#Putting under a read more break because this is me complaining about the handling of the new Robin unit

[coralhoneyrose]

Really depressed and disappointed with the handling of the groom Robin unit. The moment I saw the theme of the banner I was nervous that there would be some sort of line somewhere in his dialogue, or the paralogue, or tempest trials that was going to explicitly pull some sort of "no homo" nonsense with Chrom. I was mildly comforted when I saw the meet the heroes text talking about the blue rose corsage that maybe I was worrying over nothing. But then sure enough, we get a throw away line where Robin comments on Chrom getting married to someone else.

It feels like a slap in the face after all the ship bait the last year. One of the most wonderful things about their DoD duo unit was that NO WHERE in any of the promotion or dialogue for that unit was there any sort of friend zoning. They were referred to as "partners" and while it was intentionally left ambiguous enough that people could still try and read it platonically if they wanted, there was DEFINITELY nothing de-confirming it as being romantic. And then with Robin's legendary unit too it really went out of its way to leave open the interpretation that L!Robin was married to a Chrom. And I'll admit, I think the fact that Engage had so many same sex pairing options made me cautiously optimistic that IS was starting to do better with how they handle this stuff.

So for them to then turn around and make a point of having Groom Robin comment that Chrom got married to someone else just...it makes me feel exploited honestly. It feels very much like they knew they could capitalize on shipper's money with those other units and so they allowed the potential reading of Chrom and m!Robin as being a romantic pairing for as long as it was convenient and profitable for them. And then as soon as it wasn't fitting the narrative they were trying to build in order to make money they immediately revert to discounting it.

Cause that's the other thing that gets me. They didn't HAVE to have Robin comment on Chrom's wedding at all. They could have very easily just not mentioned it and left it up to player interpretation. But no, they decided to expressly make a point of emphasizing that the Chrom from this Robin's world is married to someone else.

And I know for a lot of Chrobin fans this isn't necessarily even incompatible with their head canons. A lot of fans are happy to imagine that Chrom might initially marry someone else to have Lucina and then ultimately divorce them and marry Robin later in life. But personally, I have always found that idea tremendously depressing and I am not a fan of that narrative at all. I am not interested in the idea of Chrom making himself miserable in a marriage to someone he doesn't love and I do not like the idea of Lucina having anyone else as her parent except for Robin.

There are other workable explanations too--multiverses and different timelines means that some Chroms could be married to Robins and others aren't. Or Chrom and Robin could be poly, for example. I'm not saying there aren't any mental jumps you can make in order to force this dialogue line to be compatible with some version of Chrobin being together. But even if there are explanations that work, I think it's pretty transparent what IS was trying to do in including the line in the first place. The intention of it is still to wave a little banner in fan faces saying this Robin is not married to Chrom and that Chrom actively *is* in a relationship with someone else. And the fact of the matter is that line DOES shut down any and all versions of how *I* like to envision the pairing working. So of course I'm going to be disappointed.

I'm well aware that the nature of any head canon is that I shouldn't be surprised that canon isn't catering to my personal imagined story line. Especially when Chrom and M!Robin can't get married in original Awakening. I know that.

But again....engage and the DoD unit, and Robin's legendary and even 3H to a lesser extent all made me cautiously optimistic that they were starting to handle things differently. For the last *year* they have very expressly been making a point of allowing my little preferred headcanons to be viable, and actively feeding into them in a lot of cases. In point of that, there has been so much hopeful fan speculation that if they ever make an awakening remake years down the line, that they probably WOULD allow m!Robin and Chrom to S-support. And this feels like a very clear indication to me that no, they wouldn't do that actually, they are only interested in teasing m!Chrobin when they can profit from it in a gacha game, and are perfectly happy to turn around and try and invalidate it again after. And now I just feel stupid for getting my hopes up and thinking they wouldn't do this.

Frankly, it completely ruins any ability I would have had to enjoy this unit at all. Which sucks, because his art is lovely and getting new content of a character I love SHOULD be a wonderful positive thing. I can try and ignore the line and pretend I guess, but honestly it's going to be hard for me to divorce all these upset feelings from it. Maybe with a little more time and space. Idk.

[riniworld]

fulfil my wish

yandere!emperor oc x general!f!reader

warnings// obsession,yandere theme,mention of killing and blood,breaking bones,not proofread, let me know if i missed anything!

refrence// you,my love,flower,your majesty-honor, she/her

a/n//i don't actually know if all of this make sense-

it's been months since you've got married to taron,and you hated every second of it.

your place is in the field with a sword or in a war not in this luxurious life full of lazeness,but he prevented you from using the sword again saying it's too dangerous for an empress to go to the war.

in the start you didn't mind because you don't want to hold the sword against your home,but you can't handle it anymore when you couldn't even go out the castle.

your life start to become plain and boring,you literally had read the entire library.

whenever you open the topic with taron he close it immediately.

You've gave up on getting out from there and didn't argue about it more untill...

You have a younger sister who got married early to one of the soldiers who was under your wing, but he died in one of the battles so you took her and her children responsibilitys on you,You found a job for her to support herself and her children, and you visited them every month but after what happen you forget about her.

you were on your way to taron to give him some papers he had told you to bring because he forgot them in the room when you stumble on one of his correspondents telling him news about the empire and he mentioned something about your sister losing her job.

you had alot of questions first is that how does taron know about her? second Why does he receive her news? She doesn't even live here,but all those questions faded away when you realize you should go visit her.

You were jolted out of your thoughts when the door opened,the correspondent bow in respect and go.

taron smiled softly when he saw you "ah did you bring them already?"

you put the papers on his desk "what did the correspondent told you?" you asked like you didn't hear anything,maybe he'll told you what happen to your sister in details.

"Don't bother yourself with it, it's just normal news about the state of the empire"

you nod in acknowledge "I'll go now then,i need to do something"

"do you now? why don't we drink some tea together,We don't usually sit together" he took your hand and kissed the back of it

you pull your hand quickly "no thanks" then you left.

but then you stopped in your track,Why don't you get closer to him? Maybe he'll let you out the castle then? this idea hit you as you made your way back to him.

you opened the door aggressively "you know what let's drink tea together i don't have anything to do"

taron was confused as much as he was happy,did you finally decided to give him a chance?.

"sure,of course come sit" he said and pull the chair for you to sit on.

when you sat down he demanded the servants to bring two cups of tea in a rush

you sip from your cup in tense,since he sit down he kept just looking at you.

"your tea will get cold" you point out.

"hm?....ah yes,yeah right" he shake his head like he just come to his sense.

you roll your eyes when he wasn't looking.

he sip from his cup befor he speak "What is the reason for the sudden change in behavior,hm?....it's not like i'm complaining of course"

you pause thinking of a reason "...nothing really....I'm-just bored."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise "you're bored? Did the servants fail to bring you anything? do you need anything? should i punish someone?"

"whao there,it's nothing like that i just.....it's boring being here all the time"

he sigh "i don't like where this going to."

"why so? all i ask is a little walk in the cit-"

"no." he shuts you up immediately. "we've talked about that before,if you need anything I'll send someone to bring it to you."

"it's totally different! i need some fresh air"

"the garden is big enough"

"but it's annoying to be in the same place over and over again."

"look.." he say as he made his way to you taking your hands in his "it's all for your safety,we don't know what will happen if you set your foot outside the gates."

"i belive I'm more than capable of myself." you say in annoyance.

taron chuckle slightly "yes,i trust you can of course, let's just say i don't want anyone to see your beauty as well...If I didn't have to, I wouldn't let the servants see you at all"

"that's bullshit" you mutter under yout breath.

"i know you're not the type to stay in one place,but you'll get used to it"

you glare at him in anger and pull your hands from his.

taron sigh in frustration and ran his hand through his hair.

"is boredom the only reason that you want to go out?"

you stayed silent for a moment, "no...i want to visit my sister."

"...oh..you have a sister?"

what a liar,it taking everything in you to not punch him, "i do" you say between gritting teeth.

"don't worry about her,just tell me where is she and I'll take care of her." he smiled at you.

"no need, just let me visit her." you say in desperate.

"I'll think about it" he goes back to his side of the table "i would love to spend some more time with you but i have duties to attend" he say in an apologising tone.

you left the room without saying anything,knowing that it's just lies and he won't let you go.

you're laying down on the bed,you couldn't sleep last night thinking of ways to visit your sister.

Even if you can avoid the servants, you will not be able to avoid the guards outside.

you sigh and gets up to change,you'll think better in the fresh air.

When you open the door to leave, you're stopped by a guard standing at the door.

"please forgive me,your majesty,But it's orders you can't leave your room."

you scoff and get inside,that happened alot when taron get guests.

you sit beside the window looking out at the garden lost in thought,you heard rambling outside the door,that most be the servants busy providing hospitality,poor people.

but that when an idea crossed your mind,everyone busy with the guests,no one will notice you snaking out,And if you use a little of your power as an empress, you can leave, and no one will tell taron immediately.

you open the door again and cut the guard before he say anything "i need to use the lavatory."

the guard look between you and taron's guest room,you clear your throat to get his attention again "I'm sure taron wouldn't mind,in fact he might even get angry if he knew you didn't let me go." you feel a little guilty to use his fear against him but you know you had to,for your sister.

the guard stood in front of you in tense "as you wish,your majesty,but let me escort you."

you had no choice but to accept,now you're here in the toilet thinking about how to get rid of him.

You use one of the moves you had learned as a general,

You pull him in quickly as you apply enough pressure to the carotid arteries,while you cut off the blood flow to his brain, render him unconscious.

you mutter "sorry" and left,walking slowly to the outside gates you've bumped on one or two of the servants who questions you if you need anything or telling you that taron don't want you to go out now,but you brush it off by some excuses as he the one who told you to bring him something or you want something personal from a room.

You have successfully reached the outdoor garden, you made your way to the gates and the guards stopped you "sorry your honor but you are forbidden from leaving, it is the Emperor's orders"

you expected this to happen "I've been given permission to leave"

the guards look at each other and then one of them speak "excuse us but we have to ask his majesty about this"

"are you calling me a liar?" you say sternly.

the guard started to get tense and bow his head "i would never your honor!"

"it's-it's just for safety,your honor,so his majesty won't get upset" the other guard says shakly

"there's no need to disturb him right now,i belive my word is enough to go by,isn't it?"

the guards opened the way to you and shouted "yes of course your honor!"

it would be strange for you to go walking in this clothes in public so you take a trolley to escort you.

your eyes land on a clothes shop,it sells ordinary clothes just the thing you need so you told the trolley driver to stop by it, when you enter everyone star at you,not that they recognize you thank to taron's possessiveness, but because you look more like a royalty to buy something from a store like that.

you ignore the stars and whispers in your way looking for something more comfortable you can run in it if needed...or fight.

when you find what you want and wear it you head to pay but then realize that you didn't bring with you any money,cursing under your breath as you think of something you can pay by, your eyes landed on your ring,your wedding ring,it's not like you loved it anyway so you give it to the seller who look at you with shock but eventually take it of course even if it was too much for the price.

as you walk out the store,you tries to hide your face as much as you can so the trolley driver won't recognize you,when you get far enough you start to walk casually but fast trying to reach your sister as fast as you can before taron knows about your disappear and make a huge deal of it.

8:00p.m

it's been two hour when those shame of royalties has been here,taron grew annoyed,What they say is all bullshit to him,he could kick them out easily and for no reason but he doesn't want to deal with the drama that will happen... not now at least not when you finally softened up to him a little bit,his mood ease a little when he thought of you.

he wonder if you're asleep right now,and hope you're not, he want to spend some time with you again.

8:30p.m

oh finally they're gone!,taron bid them farewell coldly and fast he didn't even escort them to the gates but can they complain? they're lucky enough he even accepted to meet them and didn't kick them out by 5 min.

taron head to your room and got angry when no one stand at the door,didn't he set a guard here?.

he opens the door to your room slowly so he won't wake you up if you were sleeping,But all his annoyance changed to shock when he did not see anyone in the room he made sure to not let you out didn't he?!

taron shouted for the servants to come and by seconds three servants bowing on their hands before him,no one dared to left their head up not when their emperor is angry.

"i belive I've made myself clear to not let y/n left the room,haven't i?,so where is she now?" his tone is terrifyingly filled with coldness.

"We-we were s-s-so busy hosting that we didn't notice anyone leaving,your-your Majesty" one of them say shakly with terror.

"you useless insects!" he shouted "I'll deal with you later,go and prepare my horse and let some of those guards prepare themselves too...quickly!" he demanded.

the servants hurried to do what they had been told.

taron knew exactly where are you going to,if you only waited for some days, he was going to take you there of course he was, why would he prevents you from visiting your sister?? he was just going to make it a surprise but you had to break his words and now you ruined everything, he has to make you learn how to obey him even if he have to use power.

day later

it wasn't easy to left the empire the guards was everywhere, you even had to hide somewhere for like three hours.

but eventually you're out know and close to your sister's house it only take an hour walking.

.

.

.

you finally here after alot of trouble,you knock on the door and your sister opened the door real quick.

"ah-y/n! what-what got you here?"

you didn't answer instead you throw yourself at her and hug here tight,she return the hug but there was something strange about her, she sutter and seems like really anxious,you shrug this feeling off maybe she's still brokendown.

she guster you inside "I've heard about what happened" you say while sitting down.

"o-oh really? it's not a big deal...and i-i heard about your marriage" she brings some tea and biscuit to a table in front of you.

"ugh don't talk about that now,it's miserable..that sham of a man thinks he have the right to control my life or something"

"y-y/n ac-actually he's-"

"but it's true my love, i do have the right to control your life" someone cut your sister off, you recognize that voice, taron

you stand up in a defensive pose quickly wich lead to knock the tray off "what are you doing here?!"

"what? am i not allowed to visit my beloved wife sister?" he said with innocent tone.

you look at your sister with a questioning look,but what got you angry more is how your sister shiver in fear, what did he do to her?!.

"i swear to god taron if you've hurt her!" you warning.

taron only chuckle slightly "I've never heard you say my name,it's like honey when you say it"

you didn't replay don't want to go further with his playing.

taron's expression suddenly turned serious "now let's go back to the castle,and you're going to come with me obediently" he say coldly

you wanted to argue but your sister life is on the line,before you even replay he grabbed your arm and dragged you to his horse behind the house, he ride the horse at first and demand "ride" as you ride hesitantly.

