieces of broccoli in your mouth (he didn’t stop until he finally got it in after his 9th try)

- you guys initially planned to “break up” after the camp was over

- but here comes bokuto again

- “hey y/n! kuroo, akaashi, and i were gonna go out for karaoke tomorrow if you wanna join.”

- you grew to like bokuto too so you said you’d come

- it was actually a really fun night

- you and kuroo sang a duet together

- he also stole some of your ramen

- you took a video of bokuto as he serenaded akaashi

- when you guys are leaving to go home, bokuto goes “you two are so cute. y/n do me a favor and don’t break up with kuroo until after the qualifiers would you? i wanna play him at his full game.” (again. seriously, he basically is the greatest accidental wingman ever)

- “we can’t break his heart, can we?”

- “no, we can’t.”

- and so your fake relationship starts

- you don’t get to visit each other often because you don’t live in the same vicinity, but you guys text often (it’s a friend thing, you both swear to yourselves)

- on weekends when kuroo’s not spending time with kenma, he’ll ask you to meet him at a park or a cafe (you two always send selfies to bokuto during every date)

- dates with him are always really fun because he’s spontaneous and also very active so sometimes he’ll take you by the hand and just drag you places

- he is not afraid to smear different colors of ice cream on your nose and call you some obscure name from some really old movie that he may have watched that week

- he also makes you push him on the swings

- the little kids get mad because what is this rooster man doing taking up a swing when he’s so old

- you laugh at him when the kids eventually come up to him and ask if they can use the swing

- dates will usually last the whole day because you’re both fine with just walking around and randomly finding stuff to do

- with all that time spent talking, you two also get to know each other really well

- like basically your life stories

- it took him a while to open up and at first he insists that you tell your story first, but after a while you notice how he starts letting little things about his life slip here and there until he starts telling you bigger portions

- you also get really close with kenma

- not close close the way him and kuroo are, but kenma would probably see you as his second closest friend

- that’s why sometimes kenma tags along with you guys (it doesn’t feel like third wheeling or anything because both you and kuroo enjoy kenma’s presence as much as each other’s)

- eventually, once you two got the hang of it, you’re like the couple that everyone likes

- because you’re both pretty funny and overall just have nice vibes

- his team starts to call you mom and dad as a joke because sometimes when shinzen doesn’t have practice, you’ll stop by at nekoma at the end of practice just to say hi

- they’re not wrong about the mom and dad thing though (it’s a really cute dynamic though i swear)

- your team used to not like him at first because they were protective of you, but eventually they reluctantly warmed up to him

- they threatened to demolish him if he hurt you though

- LMAO ANYWAYS .. MOVING ON

- you guys have lots of study dates too!!

- since you’re both busy because of volleyball related things, a lot of your schedule lines up with each other (this also means that kuroo knows when you haven’t had time to study)

- you’ll be sitting on his bed on your stomach with your legs draped across his thighs as you read your textbook and he’ll be sitting against his bed frame reading one of his assigned readings (i also like to think that kuroo has glasses for these readings that only you and kenma have seen)

- sometimes, when you finish studying before he finishes, you’ll come up behind him and just start to play with his hair

- his hair is actually really soft despite looking like a bird built its nest in it

- you also have two of his jackets that are just lying around your house

- he likes when you wear them because he thinks you look so cute (he doesn’t tell you that though)

- after a while, it’s like both of you have forgotten that this was all a ruse just so bokuto wouldn’t get heartbroken after you two break up

- at this point, kuroo has learned all your quirks, habits, and has also memorized your schedule

- like … he doesn’t realize that he’s fallen for you until someone points it out

- he realizes he’s fallen for you on the day that shinzen loses in the tournament (this would be your last match)

- now nekoma just played a game, but kuroo’s first instinct is to check whether or not shinzen won (he’s been doing this for every game in the tournament)

- when he sees that you lost, he knows that you’ll be sad and in need of a pick me up

- as kenma and him are packing up, he says, “shinzen lost today. i probably can’t make it to your house tonight. y/n will probably want to go out with her team for a bit, but she’ll probably crash at my place. do you think i should make her a strawberry cake? or maybe she’ll want onigiri? no, she’ll probably want the cake. she always gets the little smile with her one dimple whenever she eats my strawberry cake. makes me proud.”

- kenma’s just looking at kuroo with arched eyebrows because HIS BEST FRIEND IS WHIPPED

- kuroo doesn’t get why kenma’s looking at him like that because he thinks about things like that all the time. “what??”

- oh kenma knows your relationship is fake

- so he just looks at kuroo and says, “try to refrain getting down on one knee today. i doubt you have a ring, and i’ll bet that y/n will want a confession of you being hopelessly, madly in love with her before you propose by the way.”

- kuroo kind of freezes and blinks at him.

- “wh … what?”

- “kuro, do i really need to spell out for you that you’re totally smitten with her? you have been for a while now.”

- “have not.”

- “yes, you have.”

- “have not.”

- “yes, you have.”

- “have not.”

- “yes, you have.”

- at this point, kuroo knows that kenma’s onto something, but kuroo doesn’t wanna jump to conclusions until he sees you again

- when you knock on his door and run straight into his arms that night, he knows kenma’s right

- like you’re balling into his chest and he gets that feeling that he wants to hold you forever and never let go

- and he knows. he knows.

- after you start to calm down, he offers you the cake that he made just for you

- he swears that he feels ten times lighter after he sees that exact smile with the exact dimple on your face

- now kuroo may be loud, and rambunctious at times, but when he loves, it’s quiet, simple, but not any less there

- as you finish eating the cake, kuroo notices that there’s a few pink crumbs on your lips

- and he kisses you

- like a “slow, hand on the cheek, nose touching after he pulls away” kind of kiss

- “i made a realization today. kenma told me to hold back on proposing, so i’ll go with confessing instead.”

- you’re looking up at him with your heart beating hard in your chest

- “i think you might’ve made me fall in love with you.”

sorry if there are any mistakes lmao i tried catching all of them but ... 6k words ...... yanno. .....

[queenshelby]

The New Assistant (One Shot)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut

Words: 3985

Summary: You are Cillian Murphy’s new assistant for Season 6 of Peaky Blinders.

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

Your First Day at the Peaky Blinders Set

‘Mr Murphy, I am Y/N, your new assistant’ you said as you stood 1.5 feet across from him, complying with the social distance requirements.

‘Please, just call me Cillian’ Cillian said with a smile before telling you that it is nice to meet you.

‘Sorry Mr Murphy, uhm Cillian’ you said, causing him to laugh.

‘So, here are the scripts for today and a coffee’ you said. ‘Rose told me that this is how you drink your coffee, but if you like something else just let me know’ you added.

‘Thanks Y/N, it’s perfect’ Cillian said as he took a sip and getting on with his work.

You only recently began watching Peaky Blinders as you applied for the job and you couldn’t believe that, when you met Cillian, he had as much charisma as he displayed on camera.

His piercing blue eyes and smile were almost hypnotising, yet he seemed kind and down to earth.

You noticed that he was lost in his own little world as you observed him work for the morning. It was like he transformed into Thomas Shelby and, every time he spoke to you, it took him a little while to lose his Birmingham accent.

After you accompanied him on set for five hours, he asked you whether you could prepare the scenes for the next day for him.

You drew up a schedule for him, putting together transcript for each scene. You made two copies and placed them in small folders.

You were very organised and he appreciated it.

‘Two folders? Please tell me that they are not both for me’ he said with a slight worry as he stepped back into his trailer after finishing off for the day.

‘No, just one is for you. The other one is for me. Rose said that you like to rehearse your scenes in advance’ you said before offering him to rehearse the scenes with him.

‘Yes, but I usually do this alone’ Cillian said with a smile.

‘You sure? I mean, I am not a good actor but I did take some drama classes back in high school many years ago and I could point out any mistakes with the lines as I read along’ you said with some slight laughter as you pointed at the script.

‘Well, I suppose why not. This could be fun’ Cillian said, gladly accepting your offer. After all, it was better to have some company than talking to himself in the mirror.

‘Alright let’s do it then’ you said as you sat down on the small lounge in his trailer, giving him little time to prepare.

After Cillian took 15 minutes to read the scripts, he put the folder down on the table. You couldn’t believe that he remembered the lines already.

‘Alright Y/N, Scene 7, let’s go’ he said with a cheeky smile, waiting for your acting skills to surface.