The road to the castle was quiet and full of tension, you knew full well that there would be consequences when you return, but at least your sister was safe.

as soon as you reached your destination, taron took you by your arm forcefully and then threw you on the floor of the room.

you fall on your back hard but you swallow your groan,Before you lift yourself off the ground taron place his foot on your neck It chokes you a little.

"you broke my words,flower. i have to make sure you won't do it again." he say strangely calm as he tuck down and take one of your arms

the next thing you hear is a cracking noise,fuck he broke your arm.

you bite your lips to not scream and sound weak,All thanks to your training as a general,but you eventually let a little groan escape as he force more wight on it.

"you broke my heart,flower. The least i can do is break your arm,and this still not as much pain as I felt" with every word come out his mouth he twists your arm more "be thankful i didn't kill your sister."

with that he left you alone,you lift yourself up and embrace your arm letting out a few tears,it of course doesn't hurt like the battles injuries But this is the first time someone has broken your pride, and who did it? The person you hate most!.

you swear you'll get your revenge someday.

someone knock on the door,you gave permission to enter, the castle's doctor entered,she respectfully told you to sit on the bed so she cast your broken arm. (i guess it's like that?)

When she finished, she wished you a speedy recovery and left.

taron entered as soon as the doctor left,he looked at your arm for some minute before he exhale and sit down beside you.

"you lost that" He takes your good hand and place your wedding ring in your finger,a blood-stained ring,did he kill the clothes seller?!.

"you of course hadn't gave it willingly,so i brought it back to you, don't mind the blood it'll go easly with some soap" he was smiling, how can he smile when he just killed an innocent person!.

maybe the blood on the ring will remind you what taron can do without guilt, if you hadn't listen to him this would've been you sister blood.

he's terrifying.

finallyyyyyy

hope you like it :)!

have a nice day/night♡

[jolapeno]

More Helen x Ghost pleaseeeeee

sometimes, I am merciful

Simon Ghost Riley x F!Reader

Word count: 1k

AN: mentions of a wound and dressing it. fluff-ish (probably more than I’d like but it’s been a day and a half and I needed this too). Helen isn’t readers name, read Helen.Simon for more context. take pity on me, I wrote this on my phone (: but hope it’s okay, anon.

+++++++++++

“Helen,” he hisses through gritted teeth.

He clenched his other fist, the bones on the glove cracking under pressure. He’s trying not to stare at you—fearful you’d turn him into fucking stone.

The look on your face is still etched into his eyelids. Eyes flicking from him to his clearly bleeding hand, a mixture of relief and disappointment he’s come back with another scar you’ll obsessively try and heal.

Your grip on his hand tightens, wrenching it closer. “Keep still, Casper.”

He doesn’t hate it. The grip you have on him. Both literally and figuratively. Even if he doesn’t fully understand the ifs, buts and how’s of it all.

But he doesn’t fucking hate your new pet name. The one you’ve clearly thought about over the thirty-six hours he’s been gone.

He’s had it for all of fifteen minutes and already cannot stand it. But he refuses to ask for Boo.

Instead, he puts up with it. Letting you relish in inflicting your own choice of torture.

Because if you’re calling him a friendly ghost, it means you’re still calling him. Still talking.

He’s learnt how painful and torturous your silence is. A punishment he’s not sure he could handle on such limited sleep.

Sighing, he blinks. Purposefully blanking his face, letting his eyes soften and settle.

Then he wills your eyes to meet his.

If you were anyone else, he’d command it. But that doesn’t work on you. Not unless he says it softly, not unless shards of him are breaking off and you take pity on him.

Look at me. Please look at me.

You don’t.

The scent of antiseptic, vanilla and blackberries meets his nose, mixing with the smell of blood, dust and death he’s brought with him.

He prefers your scent. A perfume he struggles to remove from his casual clothing and his bed sheets. Not that he complains. He’d never complain.

If he had his way, the scent would be burned into his skin. It keeps him rooted and reminds him of the truth in all the lies that his brain conjures when insomnia strikes.

Helen. Look at me.

You don’t. You’re too busy using all of your focus as you dress his wound. Your delicate fingers slide the bandage around his palm, silently judging, silently tutting as you work your magic.

He knows you’re pissed—before you start muttering and tutting. You weren’t half as gentle with the needle as usual. Not even muttering an apology when you’d stabbed it a little too hard.

If it weren’t inflicted on him, he’d have egged you on. Rather liking your conniving ways. On him, not so much. Even if he can tell, you’re getting some sick satisfaction from making him wince.

But he needs your eyes.

He’s missed them.

“Sweetheart…”

It comes out stern and quiet, but it forces your chin up. Those big beautiful eyes land on him, and they feel like the sun.

At first, they’re soft, all kindness and love. In one blink, they’ve shifted. Scolding him, attempting to peel back his mask and scorch his face.

Fuck, you’re beautiful.

“A rusty knife? Really, Simon?”

“Better my hand than my neck.”

You clamp your mouth shut, hiding insults and your wicked way with words from him. The fact you do annoys him more than the coward who tried to stab him.

“There’s a choice to choose neither, you know,” you whisper, continuing to bandage his hand, focusing on the bow. “Could come back to me with just bruising and cuts. That’s a choice too.”

You tighten the final part of the bandage more purposefully, him biting back a wince as you look up at him again. The anger softens, sadness replacing it. A look he instead fucking hates, even if he’s the one who put it there.

“I’m never leavin’ you.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” you say, pushing back on the wheels of your chair for more distance, “Because if you considered it, I’d hunt you down. Hell or high water, I’d find you. And, let me make this crystal fucking clear, Simon Riley. I am both.”

He wants to lift his mask.

Show you the prize of his smile.

But he can’t risk it. Not here, not in the middle of your medical room that people barge in and out of.

It doesn’t matter how often the two of you try to steal moments; life has a way of ripping them from your grasp. But it doesn’t stop him from trying.

Instead, he grabs your leg, pulling you, pleasantly surprised you don’t fight him as you wheel between his legs. Your annoyance is painted as clear as day, his fingers releasing your leg before resting on your knee.

“Understood,” he says, drawing a soft circle against your knee. Watching you, watching him. A moment, between all the others, where it’s just the two of you. “Go eat, Helen.”

“I’m fi—“

He squeezes your knee, silencing you. Staring at you to remind you he knows you. Knows that you haven’t eaten two meals a day, never mind three. That he’s had people check on you, ask about you.

That in his own fucking way, he cares, so let him care. Let him take care of you.

You swallow as if realising this. As if the two of you are in the middle of a conversation, you’re both having with your eyes.

He wins.

The only way he knows that is from the sweet little groan you give him as he returns to drawing a circle on your knee.

“Sometimes, Simon. I really can’t stand you.”

“Feelings mutual, Helen.”

You remove your glove, placing your hand gently over his. It’s warm, gentle and yet calloused in its own way.

And he should tell you to leave.

Tell you to get food before you’re left with scraps you’ll complain to him about later. But this is nice. It’s comforting. It’s something he can’t genuinely articulate and is glad you don’t ask him to try.

And then, you hand him his glove. The one stained scarlet and still damp with his blood.

He nods.

You nod.

The two of you send the other a look which has become close to a parting kiss, without you both touching. One that will have to do until he can really kiss you later. Until he can remind every inch of your skin that he came back, that he’s alive. He’ll do so, silently promising too, until you’re chanting his name to the point he realises this isn’t a dream, but reality.

A beautiful, unexplainable reality.

[rilakeila]

easy enough, or where you and him sign the contract for your fake relationship,

words 601 fandom harry potter pairing slytherin boy(mattheo, enzo, theo, draco, blaise, etc.) x gn(?)reader warnings none,

summary sorting out your contract to make sure boundaries are covered in your fake relationship 

QUESTIONING whether this plan that you were getting yourself into was going to be a good idea. the fact that you were even contemplating makes it obvious that this was not the brightest thing you were going to be doing. you eyed the piece of parchment that was floating in the air, different rules and corresponding clauses to ensure that nothing will be broken, even in certain conditions. you adjusted the paper to his view, allowing him to review the information.

“we could have just done a magical oath, makes all of this much more exciting,” he said.

“i’m not using my life as a collateral,” you huffed, crossing your arms, “anyways, just start reading each clause to make sure we agree about each thing.”

“again? no one is going to believe this, we have to take some of these things out. you know, this one, we shall not-“

“JUST READ!”

“fine, fine. the first clause, under no circumstances, we cannot tell anyone the reasons we may be fake-dating including the fact we are not actually dating. subsection one says we are allowed to tell one, if we cannot handle keeping it a secret. the only reasonable clause, in my opinion,” he said, mirroring your crossed arms. 

it was entirely already embarrassing that you were both caught into the cliché of being alone in a storage closet, especially in snape’s potions closet. though, the idea of fake dating was not sprouted from being caught, but you both were caught in sticky situations. the fellow slytherin was in hot waters for his continuous misdemeanors around the school and educationally slacking off, but being part of the slytherin quidditch team was indeed important to him. you were unsure of the severity his punishment may be, but after the closet mishap, it was almost the tip of the iceberg for his record. on the other hand, you were trying to escape the never-ending complaints of your parents that you needed to find someone better than the last person you have dated. it was status thing, and it was rather unfortunate to end it. they hoped that you would bring back someone for winter break, someone of a better status.

“the second clause, minimal to little no affection. if we do, it has to be because someone is watching. subsection one is no kissing, only because (y/n) does not want to give up her virgin lips. wait, did you put that in there?” you waved your wand, quickly getting the pen to scribble out that clause.

“no, butdon’t scribble it out. the third clause, all dates must have some sort of benefit to the relationship, at least two study sessions required each week and one meeting about a summary of the week. do we really have to do that?” he questioned, a minimal whine hinted in his tone.

“yes, helps with communication and even without this fake-dating thing, i am actually obligated for making sure that you’re not slacking off. plus, subsection one requires you to walk me everywhere while carrying my stuff,” you answered to be responded with a huff. for someone so stoic all the time in everyone else, he certainly complained a lot. 

“not like this school isn’t massive enough. and the last clause, no falling for each other, but we must be as true to ourselves and respectful to the other. that is an easy one,” he said, waving his wand to ready his quill. giving one last look to one another, no other disagreements, you both signed the bottom of the contracts, sealing the deal.

“it’s just until the start of the new term,” you said, rolling the second piece of parchment. one for him, and one for you.

“this should be easy.”

[shiggyscumrag]

WHOLESOME THOUGHTS WITH SHIGGY!

I've been looking back at my old fics and headcanons and mu god has my writing style and interests changed. So I've decided to make an updated HORNY THOUGHTS WITH SHIGGY!!!! Tbh most of them are gonna be wholesome <3 Bakugou has been on my mind A LOT lately so we're gonna start with him!!

Wholesome headcanons

I feel like sometimes when he gets home from patrol he is either a cuddle bug or doesn't want to be touched at all. Being a pro hero puts a lot of strain on the body! So when he comes home more emotionally exhausted sometimes he likes being cuddled and being taken care of. However when he comes home from a patrol that was particularly cruel on his muscles he prefers to just kinda lay there and not be touched.

I love two ideas. Bakugou either not being to handle his liquor at all OR being able to take shot after shot and not feel a thing but hate the taste and doesn't like to drink very often because of it. Like he'll go party with you and friends but he usually won't drink unless it's a special occasion. For the light weight version he would take shot for shot with you on a holiday (New years, Birthday, etc) and after the second shot he's fuckinf gone. Like he's there but snaps back into reality every 5 secs but he just looks so cute with the blush from the heat of the alcohol under his skin. Or on the heavy weight side he would also take shot for shot with you only getting tipsy as you reach your limit. Let's say around 5 shots for fun. He says to you "I'm glad you're done cause that tastes like shit." He just hates the alcohol taste.

I'm not a huge fan of baths. Like I hate them. So in this headcanon Bakugou would instead take showers with you rather than baths. Or if you wanted company while taking a shower but he didn't want to go in he would just sit on the counter and talk to you, read a book or scroll through his phone possibly looking for new recipes. And I course you would do the same thing for him!!

If you were an artist of any sort (I'm an art major give me a break) he would absolutely adore the home made gifts you'd make him. When you guys eventually move into your first place together he would hang up the gifts you gave him in his office or around the living areas. When guests came over and complimented the piece he would always subtly brag that you painted it and he can only have the best art pieces in his home because he has the best artist in the world living with him and making him custom peices. Also if he ever did a charity event and needed like a design or logo he would come to you either asking advice or commission you to do it. Fuck asking for it for free, even though you'd tell him you'd do it free of charge since you're dating and it's charity. But he INSISTS on paying you because you deserve it for all the hard work, love and care you put into it.

He would give you the aux in the car everytime. He knows you usually ask everytime if he has any requests and just queues them in between songs you like so it works out fine for him. You're happy he's happy, nothing to complain about.

However you met (preferably outside of UA) he would find it pretty important that early on in the relationship that he introduces you to his friends (kiri, mina, denki, and sero) just so he can see how you would fair around them. I mean he's around them 24/7 practically so it's important you get along. They are like family to him so it's also important they approve of you, even though he says he doesn't give a shit about their approval.

He secretly loves when you feel up his muscles. It just makes him feel good. He also likes when you rub his back with your nails. It just feels so nice, especially after a day of training and or patrol. It's the perfect relaxer. I feel he would also like it if you rubbed his temples gently when he laid his head in your lap. It could honeslty soothe him right to sleep.

Not so wholesome headcanons (18+ MDNI)

Biting? Check. Choking? Check. An occasional creampie? ...Check. Sorry just had to check off some of the kinks I think Bakugou would indulge in and fantasize about.

Bakugou is a pretty aggressive guy. Some might even say he's a bit mean sometimes. Cruel even. Never to you though. He can get very possessive though. The way he questions when anyone other than his friends and family talk about you. The arm around you at all times in public. The marks that litter your skin underneath your clothing. Oh yeah, he likes to mark you. He swears it's all for your pleasure, I mean you do love the occasional hickey and the way it feels when he bites and sucks on your skin. But it is a bit much when they cover almost all of the entirety of your body. Of course only the parts he can see and possibly sometimes a few on your neck when he's really worked up.

If he decided to do a little quicky in a semi public place he would most definetely let you bite down on his shoulder. Which I feel would be a rarity just cause he'd rather not deal with the possible repercussions of getting caught. He doesnt mind the pain. Like at all. Actually it helps him get off a little bit. It gives him just the right amount of pain and pleasure to get him going absolutely feral.

Some of his fav positions include: normal cowgirl aka riding him into oblivion, reverse cowgirl aka riding him into oblivion just with more ass, doggy, missionary, mating press, you riding his face. The list could go on.

[myeagleexpert]

The Silence of Seven

↳Synopsis:

❝ The peaceful atmosphere is shattered when Yuu finds one of her friends in a coma of unknown causes. Determined to uncover the truth, Yuu and her friends begin investigating the case and discover a curious pattern that links the victims. But as the investigation progresses, they find themselves in a tangle with powerful enemies, and this time the danger is out of Twisted Wonderland. Yuu and her friends will have to fight against unknown forces to find answers and unravel the mystery before it's too late.❞

↳Notes: Crowly being sus, Trey not handling the loss well, Worried Grim, YUU TEAM CAPTAIN, Leona crumbles because we'll have a proper feast later, short chapter to warm up the next one, always read to the end.

「 Chapter 2: Don't show and tell 」

“Keep this secret, what you saw and heard here must not leave this room. But don't worry, your benevolent director will solve the mystery.”

The scary mask Crowley wore was useless as everyone knew what he meant.

I don't have the slightest idea what's going on. I can't do anything.

Automatically, Yuu felt her shoulders heave as she felt the director's golden orbs collide with her eyes, an unspoken command hit her in the chest.

If you don't fix this, it will be your fault.

.  ˚  . 　　.　　　　  　 ✧

“Deuce! You fool! Not to put that!" Ace complained to the ex-delinquent switching the potions before he poured them into the cauldron

“Oi, Ace…you think I don't know what I'm doing huh?” the already irritated student shook hands in a sign of struggle

“We can't reset one more test, have you forgotten? It is to put fifteen quinzel crystals before boiling and not put quincker crystals afterwards. Yuu tell him!”

Blinking her eyes and turning back to the scene, the girl just monotonously scolded them without even knowing what they were fighting over for the millionth time. And honestly, she didn't care.

“Guys, please.”

Surprised, the boys looked at each other in surprise. Isn't she going to fight with us? So… they went back to sheltering uselessly.

“BAD DOGS”

Taking a few lessons from Crewel, the two quieted down and how puppies with their tails between their paws finished their potions properly was almost funny to watch. But Yuu didn't find it funny at all, nor did he notice when she received the grade, a nice 80/100, Riddle had helped her improve her grades. Her gaze stuck out the window, with thoughts that wandered between hypotheses and nowhere. She was still shocked by yesterday, she hadn't digested the situation as well as Carter, this one, hid his emotions from him for years, and as much as Riddle's situation was disturbing, it just swept more sand under the rug.

Time seemed crazy to the girl today, disconnected, in loopings, in vacuums, she didn't seem to have the notion of how time passed and when she blinked her eyes she was already in the most precious time for grim: the lunch break!

“Aah…henchman, aren't you going to eat?”

They had arrived early today, the line was short, the delicious snacks were hot and they didn't fight with anyone on the way! Everything that never happens to their beautiful bad luck is happening today! Luck is on our side today! What intrigues the feline monster the most is that…just today Yuu doesn't want to eat! As much as Grim considered the missing as a friend, he wasn't worried about the tyrant, he was worried about Yuu who didn't even look at the mouth-watering, tasty meat Ruggie brought them, at Leona's behest.

“I'm kinda not hungry.” with a calm and tired smile the girl smiled at her friends, who studied her form.

"You better eat Yuu, you looks pale." - the beastman friend of the group, Jack was the first to mention causing Grim to stop eating his tuna so quickly.

“Hechmaaaan, do you want to trade the tuna with me? The Great and Powerful Grim won't let his henchman go hungry! Enjoy the special treatment, I only do it for you!”

“Thanks Grim, they look delicious but…I'm not hungry right now. BUT so you don’t get worried, I’m going to drink this juice ok?”

Juice taken, Yuu changes the subject and changes to a more lively tone of voice trying to make them not insist anymore, she invented the excuse of going to prepare for flight training to be alone walking quickly to the bathroom, Grim accompanied her, along with with painful sequences of memories.

“What do you think it could be?”

“I don't know, I've never seen anything like it. It must have been something really strong to catch him off guard and leave him with…”

“Are you bored? Then you might as well study the laws of Queen of Hearts.” “What if we studied something else? I really wanted your opinion on this matter.”

-Hello? It's Yuu, all right senpai? -A-ahh Yuu, I need you to come to the dorm now!

“You are so mysterious, everyone is afraid of me, but not you. It's not like I'm accepting your ways or anything."

“There were no signs of violence on the body, no spell fighting, no signs of poisoning….”

"Let's settle this, guys."

If you don't fix this, it will be your fault.

Washing her face, Yuu hoped that the water from the tap would wash away her disorganized thoughts, just like her uniform that she wore without even paying attention, putting her left arm on her right and missing several buttons. Regretfully, she sighed heavily.

“Yuu-chan! I found you~” a heavy hand touches the girl's shoulder who screams as she recognizes the voice “Carter-senpai!!”

Pulling her into a hug, her senpai whispers coldly in her ear....

“You are not disguising yourself well, dear kouhai. I know it's sad, but you need to be strong. Its gonna be alright, okay?"

Oh yeah.

No one is to know what happens to Riddle.

Trey busied himself spreading the lie that Heartabell's dorm-leader had to return home indefinitely, and everyone knows that Riddle's mother is a woman not to be disputed, and everyone swallowed the sweet lies exclaiming the how nice the air would be without Riddle.

As sweet as his cakes were, Trey couldn't get the guilty bitterness out of his mouth. For the second time, he wasn't there for his childhood best friend when he needed him most. He locked himself in his office, amid papers and regrets.

"So let's go?" Returning to his usual spirit, the redhead kindly organized the girl's uniform without magic, which organized her thoughts, stifling them in some dark corner of her mind and, like Carter, putting on a beautiful mask, smiling and waving to the world.

“If you wanna ask for advice for flying you should ask Carter instead of me. He has a great sense of balance.”

.  ˚  . 　　.　　　　  　 ✧

“Look look who arrived!” “About time!”

His friends were already waiting for them in the field, warming up and lining up brooms. As celebrities, the overboot destroyer girl, the magican freak, and the monster cat arrived on the field and were greeted by not only their friends, but some admirers as well.

“Hey Yuu! Here- Ace shouted waving to the girl who ran towards him. “Yuu, can I join you guys?” a beastman ounce stopped her on the way, he clearly didn't need help. Did you see those muscles? That agility? What do you want with us?

“Can I too?” ‘I��ll go along, I won’t be alone!

Ace complained to Deuce, with these unknown students wanting to steal Yuu's attention all to themselves.

But Ace wasn't the only heartbreaker who couldn't get a little piece of Yuu's attention, a certain second prince had followed the female figure with his gaze from the moment she touched foot on the field.

“Let's start!”- Vargas shouted manly and a whistle was blown

The theory given was the time for practice. While Vargas was checking group by group the evolution and flight of each one, the students who had already been released and those who were waiting were left loose in the wind, without having much to do.

Um, magical teens with magic brooms in their spare time. What can go wrong?

The group of 5, became 8, which became 13, which became 20 and when Yuu saw it there was already a separate team to play some kind of tag game on these brooms. It was a mixture of elements of the famous spell drive with children's games

"Get him Epel!"- Yuu, the captain of the team, shouted to the spell drive player, he certainly knows the techniques to catch the jaguar that stole the ball from them. “I will now!!” the lilac-haired one flew fast and high, trying to reach an Octaville student who was using his reflexes to throw the ball far to a cat beastman

"Deuce! Cat!" commanded the girl, guarding the goal, next to Grim who held on with all his strength to the broom. For those who didn't eat anything it's pretty excited, huh, mentally Grim had already pushed Yuu off the broom because he did know how to score the goal..his words.

With all the speed and breath he had, Deuce flew quickly towards the beastman cat, this one with such agility escaped from all the ambushes that the ex-delinquent tried to take him, the ball seemed to enjoy being on the rival team.

We gonna loose.

“Ace, come over here!” Yuu was famous for having unpredictable actions and making a substitution in the middle of the game, changing from goalkeeper to striker, was something..different.

With Trappola in her place and Grimm at her back, Yuu identifies where the ball is. A jaguar is staring at her, he's the only one who noticed that she's going to play defensively now, exchanging defiant smiles the girl starts moving so diligently and fleetingly dodging her opponents and heading towards the ball, that Grim starts to dig its claws into its back like a scared cat that refuses to go to the vet.

“We will win, minion!” but he still supported her.

The sight of an unbridled flash chasing the ball was seen and heard on the field, the jaguar was good, ambitious to get the ball into the goal, but Yuu was quick, determined to win the game. The two literally played like cat and dog, cat and mouse and—- ohhh by the seven!

By changing strategy, Yuu “disappears” from the jaguar's field of vision, attacking from below and stealing the ball from him! And the opposing students chase her, she, who just flies higher and higher and faster, making sudden turns and then gaining space and angle for the much desired goal.

We will win.

Utilizing the same technique that Yuu used, a Scarabia student steals the ball from under Yuu causing her to lose her balance and fall off her broom.

“AAAAAAH!!””

With the world spinning and already out of air, it looked like Yuu's friends wouldn't catch her in time.

“HENCHMAAN!” “YUU!” “KANKANTOU-CHAN!”

The higher the top, the greater the fall. How ironic.

Before she fell to the hard floor, strong arms rescued her and held her in bridal style, trapping into a strong, warm chest.

Leona holds the girl in his arms, both breathing fast with adrenaline. Hearts beating so fast. He traces his fingers gently across the girl's soft cheek, and taking advantage of having saved her from a big fall, he uses it as an excuse to hold her closer, for longer, sinking his nose into the girl's neck, who even stunned felt they were going down.

Even as she touched the ground, Leona was too caught up in this moment, in the touch and the opportunity to get her closer.

“Aah, Leona… I'm fine now, thanks.” light pats were given to bring the lion out of his trance, who, when he realized that his annoying friends were approaching, dropped Yuu carefully to the ground, checking for any other injuries.

"Be careful." the forcefully angry voice did not reach Yuu's ears, still dizzy from the fall, she did not notice that Leona was running her hand through her hair, stroking it—putting the strands in place. Her hair was all messed up from the wind ok?

Stupid Herbivore

Yuu thanked the leader of the beasts' dormitory, apologizing for the inconvenience and running back to her friends, who were anxiously waiting for a new match. Except for Grim, who groaned at the strong scent of lion on his friend's uniform.

 ︵︵⸙︵︵

<<Previous You are here Next>>

[tepparetai]

the entire latch cast GO (jk. just teppare... or just minato... :] )

HIIIIIII DEMI THANK YOU DEMI i'll do teppare because theyre my special guys... i had a whole essay typed but then i left my computer unattended for the weekend & it didn't save so im trying to write what i remember. (also im skipping the fav line ones because theres no english translation and im NOT trusting my memory when it comes to japanese hope thats okay)

UNDER THE CUT FOR RAMBLING

udaka

favorite thing about them: I LOVE PAPA he's always so calm and collected and everyone respects him but at the same time he just radiates warmth and kindness and seems so easily approachable. i would trust him with my life. also the fact that he's an ojisan idol we deserve more of those

least favorite thing about them: that being said he IS one of the more boring characters since he's so perfect i guess.... he needs a good character flaw

brOTP: teppare

OTP: him and his lovely wife of course. and old man yaoi when im insane. they could have an open marriage or something im not here to judge

nOTP: obviously wouldn't ship him with the youngest ones like 🍼 but nobody does. thank god

random headcanon: he doesnt have the heart to kill bugs in the house❤️ he catches them and releases them outside instead

unpopular opinion: he deserves to go apeshit at least once

song i associate with them: sir they are idols. are you asking for real (sunrise and peace)

favorite picture of them:

IM STILL NOT OVER THIS ONE NOT ENOUGH OF YOU LOOKED AT IT i want to put him in my pocket and carry him around with me everywhere i go

also i think he looks very dashing in his plain old station attendant uniform sprite too

minato

favorite thing about them: MY SILLY he's a bit weird but so kind and caring oniisan😫😫 he always puts others before himself and just wants everyone to be happy and get along. and i've talked about this before but i love the little smile lines under his eyes it's a charming detail and a reminder that hes a happy guy and also 35

least favorite thing about them: NOTHING he is perfect although i AM starting a gofundme to buy this man some socks since he doesnt seem to have any ever and once you notice it you cant unsee

brOTP: teppare

OTP: [REDACTED] also im passing him around like a blunt. dm me

nOTP: i can't stand ⏸️⚓ i don't mind them as friends but their dynamic is like a babysitter looking after a toddler. cant see whats romantic in that

random headcanon: he has beautiful blue eyes like the sea :) and since the monorail from haneda airport connects to tokyo through hamamatsucho station he is the best english speaker among teppare and also the designated tourist encounter handler

unpopular opinion: hes NOT an uwu softboy that man is SOME kind of freak i can feel it in my bones

song i associate with them: peace the most

favorite picture of them:

i have this one as my phone bg sometimes because it looks like hes giving you a hug ^_^ makes me happy

kita

favorite thing about them: AUUGGHH he's obviously meant to be a Funnyguy™ but it's so endearing how genuinely enthusiastic he is about sharing the thing he's passionate about with others..... he has SO MUCH love and appreciation for his friends and family and wants them to stay strong and healthy too and to me that comes from a place of caring he just cant always read the room

least favorite thing about them: i will NEVER stop complaining about his ekimen costume they reverse bimbofied my guy

brOTP: teppare

OTP: DM ME FOR THIS ALSO😑🚬 (<- me on a smoke break after cooking and no one coming to eat)

nOTP: he isn't very popular sooo💔 i've pretty much only seen him getting shipped with 🎤 but i don't even hate it i'm just indifferent

random headcanon: autistic as fuuuuuck but is that even random. like for real

unpopular opinion: This Is The Buffest Japanese Beauty Standards Can Handle Before They Start Getting Scared like how do you create a character whose entire deal is his muscles and then maybe draw him 0.2mm thicker than the other skinnyboys. although it would be funny if it was a running gag like with the personal trainer in dúmbbell nan kilo moteru ANYWAYS THEY SHOULD LET HIM BE BUFF PROPER

song i associate with them: for some reason i associate sunrise with him more than the other two idk why since its an udaka center too.... and egao de go because it was his recommendation in the little fliers u got from somewhere

favorite picture of them:

i looooove him in the first one hes so silly funny and >:D i have a magnet with this illust and its going on my fridge door so i can look at them everyday. and the other one because those are the guns he deserves this artist gets it

THATS THE END OF MY POWERPOINT PRESENTATION THANKS FOR WATCHING

[sleekervae]

Okay, this might be long...

hi guys. so... obviously a lot has gone down in the past 48 hours. I didn't want to make opinions/assumptions at first because I wanted to see what more information would come up. As sad and disappointing as this whole drama with palaye is, let's please, please, please remember to be respectful of one another on the internet. Let's not bully one another about opinions and let's also not get too sucked into things that may or may not be our business.