‘Thomas, you cannot be serious’ you said putting in a terribly bad Birmingham accent, causing Cillian to a have a slight chuckle. You tried very hard to stay serious.

‘You should know that I am serious Lizzie’ Cillian responded, having memorised his script, Tommy’s thick accent surfacing.

‘You are going to get us killed Thomas. But you don’t care, do you? You never cared’ you said, improving slightly in your tone.

‘When have I not cared for you Lizzie, ey?’ Cillian said before continuing on with his lines.

The script was slowly moving towards the intimate scene between Tommy and Lizzie but you were only rehearsing the words, not the actions. A shame you thought, but you knew you had to remain professional.

‘Lizzie, you need to understand that this is what I need’ Cillian said as he went on. In the script this would be where Tommy steps closer towards Lizzie, wearing nothing but his black suit pants.

‘Oh trust me Tommy, I know what you need. Just fucking kiss me already’ you said, biting your lips and feeling slightly awkward as you spoke the line with such passion. Your thoughts wandered to the scene, playing it out in your head.

‘You should consider a career in acting Y/N’ Cillian smirked as he didn’t continue with the script. He became to notice that you were feeling slightly awkward.

‘I don’t think so’ you said shyly as you starred into his deep blue eyes. There was an awkward silence between you until Cillian finally spoke again.

‘Can we do this again?’ Cillian asked as he noticed that he missed a couple of words within his lines. You didn’t want to point the mistakes out to him as, in your mind, he was perfect.

You agreed to another round of rehearsals and all went smoothly the second time around until you reached the final line.

‘Oh trust me Tommy, I know what you need. Just fucking kiss me already’ you said, inhaling deeply before taking a break.

‘You sure do Lizzie’ Cillian said as he finished off the script for Scene 7, causing you to simply stare at Cillian.

‘And then Tommy gets to romp Lizzie’ Cillian said laughing before he suggested that you rehearse the next scene with him.

‘Lucky Lizzie’ you giggled just before you realised what you had just said.

‘I am not so sure, it looks pretty rough’ Cillian said as he flicked through the script.

‘Well, some women like it like this’ you said.

‘So I’ve heard’ Cillian said, not sure where this conversation was going.

‘How do you do it, acting scenes like this?’ you asked curiously, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘Well, you just switch off and do it, I suppose’ Cillian chuckled.

‘You know you still missed a word here’ you said shyly. ‘Do you want to try again?’ you said, causing Cillian to nod.

Without missing a single word, Cillian acted his entire script for the scene until your line came up once again.

‘Oh trust me Tommy, I know what you need. Just fucking kiss me already’ you said.

‘You sure do Lizzie’ Cillian responded, but you weren’t finished with your script this time.

Having read on from the last time, you knew what was happening in the script. Tommy and Lizzie were getting it on but not before Tommy grabs hold of Lizzie’s throat, looking into her eyes without speaking a word. His eyes were doing the talking in the end of the scene. So, you went on, finishing Lizzie’s final line before the cut.  

‘Don’t you want to fuck me?’ you asked with your eyes full of fire.

‘What?’ Cillian asked surprised.

‘That’s Lizzie’s last line and the final line in the script for Scene 7’ you answered.

‘Right, yes’ Cillian said, blushing slightly before an awkward silence erupted once again.

‘Shall we go the next scene now?’ you asked, causing Cillian to nod.

Acting it Out

The next day, you got to watch the scene you had rehearsed with Cillian the evening before and you couldn’t help it but be amazed by his acting skills.

At the same time, you were somewhat turned on by watching him with Lizzie, roughly throwing her onto the bed before taking her from behind.

You would have loved being in her shoes for a moment, but for real.

‘I watched your scene with the script in my hand, it was perfect’ you smiled as you gave Cillian some clothes to cover his half naked body.

You couldn’t help it but gaze over his freckled chest as he stepped closer and he was sure to notice.

‘Well, I had some good practice’ he smiled, not bothered by the fact that he was half naked and that you were clearly staring at him.

‘I am always here to help Cillian’ you said as you handed him the script for the next scene.

‘Thanks Y/N’ Cillian said before getting ready for the next scene.

The day went fast and Cillian pretty much disappeared to his apartment right after the day was finished.

As you went into his trailer to get your handbag, you noticed that he left his notes.

You knew that he was going to look for them to rehearse before tomorrow and decided to drop them off to him.

You were staying at the same hotel building so it wasn’t an inconvenience.

As you arrived at the hotel, you knocked on his door and he was quick to open.

‘You left this on set’ you said as you handed Cillian his notes.

‘Thank you Y/N’ he said before taking a pause.

He noticed that you were gazing into his apartment through the open door and raised his eyebrows slightly, smiling at you. It was like his eyes were asking you what you were doing without his mouth actually moving.

‘Oh sorry, I was just trying to see what the score was. I don’t have pay tv in my room’ you said with embarrassment, pointing at the TV.

‘Uhm, right. Would you like to come in and watch the game with me? I’ll even put on a shirt’ Cillian asked with smirk.

‘You know we aren’t allowed, with social distancing and so forth’ you said.

‘I won’t tell if you don’t’ Cillian said with a chuckle. He knew it wouldn’t have mattered as you spent a lot of time together already.

‘Alright then, it can stay our little secret’ you said as you walked inside his studio apartment.

Cillian was quick to put on a t-shirt, although you would have preferred if he didn’t.

‘You never mentioned that you liked soccer’ he said.

‘It never came up’ you responded, still somewhat nervous by his presence, being in his apartment.

But, you soon relaxed and sat down on the lounge with him.

Cillian offered you some wine as you were watching the second half of the game.

It was a tight finish with a score of 1-0. The last goal was scored in the final 10 minutes and it was nerve wrecking.

Cillian’s team won and you couldn’t help it but be a little disappointed as you were cheering for the opposite team.

‘Tomorrow is going to be a busy day’ you said as the game had finished, not knowing what else to say.

‘Yes, I am not looking forward to it’ Cillian said leaning forward to pour some more wine, cringing a bit as he moved.

‘Are you alright?’ you asked as you noticed that he seemed uncomfortable as he leaned forward.

‘Yes, I just hurt my back earlier during one of the scenes’ Cillian said.

‘Where does it hurt?’ you asked as you began tapping over his back, causing Cillian to look at you with surprise.

‘Oh god sorry’ you said, removing your hands quickly. ‘Bad habit’ you were quick to say.

‘Bad habit ey?’ Cillian asked with a smile.

‘Before COVID I was a physiotherapy student’ you explained. ‘I like to fix people’ you added with a laugh.

‘Right’ Cillian responded with a warm smile.

‘Would you like me to take a look and see if I can fix the pain?’ you asked.

‘Now that would defiantly break social distancing requirements’ Cillian chuckled.

‘I won’t tell if you don’t’ you said with grin on your face, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘Alright then, give it a crack’ he said.

‘Take off your shirt’ you said, causing Cillian to raise his eyebrows again before obliging with your request. It wasn’t like you hadn’t already seen him half naked.

You climbed behind him and couldn’t help but stare at his freckled skin again as you began to run your hands over his back, pressing hard on several trigger points until he eventually cringed.

‘Is that where it hurts?’ you asked.

‘Yes, fuck’ he said after you pressed down on the area harshly.

‘Sorry, but this might hurt a little’ you said while beginning to massage the area.

After about two minutes, the pain subsided but Cillian didn’t think to tell you. Instead, he let you continue with the movements. He began to enjoy the massage you were giving him.

‘That feels better’ you said, noticing the tension in his back disappearing slowly.

‘It does, but I don’t think I want you to stop now’ Cillian said jokingly.

‘I can keep going, if you like’ you said, moving your hands to other regions of his back while breathing in the sweet scent of his aftershave.

As your hands moved to his shoulders and over, slightly towards his chest, Cillian could feel a tingling sensation emerging in between his legs.

Hoping that you wouldn’t notice what was building up in between his legs, he placed his t-shirt across them, hiding his emerging erection.  

As you continued the massage for a few more minutes and he noticed that his erection would not go back down, he felt the need to tell you to stop, but he couldn’t bring it across his lips. It felt too nice and pleasurable.

Your hands were roaming across his back, up and down and you began to notice his breathing getting heavier.

As your hands suddenly stopped on his lower back he looked back over his shoulder, not realising that this was exactly where your face was at this moment.