I as a writer portray my subjects the way that I interpret them and their personalities to the best of my abilities, but I don't know any of the members of palaye or what they're like irl. From the people I've talked with who have met them, they've had really positive experiences so this does go both ways. I'll just reiterate again: let's not be mean to each other, please? I'm also not saying let's sweep this under the rug bc some of the behaviour being exposed is def not okay from a group that some people look up to. They're also human, and humans can be shitty. The point, however, is (hopefully) we learn from that behaviour and (again, hopefully) not repeat it. And in some cases, in order to not repeat it, people need to be called out.

As for Emerson, needless to say I'm disappointed and I'm also really sad for Shy. I'm of the belief (currently) that Emerson isn't a groomer; I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt. What there's no doubt about is that cheating is cheating no matter how you slice it. We watched it happen publicly about three or four times this past year.

That being said -- and this is just me taking the high road -- but please don't share the nudes around on the internet. Just don't do it, it's gross. It certainly wasn't okay when it happened to Percy White, and it's still not okay. And yes, I know there's a difference between what's happening with Emerson and what happened with Percy, but still; there's a fine line to walk here.

The internet has a really interesting effect of pouring more and more gasoline on the fire, no matter whether the context is positive or negative. I don't agree with how the guys handled it at first with twitter (but I'm also of the opinion that twitter is just an on-fire garbage can that needs to be taken out) and they should've handled this privately. But again, let's be respectful to one another. Whether some of us like it or not, palaye are going to forge ahead. For the fan drama, I hope the guys get a wake up call to smarten up. As for Emerson's drama, it's shitty I know but cheating doesn't necessarily constitute getting thrown out of a band. It happened with the Arctic Monkeys and they're still forging ahead, too.

I'm going to be taking a little break from The Neighbour (I know it sounds dumb coming from me 'cause I take month long breaks in between chapters), but I'm not going away forever. Palaye Royale has still played a major part in my life the past four years and has gotten me through a lot of trauma. I'll still be posting other content, and if anyone every wants to reach out and chat you're more than welcome to!

If you made it through this whole thing, than you deserve a cookie! I'm not going to promise that everything is going to be okay, but please remember to be kind to yourselves and one another. :)

Edit-

Also to add; I've read a lot of people complaining about Palaye's merch being delayed, not delivered, no replies to emails, etc. I've experienced trouble with it too and I don't think that Austin guy they put in charge is very organized. Maybe he's great at setting up merch tables but running an online store and business is another can of worms. Either he gets his shit together or they should put somebody else in charge of the online stuff.

[gradelstuff]

I’m interested in what you think of her interview. I’m disappointed about him not trying to send a message about society but I feel sorry for how difficult the last act must’ve been.

About this post

Ended up being a bit long, so I put my comments under a read more ahshs

I'm also disappointed!! It felt like a cop-out to say he's not trying to deliver any messages, possibly because the social themes he did show in the story didn't work out how he wanted it to. Or maybe he thought the fantasy-esque problems he created were getting a little too realistic and decided to cut it back.

Horikoshi also could've meant that he didn't intend to deliver a message at first, but delivering a message -to the society of MHA- is what ended up happening (not for RL though, ig). But that is an issue in itself, since so far Hori hasn't left any impactful messages in the MHA world at all (at least no messages from the villains, who imo tried to voice many important issues in current hero society).

I don't think Hori's statement absolves him of anything either way. Horikoshi put themes in his story that he had to deliver on, and he did it whether it was done well or not (depends on the reader's opinion tbh). With 2 chaps left we're just gonna have to wait to see how he wants to handle the MHA-verse and whatever message is left in it and we have to remember its totally unrelated to RL too dhajajk

.

Ngl, I felt kind of hollow when Horikoshi said he wanted to bring his readers to tears;; It made me remember Tomura, and I did not cry or get emotional when he 'died' in the series. I was mostly confused about what happened bc it happened so fast and out-of-nowhere. I still feel like that, which sucks.

Ofc there were many moments in the series that *did* leave me emotional, like Twice's death, but that moment w/Tomura currently stands out the most to me and that's what I thought about when I first read the interview snippets.

If Tomura really did "die," then his death should've been handled better. Same w/Toga if she's gone. Dabi and Spinner did rip me apart so far though

.

Also yeah I agree about how Act 3 must've been rough for Horikoshi. I'm glad he's almost done with the series. I complain a lot, but it's obvious he was tired during many parts of the manga and needed a break. One example is when there were a bunch of blank spaces during the AFO and Yoichi backstory. or literally him just killing off 3 major villains all in 1 single chapter.

Working 36 hours straight sounds like hell, and emotionally draining. It's gonna be sad when the series ends, but at this point people would want the series to end just so Horikoshi can finally get the rest that he seriously deseves. Also Hori's editors man,, i don't know if I can trust some of the ones he talks about if im honest. Not all of them sound like great ppl

.

Horikoshi: The person who reaches out to you and pats your shoulder and tells you it’ll be okay becomes the person who saves your life. So I think My Hero Academia might end somewhere like that.

This part reminded me of AM patting deku and bkg on the back,,, which did not make me happy,,, Idk if this was also a reference to Tomura (w/izuku),,, which also made me more unhappy sjfhdsjfds 💀

And also, by this logic, didn't AFO save Tenko by "patting him on the shoulder and telling him everything will be ok"? I'm serious, isn't AFO the first person who did this 'act of kindness' in the series 😭 AFO also pat ShigAFO's shoulder a lot and told him it would all work out while they were in the cave too 💀💀💀💀 i am just so done here man

[kris-mage-fics]

So I've been a stressed bunny the last several weeks, and it's all because of this little nugget:

Okay, it's not Jade's fault that she fell ill. I've just been very worried about her. But thankfully after multiple tests we've found what was going on are are working on treating it. While it isn't curable, we should be able to slow the progression. It's been a little over 24 hours since she started medication and there are already clear signs she's starting to feel a little better. Though I'm probably going to be anxious until Jade is fully stabilized, and I don't know how long that will take.

(I know this isn't important, but I'm slightly annoyed by the colors being off in both of those pictures. The first one is too yellow, and the second one is too blue. Not annoyed enough to be motivated to do anything about it, just complain about it, lol)

I'll put more under the cut, in case some folks don't want to read about a kitty being sick for a while. And fair warning, I'll mention drugs quite a bit. As a former pharmacy technician the differences between human and veterinary medicine is interesting to me. Also this got long because I don't know when to shut the fuck up and used it to work through some of my emotions.

In late spring we switched Jade's food to try and get a handle on some digestive issues she's been having. While the new food treated the issue, it made a new one. And then she started to eat less and lost weight. Concerning when she was only about 4kg/9lbs to begin with.

So we took her in to the vets on Monday, they did some tests and called with the results after she was home. (Jade is an anxious cat, and when the vet wanted to keep her overnight we declined. She'd eat even less in an unfamiliar place than at home.)

The tests made it clear that she has renal disease (kidney disease). Obviously that isn't good. But it's at a stage where it's treatable, so we should be able to slow it's progression and get her feeling better. She went back to the vet yesterday for more tests, and she also has a UTI (there's no way we could've known this, she wasn't showing the typical signs). So we have to treat that as well.

We are switching her to kidney-friendly prescription food, and have antibiotics for the infection. I have to give her anti-nausea medicine for the next few days. And medication to stimulate her appetite. The vet gave her some of the anti-nausea medicine and the appetite stimulant yesterday, and she's already eaten a lot more since then!

(More detailed drug talk, feel free to skip. I'll note when it's over.) First off I always forget how expensive veterinary medicine is compared to human medicine. I see the names of some of these drugs and think "that's an old drug and it's pretty cheap" then I look at the receipt and my eye twitches! There are a couple of reasons for this, even if a drug is made for both animals and humans, some of it is made by different manufacturers. And veterinary medicine is used less, so higher costs. Also, there doses and formulations that we don't use for humans. Since that's more specialized it also drives the price up. (That said, if there is a medicine prescribed for your pet that's also used in humans - get it at a regular pharmacy, it's way cheaper! Check drugs.com to see human drugs and doses.)

The anti-nausea medicine is a pain in the butt because it's a small tablet that I had to cut into quarters. Now I have lots of experience with cutting tablets into quarters, and it almost never goes well. Sure enough, it partly crumbled and broke into five pieces. *sigh* (Halves are usual fine, especially if it's smaller and already scored, you can break it with your fingers.)

What's amusing to me is the appetite stimulant is mirtazapine, which is an antidepressant for humans! When I saw that I was like "wtf, why are we giving her an antidepressant?!" It's also weird, because instead of a tablet, it's a creme/lotion (which isn't even available for humans). And I have to put 0.05ml on the inside of her ear and rub it in while gloved. The placement makes sense, lots of capillaries in the ear to get it into the bloodstream, not much fur to get in the way, and it's easy to get to. It's such an interesting delivery method that I never would've thought of.

It's interesting the different doses between humans and cats. So for mirtazapine the dose for humans is 15-45mg once a day. The dose I'm giving Jade is 2mg. Considering the huge weight difference between the average adult and cat, that's a lot! But most drugs have to be given in much higher doses per body weight to cats than humans. (Drug talk over. Let's get back to our regularly scheduled post about our little Jade.)

We should be able to get the infection cleared up, and the other medications and diet change should keep her feeling a lot better. Though the vet said we might have to use the appetite stimulant on and off because renal disease can really nerf their appetite. But at least it isn't giving her a pill. I have lots of practice at giving cats pills, but Jade makes it so hard. Baby, please I'm just trying to help you!

Thankfully we are in a position where we can afford all these tests, medication, and special food. That wasn't always the case. Though if things get bad enough she needs dialysis, we won't be able to afford it. I looked it up and it's very expensive. Plus we'd have to travel at least an hour away to get to the closest place that even does dialysis for animals. I'm hopeful we can stave that off for quite a while. Though I'll be honest, there is part of me that worries that this won't work. I'm trying very hard to ignore that part and not get bogged down by negativity. Once we get her stabilized I'm sure I'll be doing a lot better, but for now it's a bit of a mental/emotional struggle.

Before all of this Jade was a happy and healthy senior cat. She's a very sweet, silly, and loving kitty. Even though she's least 12 she still played with toys, and chased her tail. We are going to do everything we can to get her back to that.

[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!

[jangmi-latte]

࿐ “If Malleus had given you anything in the form of gold or diamond. You must prepare yourself. That’s a sign. You may not bear his kids just yet, but once his heat comes, it will be inevitable to stop him.”

➻ warnings: nsfw w/ a mix of fluff, breeding kink intensifies, vaginal penetration, clingy mal mal, rough sex, cunnilingus, just malleus going all out 

➻ comments: it’s going to go back and forth between fluff and smut so be aware. minors, do not interact! this is The Dragon’s Temptation part two so enjoy! 4.4k words and fem reader <3

"Lilia…" you called, concerned, "...why are you laughing so much?" With no signs of stopping, the old fae continued to holler in laughter. His whole body shook as he continued to take in deep breaths in between chortles. You were growing even more concerned. It wasn't maniacal laughter, neither was it sadistic, it was just Lilia laughing in… joy if you would put it.

Silver— who was staring at Lilia and is currently half-awake—nudged his father to catch his attention; it didn’t work. Scratching his head with the same concerned expression on his face, he said, “Father. You know how laughing out of nowhere makes me nervous.”

The old fae shimmered down into small chuckles, wiping a tear or two as he laid back on the couch. Out of breath is he, he looked at you and chuckled again. His shoulders mockingly shaking before letting out a loud sigh. “It’s happening again.”

“What’s happening again?” both you and Silver asked simultaneously. Lilia looked over at the second-floor balcony of the castle they resided in. In silence, he caught Malleus, who stood and was staring at nothing; or at you. He was deep in thought, and neither you nor Silver noticed. Lilia asked Silver to give you and him some privacy, and the young man respectfully obeyed. He left you with the older fae and your husband, who now descended down the stairs, yet hid behind the wall. He avoided you, much to his dismay, and you have yet to notice the distance he has been placing.

“y/n, dear.” He sat upright and gestured for you to sit down beside him. You obliged and listened attentively. Lilia’s tone was soft, fatherly— or grandfatherly— like. Your thumb caressed the small black diamond that adorned your wedding ring whilst you glanced around in hopes of looking for Malleus. With half your attention situated in your surroundings, you looked back at Lilia, who held a knowing smile.

“Has Malleus given you anything yet?”

You pondered; it wasn’t your anniversary or was the day anything special. You replied, “Uhh... “ you bit the joint of your index finger in thought, “Give me anything like what? Be specific, please…” In the back of your head, you knew the answer. You have been married to and living with Malleus for five years now, it’s not unusual for Lilia to act like something was going to happen.

“Oh, you know what I’m talking about, dear.” There go the shaking shoulders and the suppressed laughter again.

Knew it.

You took a deep breath of air and leaned back on the couch. Your hands covered your face in embarrassment as you remembered the night before. Malleus gave you a pair of 24-carat gold earrings last night. Additionally, he was very lustful and clingy. He would sniff your neck while you’re in the kitchen, he would kiss your knuckles while you’re at the garden, he would hold and grip your thighs while he handled royal duties, and he would kiss and lick your breasts while you slept.