His blue eyes gazed into yours for a moment as there was an awkward silence between you.

As you starred at him, your hands moved up again, causing him to breath in heavily once more.

In that moment, with your hands still wandering up his back, you leaned forward in sixty-degree angle, pressing your chest against his back and brushing his lips with yours.

Cillian gave into the kiss, turning around slightly to caress your face and pull you closer towards him. The kiss was intensifying and became more urgent with every moment.

‘I think all of the social distancing is out of the window now’ Cillian chuckled as your lips drifted apart and you climbed away from behind him.

Within just seconds, you pulled your t-shirt over your head and climbed onto his lap with one leg placed on each side of him before leaning in for another kiss.

Cillian ran his hands over your back as you exchanged a passionate kiss and you could feel his erection beneath you.

‘Let’s take our rehearsals a bit further, shall we?’ you said in between kisses as you grinded yourself against him.

‘We shouldn’t, you are my assistant’ Cillian responded while running his hands over your breasts, without any intention of stopping.

‘I won’t tell if you don’t’ you giggled as you stood up, taking off your jeans as well and letting them drop to the floor.

Cillian gazed over your body, taking in everything and admiring your curves.

‘I suppose it can stay our little secret, although I think it’s a bad idea Y/N’ Cillian said as he stood up in front of you, pressing his lips against yours while you reached for the zipper of his jeans.  

‘I think it’s a great idea. We both want this and need to get it out of our systems so that we can work well together. Despite, you are stressed, let me be a good assistant and relief that stress of yours’ you smirked as your hand ran beneath his briefs, taking hold of his erect cock.

Without responding to your comment, he pressed his lips onto yours again before guiding you backwards towards his bed.  

‘If I'd have known we'd be doing this I wouldn't have worn this’ you added, looking down at the underwear.

Cillian grabbed your chin lightly and pressed his lips to yours for a short moment.

‘It’s coming off anyway’ he winked at you before reaching behind you to unclip your bra. His gaze dropping to your small but perky breasts.

He took them in his hands grabbing onto them gently before pushing you onto the bed.

Next his hands went to your panties and pulled them down your legs and before you knew it you were laying on his bed completely naked and Cillian’s deep blue eyes devoured you.

You didn't feel self-conscious like you usually would because you could tell from that look in his eyes and his facial expression that he clearly liked what he saw.

Cillian’s eyes locked on yours as you sat up against the pillows and his fingers went into his waist band pulling down his briefs.

His erection stood proudly pointing at you and you weren’t disappointed with that either, he sure was packing down there!

He climbed onto the bed and pulled your legs apart, kneeling in between.

‘Is it bad that I’ve been fantasising about this?’ Cillian asked, still gazing over your naked body.

‘No. I've wanted this too’ you admitted, your eyes fixated on his hand moving up and down that cock of his.

‘I always had to touch myself whenever I went to bed because I wanted you so much’ you said.

‘Show me’ he breathed out, your eyes closing at his words and then opening as your hand slid down your body and stroked through your already damp folds.

He groaned as you pushed two fingers into your wetness.

With a quickness you had never witnessed before he grabbed a hold of your wrist and raised your fingers to his mouth, his eyes closing as his full lips wrap around your fingers sucking off your juices.

He then grabbed onto your other wrist and pinned them both above your head as he leaned down and ran kisses over your breasts and trailing them all the way down to your wet folds.

His hand went in between your legs, instantly finding your clit. He began to rub it, in small slow circles while his tongue ran through your wetness.

‘Fuck, Cillian’ you moaned as your hands reached down and grabbed onto his shoulders.

His movements became quicker and he increased the pressure, pressing down harder and harder. He then replaced his finger with his tongue on your clit as he shoved two fingers inside you, pumping them slowly in and out.

‘You're so fucking wet Y/N’ Cillian groaned, his eyes never leaving yours.

His fingers soon curled upwards against your g-spot as he continued to pump them in and out of you.

You gasped out at the sensation and could feel yourself racing towards your first orgasm of the night and you had a sneaky feeling that it most definitely wouldn't be the last.

As his force and speed increased so did your moans and you reached down and gripped his hair, pulling on it.

‘That’s it, oh god’ you moaned loudly as your walls began clenching around your fingers while your orgasm washed over you.

Cillian slowed down the finger action and let go of your clit then wickedly flicked his tongue against it once more making you flinch.

He grinned at you as he moved up your body and then took your mouth in a deep kiss.

You shoved your tongue into his mouth, tasting your own arousal and then somehow flipped him over so you were straddling his hips.

You tasted the skin of his neck. Then you made your way down that freckled chest, gently biting his left nipple on the way down.

You licked at his toned abs and then reached that hard as steel erection that was already oozing precum. His breathing was becoming deeper as you encircled your hand around him and pumped a couple times before flicking your tongue against the head.

‘Fuck’ Cillian moaned as his hand reached for your hair while you began bopping up and down his shaft.

You enjoyed the taste of his precum as you continued your movements for several moments while using your fingers to play with his balls.

He loved every moment of it but, after a while, had to ask you to stop for obvious reasons.

You obliged. You wanted him inside of you badly.

Cillian then reached for the bedside table, grabbing a condom from the draw and putting into his hard cock.

Before he could change position you climbed on top of him.

‘No need to be gentle, I like it just like Lizzie does’ you smirked, causing his eyes to roll into the back of his head as your pussy slid over his hard cock and you guided it inside of you.

You were unbelievably tight causing Cillian to moan out load on that first stroke.

Your hands were resting on his chest as you slowly raised yourself up and then dropped back down over and over teasing him to the point where his hands were digging into your thighs.

You began to quicken your pace, riding him faster and faster.

Cillian held onto your hips as he thrust his up to your stroke by stroke unknowingly getting faster until he was holding you up and thrusting into you so hard and fast that you were crying out his name.

It was obvious to you that he also liked it rough and, as soon as your walls began to contract around him, he flipped you over onto your back.

He wanted to take control and you were absolutely fine with that.

Your legs wrapped around his waist as he continued to thrust into your tight hole for several more minutes.

Unhooking your legs from around him, Cillian leaned up and rested them over his shoulders before increasing his pace.

His hand reached down and began rubbing your swollen clit, making you cry out once again continuously.

‘Oh god yes’ you moaned as you were so close again.

Just as your walls began tightening around his hard cock, he pulled out of you.

‘Not yet’ he smirked before he told you to get on your hands and knees.

‘Please Cillian, just fuck me’ you pleaded as he was tasing your entrance with his hard cock from behind you.

‘As you wish’ he said as, all of a sudden, with one deep thrust, he buried himself inside of you again.

You cried out as he entered you and his thrusting was slowing down for a moment as he pushed his hips into you as deep as humanly possible.

The thrust was hard and deep, but he soon picked up pace again.

‘Oh god yes. Fuck me hard’ you groaned out into the pillow beneath you.

That was all he needed to hear, his hips slamming into you harshly as you pushed your back.

Second later, remembering the scene between Tommy and Lizzie, he grabbed a handful of your silky hair and pulled on it, making you arch your back as he fucked you from behind.

‘Yes, don’t stop’ you moaned as his speed picked up more and more with each thrust.

‘Fuck Y/N’ Cillian groaned, his hands regaining their grip on your waist.

‘Oh my god Cillian’ you moaned, your voice muffled by the pillow and your walls tightening around his cock.

Your orgasm came running over you like a speed train as you screamed loudly, sending Cillian over the edge also.

Within seconds of your own orgasm, Cillian found his release, his thrusts slowing down as he rode out his orgasm.

‘Fuck’ was all he managed to say as he pulled out of you and disposed the condom filled with his sweet cum.

You were still huffing, your body limb just as he collapsed next to you.

‘Feeling better now?’ you grinned.

‘Yes actually’ he smiled before giving you a quick kiss.

After you spent about ten minutes curled up with each other it was time for you to leave. After all, you both had a busy day ahead.

‘So, just let me know if you ever need some more stress relief’ you smirked as you said goodnight.

[inkandpen22]

The Princess and The Pogue (pt. 3)

Pairing: JJ x Female!Reader / Topper x Female!Reader 

Warnings: underage drinking, mild swearing, mentions of drugs 

Words count: 2k (it’s short but the next part is long) 

Part Summary: As the night dwindles away, JJ feels pressured to secure a place in your life. His chances grow times ten when Sarah arrives with some interesting news. 