“Those earrings surely are beautiful.” Lilia grinned and stretched, before continuing, “Looks like I have to tell the gnomes to be ready in nine months again.”

“No, wait, Lilia! I’m not even pregnant—”

“Yet.” He cut you off with a wink.

“How would you even know I would get pregnant again this time?!” you whisper-yelled, face flushed in red. Unbeknownst to you, Malleus has been itching to touch you again as he stayed behind the wall. As each day passes by, he keeps on touching you, making sure to stay close to you at all times. It was only today that he kept his distance. He knew he would break any second and just fuck you on the spot.

“Is Faye enough of an answer for you?”

“Mama!”

Speaking of the devil, a little girl, no older than four, ran inside the castle’s lounge and wore a big grin on her face. She stopped just as your legs caught her from toppling to the ground. In a fit of giggles, she climbed onto your lap and kissed your cheek. “Hi, baby,” you cooed and rubbed your nose against your daughter’s cheek.

“Mama, mama. I found...i-i found—” she spoke, too hyper and giddy to finish her sentences as you tried to calm her down while rubbing her back.

“Deep breaths, sweetie.”

Obeying, she took a deep breath and exhaled. She then continued with her statement, “I found a mama duck with her…” she stopped and looked at her fingers, mumbling the numbers as she lifted each finger, “...four—” she showed you four fingers, “—baby duckies, and they were going for a swim! I want to touch one, but Silver told me not to.” Faye pouted.

You grinned, giggling as you kissed her cheek. “That’s great! And Silver is right. Don’t touch mama duck and her babies because she might get angry and hurt you. It’s just like how papa and I would get angry if someone else touches you.”

“She looks so much like Malleus. I feel nostalgic,” Lilia spoke and squished Faye’s cheeks. He wasn’t lying; Faye had green eyes and your hair. What made her look a lot like her father was her having his horns. She has developed into a part dragon, and her horns looked like two small bumps on her head.

“Grandpapaaaa…” Faye complained with a giggle as Lilia stopped his pinching. “Where’s papa, where’s papa?!” She looked around and even stood on your lap to look for her father.

“Ah, Faye. Come with grandpapa for a second. Playtime is over. It's time for your reading sessions. Your mother will look for your father while we read.” Lilia nodded his head towards the wall near the stairs, indicating Malleus' whereabouts. He carried the princess away from you and into another room. She even waved at you and sent you a flying kiss before Lilia closed the door. You sighed.

Malleus is in heat and Faye needs not to know about that.

“Mal?” you called and stood. You hear shifting from behind the wall and as you glance over, you see your husband. He was a bit bigger than his usual height and he had his long tail gently swishing behind him. The formal (it was casual in a way) attire he was wearing had the top buttons unbuttoned, giving you the best breast window you would ever see. As you took in a sharp inhale, he approached you.

You couldn’t speak as he eyed you; you eyed him back. Your brain absorbed this work of art of a husband in front of you. Handsome would be an understatement. “Dearest,” he sighed.

“Why...Why are you like this?” you asked, now concerned as you held his arms.

“You already know the answer.”

“I know but...why…” You moved your hands around, gesturing his whole physique while he looked down at himself. “Has Faye seen you like this?”

“She has,” Malleus said, making you surprised. “She likes playing with my tail. It gave me enough of a distraction from wanting to touch you,” he admitted. His tail wrapped around your waist and pulled you flushed against his chest. The closer you are to Malleus, the more you look at his features.

Your hand caressed his jaw as you smiled, "When did this happen?"

"This morning while you were in Faye's room. It was a sign for me to avoid you at all cost." Malleus' voice was strained and gruff. It held the hesitance of him needing to speak those words. He wants to do the exact opposite of course.

"And why would you do that? Mal. I'm your wife. It's my duty to make sure you're alright and sustained with all your needs. Do you really think you could avoid me?"

"I don't want to hurt you."

"I survived during your first heat," you confidently spoke. You felt the king's possessive and needy hands rub against your clothed hips. Itching their way under your dress and towards your thighs while he kept eye contact with you. "And you wouldn't hurt me."

"y/n, you don't understand," came his strict and authoritative tone. "With me in this form, I am already warning you, it's dangerous—"

"That's not stopping me from staying away from you."

"You're so stubborn." Malleus knew who he married as he exhaled through his nose and looked away in sexual frustration. Blabber here, blabber there, that's what you two are doing. What he wants is to mark you, kiss you, lick you, and make you scream already. Unbelievably horny.

You stood your ground, arms crossed over your chest as you stared up at your man. "I am."

His tail tightened around your waist, teeth gritting in frustration, "I held back on my first heat because you weren't my mate yet," he emphasized, "and now that you are my queen—" His used your chin to bring your face closer to his, lips grazing yours sensually as his slitted pupils glared at you, "—I am not going to hold back."

"I will fuck you. Breed you. And make sure you're pregnant by the end of the week. I can not and will not be able to hold myself back if that were to happen. Even if you tell me to stop, I will not. Do you understand, y/n?"

Air got stuck in your throat as your lips quivered. Either you were sexually turned on by Malleus' demeanor or you could really sense how intense his heat was at the moment. He was right. The moment you said 'I do' was the same moment you were claimed as his mate, his queen. How that sentence made your legs weak if it wasn’t for his tail holding you firm.

"Then so be it."

"y/n—…" Malleus searched your eyes for any signs of hesitance, maybe even fear. There was none. Must he be scared if he were to hurt you. You wanted to be there for him during one of his intense moments. Well, you were the one who gave him an heir; it’s not anything new that you would give him another. He only fears that with his strength and power as a fae, with him going out of control, he might just harm you.

And Malleus never wanted that to happen, not to you, not to Faye, not to anyone.

To you, this man is still your husband. This is still Malleus Draconia. Just different but it’s still him. You are his weakness; no matter how stubborn you get, even now that he YEARNS to be around you, you still have that impact on him. “Mal. I promise I’ll be okay. I’m here to help you.”

He sighed, letting you wrap your arms around his chest. “I’ll tell Lilia to keep Faye away from the castle for a week. I can’t expose her to this,” he mumbled against your hair. “By tomorrow, you should be ready.” You felt him inhale your scent as his grip around you tightened. Smiling, you kissed his neck, “As you wish.”

❥❥ ❥❥ ❥❥

“Faye, don’t give grandpa and your two big brothers a headache, okay?”

Tomorrow came sooner than you expected. Your husband is going to be one horny dragon for a week and it was hard to find an excuse to tell Silver, Sebek, and Faye since they’re going to be living in a cottage in the meantime. While you prepared yourself the previous night for Malleus—he was already impatient while you spoke to Lilia—you were also preparing Faye’s stuff. Not only did you have to prepare yourself for a rough week, but you also need to prepare to conceive another child. Faye is already old enough and you’re most likely going to give her a little sibling.

The first time Malleus was in heat already caught you off guard, but this time, you were ready. Besides knowing his sex patterns already, this new season was going to bring something new. Malleus’ draconic features showed no signs of disappearing and if his heat wasn’t sustained, he’s going to be very grumpy. You trust Lilia enough to look after your daughter. You could even see Malleus stare at his daughter while she got ready to leave. He’ll miss her, even if it was just a week.

“Yes, mama. I promise!” Faye hooked her small pinky around yours and she pecked your cheek. Sebek was already holding her bag while they waited by the door. Malleus looked at Lilia, eyes squinted as if to tell him something. The older fae just chuckled and nodded, “I got her, I got her.”

“Young Master, are you sure you’ll be alright on your own with the young mistress?” Sebek asked worriedly while he gripped the doorknob. It was a surprise to see his king in such a state, more reason for the knight to get worried. Malleus nodded, watching you approach him with Faye in your arms.

“Kiss papa bye-bye,” you said.

Faye pouted and hooked her arms around Malleus’ neck. Her father held her gently as she kissed his cheek. “I’ll have fun with Silver and Bebek but I’ll miss papa,” she admitted. Malleus smiled and placed his daughter down by using his tail, “I will be alright. After one week, you’re sleeping with your mother and I. Be obedient, am I understood?”

An overprotective father is scarier than a dragon if Silver and Sebek would ever compare.

“Yes, papa!” giggled Faye as she held Silver’s hand.

“We’ll be going now. See you in a week.” Lilia grinned while he ushered the two boys outside. You and Malleus stayed by the door, watching your daughter skip away while she held Silver and Sebek’s hands. “Call us if anything goes wrong okay? Don’t hesitate!” you called out. Lilia simply waved his hand at you while hearing Faye say, “Bebek, I want to pick fruit up trees again!” as their figures slowly disappeared from your view.

You sighed, already missing your daughter. And while you moved away from the door, it slammed shut loudly. Malleus’ hand on the door indicated that it was him who slammed it shut. Without you taking notice, you are now trapped between his body and the door. Your back faced him as his nose tickled your neck; his tongue slithered across your nape, the warmth of his tongue and the cold air sent shivers down your spine.

“Mal…” you inhaled, your hand holding onto his thigh while you arch your neck, “We just sent them off. They might come back…” came your quivering breath.

“Oh, they won’t come back.”

“What—”

Before you could even blink, you were thrown on the bed, dazed by the sudden shift of environment. From the living room, you’re now laying submissively on the bed. He towered over you, eyes narrowed, and glared at you so lustfully. “Wait—”

“I warned you, y/n.” The king crawled on top of you. His long tongue slithered across his lips, breath hitting your face as you started to pant in anticipation. The room grew hot. Your body felt like it was burning. Your legs rubbed against the sheets in dire need to be touched and fucked until you could no longer walk. Only he could make you feel this way. Your man.

“I will no longer hold back.”

And holding back he did not, indeed.

Gripping your neck, Malleus captured your lips in a hot, searing kiss. His tongue, with no hesitance, slithered inside your mouth and in desperation and temptation. Incapable of resisting your own muffled moans, and to keep yourself sane, you weakly gripped on his bicep and his wrist. He held you by your neck to keep you in place. It was his way of showing you dominance.

Breath was knocked out of your lungs almost immediately. To keep up with his addicting, electrifying, pace was enough to make you light-headed. With his knees being his support, his other hand roamed on your body. With just a tug of his finger, your clothes were discarded, ripped, on the floor. He was devouring you, really making you feel that you are his mate, his fucktoy for the day.

Moving from your lips to your neck — without even letting you have a moment’s breath — he sensed your pulsating veins. You could feel your heart beating everywhere; from your neck to your chest, and down to your cunt. You laid bare under him and you don’t even know. You felt lightheaded.

“M..Mal…” you panted.

He sucked and bit on every sensitive spot he knew would make you weak. As the rapid beast he is, he left marks, dark and bruising, at his wake. Littering your neck and your chest as his tongue flicked against your nipples. Roughly did he suck and tug with his teeth. He made them look swollen, indescribably sensitive. The hotter your body went, the more you wanted him to touch your throbbing clit already. You don’t know if the marks have satisfied him; it felt like he wanted to add more. To litter your body with hickeys that showed that you're His Highness, Draconia’s only. Waves of arousal hit you strongly as he descended to your navel.

“Shit,” he panted against your skin.

He finally stood upright, kneeling against your whorish spread legs. Your wet, glistening pussy is clear in his sight. He is hungry.

You were left under his gaze feeling so sensitive and aroused, any touch that lingered on your skin would leave goosebumps and shivers. “Mal—!” Just as you were calling out, he dove down to your cunt and latched on your clit. His lips did the work as he greedily sucked and nipped on your hardened clitoris. Your back involuntarily arched as you gripped on his horns. His hands kept your legs open. Choking out loud moans while he slithered his tongue inside your walls.

“M-Mal—..please..please! T-Too much—!” you gasped out.

It was too much, alright. Your cunt so red and wet, your hips shivering as he pushed his tongue in and out. Eating out your wetness with strings sticking and stretching from his lips to your cunt. He groaned with every tug you did on his horns. He was so good, too good, with his ability to pleasure you with his tongue alone. He was right. It was so rough. It was nothing like his first heat.

It was animalistic.

Your overly sensitive nub hardened the more he sucked. Malleus’ thumbs even spread your labia open for more access. You are vulnerable, stimulated, and submissive to him. It was all coming swiftly. You could’ve drenched the sheets with just your wetness alone. Cries of pleasure alone bounced around the bedroom walls along with the audible wet sounds that Malleus’ mouth made on your pussy. He thrusted his tongue, wiggled it inside you, hitting your spots more than you could handle. At this point, you’re shaking with your toes curling.

“I’m close! I’m close— I can’t b-breathe…!” you cried out with your body spasming. Subconsciously, you squirted just as he pulled away from your nub. Now, you’re too overstimulated for you to think straight. You panted at the intense orgasm you had. Your hazy vision looked at Malleus. He was licking your cum from his lips. “You’re ready.”

You couldn’t see his thick cock from your position. All you could do was watch; up until he flipped you onto your stomach with a pillow under your stomach to lift your hips. Your weight leaned on your knees while your arms — as weak as they are — lifted you enough to keep your head from the bed. “Malleus...wait, I’m not—”

He did not listen. Malleus rubbed his cock against your slit and without warning, he slammed into you, deeply. In one sharp thrust, he was balls deep inside you as you cried and gasped loudly. He hovered over you, pushing his hips further into yours. Your cunt was quivering from accommodating his thick cock. You have never felt so full.

“Malleus!..Nngh!”

You’re just where he wanted you to be. Under him, screaming in ecstasy, ready to take his seed. Letting him breed you until your pussy couldn’t hold his cum. And he wouldn’t stop even though it’s already spilling on the bed. Your walls devoured his cock greedily. It sucked him. You're still so tight even after giving birth years ago. To fuck you senseless would drive him mad.

That he did.

Pulling all the way out, Malleus pounded back into you. There was no mercy in his thrusts as he snapped his hips against your ass. He grunted at how you make him feel good. Breathy moans left his lips while you moaned under him. Each thrust was harder and rougher than the last. He was speeding up. One objective in his mind was to make you pregnant. It was just day one. His tail wrapped around your waist, lifting your ass higher for him to fuck you more relentlessly.

“You...take me so well,” he panted as he leaned his lips against your back. “Just hang in there. You’re doing so good…”

His cock grazed and hit just the right spots inside you; he was going to bruise your pussy with his roughness. You were growing addicted to the pleasure building up inside you. As you kept on moaning his name, his relentless thrust fueled you into absolute bliss. Fuck, you wouldn’t even know if you came again. The pleasure just never seems to seize.