Masterlist

You and JJ share a log around the fire. His arm rests over your thigh, his hand gripping your knee slightly. Your chin rests on his shoulder as you two exchange whisper back and forth, making the Pogues sick with how lovey-dovey you two already are becoming. 

“What are you doing tomorrow?” JJ asks, kinda hoping he could ask you for real date but he’ll understand if you already have plans. 

“Hanging out with you,” you cheekily answer, earning a blushing grin from him. 

“Oh! cool, cool...” He presses his lips together with a faint laugh, finding it hard to hide his childish grin. 

You giggle at his bashfulness. He’s so shy around you and you can’t help but find it adorable. 

"Here comes Sarah!" Kiara announces as he spots their friend's car rolling up the drive. 

You and JJ finally break your hype-focused attention away from each other. Almost to make up for the lack of verbal communication, JJ shifts closer to you and plants a quick peck to your temple. 

"Hey! Sorry for the delay!" Sarah announces as she walks over from her car. John B rises from his position, trying to intercept Sarah before she sees you and JJ. Once she reaches John B, she notices how you and JJ are sitting. Her brows scrunch together, but she does her best to mask her confusion. "My parents were having a hissy fit about me borrowing the car. I told them and Y/N's parents that we were staying the night at Kiara's since she doesn't feel well. I hope that's okay, Kie," she asks as she gets closer to the bonfire. 

"Yeah, no problem!" Kiara waves her hand, not caring at all. 

"Wait, so what's the game plan?" You ask Sarah, but also everyone else for their input. You're thankful for the group's help, but weren't exactly prepared for an overnight stay. You understand why Sarah did this nonetheless. 

"You all can stay here tonight," John B shrugs as the Pogues do it all the time. 

"Your parents believed it," Sarah assures you. "I would just text your parents to help it seem more legit." 

"Okay! I'll text my mom," you comply with enthusiasm. 

Hey, I told Sarah to tell you but in case she didn't, we're staying over at Kiara's tonight. I had to drive her home in her dad's car because we think she got food poisoning or something. I'll text you when I'm heading out in the morning. Sarah can drive me home or something :)

"Finally! It'll be nice not being the only girl! I was kinda hoping you and Sarah would stay over anyway," Kiara adds, offering you a kind smile. 

"That makes two of us," JJ whispers for only you to hear. 

"My folks were pretty pissed about me ditching on the party, so I feel no urge on going home," Sarah huffs, right as John B asks for her to help him inside real quick. 

You and JJ watch as John B escorts Sarah inside by the arm. They try to be nonchalant, but it's so obvious they're freaking out. Sarah's whispers aren't exactly quiet and John B's doing his best to fill her in on what he knows. 

JJ turns his face toward yours with a smirk, suppressing his laughter. "They're definitely talking about us." 

"Oh for sure!" You nod slowly with a snicker. 

You two share in your amusement as your friends slowly lose their minds. A Pogue from The Cut was caught kissing the Princess of the OBX. If your friends from the other side of the island found out they would have an even more dramatic reaction. 

Your phone buzzes in your lap and it's from your mom. 

Ok. Text me when you wake up. 

"All set!" You voice to everyone remaining around the fire. "I doubt they'll even care since "I'm still on the Figure 8,” you make air quotes. 

"Yay!" Kiara claps her hands. 

"I say we watch a scary movie tonight!" JJ suggests beside you. 

"The Conjuring!" You vote swiftly, earning a laugh from JJ. 

"No!" Pope instantly refuses. "Nope! Last time we watched that you guys made me sleep on the porch and I heard creeks all night!" 

"Aw, I'll stay with you tonight Pope," Kiara offers, reaching for her friend's hand with a pout. "I'll keep you safe from all the ghosties." 

JJ leans in brushes his lips against your ear. "You gonna keep me safe?" 

You smile softly, turning your head toward him as you nod slowly. "I'll have your back if you have mine." 

His beautiful eyes meet yours in the gold flickering light of the fire. "Always, Baby." He plants a kiss to your lips, this time slow and comforting, as though you two have been doing it forever. 

___________________________________________________________

All six of you are gathered in the living room, watching The Conjuring. John B and JJ insisted that all lights in the house must be off, much to Pope's dismay. Kiara and Pope are positioned on the carpet, their backs against the couch. Pope has been hiding in a ball with his face behind the blanket he shares with Kiara. Sarah and John B are sprawled comfortably on the couch, well invested in the movie. You and JJ share the old red recliner, tucked close in a ball under a comforter. Right before the movie starts to get interesting, you shift forward in your position. JJ whines, disappointed in the loss of contact. His pouty face makes you giggle and he playfully tries to keep you close by holding onto your wrist. 

"I need another drink, anyone else?" You offer quietly, making sure not to step on Kiara or Pope on the floor on the way to the kitchen. You receive various forms of declines as you do your best to navigate your way through the dark and unfamiliar house. 

Finally finding yourself in the kitchen, you make yourself a glass of water. The moonlight shining through the window over the sink acts as your saving grace. Suddenly, you feel a pair of arms slip around your waist, causing you to jump. 

"Hey, Gorgeous," the blonde whispers against your neck. 

"JJ!" You gasp your heart racing. 

"Did I scare you?" He chuckles quietly to not alert the others. 

You spin in his hold and nudge him on the shoulder playfully. "You did that on purpose!"

"Not really but-" In one swift motion, JJ picks up and places you on the counter. He parts your legs to stand between them. His palms glide up and down your thighs. "That I did mean to do," he smirks, biting down on his lip. 

"JJ! Y/N! You're going to miss the wardrobe part!" Pope shouts, his voice shaky with fear. 

"I wish I had spoken to you sooner," JJ confesses abruptly, completely his friend in the next room. All he cares about right now is you. 

"Dido," you smirk, placing your arms over JJ's shoulders. 

"Really?" He voices in disbelief. Despite how much you've reassured him or have reciprocated his affections, he still isn't convinced that you truly like him. 

"That first time I saw you at the Cameron's?" You recall with raised brows. "Um, yeah! You looked hot in that pale green Ron Jon shirt." 

"I can't believe you remember that," he shakes his head, leaning in closer to you. I thought there was no way you'd know who I am." 

"JJ," you say his name in a mild groan with a toss of your head. How can this boy not see how amazing he is? "You're definitely worth remembering." 

"It was at the Boneyard," he states a matter-of-factly. 

"What was?" You grin. 

"The first time I ever saw you," he tilts his head back slightly, relieving his sharp jawline. "You were dancing with Topper on the wall. The fire made your skin glow and shimmer like bronze. You wore a navy blue bikini with ripped white booty shorts. Your hair was half up and all I could think about was how much I wanted to run my fingers through it. You were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen," he tells you, never once breaking eye contact. 

"That was last summer!" You can't believe he remembers that. 

"I know," he replies as though it's completely ordinary. 

Your jaw drops, "you're saying you've been waiting to talk to me for a year?!" 

"Okay well, when you put it that way," he tries to play it off and be cool now. 

"Aw JJ!" You express a little too excitedly, bringing your hands to his cheeks. 

JJ is quick to press his hand over your mouth. "Shh, Baby. Before you alert everyone in the living room!" Mischievously, you plant a kiss on his palm, catching him off guard. JJ swallows hard, peering down at you with hooded eyes.  "Okay, now you're just teasing me." 

You place your hand over his and remove it from your mouth. "You make it too easy," you giggle in a whisper. 

JJ simply stares down at your lips as he bites down on his own. Before you have a chance to react, he hungrily presses his lips to yours. Ever kiss up until now has been gentle, new, and hesitant. Now, JJ is forgetting his nerves and is acting on impulse. He breaks away from you and moves his assault to your neck. You comb your fingers through his thick blonde hair, gripping the strands on the back of his neck. 

"JJ," you pant breathlessly as your eyes fall shut. "What are you doing?" 

"Making up for lost time," he breathes against your neck. I'm really kicking myself right now." 

"It's my fault too," you try to speak as JJ makes a track down your neck to your collarbone. "I could've at least said 'hi' instead of smiling like an idiot." 

"At least you were nice," JJ mumbles against your chest. "I was a statue. Plus, I always thought you and Rafe may be-"

"Ew! Don't even finish that sentence," you scoff in disgusts. 

"You were always at the Cameron's. He's always on top of you and watches you like a hawk," JJ explains as he pops up for air. 

"He's had a thing for me for a while now. I've turned him down," you inform him.  

JJ frowns in confusion. "Why?" 

You figured it would've been obvious, especially considering how much JJ hates Rafe. "He's an arrogant ass. He thinks he's invincible and I hate people like that." 

"Well, you can tell him you're taken now," JJ grins, leaning in to kiss you. 

"Oh, I am?" You question playfully against his lips. 

"Yep," the boy nods as he begins to glide his lips across your jawline. "You're mine... and only mine..." He whispers, making you bite your lip with anticipation. Boy, this kid knows how to get you turned on. "I'll make sure everyone in the OBX knows it too," he declares as he starts to suck on the sensitive skin on your neck. At the rate JJ is going, he's certain to leave a mark or two, just as he wanted. 

"You guys!" Kiara calls this time. 

JJ huffs with annoyance as he appears out from your neck. "Coming!" He shouts, completely unfazed by what he was just doing. "Got you're so sexy," he plants a quick peck to your lips. "I hope you know I'm going to be dying through this entire movie." 

Ever the gentleman, he grips your waist and helps you down from the counter. He slips his hand into yours and grabs your water with the other before leading the way back into the living room. 

"She couldn't find the sodas in the fridge. I had to grab a new box from the back," he conjures up as you two cross the living room toward the recliner. 

"Sureee," John B and Sarah say in unison with amusement. 

"Sorry guys, what did we miss?" You ask while you and JJ get settled. 

After you take a quick sip from your water, you place it on the side table between the recliner and the couch before getting comfortable again with JJ. 

"Nice water, Y/N." Sarah giggles as she peaks over from the couch at your hand, earning an eye roll from JJ. 

"The crazy demon lady jumped on the daughter. I hate this!" Pope rushes out to answer your question. 

"Oh my God! You're fine, Pope!" Kiara groans, not hiding her annoyance. 

"I wish it wasn't so dark in here!" Pope shouts dramatically. 

"I kinda like it," JJ purrs in your ear. 

You turn your head to the side and he plants a kiss on your lips. As the others watch the movie, you and JJ spend most of the time whispering back and forth or too caught up in each other physically to talk at all. Of course, you two are respectful of your friends and keep it PG. Yet, you can't get enough of each other. It's all so soon, energetic, and freeing. As the thought of tomorrow morning lingers in the back of your mind, you’re starting to dread the idea of parting from JJ. 

__________________________________________________

Masterlist 

Tags: @starkeythinker @bethii1 @thegunnerkelly @cc13723things

[multific]

Wine

Dacre Montgomery x Reader

Summary: After spending months of crushing on Dacre, all you needed is a little courage to speak up, or alcohol. 

  His handsome face caused you more confusion than any math problem ever could.

The way he smiled made you feel fuzzy on the inside. And it was harder and harder to hide your feelings for him. You were sure some of your co stars noticed it by now.

You had a crush on him from the moment he walked on set and introduced himself as the actor who will be playing Billy.

And ever since, you were lost.

Lost in his eyes, in his smile and in his incredible physique. You forgot your lines whenever he was also in the scene with you, because you were so nervous. You felt like a teen again. A love-sick teen.

And in a way that helped you build your character for the series. Which was a bonus at least.

But now, you were lost, in a different meaning of the word. 

You were expected to go to a dinner with the cast, however on your way there you must have took the wrong turn, because you were now in a completely different side of town. And the best of it all? Your rental car decided to breakdown. You did manage to call a recovery and a taxi.

You were very late for the dinner. Because when you finally got there half of the group already left and the other half was drinking.

“I’m so sorry. My car broke down. I tried to call,  but someone didn’t pick up.” you said shooting a glance to Finn. Finn was the only one you had as a contact since you two were great friends. “I’m starving.” you said as a waiter handed you the menu.

“Good to see that you made it.” Dacre said beside you and this is when you noticed that you took a seat next to him. You offered him a smile before you ordered something for yourself.

“I took a wrong turn, because the GPS in the car was terrible, then after driving around for about fifteen minutes the car decided that it would break down.” you told him as the waiter left to get your order ready.

“Ah, I was starting to think that you wouldn’t come.”

“No, I wouldn’t miss it for anything. But now, I’m without a car, and hungry.”

“I can drive you back to your hotel. Shouldn’t be far from mine.”

“I actually have a rented apartment...” you say trying not to sound like a spoiled teen. “But I would appreciate it if you could drive me home, thank you, Dacre.”

“Of course.” he smiled.

That damn smile of his. Cute yet sexy at the same time. Innocent yet somehow kinky.

Maybe you were going mad.

You took a sip of your drink before you looked back to your right were he sat, he gave you a wink before he went back to his conversation.

You were definitely going mad.

***

Perhaps drinking multiple glasses of wine wasn’t the best choice. But it was so delicious. And who could have thought that you would end up tipsy when you even ate a lot?

You just hoped not to be a burden to Dacre and the others. Or you hoped you wouldn’t say something you shouldn’t.

Slowly everyone left, one by one, leaving you and Dacre behind. He was telling you stories, making you laugh. And you did the same.

“Maybe we should leave too. Tomorrow you have the day off, no? You will be able to sleep.”

“Hmm.” you said nodding your head as your hand unconsciously moved to the part where his shirt was open. Not as low as his character, Billy would have, but it still had his delicious skin show.

“What are you doing?” he asked with a laugh as he watched your hand move from his neck down until his open shirt let you.

“Your skin. I needed to know if it is as smooth as it looks.” You grabbed your glass, which was now filled with water.

“And? Is it?” your drunken mind was too focused on anything else to notice how his voice lowered and his eyes darkened. And he didn’t push you away. 

“It’s even better than I imagined.” you said as you looked around. “Where are the others?” you asked with a confused expression.

“They left. And we should too. I have a feeling you will have one hell of a headache tomorrow.”

“I never do. I can drink as much as I want, but no headaches.”

“Lucky you.” he said, laughing as he stood up from the chair. You did the same but you wobbled a little. He had to grab you so you wouldn’t fall.

You moved your nose closer to his neck and smelled his perfume.

“Tom Ford Black Orchid.” you said as you grabbed your purse.

“You know your cologne.”

“I used to work in a perfume store. I know most.” you said as you ran your hand through your hair and made your way out of the restaurant.

You quickly got into Dacre’s car as he started to drive.

You knew you were staring, you felt it. And if you did, so did he. He took a quick glance at you before turning back to the road.

“What?” he asked with a laugh.

“How can you be real? Handsome, funny, smart, talented, kind and your killer smile. Just not fair.” you were pouting, the fact that you practically confessed to Dacre completely went over your head.

“Well, thank you. I think you are also very nice and beautiful and talented.”

“You are just saying that because I complimented you.”

“No, I truly mean it.”

“Sure.” you said letting out a long yawn.

You watched as the buildings passed before you closed your eyes.

***

The next morning you woke up in your bed. You were confused as to how you got there in the first place, but not the weirdest place to wake up after a few drinks.

Thanks to the alcohol, you forgot most of what happened. You remembered being late, talking to Dacre, Natalie, Joe and Charlie. Then you remember eating and drinking, but nothing more.

You assumed the images in your head about talking to Dacre were just your imagination.

As you walked out of the bedroom into the living room, you noticed a few things were misplaced, but you blamed your drunk self. You sat on the couch and decided to order some burgers. You put your phone down on the small table and this is when you noticed another phone there. It was definitely not yours. You picked it up and as the lock screen flashed you saw an image of a beach.

Did you steal someone’s phone? OR was someone else in the apartment with you? As you turned around you saw Darce standing in the hallway, looking in the mirror, fixing his hair. Then you looked back to the table in front of you and back to Dacre who was now standing behind you.

“Morning! You sure sleep a lot it’s almost 11 am.” he said. But why was he there?

“Hi. Umm...sorry but why are you here?”

“Oh, right. So, I drove you home, but you fell asleep in the car, so I carried you in.”

“And you changed my clothes?”

“No, you did that, half asleep. And you said I could stay since it was late, so I did.” he said as he sat down beside you on the couch. “Look you said something yesterday.”

“Oh no. Did I make a fool of myself?” you asked, feeling embarrassment creep up in your stomach.