His fingers crawled down to your hardened clit, rubbing them in circular motions which sent you twitching and biting down on the sheets. “Mal that’s too much!” you screamed in stimulation. Tears were already dripping down your cheeks. “Aah…! Fuck—!”

“I’m not stopping,” he growled, pounding repeatedly.

Skin slapping against skin was very evident now, the bed rocked under the both of you. You couldn’t even scream anymore, you shimmered down to whimpers and gasped. His deep groans seem to be more audible as you feel him coming closer to his orgasm. You’re trembling as he manhandles you. He really used you like his fleshlight. With a sharp thrust, you moaned loudly. Leaving your mouth hanging open as you squirted for the second, third, or was it the fourth, time.

Watching you erotically cum and stain the sheets just drove Malleus wild. It was beautiful. Seeing you filled up with his seed just urged him more. The tightness of your pussy just made him moan louder, pushing further into you as his pace grew erratic. “Take it, my queen.”

He panted, “Take all of my cum…!”

Malleus’ hips halted, ejaculating deep inside you while you’re left whimpering at his warm cum filling you up. You convulsed and continuously quivered. His thick semen already spilled out of you before he even pulled out. It felt amazing. It was so...fucking addicting. You tried to collect your breathing, left staring at the sheets as sweat ran down both your bodies. He finally pulled out, leaving you empty as you sighed in relief. Malleus watched as cum dripped down your thighs; he grew hard again.

Just as you were lifting yourself up, your husband flipped you onto your back, “You’re not going anywhere,” he smirked as he watched your eyes widen, “You won’t get pregnant in just one round.”

“Wait..wait.. Malleus let me breathe—!”

He ignored you again and sheathed himself back inside your vagina. “Mngh!”

“I’m s-still...sensitive!” You felt your clit pulsate, feeling like you want to cum again.

He moved again, just as relentless as the first round. With this position, he bit you, squeezed your breasts, kissed you, anything he could do to send you into overdrive, he did. Malleus did not let you rest. Hours and hours he bred you. At times where he’s calm, he would bring you a glass of water. Then it would proceed to another set of sex. Again, it was just and still day one. You have four more days before he’s completely satisfied.

When you started, the sun was up high, but now it was the moon that peeked through your window. It was finally the sign that Malleus was content for the night as he laid in bed in a heap of breath and sweat. You felt like passing out as you stared up at the ceiling. Your cunt was really full of his semen. “Are…” you whined, “...you done?”

“For now,” he smiled and pulled you into his arms. “We still have four more days.”

He kissed your nape as he kept you tight in his arms. You whined more, shifting your legs to make you comfortable. “I already feel pregnant…”

“Just think of Faye’s happiness once we give her a little sibling. I’m sure she’ll be delighted.”

You tiredly smiled, intertwining your fingers against Malleus’ larger hand on your stomach. Two little kids will be running around the castle soon. A happy Lilia Vanrouge would be spoiling the younger one. Sebek and Silver would have one of each Draconia child to look after. And… probably another one to come after that if Malleus would ever come to heat again in the future years.

That is what welcomed you as Mrs. Draconia.

© jangmi-latte, all rights reserved. Happy to Serve!

[iwadori]

When they neglect you for another girl Part 4 (Sakusa)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Word Count: 2.6K

Genre: Angst to Fluff

masterlist

AN: YES I DID PUT MYSELF IN THIS STORY! SUE ME. This is basically inspired by a random conversation i had w the great @teesumu, so this is basically for you doll <3

Sakusa:

You and Sakusa have been together for a around 10 years and love eachother immensly.    

However recently Sakusa has been busy and you havent really had much time together lately as he claims been busy doing loads of visits with his new agent.

But of course, being the loving partner you are you wanted to revive the spark in your relationship.

You have been seeing a lot of people on social media posting their aesthetic ‘picnic dates,’ and you knew that this was something that appealed to you before it was ‘on trend.’ Kiyoomi immediately came to your mind once you had the idea of going on a date. You knew that you haven’t be around each other lately, as Kiyoomi always had either a ‘meeting’ or some sort of ‘interview’ that his new agent “Empress” has set up for him.

You didn’t really know Empress that well, just that she was ‘good at her job,’ a ‘hard and dilligent worker,’ and a ‘raging hottie’ with Atsumu’s opinion being the last one. You weren’t suspecting her to have any malicious intent towards you or Kiyoomi, since you knew that he had a great judge of character. But it was just odd, that every time Kiyoomi was running late or having ‘super-secret’ conversations on the phone it was always because ‘my agent set up this,’ ‘my agent set up that,’ and that’s what left you a bit wary.

As you were scrolling through your phone you see a calendar updating saying : Next Week‘ A DECADE AGO WE FELL IN LOVE.’  

10 years. How could you forget? You and Omi have literally been together for a decade. You think back to the decade of madness and love you’ve been through together, smiling fondly to yourself but then you think about where you are now... barely even talking to each other, only mainly seeing him when he comes home from work.

You need to fix this. Or at least make an attempt to get you and Kiyoomi talking again. So, the only thing you can do, is plan that picnic.

You spent the rest of the day planning your anniversary picnic. ’It’s going to be great,’ you think to yourself, you have a list of all Omi’s favorite foods you're going to make him and bring and you are probably going to pick up a few board games and maybe even get some paint supplies. You and Kiyoomi used to paint a lot together, with the two of you not being the best of painters, but you enjoyed eachothers company non the less.  

Everything was sorted...for the most part. All you needed to do was get Omi there, and it’ll all be okay. Right? As you were bubbling and looking for more picnic inspo, you hear your front door open which made you even more excited to tell your boyfriend your plans.  

As you rush to go greet him, you see he’s on the phone making you roll your eyes. “No Empress it won’t work, we need this sorted by next week. Okay? Next week.” he says in an agitated way. He hangs up the phone and sighs, shoving off his duffel bag.

“Hey Omi, how was your day?” you say a bit hesitant, noticing his annoyed mood.  

“Fine” He said dismissively, aiming to walk past you aiming for your bedroom.

“Oh well I have something amazing planned for ne-” you try to say following after him.

“Can we not do this right now Y/N,” he says again turning too look at you making you frown a bit, all you wanted to do is surprise him with your plans and have a day out with him. After noticing your sad look he finishes with “it’s just that Empress she’s bee-”

“I don’t want to hear about her.” you say bitterly folding your arms, Empress is the last person you want to hear about right now “God Omi can’t you just care about me? For once.”

“I do I-”

“You don’t anymore,” you say, with all the emotions and feelings you’ve been just supressing from a while coming up. You don’t even know how you got from point A to B with this conversation, but there's no stopping now. “I feel that, for a while now we haven’t been how we were before when we were just Y/N and Kiyoomi. Instead of how we are now. Just Y/N. Then Kiyoomi and Empress.”

After hearing his agents name, Kiyoomi’s name contorts to confusion “Empress? What does she have to do with anything?”

“How can you not see? For the past month all it’s been is ‘Empress this’ ‘Empress that,’” you complain “Having your super secret conversations with her, like god Kiyoomi can’t you see a problem with this?”  

“It’s not like that Y/N, we’re just work partners” he says looking a bit annoyed “Just business.”

 “Just business? So Kiyoomi, what were you talking about on the phone earlier” you say with your voice slight accusingly.

“Umm I, I can’t really say?” he says more of a question then a fully assured statement. You squint your eyes at him and scoff.

“What is going on with you Omi?” you say “are you cheating on me with her is that it?”

“No, no of course not Y/N! How could you even ask that?” he frowned at your question making your chest hurt, since deep down you knew he could never do that to you. Could he?

“Well tell me then, what were you talking about?” you ask again.

“I can’t say..” he finishes  

“Well I can’t stay.” you say and his face goes back to confusion “Here. With you.”

“What do you mean Y/-”

“I need a break or something. I just can’t be here right now.” You start to rush and pack a big of things whilst Kiyoomi just stands there.

After you pack up your stuff, you look back and see Kiyoomi just there. Standing. You were upset, you kind of wanted him to rush after you and beg you not to leave, but he was just there. Standing. So you put the hand on the door and just before you leave you turn back and say “bye Sakusa, see you later?” to which you see him slightly nod at.

When the door shut, Kiyoomi starts to cry. After hearing you call him by his last name really twisted the knife that was already in his heart. You haven’t called him that since you were like 15. He knew what you wanted; he knew you wanted him to rush towards you and beg you not to leave, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. But what he could do is call the one person he only could call.

After a few rings, he hears “What do you need Saku?”  

“She’s gone, she left.”

“What do you mean she’s gone, did you tell her?”  

“No I didn’t tell her. And that’s the problem, Empress she think-”

“Saku, don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.”

“You’ll handle it?”

“Don’t I always?”

He couldn’t argue with that, he just had to trust that Empress could sort it. “And also, don’t spend the week with your head up your ass crying, you’ve got a lot of grovelling to do kiddo.”

He nodded even though she couldn’t see him, as he knew that what just went down needed to be resolved, fast.

Meanwhile, on your end. You’re a mess. Sobbing all the time, tissues are your best friend, you’ve been waiting just waiting for a message or a call, or some form of communication. You just wanted to feel wanted by your boyfriend (can you even call him that now.)  

You spent the rest of the week at your parents, immersing yourself in your work and doing ‘self care’ things, trying to forget all about the argument you and Kiyoomi had.  

One day, you receive a letter, it wasn’t delivered by a mail man though. It was slid under your door, in a golden envelope sealed with a red hot wax seal. It read:

‘Dear Y/N,

My sweetheart, im sorry for how the week has been and I know a letter with only a fraction of how I feel won’t make up for how I acted that day. But im inviting you to join me at the Gardenia Botanical Gardens at 2 pm tommorow, to celebrate our 10 year anniversary.  

I know there is a big chance, you may not want to see me and I understand but please. I love you, so so much, that words can’t even describe. But I need you to see me apologise and I need to make it up to you.  

I hope to see you there, I’d wait the whole day for you. If you don’t show, I understand.

Sincerely, Sakusa Kiyoomi

P.S The theme is ‘summer hot day, tea with the queen’ - Atsumu’

You smile at the letter, but wonder if you should actually go or not. You did want to see him of course and get this all resolved, but you had your own plans for your anniversary which wouldn’t of been spoiled if he didn’t withhold his super-secret phone calls.

It took you hours to contemplate on what to do, but you decided to just sleep on it and see how you feel tomorrow. In the morning, you knew what you wanted to do. Of course, you had to go, at least to hear him out and see if he really did cheat on you or not. For all you know he’s inviting you to tell you that he’s going to run away with his agent and his secret kids they had together. You shook the negative thoughts from your head and just repeated your mantra ‘hope for the best and prepare for the worst.’

When you got there, you didn’t exactly know where he would be but he said ‘botanical gardens’ so of course you decided to just wander around there. It was nice walking around and just smelling the roses, and seeing the pretty scenery.  

“Excuse me ma’am,” you hear someone say tugging on your leg “um that mister over there told me to give you these.” Looking down, you see a small boy who looked about the age of four with a crumpled up bunch of roses handing them to you.

“Oh thank you,” you say giving the kid a head pat “where is this ‘mister’ might I ask?”

“He’s over there!” The kid pointed behind him and you look to see Kiyoomi sitting under a white gazebo which is surrounded in your favorite flowers and the table is filled with food.

You walk over to your ‘boyfriend,’ with him not noticing your present yet. When you reach him you say “I think she stood you up buddy,” you joke making him jump abit startled.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, instantly beaming “You came you made it!” he stood up and pulled you into a hug, which you return before you remember why you came here in the first place.

“Oh I-” he says awkwardly

You decide to sit down pulling him down with you. You kind of sit there in uncomfortable silence, for a while until you both say.

“So I-”

“What are yo-”

You both laughed at your simultaneous comments, before Kiyoomi looks at you letting you speak. “What did you want to bring me here for?”

“I didn’t want, what happened last week to happen Y/N I-” he says looking a bit panicked “It wasn’t supposed to go this way.”

“Then how was it meant to go Sakusa.”

“Y/N, please don’t call me that, I know I made you upset but pleas-” he starts before getting distracted again “Y/N, I called you here to say a few things..”

“Them being.?” you ask a bit impatiently.

“I love you. I love you so much, you don’t even understand. Ever since I saw you at my volleyball game in our first year, in the stands just cheering us on. I knew that from that day, after I scored the winning point and our eyes met, that we were destined to be together. I just love you so much Y/N”

“Omi I don’t understand I-”

“Just let me finish please, It’s taken a while for me to say this. And trust me, there’s been so many times when I wanted to just say ‘hey Y/N let’s get married,’ but I couldn’t I was scared, and I wanted it to be perfect, so perfect. Because you deserve the world Y/N. That’s why I got Empress to help, I know that our conversations may seem odd, but I love you and she knows that she just wanted to help trust me. And she did, all this wouldn’t of been done if it wasn’t for her. But anyways Y/N what I waned to say was I love you and I love you and I-” he rambles on loosing track of his words.  

But in the midst of his speech, you hear all that you needed and responded with the only way you can.

“Yes.” you say simply, with a growing smile on your face.

“Yes?” he repeats confused “What do you meann ye- ohhh" Kiyoomi blushes embarrased that after all that he ended up ruining the thought out proposal he wanted to give you with his ramble.

“Im sorry Y/N, I didn’t mean to say it like that I wanted it to be perfect and I-”

You shut him up with a kiss making his eyes widen as he reciprocates it anyways.  

“What did she say?” you hear someone shout from a far, and you look over to see the MSBY Jackals all standing there with shit eating grins on their faces.

“I said yes!” you yell back, to which they all cheer and rush towards you guys giving you both hugs and slapping Kiyoomi on the back.  

As the boys celebrate Omi finnally do what he’s been planning for ages, you get approached by Empress who awkwardly walks up to you. “ I didn’t want to leave the impression that me and Saku were any sort of thing?” she says

“Yeah I think it was definitely a big misunderstanding, it’s just that Omi was never around and whenever he was he was just talking to you and you know how it is.”

“I definitely know, I’d feel the same way if my boyfriend did that to me.”

“Oooh boyfriend?” you ask her feeling nosey on her romantic life.  

“Yeah boyfriend. You know iwaizumi hajime... the trainer?” she says smiling a bit when she said his name.

“The trainer! Nice.”

The rest of the night was fun and was basically an engagement party for you and Omi all you and friends just partying and celebrating yours and Omi’s love for each other. “Omi” you say getting his attention “Happy ten year anniversary babe”

“Happy anniversary, I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

After the party you spend your months now planning for a big fat wedding, with the help of your new found bestie, Empress (who you obviously misjudged from the start.) You and Omi could never be happier, every thing was back to how it was before, maybe even better. And you definitely spent at least two Saturdays a month going out for picnics and it was now a tradition in your relationship, so in the end you did get your ‘aesthetic picnic date.’

AN: WHAT DID U GUYS THINK??

[shewrites02]

Gone Too Long |Shikamaru x Reader|

Summary: Not having his partner around begins to toll on Shikamaru

Word count: 3k

Lady Tsunade was assigning weekly chores to all the Shinobi who had yet to be assigned a mission. Usually these tasks were reserved for Genin, but this week had been slow for the village. Many Chunin and Jonin were left task less aimlessly patrolling the village.

"Shikamaru, you'll assist Iruka at the Academy for the remainder of the week."

Shikamaru let out a long dreadful sigh before muttering "What a drag, that's so much work." Just above his breath.

Shikamaru complaining was not out of the ordinary, but him complaining in front of the Fifth Hokage was and everyone took notice. Lady Tsunade slowly looked up from her journal with her eyebrow slightly raised. She was offering Shikamaru a chance to apologize before she completely ripped into him like she often did with Naruto. But all he did was smack his lips and cross his arms against his chest.

"Forgive him Lady Tsunade, he gets like this whenever y/n is gone on a mission." Ino announced proudly as a devilish smile graced her lips.

The other ninjas futilely tried to suppress their laughter but soon the whole room erupted into a uncontrollable fit. Even Lady Tsunade's scowl had turned into a humorous smile. Shikamaru's face began to turn beat red as his fellow shinobi teased him.

"So that explains his nasty attitude this whole week. Me and Akamaru knew there was something up with you!" Kiba laughed after Akamaru barked, agreeing.

"I bet his attitude will change once he gets some... special attention" Tenten snickered.

This even warranted a light chuckle from the stoned face Shino Aburame.

"Special... Attention?" Naruto mumbled completely lost. as usual he wasn't paying any attention and the joke had gone completely over his head. Kiba leaned over and explained the joke as clearly as he could. It took Naruto probably a full minute before he caught on and laughed with the rest of them.

Shikamaru grumbled under his breath, but didn't argue. As much as he hated to admit it to his friends, not having you around severely impacted his day to day interactions. He was constantly irritated because he didn't get as much sleep with you gone. The side of the bed where you usually reside seemed like a gaping hole with you not there, and no matter how much tossing and turning he did he was never comfortable.

He was frustrated that he couldn't come home to you after a long day of working with idiots. Even if you did nothing but tell him to give his teammates a break he missed the sound of your voice soothing him. He missed laying in your arms while you lectured that not everybody was a genius like him. At this point he would settle for your hands just gracing his.

And most of all he was distracted by the crippling fear that one of these days you might not come home to him. Shikamaru undoubtedly knew that you could handle yourself. Yall had spared a couple times and you'd come close to beating him more than once. But the idea of not being there to protect you often left him feeling helpless.

With these thoughts constantly running through his mind, it was difficult to focus on the seemingly mundane tasks he was often given. To be honest the only times he wasn't thinking of you was when he was on his own missions, and even then his thoughts were reserved for keeping his squad alive and staying alive himself specifically to see you again.

"Well you'll be glad to know she's coming back today, I'll be expecting you to be in a better mood tomorrow!" Lady Tsunade teased before shushing the crowd and returning to give out assignments.

-

Just as Shikamaru had thought working at the academy was the exact mindless work he dreaded so much. They could've put him with the younger children, given him a challenge, well at least that's what he thought. Instead he supervised a group of kids around the ages of 9 to 11. These children were no stranger to Shikamaru or his legacy, actually any shinobi rumored to have amazing talent or great potential was a topic of discussion amongst the children in the academy. The stories they've heard of Shikamaru and the Nara clan as a whole were impressive enough to earn their respect. In fear of potentially earning themselves a bad name with someone they could possibly call their squad leader once graduating, They gave Shikamaru absolutely no problems.

"Shikamaru Sensei... is it true you forfeited your last match in the Chunin exams?!" A little boy shouted across the blacktop as he and a large number of his classmates came rushing towards the lazy uninterested ninja.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"I told you, Idiot!" A young girl exclaimed, hitting the previous boy in the back of the head with a scroll she had. "He was running out of Chakra and knew he couldn't finish the fight!"

The young girl's confident proclamation surprised Shikamaru. Every ninja in the village knew the story, but very few knew the reasoning behind his actions. Usually the only ones who accurately recounted the story were those who saw the match with their own eyes.

"Who told you that?" Shikamaru inquired.

"Y/n Sensei told our whole class the story the last time she came to the academy, had all of us try to figure out why you'd throw a match that you practically had won. She said it's her favorite story to tell students who are about to graduate."

"Yeah she said it's still the most amazing match she's watched during the Chunin exams, even now!"

"She told us that if we wanna be half the ninja you are, we always have to be thinking two steps ahead."

Shikamaru couldn't stop that infamous smirk from creeping onto his face. He loved hearing that you spoke to your class about him, that you even bragged about how talented he was, even if it was to a bunch of children. You admired him not only for the person he is, but the ninja he's become and that was a great honor to Shikamaru.

"Look, it's y/n Sensei, she's back from her mission!" The little girl from before yelled pointing over at the village's entrance. All the children fervently yelled your name in a vain attempt to get your attention. The academy laid on hill that allowed them to peer down at the entire village, though they could see you, you could not see them.

Shikamaru acting as if he too were one of your students rushed to the fence to see if they were correct, if finally the love of his life had returned home. Sure enough right alongside Kakashi and Tsume there you were. Your smile is as bright as ever despite having a few minor scrapes and bruises. Butterflies filled the pit of Shikamaru's stomach and what was just a sly smirk had turned into a full blown smile, teeth and all. He's heart fluttered, but skipped a beat at the same time it was like he had seen you for the first time.

"Go ahead, class is wrapping up anyway!" Iruka whispered over to him.

Shikamaru was stunned, he was so entranced by the sight of you he was completely ignorant to his surroundings. For the first time since he graduated from the Academy he had let Iruka sneak up on him. Your being gone had even a greater hold on him than he initially thought. He needed to see you right now.

He thankfully patted Iruka on his back before darting off toward the exit. He knew you'd first go to Ichirkau Ramen to pick up dinner for the two of you, a tradition set in place to celebrate a successful mission. So if he could move quick enough he could make it to the flower shop and back to the apartment the two of you shared before you. He did not want a cold empty uninviting apartment to be what greeted you once you returned home, especially after seeing you had endured wounds while on your mission. Honestly he didn't want you to have to worry about a thing.

Once he fumbled into the door, he immediately began to prepare for your arrival. He lit every candle he could find and arranged them around the perimeter of the bathroom while the water for a hot bath drew. He even went as far as to place rose petals in the water. Something he never understood but knew you would appreciate. When that was handled he placed one of his t-shirts on the counter and dimmed the lights. He could hear your footsteps approaching down the hall.

His nonchalant nature made it absolutely impossible for him to display any type of excitement or anticipation willingly. Due to this he sprinted back to living snatching up a book that was left on the coffee table and pretended to read it as you walked into the room.

He lowered the book just below his nose being careful to conceal the wide tooth smile he had behind those pages.

"You're home." He announced very casually.

You laughed. He never exceeded those two words when it came to welcoming you back, never a "I missed you" or "I'm so excited to see you" always those two words. When you first started dating such a dull response hurt your feelings, you wanted him to be jumping for joy to see you. Now the promise of hearing those two words was the primary motivation in completing your missions.

"And look, ramen!" You squealed slightly shaking the bag.

Shikamaru glanced over at the bag then returned his gaze to his book. You scoffed slightly offended, this was your favorite part of coming home, pigging out on loads of ramen after eating forest food for a week. Shikamaru knew this! He'd let you recite the details of your mission to him while he attentively listened, it was when you explained all the scrapes and bruises you inevitably always returned with.

"Go get cleaned up so we can eat." He demanded eyes still glued to that stupid book.

Your face fell, that childish giddy smile now wiped clean away. Shikamaru had never had a problem sharing at least a quick meal with you before you hopped in the shower. You were well aware of the toll half a day's walk had on one's body, but was this your boyfriend's crude way of telling you, you smelled. You sat the ramen on the dining room table not bothering to suppress the pout on your face.

Shikamaru got a glimpse of your expression out the side of his eye and immediately felt guilty. Perhaps there was a better way of getting you in the bathroom to see his surprise for you. One that hadn't made you feel so self conscious or small. For such a genius he made some stupid mistakes.

He placed his book on the coffee table to meet you in the kitchen. Bypassing the food he snuck behind you, creeping his arms around your waist before planting a small soft kiss on your cheek. Shikamaru snuggled his head into your neck before speaking.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so crass." He mumbled against your skin. "But I do have a surprise for you in the bathroom."

You perked up at the mention of a surprise. A wide grin sneaking on your lips as the scowl you held earlier dissipated. Shikamaru had always been a thoughtful boyfriend even if he was so coy in his interactions with you. He'd fill the apartment with roses for your anniversary , then downplay the extravagant act when you walked in the door. He once planned an entire surprise birthday party for you just to spend the entire night proclaiming he barely did anything. You were excited to see what considerate display your partner had put together this time.

You let out a small gasp as you walked into the romantically decorated bathroom. The dim candles created such a relaxed yet intimate ambiance to the entire space. You chuckled some at the rose petals. Despite the countless lectures both you and Ino had received on how pointless it was to pick the petals off of roses when a person could simply just give their partner a bouquet of roses, he still included them in your warm bath.

"Shika... you didn't have to do all this."

"It was nothing." He reassured disregarding the full speed sprint from the academy to the Yamanaka flower shop, then to the apartment. "Here let me help you."

Shikamaru assisted you in removing your garments. He knew how even the smallest tasks could bring out the failure's in your body after such a long mission. Something as simple as slipping out of a pair of cargoes seemed like a feat to a body so sore from what felt like an endless battle. He let you grasp onto his forearm before dipping into the tub and sinking shoulder deep. The warm water against your ailing body felt almost euphoric. As usual Shikamaru knew exactly what you needed.

Of course your generous boyfriend could not stop there, running you a bath was not enough. He was going to bathe you himself too. Tenderly rubbing the dirt and grime from every cut and scrape on your body.

"How'd you get this one?" a question he asked ever so often. His tone is always dull and irritated.

Shikamaru hated to see you covered in bruises. You called them a causality of the job, but to him they were just a sign that he wasn't there to protect you. He would try to ignore the small ones, but any that seemed too deep or painful he felt obligated to inquire about. Although he never liked the answer. That's probably why wiping away your wounds was so therapeutic for him. If he couldn't prevent the pain, at least he could alleviate it now.

"A shuriken hit me, cheap shot." You huffed.

Your boyfriend's face didn't soften, in fact you were sure you saw him actually grimace at the mention of you getting hit. You wondered why he even tortured himself asking questions he didn't want the answer to. Nonetheless you weren't going to let some small injuries ruin your first night home.

"Rumor around the village is you missed me a whole lot while I was away. "

Shikamaru's cheeks instantly flushed as he averted his eyes away from you. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously as a few unsure chuckles fell from his mouth. He was searching for the words to say.

"I ran into Naruto at Ichiraku's, he said you had such an attitude with all of them. Heard you even snapped at Lady Tsunade you missed me so much."

"Damn, Naruto!" He mumbled underneath his breath. "You mess up my whole routine when you leave!"

You let out an exaggerated sigh at the tired excuse.

"Give it up Nara, you missed me!"

Reluctantly the shadow ninja accepted defeat. He laced his now wet hands with yours and brought them to his lips. He planted a trail of endearing kisses up your arm to your elbow before gently returning your hand to the soothing water.

"I'm a mess when you're not here. I swear you occupy so much space in my brain, I can't even think straight. I miss you so much."

The revelation caught you off guard. Maybe it was his lustful entrance of finally having you home after a month, but Shikamaru very rarely was this vulnerable with you. Such words blossomed butterflies in your stomach. It was as if Shikamaru was confessing his feelings for you for the very first time.

"I love you so much y/n."

"I Love you too."

The two of you feel into a comfortable silence. Shikamaru stood to grab you a dry towel. Reluctant you feel deeper into the water, Although drawing colder you couldn't imagine getting out the tub just yet. After all it had been weeks since you allowed yourself to be pampered in such a way. You wanted to savor every moment.

"God, this feels so good." You moaned in pleasure.

Shikamaru raised an eyebrow at your blissful proclamation, that infamous smirk plastered on his face. He approached the tub, abandoning the towel on the counter, and kneeled behind you. He snaked his hand up your torso, fondling you some before they landed at your neck. You'd have let out a small gasp if the familiar feeling of his fingers lightly squeezing your throat hadn't completely knocked the air out of you. He kissed his way from behind your ear down to the base of your neck.

"I can make you feel better."

-

The next morning the two of you found yourselves in Lady Tsunade's office, along with your comrades. As usual the Fifth Hokage was assigning daily tasks, when her eyes fell upon Shikamaru. His demeanor was clearly different from yesterday, His hands had returned to his pockets and his scowl had been replaced with a content grin.

"You seem to be in better spirits Shikamaru." Tsunade announced inquisitively. "I assume you've resolved that issue of yours?"

The other shinobi snickered at her insinuation. The attention made both you and Shikamaru look down at the floor hoping it would open up and consume you two whole. Shikamaru rubbed the back of his neck, eyes closed before answering.

"Yes Ma'am."

[andysbubba]

vibranium pinky (2)

Pairing: ex! steve rogers x reader, bucky barnes x reader

// the one where bucky cleans up steve's mess

READ THE OTHER CHAPTERS HERE

ONE TWO

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

-

You groggily shook your head and rubbed your eyes, slightly disturbed by the noise piercing through Bucky’s thin walls. You step out of the room, hearing Bucky’s voice.