“No. You didn’t just...I was so afraid to ask you out. I thought you are going to reject me, but now I’m a bit more confident.” you didn’t know what he was referring to, him? Afraid of rejection from you? How? You could only stare at him as he ran his fingers up and down his chest with a smile. “Would you be open for a date with me?” he asked and just as you opened your mouth to answer, your doorbell rang.

“It’s my food. I’ll be quick.” you stood up and walked to the door. Hoping that on your way to the door and back, you would be able to make sense of what was happening. Did Dacre really just asked you on a date? And what did you say that encouraged him to finally open up.

You walked back into the kitchen.

“I ordered some burgers, would you like some?” you asked him and he accepted. “I’m not avoiding your question by the way.” you said as you handed him his plate and sat down once again. “I’m just confused, you thought I didn’t like you?”

“Yes. I didn’t want to make it awkward between us, so I just didn’t do anything about it.”

“Well, Dacre, I would love to go on a date with you.”

​“Cool.” he said smiling.

“That’s not fair! You smiling like that is. How would I ever be able to say no if I know that you will smile like that when you are happy.” Now he was laughing as you smiled yourself.

“Guess then I can do whatever I want, Babe.”

You shook your head before you turned the TV on to watch something while you ate.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Dacre looking at you.

You were extremely happy that your feeling were reciprocated. And also the fact that he asked you out on a date, you would never have imagined things to turn out that way.

Perhaps you should drink wine more often.

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[miyagihawk]

hi! i absolutely adore your account! if you’re taking requests right now, can i ask for something robby x reader that’s like angsty, but has a sweet ending? anything you feel like writing, i don’t have a specific plot in mind. thank you!!!

thank you for the request love <3

ill wait for you | robby keene x reader

warnings: just swearing :)

summary: robby’s in juvie after the school fight and he doesn’t answer your emails. (robby is your boyfriend, not sam’s)

word count: 1627 

Hi Robby. How are you? I’m sorry, that’s probably a dumb question. I haven’t been able to reach you in a while, I assume you threw away your phone. I heard you stole a van too, huh? Nice. But now that you’re, you know, there, I hope you get to see this. Mr. LaRusso said I could email you and maybe even call if you’re up for it? Only if you want. Let me know.

I miss you. A lot. Look, what went down was not your fault. It was an accident. It could’ve easily been the other way around. I know how hard you can be on yourself and this whole situation is just so fucking shitty. But you’ll get out soon and I’ll be waiting for you.

I’m here, okay Robby? Forever. If you feel lonely, just think of us. Think of how it feels when we’re together and the rest of the world just goes away. We’ll have that soon, alright? You and me against the world, always.

I love you.

-Y/N

-

Hey Robby, it’s been a week since I sent my first email. I hope that you’ve read it, even if you don’t feel like answering. That’s fine and I understand.

School is weird now. They have these security guards at the entrance to check our bags like we’re at the airport. It’s not like they’ll find karate in there, so I don’t get the point.

I get lonely in Physics without you. There’s no one to keep me awake during Mr. Miller’s lectures. I think he misses you too by the way, you’re the smartest person in that class.

I have to go, but I love you and I think of you everyday. Hang in there.

- Y/N

-

Hey. How are you, Robby? I’ve gotta be honest, I’m losing hope that you’re even reading these. I mean, it’s been 10 emails and I would think that you’d at least reply by now?

I’m not mad though, I really don’t know what it’s like to be where you are now. We could call if that’s better? How about this: I’ll schedule for a call tomorrow at 3 and you can pick up if you want.

Miss you,

-Y/N

-

Hello Robby. I want you to know that it’s okay you didn’t want to call. Or that you don’t want to talk.

I love you.

-Y/N

3 months. 30 emails. Deafening silence. After 3 months and 30 emails, you gave up. You figured that there’s no use if he wasn’t answering and that he probably wasn’t even reading what you wrote.

For a while, you’ve been stuck between moving on and waiting for Robby. He practically ghosted you and you don’t know if it means you’ve broken up.

But you also want to be there for him. He has no one, really. And giving up on him would just make you another person who’s disappointed him. It would be shitty of you to leave when he needs you most.

The inner conflict haunts you for the following months, and you decide that you’d just wait until Robby gets out to see what happens.

That day comes sooner than you thought, and the truth you’ve been avoiding is coming at you like a train at full speed.

Mr. LaRusso is the one who lets you know that Robby is out. The car salesman sensei was fond of you, since you hung around the dojo frequently to walk home with Robby after training. He tells you that he doesn’t know where Robby is staying, but that he’ll update you if he hears anything.

The anticipation torments you knowing that you could see him any second, or even maybe never again. The next few days keep you on edge, and you drown yourself in schoolwork as a distraction from the constant turning in your stomach. But still your mind swarms with anxiety about what you’ll say when you see him. If you see him.

It’s been a week after Robby’s release, and you’re walking home from school. You have to pass the Cobra Kai dojo on the way, which always makes your palms sweat. As usual, you put your hood up and keep your eyes ahead.

You take a quick glance at the dojo, then freeze in your tracks. Chills trail up your spine when you meet a pair of emerald eyes. The eyes you love.

For a few seconds you’re both stuck with stares locked on each other, waiting for the other to make the next move. But you’re unprepared. You thought you would have more time to get ready to see him, but the truth is no amount of time would be enough.

Robby’s hair is much shorter and he exudes an aura of exhaustion and pain. He’s different and you can see it even from the good amount of distance between you two.

“Y/N,” he interrupts the silence, and you snap out of the shocked trance you were in.

“Robby,” you echo back with a dry throat. He hesitantly walks towards you with careful steps and with every inch forward, your heart pounds faster.

It almost doesn’t feel real. You haven’t seen his face in only months, but it’s felt like years. And you don’t know how to feel or react. Should you cry? Or smile, or hug him or kiss him or yell at him? All of the conversations you’ve played out in your head to prepare for this moment... you can’t even remember them.

Once he’s in front of you, there’s another awkward minute of quiet and he doesn’t seem to know what to say either. There’s a thick tension in the air, neither of you wanting to address what happened.

“I like your hair,” you break the ice.

“Thanks,” Robby offers a small smile, scratching the back of his neck.

“So... Cobra Kai?” you gesture to the dojo he was just standing in front of. You try your best to not sound judgmental; you feel like you have to be careful with your words as if he’s a stranger.

“I have nowhere to go,” he says dryly, not meeting your gaze.

“You know that’s not true. Mr. LaRusso cares a lot about you. Your dad cares,” you say. Robby flinches at the mention of the two men and you know you’ve struck a nerve.

“They don’t give a shit about me, Y/N. Mr. LaRusso’s the one who put me in that place. And Johnny hates me because I’ve broken his precious new son,” he scoffs and you can hear the hurt in his voice.

“That’s not true. Mr. LaRusso did what was best for you. Do you really wanna be on the run your whole life?” you question, almost scolding him like you’re his mother.

Robby shakes his head. “You don’t know what it was like in there.”

“Yes Robby, I don’t know, because you never answered any of my emails or calls,” you snap, getting frustrated. But immediately you feel guilty. “I’m sorry. I- I was just really worried about you, okay?”

There’s a pause and Robby frowns. “Y/N... I wanted to answer. At one point those emails were the only thing that kept me going. But I wanted you to move on. From me.”

“W-What are you talking about?” you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“How was I supposed to let you wait for me all of those months? It’s not right. You deserve the world, Y/N. You’re too good to wait for someone to get out of juvie,” he explains. You search his green eyes and they’re sincere.

You hate it, but you understand. It’s the most Robby thing that could ever be done. Selfless and sacrificing for other people’s happiness, even if it means that he’ll suffer. But he also gave up on you. He took a route to leave you behind, even when he vowed to stay with you forever. You start feeling emotional; the long awaited truth is a lot to take in.

“That isn’t fair. You don’t get to decide for me what I’m “too good for” and just cut me off. You hurt me more than you spared me pain. You broke every promise you made to me,” you pour your heart out.

He thinks for a moment. “I-I’m sorry, I thought it was right. I didn’t want to be selfish and make you put your life on pause for me,” Robby says, his eyes turning glassy like yours.

You don’t even think about it before you get closer to wrap your arms around him. He freezes in momentary surprise, then recovers and embraces you.

Tears trickle down your cheeks before you can stop them, leaving stains on his shirt where you lay your head. His scent, his warmth, his hold on you; it’s all overwhelming and you missed everything about it. You miss him.