“Get out.”

“Buck, c’mon please. Let me talk to her.” Steve was needy. Desperate.

Fuck.

“You have no right, Steve.” Bucky sighs heavily. “Get out.”

“I’m her boyfriend, Buck.” Steve justifies.

Brave, Rogers. Brave.

Bucky loses his patience, hands gripping at Steve’s collar and shoving him against the wall. “Don’t you fucking say that. Not after what you did.”

Everything in you was pressuring you stop whatever was going on— not wanting to put a boulder in Steve and Bucky’s friendship.

But you don’t want to face him. You couldn't face him.

“She's hurt. And that’s on you and Nat. I don't know what the hell the two of you were thinking but I know damn well Y/n didn't deserve a single ounce of your bullshit.” He shakes his head, sighing as he shoves Steve towards the door. “Just get out of here, Steve.”

“Bucky, please. I- I need to explain.”

You weren’t sure if it actually happened but you think that Steve’s voice cracked the slightest bit.

“I know she won’t have me back and I know what I did was wrong. But please, I need to talk— to explain, Buck.”

Bucky sighs again. "Explain what, really? That your dick was too out of control so you just went on and fucked her best friend while she's on the other side of the country?" He rubs his face in annoyance and with a hint of anger. “I thought you were better than that, Rogers."

"I don't know what I was doing, Buck." Steve swears, his voice cracking once again. "Fuck. I swear to god, I love Y/n, man. More than anything else. I've never wanted to hurt her, Buck."

You slid down against the wall, pulling your knees into your chest as you silently listened in, eyes watering.

But you did, Steve.

“Listen, Steve— Y/n’s mad, pissed, angry, sad, and everything, really. Now isn’t a good time, bud.” Bucky justifies, putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder, somehow trying to comfort his friend.

Steve breathes deeply, slowly accepting that he had to understand what you wer egoing through. “Yeah, okay, I get it,”

You caught the low tone of his voice— how it made you want to go over and hug him, maybe it’ll make the both of you feel better. But you know well enough.

You deserve better.

The next sentence Steve spoke was muffled— you assumed he was probably hugging Bucky.

“Talk to her for me, Buck.” Steve sniffles, “I can’t take back what I’ve done and maybe she’ll never take me back but I’ll never find anyone else like Y/n, Bucky. I need her.”

Bucky pats his friend’s back, a comforting gesture. “She’ll come around but you need to make up for what you did. I don’t know if she’ll forgive you, Steve— what you did... it was messed up.”

Steve pulls away, running a hand through his already messy hair. “G’night, Buck.” Steve shoves his hand in his pocket, the other wrapped around the door handle. He glances back at the hallway of Bucky’s apartment, the hallway that led to you. Steve shakes his head as he opens the door.

She’s gonna come around. He thinks.

You couldn’t hold your tears back anymore the moment you heard the door clicked— meaning Steve left. You sobbed on the floor, hugging your knees as you sniffled. The sheer thought of Steve Rogers breaks your heart more than it already does.

-

You took a bite of the pizza, the taste instantly brightening up your mood just a tad bit. “Y’know, Buck. Under different circumstances, I’d be crying into Natasha’s shoulders right now.”

Bucky immediately frowns at you. “Don’t.” He scolds. “Don’t do that to yourself, kid.”

You simply shrug his words off. “Just stating the facts, Buck.”

Bucky decides on putting his slice down on his thigh, turning his body to you. “Take a week off, Y/n. You come back to work tomorrow, you’ll have to deal with Romanoff and Steve,” Bucky tries to persuade. “I’ll go to the house and grab all your things for you, okay? You can stay here, for as long as you want. Or at least until you find a new place, okay?”

You nod weakly, agreeing with everything Bucky said. You can’t find the courage to step in the house alone. And you can’t bring yourself to face Steve and Natasha tomorrow at work. Tony should be able to give you some time off. As a consultant/advisor to Stark Industries, and a part time Avenger, you get busy. Tony should understand if you need some time off.

The same night, you fell asleep on the couch, head resting on Bucky’s shoulder and arm linked around his metal one.

You looked like a mess, with your tear-streaked face and how exhausted you look even when you’re sleeping.

Bucky curses to himself. He cursed at his feelings for you— the one he’s kept in for the last 3 years. He cursed Steve, his own best friend, for hurting you like this. He cursed himself because he didn’t get to you earlier than Steve did— because Bucky knows, he wouldn’t have broken your heart, not like Steve did. He curses because all he wants to do now is keep you in his arms and protect you from everything and everyone that’s ever made you cry.

Steve Rogers may be his best friend. But you? Bucky’s been silently in love with you for the longest time— watching from the sidelines as his friend made you laugh and cry and angry. But Bucky Barnes isn’t a selfish man— just because Steve broke your heart, he can’t run in and steal you away from Steve, and secretly get married to you and go on honeymoon in Paris or something.

So he decides. He’ll protect you. Maybe not as the man you love, but he’ll play the role he’s always played. The middle man, the best friend, whatever really. That’s what Bucky decides on.

-

A/N: As always! Feedbacks are always welcomed! Send an ask or just comment what you think— or maybe complain about how Steve deserves the treatment or how you already expected Bucky to be in love with reader the whole time! ;))

++ Requests are open so send an ask in my inbox if you want to!

[devilyn]

my last | tsukishima kei

— alexa, play: i wouldn’t know any better than you by gentle bones

I'll think of a place where I can meet you (meet you) To tell you all the reasons why I need you I won't mess it up again and leave you But I wouldn't know, I wouldn't know any better than you

— synopsis: you’ve become an expert at reading between the lines with tsukishima kei, until you absolutely can’t anymore.

— genre: more angst & happy endings, i love hurt/comfort lol.

— word count: 1.8k

"You're my first, you know."

Your eyes fluttered open, your gaze turning up to meet Tsukishima's. His fingers ran through your hair slowly, your head resting comfortably in his lap.

"Hm?" you questioned.

"Relationship," he responded simply. There was a look in his eyes that you couldn't quite identify, but he looked like he was seeing right past you. "Probably my last too."

You were quiet for a second before your hand reached out to gently brush over his cheek.

"If it were coming from anyone else, I'd say it's romantic," you teased. "but it's you, so what's wrong, Kei?"

His eyes seemed to refocus, dialing back into your reality.

"...I just don't think anyone else would be able to put up with me the way you do," his lips curled up into a familiar smirk, and you scoffed and rolled your eyes as he leaned down quickly.

Back then, you knew. You knew his real intentions, and the way he conveyed them in the way he kissed you after. 

He loved you more than anything else in the world--that’s what he meant. He’d never love anyone else the way he loved you. You learned to translate Tsukishima’s badly-phrased confessions after years of being by his side.

But now, that skill proved useless. Now, you were sitting in an empty apartment with your boyfriend nowhere in sight.

Tsukishima’s anger was usually silent, rarely explosive. Last night, it was different. Last night, he spat words that you knew he didn’t mean. And though you had become an expert at interpreting his true intentions, it didn’t stop the pain he inflicted.

“I just want you to come to this one event, Kei,” you pleaded, following him into your shared bathroom as he tossed his jacket onto the couch. “It’s my cousin’s wedding! I know you hate events like these but--”

“If you know, then stop begging,” he cut you off coldly, staring to pull his shirt over his head. “Out. I want to shower.” 

“Kei!” you cried out, standing in the bathroom doorway. You were growing increasingly frustrated.

“I’m a Division 2 professional volleyball player and a full time student,” he spat without even turning around to look at you. “Do I look like I sit at home all day like you?”

“Kei, you know that’s not even true,” you groaned, tugging at your hair in frustration.

“It’s not true?” he hissed, finally whirling around to glare at you. “What’re you doing when I’m at practice?” he angrily waved his arm around as if to motion at the space around him. “The apartment’s a mess, you always complain about not having enough time to do work, yet you spend most of your time sitting on your ass, and now you want me to take a day off to go to a stupid wedding I don’t even want to be at? Sorry the rest of us don’t laze around like you do.”

Somewhere deep down, you knew he was just tired. Tired, and irritated from a long day of classes and practice. But a voice in your head quietly asked if, maybe he was bottling this all up and finally telling the truth.

Still, he didn’t need to treat you this way.

“Baby,” you started slowly with a pet name, trying to stay calm despite the way your hands shook with contained anger. “You’re being mean, and you know it. My cousin’s getting married. If you can’t be my plus one, it’s alright.”

“Stop talking to me like I’m a child when we both know you’re the childish one here,” he scoffed.

“You’re the one acting like a child,” you snapped, no longer able to hold back. “I’m not saying your life is easy--you balance more than anyone else I know. All I’m saying is that this could be a break for you too and you could stop overworking yourself.”

“The only thing I need a break from is you,” he hissed under his breath. 

The silence that filtered through the small bathroom lingered until you hid a sob behind a choked laugh. The sound grated on his ears, and his heart started to sink.

He sighed, taking a step towards you, “Baby--”

“Shut the fuck up,” you cursed, instinctively taking a step back--away from him.

Tsukishima felt his heart growing heavier and heavier, especially now that your eyes were beginning to water.

You hated how much you loved him. You made sure to let him know between your loud sobs as you pushed him out of your shared apartment. Because you knew eventually, you’d forgive him.

That’s why he was knocking incessantly at the front door and bombarding your phone with calls you never picked up. Silently to yourself, you wondered where he slept last night, but the thought was quickly replaced with the memory of his harsh words.

“Don’t you think you’re too mean, sometimes?” you commented offhandedly one day while he was studying for his final exams.

“I’ve always been mean, and you knew it when you started dating me,” he responded absentmindedly.

“Yeah, but what if one day you’re too mean and you bully me until I cry?” you grinned as you watched your boyfriend furrow his brows at a difficult practice problem in his textbook. Mischievously, you lifted his arm so you could slip yourself into his lap, legs wrapping around his torso as you buried your face into the crook of his neck. “What will you do then?”

“Hey--Y/N I can’t study like this--”

“The question, Tsukki,” you teased, lifting your head up so he had no choice but to focus on the stupid grin tugging at your lips

“Don’t,” he stated simply, narrowing his eyes at you in response to your playful use of his nickname.

“Then, answer my question,” your hands came up to gently cup his cheeks, turning his gaze back up to your face. His gaze softened as his eyes scanned each one of your facial features.

“I’d apologize--”

“Tsukishima Kei would apologize?” you gasped playfully, and your boyfriend rolled his eyes.

“Then I won’t apologize,” he stated firmly before he dropped his pen and wrapped his arms tight around your waist. His face leaned forward quickly, peppering kisses all over your face.

“W-Wait--Kei!” you cried out between ticklish kisses, your laughter echoing throughout the living room. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please!”

He grinned, a rare sight, before finally pulling back and allowing you to rest your forehead against his as you giggled.

“So? You’d apologize, and?”

“I’d apologize,” he repeated. “And I’d make sure you knew I never meant it, and that I would never hurt you like that again. Because I love you.”

You felt your face warming up, flustered by his sudden confession. Rarely did your boyfriend express his love through his words, and you could tell by his smug expression that he had done so intentionally to fluster you.

“H-How would I know you didn’t mean it?” you stammered, lifting your head up to avert your gaze.

“Mm, because you’re the only one for me?” his hand reached up to tilt your face back towards him, fingers gently pressing against your jaw. “Is that what you’d expect me to say?” he snickered.

Your smitten expression morphed into one of displeasure, and you swatted at his shoulder as he muffled his joyous laughs into his palm. Still, you couldn’t stay mad at him. Not when he was smiling so freely.

That vulnerability spoke on its own. You knew he meant it, when he jokingly said you were the only one for him.

“Baby,” you could hear his voice break, the sound muffled by your thin apartment door. The two of you always complained about how you could hear everything out in the hallways. This just meant that your neighbors could definitely hear the way he’d been pounding on your front door for the past hour. “Baby, you have to let me in. I need to explain, please.”

“I already know your explanation,” you finally called out, voice hoarse from an entire night of loud bawling. The knocking on the door finally stopped, and you were blessed with a brief moment of silence.

“I know, Kei,” your voice quivered, though no tears welled up in your tired, reddened eyes. “I know you didn’t mean what you said. You were tired from practice, and exams have been getting to you. I know you’re busy, it’s why you’re never home lately, and I understand.”

He was silent.

“I just...believed your words for a bit,” you laughed bitterly. “When I knew I shouldn’t have. So I pushed you away, even while knowing that mean words are your defense mechanism. I guess kicking you out was mine.”

A click, and the door handle turned. You groaned, burying your face into your hands and turning over on the couch so he wouldn’t have to see how swollen your eyes were.

“You had your key the whole time, and you decided to bother the neighbors for an entire hour instead?”

You listened to the door creak shut behind him.

“Wanted you to let me in on your own, but couldn’t wait anymore when you said something so dumb,” he responded, though he cursed quickly after. “Wait--no, you know I didn’t mean it like that--”

“Yeah,” you interrupted with a weak smile, back still facing him even as he approached you. “I know.”

The weight shifted as he placed himself next to you on the edge of the couch. Hesitantly, he reached forward and brushed your hair gently.

“...what I meant was that you shouldn’t blame yourself,” he murmured softly. “I was wrong for saying things I didn’t mean just because I was stressed.”

“They had to come from somewhere, Kei,” you sighed as you finally turned around to face him. His expression was conflicted--one you hadn’t seen on him before. “It’s not like you decided to accuse me of being lazy out of nowhere, you said way too much. It’s why I believed you for a minute.”

“I’m sorry, I really am,” his eyes softened at the sight of your broken expression. Reaching forward, his hand grazed over your tear-stained cheeks. “I know you work hard. Just because you don’t always overwhelm yourself with work at all times doesn’t mean you’re not working hard.”

Finally, you sat up and crawled into Tsukishima’s lap. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“You apologized. So what’s next?” you asked quietly as his arms circled around you to gently run his large palm across your back, soothing you.

“For the rest of my life, I’ll make sure you know I never meant what I said, and I’ll never do that again.”

“Because I’m your last?” you murmured, voice watery as tears slipped past your cheeks once again. He pulled you back slightly so he could brush his lips over your swollen eyes and wipe your tears away with his thumbs.

“Because you’re my last,” he confirmed with a weak smile. “Because I love you.”

And you believed him.