“I love you Robby. And I don’t care what you think, I would’ve waited for you for forever. You deserve the world too,” you mumble into his chest, hugging him tighter.

You pull away for a moment to hold his face in your hands and look at him. It’s like you can see his guard go down as he takes in your words. “I love you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Y/N.”

You don’t answer, you just pull his neck down to meet your lips with his. As you kiss him, your heart swells with a joy you haven’t felt in months. The feeling of being strangers is a distant memory because Robby is yours again and kissing him reminds you that no amount of time apart could make you strangers.

“You and me against the world,” he says, repeating the words you wrote to him.

[theramseyloft]

7/30/21

Waiting for the call from UGA to get Khou.

Doing the most urgent loft work in the meantime.

Just finished mucking nest boxes.

The time has come to employ the loft's little tower fan.

As well insulated as it is, it's still a metal building and the AC unit just cannot complete.

Blowing at full strength, you can't feel it more than 6 in from the vent.

Good gawd, I started at 7:30am, and it is SO humid that in an hour of work, I'm dripping, and have developed the tell-tale muscle aches, nausea, and lip-tingling of heat exhaustion.  Came in to cool back down after setting up the tower fan.

Patron: "A fan in the window would help"

"The easiest way to keep a space as cool as possible is to create a path of airflow"

Thank you

Ok!

Breakfast eaten, water get, time to resume!

I laid this fucking brick out to hose down yesterday...

The Fire Nation used it as scaffolding to build a nursery and fill it with larva that quickly.

This is why I have to be so aggressive about treating them, and why my loft help just turning the bricks and weight stones shit side down is so dangerous.

Patron: "Holy shit! Fire ants are insane."

Patron: "They are an aggressive species from the Amazon, of course they're aggressive and quick lol"

Patron: "Oh! They are not native to the US? I never knew that! I just remember learning very quickly when we moved to the south from Canada that they are mean little bastards"

They are not!  

They are adapted to the river banks and survive the frequent flooding by clinging together in living rafts.  

An individual can hold her breath up to 14 days, allowing the rafts to survive until they make landfall again.  

They really love the American south because the high humidity keeps soil moist enough to build mounds in very quickly without the disruption of floods to cause breaks in reproduction.

Patron: "That explains so much"

They are able to remain in constant larva factory mode, and with all US populations only coming from a few accidentally imported queens, they are closely enough related not to see any other US fire ant colony as a rival.

So the entire US population of fire ants is a single massive supercolony with neither predators nor competition.

Patron: "That is super disturbing"

"But also very informative."

Yeah, they are monsters here that absolutely will hunt and eat you if they get the opportunity.

My husband and I used to have our bed against the wall.

The little bitches swarmed in by hundreds through a hole in the insulation one night in the second year we were married, infested the blankets, and woke us up by stinging us en mass.

Patron: "i cant imagine how fucking horrifying that was to wake up to"

I still have nightmares.  

I can't fall asleep by laying there with my eyes closed.  

You know how there are always after images when you close your eyes? Usually just meaningless, wandering patches of light and dark?  

That's what the swarm on my skin looked like in the dark, and instead of just being patches of light and dark, my asshole brain highlights their segments, legs, and animates their attack behavior of clamp on with jaws, sting until prey stops moving, or ant is crushed or otherwise pried off.  

I get the most ungody adrenaline spike if I'm not too physically exhausted to notice the visual.

It makes trying to fall asleep a real bitch for me.

Got an update call about Khou.

They don't have a specific time for him to get his CT scan done, beyond that it will happen today.

If it happens late enough in the day that he won't be fully recovered from sedation by the time they close, we'll have to wait until tomorrow to come get him.

Patron: "How far is it to Athens from where you are? You said you took him to UGA right?"

Two hour drive.

Patron: "Hang in there. Fingers crossed they can do it early today"

Thank you.

Neither I, nor my husband are really ok with out him.

The house feels wrong...

Had to come back in for the permethrine.

The fire nation is trying a different foraging approach into the loft and fuck no.

Threshold treated.

Komodore asked Patch to smooch-feed her

Farthing tread Luxie.

Then he crouched to be tread and she, then Alex, tread him.

I think I was wrong about Mote.

Wukong looks lighter than he is because of his chest fluff.

Close inspection of their wings shows Mote to have the same pattern as Wukong, obscured by the deeper Dirty pigmentation of babies under 4 months.

Arco has been doing the best job helping Passenger set her Fegg.

Leela is quite insistently crouching for Nobu, but her foob kinda over balances her when he's on top, causing her to stumble into a tilted run under him to keep from faceplanting.

He hangs on with the brazen tenacity of a bull rider, and has managed to finish three times today.

It is exactly as hilarious as it sounds, and I'll try to catch it on video, if I can.

Look at Arco on his practice egg <3

Patron: "a grown boy!"

Just got an update from UGA.

khou just finished his CT, but they close at 5pm, and he's unlikely to have recovered enough to be discharged in two hours, even if I left right now.

The projected discharge is between 9 and 10am.

His little heart stopped.

(Pretty much every Patron sent their condolences)

Cousins: "We're on the way, Dani, I'm sorry!  30-40 minutes i think ..."

Can't wait.

We can go say goodbye, if we leave now and fold space.

Husband: "The vets are trying one more time to get his heart to start back up.  We are on the road now."

We got to UGA.  

No word on if the last effort succeeded.

Waiting for his Dr to come see us.

Husband: "He didn't make it."

Husband: "He had lesions in his lungs.  The sedation was too much for his damaged lungs to handle."

Patron: "im so sorry. is there any idea what the lesions are from?"

Husband: "Not yet.  They have not gotten all the results back from his tests yet."

"The vet took a clay imprint of his feet with his name on it."

Patron: "sending all the love to both of you"

Husband: "Thank you.  We both are recovering."

Thank you so much to all of my patrons for the outpouring of loving condolences.

[quillsanddaydreams]

teddy bear

fred weasley x reader

—author’s note: I really have no explanation for this except that I saw an old fic of mine and the idea just struck. This is a re-imagined version of 'don't say goodbye' from my main i.e. @with-love-anu Fred had been spending lesser and lesser time with you every day and you couldn't take it anymore.

—warning(s): mentions of food and drinks, break up, angst but it's hurt and comfort, low-key descriptions of anxiety attack. gender neutral!reader (pronouns haven't been used throughout the story) 

—wordcount: 2,190

The fire crackled orange and gold, painting the dark walls. You were sitting right beside the mantle looking at the wall ticking. It was 11:35pm. Fred should’ve been home hours ago.

Tilting your head, you ran your thumb through the sharp edge’s of the photo frame. Friendly— happy faces smiled back at you. It was you and Fred from your 6th year. He had an arm around you, kissing your cheek before winking at the camera. Oh you remembered that day. Vividly. The two of you had just started dating after months of pining. Fred had been an absolute sweetheart. One date led to the next and you didn’t realise you two had spent years together. From graduating from hogwarts, to working your way up on your jobs, moving in together… You were madly in love and nothing else seemed to have mattered.

Everything looked great. Looked. Your parents often told you about ichs. A common rash. Ignore it and it will go away. Scratch it, and it will make your life hell. They never told you however, how long it takes. And you had been shutting your eyes to this one far too long. Fred was never there. Never. Both of you had jobs. Demanding jobs. Yet it seemed Fred was the only one without a moment to spare.

Your morning began with you getting up and ready for your day. Freshening up, making breakfast for the two of you— storing Fred’s with a quick warming spell and a note because you knew you’ll be gone by the time he woke up. Never having the heart to rouse him you simply smiled and pressed a kiss to his forehead, apprating to the ministry. When you came back, he would still be at the shop, working late into the night. Exhaustion caught you, you were unable to keep yourself from falling asleep after 12.

Heaving a sigh, you pushed your head back staring at the ceiling above. The thing was that you missed him. Terribly. You couldn’t even remember the time he held you, let alone ask about your day— it had been months. There had been a hundred times, sitting alone having dinner or seeing his side of the bed empty. Loneliness caught with you reminisened all the times he would pull you over his lap, pressing kisses all over your face. Telling you about the newest invention at his shop. All confrontations with him about the same had ended the same way. With him promising he would try. He never did.

Glancing at the clock again, you felt your body grow hot with anger. It was nearly midnight. You had left him a note to come home early that day. Promotion at work had flashed like the perfect occasion to catch up. Happiness had been bubbling through you all day. Although as time passed, your excitement dulled. The food turned cold and ice in the firewhiskey bucket had melted. Your eyes pricked with tears as you felt your stomach churn. There was a pop as the door opened to reveal a disheveled Fred. He gave you a small smile before moving straight towards the bedroom.

“Fred,” you called out, clearing your throat and wiping away the tears. Did he really not notice? “Did you get my note?”

“Hmm?” he said, shuffling through his drawer. “Oh! Yes I did, sorry but work came up love, couldn’t make it.”

You clenched your jaw.

“Work?” you asked, agitated. “What work keeps you out until midnight Fred?”

His answering sigh infuriated you further.

“You need to change your work schedule, Fred,” you said, crossing your arms. “George comes back to Angelina before 8. I’m sure you can manage before 9. I don't see you Fred. I don't get to talk to you or spend a moment with you. It's like I'm living alone— I spent more time with you before we moved in!”

Fred squeezed his eyes shut, tired.

“I’ll try, I promise,” he said after a minute. “Let’s eat first, shall we?”

“No, Fred. You promise me that every time,” you hissed. “I want you to tell me you’ll be home tomorrow before 9. Like a normal person.”

“What do you want me to do, huh?” Fred snapped. “I thought you would be more supportive of me and my business.”

“Don’t you dare say that,” you threatened. “I’ve been there for you every step of the way. What I am asking you is for you to take out some time for me. I need you to be there for me too!”

“Well excuse me for wanting to earn enough money for our future. For wishing you didn’t have to work to live a happy life.”

“Fred,” you said, your voice a dangerous whisper. “You know exactly how much I love my job. I’ve always been happy working. What has gotten into you? You were always so supportive of me!”

Something crossed Fred’s eye and he took a step back, shaking himself. He took a deep breath.

“Listen,” Fred said calmly. “It’s late now, we can talk about it tomorrow.”

“When, Fred? When? In the morning, when you are asleep or at night which is the time right now?”

Fred remained silent. It felt like you were bursting. All the frustration, sadness and disappointment poured in.

“It hurts, Fred. It hurts and it feels like I’m alone in this. People ask me how we are doing and I don’t know what to tell them. I have no idea what’s going on with the person I live with. I don’t even know where our relationship is goin—”

“You know what?” Fred said, finally losing his cool, throwing his hands in the air. “If you feel so alone, maybe you wouldn’t find a difference if we even separate.”

You gasped.

“I’m going to give you a moment to take that back,” you hushed. Fred crossed his arms. “Think about it before telling me you meant it.”

“Listen, you know I put my work above anything else,” he said, gritting his teeth. “I’ve always wanted to be rich enough so people like Malfoy wouldn’t dare to insult me or my family. That shop. It’s my life. It’s everything that lets me afford the things I never could.”

“So the shop’s more important to you than having me stay?” you said, your throat heavy. Digging your nails into the palm of your hand you searched Fred’s face. The face you had fallen in love with, the one that didn’t quite meet your eyes now which forebode tears. No you couldn’t cry now. Not when he disregarded your job you had been so passionate about, not when his status in life was more important to him. When Fred didn’t say anything, you let out a dry laugh. Shaking your head you moved towards your wardrobe, your head thumping. You took out a couple of your clothes, money and some documents, packing up a bag. Fred stared at you wide eyed as you went for the door.

“What are you doing?” he demanded as you opened the door moving out.

“Well, since you don’t care if we separate and your shop is the only thing you’re living for; it only seems fair that I leave,” you said, furiously rubbing away the tear that fell down your cheek. “Oh and Weasley? I hope you become the wealthiest wizard in the country.”

The last thing you saw was Fred’s shook form before a familiar house came into view. Knocking on your best friend’s door, you wondered whether you should have taken a hotel. It was very late after all. Before you could turn back and leave, Ruhaan opened up. He looked sleepy but his expression changed on seeing you.

“Hey, are you alright? What’s the—”

“Can I stay here tonight?” you blurted. “I’ll crash on the couch... ”

Ruhaan wrapped an arm around your shoulder, leading you in.

“Of course you can,” he said as your throat felt heavy. “You’re always welcome here, what happened?”

“I… we broke up,” you croaked. Admitting things aloud often made things real. Stating your breakup to Ruhaan made you really assess the situation. Blood rushed to your head as you realised you really just left back someone you had loved for six long years. Still did. Your legs wobbled making you lose your balance but Ruhaan held you steady.

“I can’t believe it… I… love him…” you gulped.

“Let me first get you some tea,” he said, rubbing your sides.

-♡♡♡-

Fred was a mess. He fell on the floor with a thump, realising what happened moments ago. You left. The person he had loved all his life had left him. And it was his fault. All those months he had been trying to get the latest product to work. George had given up on it long ago knowing well how dangerous it was to work on. Yet he stood back, working extra hours determined to get it done. It made him lose sight of what was important, you. His heart constricted as he felt like he couldn’t breath. Hot tears fell down his cheeks as he let out a frustrated shout. He had finally lost everything.

For the next few days, Fred worked as an auto pilot. Numbness had caught up to him. He couldn’t bring himself to eat or sleep. Your thoughts plagued him. It was like he was watching your face fall as you moved out over and over again. The apartment felt devoid of spirit— dark and cold. Fred missed you, your smile as he sleepily joined you in bed, pulling you closer; your notes with little doodles telling him to take care… George vaguely knew about what happened, he couldn’t bring himself to talk about it. Visits to your best friend’s place have always gone the same. Ruhaan told him you weren’t there.

Fred wanted— needed you. He loved you. Always did. And he would be damned if he failed to show you. Again. Washing his face, he apparated to Ruhaan’s door again. Biting the inside of his cheek, he waited as a familiar face came into view sighing on spotting him.

“Fred,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I’ve told you…”

“Please,” he said, cutting him off. “Please, I know what I’ve done. Terrible won’t start to describe it. Just give me a chance to talk. I won’t push. I won’t. I am really ashamed of the things I did. At least let me make it right…”

Ruhaan searched his face, mentally debating with himself. Fred was pleading, begging. He would do anything to make this right.

“Alright, don’t screw this up,” Ruhaan said, ushering him in directing him towards your room. “The first door on the right.”

Fred nodded, moving briskly to where he indicated. Heart pounding, he knocked. Your voice came throaty, calling him in. When he saw you, his breath caught up. You looked terrible. Dark circles under red puffy eyes, nestled up in blankets. Noticing him, you sat up straighter.

“I told Ruhaan I didn’t want to see you,” you muttered. Fred moved to sit beside you. You looked away.

“I…” he began, not finding the correct words. “I brought this for you…”

He fished out a small box out of his pocket, handing it to you. It transformed into a teddy bear as the pack touched you, splaying itself over your hand like a rock. You narrowed your eyes at Fred.

“I’ve been working on this in secret for the last six months,” he rasped. “A teddy bear for blue days. The more I worked on it, the stiffer it became. I could not imagine what exactly I was doing wrong. I tried charming it, transforming it, twisting and twerking it around...”

“Fred,” you said, cutting him off. He blinked as streaks of heavy tears fell down his cheek.

“I was so fucking angry and determined to make it work that I couldn’t see anything else than that,” he sobbed. “I’ve said and done things that I couldn’t forgive myself for. I’ve made promises I never followed and I’ve let you go. I… I know that there is no reason for you to even hear me out right now. But I can’t lose you. I can’t… I can’t. I’ll do whatever it takes to have you back but I don’t want to say goodbye to the best thing in my life. Please. You don’t have to excuse me but give me one opportunity to make it up to you.”

You inhaled sharply.

“You’ll come home before 9?” you asked.

“At seven everyday.”

“You’ll spare time for me?”

“Dates every other weekend.”

“You’ll cook everything for the next 3 weeks?” you said as Fred let out a breathy chuckle.

“Only your favourites.”

You looked at his face, wet from crying. Eyes praying for your answer.

“You’ll kiss me right now?” you said as a dull surprise crossed his face. He cradled your face, kissing you softly. You closed your eyes, body relaxing for the first time in days.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice low. You held his hand, squeezing it.

“I know.”

—as for the taglist: I don’t make taglists, I have a blog @from-my-quill ​ which is updated whenever I post fanfiction. You could have the notifications on for it and it will work just like me tagging you.

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